#i wonder if anyone's still keeping up with these i'm posting a LOT

[thethingything]

so CBT never worked for us in therapy. basically every instance of it was therapists trying to get us to stop being anxious about very real problems that were very likely to happen. like, situations that were not only likely, but would be very dangerous if they did happen. sometimes even things that had already happened and were likely to happen again.

meanwhile we have an app on our phone that guides you through various CBT exercises and it turns out when we use that for the kind of shit where we already know our brain is being irrational and we just want to get our thoughts together and work through the issue by writing it out, it works really fucking well and oh look suddenly we've been doing CBT for an hour and processed the root cause of several key emotional issues we've been having for years.

funny how that works. it's almost like we can actually figure out for ourselves when something is irrational and when it's an actual real problem that could put us in danger and shouldn't be dismissed. who'd have fucking thought it

[ugh-yoongi]

ex-conomics | csc

you supported seungcheol through years of being an aspiring athlete, and all you got to show for it was your undergraduate degree and an awkward, stuttered apology when he dumped you to go semi-pro. now he’s back after an injury derailed his career, and there’s only one problem: you’re the only one available to tutor him. you - 0; the universe - 1. talk about no return on investment.

⚽ pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader ⚽ genre: exes to (lite) enemies to lovers; university au; angst, fluff ⚽ rating: while there is nothing explicit in this fic, there are two brief references to smut. while i can't stop anyone from reading this, i would prefer minors do not interact with this or any of my work. ⚽ warnings: cheol is some degree of famous, reader is a grad student/TA, mentions of an injury and coping with the aftermath of it, lots of economics talk that even i do not understand, swearing, one mention of alcohol, some misplaced jealousy, rom-com tropes, dino is kind of a loser but we love him anyway. probably a lot of other things i missed, but this is actually pretty tame for a fic of this length. ⚽ word count: 13.4k ⚽ thank you: a lot of people looked this over for me in the process and i'm sure i will forget some of them so if i do i'm sorry: @the-boy-meets-evil, @hot-soop, @highvern, and @haologram, who also gave me some wonderful ideas for the vlogs. thank you to MIT for opencourseware existing. i took microeconomics and dropped it, so i couldn't have done this without you. everyone in the discord server for helping me along the way and keeping me motivated. ⚽ author's note: i haven't posted a fic in nearly seven months, so i think it goes without saying that there are parts of this i like and a lot more i'm not 100% happy with. i'd love if this was more fleshed out and 10k longer, but i was able to write anything at all so it's good enough. this was written for the back to school with seventeen collab, hosted by @camandemstudios. thank you both for letting me participate! please make sure to check out the rest of the stories! everyone worked so hard and this collab was a ton of fun to participate in. <3

You look down at the paper. Back up at who handed it to you. Down at the paper again.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

The poor freshman kid laughs, all nerves, and even though the sound is grating, you remember what it’s like to be forced into work study. How far away graduate school seemed; how large your professors loomed over you with all their power and knowledge and credentials; how you constantly felt like the dumbest person in nearly every room you walked into for four straight years.

“Um—”

You sigh, just barely resisting the urge to slam your head onto your desk. “I—it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Your words do little to ease Freshman’s nerves. He’s still hunched over in the doorway of your office, wringing his hands as he shifts his weight back and forth, in for a lifetime of body pain with the way he’s squaring his shoulders. “You’re sure about this, though? Like, I’m really not being set up?”

“I don’t think so?” he offers, slowly starting to turn green right before your eyes. “Dr. Lee ga-gave me the paperwork himself, I don’t think he would’ve messed it up? Oh no, did I mess it up? Should I go back to Student Services and conf—”

Good god, this kid’s anxiety is gonna stink up your office for weeks. “No need!” you interject. “I’ll just…” Sign it, you want to say, but the longer you stare at the sheet of paper the quicker you’re losing your resolve.

TUTORING REQUEST FORM Student Name: Choi Seungcheol Degree: Undergraduate Major: Business Course: ECON04101 Introduction to Microeconomics Instructor: Lee Yeonseok, PhD. Recommended Tutoring: High (3-4 hours per week)

You curse under your breath. Of the two names on the paper, Dr. Lee’s does not come as a surprise. He’s a notorious hard-ass with an infamous attrition rate—most students don’t last more than a week in any of his classes—but he’s also the sole reason you were able to pay for someof your grad school tuition out of pocket with all the tutoring money you made.

That, however, was two years ago.

“Does he know I don’t tutor anymore?” Stupid question. The kid stares blankly back at you, as if to say I don’t know any more than the people in Student Services, let alone Dr. Lee. It is literally my first year here. “I’m Dr. Ahn’s TA this year. I’ve got my hands full with her bullsh… stuff—”

Immediately, you know you’ve said something wrong, because the kid’s eyes light up, all that previous anxiety disappearing like smoke. “Wait, the same Dr. Ahn that teaches the crypto course?”

“No, that one died,” you say quickly. Kid deflates. “Anyway, I don’t really tutor anymore, especially for econ. As you can see”—you gesture vaguely around the cramped four walls of your office—“they’ve upgraded me. They even put my name on a little placard by the door! Go look! They spelled it wrong! If that doesn’t sum up this university I don’t know what does.”

You heave another sigh. Try to school your face and tone into something that exudes professionalism and finality. “Look, I’m sorry I can’t help you. I tutored Dr. Lee’s students for, like, three years in undergrad so I’m sure they just… forgot that wasn’t my actual job here. Who’s in charge of tutoring these days? I’ll shoot them an email and explain all this.”

Freshman gives you a name, and it takes less than a second to find them in the employee directory. You expect that to be the end of it, but he’s still taking up space in your doorway. You quirk an eyebrow. “Yes?”

The hand-wringing returns, along with an embarrassed flush that disappears beneath the neckline of his school-branded sweatshirt. “I just—um. Maybe you could, uh. Send that now? Before I get back there?”

You blink. “Don’t you have to go all the way back across campus? How slow do you think I type?” He shrugs, and you give up on the idea of getting rid of him. “Fine. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Lee Chan. I’m a sophomore. Do you know that guy?”

“Oh. I thought for sure you were a freshman, but you’re gonna need to be more specific, Lee Chan, Sophomore.”

“The guy they want you to tutor.” You freeze. The guy they want you to tutor is—“Choi Seungcheol,” Chan tacks on, and, yeah, you know—knew, you correct yourself—someone with that name, once upon a time.

But there are a lot of Chois and a lot of Seungcheols. It’s been years since you’ve spoken to the Seungcheol you knew, and that was when he’d broken up with you to—“I heard he’s a football player? Well, used to be, I guess. The girls in the office were freaking out so I guess he’s pretty famous, but I don’t know anything about sports, do you? They said they have photocards of him. I thought they only did that for idols.”

You think about being kids together in Daegu. Think about the exasperated looks you’d share when your parents would drag the two of you to festivals: Palgongsan in the autumn, Biseulsan in the spring; transformation and rebirth. Think about being eight years old and watching your father cram into the small space of the Chois’ living room, standing around the TV with Seungcheol’s dad, shouting at Park Jonghwan. Daegu FC made the FA Cup quarterfinals that year, and you think, of everything, that’s what you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

You think about falling in love slowly. Sixteen and clueless, the pair of you were. Didn’t really know any different, just that you’d look at him and feel butterflies. That you’d hold hands in secret. Text beneath the dinner table. That you’d watch him on the football pitch and be consumed by pride. That the future felt impossibly far away, that life would never catch up to the two of you.

You think about all the football jargon you didn’t understand—the academies, the teams, the implications. You think about, I’m thinking about trying out for the FC Seoul U-18, I just don’t think there’s much more I can do here in Daegu. You think about replying, Oh, I applied to university there.

You remember thinking it must’ve been fate, how easy that had worked out. How easy that first hurdle had been overcome.

You think about how fast everything happened. The try-out, the acceptance, the explosion. Remember being unable to go anywhere those first few months without seeing Seungcheol’s face, touted as the next big thing. Think about applying for scholarships when he was applying for international visas. Think about studying for midterms when Seungcheol was studying English for interviews.

You think about the last few weeks of your relationship, when it felt like you were desperately trying to cling to ghosts. Think about how Seoul had once felt endlessly big, both in opportunity and size, and how it now felt suffocating. You think about, So you’re just giving up? Is that what you’re saying? Think about, I don’t know what else to do. It doesn’t feel fair to you.

You think about all the places you’ve watched him. On countless football pitches; shy glances in school hallways; in the passenger seat, wracked with nerves on the drive to Seoul; poised above you in bed, hairline dotted with sweat as he rolled his hips, telling you how much he loved you.

You think about watching him walk out the door, and how you never watched him again.

So you fire off your email, concise and to the point about why you can’t tutor Choi Seungcheol in Introduction to Microeconomics, and turn to Lee Chan, Sophomore.

“No,” you finally answer. “Never heard of him.”

For all intents and purposes, your rejection should’ve been the end of it.

A few days go by. You hold office hours, attend lectures, work on your thesis when you have both the time and the energy. Try to ignore the feeling of bees beneath your skin, anxiety needling each time you check your email. You were well within your right to decline the tutoring request, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve done something wrong. That someone somehow knows who Seungcheol was to you and will pull you up on it. That those girls who’d gushed about him to Chan are somewhere laughing at your expense.

But you don’t hear anything at all about it… until you do.

Sunday evening. You haven’t moved from your couch in hours, some variety show playing in the background, barely audible over your keyboard clacking. Much to your detriment, you don’t write many papers these days, so you’re out of practice. Feels like you haven’t done anything besides formulas in years, all of your academic knowledge reduced to fucking math, so you’re about ready to toss your laptop out the window long before the email even comes through.

You see, From: Lee Yeonseok. You see, Subject: Choi Seungcheol - Tutoring.

Your stomach plummets to the floor.

You scan the body quickly. You see the words personal favor… friend of his father… urgent matter… and your hands start shaking. Whether it’s from the sheer audacity of this man or anxiety, you aren’t sure, but it’s not like it matters. There aren’t a whole lot of people on campus brave or dumb enough to go up against him twice.

“Motherfucker,” you spit, bitter the only taste in your mouth.

Where did you go wrong to wind up here? You’d followed the script: got the grades, passed the exams, received half of the required education for the Respectable Career, helped a few others along the way chase dreams that may or may not have been their own. You’d fallen in love. Only had a broken heart to show for it, but that’d been in the script, too: The First Love, followed by The First Heartbreak.

The split from Seungcheol was supposed to have been the end of that chapter. You’d planned on never seeing him again, and you never would have, had it been up to you. Apparently the universe has other plans, participation required.

“Did you spill onion dip on the rug again?” You startle, sending your laptop flying. Kaori, your roommate, is perched halfway in between the living room and the kitchen like a cryptid, clearly not expecting your reaction. “Oh. Were you watching porn?”

Face burning, you fetch your laptop from the floor. “In a common area? Kaori, please, I have far more decorum than that.”

She snorts, resuming her trek to the fridge. “See, that’s what I thought, but then I walked out here and you threw your laptop so fast it was like watching my ex get caught watching furry porn all over again.” She pries the lid off a large container of yogurt. “You think this is still good?”

“Dunno. What’s it smell like?”

She sniffs it and pulls it back to check the label. “Vanilla, I think, which is concerning because it’s supposed to be strawberry.”

You shrug. “What’s the worst that can happen, you get extra”—you pause, trying to remember the correct order of things, before giving up entirely—“...biotics?”

“Mm, so close. Care if I just eat this with a spoon?”

Nose scrunched, you wave her off. “Couldn’t pay me to eat yogurt on a good day, let alone if it’s expired. All yours, babe.”

Spoon in hand and a pleased smile on her face, Kaori collapses onto the couch beside you. You try to return your attention to your paper, try to find your momentum again, and it works for all of ten minutes before you’re groaning and slamming the top closed.

You don’t even need to look over to know Kaori’s staring. “What’s up with you?” she asks. Before she can answer: “Wait, is this serious? Because I can’t have a serious conversation in this t-shirt.” You steal a glance sideways. Ask Me About My Hemorrhoid! it says, and you exhale loudly. “Don’t breathe at me, I lost a bet.”

“And continued wearing it?”

She jokingly rolls her eyes. “God forbid a girl has hobbies.” Nudges you with her foot. “C’mon, spill.”

Kaori doesn’t know about you and Seungcheol. Most people don’t, aside from a few old classmates from Daegu who found you on social media and tried befriending you once he started making a name for himself in Seoul. After that, it was just easier to keep things private while you were together. New friends knew you were seeing someone but not their name or how long you’d been together. Any curiosity surrounding why the Choi Seungcheol was following you on Insta had been waved away easily. Our parents are friends, we grew up together. Then you broke up, and there wasn’t any evidence to delete, and he wasn’t following you on Instagram anymore, and it was easier that way.

So, yeah—even though you hadn’t met her until years later, Kaori knows you have an ex. She knows you’ve had a few flings and situationships in the time since, too, and it’s why she’s none the wiser when you ask, “It’s nothing, really. Just—do you follow football at all?”

“Nah, not really. The new guy’s pretty into it and keeps trying to get me to watch the games with him, but it’s so fucking boring? I dunno, I can’t get into it. Not in real life, anyway—I binged all of Captain Tsubasa in an embarrassingly short amount of time, though. Why?”

“Student Services asked me to tutor someone the other day and I had to turn it down. I just don’t have the time, you know? This semester’s already killer, and Dr. Ahn’s been riding my ass nonstop about grades. Turns out it’s some football player, so Dr. Lee emailed me asking me to do it as a personal favor, which means, on top of all the other shit I have to do, I’m now tutoring some football player four hours a week in Microeconomics.”

Her face distorts. “God, that guy’s such a prick. Like wow, you’re good at the economy! Good for you! Who cares! Why don’t you go balance the national debt or something instead of torturing university freshmen!”

You also wrongly assume that’s the last you’ll hear of it from Kaori.

Two days later, after Student Services replies to your email with the days and times you’ll be tutoring Seungcheol, she materializes in the living room to harass you.

“You didn’t tell me your football player was Choi Seungcheol.”

The panic is instant. You know how she means it, but it’s not how your body interprets it. All of a sudden it feels like an interrogation, an accusation, and a whopping serving of guilt takes up residence in the middle of your chest for not being entirely honest.

“Explains this weird text Ken sent me.”

She slides her phone over to you, open to her text thread with her current flavor of the week. Beneath an article about Seungcheol enrolling in classes at your school:

doesn’t ur roomie TA there Why are you calling her “ur roomie” like you don’t know her name?? Rude. Also yes. ask her to get me an autograph No babe pls he was my fav player before he got injured No 🙄 fine. can i come over later? Starting to think you’re using me for my roommate. Get your own job 🙄

You hand her phone back. “I didn’t think you’d know who Choi Seungcheol even is.” It’s the best you can do, even though it just digs you a deeper grave. “You said you’re not into football.”

“I’m not, but unfortunately I am into that stupid man.” She sighs, wistful and longing. “Babe, you have to understand. His dick is so big.”

You hadn’t wanted to stay in Seoul for your graduate degree, let alone the same university you’d gone to for undergrad.

You’d applied to schools all over—Japan, Europe, even a few in the States. Romanticized the hell out of NYU, went window shopping for an overpriced apartment, picked a favorite pizzeria based on nothing but vibes and online reviews. In those few months after graduation, there wasn’t a whole lot tying you to Seoul. Your and Seungcheol’s relationship had been old history by then, your parents split. Your dad stayed in your childhood home and your mother moved a few hours closer to her sister. They’d waited until your brother was old enough to be out of the house.

And it’d just been… a lot. Overwhelming. Some days you could barely shower or feed yourself, let alone move halfway across the world, so you’d stayed in the familiar and tried not to let it feel like failure.

But the good thing about familiarity is you learn its tricks, figure out the hiding spots. Early on, your first or second week of grad school, you laid claim to a study room on a floor of the library everyone else ignored. You write notes on the whiteboard with faded blue markers that are still there days later. The chair on the opposite side of the table is always exactly where you left it, the space between it and the table enough to only accommodate you. Sometimes you leave books—old paperbacks littered with notes in your writing—or papers, just to see if they move.

They never do.

And all of this is why it feels like a punch to the gut when that sanctity is tainted. When you’re halfway through a stack of Dr. Ahn’s exams and the doorknob rattles behind you. When you don’t even need to turn around to know who it is, because he still sounds the same, still has that overwhelming presence. You’ve always sensed him before you felt him.

“There you are,” Dr. Lee says, ambling into the room before you can protest. He, too, is overwhelming, just in different ways. Immaculate posture that anchors his slight frame that’s always dressed impeccably and expensively. Wears a watch that’s triple your tuition. Shoes polished so bright they’re nearly blinding. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

This time it is an accusation.

Well, you found me, you want to say, but just knowing Seungcheol is behind him, lingering in that half-study room, half-hallway space, is enough to keep you quiet. Like if you speak you’ll summon him closer and you’ll no longer be able to pretend this is nothing more than a nightmare.

You plaster on a polite smile. Say, “Ah, here I am, kyosu-nim,” and put all your energy into trying to glue Seungcheol to the floor with your mind.

Which is fruitless, because Dr. Lee moves further into the room. Gestures for Seungcheol to follow him with an impatient huff, and the study room is small, sure, and with three people it feels cramped, but that’s not the reason it feels like all the air’s been sucked out of the room.

Seungcheol looks… different. He looks as anxious as you feel, and he sticks close to the wall like he’s trying to disappear. Dr. Lee introduces him with grave importance, unaware of your history, and the forced smile he offers you almost looks embarrassed.

You know Dr. Lee is still hammering away, probably giving you a stern talking-to for rejecting his request the first time, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Seungcheol. Feels like the world around you has reduced to a pinhead, all hyperfocus; feels like your lungs are sucking in stale air one at a time.

“...his father is a very good friend of mine, so I expect…”

You expected to feel nothing. Seungcheol had left to chase his dream—one you’d always been so supportive of that it sometimes felt like your dream, too—and, perhaps naively, you thought the distance and the years would’ve been enough. You expected your heart to have hardened. You expected all those nights you spent crying to hit you at full force. You expected anger, hurt—indifference, at the very least.

“...as many hours per week as you both can manage…”

But you should’ve known better. Should’ve expected the butterflies, the way your palms grow clammy, the way your heart rate spikes. Should’ve expected everything to feel upside-down. You should’ve expected to look at Seungcheol and feel sixteen and in love all over again.

