#instead of complaining vaguely and dunking on it

[mitzirockerextendeduniverse]

you too can end racism transphobia and antisemitism forever by mercilessly bullying harry potter fans

[danganronpa96]

idk if this is the right place to ask but what was the planned story of despair gang? (if you're okay with answering!)

At this point I have to be honest with myself and realise that no, I’m probably never going to go back to that fic considering all the plans I have for myself for the future (lol)

In that case, I’m finally going share what was going to happen in the rest of the plot (fun fact chapter 6 had already been half written before I stopped working on it rip)

So, for anyone curious, I’m going to leave a link to the unfinished chapter 6 (with some extra notes and art) and the rest of the plot under the cut

So, I kind of split the story into 5 acts and an epilogue, and chapter 6 was the start of act 2. Bear in mind I only wrote down a vague plan of the story as the majority of it was in my head at the time.

Chapter 6: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1p8uFhqoSiFgyAz5PYmYn1O7EHHVPkZXF3xMi_d4b7to/edit?usp=sharing

When it cuts back to the gang, before making it to the apartments, they come across a basketball court full of Monokumas in their way. They deal with them together as a team.

They then have a round of basketball together (Rin and Papyrus vs. Hajime and Matt) — Hajime manages to score the final dunk only because of the help of Izuru, who he quickly attempts to repress as the others cheer for him.

Afterwards, they find the apartments and settle into one that’s the least destroyed and messy.

Rest of Act 2:

At one point, the gang find a playground where Rin and Matt go on the swings. They talk about what they should do after the tragedy, mentioning theme parks, which sparks Hajime to chime in. Rin and Matt then go to the bathroom, leaving Hajime and Papyrus alone. Papyrus tries to talk to Hajime about what happened at the basketball court.

Another day, Hajime and Papyrus go out to find entertainment for Rin and Matt after the two complain about having nothing to do. Hajime gets his leg slashed by a Monokuma during an ambush, so Papyrus carries him to a bookstore where he can safety bandage him. He then gives Hajime a pep talk about his confidence. Hajime wants to say something back, but Monokumas once again catch them off guard, forcing them to flee back to the apartment.

Another day, Papyrus and Rin go out on a supply run while Hajime heals from his injury. During this time, Hajime gets to know Matt better, where he talks about his time working for Despair Melody (and puppy crush on Parappa).

There was going to be a scene where Hajime and Papyrus end up in an arena similar to the UDG game but instead of fighting a child, Gumi invites them into the middle of the arena for a challenge, demanding she gets Rin if she wins. However, Hajime and Papyrus manage to win, so Gumi cuts off her finger much to their horror.

The end of Act 2 would have the gang’s apartment being found and burned, forcing them to flee into the sewers.

Act 3:

After navigating the sewers for a while, they come onto land again where they realise they’ve ended up in a district all about Miku: billboards, flyers, merch stores, and music all around. They would go onto infiltrate Despair Melody’s base (which is the Parappa Town school). I think this was because they were going to use it to gain good reception to contact Future Foundation (and talk to Nagito and Parappa).

Act 4:

In an act of defiance and manic, Gumi kills Sunny. The gang wait atop the rooftop (of the school I’m assuming, perhaps to be picked up by Future Foundation) but are ambushed by Gumi, who they see has replaced her chopped off finger with Miku’s somehow. They would then flee through riots in the streets (probably Despair Melody’s doing) where they loose Matt during the escape. However, Izuru finally manifests, allowing Papyrus and Rin to be captured while he flees.

(I don’t remember what act this was going to be, but at one point while sitting alone, Hajime would finally gain the courage to tell Papyrus about Sans, but to his surprise, Papyrus figures it out himself. The two then have a hurt/comfort moment about it.)

Act 5:

Hajime is awoken/saved by AI Teto (was gonna be a whole other plot thing lol). Hajime then locates and saves Papyrus. As the two go to find Rin, AI Teto would take over a Monokuma and ensue some hijinks. Gumi would tell Rin the truth about Len: that he’s dead. He was the body that Miku used in the 3rd case of the 69th killing game that they dressed up as Miku (yes this is actually canon when Teto says “I didn’t want Miku to kidnap—” but cuts herself off in the 6th trial, she was going to spill that they kidnapped Len for that case). They save Rin and confront Gumi. Izuru manifests again, but this time to finish off Gumi himself by slashing her stomach.

I don’t know how this happens but in the plan it then says ‘the building explodes as the three are rescued by a Future Foundation helicopter’.

(I also assume this is the act where Hajime is finally true with his feelings towards Papyrus and is 100% reciprocated c’mon c’mon reverse sansmaeda real and true)

Epilogue:

The gang (I srsly don’t know what happened to Matt at this point maybe he was already on the helicopter that would be cool) join Future Foundation as the world starts to be rebuilt together. Gumi, who didn’t die, is put into the hope rehabilitation program.

Bonus: Hajime and Papyrus adopt Rin and Matt and now live as a family because a human and a skeleton can fall in love and raise a singing robot girl and a dog boy. The end :)

Also for anyone wondering, the participants of Sunny’s killing game were all planned to just die in the explosion, but hey wouldn’t it be funny if they were all found and rescued at the end instead 👍

[shadowpeachyuri]

Asks are getting kinda long so. Mostly, I wonder why Reddit is so ticked off at Mac lmao. Everywhere I go, it's either insane villain apologism by making the hero pathetic and wrong, or extreme villain antagonism by overblowing consequences. Bud got dragged out of hell after centuries, got a super snack out of MK's powers, vented in a theatre before a trauma flashback of MK coming to whoop his butt reminded him of SWK and couldn't even skedaddle before Not-Mayor forced him into a symmetrical wardrobe, I mean. an unwilling henchminion arc, and proceeded to get his butt whooped by the gang who love to target his trauma eye and get looney tunes whumped by electrocution in a giant lantern, tossed over a ship, and my little pony friendship is magic style song blasted in his ears. and whatever hell portal Not-Mayor dunked his head in while chained up, a few times over. he was about to throw up with that face he made when LBD semi-possessed him. I think that's enough consequences, he already got The Talk(tm) tied up again w MK, (a compliant hostage) and mostly keeps vagueing warnings to the squad, being very idgaf about LBD. Not much villain behavior compared to others I've seen. He's not even an anti-villain, he's just a self-driven traumatized survivor who vents to people in ambiguous closed off ways and tends to cross over into jerk territory. So I'm here like, are half of tumblr/reddit posts out-dated, bc if someone isn't salty about S1 Mac (rare) they are TICKED about past!Mac (frequent) to which I ask, what did bro DO. I have never seen fandom run on such hypothetical anger before. What I miss, because past!Mac's issues are just vocalized as "never made his own choices." which, is NOT a thing to apologize abt? if anything, it would fuel the fire? It sounds like a reason to ditch your friends instead of following along and passively complaining. A lot of it is also abandoning SWK, but. he visited the mountain? I see a lot about Flower Fruit burning taken from JTTW which is interesting (so yeah, I think fandom relies on the book a lot for their character feelings) bc SWK learns that after beating LBD three times WHICH IS INTERESTING because Mac says "looks like OUR OLD FRIEND The Lady Bone Demon is back" our old friend?? OUR?? by osmosis I thought their break up happened because they couldn't beat her together, and then I watched the show and there was nothing on that. but since learning the twitter post theory about memory manip, well. ShadowPeach just got more tragic. its too bad tho, I would've loved a story of accidentally killing your best friend and realizing after instead of another oh no it was this other villain behind it. but alright. it makes too much sense tho based on SWK's reactions.

OH I DIDNT EVEN CATCH THAT “OUR” bit!! it does beg the question a little bit of “why did she resurrect him then,” but at the same time, it’s a very interesting theory!!

[aizenat]

Whoever writes for the Hollywood reporter should be fired wtf.

Anyway, so she called out super fan behavior that had become way too normalized over the last decade and people are mad at being called out I guess? I’ve been bitching about this a lot this year; like with cardi. I ain’t agree with all of cardi’s meltdowns this year, but sis got pregnant and couldn’t even have a happy announcement because yall caught her man cheating and wanted to dunk on her while she worked through that all while complaining about an album release after yall upended her entire life. I’d wanna cuss yall out too lol.

You all are so fucking weird and don’t know how to be normal with celebs. Not for nothing, that’s why I’m not buying the hype around chapel and sabrina and whatever other mediocre white girl yall are claiming is saving pop rn. Because yall aren’t normal fans. If you were, you’d look at these artists as such and judge them according (and agree with me how mediocre they are lol), but instead they wear makeup or say something snarky in an interview so you have to pretend their music justified obsessing over them because you can’t just say “I like that celebs’ attitude” and move on. You don’t have to “stan” them just because you like them.

Like I jokingly call myself the worst fan ever because I’ll be a MAJOR fan of someone and not know shit about them. I LOVE how little I know about celebs I’ll say I love. I found out this year Margot Robbie is Australian! Had no idea! I don’t watch interviews because i genuinely believe that 98% of celebs have nothing of value to say and so they bore me. Always have, always will; so I never heard her regular accent! I was also however old I was last year when I found out Hugh jackman is Australian too! Again, never heard that man speak outside of a movie (why would I? lol)! Is this celeb’s parents still alive? Do they have siblings? If said siblings aren’t famous too, I have no idea! I learned this past week Kamala Harris has a sister (lol). I learned this year that Olivia Rodrigo (not a fan but I’m counting this) isn’t Latina, but Filipina I see a vaguely brown/white passing girl with a name like Olivia Rodrigo from Cali, why the fuck would I assume otherwise? You think I’m going to look her up to see? Why? I don’t care lol. Do you do your thing well? Do I like it? That’s all I need to know. Fuck the less I know the better. Knowing about Beyonce taking jay back after that nigga cheated is why no one could take her Jolene “cover” seriously. The less we know about celebs the better! Truly!

But these kids think cyberstalking their faves is normal. I was a huge fan of lady Gaga back in the day to the point that I was workshopping “little monster” tattoos because I wanted to immortalize her on my body somehow. If I didn’t get keloids (idk if I’d keloid from a tattoo but I don’t even want to fuck around and find out; that’s how I got the one on my ear from my ear piercing), I’d likely have that tattoo! And I literally cannot tell you a single thing about her life other than she’s short like me, and her real name is Stefani G-something Italian. Aside form that, idk. Siblings? Interests outside of music and fashion? Her real personality? Couldn’t tell you shit. I just love Born This Way: that album was a cultural reset and her magnum opus. I’ll never get over that album. NEVER!

And that’s all we should be caring about. All this extra shit is weird. Like I go into Conan Gray’s tag because I’m literally obsessed with his Found Heaven album, and I see kids writing fanfiction. About a 25 year old man who’s been releasing music since he was a teen and who is a real person and not some fictional character created by someone actually creative. Like idc who gets offended by this, but the second that fanfiction about real life people become common and normalized (TO THE POINT THAT ENTIRE BOOK SERIES AND NETFLIX MOVIES HAVE BEEN CREATED FROM ONE DIRECTION FANFICS), we’ve lost the plot of celebrity-ism.

These celebs are our monkeys. They dance and sing and act and look nice for us so we have something to keep us entertained. This, by the way, is why it’s imperative they’re actually GOOD and TALENTED at their craft: because I can go to a zoo to see a monkey just sitting there scratching its ass. If I’m going to spend money on a monkey and tolerate it being worth millions of dollars more than me, it better be able to do something i sure as hell couldn’t do myself. But the point is they’re performers. They are here to keep us entertained. If you can’t enjoy their work and maybe just make some stickers and buy some merch to feel close (I’m literally sleeping in a cut up, oversized Conan Gray concert shirt rn lol) and like some posts on ig and move on, you need help. Like literal and serious help.

And stop normalizing that shit! Celebs are allowed privacy! Stop stalking them, then finding out shit about them, sharing it publicly, and then getting mad when that celeb snaps at you! Stop trying to catch their partners cheating. Stop speculating if they’re pregnant. Stop looking into their families. Fucking leave these fucking celebrities alone. Motherfuckers were chanting free Britney just a few years ago, clutching their pearls over the revisiting of how horribly everyone treated Britney, but then participate in the same behavior now and don’t seem to get the irony. You think you’re exempt because you’re not star or ok magazine? Social media has replaced tabloids and yall are the new paparazzi. Congrats. You’ve become the very thing you claimed to hate.

Please leave that little girl alone so I don’t have to hear discourse of her make her blow up the way Taylor swift did. I swear to GOD if that child ends up still relevant 15 years from now because yall made this her “Imma let you finish” moment, I will fucking hunt every one of you down and end you myself. Let’s learn from the past and NOT do that shit again thanks .

[drshebloggo]

how to make WW84 a stronger movie

As sort of requested, here’s a beefed-up version of the list of notes I made watching WW84 because I was getting cranky with the execution of this movie and couldn’t help but jot down ideas. I WANTED to love this thing but the script was not selling its ideas to best effect.

For me, I think there were a few challenges inherent in the movie they wanted to make. BUT with a few different choices here and there in the way the story was told, it would’ve improved its impact without sacrificing what they were going for with tone and characters. 

CHALLENGE #1: this movie is set SO far in the future from the events of the first film. 65 years have passed, and Diana is still just gliding somberly through her life and that makes me SAD. All her friends are dead! She’s on her own and cursed with immortality!! She lives in an ‘80s decor sadness chamber surrounded by photos and memories of people she’ll never see again!!!

And yet the film gave us no real textual information about that. They did the laziest thing possible, which was pan the camera around a million photos on mantles and told us NOTHING. Literally WHAT has Diana done for the past, say, THIRTY YEARS since her Earth Friends all died without her??? Has she literally made NO OTHER friends? She’s still sad about Steve 65 years later and nothing else has progressed?

This lack of specificity leaves Diana fading in the lead role of her own movie despite the fact that there’s TONS of material there that they just... ignored. For me, she read flat, which bummed me out majorly. Her best stuff was with Steve because that actually MEANS something. But it’s all she’s got in this film. They didn’t bother filling in any other information about her life. 

FIX IT: literally just make Barbara already friends with Diana at the beginning. Not only does it make Diana more interesting, it reduces the sheer amount of exposition that the film piles on in the first 45 minutes. This also means you can bring Steve back sooner than the 45 minute mark, which would help grease the wheels in the first third of the movie. And it also means that Diana losing Barbara to inhumanity would actually have a greater impact on Diana beyond “oh my kooky new friend turned into an evil cat; this is vexing.”

CHALLENGE #2: the tone is WILDLY different than the tone of the first. They went from WWI trench warfare to shopping malls and fanny packs. It’s a HUGE tone shift, and it takes some getting used to. But there are good things to it; namely it provides great comedy for Steve, who is a definite bright spot in the movie. 

Overall I’m on board with doing a superhero movie that pivots away from grit and darkness and toward camp and comedy, and it’s cool to do something new rather than reiterate the same tone from the first film. But I think they could’ve done more to sell the tone shift. 

There are HIJINKS inherent in the premise that I’m guessing were fairly unilaterally unexpected. There’s a vaguely historical magic WISHING STONE and three buffoons each made a wish and turned shit upside down. I myself wish that Maxwell and Barbara and Diana were rendered in triplicate, as equal collaborators in this batshittery. I don’t think you’re watering down Diana’s role as lead (no more than giving her no other emotions to play than sadness) by doing so, and it even works nicely to own the idea that Max and Barbara are on equal narrative ground as Diana.

As far as the villainy goes, Max is more recognizably a Bad Guy, but Barbara is NOT, and it’s fascinating to show at least Diana and Barbara working together but slowly falling apart as shit goes SIDEWAYS. Hijinks can be zany and also meaningful! What if a villain is just a friend who wants something different than you and you have to come to terms with that and stop them from doing dumb shit? There’s an element of screwball to this premise and I wanted them to lean in more. This would also give Diana more to do than cry and fight.

FIX IT: show Barbara getting her powers using the same tropes of other superheroes getting their powers and figuring them out. Play it like she’s Peter Parker finding out she’s Spider-man. Hell, do a montage with all three of them using/abusing their powers: Barbara beating the shit out of things, Maxwell manipulating people, Steve and Diana making the fuck out and enjoying the shit out of it. These are the joys of wish fulfillment! 

AND, if they had set up the rules of the artifact beforehand (see Challenge #3), then the audience would know they were watching very happy people who are going to have their LIVES RUINED SOON. And that is good storytelling. (Maybe this is oversimplified, but honestly half of good storytelling is just making the audience feel two opposite emotions at the same time. The other half is dramatic irony, which would also apply to this trio montage.)

CHALLENGE #3: What the hell are the rules of this magic wishing artifact anyways??? The audience should know them before the characters do. The way this movie doled out information was bananas. They waited right before they were going to the tell the audience something to show us what they were about to tell us. Just show us earlier and tell the characters later!!! That way WE’LL already know because we’ve seen it, and THEY’RE not saddled with expositional dialogue to make sure the audience follows the idea.

FIX IT: For the love of humanity, nix the opening sequence with the horse race and make it about the damn stone!! Rip off Lord of the Rings and tell the history of the innocent but dangerous thing. Rip off Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and animate something about how it gives wishes at a cost. Hell, let Connie Nielsen and Robin Wright(’s unbelievably ripped arms) tell young Diana the story so they can still hang out and be a part of the film! Throw in some lore about the gods, just to remind us where Diana comes from and her belief system, and we’re good to go.

While you’re at it, toss in the whole point of the film into the moral that Diana’s moms impart to her at a young age. It’s not a spoiler. We don’t wonder if 1984 Diana will do the right thing. She does not need to LEARN this moral. She already knows the moral, but she still has to make the hard choice to let Steve go and of course it doesn’t come easy.

In summary: that horse race had little to do with the rest of the movie and it’s wasted story space, especially for setting up the entire magical premise that the movie hinges on, let alone the actual message of the film.

CHALLENGE #4: Do we care about Maxwell and his kiddo enough to rest the entire movie’s resolution on it? Ehhhh. The glimpses into young Max’s abuse is another example of showing information RIGHTBEFORE it’s important, rather than setting it up earlier to pay off later. It’s a far weaker choice.

FIX IT: Age up Alistair. If he’s a teen or preeteen, then the stakes feel higher because it seems more monumental to undo the trauma of neglect at that age. Much like in his business pursuits, the clock is ticking and Max is running out of opportunities for success in all realms of his life.

Maybe show Maxwell trying to reason with Alistair earlier in the movie, saying that he’s a good dad because he’s not as bad a dad as his own father. It shows us how he justifies his behavior, gives us the information that he had an abusive dad, and gives an actual interaction between father and son other than “daddy you’re not here” and “shhh son here’s a pony.”

Possible other fix-it which connects to other fixes: what if Barbara actually renounces her wish before Max does? It should be more painful to the audience to lose Barbara to her wish because we’ve technically LIKED her at one point. She means something to Diana, and so she means something to us. Honestly, the audience has rooted for her independent of Diana! The scene where she realizes she’s not powerless against her harasser but then completely loses herself in violence against him? One of the movie’s best. It’s pretty dissatisfying that she just goes completely off the deep end and then nothing with her is resolved after the wishes are broken.

But, with the way the movie is set up, the big emotional climax is the scene of Diana getting through to Max/the entire planet, so it’s hard to undo that and give it to Barbara instead, considering that it won’t wrap up the plot. But geez, do SOMETHING with Barbara that’s based in actual emotions. Don’t hinge your entire movie’s emotional resolve on a father-son relationship that’s two-dimensional and doesn’t have anything to do with the main character! You had emotional investment in Barbara; use it!!

At the very least, have Diana get through to Barbara in some way, either before Maxwell renounces or after, and maybe even intercut it with Max and his kid. 

CHALLENGE #5: I experience great existential malaise at watching a mylar balloon drift off into the ether. Was there no better visual for the final moments of the film? Asking for myself, and also the planet. (This one is mostly a joke... but seriously, you guys, the PLANET.)

[yeombin]

part ii.i: the stars have fallen asleep

(prev - series masterlist - next)

pairing: beomgyu x fem!reader, soobin x fem!reader, platonic ot5 x fem! reader

genre: angst, fantasy, fluff - adaptation of an interpretation of the txt storyline

section soundtrack: link

word count: ~17k

chapter warnings: if anyone gets mad for the use of soccer instead of football, pls take it out on my americanized school system. also talks of cheating

a/n: endless thanks to @pastelsicheng​ whose help i couldn’t do this without ❤️ also thank you for waiting!! it’s been a hectic few months lol

Save him. 

The voice echoed throughout the darkness, like a hand reaching out from above while you’re drowning. 

Save him. 

It repeated, yet the voice was like a skipping rock - bouncing forward, reverberating and echoing. Regardless, the voice was dainty, fragile; almost inhuman, almost ethereal. As if it was a guardian angel guiding you through the voice inside your head. 

Save hi-

With your blaring phone alarm going off on your bedside table, you were startled awake - drenched in sweat. All you had to do now was find a way to calm your poor heart down. As if your hand was the cure, you rested it against your heart. Even the metal chain of your pearl necklace, which got caught underneath your palm, was a source of comfort. 

In its essence, the dream - or well, nightmare - wasn’t new. Yet today, the details varied more than it regularly does. Since you were eleven, the same dream has recurred every full moon; a voice echoing around you, an outstretched hand from the darkness, mismatched eyes hidden within the depths of a forest. At eleven, you thought this was just a result of watching your first horror movie. It did make sense - the visuals of your nightmare accompanied by the sensation of being trapped by a pair of hands desperately clasping around your ankles dragging you into the ground was quite reminiscent of the plot of the movie.

But last night? The hands weren’t dragging you to the ground and instead, only held you in place. It felt oddly safe, as if they were protecting you from whatever being owns those mismatched eyes. Moreover, you weren’t alone. Instead, you saw five silhouettes - three running, one standing still, and one crashing to the ground. This was also the first time the voice told you to do something, not just some vague nonsensical advice you swear was your subconscious misquoting some bullshit from Harry Potter, Hunger Games, or hell, even Kung Fu Panda. 

More specifically, the voice was telling you to save someone. 

But who? 

You glanced back at your phone, the alarm still blaring beside you as the haze of your vision disappeared. Pressing the snooze button, the date displayed on your phone only brought you misery. The sudden influx of notifications from your friend group complaining about the uniforms was the final nail in the coffin. 

First day of school. “Can’t believe I’m a sophomore already.” 

Your parents swear it was just yesterday you were in elementary school, sitting in Mrs. Kwon’s room - staring at the alphabet on the whiteboard. You would like to believe you vaguely remember it yourself, although you have to admit you can only recall one story; a boy in art class who dunked his hair into a pot of paint (instead of his hands) for his hand (well, head) print. It was an unclear memory - bits and pieces lost to the passages of time, but your parents always said you were best friends with the boy; always walking out of school together, hand in hand. 

From downstairs, you hear your mom calling. “Come eat breakfast! You have to leave soon, or you’ll be late!” 

An unfortunate but currently unchangeable fact of life is that you live quite far away from the school. From your knowledge, not many students live too far off from Hyejijum High. Most live in the area; whether it be just around the corner or a ten minute walk. For you, the journey - shortened significantly thanks to the train - could take up to an hour and a half. On average, the train trip takes about forty five to fifty minutes. 

Your route? Two blocks down the road, take the left at Choi’s convenience and bakery, and then continue straight until the train station is in sight. Annoyingly, you still have to turn a corner after that as the station only has one entrance and exit. But, it's the price you pay for a quiet night life, less traffic on the roads, and a super safe suburb. From the train, wait five stops and you’re essentially just outside Hyejijum High. 

The route initially seemed impossible to memorise, too many smaller details that will get lost in sleepiness. However, now it's practically your muscle memory. 

Earphones blasting whatever music was on your Spotify Daily Mix, you were mentally preparing to get back to school.

gorgeous gorgeous girls

lia: we just got to school and it's SO different this year

yeji: she’s exaggerating haha the toilets are just nicer

lia: automatic faucets!!! 

y/n: lmaoooo ofc lia would fangirl over faucets

karina: is @lia still able to meet before class starts? 

lia: should be!!

ryu: just woke up, will be there a bit late lol 

After two whole months of summer where some of your friends were out of town, you can finally be all together again. Due to having family abroad, Lia had left while Karina was travelling. In that time, you got much closer to Ryujin than you initially expected. In fact, both your families came together for dinners in response to how much time you two were spending together. She was with you when your parents would ask you what you wanted to do in the future, who you wanted to be. A question to which the answer was still so far from your grasp, and Ryujin provided (extremely) appreciated relief when she admitted confusion too. 

For now, your answers were based on your elective choice; biology and chemistry. 

Upon the sight of your favourite landmark, you knew you were almost at the train station. Should I get something? Choi’s bakery was the staple in your neighbourhood. Everyone knew it, loved it, relished it. Each and every product was mouthwatering, from their most intricate baked goods to even their most basic loaf of bread. You remember how when you would go to the middle school in your neighbourhood, your snack breaks would purely be some sort of pastry from Choi’s. 

Your internal debate was soon interrupted by a voice breaking through the music playing from your earphones. “Hi, sorry, excuse me?” Taking off one earphone, you smiled at the awkward boy in front of you. Tall, for sure. He looks familiar, however, in your suburb? Everyone has seen each other at least once. “Do you go to Hyejijum High?” 

