#I put everything in a draft before posting

[jellicle-chants]

Casa Mañana CATS Show Notes

I am seriously so glad I got to see this amazing show in person! I have all of my detailed song-by-song recollections under the cut, but up top I just want to shout out @miasiegert's AMAZING costume and wig work, it was such a pleasure to see the bright colors for myself (and the wigs are just so poofy y'all wouldn't believe). Congrats to the whole cast and crew for making this show come to life, it was really something special.

Before I start, I feel like I need to preface this whole thing by saying that this was my first time seeing Cats live, period, and I also only saw this show once, so if I remember something wrong it's because half the time I was desperately trying to get any actor to make eye contact with me lmao. Also if I don't mention something you're curious about, feel free to drop me an ask or just reply with whatever your question is and I'll try to answer as best as I can! I also still haven't seen all the show footage online, so IDK what's common knowledge or not. I'll put a heading for each section so you can skip around if you want.

Jellicle Songs through Invitation

Sadly, the overture had nothing special going on :(

Jellicle Songs opened with a human worker at the stockyards being watched by the cats as they came onstage one by one, before she "turned off" the lights and left

The singing only started once she left and the lights turned back on after "can you see in the dark," which I thought was a really novel and fun interpretation of the lyrics

Since the cast was limited, Jellylorum sang all of Cassandra's lines, and Jerrie and Teazer picked up the twins' as expected. (They have Jelly listed as "Jellylorum/Cassandra" in the program but it's not a split track or anything, she's just normal Jelly singing Cass' lines)

The "flying trapeze" was replaced by some sort of leather harness(?) on a rope that the actors would stick one foot in and swing on (I have no clue what it actually is but Misto uses it during his song as well. Maybe a stirrup to cat-scale?)

The boot drop was replaced with the railroad crossing light going off, which I was hoping for ever since I saw it before the show

They made the "mystical divinity" section a bit of a national anthem analog, with the actors putting hand over heart and the two big US and Texas flags coming out

Naming went pretty much as expected. I'm not really a fan of when productions overemphasize pointing out who is who and I didn't notice it here, so that was appreciated (although I did think Skimble was Plato for most of the show, so maybe I need it more than I think lol)

Jelly and Gus had a cute moment during "some for the gentlemen, some for the dames" where they did a little bow/curtsy to each other

Victoria's solo was split up among all the girls one by one, starting with her doing an abridged White Cat with a pink cowboy hat

The hat was quickly stolen by Teazer, and they had a little fight over it which Jenny had to break up (loved the bratty vibes of this moment, which was their only big interaction I noticed)

Eventually it got passed along to Demeter, who seemed hesitant to take it, but was urged on by the other girls.

Going into the invitation/Munk's monologue, Raphe played him as serious and dramatic as ever (minus the accent), which was a departure from the other actors who tended to play a bit looser and more relaxed. (Not a slight against anyone of course, it was just interesting to observe.)

Gumbie Cat

Before the song started, Munk got a little distracted with a big spool of rope he was playing with 🥺

The same thing happened with Jenny and one of the hanging string lights on the walkway at the back of the stage during his first verse, which got a big audience laugh

As the trio were getting set up, there was a little (staged) moment where Deme fell over and had to quickly sit back up, which added to the idea that she was supposed to be a new member of the tribe and a little unsure of herself

Jenny's tap costume was SO cute, and she kept the US boots on for the rest of the show, which is a good way to identify her

I was definitely surprised that the cast soft-shoeing in their boots (instead of using tap shoes) was audible from the audience, but it worked like a charm!

Munk and Jenny had a little duet at the end (not quite a tap-off like it used to be, but from what I've seen of the recent Oasis prods Munk doesn't get to tap at all :( so it was nice to have him involved)

The song ended with Jenny going "thanks, y'all!" which I am formally requesting become the button for all non-British versions of the show from now on

The Rum Tum Tugger

The staging and setup of this song was pretty much as normal, but as with all good Tugger stagings, the real gems are from the rest of the cast's reactions

Demeter was very into it and leaned over to tease Misto a couple of times, who was very flustered and kept throwing his hands over his eyes — he delivered the "terrible bore" line like he had something to prove. (I didn't know about the cast headcanon until after the show, but from what I saw, you could read his actions as romantic or "ew Dad, gross" equally easily depending on your preferences.)

Deme almost got a moment with Tugger before Bomba cut in on her

At some point Jenny snuck back onstage to "nap" through the rest of the song

Surprisingly, they didn't go with the overexcited kitten gag — I thought it would've fit great with the setting, but I'm sure they had a good reason to cut it out

Grizabella

Rumpleteazer was the last one of the kittens to approach Grizabella (she was a little more timid, I think she was meant to be one of the youngest) and Griz delivered the first verse of her song directly to her as she was shivering in fear on the ground in front of her. Afterwards, she ran over to hide with her brother — I also saw Jenny huddled over Misto and Victoria

Old Deut made a surprise appearance to lead Griz out with a handkerchief over his hand (which I thought was about the "no touching" thing but he also did it at the end, so I'm a little puzzled about that)

Bomba put her hand on Deme's shoulder for comfort as she was leaving

Bustopher Jones

This song was literally so funny, y'all. They made up for the lack of lyric changes (none of the place names were changed) with a bunch of physical humor and gags that were pitch-perfect to the Texas vibe

Everybody was split up into little groups that each wanted to give Bustopher their food (or at least Jerrie and Teazer, who had the corn dogs, really did)

The first thing he picked up was a Whataburger cup from Munkustrap — for those not in the know, Whataburger has basically the same cultural relevance in Texas as In-n-Out has in California, except you can only get it in-state

I'm so sad I got spoiled about the Real Corn Dogs, because watching him take a bite out of them onstage(!!!) was a thrilling experience

Mungojerrie & Rumpleteazer

The song started started with them coming out from behind the cat wanted posters on either side of the stage and sneaking towards the middle (including a moment where Jerrie stuck only his leg out from behind a post which was a great image)

Their solo costumes (raggedy overalls with a bunch of mismatched patches) were so cute

Behind the low wall at about mid-stage were a couple of trampolines which the actors used to do fun tricks and bounce in time to the music. I get the feeling the actors weren't as acrobatic (or the cowboy costumes/boots didn't allow that) so this was a great way to introduce some big energy to the number in a different way

After getting off the trampoline, they did a bit sitting on the edge of the wall where they stacked their legs threaded over each other (I'm bad at describing it but it's like when you and a friend try to stack your fists/hands alternating between each other)

At the end they pulled out a barrel and laid it on its side — both my sister and I thought they were going to walk around on top of it, but instead they made a seesaw with it which was also fun

The barrel ended up having some kind of illusion from which they pulled two big foam cowboy hats (in Texas colors of course). Honestly I'm still not sure how they pulled it off

Surprisingly, there were no loot bags (I think they were supposed to be more like rascals or kids goofing off and trespassing than actual thieves), so they skipped the playoff entirely

I think this was one of my favorite songs of the whole show. I really like this song when the actors are doing something every beat, and I honestly don't mind big props/gimmicks like these as long as they don't take up the whole song. This version threaded that needle really well and it was a great time!

Old Deuteronomy through the Jellicle Ball

Not much to say about Old Deut's song. I did notice a lyric change to "married nine wives" but I think that seems to be par for new shows post-2019?

After the pre-ball Macavity scare, Misto and Vic were huddled together downstage right and Sillabub downstage left to segue into the Song of the Jellicles

Tugger got the line "Jellicle cats are rather small" because there was no Alonzo, but otherwise I didn't make notes on who got which line

The ball had a lot more partner dancing than usual (no lifts unfortunately), which fit the theme really well! I don't know much square dancing lingo but I definitely saw them do a grand left and right at one point, I'm sure there was a lot more but I was too awed to really be picking things apart lol

They did pantomime tipping cowboy hats (which I hate a lot less than the weird crown pantomime Andy came up with, mostly because it's already a thing in Western dancing)

I think at one brief pause there was a small Skimble/Victoria moment? (This may have contributed a lot to the Plato mixup lmao)

There was a whole section where Old D stepped down and everyone was trying to reach for his handkerchief as he waved it around (and yeah, still don't know what was happening with that whole thing, sorry y'all 😅)

At the end of the ball (I think at the "Ecstasy" cue if you're familiar with Gillian's choreo names) the lights swept up over the audience like a field of stars and it was honestly the most magical moment ever

Memory (first time) through Moments of Happiness

For some reason in my program they have "Grizabella: The Glamour Cat" listed as "Entry of Grizabella" and Glamour Cat moved down to where this first Memory iteration goes, which gave me false hope that they were going to do the Jelly reprise. Very mean >:(

Before Griz came out, Old Deut almost presented Victoria with the pink cowboy hat from the white cat solo (which I think means she was about to be the Choice), but then she saw Griz coming and everyone got scared away

I feel like there was an extra 8 or 16 counts of dancing music for Griz before the song started, during which she did part of the partner dance choreo from the ball by herself :(

They used "silence" instead of "midnight" which I'm so mad about (ALW I'm gonna get my revenge one day just you wait old man)

Korie is such a beautiful singer, like he really fits the role to a T. Very old-school brassy bari/bass voice, a lot like Ken Page

Since there were no twins, Sillabub just got up and sang on her own, but it wasn't that jarring

At the end of the song, Rumpleteazer got a little sad and slid over to snuggle up at Old D's feet

Gus the Theatre Cat

Before you ask, yes, I did cry a little at this song (knowing that Michael had played Gus before back during the first Broadway run made me tear up, ok?)

