#bro how are you supposed to tag original work

[wahwahmoment]

there's things you just can’t see with such precautious eyes / you’re petrified of being proven right

[gogandmagog]

Anne of the Island, by L.M. Montgomery

Anne of the Island, Chapter Six! 

Getting so very close to being finally caught up. 🫡 I’m still in the book clubs dust, but if I squint, I think I can almost see you guys! Apologies to anyone that might see this, that might’ve already previously (and punctually!) shared a sentiment that I spent any amount of time reinforcing in my own posts. I haven’t skimmed the book club’s tag so far, just because I have this brain impediment where if I see someone else has already mentioned something I think, “...oh excellent! Now I needn’t bother!”, only, that everyone is so thorough that if I did go ahead and look at them, and saw everyone’s thoughts, I’m sure I’d find I had nothing left to speak on. A serial liking of all book club posts, coming soon to a notif near you, honestly.  

Some weensy Phil bullets: mostly that well, I persist in representing Team Alec (only until a certain long-legged Minister appears, of course), because here is a fellow who would at least find the mix-up of Phil’s letter postscripts “funny.” This puts him eons and miles and worlds ahead of Alonzo imo... a sense of humour is so necessary!  

Speaking of Redmond football, an insignificant matter that is once again very much nonsense and not particularly worthy of spending any large amount of much time reflecting on, yet remains a great area of interest for me personally... guys, what do we reckon the Redmond Football mascot was? Team name? I know there’s future canon abbreviation of Redmond students as “Reds,” but a colour is hardly a sufficient team name, nor do I really think it’s meant to be taken as such, and listen, no one even think of mentioning the stinking Cleaveland Browns football team to me, lmao.  

“That Gilbert of yours.” + “outraged Anne” AIR KISS to these lines specifically.  

“But Sloane was blissfully ignorant; he thought he was quite a fine fellow to be walking with two such coeds, especially Philippa Gordon, the class beauty and belle. It must surely impress Anne. She would see that some people appreciated him at his real value.” Oh, Charlie. I constantly waffle between feeling pity for Charlie, the butt of many-a-joke, and then also feeling that wellllllll his ego is a little bit exaggerated perhaps - although I suppose we get a clearer sense of that later on. Since all of Avonlea knows that Gilbert’s dead-gone on Anne, to the point of pubic heckling in a Charlottetown newspaper, we must recognise that in Charlie’s mind, he’s in active competition with Gilbert, who has certainly loved Anne the longer. Not an ounce of discernable bro-code anywhere.   

Gilbert quoting some Bret Harte verses to Anne. This boy might not have a propensity for writing original poetry, but his memorisation and ability to drop a line or two so easily? He’s got a romantic soul, for sure. In a lot of ways, between him and Anne, it’s actually Gilbert that’s the romantic one (also see: keeping the rose that fell from her hair, back at the White Sands recital), and Anne the steady practical.  

“Gilbert, who could not connect the idea of sorrow with the vivid, joyous creature beside him, unwitting that those who can soar to the highest heights can also plunge to the deepest depths, and that the natures which enjoy most keenly are those which also suffer most sharply.” This is heavy. But more than anything, something I very much enjoy about Maud’s work is her ability to maintain core characterisation. I see this line, and I also think of how much it (later) casts light onto Gilbert’s struggle to really relate to some of Walter’s Anneishness. There’s a wonderful yin and yang balance between the slinky black cats and golden retrievers of the world, and often enough they are deeply attracted to each other, but there are some differences that can never been fully reconciled.  

The matter of Spofford Avenue! Again the scholars have already done a ton of the legwork, and lots of preliminary digging into Maud’s journals, picking out real-life links between between her time in Halifax and how it corresponds to Anne’s… and they’ve decided, very logically, that Spofford Avenue was based on Young Avenue.

At the time, Halifax was one of the richest cities in Canada and building on Young Avenue, definitely reserved for prominent families and the wealthiest, apparently came with enough beautification restrictions to satisfy even the choosiest A.V.I.S. member, only of a few of which I can easily remember… that power poles were banned on the basis of being “unsightly,” for starters. I know there’s a whole essay dedicated to the ‘real’ Kingsport somewhere, and if I can find it instead of just my jumbled notes & misc. folder on it, I’ll be sure to share it in case anyone’s interested. 🧐 I also recall that a very real tobacco king called Alexander Hobrecker (‘Hobrecker House’) did indeed make residence on Young Avenue, though whether or not he really had an affinity for well-made country quilts, is anyone’s guess.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── PURSUIT // PROLOGUE

Series Synopsis: When your cousin goes missing right before he can challenge the Champion of your region, you must embark on a journey of your own in the hopes that one day, you might finally find him — wherever he may be.

Chapter Synopsis: Your cousin, Shoei, sets out on his journey, leaving you behind with a final gift as a farewell.

Series Masterlist

Pairing(s): Nagi x Reader, Barou & Reader

Chapter Word Count: 2.5k

Content Warnings: pokémon au except i make the world emo and infest it with blue lockers, angst, character death, familial bonds, found families, male-female FRIENDSHIPS, a slow burn so insane the main love interest isn’t even in a solid amount of chapters, it’s my world i do what i want which means liberties are taken, near death experiences, this story is long bro literally everything happens in it the amount of arcs i have planned is insane, original characters because reader will NOT be the only girl i refuse to write in conditions like that, this is being written as if gen vi is the last generation to come out because i cba to catch up on new pokémon lore

A/N: this is SUCH a niche crossover i’m actually crying but ykw at least it’s different from the typical aus LMAOOO anyways um please be sure to read the warnings and if you enjoy this then like…reblog or comment or send me an ask or smth HAHA (only if you want though i can’t control you)

tag list (send an ask to be added): @sharkissm

The last time you saw Shoei Barou, he was pressing a Pokéball in your hand. His backpack was slung over his shoulder, his typical scowl on his face, and his Houndour sat at his feet, wagging its tail at you. The surface of the Pokéball was glimmering, ruby on top and a pearly white on the bottom, and because you could not bear to look at him, you trained your gaze on the watery sunrise it reflected.

“She’s yours,” he said. “I registered her under your name.”

“Guess that makes me a trainer, too,” you said.

“Don’t start on your journey for a while,” he said. “Or else you’ll catch up to me. Wait until I’m good enough that I’m someone you want to chase after, and begin then.”

He was embarking on his journey later than usual, but you had no doubt that he’d quickly surpass those with five or even ten years of experience on him. Shoei was like that, and so was his Houndour. What they lacked in battle prowess, they made up for with dogged tenacity, and it was impossible to imagine either of the two struggling for any amount of time.

“I won’t,” you said.

“Good,” he said. “Look, she’ll probably be better off if you just leave her in her Pokéball until you start training seriously, so don’t worry about that.”

“Won’t she get bored?” you said. He shook his head.

“Being in the Pokéball is a kind of stasis for them. She’ll know the time has passed, but it won’t be the same as if she were actually living it. It’s better that way, trust me. She’s the destructive type, and I won’t be around to help you if she acts up,” he said.

“Ah,” you said. “I see. I’ll do as you recommend, then.”

He reached out and placed a hand atop your head. You swallowed, staring at the dirt path beneath your feet, the worn toes of your old sneakers, the frayed cuffs of your too-short jeans — anything but him. You couldn’t bear it if it was him.

“You’ll be okay,” he said. “Y/N.”

“Yes,” you sniffed, though you had sworn to him so many times that you wouldn’t cry.

“You’ll be okay,” he repeated. “I promise.”

“Yes,” you said again. His hand balled into a fist, and then he knocked it lightly against your brow. Unlike you, he was smiling, and you did your best to quell the trembling of your lower lip when you made eye contact with him.

“Hey, kid,” he said. “Enough with the bawling, okay? How am I supposed to call you my cousin when you’re like this? We can’t be related if you get so upset about every little thing. That’s not how it works.”

“I can’t help it,” you said, and then he sighed, hugging you tightly. His Houndour barked, rubbing his head against your calf, which was the only method the small Pokémon had of comforting you. “I can’t help it, I know I should be happy but—”

“Be happy,” he commanded you, letting you go and placing his hands on your shoulders. “Y/N L/N. Be happy. I’m going to be Champion one day, and that’s nothing to be sad about.”

“Will you come back home once you are?” you said.

“No,” he said. “No, of course not. I’ll be busy with the duties of the role. Have you seen how many television appearances Mr. Mikage does? But I’ll bring you there with me, you and your parents and mine, and all of us can live there together. Is that enough of a consolation?”

“Okay,” you said, even though it really wasn’t. But it’d be a cruelty to stop Barou, akin to clipping the wings of a Pidgeot and telling it to fly. He was as restless as his Houndour, who even now sat and stared out at the horizon instead of the home it was leaving behind. The both of them were turbulent, impossible to cage, and if one tried to hold them back, then they were little more than a brazen fool.

“I’ll see you later, Y/N,” he said. “Try not to be to sad without me, alright?”

The Pokéball was cold and heavy in your hands as you watched him and Houndour walk off. Neither of them turned back, not for a moment, and then they were over the crest of the shallow hill in the road which led to the nearby cliffs, disappearing from your line of sight for good.

“Y/N!” It was the same boy again. He had been bothering you since you both had entered secondary school, mostly because that was around the time that Shoei had begun his league challenge. Of course, he had obtained all of the gym badges in quick succession, but conferences were only held every four years, and so he had had to wait until the next one before he could attempt to storm through it and reach the Elite Four, hence the delayed interest in his talent.

“Hello,” you said. He had never bothered introducing himself to you, and you were at the point now where it would be awkward for you to ask, so you generally pretended like you recognized him and hoped your conversations never grew to be too long.

“Did you hear the news? I mean, he’s your cousin, so of course you did, but still, still, can you believe it?” he said.

“What are you talking about?” you said.

“Barou!” he said. At the mention of Shoei, your Pokéball grew warm against your hip, and your left hand instinctively flew to the thin chain around your neck. “He’s actually done it — he beat Noel Noa!”

“Noel Noa…the last Elite Four member, right?” you said. The boy nodded at you. He was grinning as hard as if it were his own cousin who had mastered the league, or indeed as if he were the victor, but the truth was that besides you, there were very few in the entire city who could claim to know Shoei, so his pride was unwarranted.

“Yup! No one’s ever beaten him but Mr. Mikage,” he said.

“Well, Mr. Mikage is the champion,” you said. “So what’s next? Does he battle Mr. Mikage?”

“Pretty much,” the boy said. “Although he’s allowed to take his time in between and train his team. The conference win and Elite Four victories are only prerequisites, but it’s not like you have to do it all at once. In fact, hardly anyone ever does. Your team needs to rest in between battles, and besides, challenges to the Champion position are so rare that they need time to set it all up.”

“What do you mean, ‘set it all up?’” you said, sitting down at your desk at the back of the classroom. The boy didn’t usually sit with you, but today he was too excited, so he collapsed rather awkwardly in the chair at your side, leaning over with his elbows digging into his thighs.

“Didn’t you know? All Champion matches are televised!” he said. “The entire region will be able to see him battling. He’s amazing, you know.”

“Of course he is,” you said matter-of-factly. “That’s good that it’ll be filmed. It’s impossible to get tickets unless you’re a league official or have more money than you know what to do with.”

The boy coughed, his face turning red. Your eyes flicked to his belt, which was conspicuously devoid of any Pokéballs, just like the rest of your classmates, and then you curled inwards when you once again recalled that amongst your peers, it was only you who required the league-issued stipend for trainers to afford your tuition.

“Anyways,” he said, pursing his lips — a reminder to you that he had sat in the stands of the last league conference and was in fact one of those such types that you had been referring to earlier, “I’ve heard they’re thinking of moving towards broadcasting the entire conference andany Elite Four challenges instead of just the Champion matches.”

“Really?” you said, eager to change the subject. He nodded.

“Yup, it’s the case. The TV studios and news stations have been pushing for it. As long as they can throw in some advertisements and sponsorships between the battles themselves, their profits will shoot up like crazy,” he said.

“Well, that makes sense,” you said. “Why hadn’t they implemented it earlier?”

“They’ve been trying, but supposedly, there’s been a lot of pushback from some of the league officials. They think they’ll lose money if people can just watch battles online, since there’ll be less of an incentive to buy tickets to watch them in person,” he said.

“Ah. So what changed their minds? Aren’t the league officials notoriously stubborn?” you said. He snorted.

“That’s what my dad says. He’d rather deal with a Slaking than any of them,” he said. You couldn’t quite remember what his father did for a living, but if you had to guess, it was something financial-related, given the boy’s unnatural interest in the field. “Apparently, they tried it out in Johto to great effect, so they plan to give it a go here in Kalos as well.”

“Interesting,” you said. “I guess it doesn’t mean much to me now, since Shoei’s already through, but I’m sure it’ll be helpful to someone or another in the future.”

“Maybe we’ll see you onscreen next, eh, Miss Trainer?” he said. You rolled your eyes at the nickname; coming from him, it wasn’t so horrible, but it wasn’t always like that. Most of the time, you hated when the others brought up your trainer status, because it only set you further and further apart from the rest.

Of course, almost everyone had a Pokémon or two as a companion or to make the activities of their daily living that much easier, but there was a difference between a Pokémon owner and a Pokémon trainer. Trainers were the ones who were registered with the government, who were sent a monthly stipend by the league to pay for their and their Pokemon’s upkeep, and who made a career out of the sport. At least, that was what they were supposed to be, but nowadays, genuine trainers were few and far between; more often than not, those with the distinction were like you, with a single Pokémon that had never known the heat of battle and a desperate need for the extra income that their status, passive though it might’ve been, brought them.

The school-issued Gogoat that was designated to escort you home trotted along beside you, its tail bouncing with the gaiety of its pace, its ears perked against the wind as you went along. You sometimes wondered if the Pokémon you supposedly owned was anything like that, but based on Shoei’s description, you had mostly decided it wasn’t.

“Thanks for taking me back, Gogoat,” you said, patting it on the forehead when you reached your doorstep. It bleated at you, nuzzling you happily and then bounding away. You watched it go with a smile, incredibly fond of it though you knew it wasn’t actually yours — just a vehicle assigned to you because the school knew that most of its students weren’t proper trainers. The institute didn’t want to be held liable in case there was some kind of an attack, so the Gogoats had been trained to accompany students to and from their classes as well as to protect them as best as they could.

Supposedly it was a common practice, one that had been invented in Aquacorde Town, but there they used Arcanines instead of Gogoats, so privately you thought that those of you in Coumarine City got the better deal.

“Mother?” you said, peering into the kitchen, smiling when you saw her there, stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. “I’m home.”

“Y/N!” she said. “How was school today?”

“It was fine,” you said, self-consciously drumming your nails against your Pokéball. “This guy told me that Shoei’s going to challenge the Champion soon. Mr. Mikage. They’re going to film it and everything. We should ask Uncle and Auntie if they want to come over and watch with us.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” she said. Shoei’s father, your uncle, was her brother, and they had remained so close throughout their adulthood that it felt at times like Shoei was less your cousin and more a genuine brother of your own who occasionally slept in another house. “Imagine if he can become Champion!”

“He will,” you said, unclipping your Pokéball from your belt and setting it on the table, where your mother’s Espurr was sleeping. At the movement, she sat up, giving the unassuming ball a disgusted look and climbing to the top of a shelf where she could continue to nap. “All everyone talks about is how strong he is. There’s no way he’s losing, especially if he beat Noel Noa.”

“It’ll be great for the family,” she said.

“Yes,” you said. “And for him.”

“Do you know when the match is scheduled for?” she said. You shook your head.

“No, I don’t. The guy said people usually take a break in between defeating the Elite Four and challenging the Champion, so that their teams can rest and all. I’m sure it’ll be announced well in advance, though. It’s not everyday that somebody fights Mr. Mikage himself,” you said.

“That’s true,” she said. “In the meantime, how’s this for dinner?”

“Looks good,” you said, though it was out of distraction, not approval. Your mind was racing as you tried to picture how the battle between Shoei and the Champion might go. Would he look different? Of course, he would have to, it had been a while since you had seen him last, and it might be a while more until you saw him next, depending on how long he took to put in the formal request to battle. Two weeks, or maybe even three.

Yet weeks turned into months, which turned into years, and still he did not appear to face Mr. Mikage. Eventually the excitement faded into a distant memory, and soon, if his name was brought up at all, it was as nothing but the Never-Champion, the one who was too frightened to fight against the undefeated head of the league and the Mikage Corporation alike.

At first you weren’t worried, but as time stretched on, you resorted to begging the police, the local Gym Leader, anyone who would listen, just for a chance at finding him. Yet one by one, they each refused. After all, what could be done? He was a top trainer, they worked in mysterious ways, everyone knew that. Any day now, he would reappear and that long-awaited battle between himself and the Champion might finally happen. Nothing about the situation was abnormal in the slightest. Maybe the cowardice was a bit uncharacteristic, but otherwise? There wasn’t any cause for stress.

And so, for that reason, nobody but you ever thought of actually looking for him — they never even knew that they had to.

[gomapda]

sidewalks we crossed [side B: him.] (pt. 1)

this is broken into parts because tumblr has a limit of 1000 blocks.

side A found here!

author's note:

oh goodness. it's been a while.

i really did intend on posting this soon after i published the first part, but then life kind of got in the way. i graduated from grad school, moved to south korea, and have been here since. i'm still a carat, and i really do think about this fanfiction all the time, mainly because this story is truly me bearing my soul to the internet and my friends who have access to the original google doc.

this one is a lot less edited and looked over, but it's because this portion of the fic reminds me of something i'm still in deep grief for. so, for those of you who will read this, i was originally going to have a third installment, but i think i'll leave it at this two. it feels good and true to leave it here.

this was supposed to be published yesterday on seventeen's anni, but i was busy spending time with my korean host family who i've not been able to see that often since moving out :')

maybe i'll write short stories including these two because they are so special to me, but this main story has come to a close. the real final push was jihoon releasing "what kind of future?" officially, the very song that inspired this fic, in honor of his beautiful friend and human, moonbin. bin-ah, i hope you're sailing among the stars and looking over all of those who love you and who you love in return.

and to you, who may be reading this, thank you for being here.

✧⋆°｡☾☼꙳ ੭ * ‧ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ‧ ⨯ ς(>‿<.). ⁺ ✦ * . ˚ ⨯ ੭ * ‧☼☽⋆｡°✧

tagging @fiantomartell since you asked me to whenever i published this. it's been a long while, but.

pairing: lee jihoon/woozi (seventeen) x f!reader

genre: romance, fluff

summary: an accidental like, an off-chance comment, a purposeful message. you were in an unrequited love with your childhood best friend and decided to run away from him and your feelings and years later you find yourself in the same city with the same feelings when he stalks your instagram.

rating: 13+

length: 30k (bro WHAT LOL)

tags: idol!jihoon, childhood friend!reader, unrequited love (but not really), reconnection through instagram, this is just different scenes pieced together (including a ton of flashbacks), reader’s nicknames are all bug-themed, reader has depression and it manifests as suicidal ideation sometimes, this is basically real life (aka seventeen exists and debuted 150526), but the years are a little bit off for the trainee period, jihoon left busan later and trained for shorter for the sake of my story hehe, cursing, pining, mamamoo + ateez are the besties of reader, member x member pairings, jihoon and reader are both dumbasses, reader is extremely book smart but has one brain cell when it comes to romantic feelings, jihoon writes music like he’s been divorced 12x, word genius lee jihoon, idk how doctoral degrees work, i only got my masters and it was a non-thesis track lol, also idk how trainee auditions work either, miss communication is a lady we all know too well, super cute soft shit too tho tbh, no beta we die like men, i spent 5 hours trying to format this for tumblr and i’m still unsure

inspired by “drivers license” by olivia rodrigo and “what kind of future?” by woozi

inspo spotify playlist found here!

──────────────────

side b: him.

The rapid beating in his chest drowned out the slam of the door behind him as he rushed down the stairs of your home, desperate to just get away as soon as possible. Your parents weren’t home, so he didn’t have to worry about looking like an absolute fool in front of them.

You knew. You fucking knew.

You knew how much he was in love with you and this was your way of rejecting him.

He was stupid, so stupid. If he just put his feelings aside then you wouldn’t leave. You wouldn’t have to leave. But this was all his stupid hormones and brain chemistry and his fucking heart. He knew that it wouldn’t pan out. You never saw him as anything more than just a dear friend, a brother. You made that clear.

Since the beginning, your pinkies intertwined promised a forever, but you both had different ideas of what that was. And he was stupid to believe there was a chance.

He ran.

He ran so far and so hard that he couldn’t make sense of left or right or forward or backward. All he knew was that he needed to get away from you.

But he couldn’t.

He passed by Old Man Park’s home with a winding tree you were convinced held fae people that would only come out when the entire town was asleep (there was a 50km radius, you said).

He ran by the rusted bars of the playground you two snuck off to instead of going to cram school where you attempted a flip and promptly landed on the crown of your head, wood chips tangling themselves into your hair, tears mixed with laughter and pain streaming down your cheeks.

The library where you would spend more time in the children’s section than anywhere else because you would practice your ‘reading voice’ for your future children’s bedtime stories.

The baseball field where the realization that he was in love with you hit him harder than any fastball pitch ever could.

You were everywhere.

And he needed to get away.

He went to your house to share the news of passing the trainee audition, that was the whole purpose of seeing you.

However, that wasn’t the only thing he planned on confessing.

If you asked him to stay, he would have.

But instead, you rejected him before he even got one word out.

So, he packed his bags up for Seoul, a place untarnished by you. A city that not even your light could reach, no matter how radiant you were.

──────────────────

Years later.

“Jihoon-ah, aren’t you working too hard?”

He glanced up at Jeonghan who was probably let into the studio by Bumzu. Jihoon glanced at the clock to notice a bright 4:02am glaring back at him. “Ah, hyung. I didn’t even notice the time.”

“I figured. I brought you some food.”

Jihoon glanced down at the two bags in his hands. His eyes narrowed. “Hyung, I don’t eat as much as you think I do.”

“I’ve seen you eat three full meals in one sitting. Get away from your desk and we can eat.”

Jihoon sighed before he reluctantly left the seat he hardly moved from for over seven hours. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Jeonghan replied happily, snapping the wooden chopsticks into two. He started chewing on one of the danmuji, the sound of its crunch reverberating in the studio. “Oh. And also, the wi-fi’s down at the dorm, so.”

“So, you’re here to steal my bandwidth.”

“I brought you food. I paid my toll.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes. “Alright, sure.”

“So, are you in the composing stage or the writing lyrics stage?”

“...Lyrics.”

“Hm. What are you writing about? Or rather, who are you writing about?”

Jihoon stabbed the grilled fish. “...You know who.”

“She’s really got a grip on you, huh.”

Jihoon grunted in response. Obviously.

Jeonghan continued, “I saw that one of the local newsletters interviewed the group home that she volunteers at. She was voted as volunteer of the year. Again. She smiles with her entire body. Seems like a good person.”

The younger of the two picked away at the fish, not bringing it onto his makeshift plate. “Yeah.”

“Do you still stalk her on Instagram?”

Jihoon let out a loud sigh.

“That’s a yes, then.”

“You know it’s not as bad as it used to be. I used to check, like, every few weeks, but now it’s gone down to just a couple times a year.”

“She hasn’t blocked you yet?”

“Hah. I don’t think she even knows that my account is reactivated.”

“Well, you never needed to reactivate before. Her Instagram used to be public. The rest of the members and I used to scroll through wondering how a bright girl like her could be associated with such a deadpan guy like you.”

“Wow. Thanks, hyung.”

Jeonghan merely brushed off Jihoon’s sarcasm, already used to it. “She only made it private this last year, right? Since she complains about her program being out to kill her on her story. To be honest, I’m surprised she didn’t realize you’ve been watching her stories.”

“I don’t think she checks who watches her story since she has over a few thousand followers.”

“She attracts people, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah, she always has.”

“Can I see her profile again?”

“You’re not going to do something weird, right?”

“Ey, Jihoon-ah.”

“That makes me really not want to.”

“Ey.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes before pulling out his phone. He opened Instagram and clicked on the “Search” feature and saw your profile appear at the top without even needing to type anything. He signaled for Jeonghan to scoot down the couch so he could sit down and handle the phone in his own hands. Jeonghan peered over his shoulder as he scrolled through your profile.

“Oh, is that Japan?”

“Yeah.”

Jihoon clicked on your post.

But it wasn’t opening.

So, he clicked again. And then again.

And his phone decided to catch up with his thumb’s movements.

The once white heart was now red.

His grip loosened on the device of betrayal and it clattered to the ground. “Oh shit.”

Jeonghan bit his lip to stop himself from laughing. He placed his hand on Jihoon’s shoulder and squeezed slightly. “I’m sorry, but. This is karma for not letting me see her profile on my own.”

“Hyung. Hyung. What should I do?”

“Just unlike it? I’m pretty sure that Instagram doesn’t send a notification as long as you unlike it before she sees it.”

“How do you know?”

Jeonghan shrugged. “Jihoon. It’s not the end of the world if she happens to see it. If she blocks you, then you know, and you end up writing another heartbreak masterpiece—” Jihoon couldn’t even appreciate the comment. “—but. Who knows what’ll happen?”

“...”

“Uh. I’ll just… do it for you, then.”

Jeonghan picked up the phone, facing the screen towards Jihoon, the camera scanning his frozen features to unlock and Jeonghan tapped the red heart to empty it again. He placed the phone back on the younger man’s thigh, but Jihoon remained in the same position as earlier, eyes glazed.

“Jihoon-ah.”

“Hyung.”

“Let’s just wait, yeah? The food’s getting cold. So, let’s finish eating.”