“...you are responsible for his academic progress…”

And that simply will not do. You’ve spent the last few years pulling yourself out of that hole, clawing your way back to something resembling normal. You’ve purged the thought of him from your mind—let his scent fade from your sheets, an old sweatshirt he’d left behind; forgot the way his lips felt against every inch of your skin; forgot the way his entire being lit up when he laughed; forgot the safety he encompassed, the way he whispered all those sweet nothings.

You cannot go there again.

So you roll your shoulders back, smile politely. Say, “Ah, kyosu-nim, Choi Seungcheol-ssi seems very intelligent, I’m sure he is capable of being responsible for his own academic standing, don’t you think?”

Dr. Lee cannot disagree without all but calling Seungcheol an idiot, so he hovers before you in shocked silence. Makes a show of huffing and checking his watch, like he’s all of a sudden remembered he’s late for something and being inconvenienced by this conversation he started, and then he’s halfway out of the library with a terse, “Discuss and figure this out amongst yourselves,” thrown over his shoulder.

You have an entire dramatic exit planned in your head. Gather your things, fake a phone call that makes you sound authoritative and important, and brush past Seungcheol wearing your nicest perfume as if all of this is so far beneath you you can’t even bring yourself to care about it.

Of course, you actually have to brush by him for any of that to happen, and since you’ve already decided you will not go there again, you quickly scribble your email address onto a piece of paper and slide it across the table at Seungcheol, who has steadfastly remained planted just outside the door. “Here’s my email. I don’t have time to discuss this right now.” Seungcheol cocks an eyebrow. You start throwing things into your bag haphazardly. You know you look frantic and affected, but there’s not much you can do about that. “What? Send me a copy of your syllabus and what you want to prioritize. It’ll be easier to get through this if we have a plan instead of winging it.”

He seems to catch on to your distaste because he mirrors it. Scoffs as he rolls his eyes and says, “Yeah, no use spending more time together than we have to,” and if you hadn’t gone years without speaking, you would’ve seen right through it.

But you did, so it stings all the same.

As it typically does, the planet keeps spinning after your run-in with Seungcheol.

You grade Dr. Ahn’s coursework. Try running off your anxiety at the gym, even though it’s pretty good at keeping pace with you these days. You meet Kaori’s maybe-boyfriend sneaking out of your apartment early in the morning and he has the good sense not to mention your ex, but you chalk that up to the mess of hickeys covering his neck and not any sense of social decorum.

Other people’s embarrassment saves you a ton of your own, you’ve come to learn.

Throughout all of this, Seungcheol only emails you once to send you his course syllabus. Doesn’t mention tutoring or provide you with his schedule or ask for yours, so when you’re sitting in a bar with your friends, three or four drinks deep and feeling a little petty, you forward him the original tutoring request and make sure to bold, underline, and highlight the “Recommended Tutoring: High” part for good measure.

He doesn’t take your bait—electronically, at least—but he does show up to your office hours the following Tuesday.

Bag tossed onto the floor, he flops unceremoniously into the chair across from you and says, in lieu of a greeting, “They spelled your name wrong. On the door thing.”

“I know,” you reply, your smile polite and terse. Incredible how he has the ability to raise your blood pressure in milliseconds. “What can I help you with?”

“Depends. How long do you have?”

“Well, considering you’ve shown up to my office hours on time, I’m assuming you already know I’m here every Tuesday and Thursday from four to six. So”—you glance at the clock above the door—“assuming no one comes by who needs my help more than you do, you have approximately one hour and fifty-eight minutes.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment as he takes you in. His stare is weighted; it makes you feel a little green around the edges. Clinical and sharp, so far removed from the way he used to look at you. You clear your throat. “I looked over your syllabus. The good news is there’s only a midterm and a final and the rest is problem sets. The bad news is there’s only a midterm and a final so they’re weighted quite heavily. You really need to know this stuff inside-out to have any hope of passing.”

“That’s why you’re here, right? Dr. Lee specifically requested you.”

You huff a breath through your nose. “I’m here as supplemental help. I can’t take your exams or do your readings for you. What else are you taking this semester?”

He sighs, sinking further into the chair, very much playing the part of the heir who has no interest in any of this. Which… is unlike him, you think, if you’re even allowed to. The Seungcheol you knew years ago took everything so seriously. Never clipped corners or took shortcuts. Anyone else would think him a spoiled, petulant child. “Business Accounting and International Trade.”

“Could be worse,” you note. “At least those three courses are tangentially related.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t taken a fucking math class in years.”

You return it. “You remember how to add and subtract, don’t you?”

“I ruptured my ACL, not my…” He trails off, looking a little embarrassed that he can’t name a part of the—“Brain.”

Whatever you were going to quip back with dies on your tongue. It's the first time Seungcheol has broached the topic of his injury—the first you’re hearing of it at all, actually—and he says it like it’s a joke, like it’s not a thing at all, but the pain is all over his face. The bitterness of the situation he’s found himself in. The unfairness of it all.

And there are so many questions you want to ask that aren’t your place: if it’s fixable, if he’ll ever play again, how he’s coping. But you don’t really need to—you can’t imagine how you’d feel if someone suddenly pulled the rug out from under you. If everything contained within the four walls of your office suddenly disappeared.

Not that the man sitting across from you hadn’t already done that, but.

“Right,” you continue, as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You know Seungcheol—know he wouldn’t want you prodding, sticking your fingers in that particular wound. “I want you to take a look at this,” you say, handing over a printout you have saved from your undergrad tutoring days. “Tell me what looks familiar, what doesn’t; what does and doesn’t make sense.”

He looks down at the paper. Back up at you. Down at the paper again. “What the fuck is this?”

“I—what? Cheol, it’s my old notes on recitation. Surely you’ve already covered this—the syllabus says this is week one stuff.” He looks down at the paper again, and it’s so familiar, watching the life drain entirely from someone’s eyes.

You barely resist the urge to slam your face onto your desk a second time.

You meet Seungcheol at the sports center for your next tutoring session.

He likes the humidity and the smell of the chlorine by the pool. He also likes that it’s not the football pitch, so the two of you sit in the bleachers there and go over his lecture notes. Much to your surprise, Seungcheol talks a mile a minute. Has stars in his eyes when he says he finally understands elastic demand curves, supply shock; tells you he spent a whole hour making flashcards.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him so excited since your tutoring began—the first glimmer of hope you’ve felt since Dr. Lee cornered you in your library hideaway. None of this surprises you. Seungcheol has always been smart, even when football was his primary (and sometimes only) focus. He has more determination and grit than anyone you’ve ever met, so you’re not surprised he’s doing well, excelling, but you are surprised—

“Can I ask you something?” Seungcheol shrugs, shoves half a protein bar in his mouth and swallows without chewing. “Why are you… uh. Here?”

“At this university?”

“Not exactly. I mean, I am wondering about that, but I guess… why business?”

Seungcheol hums. Tucks his good knee to his chest and stares down at the pool. No one’s using it, and truthfully the two of you probably aren’t even allowed to be here, but you understand why he likes it. It’s nowhere near as secluded as the library and definitely not as air conditioned, but it is peaceful. Calm. The water laps against the coping in quiet, small waves.

“Ah, I don’t know. You know how it goes.”

You quirk an eyebrow. Never, in all the years you’ve known him, has Seungcheol done anything he didn’t want to do. All that grit and determination. “What about your father, then? Dr. Lee mentioned this was a favor to him. He’s a pretty important person to have in your Rolodex of favors.”

Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see what this is: Seungcheol’s father has new money; worked from the bottom up, made some smart investment decisions that finally panned out after Seungcheol left for Seoul. Started doing his own thing, made a name for himself. Last you’d heard from your mother, Seungcheol’s brother was second-in-command. Hell, even your own brother did an internship there.

So you know what this is: a father helping his son after his dream was shattered, life turned upside-down. You can’t blame him, even if you’ve heard the whispers from all the way across campus. That Seungcheol is washed up now, trying to nepo his way into his father’s company because of it; that all he knows is sports and he should’ve stuck to that, what does he know about business, why is he the one Dr. Lee went out of his way to help.

Doesn’t stop any of them from smiling at him, though; doesn’t stop them from asking for autographs or selfies.

But you also know this isn’t something Seungcheol seems willing to discuss, so you crack a joke—“I mean, business. God, who’d wanna go into that?”—and go back to what he was willing to talk about.

You’ve never hated elastic demand curves so much in your life.

Deep in the throes of tutoring—when you can’t tell if it’s week two or week twelve—you make it back to your apartment just before ten, head pounding.

The door flies open just as you’re about to punch in the code, and there stands Ken, looking far more put-off than you’ve ever seen him. Looks defeated, if you’re being honest, like someone mopped up all his emotions and wrung them out like dirty dishwater.

“Oh, hi,” you say hesitantly. The man in front of you seems too much like a caged animal to let your guard down. “Everything okay?”

He aborts a nod halfway. Mutters an apology as he brushes by you and stalks down the hall, disappearing around the corner to the elevators. Usually he’s a talker—you haven’t been able to avoid a Seungcheol-related conversation in weeks—so you’re a little stunned. Stand there stupidly for a while, and that’s where Kaori finds you a moment later.

“You gonna stand out here all night, or…?”

“Oh—yeah, right.”

You follow her inside. Toe off your shoes and put them in the rack. Focus on the sound of the kettle whistling instead of the overbearing tension in the room. Drop your bag off in your room, throw on a sweatshirt three sizes too big and a comfy pair of socks. Rummage through the fridge for leftovers, contemplate what mindless show you’ll watch as you eat, and you do not, under any circumstances, ask Kaori what happened.

You don’t have to. You knew what this was going to be the first time Ken spent the night—the way he looked mortified to be meeting you in the shared kitchen at seven a.m., wearing a look that begged you not to tell your roommate he was sneaking out.

I, uh, have an early class, he’d said. You know how it is.

Maybe you should’ve called him on it then. Issued a warning-but-not-really. She’ll get attached if you don’t tell her. She should know it’s different for you, if it is.

But you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t your place. Kaori wouldn’t want you in her business like that, so you stayed quiet, just nodded before watching him slip his shoes on and close the door behind him so quietly you wouldn’t have known he left at all if you hadn’t been looking. Gone, just like a ghost.

So, yeah, you know exactly why your roommate looks haunted.

“I’m a few episodes behind on this if you want to watch with me,” you offer, pointing at the television with the remote. It’s a lie—you’ve never watched this show a day in your life, which Kaori seems to know—but she contemplates it nonetheless. “Also, my mom mailed us some cookies. I think they’re in the fridge.”

“Why are there cookies in the fridge?”

You huff a laugh. “They were outside the door this morning before I left for campus. I don’t know—just saw who the package was from and was like, oh, this must go in the fridge.”

She nods. Grabs the container and joins you on the couch. Sticks her feet beneath your butt and doesn’t mention a thing.

The closest she comes is a few days later. Catches you right before you head out to campus and asks how tutoring is going.

“Not bad, actually.”

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes when she says, “That’s good. I’m glad things are going well for you two.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore makes his unexpected return at your office hours on an unsuspecting Tuesday.

“Can I help you?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just helps himself to the seat across from you. “Maybe,” comes his cryptic retort. “I was thinking about signing up for that crypto course next semester.”

You narrow your eyes. “No, you weren’t.”

He sighs. Looks a little panicked, like he can’t believe that didn’t work. “You’re right, you’re right. I, um—I wanted to come say thank you.” He pauses. “You know, for that… email you sent.”

You blink. “No, you didn’t.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore cracks immediately. Thunks his head on your desk and lets loose a pained sound. It nearly sounds like he’s wailing when he says, “I’m sorry! They put me up to it!”

What you’re able to piece together is this: Lee Chan, Sophomore has become a bit of a celebrity in the Student Services department ever since he met you, Choi Seungcheol’s tutor. And, like any smart, previously unpopular university student would do, he took advantage of it. Might’ve stretched the truth a little to make it sound like he knew more than he did, so now here he is, angling for information the girls with the photocards may or may not have paid him to get.

“They want to know about his girlfriend.”

“His what?”

What you’re able to piece together is also this: the Photocard Girls are certain Seungcheol is dating someone, based on little more than vibes. You suspect these vibes are their three degrees of separation, considering there was an abnormal amount of Change of Major files formed after his enrollment, but you tell Lee Chan that you don’t know anything and, even if you did, you wouldn’t put his business out there like that.

But some part of you still has this inexplicable urge to protect Seungcheol, so you match their offer with interest and tell him to say there’s nothing to report—not that you didn’t know, not that he couldn’t get anything out of you. Seungcheol isn’t dating anyone.

You don’t know if it’s true, but you figure that if it isn’t, he still deserves privacy.

Which is a notion you have trouble explaining a few hours later, when Seungcheol strolls into your office with a grease-stained paper bag full of cheese coin bread, offering one to you with a proud smile that drops slowly when you just stare in return.

“What’s wrong?”

Your mouth opens, closes, opens again. Nothing comes out, even though it should be simple. Some sophomore kid was just in here angling for information or the Student Services department is taking bets on whether or not you have a girlfriend would both suffice, but you cannot bring yourself to say the words.

What you settle on is, “Sorry, I just… had an interesting meeting before you got here.”

“Oh. Are you okay?”

You sigh. Tilt your head back to stare up at the ceiling. “It was about you, actually.”

Seungcheol chokes, starts stuttering over words you can’t make sense of. Says, “Me? Why? I passed my last exam—I mean, barely, but I still passed. And that wasn’t your fault! I didn’t study enough! I’ve been losing my mind over my International Trade class, that shit sucks—”

“It wasn’t about your grades, Cheol.”

“Oh.” Then, slowly, a lopsided, pleased smile overtakes his face. “Haven’t heard you call me Cheol in a while.”

“Seungcheol,” you correct.

He seems to forget all about the meeting. Tries again to offer you a coin bread before he threatens to eat them all himself, so you acquiesce mostly to shut him up, say you’ll bring the extras to Kaori. For some reason, you tell him about how much she’d loved the cookies your mom sent, and the nostalgia sets him off, gets him talking again, asking if they were the yakgwa she used to make when you two were kids.

They were, but you can’t seem to tell him that, either.

Seungcheol: sorry it’s last minute - running late. can you meet me at my place instead?

Seungcheol shared a location with you

You’re halfway to replying—I don’t think that’s appropriate—before you sigh and delete it. Midterms are only a few days away and you don’t have time to argue over where your tutoring sessions will be, so if Seungcheol wants to meet at his apartment that’s where you’ll meet him.

You read over the midterm notes on the train. Once, twice, and then a hundred more times until they’re nearly memorized, all so you can ignore the voice in the back of your head saying what a bad idea this is. That you have no business being on your way to your ex’s swanky part of town or integrating yourself into his life beyond tutoring at all. You shouldn’t know where he lives. Maybe you shouldn’t even have his phone number or answer his texts.

Not that there’s much you can do about it now, two stops away.

Seungcheol greets you warmly, if not a little rushed. Apologizes for the mess once you step inside, although it’s less “mess” and more “haven’t finished unpacking,” but there’s enough clear space to study at the dining table, so that’s where you set up, determined to keep things professional.

“Sorry again about this,” Seungcheol says, placing a can of cola in front of you as he takes the seat across. “I had to meet with my father and lost track of time, I guess.”

“Oh. How’s he doing?”

Seungcheol sighs, leans further back in the chair as runs a hand through his hair. A light brown, now. “Same as he always was, I guess. Talked about the business, about my brother. Can’t get him to shut up about that stuff most of the time.”

“The business is doing good, though.” You cough, clear your throat. “My, uh. My brother interned there during undergrad. I don’t know if your father told you that.”

You don’t know why you say it, because it’s clear from the brief flicker of pain on Seungcheol’s face that he hadn’t known, that no one had told him. And it hurts you too that they felt the need to keep it a secret, to protect Seungcheol from you even in tangential ways.

“He didn’t,” he admits, “but I’m sure he was happy to see him. He was, uh—he was glad to hear you’re my tutor. Said you were always smarter than all of us boys combined.”

You laugh. Hope it sounds casual instead of strained. “Well, no need to prove him right. Come on,” you say, tossing a study guide in his direction, “let’s get to work.”

Everything is alright for a while—nearly an hour at least. He has the formulas memorized and attributed to the correct equations. He can explain supply and demand, preference and utility, but things start to fall apart around budget constraints and constrained choice.

The formulas get mixed up. He grows frustrated when he doesn’t know the answers to your questions right away. Rolls his eyes and gets a little snappy when you correct him, try to explain things differently in a way he understands. At first he’s able to temper it, collect himself before things truly start spiraling out of control, but the longer the two of you sit there the more it all unravels.

He snaps, you snap back, and you can’t figure out why. You’ve survived this long in Seungcheol’s orbit even though you never thought you’d be around him again, and perhaps it was bound to explode eventually, but…

It’s the familiarity, you realize.

You and Seungcheol aren’t friends, though you’ve been playing at it for weeks now: meeting outside of the library or your office, the personal conversations bordering on reminiscing, being in his personal space. You don’t belong here. You don’t want to be his friend—you can’t be, not for real or pretend.

“That’s not what I’m say—”

“Then explain it better,” Seungcheol fires at you, eyebrows creasing. “You’re the tutor here.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m trying, okay? All I meant was—your answer isn’t wrong, but I know Dr. Lee and he’s going to want more than that in a response.”

“Right—not good enough, like I said.”

“I’m just asking you to expand on your answer—”

“And I’m telling you that’s all I’ve got. I’m not like you, all right? I don’t have all this shit just floating around in my head all the time. I’m not smart, I barely have any idea what’s going on half the time, and you sitting here being condescending about it is doing fuck-all to help.”

You inhale sharply, taken aback at the hostility in his voice. Suggest calling it for the night, say neither of you will be productive if you keep going like this, and neither of you bother to apologize.

So much of your relationship with Seungcheol was marred by clichés.

The two of you passing notes back and forth during class. You in the bleachers of all his games, screaming along to the team chants, waving a sign around with his name on it. Not realizing you had a crush on him at all until he liked someone else and it made your stomach hurt. Childhood friends turned lovers.

Another cliché: that it’s starting to feel like that all over again.

Seungcheol sits across from you in the library, econ textbook cracked in half in front of him as he pays no attention. Keeps grabbing his phone each time it vibrates across the table. Can’t fight the smile that forces its way onto his face when he reads whatever’s there.

Stupid, you think—both to do this and to think it’d play out any other way. Seungcheol left years ago. Probably lived ten lifetimes while he was away while you were here in this exact spot doing this exact thing. Barely lived half a life, just stuck your nose in textbooks and forced your way through.

“Cheol,” you say, trying to drag his attention back to the study guide. No use. He’s typing away, presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek as he responds. “Seungcheol,” you try again.

Also fruitless.