Before the song started, Jelly gathered all of the kittens in front of her (unfortunately with the way the blocking ended up Gus was right between us and her for a lot of the song, but he had a much bigger stage presence than replica Guses so it wasn't a big loss)

As Jelly was beginning the first verse, Gus came onstage with a guitar, which he fake-played throughout his verses

Munk got to be Gus' friend at the pub, and they had real beer bottle props which was literally the cutest thing ever

During Gus' verses Michael sang with a much more lyrical tone than normal (as in he was really singing, not talk-singing), and the country accent really fit well with his song

At the Firefrorefiddle part Munk came back and handed Gus an actual fiddle, and how has NOBODY done this before??? It was literally so perfect y'all (I don't think the instrumentation was even changed but it just felt like the exact right thing)

I remembered to check back in on the kittens during their little moment, Rumpleteazer was aptly offended/embarrassed

One of the best lyric changes was definitely "in the days when Hank Williams reigned," I have a feeling if they could have changed more they would but alas

Between the end of the normal song and the lead-in to P&P, Gus ate up the applause (there was a lot!) and sang the next verse like it was an encore

Pekes and Pollicles

Not sure if this is as expected, but Gus sang "the awesome battle" instead of awful (and there was the "heathen" to "foreign" change that I've discussed elsewhere)

Before getting into full Rumpus Cat gear, Gus was dressed as a football referee (complete with real working whistle that he used a couple of times). He also did a coin flip during one of the early verses to decide which cornhole team would throw first

Yes, the actors were really playing cornhole onstage, and they were quite good at it too! I assume a lot of practice was involved lol

During the first barking sequence, Rumpleteazer was on her hands and knees playing one of the dogs and literally jumping off the ground barking, it was so silly-looking

Jenny played the police dog, complete with beer bottle. I think she was off to one corner fake-drinking for most of the song

I think the whole Little Tom Pollicle section was cut, including the bagpipes section

When the Rumpus Cat came out, the "dogs" flipped up the cornhole boards to hide behind. I also spotted Jenny as the police dog with a white-knuckle grip on her beer lmao

All in all, it was a very fun version of the song and I didn't even mind so much that it was moved out of its original spot in the show because it was SO goofy silly

Skimbleshanks the Railway Cat

This staging was a little less dynamic than the normal, they made the fake train very early on in the song and then just basically stayed there the whole time. Skimble was bouncing around as normal though

The train's "smokestack" spouted real steam at one point, which was really cool

Misto and Jelly were the card-players, complete with real oversized cards. At one point Skimble stopped to look at both of their hands and swapped some of their cards to complete the game, which I think is just *chef's kiss* perfect characterization for him

Instead of the fake train falling apart at "Skimbleshanks would help them to get out," there was a gag where Jelly was almost falling over and Skimble had to rush over and help her catch her balance

Macavity (scare, song, and fight)

Macavity used a literal lasso to kidnap Old D

This was totally just a personal thing, but I was definitely thrown off at first by the hard-T American pronunciation of Macavity

I can't remember if this happened here or somewhere else, but I feel like I should mention that at one point Bomba slid into a split so smoothly that I didn't even process it was happening until she was all the way down in it 😅

The fight was much different than normal — everyone got in on fighting Mac. I remember Bomba got a big moment getting him in the stomach before he got away

Instead of the jumper cables, Mac swiped at the "Cattlemen" sign and took out all of the lights except the ones that said "Cat"

After the fight, Deme and Bomba took a beat to clean each other off with some casual acrobatics

Magical Mister Mistoffelees

One change I thought was really sweet was at the beginning of the song, the rest of the cast were really disbelieving of Tugger and rolling their eyes at his claims, which I think pairs well with the cast headcanon

For our performance, Misto was not wearing the brown jacket he had in the promo videos — he may have had a black vest on or just his normal chorus outfit, but he still had his sheriff star :)

They had a couple of cans for Misto to knock over as part of his sharpshooting bit, but no squibs or anything onstage

During the "curled up" line, Misto went and cuddled with Vic for a second

There was a moment post-conjuring turns where the actor did a one-handed cartwheel with the toy gun still in his hand and I was just the tiniest bit afraid for his life (he pulled it off though!!!)

Instead of having a volunteer, they just had two people hold an old blanket that they used to cover Old D from one of the wings back to center stage

Misto looked away like he does sometimes after the Old D trick, but sadly they didn't get to hug after :(

During the final chorus Rumpleteazer got back on the trampoline and was bouncing along to the music

Rather than slowly making the spotlight disappear like in some productions, Misto shot it out before making his exit which was a cute touch

Memory (Reprise)

After Munk's monologue, Old D was ready to make Gus the choice, which this time was represented by a spotlight casting a circle on the ground. I was ready to be disappointed about the whole "wrong cat died" situation, but I was pleasantly surprised when Gus stepped back and invited Griz into the spotlight to make her case, it felt like a really good resolution to the issue some people have with that point

Right after Gus gave up the spotlight, he and Jenny had a little mimed conversation where she seemed a little upset/confused at what he did

Jackie did great as Grizabella — you could definitely tell she had played Elphaba in the past too lol

Interestingly, there were a couple of moments where it almost seemed like Skimble would be the first cat to touch Griz after her song, but he ended up backing off so that Vic could give her the pink cowboy hat :)

Journey through Ad-dressing

My sister and I were speculating before the show started where Griz was going to leave the stage (there wasn't a lot of infrastructure up above the stage itself so we were curious), and it ended up being the piece of scaffolding with "Mule Alley" written on it! Totally unexpected

I wish I had caught more of the cast interactions during this song, but I did definitely notice Bomba and Gus arm in arm

Old D was much more lively and light-hearted during The Addressing of Cats than normal (again, really reminding me of Ken Page's Deuteronomy, but even more jovial. I think there's footage of this so if you haven't gone to check it out definitely do!)

Not quite a lyric change, but the address in question was changed to something pronounced more like "aw, cat"

And that's about it for the show! Like I said at the top, feel free to send me asks if there's any part of the show you'd like to know more about! I tried not to assign romantic/platonic designations to any of the pairs throughout the show because it went by much too fast to tell one from the other (which is basically my way of saying go wild with it, y'all — the cast certainly sure have!).

[woso-story]

Time For The Next Chapter

Ingrid Engen x Mapi Leon x Barcelona

June in Barcelona had always been beautiful — warm breezes swept through the winding Gothic alleys, and the sea shimmered under the lengthening sun. But for Ingrid Engen, this June was not just the close of a season; it was the close of a chapter. A meaningful, life-shaping chapter that she wasn’t entirely ready to end.

The rumor had already broken across social media weeks ago. A few journalists had put the pieces together, and by the time the club had even begun drafting the official announcement, fans were tweeting, speculating, grieving — and, in some corners, criticizing.

“Ingrid Engen to leave Barcelona at the end of the season.”

Some posted thank-you messages. Others were less kind. Some said she was never good enough to be a starter, just another rotation player. Some whispered she was only there because of her relationship with Mapi Leon. But none of them knew the truth. None of them understood how hard it had been.

Ingrid hadn’t wanted to leave. Every fiber of her being had wanted to stay.

This city, this club, had given her so much. Four years of sweat, growth, laughter. Trophies and tears. She had come to Barcelona with Frido, both of them making the jump from Wolfsburg — two best friends chasing a bigger dream. Here, they had battled for greatness and found it. Here, Ingrid had become a better player.

And here, she had fallen in love.

Mapi Leon had changed everything.

It started quietly — a friendship formed over training banter and shared glances. But somewhere along the way, between away games and long evenings walking through the streets of Barcelona, it had become something undeniable. With Mapi, Ingrid felt seen. Known. Loved — not just for what she did on the pitch, but for who she was when the stadium lights were off.

Their relationship had become the cornerstone of her life in Spain. They’d built a rhythm — cooking dinner together after late trainings, sharing coffees on the terrace in the morning sun, whispering strategy under the covers on the night before Champions League clashes. Mapi was Barcelona through and through, but she’d carved out space for Ingrid. Made her feel like she belonged.

Which made this all the harder.

It wasn’t that Barcelona didn’t want her — she had been offered a new deal. Two more years. The same role: backup to Patri in midfield, maybe some minutes as center-back cover if injuries struck. But Ingrid was 27. In her prime. She didn’t want scraps. She didn’t want to sit and wait to be needed. She was needed — she had shown that last season when injuries forced the rotation. She had stepped up, delivered. But now, with everyone fit and new names like Laia Aleixandri arriving, it was clear.

There would be no room for her.

And still, she hesitated.

She had stood in the boardroom, the new contract on the table, and she had wanted to say yes. Two more years. Two more years of walking into the locker room and seeing Mapi. Two more years of late-night drives through the city after victories. Two more years of being part of this.

But she had looked across the table and asked the same question twice: “Can you guarantee me minutes?”

And twice, the answer had been a gentle no.

So she had done the hardest thing she had ever done.

She had said goodbye.

The night after, she had gone home and found Mapi sitting on the balcony, a bottle of red wine open, two glasses already poured.

Neither of them said much. There were no lectures, no guilt. Just quiet acceptance. Mapi had always known this might come. She had told Ingrid from the beginning, “I’ll never ask you to stay just for me.”

And Ingrid had always promised, “If I go, I’ll come back. Somehow.”

They clinked glasses in the warm twilight, holding each other a little tighter than usual.

The next morning, the announcement dropped.

And the locker room fell silent.

Ingrid had never felt so self-conscious walking into that space. All eyes turned to her. Some were red-rimmed. Others full of understanding. Mapi was right behind her, her fingers grazing the small of her back as they walked in — a quiet act of solidarity.