“...Okay.”

──────────────────

Jihoon picked at the rice bowl in front of him, his mind light years away, chest filled with concern for the future. Was auditioning for a company worth it? Even if he started the process now, wouldn’t it still take a while to even hear back?

“Jihoonie.”

His heart constricted once he heard the voice of the person who made him unsure. He caught you blinking owlishly at him. “Y/N.”

“Hrmm. You seem quite a bit down, my friend. You’ve barely touched your first bowl of rice. It’s concerning.”

“Just thinking.”

“Oh, don’t do that. We know that usually ends badly for people.”

“Well, someone between the two of us has to have brain cells.”

“I pride myself in simultaneously never thinking and also being the top student of our school.”

“You work miracles, Y/N.”

“Hey, now I know you’re down because you didn’t call me a flipping nerd. Your best moods are usually accompanied by your worst words.”

“You make me seem like an asshole. You slander me to other people, don’t you?”

“Of course. I can’t have them know just how utterly wonderful and fantastic you are. I’d rather you have that butthole reputation if I get to keep my best friend all to myself. I’m a selfish lady, you know.”

Did you even know how much your words affected him?

“You’re neither selfish nor a lady.”

“Oh, but I am. I’m a selfish lady who’s only checking on you because I refuse to be wrought with worry for the rest of the day. So, come on, Jihoonie. Let’s go play darts.”

“Last time we played you almost stabbed my hand.”

“Your fault for reaching for the board when I was about to own you. Come on. Let’s go. I’ll make a pinky promise with you.”

Jihoon snorted. “Of what?”

“I promise to do whatever you want if you win.”

Jihoon scrunched up his nose in response. You were always so naive with him, trusting him wholly. But a part of him was grateful that you did. He merely sighed and stood up.

He might as well use your promise to his advantage.

──────────────────

“She didn’t block me.”

“Oh, really?” Jeonghan glanced up at Jihoon who suddenly broke the silence.

“Who’s she?” Soonyoung’s ears perked up.

“You know. His firefly,” Jeonghan replied.

“What? Why would she block you?” Seungkwan directed his question at Jihoon, who was simply trying to edit lyrics in his own studio, which was being occupied by several SEVENTEEN members.

“Jihoon accidentally liked one of her posts last night, but we unliked it. Oh, sorry. I unliked it because he was completely frozen.”

“The notification probably didn’t go through,” Seungkwan supplied. “I’m pretty sure unliking a post makes the notification go away.”

Jihoon had set his phone aside earlier in hopes of not constantly checking it. His mind may be unsteady, but he was always self-disciplined.

Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Soonyoung glance down at his own phone screen that buzzed a second prior.

“Oh. Jihoon-ah, she liked one of your posts.”

Before his mind could even catch up, Jihoon flung himself to his phone, his self-discipline be damned. He frantically clicked on the notification and it redirected him to his Instagram page, where he saw your name among the list of likers. He wasn’t sure whether his heart was racing or whether it stopped completely because the buzzing in his ears overtook all of his other senses.

He even ignored the boys’ laughter around him.

“Is… Is social media actually facilitating real connection right now? Are we about to prove all of the ahjussi and ahjumma wrong? Are we about to witness history?”

“Seungkwan-ah.”

“Sorry, Jeonghan-hyung.”

“She… She didn’t block me. She saw me. What is this? What do I do? Do I just ignore it? Or should I let her know I saw it?”

Soonyoung snorted. “Yah, I’ve never seen Jihoon this nervous for any performance ever.”

“His heart’s probably racing more than it did the Golden Disc Awards.”

“WHAT DO I DO.”

“Jihoon-hyung,” Seungkwan started. “I think the first thing you need to do is breathe.”

So, he did. In. Out. In. Out.

After what seemed like years, Soonyoung spoke up. “So… Are you gonna message her?”

Jihoon sat in contemplation for a moment before he decidedly shook his head. “No. It’s time to write a song.”

Soonyoung’s eyebrows rose at that. “You’re gonna go back to work after all of this?”

Jihoon bit his lip. “No. This is gonna be a solo song.”

The corners of Jeonghan’s lips curled up at his dongsaeng. “I’m sure it’ll be beautiful.”

Jihoon nodded almost mindlessly.

Everything about her usually is.

──────────────────

“Jihoonie~ Wake up~”

He groaned loudly under the bed covers.

He heard you snicker, the only warning before you landed with a loud thump as he let out an “oof!” from beneath you.

“Get off me. You weigh like a million pounds.”

Rather than listening, you spread your limbs and trapped the adolescent boy beneath you, nuzzling further into the outer casing of his cocoon. “Nope. Just yesterday you yelled at me for not eating enough when you flung me off of the couch by accident because I stole the remote. So.”

“I’m suffocating. You’re killing your best friend.”

“Oh, but to die with a beautiful girl on top of you, isn’t that the way to go?”

There was a moment of silence where Jihoon contemplated catapulting your entire being off of his bed before, “Pretty sure that’s your dream, you damn pervert,” came his muffled reply.

“Huh. You might be right there.”

“Get! Off!”

His hand easily found your weak point between your first and second rib and you cried out as you toppled down onto his bedroom floor. He emerged from the confines of his sheets with hair sticking up every which way.

You grinned lazily up at his disheveled state and he glared right back at you. “Why are you in my bedroom?”

“Because your mom said to come and get you! We’re going to Muju today, remember? In time for the Firefly Festival!”

“Right. It’s your yearly family reunion.”

“Yes, I will become one with the bugs. My fursona will arise again. Or is it bugsona?”

“Is a buggy better than a furry?”

“You’re asking me to choose between two evils, my dear Jihoonie. Come on, get up. I’m excited to spend an entire weekend with our family.”

It was way too early for his mind to whirr as fast as it did at the simple implication of ‘our’. “Alright, firefly. Get out of my room so I can get ready.”

“Okay! I’ll go help Mama downstairs.”

You were committed to calling Jihoon’s mom as Mama instead of Eomma, as the latter held a tone for you that was nothing less than stressful.

Jihoon smiled at your joy, but stopped when he noticed you freeze in place. “...What?”

You shifted the weight in your feet before speaking. “Mm. Just had a thought. With a smile like yours, who would ever need the summertime?”

You grinned at him while his heart stopped. You always spoke without a care in the world; never carefully crafting your thoughts before speaking them aloud. You were spontaneous. Wild, even. Sometimes it ended with you in some kind of trouble, while other times, like this one, ended with him in trouble instead.

You scurried out of his room before he could respond.

He released a dragged out sigh as he felt his cheeks warm.

Forget summertime.

He wondered whether the earth could be sustained through all of the seasons at the sheer brilliance of your smile.

But he ought to thank the summertime.

Because it meant, every year, without fail, he would wake up to you, he would smell the breakfast you helped his mother cook, he would hop on a plane to travel to a different province and see the night sky alight with hundreds of fireflies, your face aglow with soft awe and wonder.

Yeah.

He needed the summertime.

──────────────────

“What? Jihoon-hyung is talking to the girl that just upped and left him and fled the country?”

“Chan-ah, your wording needs work,” Seungcheol chastised. The other members that were near enough to hear nodded, while others were distracted by their own activities.

Jihoon buried his face in his hands. “Eugh, I don’t even know anymore. It’s not like we’re actually talking; she just reliked one of my posts. It’s like, she went back and let me know that she saw me. But is that supposed to be a warning? Is it supposed to be a white flag?”

The youngest member of SEVENTEEN shrugged. “Hyung, I think that you’re putting a lot of meaning behind something that was just a small gesture.”

“Nah, Chan,” Seungcheol interjected. “Jihoon has been in love with this girl since he was a kid. This is more than just a small gesture, after what she did to him.”

Wonwoo spoke up. “Hey, don’t forget Jihoon was the one who left Busan first.”

The accused groaned.

“Wonwoo, you’re just biased towards her because you think that she and Jihoon would make a good couple and you believe in an ideal love.”

“Hyung, I just think that if Jihoon can write what he writes about her, there’s something there.”

“You romanticist.”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Jihoon-ah, I think you’ve tried to reach her with your words time and time again, but maybe it was never made clear that she was the one it was for. You mentioned that she really thought you were in love with your noona—” Jihoon grimaced at the memory. “—so, maybe she’s just unaware.”

“She can’t be that oblivious,” Soonyoung interrupted. Jihoon knew Soonyoung was almost fiercely protective over him because he was the one who witnessed Jihoon’s aftermath firsthand. Soonyoung may be over-the-top some days, but whenever Jihoon needed it, he would help ground him.

Wonwoo’s eyes flicked between the two of his fellow 96ers. “We were all kids once, Soonyoung. We were all so focused on ourselves we couldn’t really see what was happening around us.”

Soonyoung pursed his lips. “...I guess. Jihoon, what do you think?”

Jihoon stared at his hands. “Does it matter whether she knew back then or not?”

They all collectively raised a brow.

“Whattaya mean?” Seungcheol asked.

“I can make a ton of assumptions about her. That she was actually in love with me and was scared. That she was rejecting me in her own cruel, yet kind, way. That she had no idea and the timing was just completely off. But all of that, I don’t actually know. All I do know is that… I want to see her. And not just from afar anymore. But part of me also hates her. But all of me misses her. I don’t know. I guess I’m just too stupid to figure this out.”

A heavy silence passed over the group.

Soonyoung broke it. “If you’re stupid, then I’m the biggest idiot on this planet.”

“That’s not comforting, that’s just a fact.”

“Hoon, you wound me.”

──────────────────

Award shows were weird.

At first, everything was an out-of-body experience for him and could barely process what was happening. He even couldn’t believe that he and his twelve members managed to earn their matching pinky rings and the right to produce and perform, let alone be nominated for an award. When they went on the stage, they did their best to be as refreshing of idols as they could be.

But it was much more daunting than they were used to.

Their debut year went by, and although there were many nominations, they remained only that.

In middle school, he would often tell you that you had a strange fixation on being number one in your graduating class. He said that he didn’t get it, that being in the top 5 was already something that was admirable.

He would never forget the look you gave him when you said, “One day, you’ll know what it’s like. You’ll know what it’s like to almost have something and then not. It’s the kind of feeling that eats away at you, Jihoon. The feeling of, ‘But what if I did more?’”

He merely rolled his eyes and called you dramatic.

That is, until he experienced it firsthand.

The first time ever was when he was doing a music competition for clarinet and compared himself to his bandmate, who received several achievements while Jihoon found that he simply didn’t have the body to be able to hold the same lung capacity.

Then he felt it: that driving force.

You both pushed yourselves further, to higher heights.

And it ended with him sick and bedridden.

And you, heartbroken and unsure of life.

The two of you would reprimand each other for trying too hard, but even with accountability, that envy, that desire for an indisputable win, that fear of failure, would still sneak its way into you both. You, with your academics. Him, with his musical endeavors.

For several years after their debut, at award shows, Jihoon would clap, the rhythmic beating of his hands echoing that in his chest, his smile lined with bitterness, his ears rang with the whispered voices.

‘Those people didn’t deserve it. You worked so much harder. These people don’t even produce their own music. Or maybe it’s because they have real producers and composers, unlike you. Who are you to think you deserve that award?’

One night, after another show of no wins, he collapsed onto his bed, unlocking his phone, intent on watching an anime episode before falling asleep. His members were discouraged and no one wanted to discuss what more they could even do.

Even if they did everything right, maybe it still would never be good enough.

When he opened up the YouTube app on his phone, he saw a recommended video. Your name written out in English caught his eye and he realized it was Part II of a podcast you had done with the channel before. It was a Korean-American podcast and you would share your experiences in the Korean language, connecting with your culture despite being in a foreign country.

Before he could think about what he was doing, he clicked on it, hoping to find comfort in a person he always had, in someone he probably always would.

Several minutes in and he realized just how thick that red string must be between the two of you.

“You know, I thought I undid a lot of my perfectionism before coming to college. Korea is the birthplace of comparison and pressure, I’m sure of it. It was ingrained into me from childhood. So, I did what I could. I got out. Learned to broaden my horizons. But when you attend a school like Yale, your environment really just kinda forces you to be perfect just so that you can survive. Because if you’re not, then you’re cut.”

He thought back to his trainee days.

To his current days.

How similar.

“I remember being at an event where we were being presented awards for our achievements. I remember that I was in the running for one of them, and I won’t say which one so this doesn’t come back to bite me. But at this one event, I remember no other guests were invited, only the nominees and peers in the same field. And when they announced the winner, everyone applauded, of course. However, I won’t ever forget the sight that I saw.”

You chewed on your lips, gazing upward trying to find the right words to say, a habit you’ve had for years.

“The winner had the biggest grin on their face, proud of themselves, as they are allowed to be. But when they turned back to the crowd? I think they saw something. I think they saw that our smiles were forced, that we were judging them, judging ourselves, trying to determine whether they actually deserved the recognition or whether we should have been the ones to win. And… their smile faltered. It was quick, but it was noticeable. And I think the only reason why it even faltered was because it was only those of us who were nominated or could have been. Like, it’s easy to cheer on someone for a prize that you didn’t want, but as soon as you have stakes in the game? Well. That’s a whole different story. But when they lost that smile, it felt like something shattered.”

Your eyes welled up with tears, but they didn’t fall.

“They say it’s lonely at the top. I haven’t been there in a long time, but. I don’t even know if that’s where I want to be. These people have done super cool things, and who’s to say that I would’ve gotten the same results if I had tried? And maybe, maybe they have enough competitors. Maybe they need someone who celebrates them. Someone who knows the hardships of working in this field. And maybe that’s what I can do. I just want to do what I love and what I love doing is social work. Celebrating other people. Learning their stories. Not saving the world, but trying to make it into one that might be worth saving. If I happen to get recognized because of doing those things and they give some kind of trophy for it, then alright. But that’s just a byproduct of the greatest award I’ve already given myself, which is just letting myself do what I love.”

And those were words he carried with him as he went to bed that night. 

When they won their first award. Their first Bonsang. Their first Daesang.

Award shows were weird.

It was all about performance.

Performing on stage, prepped through sound-check, clean-cut choreography, and pre-recorded live vocals to grab the audience’s attention.

Performing when at their designated table, giving reactions at a timely rate for both the fancams and large screen cameras.

Performing when behind the stage, being the best hoobae or sunbae they needed to be, adapting to whatever situation they may be placed in.

He knew how to perform. He was good at it.

It was why he’s in this industry.

But there are some things that don’t warrant worrying about an audience.

As he watched the seven members of BTS walk towards the stage, reaching for their Daesang. He clapped to match the rhythm in his chest, sure and steady, at ease. His smile, genuine and wide. The voice in his head, not unlike yours mixed with his own, provided gentle comfort.

‘They deserved it. They worked hard, just like you did. Their ability to collaborate with other musicians is astounding. It would be an honor to work with them. And you, too, have won, you’ve given yourself the greatest award by continuing to do what you love.’

──────────────────

Jihoon once again found himself at the recording studio, however, at a more reasonable time. He was trying to finalize all of the details on the songs for their comeback album, so he was spending his days in the recording studio and ending it in the dance studio, fully exhausted to where he would only have enough energy to shower and trudge back to his bedroom, just to pass out on his bed.

He heard the door to his room open but didn’t make an effort to turn around.

“How’s the song coming along?”

“The album is nearly complete—”

“No, the solo one.”

Jihoon finally glanced up at Seungcheol who now stood beside him. “I haven’t had as much time to work on it. Why?”

“No, I just wanted to check in with you.”

“You’re a good leader, hyung,” he said quietly.

Seungcheol clicked his tongue. “Of course, I am. But I’m mostly just curious because you’ve never written a song about her specifically that only had you singing it.”

“…that’s not true.”

“What? Which one?”

“The first song I ever wrote.”

“Oh what? What was it?”

Jihoon shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s an old song that I think only I remember anyway, plus, I only had vocals at the time. No instruments or anything.”

“…huh. What was it about?”

──────────────────

You wiped your snot away from your face, unable to differentiate between mucus and tears. Your unrelenting sobs weakened to light shudders.

His voice carried from above you, his hand entangled in your messy knots as he rubbed soothing circles against your temple. You curled yourself further into the tear-stained pillow he so lovingly dubbed, “Y/N’s Breakdown Headrest” which also doubled as “Y/N’s Punching Bag” when your emotions were forged from fire and not a dam that couldn’t hold anymore of the taunts and cruelty from your own parents.

His thigh was a mere hair’s breadth away from grazing the top of your head. He had a tendency to bounce his leg, one you continuously called him out on, but he wouldn’t ever stop his bad habit.

That is, unless you needed him to.

And he always gave you what you needed.

So, he sang to you a song of hopes and dreams and the magic of forever and always. Lyrics of never-ending friendship and pinky promises.

──────────────────

Jihoon paused, wondering how you comforted yourself now, wondering if you now had a Breakdown Headrest 2.0, before he spoke again. “It’s about what all the songs I write are about. Love. Although, more lowkey, not as direct.”

“Love and her are synonymous to you, aren’t they?”

“She’s the one who taught me most of it,” Jihoon said nonchalantly. “A truly honest and genuine form of it.”

“Wow, how romantic of you,” Seungcheol laughed.

Jihoon rolled his eyes. “I’m letting you know I only have the patience to tolerate all of you guys because of her. She believes it’s her divine mission to be as annoying as possible.”

“She sounds terrifying.”

“Yeah, she’s taught me how to be patient and remain calm. But she was also incredibly patient with me. Honestly, it feels like all the things that make me likable are all from her.”

Seungcheol made a “oOooOooOOOooOOooo~” noise before Jihoon got fed up and kicked him out. Of course, his reprieve was short lived as more and more members flocked into his room, a constant moving traffic of his twelve brothers.

He imagined you meeting them.

With Seungcheol, you would probably tease him relentlessly, trying to come up with new names for the S. Coups game, while also thanking him for being so protective and steadfast, praising him for his taste in emo music and asking him to sing My Chemical Romance with you.

With Jeonghan, you both would sneak off to devise plans on how to create chaotic dynamics in between the members and cause more infighting while eating stolen snacks or spend hours just sitting around, doing fuck all, because why not.

With Jisoo, you both would speak in English (with you affectionately calling him by his English name “Joshua!”), sharing music as well as probably arguing between Los Angeles and New York, since that was a common feud topic Jisoo brought up.

With Jun, you would try to get as many reactions out of him as possible or get him to write down the list of all of the authentic Chinese restaurants around Korea or you would sit with him at a piano and watch as he played OSTs to Chinese dramas, applauding all the while starry-eyed.

With Soonyoung, you both would either be each other’s soulmates or the banes of each others’ existence, both fiery and passionate; however, you were always good at matching the energies of those around you, so you would let him ebb and flow while you merely followed, likely to call him, “Hoshingi,” just as Jeonghan does, and you would probably love caring for him the same way you did with elementary school students.

With Wonwoo, you would watch him play his PC games, probably in awe of his prowess or you would discuss lyricism and poetry, both exchanging flowery words for no reason as you would try to pick his brain as to what really lies beneath the surface, whether he truly is as straightforward as he seems, and be intensely satisfied that he simply is as he is.

With Seokmin, likely to sweetly call him “DK~”, you would ask him to sing for you since you loved Broadway style voices, and since you both were so generous with your kindness, there would be no doubt that the two of you would somehow manage to start up a non-profit that manages to eradicate all the bad in the world.

With Mingyu, you would discuss filming and the latest movies to watch and you would ask him how he finds the motivation to do many different hobbies at once especially when busy with being an idol; you would probably try to trick him into listening to you tell ghost stories as if they happened to you.

With Minghao, you would share your favorite poets and philosophical ideas, sharing the life lessons that you two have learned and realized you managed to hack life’s code at a younger age than most, you both realized the real importance of being alive: contentment and love.

With Seungkwan, you would probably be laughing so hard at his wit that you wouldn’t have much time to breathe, you would try to figure out how exactly he managed to memorize so much information surrounding K-Pop and why exactly he was so passionate about it or if neither of those, you would ask him if he could get you the plug for those Jeju hallabong oranges.

With Hansol, you would call him “Vernonz,” since you loved names that began with the letters V and Z, and ask him about his parents once you found out they were both artists, and you two would definitely discuss the effects of late-stage capitalism and social media on humanity.

With Chan, you would do your best not to baby him, but you hold a lot of fondness for those younger than you, you would try to figure out how he is so particular about his attention to detail and whether it is something that is pressuring him (and if there was some way you could alleviate it).

He imagined you there, integrated into his life again. He imagined you showing authentic interest in every one of his precious members, unlike most interviewers they would be forced to interact with every comeback. You would learn all of their names, find out their favorite foods, the best way to make everyone collectively laugh, and ultimately, how to help all of them feel comfortable around you and inevitably love you.

And once they did, he could say that his most beloved people were finally all together.

He fell in love with you, but you’re the one who taught him how to walk into it with his eyes wide open. So, he did it with his members. It took practice, having to actively choose them. With you, it may have always been a choice, but it was as natural as breathing, even if there were times he felt like he was being suffocated (or wanted to suffocate you).

He remembered the first time he became aware of it. Most people talk about how love comes, there was always talk about rose-tinted glasses and how it softened the world around them, unable to forget the brilliant smile on their face, but no. You always shattered expectations.

From anyone else’s standards, his realization came at an inopportune time. But it was so clear. It wasn’t as though you had sparkles around you as you emitted a warm glow, it wasn’t as though your hair was perfectly touched up with no strand out of place, it wasn’t as though you were perfectly dolled-up with eyes lined and lips colored. No. It was just… you.

And that's when he knew.

Because there was no filter to block the sheer clarity he was hit with when he finally accepted he was in love with you.

──────────────────

When Jihoon saw your crying form, a slurry of words filled with concern and instructions were the only thing leaving his mouth as he packed his things up. He only deviated once he gave a quick farewell to his noona who left with her dad.

Jihoon bit his lip. Would you be okay? Maybe he’ll just rush home now and shower then call you later at night. Or maybe he should go prepare his bedroom if you decide to visit. Yes. He should do that.

Jihoon turned on his heel to make his way back home, his newfound mission resounding in his mind.

However, your cousin’s voice reached his ears, “Wait—Jihoon, I can give you a ride.”

He looked back at him, saw the way your shoulders still trembled, and shook his head firmly. His fist clenched, the baseball preventing his nails from biting into his palms. He spun it once. Twice. And up into the air.

“Here, firefly.”

You caught it by instinct.

Your gaze met his.

He felt his heart ache at the sheer brokenness apparent in your eyes, rimmed with red and puffed skin. He grit his teeth. He hasn’t seen you cry this hard since the day your parents told you that your number two class ranking was nothing to be proud of and that they expected more from you.

His jaw clenched so hard, he heard an audible bite.

“Why are you giving me this?”

Your voice sounded so soft, like a child. A visceral instinct within him wanting to lull you into a peaceful rest with a lullaby.

But he wouldn’t do that.

Because that would be embarrassing.

(That was a future Jihoon problem.)

“It’s your win today.”

He much preferred the look of confusion on your face to the look of agony you held just a few moments ago.

“Huh?”

He swallowed thickly, his brain unable to keep up with the words tumbling from his mouth. “Even when you feel like you’ve lost, even when you feel like you have nothing to gain, just the fact that you’re still here, that’s a win. So. Scream. Cry. You can do what you want. It’s your win.”

Your gaze trailed down to the baseball, too large to wrap your fingers around entirely. It was probably much denser than you thought it would be, the weight foreign in your hands, unlike his.

You sniffled.

A soft smile formed on your lips.

And Jihoon realized he preferred that look on your face than any other he’s seen.

Pretty.

He rapidly turned on his heel before he even gave a second to try and unpack that thought.

The weight of his baseball gear was really doing a number on his heart, he realized belatedly.

That night, he didn’t prepare his room. He didn’t even call you.

(Not that you reached out.)

He merely stared up at his ceiling, his heart in a constant flux of rapidly beating or stopping completely.

He groaned loudly as he played through the day’s earlier events, thinking himself stupid for giving you a fucking baseball. You don’t even like sports. Did he think he sounded cool when he said all of that cringey stuff?

It’s your win?

But despite the feeling of wanting to curl in on himself, he couldn’t help but still agree with his earlier self.

You did win his heart, after all.

(He threw his pillow at the wall.)

──────────────────

“You’ve been liking her posts more easily.”

Jihoon merely grunted as he tapped away at his computer, Soonyoung on the couch beside him. “I decided to just… stop overthinking. Well, more like just stop thinking in general. I’m too tired to try and pretend I’m smarter than I actually am.”

Soonyoung raised an eyebrow. “You got it bad for her.”

Jihoon glared at him, who was scrolling through his (Jihoon’s) phone. “Be careful what you say. For the amount of songs that are about her, she covers basically 60% of your salary.”

Soonyoung laughed. “Guess I owe her a lot, huh? If she didn’t up and leave, you wouldn’t have come here and we would’ve never met. So, I guess I’m grateful to her. Plus. She’s cute.”

“She’s more than that.”

“Yeah. I can tell,” Soonyoung went quiet for a moment. “She… A part of me really doesn’t want to trust her. I keep remembering that day, you know. Where you just… didn’t seem like yourself. Barely there—” Jihoon cringed at the recalled memory. “—but she also just seems so genuine that it makes it hard. I want to be your bro, you know? Bro code and all—”

“I never asked you to do that.”

“—And I’m nothing if not a bro. But I don’t think you’re the type of person to be hung up on someone who’s not trustworthy. Like. You lose interest in people easily if you don’t see them on a regular basis. But her? It’s been years, bro.”

“Okay, bro.”