The question, if asked on another day, would’ve been creepy. Most people in the town go to the suburb’s high school, staying within the area. If a stranger comes up to you and asks you if you attend a school that isn’t common for children in your area? That would be a bit freaky. However, you knew why he got the suspicion: you were wearing the famous Hyejijum High uniform. Honestly, you’re assuming he asked so he doesn’t look creepy compared to if he just (even correctly) assumed you were going there. 

“Uh, yeah! Do you?” Again, a question with an obvious answer. While you may be wearing the Hyejijum female attire - a white button up, the navy blue vest and gold crest, and a school skirt-  he was wearing the same but with the uniform pants. 

He nodded. “Do you mind if I ask you how to get there?” 

A new student, the realisation dawned on you. You remembered your first day as a freshman last year; you were in the same position as him now. Awkwardly approaching someone wearing a similar uniform at the train station, all you wanted to do was clarify your train stop. Upon arriving at the school, you learnt you asked the school’s ‘it’ boy Yeonjun. How did you know? As soon as you arrived, a crowd flocked around him. It was especially impressive, considering he was only a sophomore then. 

Okay, maybe you’re exaggerating about the crowd - but it was surely more than ten people who rushed to his side as he got off the train. Based on your extensive knowledge of TV and Film stereotypes of ‘popular kids’, you can definitely tell he meets all the requirements - except the one of being a dick. He was lovely to you, making small talk throughout the train ride, but after learning he was an ‘it boy’, you refused to make eye contact with him for the rest of the year (even when he tried to wave hi). 

“Oh, you can come with me if you like!” You invited, now taking off your earphones completely and stuffing them into your pocket. I really appreciated when Yeonjun offered the same, you remembered, I should do the same. “My name is Y/N, by the way. What’s yours?” 

The boy smiled wide and gratefully, “I’m Kai! I’m a freshman so I may just be a tad bit lost.” 

“Just a tad?” You teased, now walking past Choi’s bakery without getting any of their delicious treats. Almost immediately, you regretted teasing him as his face turned pink. Regardless, he laughed loudly. His laugh was particularly special; it was loud and fun. It’s a good laugh, you decided - smiling to yourself. “I was the same though, don’t worry about it.” 

You felt an odd and overwhelming urge to protect him. Why? I just met him. Sure, he was cute in a playful way - you wanted to hug him and squish his cheeks. But why does he feel familiar? And not just in a passerby sort of way? Maybe you knew him from your childhood…or even a past life, if you believe in that. “What year are you?” 

“Just a year above you.” He nodded thoughtfully at your answer. “May I see your schedule? Who’s your homeroom?” 

The two of you slowed down so that he could shuffle around in search of his phone. As the ‘epitome’ of modern education in your greater area (as seen by the automatic faucets, obviously), the school has moved towards turning everything but teaching online. “Someone named….Mrs. Ho? Do you know her? Did I say her name correctly?” 

You grinned. Mrs. Ho, or as she prefers Mrs. J, was your homeroom teacher too. Even if she wasn’t your homeroom, she is the guidance counsellor for freshmen that every student loves (but every parent hates due to her absolutely unrestricted candour). Having her as a homeroom teacher? Kai is one absolutely lucky student, especially when you hear horror stories of other homeroom teachers like Mr. Sooman. “She prefers Mrs. J, and she’s absolutely great. She was my homeroom teacher too.” 

Relief washed upon Kai’s face. It was evident how nervous he was; from his shaking and fumbling hands, his tense demeanour, and how his voice seemed quiet and uncertain (unlike his boisterous laugh). “Oh, and just to check, am I allowed to wear necklaces with the uniform? I heard from a friend that the school is super strict with its dress code.” 

You heard those rumours too. To be honest, it is quite true. Hyejijum High bans wearing clothes that are not from their uniform or merchandise shop during school hours. There were also restrictions on hair colour, hair length (especially for boys), and hair styles. However, their only rules against accessories were no rings and nothing inappropriate. 

“Yeah, absolutely. Look.” You pulled out your necklace that was tucked underneath your button-up. It wasn’t that you were hiding it, it’s more like it got underneath your shirt as you got dressed. 

However, the action received a different reception than you expected. “No way!” Kai reached for his own neck, taking out his own necklace. “That looks like mine!” 

Surely enough, he was right. Normally, this isn’t something too surprising - you’d just assume you shopped at the same stores. Considering the fact that the necklace was basically a pearl on a metal chain, it doesn’t get more common than that. However, it’s all about the details. 

Both of your pearls seem to be opaque in its lack of opacity. In a way, you feel like you can see through it; yet what you see is definitely not in front of you - as if it was a portal to another world. It was mesmerising, almost enchanting. Both pearls have swirly designs, as if individual universes were existing in them. While Kai’s pearl was a beautiful shade of blue, yours was a deep green. Regardless of the spirals, it was clear the pearls weren’t painted and were naturally found like that. When you first met your friends last year, they asked to find their own versions - all stating to be so in love with the design. So you went on a search, and you came up with…nada, nulch, nothing.  

You assumed the necklace was made using a specific practice or pattern that is no longer produced. Afterall, you were told this necklace came from your grandmother from her grandmother when they were just a little girl. You could never find replicas either. He vocalised the same thought; how a necklace relatively so simple is so rare to find. 

“Maybe this is a sign we’re supposed to be friends.” He grinned, the two of you now returning to normal speed. His happiness when you (at the time jokingly) agreed was practically contagious. 

If you remember correctly, Hyejijum High was constructed in the 1980s. Relatively new, yet the building remained brutalist in its design. It wasn’t unpleasant to look at; whoever designed it at least had the idea to add some colour. Known for its soccer team, Hyejijum High has an extensive sports program - highlighted by its humongous field, an indoor pool, and a series of courts and studios that annoy the students in the underfunded arts program. 

At the sight of it, it was clear that Kai was intimidated as he started to hesitantly waddle towards the school. His eyes were as wide as an owl while he attempted to understand and make sense of everything happening around him. 

“I know it’s a lot,” you sighed, also remembering how you were in a similar nervous state a year ago, “but you got this. Walking around the place will soon become second nature, promise.” Although you did say soon, you know it wouldn’t be within the next few weeks. With Hyejijum High’s endless hallways, it feels impossible to navigate. Although you can probably walk around and navigate, you definitely couldn’t be certain in giving directions. Ultimately, you decided to distract Kai from the bustling crowd of students going to their lockers. “Do you know anyone in your year yet?” 

Your own eyes glossed over the crowd to find your own friends, however, you knew they would be in your usual meeting spot. “Yeah, I have one friend from my old middle school.” 

“Which middle school did you go to?” 

Kai’s grip around his backpack straps noticeably tightened as a group of girls bumped into his shoulder accidentally, the girls immediately apologising. “Do you know the one near the bakery? Choi’s?”

You nodded. It was the same middle school you had gone to. “Oh, why did you choose to come here?” Based on today, you can say that everyone but three students (yourself, and now Kai and his friend) from your middle school didn’t go to the high school in your immediate area. 

He shrugged, “My mom got a flyer in the mail.”

“The flyer looks nice, Y/N!” Your mom exclaimed as you groaned about having to leave your friends, Chae and Winter. Admittedly, you can still see them outside of school hours - but it’s not the same. Who are they going to meet when you’re not with them? What inside jokes will you not be a part of? 

“Is that really all your basing this move off?” You groaned, slamming your head into the wall (much to your own suffering). 

Your dad sighed, “We’re still going to be in the village. We just think this school will be better for you. Even your guidance counsellor received a recommendation letter for you to go here.”

You rolled your eyes, “From who? Why do they have to recommend this place? Why didn't my guidance counsellor do it?” 

“You should be really grateful, you know.” Your mom now tsk-ed, “You are getting a scholarship because of this recommendation letter from one of the city’s department of education officers…Mrs. Dae or something.” 

Narrowing your eyes, you were beyond sceptical. “Why would they put so much focus and effort into one simple kid?” 

“Hey!” Your father jumped in, now reaching out to hold your face in his hands, “You’re more than just a simple kid, you’re special. Honestly.” 

Groaning, you stormed up to your room; locking yourself in (only to open the door when your mom called you for dinner). 

“Where are you heading by the way? I can take you to your homeroom classroom or…”

Kai shook his head, interrupting you now, “I told my friend I’d meet him in the library. Do you know where that is? I don’t want to take up more of your time.” 

“No, no, I’ll take you!” You offered, “Honestly, don’t hesitate to ask for help. Like you said, we’re destined to be friends.” The cheeky grin that came out during your conversation on the train reappeared. “Wait, pass me your phone.” 

Inserting your contact details, you saved your phone number under ‘Y/N (Train)’. “In case you have any emergencies or questions or you just want to take the train with a friend, feel free to message me.” Under normal circumstances, you’d never do this. You weren’t often the person to introduce themselves or to invite others to future events. Even your friends here have introduced themselves to you first. Something about Kai just felt welcoming though, like you wanted to give him a hug - he looked like he could give the best hugs. 

“You may be getting a lot of spam messages from me.” He laughed, “You really do not need to take me, if you have somewhere to be.”

You brushed it off, wanting to provide comfort to who seems to be (on first impression) a ball of sunshine. “It’s alright! What’s your friend's name? Did they mention which library?” 

Unfortunately, the idea of multiple libraries seemed to shock Kai further. His shocked expression told you one thing though; he doesn’t know. How’d you expect him to know? “How about I’ll take you to the main one then, huh?” 

Through walking with Kai to the main library (the other library’s only difference is the name), you got to learn more about him and his friend - Taehyun. The two have been friends since kindergarten, always partnered together for projects. Taehyun also lives in your area, however, he decided to come to school earlier than Kai wanted to understand the ‘lay of the land’. You also learned that Kai’s locker was 553 on the second floor; located in the hallway you decided to walk past (despite the additional two minutes) so that he knows where to put his stuff. Kai was also thinking of joining the band or orchestra, which you immediately responded to by saying you’d introduce him to your friend Lia. 

Kai also got to learn more about you, although he mostly just suggested hanging out with him and Taehyun. “I think you’d like him,” he stated, “you two would get along I think.” 

As much as you wanted to spend more time around Kai, you had to meet up with your friends. At this rate, Ryujin might already be there. Luckily, all that is left to reach the library is one more staircase. 

The library was shared between the third floor and fourth floor. When you first got to school last year, you hid yourself away between  he tall shelves - not really wanting to socialise with new people. You were super grateful that Yeji, Karina, Lia, and Ryujin introduced themselves to you. However, walking this way the first day of school makes you think about what you could’ve been doing if they hadn’t. 

“Okay!” You exclaimed, clapping your hands and motioning to the double doors. “Here you go! It’s quite a maze in there, but I unfortunately have to go. Don’t ever hesitate to message, okay?” Based on your watch, classes start in ten minutes. You should be at the courtyard by now. Oh shoot, the realisation hit you, the student council meeting would’ve ended by now. “I’ll see you later!”

With the number of people you met and swore to meet again yet failed to, you can tell - and you hope - that you’ll see (or at least hear from) Kai again.

“Can’t believe I’m not the latest.” Lia teased, seeing you round the corner around the courtyard. “What were you doing? Did you miss the earlier train?” 

Shrugging, you planted yourself between Yeji and Ryujin, “I was helping a new student around. They seemed nice!” Your friends raised their eyebrows suggestively, implying that this new student would be a new crush. “Not in that way!” You quickly objected, “He’s younger than us, he feels a bit like a younger brother.” 

“Oof,” Ryujin jokingly grunts, “brother zoned before school even starts.” 

Rushing to change topics, you turned your attention to Lia. “How was the student council meeting?” 

“Not too interesting,” Lia started, taking a bite of what you can only assume is an apple that was supposed to be part of her breakfast, “but we started to discuss some events for this year. How do you feel about a formal? Or a carnival?” 

Before anyone could respond, she interrupted the conversation she initiated. “Wait, don’t be late to the assembly today,” she directed her pointed stare at Ryujin - notorious for skipping the weekly assemblies altogether, “I’ll be making the opening remarks.” 

“Of course I’d go,” Ryujin sing-songs, leaning towards Lia’s shoulder - before making a joking mocking face towards you, “for you!” 

Karina perks up, “Does that mean Soobin will too?” Lia immediately nudged her to the side. Soobin was one of the student council representatives from your batch, and much to Lia’s dismay, is the subject of Karina’s infatuation. 

“You know, you should just ask him out at this point,” Yeji started, although this conversation started to get filtered out while you scanned the courtyard. 

Placed right next to the soccer field, you were quite surprised to see the soccer team already practising for the year. “Are you still thinking of joining the soccer team, Ryu?” 

She ecstatically nodded, before motioning to Yeji and Karina - taking them out of their conversation. “Yeji and Karina will be my personal cheerleaders.” 

“If I get into cheer, of course.” This will be Yeji’s first year while Karina joined last year in the second semester. All of you groaned at her response - Karina immediately reassured her, knowing so well that if the cheer team didn’t accept Yeji - they would be making the worst mistake of their life.

Lia asked, “When’s tryouts?” 

Before Yeji or Karina could answer, a soccer ball came flying towards the table - knocking you directly on the top of your head, making you stumble slightly. The ball, after hitting your head, rebounded and bounced onto the wooden table - Ryu quickly grabbed it to prevent it from hitting anyone else. 

An ‘apology’ in the form of a scream, followed by miscellaneous laughter, came from the distance. 

“Are you okay?” Yeji quickly checked your head while Ryujin started to glare at the person who was sprinting over - their friend, laughing like a maniac, in tow.  As of now, you can only assume he is the one at fault.  You nodded at Yeji, watching as your friends passed you their water bottles to place against the pain. With the minor headache, you aimed your eyes at the wooden table - before ultimately closing your eyes. 

 The voice that got louder as he got closer seemed to be familiar. Was it from the dream tonight? It can’t be though, right? Maybe you’re going crazy from the ball hitting you too hard. Surely, that must be it. “I’m so sorry, oh my gosh.” 

“It’s alright,” you started, not making eye-contact quite yet - trying to reduce the pain through limiting the amount of light entering your vision. “Just a mistake, right?” 

Now that the initial shock has worn off, most of your friends are also laughing. Admittedly, you want to laugh too. 

Ryujin, however, was eyeing the two who approached your group up and down. “Are you guys on the soccer team?” Although to the passerby, it sounds like an innocent question - you can hear the slight edge of annoyance in her voice as her free hand went to rest on your shoulder. 

“Um, yeah.” One voice said hesitantly, the same voice who was profusely apologetic. The other, however, was quick to introduce himself. 

“Yes! We got placed in the team last year. ” He answered cheerfully, “My name is Jeongin and this is my friend Beomgyu!” Beomgyu…you can assume he was the one who hit you.

“I’m assuming defence?” She returned the ball to the friend. Over the last academic year and this summer, you had learnt how to identify when Ryujin was annoyed. This judgement, you can presume, was her annoyance at their lack of aim on a Monday morning. 

However, Jeongin doesn’t seem to pick up on this. You can’t blame him, Ryujin was really good at being subtle. “Offence actually!” 

You decided to finally open your eyes, the pain finally subsiding. Turning around to find your attacker, you immediately made eye contact with soft brown eyes full of concern. You couldn’t deny you found him attractive; his features were rounded and welcoming - from his rounded lips and his heart shaped face. His eyes, however, felt magnetising. Why does it feel like I’ve seen these eyes before? 

“Uh-hum,” Lia faked a cough, taking you out of your temporary trance. This is definitely going to be blackmail material, you thought - noticing the cheeky smirks on all of your friends’ faces. Thanks to this, you noticed his friend - snugly holding the ball underneath his arm - also wearing the same smirk, revelling in this moment too.  You also noticed that Beomgyu wasn’t wearing a school uniform, instead donning a red sports jacket, white shirt, and black joggers. That certainly isn’t the soccer uniform either. 

Pushing away any remaining pain, you smiled. “I’m all good, don’t worry.” 

“This is Y/N, by the way!” Karina perked up, introducing yourself for you. To cover up the obvious attempt at being a wingman, Karina then introduced everyone else. 

Let them leave, let them leave; a request that repeated like a mantra in your head, but it seemed like all your friends wanted to enjoy your misery. 

Lia, who you thought would never want to purposely put you in situations you want to leave, joined in. “What year group are you guys in?” When will the bell ring? 

Almost as if you had willed it to be, the bell did (finally) ring. The sound of the shrill alarm reaches even the furthest point of the olympic sized football field. “Oh shit, I have to change back into uniform before homeroom.” He looked back at you, before focusing his sight on the gravel floor, “I’m so sorry again.” With that, Beomgyu quickly escaped - his friend, still obviously enjoying this predicament, followed soon after. 

While you focused on fixing your backpack (and waiting for Yeji as you two shared homeroom - which would be replacing the first thirty minutes of your first class for today and today only), you felt everyone’s eyes on you, watching your every move. 

“Oooh la la,” Yeji started, smirking as she threw her bag on, “first the new student and now a soccer player?” Even if you weren’t looking at her, you could hear her smug smile and wiggling brows. 

Throwing her arm around you, Karina joins in. “I think we have a little heartbreaker over here!” 

You glanced back up at that, jokingly shoving off her arm as you challenged her. “Oh really? How many confessions did you get for Valentine’s Day last year?” 

If you hadn’t wanted to see your friends today, you would’ve found an excuse to stay at home. Like every first day that exists, today was purely an introduction of the expectations for the year. Teachers went on and on about the curriculum, assessments, classroom rules, and in all honesty? All of it was old information or information you can deal with when the time comes. For now, you really didn’t have to think of the exam at the end of the school year. 

One new thing you learnt today is that whoever decided your schedule hates you. While you have been wanting to see the freshman and his friend - you didn’t even pass by him in the halls. But you know who you did pass by? Beomgyu. As if by a twist of fate, Beomgyu appeared in almost every corridor you had to go through - especially when you were going in between classes with your friends. Hell, he’s even in your physical education class with Ryujin.

Another thing you learnt today? Hyejijum High sends an unnecessary amount of emails to your school email. From at least three emails reminding you of the final assembly in place of homeroom for the first week to the cafeteria menu for the next month - you spent a majority of the day ignoring the redundant lectures on class expectations and instead, emptying your inbox. 

One email, however, was very intriguing. The subject line caught your eye even before you could delete it.

SUBJECT: SPECIAL PILOT CLUB - EXCLUSIVE INVITATION, STAR SEEKERS

FROM: HYEJIJUM HIGH COUNSELING <counseling@hyejijum.high>

Hello!

Welcome to the new school year. All of you were selected to join STAR SEEKERS, an exclusive new society that will be test piloted this year. We heavily implore you to attend today’s first session after school in dance studio 4. Any pre-existing after school commitments have already been made aware of your absence today. 

We look forward to seeing you today. 

Location: The Dance Studio 4

Time:  3:30 PM to 5:30 PM.

Sincerely, 

THE STAR SEEKERS SOCIETY

Is this some sort of astronomy club of sorts? You weren’t into astronomy, and even if you were - it would be weird for the guidance counsellors to be aware of it. Who else was chosen? The simple email only plagued your mind with questions, one after another. In a way, the vagueness piqued your interest. If this was some strange marketing technique, it certainly was working. I can always peep my head in, you decided, and leave if I hate it. 

So lost in your thoughts, you didn’t even realise class ended until Yeji started putting her stuff away. “Ready for assembly?” Like you, Yeji opted for the science pathway - deciding that she can go onto personal training in the future, so biology from science would help her in understanding movements in dance.

Nodding, you fumbled to put your laptop away. “Have you heard of anything called The Star Seekers before?”

While Yeji wasn’t on the student council, she practically knew everything that was going on at the school. You and Ryujin joke about her being the unofficial school spirit squad as you’re certain everyone knew who she was. If she was an upperclassman, she’d likely be in the same ‘it’ group as Yeonjun.

However, your usual informant seemed to be as lost as you. “No, is it a new astronomy club or a Dungeons and Dragons sort of thing?” She tilted her head, probing you for the same information you were trying to learn from her. I guess she didn’t get the email, you realised as you heard her repeat the name quietly as if it was foreign on her tongue.

“Nevermind, it’s nothing. Let’s see Lia shine?” You changed the topic, now ready to join the students exiting the lab.

“And see Karina be lovesick.” Yeji pretended to gag, “I used to be upset we weren’t all in the same homeroom, but I’m so glad she isn’t in our homeroom now.” You laughed, agreeing. If she was in your homeroom, she’d spend every Monday from 2:30 to 3:00 working up the courage to talk to Soobin.

Though your friend and her crush are now the topic of conversation, this ‘club’ still lingers in the back of your mind. Sure, conversation with Yeji always helps you take your mind off things - but there was certainly no way that could’ve been junk mail. The voice inside your head wanting you to check it out, to see if it’s legitimate came back - however, this time it wasn’t your voice. It was the voice from your nightmare. 

Assembly flew past in a flash, although you have to thank Ryujin for that. Surprisingly, Ryujin was at the assembly hall early. With her early access, she threw her school and soccer bags over five seats - essentially reserving them for the four of you (Lia would have to sit in the front row) and Chaewon (Ryujin’s soccer friend who quickly also became a good friend of yours too). Granted, while Ryujin claims her teacher let her out early: you heard from Chaewon that it was because she slipped out before her class ended. You would like to believe Ryujin’s story more. 

While their company and Lia’s five minutes of fame made the assembly some sort of enjoyable, you're unfortunately now forced to wait on campus without their presence. Like 99.99% of the school (the .01% being you, Kai, and his friend), your friends live nearby and could easily go home as soon as the bell rings. You, unfortunately, have to wait for the train scheduled every 30 minutes… or wait for the bus, which would be an even longer commute. Another inconvenient truth is that they all had lives outside of your friendship; Lia was part of the band, Ryujin and Chaewon played soccer, and Karina and Yeji were part (or, well, trying to be a part) of the cheer team. 

So here you sat, alone, at your usual table in the courtyard. Despite the familiarity and comfort (and some false sense of ownership of the spot), you were prepared to duck at any sign of a soccer ball flying towards you - especially as the prospective soccer players lined up for tryouts. You spotted Beomgyu in the bunch, lined up with his friend. While looking around, you swore he made eye contact with you - leading to you quickly turning away. 

Time is weird, you decided as the courtyard clock designed to let students know when class starts only gave you misery. What felt like a minute ago, you were leaving assembly at 3:00 and walking with your friends to their respective extracurriculars. Now, at the courtyard, the clock told you it was 3:14. Since 3:14, it felt like 15 minutes had passed - yet it’s only 3:15. 

What can I do to pass the time? You searched your immediate area, your eyes landing on the same ones from this morning. Oh, so he is on the soccer team. Now wearing the soccer team jersey - an honour previous team members would have among those trying outs, you spot Beomgyu in the group huddle….although, his attention appeared to be on you. 

Heart beating loudly, your eyes darted down to your phone. I definitely wasn’t looking, you defended internally, texting your group chat. 

To: gorgeous gorgeous girls

good luck girlies!! (as if you need it) - let us know how it goes <3 currently praying that the star seekers thing isn’t as cult-like as it sounds

There’s only so much you can text to people who are currently preoccupied with tryouts and other activities. Unfortunately, despite your proximity - you were unable to watch Ryujin prepare for hers. As the male soccer team uses the left side of the field, the female team has taken over the right. Consequently, if you dare try to watch and support Ryujin you could either cross the field (and risk getting hit by yet another ball) or watch from a distance (and look like a creeper on Beomgyu). 

Yeah, no. Your friends already have enough ammunition off that one interaction, you don’t want to give them another reason. Turning your attention to your phone, you decided to try again in researching Star Seekers. If they wanted to test-pilot at the club here, it must be somewhere else.

No results. 

What on earth did you get signed up for?

Well…more like, who thought of you as a potential member for this club? 

But most importantly, why are you so compelled to go? 

Located on the top floor, just besides the tennis court, was the dance studio. You knew the way here quite well; Karina and Yeji often dragged your group to their personal dance rehearsals during lunch periods. Likewise, the layout was as you remembered it; a computer tucked away in the back of the room, one wall of pure mirrors, dance bars, and gym mat flooring. 

You dropped your bag on one of the benches lined up against the wall before sliding down next to it. No one else was here yet, but then again - you were seven minutes early. Who would even come? Who met the criteria to even be invited? Who is the supervisor? 

Endless questions, but you knew they all would - or at least, should - be answered soon. 

Seven minutes left, every second felt longer than the last. Scanning the room, you noticed a lack of preparation. Was this all a prank? If this ‘Star Seekers’ club is as boring or as sketchy as you currently think, you could always just leave early. That’s the one thought keeping you from freaking out. Otherwise, if I’m trapped here - my parents could always sue the school. 

There wasn’t much you could do while waiting. For the first time in your life, you were annoyed you had no homework assigned. Instead, you decided to try and…find your inner peace? You genuinely couldn’t think of anything to pass the time; your friends were at their own clubs and if you had to read one more dumb post online about Little Miss Tax Invasion or whatever, you’d lose all your brain cells. I’ll just close my eyes, you decided. At least with your eyes shut, the pain from the fluorescent light is significantly reduced. 

“Hello?” A voice broke through the silence, echoing off the walls. “Are you here for the Star Seekers?” Despite being initially startled, you were grateful to have someone here. Opening your eyes, you immediately spotted someone everyone in the school would know - still wearing his uniform with his student council pin on display. 