She didn’t speak.

She didn’t have to.

Frido came first.

The hug was immediate — fierce and full of history. Wolfsburg. Rehab sessions. Those long training days in Spain’s summer heat. Frido was more than a friend. She was a sister in arms. Their journey had been parallel, and now, it was parting ways.

“Don’t forget who you are,” Frido whispered into her hair. “You were always enough.”

The others followed. Patri, who had fought for minutes herself once. Alexia, who gave her a knowing nod — she understood better than most the brutality of timing in football. Aitana, who told her to call any time. Even the younger players, some still too green to grasp the full weight of the moment, came over and wrapped her in hugs.

In the end, they formed a circle around her. A warm, tearful circle. Not of sadness, but of gratitude.

They weren’t mad. They got it.

Football was brutal. It didn’t matter how good you were if the timing wasn’t right. It didn’t matter how much you loved the badge if there wasn’t a place for you on the pitch. And they respected her for choosing herself.

But the fans didn’t all see it that way.

The messages were pouring in. Some supportive. Some brutal.

“Why would you leave when you had an offer?”

“You’re a traitor.”

“You were only here because of Mapi anyway.”

Ingrid didn’t respond to any of them. But they hurt. Of course they did.

She wanted to scream, I did everything I could! I wanted to stay! But shouting into the void never helped.

She had chosen to go to Lyon. A fresh start. A team that had watched her, believed in her, wanted her. Not as a backup. As a key piece. A player who could shape the game. Lyon — with its own rich history, its own expectations. She was nervous, but also excited.

It was never about leaving Barcelona. It was about not disappearing within it.

And she wasn’t turning her back on the club. She was stepping forward into herself.

That night, she lay in bed with Mapi, their legs tangled together, both quiet. It was hard. It would keep being hard. But love had never been about easy. It was about choosing each other, again and again, even across cities, even across time zones.

“You know I’d follow you anywhere, right?” Mapi murmured.

Ingrid smiled sadly. “And I’d never ask you to. This is your home, Maria.”

They kissed — gently, like the world was trying to break them and they were saying no with their mouths.

Barcelona would always be part of Ingrid. The city had changed her. The team had lifted her - literally. And Mapi… Mapi had given her a kind of love she never thought she’d have.

She would carry it all with her — every goal, every injury, every whispered I love you after a Champions League win.

And when she walked out in a Lyon jersey for the first time, she wouldn’t be leaving that behind.

She’d be building on it.

Because sometimes, love doesn’t hold you back. It hands you the key and says, go — and I’ll be right here, cheering for you.

Even if it’s from the other side of the pitch.

[sevarchive]

hey everyone :)

this is honestly really hard for me to write, but i want to be real with you all—maybe for the first time, maybe for the last time.

i made this account during a time when i was struggling more than i knew. before i even started posting, i was already burned out and sinking into a kind of sadness i didn’t fully understand. when school ended, instead of feeling better, things just got heavier. the loneliness crept in so quietly that i barely noticed it at first—like a shadow following me everywhere, but invisible to everyone else. most of my closest friends disappeared after school ended. i told myself they had their own lives and problems, and maybe they did. but that didn’t make the silence any less painful. it just made me feel like i was fading away, like i was slowly turning into a ghost that nobody could see or hear anymore.

for a whole month, i woke up and went through the motions without really living. i’d stare at the ceiling for what felt like forever, trying to find a reason to move. i felt like i was just existing, trapped in a cycle of monotony and quiet pain. i was wearing a mask, a mask so good even i forgot what was beneath it. then, by some small miracle, i logged back into this old tumblr account. and with it came a spark—blue lock, a fandom, a place i loved. slowly, i found myself laughing at posts again, writing little jokes, sharing stories, and connecting with all of you. this space became a sanctuary when everything else felt like it was crumbling. and you—yes, you reading this—became my light in the darkness.

i can’t put into words how much you all mean to me. you’ve been the reason i’ve found the strength to keep going. to wake up wanting to write. to feel joy again, even in small moments. your support, your kindness, your love, support and words carried me through days when i thought i couldn’t carry myself. please know that you’re not just followers or fans to me—you’re my saplings, my family in this little corner of the world. and i love you with everything i have. but lately, the loneliness has been creeping back, even beneath the smiles and posts. and the pressure of real life hasn’t eased up—student council duties, school starting again soon, anxiety that hits harder each night, and panic attacks i can’t ignore. i’ve realized that no matter how much i love being here with you, i have to take care of myself too. i can’t keep pretending i’m okay when i’m not.

so, with a heavy heart, i want to let you know that i will need to take a break from writing for awhile. i need to rest—not just my body, but my mind and my heart too. before my last year as a senior starts again in less than three weeks, i want to try to find myself again and heal the parts of me that have been hurting quietly for a long time.

this isn’t goodbye. this account isn’t going anywhere. and if i have the strength, i’ll still post or write something from time to time. my drafts and plans will have to wait for now, but they’re not gone forever. but i will still reply to any inbox messages y'all will send me and interact from time to time :)

once again, thank you sm everyone. from the bottom of my heart, thank you for staying with me, for your kind words, your messages, your support, and your love. every single one means so much to me. if you want to reach out, i’ll be reading your messages with so much gratitude. btw, please take care of yourselves too. hold on to the people and things that bring you even a little light when things get hard. i’ll be trying my best to do the same.

remember, this isn’t a goodbye. rather, it’s just a see you later.

with all the love i have left,

nat <3

[imsosoheee]

lose my cool, (3)

wc: 3.2k | pairing: artstudent!eunseok x fem!reader (art student) | content warnings: crying (a mental breakdown), lots of angst, soft smut, emotional sex, fluff !, love

pt. 1 pt. 2

you weren’t used to silence from him. even when you ignored him, even when you pushed him away, eunseok always found a way back. a text. a stare. a hoodie he left behind.

but this time, nothing. no messages. no glances. no name blinking on your screen in the middle of the night.

you couldn’t stop thinking about the girl you saw him with. you kept replaying it in your head—her laugh, the way she held onto his sleeve like she had the right to. you told yourself it didn’t matter. but you found yourself checking who he followed. checking his art page. rereading the last message he ever sent you.

see you in class

you hadn’t seen him since.

your friends invited you out. again. you said yes. again. you dressed like you wanted to be seen—hair curled, tiny skirt, lined lips, nothing casual about it. someone flirted with you within five minutes of arriving. he looked good. said the right things. called you beautiful.

you kissed him outside, just to prove you could. but when his hand gripped your waist, you pulled away.

“what?” he asked.

“nothing,” you lied. “i’m just... tired.”

you weren’t—you were hollow.

you went home and sat on the edge of your bed for fifteen minutes before you moved. pulled on one of eunseok’s old hoodies without thinking about it, then you laid down in the dark and stared at your phone. your thumb hovered over his name.

you typed.

are you awake?

you erased it and typed again.

i miss you

erased that too.

you threw your phone across the bed and covered your face with both hands. what the hell were you doing? you had what you wanted: no strings, no complications, just sex and space and silence. but now the silence was unbearable. you curled up under your sheets and hated how cold it felt.

he used to stay after—not always and never for long, but sometimes he’d lie there and trace circles into your back until you fell asleep. you hadn’t let anyone else do that—not once. you didn’t text him that night, but you didn’t delete the drafts either. you just let them sit there—unsent, unfinished, like everything else between you.

you stayed in for the weekend. no texts sent. no stories posted. you didn’t do your makeup. didn’t wash your hair. you wore the same hoodie for three days straight—the one that still smelled like something warm and safe. like him.

your room looked like a before picture. empty cans on your desk, laundry you didn’t fold, notes scattered across the floor like pieces of someone else’s life. you told yourself you just needed rest. but you weren’t tired. you were aching.

you tried to sketch for the first time in a while. the page stayed mostly blank. every time you picked up the pencil, your hand froze. you didn’t know how to draw anything that didn’t feel like him.

his eyes, his hands, his voice. the way he said your name when you were half-asleep. the way he looked at you like he wanted to know what was under all your armor and didn’t mind how long it would take. you put the pencil down, rubbed your eyes and pretended you weren’t about to cry.

you started remembering all the little things: the way he always waited for you to speak first. the way he never touched you unless you touched him first. the way he kissed you slowly—like he was trying to memorize every version of your mouth.

you remembered how he laughed when you teased him. how his voice always dropped a little when he said your name. how he looked at you like maybe—just maybe—he could’ve loved you if you let him. you didn’t let him—you knew that now.

you’d spent so long running from the idea of love that you didn’t realize it had been standing still beside you this whole time. and now you’d lost it. you pushed him away with your hands and your mouth and all the words you didn’t mean. you told him you didn’t care, and he believed you.

you curled up under your blanket, phone clutched in your hand, screen dim. you wanted to text him. you wanted to tell him you were wrong. that you lied. that it did mean something. that maybe it meant everything. but your fingers wouldn’t move.

not yet. not like this.

this was supposed to be easy: you didn’t do love, you didn’t do feelings, you didn’t let people in. but he had walked into your life so quietly you didn’t realize you’d left the door open. and now it was empty again. and you had no one to blame but yourself.

when you saw him again, you didn’t mean to be there. you’d forgotten your headphones in the studio two days ago—left in the corner during a late-night sketch session you barely remember starting. you didn’t want to go back. not because of the walk, not because of the mess. but because it used to be your place. his place. your place with him, and now it wasn’t anything.

you told yourself you’d go early and that no one would be there—in and out.

the door creaked open with that familiar hum—the hinge that always needed fixing, the faint smell of paint and old paper and coffee. you stepped inside, the hallway cool against your skin. your hoodie hung off one shoulder, hair tied back in the laziest way, your face bare.

you looked like you felt: tired, quiet, emptied out. you found your headphones on the far table, right where you left them. beside a few abandoned sketches. one of them looked half-finished. messy cross-hatching. unfinished hands.

you picked it up before you realized it wasn’t yours. it was his. your heart jolted. and then you heard the door open again. footsteps. you didn’t turn around. you didn’t need to. you knew that sound better than your own voice. “yn.”

his voice hit you square in the chest. you turned. he looked—worse than you remembered.

his eyes were darker, ringed with exhaustion. his hair was longer, a little unkempt. he was wearing the same gray hoodie you once slept in, the sleeves still fraying at the edges. but it was his face that wrecked you—because the moment he saw you, something in it cracked open.