“Just letting you know I support you in your decisions,” Soonyoung stated, but there was an edge to his voice that sounded as though he was trying to convince himself more than Jihoon. “If she’s really who you say she is. If she’s the one who’s captured that stubborn heart of yours. Then I’ll do everything I can to help you out—Oh, she posted again. Wow. She posts often and yet still gets over a thousand likes. It hasn’t even been a day. Oh wow!”

Jihoon twitched but tried not to show his eagerness. “What?”

“They’re doing a donation drive for the group home that she works with. Ey, how can someone who does volunteer work to help kids and teens be a bad person? Jihoon, are you kidding me?”

“Young-ah, you’re the one who said it, not me—”

“So close-minded, Hoon.”

Jihoon rolled his computer chair over to Soonyoung, snatched his phone back, and smacked the annoying gnat’s hand in the process. Soonyoung yelped in pain, but laughed it off. He saw your post (noticed that Soonyoung ‘liked it for him’) and a figurative lightbulb lit up over his overworked head.

“This looks like something Bumzu-hyung would post on his story. Maybe I can ask him to share it. Oh, but this is her private page. Oh wait. She tagged the group home.”

“Thanks for the play-by-play.”

Jihoon ignored him and clicked the profile to see they had the exact same e-flyer post. But he knew that you’d probably notice there was an influx of donations (hardly anything got by you) and he didn’t want to bombard you with unsolicited help.

But it’s for a good cause!

But he might be trespassing on her territory.

Everyone cares about youth and kids!

This group home wouldn’t have even caught his eye had it not been for you.

He groaned inwardly. “I don’t know whether I should ask Bumzu to reshare or what—”

“Dude, just ask her if you can share it and then wait for her reply. It’s not like there’s only a one day donation thing.”

Jihoon blinked at Soonyoung. “You’re right.”

Soonyoung immediately sat up straighter, pulling out his own phone from his pocket. He opened up his voice memo app. “Say that again, I need to record that so I can set it as my ringtone.”

Soonyoung pressed the Record button, extended his phone receiver to Jihoon, who leaned in promptly and said:

“Fuck off, Kwon Soonyoung.”

──────────────────

“Kwon Soonyoung, what the hell are you doing?”

“What do you mean? It’s not like I planned this.”

Jihoon glared at the boy before him who was somehow wearing matching clothes again. He specifically came home after rehearsal to change into something different and yet, here he was, matching with this endless energy ball. Jihoon specifically changed out of his all-black garment to choose a long, plain blue button-down overshirt and ripped, dark jeans. Something different from his usual style of a t-shirt and shorts.

Yet, there Soonyoung was, in nearly the same outfit, minus the overshirt being a blue flannel.

“I think this just means that we’re soulmates, Jihoon-ah.”

Jihoon pulled back his fist as if to hit Soonyoung, but the latter didn’t flinch at all, only laughed at the expense of his friend. The other members were downstairs waiting for them so Jihoon didn’t have enough time to change out of the outfit. And it felt almost ridiculous to give this more attention than it deserves, as if he was losing by admitting that it bothered him to the point of needing to change clothes.

But Kwon Soonyoung, the man that he was, would not let him live it down.

“Wow, we look like a couple. We should go on dates, huh? Get some sushi or–ack!”

The shorter of the two pressed his foot against the back of the other’s knee and Soonyoung nearly came crashing down had it not been for his instincts to catch himself.

Jihoon huffed down the stairs, shaking his head at the situation and readying himself to be made fun of by his members. Once he got through that door, it was game over.

And he was right.

Seungkwan, Mingyu, and Dino were the ones who rallied the rest of the group to heckle, which only added insult to injury, as those three were the ones who had the longest rap sheet to make fun of. Jihoon kept his disgusted face on as Soonyoung wrapped his arms around his shoulders, announcing to (what seemed like) the world about how he’s ‘matching with his best friend.’

Jihoon came back with a slew of half-hearted insults at the rest of his members, but they unfortunately outnumbered him. He is rarely on the receiving end of this level of teasing, but he was dragged into it thanks to Soonyoung, who was eating it up.

Even in the midst of it all, Jihoon couldn’t help but feel thankful that he even had someone to accidentally match with who would wear it with such pride and not shy away from it. Sure, it might seem dumb and annoying, but it reminded him that he could have that kind of playful relationship with others outside of you. He had other friends in school or at baseball, sure, but none were as comfortable, as relentlessly fun. He thought there would never be another you.

And there never was, but that feeling of acceptance, of joy, of gratitude.

He was able to find it outside of you.

Which was a heartbreaking realization before, but now he only hopes you’ve done the same.

And mere hours after his own outfit debacle, Jihoon sees your instagram story to find you accidentally matching with Hyejin, her making the same face that he did not too long ago. But you had a shit-eating grin, no doubt proud of causing a disruption in your friend’s life.

Your caption read: “oh, you and your soulmate are tied by a single, red thread? that’s nothing compared to the matching threads we got on right now. eat your heart out, makoto shinkai.”

Beneath it in smaller letters: “if you can’t tell by her face, this was not planned at all, but man, am i really rolling with it.”

Jihoon snorted at the serendipity of it all.

Perhaps the string of fate really isn’t just a single thread.

──────────────────

It was a rare day in which Jihoon found himself at home.

Which meant he had a lot of time to think about you.

(You replied to him. He shouldn’t have been so surprised. But he was, pleasantly so. Of course, it included a thumbs up emoji which was the visual manifestation of the acquaintance zone, but he would take what he could get.)

Album preparations were underway, and although there is a part of him that feels as though he should be scrambling, especially as their anniversary date was literally tomorrow, he thought back to a voice from his youth.

Years ago, he laid in his childhood bed, struck with a nasty fever from pushing his immune system too far by attempting to balance school and various music competitions. There was a half-asleep you, exhausted by misplaced guilt, with your fingers intertwined with his, who said: Jihoonie, Koreans always say ‘fighting’. I told you that this morning, and I knew you weren’t feeling well. I could’ve stopped you. And now here you are. I said ‘fighting,’ but why? Why do we have to fight? Life isn’t a battle to win. You don’t have to overcome anything, okay? You can just lay here and be with me. Please don’t get sick again. Please remember to rest. Some days, it’s okay to just be.

So, here he was. Simply being.

Whenever massive events (like SEVENTEEN’s six year anniversary) happened, he made sure to spend the 24 hours prior doing nothing than just being, to gain enough energy to last the following day.

Otherwise, the nagging guilt would get to him.

You were always weaving stories with even the thinnest of threads. Your knack for adding dramatic flair, amping it up to eleven, was a nightmare sometimes. For example, when he got sick and you kept repeating that you should’ve said something instead of letting him go on stage only to nearly faint afterwards. You took on too much responsibility for things outside of your control, which only caused you to lose your grip on what you actually could.

His chest tightened at the thought of you losing your grip completely. There were very few things in life that terrified him, but you potentially ending yours was one that plagued him until he learned how to remain steady when you were feeling unsure, and even still, it tore him up inside. But he knew that it wasn’t his battle to face; he wasn’t meant to save you. You reminded him of that time and time again, so instead, he learned how to let you live the life you weren’t sure you wanted. He observed warily.

As a teenager, he knew just how bad these thoughts could get for people at that age. He knew how people fell prey to the lies that they were unworthy of life and love.

So, he simply tried to be as honest as possible. He would do his best to not invalidate your experience, but he refused to enable those insidious feelings. He would come off as abrasive, he was sure, but your ability to detect bullshit was like no other. Your parents had a big hand in that. So, instead, he was truthful in his own way, in his own language, one that you learned to understand.

A few years ago, you did a two-part YouTube podcast at Yale. The first one was released a couple of months prior to the second, and he’s sure at least one hundred of the views are from SEVENTEEN (not all him, his members also took away a lot from your words).

He listened to that podcast time and time again. He heard the life in your voice, the curiosity of the future outweighing the pain of the past. You said that life was, at first, a means to be with the people you loved. But you slowly came to believe that life was something that you would choose to love every single day, and so you did.

He hoped that you still did, but trusted that, if there were days that would come where you did not, you would reach out to someone to wait with you until the storm passed and you could choose to love again.

His chest filled with pride thinking about how far you’ve come.

But he couldn’t help but wish there were some things that remained from back then.

That glimmer of hope spurred him to become mindful of the object he was fiddling with in his hands. He held up a bracelet of years ago, hardly worn by time or by him. He wasn’t sure whether he was still allowed to. It was one-half of a pair, but if its partner no longer existed, then.

However, he never had the desire to throw it away.

The metal charms felt both foreign and at home in his hands as he fiddled with them, the faint clicking sound of the chain barely registering as his mind was in an entirely different place. His eyes focused once again on the charm of the sun caught between his fingers.

If only catching you was as simple, he mused.

Jihoon sighed and covered his eyes, desperately trying not to cringe at his internal monologue, habitually reaching for the Chopper plushie that you gifted him years ago, squeezing the body to diffuse the embarrassment he felt.

He remembered when he saw the charms at some random shop he heard about from others and thought you would enjoy, so he decided to scope it out in advance for the two of you. It was easy, on his way home after spending a few hours on his own to rehearse his clarinet, a regular occurrence.

Although there was no doubt the two of you gravitated towards each other, you both valued your independence and alone time.

──────────────────

“We’re giving us the chance to miss each other, Jihoonie.”

“Who said I’d ever miss you?”

“Well, gosh darn. Guess I’ll cover for you and miss you twice as much.”

“…You’re dumb.”

“Yes. Can I have some of your fries?”

──────────────────

He retaliated by taking the ketchup bottle and squeezing them all over the tray of fries and you immediately retracted, believing that fries should be dipped in its respective sauce (unless they were loaded fries, of course, which warranted using a utensil of sorts).

He chuckled to himself. Fifteen was one of the most turbulent years of his life, but there were plenty of moments (like fries drowning in ketchup) that reminded him it wasn’t all intense.

Your fifteenth year started off with that charm bracelet.

Two weeks before then, you were so moody that he nearly gave you your birthday gift earlier than he intended, just so he wouldn’t have to see you be so upset (for which, he has only a vague remembrance of what could have made you so upset). Of course, it might have been easier if he had simply brought up his concern and asked how you were, but he knew you would have brushed it off as nothing.

He paused.

Did he know that though?

Or did he just assume?

He clicked his tongue, annoyed at his own self-reflection.

Communication was easy in theory.

Application, however.

He often found it difficult, matching your pace.

You were always so quick.

Quick-witted. 

Quick to anger.

Quick to assume.

Quick to run away.

He heard a soft knock at his bedroom door (which meant it wasn’t Mingyu or Soonyoung) and he grunted in response. The door slowly opened (that ruled out Seungcheol and Chan) and revealed who decided to greet him in such a manner.

Ah, he was right.

“Woozingi~”

“Jeonghan-hyung.”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Jeonghan moved to sit at the edge of Jihoon’s bed, with his legs crossed. “The members are wanting to get dinner tonight altogether since we have a schedule tomorrow. The staff said they’ll pay since it’s our six years.”

This had Jihoon propping himself upright. “Barbecue?”

Jeonghan snickered. “Yeah, it’ll be good to get ready in a few hours. But I just wanted to stop by and tell you in person since I know you like to mute the group chat.”

“That’s because it’s constantly going off,” Jihoon grumbled.

“Yes, that happens when people are trying to have a conversation, Jihoon-ah. You should try it sometimes. Especially since it sounds like you have communication issues.”

Jihoon winced. “Hyung. Your timing is terrible.”

“No, it’s impeccable. Just not for you. Anyway, a word of advice.”

“Hm.”

“You don’t have to fear rejection anymore,” Jeonghan started, slowly, the words seeming almost foreign in his mouth. “Regardless of what happens with her, you have people in your life that care about you as you are. You don’t have to try and match her. I don’t want you to subconsciously fall back into a habit of appeasing her because you’re afraid of scaring her away again.”

Jihoon blinked slowly. “I wasn’t expecting actual advice, so I’m a little stunned right now.”

Jeonghan chuckled. “I’m gonna be honest. The other members told me to come talk to you because the rest are either too scared or don’t know what to say.”

“Hah, we’re back to our trainee days, huh?”

Jeonghan grinned, probably recalling the amount of times that he was the emotional support pillar of the boys before they each learned to open up to each other. “Speaking of, I remember when I first met you. You were a teen with a cold-hearted exterior and a lot of opinions as well as the weight of the world on your shoulders. You had the responsibility to carry the music of twelve other guys and you had just lost something that was precious to you. You threw yourself into your work and that became your identity.”

“I—”

“I know you’re not that way anymore, but I’m just reminding you that, no matter what happens with her, no matter how she may respond, you aren’t that cold teenager who had to bear the weight all on your own. You’ve grown and are surrounded by people who can help ease the load.” Jeonghan paused for a moment. “Also, if I could think of a member who laughs easily at anything, you are one of the first that comes to mind. So, it concerns me that you haven’t been laughing lately, even when Mingyu accidentally sneezed out his ramyeon noodles—“ Jihoon snorted at the memory from last night. “—and, if I can assume anything about her, I don’t think she’d be very honored to know that it’s because of her. So. Come back to us, Jihoon. If she’s really meant to be in your life, she can match your rhythm. Don’t leave us in the dust.”

“Is this a long-winded way of saying ‘bros before hoes’?”

Jeonghan burst into laughter. “Maybe so!”

──────────────────

“Our Jihoonie~”

The teenage boy grunted in response, shooting up a look at one of the older members. “Is there something that you need, hyung?”

“You speak so formally, it’s off-putting.”

“That’s because someone refuses to act his age.”

“What a tough Busan guy,” Jeonghan teased.

Jihoon’s face twitched.

“Bumzu-hyung is looking for you. Said he wanted to finish up some more lessons.”

“Agh. I knew he was going to have criticisms. I’m barely getting a grip on this music production stuff, so I don’t even know if what I’m making is good enough to sell. Everyone might hate it.”

“Even if everyone else hates your music, just know I’m one of your biggest fans.”

“...If my music is hated, then we won’t make any money, which means you’ll be poor. What? Is it your dream to become poor?”

Jihoon expected Jeonghan to laugh and tell him that he was right and that money mattered. But instead, Jeonghan replied, “Jihoon. Your music is good. And if we don’t make money because other people aren’t able to see it. Then what’s the point? You say that it’s your responsibility as to whether SEVENTEEN succeeds or not, but, we’re thirteen members. Three units. One team. We’re SEVENTEEN. Stop acting like it’s all about you. Maybe my dream used to be becoming rich. But now, it’s just doing this. With all of us.”

──────────────────

Jihoon stared at his hands, at the charm bracelet. “Is it selfish to want this life and her as well?”

“Maybe it is. But, so what if you’re selfish?”

“Isn’t being selfish supposed to be a bad thing?”

“Just hope that she’s as selfish as you are,” Jeonghan shrugged. “By wanting her in your life, does that mean you want to be with her romantically?”

Jihoon paused. “You know, I’m not sure. I think I would be over the moon if we could even just be a part of each other’s lives. To have that line of communication open. But as the people that we are now. I think I’d like to meet the new Y/N. She probably has more in common with the new Lee Jihoon than the old her anyway.”

“You two have grown apart, aren’t you worried?”

Jihoon went silent for a moment, trying to pick out the right words. “Rather than grown apart, it feels like we’ve simply grown in separate spaces, by taking different routes, but our lives seem too intertwined for our paths to never cross again. Plus, she’s one of the few people that I could really be myself around. It’d be nice to have another safe space like that outside of SEVENTEEN because who else can I complain about you all to, that wouldn’t cause conflict between us?”

“Ay. What is there to complain about?”

Jihoon gave his hyung a pointed look.

“Alright, alright,” Jeonghan started. “But be honest. Real talk. You really think she wouldn’t spread it to Dispatch?”

“She has always valued people’s stories more than anything, so it really annoyed her when other people would take out-of-context excerpts and twist them. So. That’s how I know she wouldn’t spread it. Also, if she was that kind of person, she would’ve done so by now. She has a ton of blackmail material on me.”

Jeonghan chuckled. “Interesting. You said she likes stories, so is she a writer like you?”

“Not in the traditional sense. She’s more of a speaker than a writer. In high school, of course, she had her awkward moments like everybody else did, but even then, she was a tier above the rest. I don’t know how to say this kindly, but she doesn’t really think before she talks, but she doesn’t usually have to because what comes out is almost always what she intended.”

“So, she must be eloquent then.”

Jihoon clicked his tongue. “Just because things come out as she intended doesn’t mean she wouldn’t intentionally be mean or annoying.”

──────────────────

“You like unnie, don’t you?”

Jihoon spluttered. Shit, shit, shit. He tried to gather his thoughts, but failed. He wasn’t good with spontaneous spoken words, that was always your realm of expertise. He needed time to think of the right thing to say, but you never waited for him. “F-Firefly, I—”

You barked out a laugh, and he nearly retaliated at the harshness. He wasn’t sure why exactly you were being so harsh. “Hey, it’s fine. I don’t blame you. She’s pretty high up there, above us mortals. From now on, I’ll do my best to help you out, yeah? That’s what best friends are for. Plus, you’re like family, like a brother to me, so.”

Jihoon sank back.

Family? Brother?

He wondered why that left a bitter taste in his mouth. But that didn’t make any sense. Wasn’t being called family the highest praise?

So why the hell did that piss him off?

Instead of speaking his actual thoughts, his mouth had a mind of its own. “I can handle myself, Y/N.”

You sneered at him.

God, you were so infuriating sometimes. 

She wasn’t like that.

She was the soothing waves of Busan, ebb and flow, constant and expected. She was everything you weren’t. She was older, more experienced, graceful, calm, soothing.

She was beautiful.

But she didn’t have that burning fire you did. Didn’t have him reacting the way you managed to every time you opened your damn mouth or rolled your eyes—there you went again!

What the hell was wrong with you?

Rapid escalation, raised voices. You, accusing him of not trusting your judgment and hiding his crush from you, saying that you wished he trusted you. Him, arguing that he didn’t need to share every little thing, that it wasn’t about his trust for you at all, and that God, he did! He did trust you! Of course, he did!

So, why didn’t he tell you about the stupid crush?

It wasn’t that deep, but you were convinced it was, and he was too tired to even try and correct you. So, sure, he could be “in love” with his noona, like you believed. Because then he wouldn’t have to untangle the mess in his chest. He could shove it under the rug like he always had, always would.

You slammed your fists down onto the table before you walked away from him, in a rampage. Like a damn wildfire trying to clear everything in sight.

You were a volatile thing, explosive, even.

But.

You fizzled out just as fast.

He awoke around midnight to the soft knocking at his window, your silhouette perched on the thickest branch the tree outside his childhood home had to offer. He had half a mind to not open the glass pane but he saw you shiver and his body leaped out of bed without a second thought.

“I’m sorry, Jihoonie,” you said, a few moments after you clambered into his room.

“Okay.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for being friends with me anyway.”

“Sure.”

So, he wrapped your favorite blanket around you, the one he kept in his room for nights like this. Color slowly returned to your face and he saw the stains of tears on your cheek in the moonlight. You muttered words of apologies and told him about your day, not having the chance to earlier.

You were better like this, quiet, but not silent. Like a crackling fireplace beckoning all to come and listen, to be enveloped in warmth and light.

He never once called you his family.

But he’d be damned if you weren’t his home.

──────────────────

“Funny enough, despite the fact that she’s more of a speaker than a writer, even more than that, she’s a listener. She listens to more stories than she tells them. I think that’s helped with her pride. If she knew she messed up, she would always apologize, even if she hated doing it.”

“Well, that’s one lesson you haven’t learned from her yet.”

Jihoon pulled a face and Jeonghan laughed in response. The older of the two snatched away the Chopper on the opposite end and started throwing the doll up and down.

“Alright, lover boy. What I got from this conversation is that you’re still in love with her, but you gotta make sure she’s worthy of your love, alright? Heed my warning, don’t be afraid of being rejected by her. It’s already happened anyway, and here you are: world-star idol with twelve bros behind you no matter what.”

Jihoon cracked a smile. “You’re right. I got lucky.”

Jeonghan tossed Chopper back in his original vicinity. “I think Dokyeomie wanted to ask something from you too, but I don’t remember what it was, so maybe you can go get ready and he’ll come find you.”

“What a useless messenger.”

“Your luck can’t be perfect, Jihoon-ah,” Jeonghan quipped. He turned to leave the room but stopped in his tracks. “I hope to hear her story one day. Hear her side of things.”

“…Me too, hyung.”

──────────────────

“How much is the corn dog?”

“Hmm… Tell me your favorite color and how it makes you feel.”

Jihoon mustered as much displeasure as he could hold in his six-year-old body. “Y/N, you can’t pay with stories, that’s stupid.”

“It’s my shop!”

“Jihoon, we’re just playing pretend,” your cousin added, his eyes darting between the two of you, likely worried about needing to do damage control.

“Hyung, her idea is dumb!”

“Why!” You whined. “People pay with money all the time, but you can get money whenever! I don’t get to hear stories! I like stories! My parents don’t read to me every night like yours do, Jihoon!”

Jihoon stomped out of the playroom in annoyance, ears grated by the sound of your crying and your cousin’s failed attempts to console you. Stories couldn’t buy the new toy race car that he got. Stories couldn’t buy him candy at the corner market near the kindergarten. Stories couldn’t buy a GameBoy.

Stories didn’t matter.

Money mattered.

Still, nearly a decade later, you never failed to ask for your unconventional form of payment every time he took a portion of your lunch. He knew you packed more for him anyway. And he knew you would always ask for a story in return.

And he intentionally packed smaller meals so he could tell you about how the History teacher had botched up his classmate’s test and accidentally graded off by one, about how the clarinet solo he was learning required a finger pattern he wasn’t used to, about how that one guy—oh, the tennis player?—no, no, the flautist—isn’t it flutist?—it doesn’t matter—yes, it does, Jihoon—anyway, he asked out a girl—the senior?—yes—oh wow, how bold.

And you would smile in return, sliding your food choice of the day within his reach.

He learned that you hated money; it was the one and only thing your parents ever gave you consistently. Simply, it was the manifestation of their love (or lack of) for you.

So, he paid you with recountings of the mundane. You never complained, even when he felt as though his storytelling skills were lackluster. He held your rapt attention; your eyes wide with wonder, voice laced with curiosity.

Eventually, he asked you why.

Why stories?

“Because without them, I wouldn’t have learned that you love the X-Men series because of Hugh Jackman, that you prefer winter over summer, that the first ever K-Pop group you listened to was Brown Eyed Girls, that when you tell me a funny story, you wait until I react before you start laughing.”

And you gave him that smile that made his heart stutter.

“Money is everywhere, Jihoon. But there’s only one you. That’s all there is to it. People, at the core of it all, are just stories. So. That’s why. People will always matter more than profit.”

──────────────────

After Jihoon readied himself for the group dinner, he plopped himself down onto the communal couch and found himself scrolling through Instagram. He stopped at your latest post, a candid shot of you reading a children’s book to several six-year-olds, your face aglow with excitement, a high chance the photographer captured you mid-way through some silly voice attributed to the character on the page.

“Hey, hyung.”

“Hm?”

“Can I borrow your microphone for the day?”

Jihoon didn’t even have the chance to think twice before the words left his mouth, “Tell me your favorite color and how it makes you feel.”

An uncomfortable silence blanketed the room.

“Is… Is this a hidden-camera?”

“...never mind. Just put it back when you’re done.”

“It’s blue, by the way.”

“I don’t care—”

“It makes me feel happy because it’s the color of the sky and of the ocean, which means it can be super calm or super exciting. It’s also one of the colors of our Caratdeul.”

“Okay, Dokyeom-ssi. Get out.”

“Yes, hyung. Thank you.”

Jihoon thought about how, if given the chance, you would ask Seokmin if he liked the paleness of 9am or the depth of 6pm? If he liked the gentleness of serenity or the vibrancy of cerulean? Or if he appreciated all that the shades encompassed before fading into greens and indigos?

But he wasn’t you.

You were the inspiration; the muse.

You were the reason to write.

He was just a storyteller.

──────────────────

“THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO IS HERE. THANK YOU TO THE PLEDIS STAFF, OUR MANAGERS, OUR CHOREOGRAPHERS, OUR MUSIC TEAM, OUR DANCERS, OUR STYLISTS, OUR CAMERA WORKERS, OUR FAMILIES, AND OUR SEVENTEEN MEMBERS! HAPPY SIX YEARS. HERE’S TO MORE!”

Everyone in the rented out restaurant cheered before drinking together. Even the sound barrier breaking screams of Soonyoung wasn’t enough to dampen Jihoon’s pride and spirit over how far they’ve come as a team. He looked around at his table, several members already seemingly drunk, and couldn’t help but smile to himself.

“Jihoon-ah, make an exception for tonight and drink!”

He shook his head fervently. “There’s going to be several of you who are going to regret drinking when we have our V LIVE tomorrow. You’re going to look super puffy.”

“I can already feel it,” Seungcheol laughed, his eyes slightly glazed. “But the food and the beer are too good to pass up.”

Speaking of, Jihoon made sure to snatch a piece of kalbi to put onto his plate before Mingyu could. The younger one gave him the stink-eye while Jihoon merely smirked and tilted his head back, challenging him. Mingyu decided to change his target and grab at Seungkwan’s piece, who promptly smacked his hand with a “Kim Mingyu!”

Laughter went around the table as they reflected on the last six years, the amount of embarrassing moments that were brought up were positively correlated with the amount of shots that were taken.

Jihoon grit his teeth as he tried not to fold in on himself, remembering how they threw him up as a cheer and nearly ended his life by creating a Jihoon-shaped hole in the ceiling. He was so much smaller back then, easier to launch without thinking.

