#mid year (summer semester) yet here

[orangerainforest]

x

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐮 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞… || 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐮 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ Just Jinu’s girlfriend helping him to be a successful idol and being completely unaware that she’s dating a demon.

warnings_ age gap (reader implied to be early 20s and Jinu 400+ years lol), reader implied to be American, brief and poor SMUT scene, implied oral (f receiving), protected piv sex (be smart irl), fluff, Jinu being a loser lover boy, plot twist at the end, cringe and NO PROOFREAD.

notes_ I’m seeing Blackpink tomorrow!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And I’ll pretend I’m also seeing Huntr/x + Saja Boys lol

♫ ♪ Saja Boys playlist

✰ Index (+ fics here)

୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ

When you opened your eyes, the alarm was still up, just a few minutes earlier. You clearly heard a voice in your head while dreaming, telling you to scream, but it didn’t scare you. It was just weird, and yet, not the first time that happened.

You were an exchange student from California, living in Korea while attending college. It was great, you managed to make some friends and so far, everything was in perfect shape.

It was summer and you were on break, your family would arrive just a little before the fall semester started, so you liked to spend your days going to dance classes and public relations extra summer courses.

A message popped up on phone’s screen and you stood midway to see it. It was your mother asking if you were alright. You answered yes and added a cat sticker while humming at one of your favorite songs.

After sending a reply, you looked up to the big Huntr/x poster announcing an upcoming concert. You sighed, remembering how you and your friends wanted to go but tickets sold out. Either way, when you were ready to leave, you spotted a man beside you.

He was perfect, literally.

“Oh, sorry-“ you clumsily apologized after almost bumping into him.

“My bad actually. I heard your music playing really loud and wanted to hear it closer…” he said.

Oh. His voice… So deep and very masculine.

He seemed your age, maybe mid twenties, but very hot and pretty.

“Sounds different to what I’ve heard…” he got closer and it nearly made you blush.

He was reserved, a little introverted but charming. Giving you the impression that once you actually got to know the man, he’d be more open.

“Here…” you offer him your left cable earphone. “I clean them every day, I swear”

He chuckled and kindly accepted your earphone, he also got closer, making your heart race faster than ever at the sudden proximity.

He quietly listened to the song until it finished, you paused the playlist, and looked at him expectant.

“Do you know anything about boy bands?” the question caught you off guard. Slowly, you nodded and then shrugged.

“I know stuff, somewhat…” and then he smiled, and you smiled back.

“It might sound odd but I need to form a boy band”

Men never approached you, and you never approached them. You wanted a boyfriend and at the same time, you were perfectly fine on your own. But… that young man was being so nice, so sweet to you. You could give it a shot.

“Tell me your name and I might consider helping you on that” his brows raised, he looked pathetically adorable.

“Jinu…” he said offering his hand.

“Hi Jinu, I’m y/n…” both of you smiled again.

His touch was cold, but you felt a spark. And you wished that he felt it too.

…

[Three weeks later…]

You had Jinu on the rooftop of your apartment complex. You didn’t know how but he actually came back to you.

After exchanging numbers, he called you a couple of days later and had tea at some quiet place. He was a little archaic but easily understood whatever you were talking about. He made you wonder if you were too chronically online or if he came from a rural town.

Either way, the connection was there.

He presented you with the four guys who would be part of his boy band. Abby, Romance, Baby and Mystery. Likely, those weren’t their real names but still, you ignored it. They were nice, funny and very interesting.

Jinu and you coordinated to come up with concepts and ideas for a debut.

It sounded crazy, but you were excited to help. And since you were a Kpop fan since your teenage days, you were sorta dreaming.

“We need to make you all look sweet, cute, even… bubbly” you explained walking to the improvised board that you two brought to the rooftop. “With bright tonalities for each member: the cute one, the mysterious one, the flirtatious one, the enigmatic, and a leader”

Jinu listened carefully but wasn���t actually paying attention. When you looked back at him, he was slurping at his convenience store ramyeon.

“Did you hear what I said, Jinu?” The young man looked up at you with an embarrassed smile.

“These noodles taste so good. Sorry….” Leaving the board aside, you took a seat next to him.

“It’s okay” you reassured him.

“What were you saying? I heard bright tonalities and personas for each member” nodding at him, you showed him a notebook you had been carrying.

“Yes, now… the debut song. It has to be catchy” he seemed thoughtful, then threw his head back and sighed.

Oh, he looked so hot. With his silky dark hair, a hoodie, and casual jeans. His jeans contrasted with your denim fitted jacket and your grey dress contrasted with his grey hoodie, you noticed.

“A positive, fun, and attractive song” Jinu said.

“Okay what about a love song? To gain the attention of girls or women, we are one of the main targets most of the time” he turned to look at you and couldn’t help but smile. The eyeshadow you casually wore that day made your eyes sparkle, Jinu found himself lounging to get lost in them since it had been centuries of not seeing actual human eyes with such precision.

“You’re all I can think of…” it came out without thinking. Jinu widened his eyes and realized he had said it out loud. He panicked but also noticed you didn’t seem uncomfortable. You started writing things in your notebook.

“You’re all I can think of? Jinu! That’s nice!” The glitter purple pen started with a possible lyric. “You’re all I can think of, then something like…”

“No, y/n. I meant- that, that actually you are all I can think of lately” your heart dropped at his words, a little smirk plastered on your face and made your hands to feel numb.

“Whoa- wait, what?”

“Uh- Uh-yeah… I totally understand if you don’t feel the same but-“

“I’m kinda into you too” you hurried to say, both of you smiling like idiots at each other. “I just didn’t think I’d be your type”

“Why? You’re unbelievably pretty and smart and very funny”

“It’s been too long since I’ve been… intimate with someone” you shyly confessed, avoiding his gaze.

“Same here” Jinu added, softly reaching to touch your hand.

He was cold as usual. But despite the icy touch, you could see some warmth in his dark eyes.

“Do you really want to try this out with me?” The question sounded nervous and very hesitant in your voice.

But Jinu nodded, smiling and reaching closer to you.

“I feel safe with you” he revealed, taking you by surprise and sealing the feelings you had developed for him.

Asking permission to touch your face, you nodded, letting his big hand caress your chin. It left you out of breath, but in the most magical possible way.

And then, you leaned forward to finally kiss him. Your teenage self would’ve been proud of you sticking to experiencing a healthy slow burn with a kind guy.

He seemed inexperienced. Or maybe he was just as rusty as you and had forgotten how to kiss. But within seconds, both of you found a way to match each other’s lips.

If Jinu felt safe with you, then you felt at home with him.

…

Neither Jinu and you knew how you had done it. But after finding a producer, choreographer, and artistic director, you made the “Saja Boys” a reality. Their public performance did everything you expected. It resulted shocking how fast they became known. And it also shocked you how fast they started having a big rivalry with Huntr/x.

Anytime an award was handed out, Bobby, their manager and you would have to step in to stop the drama. And secretly, you believed Huntr/x hated you.

They would never greet you, always ignored your attempts to talk to them, and even rolled their eyes whenever you cheered for your boys.

It haunted your mind too much. Even while waiting for Jinu and the boys at their new apartment. It was a luxurious floor with five rooms, a gym, a library, a giant kitchen, and a pool. Finally, you saw Jinu entering the kitchen.

“Where were you and the guys earlier?” They had literally disappeared and it made you worry.

“We had to accept a trip to the men’s bathhouse from our producer” he answered, then took your hand. “I’m truly sorry if I made you worry”

You smiled, then turned around to see the rest of the boys entering the place.

“It’s okay”

“And…” he handed you a little envelope and when you opened it, you squealed in excitement.

“You got me tickets to see you and Huntr/x perform at Inkigayo?” You asked with excitement. Jinu nodded with a kind smile and you squealed, urging to hug him so tightly.

“Thank you, Jinu” he snuggled closer, enjoying your warmth embracing him.

“I hope I’m not taking a lot of you’re time”

“I’m on summer break. You have all of me till late August” you said chuckling.

“All of you?” He seemed taken aback, his cheeks flushed pink and with a nervous expression.

“No- I mean, yes! But-“ you managed to formulate, still offering an incomplete answer.

“You should blush more often. You look very very pretty” he pinched your cheeks and you almost fainted.

The utterly handsome man kissing your forehead was your boyfriend. And you barely could believe it.

“Hey, y/n! Wanna go to the pool with us?” Romance asked, giving a little thump to your shoulder after grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.

“Sure” you smiled at him.

“Imma win you all, assholes!” Baby Saja yelled, starting to run. Mystery and Romance followed behind. Abby, who was leaning against the kitchen door frame, only rolled his eyes and then turned to look at you.

“Hey, wait for me!” You yelled, but they ignored you.

“We can still beat them” Abby said while offering you a piggyback ride on his back as you cackled.

Jinu watched and smiled at you being happy. He liked having you by his side. So much that it had him questioning if he wanted to forget everything. You made him think he could make some peace with his shame. But then Gwi-Ma would make the voices sound louder and more painful.

Still, watching the guys being kind and protective of you made him think of having a family. Where the Saja Boys weren’t demons, they were humans and loved their improvised manager who was also his girlfriend.

He liked seeing Baby and you eating tons of food, Mystery and you telling ghost stories, Abby and you working out and Romance giving you the worst love advice.

It was as if everything was normal. Although it wasn’t…

…

There was a scheduled fan meeting for both Huntr/x and Saja Boys.

Security constantly had to step in to take away clingy fans. There was even one who attempted to kiss Jinu.

It all came with a price.

You knew he would be loved by thousands. That girls would talk about you. But certainly nothing was enough to hurt you. Except for one thing… Rujinu.

It didn’t help the fact that Huntr/x seemed to hate your boys and you included. They would always send daggers with their eyes whenever you talked.

And after seeing countless of times that clip of Rumi and Jinu whispering at each other on the previous fan signing, you developed a little insecurity.

When the event was over, you stayed to sign some final contracts and when you turned to see your boys, you saw Rumi whispering to Jinu, both hiding from their bandmates besides a vending machine.

You froze in your place. You should have acted with tranquility but the sight of your insecurities turned into reality took you by surprise. So you stood there hugging a pile of papers against your chest.

They didn’t seem to be flirting. Rumi looked a little worried and Jinu was focused on her eyes. He said something to her and placed a hand on her shoulder, then Rumi nodded.

You tried to move away, to avoid the sight, until Rumi spotted you and you tried to look away. Doing everything to act normal, you ended up tripping over some cables on the floor.

When you looked up, you had Jinu behind you, sliding his arms under your shoulders and helping you to stand up.

“Are you okay?” He asked, still holding you.

“Yeah, I just tripped over the cables” you said pointing at the mess on the floor.

“Your knee is bleeding” you heard Rumi saying to you. The three of you looked down and you spotted a little bruise on your right knee.

“I’m okay. Thanks…” awkwardly, you avoided Rumi’s gaze and you walked away without saying anything else. It was awkward and you surely looked immature.

They noticed how uncomfortable you were after seeing them together. Jinu stared at you and knew he needed to talk to you later.

Your heart was beating fast and your palms were sweating. At a distance, you saw Mira and Zoey arguing with your boys.

Their manager: Bobby, seemed to be trying to calm them down.

“Hi, Bobby. What’s going on?” The man turned and sighed in relief at you.

“Oh thank goodness. I can’t calm these kids!” He pointed at the mess and you chuckled.

Mira was arguing with Romance and Abby. Zoey bickering at Baby and Mystery seemed to be doubtful, as if wanting to calm her down or help Baby.

“Okay, boys, let’s keep it classy and professional” you said raising your voice.

They all turned to see you and you pulled Romance and Abby away from Mira.

“We both have business to take care of”

“Yes! Exactly!” Bobby agreed with you.

Rumi stood with her friends and you felt Jinu standing beside you. He grabbed your hand and your fingers locked with his.

“Good luck, girls” you politely told Huntr/x but they kept straight faces, which made you feel nervous and certainly a little hated. “Let’s go, boys”

Jinu stared at you the whole time. Trying to see if you were mad at him. Terrified that you’d change your mind and leave him. Truthfully, he was terrified of having to let you go. And debated whether to change his petitions to Gwi-Ma. He wanted to find a way to keep you forever.

…

You loved the peaceful nights when Jinu would stay with you. Like that time when a humid and hot thunderstorm came and sent everyone to lockdown for 48 hours. The Saja Boys chose to stay over at your place and you allowed them.

You didn’t know that during that night, it would be your first time with Jinu. And how exhausting it was going to be…

“Ah- Oh god, Jinu. A-again?…” his head popped out of the hem of your pajama dress and then started teasing your swollen cunt with the tip of his cock, making you frown and almost tear in pleasure.

“Just one more, please” At the same time, you were exhausted after four rounds. And it didn’t help much that you were multiorgasmic per round.

“Fuck, I always wanted a boyfriend who could put up with me, but you’re overpassing my limits” you admitted with a sigh as you tried to stretch again to make room for him inside you. Jinu eyed you before stopping abruptly.

“Hey, we can stop if you want to…” he sounded calm, understanding even. It made your heart ache. “I’m not forcing you…”

You smiled, then pulled him closer, your lips brushing his.

“Who said I was complaining?…” that whisper in the dark made him almost cum right there, but he abstained. “Just finish ruining me, Jinu”

“You’re so good to me” he wasn’t surprised when you told him you weren’t on anything as a contraceptive method. Not even the pill. But he still went to get condoms in the middle of the thunderstorm. “You’re everything I always wished for centuries”

“Centuries?” You managed to joke a little, but you soon frowned again at the sensation of intrusion down south in your body.

“Not actual centuries, but- you know…” Jinu lied, focusing on his dick buried in your cunt instead of how long he would be able to keep up with the lies.

“Yeah, you’re everything I always wished for too, Jinu” you said, making him lean closer to kiss him.

…

A lot of papers were scattered in the room. You had spent the afternoon with Baby helping him write a new verse with some rap lines for him. Then you watched a movie with Mystery and when Abby returned from the gym, Romace joined you two to make some dinner.

Luckily, Jinu appeared just a little past eight. You questioned where he had been and he told you he had gone for a walk. Lately, you’ve been questioning a lot of things from the Saja Boys. Like how they never seemed to sleep, or how they knew where you were all the time, the appearance of food in the fridge when no one had gone to the store. And their sudden disappearances. It all started to feel odd, but you tried to brushed it off.

Jinu was trying to braid your hair. Lying on your couch, his tiger cat came to snuggle in your legs. You chuckled and started to pet the furry animal.

“Your cat is a little too big. I love him…” Jinu chuckled at your comment.

“How did you dye him? Isn’t it harmful?” He frowned in confusion. Then looked at Derpy and accepted that he wasn’t a normal pet for a regular human.

“Oh. Uh- he has always been… blue” suddenly Jinu felt nervous. He even started to notice that you were suspicious.

“Hhmm… Maybe I’m color blind or I’m going crazy” you commented while chuckling. “I swear I saw other day a cup appear right upon my eyes in the kitchen”

“Beautiful, that’s not-“ Jinu started but you interrupted him mid-sentence.

“That’s not possible, I know. I’m just stressed about the Idol Awards and-“

“You’ve been doing everything since we started. Let me handle it from here” Jinu told you while massaging your hip.

“Jinu, you’re the leader of the band. You can’t take care of any other thing than rehearsing and staying healthy”

“It’s gonna be fine. Promise…” he gave you a kiss on the lips and you quickly started thinking maybe he was right.

“Okay” you agreed while kissing him back. “I trust you, love”

Jinu gulped. He couldn’t hurt the person who trusted him. When he looked down, you were asleep in his arms.

Jinu held you for about an hour, just staring at your window and seeing your curtain blowing in the wind. Until you moved, startled, and opened your eyes.

“What happened?” Jinu asked taken aback.

You took a breath and sighed, then picked up your glass of water from your nightstand.

“Nothing, just a little nightmare” you lied.

It wasn’t a nightmare, just multiple voices repeating the word “scream” at the same time. You tried to ignore how it had worsened after meeting your boyfriend. You wanted to ignore the fact that there could be some sort of correlation between. You just snuggled in his arms and went back to sleep.

…

When Mira and Zoey sent you a message to ask if you were available to have lunch with them, you were totally taken aback. How did they even got your number?

They even asked if you could keep it private and not tell the Saja Boys. It made you feel uneasy, but you still accepted.

And then, at a burger shop, the three of you were awkwardly eating in silence. You dipped some French fries into your milkshake under the curious and disgusted look of Mira and Zoey.

“So… the reason why we wanted to talk to you is because…” Zoey started.

“Rumi’s been acting weird…” Mira finished.

You wiped your fingers and then frowned in confusion. What did you care?

“She leaves in the middle of the night and even once I heard her coming back till the sun came out” You looked at Zoey with lots of confusion.

“And what does that have to do with me?” They both look at each other. Zoey seemed uncomfortable and Mira was doubtful, but she cleared her throat.

“It has to do a lot with you actually” Mira snapped with a harsh tone, Zoey nudged at her shoulder.

Sighing, you nervously brushed your palms against your jeans and then looked up at them.

“Is there anything I did to bother you girls? I know you don’t like the Saja Boys but… I don’t know”

They genuinely felt bad for making you feel such way. Zoey hurried to shake her head.

“No, no, you’re good, y/n. It’s just that…” they were acting like it was a big deal. And you weren’t sure if they were just exaggerating or if it was actually a matter of terror.

“Just tell me, girls. I promise that whatever it is I can handle it and if needed, I won’t tell anyone” you promised.

They both stared at you in silence for a couple of minutes.

“Jinu and the Saja Boys are demons” Mira told you with a straight face and crossed arms. You chuckled. “We are demon hunters and they are ruining our goal to get the Honmoon golden, that is the barrier protecting humans from demons ”

“We think that maybe Jinu and Rumi had been talking about something and maybe you know something”

“You’re kidding, right?” A part of you wanted to be a joke. That many things you had experienced after meeting Jinu and the boys were a fluke. But they didn’t change their serious expressions.

“Uh-no, unfortunately no. I know it must sound hard to believe but-“

“That explains a lot of things actually” you blurt out, eyes looking lost in your memories from the past two months. “Suddenly dating a demon doesn’t seem impossible”

“Do you mind sharing with us how you started suspecting?”

“Not really… It all started just a week ago. The Saja Boys were too perfect sometimes. Jinu was always too aware of my surroundings. He had this supernatural strength, the inhumanly acts like seeing cups fly around the kitchen, his fangs being too damn sharp, his impossibly big stamina while having sex-“

“WOAH- OKAY! Maybe that’s a little too much info” Zoey intervened and you heard a disappointed cry from Mira, who seemingly wanted to know more. You raised your hands in defeat and Mira’s eyes widened at the sight of your right arm.

“Hold on. May I see your arms?” She asked pointing, and you nodded.

She carefully inspected your skin until she touched a birthmark near your elbow. Zoey also widened her eyes and then looked up at you

“You’ve always had this birthmark?” You nodded at them.

“Our mentor- she taught us about ancient generations of hunters that used to have a silent fourth member” Mira started. “A woman who always had a star-shaped birthmark on her right arm. Demons couldn’t take her soul but she could spare some of them. And kill them with her voice…”

“Like a banshee in the western world” Zoey added, as if trying to make you understand.

The more you listened, the less you understood. But they were hinting at only one thing.

“And you think I might be that fourth member?”

“Well, that would explain why Jinu or the Saja Boys haven’t taken your soul” you were petrified and horrified.

“Anything else that you would consider weird has happened?” Zoey asked you.

Then you remembered.

“I’ve heard voices in my head for years. But since I met Jinu, it has gotten constant” they carefully listened to you. “It never scares me, but it’s disturbing”

“Could it be…. Gwi-Ma?” Mira asked Zoey.

“Maybe he wants to reach her…”

“This day is being so weird” you said while looking away from them.

“I think you’re a descendant of a Kumiho from ancient legends. They were creatures that lived for thousands of years, transformed into women, and at some point stopped eating humans. So they started helping hunters to defeat demons” Zoey stated. “I think our mentor; Celine, could give us clearer answers. And I think you’d be safer with us until we know more”

Was she right? Jinu couldn’t hurt you… But he was a demon.

“You might also want to talk to Rumi about… her possible meetings with Jinu” Mira added awkwardly, finishing her burger.

“I don’t think I can hurt Jinu or the Saja Boys” you ended up saying, taking them by surprise. “I believe they were all humans once”

That’s when Mira and Zoey realized you were actually close to their enemies. They realized you were dating a demon and you weren’t insane for that.

Zoey was the one to have mercy on you.

“The Kumiho Celine taught us about, could save the soul of any non demon-born” her words gave you hope. So much that after a minute of silence, you made a decision.

“Can you give me at least a day to process everything?” They nodded. “I can’t face Jinu right now”

“If it’s actually true, you have an incredible gift. Take it easy…” Mira told you. “And stay with us tonight. Celine will come in the morning”

When the two girls smiled at you, you felt safe. It made you feel less stressed. So you nodded and thanked them.