“i didn’t think anyone would be here,” he said, voice low.

“me neither.”

silence stretched between you. not awkward, just heavy. you held up the headphones. “i left these.”

he nodded. your eyes flicked to the sketch on the table—the one you were still holding.

“is this—”

“you,” he said quietly. you swallowed.

“it’s not done.”

you looked at it again. soft lines. too much detail around the mouth. like he’d drawn it a hundred times.

“it’s good,” you said.

he shook his head. “it’s not real.”

you looked at him. really looked at him. and you saw it—all the weight in his eyes, the silence in his shoulders, the way he wouldn’t meet your gaze for too long. he missed you. maybe as much as you missed him.

you didn’t know what to say, but you couldn’t stop yourself from speaking. “all of your jackets are still at my place.”

his eyes flicked to yours.

you shrugged, trying to play it off. “i never washed them.”

his expression didn’t change, but his voice did, soft and breaking. “why are you telling me that?”

you stepped forward. “i don’t know,” you said. “i just... haven’t been able to move them.”

the studio was too quiet. his hands were curled into fists at his sides. like he was holding himself back.

“you look like shit,” you said before you could stop yourself.

he laughed—sharp and dry and surprised. he looked like he might cry. “so do you,” he said.

you smiled. it didn’t reach your eyes.

neither of you moved. but for the first time in weeks, the space between you felt alive again. not fixed or healed, but open. and that was enough—for now.

a week later, you broke. it started as a normal day. gray skies, unfinished assignments, silence where his voice used to be. a professor brushed off your work in critique. your group forgot you were supposed to meet. a guy you used to talk to saw you on campus and didn’t say hi and just kept walking.

you told yourself it didn’t matter. you weren’t close to any of them. you didn’t need anyone. but by the time you got home, your hands were shaking. and when you closed the door behind you, your eyes were already wet.

when the rain started outside, you were already grabbing your keys and running out into it—hood down, feet slipping, no umbrella, no plan. just him.

you didn’t knock right away.

you stood in front of his door, soaked through, breathing hard, water clinging to your lashes. it was stupid—you knew that. maybe he wasn’t even home. maybe he didn’t want to see you, but your fingers moved before your mind caught up.

one knock.

pause.

another.

a shuffle from inside. then—his voice. muffled, then closer. “who—?” the door opened, and there he was—soft tee. damp hair. surprise and worry blooming in his expression simultaneously.

“yn?”

you didn’t speak. you just looked at him, and then everything spilled out of you all at once. your chest caved. your hands trembled. your eyes blurred. you tried to say something, anything, but no words came.

he stepped forward instinctively. “hey—wait, what—”

your voice cracked. “i miss you,” and then you were crying—full-body, shaking, soaked-through kind of crying.

he didn’t hesitate. he pulled you in, arms wrapping around you like it was muscle memory. like his body had been waiting to hold you again. “it’s okay,” he said, again and again, into your hair. “you’re okay. you’re okay.”

you weren’t, but with his arms around you, you almost felt like you could be. he sat you down on the couch and handed you a towel. you didn’t stop crying right away. he didn’t ask why. he just sat there with you, letting the silence fill the room, his fingers brushing yours every so often. not pushing. not demanding. just there.

and when your breathing finally slowed, when the worst of it had passed, you turned to him and whispered, “i’m sorry.” his eyes flicked to yours, unreadable and quiet. “i should’ve said it a long time ago,” you added. he didn’t say anything, so you kept going.

“i was scared of feeling too much and losing control. of needing someone.” you looked down at your hands. “but the worst part?” your voice cracked again. “i still lost you anyway.”

he inhaled—deep, shaky. you turned your head and met his eyes.

“it wasn’t just fun. it wasn’t casual. maybe… it was love. i don’t know what it was, but i know it hurt more than anything when you stopped showing up.”

his jaw clenched. “i never stopped,” he said. “you just stopped letting me in.”

you nodded. tears welling again. “i know.”

he looked at you for a long time. then, softly: “so why are you here now?”

you didn’t answer right away. then, slowly, honestly: “because this hurts more. i need you, eunseok.”

he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath since the day you pushed him away. and then he reached for your hand—not pulling you in. just holding it. and you let him.

for a long moment, neither of you spoke.

you just sat there—wet hair clinging to your cheeks, the air between you warm and heavy, like something alive. like something begging to be felt. then, quietly, like a breath you’d been holding too long: “can i stay?”

he didn’t hesitate. “yeah.”

you turned toward him. his thumb brushed a strand of hair from your face, slow, careful, like he was afraid you'd disappear again if he moved too fast.

your eyes met, and in the space between you lived every night you touched without talking, every morning you left without looking back, every version of love you didn’t know how to name. “i meant what i said,” you whispered.

his voice came quiet, nearly breaking. “i know.”

you leaned in first, mouth brushing his with a kind of desperation you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel until now. it wasn’t a kiss—it was a question. an apology. a confession.

his hands found your waist like he’d been aching for it, holding tight, dragging you closer, closer still. and when he kissed you back, it wasn’t soft—not this time. it was unsteady and starved. years of tension, of denial, of longing, crashing open all at once. he kissed you like he was angry at himself for still loving you. you kissed him like it might fix everything you broke.

you climbed into his lap, your soaked hoodie clinging between you, your legs bracketing his hips as if your body remembered this better than your heart did. your hands gripped his shirt like you were drowning—like he was the only thing anchoring you to the world.

he gasped when your hips rolled down once, sharp and aching. his head tipped forward, forehead pressed to your shoulder, trying to breathe through it.

“i missed you,” he rasped, voice wrecked against your skin.

you breathed his name, whispered into the shell of his ear like prayer, like punishment. his hands slid up beneath your hoodie, warm and reverent, tracing the curve of your back, the softness of your sides. you dragged his shirt off in one motion, letting your hands roam over his chest like you needed to memorize it again.

when his mouth found yours again, it was slower—hungrier. he stood up with you in his arms, lips never leaving yours, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. he carried you to the bed like it was something sacred. like you were.

he peeled your clothes off one by one, kissing the skin he uncovered like every part of you deserved to be remembered. you touched him like you were afraid this was the last time. he touched you like he was afraid it wasn’t.

“you’re shaking,” he said, voice hoarse.

“i’m scared,” you admitted, bare beneath him, heart wide open. his hand curled around your cheek, his thumb brushing a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen.

“i am too.” you let him kiss you through it—through the fear, through the grief, through everything you’d buried beneath sharp words and colder silences. his body settled against yours, every inch of him pressed to you like a vow. you didn’t look away. you didn’t hide.

when he finally pushed inside you, it was slow, devastating—like he wanted you to feel every inch, every second. you gasped his name, fingers digging into his shoulders, hips tilting to meet him.

“you’re okay,” he whispered, “i’ve got you.” and he did—hands steady on your waist, his breath stuttering in time with yours.

he moved like he wanted to map you from the inside out, like he was trying to write the words he never got to say across your skin. your mouths met again and again, tangled in sighs and apologies and the kind of longing that didn’t need language. you told him you were sorry without saying it. he forgave you with his hands.

you wrapped your legs tighter around him, let yourself fall completely. he kissed your chest, your throat, the underside of your jaw, whispering things you couldn’t catch, but felt all the same.

when it ended, you didn’t move.

his chest was flush against yours, heart hammering in tandem. your fingers were tangled in his hair. your breath caught. he looked at you like you were the only person he’d ever wanted to see after the storm, and for once, you didn’t feel like running. you didn’t feel broken. you felt known.

you felt home.

the morning light was soft and gray, pressing faint patterns onto the ceiling. you woke up first.

his arm was around your waist, steady and warm. your cheek rested against his bare chest. his breathing was even—calm in a way you hadn’t felt in weeks.

for a moment, you just stayed like that. you memorized the feeling of his skin beneath your fingers. the curve of his collarbone. the way his hand tightened slightly in his sleep when you shifted. he didn’t leave. he could’ve, but he didn’t. and neither did you.

he stirred when you sat up, blinking slowly , still half-asleep, hair falling into his eyes. “hey,” he said, voice thick and raspy.

you looked down at him. “hi.”

a beat passed. “you stayed.”

you nodded.

he reached up—gently—and brushed his fingers down your spine. it sent a shiver through you.

“how do you feel?” he asked, softer now.

you searched his face for a sign of regret. but there was none—just warmth, and something else. something cautious, like he was afraid to say too much too fast.