They laughed about the incident where Mingyu was nearly beaten to death by Jihoon with a guitar, which Jihoon argued that he still believed he was in the right. They discussed one of their first performances as a team, where they performed NU’EST’s “Hello” and they all had helmet hair. They poked fun at Seungkwan for his revolutionary English skills when he said, “are you kimbap kidding?”

They’ve grown so much.

International interviews with BuzzFeed, Seventeen the magazine, and others. GOING SEVENTEEN as a show has grown alongside them, more than just showing Carats the behind-the-scenes, but has now turned to variety that garnered the new fanbase of Cubics, and has been an honest highlight to Jihoon’s career, where they can just go wild and laugh with each other, just as they always do.

They talked about how they used to sneak in food, how they used to help each other get ready for school, how they still have the same playful spirit as they did back then, but with more trust that has formed between them (although, less for Jeonghan since his cheating at games has only gotten worse).

Jihoon leaned back, full of food and laughter and gratitude.

He wouldn’t trade his life with his team for anything.

(Not even you.)

However, that didn’t mean Jihoon didn’t want you to be a part of his already complete life.

He was a selfish human being.

He hoped you would be one too.

──────────────────

May 26th.

Six years ago, “Adore U” came out, marking the beginning of the journey of a thirteen member boy idol group named SEVENTEEN.

Now, here he was, trying to not be bullied into drinking another shot of soju after already consuming several in a short period.

Their anniversary V LIVE ended not too long ago and they did not have a schedule the following day, so the team decided to celebrate on their own, playing Mafia and messing around. A few hours ago, Jihoon would’ve hardly been able to tolerate the noise level, but since his hearing has been compromised due to his heart beating so loudly in his ears from the alcohol, he was plenty fine.

He shooed away his members and retreated back into the corner of the room, pulling out his cellphone and ignoring Mingyu making stupid kissy faces and noises. Jihoon shot him a look of disgust, but Mingyu merely laughed it off and went to go bother his next victim, who seemed to be Boo Seungkwan, a prime choice indeed.

As soon as he refreshed his Instagram app, there you were (with a highlighted gradient ring around your profile picture, your head tilted back with a soft smile grazing your features as you took in the endless sky above you).

He clicked on the circle and saw you and your friends there, a dimmed photo but your collective smiles large and wide. He recognized Hyejin and Wheein easily (the former with a disgusted look apparent on her face and the latter with a deep dimple), as they were two friends who were a common occurrence on your feed.

And there you were.

alexa, play congratulations by post malone ft. quavo 🥳🎓 #PHinisheD

The corner of his lip quirked up at the cleverness in your caption.

Perhaps it was because of the alcohol in his system, he swiped up to send a message:

i figured u would be a day6 or eric nam kind of fan

His brain short-circuited.

Shit. Fuck. Shit. Shit. Fuck.

Who was he to think he could directly message you like this? Also, who the hell was he to figure anything about you? He hasn’t even spoken to you. Jesus Christ, what has he done?

Before he could stop himself though, his thumbs decided to speak his thoughts.

sorry that was dumb of me to assume

of course u would like post malone considering u could rap the entirety of eminems album

What the hell, dude.

You were going to freak out and call him a creep and then block him.

You’ve literally never done that.

He tried to calm his heart.

However, not even ten minutes later, he realized he couldn’t take that risk.

sorry that was stupid

ignore me

congrats y/n

He felt nearly every goosebump that crawled along his skin, creeping up to his neck, threatening to choke him out. He breathed in deeply through his nose, hoping no one bears witness to him.

“Yah, Jihoon-ah.”

His eyes trailed up to see Soonyoung with a look of concern, mixed with a twinge of panic and anger.

Ah, it would be him.

“What did she do?”

──────────────────

For people who didn’t know him, Kwon Soonyoung comes off as, well, not-so-bright.

But that wasn’t (entirely) true.

Kwon Soonyoung was aware.

He knew how to read a room, but oftentimes, he would purposely choose to simply do what he wanted anyway. Hardly did he ever prioritize another person’s comfort and complacency over his expression of his individuality. He knew what it took to be a performer, and he never denied himself the opportunity to be one.

So, him simply staring at his friend in silence with eyes that alone could have earned him his moniker of “Tiger’s Gaze,” was a major indicator that something was amiss.

Also, the fact that his friend was shrouded in near darkness, eyes rimmed with red, only a corner lamp illuminating his pale features.

“She went to America. She’s never fucking coming back.”

Soonyoung tried not to wince at his friend’s broken tone. Jihoon cursed like a sailor when they were trainees, but it was a habit that he slowly lost since he would often be reprimanded for his speech. He had to do the work to censor himself.

Well, the K-Pop industry was not a stranger to censorship, he mused.

“Wasn’t she already at an international school, though?”

“Yeah, but I just… I thought she would come back after graduating from that boarding school, you know? She wanted to go to Seoul National University, but. Fuck, dude. What if I’m the reason she stopped? What if she stopped following her dreams because of me? What if I–”

“She made her choice, Jihoon.”

“This is all my fault.”

“How?”

Soonyoung saw confusion flit across Jihoon’s face, but it quickly settled with a shake of his head. “It just is, alright?”

“Jihoon–”

“I’ll never be good enough for her. Fuck, I just thought if I tried, then maybe I could be, and– God, who do I think I am? Of course she’d never want someone like me–”

“Dude! Shut the fuck up, will you?”

Jihoon sat there in stunned silence.

“This might not even have anything to do with you. And if she really went to America because she’s trying to avoid you, then she’s a massive bitch–”

“Don’t fucking call her that–”

“I can do whatever the hell I want. Just like she’s doing whatever the hell she wants.” Soonyoung’s anger was slowly morphing into rage. Who was this person in front of him? He was so used to the sure, secure Lee Jihoon who would never truly get riled up.

But one mention of you and suddenly he would spiral.

Who the hell did you think you were?

Leaving this man who loved you so fucking wildly, to the point where he was just one moment away from begging on his knees for your return.

Soonyoung felt disgusted, but it was more of a ringing concern in his ears.

“Jihoon, you’re acting crazy right now. So what if she doesn’t come back to Korea? Are you gonna wait like a fucking sad dog out in the rain? Hoping that she’ll come pick you up again? You’re missing your own fucking life here.”

“I just–”

“Yeah, yeah, you love her. I get it. But… If she were to see you right now, do you think she would even want this kind of love? This obsessive, insecure kind?”

Jihoon’s face was now contorted in pain and Soonyoung tried so terribly hard to keep his face neutral. Soonyoung was plenty capable of being a soothing person, especially to his fellow members, but he was so riddled with frustration that he knew that he would come off as disingenuous if he even tried to pretend to be.

“Let her go. If she comes back, then she will. But don’t let her come back to someone who is incapable of even picking himself off of the floor.”

“...Okay.”

Kwon Soonyoung was aware.

Aware of how much Lee Jihoon was in love with you.

Painfully so.

──────────────────

“I just–”

“You just what?” Soonyoung’s eyes bore into his friend’s face.

Jihoon recoiled at his tone. “I replied to her Instagram story and it was some dumb comment, but what if she thinks I’m being too much and she backs off and–?”

“Jihoon-ah.”

“...Soonyoung-ah.”

“She’s human, right?”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow at that. “Yeah, no shit.”

“Then why are you acting like she’s this untouchable goddess? Who cares if she thinks you’re being too much? You’re putting her on a pedestal she probably doesn’t even want, dude.”

──────────────────

“Why’d you reject the guy?”

You glanced up at her best friend. “What’re you talking about?”

Jihoon cocked his head to the side. Was it already so quickly forgotten by you? It happened at lunch and it was kind of rowdy. Poor dude. “The guy who asked you out to the dance. You said you thought he was cute before and that he was good at tutoring math.”

“Yeah, I might know him, but he doesn’t know me.”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow. “I thought you guys tutored together.”

You clicked your tongue. “Yeah, we do, but. He doesn’t know me. I know him because I ask him questions. I ask him about himself. But he never once asked me a question about me. If he did, he would know that I hate public gestures. He would know that I don’t like receiving flowers. He didn’t even care to ask any of my friends about what I liked. The main reason as to why he asked me to go to the dance is probably because I made him feel good about himself. I might know him, but he doesn’t know me, and that’s one of the most annoying things.”

“What, that people don’t know you?”

“No. That people assume they know me.”

Jihoon paused for a moment.

“People think that I’m this super wholesome good kid who gets perfect grades.”

“Well, one of those things is true.”

You cracked a smile at that. “Yeah, well. The more people assume I’m on a different level from them, the lonelier it is. I just… I don’t want to be lonely, Jihoon.”

“It’s alright. I’ll make sure you aren’t.”

It was chilling, how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, as if you knew a secret he didn’t, as if you already prophesied a future that rendered his words empty. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Lee Jihoon.”

──────────────────

Jihoon nearly bit his tongue.

Ever since he no longer had the security of having you be by his side, he became exactly like one of them, forcing assumptions onto you.

You were out of sight and he was out of his mind.

He told you that you could always be yourself around him, and here he was, creating a caricature of you in his head that he knew didn’t exist. To push forth the narrative he wrote. One born of insecurity. “...I don’t understand how you’ve been so right lately?”

“I really do wish I had my phone around to record you when you say that,” Soonyoung said off-handedly. “So, you’re not going to try to unsend those messages?”

“You can unsend messages?”

“Uh–”

Jihoon immediately unlocked his phone to go to his messages. There, he saw your chat. He long-pressed the message without much thought and his thumb hovered over it.

But he hesitated.

“...Just watching from afar isn’t enough for you anymore, is it?”

Jihoon stared up at his friend, who had a look of (almost) pity etched across his features. Jihoon swallowed the lump in his throat. “...No. I don’t think it is.”

“Well, if she rejects you in any kind of way, I can comfort you.”

“No thanks.”

“Yeah, thought you’d say that.”

──────────────────

Almost exactly sixty minutes later, Jihoon witnessed a miracle.

“...She replied.”

Seungkwan glanced up at Jihoon. “Who?”

Jihoon turned his screen to his younger member, who leaned forward to read his screen. Only to audibly gasp and cover his mouth with his hands. “You messaged her?!”

“Yeah, like an hour ago. Keep up.”

“Hyung, you didn’t tell me–”

“Ah, Boo Seungkwan.”

The corner of Seungkwan’s mouth twitched and Jihoon merely smirked. He turned his attention back to your messages, smiling fondly at your usage of 🥳 after greeting him a happy anniversary.

Oh shit, wait. You knew SEVENTEEN?

And he portrayed that sentiment exactly when messaging you.

(With some typing errors.)

(He may or may not have taken one, two, several shots once the anxiety settled back into him.)

(His alcohol tolerance was nonexistent.)

The messages were now rapid-fire. He found out that you were a Carat and that you favored Yoon Jeonghan.

He snorted at that, of course you would.

A lightbulb lit up over his head. Ah. He could do something for you.

He jumped up from his seat on the couch, away from Seungkwan who was watching over his shoulder the entire time who chose to remain silent because he knew he would be kicked out if he said anything compromising. “Jeonghan-hyung.”

“Woozi Woozi~?”

“Can you do something for me?”

Jeonghan stared at him, frozen. Then after a moment to process what exactly Jihoon said, the older one crossed his arms over his chest, a scandalized look in his wide eyes. “Depends on what you’re asking for.”

“YAH.”

“Lee Jihoon, don’t yell at someone you’re trying to ask a favor from. You’re lucky I’m a nice guy.”

Jihoon held his tongue, but his expression must have given it away because Jeonghan laughed and said that he would rather not die, and asked Jihoon to continue with what he was saying. “Y/N just graduated and she basically said that you’re her favorite SEVENTEEN member–”

“WOW! I like her already.”

“Hyung.”

“Okay, what do you want me to do for both my cute fan and my even cuter dongsaeng?”

“Just a video to congratulate her.”

“My videos are rare, it’s not easy to get something like this, you know.”

“Hyung, please.”

Jeonghan cackled, but quickly acquiesced. “Alright, alright.”

Soon enough, he found himself in a rhythm speaking to you. It was so easy, there was no residual awkwardness (on his end, at least) and it felt so natural. The banter was still there and so were your emoticons, escalating from the “:)” of your childhood to the iPhone emojis. You seemed so close, within reach, attainable.

That felt dangerous.

He could feel it. He could feel that desire to spill out everything he could. He spent years coming up with the words he wished he could’ve told you, some of them now award-winning songs, and it feels almost euphoric to know that he could tell you it all.

But.

He wasn’t sure, still. How receptive you would be. Would you run away like you did in the past whenever things became too much, too overwhelming? He always reminded you that you could never be that, but he wasn’t sure whether he was of the same capacity.

He wants you in his life. There is no doubt about that, especially not now.

But what if you leave again?

He cannot mess this up. He can’t.

So, he kept things light between you, jokes and jabs.

But that didn’t stop him from pushing for more, disguised in a (not-so) innocent attempt at ensuring that he would be able to have open contact with you in the future.

And that’s all he needed. A future with you in it.

That wasn’t too much to ask for, right?

──────────────────

Yes. Yes, it was.

After a few days of no response from your end on KakaoTalk, your Shikamaru profile picture almost mocking him with his permanent deadpan look, the answer was resounding.

But Jihoon’s entire identity was based on his stubbornness.

So, he decided to take a chance and message you on Instagram.

Only to retract immediately saying you didn’t have to reply.

Stupid.

Thankfully, though, you responded within 30 minutes, admitting that @narutofanfreak123 was not exactly a username you wanted to share with anyone above the age of twelve. You both quickly resolved the miscommunication (wow, Jihoon thought, imagine if we had this before).

He chuckled at your choice of KKT username, @MadameFirefly, oddly touched that his nickname for you still held enough weight to be your moniker for a messaging app.

He did his best to casually ask what you were planning on doing in the future (not like he wanted to see if he could somehow fit into it, or whatever).

Jihoon was left staring at his phone screen, the weight of his phone now burdened by the weight of your choices. Seoul? Or New York City?

──────────────────

“You didn’t have to miss the dance just because I got a B on an exam, you know.”

“Your parents are insane for grounding you to the library for a B on an exam, you know? And for a hagwon that’s way above our grade level.”

You shook your head, not willing to admit out loud that you agreed. “What I mean is that you don’t have to keep me company while I study when you could go off and meet cute girls and sweep them off their feet.”

“Why would I do that when I can watch you and your snot-nosed face trying to do college level calculus?”

“It’s all so that I can get into Seoul National.”

“Firefly, you could get into any school, even outside Korea.”

“Maybe I’ll do just that,” you laughed. “Finally get out of here.”

“Just let me know and I’ll stow myself into your suitcase.”

“Oh please. You’ll probably be the one traveling internationally doing whatever you do. A world-renowned musician.”

“Alright, you can be in my suitcase instead then.”

“Okay, can you leave breathing holes for me?”

“No, get better lung capacity.”

You clicked your tongue at him and he laughed. “Seriously, though, Jihoonie. You could be spending your teen years the way the movies do it. You could be ‘swearing you’re infinite’ while a slow-mo cam focuses on you as you dance, surrounded by beautiful people definitely too old to be cast as teenagers.”

“No thanks.”

You put your forehead down onto the table. “Please. Do it for me. Get a girlfriend because I can’t.”

“You know, you’re probably why I can’t get a girlfriend.”

No. You definitely were.

You shot him an annoyed look. “You could easily go and find someone who’d be smitten with you. But instead you’re about to watch me get a nosebleed over how hard I’m working my brain here.”

“Maybe I’m a sadist and want to watch that happen.”

You threw your eraser at him, but easily missed, the rubber object bouncing off of the table and onto the carpeted floor. You whined at the idea of having to leave your seat and Jihoon just rolled his eyes and picked it up for you.

Sure, he could be dancing with his friends, with cute girls, with whoever. He could be surrounded by endless snacks and overly sweet punch, the dance no doubt smelling like youth and pride and reckless decisions. He would see that there are plenty of people in his life outside of you.

But, no.

If he did, you would be left here, in this almost deserted library on a Friday, pouring blood, sweat, and tears into what your parents have convinced you matters more than your health.

You gave him a large grin as he passed you your eraser before you went back to focusing on your work.

Yeah, he’d much rather see this instead.

──────────────────

Later that evening, he found himself again in his recording studio.

Our past that didn’t line up,

If I could go back in time,

Rather than roughly, but warmly,

Would I be able to let you go?

He stared at the lyrics he wrote, feeling discontent. He wanted to be the kind of person who didn’t feel any kind of residual emotions towards you. Who would be able to meet you where you were and wish you well, no matter where you decided to go.

One of his biggest regrets was storming out of your childhood home the way that he did. He could’ve had answers but instead he was left with hostile emotions and questions.

He could only hope he would’ve done something different.

But now that he is faced with letting you go, he’s not sure how easily he would yield.

He took a moment to bury his face in his hands and tried to think about this from your perspective (something he had to practice while living with twelve other boys). He breathed in deeply and thought about the you that you are now, about how the person he fell in love with could easily be gone, and you were nothing but a shadow of what remained.

But that didn’t feel right either. It seems as though the person that you’ve grown into, that you’ve flourished into, is someone he would’ve wanted to get to know regardless of whether you had history or not.

Perhaps that is because of the artifice of social media, or perhaps it’s because you carry an air of authenticity with you that has now been given the opportunity to bloom instead of stifled in the environment you were raised in. Whether or not you were mere remnants of his past, it does not mean that the person you are now is any less lovely.

He groaned loudly.

Emotional labor is hard.

How is this something you enjoy doing?

──────────────────

“You really want to become a social worker, huh?”

You shrugged. “I mean, yeah. It feels like the best use of my skills. I like being able to potentially help people like me and well, there are a lot of people like me, you know. I don’t know whether I want to become a private practice therapist, but that seems like a solid option for now until I know more about what else is out there in the field.”

He would disagree, but he decided not to. “I just can’t deal with all of those emotions.”

You gave him a raised eyebrow. “What are you talking about? You’re one of the most sensitive people that I know.”

Jihoon felt ruffled by that. “What? What are you talking about?”

You quickly put your hands up in mock defense. “I’m not saying that being sensitive is a bad thing. I’m saying that there’s no way you would be my friend if you couldn’t handle emotions. I have way too many of them, I’m not that blind to that. Also, I’ve read your poetry and heard your music and that’s some of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard. Like, even the way you hold your clarinet is emotional.”

“I think that’s you projecting yourself onto me.”

“Say what you want, Jihoon. You’re a sensitive soul, but I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

“Yeah, well, sensitivity isn’t what gets you awards, you know. Skill does.”

You huffed in response. “Yeah, well, once you build up the second, the first is what will create a legacy that will be one to remember for ages to come. I’m speaking it into existence now. And I lay claim to the title of being your first fan. I will support you the entire way, no matter what you do. Music, baseball, comedy. Whatever!”

Jihoon snorted. He wouldn’t dare become a comedian, but it made him feel good that you thought that was a viable prospect for him. “Whatever industry I’m in, I’ll probably have to protect you from all of the bad people. You’re too soft. Even just last week, I mean…”

“What? You mean, when Nahyun made fun of me during my presentation in front of everyone?”

Irritation washed over Jihoon. 

The self-proclaimed It Girl decided to try and belittle you while in the middle of your presentation, as you were explaining the measurements that you used in your findings, she asked whether you had ‘measured’ your weight recently because ‘you really ought to’.

He never wanted to get into a fight more than then, especially when your other classmates laughed along. It was a subpar, typical, low-class mean girl line, but it filled him with rage.

You were completely unphased by it, continuing on with your presentation, not even choosing to spare a glance in her direction.

Luckily, the teacher, not being a prick himself, called out Nahyun and pulled her aside after class to apologize to you. (Jihoon would’ve preferred a public execution apology.)

Jihoon stood just a few feet away as you accepted her half-assed effort. You paused for a moment and muttered something to her, something that only she could hear. Nahyun merely pursed her lips afterwards before walking away. Irritation rushed through him again.

“Seriously, though. You’re too soft, firefly.”

“Hm. I don’t think so.”

“No?”

“No. I just think everyone else is too hard on themselves. And each other.”

“...You’re gonna be a great therapist.”

“Thanks. Hire me.”

──────────────────

Jihoon had his own fair share of meetings with professional counselors (especially in the midst of living such a hectic life as an idol), but he was worried whether you would be as cut and dry as they were, whittled down by years of academia. It seemed almost like they were reading out of a textbook, using vocabulary words like ‘empathy’ and ‘self-care,’ so he never saw it fit to return if it wasn’t necessary.

However, the places you’ve poured your time into left only glowing reviews for your passion and compassion for the field that you were in.

Jihoon was roused from his thoughts at his phone ringing on his desk. He looked at the Caller ID and saw a name he has been in and out of contact with for over a decade, it was your cousin. He picked it up. “Yo, hyung. What’s up?”

“Are you busy right now, Jihoon?”

“No. It’s a slower day today. Do you need something?”

“Yeah, just wanted to let you know that I’ll be in Seoul in a few weeks. Your noona and I are planning on celebrating saying goodbye to our single days by drinking way too much within the span of 12 or so hours. I wanted to see if you were down to join.”

“I probably won’t drink, but if it’s for you, hyung, I’ll go.”

“Nice. And you can feel free to leave after the dinner, we’ll just be at an apartment we’re renting out in Gangnam, since I don’t trust those fools to walk around the streets of Hongdae.”

“I’ll probably do that, I don't want to accidentally be caught by Dispatch.”

“Right, right. We wouldn’t want to sully the name of the best producer in all of K-Pop.”

“That’s a title I don’t think I’ll ever get.”

Your cousin laughed. “You never know, you might get that award sooner than you think, kiddo. Alright, I’ll keep you updated on our schedule. But uh…”

Jihoon knew his hyung well. He was about to bring you up again. “What about her?”

“I just wanted to ask whether you’d be interested in a meet-up with her. Not that we’ve asked her or anything, but I know we’ll probably meet up with her at some point, and I know it’ll feel weird if we’re not all together, you know? The four of us.”

“Yeah… I want to say that I’m courteous enough to wait for her response, but I just know that I’m willing to meet with her, if anything. Even just one last time.”

“That… sounds kinda sad, but. I guess I’ll take it. If you’re down, we could even make it a surprise on her end.”

He imagined your deer in headlights look but couldn’t think further than that. “Sounds like we’d really be putting her on the spot, if that was the case.”

“Hey, she’s rarely played it safe. Same with you. Might as well keep the flow going. And if anything, I’ll take the brunt of it all. She can’t stay mad at me for too long.”

“We both know that’s literally not true.”

“Okay, fine. Your noona can take the blame.”

“Wow, very excited to see how this marriage will go.”

His hyung laughed. “Amazingly, I’m sure.”

A thought occurred to Jihoon and he realized it was strange that he was mentioning it as an afterthought, as if it was something to be expected, something natural and normal. “Oh, hyung. By the way, I’m talking to Y/N again.”

Jihoon heard the undeniable ‘beep beep beep’ of being hung up and he stared confused at his phone screen until he saw another phone call from your cousin. He picked up with a, “Hello?”

Your cousin sounded much more flustered than he did just seconds ago. “Sorry. I hung up because I dropped my phone by accident. Say that again. You’re what?”

“I’m talking to her again. Kind of. I guess. Like, Instagram DMing went to KakaoTalk.”

“Jesus Christ, you slid into her DMs?”

“Can you not say it like that?”

“Can you say that that didn’t happen?”

Jihoon relayed the entire experience to him, only now realizing he didn’t even share all of the details with his members because it would’ve been too much teasing fodder from them. But your cousin, his hyung, was the kind of fellow that wouldn’t do that, even given the opportunity.

──────────────────

“Hyung,” Jihoon started one day, across from said person in a local Busan restaurant. “I don’t get how you’re single.”

“Why, you wanna date me?”

Jihoon’s eye twitched and your cousin laughed. Jihoon bit on his straw, the family style meal between the two young men long since devoured. “People compare us, you know.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “What’s there to compare?”

“I don’t know. So many people around us know how cool you are. You’re good at sports, you’re smart, you have a lot of friends, you’re handsome. Everyone always says you’re one of the best listeners they’ve ever met.”

“The trick is to not pay attention sometimes and just nod.”

“I’m gonna tell Y/N you said that.”

“I’m sure she knows,” he laughed. “Well, I'm honored that you think all of those things, but those are all traits you have too. You do realize that, right?”

Jihoon grunted. “Not… really.”

“Well, just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean others don’t. My cousin definitely does. She’s a good kid and has a good heart. Same with you. If you ever decide to do anything about those feelings of yours, just know that I approve.”

Jihoon nearly choked on his drink. “Wh–?”

“Oh, it was a secret?”

“Hyung!”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t say anything to her, don’t worry. And if you ask me, I’d say that you’re the only one on this planet that even has a chance. Well, except that girl from the cake shop.”

Jihoon sneered.

Fucking Woo Soyeon.

With her shiny hair and long eyelashes and doe eyes and tanned skin from her beach volleyball playing.

Giving out discounts to you like nobody’s business. Calling you cute and flirting nonstop while twirling a lock of her hair. Saying you’re her favorite customer. He could swear Woo Soyeon would throw a knowing smirk at him every time you stuttered a little too long when saying thank you.

That damned girl behind the counter, the one whose beauty and voice (“It’s just so velvety, you know? Like the chocolate cherry cakes.”) he knew you were smitten by.

She was even taller than him, especially in her heels.

At the ripe age of 15, Jihoon understood what jealousy was.

Because of fucking Woo Soyeon.

“Watch out, Jihoon. I can hear your thoughts all the way from over here.”

“Sorry.”