…

Untangling your wet hair, you stared at the mirror of the vanity. Supernatural stuff never resulted in skepticism for you. You believed that there were good and bad things in the world. But actually facing them and being related to them, was never on your plans.

Suddenly all the compilations of paranormal activity in random houses you liked to watch resulted in childlike horror. And being told that you were some sort of mythical creature that only existed in folktales dating and befriending demons, was… hard to believe.

Either way, you knew it was real. The voices you hear in your head often telling you indescribable things.

What if the voices came from all the disappeared people who had lost their souls thanks to the demons? It sent shivers down your spine. Even worse if it was actually Gwi-Ma. He sounded scary and vile.

And you actually let out a scream when you saw a shadow standing on the balcony of the room.

“Are you okay?” Zoey asked, coming from the other side of the door.

You sighed, putting a hand to your chest as you tried to visualize who the shadow was standing nearby.

“Yes, I just thought I had seen a figure standing on the balcony”

It was Jinu, waiting for you to open the glass door.

“But you’re okay?” Then Mira asked, which made you smile a little.

You really liked them.

“Yes, sorry for scaring you” you say, standing to open the balcony door.

“It’s okay. Tell us if you need anything”

Sighing once again, you stared at Jinu, who looked as usual, like a human.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, reaching for your hands, but you stepped back. He noticed and it visibly disappointed him.

“Show me who you really are” you firmly told him.

He looked hesitant. But there was no point in denying the truth when he literally appeared on the balcony. His hands awkardly rubbed against his jeans and you simply stared at him expectantly.

Jinu only offered more silence.

“She knows right? That’s why you constantly meet her at night?” You hadn’t met with the purple-haired girl. And as much as you tried not to sound jealous and insecure, you were doing exactly that.

“Nothing is going on between us…” he said, almost whispering.

“It’s not about you cheating on me! It’s about trust! About you and the boys lying to me!” You yelled, hoping Mira and Zoey would not hear.

“I know but… I wasn’t sure how you would take the news…” his answer made you boil in anger. So you pushed him, and he barely moved but felt the pressure of your palms against his chest.

“I gave everything of myself for you and the Saja Boys” you spit out with bitterness but Jinu hurries to grab your hands.

“I know! You have been perfect. The pure proof that humans still carry hope and love in their souls”

“Then why would you do this to me?” You yelled exasperated, yanking your hand away from his embrace, a few tears fighting to not drop.

“I never meant to hurt you and I won’t” Despite your rejection, he grabs your hands again. “Please, y/n…”

“Show me” you command him. “Show me now”

He stared at you for what felt like an eternity.

Until his eyes became glowy, his irises becoming dark and his skin turned pale, lilac, and with darker patterns spread across his face and probably all of his body.

He stepped closer and you stepped backwards, until the back of your knees touched the mattress on the bed.

The fingers you knew so well turned into sharp claws and finally, you were facing him in his full demon form.

He ended up pinning you against the mattress. And you couldn’t form a single expression on your face. You simply stared at him.

He wanted to know what you were thinking. Most of the thoughts resulted in loud noises to Jinu, but ever since he met you, he couldn’t hear any of yours. And for some reason, he had never been able to see or touch your soul.

And his selfishness wanted you to love him the same as before.

“The worst part is I can’t find myself being scared” you whispered. Slowly, you lifted your hand and your fingers brushed his skin.

It shouldn’t have felt so good to Jinu. But he longed to be touched and loved as his real self so he closed his eyes and melted into your touch.

“They think I’m similar to Kumihos and Banshees” you revealed and he opened his eyes. You've got to admire the shine and yellow light from them before turning away from you.

“That’s not possible, those have been dead for centuries. Last time I heard about one being alive was not too long after I became a demon” Jinu retorted.

And noticed you were still touching his face.

“Yes, but apparently I am. That’s why you can’t feed my soul to Gwi-Ma” you wanted to share more. To tell him about the voices in your head. But only time could speak. And at that moment, you simply wanted him to know that you weren’t scared of him.

“I can save your soul. And the boys’ too…” you said.

“That can kill you if you’re not in control of your abilities” Jinu immediately told you, almost fearing the worst.

But you made him look at you by grabbing his chin. For whatever reason, you couldn’t see a demon on top of you. You could only see your dear boyfriend. Who surely still had some soul left in him.

“Then I’ll hurry. Because you’ll live with a free soul with me…”

He bumped his forehead with yours and both stayed like that in silence.

“I don’t deserve you taking the risk, y/n. I won’t let you…”

“Then leave right now. Tell me that everything was a lie and that you just used me. Make me cry and leave forever then…” he sighed, closing his eyes.

“We both know that’s not true”

“So it’s my decision and you’ll respect it. I’ll do everything to save your soul” you firmly stated before reaching his lips for a kiss.

He immediately kissed you back and held you still. Jinu couldn’t help but dream about being free. Because how couldn’t he when his shame was gone whenever you were by his side?

“Just to let you know, I already feel like you’ve saved me” he whispered on your lips.

“But I’m not done yet” you answered back, switching positions and straddling him. “And when something gets inside my head, I get extremely ambitious”

The demon in the bed blushed at your words. And that’s how you confirmed he was worth it. Even when less than a day ago, you thought life was just as ordinary as it was expected to be.

୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ

Taglist: @barrythestrawberry041 @heyitshanzo @justanindiangirl12 @slykris @hidazinie @amery-benson-cvii @ilovehobi101 @st3f13ily @zaltor

I’M POSTING THIS ONE TOMORROW:

[sabrinasopposite]

manchild; pilot.

anakin skywalker!70s x reader

summary: anakin skywalker starts his summer break as a heartbroken guy over the break up with padmé amidala, yet while he was drinking his blueberry slushy in a gas station by a desert highway, he met a girl called y/n y/l/n, who was a wild and free spirited girl with tons of flings. what if the summertime sadness turns into a fake relationship? anakin wants revenge and jealousy, and y/n wants fun and drama.

fake dating.

! warning: there will be a lot of sexual comments and references, just like cigarettes and alcohol

further questions, please ask me

ps: another warning... y/n is flawed and complex

next chapter: star-crossed lovers

summer, june 1972.

It was summer in the seventies — the kind that played like a worn vinyl, crackling under the heat of the Arizona sun. School was winding down like the last chorus of a slow-dance song at prom. One more year till college — a horizon Anakin Skywalker wasn’t ready to stare into. Not yet. Not when the sun still burned gold, the air hung heavy like incense, and the days blurred into a sleepy Technicolor haze.

He lived in a one-gas-pump desert town that looked like it’d been left behind by time — diners with flickering neon, drive-ins ghosted by tumbleweeds, and motels with signs that buzzed louder than their guests. People drifted away from here like smoke rings in the wind, but somehow, they always found their way back.

While the jukebox generation kicked off their summer-of-love dreams, Anakin’s own soundtrack had cracked mid-song. Padmé had left him at the end of spring semester — clean cut, no B-side explanation. And like a cruel twist of radio fate, two months later she was already holding hands with Rush Clovis — the kind of guy who wore poetry like cologne and probably read Kerouac for fun. The kind of guy who fit her world now.

It was golden hour — the kind of light that made everything glow like a photograph you want to live in. A breeze shuffled through the Arizona heat like a slow dance with no music. The final bell had rung, setting teenagers free with the excitement of open roads and Top 40 dreams. Talk swirled around — Bowie had a new track out, someone’s older brother just scored a new Camaro, and summer was theirs to burn.

But Anakin wasn’t thinking about any of that. He just stared off at the horizon like it might tell him something. His heart, cracked and splintered, still beat her name in every silence. Padmé walked past — glowing, laughing, alive. She wore high-waisted jeans and a lavender blouse that looked like it belonged in a Fleetwood Mac album cover. Like she was already living in a world Anakin couldn’t reach anymore.

Fives looked over at his friend — who hadn’t been the same since Padmé walked out of his life like the fadeout on a sad soul song.

“Dude… how long you gonna keep staring at her like she’s the second coming of Janis Joplin?” he asked, voice low but amused.

“Until I figure out her goddamn plan,” Anakin muttered, arms crossed over the hood of his battered ’68 Dodge Charger. The car was a wreck, always one gear-shift away from death — but it was his church, his therapist, and his war bunker. And, lately, his best spot to stake out the girl who used to be his whole universe.

Rex leaned beside him, the paper cup of cola sweating in his hand, eyes flicking to Padmé. “Her plan was a breakup, man. You still think it’s deeper than that?”

Anakin leaned back, exhaling like a tire losing air. “I know she dumped me, I do. But why, man. Why? She just woke up one day, flipped the record, and decided I didn’t belong on her playlist anymore. And now she’s with him. I mean, I still don’t understand how she just wakes up and decides to call it quits, then goes out with some guy the week after—- I mean I haven’t slept right since May. I’m running on empty and she already dates someone else.”

Fives gave him a look, pulled a cigarette from the inside pocket of his worn leather jacket — the kind of jacket that had probably seen more heartbreak than prom dates.

“Dude, you gotta let her go. I know it’s messy, and I know you really loved her — still do. But what’s your plan? Run after her until she turns around and says ‘never mind’?”

Anakin raked his fingers through his already chaotic hair. “Yeah, I know. I know. But I can’t just flip the switch. I’ve tried dating, I’ve tried letting go, but every time I do, I just keep hearing her laugh in my head or picturing how she used to look at me — and none of it compares, man. None of it.”

Fives sighed, cigarette hanging from his lips like punctuation. He lit it, took a drag, and offered one to Anakin.

“Yeah… I get it. Wasn’t easy for me and Jackie either. But eventually… it just stops mattering. Eventually, it fades. Like an old cassette left on the dashboard too long.”

Before Anakin could answer, Cal Kestis came jogging up, his ginger hair a windblown mess, eyes wide with adrenaline and teen mischief.

“Okay, okay — I scored the booze for your party, Rex,” he grinned, breathless. Then caught sight of Anakin’s stormcloud stare aimed squarely at Padmé and Clovis. “Jesus, man. You good?”

Anakin didn’t answer. Just kept watching her — like she was a dream he hadn’t woken up from yet. The kind that lingers in the morning haze and makes reality feel like a cheap knock-off.

Fives bumped his shoulder into him with brotherly force. “Peachy,” Anakin muttered, his eyes locked on Padmé and Clovis, tangled in a little sunlit world of their own.

He took the cigarette from Fives, the way a soldier accepts his last smoke before going back to war. A slow, pensive drag — the kind that fills your lungs and lets the silence hang just a little longer.

Rex gave Cal a nod, cracking a crooked smile. “Thanks, man. Well, our lover boy’s going through it — that’s why we’re gonna throw one hell of a beach party tonight, aye?” he grinned, sipping his cola like it was bourbon.

“Yessir,” Cal shot back, grin wide, sun catching in his wild hair. “You bet your ass! End of sophomore year, which means we’re gonna get hella piss drunk… except for Ani.” He slapped Anakin on the shoulder, just hard enough to jostle him back into the moment.

Anakin exhaled a plume of smoke, shooting Cal a sarcastic look. “Definitely,” he said, voice flat, but with the ghost of a smirk.

Fives furrowed his brows, puffing thoughtfully. “Dude, you haven’t touched alcohol in months. I know Padmé didn’t like it when you drank, but—bro, you can now.”

“I dunno…” Anakin muttered, flicking the ash off the end of his cigarette, watching it drift like dust in the Arizona sun. “I know I can… I’m just not sure if I want to. I’ve been doing good. Staying sober, staying outta trouble.”

Rex chuckled dryly. “Yeah, but you smoke cigarettes like they’re your goddamn breakfast.”

“Yeah, but—” Anakin paused, his voice lowering, “Cigs help me concentrate. Keep me grounded. Booze… booze makes me spiral. And she hated that part of me.”

Fives leaned in, whispering like the devil on his shoulder. “But she’s goneeee, man,” he drawled with a mischievous grin. “Come on, Ani. Just a little sip tonight, a good ol’ beer, some tunes, bonfire, waves. Forget her. And I definitely know Rex invited some hot girls.”

Cal rolled his eyes and shot a look at Fives. “Fives, don’t even pretend like you’re gonna pull.”

Fives gasped dramatically. “Hey! Maybe some girls are into the bad boy with a soft heart vibe, ever think of that?”

Anakin actually chuckled — a real, worn-out laugh — as he reached for another cigarette. “I suppose you do have a point, Fives. I could… loosen up tonight. A few beers, some laughs, maybe even forget her for, like, five minutes.”

Fives clapped his hands, triumphant. “That’s my man!” he shouted, placing both hands on Anakin’s shoulders like he’d just won a football game.

Rex groaned. “Oh god,” rubbing his temple at Fives’ volume.

Anakin laughed again and shoved Fives back playfully. “All right, all right! I’ll come to your stupid party. But don’t expect me to be a full-blown drunkard, alright?”

He raised the cigarette to his lips again, a sly grin forming in the corner of his mouth.

Rex gave him a nod. “Got it, Skywalker. Alright boys, I gotta bounce and get the setup going. Also, if you see Obi-Wan, tell him I said hey.”

Anakin shook Rex’s hand, firm. “Will do, Rex.”

Then, turning to Fives, his smirk deepened. “You’re probably heading off now to ‘pick up girls’, huh?”

Fives winked, already walking backward like he was on a stage. “You know me.” He threw up his hands and, in perfect Fives fashion, backed right into a group of girls. They giggled as he spun around, arms wide. “Girls!!” And just like that, he vanished — swallowed by the scene like a Saturday night fever dream.

Anakin shook his head, grinning. “Damn dude… what a player,” he muttered under his breath, though the words tasted half like envy, half like pride.

He tossed his cigarette down, crushed it beneath his black Converse, and turned once more — instinctively — toward Padmé. She was laughing now, head tilted back, Clovis’s arm around her shoulders like she belonged there. They looked like a Polaroid of something Anakin didn’t get to be part of anymore. Too perfect. Too damn fast.

He made a face — disgusted, bitter, hurt — all tangled into one sharp look. Then he turned, walked to his Charger, and slid in with a familiar creak of old leather and old memories.

The key turned. Nothing.

“C’mon…” he whispered, already knowing how this would go.

He hit the dash. Nothing.

He cursed under his breath and kicked the clutch. The car grumbled, sputtered… and finally, with a wheezing growl, roared to life like a beast waking from sleep.

Anakin gripped the wheel and took a long, shaky breath. He looked up at the rearview mirror and there he was. Red-rimmed eyes. Messy curls. Wrinkled shirt and a face that looked like it hadn’t believed in sleep since April.

A ghost in the driver’s seat. He slammed a hand against the wheel. “Damn it all…”

Outside, the sun dipped further, turning the town into a dusty painting of goodbye. That Arizona glow—amber and honey-thick—draped everything like a fading record sleeve from a summer hit long past its prime. Inside that Charger, Anakin sat with the weight of a love lost, an engine rumbling beneath him, and a party waiting at the edge of night like a mirage.

He leaned back, elbow against the window frame, letting the warm wind tangle his curls. As the car coasted through the town’s familiar arteries, time seemed to drip slow like molasses on vinyl. The neon flicker of the old drive-in. The rust-flaked grocery sign spinning in lazy circles. The diner where his uncle played old Motown records in the back and always smelled like fry oil and sunburnt coffee. All of it passed by like ghosts waving from a moving train.

Eventually, he pulled into the gravel drive of his two-story house—paint peeling, porch swing swaying with no one in it. Home, for whatever that word meant anymore.

And later, down at the beach, the world had shifted. The sun was gone now, tucked beneath the horizon like an old photograph sliding back into its envelope. Stars blinked alive above them, scattered across the sky like dust from a shattered disco ball.

The beach pulsed with life—Fleetwood Mac’s “Rhiannon” spun from someone’s truck radio, Stevie Nicks’ voice haunting the salt-heavy air with that silk-and-fire sadness that always knew how to dig into the bruised parts of a heart.

The bonfire cracked and cast golden glows across laughing faces. Boys and girls tangled together—some kissed like they’d never get another chance, others drowned themselves in lukewarm beer and the feeling of now.

Anakin lingered on the outskirts of it all, his converse sinking into the cool sand. He sipped slowly from his beer, its taste dull and heavy on his tongue. That’s when she stumbled up—Cordé, tipsy and sun-kissed, wrapped in a pink bikini and cutoff shorts. Her brown hair curled wild over her shoulders, catching the firelight like it had been dipped in bronze.

“Heeey, Skywalker,” she purred, brushing her fingers along his arm with a confidence borrowed from booze and fleeting nights.

Anakin looked up with a small nod. Recognized her from school, vaguely. Padmé’s orbit. A satellite girl. “Sup,” he muttered with a half-smile, lifting the bottle to his lips again.

She leaned in close, her words slurring like a song caught in a warped tape. “You know I always liked you, right??? Like, Padmé didn’t deserve you…” At the sound of her name, Anakin’s smile cracked a little, like the first fracture in windshield glass. But he shook it off, forcing a shrug.

“Yeah, I know,” he said dryly. “You’re not the first one to tell me that.”

Cordé leaned more into him, fingers trailing over the rings on his hand—old silver, worn and nicked from too many nights punching through walls of emotion. “You deserve waaay better… I could m—”

Anakin pulled back, too fast, his body rejecting the contact before his mind could even process it.

“Look, Cordé,” he said, more tired than angry, “you’re a nice girl. Really. But I’m just here to try and forget…”

He looked over then, and of course, there she was—Padmé. Laughing like the ocean had whispered something sweet into her ear. Tucked under Clovis’ arm like she’d been there forever. Like she’d never belonged to him.

He stood up suddenly, the sand resisting his converse. His voice cut low. “Sorry, but I gotta go.”

Cordé blinked, confused. “Wait—where you going?” she called out, her words dissolving in the breeze.

“Doesn’t matter.” He said it sharp, like a closing door.

He walked away—storm-eyed and stiff-jawed—past the bonfire, past the haze of liquor and perfume, past all of it. Rex and Hunter spotted him, their relaxed posture shifting when they caught the flicker of fury in his silhouette. “Anakin, hey,” Rex called out, standing up. “Where you going, man?”

But Anakin didn’t stop. The tide was pulling him somewhere else—somewhere colder. Rex reached for his arm, and this time, it worked. Anakin turned, eyes dark and jaw tight. “Yeah—Rex, I gotta go.”

“No, you’re not going anywhere.” Rex’s voice rose, more from worry than command. Hunter stood behind him, arms folded, unreadable as always.

“What’s the matter with you, Anakin?” Hunter asked, stern and grounded like thunder. “You’ve been acting like a jerk all night.”

Anakin laughed bitterly, eyes wild and distant. “Sorry I’m not into sucking tits of girls tonight,” he said, sharp like broken glass.

But Rex saw through it. He always did. Saw the raw ache swimming just beneath the sarcasm.

Rex’s grip loosened, his voice softening. “Dude, this isn’t about girls, and you know it. This is about Padmé.”

Anakin didn’t speak. The firelight flickered across his face, casting shadows that looked too much like heartbreak.

“Look—- I didn’t know she was coming tonight,” Rex added gently. “I’m sorry, man. I think it was Sabé who brought her.” “It’s fine,” Anakin muttered, jaw working again. He stared out at the crowd, at them. “I should’ve known better than to come here anyway.”

Rex stepped forward, about to speak again, but Hunter’s hand landed on his shoulder like a warning bell. “Rex—if he doesn’t want to be here, we can’t force him.”

Rex clenched his jaw, frustrated. “But we invited him. He agreed. We can’t just let him leave like this.” He turned back to Anakin, voice quieter now—earnest. “Anakin, come on, dude. Just… please stay a bit longer, okay? We’ll keep you distracted. I promise.”

Anakin sighed, shoulders sagging like a wave had just passed through him. His fingers played absentmindedly with the rings on his hand—twisting them, like turning old regrets. “Not tonight, Rex…” His voice was quieter now, softened around the edges. “But I promise you, I’ll come to your next party. That’s a promise.”

And somehow, the way he said it made Rex believe him. The kind of promise that still sounded like Rumors spinning on a turntable—fleeting, maybe, but real in that moment.

Rex gave him a look—half proud, half broken. “Alright, man,” he said, stepping aside.

Anakin nodded and turned away, the sand cool under his feet, the sky too wide, the night too heavy.

Anakin walked back to his car, the ocean sounds dimming behind him as if the night itself was moving in slow motion. He’d had a few beers, sure—but his head was still clear enough to drive. Or at least, that’s what he told himself. The weight pressing down on his chest wasn’t the alcohol. It was something heavier, slower—something like regret soaked in gasoline.

He slipped into the driver’s seat with a sigh, the leather cold against his back. The cigarette found its home between his lips like it belonged there, and he lit it with a flick that had muscle memory behind it. The engine coughed, groaned, then roared to life—old and temperamental like some broken-down warhorse. The radio crackled on just as the cigarette’s cherry began to glow.