“like everything hurts,” you said honestly. “but... lighter.”

his eyes flicked to yours. “lighter?”

you smiled a little. “like maybe i don’t have to pretend anymore.”

he looked at you like that meant more than you’d said. maybe it did.

he made tea. you sat on his couch in his hoodie—your hair still wet from a quick shower, legs pulled beneath you, watching the way his hands moved. familiar, careful. he handed you a mug without speaking. you wrapped both hands around it. “i still have your lighter,” you said quietly. he glanced at you.

“from that night. i almost gave it back a hundred times. but i didn’t.”

he nodded, eyes on the rim of his cup.

“i kept it on purpose,” you added, like it mattered. “i think... i wanted to hold onto something.”

his voice was low. “me too.”

the silence that followed didn’t feel like tension anymore. it felt like possibility. you turned to face him fully. “what happens now?” he let out a slow breath. “i don’t know,” he admitted.

you laughed—tired, but real. “you’re supposed to have all the answers.”

he smiled. “i’m just figuring it out too.”

you reached for his hand. this time, he didn’t hesitate. you linked your fingers with his and squeezed. “can we start over?” you asked. he didn’t speak right away. but the way he looked at you—quiet, soft, sure—said enough.

“yeah,” he said. “we can.”

being with him felt different now—not louder or bigger, just quieter. like a room you hadn’t stepped into before. familiar and unfamiliar all at once. soft morning light, unmade beds, half-drawn sketches on the floor.

you didn’t sleep over that often. not yet, but you stayed longer now. you stayed for coffee. for late-night ramen. for the way he pulled you in absentmindedly, his hand brushing your hip when he passed, like he couldn’t help it anymore. you caught him staring at you in class once. he didn’t look away this time, and neither did you.

it was raining again the night it happened. not heavy. just the soft kind that tapped on windows and made the whole world feel a little slower. you were curled up on his couch, your legs draped across his lap, your face pressed to his shoulder. his fingers traced idle shapes along your thigh. not suggestive. not even intentional—just habit.

you broke the silence first. “do your friends know?”

he glanced at you. “about us?”

you nodded. he gave a half-smile. “some.”

“what do you tell them?”

“that it’s complicated.”

you swallowed. “is it?”

he didn’t answer right away. then: “not to me.” you sat up a little, the room suddenly too quiet.

“what are we, then?”

eunseok looked at you. not flinching. not retreating—just waiting.

so you asked, softer this time: “what do you want?”

he reached for your hand and held it gently, like it might disappear.

“i want something real,” he said. “with you.”

you stared at him.

“i don’t know how to do that.”

he nodded. “i know.”

“what if i mess it up?”

“you will.”

you blinked.

he smiled. “so will i.”

your breath caught.

“but i’d rather mess it up with you than not try at all.”

you looked down at your joined hands. his thumb brushing slowly across your knuckles. no pressure. no push. just an answer.

“okay,” you said. “then i want that too.”

he leaned in and kissed you like it meant something. this time, you didn’t pull away.

you didn’t plan to spend the whole day with him. you’d brought your laptop over that morning, said you’d stay for coffee and maybe sketch beside him while he worked. but one hour became two. then three. and by the time the sun dipped behind the buildings, your charger was stretched across the floor, his hoodie was hanging off your shoulder, and your sketchbook was untouched. you didn’t care. he looked at you like you were the only thing worth paying attention to anyway.

he made lunch while you scrolled through your phone on the couch. nothing fancy—just leftover rice, an egg, and the kind of seasoning packets only college students kept stocked.

you offered to help, but he said you’d burn something. you flipped him off and he kissed your forehead in return. the eggs turned out a little too soft. you told him they were perfect anyway. he caught you smiling between bites and asked, “what?”

you shrugged. “this,” you said. “feels nice.”

he smiled. “yeah. it does.”

after lunch, you sat on the floor with your back against the couch, and he sat behind you, legs stretched out on either side, chin resting lightly on your shoulder. your fingers toyed with the frayed hem of your shorts while he skimmed a reading for class.

you didn’t talk much. you didn’t need to.

he shifted once, just to kiss the top of your shoulder. quick. like breathing. you leaned back into him without thinking.

around six, you both wandered down the street for a sweet treat. you held his hand this time.

it felt strange at first—public. loud in a way you weren’t used to. but he didn’t hesitate, and that made it easier. people didn’t stare. no one said anything.

and when you caught your reflection in the shop window—his hand in yours, your head tilted toward his shoulder—you didn’t look away.

he let you pick out whatever flavor ice cream you wanted, holding it while you took the first bite. you smeared ice cream on the corner of his mouth on purpose. he rolled his eyes and kissed you anyway.

you ended up back on his couch, curled up together under a blanket that didn’t cover either of you properly. the drama you half-watched played reruns, your phone battery blinked red, but neither of you moved.

his fingers traced lazy circles on the inside of your wrist. your voice broke the quiet. “do you remember what that girl at the festival said?”

he blinked. “which one?”

“during the balloon game.”

he smirked. “the one who asked if we were dating?”

“yeah.”

“and said people like us always end up together?”

you looked at him. “do you think she was right?”

he paused, then reached for your hand again—slower this time, deliberate.

“yeah,” he said. “i think she was.”

and you let yourself believe it.

it had been a long day—group work, class critiques, your backpack too heavy with things you didn’t need. he met you after your last class, tea in hand, fingers brushing yours as he passed you the cup. you let him hold your bag while you complained the whole walk to his apartment. he didn’t say much—just smiled, listening like he always did, like it mattered.

maybe that’s what did it. maybe it was the way he let you be tired. the way he made room for you without asking. the way he didn’t try to fix it. you kissed him as soon as the door closed. it wasn’t rushed. it wasn’t about relief or want. it was quiet and certain.

his hands found your waist slowly. your mouth moved against his like you’d done it a thousand times—but this time, it felt like arriving. he pulled you closer, his touch more assured now, less hesitant. like he finally believed you were his. you guided him back to the bed without breaking the kiss.

he let you take your time.

your shirt hit the floor first. his fingers ghosted over your ribs, your spine, your neck—like he was learning you again, piece by piece. when his lips met the skin just below your collarbone, you exhaled sharply.

“you okay?” he murmured, breath warm.

you nodded. “don’t stop.”

so he didn’t. you moved together, familiar with the other. his touch was reverent, his kisses slow and searching. he held you like he wanted to honor you, because this was never about proving anything. you whispered his name more than once, and he said yours like a promise.

when you finally collapsed beside him, your chest rising and falling in sync, you realized you weren’t afraid anymore. you were safe. you were seen. for the first time, you didn’t want to run from that.

later, while he dozed beside you, you slipped from the bed—still wrapped in one of his hoodies, legs bare, hair messy from his fingers. you picked up your sketchbook and sat on the floor in the quiet hum of early evening. you started to draw.

you didn’t overthink it this time—no erasing or sketching over or hesitating. you just let your hand move: his jawline. his lashes. the faint curve of his smile when he looked at you like you were something he couldn’t believe was real.

this time, you didn’t hold back. you finished the piece in one sitting, titling it at the bottom of the page:

lose my cool.

you didn’t show him yet, but you would. because now you knew what it was: not love at first sight. not a perfect story. just something real—messy, quiet, honest.

yours.

a/n: thank you all for reading and finishing my first fic!! this was also my first smut :000 lmk how it was!! i thought it was pretty beautiful... soft and emotional and angsty. i love eunseok... stay tuned for more :)

🔖: @hrtfelt4u @karebearyu @jaellymint @thevirginsuicidenotes

[kraeted]

contains: brazil hinata shoyo + gender neutral reader + drabble + established relationship + fluff

note: this is the last time i'm starting all over. no more deleting my accounts or posts. i might not be posting consistently because my inspiration and motivation come and go, but i feel like my work shouldn't go to 'waste' by just sitting in my drafts for eternity. this is a repost so if you recognize it, that's why. hope you enjoy it!

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” You say as soon as Hinata opens the front door to leave for his beach volleyball practice.

Your eyes don’t leave the laptop in your lap as you type away at your essay you should have finished days ago. The soothing buzzing of the ventilator in the corner of the living room serves more as white noise than its actual purpose, the wind it is producing just as warm as the heat intruding your apartment.

With furrowed brows Hinata stops in his tracks. He taps the pockets of his shorts to check for his keys and phone. “Check,” he mumbles to himself as he moves on to his backpack, throwing it forward over his shoulder and opening the zipper, “Cap, check. Sunglasses, check. Wallet, check.”

You softly shake your head with a smile in an amused disbelief. No matter how often you reminded him, somehow that one thing never made it onto his mental checklist. 

From the corner of your eye, you vaguely notice him looking up at you with a questioning gaze. Quickly his confusion dissolves as his face lights up. 

“Oh yeah!” You practically see the light bulb above his head turn on before he rushes over to you, mindful of the coffee table his lower leg bumped into one too many times. He pulls his backpack against his chest to keep it from hitting you and he leans down to kiss your cheek.

“Well, that too.” His chest warming gesture makes you chuckle and you finally look up at him with feigned sternness. “But I was talking about sunscreen.” 

The realization flashes across his face and he gives you a guilty, cheeky smile. 

The last time he forgot to put it on, the sun nearly burned him to a crisp. Pitying your boyfriend and ignoring the classes you had to attend the next morning, you went over to his apartment with aloe vera gel. You carefully applied it for him, but with every touch of his scarlet skin came a painful hiss, which you reciprocated with hushed sorries.

“Where is it again?” His guilty grin is accompanied by his hand awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. 

“The cream tote bag in my room, it’s probably on the chair.” You answer and you turn back to the screen in front of you. Hinata puts down his bag next to the couch and disappears into your bedroom.