Soobin was also chosen? What do the two of us have in common? Is it a year group thing? You tried to rationalise why on earth you were chosen to be in the same club as the school’s favourite soft boy. What you didn’t realise is that this trail of thoughts made you stare at Soobin, wordlessly. “Hello?” He asked again, getting your attention. 

“Oh yeah, sorry.” You stood up from your seat, brushing your palms on your uniform skirt, “Yeah, I’m here for Star Seekers. I’m Y/N, by the way.” 

He smiled, dimples appearing on his cheeks. “Yeah, Lia’s friend - right?” You nodded, partly surprised he recognized you. “I’m Soobin Choi.” Cute. He must’ve known he didn’t have to introduce himself, especially considering that he had to speak in front of the whole school not even an hour ago.

“Please tell me that as a student council member, you have an idea about what this club is.” You sat back down, motioning to the spot beside you (the one that wasn’t occupied by your bag) - to which he quickly accepted. 

Turning pink, it was clear that Soobin had no clue either. “I was just invited as well. I thought it could be a good experience. That, and if it’s a good club with a successful test pilot - maybe more people can join.” 

Quirking your eyebrow, you looked him over. He, like you, decided to lean all the way on the wall - resting your back against the solid surface. The divots in the wall may be a bit uncomfortable, but it certainly was more comfortable than holding you back up straight. “Why do you think we were chosen?” 

“Not sure,” he shrugged, “I had to tell my parents that I was staying later than usual at the last minute, so that’s not great.” 

You snorted; of course, that’s what he’s worried about. Your parents are happy that you’re staying behind at school, looking for clubs or spending time with friends. Even if sometimes, staying late makes you arrive just in time for dinner. “Are your parents super strict?” 

Soobin shook his head. In all honesty, you weren’t sure what you were expecting; did he seem like he had strict parents? He certainly behaved more proper than a lot of people your age; he looked like he was taking good care of himself. You can tell that whoever his parents are would be proud to call him their son. 

“Not necessarily,” Soobin commented. Shoot, his voice is truly calming too - not even when he’s just speaking for assembly. You’re starting to see why Karina’s crush on him was so intense. Of course, his voice is calming - you rationalised - he speaks at every assembly and you’ve had at least one conversation with him. “ I just help out at their shop every once in a while, and I live quite a bit away so it’ll take me longer to get back.”

Wait, Soobin…Choi? “Shop?” You asked. 

“Um, I’m not sure if you heard of it. It’s like a local bakery in my suburb,” He smiled sheepishly, a small dimple poking out. “It’s called Choi’s Convenience and Bakery? We’re really known for…” Your jaw dropped before he completed his sentence. 

“I love that place!” Leaning forward, your hand rested on his shoulder as disbelief took over. Someone else in your school live near you? And they happen to work at your favourite shop? You were even thinking of applying for a summer job there last year. “You sell the best pastries. I get breakfast there sometimes! I’ve never seen you around though?” 

Soobin also seemed excited about this revelation, “Oh! I leave early.” He brushed off, and honestly - you don’t question it. Lia has to get to school half an hour earlier than you guys on Mondays - maybe he’s just adopted it as part of his routine. “Do you live in the area too? It’s like 40 minutes out. Not many students live there.” 

“Do you know Kwangyuu Street?” 

He eagerly nodded, “Yes! My aunt lives there!” 

“I’m the fourth house down the street!” You started to chuckle, “You’re the first student here that I’ve met who also lives in the area.” 

Soobin snickered, “Do you know that one TikTok sound?” Your brows furrowed. “The one that originated from Spongebob? It was like, if I had a nickel for every time that happened, then I'd have two nickels…” He trailed off, his eyes searching your face for any sense of recognition. 

“It’s not a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice?” You tried to finish, to which he excitedly nodded. Okay, you can fully understand how Karina is heads over heels for him; something you admitted when Soobin ran his hand through his hair, revealing his full face that was always hidden behind bangs. There was no denying how cute he was; with his wide gleaming eyes and charming smile. “You don’t know anyone else from our area either?” 

“Not really,” He grinned, happy to have found someone to trek with, “how about you?”

You search your brain, “Well, I know Yeonjun uses our train stop so I’m assuming he does - oh! And I met a kid today who -” 

The door opened once more, causing you to glance at the clock. 3:32. 

“Speak of the devil!” A whisper under your breath soon became a full exclamation as you jumped to your feet to welcome your new friend from earlier today. “Are you stalking me? I was just talking about you!” 

Excited squeals filled the room; an unfortunate situation for Soobin and Kai’s acquaintance’s ears. “It’s you!” He hurriedly pulled you into a hug. Normally, you don’t hug people you meet the same day - but it felt safe with Kai. Who could deny him? Once the hug finished, he reached behind him - pulling someone into the room with him. “This is Taehyun!” 

Have I seen him before? You have to assume you saw him in passing - maybe near Choi’s bakery, or maybe he just has one of those faces.

“Nice to meet you! I’m Y/N.” As much as you were happy to see the two of them, it meant one of your theories as to why you were all here was disproved. So the criteria wasn’t based on batch. 

Taehyun’s mouth formed an O-shape as he realised who he was speaking to. “It’s nice to put a face to the name! Kai was telling me about you all day today.” His statement was quickly followed by an ow as Kai hit his shoulder. You, however, were curious. What was he saying? Hopefully all good things. 

Kai seemed to notice this, quickly jumping in to explain. “I was saying you seemed really cool and how you knew someone in orchestra and band and how you give good vibes and…” Deciding to save him from rambling, you jumped in and thanked him for the compliments. 

Saving Kai from any further embarrassment, Soobin quickly introduced himself. It was in this round of introductions that the door opened once more, revealing the same face you’ve been trying to avoid all day.

3:35. 

The next face that appears is one that makes you want to groan. Why him? Of course, it is Beomgyu - the same boy from earlier. He’s wearing the soccer gear you just saw him wearing a while ago, his hair plaited with sweat across his forehead. “Hello!” He excitedly greeted, before his eyes lied on you. “Oh.” 

You just nodded at his acknowledgement. 

“My name is Soobin, and you are?” 

“Beomgyu.” 

As introductions were shared - yours was done as just a nicety, time started passing further. Why is it only five people? This is a small club. No one would be ten minutes late, right? 

“You know, this is like the teacher rule thing.” Beomgyu started, changing the conversation from the small talk of how the first day was to the ticking of the clock that resounded throughout the room. “If a teacher is fifteen minutes late, you’re allowed to leave.” 

Kai nodded; “I heard about that, but I feel like I always had luck with timings.” He hummed, “I’ve actually never been late to a class where the teacher has not been late either.” 

“I heard that was a fake rule though,” Soobin added, “or at least an American one.” 

“Do you reckon we should leave if no supervisor comes in?” You ask, trying to gauge what everyone was thinking. I mean, technically - they can’t hold us here forever. 

Taehyun chipped in; “I mean, what else are we supposed to do right now? Anyone have homework?” Everyone shook their heads. It’s a collective understanding that if a teacher does assign work on the first day, then they’re assholes. 

The door creaks open, silencing you all. Is it the supervisor? No, certainly not - the supervisor wouldn’t come in with echoes of laughter behind them. You could hear a pin drop in the silence within the room. 

Oh god. 

You were met with eyes you knew for a short period of time that you have since avoided; Yeonjun. 

“Hey everyone!” A voice that you encountered almost a year ago today exactly; the voice that provided temporary comfort from your confusion. “Sorry for being late!” Despite scrambling to the seats, he still looked cool. Damn him. His apologies were halted by his observation; “Wait, is there even a supervisor here?” Everyone shook their heads, staring at him wordlessly. Yeonjun needs no introductions, of course. His eyes flicked over to yours, and you swear there was a sign of recognition. You certainly hope not. 

So what even is the connection between you all? 

“Um, should we talk until a supervisor comes?” Soobin stuttered out from beside you. Despite his confident facade on stage during assemblies, you now can see that underneath it all was a shy teenage boy uncertain of his voice. His sudden shyness makes him more endearing; the soft pink blush tinting his cheeks, his ears turning slightly red. Cute. “What do you think this club is all about?” 

Beomgyu, however, speaks over him - making his question unheard to those not next to him (aka, you and now Yeonjun). “I could’ve been playing soccer with the team. We have a game already in a few weeks.” 

“Already?” Kai asked, shocked - Taehyun and him joining the conversation. You can see that this ignorance has caused Soobin to sink into himself, uncertain. However, you weren’t the only one who noticed this. 

“What do you think this club is all about?” Yeonjun spoke loudly, commanding the attention of everyone in the room. “Soobin-ah asked the question. What do you guys think?” As silence followed, he filled in the gaps. “I honestly have no clue. How about you? Y/N right?” How does Yeonjun know my name? The internal question seemed to be present on your face as Yeonjun quickly comments on how he remembers you from last year, before a quick and playful reprimanding for avoiding his waves. 

You looked towards Soobin and Yeonjun; two pairs of eyes that are oddly comforting at this moment. “I initially thought it’d be an astronomy club, but wouldn’t it meet at night?”

The youngest in the room jumped in - “I’m a Leo! What are your signs?” 

Taehyun smacked the top of his head lightly, “That’s astrology, not astronomy, dumbass.” Kai however insisted that everyone still answered. “Do you guys believe in astrology then?” 

The eldest shrugs; “It doesn’t necessarily hurt to believe it, it’s always a bit of fun.” 

Soobin smirks as he lets out a chuckle, “My zodiac sign says I’d be the life of the party, but I’m quite introverted.” 

“I can’t tell that though,” Yeonjun smiled, nudging Soobin with his knee. 

You added, “You have a very bright and calming presence, like…I feel like you would be a great party host.” Bashedly, Soobin smiled and thanked you. “Do you guys think you match your zodiac sign descriptions quite well?” 

After a long conversation about zodiac signs, one that made you realise how you truly feel about the very controversial science, Beomgyu returned to the original topic. “It could be like a dungeons and dragons sort of club?”

Taehyun shook his head, “There’s already one.” In unison, both him and Soobin said the name; ‘the DnD Destroyers’. 

It only continued. Silence was a rare sound for the next hour. Even without a supervisor, the conversation felt natural after a while - as if you knew each other for quite a while. Sure, you still tip-toed over some topics; uncertain about where comfort zones lie, but it felt like a solid friendship just started. Or, well, a good moment to look back. Unfortunately, like all things - the conversation must come to an end; a silence filling the room. Is it time to go? Maybe, but the question at the back of your brain is still left unanswered. Plus, it’s been enjoyable to be here; more enjoyable than you thought. Part of you wishes this would happen again, while another part wishes that time travel exists so you could return to this moment as you please.

As the group of you all collected your bags to head out, the final thought that’s been at the back of your brain was getting annoying - like an itch you couldn’t reach.  “I’m so sorry if this sounds creepy, but I’m still trying to figure out why we’re all here and what this club is about.”

“I’m the same,” Taehyun added, “So far, I have a few theories?” He said it as a question, uncertain if you all wanted to hear it. 

Yeonjun smiled encouragingly, “Go on then.” 

“I think it has to be that we all live in the same suburb,” Taehyun started - making everyone turn around in revelation, “I’m saying this based off the fact that I live near Kai, and Kai mentioned how Y/N lives in our area, and I know that I see Soobin at Choi’s Bakery when I pick up pastries for my sister.” 

That’s a good point, you turned to face Yeonjun and Beomgyu. “Not to sound creepy, but do you guys live near the Hybedosi station too?” Both of them nodded slowly. That must be the connection, you thought - certain that Taehyun was on the right track. 

In actuality, Taehyun must be a kindred spirit as you relate to everything he’s saying. “I have done so much googling and research, and I haven’t found anything about this club at all.” 

Kai snorted, “We spent thirty minutes before coming here in the library. He was looking for old yearbooks to try and find some hint of the club.” 

“So it’s definitely not an international club, nor is it well-known,” Taehyun continued to talk, as if Kai hadn't spoken, “- so it must be like…some sort of way to connect us?” 

Soobin agreed, nodding his head as he further elaborated. “This…like, lady came to one of our student council sessions and emphasised the importance of building smaller communities, so maybe one of the administration people decided this.” 

“Isn’t it a breach of safety?” Beomgyu chimed in, “Like, or mishandling of personal information?” 

Taehyun shook his head, “Technically, they haven’t given out the information beyond us. And even then, we deduced it.” 

“Would you guys like to go back together then?” Kai invited, “And maybe we could even go to school together tomorrow? We can even grab breakfast at Choi’s.” 

With the six of you agreeing to the plan - 6:30am at Choi’s tomorrow morning - you all headed to the trains, getting to know each other more.  (And, something that will change up your routine - even just a little bit more - to look forward to tomorrow morning)

A MONTH LATER, 

y/n: wru all wtf we’re gonna be late

Passengers walking into the train seemed to be taunting you. While you’re stuck at the platform, anxiously clicking the power button to take a peek at the time; curse them. You think back to a month ago when this problem wouldn’t have existed. 

gyu: look behind you

You pushed yourself off the column you were leaning against, quickly turning to look behind you - your eyes trained on the ground until you fully turned. What? Ready to give these assholes a piece of your mind for making you all later than you’d like (and hate on Beomgyu for adamantly lying to you), your focus turned to your phone once more.  

“Boo!” To say your heart temporarily stopped was an understatement. The sudden push that came from behind you - well, what was in front of you moments ago - startled you even more. Your phone slipped through your fingers, luckily caught last minute - but that alone only added to your fear. 

“I literally hate you.” You groaned, your hand going to your heart as if it could calm it down. 

Beomgyu smirked, before leaning against the same column you were minutes ago. “You have to admit, you’re impressed I’m here before Soobin.”

“That’s the definition of bare minimum.” Like a magnet, you buried your head into Beomgyu’s shoulder. Unfortunately, Beomgyu convinced you to stay up late calling last night - so getting out of bed today was especially miserable. It’s a miracle Beomgyu was as chipper as he normally is. “Soobin has to be here. He’s performing less than bare minimum.” 

His hand went to rest in your hair, teasingly ruffling it as you complained against his shoulder. He couldn’t see your face - only could feel your persistent pout through the uniform vest - but he smiled. “Well, men are trash anyways.” With his other hand, he typed a private message to the school council member. 

to soobs (private chat): if you’re still at the bakery, can you bring extra pastries for y/n??

Within an instance, Soobin responded: 

soobs (private chat): already on my way there, but already on it. 

“How are you so chipper this morning?” You pulled away, now resting so that your chin is on his shoulder and you’re looking up at his face. Cute; his hair was a bit more unruly than usual and his eyes a bit more dazed. The bags under his eyes were a bit more sunken than usual - probably something that you shared with him today - yet he still made your heart flutter. 

He smirked, “Because I’m with you.” You fake-vomited, now pulling yourself off of him - immediately making him pull you back into his chest. 

“That’s so cheesy.” He’s been playfully flirting with you for the last two weeks. It started after Yeonjun had asked him his best pick-up line, which happened to be the most cheesy thing you’ve heard (well, until now). It quite literally earned a visceral reaction from you, and Beomgyu seemed to make it his mission to make you react like that again. 

“This is a public location, lovebirds.” Kai sang, sauntering towards you with Taehyun in tow. The two were direct neighbours and have been their whole lives, you had learnt soon after meeting them. “You shouldn’t be doing PDA out here.” His comment released Beomgyu’s grip on you, preventing him from pulling you back into his embrace. 

You rolled your eyes. Beomgyu was not your boyfriend; something you had to remind your friends way too often that you would want to admit. The first time your friends realised you befriended the boy who could be arrested for ‘attempted manslaughter’ (Ryujin with her dramatics), the amount of teasing you got lasted for days. 

“Where’s Soobs?” Taehyun asked, also expecting Soobin to be the first one here. “How long have you been here for?” 

Time to make him feel guilty, you decided - planning to tease them. “Literally, I could’ve been at school already.” You were here before everyone else a maximum of five minutes before Beomgyu sauntered in, but they didn’t have to know that. Taehyun, however, never falling for your tricks - raised his brow interrogatively. And Taehyun being your favorite best boy (as you joke Kai and him compete for), you crumpled under his pointed stare. “Nah, I was just here for like five minutes,” you shrugged - falling back onto the wall beside Beomgyu. 

“Nice try.” Kai grinned, laughing at your now sheepish face. “How are we all earlier than Soobin though? Isn’t he the one who usually gets here early?” 

“He also lives closer than all of us.” Taehyun added. “Yeonjun is also usually early.” 

From an outsider's perspective, the four of you must look like a cliche high school movie group - some sort of terrible remake of the Breakfast Club or the Brat Pack. Beomgyu decided to let loose on his uniform; his tie slightly undone and varsity jacket thrown over his shoulder with his backpack hanging onto a single shoulder, of course, plays the role of a rebellious jock. As the stereotypical nerd, Taehyun had a set of books tightly held in his arms - despite how bulky his backpack was already. And Kai? He looked like a version of a band freak, one shoulder carrying his shoulder bag - the other shoulder holding a guitar bag; both appearing like an ‘X’ against his chest. On top of it all, there was you - not quite fitting in any special clique, just the friends of the cheerleaders who can fit herself into any puzzle; a side character you can put into any random friend group of any scene, and it’d make sense.  

You squint your eyes, silently questioning that statement; Yeonjun is always late. Taehyun quickly rescinded it. Unfortunately, two pairs of ears heard the statement; bloating one of their egos so much more. 

“I know I’m always early.” Yeonjun gloated ‘fake news’, “I’m always the first here.” Soobin, despite always being the first there, didn’t seem to care that he took his title. With a pulled back smile, Soobin passed you a small doggy bag of your favourite pastry. He then handed out the others.

Thank the lords, you praised - quickly opening up the bag after thanking him and biting into the delicious treat. “Choi Soobin, you’re actually the love of my life.” He chuckled, blushing wildly. Luckily, he didn’t have to respond as the train brushed past. 

“Let’s goooooo!” Kai sang, “Time to go to schoooooolllll.” 

How anyone can be this happy about getting onto a train to head back to school defeats you.

And as per the usual for the last month (except on Mondays when Soobin has to get to school thirty minutes earlier), the six of you talked about absolutely anything and everything you can think of throughout the trip (yes, even the fact the air was feeling a bit crispier than usual or the idea that time is simply a concept created by society). Today’s conversation topic? The school sleepover that would be happening tomorrow night; the same school sleepover that you six planned just because Yeonjun wanted to confirm the existence of the school ghost Kai heard about and Taehyun immediately started to theorize about. 

“We should see if it’s true!” Yeonjun proposed excitedly; the six of you standing in the train full of adults making their way to work. “We should stay overnight, to try and support it.” He turned to Taehyun, “We can confirm your theories!

Ever since Kai heard from a fellow classmate about the ghosts wandering Hyejijum High, a ghost called Ki-woo, the six of you decided to have fun with it. From Soobin mentioning the name like a curse word in front of the school administration to gauge their reactions to Taehyun scouring the library for books about the school's history. There was evidence that Taehyun found about the school being built on land with a questionable history - however, he thinks he could find more in the restricted books section. The desire to see a ghost only became worse after watching Buzzfeed Unsolved at Yeonjun’s house.  

Specifically, you and Soobin started to join Taehyun in the library - creating funny and strange theories about what could’ve happened. 

Beomgyu, of course, loved the idea. “We can stay out after school, say it’s a club bonding experience.” Despite the STAR SEEKERS club being absolute bullshit, the six of you are still enlisted underneath the club. In all honesty, you probably meet more than a normal club would. “C’mon, Soobin - you should ask!” 

“Or,” The unease radiating from Soobin’s eyes alerted you so you tried to give him an out, “we could just have a sleepover and watch scary movies. I’m pretty sure my parents would be okay with it.” 

Unfortunately, the other four seemed persistent. “It'd definitely be an interesting experience,” Taehyun added, “it’d be a good way to see it with our own eyes.” 

“You can’t seriously be thinking of this!” You protested. There were so many logistical elements to work out; how will the security guards not see you? How will you even be able to stay past the school being locked down? “What about security? How will we even stay on campus after -” 

Kai interrupted you, snapping his fingers as he thought of a solution. Turning to Soobin, he pointed at him. “Make a whole school event out of it; a school wide sleepover. You can sell tickets, do some fundraising for a charity or future school events, and we can sneak out during the chaos.” 

“Huening Kai, I love you.” Yeonjun planted a huge, sloppy kiss on his cheek, making Kai cringe and wipe it off in an exaggerated fashion. “And, with our beautiful Choi Soobin,” he now wrapped his arm around the subject’s shoulders, “teachers will believe we’re not doing anything wrong and will be preoccupied with everyone else.” 

Okay…that makes more logistic sense. After all, Lia did say how the school wanted to host more fundraising events. Yeonjun seemed to notice how your facial expression became just a little bit more relaxed, and decided that was a sign you agreed. “Great, so Soobin - just suggest the idea during your meeting today and we got ourselves a ghost to catch.” 

By the time you all arrived at the school gates, Yeonjun and Beomgyu stopped informing you of their highly detailed scheme. “I’ll see you all later then.” The oldest grinned, before turning to the usual question; “What time is everyone done for today?” 

As per usual, everyone ended around 3:30 while Beomgyu had soccer practice. “Let’s head back around 4:30?”

“Ew no,” You quickly contributed in a teasing tone, “at least fifteen more minutes so you can change out of your soccer clothes. Stinky.” Beomgyu chuckled, placing his hand on the top of your head - ruffling your hair. 

“So 3:30, yeah?” Yeonjun teased, already walking away. 

“YAH!” Beomgyu called back, flicking the air as if it was Yeonjun’s forehead. They always had a cat-and-mouse-type relationship, teasing each other relentlessly. But you know, that if it ever came to  it - they’d die for each other. 

As Yeonjun runs to his ‘it’ crew, the five of you discuss your plans for today. “I’ll spend lunch time in the library today,” Soobin started, “I’m behind on an assignment for history class and if we do actually follow through with tomorrow, I'm going to need to finish it now.” 

“Oh, me too!” You exclaimed, “Is it alright if I join you?” Soobin nodded. 

Kai starts laughing, “What do you mean actually? Of course we’re doing it!” Beomgyu enthusiastically agrees with Kai. 

“Let’s just see if it works.” Taehyun interjected. “I’ll join you then, yeah?” With that, you all went off your own ways. As per usual, you headed towards the courtyard to meet your friends. As per the new usual, Beomgyu accompanied you. 

“Oh, hello, Y/N and co!” Yeji grinned, still reveling in the fact you were far more out of your shell than you were last year. The rest of the girls turned to face you, and when they did, Karina immediately faced the floor. 

“And goodbye, Y/N and co!” Beomgyu mused, mimicking Yeji’s greeting. From the distance, you heard Jeongin calling for his best friend. “I’ll see you later?” He asked, refusing to take his eyes off of you. You nodded, putting your backpack down on the ground before sliding into the seat. Smiling at the response, he sprinted off towards Jeongin - even running backwards at one point to glance back at you. Obviously, you were oblivious to this - your friends, however, were not blind. 

“I’m happy to see you having more friends this year,” Yeji smiled, “you seem really happy.” 

“Friends?” Karina poked in, “Beomgyu does be acting like a boyfriend. Which reminds me, can you introduce me formally to Soobin? Lia refuses too.”

Lia lets out an exasperated sigh, “I’m saying! He’s a friend, but not a good friend. We’re just on council together. I’m not going to be like ‘hey, my friend is obsessed with you. Date her?’.” 

You furrowed your brows - remembering how last week you got Soobin to join you for lunch, “Hasn’t he sat at our table already?” Karina huffed, before turning to the side. “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you talk.” 

“No, but like we haven’t talk-talked - you know?”

“ANYWAYS,” You jumped to swap the conversation, not wanting to continue this further - “Ryu, when’s your soccer match?” Soccer season, unfortunately, is coming to an end. While you promised to support Beomgyu’s game with the guys, you have to make sure Ryujin’s game isn’t at the same time. Ryujin was your friend first. 

“It’ll be next Friday afternoon!” Thank God, you thought - Beomgyu’s was on Saturday. “Around 4:00pm!” 

You decided to extend the invite for Saturday, partially knowing they may be going anyway. After all, Ryujin and Yeji have been asking you to attend more sports games since last year (you always denied, unless Ryu was playing). Plus, it will let Karina interact with Soobin. Part of that made your heart twinge; the idea of them hitting it off and clicking as if they were meant to be, as if their souls were tied together throughout time. You’re not sure why - you should be happy about it. After all, he was your friend’s crush. Regardless, you brush the feelings aside. It’s probably nothing. “Would you want to come with me on Saturday to see the men’s soccer team?” 

Lia dropped her jaw, before starting to sing. “Is this because of Beomgyuuuu?” 

“Is little Y/Nie in loveeee?” Yeji continued.

You rolled your eyes, about to defend yourself when the bell rang. 

“Literally saved by the bell.” Ryujin laughed, wrapping her arm around your shoulder. With the sound of a voice calling your name from a distance, she smirked. “Speak of the devil!” Your friends started scattering off - Yeji and Lia had English literature, while Karina had maths. You, however, had history. 

I should probably text Soobin to ask if he has any questions for the teacher. You pulled out your phone and sent a quick private text to him. While doing this, you heard heavy panting coming from behind you - Ryujin now released her arm from her shoulders; freeing you - only for your shoulders to be held by someone else in just a few more minutes. Thursdays are the days you have two classes with Beomgyu; one at the start of the day, and one as the second to last period in physical education with Ryujin. 