Nirvana buzzed through the static like a voice from inside his ribs. He tapped the wheel in rhythm, eyes narrowed, the wind threading through his hair like phantom fingers. Smoke curled around his face as the Charger hummed down the empty desert road. The stars above him were endless—flickering reminders that the universe didn’t care whether Padmé still loved him or not.

Then, there it was. That old gas station neon burning softly in the distance, glowing like a memory someone forgot to turn off. A familiar landmark on the map of his boyhood. He smirked a little—blue raspberry slushie, the unofficial cure for heartbreak since ’08. He flicked his cigarette out the window with a casual snap, embers scattering like fireflies in the wind, and pulled into the station with the kind of parking job that said, I’ve had a night.

Didn’t matter.

The bell above the door jingled as he walked in, the smell of oil, sugar, and faded linoleum wrapping around him like an old denim jacket. The place looked like it had been untouched since 1956—chrome stools, jukebox in the corner playing a half-slowed Elvis song, and faded pinup posters curled at the edges.

“Hey Dex,” he said, voice low and worn.

Behind the counter, the old man turned—grease-stained apron, hands thick like they’d held a thousand engines. His face broke into a grin, warm and wide. “Well, look who it is! Skywalker, my boy! Haven’t seen you around in a while. What brings you in tonight?”

Anakin chuckled softly, the sound more air than joy, and reached over the counter for a handshake. Dex’s hand was firm, familiar. The kind of grip that reminded Anakin there were still people in this world who remembered who he was before the heartbreak, before the detachment.

“Ah, just… craving a slushie and a pack of cigarettes,” he said, flicking his hair back with the edge of his hand.

Dex’s eyes twinkled with the kind of knowing that came from years of watching lost boys pretend they weren’t. “Ah, I get that. Sometimes you just need a little something to quiet the noise.”

He reached under the counter and slid a pack of cigarettes forward like it was an offering.

“And I remember you always loved my slushies. The blueberry one, wasn’t it?”

Anakin smirked, that rare kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He reached for his wallet inside his leather jacket. “It astonishes me more that you still remember.”

Dex waved him off with a slow shake of the head. “Please, my boy. It’s on the house. Call it a friendship tax write-off.”

He turned and began working on the slushie—one scoop, two, slow and methodical, as if even sadness deserved ceremony. Anakin leaned on the counter, letting himself breathe for the first time that night.

And then it happened.

The screech of tires outside shattered the stillness like a cymbal crash in a love song. Anakin’s eyes snapped to the window just in time to see a modern Mustang lurch to a stop—gleaming, expensive, arrogant. The passenger door burst open and a girl stumbled out, her voice cutting through the quiet like glass. “Fucking stupid manchild!” she yelled, full of venom and fire.

She slammed her heel against the door with all the force of a woman who’d had enough, then raised a middle finger as the Mustang peeled away in a scream of rubber and cowardice. She stood there, fists clenched, hair wild, silhouetted in the neon glow of the station like a fallen angel still burning from the fall.

Dex glanced out the window, brow raised. “Jesus,” he muttered. “Youngsters. Always so much anger and haste in their hearts."”

Anakin didn’t say anything. Just watched her, eyes fixed, a straw slowly finding its way back between his lips. anakin didn’t say anything, just looked blankly at the girl.

The girl was none other than Y/N Y/L/N—chaotic, sun-kissed, and burning like a fire left untended too long. Her presence was like a breeze laced with gasoline: beautiful, dangerous, and full of promise. She strutted into the station like she owned the damn place, her curls bouncing wildly with every furious step, catching in the neon glow. Her knotted white shirt clung to her chest like a forgotten summer memory. Her jean cut-offs were frayed and faded, high on her thighs like the edge of a secret.

Anakin watched her with that stunned, quiet look—like she was a ghost from a song he hadn’t played in years.

They had history, buried beneath layers of time, heat, and unspoken things.

Back then, they were kids on rusted bikes, daring each other to steal fire from the gods—or at least a Snickers bar from Dex’s. She always dared. He always followed. Summer nights filled with match flames, soda fizz, and laughter that echoed off the hollow skeletons of empty houses. He was wide-eyed, trying to be brave. She was barefoot with chalk on her palms and paint under her nails, already wild with the grief she didn’t yet know was coming.

Then time shifted. Like all things do. When her mom died, she disappeared from the inside out.

And Anakin? He went the other direction—louder, sharper, faster. Grease on his hands, silver rings on his fingers, anger he never named. She watched him from across the school halls. He never looked back.

Until now.

She walked in, barefaced and defiant, lips glossed cherry red like rebellion in a tube. She looked at the two men inside—one old, one made of shadows—and offered a sugar-slick “Evening, men,” like she hadn’t just been screaming outside like a thunderstorm in heels.

Dex raised his hand, smiling warmly. “Evening to you too, Miss Y/L/N.”

Anakin didn’t smile. He just gave her a nod. That Skywalker kind—part greeting, part warning, all unresolved memory. He felt something twist in his chest at the sight of her.

“What brings you here so late?” Dex asked, leaning onto the counter, eyes kind but shrewd.

Y/N shrugged, grabbing a pack of gum like it mattered, then turned on her heel—heels click click like gunshots across linoleum—and went to the fridge. The beer clinked softly as she grabbed one.“Eh, just getting something to drink,” she said, breezy as a summer lie.

Dex raised an eyebrow, his smile never quite leaving. “Just something to drink, huh? Are you sure you’re not running from something, kid?”

She walked back, the fridge door sighing shut behind her, and she set her things down beside Anakin’s slushie. Y/N looked like a movie character or like a hippie but with much femininity and risqué. but her personality was somehow, casual and free minded. chaotic even. She had rings on nearly every knuckle, mismatched like her moods. “Dex,” she said with a smirk, eyes gleaming, “if I were running from something, it wouldn’t be in these heels.”

Dex laughed, full and amused. “Touché. But you’re still full of it.”

Anakin stayed quiet. He was leaning on the counter, taking slow sips from his slushie, but his gaze had barely left her. She had that kind of gravity. Always did. A chaos that pulled without asking permission.

Y/N slid some money out from her bra with the same confidence as someone lighting a match. Casual. Intimate. Unapologetic.“Trust me,” she said, placing the money down beside her beer and gum, “this is the best option I’ve got right now.”

Then her eyes flicked to Anakin’s drink, lips curling into that familiar smirk. “Damn,” she said, voice dipped in dry sarcasm. “They let sad boys buy slushies now?”

Anakin’s jaw clenched slightly. He met her gaze without flinching, slushie straw still between his fingers. “You’re one to talk, princess. Last I heard, you were breaking hearts left and right.”

Y/N chuckled. Low, amused. She bent slightly, resting her elbow on the counter and chin in her hand like a cat playing with a bird. “Who said these rumors?” she said.

Everyone in school knew the real stories. Padmé had left Anakin. Then started to date Clovis. And Y/N? She was the girl who never stayed. Summer flings like cigarettes—quick, intoxicating, and over before the pack ran out.

But between her smirk and his quiet intensity, something hung in the air that neither beer nor slushie could cool.

Maybe it was the ghosts of bike rides and stolen candy. Maybe it was the fact that they never really said goodbye. Maybe it was just that they were both tired of pretending the past didn’t exist.

Dex, ever the oracle behind the counter, just watched them in silence.

Anakin looked at the crumpled bills in her hand, his gaze lingering a moment too long over the lines of her wrist, the chipped polish, the rings she always wore like armor. Then his eyes flicked back to her face—calm, unreadable. He rolled his eyes with the same nonchalance he’d perfected over the years.

“You know how gossip spreads in this town,” he said, voice low and flat. “But let’s not pretend, Y/L/N—you’ve always had your fair share of flings.”

Y/N grabbed her beer and gum, her eyes soft but casual—those doe eyes that always masked sharp thoughts. “Lord,” she said, arching a brow, “because it’s a crime to have a bit of fun in life, right?”

Anakin shook his head, a dry laugh undercutting the tension. But there was a flicker of something—irritation, maybe. Or something less honest.

“I never said it was a crime,” he said, his voice a little tighter. “But there’s a difference between having fun and using people. Or are you too busy having fun to care about that?”

Y/N said nothing at first. Just placed a fingertip—ringed and casual—on the top of her beer. She twisted it with one smooth motion, the cap popping off with a small hiss of rebellion.

“Oh, come on, Skywalker,” she said, voice cool, amused. “I don’t break hearts. That’s not really my thing.”

And it was true. Her reputation wasn’t for destruction. It was detachment. No false promises, no lingering stares in the hallway the next morning. Just soft lips, tangled sheets, and the unspoken agreement that some people weren’t meant to stay.

Anakin snorted. He had that same half-smirk now, the one he wore like a defense mechanism.

“Right,” he said, a little bitter. “No-strings-attached, that’s your thing, isn’t it? Just in it for your own pleasure.”

Y/N stepped closer, pressing the cold beer can lightly against his chest. Her voice didn’t rise, her gaze didn’t waver.

“Hey, man,” she said, flat and honest. “I’m not the one who broke your heart, alright? So don’t throw your sad-boy lectures at me. Save it for that chick who actually hurt you.”

The smirk dropped off his face for half a second. Just long enough for the honesty to cut through.

He looked down at the beer, then up again. “And why do you care?” he asked, voice quieter now. “Shouldn’t you be off with one of your flings—having fun, not giving a damn about anyone else?”

Y/N gave a crooked grin, taking a long sip from the bottle. “I wanted to,” she said with a shrug. “But my fling turned out to be an asshole.”

And with that, she turned back to Dex, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Thanks, Dex!” she called, stepping backward, her shoulders still squared.

Then she pushed open the door with the curve of her back, and the desert air swallowed her whole. The door closed with a soft thud, and Anakin stood there, slushie in hand, heart pacing like a slow drum against his ribs. Anger. Confusion. A strange, magnetic ache that never really left when it came to her.

Dex had been watching all along. Like he always did. Quiet eyes, kind mouth. The man had seen more heartbreak in his diner than a whole town’s worth of country songs. “You and Miss Y/L/N, huh?” Dex said, wiping the counter down with a rag. “Some tense there?”

Anakin scoffed lightly, stirring the bottom of his slushie with the straw. “A bit,” he said. Then shook his head. He didn’t think. He just moved.

The door creaked again as he stepped out, gravel crunching beneath his converse. The night was cooler now, the neon lights from the gas station flickering in lazy hues—blue, gold, red—like a half-forgotten dream trying to stay alive.

She was standing just outside, beer on the ground, a cigarette perched between her lips like a worn-in habit. The breeze pushed her curls back slightly, the smoke curling up toward the stars like a prayer no one meant to say out loud.

She didn’t look surprised to see him. “Oh,” Y/N said with a smirk, eyes flicking to him sidelong. “Missed me already?”

Anakin didn’t answer. He just walked over and stood beside her, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the dark horizon.

Y/N picked up her beer again and took a sip, letting the cigarette rest between her fingers. The music inside the station buzzed faintly through the door—Fleetwood Mac still crooning out into the night.

Anakin finally spoke, barely above a whisper. “You still smoke menthols?”

Y/N gave a soft laugh through her nose. “Only when I’m mad,” she said. “Or nostalgic.”

Anakin nodded once, watching the smoke disappear into the desert sky.

“Well,” he said, his voice half-joking, half-sincere, “you always did mix chaos with charm.”

Y/N smoked slow and steady, arms crossed over her chest like armor, the cigarette dancing between her fingers as she extended the pack toward him. “Definitely,” she said, voice lazy like a cat in the sun. “You changed though.”

Anakin took the pack, their fingers brushing—just enough to short-circuit something in him for half a second. He struck a match against his boot heel and lit up, the flare of orange flickering in his eyes.

“Changed, huh?” he asked, exhaling the first drag like a sigh. “In what way?”

Y/N walked toward the curb, cigarette hanging from her lips, her hair catching the breeze like wildfire. The white of her shirt glowed under the low light, and those jean shorts did nothing to help his already scattered thoughts.

She didn’t look back when she answered. “This super-wannabe-greaser version of you,” she said plainly, dropping down onto the curb, legs crossed. She didn’t say it cruel—just the kind of honest only she could get away with.

Anakin followed, slower, quieter. Watched the way she sat like she owned the sidewalk, the stars, the whole damn desert if she wanted to.

He sat beside her, elbows resting on his knees. “So…Skywalker,” she said after a beat, taking a sip of her beer, “why are you really here? Sippin’ that heartbroken slushie like a sad movie extra?”

Anakin chuckled, surprised she remembered what he always ordered. “What can I say? Sometimes a man just needs frozen blueberry to deal with a broken heart.”

Y/N popped a piece of gum into her mouth and grinned. “Ah, now we’re admitting we’re heartbroken.” She tilted her head at him, half-smirk playing at her glossed lips. “That slushie’s turning your cold heart into a sweet one.”

He laughed, the sound loose for the first time in weeks. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You’re just jealous my slushie’s better than your beer.”

She sipped it defiantly. “Nope. My beer relaxes me. Your slushie’s just brain freeze in a cup.”

She set the bottle down, turned toward him slightly. “So, why aren’t you at your homies’ party?”

Anakin leaned back, fingers splayed across the pavement. “Just needed a breather. Couldn’t deal with all the noise and drunken idiots.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Mmm. Liar.”

He blinked, caught off guard. “What makes you think that?”

She chewed her gum slowly, tapping ash from her cigarette like it was punctuation.

“Because I know when someone’s lying. And you? You left because Padmé was there.”

Anakin’s expression darkened. His jaw tensed like old reflex. He looked away, letting the smoke drift from his lips instead of answering. “So what if I did?” he muttered. “Why do you care?”

Y/N lifted her hands like a peace sign. “Chill, I’m not here to clown on your heartbreak.”

She crossed her bare legs, cool as ever.

Anakin sighed, the weight dropping out of his chest a little. He looked over at her, and this time there was something raw behind his eyes. “I just… I can’t seem to escape her. Even when I try.”

Y/N didn’t answer right away. She watched him—really watched him—but kept her face still. The same face that used to laugh until it ached on hot summer nights. It was weird, talking to him again. But then again, her night was already shot. Her so-called fling turned out to be a first-class jerk with zero rhythm.

She sipped her beer again, then wrinkled her nose like she remembered something sour.

“Yeah, well, let me tell you—Clovis? Not good in bed.”

Anakin choked on a laugh, head whipping toward her. “Nice to know I’m not the only one with a vendetta.” His smirk was back now, crooked and dangerous, but warmer than it had been in days.

Y/N shot him a sly grin, but her eyes stayed out on the highway. “Why’d she dump you anyway?”

Anakin exhaled hard. His cigarette burned low between his fingers. “She said she wanted to focus on herself. Her ambitions. Said we were holding each other back.”

Y/N clicked her tongue, unimpressed. “Damn. That’s some Hallmark movie excuse right there.”

He chuckled again, shaking his head. “You’re preaching to the choir. Clovis is a total ass.”

He took one last drag, flicked the bud out into the dark, watching the ember fizzle against the gravel.

Y/N looked up at the sky, eyes glassy under the haze of citylight and desert stars. “Yeah—I slept with him twice. Only ‘cause I needed his homework.” She said it like it was no big deal, like it was just another Tuesday.

Anakin stared at her, half-shocked. “Wait. You slept with him for homework?”

Y/N grinned, wicked and proud. “I’m a genius.” She sipped her beer, gum snapping softly. “Besides, I hated Mrs. Jocasta. And Clovis kept bragging about his grades, so I figured—might as well get something out of it.”

Anakin was still recovering from that bombshell when she turned the conversation again, voice soft but cutting.

“Anyway—listen, Skywalker. She’s not worth it.” She met his eyes now, fully. No smirks. No gum popping. “I mean it. Padmé’s like every other girl in this high school. Polished on the outside, but not a clue how to love someone who doesn’t fit in a pretty little box.”

Anakin’s stare held hers, long and unreadable. Something in him wanted to argue, maybe even defend Padmé. But more of him was tired. Tired of pretending it didn’t sting. Tired of playing it cool when all he wanted was something real. “I just… I don’t know. Thought she was different, ya know?”

Y/N turned to him, softer now. Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the wind, maybe it was just old muscle memory kicking in from nights long gone. She wanted to understand—maybe not to heal him, but at least to hear him. “What did you even like about her?” she asked, not judgmental. Just curious. Like trying to understand a song someone kept on repeat.

Anakin leaned back, shoulders folding in like a wilted paperback. “Everything, I guess. She was smart. Kind. Beautiful—like she stepped out of a dream I wasn’t supposed to have. She just… got me. Saw through all my bullshit and still wanted me anyway.”

Y/N gave a slow nod, cigarette balanced between her fingers like an afterthought. “Huh—sounds romantic. How long were you two doing that heartbreak waltz?”

He looked away, the horizon smearing into amber and shadows. “Not as long as I wanted. Off and on for a while. But… two years, officially.”

Y/N let out a theatrical gasp, almost offended on his behalf. “Damn.” Her voice carried down the street like a thrown match. “That’s, like—- okay you know, It’s okay to cry about her,—two years is a lot.”

Anakin chuckled, low and rough. “Nah, I won’t cry about her. She doesn’t deserve my tears.”

But even as he said it, the ache behind his eyes told on him.

Y/N raised a skeptical brow, eyes narrowing. “Yeah, that nonchalant look? Doesn’t work on you.” She pointed a polished nail at his face. “The evidence is here, dumbass.” Her finger hovered near the tired smudges under his eyes.

Anakin sighed, dragging a hand through his already-messy hair. The weight sat heavy in his bones. “I guess I can’t fool you.”

“Never could,” she said, lips curled into that signature crooked grin. “And also—come on, you’re too pretty to pout for free.”

Anakin rolled his eyes, but a smirk tugged at his lips. “You really know how to boost a guy’s ego, don’t you? First I’ve got heartbreaker eyes, now I’m too pretty to pout?”

Y/N shrugged, dramatic as ever, pouting for emphasis. “And it worked. I know men more than you realize.” She stood up with a theatrical sigh, brushing off imaginary dust from her shorts. Her beer clinked lightly against the curb as she stepped out onto the street to glance around.

Anakin watched her with amusement. “Oh really? And what exactly do you know about men?” he asked, lifting a brow.

She raised her hand, thumb pointing out, eyes scanning the road. “That if I do this,” she said, smirking, “someone will stop.”

Anakin blinked. “You think just sticking your thumb out is enough?”

“It’s worked a couple times,” she said with a smirk and a shrug.

Anakin raised his brow, mildly impressed despite himself. “Well, look at you. Hitchhiking queen.”

Y/N nodded, hair catching the breeze like something out of an old photograph. “Man, I wish I could show you my trick—but it’s too late to catch a ride now.” She glanced down at him, still sitting curbside like some brooding James Dean knockoff.

Anakin smirked, letting the moment stretch. “Oh no, now I feel like I’m missing out. What’s this magical trick of yours?”

Y/N fidgeted with her shirt—tying the knot a bit tighter beneath her chest. It left her collarbones bare, skin sun-kissed and glowing under the flickering streetlamp. A very 70s look—half western, half rebellion. “To catch a ride home,” she said, matter-of-fact. “’Cause these heels? They’re not made to walk a mile.”

Anakin’s gaze flickered down—lingered a second too long. Her skin, the curve of her ribs, the exposed midriff. He looked away quickly, lips twitching. “Well,” he cleared his throat, “if you’re looking for a ride, I guess I can’t let a damsel in distress walk home in those heels.”

Y/N turned, faking a scandalized frown. “Wow. Damsel? Really? You just called me a helpless maiden?” But the corner of her mouth curled into a grin anyway. “…but I’ll take the offer though.”

She walked toward his car. Anakin stood slowly, brushing dust from his jeans, arms crossed as he watched her. “Don’t get used to it. This is a one-time deal.”

She tugged the door handle—stuck. Of course it was. “Yeah, don’t worry,” she said dryly, yanking harder. “Your car’s a piece of junk.”

Anakin walked up beside her, laughing under his breath. “It’s vintage, thank you very much.”

She raised an eyebrow. “It’s rust with wheels.” He popped the lock with a practiced hand and opened it for her. “Ladies first.” She gave him a side glance, dramatic as hell, then slid into the seat with an exaggerated groan.

“So,” she said as he circled the hood and got in, “where’s the playlist? Or are we driving in depressing silence like a sad film?”

Anakin grinned, key turning in the ignition, engine sputtering to life. “You think I drive around without Fleetwood Mac ready to go?”

Her laugh cracked the night open like a bottle. “Skywalker, you softie.”

The desert swallowed them as the music started, tires rolling into the dusk like they belonged to it.

📀 HELLLOOOOO, i am back! I am super excited to release the first pilot to my new series, which I am currently writing on.... c.ia. (no judgement pls.) but I loved the story so much, I had to share it. so this is the first glance to a summer love with flaws and cigarettes. have fun with it, and fell in love with y/n as I do, cause we love complex girls!

📀taglist: @blackynsupremacy @speaknow-sw @alelo23 @collywobblvs @newnewtheicon @angelsgalore @tvdelrey @girldisaster2007 @tinainaction @mariswxt @crazycaoticsimp @star-wars-stuff-1

[takumiraine]

So I’ve fallen into the DPxDC thing. Not sure how, and I only have fandom characterizations and wiki knowledge but. I have a thing.