You don’t miss the faint noises of him pushing things around in your room that probably don’t need any moving, before he finds your bag and searches around in the endless sea of random items you carried everywhere.

Two written sentences later, he’s back in the living room, with an orange tube in one hand and a mountain of sunscreen in the palm of his other hand. He hands you the tube. “Can you do my back please?” 

What is a few more minutes if your essay is already late? 

You push your laptop to the side and push yourself from the couch. Your strained eyes definitely need a moment away from the blue light of your screen, the slight burn evident of your exhaustion.

“Turn around.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Hinata does as he’s told, his back facing you.

You squeeze a generous amount of sunscreen on your hand and let the tube fall from your hand onto the couch. 

“How much do you still have to do?” He asks, dotting white specks all across his face before rubbing his hands together to massage what remains to the rest of his exposed limps. 

“I’m almost done with the last chapter and then I just have the summary and the bibliography left, but I also have to reread everything.” You sigh, the thought of it all overwhelming you. “I think I can finish it by tonight or tomorrow at the latest.” 

You apply the white cream on the parts of his shoulders, back and nape of his neck, his tank top doesn't cover. After a good amount of healing and continuous protection (to no help of his own) the redness of his burned skin had faded into beautiful golden brown, his sun bleached hair complimenting his current skin color. 

“You actually do that?” He turns to you when he doesn’t feel your hands on his back anymore.

As he rubs the white streaks into his arms, you reach for his face and Hinata closes his eyes. “Good students usually do, yes.”

He chuckles and shoots back, “Don’t good students usually submit their work on time?” 

You smile, your fingers caressing the variety of freckles sprinkled across his face. “Don’t good athletes usually show up to their practices on time?” 

His eyes shoot open and he glances down at the watch on his wrist. “Oh, shit. I gotta go.” He scoops his bag from the floor and heads for the door, only to turn to you again and give you another kiss, this time a quick peck to your lips. “Love you, bye!” 

He dashes out of your apartment and closes the front door with a powerful swing, the walls shaking on impact. His quick departure almost makes you miss his words, but as soon as you sit back down on the couch, your eyes widen.

He loves you?

[nosferatuix]

I would actually be interested in you talking more about Geto and Atsushi Sakurai!

FINALLLYYYY i thought nobody was going to ask me about this, thank you so much. buckle up for the incoming yap sesh

(edit: i posted the draft accidentally but it should be okay now that it's complete! sorry i'm sleep deprived idk what i'm doing)

so, picture this. eleven year old geto suguru, who has had enough of being tormented by oily black mass dripping down street lamps that talks to him whenever he has to walk home from school by himself. everywhere he goes, those things are also there. he sees them clinging onto the backs of the people he's known all his life as neighbors and family friends in the small town he lives in with his parents. he watches them suck the life out of people like leeches that hang off of their bodies. he hears them speak in these distorted voices, always repeating the same couple of phrases that they do but somehow always know suguru is the person they should be talking to, almost like they know no one else but him can see them. his parents have already told him countless times that there was nothing under his bed, in the closet or hanging from the ceiling, that the disappearances that have been happening lately have nothing to do with the monsters he claims to see and that he would need to see the doctor again if this talk about these creatures continues. it's a dark time for him because nobody seems to get it and if he gets fed another round of antipsychotics that don't even make them disappear like the doctor seems to have convinced his parents it would, he's going to lose his shit. he has to do something about the thing under his bed and it, like all the other ones, literally tells him what he has to do if he wants to get rid of it – so he does what the things tell him to do and eats it.

the talk about the things under his bed, in the backyard, dripping down the street lamps, hanging down from the ceiling, ends as abruptly as it started. he's always been a child that kept to himself, but he's completely quiet now. and it worries her. his mother, who had only been chalking this monsters talk up to her baby boy's imaginative mind before he started to attend school. his mother, who only realized the direness of the situation after suguru started bawling his eyes out every single evening he came home running, out of breath as if he'd been chased after, as he begged her to believe him when he said that those things are real and they want him to eat them. his mother, who finally convinced her husband that she was fearing for his health and that this wasn't just about a highly imaginative mind, and who did everything she could to ease her child's pain even if it meant taking the train with him to regular doctor appointments in the city just to get him that medicine.

and now, after months of the medicine not working even one bit, like a switch being flipped off, the talk ends and suguru stops talking. the same boy who had the biggest appetite out of all of her friends' kids, whose energy ran so high that they had to let him attend martial arts classes with the older kids down the block, suddenly starts wanting to excuse himself from the dinner table after two bites and goes straight to bed, wrapped up in blankets despite the summer heat. and she's worried sick because she knows she doesn't get him and they're drifting apart and she doesn't know how to make him feel better.

so she tries to introduce him so some stuff she thinks they could bond over. some stuff she used to like, still does, that she thinks could resonate with him as well. so she brings some of her old stuff out. her favorite band and her favorite musician. vhs tapes of their music videos, interviews, all the stuff she had collected in the 90s.

she puts it on and watches her boy's eyes light up like the sky again. she watches him admire the makeup and the long hair and the velvety voice and the perfect balance between femininity and masculinity from the prickling tv screen. she watches him grow a pale pink flush on his cheeks, watches him rewatching the tapes over and over again as he memorizes the interviews and the lyrics to the songs. and just like that, they have something in common again. appreciation for the art. something that seems to bring them together as much as it brings suguru a distraction from whatever he's been battling with inside himself.

is this a queer analogy? sure. suguru's entire character screams queer analogy in all-uppercase letters. atsushi sakurai was known to be advocating for lgbt topics back in the 90s. he's talked openly about loving whoever he wants to love. he's someone who i can see a preteen suguru idolize and want to be like. from the androgenous vkei style choice down to the soft-spoken nature and the beautiful long black hair, i just think he was someone suguru based some aspects of himself off of.

the short answer is 11 year old suguru experiencing what is called a gay awakening the moment he sets his sights on a pretty guy wearing makeup and deciding "I Am Going To Become Him"

bonus: he's a big fan of the band. during their first year, when shoko first made fun of him for obviously trying his hardest to look like sakurai, he was actually very flattered and took that as a compliment even though shoko was calling him a wannabe, basically. they introduced satoru to the music itself since he didn't know much and he liked it enough to get three tickets for them for the december 2005 tokyo concert. cue the three kids in a trenchcoat scene in the pink lighter. i was thinking of including a scene of them telling riko the story of how they were invited backstage and that suguru almost had a heart attack when the band members talked to him. (suguru deserves nice things and i think having people from the real world interact with fictional characters is so fun.) and i was also thinking of writing down a one-shot after sakurai's death in the final universe from the pink lighter, something that would take place post-epilogue and would involve shoko finding out about his death from the news and immediately facetiming satoru to discuss how they were going to handle suguru's devastation when he eventually finds out about it as well. (suguru would be with yuki at this point so they would call her to tell her to never ever ever let him watch the news if she wants to get any work done in the next week or so lol)

[lets-steal-an-archive]

The 2020 Donut AU Leverage x Supernatural post

Leverage x Supernatural cast crossover post

Mark Sheppard was in 70 episodes (5.10 - 12.23)

Aldis Hodge was in 2 episodes (2.21 - 2.22)

Christian Kane was in 15.07 and the SuperWiki Twitter links are mostly broken so I, a person who no longer has an X account, tried to reconstruct what happens when a #kaniac gets to write his first solo episode of Supernatural.

Yes, he sings:

Yes, the writer of the episode is a #kaniac:

Adams, Jeremy [spacekicker]. "MUAHAHAHAHA! They foolishly let a #kaniac onto the #spn writing staff!" Sep 30, 2019. https://x.com/spacekicker/status/1178729980349468672

Adams, Jeremy [spacekicker]. "Fan since Angel. When he sang 'L.A. song' I was like wait, what?! Went and bought all his stuff. Always wanted him to show up… and now…" Sep 30, 2019. https://x.com/spacekicker/status/1178731668263194624

Adams, Jeremy [spacekicker]. "@ChristianKane01 is one of my fave singers. It was between 'house rules' and 'Whiskey on my mind' <- go download also… look! They put up the rules!" [photo] Dec 5, 2019. https://x.com/spacekicker/status/1202802517916016640

Adams, Jeremy [spacekicker]. "I thought of him before I pitched the episode! I'm a Kaniac so it was kind of easy to write for him. But, he REALLY brought it. He's a great actor." Dec 5, 2019. https://x.com/spacekicker/status/1202812760645455874

If anyone is interested: over on SupernaturalWiki we have a blue draft and the pink, yellow, and green revisions.

Kane's name first appears in the cast list in the yellows and five days later his guest spot was announced in EW.