“I’ll see you later, Gyu?”  Ryujin chuckled - notifying you of who's behind you. She was not ignorant to how Beomgyu paused and watched you with doe eyes. Luckily for her, Ryujin had study hall as her first class for Thursdays. Like most people, she uses morning study halls to nap or eat breakfast somewhere. “I’m going to head to the school cafe.” You nodded, before quickly telling her you’ll see her during the morning break period. 

You turned to face your friend, who - when you think about it - the fact a friendship has blossomed between you two is surprising. Sweat was dripping from his forehead, probably from playing soccer with his friends while in his actual school uniform instead of his soccer gear. It definitely wasn’t good to be playing soccer in his vest and slacks on a sunny morning. “Ew, sweaty.” Beomgyu poked out his tongue, before taking your bag from your hands. 

“I’ll carry this!” 

You widen your eyes, “Gyu, I can carry it myself.” 

He smiled, “I know you can, but you won’t.” He pulled you closer, and while the sweat clearly dripping from his hair disgusted you, you welcomed the embrace. “You can pay me back by doing my history work for me.” You pushed him away, both of you laughing as you rolled your eyes. 

“I can’t even finish my own.”

“Did you know,” Soobin started, taking his eyes away from his research paper to continue the accidental game the three of you started, “that when grass is cut, the smell they release - it’s like it's a distress signal? So it’s practically screaming in pain to warn the others.” 

You and Taehyun hum in appreciation. 

The game started accidentally. Soobin, in an effort to make his assignment more interesting, decided to start spurting out any fact he deemed fun or interesting. Taehyun, however, wanted to one-up him. And you of course had to jump in. 

Unfortunately, you had to tisk him. “That has nothing to do with your essay though.” Even his screen, which you have a full view of with your seat beside him, was pulled up on ‘fun facts’ instead of his essay. This game was to motivate him, you remembered, not to distract him. 

“Tell me what else I can tell you about Ancient Greek culture without it being about Zeus having sex with another person that isn’t his wife.” 

Taehyun joined in the temporary hate-on-Soobin club; “Didn’t Zeus turn into a golden shower once to impregnate a random woman?” Both you and Soobin turned your heads, unknowingly sharing the same questions that relate to why Zeus did it, how it worked, what even happened - but most importantly; why does Taehyun know this?

“That’s a very specific kink.” Soobin muttered under his breath; eyes wide, making him look like a young child. The shock of Soobin saying such a statement so innocently made you flinch; your head landing on his shoulder as you had to muffle your laughter. Even the librarian came by to shush you. “I don’t get why someone would cheat…” He now mumbled under his breath. 

It wasn’t something that often came to mind. Like a mindless and endless conversation with Ryujin and Yeji, you decided to elaborate - launching the conversation to a whole new direction. “Do you think physical or emotional cheating is worse? Do you think cheating is ever okay?” 

The essays both you and Soobin had to work on were long forgotten, Taehyun just revising for a maths exam in a month from now (who studies this early anyway?). “ I think physical cheating, sure, is more concrete but surface level. So emotional cheating is worse.” Taehyun said, matter-of-factly. “But, I don’t think cheating is always terrible? Like in toxic relationships, I think it’s natural and may help the people end the toxicity to emotionally cheat. But yeah, I guess it also depends on intention or following behaviour, like if they’re hiding it or purposefully lying or intend to keep doing it behind their back.” 

Despite a relatively detailed answer from Taehyun, Soobin seemed to be launched into an even more detailed answer. “Neither is good, there is no such thing as worse in this case.” He started, “However, if it is true love - like obviously they are made for each other, I guess it’s okay?” His statement led you to a question; but how do you know if it’s true love?

As Soobin continues to ramble, you get lost in your thoughts. You were still young, uncertain of love and what it feels like. Is it supposed to feel exciting every day? Is it supposed to be like what an adrenaline junkie craves? Excitement running through you, blindsighted with no regard for consequences because you’re so consumed with this person. Is it supposed to be like home, like comfort? Like an introvert’s dream, or a rainy day inside with a warm cup of hot chocolate - wrapped up in sheets? From television and books, you were taught that love was supposed to hurt; to be full of raging passion. However, from the love you’ve seen around you and from your own passion - you don’t know if you want love like that. Full of back and forth, bickering, toxic combinations of love and hate; maybe love was supposed to be love. But to know what love is supposed to be like, it’s important to ask if -

Taehyun scoffed, stopping Soobin’s spiele and your thoughts from unravelling further. “You need to get back to work.” He eyed both of you, to which you immediately turned your laptop and raised your hands in defence. You had more done on the history essay than Soobin, at least, so Taehyun hummed in some sort of approval. Whereas, Soobin received a disappointed sigh. 

“So, Y/N -” Taehyun turned to you, “Did you know there’s a belief that Ned Fulmer’s affair is secretly part of a Try Guys Try A Scandal series?” 

Soobin and you puff. “Did you not listen to their podcast?” 

Whatever you’re feeling right now is completely, utterly, absolutely irrational, right? Right?

In your non-uniform clothes but also not yet your pyjamas, you and your friends settled around the gym. 

From your spot, you can see Beomgyu with Jeongin and another soccer friend Hyunjin; Yeonjun with his friend Wooyoung enchanting his crowd with laughter; Soobin with Arin and her girlfriend Yoo-bin; Taehyun and Kai with some of their classmates like Jake and Sunghoon. 

You had to wait until Yeonjun gives a ‘go’ single. Fortunately, Yeonjun’s friends are always willing to make a scene - so upon Yeonjun’s instruction, Wooyoung will cause their group to start…well, Yeonjun said he wouldn’t tell you what exactly to give you all deniability. 

It was also Soobin’s idea, surprisingly, that you all sit separately from each other. The chaperones will take notice of larger groups, so if one group disappears - it’d be noticeable. If one person per group disappears? Not too obvious. 

So your current feelings of being scared absolutely shitless is unreasonable, right? 

No, but you know you have to convince yourself otherwise to follow through. 

“What’s on your mind?” Ryujin asked, noticing your silence. Your friends knew about the plan; you didn’t want to scare them when you disappeared. “You worried?” With your silence, she prodded further. “Are you scared about getting caught with your boyfriend?” 

You remained silent, your eyes laser focused on your hands. Will you get in trouble? Will you get caught? Should you follow the plan, or maybe should you just stay with your friends? 

“Hey,” Ryujin’s voice lowered, her hand resting on your shoulder. The rest of your friends were too engrossed in a conversation about a series of TikToks. “What’s up, really?” 

Words are failing you. How are you even feeling? Yes, sure - scared, nervous, worried. But you’re also excited. This is time with five people you’ve loved spending time with, who excite you, who challenge you. You want to spend time with them, but like this? 

“I don’t know.” 

A response of a soft smile was given. “Okay. Well, for now, I’ll be right here. And when you do know, and feel comfortable to share it, I’ll be right here to-” 

Music broke through the gym. Wooyoung is screaming bloody murder as he tries to get everyone to stand up. You see Yeonjun through the crowd, his eyes roaming as he searches for you all. When his eyes made eye contact with yours, his eyes went wide. 

This must be the sign.

…

…

Of course, the distraction had to be Gangnam Style. 

Regardless, it worked. Almost every student and (oddly enough) a large number of chaperones joined Wooyoung, of course with his persistence. You’re pretty sure Wooyoung dragged the head chaperone into a dance circle. However, you can’t be certain; Ryujin distracted you, wishing you luck and sending you off. 

Don’t think about the consequences, you heard Ryujin say in your head - something she has said a thousand times when she’s about to do something you swear is as dumb as the actions of a character in a horror movie. Unless the consequence is death, nothing worse could really happen. 

So, you crouched down and made your way behind the crowd gathering at the centre. Well, nothing worse could happen - you thought of all the potentials. Unless this world is secretly magical and this could bring about the end of the world, the worst consequence could be expulsion - certainly not death.

The tale of the Hyejijum ghost is that of a long time ago. Before the school was built, it was a small village. At the time, trains and the other transport of today didn’t exist. Instead of the train tracks and roads, there was a forest. 

According to the story Yeonjun and Kai have respectively heard, both the practice rooms and a place somewhere along your train route once harnessed magical energy. It was a result of the barrier between the different worlds being at its thinnest. The story says, the reason why the worlds were closer than they ever could be was because a group of children of gods followed a black cat into its clearing, unaware that the cat was the evil god in disguise. Somehow, the group got separated and the oldest - the leader of the group - died in cold blood by the hands of a friend whose soul got corrupted. One of the others - the lover of the corrupted - died trying to save them. 

(“Sounds like a Percy Jackson fanfiction” Taehyun snorted as Yeonjun and Kai took turns telling the story - a choice that made the plot very disjointed - in the dark. 

Yeonjun lightly pushes Taehyun’s head to the side - his flashlight that was shining on his face from below him shaking along with the movement. “You’re ruining the mood!”) 

Here, the ghost story here diverges based on who is telling it. From the version Kai heard, after the two deaths and the disappearance of their corrupted friend - the others came back to the village - to the exact coordinates of the practice rooms - and bore the bad news. It was here where the three survivors broke down, releasing their pent up sadness at the loss of their friend. It was here that they died, unexpectedly, from heartbreak. It was told they still wander the halls, telling the stories of their lost friends. 

According to Yeonjun’s version, the coordinates of the practice room is where the friend who had murdered the other came with the god and destroyed the village. It’s here that the old civilisation ended to make way for a new society. Unfortunately, the ghosts of the friends remain here; still wandering the halls in an attempt to stop him. 

“Do you think multiple universes even exist?” Kai prompted, the six of you peeking into the practice rooms with your phone torches on.

Taehyun shrugged, “It’s a scientific theory that has yet to be disproven.” 

“I think it would be fun.” Yeonjun added, “Imagining how else we’d be living. Do you think I’d be famous in another life? Do you think we’d still be friends?” 

Glancing towards you all with a soft look in his eyes, Soobin smiled; “I think we’d be.” 

“Don’t worry Yeonjun, you’d still be the same annoying hyung.” Beomgyu’s comment earned a slap to the back of his head. “I do not see anything.” 

Unbeknownst to them, your hand started towards the wall; patting around in an attempt to find the light switch. Sure, it’s less likely to call upon a ghost - you thought - but whoever is holding your hand right now is trembling and light would probably help. Their conversation around you muffled out as you suddenly felt a fear that wasn’t yours moments ago. “Can you guys find the light?” You asked, struggling to find the switch. Based on the grip on your hand and the distance of their voices, you can probably assume it wasn’t Yeonjun or Taehyun. 

No one heard you, all focused on everywhere there torches shined light on. From the blue mat lining the floor, the series of chords for the speakers, the -

Something moved in front of you. “What was that?” Soobin squealed - the grip on your hand tightening. So it was Soobin. The sound of footsteps soon echoed throughout the room. 

“Guys, this isn’t funny!” You called as Yeonjun moved the torch to try and find what noise was being made. 

When the light revealed the mirror, your heart dropped. 

“AH!” Three of you screamed. Behind Soobin and Yeonjun’s reflection were…Beomgyu and Kai making weird faces. Lights suddenly flickered on, showing Taehyun had covered the light switch the whole time. 

“HAJIMA!” Yeonjun screamed annoyed, hitting them. Whoever thought of the prank, it was apparently directed against you, Soobin, and Yeonjun. Based on the smug look on his face, you knew it was Beomgyu’s idea. Also, knowing Taehyun and Kai quite well - they wouldn’t come up with this without letting you in on it. “What the fuck was that?” Yeonjun’s anger soon dissipated as he started to laugh. That was pretty good, Yeonjun realised after a minute.  

You groaned, putting your hands over your eyes - the sudden extremity of light hurting them. “Come on, this place is a dud.” Taehyun deadpanned, “We should go to the library and look for more clues.” 

“Ew, no.” Kai whined, “We literally can be anywhere right now, and you choose the library?” 

Taehyun pouted, “We can have unlimited access to the restricted books section!” 

“Nerd!” Both Beomgyu and Yeonjun synchronised, both holding the ���L’ sign towards their forehead. 

What would be a fun place to go at a time like this? You, like everyone else, started thinking of all the potentials; the cafeteria, however, that’s pretty much creepy in the daytime too. The gymnasium is obviously occupied by the rest of the student body, the -

Arms draped loosely over your shoulders; his chest against your back as his arms crossed in front of you. “Didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry.” You rolled your eyes, pushing him off of you playfully. 

“Oh, what did you mean to do then?” You tease. Simply put, he decided to prank you guys in the dark. What was he even meaning to do if not to scare you? “Were you trying to cure cancer then?” Beomgyu rolled his eyes at your response, trying to grab your arm to pull you closer again. When he failed, he pouted. But he just scared you, Soobin, and Yeonjun shitless. So, you immediately mocked his (admittedly cute and adorable) annoying expression and exaggeratingly pouted back.

Kai was the one who came up with the best idea. “How about the roof?” While not much convincing was needed, Yeonjun’s acceptance was the final confirmation. 

Getting up to the roof was easy. In fact, a lot of students would camp out there eating lunches. It’s not allowed by the faculty, but kids will always find a way. Specifically, there was a staircase accessible by a broken lock the school had forgotten to fix. Once you go through the double doors at the top of the stairs, your jaw drops. Running towards the railing, you leaned out to see it all. 

You’ve come here on occasion throughout your freshman year, and started frequenting it more this year because Kai is absolutely enchanted with the view up here. However, you’ve never been here at night. 

On this starless night, the moon shone brighter than ever. However, it didn’t defeat the lights from the city below. Living in the Hybedosi suburb means it was mostly quiet, not much light beyond the convenience stores and the lamp posts. In the city, it was different. Instead of the sky, the stars could be found in the buildings below. You saw the lights line across the river and you felt like you were in a movie. 

“Good idea, Kai.” Yeonjun sighed in content, staring at the view too. The beauty of this school is that due to its many facilities and being developed to be quite a prestigious school, the roof was actually quite high up. 

However, a view can only be so interesting for so long. While Taehyun opted to remain standing, the five of you sat down on the ground - Yeonjun showing some TikToks on his phone. From his position, you could see a nasty burn on his hand - covered by a large bandaid. You see the ruptured skin poking out of the Minions bandaid. “Yeonjun, what happened here?”

“I was baking last night with Wooyoung.” He commented, shrugging as if the constant pain wasn't there. But he got used to it, in his eyes. Or, he’ll get used to it soon. Sure, it stung when it got touched - but it’ll soon become numb. No one should be concerned.

You rolled your eyes, “Give me your hand.” As he followed your instructions, you dramatically kissed his hand better - making Yeonjun equally dramatically pretend you were inviting him to a ballroom dance. 

The way you kissed his hand was like how movies show princes starting ballroom dances with princesses. “I will dance with you, Miss Y/N!” Pretending to be a dramatic princess from some sort of terrible Bridgerton remake, he dragged you to your feet - now spinning you around and dancing beneath the starless sky. The group laughed, as always, at Yeonjun’s antics. 

By the time Yeonjun wanted to give up his dramatic act, he returned to his place beside Soobin and Kai. You decided to approach Taehyun while the four spoke about TikTok and celebrity drama once more. His eyes seemed preoccupied as he anxiously bit on his lip. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Taehyun shrugged, chuckling. “I just can’t believe that these dumbasses got their stupid plan to follow through.”  

“You know what that means?” He shook his head, “You joined in on the planning, so that means you’re a dumbass too.” You teased, turning around and crossing your arms against the rail. “I am wondering if there's more we can find about the ghost though. The plan was to find something.” 

“Well, technically, it was to prove or disprove something. So far, we have disproved it.” 

“Are we sure it was the practice rooms though?” You pushed, “Especially as you did find that this was built on a town that was massacred.” You saw the glint in his eye, and you knew what he was going to suggest. So, you did it for him. 

Clapping and walking towards the exit again, you got everyone’s attention. “YAH! Where are you going?” Yeonjun called. 

“Library!” You sang, making Taehyun chuckle and follow quickly behind. 

Beomgyu, however, groaned. “Are we really going to listen to Taehyun right now?” 

“Yes!” You quickly retaliate, not leaving more space for complaints. “So you can either stay here or shut up.” 

Although the initial plan was to find more information about the ghost, especially through the restricted section, Beomgyu and Kai quickly turned the search for information into a game of tag. It started with Beomgyu whispering his scheme to Kai, who quickly enacted it by psst-ing and tagging Taehyun. Everyone quickly sprinted in different directions, torches helping guide the way. Of course, your friends are notably clumsy people and therefore, the occasional yelp or ‘ouch’ proved that they were guilty of bumping into corners regardless). 

You’re not even sure who ‘it’ is as after every few seconds, you could hear a squeal and laughter. It was only when you heard Beomgyu approach, singing ‘I’m going to come get you!’ in a creepy voice that you realised he was after you. 

Fuck, you thought, and you did so well at hiding. You ran for it; as fast as you could, hearing his footsteps creeping behind you. Running so fast, you bumped into Kai - who even stopped in the middle of the aisle; directly in Beomgyu’s way. I’m safe, you realised as Kai was now in his way. However, Beomgyu just screamed at him to move out of the way as he can’t squeeze through him and the shelf without touching him.

“Beomgyu!” You laughed, your stomach hurting as you ran away from the tagger. “Kai was right there!” 

“Don’t throw me under the bus!” His voice was now distant, obviously grateful that his accidental escape plan had worked. 

from Yeonjun to soobin hate club (jokes): whoever is it now, we should corner Soobin.

Now tired from running around, the six of you decided to stop the game. Yeonjun had opted to lie down on an empty desk, one knee bent while the other leg was hanging off the table as he spoke with you and Soobin. The two of you sat on the floor, leaning against the wall underneath the window. Yeonjun had a direct view of the starless sky just above you, yet the moon still appeared to be spotlighting your little corner. On the other side of things, Beomgyu and Kai were still bustling full of energy; attempting to find the funniest title, wandering through the aisles and giggling. Unconsciously, you smiled at their antics; especially as Kai screamed out through his laughter; “And on the eighth day, God created hairdressers - I have contributed in many ways to the field of beauty”. 

The title made you chuckle, especially when Kai sprinted back to show you the book cover; a cover that looks like it was made in the centre of hell or on a Tumblr shitpost (essentially, the same thing). He then ran back to Beomgyu, who was already trying to one up him desperately - as you can tell through his exasperated and playful yells. 

Out of all of you, however, Taehyun was back on track - finding a book about the history of the school and the area. “Maybe the ghost story is in a different universe,” he commented as he showed Soobin, Yeonjun, and you the page. “Look. You mentioned the town being called Hybehead, right?” Yeonjun nodded, “The town that was here previously was named the same as Hybedosi, so I’m assuming our suburb just became smaller over time.” 

“Maybe it was all fiction then?” Soobin posed, raising his eyebrow. You dropped your head on his shoulder; tiredness from lack of sleep already starting to settle in. With Soobin, it felt natural. He always felt cosy - maybe that’s why even when you don’t have class, you visit the bakery in hopes of seeing Soobin. If you had to explain the feeling of being around Soobin, it would be sitting in your room on a rainy day with a mug of hot chocolate and a warm blanket. 

“Or!” Yeonjun basically yelled, jolting upwards, “Or, it’s another universe seeping into ours. Maybe the practice rooms are like the portal to them.” 

“This sounds like some terrible Riverdale episode.” You joked, remembering the news of Riverdale having a five episode special to a location called RiverVale. 

“How dare you call Riverdale terrible?” You heard Beomgyu scream in offence from the other side of the library. At his offence, Kai and him apparently decided to rejoin the group; panting as they approached the four of you huddled at your current area. The older of the two sat down next to you, while Kai peeked over Taehyun’s shoulder. “Well, if it is true - maybe it's just coordinates? What’s below the practice room?” 

This line of thought essentially brought you to the indoor swimming pool’s locker rooms - which Yeonjun realised were four floors directly below the practice rooms. 

“What time is it?” You asked, your voice hushed as you walked past the gymnasium all your classmates slept. 4:10am. “I don’t think it’s going to be dark for much longer.” 

The group agreed through a series of hums and nods of acknowledgements. “I think this should be our last stop before heading back.” Everyone agreed with Yeonjun - despite Kai’s obvious want for the night to continue. Part of you wanted the night to never end as well; wanting to stay here. Despite your initial fear and worries for the night, this has been the highlight of your year - if not your life. 

Wandering in a comfortable silence and the occasional comment, the six of you looked everywhere. This is how you found out that, in contrast to all the stereotypes,  the male locker rooms are actually significantly less gross than the females. However, is it because no one was actively using it? The lack of stray hair on the ground was definitely the only and main factor for its cleanliness. 

When you turned your head, you saw Yeonjun poke through the exit; back towards the pool. With him letting out a whistle and a motioning signal, the five of you followed his lead. 

The pool glistened under the torch’s light, yet was still. It has never felt more eerie than this; the only sounds echoing off the tiled floors and walls were your footsteps towards the body of water. There were no ripples, no students swimming, nothing. 

The world felt still. 

Your eyes felt trained on a random spot in the pool, watching how the water has changed its appearance. “We were just learning about refraction,” you remembered Yeonjun telling you guys - remind me to ask him about it later. 

A voice brought you out of your trance. “It’s a good temperature!” Kai screamed, his lower half submerged under the pool - a ripple following. 

And with that, the four other boys ran and jumped in -  the only things left on the side were their phones and the hoodies they had wrapped around their waists. The splash the four of them made together lifted the water above, almost splashing you in the process. You, ultimately, decided to sit on the diving board; watching the five silly boys splash each other. 

A year ago today, you wouldn’t be expecting this. A year ago today, if you told your old self you’d be spending time with this group of idiots (lovingly) - you wouldn’t believe it. You wouldn’t believe the fact that Taehyun, Soobin, and you have weekly study hangouts at random libraries or parks. Or, that Beomgyu has been joining Ryujin’s long-term goal of getting you to play soccer. You wouldn’t believe that you’d have almost daily walks with Yeonjun, pop-culture debates with Kai, or random trivial games with Taehyun. You wouldn’t believe you’d have monthly (well, so far - it has happened two times) movie nights at Yeonjun’s house, or picnics fully stocked with Choi’s bakery treats. 

The five of them have changed your life, and for the better. You’re happier, freer. You feel that even with the weight on your shoulders from school and life obligations, you have a stronger support system than previously. Yes, the girls are a strong foundation - but it took a while for that relationship to build. Or well, in better words - it didn’t feel as natural as this. 

“Dive in, Y/N!” Yeonjun called - the water splash war temporarily ending. 

You shook your head, laughing. It’d be a clear cut sign to anyone if you all came back with wet hair. “I’m good!” The group in front of you protested.

“If I can’t even swim, you can jump in!” Soobin called in retaliation. You scoffed, noting that he doesn’t even need to swim to survive - his feet touching the ground as he stood in the pool.

As the five of them swam (in Soobin’s case, walk) closer towards you, you noticed something you didn’t notice before. Maybe it was because of the jump or the water making it float, but the five of them had the same necklaces. You’ve known since meeting Kai that you two had the same necklaces, but what are the chances that all six of you have the same design? You’ve never seen anyone wear it beyond you and Kai before. Could this be a connecting factor behind the club? No way the school knows about your necklaces… Oh god, was I secretly born into a cult? 

While you were in your thoughts, Beomgyu was swimming towards the foot of the board where your feet are gently grazing the water. His hand went to the top of your socks, tugging on them slightly and letting the elastic slap back against your skin repeatedly as if trying to nudge you in. 

He looked up to you, with his big teddy bear eyes. You felt something shift. For some reason, you felt enchanted by his eyes. In them, you could see the smile that was also on his lips. You’re brought back to the last few months; every time you’ve looked him in the eye. You remember how he looked when he told you about his childhood, and you remember how he looks when he tells you about his passions. 

When did this feeling start? The bubbling in your stomach, the excitement that arises. Was it the way the light bounces off the pool and onto his face, making him look serene. Your friends always call him your boyfriend, and sure - you’re quick to deny - but is that so bad? Did you want to be able to call him that? 

Is it a sign you have feelings for him when he’s one of the first people you think of in the morning and the last before you go to bed? Is it a sign you have feelings for him when something happens and you get excited to tell him about it? Over the last few months, all five of them have become integral in your routine - you never went more than 24 hours without talking - but Beomgyu and Soobin are the two who have been present every single day. 

The look in his eyes drew you in. In the water, he was like a siren; calling you in. He reached his arm out, and invited you to take his hand. Another invitation to join them.  You couldn’t say no, not when he’s looking at you like that. 

Well, you couldn’t say no anyways as he pulled you in. Your thought process felt like hours, but honestly - were mere seconds. 

“What the fuck!” You exclaimed, bringing yourself out of water to hear the sounds of laughter. Restarting the splash fight, you started to splash - directly at Beomgyu. Beomgyu, however, didn’t retaliate and instead - he reached out to your wrists to halt your moments. 

Please stop, you thought - not wanting to dive into these thoughts even more. Beomgyu was your best friend, he didn’t think anything more of your friendship. His eyes were magnetic. They were pure, full of good. All you could do was smile and stare in awe. As cheesy as it sounds, the world around you seemed to slow down; falling into a trance. The conversation between Soobin and Yeonjun faded, Taehyun and Kai running up the ladder to jump in again was ignored. 

Luckily, their jump splashed the two of you - breaking you apart. Thank God. You left his grasp and swam towards Soobin and Yeonjun, leaving Beomgyu to Taehyun and Kai who immediately invited him to do more dives. 