<next>

Once upon a time there was a boy, no older than fourteen, with hair darker than night and eyes bluer than the summer sky. Once upon a time, there was a budding scientist with a caring sister and two lovably scattered scientist parents. Once upon a time, there was a terrible accident. Once upon a time there was a boy, no older than fourteen, with hair whiter than snow, skin paler than death, eyes greener than toxic waste. Once upon a time, the boy needed help as more and more potentially world ending events descended on his town. Once upon a time, nobody but the government came. Once upon a time, the boy, his sister, and his friends escaped.

This is what happened next.

When they split up, Danny had drawn Gotham. Gotham with its so called “vigilante family”. Gotham whose so called “protectors” had been asked multiple times through the so called “Justice League” for help. But just like true justice, they were blind to his requests. His pleas. Both he and Amity Park were left to rot. It had been five years now but Danny was still mad. When he and his friends escaped the three of them each went to a different League infested city. They weren’t strong enough to do more than gather intel but…. Intel would lead to openings.

It took a bit of Tucker’s help in re-establishing his identity and giving him a realistic transcript for what his trajectory would have been if he wasn’t constantly fighting ghosts (mid to high Cs with a couple Bs instead of mid to low Ds with a couple Cs). But he managed a halfway decent scholarship to Gotham U. It covered tuition, books, and just enough for some food.

Sure Danny was technically homeless, but he’s lived through worse. Besides, the shitty parts of town had plenty of empty apartments. Careful use of his ghost powers made acquisition of an apartment a breeze. By the time the semester started, Danny had found himself a place. Tucker had slipped into the network and made sure the landlord wouldn’t be renting it - a coincidental shift of the management had been really helpful, Danny wouldn’t lie - as it looked as if it had been permanently bought. Danny did some within-wall plumbing to get himself water access, then rewired the electrical box outside to grant him access to the grid. Though it was all illegal and would crumble if people talked to each other about it, he counted his blessings for the moment. Illegal meant fewer ways to be tracked after all.

Ridiculous that a nineteen year old had to think about avoiding being tracked, but here he was. Every time he saw the bat signal in the distance his core writhed, and the nearby ghosts scattered. Crime Alley had its own masked vigilante, who didn’t seem to be always on good terms with the Bats, which was fine by him. The less chance of running into them the less chance he had of blowing his “Normal Human Dan Nightingale” life to pieces. Danny hadn’t seen this Red Hood person face to face yet, but he had heard stories.

Gotham had enough ambient ecto to sustain him without his ghost form and trips to the Realms, which was good because the more he used his powers, the more likely he was to get picked up by the Government’s sensors. The GIW had been sent by The League after all. They were trouble enough on their own. He didn’t want them to have backup while his own was spread across the country. He missed flying and seeing the stars, but Danny had to admit that he was a huge fan of the not getting hunted for sport thing.

It made times like these difficult though. Currently Danny was being mugged. Or… the guy was attempting to mug him. “For the fifth time dude, I live in this part of town. I don’t have any money.” Danny was trying to explain to the guy holding a knife to his midsection.

In another life he would have kicked the guy’s ass. Instead he had his hands up as he was pressed back to the crumbling brick and boarded up window of what used to be a shop front.

“Don’t play games with me kid! You’re going to college. You have money.” The guy pressed the knife point harder into his stomach, the knife tip barely a pound of pressure away from puncturing his skin. As it was he’d have to mend his shirt.

“Yeah, on a shitty scholarship. I can’t even afford dinner every night.” Thank god for ambient ecto. “Here I’m going to reach into my pocket and get my wallet.” Slowly Danny lowered one of his hands and slid two fingers into his pocket, coming back out with a thin, worn leather wallet. He raised it back up and unfolded it “no credit cards.” He slid his fingers into where he kept the two dollars he had left this month and turned them invisible. Then he tilted it so the would be mugger could see. “See? Nothing. Can I go home now? I’ve got the rest of an essay to write before the library opens tomorrow. I don’t even have a computer to type it on myself.”

“You’re lying! You’ve gotta have something!” The guy was getting more and more frantic. Probably jonesing for a fix of whatever drug flooded this place.

“If I had it I would have given it to you.” Danny explained patiently, “I have more sense than to get stabbed over some cash. But I don’t have it.”

“Liar!” The man yelled, jabbing the knife into him. Danny grunted in pain, not a shout, pain didn’t make him shout anymore, as the heavy thud of boots hit the ground. The guy was suddenly removed from in front of him. Danny swore loudly, careful to press his hands around the knife as his core demanded he do something. Instead all he did was breathe. When he got enough of a handle on the pain-fight response to know his eyes weren’t changing, Danny looked up.

The first thing he noticed was a red bat logo on the man’s chest. “Oh no not you.” He groaned half to himself.

The man slammed his mugger into the wall with a sick crack, and let him slump to the ground beside where Danny was bent over. “Excuse me?” The man asked, voice modulator seeming to glitch slightly, coming out more robotic. That was probably Danny’s fault. He needed a tighter control of his aura. But he didn’t have it right now.

“I don’t need your help.” He ground out through grit teeth.

“You’ve been stabbed.” The man explained, as if Danny was someone in shock. Which, fair. He might be.

“You’re one of those Bat fucks. I don’t need help from a Bat.” He grit out in reply, voice barely held together under his growl.

“I am not with the Bats.” Danny snorted, then groaned as that was the absolute wrong choice. Instead he just reached up with one bloody hand, which he couldn’t keep the slight tremor out of, and swiped his blood across the red bat symbol on his “hero’s” chest. “Oh. That. We…. Had a falling out.”

“Right. Well. I’ll leave you to it. Next time, let me get mugged.” Danny took another fortifying breath, trying to settle his core. It screamed pain-revenge-fight at him, but now was not the time. He needed to get back to his apartment and get this knife out of him. Then check in with Sam and Tucker. Maybe Jazz. Though she was at one of the Ivy League schools and he really should leave her be. Let someone have a future.

The man with the red bat logo said something after him as Danny shouldered past and shuffled down the street, but Danny ignored it.

Fucking Bats. Fucking Gotham. Just…. Fuck.

[sonotpattismith]

my blues for my brain (megumi fushiguro x reader)

word count: 8.7k inspired by: fate by grey reverend content: angst, fluff, mentions of car accidents, hospitals, invisible string theory, me pretending gojo is still alive for my mental health

“Please don’t leave me here.”

These words were ones all too familiar to you, in an all too familiar scenario. The difference was, it wasn’t you clinging to life with blood soaked skin. Instead, it was the strange boy that had just raced out of the over-priced cafe that you worked at to make a dime during your summer semesters. 

You could recall the exact, desperate words falling from your own lips as a good samaritan crouched in front of you just a few years back, your fingertips just a hair away from death’s door. In an act that would serve to veer you off any sense of understanding for your purpose in life, that person didn’t leave you to die, despite the chaos that was ensuing around him. When you woke, you had more questions that filled your prayers than thanks. 

Why did you live if others had died the same fate that was allotted to your own life? There was meaning to everything that happened in one’s life— at least that’s what everyone told you when you woke in your hospital bed. What was the meaning of this though? Were you meant to find a new purpose in your life; was this meant to steer you in the right path? If so, why did you end up working a minimum wage job as you scraped up enough money for a college education you still had little to no clue what you wanted to do with yet? 

Up until that day, as the pale stranger’s desperate grip on your hand slowly weakened with his waning consciousness, you were sure you had failed whatever god saved you all those years ago. As the man before you opened his eyes for the briefest of moments to beg for your mercy, you thought meaning had finally found you. 

“You’d think for a café in the middle of one of the busiest streets in Tokyo that there would be a little more excitement in here every once and a while.” Your coworker droned as she stared at the front door, which hadn’t opened in exactly forty-one minutes. Who was counting though? 

You shouldered into her with a half-hearted smile as you made yourself a mid-shift drink. Today’s choice happened to be a matcha latte, though you often switched it up for the sake of having something new to look forward to everyday. Peering back at her and then toward the hustle and bustle just outside the shop, you sighed dejectedly. What meaning did standing behind this counter for hours a day have? Perhaps you should be enjoying the life that was granted back to you so fortunately, you thought as you trailed an absentminded finger down the scar that ran down your arm. 

Snapping from your haze, you offered her the most encouraging smile you could muster in the midst of your perpetual existential crisis. 

“Staring at the door isn’t going to make customers appear.” You scolded, and she peered over at you with a bored glare, to which you chuckled lightly. “Quick, pick a syrup, and we’ll put it in my matcha to see if we’re horrible at our jobs or not.”

At this, an amused smile stretched across her face, and she quickly straightened up to look over the options. As you two bickered over which of you had more abysmal taste than the other, the rare chime of the front door interrupted your concocting session. The both of you snapped up like dogs who just heard their food bowl rattle in the next room. 

Appearing slightly out of breath and frantic, a man stepped into the café. There was a determination in his step as he rushed over to the register and rested his hand atop the counter to lean in with purpose. There were prominent, pink scars lining his face, so large in size and quantity that you wondered what kind of trouble someone seemingly your age could have gotten himself into already. Forgoing your growing curiosity, you mustered up a welcoming smile. 

“Welcome! Can I get—”

“Did you see anything strange passing around here just a second ago?” The two of you spoke at the same time, but he paid no mind to your cut-off question as he stared expectantly at you. 

Your mouth slowly shut, brows furrowing in the process as you tried to recall anything that had happened in the last five minutes, but the only memories that surfaced were you trying to decide between lavender or hazelnut syrup. 

“Maybe we have, but we reserve the right to withhold answers for paying customers, actually.” Your coworker chimed in with a mischievous smile, clearly just desperate for any business on this slower-than-usual day. The raven-haired man sighed indignantly.

“This is serious—”

“So is our no loitering policy.” You had to repress a tickled smile at her persistence. She smiled triumphantly as he grumbled and frantically fished a few spare yen from his pockets and slammed them on the table. 

“A black coffee!” He growled his order at her before returning his attention to you, a scowl set deeply on his already intimidating face. Beside you, your coworker mumbled something in reference to his boring order before working to prepare it. “Now what did you see?”

You almost felt bad after the fact, that you could only pathetically shake your head at his question. 

“I’m sorry, I really haven’t seen anything. What are you looking—”

A frustrated grunt from the disgruntled man cut you off, and before you knew it he was storming out of the café. An amused scoff escaped you as you watched him leave, and your coworker leaned against the counter beside you.

“Just our luck— we ask for entertainment, and we get crazy.” She commented with a shake of her head. “He left his coffee, too.”

This made you tear your gaze from the door to the lidded, brown cup she set down on the counter. His yen were still sat messily before you, and you suddenly felt bad for having coerced him into buying something. Peering out to see him speaking to a few pedestrians just outside the shop, you grasped the cup and exited your post behind the register. 

“Hey!” You called out, ignoring your coworker’s questioning as you poked your head out the door. Sighing when he appeared too preoccupied to notice your calls, you prepared to try one more time as he continued his frantic trek through the bustling city. “You forgot your—”

The blaring sound of a truck’s horn sliced through your attempted good deed of the day, and you could only watch in stone-cold horror as the offending vehicle slammed into your distracted customer. His uniform-clad body jolted across the street with a velocity you had trouble keeping up with. Your eyes wouldn’t allow you to stop following the movements no matter how hard you tried though. The steaming cup in your hands slipped from your trembling fingers before splattering across the ground in tandem with the stranger’s blood across the street. 

Vehicle’s horns were blaring behind the truck that had come to a screeching halt. Behind you, your coworker rushed out, shouting words you couldn’t process in your shell-shocked state. You watched with vast, unblinking eyes as his body finally rolled to a stop, and he twitched out in agony. With unwavering precision, you could swear you knew the exact pain that was coursing through his body at that moment; the fear that must be setting his wounds ablaze. It wasn’t that long ago that it was you, laying in uncertainty, at the mercy of whoever might have felt your life was worthy enough to try saving. 

So, you ripped your arm out of your coworker’s frantic grip, and your legs raced toward the scene. The truck driver was stumbling out of the driver’s seat, a horror-stricken expression etched onto his features as you dropped down to your knees beside the barely conscious man. Blood coated the corners of his lips as he continued to weakly sputter up the substance. 

“Oh my god,” You babbled mindlessly, hands hovering over him as you contemplated what to do. As if reacting to your voice, his head swayed in your direction, but his eyes remained shut. He was pale— dare you say even paler than he was when he walked into your shop just moments ago. “Call an ambulance!” You shouted at the truck driver, who seemed to be too shell-shocked to spring into action himself. Upon hearing your frantic order, he immediately began fumbling with his cellphone. 

Turning your attention back to the stranger, you noted he was now struggling to pry his eyes open, a deep navy color squinting back at you. 

“Can you hear me?” You questioned, fingers twitching with the urge to turn him on his side in an attempt to prevent him choking on his own blood. You didn’t know what was broken though, so you opted to carefully tilt his head toward you. He only stared deliriously up at you as blood began to ooze from the side of his mouth. “Is there someone I can call? 

Megumi’s mind was in a state all too familiar to him though. It clung on the border between life and death, and, in the past, it was a constant struggle of whether or not it was worth fighting to get through. Now though, he was desperately grasping at the straws of his consciousness. It was his first mission by himself after the trauma his mind and body had endured during the Culling Games. After everything he’d gone through, all the battles he’d fought and the mental strife he’d worked through, this couldn’t possibly be how he left this world. A meaningless and pitiful death— is that what he would have to show for when his friends asked what became of him in the end?

“Hey, hey, stay awake, okay?” Megumi was pulled from his wallowing thoughts by the frantic voice above him, and it sounded as though he was under water, though it wouldn’t surprise him if there was blood in his ears as well. His lips parted, but all that left them was a strangled groan. Your fingers, still warm from his black coffee that had just been clutched in your hand, squeezed gently at his cheeks as though to rouse him from sleep. They slipped from his face and fell into his hand, giving his fingers a soft squeeze. “Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”

Weakly, you felt his trembling fingers grasp back at your hand. You found yourself smiling encouragingly at him, though you doubted he could see it. The sirens of an oncoming ambulance had you looking behind you, and you could see the flashing lights in the distance cutting across the traffic. From your peripheral, you saw your coworker racing out toward you, pushing through the small crowd that had formed. 

“He just— it came out of nowhere. He’s—”

“He’s suspicious as fuck.” She finished for you, concern pooling in her eyes as she grabbed your free hand in an attempt to tug you up. As you stumbled a bit, you felt the stranger’s cold hand grasp at your wrist, turning your attention back to him. “Let’s go, the ambulance is already here. This guy was probably caught up in some seriously shady shit.” 

She was right, and you knew it. It was evident from the grotesque and oddly placed scars that lined his face, the strange uniform he donned, down to the odd questions and abrupt departure he had graced you with before the accident. Still, your memories of meeting the exact same fate kept you empathetically tied to his side as you peered down at him apprehensively. He opened his eyes once again, and it appeared as though he was mustering every last bit of strength he had left. His fingers wrapped around your wrist desperately as his lips parted to plea with you.

“Please don’t leave me.”

It was a cry that was so uncharacteristic of him, but he only knew one thing at the moment. The warmth of your hand and the soothing sound of your voice was the only thing tying him down to the land of the living. Without your grounding, he felt he may slip away, resigned to the fate he had just fought so valiantly to avoid. 

The plea clutched at your heartstrings as the paramedics rushed to the scene. They were bustling around you, asking you questions while simultaneously shouting foreign terminology at each other as they immediately began tending to the situation at hand. Your eyes remained locked on the stranger’s as they slowly drifted shut, and he offered one last desolate squeeze to your hand before darkness seemed to consume him. 

“Ma’am,” The gruff voice of the paramedic beside you pulled you from your trance, and it was then that you noticed the tear that slipped down your cheek. Blinking it away, you looked up at the man, still shell-shocked. “Do you know this man?”

“I…” Your words got caught in your throat as his final plea rang in your ears. Glancing up, you saw your coworker on the other side of the sea of medical personelle, shaking her had at you with wide eyes. In your palm though, the limp, cold hand of the stranger still lay. “He’s my partner.” You lied in a haze, watching as they prepared to carefully shift him onto a stretcher. 

Your lie earned you a ride in the ambulance beside him, staring in an absent haze as the team moved like ants around him, peeling his lids back to check his eyes with a tiny light, cutting his shirt down the middle to check his vitals, prying an oxygen mask over his parted lips and expertly starting an IV on his limp arm despite the rustling of the fast-paced vehicle. They attributed your inability to answer any questions to your shock, which was partially true, but you also feared revealing your white lie to them with the wrong responses. 

Police were awaiting you at the hospital when the ambulance came to a screeching halt.  They questioned you about the accident and what you had seen. You complied easily, however couldn’t help but grow nervous once the staff at the hospital asked you to fill out paperwork on your ‘partner’s’ behalf. 

The pen in your hand shook as you stared down at the first blanks. 

FIRST NAME

LAST NAME

Of which you knew neither. 

“Is everything alright?” The soft voice of a compassionate nurse questioned as she typed away at her computer, likely awaiting your information to complete his admission. 

You looked up at her patient eyes, and you couldn’t hold back your lie any longer, explaining to her what had actually happened. Her slow nod made you feel guilty, as she thanked you for your honesty and explained the paperwork would be different now as they had no way to identify the stranger. He had no identification on him, and the cellphone they’d found in his pocket had shattered in the midst of the accident.

Perhaps you should have gone home after you’d given them all the information they needed, but you stayed in the small waiting room, anxiously bouncing your leg and chewing on your lip. As hours seemed to pass by, you’d perk up each time someone would come in, hoping any of the visitors would be coming to claim the stranger that was currently being tended to in the intensive care unit. They each came and went though, and you remained the only one awaiting him under the fluorescent lights. 

Your eyes were beginning to burn when the nurse you had spoken to hours prior walked carefully up to you, that compassionate smile everpresent on her lips. 

“I know there’s no relation, but I thought you’d like to know his condition is relatively stable as of right now.” She offered, causing you to sit up in the stiff, plastic chair. 

“Thank you— really.” You sighed breathlessly to which she nodded in return. For a moment, you wondered if you were overstepping by asking for anymore details. Casting your eyes down to your lap, you chewed pensively on your lip. She seemed to take note of your bashful apprehension, smiling knowingly. 

“You’re currently the only contact we have for him. There wouldn’t be a problem if you wanted to pay him a visit.”

So, with your fingers wringing nervously at the hem of your shirt, you followed the nurse through the unit and to the room he was occupying. Though you had seen first hand the damage the accident had done to him, you still had to bite back a shocked gasp upon seeing the various monitors he was hooked up to, as well as the clear tube running into his mouth and down his throat. You had endless questions for the god-sent nurse, but she had already mentioned that her shift was ending, so you didn’t want to hold her any longer. 

“He hasn’t woken up yet, but they can still hear you, you know?” She explained with an encouraging smile as she leaned against the doorframe. Tearing your gaze from the various lines and tubes connected to him, you peered back at her in shock, but the nurse only nodded affirmatively at you. “It helps. Especially since he’s by himself.” 

Following her polite goodbye with a promise that she’d be back on shift tomorrow morning, you were left alone with the stranger. It was silent in the sterile room, only the persistent beeping of his monitors filling the space around you. A shiver ran down your spine as if the below normal temperatures of the hospital were finally catching up to you as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. 

“This would’ve been a lot easier if you had stayed back to drink your stupid, black coffee.” You began hesitantly as you circled the raised bed. Pursing your lips, you slowly sat down on the chair beside him. Toying with the end of the blanket that hung off the bed, the ragged rise and fall of his chest caught your attention, and you wondered how much of it was thanks to the tube running down his throat. “I wonder if you ever found what you were looking for.” 

As an assistant came in to check on him, you peered awkwardly down at your lap while they checked his vitals. Once done with the routine checks, you watched her move the blanket back over him and gently adjust certain chords to settle more comfortably around him. It made your heart warm that they seemed so attentive to his comfort, even if he wasn’t conscious enough to notice. You thanked her quietly as she departed from the room. 

“You know the nurse’s assistant was the only one in the room with me when I first woke up after my accident.” You explained to the unconscious man before you. A fond smile settled onto your lips. “My parents had stepped out for a while just to get some food. Just their luck, huh? He held my hand while I was waking up so I wasn’t all by myself. It meant the world to me.”

It felt as though Megumi was trapped right back in the barrier between his mind and his soul— helpless to find an escape. This time around though, he had more of a will to fight. There was no way he had gone through everything and exhausted his mind, body, and soul, all to meet his demise because he didn’t look both ways before crossing the damn street. Another part of him wondered if this was fate granting him mercy. Perhaps if he didn’t die here, hooked up to all these tubes and machines, his cards held something sacreligious— a gruesome and grotesque death rather than the comparably mundane one that had befallen him. After all he’d been through, maybe this was blissful; the only happy ending that could be promised to him. 