Your cousin laughed. “Trust me, you mean a lot more to her than cake counter girl. My cousin wanted all of us to go see the Christmas lights in the city together. You don’t see her inviting that cake counter girl, do you?”

Jihoon felt a weird sense of pride well up in his chest. Then immediately deflated. It felt stupid to feel like he won against a person who’s just trying to sell cakes to a loyal customer. “Hyung, how do you do it? You’d never let yourself get angry or jealous over stuff like this.”

The older of the two cocked an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“You wouldn’t get jealous over a cake counter girl.”

“Says who? I get jealous. It’s normal, you know. Jealousy isn’t inherently a bad thing. It’s just what you do with it, right? Like, just because you’re jealous of cake counter girl, does that mean you stop Y/N from going to that shop?”

“What? Why would I do that? She loves that shop.”

“Exactly. Emotional maturity doesn’t mean you stop yourself from feeling the emotion, it just means you learn how to handle it as it comes. And once you practice it enough, it becomes easier and easier.”

“You make it sound easy, but it’s not.”

“Hey, I’m not anything big and special myself.”

Jihoon shook his head. “Hyung, you’re a superhuman.”

“No, I’m just human and letting myself be that,” he corrected. “Trust me, there’s plenty of good people out there. A lot of them just aren’t making the decision to do so. It’s easier to be cruel, but. I want to prove that you can be kind and still be a man. We get to define what that means. If I decided to be cruel, to become what society says is ‘a man,’ then I have no doubt Y/N would lose trust in me, and probably, all men.”

Jihoon noticed that his hyung stared at him for a second.

“Actually, maybe not all men.”

Jihoon felt embarrassed, but also honored, at the implication. “Thanks, hyung. You know, for not making fun of me. And for admitting that you also feel those kinds of things.”

“Absolutely, I’m glad I could help.”

“I’m seriously still surprised that you’re single.”

“Yeah, well. That might not always be the case if I can figure out what to do.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well… you know your noona?”

──────────────────

Jihoon couldn’t help but shake his head at the way the events unfolded. Your cousin told him about his feelings for his future wife, but it still took a few years for anything to come out of that. He wondered whether being childhood friends had anything to do with it, as if the longer and deeper the bond, the riskier the chasm was to try to jump across.

However, your cousin still managed to do it.

“How did you do it, hyung?”

“Hm? What’s up?”

“Just… how did you manage to tell noona how you felt?”

The older man laughed. “You really think that it was me who confessed? No, no. It was her. I think she was tired of the back and forth that was happening between us. I mean, so was I, but I was a coward, but thankfully, she wasn’t. Now because of her saying that she loved me first, I get to be the one who says it last. Then we start again. It’s a dialogue, you see. It doesn’t matter who starts the line, as long as it continues.”

“Oh…”

“Am I proud that I was a coward? No. I sometimes wish it was me who said it first so she wouldn’t have any room for doubt. But we can’t go back and change the past, only commit to a better future. All of this to say, though, Jihoon, it’s been long enough of not saying anything between the two of you. I don’t think you want to wait any longer.”

“…yeah. I agree.”

That night, hours after preparing for the album, Jihoon’s fingers tapped away on his Notes app.

This waiting, it’s not easy to endure.

It was past 4am now.

But he didn’t want to wait any longer.

So, he switched apps and instead of a blank Note, he began typing into a message box.

i know its late. rehearsal never ends until 3am and i know that when u get texts you wake up even if ur phone is on silent bc the vibration wakes u up so im trying to type this all in one message so that it doesnt wake u up (hopefully) but i didnt want it to seem like i left u on read because i was upset or something. but i didnt want to message until i had the time to have a full conversation but i dont think thats happening any time soon anyway. when you see this i hope it makes sense im not sure if i am

A response from you was the last thing he expected, but you always managed to surprise him.

The first time he heard your voice directly in his ears, he thought he was going to spontaneously combust. But he tried to keep his voice level as he asked you about where you were leaning towards for your career.

The relief that rushed through him.

The hope that ignited in him.

That was the spark needed for him to explode.

And so he did, into words.

“I’m proud of you, you know?”

He heard your throaty stutter, one that only came out whenever you were really caught off guard. “Uh—what?”

“You got a whole ass PhD. From the best university in Korea,” Jihoon still couldn’t believe the two of you went to the same school. “You got offered a job at a super big school in America. One that’s super big in the field that you studied. You graduated from an even school for undergrad, a school that even I know the name of. And just… I know that people expect you to achieve because you’ve always been a genius, always so brilliant, but. You also work really hard. So I’m proud of you.”

He could barely hear your, “It’s not that big of a deal—” over the pounding in his ears.

“But it is, firefly.”

And suddenly he was brought back to all the years before. Where he spent more years in love with you than not. How that nickname encapsulated exactly as he saw you: inspiration, guidance, hope.

“I mean, I just—”

Your flustered response only encouraged him to continue. “You don’t have to believe me. But that won’t stop me from feeling it.”

“Jihoon, I—”

He didn’t realize just how much he’s missed hearing you say his name. But more than that, “I’ve missed you.”

There was a pause on your end, but he was done with his.

“I’ve missed you a stupid amount. Like us stealing your dad’s car to drive to McDonald’s at 3am and then running a red light on the way there. And then somehow almost hitting an entire flock of seagulls—” which he would never admit to being the reason he never wants to get behind the wheel again. “And then going to some random, deserted parking lot. And then realizing we didn’t know the way home, so we drove aimlessly, for, like, 45 minutes. And then panicking when we kept seeing the gas needle going down. That kind of stupid.”

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why he was naming a memory that you no doubt remember as well, it was near traumatizing. But there was something in him that didn’t want you to forget. He didn’t want himself to forget. Because…

If I forget someday, as if nothing is wrong,

Our future will be empty and sad.

It’s not that I want to forget you.

Ah, he made a mental note to switch to his Notes app later.

“I… I missed you too.”

Jihoon couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his cheeks, almost to the point of straining them. It was already so late and he still had enough function in his brain to know he ought to cut this short now. Otherwise, he’d be on the phone with you for an ungodly amount of time. “I have to sleep now, but. I just. I couldn’t not tell you. That’s all.”

“Okay.” Your voice sounded so small, he had to press his phone closer to his ear to ensure he didn’t miss anything.

“Get some sleep, firefly. Or should I call you, Dr. Firefly now?”

“That sounds like a cartoon villain.”

He laughed hard at that. You would say that. “Alright, we’ll just go with firefly then.”

‘We’ felt good on his tongue.

“Night, night, Jihoonie.”

“Sleep well, firefly.”

He told you he needed to sleep, but with the way that he was running on sheer endorphins from finally releasing some of that pressure inside of him, sleep was the furthest thing on his mind. Instead, he imagined you getting some well-deserved rest, wondering what kind of dreams you hoped to have.

You were falling asleep, he was falling in love.

──────────────────

In less than 24 hours, he was going to see you in person for the first time in years, no more needing to find YouTube videos or podcasts or news articles or social media posts.

Tomorrow, he’ll be face to face with you.

And the dorm was in chaos.

“He should wear the white button down!”

“No, he should wear something funky, with cool patterns!”

“What? Absolutely not, hyung! Jihoon-hyung looks best in plain clothing, his skin shines that way!”

“Well, he’s been avoiding his skincare, so that might not be the best route to go down.”

“Hoon is handsome no matter what!”

Jihoon was exhausted. Why were his members more invested in this than he was?

Even Soonyoung was getting giddy. And that was a problem. When it came to you, Soonyoung was his voice of reason, but after he relayed the phone call he had with you, Soonyoung was easily won over by your: ‘I missed you too.’

“I knew it!” The tiger had exclaimed.

(Jihoon wasn’t sure whether he did.)

Junhui was thriving off of the chaos and was now leaping across the wooden floor, with Jeonghan quickly on his tail, trying to coerce him into stopping and failing miserably. Seokmin was still trying to convince Seungkwan that a funky pattern was like how, in nature, peacocks showed off to their mates—“he’s not a bird, hyung!”—while Soonyoung kept interjecting saying that Jihoon was attractive no matter what so he could just wear a plastic bag (which earned him a gentle slap by Seokmin). Mingyu disappeared for a moment after Wonwoo’s off-handed comment about Jihoon’s skin, only to return with his skincare products that Jihoon knew were going to be slapped on him soon enough. Seungcheol kept repeating in an exasperated tone, “Stop fighting, we already got a noise complaint this week,” while Jisoo and Minghao were probably off in Jihoon’s closet trying to establish an outfit for him without his consent. Hansol was on his phone, noise-canceling earphones on, completely uninvolved in what was going on. Chan was only goading on whoever was the loudest in the moment (currently, Junhui).

Jihoon piped up. “Do I get an opinion on this?”

In near perfect synchronization (including the boys in his room), everyone responded with a, “No!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

God, tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

[continue reading here]

[strayingawayy]

GET TO KNOW ME !

thank you sweethearts for the tag! @www-hanverse @knowbites @catiuskaa

WHAT’S THE ORIGIN OF YOUR BLOG TITLE?

it was the name of my old blog as well so jfkskddj i honestly don't remember how i came up w/ it originally. probably just bc it was a stray kids blog and my creative juices were just. thriving. (this is sarcastic. i am having to say it because one cannot comprehend sarcasm through text)

FAVOURITE FANDOMS?

i have been in so many but ive probably been in naruto, cowboy bebop and hozier's for 5-10 years and have very little complaints from my end so yes

OTP(s)

i did not know what this was for a minute. but in the context of stray kids, minsung. and in the context of stayblr, me and my hoe @hyunebunx

FAVOURITE COLOUR?

fuck idk man. im happy with browns and greens and blues and everything on the earth

FAVOURITE GAME?

OHOHOHOHHHO NOW THAT IS GONNA SEND ME DOWN A RABBIT HOLE. hmm. hades (both parts) , child of light (a childhood favourite ok), psychonauts, bioshock, gris, trine and so many other games i don't wanna get started bc i'll just sound like a nerd but shout out to hay day, and poh which kept me, my sister and grandmother so fucking entertained. also does anybody remember those windows games like purble place and stuff...oh and baby hazel bro. wtf. also i fucking love chess and scrabble and monopoly

SONG STUCK IN YOUR HEAD?

so so many but pink pony club and silver springs is really in there rn.

WEIRDEST HABIT/TRAIT?

i can't really think of the specific ones right now but i have a weird habit of having a scent on the basis of every outing. like if we're going out partying then probably a nice cologne but if we're going to a cafe, maybe something vanilla, if we're going to buy plants, probably a woody floral scent. im not rich enough for the big sized scents lol, just small ones. also super into planners and stuff. i even plan breakdowns.

HOBBIES?

yes. (cooking, baking, reading and editing, dancing, theatre, singing, playing bass, debating, writing, riding [like scooters and bikes and stuff pls], calligraphy, improvisation and freestyle dancing, trekking, candle collecting, performing in general, i think I missed something here-)

IF YOU WORK, WHAT IS YOUR PROFESSION?

i do a lot of editing stuff here and there, performing at gigs and theatre productions, so there's that. nothing major at the moment though.

IF YOU COULD HAVE ANY JOB YOU WISH, WHAT WOULD IT BE?

ah. fuck. i really wanted to be a professor in music history or something and teach during the day and run a little cafe w/ my lover once i return till the night. have it open as like a night time situation too where students can study people can chill, confess, have quizzes for sheer whimsy, just exist in general at all hours.

SOMETHING YOU’RE GOOD AT?

im not particularly good at anything. i just do a lot of things and am average at them and above average at a selected few.

SOMETHING YOU’RE BAD AT?

lately, everything im supposed to be good at.

SOMETHING YOU LOVE?

not many things. my mother, some of my friends , spring and autumn, childhood homes and memories, my two older brothers, when the sun falls in certain ways, music and movement. i think love is a strong word which im not fond of using so easily.

SOMETHING YOU COULD TALK ABOUT FOR HOURS OFF THE CUFF?

anything and everything, if the chai lasts long enough. but movies, history, basslines, saxophone solos, jim morrison, my mother , in particular.

SOMETHING YOU HATE?

not much. it's a bit of a drag to hate things.

SOMETHING YOU COLLECT?

candles, rings, nail polish, earrings, random small boxes, pebbles, diaries, mangas (they're too expensive for me now though HFJSJD)

SOMETHING YOU FORGET?

because of these fucking medicines , EVERYTHING as of late.

WHAT’S YOUR LOVE LANGUAGE?

acts of service and quality time. physical touch is very limited and really depends on the amount of alcohol in my stomach, or how good the music is around us.

FAVOURITE MOVIE/SHOW?

can't pick but off the top of my head, cowboy bebop, nacho libre, all ghibli movies, the godfather series, how to make millions before grandma dies, schitts creek, derry girls, aavesham and more south asian/ asian movies and a couple animes and of course, naruto.

FAVOURITE FOOD?

im not very picky but thukpa, pasta and any good vegetables and daal. and lots of chai and coffee and tiramisu.

FAVOURITE ANIMALS?

doggies :)))))

ARE YOU MUSICAL?

it's a potential career and im finishing a diploma in classical music so yeah....i hope so....

WHAT WERE YOU LIKE AS A CHILD?

just a little dude who thought planting leaves would grow trees and kept running after his big brothers. very giggly and family entertainment (we really didn't need a tv. no, seriously. we didnt have a tv)

FAVOURITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL?

history. music.

LEAST FAVOURITE SUBJECT?

anything science and computer related (even tho i was good at the latter)

WHAT’S YOUR BEST CHARACTER TRAIT?

none. im just sarcastic and listen when people wanna talk

WHAT’S YOUR WORST CHARACTER TRAIT?

i can be a prick if i want to be. also biting off more than i can chew

IF YOU COULD CHANGE ANY DETAIL OF YOUR DAY RIGHT NOW, WHAT WOULD IT BE?

i wish i was sleeping rn.

IF YOU COULD TRAVEL IN TIME, WHO WOULD YOU LIKE TO MEET?

just kinda rest my head on my grandmother's lap and let her sing to me a while longer.

FIC RECS?

anything under the tag #fic recs from sho 💫

tagging sweethearts: @hyunebunx @jeonginsleftcheek @jisunggy @bbokicidal @imfoive @hwajin @moon-ttokki-x @centralization0 @zenlackszen @ashracha

[t-the-ring-master]

Know what ya’ll, its Mermay, I’ve done nothing for it due to not having the energy… so here’s an OC drabble on one of my OC’s ya’ll have never heard of, EVERYONE! MEET AARON!

Hang on, gotta start this thing right.

Oh, and I imagine reader to be female but I never mention it. And it’s kinda platonic anyways so safe for anyone to read honestly.

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Oc Drabble! Mermay addition!

Requests: closed

Asks: open

Tag list: none

Tw: cannibalism, mentions of eating people and other merfolk/humans. Bro is a trader lol. He talks about eating other creatures a lot. He likes to lore drop like crazy and over share… me too Aaron, me too. There is a human mentioned to be drowning but bro lived. I’m my own beta reader right now, bear with me please. He’s normally way more aggressive but I wanted him to be a bit more toned down since this interaction takes place a few months after you meet.

Aaron is a very large transparent fish type creature so erm… yeah he creepy. I’ve been into subnautica again so I guess you can count him as an alien fish thing? I’m gonna make this an x reader because I can. This will take place on an alien planet, although originally he used to just be a deepsea merman. Enjoy! If you have any questions or ideas for him, my asks are open! He will also become a requestable OC soon too!

I don’t know how to accurately describe his size within the story, so for reference, he is about as large as young adult male humpback whale. Bro big.

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Your crew and yourself had set off on a voyage around six years ago now. Your mission unclear, as well as if or when you’d ever return to earth.

Although, it seems the answer is now going to be never with the situation you’ve found yourself in. Your crew, your ship, and most supplies are now all gone. Now stuck on an ocean like planet with just little material left to work with. Although, there has been one “helpful” face in this.

An odd, and very large alien like creature that refers to himself as Aaron.

He is huge, completely see through, reminding you of the type of fish that cause nightmares, having an anglers lure resting on his forehead, fins residing on his ears, neck, leading down his spine and some smaller ones on his more human like arms.

His sharp teeth although similar to his body were more bone like, although thin and razor sharp, and sitting within two rows. His hair… wasn’t exactly hair either, it instead reminded you of a jellyfish or the type of organisms that created one larger one, giving him long and oddly iridescent hair, constantly draping his form.

Due to him being basically see through, he seemed scrawny at a distance, but in reality he was incredibly strong, and he liked to show it off.

You had met him when you had first set out into open water in a spare dingy you had found in the escape pod. Running into a group of more hostile aquatic creatures, more animal like. You assumed you were done for until you felt something ripple the boat underneath and watched as the pod vanished deeper into the water one by one. After about a half hour of it, that’s when he appeared picking his teeth with his long claws like he just finished a large plate at a buffet.

“My my, I haven’t eaten that well in months! Gulpers aren’t my first choice of meal usually but beggars can’t be choosers… Now, let’s see what we have here. A client, or food.”

The beast said, lowering himself to get a good look at the dingy with just you on board, scared out of your mind that you were going to be his next meal.

“Oh! A human! And a living one at that, last one I saw was already picked off by snatchers!.

I suppose it’s rude to you if I don’t properly introduce myself. You can call me Aaron, a more human name I was given years ago from another human. I am your local ‘lethal class’ creature, but I have also been called a merman, or merfolk by some. Apparently it’s the closest you can get to describe what I am to you people.”

Aaron said, lowering himself down deeper into the water, now only being just above his waist out the water.

“You must have some questions, so I’ll make this quick. No I don’t sing and lure sailors to drown, I’m not from your world. I speak your language because I was taught, you aren’t the only human who has washed up on this forsaken planet.

I was named Aaron by some little kid way back when, don’t remember her much but she was with another alien some years back for supplies. (hehe, story lore. He is loosely connected to baby on board) I’m a trader or a seller of sorts, I give supplies for trade or payment.”

The introduction to your ‘friend’ was definitely a strange one, that is for sure.

He made it clear he wasn’t too much of a threat within that conversation, but it didn’t hide the off handed comments and hints he wasn’t against eating humans… or his own kind later down the line during your first meeting. Apparently he was very much the type to eat humans or even other more sentient beings should they annoy him or no longer become of interest… which is probably why you now trade with him often, like you were right now.

“Are you sure you don’t have anything like this Aaron?”

“I’m sure pipsqueak. I’ve even been around the wreak and I haven’t found anything like what’s on the little drawing you are showing me. My best guess is that Gupper swallowed or ate whatever part you are looking for near that wreckage ages ago.

If it fits in their mouth it’s gone. I’d go deeper but with it being pairing season, creatures are far more territorial and even I won’t mess with a creature starting their nests or protecting their new young.

I’ll look through more pod wreaks if I find any, but there’s no guarantee. I’m too big to fit in the more cramped areas, so I can’t exactly search any that landed in shallows.”

Aaron explained, leaning on a small piece of a moving island.

Shockingly, he was always honest with his product and would even try and look for things for you. Offering to explore depths you wouldn’t dare to, or sometimes offering to simply retrieve things for free if they weren’t too out of the way.

“No, Aaron, that’s alright. I’m sure I can find the parts I need to make one. I’m just really sick of having to filter water a little bit at a time…”

“Hey, I actually have a question. How come I haven’t seen any other creatures like you around? I’ve been meaning to ask, but I just didn’t want to bring it up in case…”

You ask, genuinely interested. You had been stranded on planet for a while now, at least roughly four months. The closest thing you had encountered to him was simply a sound he -albeit, higher pitched- makes when he was distressed before hearing an abrupt stop to it.

“It was a sore spot? Not in the slightest!” He exclaimed almost happily.

“It’s simple really, we have our own territory. We aren’t pod creatures normally unless it’s our mates and young. And even then, young sometimes leave and don’t return to their parents to establish their own territory.

Any of my kind wouldn’t be near by because most this area aside from past the deep depths are all my territory. If you see any, it won’t be for long since I’ll have chased them off or made an easy meal out of em. I’m the largest of my kind from my most recent knowledge, so they are easy pickings.

I also don’t have a cave system here, which means it wouldn’t be safe to have a pod, or young anyways.”

“Ohhh, that makes sense… the fact you speak so easily about eating your own kind is concerning.”

Aaron simply laughed, lowering his head onto his fist. Due to the weather changing into the colder months, his translucent skin had started to become more purple, and his heartbeat slower.(which was strange, because you could actively see his heart.) it seemed he was more tired than usual.

His top fin, which resided in the middle of his head flopped over to his left side as he tilt his head so his glowing pupils could look even deeper into your soul.

“That’s just our life cycle. In fact, it isn’t uncommon for siblings to even fight over their parents own territory should they not be close. Sometimes we make bonds and we never attack our own pod mates, but should they become a threat to us, it’s kill or be killed.

Honestly, the only time I know I won’t be attacked, even if I’m the strongest within the area is if I enter my parent’s territory. They don’t tend to attack their own young.

My kind also don’t often go after the smaller subspecies of our kind either, we don’t see them as worth while meals usually. In fact, we sometimes form a type of companionship. Us larger kinds offer protection, the smaller offer assistance with caring for young, catching or luring meals, and in rare occasions are simply companions.” Aaron explained, going on one of his more usual rants.

“It’s probably the same reason we rarely eat the humans that sometimes crash here actually. You are similar sizes and build to our subspecies. I actually mistook the first human I met as one of them!

I was a juvenile and my parents had one of their own, so I grabbed it and brought it with me all the way to the cove… of course, it was a human so he obviously couldn’t be underwater. I thought I man handled the poor thing too much because it was struggling so hard to break surface!

It ended up being our little subspecies that grabbed him and pulled him up for air. That’s how we learned what a human was and even eventually learned English. He lived on top the cove for some years before dying.”

Aaron spoke before sighing. His ‘brow’ quirked at the memory, his mouth in a pressed line before shrugging and diving back into the water.

For a moment, you thought he left, only to be proven wrong when he popped up behind you, his shoulders being the lowest point of him to recede out the water now.

“Apologies, was drying out. Now where was I? Oh yes.

He was a type of researcher. Much too old by the time I found him to swim on his own for long. And also much too old to live long. He was an interesting fellow.

Anyways, he is why I was able to recognize humans. Also the reason I know what I can get from them in return for my help.

Speaking of help, I’ll keep looking for your little metal scrap you need, but I make no guarantees. Until then, keep your payment, I’m anything except unfair. Until next time human.”

And with that, he was gone… as were you. Because he used his tail to flick you back to your escape pod that was stationed in the shallow. Man you hate when he does that. It’s a trade, not a log ride Aaron!

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Oh my gosh I wrote something! It sucks because I wrote it in like 30 minutes but I finally finished something! Hopefully this makes up a little for my lack of writing 🥲😅.

As I said, asks open! Especially for mermay! If you guys have any Drabble ideas for Aaron, go ahead and send an ask!

[one-armedwonder]

📷 "Fear might be the death of me." 🪐

Hello? Is this thing on? Oh hell yeah there it goes-

Hiya, I'm Rory. Rory Ramirez, don't wear it out. This is my blog, as you can hopefully see. My Brother told me this app was "Sugoi" and to make an account so. . . here I am, Richard.

You're supposed to say things about you right? Well, I'm 14 and a Sophomore at Hatchetfield High (if anyone who goes there and sees this DNI), I moved up a grade because I'm and I quote "smart in the head and going places."

I'm currently researching everything I can about this town. It's history, it's folktales, all of it. If anyone has any information come forward. If not. . .? I can still find out myself, I have my ways. Connections.

I also know that word travels fast here, and every single person in Hatchetfield seems to have an account somehow. Even some Supernatural beings, surprisingly enough. So I'll be keeping tabs on that.

My ask box is open, ask queries and I'll answer.

Also. . . @richielipschitzaot very original username bro ಠ_ಠ

RORY Lore / Backstory

When Rory was born, they were given up almost immediately. Their parents were in college, and didn't have the time nor money to care for them. They grew up in the foster care system, for 14 whole years they were passed back and forth. Their behavioural issues never helped with them finding a forever home that's doe sure.

One they grew into their own person, They're turned out to be a very curious person, hates not knowing things. A Philomath, loves to learn. With all the shit that goes on in their life, they're certain it isn't just bad luck. Something has to be the cause, some sort of curse. So into the studys they went, trying to figure something, anything out that could be considered an explanation for their misfortune.

When they arrived in Hatchetfield, the first thing they found out was just how. . . off everything was. Abnormal things blinked at like just a normal occurrence. Chilling rumors about Hatchet things in the woods, Homeless people being evil, Clones? So into the deep dive they went. Sherlock Holmes style investigation.

somehow they get their mits on the black book, just for awhile. Long enough to summon the LIBS, and make a deal. Their loyalty, and soul went to Lord Bliklotep, for all the knowledge they could ever know. They'd be given the key to unlock the door they've been trying to break down for years. They, of course agreed. And thus, Rory, the All knowing Eye, was born.

Their Voice Claim:

OOC// BOUNDARIES

Helloooo!! This is my Oc blog! I'm Razz and I run this fine piece of work. Nifty right? Right!

-No NSFW, that's just weird to me.

-VERY open to interaction, Spam my Inbox

-Please be patient with me, I forget to respond sometimes !!

Besides that, Go wild!! :]

Please Note: I live in EST timezone, so if I don't respond or am inactive I'm sleeping!

This is my main acc btw!! @rarazzioli

Also: Here is more info about them!!

Cute little tags:

#Rory Posts 👁 -[Rory posting random shit]

#Rory Rp 👁 -[Rp stuff]

#Rory yaps 👁 -[talking with another person, for interactions etc etc]

#Rory Answers 👁 - [Rory answering asks and shit]

[quibbs126]

Also could you make a kouign-amann x capsaicin fanchild?