You have no claim here, you remind yourself—not to his time, not to him. He’s only here because someone else mandated it. You’re only here because someone else mandated it, but it stings all the same. Another reminder of what used to be, of what ended regardless of what you wanted. Another reminder that the role you used to play in his life is not the role you play now. That the space you used to take up created a vacancy, and eventually it was going to be filled.

And if this was anyone other than Seungcheol, if you were more emotionally evolved when it came to him, it wouldn’t gnaw at you as much. All of this would roll off your shoulders.

But it isn’t, and you’re not.

“If you’re not going to listen, then—”

“I am listening,” he interjects, but he’s not looking at you. Not looking at his textbook or his study guide. Keeps laughing and smiling at his phone, and it’s sick how bothered you are by it. That it feels like your stomach’s been turned inside-out with jealousy; with annoyance, because you don’t want to be here anyway, don’t want to do this anymore, and you’re wasting your time on someone who doesn’t appreciate it.

Perhaps he never did.

“What are we discussing, then?”

Still not looking up: “Consumer theory.”

You laugh—more a huff of air than anything, grin sardonically out of one corner of your mouth. Seungcheol sees none of it. “Wrong,” you answer, already expecting the way he shrugs it off. “I’m gonna skip ahead a few chapters, though. Consider it a freebie for your business class.”

It must be your tone that finally grabs his attention. Cutting, precise, purposeful. Seungcheol lowers his phone, quirks an eyebrow, wonders where this is going to go. It’s clear he’s pissed you off, that you’re itching for a fight. It’s clear the years of silence are finally coming to a head.

“Let’s talk about ROI. You know what that is?” You barely give him a second. “Return on investment. A performance measure used to evaluate the efficiency of an investment or compare the efficiency of several investments. So, let’s say I make one-hundred-thousand won on a ten-thousand won investment: my ROI is 90%. Are you following?”

He nods.

“Great, now let’s try something a bit more hypothetical.” You suck in a breath. “Let’s say I invest years of my adolescence into someone. A friend at first and then something more. Let’s say I played cheerleader, supported every hope and dream he had—went to every game, cheered him on, helped him practice his English. Held his hand and talked him down when the pressure felt overwhelming, when the only thing that felt inevitable was failure. Now, let’s say all I got in return was a stuttered, awkward apology as he dumped me and walked out the door. Let’s say that guy showed up again after years of silence just to once again waste my fucking time.”

The thing about pain is it’s not linear. What hurt five, ten years ago might not hurt today, but it might tomorrow; what hurt yesterday may never hurt again. The thing about pain is it lets you stick your head in the sand until it can’t anymore, and that’s where you are now: that window of time between Seungcheol walking out the door on the assumption you’d never see him again before he bulldozed his way back into your life has been slammed closed, locked up tight.

So you don’t even notice you’re crying until the room goes deathly silent and you can hear the drip drip drip of tears on paper. Until you watch Seungcheol’s hands flex and unflex in mid-air, stuck in that liminal space, wanting to reach out but knowing he has no right to. Until your chest aches so bad you’re sure you’re either about to break into stardust or cease to exist.

Until you say, “What, Choi Seungcheol, would you say my fucking return on investment was?” and he has nothing to say at all.

Kaori invites you to a party.

Just something small to celebrate the end of midterms and a classmate’s birthday. Nothing out of control or raucous, not even the kind of thing that’d earn a second glance from campus security. I won’t even make fun of you if you leave before eleven, is how she sold it to you, in addition to a small amount of begging and bargaining and a powerful set of puppy-dog eyes.

After everything the two of you have been through, you find it hard to say no.

So here you are, nearly eleven o’clock on a Friday, a cup of cheap beer in hand. A friend of a friend of a friend is wailing into a karaoke machine and although your ears are bleeding, it does feel nice for that to be your greatest worry. You aren’t thinking about your classes or how you’ve been prioritizing everyone else’s academic success. You aren’t thinking about whatever’s going on between Kaori and Ken. You aren’t thinking about Seungcheol.

At least you aren’t, until he walks through the door.

You’re going to continue not thinking about him at all—not about the fact he’s alone or how good he looks in a simple black T-shirt that’s a little taut in the shoulders. You’re not going to think about the way the air shifts, like the universe knows he’s important and is willing to accommodate. You’re not going to think about how Kaori catches your eye across the room, recognizes him from all her internet searches, and the way she mouths oh my god he’s so beefy at you.

You’re not going to think about how guilty you feel that she doesn’t know, because if you do you’re certain it’ll take over.

You watch Seungcheol work the room; watch as he floats between conversations, as strangers fall over themselves at the sight of him. How eager everyone is to give him something and how reluctant he is to take them. You watch as he winds up in the same circle as Kaori and how she must mention you, oh, your tutor is my roommate, because there’s a question in return before he turns and meets your gaze.

You wonder why the distance between you feels more insurmountable now than ever before.

Seungcheol finds you in your office.

It’s not a Tuesday or a Thursday, far later than four to six in the evening, but he doesn’t even bother knocking before he’s barreling in, stifling your space with his bad energy.

You haven’t seen him in nearly two weeks. Not since the party, if that even counts. Hasn’t bothered to reply to any of your texts or emails, and that was just fine by you, if that’s how he wanted to act, but it isn’t until he’s brooding on the other side of your desk that you realize you’re still aggrieved, too. Feels a little too familiar, him leaving you behind and in the dark.

So you don’t mean to—typically have much more professionalism than this—but when he tosses a stapled stack of papers with a barely-passing grade on your desk and says, “This is your fault,” the words come automatically and without forethought.

“Fuck off, Seungcheol.” It’s not your words that take him by surprise; more so the roll of your eyes, the accompanying huff. The impression that all of this is beneath you and nothing more than a mere annoyance. That however affected you were two weeks ago is not how affected you are anymore. “That’s what happens when you blow off your tutoring for two weeks because you’re a coward.”

He laughs, incredulous; unable to help the sound the tumbles out of his mouth. “I’m a—I’m a coward?”

“Yes,” you reply, tone giving away nothing. All he sees is feigned nonchalance despite the hurricane you feel brewing beneath the surface. “This,” you continue, pinching the corner of the paper between your fingertips and disposing of it in the trashcan beneath your desk, “is all on you, but do please let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to blame me for. I’m all ears.”

You don’t miss it: the way Seungcheol’s eyes grow wide at your ‘I’m all.’ The way he thinks you’re going to punctuate that sentence with yours, and it nearly has bile rising in your throat. Makes you want to scream, rip at your hair. If the last few months have taught you anything, it’s that you are still hopelessly in love with the man across from you—the man that continues to leave before he’s left, always at your expense.

So, yeah—Seungcheol is a coward, but only when it comes to you.

But he doesn’t look much like one now, gripping so hard at the edge of your desk that his knuckles have gone white, baseball cap pulled down low enough his eyes are barely visible. He’s always been overwhelming, always carried himself with an exaggerated arrogance even when it wasn’t warranted, always took everything so seriously, and maybe that’s why you’d thought he’d treat you the same way. Take you seriously. Wouldn’t just throw it all away on a maybe thing, and that’s why it's been years and you still aren’t over it.

Maybe Seungcheol is a coward, and maybe so are you.

Because not once since he’s been back have you been able to say what you mean. Can’t seem to tell him about the anger, the hurt, the heartbreak. Played it all off as petty nonchalance because you foolishly thought that would hurt him, that you’ve been reduced to simmering ash, no hope left for a fire.

“I could never blame you for a goddamn thing,” he says, voice so deep you could drown in it.

You so desperately want to know. You don’t want to know anything at all. You want Seungcheol to explain everything to you in detail and spoil the ending, but only if it’s guaranteed to be happy. Enduring another loss like the first time—you’re not sure you can take it. Not after you two have crossed paths like this, because you’ve never quite believed in fate but you think that has to mean something. That so much time and life had transpired and you two came back together.

Today, though, it doesn’t look like you’re going to get any answers.

Seungcheol straightens, looms at full height. Digs into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out a thumb drive. Wordlessly, he hands it over, and then he’s gone just as abruptly as he’d arrived.

Again.

Kaori wants to spend the weekend moping, and you can’t come up with a good reason not to join her.

She doesn’t mention Ken once. Not when she’s sobbing over A Silent Voice and Toradora! after that. Not when she keeps glancing at her phone every couple minutes to see if she has any texts. Not when you—only halfway paying attention between grading and your own assignments—suggest ordering something for delivery, maybe that new burger place down the street you heard was good, and Kaori shuts it down so vehemently you can only assume it was Ken’s favorite place.

Kaori just cries over the man with the big dick she never expected to take so seriously, and not even your stonewalling makes her feel ashamed of it.

And there’s respectability in that kind of openness and vulnerability. At least whatever she’s feeling is honest; at least she can admit she’s sad. You think watching Kaori process her breakup might help you process yours too, years too late, so you suck in a breath and ask, “Can I tell you something or is now not a good time?”

Kaori looks over at you. Dabs a soggy tissue at her eyes. “Well, I guess it depends,” is her answer, and she doesn’t shy away from how waterlogged her voice sounds. “If you’re going to tell me you’re a Takasu and Kawashima shipper, maybe, but if it’s anything worse I’m not sure I could take it.”

“I—what? Who even are they?” She gives you a half-hearted thumbs up. You sigh in response, sink further into the couch. “It’s, uh.” Clear your throat. “Do you remember when we met sophomore year? At that party? And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything and you said, and I quote, why not, I have a sixth sense for this kind of thing and I know that guy will have a huge—”

She hides her face behind her hands. “Ew, god, yes I remember that. My dick whisperer era. How embarrassing.”

“Right. And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything because I’d just gotten out of something.”

“Not really by choice, if I remember correctly. I told you if it was quiet it should’ve been loud, and then you never talked about it again.”

You nod. “I—yeah, that sounds like something I would’ve said.” You suck in a deep breath. “Listen, this is probably gonna sound bad considering I did never talk about it again, but—”

“Hey,” Kaori says, nudging you with her foot. Meant to be comforting, somehow. “It’s okay. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, too… most of which I’m not sure you should, actually.”

A laugh forces its way out, gives you a nice reprieve from the anxiety of the conversation you’re about to have. The need to explain it all, the need for advice. Maybe it’s not her—or anyone else’s—business, but you think you’ve kept this to yourself long enough. You and Seungcheol loved each other, once, and it seems foolish that no one knows.

Maybe Kaori had been right. Maybe love should be shouted from the rooftops; exist out in the open. Maybe something hidden in the shadows can never thrive in the light, and you knew it back then, deep down, but now it seems so obvious.

You think back to a few days before the library. Think about how things didn’t feel good but they felt okay. Think about the frustrated crease between Seungcheol’s eyebrows as he stared down at his textbook and how all you’d wanted to do was smooth it. Think about how you’d rolled your lips and tried not to laugh; how you thought it’d take a miracle to help Seungcheol pass this class.

Think about: What is the difference between the short-run and the long-run from the perspective of production theory?

Think about the short-run of your and Seungcheol’s relationship—that you’d burned bright and fast, even though it’d felt like a million years. Hadn’t dared to consider the long-run because anything beyond that bubble felt impossible.

Think about: Which of the following is not a property of isoquants?

Think about the way Seungcheol’s eyes lit up when he knew the answer. That they’re always linear, he said, and you smiled at his enthusiasm, raised your hand to high-five him and dropped it when he hadn’t noticed.

You think about the explanation—isoquants can be linear when inputs are perfectly substitutable—and what those graphs look like. Downward sloping, left to right. Think about how the graphs change when the isoquants are perfect complements.

L-shaped. Less straight as the inputs become poorer substitutes.

You know what your and Seungcheol’s graph would’ve looked like back then.

So it’s easy, almost, to tell Kaori everything. You tell her about growing up in Daegu, about the smell of the azaleas at Biseulsan in the spring. You tell her about how your parents had befriended the neighbors, how they had a kid your age, that that kid was Seungcheol—yes, that Seungcheol.

She’s able to anticipate the rest from there, but you fill in the blanks of what she can’t: being sixteen and falling in love, holding hands, the clandestine notes. All those football matches and how your throat would be hoarse from cheering. How nauseous you’d felt applying to university in Seoul, how excited you were when Seungcheol said he was coming with you. That, after you arrived, it felt like you were living in fast-forward. Barely any time to breathe or adjust; no time to just be you and Seungcheol. You had to be a student, someone responsible; Seungcheol had to be a phenom.

“Could you feel it was going to happen?” Kaori asks, now sat ramrod straight, all her attention on you. “Like, did you know?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Maybe I did? It’s hard to say now, all this time later. I know things definitely felt different, like life was pulling us in opposite directions.” You laugh, bitterness coloring the edges. “You couldn’t go two blocks without seeing him on some billboard, and I was just… normal, you know? I wasn’t some rising star athlete like he was, I just went to my classes. How was I supposed to compete with something like that?”

Your roommate hums, leans back into the pillows as she stares up at the ceiling. “I don’t think you were. Maybe that’s why Seungcheol was worried—maybe he felt like you were losing your own identity feeling like you had to keep up.”

You want to push back, argue that you weren’t, that you didn’t, but the truth is that it’s possible. That the shadows created by Seungcheol’s dreams were so massive you wouldn’t be surprised if they unintentionally swallowed you up. “It still wasn’t his choice to make,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

And Kaori already knows all about your hurt, listened as you explained it all and laid everything bare. So when she says, “Sometimes that’s just how it goes, though, babe,” it doesn’t feel condescending. “We do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time. You can say now it wasn’t Seungcheol’s choice to make, because it’s been almost five years and you’ve made a life for yourself separate from him. But the—god, this is gonna sound so patronizing, I am so sorry—but you guys were so young. No one has it all figured out at that age.”

She snorts, runs a hand through her messy hair. “Shit, I’m nearly halfway to thirty and I still don’t know anything.” Adopts a frown. “What do you want now? Do you want closure? Want to try to fix things and become friends?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, biting at a hangnail. “He actually, um. The other day when he stopped by my office, he left me a USB drive? And before you ask, no I did not already look at it.”

“A USB drive? Who does this guy think he is, James Bond?” A pause. “Are you gonna look at it, though?”

You do.

Not until the silver, midnight light creeps in through your bedroom curtains and you’ve stared at the ceiling long enough; waited long enough for texts that never came, for divine intervention to, well, intervene. It never did—fair enough—so you decide to take fate by the reins. Grab your laptop, instant headache from the screen, stick the drive into the port.

It takes a second for it to load, but when it does: dozens of videos, organized by date. Vlogs, by the look of them—some from before your breakup but the majority of them from after.

You’re not sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this.

You click on the first one: a month and a half before both of you moved to Seoul. A fresh-faced Seungcheol appears on your screen, cheeks still round with adolescence. He’s in his room back in Daegu, can’t get the camera angle right. Nostalgia hits you like a ton of bricks as it pans to the side, to the wall behind his bed, and you see all his old posters. Mostly football players you couldn’t name, some girl group he used to love, a few movies. Just below them are some of the notes you’d written him in school, and they’re all you can focus on as he talks about how excited he is for the move.

The next: a few weeks after you’d started classes. By then, Seungcheol was well into the swing of things with Seoul FC. Already a big fish in a small pond, tryout offers from European teams starting to roll in. You can hear yourself in the background stressing over your first exam, wishing a generational curse upon your calculus professor. In the video, Seungcheol laughs, whispers like he’s telling the camera a secret as he talks about how nervous he is for his future. I don’t know why, he says, but it just feels like everything is about to change.

There’s a long pause between that one and the next. You understand why when you look at the date: three months after your breakup. Your hands hover uselessly above your keyboard. Whatever answers you’ve been looking for the last few years are probably in this video, but you can’t bring yourself to open it. Not right away, at least.

You click on a different one at random. Seungcheol’s somewhere in Europe, judging from the language on the signs behind him. Snow falls quietly—whenever he filmed this, it must’ve been early. No one else is around, and he cracks a joke that it’s a good thing, people would probably think he was crazy if they saw him. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going but he narrates the entire walk: points out a cafe he’s grown to love. The way to get to his practice stadium from where he’s standing. Pauses near a restaurant and laughs ruefully, shakes his head, says, I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but one of my teammates set me up on a blind date here and I got stood up. You’d probably think that was funny.

(You do. It also makes your chest ache.)

One from two years ago: Seungcheol in a hotel room, clearly nervous. He raises his hand to wave at the camera and you can see the corners of his nails bitten raw. Dark circles beneath his eyes; cheekbones more pronounced than you’ve ever seen them. On the screen, Seungcheol sighs, rakes a hand through freshly-bleached hair. Sucks in a deep breath as he says, I’m so nervous. I’m so—so fucking nervous and I don’t. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. I want to call you because you always knew what to say but that’s so fucking selfish. God, we haven’t spoken in years, and it’s my—that’s my fault, I know, so I brought this all on myself. I just want to hear your voice.

Another from a week after that: the color’s returned to his face, and he’s recording from what looks like a penthouse apartment. Sleek, modern; a small white dog napping on the bed beside him. He smiles, looks like he got his teeth fixed, looks like he’s no longer carrying around the weight of the world. Talks endlessly and excitedly about some tournament. Talks so fast you can barely keep up. Talks around words tinged with languages you don’t understand.

Seungcheol wins a championship. Records a drunk vlog from the same night, hair soaked through with god-knows-what—water, champagne, you don’t know. But he looks radiant. Looks like the culmination of two decades of dreaming. He looks happy, free, at peace. He looks like the reason he let you go, why he had to go away.

You scroll to the bottom of the files. Pause at the last video, dated seven months before the term started.

“Hi,” he says, and you can immediately tell everything is all wrong. Seungcheol’s in the dark, face only visible enough to see the tears tracking on his cheeks. “This is going to be the last one of these I make. I don’t know if you, uh—I’m sure you aren’t paying attention to me—my career—anymore, but. I, um. I got hurt. Ruptured my ACL. They’re not sure I’ll…” A sob escapes him. Has you wanting to climb through the screen to hold him, thumb away his tears, tell him everything is going to be okay. “They don’t know if I’ll ever play again.”

Seungcheol no longer looks happy, free, at peace. “Maybe you’ll be happy to hear that,” he continues. “Maybe it’ll help you to know I threw away our relationship for nothing.”

Cut to black.

The sudden silence is deafening. Has you desperately clicking back to the video you’d skipped, the one from just after your breakup. Seungcheol looks the same in that one, too, like the life has been drained out of him.