As he lay in that strange veil of unconsciousness though, as if at the bottom of a pool, looking up and barely able to see the sun’s light poking up from the surface— someone was there with him. Your voice sounded as though it was just above the feet of water that separated him from life, muffled but still familiar. It was the same voice that had coaxed him into trusting his body to let go, not knowing whether or not it would be strong enough to reemerge again. 

His brows furrowed— that he could feel, and he willed himself to swim up to the surface as the soft hum of your tired rambling filled his ears. Why were you here? Why were you still here? The sorcerer needed to know, and the urge pushed him to keep struggling against the surface pressure that weighed him down. 

You weren’t sure how long you had sat there mindlessly babbling to the unresponsive man. Wariness was beginning to weigh down on your eyes and shoulders though, likely because you had been up since four that morning to prepare for your shift. If you stopped talking, you thought you might flop over and pass out yourself. He couldn’t be by himself when he woke up, you determined. 

Some staff had come in and dimmed the lights in the room what seemed like hours ago, so they weren’t so harsh in your tired eyes as you tilted your head back to stare at the ceiling while spewing out anything that came to mind. 

“My coworker finally texted me, you know. She said the only weird thing that passed by the shop today was you. Are you in some kind of gang? It would explain the uniform and all the…” Your rambling slowly died out as the sound of sheets rustling filled your ears. In an instant, you were sitting up properly in your uncomfortable chair. His hand twitched against the sheets, and you breathed out in anticipation as you watched his face contort in discomfort. The chair you had been occupying for hours slid back as you stood up abruptly to get a closer look. “Hey— can you hear me?”

Megumi forced his eyes open with what seemed like all the energy left in him. He half expected to be in Shoko’s infirmary with his friends hovering obnoxiously over him, or even in his room where he’d awake in his bed and realize he’d dreamt the entire scenario. The blinding, white ceiling tiles above him were different from the ones he’d grown accustomed to over the years though, and the dull ache radiating through his body served to remind him that he certainly hadn’t been graced by any reverse cursed technique. 

Those mysteriously dark eyes stared incredulously up at the ceiling, and you could see the confusion begin to morph onto his features. All too soon, that confusion shifted into panic as he tried to speak, only to be met by the grueling realization that there was a tube shoved down his throat. 

“It’s okay!” You quickly reassured, placing a careful hand on his shoulder to redirect his attention. With the little he was able to move, his eyes shifted as fast as he could manage to look at you, wide in subtle horror. You took your eyes off him for a second to push the nurse call button to alert them of his waking. “You were in an accident. You’re in the hospital.”

As he peered down at the state of himself, he only seemed more unsettled. You figured it was the mangled state he was left in that freaked him out, but what was going through his head was the mission he’d left behind, along with the curse that was likely still running rampant. Still, his inability to speak paired with his limited mobility certainly didn’t do much to settle his nerves. You watched him become more agitated as he attempted to move each limb to no avail, likely thanks to the arsenal of drugs coursing through his veins. 

“It’s alright, you’re okay.” You insisted, peering out the open door to see if the nurse was nearby. Looking around the room, you left his side for a moment to quickly snatch up a marker from the white board on the wall. You uncapped it and placed it in his hand, securing his weak grip around it before offering your arm. “Is there someone we can call? What’s your name?” 

As he stared incredulously down at your offered up arm, your questions were a jumbled mess in his disoriented mind. All that kept running through his head were questions of who the wide eyed, eager girl at his bedside was, and why her voice had been the only thing he could recall from his supposed accident. Megumi’s fingers trembled as they fought to lift up the marker. A muffled grunt escaped him as he tried to get a grip on it, and it clattered to the floor along with the last string of his patience. 

The sound of the marker clanking against the squeaky clean floor rang in his ears, taunting him in his weak state. Just as he began his attempted thrash against the scratchy sheets, the nurse finally stepped in, picking up her pace a bit as she saw the state of agitation he was in. In an instant, she was dialling someone for help, though you couldn’t be bothered to listen to her, desperate to get any answers out of the stranger. Once again, you offered up your hand to him, placing his fingers against your awaiting palm.

“Trace it on my hand, something—”

“Don’t push him.” The nurse urged as more staff members seemed to flood into the room. She was maneuvering over to the line of his IV with a syringe as she attempted to deescalate the situation herself. “He wasn’t supposed to wake up; if he becomes too agitated he can injure himself further.”

“Wait—” You attempted to stop her as she pushed what you assumed was something to calm him down into his line. Logically, you knew it was in his best interest, however your gnawing curiosity had you hoping he would stay conscious for the least bit longer to provide any answers. It only took seconds though, as the drug flooded his system, and the tension in his shoulders seemed to settle back against the flat bed. His eyelids moved torturously slow as he blinked hazily, and you knew the opportunity had found its way to evade you. 

“I-I’ll wait outside.” The dejected reminder fell from your lips, though you were sure the staff were too occupied to pay you any mind. Just as you moved to get out of their way though, the stranger’s weak fingers laced around your hand. With the waning of his already deplorable strength, you felt the pads of his digits press against you, urging you to stay. Looking up with a quiet gasp, you found his half-lidded eyes on you, a desperation in them that seemed so misplaced on his hard features— even if you didn’t know him. 

Megumi thought maybe if he held onto the now familiar presence that had been beside him all this time, that it would be the one thing to keep him alert enough to continue pushing through the haze of his unconsciousness. Whether it was your continuous, honied voice that pulled him from his drug-induced coma, or the fact that he’d pulled himself out of the depths of chains much stronger than the pharmaceuticals currently in his system, he didn’t know. What he did understand, was that your gentle fingers brushing against his knuckles was practically the only thing he could still feel, and it brought him a comfort he was not prepared to surrender just yet if he were to be pulled under again. 

So, you clung on to his hand as his eyes slowly shut, bleary irises focused on you till the very end as the staff bustled around the room and spoke with the doctors. Even as you felt your own lids growing heavy that night in the darkness of the intensive care room, you couldn’t bring yourself to untangle his fingers from yours. Unable to fight the gravity that weighed down your body to remind you you had been up since four that morning, your head slumped forward and rested on the edge of the bed beside your conjoined hands. 

You hadn’t the energy to think about how odd you may have looked clinging to a complete stranger as you snoozed. Instead, the embarrassment hit you when the kind nurse from the previous day, seemingly having recently clocked in for her shift, gently woke you the next morning with a prepackaged breakfast sandwich. With burning cheeks, you used your free hand to frantically smooth your disheveled hair down and wipe at your under eyes that were undoubtedly smeared with yesterday’s makeup before accepting the food with a shy but grateful smile. 

You waited for her to finish her morning checks on her patient before tearing into the sandwich as your rumbling stomach was demanding of you. In the meantime, she updated you on his condition with jargon that you tried hard to keep up with, but it was offensively early in the morning. Nodding along, you suddenly wished you had paid more attention to all those hospital dramas your roommate used to watch incessantly. A relieved sigh escaped you when she departed, letting you know to press the call button if you needed anything. 

“You’ve really gotta get it together soon, dude.” You commented through a mouthful of bread as you peered over at him thoughtfully. At the very least, you thought, his hand seemed warmer than it had yesterday, and you could only hope that was a good sign. “This hospital food sucks.”

Tossing the wrapper into the small trash bin nearby, you huffed out a sigh. Leaning in closer to him, you hesitantly pushed the thick, black hair away from his face, brushing it gently back against his scalp. A gulp forced its way down your throat at the sight of the thick scars that lined his eyes, and you found yourself carefully brushing against them with baffled curiosity. 

“Who are you?” You whispered, and for a moment you could swear his brows twitched into a furrow.  

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s bad luck to cheat death?” A smoothly amused voice beckoned from the doorway. 

You instantly flinched away from your hovered state over the stranger, the hand that was grasped in his tightening in surprise as you looked up. Leaning against the entry was a tall man that nearly took up the entire door frame. His hair was a striking white that almost rivaled the blinding lights of the hospital room. Though concealed behind dark-rimmed sunglasses, you caught a glimpse of his startling blue eyes as he seemed to tilt his head in amusement at the scene before him. What captured your attention most of all though was the uniform he donned— one nearly identical to the one the mystery patient had been wearing during the accident. 

“Geez, after all you’ve been through, and a truck is what takes you out?” The man’s quip was this time directed at the John Doe, shaking his head with a smile as he slowly strolled into the room. 

“You know him?” You breathed out in relief, watching the fond expression on the man’s face as he scanned over the injuries. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah, he’s my student.” He responded casually, hands shoved into his pockets as he circled the bed curiously. “I assumed he was just ignoring my calls. Go figure, huh?”

The casual lightheartedness in his tone only served to confuse you. You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that of all the people that came to claim this stranger, his teacher was the first? On top of that, how was he not brimming with concern upon finding the student he seemed so close with in intensive care? Your eyes skimmed down the strange uniform on his long body, lingering just a tad too long on the swirled button on his chest. 

“So, what’s the deal? You a girlfriend he didn’t tell anyone about?” 

Snapping up from your trance, you felt your face heat at his accusation, and you quickly shook your head. The corners of his lips twitched up in amusement. 

“I saw the accident happen.” You explained, allowing your gaze to drift back down to the patient. The edges of your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you recounted the events of the last twenty-four hours, and you were struck by the absurdity of it all. “He… he asked me not to leave— you know, before he passed out.”

“So you didn’t?” His question sounded more like a statement, you noted. You nodded with a soft sigh. Peering up at the teacher with a pursed lip, your free hand reached up to graze the oddly-shaped scars on your upper arm. 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped. I just… was in a similar accident not too long ago. So, I empathized with him— that kind of fear, you know?” You felt the need to explain it to him, as you were sure you looked like some sort of stalker at the moment. The man didn’t respond, peering pensively down at you for long enough to make you squirm in your seat. “I guess I should go now.”

A wave of unnecessary guilt crashed in your chest as you slowly stood from the chair you had been in for countless hours. Giving once last, lingering regard to the unconscious man, you gulped down the confusing lump in your throat and smiled softly. 

“I hope you find whatever you were looking for.” You whispered, gently sliding your hand from his and placing it carefully over the blanket. Nodding respectfully at the man who had been silently watching the entire encounter, you began walking toward the exit. As you hand grazed the door frame, you turned around apprehensively to find the white-haired man already peering back at you knowingly. “What—What’s his name?”

With a fond smile, the man looked back down at his student as if to say we have a lot to catch up on when your ass wakes up before looking back at you. 

“Megumi.”

His name rang through your mind in the droning days that followed your fated encounter. With every order you rang up, his frantic entrance replayed in your head. Each unfruitful study session paved way for the cinematic replaying of his awakening, projected onto your imagination over and over until it became your favorite film that lulled you into relentless, insomniatic nights.

You wondered if his condition had improved, if he had left the hospital, if he was wondering about the girl who he clung onto at his most vulnerable. As the days dragged on, and you wistfully poured out a customer’s black coffee, you realized you had left those answers behind in the hospital room that morning. Still, the more logical part of your mind told you it was for the best given the concerningly curious circumstances of his accident. Additionally, the equally mysterious man that had come to claim Megumi only fanned the flames of your suspicions. 

Despite the impending sense of danger that came each time that supposed teacher’s words rang in your head—

“After all you’ve been through, and a truck is what takes you out?”

You weren’t sure if it was your concern over his recovery, or the gnawing curiosity about the life he led that had you walking back into the hospital almost a full week later. Whichever it was, it was strong enough to push down the nerves fluttering in your stomach as you walked up to the familiar reception front desk. It was the same woman that had you fill out the paperwork when he was first admitted, and, despite it taking her a bit, she remembered you. 

“Listen, I’m really sorry, but the process isn’t as easy now that someone signed his paperwork. I can’t disclose any information to you.” She explained apologetically as you slumped forward on the cold desk. There was a certain sorrow in her eyes as she watched you sigh in defeat. 

“I mean— could you just tell me if he’s okay?” You pleaded, already dreading the thought of having to leave that day with no answers. 

“I wouldn’t even be able to confirm or deny that that patient is still in our system.” It seemed it was upsetting her just as much to deny you, and it wasn’t your intention to make her job anymore difficult than it was. “I wish I could have been of more help to you.” 

You nodded in silent understanding, offering a grateful smile nonetheless as you pushed off of the desk to take your walk of shame out of the building. Perhaps it was a sign; the thought fleeted into your mind on what seemed like the endless trek to the door. This denial was the closure you needed to move on from this bizarre, chance encounter that happened to mimic one you witnessed firsthand just years ago. In stark terms, whatever seemed to be lying at the bottom of the mysterious well that was Megumi— wasn’t your business.

In the same notion though, maybe it was fate that that oddly large, white haired man was strolling into the very doors you were trying to exit, coffee and a paper bag clutched in his causal grip. Your mouth opened and closed as you looked up at him, unsure if he’d even recognize you or care enough to acknowledge your being there. As if sensing your silent stare, he glanced up from his phone for a moment, doing a small double take upon seeing you.  

“Pick up another straggler?” He teased, sliding his phone into the pocket of his uniform with a known smirk. His head tilted toward you. “What was it this time? Just so happened to be around when they mysteriously fell out a window?” 

Despite the fact that his seemingly playful nature was making you feel more comfortable, you still couldn’t help the heat that rushed to your face. Attempting a breathless chuckle, you smiled nervously at the man. 

“The hospital should start paying me commission, huh?” You quipped with apprehensive amusement. A short but genuine laugh broke through his teasing facade, and he nodded for you to walk with him. Pushing past the slight shock of how easily this was going for you, you stumbled after him. 

“I’m assuming you’re not here to see me?” 

Chewing on your bottom lip, you watched the bright tiles passing under your feet as you followed him through the hospital. Once again, you were hit by the realization that you were meddling in something you seriously had no business in. Still, the nonchalant man leading you through the hallways didn’t seem to have any sort of reaction to your curiosity.

“I’m really sorry if I’m overstepping, it’s just been kind of eating me alive.” You confessed with a halfhearted chuckle.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, our little overachiever isn’t in intensive care anymore.” He informed with an almost proud smile. 

“Really?” You didn’t intend to sound so relieved, but it was an almost instantaneous reaction. 

“Yuuup. Officially graduated.” He confirmed as he wiped mock tears from under his sunglasses. “Go see for yourself, his room’s right here.” 

As he stopped in front of a cracked open door, you hadn’t even realized the man had been leading you to pay Megumi a visit. Glancing up at him unassuredly, you didn’t have a chance to ask if he was sure before he was waving you off nonchalantly.

“Actually, if you don’t mind taking my stuff in there.” The teacher requested, not giving you a chance to protest as he shoved the coffee and bag into your hands. “Forgot my phone in my car.”

Your brows furrowed for a moment, cause you could have sworn you had just seen him slip the aforementioned phone into his pocket just as you ran into him. There was no time to question it though, because in an instant, his freakishly long legs were traversing him back down the way you came in. With a barely noticeable huff of disbelief, your gaze drifted to the cracked-open door in front of you. You shook your head before pushing in anyway, trying to be mindful of the nearly overflowing coffee cup that was desperately trying to spill onto your hand. 

“Shit.” You muttered under your breath with a flinch as you felt a scalding drop offend your skin. 

“You’re not Gojo.” 

“Shit!” You repeated with a start, posture jolting up to face whoever it was that damn near just sent you to the afterlife. 

What you hadn’t expected to see was the very awake and very alert Megumi sitting up in his hospital bed. His mouth was free of the tube that once restrained it, though you could still hear the after affects of it in the rasp and crack of his voice. In fact, the only thing he appeared to still be connected to was an IV pole and what looked like a heart monitor. 

You could have killed the tall stranger, whom you presumed was the Gojo character he was talking about, for not thinking it important to warn her that Megumi was no longer unconscious before you waltzed into his room so nonchalantly. In truth, you expected to drop by, see with your own two eyes that the man hadn’t succumbed to his injuries, and be on your merry way. 

“Ow! Fuck,” You were babbling at this point, pacing around for anywhere to put down the damned coffee cup that had just scalded your hand in tandem with your startled jump. The black haired man watched you silently, almost moving to get up to help you before he remembered the brace that wrapped his right ankle. “I’m so sorry— I had no idea you were awake.” 

Your frantic apologies continued spilling from your lips as you ran your stinging hand underneath the sink that sat in the corner. You did it partly to soothe the pain, but another part of you just didn’t think you could face the poor man after completely invading his privacy. 

“That weird guy with the sunglasses told me to come in, but then he just—”

“You were the one that stayed with me after the accident, right?”

Unable to gage the flat tone in his voice, you slowly turned the faucet off before finally turning to face him. In the time you hadn’t been looking, it seemed he had pushed the hair out of his face, and he was sitting up a little higher in the bed than you remembered. The book in his lap laid open and forgotten, his large, dark eyes focused intently on you. 

“Uh, yeah.” You admitted softly, wiping your hands nervously on your bottoms. “You were outside the cafe—”

“I remember.” He stated flatly, making you bite down harshly on your bottom lip. Megumi was coming off as rude, guarded, irritated— he knew he was, but he couldn’t for the life of him gather his thoughts well enough to express the gratitude he felt for you. Even more so though, he couldn’t possibly bring himself to understand the curiosity and fondness that had been festering over the past few days in your absence. 

A silence enveloped the room, and you suddenly wondered where the hell his teacher was— desperate for anything to break the tension. 

“Well, I should probably go.” You finally mustered out, setting the bag and cup down onto the counter before turning to leave. “I-I’m glad to see you’re doing better. Sorry again to—”

“Wait,” Megumi urged, leaning forward so quickly it had him wincing with the pressure on his injured ribs. Your hair swayed as you whipped your head back at him in question, and you thought you saw the slightest pink hue on his cheeks. “Sorry, I’m… on a lot of meds. You don’t have to leave.” 

His excuse made your brow slowly quirk up, an amused smirk barely concealed on your lips. Attempting to push down your amusement, you pursed your lips and glanced out the door for any sign of Gojo’s return. Upon seeing only the hospital staff bustling around, you slowly made your way over and sat down on the chair beside his bed. For a moment, the two of you simply stared at one another in silence, both of you unsure of what to say next. 

In your brief study of his now conscious face up close, you noticed each sharp feature of his, from his straight nose, to the strong line of his jaw. Somehow, despite their dark hue, his wide eyes seemed to soften his face even if just minimally with every caress of his long, thick lashes against his cheekbones. You wanted to avert your eyes to stop the incoming flush in your cheeks upon the sudden realization that Megumi was incredibly attractive, but you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away.

In a last ditch effort to preserve any dignity, you were grasping at straws to say anything. 

“What were you look—”

“Why did you stay?” 

The both of you began simultaneously, but his question made you clam up. There wasn’t malice in his tone, but a raw curiosity instead, an urge to understand. His brows were slowly settling into that familiar furrow you remembered seeing on his sleeping form constantly. 

“I— You asked me to.” You answered simply, your voice quieter than it was before. A small huff of breath raced out his nose at your response. 

“So you just do whatever strange men you just met tell you to do?”

“I think I preferred you when you still had a tube down your throat.” You laughed breathlessly, a little shocked at the sass that emanated from the seemingly reserved man. Almost immediately, he rolled his pretty eyes at your comment, but there was a ghost of a smile threatening to assassinate the cool-boy persona he had built up. 

“Why did you stay?” Megumi asked again. There was more conviction in his rasped tone this time. Subconsciously, your hand creeped up to grasp at your scarred upper arm, and he followed the motion intently. His gaze narrowed slightly at the raised skin, a hint of recognition flashing in his eyes as he continued to stare. 

“Two years ago, I was in a similar accident. There was all sorts of hell breaking loose in the city, so I didn’t think anyone would help me, you know?” You recounted with a sad smile, feeling your breath tremble at the memory. “I still don’t know how they got me out— some guy that was around. He almost ran right past me. I never got to thank him, or ask him how he got me out from under the car. I was already in the hospital when I woke up.”

He processed your words for a moment, blinking slowly down at your scar as the puzzle pieces seemed to click together in his mind. It sounded too familiar— just as the marks on your arms were ones he’d surely seen before. 

“And that scar—  you got it from the accident?” He assumed, though he already knew the answer. You nodded, looking down at it yourself and allowing the tips of your fingers to trace each curve. The corners of his lips twitched up on their own accord, eyes softening with the revelation that fate had always been on his side. “Kind of looks like a bite.”

There was a subtly bemused tone in his voice. You didn’t quite understand where it was coming from, but as you inspected the mark closer with this perspective, you hummed in fascination. 

“I don’t really see it.” You mumbled. 

In an instant, his fingers had reached out to fold gently around your arm. Your eyes fluttered up to look at him in surprise, but he was still focused on your mark with a soft fondness. Swiping his thumb over the raised skin, the pads of his fingers mapped out the familiar canine marks of his demon dog. 