@amythecat2001 also asked for this before, but I made the other part of that ask previously and posted just that one with the ask, so I’m tagging

Anyways, she’s been done for a few days now, I just forgot to post, this is Spicy Roll Cookie

So she’s an absolute sweetheart, she just tends to be really loud. She’s great at giving motivational pep talks, and she’s someone you’d want as a friend. She’s also an incredibly powerful fighter. I didn’t draw her with a weapon, but she is supposed to have an axe, as shown by me trying to sketch one out somewhat in the top

She’s a Paladin in the Crème Republic, and tends to be more fond of their types of outfits, but she still has some fondness for her Dragon’s Valley heritage

That’s about it for her, I mostly just have vibes

As for her name, she’s basically just a cinnamon roll, but spicy. It was because pastry + spicy. I remember this pairing was giving me a lot of trouble because I didn’t know how to combine the two, and I eventually just kind of made something up. But I still like the name

Cinnamon roll:

I was considering making her color scheme more brown/orange, to fit in with the cinnamon roll thing, but ah well I suppose. That is half the reason her dough’s brown, as well as it just working as a medium between Kouign Amann and Capsaicin. And it’s also the reason she has all those swirls

Oh, another thing I should mention, this wasn’t the original design I made for Spicy Roll. It’s not that much different, but it is somewhat different

I had asked my Discord group if it looked good, since I had been watching Venture Bros while working on her, and I felt like I hadn’t been giving Spicy Roll my full attention as a result. I got some critiques and changed her accordingly. I do think the final design looks better tbh, but I still have some fondness for this version

I also did it on the same layer as the original lineart, so this you see here is the only physical proof of the original design

Anyways, back to her actual design, because I took a detour there

So when I was first rough sketching her back some time ago, I had planned on giving her the down facing horns, but I couldn’t get a hairstyle that looked good with it, so she got shelved temporarily. But I think I have something that works now

Her diamond pupils were supposed to be like a combination of Capsaicin’s slit pupils and Kouign Amann’s heart eyes. With the colors of Capsaicin’s eyes semi reversed because I like it better that way, at least on Spicy Roll

And yeah I think that’s all I have to say on her design right now. I like it overall

Oh wait, one last thing about her, in the notes on my list, the original first thing I put was “Barbenheimer?” Since I think that was going on or had just gone on at the time of the first request

Anyways, that’s it for Spicy Roll, I hope you like her!

[koreanbibliophilegirl]

I suppose I should talk about possible/confirmed plan changes to my WIPs?

(Fair warning: I've mostly calmed down, but I don't want to work myself up again, so I'm gonna be writing in a normal tone. I promise I'm not ignoring or trying to make light of the whole thing! I just don't wanna talk too deeply about it. All the love and support to Shelby Shubble & all victims of abuse!!!💖)

First off, I believe characters are separate from their creators- anyone who continues to create content about c!Wilbur has my support and respect!

(I will most probably continue to consume content related to c!Wilbur as well, though I will tag him as "c!Wilbur" now, rather than "Wilbur Soot"- I've been tagging all dsmp characters only as their corresponding CC's names, mostly out of laziness. For instance, c!Tommy wasn't tagged as "c!Tommy", he was tagged as "TommyInnit". I don't want to change my whole tagging system, but c!Wilbur at least will be tagged as "c!Wilbur" from now on!)

None of my writing was RPF in the first place, it was all about the characters- but I'm not sure if I myself am ready to freely write c!Wilbur or fanfiction!Wilbur stuff yet. Maybe I never will be; idk.

So here are the changes I'll be making!

DSMP Superpower AU: c!Wilbur will stay. I was planning to include all the DSMP characters(The 'mains', at least, I'm not sure about secondary characters yet), and the notion of leaving c!Wilbur out doesn't really appeal to me. So c!Wilbur will still appear here!

Temporal Transcendence: Honestly, at first I thought TT!Wilbur would be irreplaceable, but after some thought, I was surprised to find it might just work! Karl and Niki would play bigger roles than I expected, but it could definitely work. Heck, it might even be better than the original plan! So I think Wilbur will likely be cut from TT.

Oshi No Ko but Happier AU: I'm on the fence about this one. Wilbur's character isn't CRUCIAL crucial, but he's still pretty important. The outline of the plot will look much different if he does indeed end up getting cut out. So I'm gonna mark this WIP as a solid "idk" and just work it out as I go.

Rarepair Royalty AU: I've never talked about this AU. This one is a bit funny, cuz cutting Wilbur's character out actually solves some of the problems I had with the outline! The plot will actually work out better if Secondborn Prince Wilbur didn't exist- so he's definitely cut from this one! I just need to find someone new to pair with Karl. (Probably Seapeekay; I have the currently ongoing MCYT crackship brackets to thank for the ship!)

Lucky Star: Another fic that's never been talked about- this one is my newest WIP! :D I wasn't even sure where I was going to fit Wilbur in- a character called Wilbur never even existed here. Well, he did, but I'd deleted him for plot reasons a while ago and was in the middle of trying to find another slot. (Cyberknife is Techno's dead twin in this WIP btw- he's not a replacement character for Wilbur, the twin was always going to be Cyberknife.)

Tome AU: SBI literally only serves as Tommy's rich and powerful family here- at least, up to where I've fleshed out. Wilbur's only moment in the spotlight is when he argues with Tommy over dinner, bc he doesn't like how Tommy "got stuck" raising baby Shroud with Purpled(who found Shroud in a trash can), & is caught glaring at Purpled. I'll edit him out maybe. Or leave him, he's not a major character after all. idk.

Others(Mostly Bedrock Bros-centric): Honestly, I never could figure out how to write Wilbur's character that well. So 'Wilbur' isn't too big a character in most of these. Will likely cut.

Tom and Bunnypig(Bee and Puppycat AU): You know what, I think I'm going to make this half-baked idea into a proper WIP. Wilbur never existed here either, so yeah.

CONCLUSION: The whole thing is a mess, and I'm sad and mad, as we all are, but I'm gonna stop thinking about how horrible Wilbur Soot is & focus on how brave Shelby Shubble is!

I'm intrigued at what removing a single character did to my plot outlines, and hopefully, this will open a lot of new opportunities in my writing. I'm certainly looking forward to how my writing skills will develop after this.

To everyone who's actually read through this; thank you for reading this whole thing, I know it's kinda long.😅 Have a cookie and a hug, we all need it🍪🫂 Remember to drink water & eat something! All my love💖💖

[vivizn]

Re: the tags you put on my post; you don't have to figure out the gender stuff all at once. You mentioned dresses? Try wearing dresses! Try a different set of pronouns, try a new name. None of that stuff has permanent ramifications. Take advantage of your group of non-cis friends for support with the name and pronouns stuff, they'll be thrilled to help. If you're "wrong" and you're "just" a GNC cis guy? That's still a great thing to be, if you're doing it on purpose!

(Future me here, quick info. Context at the bottom, and OP this turned out kinda long so read this when you have 5min to spare.)

Oh, uh, hi

Sorry, didn't expect a feedback on that, i was kinda yelling into the void and i keep forgetting this site is made of people ^^'

First off, thanks for reaching out, always nice to see that happening. And i hope you had, have and will have a nice day. Triple kindness in your face.

Secondly, dresses. It's kind of an ironic love that i have for those? Like, i just like wearing dresses for the bit (or on rare occasions i'll wear my skirt cuz it's faster to take on/off than pants). I say i get giddied up but It's really more because of the reaction of those around me (they find it funny (not in a mean way) so i'm glad i made them laugh).

Thirdly(?), changing names / pronouns. My *checks bio* neo-gendered sibling in christ, i can't even name my OCs, what makes you think i can name ME ToT ? As for the pronouns, eh... idk, i'm fine with keeping he/him i think, keeps things consistant. Again, default settings. I definitly need to try it one day though.

Fouthly? Fourtly? Fourd? Fuck, permanence. You fool. You absolute baffoon (affectionate). How dare you think for a moment have what it takes to handle ephemerality? I literally have mlp themed stickers still in package because i don't want to deal with using them somewhere and later not having them anymore. Either I will give up after the first time someone uses another set of pronouns, or the short period of time where they did will haunt me forever because nothing came out of it. <- also work if i end up changing pronouns, my brain is good at thinking bad. (I also have a suspicious amount of ND friends. Yeah yeah, i know, the idea of seeing a therapist sounds sexier everyday.)

5 (because i'm tired, it's 3am), being wrong. That is actually something i somewhat enjoy surprisingly. Because at least that means i have something to go off of, a starting point. That's usually all i need to start working on anything that require thought (so literally everything). I'd rather have someone tell me to do a thing and then shit on the thing they told me to do than having someone tell me "just follow your heart 🥰🥰🥰". Like, cool bro, how do i do that? Bitch won't move, how am i supposed to follow it?

1/3 of 666, credits. I never know how to close off rants because i always forget the first 3 points i try to make. So uhhh thanks to your patience if you've read through that (i feel like you would), sorry for ranting/venting(?) on what was just supposed to be a positive message i think. Thanks again for trying to reach out, but i honestly think i've got to deal with my other problems before i can tackle my gender (like the o so joyful experience of finding a job. yay.) (<- monotonest voice ever).

original post + my tags for those interested in context, AKA: hi alexxel, hi malt (watch out for the rant in your name, i'm gonna steal it), probably hi gayotic

And a pic of me in a dress because i feel like it

Couldn't find a dress so all you get is a fashion disaster, feat a hat i borrowed from a friend to complete the fit.

[dinoplantsghost]

pairing: Tom Riddle x fem! original character

warning(s): tom is a warning in itself, 1940s: discussion and mention of World War 2, possible time-accurate prejudice, mentions of death & su!c!de, violence, mild bodily horror

word count: ~3040

Disclaimer: I have a huge google doc that holds all of my drafts and I'm quite literally just copypasting everything, so if there are any typos/errors, no there isn't!! :)

-- genuinely so horrible at tags and titles bro my bad 💀💀 (some silly anon person was complaining abt my tags but literally idk what they were mad abt specifically because they didn't tell me so womp womp ig gotta be more specific)

Chapter List

Friends [4]

Blinding white cursed Saoirse’s eyes as she gained consciousness, her throat dry and her limbs light. She failed to sit up in the creaky hospital bed that scratched at her skin, the paper already littered with holes and snags. 

“Maybe it’s best to lay back down,” a voice said. “Madam Ruth just went to check up on some first year; said he broke his leg on the stairs or something. I think it’s quite funny.” 

With a dull pulse in her skull, Saoirse looked to the side to see a boy holding her satchel in his lap, the inner color of his sleeves a striking Ravenclaw blue. The pink patches on his cheeks were prominent on his pale skin, faint copper flecks just below his cheekbones and divots reminiscent of a crescent moon marked his flesh. “Professor Merrythought told me to bring your belongings to the hospital wing, but I decided to stay because you looked lonely.” 

“Who are you?” Saoirse asked, coughing as she squinted her eyes at the boy with eyes similar to hers, covered by the disheveled mop of blond on his head. 

His lashes fluttered, crows feet showing as he smiled at her. “I’m Tracy Mayfield, a fifth year student in Ravenclaw. It’s nice to meet you.” 

The shutters to the left of Saoirse slid open, a scrunched and wrinkled face of an older woman standing by the girl’s bedside. “Boy, you should have told me she woke up a long time ago.” She huffed. Madam Ruth placed a cold hand under Saoirse’s chin, forcing her to look into her gaze. “How do you feel, dear? Any headaches, difficulty breathing?” 

The matron handed Saoirse a glass of water, then bent down to finger at the rough gauze that covered the girl’s neck. “How long have I been out?” Saoirse asked, handing the now empty glass to the boy beside her. 

Tracy replied, “You’ve been unconscious for a few classes, lunch is almost over, actually.” 

Saoirse flinched at the sudden flush of cold on her neck, relaxing when she realized the nurse was only putting ointment on her neck. “I don’t understand how you children can be so reckless,” the lady scolded. “If I ever see that boy who did this to you, I’ll be having a stern conversation with him.” 

“Speaking of Riddle,” Tracy continued. “What happened during the duel? He kind of ran away with his boy party after the smoke went away.” 

Ignoring the way Madam Ruth badmouthed the mention of smoke, Saoirse shrugged. “He was asking me about something Merrythought told me, but in reality she never really said much; she just gave me permission to use spells I’ve been working on for a while. In fact, I think that Riddle boy should come to the hospital wing himself.” 

“Why, girl, what did you do to him?” The Matron pressed, redressing Saoirse’s neck. 

“Well, the spell I used is supposed to—” 

The double doors swung open, hitting the walls with a loud crash as audible leather hit the tile floor. As the footsteps got closer, a boy with hardened eyes and a set jaw stiffly made his way to the three by Saoirse’s hospital bed, ignoring the way the boy next to the foreigner leaned in to whisper in her ear. “My skin is rotting,” he said simply, a breath leaving his nostrils as he watched the way the Matron’s eyes bulged, her words sputtering when she strode around the rickety bed to pull Tom by his shirt. 

“What do you mean your skin is rotting,” she yelled. “You idiot children—someone is going to be killed one day, mark my words!” 

As Madam Ruth walked away with the Slytherin boy in her grasp, Tracy dropped Saoirse’s bag on the floor, scooching his metal chair closer as he propped his arms on her bedside. “What did you do?” He asked; a question Saoirse had heard for what seemed like the umpteenth time. She smiled, a twinkle in her eye as she signaled the boy to pull a journal from her satchel. On the edge of his seat, Tracy waited as Saoirse flipped through the messy pages, the parchment stained and its edges tattered and distressed. Ink blots covered the papers as well as an unknown language in the male’s eyes, scribbles of black running across the journal’s entirety. 

“My spell worked,” she chirped, stopping at one page with a dry piece of something pressed into the material. “My Rotting-Flesh Curse.” 

Looking at the page closer, Tracy finally saw the little holes in the unknown piece on the tree pulp, discoloration everywhere on its gray, fleshy surface. “Is that dry skin?” He asked, raising a finger to poke at the dead slice. 

Saoirse nodded, her own finger trailing to the paragraph below the large characters at the top of the page. 

‘𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒔 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆-𝒐𝒖𝒕, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒑𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒗𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒎. 𝑰𝒇 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅, 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉; 𝒊𝒇 𝒔𝒖𝒄𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅, 𝒂 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒃𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆. 𝑶𝒊𝒏��𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔.’

“So, Riddle is dying?” Tracy gasped, glancing back up to see the matron and the snake walking back to Saoirse’s bedside, Tom’s left shoulder fully exposed. 

“Saoirse,” Madam Ruth said. “What you did to this boy is unacceptable; I don’t care if he choked you. This boy is dying and you need to heal him right away.” 

The girl frowned, her brows furrowing as she saw the tiniest quirk of Riddle’s lip twitch before going back to the usual pout on his face. The matron handed Saoirse a strength potion and a general healing potion. Downing both of them back-to-back, she smacked her lips in disgust as she pulled her wand out from its place on her forearm. She sat up straight, raising her right arm before flicking the tip around. Reminiscent to the Flagrate charm, the three watched with bated breath as strokes of blue formed four characters in a column before melting together and gently settling down on Tom’s skin. From his bicep to his jawline, sparkles of light blue glistened, the color of his surrounding flesh becoming more flush as his skin mended right in front of his eyes. As the wound healed, a faint yet noticeable discoloration was left, a reminder of what she had done to him; how she had almost killed him effortlessly. 

“Was that the counter curse?” Tracy muttered, to which Saoirse nodded, leaning back on the smashed pillows behind her. She muttered the name of the spell, her voice significantly honeyed and matured than when speaking English. Tracy crossed his arms, attempting to repeat Saoirse, only to fail miserably and settle on the phrase ‘chewy necktie.’ “Japanese is hard…” 

Saoirse ignored him, sliding under the thin covers as she tossed to her side, her back facing Tracy as she forced herself to fall asleep.

┌────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────┐

Saoirse could not sleep no matter how hard she tried. Tracy, for whatever reason, allowed himself to stay in the hospital wing with her, running his mouth on and on until Saoirse threw a pillow in his face. 

The moment Saoirse healed him, Tom left in a haste. It didn’t matter to her, though; that Riddle boy wasn’t of much interest to her. Maybe the spell she used was too harsh; maybe she could have used something more simple, but she was proud of her results nonetheless. She had never used it on a human before, only having access to rats and other small animals like toads or fish. Considering how fast his skin deteriorated his mind wasn’t all that strong; she assumed he was panicking the moment he saw the injury. 

“So, what’s Japan like?” Tracy swiveled his head on his neck, unaware of the way Saoirse’s cheek twitched the moment his nasally tones filled her ears. 

“It’s awfully hot, at least on Iwo Jima,” she started. “And it’s windy almost all the time. I never knew October could be so cold; it’s usually scorching this time of year.” 

“Really,” Tracy wowed. “That’s so cool! What kind of animals do you have in Japan? Oh, and what do you wear? Is it true that Japan—” 

“Mayfield,” Saoirse coughed. “Please stop talking.” 

The boy pouted, his shoulders sagging as he fiddled with his sleeves. “Do you want me to leave?” He whispered. The girl nodded, not noticing the way Tracy’s nose scrunched as he stood up from the metal, rusty chair, his footsteps echoing as he got further away from Saoirse. 

She never had anyone force themself to stay around her for so long before. Usually that only happened when someone was dared to—though, she was never bullied; it was common for students to make bets and commit other mischievous activities regarding others. 

One girl—her name irrelevant—had been dared to befriend a boy in exchange for a chocolate, one that Saoirse herself loved. The brand was founded in recent years, Meiji, an homage to the beloved emperor, and had been gaining major popularity on the island despite being a brand from the non-magical population; the jyōjin. 

Turns out, the boy had actually liked the girl, and her friends were attempting to be matchmakers, but eventually it was revealed that the girl didn’t like him at all. It was a huge debacle; she had slapped the boy in the middle of the courtyard, yelling at him about how she wished her friends never dared her to talk to him, how that stupid piece of chocolate wasn’t worth the hours being in his presence. In the end, the boy took his life, embarrassed by the girl’s dramatic spectacle. 

Of course, it didn’t surprise Saoirse that the superintendents and the High Priestess did not do a thing about it; the girl was given a few weeks of punishment until her father wrote to the staff, and she was let go with a mere slap on the wrist after the fact. Saoirse always thought about that day, the day the boy died. He had hung himself in the middle of the dining hall, surrounded by precious stones that so many had ironically died to get their hands on. 

Nonetheless, that didn’t go without saying that Tracy’s presence wasn’t appreciated. Saoirse’s head hurt, yes, but it was dull pain, one she could cope with. She was sure to get used to the boy soon enough; she doubted he was going away any time soon.

By a half-hour past 19:00, Tracy had unsurprisingly returned to the Hospital Wing, but with two more people. Days like this made Saoirse regret ever killing Himiko, she thought. People drained her energy. Behind the Ravenclaw was a boy and a girl, one with yellow lining in their robe and the other with red, respectively. The boy, hair fluffy and in complete disarray, was much taller than the other two. There were very noticeable scruffles of coarse hair along the sides of his face; Saoirse couldn’t tell if it suited him or not. Beside him was a girl in stark contrast; she was very short, similar to Himiko’s height. Her hair was a light brown, fluffier than any hair she had ever seen. 

“Why did you bring monkeys to harass me with?” The hospitalized girl sighed, a noticeable hump in her back as she sat up slowly under the light blue blanket—the one that barely kept her warm. 

Tracy only laughed, waving a hand as he sat back down in the chair he was once in hours ago, a plate of hot food in another hand that was set down near the girl. “You’re funny!” 

The other two dragged chairs next to him, sitting by Saoirse’s bedside. Tracy leaned in his seat, pointing to the boy to say, “This is Eugene,” he pointed to the girl, “and this is Ava-Lynn. They’re my friends, if you couldn’t tell.” 

Ava-Lynn, as Tracy named her, crossed her legs and lifted a manicured hand in greetings while Eugene only raised his eyebrows; his mind elsewhere. 

Saoirse blinked before looking back to the blond boy. “Why did you bring them here?” She asked. 

“Well, I thought you were lonely; you weren’t used to me talking your ear off. I hope you don’t mind.” 

“It’s not like I can kick you three out.” She huffed.

“You don’t want to kick us out anyways, right? Hopefully not…” 

Saoirse shrugged, picking the warm plate up to put in her lap. The foreigner was getting used to the food in Hogwarts. Compared to the food she was accustomed with, it was rather bland. There were a lot of carbs in their diet. “Did they even want to come here?” She hummed, shoving the fork in her mouth. 

Tracy turned, whipping his head around to face his two friends who sat further away from the girl. “I didn’t drag you guys here, did I?” 

The other boy—Saoirse already forgot his name—shook his head, his hair moving along with his movements. “No,” he said, his voice low and his accent American. “I wanted to hear about the new girl; her country bombed mine last year, after all.” 

The girl beside him slapped his bicep, an offended look on her tan face and a sloppy, crooked grin on his. “You can’t say that,” she yelled. “She probably didn’t know about it, you dolt.” 

Saoirse interjected. “I did know about it; though Japan wasn’t very proud of how it failed. But it doesn’t concern me, really. Mahoutokoro doesn’t have  jyōjin in its population—Muggleborns.”

The boy only shrugged, his head flopping to rest on the shoulder of the girl beside him. “I’m really sorry about him,” she waved. “He’s usually more shy when meeting new people; I don’t know what’s up with him today.” 

The following half-hour was filled with idle chatter, with Tracy carrying the majority of the conversation. Ava-Lynn introduced herself as an immigrant from Spain. Her parents were low on money and with the war going on, as well as being in-between the polarizing Germanophiles and Anglophiles, her family was aligned with the United States. So, they fled the country. Other countries right of Spain on the map were out of the question, being so close to the bloodshed that only got worse deeper in the east. The de la Rosas needed to go west. Her family settled in Scotland a couple years back, long before Ava-Lynn obtained her letter from Hogwarts. 

“You’re a Muggleborn, then?” Saoirse asked, her legs folding as she sat tailor-fashion. 

The Spanish girl nodded, a small smile on her plush lips. “You mentioned Mahoutokoro doesn’t accept Muggleborns, yes? Why is that?”

“From my understanding there’s never been any instance of a Muggleborn before; many are usually a Pureblood or a Halfbreed.” 

“And what are you?” Asked Eugene. 

“I’m a Pureblood.” 

“What’s your last name, then? Purebloods are usually famous for their lineage, yeah?” 

“Yes,” Saoirse nodded. “But I can’t say; my mother and father are sticklers for secrecy and being overly cautious.” 

“But they’re not here, just say it,” Eugene scoffed. 

“It would be rude of me to.”  

The boy sighed, “Lame.” He stood up from his chair, dusting imaginary dust off his trousers. “Well, I’m off to sleep; can’t handle being in this infirmary any longer.” He walked off, a slight sway in his steps as he disappeared behind the tall and dark wooden doors of the Hospital Wing. 

Ava-Lynn stood up as well, her eyes bright yet tired as she said, “I should be going to bed too. It was nice meeting you, Saoirse. Linda noche, que descanse.” 

Once the girl left, Tracy and Saoirse were left alone once more, before the boy spoke, “It’s nice to have friends, isn’t it?” 

Saoirse nodded, a flutter of her lip catching his eye. “Mn, I suppose so.” 

Saoirse could not sleep no matter how hard she tried. Tracy, for whatever reason, allowed himself to stay in the hospital wing with her, running his mouth on and on until Saoirse threw a pillow in his face. 

The moment Saoirse healed him, Tom left in a haste. It didn’t matter to her, though; that Riddle boy wasn’t of much interest to her. Maybe the spell she used was too harsh; maybe she could have used something more simple, but she was proud of her results nonetheless. She had never used it on a human before, only having access to rats and other small animals like toads or fish. Considering how fast his skin deteriorated his mind wasn’t all that strong; she assumed he was panicking the moment he saw the injury. 

“So, what’s Japan like?” Tracy swiveled his head on his neck, unaware of the way Saoirse’s cheek twitched the moment his nasally tones filled her ears. 

“It’s awfully hot, at least on Iwo Jima,” she started. “And it’s windy almost all the time. I never knew October could be so cold; it’s usually scorching this time of year.” 

“Really,” Tracy wowed. “That’s so cool! What kind of animals do you have in Japan? Oh, and what do you wear? Is it true that Japan—” 

“Mayfield,” Saoirse coughed. “Please stop talking.” 

The boy pouted, his shoulders sagging as he fiddled with his sleeves. “Do you want me to leave?” He whispered. The girl nodded, not noticing the way Tracy’s nose scrunched as he stood up from the metal, rusty chair, his footsteps echoing as he got further away from Saoirse. 

She never had anyone force themself to stay around her for so long before. Usually that only happened when someone was dared to—though, she was never bullied; it was common for students to make bets and commit other mischievous activities regarding others. 

One girl—her name irrelevant—had been dared to befriend a boy in exchange for a chocolate, one that Saoirse herself loved. The brand was founded in recent years, Meiji, an homage to the beloved emperor, and had been gaining major popularity on the island despite being a brand from the non-magical population; the jyōjin. 

Turns out, the boy had actually liked the girl, and her friends were attempting to be matchmakers, but eventually it was revealed that the girl didn’t like him at all. It was a huge debacle; she had slapped the boy in the middle of the courtyard, yelling at him about how she wished her friends never dared her to talk to him, how that stupid piece of chocolate wasn’t worth the hours being in his presence. In the end, the boy took his life, embarrassed by the girl’s dramatic spectacle. 