I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s not like I’ll ever show these to you now, since I…

I’m sure I owe you an explanation. To be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing, I just—things have been so hard, and I’m still trying to make sense of it all. I feel like my life went from zero to a hundred before I could even blink and now I’m scrambling. I didn’t think it was fair to—to drag you through that. Me being away, moving to an entirely different continent. I have faith we could do it, I just. I don’t know, baby, I don’t…

You deserve to have your own life. Be your own person. I’m so scared that the world will never see you for who you are—so beautiful and intelligent and kind. You don’t deserve to be reduced to my partner. And if you ever see this, I know you’re gonna roll your eyes. Probably call me a mean name because I took the choice away from you, because you think I’m trying to be selfless and heroic, and you’d be right. It’s not fair, and I wish I could tell you I’m sorry.

I wish I could just… pluck out my brain and give it to you, because even if it killed me to do it, at least it makes sense to me. And I don’t—I don’t want you to think I’m not hurting. I’ve been sick to my stomach since I left. I know I’m making a mistake, I know I am, I just—how do I do what I think is right in the long-run when it’s not what I want right now, or ever?

I don’t want to get over you. I don’t want you to get over me, and that’s how you know I’m not acting selflessly, because you should. I want you to always be happy, I just… wish it was with me.

So, I’m going to keep making these. I’m going to take you along for the ride, wherever it takes us, because you should be here but I can only hope you can one day understand why you’re not. I’m so—I’m so sorry, I don’t…

I’m sorry.

I love you.

You fall asleep and dream that you were the one meant to meet him at that restaurant.

The first thing you do is make a call to your mother.

“Could you send another container of yakgwa?”

On the other end of the line, your mother tuts, motherly intuition audibly kicking into overdrive. Is probably wearing that all-knowing, sly grin she always does when you try to be coy and evasive. “What happened to the last container I sent?”

“Ah, you know Kaori loves those. They barely lasted an hour after I told her what was in there.”

She hums an acknowledgement. Sounds like she takes a sip of tea. “I remember someone else being quite fond of those cookies, too.”

“Well, they are the most popular cookies in the country, so.”

After haranguing you into admitting they’re for Seungcheol and not your roommate, your mother promises to send them quickly. A few days at most, which buys you enough time to figure out how you’re going to approach the man in question.

The vlogs have turned your entire world upside-down. Answered questions you hadn’t even known you had. Took all that anger and resentment you’d been holding onto and set it free, and now you’re just left with… a void. Want to mend things, and it makes you wonder if such a thing is even possible, if it’s too late, but you don’t let those thoughts get very far.

Instead, you let them spur you into action. Have you sitting in front of your laptop at your desk, office hours long since over, silence creeping in the more the department empties. The thrum of the airconditioning and the tick-tick-tick of the clock are all the only company you have.

You worry if it’ll show on camera, how out of sorts you feel: sweating from the nerves, dabbing at your hairline; cheeks warm to the touch. But you suck in a breath anyway, steel yourself. Look at your webcam and the daunting red circle…

And start recording.

He hadn’t gotten it at first. Not really.

There’d been a container of yakgwa outside his door with his USB drive taped to the top of it. No note—not that he needed one to know who it was from, but he wasn’t sure what it was. A goodbye? A please fuck off forever and never contact me again?

He’d just taken them inside. Ate too many of the cookies while feeling sorry for himself. Maybe had a glass or two of wine to compound the issue, and never, ever considered contacting you. Didn’t think he could bear it if you never wanted to see him again, but he just…

Well, he was drunk and alone and he missed you, and he’d rewatched all those videos he recorded a million times before when he was like this, so what was a million and one?

It’d been the same as every time before: he smiled at the happy parts, cried at all his old wounds. Wanted to reach through the screen and strangle his past self for including that part about the blind date, because he never wanted to date anyone who wasn’t you, why would he say that, felt mortified at the thought of you watching that—

And then there it was.

All the way at the bottom. A new video. One that hadn’t been recorded by him—

Hi, Cheol, you say, and that’s all it takes to reduce him to a sobbing, yearning mess. I’m not sure what to say here. I don’t really record much—sometimes for lectures when the professors are too busy, but never anything personal like this, but I watched every single one you made for me and I thought I should return the favor.

I wanted to tell you everything I’ve been up to since you left, but it hasn’t been much. I got my degree. Tutored a lot in undergrad—the same thing I’m tutoring you in now, actually. I was good at it and it felt good to have something that was mine, you know? I almost moved for grad school. Thought for a while I was going to wind up in New York, but then my parents divorced and it felt like too much, too scary, so I stayed. Kaori also stayed, so we got an apartment together. It’s not much, definitely not as nice as your place, but it’s good enough.

I don’t think I ever told you, but she was seeing a guy for a bit and he was… obsessed with you, to say the least. Thought you were the coolest person in the world. They aren’t seeing each other anymore. Ended pretty badly, but—speaking of which, maybe steer clear of Student Services for a while, too.

Sometimes it felt like failure that I wound up staying here. That I had scholarships from all these far-away, prestigious places and didn’t take advantage of them. That I gave into my fear. And now… I don’t know. Maybe there’s a reason I stayed behind. Maybe there’s a reason you ended up back here, too.

Whatever happens—I don’t want you to think I still blame you. Kaori says we do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time, and I understand now that’s what you did. Even though it hurt me, you were trying to protect me. I get it now. And I’m sorry you had to go through all of that alone. I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been to go to all these places you didn’t know. To have to deal with your injury, the loss of a dream.

You said in one of your videos that you just want me to be happy, and that’s all I want for you, too, whatever that looks like.

Here’s my address if you ever want to come by to talk.

I love you, too.

—and then he’d been up and out the door, feeling stone cold sober, running to the front of his building to wait for his ride.

Felt like the drive took hours. Must’ve hit every red light between his apartment and yours. Took the steps two at a time just to get to your door faster.

There’s a man already standing outside your door when he gets there. One that looks shocked to see him, stars in his eyes, and when Seungcheol says, “Oh, you must be Kaori’s ex,” he looks more like he wants the earth to swallow him whole. Embarrassed in front of his idol.

He knocks on your door and gets no response. Knocks again, harder this time, and he has to try really hard to stifle his laughter when your voice yells from the inside, “Fuck off, Kenji, I already told you she’s not here!”

“It’s me,” Seungcheol yells back.

There’s quiet again. Just enough time for it to feel like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest and follow Kaori’s ex down the hall.

Then you’re yanking the door open—slowly, so slowly, like you’re scared it’s not actually him. Your eyes are brimming with tears when they meet his own, and he doesn’t let himself think, just goes on instinct, when he grabs for you, hands on your cheeks, and presses his lips to yours.

Somehow you taste the same.

Somehow you taste like redemption.

You taste like home.

Seungcheol kisses you until the tears slow. Kisses you until the universe realigns, until he could map your mouth in the dark. Kisses you until all you’re all he knows again.

When he pulls away, you’re gripping at his sweatshirt, don’t want to let him go. He presses his forehead to yours, offers up a million more apologies, starts talking nonsense. Says he’s going to drop microeconomics, what the hell does he know, he barely has a passing grade anyway, what does it matter, he’s such an idiot—

And then you say, “You came back,” and nothing else matters.

“I always will.”

(Later on, as you’re trying to steady your breathing, slick with sweat, your thigh thrown over Seungcheol’s hip as he stares down at you, dopey smile on his face, you say, “Choi Seungcheol, don’t you dare drop that class. I have worked my ass off to get you to barely-passing.”)

if you’ve made it this far thank you so much for reading! i am still very new at writing for seventeen, so i hope this was acceptable. i'm now going to throw myself into the warped tour vernon fic and will hopefully not go another 7+ months without posting anything. 😭

i would love to hear your thoughts! <3

[in-class-daydreams]

Imagine Sen begging ex-husband Gojo, "Please don't tell mom!"

"Why is there a huge wolf in your dorm?" Satoru asks, bewildered.

Satoru was on business at the Kyoto school when he stopped by the dorms to visit his son. He got more than he bargained for.

To their credit, Naoki Zenin and Hikari Higuruma don't cower at the prospect of the famed Gojo Satoru catching them red-handed.

"She approached us while we were camping," Hikari explains. "We were cooking some meat and she came up with her ears pinned back and whined for some."

Satoru eyes the 150-something pound wolf. "That doesn't explain why it's indoors. And wolves went extinct in Japan more than a hundred years ago. And why is it that big?"

Sen and Nao hugged the creature around the neck. Sen says, "We think she's pregnant!"

"Still doesn't answer any of my questions."

Their line of conversation gets cut short by Satoru's phone ringing. He checks the caller ID.

"It's your mom," he tells Sen.

"Don't tell her! Please, dad, she's going to beat my ass!" Sen begs.

Satoru chuckles. "Oh, I know." He answers the call. "Hey, what's up?"

The four of them wince when your voice booms through the speaker.

"WHAT'S THIS I HEAR ABOUT SEN BRINGING A LIVE WOLF INTO THE DORMS?" you shout.

"How'd she know?" Nao mutters.

"I know it sounds bad, but--"

You cut your ex off. "Put Sen on the phone!"

Knowing that there was no escaping unless they wanted you to come down here yourself, Satoru gingerly hands his son the phone. While you have a full-volume rant about rabies and mauling and animal-borne diseases, Satoru holds up a finger and mouths, "Wait here."

He teleports away while Nao and Hikari pat Sen on the shoulder in solidarity. Hikari is about to tell Sen that he can take you off of speaker until she looks down and realizes you're not on speaker at all. You've just got the lungs of a drill sergeant.

"--rely on limitless to prevent yourself from getting bitten? Wild animals are not pets! What if there's-- Satoru, what are you doing here? I..." The trio listens with anticipation when you trail off and they hear Satoru saying something unintelligible to you.

The audio goes muffled, as if you'd put a hand over the speaker. You and Satoru exchange heated (on your side) words until you stop and huff. Then one thing from Satoru reaches the trio's ears.

"Just let me handle it. Please?"

They can feel your glare through the phone.

"You think you can just come here and bat your lashes and give me that wet puppy look and I'll cave?" you say incredulously.

"Yes. And, well. You know."

You huff and the line goes dead. A moment later, Satoru reappears.

"I've never heard anyone talk her down like that," Sen says in wonder.

Satoru shrugs. "It's a learned skill. I just showed her this picture." He hands them a polaroid.

The color is faded, but the paper is still in mint condition. Someone seemed to have taken great care of it. It reads "September 2005" and it depicts somewhere that must be the Tokyo High dorms. Satoru's visage is unmistakable, what with Sen looking exactly the same. The only difference is more babyish features, his hair, and the round sunglasses.

You looked much the same back then, too. Maybe a bit less tired-looking and with a bit more mischief in your eyes than Sen had ever remembered seeing growing up, but it was still you.

And sitting on the bed, surrounded by empty filet-o-fish wrappers strewn all over your bedroom floor, being hugged from either side by your teen selves, is a fully-grown grizzly bear.

~

Thanks for reading!

Click [here] to keep up with ex-husband Gojo and his estranged family | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

Hi, everyone! I'm back! Sorry, I was worried I was posting too much before and then I lost a little inspo. I've been having doubts about my Sen work, so I took a little break. Thank you for your support and kind words! It meant a lot! (And to the anon's who asked about reader's burn many moons ago, I haven't forgotten you, I'm just trying to do her injury justice in the fic for it.)

[an-spideog]

Don't Use Duolingo if You Really Want to Learn Irish

That title is a bit dramatic, but I really don't think that duolingo is a useful tool for Irish, especially in its current state, so I want to talk a bit about why, and I'll also talk about some alternatives.

Pronunciation

The first and most egregious issue is that at some point recently-ish, duo decided to start using Text-To-Speech for their Irish course, rather than recordings of a native speaker. The problem here is that their TTS is not trained on native speakers of Irish and pronounces words incorrectly. It doesn't make consistent distinctions between broad and slender consonants for example.

Irish has no standard pronunciation, so I understand how it can feel weird to choose just one dialect for the purposes of pronunciation (the old recordings were from a speaker of Galway Irish), but having just one dialect is much better than TTS which sounds like a learner, imagine if they had TTS for the French course which sounded like an anglophone schoolkid trying to pronounce french, and claimed they were teaching you how to speak french!

Grammar

Duo tends to be correct on grammar at least, which is a start. But often people using it get very confused about the grammar because duo doesn't explain any of it. I think there's a place for immersion in language learning, and I don't think everything has to be explained like that, but within duo's system of sentence testing and exercises like that, not having any explanation for why it's "mo chóta" and not "mo cóta" can be really confusing. Duo used to have more grammar information, it's a shame that they removed it, I wonder why they did it.

Money and Motivation

Duolingo is a business, and their motivation is not to help you learn a language 'fully', but to keep you using their app and hopefully have a higher chance of sharing it with others, competing with others, buying or causing others to buy memberships or lingots or any other in-app purchases.

I don't want to make it out like duo is some big conspiracy and they're tricking people, I don't think that's the case, but it's good to remember that their primary motivation is to keep people using the app, rather than help people move to a level in a language where they don't need the app anymore.

Keep this in mind whenever you see people trying to sell you stuff for language learning.

Why do people use Duolingo

I do get it, and I don't want to make anyone feel bad for using duo, there's a ton of reasons people tend towards it at first 1. It's really well known, so especially if you're learning a language and haven't heard of other resources for it, you'll check duolingo 2. It's very motivating for a lot of people, checking in every day and forming that habit is a really good way of sticking with a language 3. It's fun, people enjoy it

If you use it for reason 3. and you still like it, then don't worry about this post, I'm not trying to yuck anyone's yums, keep having fun!

If you use it for reasons 1. or 2. you can still keep using it if you like, but I want to suggest some other things which you might find helpful in trying to get to a higher level in Irish.

Other Resources

To address the pronunciation issue, I'd heavily recommend you disregard the pronunciation in duolingo, if you're looking for more reliable sources of pronunciation, I'd look towards recordings of native speakers, you can find that on:

Teanglann and Foclóir (they use the same recordings)

Fuaimeanna

and a really useful and underused one: https://davissandefur.github.io/minimal-pairs/ where you can hear the difference between similar sounds that English speakers often mix up in Irish.

A lot of people like duolingo because it's nice to have a clear path forward, a progression that you can get into without too much decision-making. For this I recommend getting a good textbook or course and working through it, the ones I'll recommend also have native speaker audio on them.

Learning Irish by Mícheál Ó Siadhail, this book teaches Galway Irish, not just in pronunciation but in grammar too. It's quite dense but it's well thought out and well explained.

Teach Yourself Irish (1961) this book is available for free online, and is a really good option if you're interested in Cork Irish (Munster), and have some experience with grammatical terminology. I used this book myself and really liked it, but it's very intense and not for everyone. (If you do end up using it, feel free to skip the appendices at the start, they're more of a reference and sometimes put people off from actually getting to the first chapter. Also if you have any questions about it or need any help just let me know.)

If you want a video course, there's a great course called "Now You're Talking" which is available for free online, along with audio files and worksheets here. It features Donegal Irish and leads into the more intermediate level course called Céim ar Aghaidh also available online.

There's other textbooks that I have less experience with (Buntús na Gaeilge, Gaeilge/Gramadach Gan Stró, etc.) but if they work for you, stick with them, there's nothing worse than not making progress because you keep switching resources trying to find the "perfect one"

Whether or not you continue to use Duolingo, I would really really encourage you to try engaging with media in Irish. People often shy away from this when they're learning because they don't feel like they're "ready" yet. But you basically never feel like you're ready, you just have to try and find something near your level and try to get comfortable with not understanding everything. This is where you learn a huge portion of the language, you hear how things are pronounced you see what words mean in what contexts, getting input in your target language is so important!

I know content can be kind of hard to find, so I'll make a few recommendations here: There's a wealth of content available for free online (more if you're in ireland but some internationally) on TG4 If you're still starting out, I'd recommend trying to watch some kids shows since they'll have simpler language and will be easier to follow. I wouldn't recommend using English subtitles when you watch them. Some good options include:

Dónall Dána: an Irish dub of Horrid Henry, silly and childish but the actors have good Irish and importantly the show has Irish language subtitles, they don't always match but if you're still beginning and can't necessarily get everything by ear, they're really useful. (Mostly Galway Irish)

Curious George: another dub, again with Irish language subtitles (I can't remember what dialects were in it off the top of my head but I'd assume mostly galway again)

Seó Luna: No subtitles, but a good option if you're aiming for Munster Irish, the lead character has Kerry Irish

Miraculous: No subtitles but a better show than most of the other kids' ones and more bearable to watch as an adult (Mostly Galway Irish)

Ros na Rún: Moving away from kids shows, a long running soap opera, this has Irish subtitles and a really good mix of dialects within the show. If you're finding the kids shows boring or too easy I'd really recommend it, but it can be complex because of the amount of characters, dialects, and plotlines. I'd recommend starting at the beginning of a newer season and just trying to catch on to what's happening as you go.

There are a lot of books, if you live in Ireland you can get nearly any Irish book for free from a library, so please check out your local library or request some of these from other libraries in the system:

There's a series of fairytales (Rápúnzell, Luaithríona etc.) by Máiréad Ní Ghráda which are illustrated and for children, which are a really good option for when you're just starting out reading

There's kids books about Fionn and the Fianna by Tadhg Mac Dhonnagáin

There's a cute little kids' book in Kerry Irish about a cat named Mábúis

Leabhar Breac has a lot of graphic novels, some of them based on Irish mythology, some on other stuff. The fact that they're illustrated can make it a lot easier to follow even if you don't understand all the words at first.

Gliadar has just released their Scott Pilgrim translation

If you're looking for something a bit more advanced you can look at some of the books for adult learners by Comhar, they contain simplified language and glossaries but have full original adult stories.

And if you're wanting full, natural, native-level Irish there's a load of books by those same groups, and others like An Gúm, Cló Iar-Chonnacht, Oidhreacht Chorca Dhuibhne, Éabhlóid, Coiscéim, and more.

And don't shy away from older books written in Seanchló either, they can be more challenging but it's a whole extra world of books

If you're trying to improve your listening comprehension, I definitely recommend listening to shows on Raidió na Gaeltachta, hearing native Irish speakers talk at full speed is really good practice. But I get that it can be overwhelming at first. Here are some things you can do as you build up to that:

Watching those same TV shows I mentioned without subtitles is a good way to build up listening skills.

Vifax is a website where you can practice listening to short news segments and answer questions on them, then getting to look at the transcript with notes afterwards.

Snas is kind of the evolution of vifax, now using clips from both the news and Ros na Rún.

I really hope that this post can help people move away from duolingo if they're looking to take their Irish learning to the next level, if you've got any questions, just let me know!