As if the feel of it ignited his memory, he could almost perfectly recall the sight of the large hound tearing through the wrecked car as Megumi exorcised the curse that had been at the cusp of the mangled traffic jam. Working on his command, the boy watched as the dog emerged, dragging a girl out of the rubble by her arm. The skin around the bite was already bloodied and bruised, but you certainly still had more of a chance of survival than you had before the damned bite. 

At once, there was an understanding in his still foggy mind that the machinery of right and wrong he had grown accustomed to over the years was far more prophetic than he ever cared to give it credit for. It didn’t matter what reason you gave him for staying by his side that night, because he already understood it wholeheartedly on a much different level than he had anticipated. Megumi had always been the type to search for reason in his own kindness while cynically picking apart the kindness of others. After all he’d been through, perhaps this was the final nail in the coffin of his nihilistic pattern of viewing his moral compass. 

“See, Megumi? I told you your knight in shining armor would come back for you!” That familiarly sarcastic voice that you had now been able to name Gojo, had the both of you flinching back from the unexpectedly intimate moment. Megumi’s face seemed to sour instantly as the man strolled into the room with a wide smile. “This kid was driving me insane, asking me about you as soon as they pulled that tube out of his throat.” 

The patient grumbled, and if he had more strength and less shit hooked up to him, he would have thrown a pillow at his teacher. Glaring dangerously at him, Megumi swatted his hand away as the older man began to ruffle at his hair in mock affection. Despite his clear mortification, you smiled amusedly at the scene before you. 

“Thanks for looking after the little guy for me.”

“I’m starting to think I should get a job here.” You joked back as you stood from your chair. You looked back at Megumi, who’s hard gaze was slowly melting into subtle confusion as he watched you rise. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

You bowed in thanks to Gojo before making your way to the door. 

“You’re leaving?” Megumi stopped you at the exit for the second time that day. Had you looked now, you would have caught the deadly glare he shot his sensei’s way for ruining the moment. 

With your hand on the door, you turned around to offer him a warm smile, one that had his shoulders slumping forward as if enveloped in the most welcoming of blankets. 

“Gotta get to work.” You explained regretfully, chewing on the inside of your cheek. In a spark of confidence that was surely spurred on by the fact that you still had endless questions for the man, you continued with a bashful grin. “But you know where to find me. Maybe you can actually stay for your order this time, hm?”

Gojo almost had to turn away to hide the laughter bubbling in his chest upon seeing the dumbstruck expression on Megumi’s face as he could only muster up a small nod. You found yourself nodding along with him. 

“I’ll have your order ready.” You teased with a wink. “Black coffee, right?”

The boy breathed out in disbelief, watching with pink tinted cheeks as your hair swayed behind you while you took your leave. He wished with everything in him, since fate seemed to be playing so mercifully with him these days, that his ankle would miraculously heal in time for him to chase after you to catch one more glimpse of your glittering eyes and incandescent smile. Perhaps he had already had his fill of fate’s luck for one lifetime though, because he could only remain seated dumbly on the hospital bed, jaw hanging down just a hair as he breathed out. 

“Right.”

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[ghostly-bat]

jondami hc / au (adding to the Dr. Damian au)

So I've been listening to some of the song suggestions but the love me not by Ravyn Lenae song has been looping in my thoughts. I was thinking: while I hate the convoluted case of the volcano age up event but a way to keep it and smooth it over- keep the original age difference of 2-3 years, except the trip happens when Jon is 15 -> Jon is gone the whole summer, after everyone panicking and spending weeks trying to find him but to him, he's been stuck for 2 1/2 years. Damian has been going crazy especially, because thats his best friend & honestly it would be stellar if the timing of this concedes with the passing of Alfred, double whammy of two of his people are gone (supposedly)

Jon returns, now 17, and cue damian going into the fall season becoming as a college and both grappling their own griefs (Jon losing *two* years of his life. Damian grappling with the lost of Alfred and Jon, only to get Jon back). Damian taken time off from superheroing because losing his go-to partner and a grandfather figure too during his transition period of leaving the Robin mantle just... kinda made him freeze. He spent his summer, when not searching for Jon or mourning, throwing himself in volunteer work at a clinic-- discovering a new passion / distraction: working with people as Damian (Al Ghul) Wayne.

So anyways. Fall Semester. Jon always been bright, so its not that steep of an adjustment but he deciding on future and hanging around Damian as a result, bc his college campus is remote from the adults in their lives. Jon is also processing his feelings because previously he had this crush but now... it seems more possible. And this is where that song really inspires me? Jon trapped between being there as a friend, getting so many mixed signals (because Damian is starting to have feelings too but he's conflicted) and realizing that hm. Maybe this is #more?

And then its a slow burn. The two go through college, Damian speeding through to medical school, officially retiring from superheroing in his junior year. The two fight, forgive, date other people-- but theyre epitome "its hard to see you but I wish you were right here" yearners, so their relationships keeps failing. Jon picks up the Superman mantle as Clark begins his retirement transition. It's not until theyre in their mid 20s does their relationship takes off into the romantic.

Damian begins working at a clinic during his medical residency in an underprivileged area, becoming known in the area of his initiatives and quietly funding people's medical procedures who aren't covered by insurance. Jon visits often, and before long the two start rooming in the city -> oh my god they were roommates. Jon is doing his masters (i know people would say journalism but I was thinking Literature 🥹 with goals to be a college instructor in the future). Damian is the first confess and cue a much needed super kiss, lifting off the ground and all.

I have to flesh out more but 🙂‍↕️ these two would be the silliest will-they-wont-they, the kings of codependency even when they fight. Jon pouts like his mother but fusses about Damian and whether he eaten yet and maybe he should go pick up his favorite for lunch (but totally wont leave a nice little note and poem like he usually does >:(). Damian, when he's mad at Jon these days, is the master of silence treatment but... also he's doing little tasks that indicates he's still caring for him. Jon's suits are perfectly pressed. The kitchen is stocked with his favorite snacks. His papers and notes are neatly stacked, with the squeak in his chair fixed.

They both crack and apologize at the same time. Cue laughter and then a quiet "let's not do that again" 🙂‍↕️ they will argue again. They know they will. But in that moment, theres the relief of knowing the other wasnt actually mad and they missed each other SO much. This is during their slow burn era:)

!!?!! Anon if you ever write this I promise to give you one big fat kiss ugh! It's giving romcom and I'm seated 😤

[yuurei20]

Question, but do you know if anyone has made a timeline for the main game? Like the months that the books take place in, when the unbirthday party was, when was the club fair(or whatever it was called), how long are the winter/spring/summer/fall breaks? Etc etc

I'm pretty sure I'll have to make my own timeline for my fic but if someone else has already made one I can build off it or if not, any info you can give will help lol

Hello hello!! Thank you for this question!

I put together a collection of what months the books take place in (according to the occasional hints we receive from the characters) in response to a question to how often people have been overblotting, and also wrote about a potential reading order (1), as well as a follow up reading order (2), but those incorporate events, so there is some time-weirdness!

For a more straight-forward reference, I believe that this is what we know!

Book 1 takes place at the beginning of the school year, and the beginning of the school year is in September! So while no character says directly, "here in Book 1 it is September," it seems like a safe guess.

Book 2 revolves around the Interdorm Spelldrive Tournament, which Crowley says is in October.

Book 3 is much more vague! We know it begins on the last day of final exams, but that could be anywhere from October to December.

Book 4 starts on the last day of the first semester and ends after school has started for the second semester, implying December-to-January, but I do not think it is ever expressly stated how long the students were away.

The Culture Fair is held in mid-February but Book 5 itself begins "just over a month" before, so early-mid-January seems like a safe assumption!

Book 6 starts "a few days" after the mid-February Culture Fair, the same day that Idia observes that there have been five overblots in less than six months (and then immediately joins the club).

At the beginning of Book 7 the prefect observes that "it's supposed to be spring," but the timing is a little vague! It is presumably sometime between February and May, as there is a Spelldrive tournament in May that doesn't seem to have happened yet.

The question of how long breaks are is a very interesting one! :> I am not sure it has ever been explained anywhere how long the students are away for vacations, and with how NRC seems to be based on a variety of different school systems, it might be best to not make any assumptions yet. Maybe we shall be told someday! :>

[anyamaris]

Winter Blooms

Word Count-3136

Pairing- Wooyoung x F!Reader

Trope-Neighbors to lovers au, fluff

Summary-Your relationship with your vacation home neighbor has been blooming over time, and perhaps there could be something much more than friendship growing between you.

Warnings-Mild adult language, mentions of food/cooking.

A/N-This is my submission for our CODN secret santa event and I am @daesukiii 's secret santa! -I hope you enjoy this and happy holidays! It was fun to write this, and I hope it's not too cheesy.

Tags-@ksmutsociety @cultofdionysusnet @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @yoonguurt @shinestarhwaa @stardragongalaxy @kpop-stories-21 @starlitmark @millennial-fangirl @ericssmile @wooahaeproductions@changbinslovelylegs @yeosxxx @millennial-fangirl @starillusion13 @duchesskaren @minki-moo

@cafekitsune Thank you for banners and dividers! 🤍💜🤍

The first time you’d met, the sun had been high in the sky, and you’d been coming back from a trip to the store.  

You’ve been coming to your family's summer home since you were young, and as an adult it was the perfect place to escape.  Becoming an adult, dealing with college, then the mundane yet stressful life of your day job made this place like a small slice of heaven.

You’d rarely paid much attention to the other cottage down the lane, besides watching the people come and go through your youth.  The couple that periodically passed by eventually stopped showing up, then you’d heard that someone else had purchased the place.

It was in between semesters that you’d escaped from the constant pressure of life to come to the summer home.  Mid winter, the lake frozen over, there was a serenity that you’d never experienced during the sunny vacations you’d taken with your parents as a child.  

That was when you’d met Wooyoung.  

His young, boisterous demeanor greatly opposed your more quiet, timid attitude when it came to socializing.  He’d immediately waved as you drove past, and you couldn’t help but smile at how friendly he was despite being calf deep in snow while he shoveled his drive.  

Of course, you also couldn’t ignore the handsome face rosy with the cold under his knit hat.  When he’d knocked later that day to introduce himself, he was even more attractive up close.  

“Hello neighbor!  My name is Wooyoung, I wanted to stop by and say hello.  Do you come here often? I just moved in last year.” You couldn’t help but give him a soft smile as he held out his hand, introducing yourself in kind as you tried to cover a laugh.

“I..normally come in the summer.” Is all you offer and he just nods, sniffing from the frigid air as he adjusted his coat. 

“Well, it gets cold around here, so if you need anything, feel free to come ask!” He had said, giving you a dramatic wave as he jogged back down the road to his place.  

Despite the trip lasting only a mere four days, his presence was a constant comfort to you.  When you awoke the following morning, you’d been shocked to find him shoveling your drive as well, waving yet again when he spotted you before he disappeared back down the road when he finished.  

Normally, you keep to yourself when you are here, writing in your journal or busying yourself with drawing the winter landscape outside your large picture window in the front room.  

Memories of warm summer sunsets drawing the lake always made you smile, and curling up in some warm blankets with a mug of steamy hot chocolate made this experience cathartic.  The stresses of adulting were falling away like layers of dead skin, allowing you to feel cleansed of worry for the moment.  

So when summer came around again, you’d made another trip on your own.  Thoughts of a quiet, peaceful week danced in your mind as you drove to your cottage, and once more you caught sight of Wooyoung as you passed by.  

This time he was sweaty and dirty, but still smiling happily as he waved to you.  “Welcome back!” he called out as you drove by, and you couldn’t help but give him a small smile and a wave in return.  

His unexpected visit later also brought a smile to your face, as he walked down your drive holding a basket of something.  

“Hello!” He called out, beaming that bright smile of his.  “I brought you some vegetables from my garden.” He explained as he offered you the basket, catching you off guard.  

“Oh…thank you…” you had murmured, not knowing what else to say to your seemingly kind neighbor.  “I..don’t really have anything to offer you back…” 

He’d just waved his hand, laughing loudly at your comment.  “No need, I have plenty!  I really enjoy gardening so I thought I’d just share with you.  Feel free to come get more if you need anything!”  

Blushing at his thoughtfulness, you merely nodded, thanking him again before he had wandered back off to his own place.

And this is how it had gone, between semesters and on breaks, you’d made your way to your little piece of heaven to relax.  Time and time again, Wooyoung had stopped by, always dropping something off, never staying too long.  

You’d see him on your walks during the nicer seasons, always returning his happy waves as his face would light up at seeing you.  

He’d always nod and call to you when you were on your porch relaxing.  

In the colder seasons, he always stopped by to check to see if you needed anything, and your drive was always cleared out.  

He seemed to understand that you weren’t prone to talking much, but he always made a special effort with you that never crossed a line into pushing.  

Somewhere in that period between visiting during breaks at school, then moving into the working world, you slowly found yourself looking forward to his visits.  

Finding yourself smiling as he would appear and wave, giving you that bright, sunny smile of his.  You’d spend more time going for walks, or sitting on your porch, drawing or writing, peeking down the road every so often in the hopes to see him strolling over to say hello.

So finally, one summer evening when the sun was setting on one of your random visits, when he’d come walking over, you closed your journal, standing with a warm smile.  

“Wooyoung, it’s nice to see you.” You told him, as he’d bounced up the stairs to greet you happily.  

“It’s been awhile!” He exclaims, glancing at the journal you set beside you curiously.

“How’s your garden?” You had asked him and he began to tell you all about the vegetables and flowers he’d been growing.

“Do you have a favorite flower?” he’d asked.

“Hmm…I love alstroemeria, actually.” You told him and he beamed excitedly.  “Snapdragons also, they are very pretty.”

“I’ll have to check them out and see if I can add them to my garden!” 

“Well, only if they are something you like as well.  What else are you growing?” You’d asked.

Before you knew it, the sun had been setting and you blinked at how long you’d likely kept the poor man in conversation.  

You found yourself opening up to him the more you spoke, and sharing things about yourself.  

“You like to cook as well? And bake?!” He exclaimed, clapping his hands together in delight.  “I’ll make sure I keep bringing you veggies then, you just let me know what you like!” 

Laughing at his exuberance, you couldn’t help but nod.  “Well in that case…” you proceeded to give him a grocery list of things you cooked with.  

“Under one condition,” He says, winking at you. “One day, you’ll have to let me try something you make!”

Blushing at his request, you just nodded.  “One day, I promise.”  

“Deal!” He’d said excitedly.  

Throughout that visit, he’d made his way over more and more, exchanging polite talk and you found yourself looking forward to seeing him.  You’d even find yourself venturing out on walks just to stop and chat with him about his garden, the weather, even going so far as to tell him what you did for work.  

You were slowly developing what you thought might become a friendship with your handsome neighbor, and you had even started thinking about what to  make to bring him on your next walk.

Unfortunately, that visit had gotten cut short, and you hadn’t been able to fulfill that request because of it.  Work had gotten busy, and then the holidays were upon you.  

Christmas had never been your favorite time of year, and you couldn’t wait for it to be over. 

So once the 25th had come and gone, family dispersing to go back to their everyday lives, you’d packed your bags and headed off once more to the small cottage to get away.  

Driving by Wooyoung’s house, you can’t help but slow down, peeking to see if he was outside doing something.  

It was strange how you’ve come to look forward to seeing the bubbly, handsome man now when you come out here.  

Without realizing it, he had started to become one of the many reasons you looked forward to coming on your excursions to the cottage these days.

Though he wasn’t out when you passed by, you tell yourself that he will likely make his way over at some point.  He always did without fail, and as you go about checking over the cottage, you find yourself peering out the window in expectation.

And there he is, you think to yourself, unconsciously smoothing your hair and giving yourself a once over.  

His dark hair is covered by his tattered knit hat, his breath visible from the cold as he makes his way up your drive.  When he sees you through the window, his face lights up as he waves happily to you.  

You can’t help but giggle a bit as he loses his footing and almost falls, his embarrassed smile as he rights himself warming your cheeks.  

“You didn’t see that!” He calls out as you open the door.  

“Didn’t see you almost fall on your-” you start to tease.

“HEY! No, I am extremely agile and balanced; Fall? Me? Pah!” He returns and you just shake your head at him.  

“Sure, whatever you say.” Suppressing your laughter, you greet him as he kicks the snow off his boots.  

“”I saved you some of the herbs I dried from the summer.” He says, pulling out a few jars to offer you.

“Oh, wow…thank you!” You say, eyeing him as he sniffles a bit, covering his mouth to cough softly.  

“Are you catching a cold?” You ask him, worry marring your features.  “Come inside and have something warm to drink.”

“It’s likely just a cold, but no, I won’t stay long just in case.  I can’t have you getting sick.” He shakes his head, holding his gloved hands up.  

“Well…if you need anything, I can always run to the store to get you medicine or-” You start to offer but he cuts you off.

“Don’t worry about me, I have some medicine for times like this.  I’ll just go home and get some rest.  Maybe I’ll be able to stop by again once this passes.” He says, his eyes almost hopeful as he studies yours.  

“I’d like that, but don’t push yourself.” You tell him, feeling your cheeks heat at the thought.  

“Never, it’s hibernating season!” He laughs as he turns to go.  “Enjoy the herbs and don’t be a stranger!” He calls out.  

“Stay warm and drink fluids!” Smirking, you can’t stop yourself before adding, “And don’t fall on your ass!”

“Graceful! I’m graceful!” he shrieks back as he slides a bit, righting himself before giving you a dramatic pout.  

“Sure!” You can’t stop from laughing as he makes his way home, mumbling incoherently as he walks away.  

Frowning down at the herbs, thinking of how very kind he’s been to you through the recent years, you find yourself heading into the kitchen.

A trip to the local grocery and a restful night later, you wake to get to work in the kitchen early in the morning.  

For most of the morning, you go through the comforting process of making homemade soup.  You’d made your first soup ages ago in this very kitchen, and it warmed your soul to be doing so again as an adult.

The process of making a homemade loaf of bread to accompany the warm soup alleviates all your stresses, mixing, kneading, rising, baking.  

The aroma of warm yeast and the dried herbs Wooyoung had given you fill the small cottage and you sigh in happiness as the morning stretches into afternoon.  

By the time you’re putting the lid on the pot and getting a bag to carry it in, the day is edging into evening.  Peering out the window, you watch the fat snowflakes fall as you package up the still warm bread.

It only takes you a few minutes to trudge through the snow, as it looks as if Wooyoung has already cleared your driveway that morning despite his obvious cold.  

Sighing at the ridiculous man pushing himself, you make your way up his drive to his door.  

It takes a few moments before you hear the padding of feet, then the door opens to a very obviously sick Wooyoung.

“Why were you out shoveling when you are ill?” You say before he can utter a word and he just gives you a sheepish smile.

“I can’t have you getting snowed in, now can I?” He returns, his voice harsh as he covers his mouth to cough.  “What brings you here?” He asks, eyes dropping to your hands.  

“I told you I’d make you something sometime.” You tell him, feeling suddenly shy.  “I..made some soup so I thought this was a good time to share.” 

The man can only blink at you, those dark eyes shocked as he clears his throat.  “You made me soup?” He asks, and you swear his cheeks redden slightly despite already being pink from his cold.

“And bread.” You say, smiling softly at him.  

For once the normally talkative man seems speechless and you find yourself feeling nervous.  

“Should I not have-” you start.

“Please-come in…wait…I don’t want you to catch-” 

“Don’t worry about it, I’m not concerned about getting sick.” You cut him off before he can protest more.  

He steps back to let you in and before long, you’re in his kitchen unloading your food for him.  

“I used the herbs you brought over.” You tell him as he watches you, his dark eyes soft and warm.  

“It smells amazing, you made all of this for me?” He asks, blinking at you in awe.  

“Well…I love making soup and bread anyway…” you turn to gesture at the cupboards.  “Is it alright if I get bowls?” 

He nods, rushing to get them out for you, and then you’re ladling soup out and cutting the fresh bread for him. 

“Sit, relax and eat.” You tell him, and he nods, immediately digging into the warm meal.  

“You shouldn’t go out in the cold when you’re not feeling well.” you scold and he looks up at you, blushing.  

“You know…” he starts, but then shakes his head, looking back down at his soup.  “This is delicious…thank you.” 

You watch as he finishes the soup, then as his eyes brighten when he tastes the warm bread with it.  Nothing beats someone enjoying something you’ve created and it pleases you even more that it’s Wooyoung beaming back at you as he praises the meal.  

“I’ll leave the rest here, promise me you’ll eat and rest.” You demand and he can only smile as he nods.  

“Yes, ma’am.  I swear.”  He lets out a soft sigh, rubbing his arms as he shivers.  “I should rest.  How was your holiday?”

“It’s the same, stressful Christmas it always is.  I prefer the spring when everything is starting to grow, and there’s more calm.” 

He hums, nodding as his eyes droop.  “Me too, I like the spring and summer when I can garden…”

“Well it’s time to hibernate, Wooyoung.  I’ll head home, so you get some rest.” You tell him softly, smiling at the sleepy, sick man.  

“Here’s my number, if you need anything.” You tell him, writing it down on a notebook he has on his counter.  