“Y/N! Can you see who can hold their breaths for longer?” 

The rest of the time spent in the pool was full of swinging each other into the water (namely Taehyun being swung in by everyone else), diving competitions, and general races. It was always a friendly competition between them, and with every competition, they always tried to either single out Soobin or interfere with each other’s plots. You also made sure not to lean into Beomgyu’s touch, avoiding an instinct that has become natural over the last few months. Instead, you made sure someone else was always beside you if you’re next to him. 

With the final competition, the chlorine in your eyes finally exhausted you. Pulling yourself out of the pool, you approached the bench. However, on the way, you saw the band aid that you ‘kissed better’ earlier on the ground. “Oh shit, Yeonjun!” You called. A burn, on its own, is painful - but an injury submerged under chlorine definitely would make it worse. “Do you need another bandaid?” 

He looked confused, now glancing at his hand - he swore he was still wearing it. He felt no pain, in fact - the constant pain had subsided substantially. Sure, the band-aid is missing; but also, the burn - and any traces of it - was too.

At 5am, the six of you headed back towards the gym. Prepared to get at least four hours of sleep before the mandatory pick-up time, you wanted to sneak into your sleeping bag next to Ryujin. Sure, your hair may still be wet and you may wake up with a cold in the morning - but you wanted to slip into a deep slumber asap. The exhaustion of running around school has finally hit you. All the fears you’ve had of potentially regretting this whole thing are gone. Everything was amazing and went according to pla-

“Fuck!” Yeonjun cursed under his breath. His forehead fell onto the metal doors, “It’s locked.” Water from the pool escapade trailed behind you, dripping as if tracing your steps. “It’s fucking locked.” 

Jinxed it then. 

The cold air from the open hallways are making you shiver; an action that didn’t go unnoticed by Beomgyu and Soobin. While Soobin made a move to pass you the hoodie he wore earlier that now rested around his waist (which he opted out of wearing to keep it dry), Beomgyu brought you into his chest. Fuck. You’d pull away, but you knew he wouldn’t let go - especially with how you trembled and were practically ice cold. 

“We can’t just stay out here.” You commented, voice shaking, “We’d get in trouble for sneaking out.” 

Kai turned to look at everyone, the six of you forming a circle outside the gym. “What about our stuff?” 

“I’ll text Wooyoung for mine.” Yeonjun quickly commented, “You should text your friends. No one bought anything super important?” Living so far away meant that it’s probably unlikely to get your stuff back unless you make an effort to see them before school on Monday. “I can ask Wooyoung to pick it up and drive it to our area.” 

“But how do we leave?” Soobin asked, confused. They can’t just-

Kai’s unfazed face terrified all of you, admittedly. “Jump the fence.” How does he look so innocent while saying this? Regardless, you followed his lead. How did he know where the lowest part of the fence was? He said it was just luck, just his intuition - but that can’t be; he basically found this place immediately. 

By 5:40, all six of you were over the fence; now damp, the wind having dried you up a little. 

5:47 was the time you got to the train station, sprinting past the gates as your train was to arrive in three minutes. Regardless, the station was empty. Why would anyone be up at 5:47 on a Saturday morning? 

The train arrived at the station at 5:50, the six of you shuffling on and dropping down onto the ugly seats. From a TikTok, you recently learnt that the design of the seats was purely to hide the dirt. Since then, you’ve avoided sitting down on them as much as possible. Despite it being possible to stand, your exhaustion tells you to sit down - your legs feeling weak and your brain feeling hazy. You weren’t feeling this way moments ago, but something about the atmosphere felt heavy - intoxicating. 

At 5:51, your head fell onto Soobin’s shoulder. 

At 5:52, Kai opens his mouth to speak. However, for some reason - potentially the air feeling heavier, the train feeling like it sped up, a screeching sound piercing through the silence - you felt the need to tighten your grip on the closest thing you were holding. Everyone else did the same. 

At 5:53, everything hits you at once.

taglist: @de0nu​ @pastelsicheng​ @kpopworldwide​ @rebsmoonn​ | send a message to be notified of updates! 

[sexhaver]

idk if you care about the megapope thing but i found it really shocking that a lot of backlash came from leftists in vaguely the same tumblr spiders web of users, painting him as an unstable wreck conducting “psychosexual rants” amongst other things. it seems odd that people so devoted to both hyper obtuse trolling as a sense of humour and also some vague notion of intellectualism as a core tenet would be so outrageously blinded and upset by him ribbing on embarrasing horny posts and celebrate his deletion. hounded to suicide by a crowd of uwus who say “yo, dude,” inauthentically when theyre extremely mad.

your tone here makes you sound like you've already come to a conclusion so ill just offer a few counterpoints:

not sure why the leftist part is relevant or surprising. the chunk of this site's users who engage with the kind of posts megapope was commenting on are mostly leftist so you'd expect the majority of any backlash to come from them.

also, do you really think right wingers would take issue with anything he said? if anything they're probably spinning this as "man gets run off of tumblr for calling out sexual deviancy" or some shit.

i don't think he's any more of an "unstable wreck" than any given text poster on this website, but he definitely goes on a lot of really suspiciously detailed rants about niche fetishes and makes a lot of uncharitable assumptions about whoever he's "roasting".

the "hyper-obtuse trolling" point is kind of an interesting one, because if you just read one of his posts in a vacuum it does come across as him doing a bit and the other person getting mad/confused. the thing is, i don't think it was a bit. he kept it up for years on end and never really broke character. even if it was a bit to begin with, it seems like he's Actually Like That now

the main point i saw from people dunking on him after his deletion was that a lot of the posts he ragged on for being "embarrassing[ly] horny" just. weren't. dude was tilting at windmills, except instead of windmills they were furry cocks.

even if they were horny posts, so what? at a certain point it becomes more embarrassing that you're somehow finding and reblogging those posts and dumping suspiciously detailed fetish info on them than any kind of embarrassment you're inflicting on the people making those posts.

also, going to Tumblr and complaining about how it's full of sexual deviants is like calling the ocean "shark infested". it's not an infestation; that is their home.

im not even going to comment on your characterization of deleting one's blog as "suicide"

honestly, based on how little this guy has cared about public backlash in the past, i kind of doubt he deleted to avoid hate. i like to imagine that the backlash prompted him to do some introspection and realize that he should maybe be less fundamentally and openly bitter and that deleting his blog was the best outcome for all parties involved, and in a few years he'll look back on how he acted and cringe. this is almost certainly not the case, but i can dream.

[neotrances-deactivated]

this was years ago on a old blog but i remember when someone made like a vague post about an idol game character getting the sandwhich role instead of pudding (the characters were doing a picnic food theme) and op A was mad op B was making fun of the ppl that liked the sandwhich character getting sandwhich and then i scrolled down two post and Op B was dunking on op A for complaining bc op Bs favorite character got pudding and it matched their aesthetic and op A was a vegan and the character they liked was a turkey sandwhich

[unbridgeabledistances]

ian + mickeys neck (was thinking of the drunk ian fic and wondered if you would be interested in pursuing this idea further?) <3

anon i am CRYING thank u so much for this!!!! i have been feeling like i need to make my contribution to the “mickey’s neck” discourse for a while lmao and this is my opportunity (esp bc ian holding mickey in the 11x12 stills wrecked me)

in the spirit of following up 11x10 i decided to write this based on an amazing post @mickey-millagher made/a prompt that @pombby sent me about ian teaching mickey to swim at a public pool during lockdown at some point early s11- i hope u enjoy<3

(this is the tiniest notch steamier than what i usually write but it isn’t smutty fyi- tw for descriptions of choking😌)

--

There was no one at the park— the air hung heavy and humid over the empty picnic tables and wooden benches that punctuated the fields of dying grass. As much as people on the Southside were definitely not taking any part of this lockdown shit seriously, it didn’t surprise Ian how silent the public park was— there was still a scarcer number of people out on their stoops or lounging on street corners this summer. Ian guessed that the few people who didn’t think that this was a hoax realized that this COVID shit was serious enough that they couldn’t afford healthcare if they got it, or whatever— but regardless, that meant that this Southside summer was weirdly stagnant somehow, and felt different from the noisy and crowded rhythms of summers past.

It was the late morning, just as the air started heat like a convection oven as the sun rose over the skyline— and Ian had his heart set on teaching Mickey to swim today. The conversation had come up last night at dinnertime, when Debbie was complaining about the heat wave— and they had all started reminiscing about the rickety, tin-sided pool they used to put up in the backyard years ago until Carl had taken a hatchet to it when he was 11 when he was trying to tear it down. Sitting next to Mickey at the kitchen table, thighs pressed where their chairs were scooted close together, Ian had suddenly remembered his words from their road trip to the border, years ago now:

“You could try swimming across the border.”

“I never learned how, man.”

And he’d immediately opened his mouth, not catching the words before they moved from his brain to his mouth, and asked Mickey in the middle of the dinnertime chatter: “Hey Mick, did you ever actually learn to swim?”

It was funny, and arbitrary, and stupid; they were married now, but for some reason this small fact about Mickey, the fact that he used to not know how to swim and by now he might have learned without Ian’s knowledge, made something warm pool in Ian’s stomach. He’d known Mickey, and had been itching to be closer and closer to him, for a full decade—and there were still so many things that he didn’t know. And this was proof, this question that Ian still didn’t have the answer to about some weirdly fundamental aspect of Mickey’s identity— he was always going to want to keep asking things about Mickey. And he was always going to get to.

Mickey had looked him with daggers in his eyes, then flickered a defensive glance at all the smirks growing on Ian’s siblings’ faces. “Fuck you. I was doing plenty of other shit in Mexico, didn’t really get the chance to lounge on the fucking beach.”

Ian had reached under the table and placed a hand on Mickey’s knee—a peace offering, an apology for whatever Mickey-can’t-swim quips Carl and Lip would inevitably think up as a low blow the next time they all butted heads at breakfast time— but as the chatter about backyard pools and heat waves continued at the dinner table, Ian felt an idea stirring.

Which is why the next morning he’d woken his husband up by pressing a tender kiss to his jawbone, both of their skin damp and clammy from the heat in the stuffy bedroom, and whispered into his neck:

“I wanna try something today.”

Mickey’s mind had immediately veered in… other directions, his eyebrows raising in vaguely disappointed disbelief when Ian had explained his idea to go to the public pool and teach Mickey to swim with an exuberant grin on his face; but after some very enticing morning persuasion that had a lot to do with the fact that Mickey was still half asleep while Ian had pressed kisses down his spine and dragged him out of bed and handed him a pair of swim trunks, now they were at the public pool in the nearest park at midday, with Ian leading the way and Mickey dubiously and sleepily straggling behind him.

Ian slid open the lock on the chain-link fence that surrounded the pool, the same pool that was usually crawling with groups of teenagers smoking weed and toddlers in floaties who were sticky with melted ice cream on a summer day like today. And maybe he was just all hopped up on nostalgia, but Ian was feeling cheerful— there was a lightness to the blinding summer sunshine, radiating through him as it pooled on his skin, that made him feel weirdly exhilarated and giddy about teaching Mickey to swim in this grimy Southside pool, just because he could.

“I still can’t believe you never learned how to swim.” Ian said it over his shoulder as he strode through the gate, holding it open for Mickey.

Mickey just flipped him off, following behind him and setting down two towels and the 6-pack of beers he’d grabbed from the fridge as they’d shuffled out the door minutes before. Ian grinned. He knew the beers would be warm and syrupy in minutes—the air was muggy and humid, without any hint of a breeze for relief. Ian could already feel the sweat dripping down the back of his t-shirt; he peeled it off as he walked over the sunwarmed concrete towards the pool’s edge, crumpling the shirt and throwing it on top of the pile with the beers and the towels. Mickey was hesitant, not following Ian to the border of the water just yet.

“Seriously. I can’t count the number of times I was shoved into our bacteria-infested backyard pool when I was a kid. I’m pretty sure that Frank tried to drown me in there at one point.”

Mickey just shrugged noncommittally, his fingers slack around the bottom hem of his shirt and his eyes zeroing in on the pool of water. Ian thought Mickey would say something in reply— but the only sound in the air was the faint shouting of kids playing a basketball game the street over.

Holy shit. Ian had been so buoyant and excited about his nostalgia-fueled idea of going to the public pool on a summer day and teaching his husband to swim, dragging Mickey out of the house without a second thought, that he hadn’t realized it until now— Mickey was scared.

Ian swallowed down the grin that was threatening to overtake his face— one he knew that Mickey would immediately notice and hate, because he it drove him crazy when people gave him shit in vulnerable moments like this, when Mickey couldn’t do something. So instead Ian kept talking, hoping his chatter would loosen some of Mickey’s nerves.

“Didn’t you and your brothers ever go down to the other pool over on Trumbull?”

Mickey met Ian’s eyes then, raising an annoyed eyebrow. “Clearly not.”

And, okay. This was understandably bringing up some childhood shit. Ian tried to snap Mickey out of his head— he strode over to where Mickey was standing, a good six feet from the poolside, and snaked a hand onto the back of his neck, squeezing gently in what he hoped was a grounding and comforting touch that would drain the trepidation from Mickey’s defensive stance.

“One summer Debbie was so afraid of getting drowned at the public pool that she learned how to hold her breath for 4 minutes.” Ian grinned at the memory of Debbie dunking her head in a tub of water in the kitchen, making him and Lip time her. “Honestly, it was probably for the best you never went to the public pool. It was a shit show.”

Mickey scoffed, but the lightness was back in his eyes. “If I knew how to swim back in the day I probably woulda been the one doing the drowning.”

Ian barked out a laugh— and why did he immediately turn back into his 15-year-old self, with a god-awful crush on Mickey Milkovich, whenever Mick said shit like that? He pressed his lips into a smile, squeezing Mickey’s shoulder once more for good measure.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, king of the Southside. You ready to get in the water?” Ian’s hand trailed down from its grasp on Mickey’s shoulderblades, dropping to encircle Mickey’s wrist and guide him towards the water.

Mickey immediately recoiled, yanking his hand from Ian’s hold and taking a step back, squinting and holding up a hand to block the bright rays of sun out of his eyes now that he wasn’t standing in Ian’s shadow.

“Fuck d’you mean? I’m not just gonna fucking hop in there and drown. You gotta show me what to do.”

Ian grinned again, without being able to hold it back. He knew what Mickey was like when he was afraid of something— defensive and grumbly and avoidant to touch. He rolled his eyes. “Can’t really teach you to swim when we’re not in the water, Mick. C’mon.”

Ian walked over to sit on the edge, then slid his torso down into the pool. The water was lukewarm and tepid, barely providing any relief from the sticky air— but it felt nice. Ian let out a little breath of relief from the heat as he waded over to the shallow end. Mickey was still standing by the mound of the towels the ground, watching him warily. Ian raised his eyebrows.

“You coming?”

Rolling his eyes, Mickey aggravatedly pulled off his shirt, tossing it behind him— sunrays bounced off of Mickey’s pale skin, owing mostly to the fact that Mickey had barely left the house in the last few weeks because of their prolonged “honeymoon.” He slowly walked to the very edge of the pool and, in a movement that made Ian’s heart grow ten sizes, hesitantly dipped a toe into the water like a cat trying to paw at something. A corner of Mickey’s mouth flickered downwards almost imperceptibly, a worry line sprouting on his forehead.

“I don’t know, man.”

Ian breathed out a laugh. Leave it to Mickey Milkovich, shit-talking king of the Southside, to be afraid of the shallow end of a public pool. Ian reached out a hand in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, still smiling like a sappy motherfucker at his painfully endearing husband.

“C’mon Mick, just stand here with me first.” Ian was waist-deep in the shallow end, the water pressing against his upper thighs— he knew that at this height the water would be at Mickey’s waist, right where his swim trunks met his hipbones.

Mickey’s brows furrowed from where he was still perched on the concrete lip of the pool ledge, his two feet firmly rooted. “Explain what I gotta do first. To swim, or whatever.”

Ian blew out a breath, still grinning like an idiot. “It’s not that hard, Mick. You just gotta circle your arms and circle your legs. But you have to get in the water first.”

Ian treaded over, pushing through the water to where he could rest his upper arms on the edge of the pool beside where Mickey was standing, staring up at him with what he hoped was a convincingly pleading face. Mickey’s eyes were still fixated on the water, lapping at the pool’s edge from where Ian had rippled through it. And suddenly Ian had an idea.

With a teasing grin, he reached a wet hand out from the water and encircled it around Mickey’s ankle, splattering the concrete with drops of water. Mickey immediately jerked like an electric shock had jolted through his body.

“You gonna come in, or do I have to make you?”

Mickey tried to shake his ankle out of Ian’s grasp, but Ian had hold of him with an iron fist. Mickey leaned over and tried to swat at Ian’s arm without losing his balance on the pool’s edge.

“Cut that shit out right now, Gallagher.”

Ian just grinned, squeezing Mickey’s ankle like he was about to tug him in. “Come on, Mick.”

Mickey’s eyes widened and, just as Ian had imagined he would— he started to freak the fuck out.  

“Ian stop that shit right now, I swear to god I will fucking murder you if you—”

They were at the 6-foot marker in the pool, right where it was deep enough for Mickey to stand on the very tips of his toes; and with this knowledge, Ian tugged at Mickey’s calf— causing him to falter, his arms circling like a cartoon character before he lost his balance and crashed into the water on his side.

Ian immediately placed his hands on Mickey’s hips, standing him upright before his head even fell under the water— but Mickey was still sputtering and splashing, like the drama queen that he was. Once Mickey regained his composure and realized he was easily standing on the bottom of the pool, his head bobbing just above the water, he swiftly splashed healthy burst of water into Ian’s face, the chlorine stinging his eyes and nose.

“Fuck you, Gallagher!”

Ian coughed at the water that had shot up his nose, but immediately splashed Mickey back—and then, because there wasn’t any way this whole pool situation was going to go anyways, he and Mickey were immediately engaged in a life-and-death splash battle, circling each other in the middle section of the pool.

Ian was laughing so hard he felt a stitch in his side— and Mickey was finally grinning again, water dripping down his cheeks and clinging to his hair. After a few minutes Ian threw his hands in the air in surrender, the water cresting at his shoulders.

“Truce!”

Mickey splashed one more surge of water at Ian’s chest for good measure, grinning like a kid in a candy store— then he took a step closer to Ian, eyebrows raised.

“Truce.”

Ian beamed down at him, pressing a quick peck to the top of his damp hair. “Sorry for throwing you in the pool.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

“But in my defense, it had to happen eventually.”

Mickey shoved him squarely in the chest, taking a step back. “You ruined the fucking truce.”

Ian gave a smug smirk. “Do you wanna learn how to swim, or not?”

Mickey flicked another burst of water at him, just enough to cast a slew of droplets onto Ian’s cheeks. “Alright. Get coaching, Michael Phelps.”

Ian hadn’t really considered how he was actually going to teach Mickey to swim— but it couldn’t be that hard, right? He tried to think back to when Lip had taught him how to tread water, on an equally as sweltering day in the backyard pool, when the yard was packed with lawn chairs and drunk neighbors and smelled of ashy barbeque smoke.

“Okay. So you’ve gotta move your arms in circles, kinda, to stay floating. And your legs too.”

Ian swam over to the deeper end of the pool, just an arm’s length away from where he and Mickey’s feet could touch, and tried to demonstrate how to tread water. “I feel like the easiest way for you to learn is just by doing it. C’mere.”

Mickey looked at him reluctantly, brows furrowed again in an outward display of his bundled nerves. “No fucking way.”

Ian sighed in exasperation. “C’mon, Mick. I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let you drown, you can hold on to me the whole time.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow— but then hesitantly took a step towards Ian, the water reaching up to the bottom of his chin.

“Alright, good. Now step where you can’t reach and try to tread water like I did.”

Mickey stepped forward again, then started to circle his arms under the water— and he was doing great, for a second, before he seemed to get too in his head about the mechanics and started to grit his teeth.

“Little help here, Gallagher?”

Ian grinned and stepped forward. “Here, you can hang onto me.” He stood where Mickey could reach and grab onto his shoulders if he needed to— but Mickey seemed to regain his confidence, and was starting to steadily, if a little bit clumsily, tread water.

He kept it up for a while, until Ian could see that he was overexerting himself— waving his arms under the water with a little too much gusto, brows furrowed and his teeth digging into his lower lip in concentration.

“Mick, you’ve got it. Chill out for a sec.”

Ian reached an arm out, a branch for Mickey to grab on to— because he had been joking before, yes, but he really didn’t want Mickey to fucking drown— and when Mickey grasped onto it, Ian pulled Mickey towards him in the water, kicking backwards so they were suspended in the deeper end of the pool with Mickey clinging to Ian’s neck.

Mickey looked nervous as Ian veered them towards deeper waters, his eyes darting from side to side where they were floating, his fingers digging into the back of Ian’s neck— and Ian smirked at how freaked out he seemed, standing only a few feet from where they could both confidently stand on the tiled pool bottom. But Mickey didn’t resist, or try to propel himself back into the shallower waters— he let himself cling on to Ian, fingers interlaced behind the tops of Ian’s shoulders, as he kept them afloat. Ian laughed softly in a warm, wet gust across Mickey’s cheek. “You okay?”

He could feel the heat radiating off of Mickey’s body, squeezing up close against him— and Ian couldn’t help it, the wave of fondness that came over him as he looked down at where Mickey was pressed against his chest; trusting Ian to keep them above the water, trusting Ian enough to go along with his stupid plan to teach him to swim in a public pool on a random morning just because Ian wanted to. Ian couldn’t help but feel warmth in his stomach at this simple moment, at the two of them bobbing in the pool— at teaching his husband to swim, something Mickey’d never gotten to do as a kid but something that they had the rest of their lives to do together.

“Maybe we could teach Franny to swim next summer. If we have our own place.”

As he said it, Ian hoped that Mickey could see the flood of hopes that he had for them in his eyes— that he wanted a place with a pool, and a balcony, maybe a backyard, and maybe even a fucking garden—he’d always wanted to grow tomatoes. More than anything he wanted to build something sturdy, that could stand up to whatever ground would inevitably shift beneath them in the years to come— he’d been thinking about that a lot these days, especially with all of the pandemic shit that had pulled a rug out from under this entire neighborhood.

Mickey’s gaze flickered up from where it had been boring a panicky hole in Ian’s sternum, meeting Ian’s eyes at the phrase “our own place”— and Ian instantly knew that he got it, that he could see the dreams that Ian was building for the two of them right in front of their eyes. That after months and years of obstacles and chaos and other voices infiltrating their heads, now it was just them— now it was just Ian and Mickey, clinging to each other and drifting through the calm, chlorinated waters.

And maybe it was their proximity, or the intensity Ian knew he was pouring out in his gaze, but instantly the air between them shifted as Mickey looked up— starting to hang heavy like the press of the humidity in the air. Their faces were centimeters apart— and Mickey’s lips parted slightly, his eyes now cast downward at Ian’s lips. Ian could smell the sweet, warm beer on Mickey’s breath, mingling with his own; he looked at Mickey, whose arms were still wrapped around his neck, water dripping down his face from the hair that was fanning over his forehead—and Ian just had to pull him in, had to place a hand in the damp hair at the nape of Mickey’s neck and tug him closer, backing them against the tiled wall of the pool.

Ian could taste the faintest bitterness of chlorine on Mickey’s lips, from the water droplets lingering there, as he took Mickey’s bottom lip between his teeth. Mickey’s hands were still limply wrapped around Ian’s neck, keeping himself afloat— even though Ian had backed them against a wall in the shallow end of the pool again, and Mickey could probably touch his toes to the ground if he wanted to.

Ian raised his hand from under the water, wanting Mickey closer— he pressed a hand to the side of Mickey’s neck, slick with water, and slid a thumb over Mickey’s collarbone, pressing down with the pad of his fingers.

And Mickey gave a little involuntary noise from the back of his throat, sending a jolt down Ian’s spine.

Ian’s hands circling Mickey’s neck was definitely not a foreign concept while they were kissing—  it was something they did a lot these days, especially as their hours in bed had taken a turn from the crazed, I-missed-your-body-so-fucking-much sex they were having in the beginning days of being in prison together and those early months after Mickey had gotten released— but both in prison and during this fucking quarantine, they’d gotten a bit more experimental, and a bit more reckless—especially before Ian had gotten his warehouse job and they were still on their structureless “honeymoon,” spending entire days lounging in bed.

It was those days of lazy, languid kisses, after years and years of already knowing each other, that Ian realized that he was maybe a little bit obsessed with Mickey’s neck. He’d always joked about liking Mickey’s legs, and that was true too (if he was being honest, there wasn’t a part of Mickey’s body that didn’t make his blood run hotter)— but the first time Mickey had grabbed Ian’s hand and put it up to his neck while they were tangled together, pressing down until Ian’s hand covered most of his throat, Ian knew that they’d opened Pandora’s fucking box.

By this point, Ian’s hand was pretty much always on Mickey’s neck at some point while they were fucking or even just making out— if he was being totally honest, Ian’s hand was on Mickey’s neck more often than not in lots of contexts these days, once they realized how much they both loved it. But there was something about this current moment, of Mickey wantonly desiring a point of contact there, right now, while they were very randomly and decidedly making out while floating in a public pool on a lazy weekday afternoon, that made Ian’s blood run hotter than usual, and rush quicker through his veins.