[chahnniesroom]

to have and to hold

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: you don't think there's anything chan can do to make you love him more. chan continues to prove you wrong.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, lots of fluff!!

a/n: sorry it has been so long since i posted! i have been wanting to write this since that ep of return of superman where chan and felix took care of rowoon, it was so so sweet. also i'm so sorry but i did not edit this at all

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

“Do you think you’d ever want to have kids?” 

Your question breaks through the quiet dialogue of the show that you and Chan are watching. Behind you, you feel Chan freeze before he forces himself to relax and continue fiddling with your fingers.

Chan hesitates for a moment longer before answering.

“I don’t know,” he says, slowly and carefully. “I think that I’d want to eventually, but right now? Being an idol- It would be difficult. I mean, for anyone it’s hard, but especially with this career…”

“Do you like children?” you ask, curious even though you can anticipate his answer.

“Yes.” This time he replies immediately, although his voice is still cautious. He releases your hands from his hold and gently nudges your shoulders so that you twist to look at him. “Y/n- Do- Are you-”

“What?” you stare at him, not sure why he suddenly seems so worried.

“Are you pregnant?” he asks gently. “It’s fine if you are! We can totally work things out and I will 100% support you the whole time-”

“Oh!” You smack yourself in the forehead. “No! Definitely not! I was just thinking.” 

“Ah.” Chan slumps against the back of the couch, this time he’s actually relaxed. “Just thinking or- what brought this on?”

“I’m sorry,” you say hurriedly. “That must have been out of nowhere for you. No, it’s because my older sister’s wedding anniversary is coming up, the first one since she’s had a kid, so I wanted to let her go out without having to worry. I was wondering if you wanted to help me babysit?”

“I see,” Chan says, sounding relieved. “Your sister. Yes, I haven’t met Doyun yet, right? I’d love to help you take care of him.”

—

Your sister is delighted that you’ve offered to take Doyun for an evening and you quickly coordinate with Chan what day would work best. It’s not possible to babysit on your sister’s actual anniversary due to Chan’s schedules, but your availabilities line up on a Friday night the weekend after.

Chan is nervous leading up to it, which you find absolutely adorable. When you look over his shoulder one night, curious what he’s focusing so intently on, you find him scrolling through articles on interacting with babies as well as tips on baby-proofing an apartment.

Before your sister arrives, you work with Chan for a few hours transforming the open area of your apartment, placing pillows and draping blankets over sharp corners and making sure to keep any small objects out of reach. 

When the doorbell rings, Chan panics, popping his head out of the kitchen from where he’s been trying to figure out a way to prevent Doyun from being able to open the cabinets.

“We're not ready!” he says, eyes wide.

“What do you want to do, keep them waiting outside until you finish?” you joke, then pause when it looks like Chan is actually considering it. “Don't worry, I'll go let my sister in and you keep working on that. We'll be watching Doyunnie the whole time, so even if you can't work that out, it's fine.”

Your sister doesn't stay for very long. She hands Doyun off to you and assures both you and Chan that your place looks safe for a baby. After going through everything that is packed in the massive diaper bag that she’s leaving with you, she heads back home to get ready for her dinner.

Doyun has a short attention span and cycles between playing with a stuffed animal, a ball, some plastic fruits and vegetables, and toy trains within the first hour. He is so adorable that you and Chan don't mind how much energy is required to keep him occupied. Luckily he's a fairly easygoing baby and hasn't fussed at all, although it did take a while for him to warm up to the two of you.

He's comfortable now, especially since Chan has started to spin the two of them around, hands firmly gripping Doyun’s torso. Doyun absolutely loves it, shrieking in excitement with his eyes crinkling. Even after a few minutes of the same thing, he never grows bored, just as thrilled everytime that Chan lifts him above his head. Although Doyun isn’t very heavy yet, after 15 minutes there’s sweat visible on Chan’s forehead and he’s starting to get out of breath.

“How about we take a bit of a break? Do you want to read?” Chan sits Doyun down against some pillows and rummages through the bag that your sister packed, finding some of the books that she included.

Chan hands the books over and although Doyun accepts both of them, he throws them aside and instead clumsily reaches up towards Chan, clearly asking to be picked up again. Chan pretends to groan and complain as he lifts Doyun back up.

“Aww,” you coo. “He really likes you.”

“And I really like him,” Chan says, spinning Doyun around. “I just wish I hadn’t gone to the gym earlier today, I didn’t realise what a workout this would be!”

Eventually Doyun grows tired, no longer begging Chan to continue. This time when Chan settles him on the ground, he just looks around curiously before crawling up to Chan and grabbing at his curls.

“He’s so small,” Chan marvels. “Look at his little fingers!”

He reaches out towards Doyun, who immediately wraps his hand around Chan’s index finger and pulls it towards his mouth.

It's comical to see the difference in size between their hands and Chan visibly melts, allowing Doyun to gum at his fingers, quickly covering them in a sheen of saliva.

“Are you hungry Doyunnie?” Chan asks. “It’s almost time for dinner, let’s see what your auntie prepared for us.”

By the time Doyun is set up in a high chair with a bib on, you’ve finished cooking. Dinner for Doyun is simple, consisting of steamed vegetables, tofu, rolled omelette, rice, and a bit of fruit. You’ve also used the same ingredients plus a few additions to make kimchi stew for you and Chan.

Chan is distracted the whole meal, prioritising feeding Doyun and wiping his face clean in between bites over eating his own food. It's a futile effort since Doyun seems more interested in smearing the food around rather than getting it into his mouth.

When you're finished with your food, you switch spots with Chan and coax Doyun into eating the last few bites he has left while Chan scarfs down his own meal. 

After dinner, you carry Doyun into the bathroom and start filling the bathtub with a shallow layer of warm water. He watches with wide eyes as you add bubble bath that changes the colour of the water to a deep blue and creates a thick cover of bubbles. After washing the dishes and wiping down the kitchen, Chan joins the both of you just as you’re rinsing suds out of Doyun’s hair.

Cleaned and dressed in a fuzzy onesie with tiny bear ears poking out from the hood, Doyun struggles to stay awake for the rest of the evening. It’s obvious that he’s tired, he’s starting to get cranky and his blinks get longer and longer, but he stubbornly continues to play. After his third time nodding off while slotting plastic shapes into a cube, Chan picks him up and walks him around the room, rocking him slightly while humming a melody that you can’t recognize.

When your sister comes to pick up Doyun, he's sprawled out on Chan’s chest, deeply asleep. A line of drool drops from his open mouth to form a wet spot on Chan’s shirt, but Chan doesn’t seem to mind, staring at Doyun with stars in his eyes.

That night, right when you're about to fall asleep, Chan speaks up. His arms are wrapped around you and you can feel his breath against the back of your neck. 

“I think,” he says quietly. “I think I want kids. Not now, I still have the same concerns as before, but in the future? I want it.”

“You did so well with Doyunnie, it looked so natural,” you agree. “I think you would be a great dad.”

“Only if you’re there by my side,” he corrects.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

[if-whats-new]

Passings and Hiatus

Hi everyone!

Bex here. We have a very very sad message from the rest of the group which needed to shared.

Hi Everyone, This was not an easy post to write, but something that still should be communicated.

During the night of Sunday to Monday, Marjorie suffered an aneurysm. Unfortunately, she passed away before anything could be done.

Marjorie had been sick for a very long time, but her state deteriorated this year, and worsened during this summer. She had felt for a while she would probably not see many more milestones or even get to the end of the year, but she did her best to stay with us for as long as she could.

Marjorie strived to fill her days with happy moments and do things that made her happy, especially at the end. She wanted others to feel loved, appreciated, and seen, with her actions. In recent years, Interactive Fiction brought her a lot of joy (and sadness, and anger, etc...), and through it, she could connect with others - others who didn't see her in pain or sickly. IF had become her safe heaven when things were rough.

What's New in IF? would not have existed without Marjorie. Truly. She was the one who came up with the idea. She wanted to do something special, she told us, to bring some positive into the world, however she could. Marjorie was the one who hyped us up, and brought us on board. It was an electric time, and we stayed up deep into the night messing around to make... something with the idea. It wasn't well thought out, and we didn't realize what we were getting into, but she'd never been this excited about something in recent time.

So, she became the captain who steered this little ship of friends, connected through our appreciation of and love for the medium. But she wasn't just the idea person, she was down in the trenches, organizing it all, spearheading us on the right path, turned words into actions. When we needed some time, she would take over without a second's notice. She was always there, no matter what, at the ready.

She hoped, by her little idea and couple of hours of afflicting efforts, she was doing at least a little good for the community. She worried, often, that she wasn't doing enough, or doing it well enough, to give back the last of herself to the community who made those past years enjoyable for her. But not once did she want to pull that string publicly: she never wanted to take attention away from those who worked hard on their craft (her words). It mattered so much to her.

Through her and thanks to her, we learned so much. About ourselves and each other. And we shared with each other our appreciation for others, what we were passionate about, what we hoped for ourselves. She made us such better people, and we could never thank her enough for it.

Marjorie was first and foremost a loving daughter, a kind and attentive friend, and a passionate woman. Even with her failing health, she advocated for all who needed even a tiny bit support. She was a wonderful and compassionate soul, who always tried to see the best in people, but was never afraid to confront those who needed to face their mistakes. She forgave easily and loved even more.

Marjorie, you left behind a very quiet and empty space, and already are and always will be sorely missed.

- Noi, Axelle, and the rest of FMoDF Gang (Erika, Joss, Olive, Derek, Chaz)

As I'm sure you can all understand that this was a surprise for us and everyone who was close to Mrajorie, I think we can all say she was an amazing woman who invited me (Bex), Brij and Dion to help and create this wonderful Zine. We do wish to continue this on but we will be pausing this until at least the end of September until we can get our bearings and talk about future plans.

Let me assure you, this tumblr will stay and be available to keep a trace of her, the memories and support she gave everyone in the IF community.

If anyone is willing to help keep this zine and Marjorie's hard work alive please contact us here, COG, or in the comments

Until then RIP Marjorie, you were a shining star gone too soon.

[cosmerelists]

How Kaladin Would Flirt With Other Cosmere Characters

As requested by @cam-ulu29 :)

Hot off the back of my post about other characters flirting with Kaladin, cam-ulu29 asked if I could also write about Kaladin being the big flirt with other characters. So let's just say that Kaladin had the ability & the desire to flirt...how might he do so?

1. Lyn

Kaladin: I'm glad that there are women Windrunners now. Lyn: Man, me too! Kaladin: And specifically I am glad that you. A woman. And a Windrunner. Are here. Lyn: Awww, thanks! Kaladin (visibly sweating): Yes you. As a woman. Who is a Windrunner. And is here. Lyn: Are you...are you having a stroke right now?

2. Renarin

Kaladin: Hey, Renarin...back when you first joined Bridge 4, did you have a crush on me? Renarin: ! Renarin: W-Was it obvious? Kaladin: N-No, not really! Syl told me. Later. That she thought you did. Renarin: Oh... Kaladin: ... Kaladin: Any chance you still do?

3. Leswhi

Kaladin: Hey, uh, Leshwi? I was wondering if you would be free for an honorable duel, maybe Tuesday night? Leshwi: Certainly. I will assemble the shanay-im. Kaladin: Oh, well, I was actually thinking of an honorable duel with just you and me, you know? Syl: And me! Kaladin: And also Syl. Leswhi: ... Leshwi: Tuesday you said? It's a date.

4. Rlain

Kaladin: Ugh, all these women keep coming to the clinic to flirt with me. Kaladin: I can't get any work done! Kaladin: I bet if they knew I was in a relationship already, they'd stop. Kaladin: Hey Rlain...do you want to hold hands? Rlain: ...Are you asking me to pretend to be your boyfriend? Kaladin: Pretend?

5. Laral

Kaladin: Crazy how we're both single now. Laral: ... Laral: You mean because you got dumped and my husband DIED? Kaladin: Uh... Laral: ... Kaladin: So...not the right moment to see if you want to get a drink and catch up? Laral: NOPE

6. Adolin

Kaladin: I think horses are mean and scary. Adolin: That's just 'cause you haven't been around them enough! I swear! They're cool and friendly! Kaladin (continuing as if Adolin said nothing): But I would accept being around horses. Lots of mean horses. Kaladin: If it meant. Kaladin: Being around you. Adolin: ...? Kaladin: ... Adolin: ... Adolin: Oh! Adolin: Nice.

7. Shallan

Kaladin: [sighing dramatically] Shallan: What's wrong? Kaladin: I want to flirt with someone, but she's much wittier than I am, so I don't know how to even start. Shallan: Oooh, that's exciting! Can I give you advice? Kaladin: I would LOVE advice. Shallan: Well, it depends on whether you can match her wit, or whether you think she's entirely too witty for that. Kaladin: I think I could. Sometimes. Probably not while also flirting, though. Shallan: Sure, sure. Well, you can always just enjoy her wit and let her enjoy how smart she is. Kaladin: Yeah? You think making her feel smart is a good tactic? Shallan: Well, it certainly can't hurt! Kaladin: [significant look] Shallan: ... Shallan: Oh! Shallan: Nice.

8. Moash:

Kaladin: You know...I bet I could swallow a WAY bigger sphere than you could... Moash: MY BED IS UPSTAIRS LET'S GO RIGHT NOW

9. Szeth

Kaladin: You know...I've been thinking that maybe this trip is a chance to find what I really need. Szeth: I feel the same way. Kaladin: You...you do? Szeth: I do. Nightblood: (Me too!) Kaladin: Well, good...because I think what I really need is... Kaladin: You... Szeth (simultaneously): Vengeance. Nightblood (simultaneously): The eradication of evil! Kaladin: ... Kaladin: I don't know what I expected.

10. Jasnah

Kaladin (talking to someone else): I mean...being partnered is fine, I guess, but the sex stuff I don't really get. Jasnah: ... [...] Kaladin (to someone else): Darkeyed Radiants is good and all but, I mean, we still have slavery. Anyone who really cared about social change would do somehing about that! Jasnah: ... [...] Kaladin: (to someone else): I like Wit, but storms can he be annoying sometimes. Small doses, you know? Jasnah: ... [...] Kaladin (talking to someone else): So then I convinced the ardents that locking up the insane in dark rooms was NOT a good thing--they're gonna change the treatment! Jasnah: ... Jasnah: Has Stormblessed always been so attractive?

[autumnywinter]

Your Yan!Elliott posts are endlessly fascinating to me. I propose an idea for you if you are up for it: Yan!Elliott finally has his prize all to himself, only to learn he's simply done the job for them. He's not the only obsessed one. He's not got his prize caged up. No no. He's caged with them. Wasn't it always rather odd that his target of infatuation quickly learned everything about him, his schedules, his interests, his favorite foods? Did he ever even notice? (Based a little on the fact that--let's be real--we players are the weird ones)

Omg thank you! :) And true, I would 100% be considered the creep if my farmer's behavior imitated my own irl behavior haha T_T

I made Reader a lot more smug than I normally do. I hope this is good!!

Yandere!Elliott x Reader

Tags/warnings: Suggestive, drugging, mentioned stalking, dubcon (kinda but not really), yandere x yandere, gender neutral reader

Sometimes Elliott felt like he didn't even need to stalk you around the town. He'd walk out of his cabin, camera, binoculars, and caffeine gathered for a stakeout, only for you to be waiting outside with a smile on your face. That same smile that made him feel like he was soaring.

Not only that, but you knew just what he liked. Granted, he'd like anything if it were from you, but he had a whole year's supply worth of pomegranates and ink stocked up in his cabin.

He didn't even want to put either to use, treasuring each item you gave him like a rare gem. He did eventually crack and eat the pomegranates though. He was only human, after all!

There was no doubting it. You were perfect.

Each time he'd write lengthy letters to you, all from your "secret admirer", he'd watch your expressions. You always looked delighted to have received a letter. Though you never once attempted to find out who was sending you them. Elliott wondered if maybe you already knew, but never wanted to get his hopes up.

He made sure to describe how stunning you were in every letter he wrote. It was important for you to know how perfect you were. So perfect, that you didn't deserve to be around anyone else. No one would ever love you as much as Elliott did.

Despite the countless gifts he had received from you, despite you seeming to know his schedule down to a T, he was still determined he needed to win your affection over. All because he needed more.

He needed to hold you. He needed to taste you. He needed to marry you. He needed you.

"Hey, Elliott!"

The writer turned opened his door, delighted to see you. It was a rainy day, which was when he always stayed inside, save for stalking you at specific hours. You'd usually visit him on rainy days, and naturally he'd always be quick to invite you in. He knew you were likely coming over, which was why he already had a nice dinner prepared and everything.

"Come in, please," he said, holding the door open. You hurried inside and removed your wet raincoat, hanging it on the coat rack. Elliott headed straight for the kitchen, where he dished out the dinner he had prepared, along with the spiked wine.

He didn't have any awful intentions, of course! He just... wanted you to himself for a little longer than you normally stayed. That wasn't so wrong, was it? He wanted to savor this.

Besides, it wasn't like it was the first time he had done this.

"How are you?" he asked, sitting down at the table across from you. He waited eagerly for you to take a sip of the wine.

"I'm okay," you replied, giving him a smile that made his heart melt. "Just exhausted. I spent all day working."

He knew. He watched you.

"Then let me give you a nice relaxing time," he suggested, making sure to sound polite as he could. "Drink some more wine. Tell me all about your day." He didn't even realize his lovesick smile listening to you talk. He was excited for you to become sleepy and less aware of your surroundings. Then he could hold you and kiss you and you wouldn't even remember a thing the next morning.

It was honestly the only thing keeping him from going insane. He could be creepy as he wanted with you and you wouldn't even care. Although he'd use the term "romantic" instead.

After he nearly finished his own drink, he noticed his mind becoming hazy. He was a bit of a lightweight, he'd admit, but it took more than one glass to get him feeling like this. He tried to blink the dizziness from his own eyes, and could make out your eyes on him and a smirk on your face.

"Oh no, are you okay? You don't look so good," you feigned innocence. Even through his hazy state, Elliott could hear the smug grin in your voice.

"D-Did... did you...? Are you...?" He couldn't form a coherent sentence.

"Yep," you confirmed. "You've done it to me several times now, figured I'd return the favor. It's only fair, right?"

He should have been angry or upset about this, but he wasn't. Instead, his cheeks turned bright red as he stared at you in a dumbfounded awe. He didn't know what he was feeling right now, but it definitely wasn't anger. Arousal, anticipation, delight... maybe a mixture of all three.

"To be fair," you continued, "I never was really drugged. Just pretended to be, because I wanted to see what you would do." His breath hitched when you straddled his lap, holding his tie in your hand. "Just to see how far you'd take things."