He just locks eyes with you for a moment and you can feel your heart skip a beat, glancing away quickly as he looks down at the number.  

“Homemade food, a house call and a number? I’m tempted to get down on my knees to propose…” He teases and you can’t help but bite your lip at his words.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, pal.  Get yourself healthy first, and you’ll find that it’s the cold talking.” you shoot back, fiddling with the straps of the now empty bag.  

He only gives you a little smile as he nods, walking with you to the door.  “Sleep, I promise.” 

You make your way home, stopping to glance back at him as he waves, feeling the heat creep into your cheeks.  

Was he flirting with me? You think but shake your head as you return home.  “Impossible…” you murmur, setting about getting comfy for a night in.

The days pass and eventually your stay begins to draw to a close.  

You’ve exchanged texts with Wooyoung, back and forth as he gradually gets better.  Unfortunately, you are only out here for a few days before you’re packing back up to return to your busy life.

“I’ll return the pot to you next time you come out,” He texts after you've left.

“Hopefully I’ll be able to get away again soon, but I’ll let you know.” you respond.

And that was it. 

Or so you thought.  

Once home, you found yourself wondering how Wooyoung was doing, but before you could give in to the urge to reach out, you received another message from him.

“So, how are you doing?” He had sent.  

It was a simple question.  

Nothing to get excited about.  

Yet, that question started a daily exchange between the two of you and before long, it had become a routine.  

By February, you were already longing for time off, for the ability to go see the dark haired man you’ve finally had to admit to having a crush on.

A crush? Definitely.

Or was it more?  

So, when he messaged you on February 14th with a picture of a small cluster of alstroemeria; the beautiful pink and gold in a little pot with a heart on it-

You were left speechless.

The words that followed squashed any of your doubts, your heart pounding in excitement.

They read:

“I planted these this past summer after you told me they were your favorite.  I grew these, thinking of you and maybe I’m crazy but…you haven’t left my mind ever since.

“I keep looking out my window, hoping you’ll drive by for another visit.  When you return, would you like to have dinner together? This time I’ll make you something?”

Your cheeks heat at the message, and it takes you a long moment to process his words before you clear your throat.  

“Are you asking me on a date, Wooyoung?” You send back, covering your face as you wait for his response.

“Yes. I am.  It’s not quite a proposal yet, but ….” 

You wait only a second before the next line comes through, warming your cheeks as you glow with happiness.

“Will you be my valentine?”

[cowboylikeghost]

Ranking of Taylor Swift albums by seasons (north hemisphere) *ೃ༄

Summer TS albums:

⊱Debut: beginning of summer, Spring just ended and it's the start of the first hot days of the year with some rainy mornings.

⊱1989: July, beginning of August. You left somewhere with your family or friends, probably at the beach. If not, then it's the time of party and going out. It's hot as hell, you don't sleep so good, but the days are so worth it.

⊱Folklore: it's mid august, you came back from your vacation and/or stop going out. You're resting and make the most of the last days of summer break. Beginning of September, you're sad summer is ending but kinda excited for the start of the new school year/ year at college.

Autumn TS albums:

⊱Fearless: Transition from summer to Autumn, it's doesn't really feel like fall and it's still cool outside. School/College as begun, but it's not too serious yet. The trees start to get yellow-ish.

⊱Red: October/November, it's Autumn, the trees loose their leaves, the mornings are chilly and foggy. Halloween happend, you partied and/or watched scary movies. Assignments start to pile-up, and you start studying for exams. It's time for apple and cinnamon tea and late study night while the sun set at 5pm.

⊱Reputation/Midnight: December, it's cold and dark and it probably snowed a little. At night everything frost, you probably have to scratch your car's windscreen a few times. It's also finals seasons, which means you probably haven't seen your friends in a while. December feels hopeless, but that is until christmas seasons!!! The shops start to decorate and there's pretty lights everywhere, it gives you hope in these dark times. During break you spend time with family and/or friends, and you celebrate the New year.

Winter TS albums:

⊱Midnight: Christmas break ended, and you're back to class. The euphoria from the festivities is still there and you're excited to see your friends. The New Year is symbol for change and new opportunities, you're hopeful and start to daydream about the cooler seasons.

⊱Evermore: As the excitement for christmas and new year start to wear off, january feels hollow. February isn't much better, Valentine's day lighten it up a little, but it doesn't take long before the apathy and yearning for vitamine D come back. It's a time for reflection and observation. The semester as begun and it's time to go back to your studies.

⊱The Tortured Poets Department: February as ended, it's March, which mean it's almost spring! The days are getting cooler, beanies and gloves are back in the closet. The trees are still naked but you can fell the change in the air.

Spring TS albums:

⊱Speak Now: It's Spring! The days are getting longer, and the first burds are here. You might feel a bit nostalgic of the christmas seasons but the excitement for spring and summer is bigger. You fall in love with nature all over again. Easter day is here, and the stores are all decorated in pastel colors and bunnies are everywhere, you can't stop thinking about all the chocolates you're gonna eat.

⊱Lover: It's well into april, jun is almost there, all the flowers are blooming, the days are long again and the sun start to hit in the right way. You can't wait for summer and summer break. After eating and showering, you spend your evening drinking tea and reading outside. You start to go out again. It's fun. Life feels good.

Disclaimer: this is my interpretation of the albums, obviously it will be different for everyone. I understand that these interpretations came from a priviledge life. Thank u and be kind. ♡︎

[chilling-seavey]

okay i have so many thoughts on lloid i fear u will be seeing a lot of me.. what is george’s past experience with women ?? i’m not sure if you’ve talked about it yet bc i still need to reread but im curious about like. bad break ups .

Yes yes yes!! I want to see you all the time in here!! (in the least creepy way possible LOLL)

Such a good question. He shares some stuff/some specific details with Rosaline in Chapter 13 so I will let him tell y'all that stuff when it gets to that part...but I can give more of a broad explanation of how I've thought about his character and his experience as a whole! Let me just spill his sexual life story right onto my dash mwah

So as we know, George is 34 here, very educated so has been part of the university life just as much as a student as he is an educator. I see him having probably lost his virginity in late high school or the summer before his first year of university...maybe at 18/19? Since he's so sex-positive and so knowledgeable and understanding and gentle with Rose, I feel like his first experience was similar. Maybe he was traveling abroad that summer and ended up meeting a slightly older woman (not crazy, maybe was, like, early to mid twenties) at a pub or a museum or something. Maybe he ended up back at her apartment and he was clammy and nervous and she helped him feel comfortable and at ease and showed him the ropes and of course it was a little awkward and maybe he came a little too fast (but not embarrassingly fast, he would always remind himself when the memory creeps up on him) but it was still a very formative memory for him that he carries with him. He never saw that woman again after the next morning but he walked out of her apartment feeling like a changed man, really.

And although he's always been very studious and focused on his work (a lot like Rosaline...that's part of the reason he was drawn to her as his mentee; he saw himself in her) and he was throughout uni, I see him having a few brief flings throughout his undergrad, masters, and PhD. Not quite 'one night stands' but not quite relationships (more like...'four night stands'? lol) and—ever the learner—he used these flings to better understand himself and better understand women. He definitely had a semester or two where he was far too focused on sex than his studies but one ~70% grade on his finals and that snapped him right back into gear.

(Oh and he definitely had one threesome in first year of his masters—with two women who were roommates with each other in his same dormitory building—but they ended up being more into each other than him and near the end he was just kinda pushed aside and stuck watching and then felt quite weird about it and silently swore off threesomes after that.)

But he wasn't just into flings and moreso as he progressed through his uni years he also dated in between them, definitely more of a long term relationship kinda guy. Some girls from his class, or from the dorms, or friends of friends. Girlfriends for him throughout uni likely lasted 8 months-2 years or so? But there was only a handful of those. He told a few of them he loved them and they said it back but he never really felt that intense draw towards them that so often is depicted in romance novels. That's okay, he was focused on getting his doctorate anyway. Breakups at this time were likely more mutual; I think one in particular would be the girl being far more upset than he was and being the one to call it off really dramatically and kinda playing the victim and he was kinda like "...ooookay so bye then..." (lol)

He graduated with his PhD at 28/29 and that's when he did a lot of traveling between finding a career (assistant professor at one university or another...working in the archives...guest speakers at conferences...etc). He definitely isn't one for meaningless flings but in his travels he met some women he connected with and ended up back at his hotel or their local apartment.

(He had one woman from Italy take him home only to discover she lived on this farm and he was all too aware of one of the goats staring at them through the window the entire time.)

George tells Rose more of what happens in his early 30s so I'll leave that for him to tell you all too in Chapter 13!

But, overall, I see his body count to be around 20-ish? And he doesn't take that lightly, he's always been a conscientious lover and thinks that as much as sex can be fun, it's also intimate and thrives off trust and connection and that's what he loves. It's a wonderful balance of pleasure and decorum for him.

[dokifluffs]

Burnout | Sugawara Koushi

Pairing: Suga X Reader (gender neutral)

Genre: angsty fluff, college!AU

"x-whyareyoureadingthis-x asked: Mini Request for college!Sugawara: sitting at your desk at home, studying, and just having a small breakdown, like there's so much work and mid-terms are in full swing and you don't know how to keep up and all that. And Suga just comes from the side, gently taking your head and pulling it against his chest, letting you cry a little. I'm sorry, but this scenario has been stuck in my head for a month now. If you don't feel like writing it don't worry. But I had to tell someone about this 😅"

Author's Note: i took this mini request and made it into a full one so :) I can't resist making this but I know it'll end up too long as a "crumb" anyways T^T but more for you all to be fed hehe also I relate to this feeling so much oof

college

it was the next few years of your life that you always heard would be the "best ones ever" yet here you were

your first ever fall semester and you were miserable

The courses you signed up for were ones you were genuinely interested in based off of what you heard and read about the professor

but now sitting through them, with all their workloads piling up toward the climax of the semester

you sat under your kotatsu and wondered

why were you putting yourself through this?

Were you the only one feeling like this?

Everyone you saw when you looked around anywhere on campus looked like they were handling it well and they were just meeting the expectations of what it meant to be a college student

to become an adult

and here you sat

staring off past your no longer lit computer screen as the leaves fell from your childhood home's backyard

a cool breeze blowing in, through your hair and caressing your cheek but your legs stayed warm under the kotatsu

so why was it just you who couldn't handle it?

you snapped out of your daze, glancing around at all your sprawled-out notes

all the reminders you set around your room of the work you needed to do by when

the reticulate time schedule you created would put you as ahead as you could in terms of work with just maybe a bit of free

only if you were lucky or if your professors had mercy on you and canceled some readings or discussions

your chest felt heavy

your body felt heavy just sitting there on the familiar matted floor of your living room

it was all just so much

everything was just so much

all the material you had to retain

the assignments

the readings

the papers you had to type

and now that things were different from high school

now that things were much more real than in high school, everything was longer

the research you had to do

the articles you had to read

the textbooks you had to read

the prices of everything - tuition, fees, it was all so much

as another cold breeze blew by, your cheek felt even colder

you felt a wet drop on the back of your hand

when did you start crying?

Everything was so manageable in high school

when did high school graduation feel so far away when it was only before this past summer, just a couple of months ago?

when did everything start to feel so heavy?

you took a deep breath, trying not to blink or else you knew your tears would fall

but the tears were blurring your vision

until you saw one sticky note you made weeks ago

it was the schedule of your midterms, three of which were on one day and then the last two were on separate days

you made a list of all the material you had to review

you stared at the note, holding the dulled color little sheet in your fingertips, staring at your own handwriting

when did you start cracking?

A cold gust blew in, forcing the door to open wider

"Y/N~ I brought steamed buns.."

"Koushi.." you broke

his voice died off seeing you in your room, papers floating and being pushed all over the floor around you

you looked like a mess

the bags under your eyes were a lot more present since the last time he saw you just a week ago

the room filled with your stifled sobs as you covered your eyes with the palms of your hands

you could feel how damp they had become

but then you felt the warmth

you moved your hands, your vision blurring but you could feel Koushi

His body was pressed against yours, arms pushing your body into his

as if he was the glue and knew you were falling into pieces

as if he was welding your pieces back together

"I'm here," he spoke, squeezing you a little tighter, his voice saddened seeing you like this

he had a subtle inkling of what was happening to you, seeing the signs but whenever he asked, you would tell him it was just some fatigue a good night's rest couldn't fix

how much he wished he followed his gut

and look at you now

"let it out, Y/N," he caressed your head, brushing his fingers through your hair, holding you close ever so gently

like you were the most precious thing in the world

and to him, you were

you sobbed profusely in his arms

trying your best to tell him everything between gasps and breaths

he nodded, listening, sharing his advice with you

encouraging you

letting you know that he would always be there with you through thick and thin

"You've worked so hard, but you need to rest too," he held your hands, giving them a little squeeze as he looked deep into your eyes

Every time you did try to relax, you felt restless, guilty, like there was more you could've been doing

"you shouldn't feel guilty for taking care of yourself and your health!" he proclaimed

"Now eat a pork bun!" he scrambled, reaching for one from the bag he brought, and stuffing it into your mouth while he scooped up your papers into a neat pile

then finally scooping you into his lap as he pet your head

"we're going to rest today," he smiled at you, pressing a kiss to your temple as you took a bite

"and feed me too," he widened his mouth, waiting to take a bite of the bun

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

[intoloopin-archive]

THE MESSY CONCLUSION OF 'WALK THE MAZE', LOOPiN's EARLY 2024 (FAILED!) ATTEMPT OF A CONCEPT RESTART...

published under iktinfo.com on January 31th, 2024 by anonymous. / format inspired by Myah a.k.a @/venusvity!

Very few boy groups can confidently say they a had successful 2023 run, and the fact that LOOPiN can include themselves in the lucky few despite the looming shadow of their problematic former co-parent company, Blockberry Creative, is a miracle: after all, they became a 2 million seller group last year, won 8 music shows trophies in total - an 80% growth -, and conquered the heart's of knets with their summer release ‘Beatbox’ and their last title track of the year, 'Tell Me What To Do', which is still charting at the time of writing this article on major Top40s.

It's easy to see that any project coming from the group after 'Internet War' promotions would hardly fly under the radar, and choosing to finally quick off their visual and storyline rebrand in connection to such a well received album seemed to be the perfect recipe for success right at the start of 2024. Turns out it wasn't, partially for reasons beyond New Wave Music’s control, yes, but we're yet to get there.

Coming to its conclusion on December 29th, New Wave's storyline focused project 'Walk The Maze' - an attempt to introduce brand new units to LOOPIN unrelated to their past connection to LOONA - came to fruition through special music videos released every week of December, featuring escapes out of dystopian buildings and sentient robots, all to introduce the subgroups ‘ContraCult’, ‘IdenIdol’, ‘LiveLine’ and ‘InninS’.

It was to expect that after the mass dismissal of the entirety of New Wave’s concept department right after their departure with BBC in November 2022 - where over 21 employees were let go without proper warning or pay, if the former concept director for the group, Oh Yewon, is to be believed; a matter that’s been settled privately between her and CEO Seo Changyuk away from public eye -, the quality of anything cinematic coming from the group would have decayed, but LOOPiN has been working side by side with the small video effects company GOLDWORK Studios and making it work splendidly in visuals; uncoincidentally, GOLDWORK is a subsidiary of chinese commercial studio giant XLV Media, created and managed by J.J’s father, Xu Lianghui.

But despite all the secure outside investment and hype initially built around ‘Walk The Maze’, the members’ personal affairs have, as they so often do, come in the way of smooth success. The conspiratory delays involving LOOPiN for the past 2 years as well as the upcoming girl group act from New Wave Music have raised suspicion of the company's ability to survive another year.

The final loading screen present in the official WALK THE MAZE site without its cryptic text.

On December 29th, ‘Walk The Maze’s final day, the official site created to house the eventual immersive ‘quests’ to immerse iNSYNCs into the member's new characters and their realities. The overall prize for concluding all 4 was direct access to a mp3 file bearing a re-recording of LOOPiN’s debut single Love Me Right, this time featuring Gyujin - which went public a day later. After the conclusion of the game the site showed a tight schedule for the rest of the semester, promising the restart of Boy Of The Week format and the release of solo singles from every member starting from February. But here is where complication comes.

After all, two weeks before the turn of the new year, New Wave’s trainee team RIIDEWAVEE won ‘Show Me The One’, the reality show where Mnet would provide a ‘premium debut experience’ to upcoming acts from medium to small companies. By contract obligations shared over Dispatch soon after the trio made up of Dahyung, Chaeun and Furumi disappeared from all social media in early January, New Wave Music has until mid February to debut them in a group, or else they’ll have to pay a ₩8,012,349,438 (6 Million USD) fine to Mnet for breaking contract. To no surprise, all the company's resources seem to have gone into making it happen, and its effects on what’s planned for LOOPiN has already been announced: on January 13th, New Wave released a note explaining the scrapping of the singles in the former Boy Of The Week format, choosing to release them all together as a full album on a undecided date. 

In some sort of retaliation, Dylan has apparently responded to the cancellation by releasing his own set of solo songs on the 21th – originally 10, but now counted on Spotify as 9 after the track ‘Little League’ was deleted –, which doesn’t seem to be a full group pleaser; the one day long unfollow from Seungsoo and Haegon raised eyebrows among fans, who are always on edge with intern fighting rumors in LOOPiN.

In the middle of it all, the Japanese fashion house VIANFINO has announced the end of their exclusive contract with Haruki. The decision to let the Idol, who had been appointed as an ambassador for Monica Amano’s brand in April 2022, is strongly speculated to be made after the Idols skipped his scheduled appearance in Milan Fashion Week last September without properly notifying VIANFINO. Despite ending his contract on the 11th, New Wave nor Haruki have acknowledged Monica’s sweet natured departure statement, where the designer regards him as someone she’ll surely keep cheering for on a professional and personal length.

The final nail in the coffin for reputation compromise involving a LOOPiN member apparently has just come with the expose of Night Child’s Dongwook admission into a rehab facility on the 27th. J.J, who has been a public friend of his for months on end, has been excessively judged by NTCD’s fanbase for how quickly he went deleting all traces of Dongwook off his personal social media– hard enough for him to delete his Instagram and Tiktok accounts.

With all that happening in a single month, LOOPiN seems to have retroceded to their infamous ‘curse’ of challenging starts to promotional years. Although, if New Wave Music is really looking for a way to suppress it, enrolling the members in a long due intense media training course might be a good start.

[springstick]

Semester 3 Recap as an MLS Major ᐟᐟ☆

Major Accomplishments: ʚ I have the opportunity to graduate a year early! ʚ I passed orgo! ʚ I actually took care of myself! ʚ I survived my most hectic semester yet!

Biggest Lesson: I can't actually get perfect grades and take care of myself fully at the same time. I would rather take care of myself, though. I didn't make the dean's list for the first time, but I actually felt good about myself and I felt that my mental and physical health were finally in a good place. A 3.4 GPA isn't going to kill me, but I will admit it made me upset. I have to realize that it isn't the end of the world to prioritize happiness over academic success.

Next Semester Goals: ʚ Get on the dean's list again ʚ Get halfway through writing my book (or to chapter 10 if I'm unsure what halfway is) ʚ Find housing for next year ʚ Figure out Physics at a community college over summer ʚ Fully flesh out my studying habits (I say this every semester oops) ʚ Start journaling in a more structured way

Rundown of each course:

Courses & Reflection: General Immunology [A]: Any time spent with this professor is truly a blessing. I wish he taught everything. He's really funny, and he's so intelligent that it kinda blows you away. He doesn't shove it in your face though, he meets you at your level. I'll miss him!! General Microbiology [AB]: The lecture was mid, but the lab... I love microbiology so much. I want to spend the rest of my life in a microbiology lab I think. It gets repetitive, but it's just so therapeutic and fun and everything I love about biology. Micro has always been my favorite discipline, but now that I got to fully indulge, I know for sure this is what I want to do. Basic Medical Lab Techniques [B]: I am kind of disappointed that I got a B in this class, because it's specific to my discipline. I do think that it taught me to be more diligent in the future, and to invest deeper into the material. Most MLS students at my school are pre-med, but I actually want to be a medical lab scientist. I have to put in the work, and I think this class set me up very well for that. I have a lot of new studying methods to test out and refine!! Organic Chemistry I [B]: My goal for this class was literally to pass. The fact that I got a B actually shocked me and made me really happy. I did put a lot of effort into orgo, and I tried harder than I have in any other chemistry course. I think chemistry finally clicked for me this semester. Anatomy and Physiology I Lab [B]: I got an A in AnP over the summer, but I was having a rough week when the first practical came along and I totally bombed it. So I will say that the B was a comeback from the DF I started with. However, I will keep better track of my practicals next semester, because that's lowkey embarrassing. Enterprise [A]: This was really fun, because it's so outside of my wheelhouse. I definitely did not expect to work on an engineering project in my academic career, but here I am. I love my team, and I'm really happy I did this. I'm going to stop trying to insert myself into the engineering side, and focus more on the medical, patient need, and kinesthetic side of building the prosthetic. Especially once we get into physical testing. I might ask my prosthetist for advice...