Ian let the pads of his fingers creep up the velvet skin of the side of Mickey’s neck, pressing a little deeper, a prelude— he could feel the vibration of Mickey’s heartbeat starting to flutter from where Mickey was still pressed against his chest, still clinging to his neck in the water.

They’d already extensively discussed limits and everything, Mickey would tap his wrist twice if shit got too intense— but even with that in mind, Ian pulled apart from Mickey for a second, trailing ghosts of kisses up the side of his neck and nipping at the underside of Mickey’s jaw. Mickey stretched his neck back and gave a little involuntary sputter of a moan, bubbling out of his mouth before he could stop it. He fisted a hand in Ian’s hair, at the nape of his neck, and leaned forward again to press their lips together with more fervor.

Ian pulled back again, his upper back resting against the concrete lip of the pool. Mickey looked disheveled and wrecked, half-dry chlorine-crusted hair sticking up from where Ian’s other hand had been cradling the back of his head, his blue eyes gleaming and catching the over-bright summer light. Mickey was still clinging his arms around Ian’s neck, holding on— they were in a fucking pool, and Mickey still couldn’t really fucking swim yet— and even though they were standing in a place where Mickey’s toes could certainly touch the ground, the whole thing felt weirdly insular and intimate, like they had to cling to each other.

Mickey raised his eyebrows at Ian, like he was daring him to keep going.  

Ian leaned forward, breathing heavily into Mickey’s mouth, but not pressing their lips together yet—and he reached a hand up again, against Mickey’s tender skin. Mickey’s legs were wrapped around Ian’s hips now, locked like a vice to keep himself upright in the water— and he pressed a little harder, gently pulsing at the sides of Mickey’s neck, in tandem with their lips pressing together over and over again as the warm waters surrounded them—the whole thing, the whole combination, made Ian feel indescribably floaty and weird and warm and blissed out; his skin stinging like ice and fire at every point of contact, electricity  zapping his nerve endings wherever his fingertips met Mickey’s skin. Mickey fisted his hand harder at the back of Ian’s hair, nodding slightly—and they were definitely not going to fuck here, in the filth of a Southside public pool, but this insular closeness, the knowing what they both wanted to right now, was equally as thrilling and fulfilling to Ian in the moment. He could almost feel his own heart beating, reverberating as it pressed against Mickey’s chest, vibrating straight through Mickey and back to him as they clung to each other in the water.

Mickey’s body was thrumming, letting out little gasps of breath between kisses and touches—and Ian pulled back and dragged his lips down the side of Mickey’s neck, inhaling the sunwarmed skin. Fuck. He was never, never going to get enough of this.

**

Later, they’d dragged their water-heavy limbs back through the still summer streets to the Gallagher house, their skin pink and their bodies exhausted from soaking up the sun— and they’d collapsed into bed, feeling the dried chlorine coating their skin.

Ian reached a hand up, rubbing a thumb over Mickey’s cheek, their bodies pliant and fatigued— and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Thanks for letting me teach you how to swim.”

Mickey had smirked. “Yup, that was definitely the only highlight of today. Swimming.”

[the-bjd-community-confess]

More Divaz confos

Mod: Round two of these, previously: link. There’s some interesting customer reviews in this batch (5 and 8) which may be useful to readers.

1.Vic3mage "the secret bjdivaz vip group is just pictures of boxes coming in and going out". Yeah, between the bitching about d0llshe, asking people to post on doa for them, dunking on ex-customers, posting pics of random doll parts that they can't identify which doll they're supposed to go with, whining about how little money they make, whining when ppl e-mail them, whining. Yeah, other than that it's just boxes, and alpacas u can buy off amazon anyway lol.

~Anonymous

2.The butthurt users crying and guilttripping under every Divaz confession who have never been seen before elsewhere on this blog are extremely unsuspicious and unproblematic and definitely unconnected to Divaz and unbiased in every possible way

/s

~Anonymous

3.idk shit abt bjd1vas but v1cemage i can absolutely tell you the shit about ch0o is 100% accurate, fucker's got a long, long history of being an awful little man that stretches well beyond his involvement in the doll community. between the two i'd still trust bjd1vas over ch00 ch00 the fool any day!

~Anonymous

4.The Z3st and Div4s thing is really silly and both entities were being shady but did they really have to take the DZ waiting room down with them? :( He had even made a separate thread about it......

~Anonymous 

5. RE: BJD Divaz

I’ve been a customer of BJD Divaz since they first started, when it was only run by Chart3rline. I even contacted other BJD companies trying to persuade them to work with Divaz as their US representative. Most declined because they didnt like D's commission fee, but I was able to persuade a few of them.

I asked them to purchase a doll off DOA because I couldnt afford the asking price, and while they did, I found out later that instead of agreeing to purchase the seller's price, they negotiated the price to be lower. This significantly cheaper price was not passed down to me. I paid the full price +the commission fee based on that full price. I am disappointed I was not told this. This is when I stopped viewing them as a "friend" and instead, as a business. I dont hold this against them, it’s context to what Im going to say later.

I’ve stopped purchasing from D after my recent order from them. This company usually takes 3 or less months to make a doll. I’ve ordered the doll from D and it took 11 months. They let me know it arrived to them in March and that it will be shipped soon, except it only shipped on July, and only after I sent them several "reminder" emails. Before people in the comments try to put the blame on me for not sending a reminder soon, please keep in mind that I acknowledged the email in March and confirmed everything and they keep stressing to not send them emails because they are busy, I’ve emailed once every month since. I’ve since switched to ACBJD and Ive been happy with communication and the dolls ordered. I imagine ACBJD gets the same amount of emails, but they dont berate their customers if they email more than once.

I regret when people wanted a D0llshe, but not deal with him, I always recommended D. I would warn people of ordering directly and instead go through D. They assured buyers they would be handling communication and all the efforts so they wouldnt worry, except they didn’t. A person that I’ve recommended D to, who surpassed 2 years, keeps messaging me for help because D wouldnt reply to their emails. She is respectful, sweet and a timid person, not a Karen. This person, emailed D without a reply so would email a week later, only to be told that their email would be pushed down to the bottom if emailed again. No response, so she goes to FB and IG, who both tell her to email because they arent the person running orders. Finally got a response that they would get their refund, after D0llshe sends D's payment, but minus the PP fees. 3 months later and theres no refund, only a promise of them getting it later. Why is the customer missing out on fees when they have no doll? Customer emails d0llshe and he says he cant offer refund, because they didn’t order through them, which is understandable, but when all options are out for a customer, do you blame them for chargebacks?

If anyone files a chargeback, D will be blacklisting them from every company they rep, as in blacklisting you from buying direct from those companies. I urge everyone who has negative experiences with D to email the companies they rep instead of venting on confession blogs, and writing your experiences on social media. Make it count and send letters to the companies they represent, and please provide proof because they will try to make you out to be a liar.

Speaking of, they made vague posts on cl0ver singing for charging paypal fees, and that they offer guarantees as an official dealer, except when offering refunds, to non delivered products I might add, they are keeping the fees, and offered no help with d0llshe, even before they ended their dealership with them. Someone on DOA was told to not email them unless the wait time surpassed 1.5 years. They are even so petty that they post screenshots with the full name and address (dox) of the customer on purpose and then delete it out a day later as if they just realized their "mistake".

Before you try to make excuses for them about the fires, keep in mind, I am dealing with a business. The lower price negotiation with the DOA sale, I am in no way obligated to give them a pass or treat them as a friend when they made it clear that our relationship is strictly business. Their issues, are not my issues. D0lk got dragged for not shipping in time, others, including artisans, got dragged for being so late with communication and sending back refunds for cancelled orders. Why does D get to be exempt?

The supporters are the worst part of this, because of instead of being honest so D can improve, they support them for being "real". For example, look how micemage words it, to make it seem like this criticism is from one person, when there are people on addicts who didn’t have good experience. Check the bjd dealers tag here, you will see the supporters in the comments going off on any and all criticism of D. Some have sane comments, but the majority are cult like and try to identify the person venting as if it’s one person. Addicts deletes threads with criticism asking people to instead direct it to their feedback group; which lets be honest, no one is going to do because its "not that bad", and most dont want to join a new group, which is mostly dead.

This is my first and last confession on D, I’ve emailed each company they rep and told them my experience as well as contacting the 3 month wait company, with screenshots of my order, how they handled it, and the excuse they used to put blame on the company for being so late (package arrived march to D, 4 months to be shipped is on D, not the company). I’m not using company or order details because I know they are petty enough to try to identify me and publicly shame me like they have to others. This and the threat of suing is why not many people like to go public with their experience. They just keep feedback neutral, move on and never deal with again.

~Anonymous

6. Listen, I can't take you seriously in regards to BJD!vas because you're posting on a confession blog. If you were serious, you would have posted in buyer beware groups, DoA reviews or the board to get things resolved, or you would have made a complaint to the BBB. And your language makes you come off more as someone with an agenda rather than someone who is trying to warn people. If shipping is the issue, stop buying with standard shipping and pay the extra price for express shipping. I saw one of you complain that it sat with them for 20 days; that's probably because you're not the only one and they more than likely have a queue to check and then ship out. Do mistakes happen? Yes, because we're human. I've been in this hobby for a few years now and it seems like most people know you're going to have to wait, sometimes even outside the expected wait time. And shipping something as big as a doll is a timely endeavor. I shouldn't have to say that.

My point is simply to stop complaining on an confession board and either take it to the places previously mentioned. Posting here behind the anonymous mask makes you sound like a petulant child who didn't get their way right away.

~Anonymous

7.My only issue with BJD Divaz is how I never get any updates. Every email, they tell me to join their facebook page for status updates. I dont have a FB and I dont want to create one. I bought my doll through their website, updates should be posted on their website, or they could send me an email. That isnt asking much.

~Anonymous

8. Since there seems to be a lot of either "completely negative everything sucks" or "everything was sunshine and rainbows" confessions about bjd!vaz I thought I'd chime in with a neutral review.

PROS

-They were always polite and professional in their emails, and gave me very detailed answers to my questions.

-I got exactly what I ordered, so no mix ups or missing parts or anything like that.

-I think them being forthcoming about personal issues (only one person on staff, illness, the flooding isue etc.) on social media is good, since it keeps customers updated as to why there might be delays.

-If you live in the US their shipping is very reasonable.

CONS

-Reply times were varied. Sometimes it could take over a week, sometimes a couple hours.

-My order took about 10mo which, when comparing to other people who ordered through the same company around the same time, was about 3x as long as if I bought it direct and 2x as long if I had gone through a different dealer. I get some of the waiting time is out of their control, but it was kind of ridiculous.

-They dont necessarily ship the same day they send you a tracking number. I wish they said something like, "Here's your tracking number, our pickup is Xday so it should start moving after that" just so I could be aware.

All in all no major complaints. I got my doll and all that. Their lone employee is clearly overwhelmed. I hope they hire another person, if only to give the one a break.

Truthfully, I most likely won't buy through them again. I'd rather pay the international shipping and go direct, than deal with the extensive wait time. I'd still recommend them to someone looking for a very long layaway, though. I paid in full, but if I had a 12mo layaway I would've never known they weren't ready to ship my doll until month 10.

~Anonymous

[tenspontaneite]

Wish Fulfilment (Chapter 1/?)

Rayla woke up in a tiny body in a tiny bed, blinked, looked at her tiny hands, and said “Right.”

(Time travel; indulgent and light-hearted. Ao3 link)

---

  Rayla woke up in a tiny body in a tiny bed, blinked, looked at her tiny hands, and said “Right.”

She spent the next few days taking stock of herself, the time-frame, her living situation, and her own abilities. She was a pipsqueak, lacking the advantages of a decade of training and conditioning, but she’d been a scrappy thing even at this age – climbing trees, making a nuisance of herself, getting hardier and more agile than most bairns did, and so on. She scrambled experimentally about some trees for a while, and assessed her stealth by mud-bombing the townspeople she disliked, and in the end decided that it would do just fine.

Her parents had joined the Dragonguard recently, and judging by her age, Callum must have lost his mother only a month or two ago. She regretted that she couldn’t have stopped that, but, well. Nothing to be done.

She spent a further week stealing supplies, testing herself, and getting ready. The Moon answered her when she called on it, even so close to its darkest phase. Magic answered too, when she begrudgingly tested the spells Callum had bullied her into learning. It would be enough.

She left a note for Ethari and Runaan that read ‘I know you’ll never listen if I tell you not to look for me, so just try not to waste too much time, alright? I’m fine.’ She took a moment to feel disconcerted at her history of leaving notes and disappearing, then added ‘Sorry. Try not to worry. I’ll see if I can send letters or something.’ With that in mind she took a brief detour into Ethari’s workshop and stole a shadowhawk. With that tucked into her pack, she did some last-minute checks of her supplies and headed out.

First on her agenda was heading North-East and breaking up her trail. Runaan would absolutely try to follow her, so she made it as hard for him as she possibly could, laying false trails, disturbing the true ones, and dunking herself in every body of water she could find to break up the chance of the family Moonstrider being able to track her. He’d probably still find his way through the first leg of her journey, but that was okay. She could live with that.

Rayla arrived at the mountainous plains on the edge of Lux Aurea a week later, finding with satisfaction what she’d expected to: vast tracts of farmland, developed for the feeding of the equally vast population of the golden city. It took a further day to find the farm itself, whereupon she broke in, ambushed the residents, and made some very uncompromising demands.

The Sunfire farmers looked so bewildered at having been hogtied and extorted by a baby-faced Moonshadow child that they offered absolutely no resistance except plaintive questions like ‘where are your parents’, or ‘are you okay’, or ‘do you need any help’. In the end Rayla departed with her packs three bags of seeds heavier, and also stole a Sunfin on her way out. She flew on the placid creature for three days due West before running afoul of the Sunfire army.

Rayla spent eight disgruntled hours in the custody of those soldiers, refusing to talk, until they finally left a twin-tailed inferno-tooth tiger to guard her while they went off to send letters to their superiors, trusting the guard-cat’s intelligence and ferocity to be equal to the task of keeping watch on a wee Moonshadow bairn. This turned out to be a mistake.

Within an hour, the animal was eyeing her with interest. Within two, it had drifted close to sniff at her. “What’re you looking at?” She demanded, in her tiny irritable child-voice, and that was when the thing instantly and very plainly took a liking to her. She spent ten minutes grumbling loudly about being sat on by a giant cat, then finally conceded to pragmatism and started using its tail-flames to burn through her ties. They’d only used rope, not wanting to restrain a child too sternly. It was very helpful stupidity on their part.

Rayla escaped on the cat and was only mildly singed by the ordeal. Later, after a day of very enthusiastic pursuit-evasion, she settled down with said cat and eyed it with resignation. “You’re not leaving, are you.” She said. It licked her with a sandpapery tongue almost as big as her entire face, and that was answer enough. She sighed. “Well, it’ll make the journey a lot faster, I suppose.” She decided. “But you’re going to be a pain to hide.”

Unconcerned, it rubbed its face against her insistently enough to push her over. But she’d grown up with a shadowpaw, so she was used to that.

Rayla, who was not good at naming things, named it Cat.

 ---

 Brightly-coloured cats with two flaming tails were not stealthy. They just weren’t. Cheerfully unaware of how inconvenient this was, Cat spent the next two weeks ruining her efforts at stealth by roaring at inconvenient times, following her when she’d told it to stay put, and in general by being constantly on fire. As such she arrived in the Pentarchy and crossed the Weeping Bay with considerably more flair than she’d have preferred, but at least the tails eliminated the need for campfires. It had obviously been used to cook food before, and tolerated the experience very agreeably, if it had also been fed.

On the third week she finally figured out that the thing had been trained with Luçais commands, and muddled her way through her extremely bare vocabulary in the language to finally get Cat to follow basic directions. With the ability to tell it to stay put somewhere while she went off to do something else, things went much better. She disappeared into the mountain range on Cat’s wings, choosing the least-populated route she could manage, and in the end managed to approach Katolis castle with no one the wiser that she was there.

Finding somewhere to leave Cat proved challenging, though. She briefly considered the alcove in the cliff under the castle, but dismissed it on grounds that someone would notice the roaring eventually. Cat was a noisy bastard. Eventually she resigned herself to the fact that she’d just need to relocate it periodically, and left it in a relatively well-concealed ditch with a freshly-killed deer corpse to occupy it.

Rayla waited till nightfall for the first excursion, calling on the Moon to turn her skin to shadows, and stalked down the castle halls, learning it as it was in this time. Learning the guard stations, the patrol patterns, its rhythms and sounds. She was half-way to checking whether Callum still had the right room at this age when she stopped in the middle of the hallway, goosebumps raising up in lines over her arms, feeling a vast and familiar presence passing over her mind. She slumped with relief.

“Ezran.” She murmured, more thankful than words could say. “So you made it back too.”

Being a baby had apparently not agreed with him, because he seemed to lack the control and finesse he’d developed with age. Instead his ability brushed at her in vague sweeps of feeling and intent, saying relief and frustration and this way. She followed his lead to the nursery where he was kept, his guards pressed into sleep by his far-reaching touch.

She looked down at him in his cot, so tiny she wasn’t even sure if he could crawl, and raised an eyebrow. “Somehow, you’re even tinier than I expected.”

“Ee,” he expressed sourly, blinking up at her with eyes that looked too big for his face. Babies were so weird. His hands reached up and made grabby motions at her, so obediently she leaned in and let him slap one baby hand onto her cheek. With the skin contact, it got a lot clearer.

Been here months, he seemed to complain, along with a rush of gratitude/relief/fondness at seeing her. Couldn’t do anything/missed you/been awful.

“How many months?” She asked with interest, and after a little back-and-forth managed to surmise that he’d awakened in his body very shortly after the titan-slaying party had departed for Xadia. She winced, entirely aware of how terrible that must have been for him. “I’m sorry, Ez.”

His little baby face screwed up, as if he was going to start crying. He almost did, but then seemed to summon the will to suppress the infant-body’s powerful instincts before it actually got going. Really sucked, he managed to express, with a little echo of his helplessness and anger. Then, subverbal: an impression of the heavy miasma of grief that had hung over the castle. Harrow crying, Callum crying.

She inhaled sharply. “Callum-“ she couldn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t make it back? She thought, numbly, and that was as good as saying it, with Ezran touching her.

He blinked wide ice-blue eyes at her. Hasn't yet/getting worried, he said, tangled up in the impression he had that she’d arrived later than him, hadn’t she, so maybe, maybe Callum would join them eventually too. He hoped. But time was passing and he was afraid.

She closed her eyes. Exhaled. “Did Zym make it?” Yes, he had. “Can you talk to him the same? Reach past him?” Talking: yes, but it was hard. Reaching: no. “Okay. We can work with that.” She hesitated, steeling herself, not thinking about Callum. “I’ve got a hotcat a little bit past the castle. Think you can convince it not to make noise?” She asked, half-heartedly.

Ezran blinked again. Then he looked delighted, a wide baby grin spreading across his face. He nearly bowled her over with the wave of enthusiasm and approval for her having made a proper animal friend, and expressed his intention to begin communing with said animal at once.

Rayla nodded a little, still tightly controlling her reaction to the news about Callum, and after a moment reached into the cot to lift Ezran up under his wee chubby baby arms. He made a surprised gurgle at her, then burped contentedly when she hugged him, patting her clumsily on the shoulder. He was so bloody little. It was making her annoyingly emotional. Damn it, Callum, she thought to herself, get back here already so you can look at how tiny your brother is with me.

Ez sighed, patting her with mental impressions of hope and affection and subdued sadness. Then he told her, though not in as many words, that Cat was a terrible name and someone really needed to make fun of her for it.

Rayla huffed and set him back down again. “Shush, you.” She said gruffly, and hesitated. “I’ll…come back to see you tomorrow, alright? Maybe in the day this time.” She had to get an idea of the daytime watch rotations too, after all. She still wasn’t sure what the plan was, but taking someone hostage might well end up being part of it. That would be a lot easier, with Ez on board. A lot of things would be easier.

A little spitefully, to let off steam, she made one final stop before leaving the castle that night: she broke into Viren’s rooms and stole one each of three pairs of his boots. She took these back to Cat and watched it maul the boots in question with a great deal of satisfaction.

Cat did quiet down after whatever Ezran communicated to it, but unfortunately also decided that if it wasn’t going to announce its presence by roaring, it had to do it some other way. This was how Cat ended up spraying the brambles at the edge of the ditch in urine, and incidentally also how Rayla discovered that it was a male. Thereafter the area stank too much for her to linger in, so she had to go off to sleep in a nearby tree, beyond the warmth of Cat’s burning tails. Rayla woke the next morning with a pronounced crick in her neck, grumbled a little, then went back to work.  

  ---

 Notes:

So this story exists because I made myself Really Sad about five year old Callum when writing the latest chapter (21) of piaj, and then made myself Even Sadder by promptly writing a future scene where Callum talked about said period of his life to Rayla, and then out of abject desperation I fired up a fresh document and started writing this to comfort myself.

Setting background: canon, but with worldbuilding borrowed from piaj. Future Rayla was somewhere in the region of 18+ years old, unspecified. Circumstances of the future and method of time travel left extremely deliberately vague. I have every intention of playing as fast and loose with this story as I can possibly manage; I already have one exhaustive and meticulous tdp work and I’m not interested in reallocating my brainpower from that to this.

Warning: what plans I have for this story heavily feature piaj worldbuilding that I consider pretty critical to the setting, and also unlikely to come out any time soon. Therefore, it’s pretty guaranteed that I’ll get two or three chapters in to publishing this and then have to keep the rest to myself for the next four years while piaj progresses.

 Other details:

Sunfin: a creature I came up with for piaj worldbuilding. It cannot breathe, and uses Sun magic in place of respiratory processes. If kept indoors it will die very quickly. It’s unintelligent and usually lives at high altitudes and will not generally touch the ground in its lifetime, but can be trained for use in farming, where it’s very useful in dispersing large amounts of Stuff (i.e. water, seeds, fertiliser) over a field from the sky. They’re basically crop dusters. Concept and name inspired by the Skyfin from endless legend. Looks somewhat more like a cross between an air shark and manta ray though.

Ezran: future Ezran in this setting was very, very powerful. Less so now that he’s a one year old baby. Rip.

Rayla: future Rayla learned how to use Moonshadow form at most times of the month, and in addition was eventually nagged by Callum into learning some spells. She uses them as part of her stealth repertoire but doesn’t consider herself a mage.

Callum: is baby.

Cat: a twin tailed inferno tooth tiger, highly trained, and in use by the Lux Aurea military as a war mount prior to his desertion in this story. They had a different name for him, but he rather prefers ‘Cat’.

Luçais: piaj worldbuilding; this is the in universe name for the French language as Draconic is the in universe name for Latin. Spoken by many Sunfire elves.

[infinites-chaser]

under a golden sun | mlqc | gavin/mc | 2nd person POV | bittersweet fluff

spoilers for gavin’s campus date and his unreleased basketball date 

You and Gavin spend the summer together alongside Minor and his new obsession with basketball.

(Somehow, the summer breeze feels cooler when Gavin's nearby.)

The sun is low and golden by the time you and Gavin leave Loveland High. He’s about to make his way to the parking lot when you put a hand on his arm.

“Wait,” you say. “There’s one more place I want to visit before we go.”

There’s a basketball court a little behind the school, across the campus from the track. Beside it, always shielding half from the sun, stands an old ginkgo tree.

The you from seven years ago, and Minor, and later, Gavin, pass it every afternoon on the walk home after school. Every afternoon, Minor lingers outside it until the ginkgo tree’s shadow covers nearly three-quarters of the court, gripping the chain-link fence and swearing he’ll join the NBA one day, if only for Steph Curry.

You, already used to this routine, patiently remind him of the homework you two should be starting on soon.

But then Gavin starts walking back with you, and your easy-going two becomes an awkward three. When Minor stops to stare at the court, Gavin asks you why. It’s probably one of the first times he’s ever addressed you directly, and you stiffen, just a little, under his hard amber gaze.

“He wants to join the NBA?” Your nervousness turns the answer into a question.

“I see.”

Gavin scoffs a little, and the conversation’s over.

You pout when his eyes leave yours-- you don’t want to make trouble, he’s well, famous, for a reason or maybe two (his fists) and you’d rather not be on the opposite end of those anytime soon, no matter how much Minor clearly idolizes him.

(Thinking back to when you first met him, you really had no idea he’d have such an impact on your life.)

The first time Minor invites you out to play basketball with him, when you get to the court behind Loveland High, you nearly turn and run. Gavin’s with him. Of course. You really should’ve guessed, seeing how close the two were at the end of the school year. It doesn’t really make you want to run away any less.

Before your fight-or-flight instinct’s flight kicks in, though, a gentle breeze sends ginkgo leaves floating past you, and you remember more than the rumors, you remember a rainy afternoon without an umbrella, a wet kitten, and a boy’s jacket flung over your head-- by the time you went to move it, all you could see of him was that his ears were a bright red. You remember Minor falling into his seat next to you during lunch, a bruise on his cheek though his eyes were bright, his hushed whisper of “Gavin saved me,” and the boy himself pulling up a chair at your table with an awkward cough. You remember how he’d started walking with you and Minor, and no one had bothered either of you on the way to and from the school for the rest of the school year.