"Y-You..." He never thought he'd see the day where his words failed him. But how was he supposed to speak when you were on his lap looking so delectable? He subconsciously licked his lips as he drank in every detail of your body. The way your chest rose and fell, your breaths as heavy as his, your eyes clouded with lust. He could only imagine how much of a fool he looked right now.

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice?" Your voice was soft, sweet. "Did you think I'd never find out?"

Elliott paused for a moment before chuckling. He rested his hands on your thighs and massaged them gently. "You know me too well, darling." He placed a gentle kiss to your throat. "How did you know?"

"How did I know you were spiking my drinks?" You giggled and kissed his ear. "Because you're not subtle at all." You licked a stripe down his neck, enjoying the shivers you felt from him. "And because I want you just as much as you want me."

He placed his forehead against yours and let out a shaky sigh. "I... I'm very relieved to hear that." He didn't even bother to hide his erection pressing against you. "If I could, I'd tell you just how much I adore you. But..." He trailed off, growing more deadweight. His head fell forward against your chest as he struggled to keep his eyes open. "I love you. I love you so much."

You rolled your eyes at how dramatic he was being. "You'll be fine, love," you whispered. "And I love you, too."

Despite Elliott falling limp into your arms, he refused to loosen his grip on you the entire night. Or the morning to come.

[ballroamblitz]

caramel pie | J.P

summary: james smells caramel pie on the amortentia potion

james potter x fem!reader

word count: 3.750 content: teeth rotting fluff, angst warnings: crying, reader blushes notes: one thing about me is i love me some amortentia fic with a side of james fluff ughh also i listened to glue song by beabadoobee while writing this :) p.s i accidentally posted this on my side acc so if anyone wanna be mutuals my main blog is @beastofbrden :)

- Someone please, kindly remind me why I decided that continuing Herbology after the O.W.Ls was a good idea? - Y/N huffed out, sitting at the Gryffindor table for lunch.

The four boys sitting around her laughed. 

- Learned a lot today, uh? - Sirius asked, ironically. 

- Oh yeah, loads! We had to feed toad flesh to those terrible toad-eating plants. For some reason, mine just didn't feel like eating it without regurgitating it all back on me! 

The boys went hysterics, and even the girl couldn't help but laugh along. 

- There's still a little piece there - James pointed. - Here, let me take it out for you.

He took out a small chunk of toad flesh off her hair. 

- Well, may I remind you, Y/N, that no one told you to keep up with Herbology. We all dipped from it while we could and no one else has pieces of toad on our hair - Sirius noted, clearly getting a good laugh out of the girl's toad disaster.

- I just didn't want to hurt Sprout's feelings! 

She sighed and brushed her hair with her fingers, only then looking at the food in front of her.

- Merlin, I'm starving! Could eat anything right now.

- Even toad? - Remus joked, sending the group on another laughing crisis.

By the time of dessert, Y/N started scanning the table for something. Clearly not finding it, her panic started showing. 

- Oh no. Where's the caramel pie? 

- They didn't serve any today - James replied, needing all the strength on his body to stay deadpanned. The other three boys were deep in conversation, and him being the one sitting closer to Y/N (as always) only he noticed the girl's agitation. 

- What??? What do you mean they didn't serve any? In the six years I've been here they never not served it and I can't believe they chose today to…

- I'm just joking - James pulled a plate that was hidden behind the steak pudding, smiling playfully at the girl - Saved it for ya.

- James! I would go mad if they stopped serving this pie, y'know! - she let out a relieved breath. 

- Nah, don't worry. They will keep serving it, or I would fight the elfs for ya. 

- One day I’ll hide your figgy pudding, then we’ll see.

- You wouldn’t dare, missy.

James watched with a soft look on his eyes as the girl took the first bite of her favorite dessert.

- Thank you for saving me a piece, Jamie - she leaned her head on his shoulder for a moment to show gratitude. When she got closer, he smelled the vanilla scent of her hair and the caramel pie on her lips.

After lunch, the five went straight to Slughorn's classroom. 

- Good evening, dears, good evening! Now if you could get up and get closer, I want to show you something!

The whole class shifted near the table Slughorn was sitting behind. 

- Here, we have a very special potion. - He pointed towards a bubbling caldron full of a crystal clear liquid - Very tricky to make, very characteristic and perhaps one of the most dangerous we can brew. Can anyone tell me it's name?

Y/N's hand rose in the air.

- Yes, ms. Y/L/N. 

- It's Amortentia, or simply the love potion. Since true love can't really be produced by any sort of magic, it causes more of a crush or an obsession. 

- Correct. Ten points to Gryffindor! - Slughorn smiled.

- Nerd - James whispered,  messing up Y/N’s hair.

- Sod off, Potter.

- You see, one of the most intriguing things about Amortentia is its scent. Everyone smells something different, because its scent is completely dependent on what each person feels personally attracted to. Now, who wants to come forward and tell me what it smells like? 

No one volunteered. No wonder, since it's a very particular thing to simply say in front of a whole classroom.

- No one? I'll pick someone then. Let me think... - Slughorn scanned the faces around. - Ah! Mr. Potter, you will do. 

James was caught by surprise. He had been distracted by the warmth radiating off Y/N, that was almost resting her head on his chest. 

- Me? - he asked and pointed towards himself.

- Of course you! Is there any other Mr. Potter?

The whole class laughed as James stepped closer, his signature boyish grin splashed on his face. 

- Now Mr. Potter, lean in and smell the potion.

James ran his hands through his hair and did as told. One single sniff and his smile fell off his face completely. The scent was unmistakable: vanilla and caramel pie. Vanilla body cream, caramel pie for dessert, everyday. He had the urge to see if Y/N wasn't standing next to him, but he knew she hadn't moved from across the table. He knew he had to lie. If he said what it smelled like to him, everyone would know it was Y/N's smell.  

- So, Mr. Potter. Whenever you are ready to share. 

He looked at where Y/N was. She was looking at him, just as well as everyone else. She looked relaxed, the potion's glow making her look specially pretty, angel-like. Think of something, fast. Something not at all related to what you are really smelling, something like...

- It’s wood and broomstick polisher.

- Very well then Mr. Potter. Looks like you've got a thing for Quidditch, uh?

The class laughed, and everyone looked convinced. James Potter, Quidditch captain, smelling broomstick polisher and wood? Fitting. James high-fived himself for his quick thinking, and let out a relieved sight. Now, no one would go around thinking the wrong things. 

Later that night, in the common room, however, the potions class was almost burning a hole through James' head. Slughorn said Amortentia smelled of what attracted each person the most.  Attraction was romantic, sexual attraction. But Slughorn had been pretty vague, hadn't he? He could've meant attraction in any context. It could mean anything. It could mean platonic love, right? If Slughorn didn't think much of James smelling Quidditch, it probably meant it could smell of anything the person liked a lot, right? But it was a love potion. That caused passion. And Slughorn said he had a thing for Quidditch. A thing. But he didn't have a thing for Y/N! He loved her, of course. Everyone knew she was his best friend, they did everything together and she was probably his favorite person in the world. Yeah, maybe he went to extreme lengths to see her happy, and yeah, maybe he was a bit too affectionate with her, but she was his best friend.

- Can't do homework anymore. - James was ripped off his thoughts by Y/N's presence. She threw her backpack at the ground in front of the sofa he was in and layed down - My brain feels like mush.

James looked at her. Her head was resting on his lap, and she looked extremely comfortable. That was obvious, since they always had been this affectionate towards each other. They both were very touchy people, and it felt natural to be in constant physical contact. James was always happy, eager even, to be like this with her. In a platonic way. Obviously. Today, however, her skin on his felt like it burned. 

- How was it? - James asked, coughing to conceal the way his voice failed a bit in the first word.

- Homework? Awful. It's not that difficult, but it's too much. And it just seems pointless, you know? What will I actually learn from writing 19 inches about toad eating plants? Nothing, I tell you what! - The girl sighed and closed her eyes again - Just wanna go to sleep, really.

He didn't know what to answer. He normally would have made a joke about the plants, added more criticism about essays or something. But he didn’t even do his homework, with how paranoid he was. For the first time ever, he was completely speechless in her presence. Her eyelashes were resting peacefully on her pink cheeks. The light from the fireplace made her skin look more flushed, and her hair had a golden glow to it. She looked awfully pretty. James knew that, of course. She had always been pretty. But tonight.. when she moved her head a little bit, he smelled the amortentia smell. Vanilla and caramel pie, just as strong as it was that afternoon. 

- You are way too quiet today, Jamie. - She opened her eyes and he felt something weird in the pit of his stomach  - Ate too much pudding? 

- Yeah, probably. 

She stretched and yawned, sending another wave of vanilla and caramel pie to James' nostrils. 

- Going to bed - she got up. Her hair was messy and the light from the fireplace behind her looked like a halo. - Night, Jamie.

She lowered herself and pecked his cheek lightly. 

- Sleep well - her soft voice was way too close to his ear, turning James' legs into jelly. 

He watched her going up the stairs to the dormitory, and the place she had kissed burned long after she was gone. 

He had no reason to be this nervous for the potions class the next morning. Slughorn had already moved on from amortentia, since it was a difficult, dangerous and time-consuming potion to make, but James was half hoping the potion would be brought up again, and half hoping everyone would collectively forget about it completely. Slughorn didn't mention the potion again, moving on directly to Felix Felicis. He watched the whole class on the edge of his seat. He had decided he would ask the teacher about the potion just to calm himself down. Just to make sure. Everyone had been really concentrating on making the best draught of living death the whole period, but James just wanted the class to end so he could ask Slughorn and stop eating himself alive.  

- Alright, alright. Congratulations mr. Snape on your draught. Truly outstanding! - Slughorn said, raising a round of applause - Class dismissed!

Everyone started to gather their backpacks and leave, but James made sure to stay back. He pretended to be very interested in a weird type of algae that Slughorn kept in a little ampoule. Just a few more moments and then he'll say that no, I don't have romantic feelings for Y/N and that i just really like caramel pie or something, and then i'll stop going mental... 

- Gillyweed. - Slughorn’s voice dragged James off of his daydreams 

- Uh? - James frowned in confusion, wondering what the teacher was talking about.

- The algae you're looking at, Mr. Potter. Gillyweed. Helps the person breathe underwater. 

- Oh, yeah, right. Professor Slughorn, I was wondering if I could ask you something.

- Sure, my boy, ask away - Slughorn encouraged while distractingly stacking some parchments.

- I was wondering… about the Amortentia potion.

Slughorn stopped his movements and lifted his eyes directly to James. 

- Oh, I see - He looked very amused, for some reason. - What were you wondering?

- Let's just say a friend of mine smells it and it reminds him of someone. It could smell like someone he just truly cares about, couldn't it? Like, it doesn't necessarily mean he's in love with the person that the scent reminds him of, right? 

Slughorn's lopsided smile grew bigger.

- I'm afraid, no, my boy. 

- What? - James felt like the classroom got three times smaller and hotter by the minute - But I smelled wood and polishing oil, and I'm not in love with a broom, am i? 

- Mr. Potter, Mr. Potter... - Slughorn chuckled. - I think we both know you didn't smell any of that. 

James felt his face getting warm and red. 

- But, if you did, that would mean you have a crush on a Quidditch player, let's just put it like that. Amortentia is a very strong love potion, and we can only smell things in it that romantically attract us very deeply. Those of us that aren't in love with anyone would smell something quite abstract. But if this friend of yours smelled amortentia and recognized the scent as someone's, then boy do I have news for him. Does this answer your question? 

      - Hm, yeah, sure. - James agreed. He felt like he was gonna fall down from the absurd speed at which his mind was racing. - Thank you, Professor.

- Anytime. - James began to leave, completely out of it. - Oh, and Mr. Potter?

- Yes? - James turned around, hopeful that Slughorn would start laughing and admit he was joking.

- Tell your friend I wish him the best of luck with this new, blossoming love. 

As James went out of the classroom and up into the common room, he deeply regretted not stealing that ampoule of gillyweed and swallowing it whole. That way, he could spend the rest of his days in the black lake with the merpeople. I bet amortentia wouldn't smell like anything down there, he thought. 

For the rest of the week, James spent every waking hour trying to not think about what Slughorn said and what it meant, and he was succeeding. He kept himself busy with classes, Quidditch and even homework. He also did his absolute best to avoid everyone. He ate before anyone else and made sure he was far away from the great hall by the time he knew Y/N and the rest of the Marauders would go down to eat. In classes, he sat very distant and left early. He even pulled some pranks he didn't even feel like pulling on Filch to get detention in the nights he couldn't schedule Quidditch practices. He walked the halls in the invisibility cloak. Anything to keep his thoughts away from the big fire alarm going off inside his head. The only problem was that he missed Y/N in all of those moments. When he was doing homework, he missed the sound of Y/N's pen scratching the parchment next to him. While he ate, he missed the warmth of her body next to his, the satisfaction humming while she ate her pie . He missed laying down together after homework. He missed seeing her on the stands at practice. He even realized that the real fun in pranks wasn't the actual thing, but to see Y/N laughing hysterically afterwards. To put it quite simply, it felt like he was sleep walking all the time. He couldn’t go on avoiding her forever, but what he was gonna do, he had positively no idea.

Until Friday night.

It was late, and he had been in detention. Filch had made him write “I shall not turn the school’s trophies into pigeons” a hundred times, and his hand was hurting from all the repetitive writing. Normally, he would have complained, but this time, he was glad for the distraction. Enjoying detention, he thought bitterly while crossing the fat lady, I must be really going mad. His grouchy thoughts were interrupted by a sound. It sounded like.. crying. Or better yet, it sounded like someone was sobbing their heart out. He looked around the empty common room, but didn’t see anyone. He followed the sound to the sofa near the fireplace, where he and Y/N always rest after studying. Before you turned into a chicken. 

Y/N was laid on the sofa, her face buried in a cushion, her whole body shaking with her sobs. James was flooded with panic.

- Y/N, baby, what happened? - he cooed, his voice altered with anxiety. Y/N never cried, except when something very serious happened.

Y/N looked up like she thought she was seeing visions. 

- Jamie? - her voice was soft and shaky, her eyes were puffy and bloodshot red, like she had been crying for multiple hours. The hurt on her eyes broke James’ heart in a thousand pieces. 

His mind raced with possibilities: maybe someone was mean to her? Maybe someone died? Maybe she was hurt? The thought of her being in pain panicked him even further. He sat down and pushed her into his lap, laying her head on his shoulder. 

- Are you hurt, baby? Where does it hurt? Please, tell me. 

She cried violently on his shoulder. He inspected her legs for bruises, but she seemed well physically. 

- Y/N, tell me what’s wrong, I can’t stand to see you like this - he begged. -  Did someone hurt you?

The question seemed to trigger something on the girl, because suddenly she was on her feet, out of his arms. 

- Did someone hurt me? Seriously? - the tears streamed down her face, but her eyes glimmered with something new: anger.

James was confused, to say the least. He noticed that she was wearing one of his old sweaters, one that had vanished from his suitcase a few weeks ago. 

- Baby...- he begged some more.

She looked as if he had twisted a knife on her wound.

- Don’t you dare “baby” me, James. Not after ignoring me like the plague for a whole week! 

Oh. Oh. James had been so involved with his own confusion regarding the amortentia incident that he forgot almost completely that Y/N didn’t know what he was doing, or why. She was crying because he hurt her feelings. That was a lot worse than if she was crying because of another person: he could’ve gone out to kick said jerk’s ass. But if he hurt her, what was he supposed to do? Punch himself? 

-Y/N - he cooed, apologetically. - Y/N, I…

She showed him her palm, urging him to stop talking.

- You don’t have to explain wanting to be away from me. I’m sure you had your reasons. But you could have at least told me that you wanted some space from me, or something, because I’ve been miserable, and…

She thought he wanted space from her. The sorrowful shaky breath that escaped her lips mid-sentence threw him over the edge. 

- No, no, no… - he repeated while pushing her back into his lap - Oh my god, Y/N, no…

He caressed her hair while she sobbed violently on his shoulder. Her fists were closed tightly on his shirt, her tears dampened his neck, and he couldn’t recall the last time his heart ached this badly.

- Did I do something? Did I bother you? I’m so sorry.. - she whispered softly, like she was voicing what had been repeating in her head over and over again during the last few days. Her words were laced with anger, resentment, but, above all, hurt. He wanted to double over in pain.

- Listen - James lifted her chin up gently, forcing her to look into his eyes. - I’m the one who’s sorry. 

The tears kept coming, but she was listening.

- I shouldn’t have avoided you last week, and it’s not your fault, okay? It’s my fault. I’m the one who got scared. 

She looked confused.

- Scared? Of me? 

James would have to confess what happened at Slughorn’s class. He had given zero thought about his messy feelings, and even though unraveling them in front of Y/N scared him endlessly, he would have to do it, because he could never let her think that he wanted space from her. That he wanted anything but to be close to her, at all times, if he could. 

- Please - she asked, incisively, noticing his wariness. - Tell me.

He took a deep breath, feeling vulnerable, raw. As if he would undress himself fully in front of her.

- Remember Slughorn’s class about amortentia? - Y/N nodded, encouraging him to move on - He asked me to smell it, right, and I…

- You said it smelled like broom polisher. 

- Well, yes. But I lied. - he decided to avert his gaze to the ceiling, or else he would never talk. - It was caramel pie and vanilla cream. So, I smelled… you.

Silence. A moment, two. He couldn’t muster the courage to look at the girl. He felt her hand grazing his cheek, urging him to look at her.. 

- Jamie… - She looked wonderstruck, and his heart seemed like it wanted out of his chest - Really?

- Really.

James was sure he’d never seen something as beautiful as Y/N after his response. She was smiling the biggest, most shiny smile he had ever seen on her face. Her eyes shined like gemstones at him, so soft he wanted to cry.

- Do you want to know what I smelled? - she asked, soft as a feather. 

His heart somersaulted when she brought her face closer to the side of his neck. She whispered on his ear:

- I smelled… - She sniffed his neck once - Sandalwood - another sniff, followed by a chuckle  - Broomstick polisher…

She distanced herself, looking deep into his eyes.

- And homework parchment. And fireplace naps. And figgy pudding.

His heart was hammering against his ribcage. Y/N smelled him. On the amortentia potion. Him.

- Y/N - James whispered, all warm and fuzzy on the inside. - Really?

She didn’t answer, just grabbed his hand, the warmth and softness of her skin overwhelming his senses. Placed his hand on top of the point of her chest where her heart was. Through the fabric of his shirt, he could feel her heart beating faster than a hummingbird's. She never unglued her soft eyes from his. 