[manonamora-if]

Retrospective 2024 (4)

Last one!

As teased in the infographic, My resolution this year stays unchanged from last year's:

Get things off my desk and shelf it for good.

I want to continue completing and fixing older projects, so I can shelf it for good (like I did Goncharov Escapes! this year, and DOL-OS). But, since I added a bunch of title on my itch page, there are a few more to the pile compared to last year that needs fixing (or finishing) - at least DOL-OS is done :D The goal: Harcourt (MelS want to finish it, but it's still him dependent), The Roads not Taken (I dropped the ball on that one at the end of last year), An Eggcellent Preparation (samesies), and Exquisite Cadaver or P-Rix - Space Trucker.

I won't even try to promise I won't make new games (large or tiny), because last year made it obvious there is no stopping me. I planned last year to participate in a few comps... and ended up doing two dozens. So... At least, I won't participate in the big comps (IFComp/SpringThing) because the ideas I have for them need at least another year to make it happen... I do want to try to make it to one parser-focused comp again (either TALJ or ParserComp) and try out Moiki or DonjonFI. I'm only 7-9 games away to have 1 title/year alive...

Below the cut has more detailed expectations for some titles. Like last year, no real timeline on what will be done when - this year has shown me that life likes to throw stones at schedules... Announcements will also be whenever, because I make things on a whim :P I will try to have a better announcement schedule for updates however.

Oh! one more resolution: continue to do word crimes ~ obviously!

The trials and Tribulations of Edward Harcourt

While I've been working on the final edits of Chapter 5, MelS promised to be hard at work on Chapter 6 this following semester, which is the final chapter. From mid-January onward, he should have a clearer schedule IRL to set himself some time to write.

We hope to be done with the edits and coding of Ch6 this year.

When Ch6 is cleared, we will do one final sweep at the earlier chapters to ensure the writing style is consistent, rebalance variables and puzzles, as well as making it compatible with as many screens as possible (especially for maps). Solutions for puzzles (mazes and such) will get a special log on itch too.

La Petite Mort

The game is "technically" complete already, but I spotted a few typos here and there that could be taken out, one theme is eh... really not as pretty as I had wanted it (the "PJ theme"), and I've been wondering if I could add a few more rooms or interactions (with the animals especially).

I'm aiming for a March-April update. Though it should have been done last November already...

The Roads not Taken

I've mentioned my plan for this project the past few months (before I got distracted with other projects), which is to fix the parser mechanic (to follow a bit more the conventions and fix the frictions of the game), include the missing content from the SpringThing version (Codex and Endings), and potentially have a hypertext version (links to click) for accessibility.

I would like to be done with this before summer at the latest - by March at the earliest.

Entre-d'oeufs coquilles - An Eggscellent Preparation

A bug or two needs fixing in this game (the AEP version) - how the box is used/eggs are handled -> for the ending - as well as a bunch of typos (a small re-write may be needed).

As AEP is the most recent version, with more content, I will need to translate the updated/fixed version back to French (EdOC).

I would also like to include more pixel art for each "room". I do not know yet I would manage that, but we will see!

I think there isn't much to fix that an update before the summer could be doable.

Exquisite Cadaver

That ball-n-chain project that's been dragged around for the past year, poor game... At least, I've given up on a French version.

The same amount of rounds is missing from the playable version (21), with no real progress made last year. All rounds are at least drafted in some fashion, though not all the endings are.

A sane planning for this would be to do an update every 3-4 rounds until the game is complete. I will try to achieve this.

If I could reach the half-way mark by the summer and complete the game by the end of the year, this would be great!

P-Rix - Space Trucker

This game can't stay in this current state! I have a rough draft of the mechanic and enough bits of writing to make a coherent update with some touch-up. I know how to end the game (the "good" ending), with even an option for further "storylines" after that first delivery is complete. I even have the "stops" on planets or ships all clear in my head (RNG babyyy).

I will probably focus on this project in the second half of 2024.

Crimson Rose & White Lily

With the hiatus getting closer to a two-year one... an update is long overdue. I may break an update in multiple ones:

fixing the main story code

adding Scene 5 (needs to be written properly)

adding Scene 2 variation

fixing the Codex

including Bonus content (may be a separate "game")

I would like to have the first point done in the first half of the year, and the second... well in the second half. If the Muse is in my corner it might happen sooner, but she hasn't been here all last year, so who knows at this point...

I miss writing Razac y'all...

SugarCube Templates

Even if I've done all the "coding" templates I had wanted to do for a while, I have a handful more visual templates in my drafts (different shapes!).

Having tried all "main" Twine formats, I've been itching at making templates for Harlowe and Chapbook. Either doing a Harlowe/Chapbook version of the template already done, or just making completely new one.

Expect some to be added to itch (when I get bored/frustrated with my projects).

Other projects

If there is time/energy left in me, I would like to take a crack at:

Finishing The Dinner, with all the remaining courses and the planned final choice. Also styling it in Harlowe properly.

Finishing the OG planned story for In the Blink of an Eye, which was supposed to last "a week" in the story (instead of 2 days) and have more consequences/endings.

Finishing The Rye in the Dark City, which is missing 2 acts: the interrogation of the different peeps and the "closing" the case. A bit of re-write in the first act might be needed.

Finishing Don't Press the Button (not really IF). I want to make it work in both keyboard and mouse... If I can manage it, then it's just a matter of moving the element around the page, changing colour, and randomise whether to click or not. JavaScript/jQuery is required however ;-;

Fixing The Thick Table Tavern: first the bar (group bottles, add new ones + new recipes), then the Arcade Mode (there's a bug I've been meaning to fix for one mode + add difficulty), then the Story Mode (essentially do a re-haul + add more storylets + the main client(s) of the run).

Remastering SPS Iron Hammer - a.k.a. re-writing it, adding the whole escape mechanic, re-coding the whole thing...

I don't think I would be able to do ALL of this - with the amount of time/effort some of these projects would required, it would probably be impossible by myself. And I should probably focus on CRWL instead if I have time/effort left 😂

Other... other

I'm going to continue organising small comps and jams this year, both with @seedcomp-if (which will run all year now - 8 months of Planting, 3 months of Sprouting, 1 month of voting), and @neointeractives (8-10 jams/year).

I will probably participate in a handful of the jams I've either organised, or small program-focused jams (like with ink/bitsy), but avoid the "big" ones this year (even if the SpringThing was fun!). There are also a handful of other jams I've had my eyes on, so we will see if I can manage... Expect more short silliness on this side.

A thing I will continue doing will be playing IF games still. I have 15 games left in the IFComp (with one being an absolute beast) and want to take a crack at old comp entries (IFComp, SpringThing, and the others), especially the French ones. Reviewing takes a while, but it's a good practice to think about the positives and negative of games - and take these lessons for my own projects. Expect more at @manonamora-if-reviews (or on the IFDB).

Aaaaannnnd that's it!

That's more than enough to keep me entertained for this year. ... which may potentially be the last one in a while where I will have any free time. I am certain of one thing for next year (2025): there will be a lot of change happening IRL, which will for sure mean less time to do any fun thing (not just making IF). Probably long periods of time where I will be completely offline too. This year might be the last where I have a consistent presence online. I really want to make the most of it!

[tehamelie]

Community community (1.1)

Cause Hopey loves Maggie more than anything but she's scared it can't go anywhere cause she knows Maggie is going to end up marrying some man and have three fat babies so she all but drives her away, and all Maggie wants is to be wanted, she'll go after guys who make her lady parts go brrr but what matters is she'll come to anyone who makes her feel welcome, the girls could be happy together for the rest of their days if they just. . .

What was I talking about? Oh yes, we're rewatching Community. Back in the early to mid 2010s, as a happy carefree egg, I had a lot of good times watching this show with my friends, for day after day and endless summer nights. Even the gas leak year. Well, that's the only part I only ever watched once. That will be interesting when we get to it. But then, every episode of every season is interesting anyway.

Community was never the smartest or funniest show, not the snarkiest nor the sweetest. What it is, in my opinion, is the most advanced show on television yet. Fifteen years later it still seems like it comes from twenty years in the future, taking its lessons from generations of TV no one's even made yet. Let's see:

Community S1S1: Pilot

We're introduced to the esteemed (or just steaming) dean Pelton messing up a heartfelt inspirational halfway-through-the-first-week-of-the-semester speech to an unprepared and uninterested campus, where he mainly insults several of our main characters with negative stereotypes about community college. A strong introduction to the concept of the show, to the tone it's setting, to Craig Pelton, and to Greendale Community College.

Onto Jeff Winger, a lawyer who cheated his way to his degree, got found out, and has come here to cheat his way back with the use of his good friend professor Duncan who owes him for cheating the court when he was on trial for drunk driving. Jeff is so charming and manipulative, he seems to trick many viewers into thinking he's the main character he himself thinks he is. Don't believe his lies.

And here's Pierce Hawthorne, playing hide the sausage in the cafeteria line. That's not a euphemism, thankfully. Yeah, this is a silly bit of prop comedy, but it sets up Pierce's character beautifully without a word spoken. He's bad at stuff, and he goes to extraordinary lengths to cover up his many failures even though nobody even cares (or at least they were not going to care before he crushed his hot dog into a whole stack of buns), but just to salve his own ego. Pity Chevy Chase is an asshole, but then again, it gives the show a challenge later on when his real life assholishness spills over and needs to be written around for the story; a challenge to which it rises, I think.

And then we meet Britta, or rather, Pilot Episode Britta who's sort of her own separate character from Real Britta. Pilot Britta doesn't really do a lot except be bad at Spanish and put up a sort of cardboard feminist antagonism to Jeff. Look, every show needs a season or two to work out who the characters actually are, we can forgive a few cases of what TV Tropes calls "Early installment weirdness".

Speaking of TV Tropes, I like this lunch lady who explicitly refutes the role of "Magical N***o." I'd like to think they would have cast Aloma Wright to just directly recreate her character from Scrubs for this part, if they could. Or Whoopi Goldberg and her character from Star Trek. Or, yeah, you know, it's a pattern. And Community refuses to follow these patterns.

Some more weird Britta. There's some strokes of who her character is going to be (dropped out of high school to impress Radiohead, was at a protest once) but she's obviously mainly here to be a foil/love interest to Jeff, and looking for more than that is like panning for gold in a haystack. Though in a vacuum, it's fun to watch Jeff try to contort himself into a shape he imagines will make him attractive to her.

Enter Abed, and the deconstruction begins. It is funny how quickly and intuitively he cranks up the self-awarness and self-referentialness of the scene, but I'd like to note there's much more to him. In his first scene we see how he eagerly absorbs every bit of information* about people he meets and leaps at every chance to make a connection, and here he's excited about the first text message he's ever gotten. We could see this as a guy who loves people so much they can't stand to be around him. A sort of younger, unfiltered, unselfconscious Ted Lasso, if you remember that guy who drove his wife away because she couldn't keep up with the intensity of his care and appreciation.

And here he lays the foundation for the Greendale Seven in five minutes while Jeff is away manipulating Duncan. It's possible the joke here is supposed to be Abed is so bad at reading the situation (Jeff faking a study group in order to get face time with Britta) he ends up making the group real by accident, but you know what, screw Jeff. (Or rather, don't.) That narrative hinges on us both understanding his unspoken intentions and respecting them, but I'm on Abed's side of going with this opportunity to create a friend group.

Then we enter what's called in journalist jargon a "period of unstructured discussion". Though it's hard to keep up with the chaos without pausing my DVD every two seconds, it's beautifully coreographed chaos, with each character getting a carefully weighted amount of screen time as first Pierce tries to dominate the conversation and telling far too much about himself in his efforts to introduce the other characters and then Jeff acting as whatever the opposite of a moderator is, trying to excite rather than calm the arguments.

Children get pity but not respect, and adults, they get respect. But they also get the back of their head grabbed and their face pushed through jukeboxes.

I love that Shirley's establishing character moment here has nothing to do with her ethnicity, or her motherhood, or her religion, or her weakness for gossip, or her frequent passive aggression. Just trying to be the adult when the much younger Annie challenges her, dispensing some wisdom of the elder, and getting sidetracked halfway through her bon mot with what they call a suspiciously specific personal anecdote.

Then Pierce says something that could just as well come from the mouth of Donald Trump, but if I'm going to keep count of every time that happens I'm gonna need to take a math class. Troy and Annie's high school history of unrequited crushes and drug problems come back to haunt them (well, just her), things get truly chaotic and on the verge of getting ugly but then Abed saves the day by performing a scene from The Breakfast Club. It's so lolrandom, no, not at all. He enjoys doing it because he feels the study group is like being in that movie, but it's clearly a calculated act of distraction that allows everyone to take a step back and calm down.

Picture me reenacting the shot from the first episode of Firefly where Mal says of Simon Tam "He's my hero!" Cause Abed is my hero and I also like to say things that sound like a joke when they're true but saying them earnestly would make me emotionally vulnerable.

So anyway. Jeff trades his Lexus for Duncan's car that's so tiny you have to try to keep your knees out of your face when you sit in it, because he's just that desperate to not have to learn anything in the four years he's going to go to school. I realize I may be talking Jeff down a lot, maybe even a smidge more than he deserves. Maybe it's that he reminds me of my stepbrother and I can't say too many bad things about him since he's dead. But to be fair, Jeff is going to do a lot of work to redeem himself over the course of the show.

And boy does he need it.

In my headcanon, this is the first time Jeff ever uses his powers for good. Yeah, it's a cheap, shallow manipulative speech, playing to emotions without any particular substance, relying on his force of personality in a way that if you just wrote the words down it would not convince anyone - which is as far as we can see his entire method of making arguments - and he does it explicitly just to win a dinner with Britta by fixing the mess he created, but. Here we care about the results of an act of charity, not its intentions. And the Shark Week speech does even more than tape over the group's shredded emotions and bury its conflicts and dissolve the chaos. It gives these people an excuse to bond together, like we all wish we could. It tells each of them nice things about each other. It makes a fairly compelling argument in general for trying to recognize our fellow humans' personhood and acting in the spirit of forgiveness and reconciliation.

And as we'll come to see, from this moment on, the study group becomes unstoppable.

And then in sort of a coda we get a moral about how cheating doesn't teach you anything (especially when your cheat sheets turn out to be just a stack of blank paper), a moral that even someone like Jeff or Pierce is a human being worthy of regard, a moral about doing things for yourself and not trying to either please or spite other people, a moral about bright kids having a hard time learning how to study cause they don't have to do it until they're adults, and a moral about second chances. I may have missed some. There's just a parade of morals here.

Advanced Community proofs #1: Community does in the first episode what normal TV shows do in the first season, or first couple of seasons. It's not that dense with information (that's in later seasons, where practically every shot gets loaded with freeze-frame jokes and significant props) but it does such an elegant job of blazing through the motions of having an awkward first season and then having to work to reconcile rewritten characters with history they'll have to either keep quiet or just contradict. But here we start off a half note from perfect and hit perfect from from the second episode.

Dang I spent three hours on this. Probably won't be able to do even one episode a day.

*Information is measured in bits of data. Did you know someone proved a black hole's surface area grows by one square Planck length per bit of information it absorbs? Learning!

Episode list: S1E1 (that's this page!) S1E2 S1E3 S1E4 S1E5

[uwmadarchives]

Succeeding through “Failure”, Or When Oral History Doesn’t Happen

by Elisa Miller, Student Historian 2022/2024

Sometimes projects go off without a hitch, executed flawlessly from start to finish to manufacture a perfectly wrapped product the creator can take pride in. And sometimes projects never take off. Yet, having experienced the latter this semester, I’ve learned that a “failed” project can be fulfilling and something to be proud of. There are disappointments and frustrations, sure, but there’s something oddly satisfying about doing all the early work and preparation for essentially no outcome. So, here’s the story of my failed oral history project.

I entered my second year as student historian with a dilemma. I’d spent the summer roaming through the UW Digital Collections and going into the archives to find a new topic. This had been a struggle for me during my first year, so I wanted a head start going into the semester. After the Supreme Court overturned Affirmative Action, I began thinking about UW admissions and how they’d applied Affirmative Action over the years. So, I went into the archives and pulled boxes on admissions, Affirmative Action, anything I could find related to this issue. As an Asian American, I was particularly interested in admissions policies regarding Asian Americans due to the infamous notion that U.S. universities discriminate against Asians. After a few weeks of this, I realized the confidential nature of admissions was going to be a major roadblock. There was simply too much information I’d never be able to access.

As I was having this realization, I also had a major change of plans in my academic life. I had a last-minute opportunity to study abroad in Dublin at Trinity College in the spring, meaning I’d have to give up the position. Luckily, my wonderful supervisor, Digital and Media Archivist Cat Phan, was incredibly supportive and flexible, giving me the space and time to decide how to move forward. I decided to try and do a semester-long project instead of a year-long one. We talked through it and found the perfect way to tie everything together: an oral history project. It was a great way to work around the confidentiality of admissions by directly talking to Asian American students about their admissions experience and could also be completed in a semester if planned efficiently. I also already completed an oral history interview last February, so I was familiar with the process. I got the go-ahead from Oral Historian Troy Reeves in mid-September and immediately dove into preparing.

Given my condensed timeline, it was imperative to first find interviewees. I wrote up a proposal and sent it out to a few Asian American student organizations and Professor Lori Lopez, the director of the Asian American Studies program. I never ended up hearing back from any of the organizations, which was perhaps a bad omen from the onset, but Professor Lopez graciously agreed to send it out to all the students participating in the program. Here was my first success! Two students emailed me from Professor Lopez’s announcement indicating interest in my project. I got back to them and started preparing for the pre-interviews, interview topics, and my oral history “elevator” speech.

Some of the topics I wished to cover in the interviews:

Statistics: ACT/SAT scores, GPA, class rank

Extracurriculars

Essays

Why choose Wisconsin, as well as asking about any other schools they applied to

Asian American identity: how they understand this identity, how it plays a role in daily life/overall, how it did or didn’t impact admissions

Affirmative Action

            With two students officially interested and two or three of my friends as backups, I had enough for a project. Troy had explained that three was the minimum number for a project, and with my timeline I’d ideally record around five or six interviews. I had a vague date for a pre-interview with one of the students, and the other had yet to respond, so it was time to play the waiting game. As October came and went, I continued to formulate my questions/topics for the interviews and think about how to center the project. What was the priority, their Asian American identity or the admissions process? I wanted to balance both, to dissect when the two intertwined and if they could ever truly be separated. The Affirmative Action question was difficult for me to tangle with. I didn’t want to catch people off guard and force them to take a stance on the issue, but I was genuinely interested in their thoughts. I decided to float it at the pre-interviews and gather a sense of the student’s comfortability.

            Come Halloween, I had yet to hear back from either of the students who’d initially reached out and no other students responded. I started to panic, worried my project was falling apart before it even truly began. I reached out to both again, hoping I didn’t sound desperate. My friends were looking like they’d have to do some heavy lifting. All I could do was wait some more and keep working. I continued to research UW admissions and general Asian American admissions trends across the country: statistics, news articles, personal stories, I looked through everything. My project was becoming clearer and clearer in my mind, and I yearned to fill the gaps of my research with student’s voices.

But nobody got back to me. Disappointed, but not necessarily surprised, I was left with a few friends to turn to at the start of November. The clock was ticking as I had wanted to get all the interviews done by Thanksgiving in order to have enough time to finish processing the audio files by Christmas. I had the great misfortune to time all of this with midterms. My friends were, understandably, wishy-washy and hard to nail down with specific times. After two weeks of trying to rally them, I accepted defeat. There was nobody to participate in my project. My project was not going to happen. I had all the questions ready to go, I knew how they would create a cohesive narrative, the coffee shops for pre-interviews were chosen as well as the rooms for the interviews, the research was solid, and I was more than refreshed on oral history. Basically, everything was good to go, but now nothing was going to come of months of work.

I was disheartened, to say the least. It wasn’t even that I had done all this preparation for nothing, it was the fact that I wasn’t going to be able to do my project. I was genuinely interested in the topic and really felt I was targeting a group of voices that haven’t been heard on this campus. It was going to be a good project. Within all these feelings, there was something kind of amusing about the whole thing: it died because nobody wanted to participate. I had to accept that it was out of my hands, I couldn’t force anyone into an interview. That wouldn’t be fun for anybody.

So, I made peace with it. I realized I’d still done something. All that research and preparation may not have led to interviews, but I still learned a lot about admissions policies and their complicated relationship with Asian Americans. It also prompted a lot of questions, perhaps even more so than answers. Questions I would’ve loved to discuss with my peers, but nonetheless were ones for me to reflect on. The skeleton of the project still existed; it just never came fully to life. Would I have loved to give it a shock of electricity to the project’s heart? Of course. But that was impossible, and ultimately, I was still proud of everything I’d done this semester. Perhaps one day someone else will come along and revive my beloved oral history project, in a time when people are ready to share.