Adams was scheduled to be on set during the filming of 15.14 not 15.07 so he flew up on his own dime to watch Kane film his scenes:

Adams, Jeremy [spacekicker]. "Alright… off to Vancouver! #spnofthenorth I'm a comin!" Sep 30, 2019. https://web.archive.org/web/20190930191226/https://twitter.com/spacekicker/status/1178747751024087040

Adams, Jeremy [spacekicker]. "Tonight on #supernatural watch as this writer is welcomed onto the team… a five act play starring @jensenackles and @christiankane1 #actone" → https://www.tumblr.com/acklesforlife/189498506231 [all five photos are in the post]

Adams, Jeremy [spacekicker]. "Guys… I had got a new iPhone when I went up. #spn #lastcall #actionjensen" Dec 5, 2019. [video] https://x.com/spacekicker/status/1202814581690621953

Adams, Jeremy [spacekicker]. "B.A. actors" [video] Dec 5, 2019. https://x.com/spacekicker/status/1202813733262675969

Adams, Jeremy [spacekicker]. "@robhayter stunt guru" [photo] Dec 5, 2019. https://x.com/spacekicker/status/1202813739268886529

Adams, Jeremy [spacekicker]. "In case it was too quick. STUNT DUDES! #lastcall #spn" [video] Dec 5, 2019. https://x.com/spacekicker/status/1202806997826981888

Adams, Jeremy [spacekicker]. "Stunt dudes" [video] Dec 5, 2019. https://x.com/spacekicker/status/1202813783086792704

Adams, Jeremy [spacekicker]. "Everything except the table break, which Christian would have done, but for everyone saying 'No!' - the guys an animal. Couldn't you see them I'm some Joel Silver action flick?!" Dec 6, 2019. https://x.com/spacekicker/status/1202824307740565504

Adams, Jeremy [spacekicker]. "To be there on the day… guys. It was bananas. #spn #lastcall" [photos] Dec 5, 2019. https://x.com/spacekicker/status/1202809260003868672

Kane, Christian [christiankane01]. "This was literally a candid shot of me and boy @JensenAckles sitting around talking life and old times in between takes #supernatural First time I've seen this. Love it!! Hope you guys enjoyed." [photo] Dec 5, 2019. https://x.com/christiankane01/status/1202781546710585345

More photos: aliyahobrien; spntapeball; adamhxoxo

Meanwhile, everyone else in the episode:

So was anybody going to tell me that Christian Kane was in Supernatural with Mark Sheppard and Aldis Hodge, or was I just supposed to find that out myself from someone referring to Christian Kane's character as Dean Winchester's boyfriend?

[muppenthings]

So I had an ask about Merry and 1C for the expression prompt. I might have deleted it by accident. But. Here they are in all their glory, talking to Tide about something exciting. xD

[yeonban]

Guy who was told to "apply for several internship places because the majority of students aren't accepted at the first option and we have no time to wait long before you have to do your internship report" and who, therefore, applied for two internship places; now has to do TWO internships at once because both places accepted him and he wants one of them for the CV perks & the other for the potential job he might gain from it postgrad. On top of attending his current classes and doing the tons of dissertation research + writing required for him to finish that damn paper in time for its defense

[t-u-i-t-c]

"There's no time."

[coridallasmultipass]

brocal for the ship bingo?

The OTP to end all other OTPs... (Man. This wound up being basically Cori's Masterpost of BroCal. AKA... this got long and has some images, since I realized I can post my own art directly instead of just a text link to it lol.)

Wasn't actually expecting this to wind up with a bingo? But I got basically 2?? (Will explain the lighter heart later.) This is A LONG post, and definitely gonna get SUGGESTIVE, bc man, am I obSESSED with BroCal. I'm just gonna go thru each checked box, since I don't know how else to structure this post lol.

Read More to save ppl's dashboards:

I want them to make out with blood: OKAY. I HAVE A WHOLE THING PLANNED FOR THIS CONCEPT. I AM NOT GOING TO GO INTO DETAIL ABOUT IT JUST YET BC I ACTUALLY WANNA WRITE IT. I'm obsessed with this one fanart of Bro licking Lil Cal, and it spurred on an idea I outlined and really wanna write: https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/739969858334294016/hiiii-mutual-i-am-secrecy-asking-if-u-have-anymore

((Sorry for the plain text links, Tumblr app is NOT cooperating with me right now to add hyperlinks. I'd post the image directly if that one was mine.))

Basically, I just really need to see Bro and Cal making out with blood in their mouths, and I started a whole convoluted, unrelated outline in order to make that hapen. It'll probably just be a really short thing that ends at the uh climax, since otherwise it's gonna end up sadstuck. And I don't like sadstuck lol.

Undeniably t4t: Bro and Dirk are always trans for me, and Lil Cal's got that uh... what percentage did I calculate it out to be? 13% of Dirk is in Lil Cal [ My shitpost calculations: https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/746702663327072256/i-ran-out-of-tags-rambling-about-this-so-im-just ] so Lil Cal is at least 13% trans because of that much of Dirk being in him, plus however you feel about the other components being trans. LMAO this is ridiculous to type out. Moving on.

EDIT: FUTURE CORI INTERJECTING WITH A:

"Lil Cal Top Surgery Healing Progess: Day 1"

Terrible for each other affectionate/derogatory: I don't even know where the affectionate/derogatory split occurs. I multiship BroCal as both Bro/normal puppet Lil Cal and as Bro/evil juju puppet Lil Cal, and whatever combination in between or outside of that. Terrible in that Bro is so obsessed with Cal that he doesn't have normal relationship/social skills and uses Lil Cal as both a crutch and motivator alternately, in a terrible cycle, or maybe rather... spiral. And also terrible in that Bro is caught in the allure of playing the role of puppeteer while also being a puppet for the darker parts of Lil Cal, whether he actively knows it or not. (Honestly though, I feel like it's dismissive if you try to blame all of Bro's faults on Lil Cal like this tho, which is why I tend towards liking Lil Cal as just a regular puppet a lil bit more. Or at least, a regular mildly supernatural puppet since that can be a little more entertaining if Cal can get into mischief while no one's looking or give off the vibes of his mood more directly, rather than like entirely inanimate or 'just LE, trapped in a puppet body.' Again, I like all of these concepts.) ((I mean that can also be a whole post of its own, like, by the time Bro gets ahold of Lil Cal, are any of the other components still alive in there? Like, are ARquius and Gamzee still in there or did Caliborn kill and consume them entirely? Idk how it works, man. This is why I like Lil Cal as his own person, maybe just influenced by the feelings of the others. LaCroix: CalGamARquius essenced water. Lil Croix.))

They need to get weirder with it: YES YES. 1000% YES. I need entirely shameless Bro doing entirely shamless things to Lil Cal. I want them inseparable and doing unspeakable things to each other. I want Bro taking full advantage of Cal having a puppet body and all the intimacy that comes with making repairs and being elbow-deep in stuffing.

Playing with them like dolls cute/psychological torture: This is the same divide as with the 'terrible for each other' point, so I'm just gonna go with the cute one, since the torture one is self-explanatory. I want them fucking married. Like. Full mushy cute romance type of relationship that Bro has never felt for any of the people in his life (cough aromantic cough). I made this comic not too long ago, and I often fondly look back on it, because I adore the concept of Bro being lovey and romantic and everything out of character around Lil Cal because he feels safe and loved and comfortable around Cal:

[ https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/750602227910131712/brocal-4-lyfe-so-i-had-this-idea-of-dave-being ]

I made a post a long, long time ago (not gonna link that one bc it was personal and I was being very obviously mentally ill ["C'mon, like you're not being obviously mentally ill while typing paragraph upon paragraph about BroCal still in 2024 like 10 years later??" Fair.]) But the gist of it was that, like, having objectophilia or objectum sexuality is like, from an outsider pov, it's a way to express love to yourself. You filter all your self-hate through the object you love, and you get back unconditional love in return.

Lil Cal is never gonna hate Bro, no matter what Bro does. As a regular puppet, Lil Cal doesn't have the capacity for hate. And so that only brings them closer, since Cal is never gonna reject Bro for any reason. (Back to being a crutch. RSD is real, and Dave is probably a big trigger for that since he's not on the same wavelength of weird as Bro [not blaming Dave, obviously, this is a post about BroCal].) Bro can experience receiving positive attention from Lil Cal, without feeling 'fake' or uncool by expressing that same attention or affection directly to his own self. (Things are always done through multiple layers with the Striders, aren't they?) ((And I'm not saying Lil Cal doesn't love Bro, or that their relationship is just pretend - it's real, I'm just like, 'What's going on behind the curtain in the mundane situation?/ How is the relationship appealing?' Lil Cal luvs Bro 5eva 4 lyfe and that's a hard fact. Could cut diamonds with that shit.)) Example: maybe Bro is dealing with a bout of body/gender dysphoria and is trying to take out his frustration with working out, and it's not helping, even if he's powered through a set better than normal. Then, he notices the way Lil Cal is watching him, and he can feel the excitement seeping off Cal. He can sense the echoes of a wolf-whistle ring out through his mind, and it's like. Okay, none of that shit from before matters, he's got all the validation he needs right there in Lil Cal. Maybe flex in Cal's direction, Bro?

Oh, so back to being cute: isn't it wonderful how the template maker phrased it as 'playing dolls'? But yeah, I want all the mush and everything. Bro has a whole wardrobe for Lil Cal for every minor event that occurs in the Strider household. I want them going on genuine dates. Maybe even... holding hands. Bro blushes for the first time since he was 16. He even gets to take Lil Cal with him when he goes out to DJ or put on a show. Not to mention the whole website business. (I've talked about Cal's role in that before, but I'll mention it in a moment...)

They will die in a heart shaped pool of blood: I mean, kinda did happen, even tho Lil Cal didn't perma die right there. I don't think this one needs any explanation, since it basically happens in canon.

'You should see the other guy...': Okay, so. About 11 years ago, I had a really great idea. About how smuppets enter this world. I expanded on it in the following more-recent post (adult only content lol): https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/741683686717669376/back-in-the-day-my-friends-called-me-insane-when-i

To sum it up, whenever Bro makes a new smuppet design, he then gives it a video debut on his website, where uh, Lil Cal births the smuppet like it's a horror movie scene, fake blood and poly-fil gore all over the place as the smuppet crawls out from the viscera. Bro then gets to play aftercare by lovingly and gently cleaning up and restuffing Lil Cal as they get to admire their new creation and rake in the dough lol.