She likes him. Suddenly, all the thoughts he had been avoiding throughout the week came crashing down on him, like a dam.

James was an affectionate friend. He liked physical touch. But he never liked it half as much as he did with her. James was a thoughtful friend. He remembered things about his friends. But he remembered every single thing about her. He was a sensitive friend. He hated to see his friends suffering. But every time he saw her cry, it was like his heart was being crushed. James was an attentive friend. He loved spending time with friends. But when he was away from her, he couldn’t even function properly, like he was missing one half of him. Y/N is his best friend. But she is more, too. He loves her. But there’s something else: he is in love.  Amortentia never lies, after all.

When his hands tangled on Y/N’s hair, he smelled vanilla cream. When he kissed Y/N’s lips, he tasted caramel pie.

[hiddenzev]

Second Confession: Part 1

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Already having a crush on Joel for a year now, she was asked to be his patrol partner.

Chapter Warnings - Angst, One-sided love, Unrequited Love, Idiots in Love, a hint of fluff

WC: 1.6k

series masterlist . AO3

A/N: This is my first time committing to write a complete series of a fic. Also my first time posting it on tumblr so i'm still navigating and figuring things out. I love reading unrequited love with a happy ending stories so this has been living in my head rent free for awhile. I speak broken English most of the time (singlish iykyk) so there might be errors in my writing here and there, sorry bout that. Idk if anyone is gonna read this but if you do, i hope you enjoy it. This is prolly gonna be a 5 part series so the next few chapters will be longer than this.

Knock, Knock, Knock

You finish up washing your hands in the sink before shouting over your shoulders, “Coming!”

You dried your hands before making your way to the front door. You quickly put on your coat before opening the door and finding Tommy leaning against your porch with his hands in his front pockets.

“Good morning!” he say with a smile, “Ready to go?” he asks, turning his body to gesture them to walk out front. You nod your head and turn to lock your door. Both of you walk out and make your way to the cafeteria for breakfast as usual.

The cafeteria is filled with people in the morning. After getting your food, both of you made your way to the table in the corner with Maria, Ellie and Joel already seated eating their food. As you get closer, Tommy went to Maria’s side and bent down to kiss her on the cheek before sitting beside her. You sit down beside Ellie and gave your greetings to the group.

“Good morning,” you greet them.

“Morning.” Ellie greeted back with mouthful of food still in her mouth.

You get a nod from Maria as she looks up at you while eating her food. Maria has been nice to you from the moment you got to Jackson. Even though she can be strict and tough at times, that is what makes you admire her. You, on the other hand, are reserved and laid back. You are not a leader but more of a follower. That’s why you respect her a lot because of what she’s doing for the community.

It’s been 3 years since you arrived in Jackson, tattered with the remnants of the past and  the pain within you. It was difficult to adjust to the community at first but the couple currently sitting in front of you embraced you into the community with open arms without any judgement. They taught you everything that you need to know about Jackson and since then, you have been living here without much difficulties.

Unlike Maria, Joel does not even acknowledge your presence and keep on eating his breakfast with a frown on his face. You wonder if you will get to be the receiver of his smile one day. You had seen him smile a couple of times while talking to Tommy and you want to see his smile more often.

However, Joel is someone who distances himself from everybody else and has a tough exterior. People in Jackson find him intimidating and stay as far away as possible from him, scared to agitate and make him angry. He’s always tensed around everyone except the ones that he consider his people like Tommy and Ellie.

Joel and Ellie came to Jackson a year ago to find Tommy and that was when you saw him letting his guard down for the first time when embracing his brother in the middle of the town. After that, he had returned back in his shell refusing to open up to anybody. In the beginning, you tried to come up to him and strike a conversation but he always reply with one word answer or silence or a glare that can burn through your skull. You understand that after everything that happened to this world, it’s tough to live with optimism and hope like before.

Ever since he arrived, he had caught your eye. With his rugged appearance, tic in his jaw every now and then, a face that doesn’t show you a hint of happiness and you still can’t take your eyes of him when he’s around. You don’t know why you seek to look or ask about him when he’s not around. You have been harbouring this feeling towards him for a year now. It’s starting to bubble up on the surface and you’re afraid that you can’t contain it anymore.

You shake those thoughts away and start to dig in your food. Breakfast is filled with Ellie telling everybody on the table about things that she learned in school and asking us about life before the outbreak. Tommy and Maria answer her questions and Joel scoffs at what she said sometimes. You watch her talk about life before the outbreak with wonder in her eyes and you can’t help but smile at her. She brings up the feeling of serenity in you when you see the curiosity in her eyes.

Seeing the world through a kid’s eye is something that we adults cannot afford to do anymore. You are caught up in what Ellie is saying that you don’t realise that Joel, who is sitting on the other side of Ellie, is looking at you. You stare in each other’s eyes for a few seconds before he look away and go back to finishing his food.

“How are you feeling today?” Maria ask you.

“I’m good,” you answer, tearing your eyes away from Joel.

“Do you mind covering Tim on patrols next week?” Joel looks up hearing this. Tim is Joel’s patrol partner. They’ve been partners for almost a month now. Apparently, Tim and Joel don’t get along well. I mean, no one gets along well with Joel. Anyone that got assigned to be his partner always backed out after a few weeks. They cannot find anyone that can handle him except for Tommy. For awhile, Tommy was his partner but they cannot let him stick with him all the time as they needed Tommy’s help somewhere else sometimes.

You look at Joel to gauge his reaction. His stern look towards Maria is not breaking.

“Yeah I don’t mind.” You turn your head to look at the couple. Tommy is giving you an apologetic look knowing Joel is difficult to work with. He look at Joel who has turn his eyes away from Maria and now towards him.

“Joel, please. We don’t have anyone else.” Tommy says with a begging look on his face. Joel stares at him without saying anything.

“Oh come on man, is it so difficult to not be mean?” Ellie breaks the silence. Joel frown at her as she continues to speak.

“She’s my friend and she’s nice,” her eyes widen to emphasise her words.

“I don’t want you to infect her with your ‘old man attitude’,” she air quote annoyingly, making Joel to soften his eyes a little bit.

“Besides, she’s the only one that can stand you and your grumpiness.” Joel look at her confused. You are confused too by what she said. What does she mean by that? Tommy and Maria exchange glances before Maria speaks again.

“If everyone is ok with it, I’ll see you at the gates for patrol next week.” She looks at everyone for confirmation before stopping to look at you. You give her a nod before she stands up to start her day. Everybody quietly leaves before you are left with Ellie alone who still has a little bit of food to finish.

You timidly ask her about what she meant earlier, “Ellie, what do you mean when you said I’m the only one that can stand him and his grumpiness?”

Ellie looks at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. She smirks and continue to eat her food not answering your question.

“Ellie!” you urge her to answer you.

She just laugh at you and stands up to return her tray. You are left alone being confused.

Feeling a little bit sluggish from the day, you make yourself a nice hot tea and make your way to your front porch. You sit down on your chair, immersing yourself in the calm stillness of the night. You have always enjoy the nights in Jackson more than the daytime. 

As you are relaxing, what happened earlier today, creeps up in your mind. The way Joel was looking at you makes your heart beat faster. What was he thinking while looking at you like that? Also, what did Ellie meant when she said that I’m the only one that can stand him and his grumpiness? You did not spend a lot of time with him alone for her to think that way.

You are perplexed on joining him on patrols, knowing the fact that a lot of people had a tough time with him. You cannot back out from it now and you are taking this opportunity to get to know him better.

While you are in thinking about Joel, you hear the strumming of a guitar nearby. It must be him. Joel lives adjacent to your house and you know that he plays the guitar some nights thinking no one is around to hear him play. You are not able to see him play because he plays the guitar at his back porch all the time. You did get to see him play once when he was back facing you, sitting at the edge of his porch, taking in the sunset. You had thought it was a beautiful view even though he wasn’t facing you.

You did not tell anyone about your feelings for him but you think that maybe Tommy has caught on to it. Sometimes he caught you looking at his brother and he would give you a mischievous smirk.

You have been wanting to tell Joel about your feelings that you’ve kept for about a year now. You also know that it is a risk as he will probably react badly to it. You do not expect him to accept it. You are doing it mostly for yourself. Call it selfish or whatever but you think it’s better to let those feelings out and move on with your life without keeping a secret that will only eat you from the inside.

Having a crush for a year is a long time and you think that it won’t progress any further so you’d rather do it fearlessly with no regrets. With a determination to confess , you let yourself listen to him playing the guitar for awhile more before calling it a night.

next part

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

hii i was wondering if you could do logan with reader that owns a cat and the cat acts JUST LIKE HIM and he cant stand it until reader points it out. thank you!!!!

I loved this request! I have my own little cat, so I wanted this to be as well written as possible. I'm sorry it took so long to be posted. I hope you like it! If you do, please like, comment, and reblog! It really helps me with motivation to keep posting on here <3

This is my kitten rocket 🤭

Logan was never afraid to meet anyone in your life. He had met your friends and family; he met your colleagues and even your old roommate, but for some reason, everyone is telling him he should be afraid to meet your cat.

Logan can remember every warning he got from the people in your life when they found out he hadn't met your cat yet. "Oh, that's her baby" "Oh he has brought a lot of joy into her life since she found him, he really is her number one" "That cat hates anyone that comes over-I swear it's crazy" "Her cat is just very territorial, very protective" "Make sure you wear shoes, he goes for the toes."

He scoffed at these warnings, it's still just a cat. He wanted your cat to like him, of course he did but he also wasn't afraid to meet the damn thing. He knew you loved you cat, that was your baby, and you took care of him more than you took care of yourself something Logan hated, but he didn't think it mattered what a cat thought of him.

You usually would stay at his place after a night out, but for the past few dates, you two went back to your place instead. It wasn't a big deal, but you were worried for how your cat would react to a strange man coming into his territory. "He just doesn't like people Lo', I don't want him to lash out at you." He could hear in your voice how worried you truly were, and he tried his best to reassure you that the cat and him would get along just fine.

He lied to you. Logan can't stand that fucking cat and that cat has it out for him too. The first night the cat didn't even come out of hiding, it completely broke your heart and Logan ended up leaving a bit earlier than planned because you were worried for your cat's wellbeing, as he was leaving he heard you cooing at the cat calling him your baby and your handsome man and though he'd never admit it aloud a twinge of jealous did echo through Logan's chest. The next night the cat did come out of hiding, just so he could attack Logan's legs. When Logan didn't kick him across the room like he wanted to you came and put the cat in your bedroom. "I am so sorry!! Are you okay??" You exclaimed while you closed the door to your room before trying to check on his scratches even though they healed before you could. He grumbled... sort of whined a bit too, and honestly, he was enjoying the attention, so maybe he milked the injury? Sue him.

What really pushed him over the edge was your cat literally pushing him over the edge. It was around 1 in the morning, and you had just fallen asleep. Logan was holding you in his arms and trying his best to fall asleep himself when the door to your bedroom creaked open. Logan, now fully awake, sits up, trying not to disturb you and is greeted with a sharp meow and sharp little claws to the stomach. "Mother fucker" Logan mumbled under his breath as he pushed the cat off of him, "why are you even in here?" he asked quietly so he wouldn't wake you but sharply enough to try and scare the cat away. The cat meowed louder than before as if he was arguing back and went to lay on your chest, purring as he curled himself into a ball. Logan was pissed but he tried to stay cool and just ignore the cat, then around 4 in the morning, Logan was awoken to his body meeting your bedroom floor. When he stood up, he looked at the bed and saw your fucking cat in his spot. "That's it." Logan had enough and grabbed a blanket before going to the couch.

You woke him up hours later, very confused as to why he was on the couch and was replaced by a cat in the middle of the night. "Baby?" You asked softly, handing him his cup of coffee, "don't. Just don't." He grumbles and sips his coffee, sending your cat a glare as he walks around smugged.

Logan refuses to lose against a damn cat!

It's just a stupid cat, not even 4 months old yet. So why was he letting its behavior get to him so much? Because it was your cat, and even if Logan wasn't ready to admit it yet he really did love you and for some reason you loved that asshole cat more than the world so for fuck sake that cat will like him even if it is the last thing he does in his very long life.

Honestly, it was truly ironic if Logan took the time to think about it. Your cat was a grump. He didn't want people around unless he allowed them to be around, and even then, he wanted his distance. But not when it came to you. When you were around, that cat was glued to you and had the loudest purr Logan had ever heard, and your cat really did get protective of you. It was something Logan had never seen before. Usually, cats don't care, but if you came home upset, the cat wouldn't settle down until you did, too. If he took the time to really think about it, maybe he could see the resemblance the cat shared with another grump you have allowed into your life that you loved more than the world.

Tagging:

@userchai

@mahi-tamashi

@100percentlazybonez

@lanassmarty

@western-pyro

@misscrissfemmefatale

@marit332

@navs-bhat

@fluffy-b33z

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

Indefinite hiatus

I was toying with writing up a long post about what running this blog has meant to me over the years and why I'm stepping away for the foreseeable future, but that feels too dramatic for what's really just me saying "I'm not going to be on tumblr for at least the rest of the year". So, I'll just say I'm not going to be on tumblr for at least the rest of the year.

Okay, actually I have a bunch more to say, but it'll be under the cut.

Politics sucks. And paying attention to it, even in the reduced way I've been paying attention to it over the last few years, is hard. You end up spending so much of your supposedly free time thinking about things you can't change, getting mad about things you can't change, and getting depressed when the people who can change things just keep going in the wrong direction. Even when good things happen, it's just a matter of a few days before something bad happens once again. And vice versa. It's an endless cycle of hope, despair, resignation. Rinse and repeat, and triple speed that cycle during an election year. And I'm tired of it. I'm tired of spending every other year worried about what's going to happen on one day in November. I'm tired of hearing a piece of news and automatically composing a post about it or running through 20 different responses I might give to asks I might get about it in my head.

Everyone I know who doesn't pay attention to politics (or at least doesn't run a social media page dedicated to it) seems to enjoy their live a lot more than I currently do. Which sounds way more dramatic than what's actually going on, which is mainly that I want to get to a place where I just don't care. I want the world and its problems to flow off my back instead of weighing it down. I want to stop thinking about what people on the internet might say about something I haven't even posted yet. And that can't happen while I'm tied to this blog. So I'll be staying away from it for at least the rest of the year.

I did have a good time with this blog. I've met a bunch of really awesome people, some who are sadly no longer with us (RIP Blue), and some who I think will carry on the "fight" way better than I ever did. This isn't an admission of defeat, or pessimism about the election. Even if Trump wins, and I truly think he will if we have a fair election, I still won't be back this year. But I'll still vote and I'll still be proud that my silly little tumblr blog had an impact on some people's lives. I may not have the reach of a Tucker Carlson or a Glenn Beck, but I've gotten a lot of messages from people who said they changed their minds about an issue, or even politics in general, because of things I said, and that counts for something. If you guys take anything away from me, I want it to be this: Even the smallest impact matters. It doesn't matter if you only ever reach one person and then stop, reaching that one person is enough. Changing one vote is enough. Changing one mind is enough.

To all my mutuals, you guys are the best. I truly hope you have wonderful lives and I'm sad I won't get to see your names on my dash everyday anymore. To anyone I've ever followed or reblogged from, I couldn't have had a blog without you, so thank you. Yes, even the leftiod psychos, XD. To everyone else, find your own balance and never give into despair and never listen to people who tell you not to try. Even a failed effort is still more meaningful than sitting back and mocking people for trying to improve even the smallest thing about themselves or the world around them.

I won't be logging back in after I post this, so any messages or asks you send, I won't see. I'll still be active (or as active as I ever am) in my discord, so feel free to join there if you want to. It should still be my pinned post, but if it isn't, I'll edit this with a new invite link.

And that's all I've got to say for now.

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

Hermitcraft / Life Series Fic Recs

Because I love so many of them...

I'll split the fics into completed and updating fics, and try to only recommend currently updating fics (i.e., not abandoned). I'm going to write a little about why I like each fic and what the general vibes are - so this is also a kind of review I guess?

I've tried to @ the authors if they have a public tumblr. Sorry to anyone who didn't want to be tagged, I can remove any @ if you ask (or if I have embarrassingly tagged the wrong person). Anyway, enjoy, and I appreciate reblogs because I want as many people to see these fics as possible!!

This ended up being incredibly long so I'm putting a divider here. Click to keep reading!!! Also, fair warning: shipping ahead! Some fics will have mild sexual content, please read the tags if you are unsure <3

Updating Fics

I have already recommended Help Me To Breathe, lost in the dark (he's got a heavy heart), and There Are Monsters Nearby in this post, so I won't explain why I like them a second time, but definitely check them out!!

Death's A Good Gig by @mawofthemagnetar is probably going to be finished by the time this post gets to you, reader, but I'm putting it here anyway. It's short and sweet, one of my favourite representations of Zedaph (or, Zedeath) I've read, and just a joy to experience. If you like grim reapers and discussions of unions, this one is for you. Also I need more Zedaph in my life.

Look, I'm Sorry, Please Stop Scaring Everyone by @cat-in-the-desert reminds me a lot of a particular TV drama I liked when I was younger, which followed a similar premise. This fic follows Mumbo (vampire) and Grian (ghost) as they get up to various housemate shenanigans and meet their local magic-expert and salesman Scar. This fic is fun, but still includes a nice amount of Feelings and hinted-at Angst which I really love. It's lighthearted, but never boring.

It Hurts To Hope by Inquillitory is my favourite of the "Grian crash lands into Hermitcraft and causes problems for everyone" genre. Seeing how many fics there are with that premise, I think that says a lot. It handles Grian's weird Watcher stuff really well. Honestly, I just want to know what happens next!

killing the boy in the tv by @raspberrystruck is like a sickfic on steroids. If you want Grian with so much past trauma he forgets how to function in society, this is basically the fic for you. I really love how hybrid traits affect the characters' interactions in this fic, and how everyone is kind of messed up because of the imbalance Grian brings. It is wonderfully descriptive in all the right places!

Love Me Like I'm Dead by @daniofcrows is such a gem. You know how hard it is to find good Xisuma whump? It's impossible. I absolutely love how Xisuma and Evil X are characterised in this, and I am obsessed with the unique take on hanahaki disease which I have never seen handled in this way before. The balance between flashbacks and present day is maintained wonderfully and I cannot wait to continue reading this one. Wow.

Oh, you wanted me to do a verse? by @bugbbear is... kind of indescribable. It's horror. It's comedy. It's the apocalypse. It's boatem. Scar eats someone. One of the most interesting and unique apocalypse stories I have read. Slowly updating but worth the wait, in my opinion. This one NEEDS more attention.