Of course, it didn’t surprise Saoirse that the superintendents and the High Priestess did not do a thing about it; the girl was given a few weeks of punishment until her father wrote to the staff, and she was let go with a mere slap on the wrist after the fact. Saoirse always thought about that day, the day the boy died. He had hung himself in the middle of the dining hall, surrounded by precious stones that so many had ironically died to get their hands on. 

Nonetheless, that didn’t go without saying that Tracy’s presence wasn’t appreciated. Saoirse’s head hurt, yes, but it was dull pain, one she could cope with. She was sure to get used to the boy soon enough; she doubted he was going away any time soon.

By a half-hour past 19:00, Tracy had unsurprisingly returned to the Hospital Wing, but with two more people. Days like this made Saoirse regret ever killing Himiko, she thought. People drained her energy. Behind the Ravenclaw was a boy and a girl, one with yellow lining in their robe and the other with red, respectively. The boy, hair fluffy and in complete disarray, was much taller than the other two. There were very noticeable scruffles of coarse hair along the sides of his face; Saoirse couldn’t tell if it suited him or not. Beside him was a girl in stark contrast; she was very short, similar to Himiko’s height. Her hair was a light brown, fluffier than any hair she had ever seen. 

“Why did you bring monkeys to harass me with?” The hospitalized girl sighed, a noticeable hump in her back as she sat up slowly under the light blue blanket—the one that barely kept her warm. 

Tracy only laughed, waving a hand as he sat back down in the chair he was once in hours ago, a plate of hot food in another hand that was set down near the girl. “You’re funny!” 

The other two dragged chairs next to him, sitting by Saoirse’s bedside. Tracy leaned in his seat, pointing to the boy to say, “This is Eugene,” he pointed to the girl, “and this is Ava-Lynn. They’re my friends, if you couldn’t tell.” 

Ava-Lynn, as Tracy named her, crossed her legs and lifted a manicured hand in greetings while Eugene only raised his eyebrows; his mind elsewhere. 

Saoirse blinked before looking back to the blond boy. “Why did you bring them here?” She asked. 

“Well, I thought you were lonely; you weren’t used to me talking your ear off. I hope you don’t mind.” 

“It’s not like I can kick you three out.” She huffed.

“You don’t want to kick us out anyways, right? Hopefully not…” 

Saoirse shrugged, picking the warm plate up to put in her lap. The foreigner was getting used to the food in Hogwarts. Compared to the food she was accustomed with, it was rather bland. There were a lot of carbs in their diet. “Did they even want to come here?” She hummed, shoving the fork in her mouth. 

Tracy turned, whipping his head around to face his two friends who sat further away from the girl. “I didn’t drag you guys here, did I?” 

The other boy—Saoirse already forgot his name—shook his head, his hair moving along with his movements. “No,” he said, his voice low and his accent American. “I wanted to hear about the new girl; her country bombed mine last year, after all.” 

The girl beside him slapped his bicep, an offended look on her tan face and a sloppy, crooked grin on his. “You can’t say that,” she yelled. “She probably didn’t know about it, you dolt.” 

Saoirse interjected. “I did know about it; though Japan wasn’t very proud of how it failed. But it doesn’t concern me, really. Mahoutokoro doesn’t have  jyōjin in its population—Muggleborns.”

The boy only shrugged, his head flopping to rest on the shoulder of the girl beside him. “I’m really sorry about him,” she waved. “He’s usually more shy when meeting new people; I don’t know what’s up with him today.” 

The following half-hour was filled with idle chatter, with Tracy carrying the majority of the conversation. Ava-Lynn introduced herself as an immigrant from Spain. Her parents were low on money and with the war going on, as well as being in-between the polarizing Germanophiles and Anglophiles, her family was aligned with the United States. So, they fled the country. Other countries right of Spain on the map were out of the question, being so close to the bloodshed that only got worse deeper in the east. The de la Rosas needed to go west. Her family settled in Scotland a couple years back, long before Ava-Lynn obtained her letter from Hogwarts. 

“You’re a Muggleborn, then?” Saoirse asked, her legs folding as she sat tailor-fashion. 

The Spanish girl nodded, a small smile on her plush lips. “You mentioned Mahoutokoro doesn’t accept Muggleborns, yes? Why is that?”

“From my understanding there’s never been any instance of a Muggleborn before; many are usually a Pureblood or a Halfbreed.” 

“And what are you?” Asked Eugene. 

“I’m a Pureblood.” 

“What’s your last name, then? Purebloods are usually famous for their lineage, yeah?” 

“Yes,” Saoirse nodded. “But I can’t say; my mother and father are sticklers for secrecy and being overly cautious.” 

“But they’re not here, just say it,” Eugene scoffed. 

“It would be rude of me to.”  

The boy sighed, “Lame.” He stood up from his chair, dusting imaginary dust off his trousers. “Well, I’m off to sleep; can’t handle being in this infirmary any longer.” He walked off, a slight sway in his steps as he disappeared behind the tall and dark wooden doors of the Hospital Wing. 

Ava-Lynn stood up as well, her eyes bright yet tired as she said, “I should be going to bed too. It was nice meeting you, Saoirse. Linda noche, que descanse.” 

Once the girl left, Tracy and Saoirse were left alone once more, before the boy spoke, “It’s nice to have friends, isn’t it?” 

Saoirse nodded, a flutter of her lip catching his eye. “Mn, I suppose so.” 

Saoirse could not sleep no matter how hard she tried. Tracy, for whatever reason, allowed himself to stay in the hospital wing with her, running his mouth on and on until Saoirse threw a pillow in his face. 

The moment Saoirse healed him, Tom left in a haste. It didn’t matter to her, though; that Riddle boy wasn’t of much interest to her. Maybe the spell she used was too harsh; maybe she could have used something more simple, but she was proud of her results nonetheless. She had never used it on a human before, only having access to rats and other small animals like toads or fish. Considering how fast his skin deteriorated his mind wasn’t all that strong; she assumed he was panicking the moment he saw the injury. 

“So, what’s Japan like?” Tracy swiveled his head on his neck, unaware of the way Saoirse’s cheek twitched the moment his nasally tones filled her ears. 

“It’s awfully hot, at least on Iwo Jima,” she started. “And it’s windy almost all the time. I never knew October could be so cold; it’s usually scorching this time of year.” 

“Really,” Tracy wowed. “That’s so cool! What kind of animals do you have in Japan? Oh, and what do you wear? Is it true that Japan—” 

“Mayfield,” Saoirse coughed. “Please stop talking.” 

The boy pouted, his shoulders sagging as he fiddled with his sleeves. “Do you want me to leave?” He whispered. The girl nodded, not noticing the way Tracy’s nose scrunched as he stood up from the metal, rusty chair, his footsteps echoing as he got further away from Saoirse. 

She never had anyone force themself to stay around her for so long before. Usually that only happened when someone was dared to—though, she was never bullied; it was common for students to make bets and commit other mischievous activities regarding others. 

One girl—her name irrelevant—had been dared to befriend a boy in exchange for a chocolate, one that Saoirse herself loved. The brand was founded in recent years, Meiji, an homage to the beloved emperor, and had been gaining major popularity on the island despite being a brand from the non-magical population; the jyōjin. 

Turns out, the boy had actually liked the girl, and her friends were attempting to be matchmakers, but eventually it was revealed that the girl didn’t like him at all. It was a huge debacle; she had slapped the boy in the middle of the courtyard, yelling at him about how she wished her friends never dared her to talk to him, how that stupid piece of chocolate wasn’t worth the hours being in his presence. In the end, the boy took his life, embarrassed by the girl’s dramatic spectacle. 

Of course, it didn’t surprise Saoirse that the superintendents and the High Priestess did not do a thing about it; the girl was given a few weeks of punishment until her father wrote to the staff, and she was let go with a mere slap on the wrist after the fact. Saoirse always thought about that day, the day the boy died. He had hung himself in the middle of the dining hall, surrounded by precious stones that so many had ironically died to get their hands on. 

Nonetheless, that didn’t go without saying that Tracy’s presence wasn’t appreciated. Saoirse’s head hurt, yes, but it was dull pain, one she could cope with. She was sure to get used to the boy soon enough; she doubted he was going away any time soon.

By a half-hour past 19:00, Tracy had unsurprisingly returned to the Hospital Wing, but with two more people. Days like this made Saoirse regret ever killing Himiko, she thought. People drained her energy. Behind the Ravenclaw was a boy and a girl, one with yellow lining in their robe and the other with red, respectively. The boy, hair fluffy and in complete disarray, was much taller than the other two. There were very noticeable scruffles of coarse hair along the sides of his face; Saoirse couldn’t tell if it suited him or not. Beside him was a girl in stark contrast; she was very short, similar to Himiko’s height. Her hair was a light brown, fluffier than any hair she had ever seen. 

“Why did you bring monkeys to harass me with?” The hospitalized girl sighed, a noticeable hump in her back as she sat up slowly under the light blue blanket—the one that barely kept her warm. 

Tracy only laughed, waving a hand as he sat back down in the chair he was once in hours ago, a plate of hot food in another hand that was set down near the girl. “You’re funny!” 

The other two dragged chairs next to him, sitting by Saoirse’s bedside. Tracy leaned in his seat, pointing to the boy to say, “This is Eugene,” he pointed to the girl, “and this is Ava-Lynn. They’re my friends, if you couldn’t tell.” 

Ava-Lynn, as Tracy named her, crossed her legs and lifted a manicured hand in greetings while Eugene only raised his eyebrows; his mind elsewhere. 

Saoirse blinked before looking back to the blond boy. “Why did you bring them here?” She asked. 

“Well, I thought you were lonely; you weren’t used to me talking your ear off. I hope you don’t mind.” 

“It’s not like I can kick you three out.” She huffed.

“You don’t want to kick us out anyways, right? Hopefully not…” 

Saoirse shrugged, picking the warm plate up to put in her lap. The foreigner was getting used to the food in Hogwarts. Compared to the food she was accustomed with, it was rather bland. There were a lot of carbs in their diet. “Did they even want to come here?” She hummed, shoving the fork in her mouth. 

Tracy turned, whipping his head around to face his two friends who sat further away from the girl. “I didn’t drag you guys here, did I?” 

The other boy—Saoirse already forgot his name—shook his head, his hair moving along with his movements. “No,” he said, his voice low and his accent American. “I wanted to hear about the new girl; her country bombed mine last year, after all.” 

The girl beside him slapped his bicep, an offended look on her tan face and a sloppy, crooked grin on his. “You can’t say that,” she yelled. “She probably didn’t know about it, you dolt.” 

Saoirse interjected. “I did know about it; though Japan wasn’t very proud of how it failed. But it doesn’t concern me, really. Mahoutokoro doesn’t have  jyōjin in its population—Muggleborns.”

The boy only shrugged, his head flopping to rest on the shoulder of the girl beside him. “I’m really sorry about him,” she waved. “He’s usually more shy when meeting new people; I don’t know what’s up with him today.” 

The following half-hour was filled with idle chatter, with Tracy carrying the majority of the conversation. Ava-Lynn introduced herself as an immigrant from Spain. Her parents were low on money and with the war going on, as well as being in-between the polarizing Germanophiles and Anglophiles, her family was aligned with the United States. So, they fled the country. Other countries right of Spain on the map were out of the question, being so close to the bloodshed that only got worse deeper in the east. The de la Rosas needed to go west. Her family settled in Scotland a couple years back, long before Ava-Lynn obtained her letter from Hogwarts. 

“You’re a Muggleborn, then?” Saoirse asked, her legs folding as she sat tailor-fashion. 

The Spanish girl nodded, a small smile on her plush lips. “You mentioned Mahoutokoro doesn’t accept Muggleborns, yes? Why is that?”

“From my understanding there’s never been any instance of a Muggleborn before; many are usually a Pureblood or a Halfbreed.” 

“And what are you?” Asked Eugene. 

“I’m a Pureblood.” 

“What’s your last name, then? Purebloods are usually famous for their lineage, yeah?” 

“Yes,” Saoirse nodded. “But I can’t say; my mother and father are sticklers for secrecy and being overly cautious.” 

“But they’re not here, just say it,” Eugene scoffed. 

“It would be rude of me to.”  

The boy sighed, “Lame.” He stood up from his chair, dusting imaginary dust off his trousers. “Well, I’m off to sleep; can’t handle being in this infirmary any longer.” He walked off, a slight sway in his steps as he disappeared behind the tall and dark wooden doors of the Hospital Wing. 

Ava-Lynn stood up as well, her eyes bright yet tired as she said, “I should be going to bed too. It was nice meeting you, Saoirse. Linda noche, que descanse.” 

Once the girl left, Tracy and Saoirse were left alone once more, before the boy spoke, “It’s nice to have friends, isn’t it?” 

Saoirse nodded, a flutter of her lip catching his eye. “Mn, I suppose so.” 

Saoirse could not sleep no matter how hard she tried. Tracy, for whatever reason, allowed himself to stay in the hospital wing with her, running his mouth on and on until Saoirse threw a pillow in his face. 

The moment Saoirse healed him, Tom left in a haste. It didn’t matter to her, though; that Riddle boy wasn’t of much interest to her. Maybe the spell she used was too harsh; maybe she could have used something more simple, but she was proud of her results nonetheless. She had never used it on a human before, only having access to rats and other small animals like toads or fish. Considering how fast his skin deteriorated his mind wasn’t all that strong; she assumed he was panicking the moment he saw the injury. 

“So, what’s Japan like?” Tracy swiveled his head on his neck, unaware of the way Saoirse’s cheek twitched the moment his nasally tones filled her ears. 

“It’s awfully hot, at least on Iwo Jima,” she started. “And it’s windy almost all the time. I never knew October could be so cold; it’s usually scorching this time of year.” 

“Really,” Tracy wowed. “That’s so cool! What kind of animals do you have in Japan? Oh, and what do you wear? Is it true that Japan—” 

“Mayfield,” Saoirse coughed. “Please stop talking.” 

The boy pouted, his shoulders sagging as he fiddled with his sleeves. “Do you want me to leave?” He whispered. The girl nodded, not noticing the way Tracy’s nose scrunched as he stood up from the metal, rusty chair, his footsteps echoing as he got further away from Saoirse. 

She never had anyone force themself to stay around her for so long before. Usually that only happened when someone was dared to—though, she was never bullied; it was common for students to make bets and commit other mischievous activities regarding others. 

One girl—her name irrelevant—had been dared to befriend a boy in exchange for a chocolate, one that Saoirse herself loved. The brand was founded in recent years, Meiji, an homage to the beloved emperor, and had been gaining major popularity on the island despite being a brand from the non-magical population; the jyōjin. 

Turns out, the boy had actually liked the girl, and her friends were attempting to be matchmakers, but eventually it was revealed that the girl didn’t like him at all. It was a huge debacle; she had slapped the boy in the middle of the courtyard, yelling at him about how she wished her friends never dared her to talk to him, how that stupid piece of chocolate wasn’t worth the hours being in his presence. In the end, the boy took his life, embarrassed by the girl’s dramatic spectacle. 

Of course, it didn’t surprise Saoirse that the superintendents and the High Priestess did not do a thing about it; the girl was given a few weeks of punishment until her father wrote to the staff, and she was let go with a mere slap on the wrist after the fact. Saoirse always thought about that day, the day the boy died. He had hung himself in the middle of the dining hall, surrounded by precious stones that so many had ironically died to get their hands on. 

Nonetheless, that didn’t go without saying that Tracy’s presence wasn’t appreciated. Saoirse’s head hurt, yes, but it was dull pain, one she could cope with. She was sure to get used to the boy soon enough; she doubted he was going away any time soon.

By a half-hour past 19:00, Tracy had unsurprisingly returned to the Hospital Wing, but with two more people. Days like this made Saoirse regret ever killing Himiko, she thought. People drained her energy. Behind the Ravenclaw was a boy and a girl, one with yellow lining in their robe and the other with red, respectively. The boy, hair fluffy and in complete disarray, was much taller than the other two. There were very noticeable scruffles of coarse hair along the sides of his face; Saoirse couldn’t tell if it suited him or not. Beside him was a girl in stark contrast; she was very short, similar to Himiko’s height. Her hair was a light brown, fluffier than any hair she had ever seen. 

“Why did you bring monkeys to harass me with?” The hospitalized girl sighed, a noticeable hump in her back as she sat up slowly under the light blue blanket—the one that barely kept her warm. 

Tracy only laughed, waving a hand as he sat back down in the chair he was once in hours ago, a plate of hot food in another hand that was set down near the girl. “You’re funny!” 

The other two dragged chairs next to him, sitting by Saoirse’s bedside. Tracy leaned in his seat, pointing to the boy to say, “This is Eugene,” he pointed to the girl, “and this is Ava-Lynn. They’re my friends, if you couldn’t tell.” 

Ava-Lynn, as Tracy named her, crossed her legs and lifted a manicured hand in greetings while Eugene only raised his eyebrows; his mind elsewhere. 

Saoirse blinked before looking back to the blond boy. “Why did you bring them here?” She asked. 

“Well, I thought you were lonely; you weren’t used to me talking your ear off. I hope you don’t mind.” 

“It’s not like I can kick you three out.” She huffed.

“You don’t want to kick us out anyways, right? Hopefully not…” 

Saoirse shrugged, picking the warm plate up to put in her lap. The foreigner was getting used to the food in Hogwarts. Compared to the food she was accustomed with, it was rather bland. There were a lot of carbs in their diet. “Did they even want to come here?” She hummed, shoving the fork in her mouth. 

Tracy turned, whipping his head around to face his two friends who sat further away from the girl. “I didn’t drag you guys here, did I?” 

The other boy—Saoirse already forgot his name—shook his head, his hair moving along with his movements. “No,” he said, his voice low and his accent American. “I wanted to hear about the new girl; her country bombed mine last year, after all.” 

The girl beside him slapped his bicep, an offended look on her tan face and a sloppy, crooked grin on his. “You can’t say that,” she yelled. “She probably didn’t know about it, you dolt.” 

Saoirse interjected. “I did know about it; though Japan wasn’t very proud of how it failed. But it doesn’t concern me, really. Mahoutokoro doesn’t have  jyōjin in its population—Muggleborns.”

The boy only shrugged, his head flopping to rest on the shoulder of the girl beside him. “I’m really sorry about him,” she waved. “He’s usually more shy when meeting new people; I don’t know what’s up with him today.” 

The following half-hour was filled with idle chatter, with Tracy carrying the majority of the conversation. Ava-Lynn introduced herself as an immigrant from Spain. Her parents were low on money and with the war going on, as well as being in-between the polarizing Germanophiles and Anglophiles, her family was aligned with the United States. So, they fled the country. Other countries right of Spain on the map were out of the question, being so close to the bloodshed that only got worse deeper in the east. The de la Rosas needed to go west. Her family settled in Scotland a couple years back, long before Ava-Lynn obtained her letter from Hogwarts. 

“You’re a Muggleborn, then?” Saoirse asked, her legs folding as she sat tailor-fashion. 

The Spanish girl nodded, a small smile on her plush lips. “You mentioned Mahoutokoro doesn’t accept Muggleborns, yes? Why is that?”

“From my understanding there’s never been any instance of a Muggleborn before; many are usually a Pureblood or a Halfbreed.” 

“And what are you?” Asked Eugene. 

“I’m a Pureblood.” 

“What’s your last name, then? Purebloods are usually famous for their lineage, yeah?” 

“Yes,” Saoirse nodded. “But I can’t say; my mother and father are sticklers for secrecy and being overly cautious.” 

“But they’re not here, just say it,” Eugene scoffed. 

“It would be rude of me to.”  

The boy sighed, “Lame.” He stood up from his chair, dusting imaginary dust off his trousers. “Well, I’m off to sleep; can’t handle being in this infirmary any longer.” He walked off, a slight sway in his steps as he disappeared behind the tall and dark wooden doors of the Hospital Wing. 

Ava-Lynn stood up as well, her eyes bright yet tired as she said, “I should be going to bed too. It was nice meeting you, Saoirse. Linda noche, que descanse.” 

Once the girl left, Tracy and Saoirse were left alone once more, before the boy spoke, “It’s nice to have friends, isn’t it?” 

Saoirse nodded, a flutter of her lip catching his eye. “Mn, I suppose so.” 

┌────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────┐

1:15

“I apologize for the impromptu meeting, but there is something that must be addressed amongst the Inner Circle.” 

Tom stood at the round table in the Come-and-Go Room, this time the furniture being significantly smaller. Sitting at the table were only four young men: Abraxas Malfoy, Miles Lestrange, Orion Black, and Patrick Nott. Among the seven of the members, these were Tom’s most trusted—as far as his trust would go, that is. While the others are valuable, these four were perfectly picked for their unwavering loyalty and determination, as well as their sharp minds. The other three were not the brightest, especially compared to the Inner Circle. 

“I cannot trust this information with the other members because of their lack of composure,” Tom continued, now pacing along a small line of tile. “The girl, the foreigner, almost killed me today.” 

“How bad was the spell?” Patrick asked, his voice grave as he whipped his quill and ink pot out, parchment floating in the air as the tip of his crow feather.

“It caused my skin to decay,” he said, ignoring the way his followers gawked in surprise. “The pain was minimal, but the spell was very effective. From 9:00 to 13:00 the injury spread from my shoulder to my lower jaw and the midsection of my left bicep. When I went to the Hospital Wing, Madam Ruth was unable to heal it at all, though the pain did go away.

“The girl was the only one who could fix it; the use of magic was much different from the European way. The counterspell she used, she wrote it in the air and it healed my skin. There was also a boy visiting her—though irrelevant—and when he asked her what the spell was, she replied in what I assume to be Japanese.” 

As Patrick’s quill scratched against the parchment, Abraxas asked, “Do you have the memory? Maybe we can find something in the library.” 

“No, that won’t work, no matter how hard we look,” Patrick muttered. “The spell system is different in Mahoutokoro; I picked up a book about it a couple of days ago. Apparently people will make spells of their own due to the nature of Japan’s writing system, so if anything that spell is uniquely Saoirse’s. People will also make talismans for other purposes.” He leaned down, rummaging through his satchel before pulling out a spare test tube. “A memory could be helpful, though.” 

Tom nodded, handling his yew to his temple. A sliver of blue phased through his skin, a soft glow emanating from it before he slipped it in the small glass. “We need to speed up our plans. The Chamber must be opened by this year, preferably discovered before Yule Break.” 

“I’m sorry, my Lord, but we’ve been trying to look for ways since our third year.” Miles said, sweat sliding from the crook of his nose. “Are you sure we’ll be able to figure it out in time?”

“If you are doubting your own skills as well as my own, by all means, go ahead,” sighed Tom. “But this is crucial. This random, foreign girl appears out of nowhere, and she single handedly almost killed me—Salazar Slytherin’s only living descendent, his heir.” 

Tom leaned against the table, the wood creaking under his weight as he pressed his palms on it. “Surely you wouldn’t want our House and your family to know your laziness is stopping my rise to power, Lestrange.” 

Miles coughed, fingering at his collar as he sunk into his seat. “No, my Lord, why would I ever doubt you and your following? My apologies. I’ll owl my mother again as soon as I can—in fact, I’ll write to her tonight after this meeting.” “Good,” Tom hummed, his shoulders lax before he moved his gaze over to Orion and Abraxas. “Now, you two will help me search the school for any clues tonight. Patrick will keep on with his research.” The two boys nodded, their expressions firm and undeniably confident in their leader. “And for that girl,” he said. “Keep her close. she’s a threat to our operation—my legacy, my birthright; my purpose.”

Credit(s): Dividing banner (^^^) by Chen Lu (1436 - 1449) - "Plum Blossoms in Moonlight" scroll painting; sourced through Pinterest

[theflagscene]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

I was tagged by @tazzy-ace ☺️

1 - How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 37 works, 7 of those are part of series.

2 - What’s your total AO3 word count?

255,686.

3 - What fandoms do you write for?

I’ll write for any fandom, if I know enough about it at least. But the fandoms I have fics on AO3 are; The Falcon and The Winter Soldier, Supernatural, Not Me, The Eclipse, Semantic Error, Between Us and Never Let Me Go.

4 - What are your top 5 fics by Kudos?

Do I Ever Cross Your Mind? / E / (Not Me/The Eclipse)

There Is No Normal / E / (Supernatural)

Want A Do Over? / T / (The Eclipse)

In The Light Of The Morning / M / (The Eclipse)

When The Darkness Comes / T / (The Eclipse)

5 - Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes and no, it depends on the comment and how I’m feeling. I know I seem like a loud mouth on here, but I’m actually extremely shy and have generalized anxiety disorder, so interacting with people - even online - can cause me a lot of anxiety so it can be difficult to reply to ever comment.

6 - What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmm, I don’t know. I don’t think any of my fics actually end with angst, start with it, run with it or just are angsty in general but I typically try and make endings at the very least hopeful.

7 - What’s a fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

There Is No Normal, I would say that one is the happiest ending for sure. It ends with a proposal and a happily ever after, domestic bliss with a dog and a kid and a happy group of friends and family.

8 - Do you get hate on fics?

Nah, I legit have the best readers on the planet. The sweetest people, who I love to interact with. The closest thing I got to hate would be one little complaint during a Big Bang I was in because I alluded to a character being a switch instead of a strict top, someone saw that and went to the mods to complain instead of coming directly to me. So I absolutely did not change it, because screw their petty ass lol.

9 - Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

All kinds, I’ll write all types of smut featuring all types of genders and sexualities. I’m also willing to try to write any kink (within reason) but that doesn’t mean I’ll write it well lol, I make no promises, I might be total shit at writing a type of smut I’ve never written before.

10 - Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest crossover you’ve ever written?