So it's technically not a 'you should see the other guy' kinda situation, but it does involve one of them being... idk what word would describe it. Injured by the other? Usually a character loses a fight and says this to act like they got out of it better than the other guy, but... We could have someone knock on the door during the filming of a scene like that, and Bro has to answer it with fake blood up to his elbows, and be like 'You should see the other guy.' (But obviously, that's a terrible idea and would cause more trouble than it's worth... Maybe worth it for a persistent door to door salesperson, though.)

Though, I guess I should also say, I'm not opposed to Bro beating on Lil Cal in or out of the bedroom. Or in the case of animate Lil Cal, Cal choking out Bro. In or out of the bedroom, lol. Depends on the situation, like I said I will ship this ship any which way. But my preference for animate Lil Cal is to be like a totally normal puppet around Bro (or mushy in-love with Bro) and then evil-murder-puppet towards anyone else in Bro's life, like a... toxic yaoi guard puppet. (New Phrase Achievement Unlocked!) Bro brings home another guy to have sex, who tries to stay the night due to the late hour, but the guy wakes up shortly after to see Lil Cal standing there with a knife in the dark, eyes glowing red. Panic ensues when the guest screams and freaks out, and by the time Bro's got a light on, grabbing his sword, ready for a ninja vs ninja fight (bc an intruder would've had to bypass all the traps), Lil Cal is just innocently splayed across the desk chair, no knife in sight. Relevant post (well, the caption on the post too, saying how Bro can't seem to hold onto any relationships besides Lil Cal):

[ https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/741830516962164736/i-want-you-so-youre-mine-always-selfishly ]

Uh, lol, also Cal choking out Bro in the bedroom, adult only drawing: https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/754328907438800896/i-wouldnt-wanna-be-my-ex-when-he-found-out-who

Thinking about them always and forever: Listen. My Tumblr as proof, I've had BroCal on the brain for at least 11 years at this point. Definitely longer, since I first started reading Homestuck. I fucking love puppets and dolls and plushies and I always have. Man, if I hadn't deleted Tweets (automated app I used to do, and I couldn't choose what to save) from when I was in high school, you could've seen me @ ing my fave band when they were taking lyric suggestions on a fan-inspired album, where I was telling them 'make a song where the theme is puppets' and, while I don't know if they saw that or took the suggestion (they had responded to me before bc they weren't huge yet), there is indeed a song titled "Puppets" on that album, and it was my favourite song on there. Point is, I was fated to ship BroCal before I even knew it existed.

Sicko 2 sicko communication: I mean, does this even need explaining? Bro and Cal aren't just on the same wavelength of freaky, they're the fucking source of the wavelength, and it's causing a feedback loop between them. And it does as feedback does, which is, it amplifies with time. (Going back to the spiral symbolism here, lol.) ((Actually, time can play a symbol here, too, I guess, but idk how to word it, I'm starting to run out of steam.))

Let them have a happy ending: God, I need this so badly. I know Bro's story ends in Homestuck, but like. Pls. Someone needs to officiate their wedding. Currently placing the dreambubble order, but I can't organize a wedding by myself. OH speaking of. In that lil comic I did above, where Bro is accepting Lil Cal's proposal, I had the Natural Born Killers wedding scene in mind. I was gonna draw that as a follow up, but I think I have too many WIPs going. Just two people on the run, saying "I do" in a scenic but completely ordinary roadside location. Idk why, I keep going back to that movie for things related to Bro (I mention it in a very important scene in a longer WIP I've been writing, as something Bro watched and internalized as a kid lol.) It's not the best movie lol. Anyway.

The devotion omg: I feel like I have already gotten my point across about this, but let me reiterate:

[ https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/735842968450269184/in-the-name-of-iconic-magical-girl-anime-ill ]

Bro and Lil Cal absolutely beat the shit outta Jack Noir before he gets prototyped. And even then, they fight together till the death, like. C'mon. Nothing more romantic than fighting a losing battle side by side. Also, like, Lil Cal having his own protective chest for safekeeping as seen in the Strider living room? Like, you don't just have a protective case for any old thing, especially something meant to be handled, especially something that is regularly used to smack other things/humans. What I'm saying is, Lil Cal is durable and resilient, and yet, Bro still has a case for transporting Cal safely. Oh, wait, I just thought of something funny, what if Lil Cal goes feral like a cat, and basically the chest is like a cat carrier so Bro can drive without being constricted lmaoooo, I've been typing for hours can you tell?

Kind of homophobic: Listen. I HAD a Cal. Took him to college. Staked my claim on the top bunk bc I am royalty. Proceeded to not have anywhere to set my water cup and had to use a cardboard box as a table up there. Spilled water. Melted Cal's sharpie-drawn face. And then proceeded to cry. I have a WIP of Lil Cal 2, but that requires actually remembering to work on him. I wanna do better by the pattern, too, since I rushed to finish the first. I have all the material! I have the project started! So it's just a matter of reordering my WIP priorities, honestly.

Where is all the fucking content?!: For realzz. I was actually venting about this the other day (didn't end up posting it), but it's like, either there's no BroCal content, or there IS BroCal content, but I can't reblog it for reasons I don't want to get into on this post. I'm dying of thirst in the ocean, basically. Whatever. This just means I need to make more BroCal content myself, which I am more than happy to do. I've just had a rough past few months, so I'm glad I got to type all this post out, and hopefully I can get back to creating soon.

Last one! I hope this one makes up for the absurd length of the post, it's prob my new fave idea I just came up with on the spot.

[TW drink spiking by a stranger mentioned in this.]

Committing atrocities as their silly little activities: I think we all know what this means, but I am going to ignore that elephant with my special x-ray vision. Because this is a BroCal post. I'm digging deep to the meat and bones of this. Honestly, this could go multiple routes, it depends on how you take your Lil Cal.

One could place emphasis on the 'guard' part of the, ahem ahem, toxic yaoi guard puppet. Maybe someone is actually trying to harm Bro, and Bro legit can't do anything for reasons outside of his control - let's say his drink got spiked a while after he invited a stranger home that he thought was chill. As Bro gets shoved down on the futon, his memory of the night is only a few flickers. Familiar orange plush, roiling around above him like a dancing windsock. Flashes of Lil Cal's face all distorted and stretched wide like a funhouse. J-Lo and Ice Cube on the TV. But when Bro is finally able to fully wake up in the morning, everything is as if he just got home alone last night and passed out on the futon. Cal looks totally normal and content tucked under Bro's warm arm. Except when Bro gets up, there is a pair of shoes too big to belong to him at the door. Maybe Bro knows. Maybe instinct tells him to run. Maybe he does, but he's running towards Lil Cal, every time.

[wundrousarts]

Some theories, thoughts, and answers to questions that are in the works that I need to attempt to write out sometime, but probably won’t until I eventually reread Hollowpox on my eternal reread:

What led Squall to try and revolt? Was it a decision by himself, with others, or was there a third party involved? What is true and what isn’t?

What is the fallout and aftermath of Mog’s actions at Courage Square, and what might her future as a budding Wundersmith in Nevermoor look like?

Christmas Eve: is it a Distraction, is there a Ghostly Hour involved, is it related to the Massacre, and how could it relate to modern Nevermoorian religion and Squall’s exile and Eventide activities?

Maud: does she have a knack or some sort of power, how and when does she use it, what is her dynamic with Squall based on, and why is he so scared of her?

Miscellaneous Silverborn Masterpost additions, on a rolling basis as I (or anyone else!) thinks of things.

[strangerays]

THIS JUNE

[wip introduction]

(originally known as the project Nothing in Particular and Everything)

start date: february 2021

stage: 4th draft

pov: first person, past tense

tags: #nip: inspo, #nothing in particular and everything, #this june, #this june inspo

Ask to be +/- from the tag list if that is something you would like!

Story

Ray's friends are finally back home from college. But in the seaside town where they grew up, everything has changed. Madison is always distracted by work and her controlling parents. She's dating Oliver. Oliver doesn't know what he wants to do with his life anymore, but he knows he can't stay in Point Blink. Lonan has made a new home for himself in the city with his boyfriend, so nobody is quite sure what he plans to do next.

June in Point Blink isn't turning out as perfect as Ray planned.

Judith just moved to Point Blink.

A somewhat disastrous pair, Ray and Judith fall victim to an act of arson on a mysterious landmark in the woods. Whilst the girls uncover the identity of the arsonist on a dusty old camera, they develop a strong bond with one another and a connection to their mental health neither of them had before. However, as Ray gets closer to saving herself, she digs up damaging truths about her closest friends that threaten to tear the five of them - and Point Blink - apart.

Characters

Ray – 20, a somewhat optimistic college student who misses her friends but will do anything to keep them together. spends most of her time in alone her bedroom or in the woods with a camera.

Judith – 19, the energetic new girl in town with an enigmatic background and a savior complex. used to live with her brother but decidedly does not anymore.

Lonan – 20, Ray’s best friend who loves his friends dearly but struggles to put himself and his art first. struggling to live with past decisions while navigating a new relationship.

Madison – 20, hates the idea of college and is very set in her ways, which can be detrimental to her friendships. works at a local coffeehouse.

Oliver – 19, the last person to join the friend group; the first person to leave. known for his boastful grades and sour humor.

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

[shadowtriovibes]

i'll be sharing my first weasley wednesday fic tomorrow :)))

[teethsmoothie]

not rly seeing any immediate chemistry w coral × ena but u know what im on their side. fandom has endured an eternity of people mushing random men together with such rich canon backing as "are both decent looking", or even "looked at each other once" . let the ladies have a turn