So Much For Stardust by @a-plethora-of-peters is basically one of my all-time favourites. Which is a damn good achievement seeing as I don't usually read ZITS fics. Like, ever. In this fic, Skizz is a human abducted and hurt badly by aliens, now recovering in the care of good aliens who don't know how 'sentient' he is. Every update of this one makes me smile, it is wonderful. I love how the characters are written and how the different perspectives are shown. It is just great.

Solar Waltz by @raspberrystruck and aroundtheclock is a brilliant and very very sad regression fic. I love fluffy regression fics as much as the next guy, but this one just... hits different. The hurt/comfort levels are off the charts. Grian is so damn cute the whole time, while also being harrowingly complicated and sad. I am so ready for whatever comes next.

Tango's Castle of Cards by @evilrat-sabre is the one where Tango is a BUG. He's just a little guy (horror). This one is so beautifully written, with poetry-type interludes and perspective changes that really make everything feel so much more impactful. Finding out your buddy is a murder bug isn't the easiest thing in the world. I love this so much.

Traveling Thieves {Dark Fantasy AU} (series) by @amethystfairy1 is basically one of the series of all time. I know I keep saying that but it really really is. I love a good fantasy au, and I love an au with hybrids even more. In this world, hybrids are treated like slaves, but it isn't all doom and gloom for the main characters of each installment. There is a lot of hurt/comfort and the different stories feed into each other in really interesting ways. I try to read as much as I can, though I've missed a few because my emails are buggy. Definitely worth reading these fics, especially since now they're all starting to come together!

Completed Fics

Solving Counting Sheep by @theminecraftbee might have rearranged my brain chemistry a little. Another strong contender for 'fics that inspire me to kill Grian', this time with a more concrete notion of "replacement". Three is my favourite fucked up living weapon. It's so rare to find Evo fics in this day and age, too. This fic had me immediately clicking on every update as soon as I got the emails.

Rescue Fire by @imaginethat0327 is one of the most unique takes on a fictionalised life series game that I have ever read. The whole concept is explained in a realistic and easy-to-follow way, as we learn what's happening with the characters. There are several brilliant storylines happening in this one, but my particular favourites are Jimmy & Tango, Joel, and of course Scar & Grian. This fic is full of whump and, well, read the tags, it isn't always pleasant, but those are my favourite things ever. Definitely worth checking out this fic and its currently updating sequel.

don't you know about me? by takenbadgering is a wonderful comedy of errors with just the right amount of angst for a realistic setting type of fic. If you enjoy polyamory miscommunications, rave aesthetics, kandi, school teacher dynamics, and a lovely blend between grumbo, cubscar, and mumscar, this is the one.

Eventually the Birds Must Land by @milo-hypno follows a polyam ship I would have never thought of, and I cannot believe how much I loved it. This married-as-friends fic premise is wonderful, and captures the main trio (Grian, Mumbo, Impulse)'s personalities so well, while balancing them with the incredibly terrifying descriptions of the Watchers and their power. There's a lot of angst here, but it is ultimately hurt/comfort to the maximum degree. I loved reading it as it updated. Yay for gay marriage!

From The Archives (series) by @sixteenth-days was the absolute inspiration for my own Comms AU, and I will never forget its influence on me. As someone basically unfamiliar with TMA, I thought this series might be hard to follow, but it was not! I read all 57 parts in the span of two days, and I think it altered my brain chemistry. Please read it, even if (especially if) you don't know anything about TMA. The Cleo and Grian storyline lives in my head rent free. I mean it. This is horror at its finest. Also there's an audio series of this fic being released rn, which is very cool.

SUPERCRITICAL by @masque-of-plague hits different. It is such a wonderful take on the superhero/HotGuy trope, and it gets so super dark at some points! This one really takes swings at it's fictional government, which of course I love, while at the same time building this brilliantly emotional relationship between Scar and Grian. I do enjoy a bit of enemies to lovers, but the actual plot mixed into the story makes this one extra special. It is thrilling, with action that I don't get to see too often! Great work.

I am weary with contending! is one of the mumscarian fics of all time. From 'this house has people in it'-type horror, to magic gone wrong, to childhood trauma, to attempted assassination, to gender fuckery, this fic has it all. Usually I don't go for convex siblings, but this one is good enough to get a pass from me. Amazingly detailed worldbuilding alongside a brilliantly creative story.

It Spreads by @foxxology may not count as a fic, actually. It's a comic. But it's posted on ao3 so it counts. I was obsessed with this one as it was updating, honestly. It rocked me to my core. The art is phenomenal. The writing is brilliant. I love sculk.

Luck of the sea by Sleepy_Duck is a lovely take on mermaid and human interactions, with Grian as a marine life conservator and Scar as a very neglected mer. This one takes us emotionally in all sorts of directions, and offers lots of hope for the future of the characters. I heavily enjoyed this fic - if you like mermaids and marine biology, check it out.

there are many downsides to being a marine biologist by donnerstag is another mermaid fic but with a pretty different vibe. First of all, it follows what I would consider a rarepair Doc/Martyn. Second of all, reading this as it updated was a thrilling experience that nearly made me cry at certain points. I love how the relationship builds in this fic. It is honestly amazing. The whole idea of experimenting on a sentient sea creature, learning that he can communicate, then losing funding and having to save him from being dissected?!?! It's crazy. I love it.

Thus concludes my fic recommendations. I hope you enjoy at least some of these, and consider reblogging to spread these wonderful fics around <3

[elitadream]

Hi guys~! ⛅👋

Long time no see! Much longer than I ever intended, in fact. Truth be told, I wanted to make a public post sooner, but I've had a lot to catch up on in terms of notifications and messages since logging back in a few days ago. I've also made some changes that I will address shortly, but first of all I wanted to thank those of you who have reached out with so much care and understanding during my absence. Adjusting has been a slow and fragile process for me -still is-, and I sadly haven't responded directly to everyone yet because of it, but I wanted to say how much I appreciate your patience and support nonetheless. 🥹 🙏

Long story short, I was gone for five months due to a huge burnout, then progressively found my spark again somewhere along the way and have since mostly recovered. It was my wonderful friend @drones-of-innocence who reached out to me outside of Tumblr, and her sense of initiative is largely the reason why I managed to make this post in a somewhat reasonable delay. 😅💖 With that said however, I must also mention that I've deleted a lot of stuff from my page and have removed most of my work from the public eye as well. This may seem quite drastic and frankly a little unsettling, but I assure you that it was a thoroughly considered and reasoned decision! The thing is that I was still getting lots of notes on these drawings everyday and… To put it simply, I didn't want that anymore. 🙇‍♀️ Experiencing popularity was very detrimental to me in the long run and I needed to put an end to it for the sake of my own wellbeing; at least for now.

Which brings me to my next point.

After mulling it over for a while, I've decided that I would not be returning as an active creator in the Mario community this time around. 👐 Making fanart for this franchise (with such a high and continuously maintained degree of involvement) had a lot to do with my health's decline and I've come to realize that I wanted to direct my focus elsewhere going forward. For that reason, there are things which I know will never be repeated again in the future, both in regards to my art and online presence in general, but that's alright. Things change, as they do and should. I'm looking forward to reuniting with folks and would be very happy to stay in touch with those of you who wish to message me privately. Like my lovely pal @istadris said, what matters most about any fandom are the friends you make in it. ☺️

And speaking of which-

@ody-and-fanatu That's so sweet of you, thank you! 💗 I'm glad you've enjoyed my contribution to the fandom. It was fun while it lasted! 💫 My visual ideas may be gone from my page, but most of my written posts and replies are still there for anyone who wants to revisit those at least, so there's that! And I'd also like to answer some of the asks I still have in my inbox at some point. Knowing that you hold my art in such high regard makes really happy! 🥰 Unfortunately, the other account that I have is reserved for my professional work and I prefer to keep them separate from one other, but the good thing is that I intend to go back to this blog occasionally. Hoping to see you around! Cheers! 🥂

@heiressofdoodles Thanks, I appreciate that! ✨ I'm honestly doing much better than I was earlier this Spring. Back then, I was running on empty and on the verge of crashing without even knowing it. Being in constant physical pain was one thing, but feeling mentally and emotionally drained on a daily basis was another entirely, and something had to be done. It took me a moment to really figure out what was wrong, but thankfully I realized very quickly what was causing it and applied the breaks with all my might. One of my main priorities now is to be more alert and respect my own boundaries to make sure that this never happens again. 🥲

@keakruiser Thank you. 🙏💐 I'm just glad to have found my footing again. Feels good to be able to create freely.^^ Hope you're doing well too!

Special thanks also to @pianokantzart, @jelly-fish-wishes, @katlyntheartist, @triniji and @wahooitsamee for their kind words. 🫂 Your graciousness and consideration means a lot to me. 💝

As for all the nice people who sent me anon comments and well wishes, I tried to summarize my thoughts as best I could in this update, but if there's anything else you'd like to say or know, don't hesitate to ask me anytime! Now that I feel like myself again, I think I'm gonna hang out on Tumblr for a little bit. I'll be excited to see what you guys have been up to in the meantime! 🤗 Wishing you all a very good day and pleasant Fall. 🍂

-elita 🌸

[drvscarlett]

Sweet Nothings (2)

Carlos Sainz x pageant queen!reader

Summary: All that they ever wanted was sweet nothings but everything changed like midnight rain.

Sweet Nothings: 1, 2, 3. 4

A/N: i indulged a lot with catriona so expect a lot of her faces. i like to build up things hehe.let me know your thoughts

YNjpeg posted a photo.

Liked by CarlosSainz55, LewisHamilton, and 543,456 others

YNjpeg thank you for the opportunity for the roundtable to discuss different issues faced by our society [link]

User4 the way she speaks says a lot about her character

User6 I dont need to see any other queen, Y/N is my Miss Universe 2024.

User7 i never knew Y/N is this knowledgeable

User9 right?? i mean before we all knew her as just Carlos' partner User10 is it bad for me to say that i think Carlos and Y/N break up is a good thing? User9 true bestie.

LewisHamilton Wonderful insights, thank you for using your voice!

YNjpeg honored to be appreciated by you Lew! LewisHamilton 👑☝️ User12 real recognize real!

User55 anyone notice that carlos is still liking?

User90 omg i just noticed that! User77 my divorced parents

F1News posted an article.

Carlos Sainz sits down talking about championships, end of contracts, and relationships.

The hottest topic in the paddock at the moment has been Carlos Sainz. He is the driver that has been to watch out for as he becomes the El Matador that crushes Red Bull's streak of victory. The soon to be ex-Ferrari driver thanks the team for building a good car and creating new strategy that allowed them to best Red Bull several times already.

It was no surprise that him and teammate, Charles Leclerc has been chasing Max down for the championship. When asked about how does he deal with the pressure, he mentioned that he kept himself grounded by a note tucked inside of his helmet. He said that the content of the notes cannot be discussed (as well as the writer of the note) but he is very grateful for it for keeping him in touch with reality. The Spaniard is currently sitting at the second place with only 2 points difference from the current champion.

"It has not yet been decided" this is what Carlos has to say regarding where he would sign next. Carlos assures everyone that there are offers but he is still weighing which will be a better option. His focus at the moment was not on the signing because as he states "if I'm a good driver then the offers will just keep coming." He wishes to focus on doing his best with his current team and reiterates that he has no ill feelings with the team.

Another hot topic that Carlos was asked about is regarding his love life. There were rumors about his split with long-time girlfriend and now running for Miss Universe, Y/N L/N. Carlos explained how he is very proud of Y/N and that he wishes all the best for her. He refused to answer questions detailing more about her since he explains that "focus on Y/N as a beauty queen and not because of her relationship. She deserves more than just being someone's girlfriend."

CarlosY/N4ever

CarlosY/N4ever me realizing that Miss Universe 2024 and the Las Vegas Grand Prix is happening together???!!!

User5 wdym together???

CarlosY/N4ever It will both happen in the 24th,the gp will go first at 2pm while the Miss Universe will start at 6pm. User5 OHMYGOD????

User7 So are we going to watch miss universe or f1???

User8 Im gonna watch both User9 rip to us with a different timezone

User10 i love how we can use Y/N's reactions for this

User11 girlie is a walking meme User13 walking meme but still elegant

User19 SO WILL THE GRID BE WATCHING????

User22 what is barbenheimer when we have this going on!!!

QueenYNUpdates just posted a reel

Well my gowns and my costumes have been carefully selected. Everything has a meaning. It is an homage for my country and of course to the best parts of myself. [Can we have any more insights about your evening gown] All I can say is that I want to make Filipinos proud and the color has a very personal meaning.

User10 Im excited to see her final look!

User12 agreeeee,her attention to details is everything!

User7 Our filipina queen! PERIODT!

User13 the color has a very personal meaning + that smile.. anyone wanted to bet with me that its ferrari red???

User15 I might cry if its really red User18 and its carlos' last year to ferrari as well User90 I just want to have a good time on this app

User55 Go fight for the crown!!!! Bring home the crown!!!

QueenYNUpdates posted a reel

[What can you say about your relationship with Carlos, everyone is curious about what happened] This is the only time, I'll talk about this. If you are looking for drama, there is no drama between the two of us. Carlos and I met when we were still young people and we grew up together. We matured as individuals..Its not a bad thing. I am extremely happy and proud of where he is right now. Were both chasing our dreams. What we are, what have been. Its all good. That's all that I have to say.

User5 This basically confirms it.

User6 we are really children of divorce

User7 CARLOS GET HER BACK, ITS NOT TOO LATE

User8 YEAH SHE IS NOT YET MISS UNIVERSE User9 BRO DON'T LET HER GO CarlosSainz55

User11 Its the miss universe curse. If the girl really wants the crown then they will undergo heartbreak

User14 why do we have to sacrifice someone?? User15 so miss universe is just like ferrari strategy? here we sacrifice a boyfriend, in ferrari we sacrifice leclerc User17 that comment got me gagged.

YNjpeg posted a photo

liked by CarlosSainz55, LandoNorris, and 876,525 others

YNjpeg I am ready to represent!!! Flying to Vegas!!!

Charles_Leclerc goodluck Miss Philippines!!

YNjpeg thank you charlieee

LandoNorris can't wait to see you take the crown

YNjpeg lando you believe in me too much LandoNorris I SAID take the crown!!! YNjpeg ON IT!

User5 im so happy that she is still being supported by the grid

User67 bring home the crown Y/N!

User8 Mark my words, she will come back with the crown!

User9 safe flight!!!

CarlosSainz55 just posted a photo.

CarlosSainz55 You always hated flying. You told me that there is a certain discomfort and uncertainty when you are a thousand feet from the ground. Right now, you are flying. I know it has a certain discomfort and uncertainty of what's to come but I believe you can find some joy in it.

You will always be the most beautiful in the universe.

User7 OMG????

User6 CARLOS I WAS UNFAMILIAR WITH YOUR GAME

User8 bro really went to tell the whole world that he will be here no matter what

User15 were always talking about how Y/N is Carlos' biggest fan but Carlos is also Y/N's biggest fan

User17 ITS TOO ERALY TO CRY

CarlosSainz55 just deleted the post.

[rekino2114]

Gifting the chainsaw man girls a plushie of themselves

A/n: I'm still on vacation and wanted to do a smaller post while i'm free so i saw this prompt around and thought it was adorable, I'll probably do it with more fandoms let me know if you wanna see it

Makima

Thinks it's amazing and will treasure it forever, she specific keeps it on a shelf in her office (most of her subordinates are very confused to see it just sitting there around the paperwork)

She will 100% give you a plushie of yourself to repay you

Might ask you for a pochita plushie to replace the real one since she doesn't want it anymore.

"Oh, It's adorable darling you're so talented, how about I make you one of yourself to match?"

Power

She is confused at first and asks what power (lol) you used to make a mini her but quickly grows to love it.

It's soft and cuddly just like meowy whenever you're not near her you can bet she'll be cuddling those two things to fall asleep.

Definitely brags about it to denji and aki. Where are their small and fluffy versions of them uh?

"*gasp* is that an idol of the great power? Very well I will accept this. T-thank you"

Himeno

Thinks it's the cutest thing ever and immediately hugs you and peppers you In kisses as thanks

Will always keep it on her shoulder or in view in general hoping that someone asks her about it so she can start ranting about how wonderful her partner is

You have found her multiple times passed out drunk hugging the plushie and mumbling about how much she loves you

"Oh my God! Is that me? Thanks so much it's soooo cute, well not as cute as the original of course~"

Kobeni higashiyama

An incredibly blushy mess whenever you give her the plushie but thinks it's the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for her.

It kinda becomes a comforter for her. Whenever she's more nervous or sad than usual, she hugs the plushie and thinks of you, and it makes her feel at least a bit better

She feels kinda bad about not giving you anything back so she'll probably save the small amount of money she has to buy you a plushie you like.

"O-oh, that's really cute. w-wait, is that m-me? I love it a lot. Thank you so so much"

Quanxi (and her harem)

You immediately got tackled in a hug by 4 of your girlfriends when you showed them plushies of every one of them, quanxi just looked at hers for a while before smiling and joining the group hug

Might genuinely stab someone if they say anything remotely negative about the plushie

She works hard with her girlfriends to make you a plushie of yourself since they thought it wasn't fair that you were the only one in the relationship without one.

"Eh, it really does look like me, you did an amazing job on the girls too, don't worry I'll keep it close at all times"

Asa mitaka

Genuinely can't fathom that you would put effort into making something so cute of her out of everyone and the fact that you gifted her that makes her fall in love with you even more

Always keeps it with her mostly in her bag at school, similarly to kobeni it helps calm her down whenever she's having a bad day, it's a reminder that there is someone willing to love her this much

Yoru once tried to draw the scars on it to make it a plushie of her (just to mess with asa) but thankfully she took control in time

"Wait, seriously? That's....for me? Wow, i- I don't know what to say. Just thank you so much"

Yoru

Acts like she doesn't care that much but actually thinks it's really cute, asa often wakes up finding herself hugging it, courtesy of yoru not being able to sleep without it and taking over during the night.

Definitely brags to asa about it (not realizing it's technically a plushie of both of them)

Might ask you to add some weapons to the plushie to make it more interesting

"Hm? What's that? a plushie? I guess it does kinda resemble me, thanks it is kinda nice"

Fami

She might seem as indifferent as usual but genuinely loves the gesture and thinks it's adorable

She brings it with her whenever she eats (which is most of the time) she even puts a little bib on it, it's really cute to watch

Feels really bad when she gets it dirty (mostly when she's eating) so she'll try cleaning it even if she has no idea how

"I see, so it's a plushie of me. How cute. Thank you, you did a great job"