Yes, I do write crossovers. I think the craziest is actually an unpublished fic that is a crossover of Supernatural and The Void, which is a Canadian made Lovecraftian horror movie from 2016.

11 - Have you ever had a fic stolen?

If so, its not come to my attention.

12 - Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yep, I’m always happy to link to any translations of my works on the original fic, so I always remind translators to drop me a line with a link so I can post it.

13 - Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, I have a co-author that I’ve worked with for like a decade now. I trust them with so much, we work together amazingly well.

14 - What’s your all time favourite ship?

Bro, I’m supposed to have one!? Impossible to answer, no way, next question lol.

15 - What’s a WIP that you want to finish, doubt you ever will?

I’m not really sure, I wanna think that all my WIPs will eventually get done. Because of how my mental health fluctuates, I tend to not to like posting chaptered WIPs because I don’t like leaving people waiting. Which is probably why I only have a couple posted, those ones will absolutely get done. As for non-posted WIPs, well… since they’re not posted there will be no proof of them not getting done. 😈😈

16 - What are your writing strengths?

I have no idea, so I’ll go with what I’ve been told. Characterization, emotional atmosphere and general ambiance. Also smut, I’m your neighbourhood smut peddler for a reason lol.

17 - What are your writing weaknesses?

Spelling and grammar in general, I have dyslexia and mild aphasia due to a TBI that I suffered in my early twenties. Even though I go over my fics dozens of times before they get posted and typically they go to a beta, not always, I’ll admit I am impatient lol. There are still some fuck ups in my fics, even after posting.

18 - Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Unless I speak it at least somewhat fluently, I don’t do it. If I wanna suggest that the person is speaking in a different language than what’s being written, I just slap it in italics.

19 - First fandom you wrote for?

Pretty sure it was Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Ginger Snaps, I can’t remember tbh.

20 - Favourite fic you’ve written?

One of my faves is actually not even on AO3, it was back in my LiveJournal days. It’s a Torchwood fic, it’s basically a Torchwood version of Alice Through the Looking Glass just way more violent and gory. I might actually go over that old thing one day and eventually put it up on AO3, it was one of my first big fics and it’s still one of my favourite plots.

Tagging - I honestly forget who I follow that writes, who draws and who’s a gif maker lol. I don’t wanna tag the wrong type of creator, so if you see this and wanna take part, then consider yourself tagged! Make sure to tag me back so I can read your answers 🤗🤗

[itsjustalark]

@seeingteacupsindragons

" I hope you don't mind me breaking that ask up into smaller chunks to respond to instead of actually answering the ask in my inbox. Sometimes people send me really long things, and then I know having it on my blog and then having to read my probably accordingly long answer is not going to happen, and I just. Feel bad about it."

Mind? Hell no. I'm honoured that you've decided to give me the time of the day at all. It is completely fine with me and thank you for letting me konw. Next time ill make sure to post on my blog and just tag you.

"Tiadane's not actually a boy; this is made clear relatively early on, and he's not picky about pronouns because his home doesn't have a good concept of things like "gender" and "lots of gendered pronouns." I tend to alternate what I use for him when not in the book, and even in the book he shrugs off a couple "she's." And there's actually not any romance in that one; Tiadane and my deuteragonist's relationship is platonically weird in that one. I don't always like writing romance, but I usually have a deuteragonist running around because I just like paired character dynamics a lot."

I'm really sorry for just asssuming Tiadane to be a guy. On the other hand I love when fantasy worlds explore cultures that dont have the same understanding of gender as us. I feel it isnt done enough and where it is atempted its never done with the enough care.

Also when I said 'relationships' I didn't mean them as explicit romantic ones. I'm a big fan of interesting dynamics and I dont believe they always have to be romantic to get me interested. There are so many ways humans interact with one another. That is whats most facinating to me.

"I'm actually not super great at worldbuilding, either. I tend to do it as little as possible and only when I need to; a lot of my current revisions are fleshing the worldbuilding out. And now that I'm focusing on, a lot of the results are good, but it's often just sort of not really the most fun focus for me. "

I'm also not an intricate world builder and cant even imagine going to the flora and fauna level of detail. My points of interest in world building is societities. How they function different from our and how they effect the people living in it accordingly. I build my worlds around my characters becaude i also feel that a fleshed out world only gives more depth to the characters.

Glad to know your world building is going well. I cant even imagine the revisions i have to make one i finish first draft as ive completely given up ingraining the magic system as part of the characters perspective and how it effects their thing cause it was gettjng to complicated. So i will now have to add all of that stuff later on.

"What I shared was actually the query; queries and synopses are different in the publishing word. Basically, my query is supposed to sell people on making it sound interesting, so I'm glad it's working for those functions for now. It still needs to be edited some more later. "

Oh I didnt know that. Still new to all the publishing jargon but always happy to learn more.

"Tiadane's book originally came from playing too much Smash Bros and staring at Pit for too many hours in a row. And then I just typed some random shit to get some words out when I was stuck revising something and not having fun, and started writing this introduction to his world."

I love how we writers get ideas from the most rediculous of senarios.

"I am a very character-focused writer and have had recurring problems with getting a plot to attach correctly over the years. I think Tiadane's book is the first time I didn't have (too) many issues with one by the time I sent to to a CP, and I'm still ripping a lot out to replace it with something better. "

I also write character focused works. Characters are why i read books. I dont reallyenjoy plot heavy books. Every aspect of plot, fleshing out the world or magic i enjoy because it makes tge characters feel more real and elps highlights the themes if the book.

"Each of my fantasy worlds (I also write sci-fi sometimes, and some stuff just...set in our world) has its own magic system. I don't know how writers just have The One for tons of stories. Large universes to play in can be fun, but so is making up new stuff every time."

Also, would you mind telling me about your magic systems? I love that stumm. It facinates me how maging systems ingrain themselves into a story. When i was first materializing my story it was set in a normal world but my mund was like: no no no this story need a magic system and an exploration of the chosen one narrative even though back then it didnt have anything to do with the main plot. But thats me cause i love over complicating thing for myself.

[toastydumpster]

hello fellow aroace!! i’ve been seeing your “follow me home” comic (i assume that’s what the title is since it’s in the first image of the original post and your tags?) and i’m really intrigued by it so far. I have a few questions about it if you don’t mind? feel free not to answer any of them if it would spoil the story/you just don’t want to/whatever else. Also i’m sorry if this ask is really long or it seems like i’m being needlessly verbose but that’s just how my autistic ass writes lol 😅

1. what would you say the genre and general vibe is going to be? Supernatural, mystery, surreal, etc?

2. does the comic feature characters and settings that already exist in some way or are they of your own creation? I really hope you don’t take offense to this question, it’s just that i’ve seen a lot of AUs that are so far removed from the original canon material that I wasn’t even able to tell that I was looking at fan content until I read the tags or someone else pointed it out. Likewise, i’ve seen OCs that happen to share completely unrelated or coincidental similarities with fictional characters/real people. I am just asking because it can be hard to tell sometimes.

3. can you share the name and pronouns of the (i assume) main character? I’ve been calling them ‘white guy’ or just ‘white’ in my head lol.

4. is the story about reincarnation or multiverse stuff? Again, feel free not to answer, but the blurred yellow text seemed to me like the last thing that was said to the main character before they died/reincarnated/their consciousness transferred to another vessel. Either that or the voice of some powerful entity or creator.

5. is there any other content on your blog or other socials about the universe in which the comic takes place or the character(s) that will be featured in the story? Like I said, i’m intrigued and I want to know more.

So yeah, that’s all. I hope I didn’t bother or take too much of your time!

Im really surprised my silly comic was intriguing enough to warrant such an ask! :0 (also dw about the length, it's always a delight to get asks like these (¡w¡) but yeah! considering it's a comic I started on a whim like 4 years ago that i'm just now posting, im glad its intriguing enough! :D

1. Idk about the vibe, since it started as a figure it out as you go kinda thing, but now i think I've settled into a comfortable surrealist, maybe absurdist vibe

2. Yeah it's all my own! No AU's of any kind (also dw there's no offense)

3. Doesn't really have a name and I suppose any pronouns work, as well. We're talking about a new soul here, bro just spawned. You can stick to white guy or white if you'd like! Since I never really planned for a proper name

4. Yes! It's about reincarnation and the cycle of samsara! (Multiverses are briefly mentioned, just for world building purposes)

5. Sadly no. It honestly all started cus i wanted to test some canvas sizes for scroll comics and break the nervousness of starting a comic. So there's really nothing, sorry!

This ask kinda made my day! The fact that someone liked my silly comic makes me really happy!! Tysm for taking the time to tell me (¡w¡

Hopefully you'll like were it goes!

[m1ckeyb3rry]

FR!! I love the whole universe that’s been established through all the characters and dynamics like >>>> and it’s also not just ships palooza which is honestly refreshing

No because sometimes I find some Naoya memes funny where people are shitting on him and even his character is sometimes SO ridiculously misogynistic it’s funny like how do you even exist?? I love naoya slander jokes fr though (I forgot but it’s literally so ironic apparently the way Naoya speaks is a bit lost in translation and he kinda talks like a little girl according to some jp users who’ve pointed it out?? Like BRO) but yeah the only thing he has going for him is his face card maybe (also I originally thought his hair was gonna be green but)

Oh I was not aware oh that foreshadowing!!! Haha!! Self sacrifice!! Lol!! It’s ok y/n’s alive now though so!! But yeah anyways I’m also like…in the scope of jjk0 there’s quite literally only (including y/n) 5 characters/classmates that fit into like the friend group positions? And excuse the collateral slander one of which is a bear, the other quite literally cannot talk, one who acts like a bully, one who was BULLIED like adding ocs helps broaden the dynamic possibilities a lot more?? Like there’s ofc no problem NOT adding ocs but I don’t see how you can blame someone for wanting to add them because that’s literally the tiniest class of students I’ve ever seen?? Let’s give our protag some more friends…also if you don’t like it just close the tab and go for a different fic?? I seriously don’t understand the need to vocalize complaints like this when they won’t benefit the anyone in any way like also wait THAT WAS THE COMMENT?? Wow really came full circle with BLLK Karasu and PI but BRUH yeah maybe it’s just a wattpad thing….although this is kinda unrelated I’ve also seen some really rude anons here too? Like I’ll just scroll through a tag or a blog and I see like, someone asks anonymously and goes “you’re so fucking annoying and your work is shit” BRO WHO IS COMPELLING YOU TO SAY THIS??? The fact that they take the time of day to go find their ask box and submit something like what does this achieve?? The audacity of some people it was nice to see other blogs like quote reposting and calling anon out for doing such heinous shit but what even….

I’m laughing like theoretically when I put the puzzle pieces together…yes bf material..? But also my brain says um. LMAOAOA it’s so funny I mean I don’t doubt that he would be a good bf but I can’t wrap my head around bf material and todo being in the same sentence HAHAHA

The shitty familial clans always get me the fact that they kept refusing to heal sorcerers associated with y/n?? And then tullia was truly the final straw…but so real I know they aren’t l/ns but I mean dad’s side of the family smh the hiiragis too in hollyhock <<<<<<

“Quick and easy” LMAOOO sorry it makes me laugh sm because in the span that we’ve been talking there’s already been multiple incidents of “this turned out way longer than it was supposed to” HAHAHA yk…if you just make an approximation and multiply it by 2.5 i think you’ll be good LMAO bro really said lemme churn out the Walmart version for otoya so I can get cracking on masterclass version for Karasu (I say Walmart version lightly because I know it’ll still be top tier LOL) but honestly so real gotta do the best for our man karasu

Ok by association (?? Ik there’s a better word than this but I can’t think of it LMAO) if otoyas is at 10k rn does that mean Karasu’s is gonna but the 20’s /j

Imagine it was angsty and karasu drowns (im joking no one dies in soccer!!!!!!!!!) but OMFG. I AM. SO. READY!!! LETS GOOO I LIVE FOR MEDIOCRITY COMPLEX KARASU ANGST!!! EVERYBODY CHEERED WAHOO ok but im fr so hyped for the lineup of BLLK fics you have in the works it’s been awhile since I’ve seen sm quality content being posted its such a change from the disappointingly inactive tags LMAO

This would be the crossover of the century y/n and her mom going to watch the BLLK u20 match causing and even BIGGER commotion with the press too like imagine all the cameramen who are there for the match swerving to look at the models LMAOOO I can imagine Yuki being really close to her and looking up to her almost like a mentor or cool aunt(kinda giving Gojo’s role to the jjk students except, well mrs l/n does not act like a teenager LMAOO) I bet Yukimiya would have to reign everyone in like a THATS MY BESTIE/BASICALLY MY SECOND MOM???? It’d be funny to see yuki kinda lose him temper like “no you stay TF away from them I will not allow you to taint them with your weirdness”

I’m ngl I was fr just a reader/lurker until recently, I actually used to just use the web version without an account because I was too lazy to set one up and have another thing potentially entering my email inbox until the site started forcing you to get the app which requires an account so I was like ok well gotta do what you gotta do….and then I proceeded to do exactly what I did before (literally just lurking and silently enjoying LOL) and not try to explore any of the app features and uh. Well here I am!! I’m sure I’ll figure it out someday when something prompts me to do so LMAO the platform in general is so interesting though especially compared to most other social media platforms out there!! I don’t feel like conquering that learning curve today oops

-Karasu anon

there def are some side ships (togetullia, mrs l/n and toji, elakshi and noritoshi) but for the most part yes there’s not a ton of romance going on!! plus of those three relationships only one even works out so 😓 truly the strength of pi imo is the platonic relationships it has (tullia and y/n will always be famous to me like it’s not at all romantic but the way they loved one another is so integral to the story it makes me emotional 🥹)

NAOYA IS JUST CRAZY TO ME LMAOAOA like he truly feels like a govt experiment…he kinda looks like raichi from bllk (or raichi looks like him idrk which one came first) but raichi is so enraged 24/7 that no one acknowledges his face card 😭💔

NO THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYING like sorry i want to have more than female character in my stories…sorry not every single character is in love w y/n…LMAO also yeah idk why people haven’t grasped the concept of just clicking another story HAHAHA like?? if you don’t like it then read something else!! why would i change how i like to write because some random on the internet is annoyed, esp considering how many people love my stories?? the entitlement is weird to me but i try not to complain abt it a lot because ik that in terms of hate i’m very lucky in that i’ve never gotten anything too bad…i have seen those types of anons it’s insane!! personally somehow i’ve avoided getting any myself HAHA idek what i’d do if i did 😩 i try to stay relatively unproblematic and in my lane on here so i haven’t ever gotten involved in tumblr drama like a lot of other accts have but i live in fear of the day that someone comes in my inbox and is a jerk 😰

when you think about it objectively todo is a good bf but when you see him you’re like “well…” HAHA i think having him as a weird rival bestie is the best in between because you get the benefits of him hanging out w you without it being romantic

THE DAD’S SIDE OF THE FAMILY IS ALWAYS THE ENEMY KFKFJDJD the hiiragis are so l/n coded too LMAO

please i need to just stop having expectations atp because i KNOW it’s going to be crazier than what i think…LMAO the otoya one is silly and unserious and more along the lines of the last part of fwtkac but i’m planning on having something a bit closer to the instrument for the karasu version where it’s more serious (we’ll see though because something abt tabieita brings out the crack fic writer in me so there’s a chance it’ll end up silly as well) HAHA as much as i love otoya i fear karasu deserves the best so my time love and energy will be going into his version

atm i’m hoping for something in like the 6-9k range for the karasu version?? so make of that what you will…the otoya version (which i should be posting in the next hour or so i hope) is almost 13k words so obviously i’m way off in my guesses as it’s over 3-4 times longer than i initially thought 😭 if the karasu version ends up being 20k words i might cry HKDJDJSK i think i’ll have written more for him than even nagi w peregrine at that point 😩

omg ykw just because you said that i’m going to make him drown LMAOAOAAO not permanently though but like 😏 mediocrity complex karasu my beloved…i’m so excited to get working on that HAHA i need to get the otoya version over with so i can focus on my main man 😢 HAHA i’m doing my best to contribute to the fandom i think i’ve written over 100k words of bllk fics since may so yk i’m putting in the work

LITERALLY omg y/n and her mother are the WAGs of all time 😭 everyone in the crowds in shock because it’s the most random soccer match ever and for some reason famous former model mrs l/n is there?? and her daughter is equally as pretty?? i feel like having endured the modeling industry mrs l/n would def take yuki under her wing and try to help him through it (maybe he was signed to the her old agency or smth) and she absolutely would NOT let y/n anywhere near that whole scene even though agents keep trying to scout her 😩 omg yuki would be sooo pressed it’s like that one tik tok sound that’s like “how old is your dad—” “TOO old for you!! and he’s married!! stay away from my dad guys he’s married!!” HAHAHA and if yuki and y/n are just friends and not dating at that point i bet otoya and aiku would try to rizz her up and she’d be so uninterested 😰 honestly besides yuki i could maybe see her going for hiori LMAOAOA so like imagine karasu’s face if he tries to flirt with her and she’s like “cool 👍 abt your friend though…😏🤩🥰” (the friend in question has zero clue what’s going on and is completely confused when she tries to talk to him)

it def is a learning curve but once you get it it feels intuitive ig?? until they throw another curveball at you 😰 even now i’m still discovering features that i didn’t realize existed 😳 i was def a silent reader/lurker for a while too!! i feel like i still am a lot of the time haha it doesn’t help that i rarely read other people’s fics because i’m usually working on my own 😓 if you ever need help w anything on here lmk though i will do my best to give advice 💪🏻

[beels-burger-babe]

Master List

Hey hey hey! If you’re here it means you’re looking for my writing (or just Obey Me fan fics but it’s the same thing really), in which case, you’ve come to the right place.  (All fics are written with a gender neutral MC unless otherwise specified 😊)

UPDATE: Please find the newly organized and regularly updated masterlist HERE

There And Back Again: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Epilogue Summary: What if MC hadn’t been seen by everyone after watching their death and went back to their original time line?? TW: Spoilers for Lesson 16, Mentions of Murder and Violence, Trauma, and Panic Attacks/PTSD 

The Day Out: Summary: MC and Solomon spend the day out enjoying the wonders of the Devildom. The problem with this? They never told the seven Lords of Hell that they’d be gone for the day.  TW: Torture (Not to the MC or the bros tho), Injuries, Murder (Again, just an unimportant Background Character)

Too Still, Too Quiet Summary:  Satan notices that MC seems to have a hard time hanging out with him; he's determined to get to the bottom of the issue and find a solution. (aka MC has ADHD and has a hard time hanging out with quiet, organized Satan) Of Jealousy and Friendship: Part 1, Part 2, Epilogue Summary:  MC makes a lower demon friend who may secretly be hoping for something more than friendship. The Demon Bros are not about to let this happen.  Fool Me Twice: Part 1, Part 2 Summary: A month after the Solomon incident, MC goes missing again. The brothers try to remain calm and not to over react this time and wait for their human to return. Only, something isn't quite right. TW: ANGST! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! Kidnapping, Vomiting, Descriptions of immense pain, gore/injuries, torture Beelzebub’s Very Bad No Good Day Summary:  Beel doesn't get anything to eat for a day, and it doesn't go well for anybody. Familial Attachments Summary: MC keeps favoring Lucifer. It baffles the other brothers. Lucifer is intrigued by the behavior and slowly begins to open up to them.

Try It, I Dare You Summary:  As Lucifer forms a more familial bond with MC, the other brothers find themselves falling for the human romantically. Lucifer notes the changes in his brother's intentions and is not pleased. Continuation of Familial Attatchments A Little Voice Told Me: Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3 Summary: Words hurt and leave their scars. MC learns this the hard way after hearing some not-so-nice whispers about them while on a date with Beel. How are they supposed to be the partner of the seven lords of the Devildom when they just don't measure up? Ft. Poly!MC

All is Fair in Dice and War Summary:  Leviathan's world is flipped upside down when MC tells him there is a game that basically allows him to be the Lord of Shadows in real life!! He demands that his brothers join him as MC introduces them all to the chaotic shit show that is Dungeons & Dragons. How The Heart Hungers Summary: As MC becomes aware of the feelings that they have for everyone's favourite friendly giant, Beelzebub, they find themselves becoming more and more flustered around him. Leaving a slightly confused Beel.

Mind Your Traps Summary: After a few nights of Mammon consistently trying to break into his room and steal his cursed records, Lucifer decided to put up a trap for him. When he sees it's been triggered later that day, he just grins and carries on with his work, imagining the suffering his brother must be going through. It's not until his brothers start panicking and he sees Mammon panicking with them that he realizes he messed up...big time. ft. Poly!MC

A Pain You’ll Soon Regret: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4,  Summary: MC and the demon lords get in a fight resulting in MC leaving. They planned on going to Purgatory Hall until things cool off, but they never quite make it there. Ft. Poly!MC TW: Heavy Angst, Violence, I don't know what to tag this, but there is a pretty nasty verbal fight, Gore/Injury

The Day You Became The Strongest Of Them All Summary:  After an incident with Solomon, MC suddenly has a crazy amount of powers and abilities. They think this is amazing! Not all of the brother share that sentiment, however.

I Can Be Your Type Summary: Asmodeus is bored one day and, more importantly, he doesn't think he can stand looking at the eyesore of Satan's clothing choices for a second longer. A makeover ensues much to the amusement of the other brothers and annoyance of Satan...that is until MC sees it.

Totally Not Lost: Summary: Mammon takes MC treasure hunting, only they kind of get more than a little lost along the way, and it's starting to get dark. TW: Anxiety/Anxiety Attack Melodious Mourning Summary:  It's MC's anniversary of their relationship with the Lords of the Devildom. They've planned a little something special to share with them; something that will express how much they love the brothers, while also preparing them for a tragic truth. Ft. Poly!MC A Magical Bond Summary: Solomon and MC have been married for nearly a century. They arrive in the Devildom separately with no knowledge that the other is there...until they meet that is. Storm Clouds on a Sunny Day Summary: MC has always been a happy positive ray of light that brought joy with them wherever they went; at least that's what the brothers and the other exchange students would tell you. But when they suddenly start getting quiet and begin isolating themselves, everyone is concerned. FT. Teen!MC TW: descriptions of grief. With You Always Summary: An average day of high school with MC...and the seven pact manifestations that haunt their vision. FT. Teen! MC TW: Bullying

The Five Times Mammon Did Something For The Others: Summary: ( And the one time the others did something for him.)  Without his brothers even realizing it, Mammon has gone out of his way time and time again to make sure that they are safe, happy, and healthy, and yet no one ever seems to do the same for him. Hell, no one even thanks him for it.

It’s Got To Be Me: Summary: The brothers and MC wake up in a room with no exits or furniture. Only a pressure platform in a corner and a sign that reads "All of you may leave, when you choose one who will stay." TW: Heavy angst, implied drugging, talk and discussion of self-sacrifice, anxiety/panic attacks, brothers fighting,

Waiting in the Wings: Summary:  A talent show is being held at RAD; knowing the vocal talents of a certain young angel, you encourage Luke to join. Only Luke doesn't seem too fond of the idea. Together, you and Simeon do your best to give Luke the courage to shine.

To Be a Royal: Summary:  In honour of their hard work and loyalty in the Devildom, MC has been knighted as Layde MC of the House of Lamentation. The coronation and ball were a sweeping success, but now the real work of a noble person begins. Barbatos works with MC to try and teach them the manners and protocols of being a royal in the Devildom.

I Burn For You Summary:  Since MC's arrival, Lucifer and them have never fully gotten along. There was always a large, unknown and undiscussed tension between them and they were fine to keep it that way. But when MC's security in the Devildom is threatened by both the angels and the nobility of the Devildom itself, everything changes. As a ruse to persuade the celestial realm, MC and Lucifer wed. After the ceremony, they finally talk about the unacknowledged feelings burning inside of both of them.

The Facade of the Suitor: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7 to be written  Summary: MC catches the eye of Lady Harlow, a higher demoness who has had a small feud with the brothers for centuries. She's determined to steal MC from them and keep MC under her wing. The brothers, however, are determined not to let that happen.

Double Vision Summary: It's the night before the first major test of the RAD school year, and MC has been holed up in their room all day. The brothers are concerned and go to check in on them, but they notice something different - MC is wearing glasses  CW: Asmo being Asmo/Suggestive

Please Be The Flu Summary: MC hasn't been feeling too well, making Beel grow extremely concerned. After getting confirmation from Simeon that MC isn't sick at all, but rather pregnant, the two work together to keep it a secret from the baby's father. CW: Vomiting, This fic does have some SUGGESTIVE content. It's not graphic by any means, but just a heads up.

Never Letting You Go Summary: After running into a masked Lucifer, you did not escape. He caught you. They caught you. When you come through, the brothers, acting under the malicious cursed masks that they wear, are discussing just what they ought to do with you and your sparkling soul. What's a defenseless little human to do CW: Yandere behaviours, mentions of murder, cannibalism, violence/gore. This one is DARK guys. Please be careful while reading and be sure to practice self-care/awareness before, during, and after reading.

Deaf!MC AU

Devildom in Silence: Part 1, Part 2 Summary:  One minute MC was sleeping in their cozy room in the human world, the next they're trapped in the Devildom with a bunch of, admittedly cute, demons and no hearing aids. Being deaf and surrounded by morons is not a good combo. TW: Anxiety/Panic Attack

Meetings of Greed and Envy: Summary: At the end of a very long first day in the Devildom with Satan, MC wanders off to the kitchen to get a snack...only to run into one Avatar of Greed who hasn't quite been brought up to speed on everything yet. Throw in an angry Leviathan and this day just could not get any worse.