You’re still a little apprehensive, but maybe he’s not so bad, after all, you tell yourself. Maybe. But at the end of the day, you don’t really know him, not even from the walks back home after school, for better or for worse.

“Gavin’s here to play, too!” Minor calls to you with a wide grin as he runs over, oblivious to your conflicted thoughts. “He’s really good!”

Then, over his shoulder: “Aren’t you, bro?”

Gavin shrugs from where he’s leaning against the fence, just on the edge of the shade, the picture of boredom. He’s decked out in a dark hoodie and jeans you don't quite understand how he can wear under the summer sun. And, not that you’re in any place to judge what people wear to play basketball, but--

“I’m not playing.”

He closes his eyes as Minor starts to complain, and for all intents and purposes, seems to go to sleep right there on the spot. In lieu of getting Gavin to play with him, Minor tries to teach you to shoot, and you indulge him, and try not to wince too hard every time he tosses the ball in your direction.

The thing is, you’re actually a little afraid of basketball. You’re sure it’s just slipped Minor’s mind-- it had been a big deal at the beginning of the year that you’d desperately tried to get everyone to forget throughout the course of PE, but a boy had hit you with a basketball ‘by mistake,’ and you’d heard him laughing about it with his friends at lunch that very same day.

Sure, that doesn't stop one of your classmates from dragging you out to one of the school's basketball games, and maybe you'd thought the last dunk by that one player had looked downright dreamy, but neither Minor or Gavin need to know that. And since Gavin doesn't give any indication he'll be playing, let alone moving for the rest of the afternoon, you don't really mind playing with Minor, even if every shot you attempt misses.

Minor's far from what you'd call a good teacher, but his enthusiasm and genuine love for basketball is infectious. You take it all in good stride, laughing when the ball arcs at least two feet below the hoop, cheering when Minor makes a three-pointer, then chasing after the rebound when his next shot bounces off the backboard. You're exhausted by the time the summer sun's directly overhead, and you're about to call out to Minor that you're going to take a break when it happens.

Maybe it's the glare, or the way your vision's gone a little fuzzy from the exertion, your reaction speed slowed by a few precious milliseconds, but--

A basketball barrels towards you, and you freeze, can't even think to put your hands in front of your face or even move, all you can do is flinch back, screwing your eyes shut, prepared for the coming painful impact. It never comes.

You open your eyes to Gavin's scowl, his angry gaze directed over your head at a fervently apologizing Minor. The basketball bounces across the court in the opposite direction, then clatters to a stop against the fence under the ginkgo tree's spreading branches.

It takes your brain a long second to catch up.

Gavin protected you?

The thought's absurd, even to your heat-addled brain. And yet--

He looks down at you, his amber gaze softening a little, and the sight warms your cheeks. And maybe your heart flutters, just a little.

"You all right?"

"I- I'm okay."

You manage a shaky smile up at Gavin, and he stiffens a little, then steps away from you quickly, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. He clears his throat.

"Watch out, yeah?"

You swallow and nod, missing the reddened tips of his ears, the way his gaze tracks to yours, then darts away.

After that afternoon, Minor doesn't ask you to play with him. He gives you no less than five separate apologies, offers to pay for dinner that day, and ice cream, too, but you laugh it off, and try not to think about how close Gavin had been when he'd blocked the basketball, how his soft amber gaze had made your heart pound just a little faster.

To occupy your time, you wheedle a DSLR out of your father, and take to carrying it around, thick strap around your neck, the camera itself cradled protectively to your chest save for the moments you work up the courage to lift the viewfinder to your eye and snap a photo. At first, you think they'll just tease you, and Minor does, and you blush and screw the lens cap back on, the camera sitting in the crook of your arms, unused, as you watch him play.

It gets easier, over the course of the summer, after you sit through many an afternoon in the hazy heat where it's clear Minor now only cares about perfecting his layup and trying reverses, and Gavin, well, doesn't care. He leans against the fence instead of playing and tries to get Minor to miss -- you laugh at some of his funnier jibes and maybe his eyes linger a little longer on your grin, on your smile when Minor's complaining and chasing a rebound, but, well, that's his secret to keep.

You try to capture Minor's hoops. The photos start out frustratingly blurry, and you try to remember what your father taught you about all of the buttons, the aperture, the shutter speed, the ISO. You fiddle. The camera clicks. Gavin takes to peering over your shoulder while Minor tries shots, and you try shooting him. He never says much, just expresses a casual interest, gives you the occasional encouragement, and normally, you would feel pressured, but your shots improve along with Minor's.

(And somehow, the summer breeze feels cooler when Gavin's nearby.)

"Look," Gavin says, once, from behind you, and your fingers stutter on the camera shutter. The picture comes out blurry.

"Gavin!"

You turn to him with a scowl, ready to scold him for ruining your shot, but. Words fail you. He's close. Closer than you'd thought.

Vaguely, your brain registers a single fact: his face is a few bare inches from yours. Also: his surprisingly shy smile. The soft, startled look in his eyes.

An orange butterfly floats up in the space between him and you, its wings beating in time with your accelerating heart.

Both of your faces redden moments later, and you pull back, nearly tripping over your own feet as you come out of your crouch.

"I, uh, wanted to show you," Gavin says belatedly, eyes fixed on the ground, cheeks still dark, a little gruff. "It landed on me."

He clears his throat and makes to stand up. His eyes dart back to you, and he says, softer, while they linger:

"Thought it was pretty."

Another day, Gavin brings a book and settles down next to your usual seat under the shade of the ginkgo tree.

"What're you reading?"

You peer over his shoulder, or at least, you try your best to, catching a glimpse of constellations traced out across the night sky.

"Nothing," he mutters, shoving the book behind him before you can read any more, his ears faintly red.

"You like astronomy?"

"I said it was nothing," he repeats, but his ears burn a little redder. You smile.

"What's your favorite constellation? Mine's actually not a constellation, but I really like the Milky Way. Because of Double Seventh. And Zhinu and Niulang, it's probably really typical of me to say so, but I think their story's really romantic. Even if it's really sad, too."

You pause. Gavin's silent. Heat rises to your cheeks-- you realize you've been rambling.

"Sorry!" You blurt. "I got carried away--"

"I like Jupiter," he says before you can continue, finally meeting your eyes, gaze warm and steady. "Jupiter and how it always protects the moon."

One afternoon hotter than all the days before, you arrive at the court to the sound of raised voices. Minor's there, his fists raised, glaring hard at three sneering boys. At the sight of their faces, your blood runs cold. They go to Loveland High school too. In fact, if you remember properly, Minor had told you one time that the tallest one used to bully him in middle school.

By the looks of it, they'd seen Minor playing alone and had thought to make fun of him-- and the leader had paid in kind, there's the beginnings of what looks like a bruise forming around his left eye.

"Minor!" You call, before the rising tension can get any worse. You know it's a mistake the minute their gazes turn to you. The tall bully's sneer widens, and the way his eyes rove you makes you want to turn and run away. You'd taken to wearing short skirts and tank tops, not to be cute for anyone in particular, though it had been gratifying to think that someone might've seen and admired you, but this just makes you feel gross in a way you can't quite explain.

"So you're tight with Loveland High's Princess," the bully says, and the feeling you have worsens, a pit in your stomach that won't stop growing.

"Little lady, why don't you hang out with some real men for a change, how 'bout it?"

He addresses you with a smirk.

"Leave Minor alone!"

"Yeah?" He reaches for your arm, and you yank it away, heart racing-- even though Minor looks ready and willing to fight, and maybe he could win, but there's three of them, and you don't want Minor to get hurt--

"Let's go on a date, alright? Just the one, and I'll leave Minor-boy alone."

He reaches for your arm again, and you pull out of his reach, cheeks burning with anger.

"Stop it!" You cry, and Minor's moved to your side, eyes flashing, giving you the courage to glare a little harder.

"You can't just throw your weight around and expect people to go along with it!"

The bully shrinks back. His two followers look ready to run. You blink, then try to glare even harder. They all whiten.

Then, from behind you, low and angry:

"Scram." Gavin.

Relief floods through you, and you exhale a breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding as the bullies run, and you turn to Gavin with a smile.

“Gavin, you saved us!”

His hard amber gaze softens under yours, and he gives you the smallest of smiles back before his eyes move to Minor.

“Hey, are you okay?”

The other boy nods wordlessly. Gavin claps him on the back.

“You got a good punch in. Don’t worry about them. If they ever come back, we can rough them up again.”

“Yeah. It’s nothing, though. Don’t worry about it.”

Minor sounds surprisingly dispassionate, and you blink up at him, but he turns away before you can properly read his expression, crossing the court to get his basketball.

He spends the rest of the afternoon practicing cheerfully without a shred of anger. You try to cheer him on normally from the shade of a nearby ginkgo tree and Gavin does the same, alternating between feigning boredom, poking fun or offering unhelpful advice.

"Minor," he says seriously, as the other boy attempts a lay-up for the fifth time. "I could just beat them up for you."

Minor scowls. The ball misses, and you spring up to chase after it as it bounces to the other side of the court, though you still hear his response.

"You don't need to do that, bro, I already told you, it's seriously no big deal!"

It's too-loud, too-perky.

Gavin doesn't speak again that afternoon, but his strong gaze never quite leaves Minor's panting form, except to throw you a glance every so often, when you laugh, huff, or frown. When the sun’s about to sink below the tops of the trees, he bids you a quick goodbye, casting a last look at Minor, who continues to dribble in the fading light.

It’s only when Gavin’s gone that Minor sinks to his knees, letting the ball roll free. He sighs heavily and takes the water bottle you offer him.

"I hate him," Minor says suddenly with a viciousness that startles you, a steady quiet burning anger at the bully that keeps your gaze to the ground-- you know, if you look up, you'll see the tears in his eyes.

"So what if I take care of how I look-- he's probably never looked in a mirror in his life.”

Then, quieter still: "So what if I think Fan Bing Bing is cute and Steph Curry, too? Fuck him."

"Minor--" you start, voice trembling, and reach to pat him on the shoulder. You don't know what to say, don't know what you could say. You'd heard rumors before, awful, vicious things people'd said behind his back that surely he'd heard and kept smiling still, but this feels different, to hear it from him, to see him lose control like this.

He shrugs out of your weak grasp and leaves before you can say a word.

The next day, you get to the court earlier than usual. To your surprise, someone’s already there, practicing their free throws. You sigh. You suppose it makes sense that Minor’s been practicing on his own-- you’re sure he’s still upset, and well, he has every right to be, you just wish he’d talk to you instead of practicing until his arms are sure to fall off--!

You’re about to call out to him and say as much to him out loud, but the player whirls, you catch a glimpse of his face in profile and you realize, you’re not watching Minor play, you’re watching Gavin.

There's a passion in his eyes you've never seen before, some softly burning fire, and when his shots go in, you think you see him grin. He looks somehow relaxed, in a way he never seems when Minor’s practicing, and you think it suits him, he looks more natural, more settled when he's in motion. Even if it's just him shooting baskets and catching the rebounds, he makes it look effortless.

As you watch him shoot, mesmerized, you suddenly remember another time-- an evening during the school year, when you’d been tasked with cleaning the gym up once basketball practice was over.

Even though you'd never liked basketball, somehow you’d always ended up with cleaning duty the days basketball practice was in session.

You’d peeked through the gymnasium’s doors, thinking it would be empty and quiet, but barely visible from where you stood just outside the doorway had been Gavin, playing alone, several basketballs rolling around the otherwise deserted gym floor.  You hadn’t known what to do-- whether to call out to him, to ask him to put away the balls when he was finished, or even to leave. You’d stood there for an absurdly long time, unable to decide, watching him dribble, feint around imaginary opponents, then shoot. Each time, the ball had arced perfectly through the hoop, and you’d resisted the impulse to cheer.

You’d still been scared of him. Back then, you’d only ever known of him from the rumors always buzzing around the school-- that he’d fought thirty gangsters, that he’d almost ended up in jail, that one wrong move around him, and you’d end up in the hospital like the old principal had.

But watching him play that evening, you’d thought he didn’t look very scary at all, only maybe a little lonely. In the end, you’d left him to play, hiding in the back of the bleachers to work on the math problems due the next day, hoping he wouldn’t notice you were there, hoping he wouldn’t mind. The echo of the ball’s dribbling and the squeak of his shoes on the floor had been soothing, somehow.

By the time you’d finished your homework, though, the gym had fallen silent, and when you’d looked up Gavin had vanished, and all the basketballs on the floor you’d thought you would have had to clean up were neatly returned to their basket.

The rattling of the basket rim brings you back to the present just in time for you to see Gavin dunk. He wheels around with a whoop, the excited grin on his face boyish. It's contagious-- you can't help but smile, too-- but then he catches sight of you and he stiffens, grin fading.

“You,” he starts, abrupt in the sudden silence. You’re not sure exactly what you would’ve said if you’d been thinking straight, but what ends up coming out of your mouth is:

“Gavin! Your dunk was really cool!”

“Yeah?”

He looks away, bouncing the ball idly a few times.

“You don’t like basketball that much, though?”

“It’s not that-- it’s more like I’m scared of it.”

“Why?”

He’s looking at you again, expression open, curious. You realize belatedly that this is maybe the most relaxed you’ve ever been around him, the thought bringing a touch of pink to your cheeks.

“It wasn’t that big of a deal, just someone in PE hit me with a ball one time. So now, I find it a little scary.”

“Watching you and Minor play, though,” you continue, “and seeing how much you two enjoy it makes it a little less frightening.”

You smile at him again, and he’s silent for a long moment. You panic a little internally-- have you said too much? But then he responds, almost too low for you to hear.

“I could teach you to play. If you wanted.”

You nod.

“I’d like that,” you say, and it comes out quieter, a little hopeful, your cheeks still tinged with a blush. It feels like a moment, or the edge of a moment, a hair’s-breadth away from something, though you wouldn’t be able to name it even if someone were to ask.

Even when Minor finally shows up, you fancy you can still feel it stretching between you and Gavin, that thread of something, something more.

Days pass in that fashion, Minor practicing with a vengeance, without a word to you and Gavin as the two of you orbit each other, almost. There’s a day when Gavin brings his book again, and settles down beside you, only to fall asleep in the middle of reading it, his head dropping dangerously close to your shoulder.

Minor grins at the sight when he stops for a drink of water.

“I was able to concentrate today-- I was wondering why, but it’s because my number one fan’s asleep!”

An awkward moment passes as you both stare in silence at Gavin’s sleeping form. You like to think that he looks softer like this, all his hard stares and glares and furrowed brows smoothed out.

“I’m sorry about getting mad that time,” Minor says without looking at you. “None of what they said was your fault, Sis. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

"It's fine. You had every right to be upset. Just next time-- I want to be a friend who can listen and help, alright? If you'll let me."

Before you can say another word, Minor pulls you into a hug.

"Of course I will, Sis!"

Just like that, any remaining awkwardness between you dissolves, and you joke and talk like normal.

“Minor, the other day I saw Gavin playing, and I was just wondering…”

You trail off, hoping he’ll finish the thought before you have to say it aloud. Minor tips his head.

“Why isn’t he teaching me?”

You nod, looking away. He laughs, but it sounds a little sad.

“You know, Gavin, he taught me how to fight. I kept following him after he saved me that one time, and saw how he saved other people too with those fists, so I asked him to teach me. And he did.”

“But this, you know, I just feel like it’s something I have to do on my own, somehow. I asked him not to teach me, told him he didn’t have to come. ”

He smiles to himself.

“He came, anyway.”

Then, with a mischievous gleam in his eyes,

“I wonder if it was for me, though.”

You blush and don't reply.

When Gavin finally wakes up, Minor drops a bombshell. He's challenged the bullies to a basketball match. A basketball match that's starting in less than an hour.

“Two-versus-three? You’re on.”

Gavin’s voice is carefully bored, but when you look over at him, there’s a gleam of excitement in his eyes. For the first time since the start of the summer, he shrugs off his hoodie, tossing it aside as he moves to the middle of the court to join Minor.

“Good luck!” You call to them.

Minor flashes you a thumbs up and a grin. Gavin throws you a single nod over his shoulder. Then, the bullies arrive and the game begins.

You can't help the way your eyes follow the motion of Gavin's toned arms, the flex of his well-muscled shoulders-- for all you'd heard stories about him getting into fights, it had never occurred to you what exactly that meant in terms of, well, his physical fitness. Specifically, how built he is under the hoodie he always wears. If you were more shameless, you're sure you'd take the opportunity to raise your camera and capture a physique you can only describe as art. You consider yourself lucky that they're both so caught up in the game that they don't notice your pronounced blush and can't hear your extensive internal commentary.

You can't really say you're being biased-- you're sure anyone with eyes can see that he's made to be an athlete (there's a fluidity to his movements that you're sure even poets would be at a loss for words at). And, for all he teased Minor for the other boy's NBA obsession, even your unpracticed eye can tell: Gavin's good at basketball. There's something about the way he passes the ball to Minor, the way none of the other team's throws make it past him: it speaks of an ease that's only possible through months, years even, of experience.

It's no wonder Gavin and Minor win, easily. You think that Minor probably would've won, even without Gavin's help.

Nevertheless, the moment the game’s over, Minor runs over to crush you in a warm, sweaty hug. After a moment, he pulls back, grinning.

“I won!”

Gavin clears his throat. Minor’s grin widens and he turns to Gavin, beckoning him to join. After a moment, Gavin lets himself be pulled into the embrace.

“We won.”

(You notice in hindsight that Minor's the one who landed all of their team's shots.

Even more in hindsight, you remember the wind being particularly strong that day-- none of the shots of the bully's team had ever gotten close to the basket.

"Gavin, that day, the wind--" you start, as you gaze at the empty court, the two of you surely thinking of that same summer.

"He would've won either way," Gavin responds before you can finish. "But I wanted to make a point."

His eyes flash for a moment when they settle on yours, sharp and angry, and you remember the way the bully had taunted you, too. You swallow, and give Gavin a small smile, and maybe he sees a bit of his anger reflected in your gaze, because he reaches out and takes your hand without a word, holds it tight.)

After the game, the rest of the summer passes in a blur. Minor still practices his shots in the court just outside of Sunshine Alley, but Gavin stops teasing him about joining the NBA. One afternoon when you get there, camera in hand, Gavin has a split lip and bruised knuckles, Minor a black eye, and neither responds when you ask what happened and why.

You never see the bully or his friends again, but Minor'll swear up and down he and Gavin had nothing to do with it.

Some days, Minor doesn't bring his basketball, and you trail behind him as he makes the long walk to the track behind the school, Gavin, silent, at your side. The first time, you realize you've worn the wrong shoes when the backs of your sandals begin to dig red marks into your heels, and you have to take a moment to sit and pull them off, rubbing your feet. Gavin lingers beside you, and you try to shoo him after Minor's retreating back, but he waits until you're ready to walk again, and keeps pace with your pained steps. The next time Minor wants to run, Gavin's brought his motorcycle, and though you also wear more sensible shoes, you don't turn down the ride he offers.

"We'll meet you there," Gavin tosses over his shoulder as Minor salutes. You let your hands rest as lightly as possible on his back, and when he doesn't turn to look back at you the whole ride, you and your burning red cheeks are glad.

When you get to the empty lot by the track, your blush seems unwarranted-- Gavin offers Minor a spin around the lot, and a ride back, which the other boy eagerly accepts. While they ride, you crouch and capture pictures of the flowers blooming through cracks in the concrete, the blur of the motorcycle in the distance. After, they run, and you chase after them with a laugh to capture that too, their backs illuminated by the fading summer light.

Gavin lets you sit behind him on his bike again one late summer evening after Minor's gone home and you blush when he pulls your arms a little more firmly around his waist and tells you, with a grin, to not let go this time.

You protest. It had only been once that you'd almost fallen off and that was because there had been three of you, you and him and Minor behind, and really, Minor had pulled you off-- but your indignant words are lost as he guns the engine, his chest shaking with laughter.

The wind steals the sound of his chuckles as the motorcycle leaps forward, tugs the tie from your messy braid and spins your hair into a fan, opened in the bike's wake. Gavin accelerates and you shoot across the lot, chasing the fading rays of sun, to the end of the horizon and looping around to the start. He looks back just once, amber eyes shining with more than just the sunset gold, and you're sure the grin on your face is just as wide as his.

You drive in circles until you're both dizzy and you press your cheek to his warm back, both of you shaking with breathless laughter, and you think recklessly, you don't want this to ever end, even though you both know that the coming school year is Gavin's last, one more summer and then he'll be gone, because this is a moment almost profound, golden like the setting sun, and moments like these, like the already darkening sky, are never meant to last.

(It doesn't.)

That year, you see Gavin confront another boy in an alley. Cash passes in the space between them, from the boy's shaking hand to Gavin's open palm. You think you make a sound, maybe a quiet gasp, but Gavin's head turns, your eyes meet-- it's the same amber gaze as always, but you've never seen him so cold and angry-- and you bolt.

He never explains it to you. He never gets a chance to explain it to you. Time crawls by, and you see him less and less-- though you're never quite sure who's avoiding who-- until it's just Minor and you, and then just you and Minor's shaky smile, Minor pressing a bloody letter in your hand.

You don't need his "it's from Gavin." You don't open it, not the whole year.

By the time you finally decide to leave it at the bottom of your nightstand's drawers, the ginkgo buds are starting to bloom, and Gavin's graduated, somehow, gone.

You still pass by the basketball court every day on the way home. You still eat late night dinners with Minor in Lynn’s Kitchen when your father says he’ll be home late.

You leave a post-it note on the wall one time, when you go to eat alone.

I hate it when people leave without saying goodbye.

Minor leaves when you two go to different colleges. Your other high school friends scatter, too, petals caught in the wind, whether they go to Loveland University with you or not, you drift apart.

Two years into college, you get the phone call from the hospital. It’s your father , the nurse on the line says, and you don’t want to hear the rest.

When you’re old enough to inherit your father’s production company, you fight for it-- every new episode of Miracle Finder is yours, forged from tears and sleepless nights, team meetings with Willow and Kiki and ever-faithful Anna, gritted teeth and forced smiles as you strain and strain and strain, as you bow your head to the show’s patrons and bite back anger at their condescension, at their false condolences and greedy eyes.

Then the last episode of Miracle Finder airs, and it has better reviews than its predecessors have had in a while, thanks to Professor Lucien and his easy charm. You congratulate your crew, and make sure to thank them all profusely by treating them to a company dinner.

But when you watch the aired episode in the dark and quiet of your own apartment, and the credits roll with their nostalgic music, one last time, it feels a little like losing your father all over again. He’s gone again, without a goodbye.

You vent at Victor. He accepts your proposal, but gives you an absurd deadline to meet, and you’re floundering all over again. The company, yours to preserve, one last fading memory of your father’s legacy, put on the line. Again.

You strain. This is one thing, you vow to yourself, you’ll never let leave without a proper goodbye.

But Gavin comes back-- and it feels like a vicious cycle in your life’s been broken. You hold onto the company. And, finally, you remember what it feels like to not only survive, holding on by the barest inch, but to flourish. You come back together, in fits and starts. He saves you, in more ways than one.

"What are you thinking about?" Gavin asks you now as you stare at the empty basketball court of a summer long since gone. You're sure if you look close enough, there'll be flowers growing through the cracks now there in the concrete just like the ones you'd photographed once upon a time. And maybe you’ll never get that summer back, but Gavin came back, and he's here with you now, to see the gingko leaves fall and bloom again, to see this sunset, and this time, it doesn't feel like a moment. It feels like it could last forever.

You tip your head up to grin at him.

"Will you let me ride with you on Sparky home?"

He smiles back, soft and sweet and just for you, and you know, he remembers too.

"Don't let go this time," he says, and when he puts his spare helmet over your head, his hands linger, his eyes on yours. I remember everything, he seems to say.

Your heart skips more than a few beats, but you don't look away, and the wind picks up, too, sending gingko leaves swirling through the air around you both. As you look up at him, you fancy the glow of his eyes outshines the setting sun.

"I won't," you reply at last, and what you mean but don't say is I remember it all, too.

You rub your fingers over the bracelet around your wrist, and when he starts the motorcycle, and the two of you speed away in the fading gold light, you press your nose into his warm shoulder, listen to the sound of his steady heartbeats, and hold on tight.

[illogicallyinclined]

Do you wanna ramble about the hockey boys and midterms?

Oh, Boy, Do I

Part 1/2 

a majority of the players on the team major in the social sciences or humanities, meaning that midterms are actually comprised of long, written reports/papers moreso than physical exams. this is a blessing and a curse, because on the one hand, it gives them ample time to plan ahead and space out their work. then again, on the other hand, they are Stupid College Students, so a few of them Don’t Do That At All.

Roman (Majors: Art and Theatre) 

due to his choice in majors, roman rarely has one-off, sit-down exams. rather, he receives a syllabus at the beginning of the semester, notes what days his written reports/art projects are due on the calendar that he’s got hanging in the kitchen, and then he proceeds to forget all of those deadlines until there about two days before each of them

at this point, he slams back as much caffeine as physically possible and straightshots ~30 pages of nonsense for the art history courses he’s taking. 

for his theatre/directing classes, roman’s midterms mainly consist of memorizing monologues or planning out scenes to direct for his peers, which – he’s found that he can do that almost anywhere. 

he’ll run lines on the bus rides to/from games. at practice. at team conditioning itself. (logan is an invaluable asset, because he’ll memorize the lines ahead of time if roman asks him nicely enough and correct Roman where he errs so that the playbook isn’t even necessary). 

all in all, a chaotic but effective study strategy. he’s not doing perfectly, but he’s never at risk of completely failing either, SO. 

it is worth noting, however, that Failure Is Not An Option 

Remus (Majors: Art and Theatre) 

Remus takes many of the same classes as Roman, so he has a similar study process. however, instead of forgetting deadlines, he’s more prone to willfully ignoring them because Work is Boring and there are a million more fun things to do around campus with his Chaotic Friends 

luckily, the humanities midterms usually fall about a week or two later than the sciences, so Logan is free to help D wrangle Remus into doing his work

the nice thing about Remus’s midterms is that, because they are comprised mostly of written reports/portfolios, he has a lot of freedom to explore topics that he finds interesting 

midterm week therefore consists of D, Logan, and Remus delving elbow deep into weird and vaguely unsettling topics until they find one that Remus can dedicate 100% of his attention to.

once they find something that catches his eye, it’s actually pretty easy for Remus to sit down and write about it until the page limit’s been hit. he’s not a bad student so much as a disinterested one. find the right subject, and he’ll talk about it for days. 

Failure Is an Option, but Remus will honestly be fine if he just… actually does his work. (easier said than done, but. still.)

Remy (Majors: Film and Business)

putting it out there as someone who considered a minor in film: film midterms are actually Very Fun because 1) like art history midterms, they’re usually written reports, and 2) you can almost inevitably use the given topic to just absolutely dunk on the film produce/director/etc of your choosing

Remy’s also very good at actually spacing out his research, using his breaks at work or his evenings at home to watch pretentious movies for his Film Noir course or to write one-page critiques of the short films he has to watch for his Documentary Class portfolio 

his business midterms are a bit trickier (because ew, math), but he usually has two exams MAX and they come to week before his humanity midterms, so he’s got plenty of evenings to sit down and make sure he understands the course material

he’s also just??? naturally got an aptitude for business. he kind of hates that (because most business majors are Frat Bro Assholes who he wouldn’t bother giving the time of day), but it makes classes go smoothly, so he can’t really complain

also, he isn’t going to freak out over a failed exam so long as he knows that he can pass the course as a whole. it’s not like he wants to go to graduate school after all of this or anything. 

Remy’s honestly goals when it comes to college. for how much of a Dramatic Ho he can be, he honestly has his shit together more-so than almost anyone else on the team, save for maybe Patton

Bats a steady GPA of 3.6, so There’s That 

Patton (Major: Education)

provided that he’s not going through a depressive episode, patton is easily the king of midterm season

he just??? loves education???? he loves his classes. he loves his professors. he loves the children that he teaches about 3 times a week. honestly, he loves it all.

he’s not a meticulous note taker the way that logan is, but his notes are excellent never-the-less. they’re colorful – covered in stickers and doodles – and he has a fun time going over them on team bus rides or at his work desk back in his dorm. 

he’s not an all A student, but he’s also been raised in environment where he doesn’t feel obligated to get worked up over the occasional fluke. 

he’s never failed an exam because he’s genuinely pretty good about time management, but he isn’t afraid to get the occasional C in an obligatory math/science core course if it means doing well in the education courses that he actually wants to take.

he’s never gotten anything below an B on an exam for a course that is directly a part of his major, and he is Incredibly Proud of that. 

taglist: @ephemeral-afterlight @scared-ghosthunter @approximately12lbs-of-ducks @harrypotternerdprincess @ginnyfox617 @hickory-dickory-doc-k @thatonenerdphotographer @thebirdsofgay @last-holistic-renegade @hela-daughter-of-loki @logansanderslove @sotakeabitofcalpol @goldteethandacurseforthistown @theitalianscribe @ashensanity @in-a-nook-with-a-book @faycanyons @sapphire-knight @invalid-author @littlestliu @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @demidork84 @pessimisticvirtuoso @theradicalrainbow @fabfan00 @amayaisokay @foxtrot-system @remussvscohangout @syllabyllsakuma @ohthatsworm @cypress-sleeping @quietwords-loudthoughts @partypoison1923 @vara-albion @andreaissy @abi-beehive @awkwardandanxiousfander @meglooy @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors @mariita-2006 @amber474542 @quietpaperplanes @hayden-going-insane @blue-dress-and-ready-to-impress @sanderssides-chaos @call-me-paxton @kimolothecatt @n4o5r7a9 @nerdyleafeon @mariniacipher @lordofkaos @mixedfandommess @cateye-glasses  @peachplumfight @discount-milo-thatch @theresneverenoughfandoms @multifandomnightmare @lana–22  @the-smol-est @fandom-goblim @lightenian @cooliofooliosanders @thepotatoqween @lucky-shy-shadow @hr-part-of-a-mind @that-one-nb-kid @o-hello-its-me @crackhead-gemini @randomfactscenteral @a-emo-nightmare @enby-ralsei @insanegoldie2 @logicalityforlifefightmeiswear @melodiread @anderswrites @i-am-the-darkness-i-am-the-night @ollyollyoxinfree @strawberryjellystuff @queerly-traumatic @whatuph9mies @peridot-the-kitten @localagendergrape @derpy–cat @ohthatsstillworm @gattonero17 @alskyllhasarrived @lord-of-the-wicked @oakskull @jamshaven @it-s-o-l-i-v-e-r @fight-or-flight-reflexes @gattonero17 @nowletmeseeyourkezzhands @killjoy-3000 @airiervessel @samuel-the-gay @atomicfanboy @an-absolute-failure @mean-af-x @peridot-the-kitten @kutekatmiette @exploringoldnebulas @pheonix-inside-reblogs 

[merinnan]

DMBJ Explore with the Note Ep 4

Explore with the Note Ep 4 watch thread! 

 Since Ep 3 had no updates to any of the counts, we start ep 4 off with the following:

Season 2 Xiaoge Rescue Count: 2 for Wu Xie, 2 for protagonists, 3 for everyone

Season 2 Wu Xie Swoon Count: 0 Season 2 Evil Hair Count: 2 

Cumulative Xiaoge Rescue Count: 12 for Wu Xie, 17 for protagonists, 18 for everyone 

Cumulative Wu Xie Swoon Count: 6 

- Now that I have some idea of the colour schemes, I can identify which opening credits shots are from flashback scenes and which are from Wu Xie era scenes 

- Ah yes, the snek fishies. A clue to consider, then forget about while we look at other things.

- Aww, he's so happy to see the baby corpse vase 

- And the paintings are far more interesting than whatever might be inside the vase. Although he's moving it around far too easily for the baby corpse to still be in there, I think

- Poor confused Wu Xie. I don't blame him. The stuff in this tomb and its design apparently places it in two different time periods which are like 1000 years apart 

- Oooh, bubbles 

- Good move on the jumping back, turning off your torch, and getting a knife ready

- Although there appears to now be light coming from the water itself 

- Hahah, it's Pangzi and Xiaoge 

- Oh, nice, this time they're not subbing Men Youping as Pokerface.

- And of course Xiaoge is the first one he asks if he's alright, and goes to help out of the water XD 

- lol, even Pangzi calling him out on that 

- Aww, he's so worried about the mark on Xiaoge's arm

- "What happened?!" 

"Oh nothing, just a demon" 

"..." 

- Ah, Pangzi knows what that is 

- ...and ofc Wu Xie only knows what it is from classic poetry texts 

 - *googles ptomaine gas* 

- Ugh, yeah, you don't want to be breathing that. Sounds unpleasant

- Wu Xie is so over everything rn 

- Except Xiaoge, anyway

- I really like S2 Pangzi. He's got the right blend of competence and humour. Comic relief without being just a caricature like S1 Pangzi 

- And Wu Xie showing off his smarts, which is cute. It's moments like these that reminds me he's got an architecture degree

- I think this is the first time we've heard Wang Zanghai's name in the dramas so far 

- And Xiaoge seems to certainly know the name and not be happy about it

- Oh, this looks like a Xiaoge flashback? 

- More fucking swimming, of course 

- But without a diving suit this time - And that's all it was. So interesting. So groundbreaking. I've never seen anyone swimming through dark murky water in this show before

- This Wu Xie is a much more expressive Wu Xie than S1. So many smiles! 

- And such a brilliant little shit 

- I'm really liking the Wu Xie/Pangzi interactions so far. Well, all of them, but these moments are so good. They're reminding me of the Chongqi interactions

- Oh, more bubbles, I'm sure this will be FINE 

- Oh, it's just the water draining out

- Pangzi complaining he can't see because of the fog, but really, I'd think the darkness would be the bigger problem. 

 - They've only got a couple of torches, and this is a large room and even larger pit that that staircase is going down into

- Wu Xie, what did you expect, asking if he can read something from such a distance? 

- And then looking at Xiaoge to see if it's going to be okay to do this 

- These steps & the twig-things on them are remarkably dry for having been submerged in water only a couple of minutes ago

- OK, now that I'm not distracted by speaking or, like, plot (or pingxie), the bgm is actually drawing my attention and dear god, yes, it really is awful and annoying 

- Hahah, dunking on both Sanshu's and Pangzi's English skills in one go

- This Wu Xie is a lovely chaos gremlin 

- Who hasn't completely lost all sense of caution yet, it seems 

- I mean, Pangzi, I'm not sure you'd be saying those things if you heard the kinds of stories Sanshu was telling bby!Wu Xie in those flashbacks 

- Then again, you probably would

- "Besides, I can't leave Xiaoge" ❤️

 - So Xiaoge probably left those marks 

- This look on Pangzi's face as Wu Xie just throws away all the caution he'd been arguing with Pangzi with to go chasing after Xiaoge XD

- I have to say, S1 was far superior in terms of set lighting. Most of the time it's so hard to make out anything. Like, I know they're meant to be in a tomb, but would it have killed them to add more set lighting so we could actually see what's going on more consistently?

- I do love this Xiaoge's unimpressed looks. 

- Oh, it's the mirror 

- Again, everything down here is so remarkably dry 

 - Dry enough to have got dusty in mere minutes!

- Intense Xiaoge Stares! All the stares, all the time, all at Wu Xie

- Ooh, old diving equipment. Well spotted. 

- That airtank being crushed like that does not seem to be a good sign 

- I'm with Pangzi. What sounds? The bgm was drowning out everything except speech

- Hahahah. Pangzi all like, no, we don't need to go up, it's not that dangerous, you're just scaring yourself. Then one mention of the Drought Demon and he's like y'know, on second thoughts.... 

- Xiaoge does like his disappearing tricks 

- And reappearing ones

- This is a good shot for a vague creepiness factor

- Baby is so worried

- Oooh, time for dramatic music while we look at dramatic skyscapes and seascapes 

- Wait, is all that water running backward? 

- I have no idea how that is meant to symbolise remembering things, but apparently it does 

- And now, a Xiaoge flashback

- The vases in the tomb 20 years ago were amazingly clean. Somehow they went somewhere between 500-1500 years staying as clean as if new, then in 20 years they got covered in waterscum.

- I am impressed at the seals on their equipment, if dude was able to bring a sketchpad along on a dive and have it be perfectly dry when he took it out to draw on. 

- And all those notebooks, too 

- The flashbacks get MUCH better set lighting

- Boys, boys, don't fight over the priceless antique porcelain like that. You're gonna drop it and break it. 

- Hahah, Xiaoge's trying so hard to ignore this girl 

- Even when she does give him something interesting to look at

- Well, that explains why all the vases were over there and in that order 20 years later for Wu Xie to find

- This kind of chatter is exactly the kind of chatter I'd expect on an excursion to look at things, or a group project. A little bit is relevant, most is just random chatter, and some might actually eventually mean something once they talk it out. It's great

- Oh, if only you knew, Wenjin. If only you knew 

- Hahah, Wenjin yelling at everyone and telling them to stay put, while Xiaoge just calmly ignores her while he puts his backpack on and walks off 

- lol, and then he just staaaaares at her until she lets him go

- Ah, she knows Sanshu so well 

- She's trying to be the grownup here 

- Poor Wenjin. She really can't win either was when she was stuck on an expedition with both Sanshu and Xiaoge

- Apparently these guys all managed to make it through the hallway without any of them triggering the traps 

- Well done, kiddos 

- Poor Wenjin playing babysitter to all these kids, though

- At least 20 years ago the stonework stayed wet after the water receding instead of mysteriously drying off 

- Well. Most of it, anyway 

- The floor, at least 

- I mean, like, kids. You didn't have to follow him. He didn't ask you to. 

- You just decided to

- Well, they were right, Sanshu was there 

- Just not the one they thought he was 

- Oh, that's a door there 

- I love the way Wu Xie and Pangzi in this tend to shine their flashlights in each other's faces to indicate "I think you're full of shit"

- Oh, clever Wenjin, the first one to figure it out 

- So much staring at each other

- Season 2 Evil Hair Count: 3 

- Though so far it's just sneaking down to tickle Wenjin's neck 

- And they go from perfectly dry corridor to wet-floored room 

- For no discernable reason

- And we end the episode mid-flashback, with them gushing over how pretty the Heavenly Palace is 

- And it really is quite pretty 

- No updates to either the Rescue Count or the Swoon Count, and only the single last-minute update to the Evil Hair Count

So, we end with:

Season 2 Xiaoge Rescue Count: 2 for Wu Xie, 2 for protagonists, 3 for everyone

Season 2 Wu Xie Swoon Count: 0

Season 2 Evil Hair Count: 3

Cumulative Xiaoge Rescue Count: 12 for Wu Xie, 17 for protagonists, 18 for everyone

Cumulative Wu Xie Swoon Count: 6

[nancywheelxr]

Eddie actually killed pennywise and lives AU and complains the entire time they wash themselves in dirty water and then instead of everyone comforting Ritchie they comfort bill who’s still has guilt issues for both Georgie and dean and someone bumps Ritchie and he loses his glasses and Eddie finds them

Oh god, you mean the good timeline and the true ending to the movie? What are you talking about, this is totally how it went--

*

Jumping down the quarry is something they do without discussing. 

No one says anything as they walk away from what was left of Neibolt House and they keep walking and walking and walking until Derry is behind them and there’s nothing but trees and a precipice waiting for them to fall off. 

“I’m not doing this,” Eddie is the first to break the silence, rooted stubbornly at the edge after Bev and Ben splashed in the water below. It’s a familiar argument and Bill grins, jumps down laughing, and Mike claps Eddie and Richie on the back once before leaping too. “You guys are crazy, do you even know– this is a petri dish of bacteria, do you even know what kinds of disease you could get from that water?”

Richie grins, shedding his jacket, and kicks off his shoes. “Come on, Eds,” he spreads his arms, steps back to the edge, “live a little! Get that stick off your–”

“Do not finish that sentence, you fucking asshole,” he snaps, but he’s folding his own jacket next to Richie’s crumpled one, and he’s twitching like he does when he’s trying to pretend Richie isn’t making him laugh. “I swear to god, if I die of some fucking infection after surviving that goddamn house, I’m haunting all of you.”

“Great, you do that, we can stop by a Walmart later and buy an ouija board already then, just in case,” Richie considers pushing him into the water, but ultimately decides against it. It’s a miracle enough that Eddie is doing this on his own, that he’s here waiting for Richie to jump first and laughing of his stupid, insensitive jokes, so instead, he grins wider, raises his eyebrow, “on three?”

“I hate you,” Eddie says, and Richie laughs, skips right to three and races off to jump while Eddie curses and scrambles to follow him, and the fall is familiar, too.

The water is cold and Bev is dunking Ben underwater when Richie comes to, splashing everyone in his vicinity. “Jesus, did you guys remember it being this cold? Is it because we’re old now? God.”

Eddie scowls at his side, glaring at Richie like it’s his fault the water is freezing cold, “if we get pneumonia–”

“Yeah, yeah,” he makes a show of rolling his eyes, “it’ll be all our fault, we know, you’ve only done this speech like, a thousand fucking times,” and takes advantage of the minute that takes Eddie to wind up for a lecture, that look full of indignation on his eyes, to splash water on his face.

The way he coughs and glares at Richie is priceless and Richie revels on being the center of his attention– if he’s in the business of being honest now, half of the time when they children, Richie had spent like this, making a show of anything to keep Eddie’s eyes on him, no matter the reason, just catching his full attention used to be enough. “I’m going to fucking kill you, Richard,” and it should be too soon to make dead jokes, Richie thinks, considering everything, but it’s Eddie and Eddie is still looking at him like Richie’s all he’s seeing, so he even lets the name slide. 

And while Richie laughs, Eddie tries to dunk him underwater but it doesn’t work very well, and Richie coughs up lake water, ready to retaliate, but turning around, he finds Mike’s talking with Bill and Bill is– crying. Not too far off, Bev and Ben have stopped goofing around too, swimming closer.

“Shit,” Richie breathes, trades a look with Eddie before circling Bill, too. In the relieved state of the aftermath, they had forgotten, now that it’s over, so is Georgie, so is that kid from the amusement park. No hope for them, nothing at all.

Richie’s not exactly the best to comfort people, has never really known what to say, how to make someone feel better without relying on jokes, but the thing about them, about all of them, is that they have always fit together perfectly. Richie doesn’t have to say anything. Mike and Bev do all the talking. They just huddle around Bill and remind him it’s okay, he’s not alone.

It’s finally over, and fuck, there’s so much shit they need to work through, but there’ll be time for that later.

They stay like that until Bill sniffles, snort through drying tears, and cracks a joke no one really listens, but it’s proof enough that he’ll be fine. They’ll all be fine.

Though Richie might have to go back to LA fucking blind if he doesn’t find his fucking glasses in the blurriest fucking water he’s ever sorta seen, and–

A blurred shape vaguely resembling Eddie stops in front of him. “Looking for this?” He must be holding up something, and Richie squints, thinks he recognizes his glasses, but honestly? He’s fucking blind. “Jesus Christ, hold on, let me– there you go.”

The shape places the glasses carefully and Richie confirms that it was indeed Eddie, closer than he’s been before, and Richie wonders if this is the time he finally grows some fucking balls and asks for what he wants.

“It’s a little cracked, sorry,” Eddie goes on, a little sheepish, a little embarrassed as if that might’ve been his fault, “and I think– I mean, if you don’t mind it’s a bit broken–”

“Nope,” Richie says quickly, feeling weirdly breathless, “it’s all good– it’s fine, I don’t mind. It’s just– I don’t think it’s broken.”

There’s a visible crack in the glass, Richie can see it and so can Eddie. He still nods, ducks his head. “Okay.”

“Wait, hey,” Richie stops him from moving away, wraps his fingers around Eddie’s wrist and pretends he’s not burning up inside. Yesterday, Pennywise called it his dirty little secret and Richie hates that; this is Eddie and it’s fucking 2019 and it’s Eddie. He thinks of the kissing bridge. Get your shit together, Tozier, he thinks fiercely. “If– before we leave town, fuck it, today, later, whenever you want, there’s something I want to show you.”

Eddie studies him, glances at his hand on his wrist, and smiles. “Okay, Richie. I’ll hold you to that.”

The sun is climbing higher and higher in the sky, and if he looks closely, Richie thinks there are dark clouds gathering on the horizon, but for now, for today, he fully believes everything is going to be just fine.

[chroniclackofselfpreservation]

Creatures of the Night

Chapter 16 - when love’s reliance ends

Back to the Beginning   < Previous chapter / Next chapter >   

AO3

Masterlist

(TW: verbal and physical abuse, PTSD, flashbacks, toxic relationships, graphic imagery)

(The title of the chapter comes from "Unkindness" by Charles Swain)

This can’t be happening, was what Virgil would have thought, had he been in a decent state of mind when he was swallowed by the Witch Queen’s beast. Instead, he fought the urge to faint as hot slippery muscles contracted around him, forcing him deeper into the demon’s gullet. 

Ursula was right. He was pathetic. He should be fighting right now. Scratching and biting; anything to get the serpent to throw him back up.

But he did nothing.

It was like his mind couldn’t completely register what was happening. That, and the pain in his newly broken leg kept him just dizzy enough to keep him unfocused. 

Panic coursed through him like someone had opened his mouth and stuck his face under a waterfall, and yet he wasn’t yowling in terror. He was barely thrashing.

Virgil couldn’t breathe, but he couldn’t tell if it was the white hot terror of imminent death seizing in his chest or the disgusting lumps of slimy muscle pressing into him, suffocating his small frame.

He could shift into a human. Right? That must do something. 

No. Bloodwyrm had eaten plenty of humans before. Unless he could turn into something bigger, there was no hope. He was going to die here.

His lungs burned. His leg sent spikes of pain up his entire body every time the muscles pressed down on it. He choked on bitter, tacky fluids he couldn’t name.

Virgil vaguely felt Ursula’s presence in his mind. 

I can’t believe you’re being serious right now, she complained.

How long before he hit stomach acid? How quickly would it kill him? Would he die from the burning or just drown first? He couldn’t believe he was going to be digested.

Alright, fine, hold on… she muttered, their connection waning. 

Virgil’s lungs spasmed and the sticky slime filled his mouth, his nose. His body felt heavy. His eyes slipped shut…

                                                * * * * * * * * * *

“...dead? Can I take his eyes? They’d go for some solid coin.”

“Shut up, he isn’t dead yet.”

Something pressed down hard on Virgil’s ribs, forcing whatever blocked his throat up and out. He squirmed weakly as he vomited up juices that definitely weren’t his own. All of his limbs felt weighed down, like he’d just waded through mud… or… 

Images and smells assaulted him out of nowhere. His ears filled with that horrid squelching sound, and his eyes flew open, his breath catching in his chest.

“What’s wrong with him?” Remus asked, poking him. Virgil wanted to growl, to scream, to claw Remus’s eyes out, something, but he couldn’t move, staring blankly ahead and suffering through the agonizing sensations wracking his mind.

“He’s all slimy,” The hobgoblin noted.

“I think Bloodwyrm swallowed him,” Ursula said. A wave of her hand, and Virgil was dry once more. 

Virgil let out a shuddering breath, curling in on himself. 

Remus poked him once again, and he shivered. 

“Leave him be, goblin,” Ursula said softly, getting up and walking away. Remus grumbled something under his breath, but obeyed. Virgil should have been grateful for that small act of kindness, but he couldn’t. 

He couldn’t think of anything else but the feeling of being eaten.

                                                * * * * * * * * * *

Days passed in a blur. 

Virgil didn’t speak. He wasn’t sure he could, at this point. He stayed in his human form as much as possible, vainly hoping that being big and intimidating would help him feel better. 

It didn’t.

He still woke up screaming, or as a terrified, confused cat. Everything he did was exhausting. His heart constantly raced at little things, like the lights being out, or the sound of Remus swallowing his food. 

That was what really got him. Remus would chew his food loudly, gulping water down, watching Virgil from the corner of his eye. Virgil would usually end up storming out of the cottage, or getting so worked up he swore he’d kill Remus in his sleep. 

Sometimes, he was so angry he thought he’d explode, but for no reason in particular. When he finally did start speaking again, Ursula rolled her eyes and asked if he was finally over “the whole mission-thing.”

“I’m fine,” he lied. Remus grinned at that, and Virgil felt a little pocket of dread open up inside him. He hadn’t told either of them yet, but he couldn’t use his powers. Aside from shifting between a cat and a human, he hadn’t been able to perform any of his usual magic. 

He was useless, and now completely helpless to defend himself from Remus. It was only a matter of time before they figured it out.

                                                * * * * * * * * * *

“What do you mean you can’t do it?” Ursula demanded around a mouthful of stew. 

Virgil’s chest constricted. “I—I don’t know, I guess I haven’t been myself lately, and—”

Ursula slammed her spoon down on the table and Virgil flinched. She pointed the utensil at him like a weapon. “You’re still hung up on what Bloodwyrm did, aren’t you, you pathetic cat? I thought I told you to stop freaking out about it. It’s over. It happened, like, a month ago, now.”

“I’m not freaking out about it,” Virgil protested, but it came out halting and breathless. “I don’t know why my magic isn’t working.” 

“Nature spirits almighty! You’d think you were tortured or something! You just broke a leg, Virgil, stop being such a baby about it,” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “I might just get it in my head to make Remus my familiar instead of you, how about that?”

Remus perked up. “Really?”

“No, you’re too ugly,” she said, waving a hand. Remus snorted, nodding in agreement. 

Virgil shrank down. 

“For crying out loud, you stay in that human form so much, it’s like you think you’re a person, or something! Get a hold of yourself, you aren’t a kitten anymore. Bad things happen to everyone, Virgil. You aren’t special,” she grumbled. 

“I’m sorr—”

“Shut up! Could you be less pathetic for five minutes?!” She snapped, and flung her bowl of stew at him. The bowl struck Virgil’s shoulder and bathed him in scalding broth. He cried out, stumbling back. 

“There’s your dinner. I’m done arguing with you. Go clean yourself up before you get crap all over the floor,” Ursula muttered, walking off to her room in a huff. Virgil wiped his face, careful not to flick his hands and get it everywhere. He went to go outside, but his hand was covered in broth, and he didn’t want to touch the doorknob. Wiping it on his tunic as best he could, he stepped outside into the freezing air. 

“If I were Ursula,” Remus mused, leaning out of the kitchen window the leer at him, “I’d send you back to the palace and have Bloodwyrm finish the job.”

“Go away, Remus.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” he said, rocking a little on the sill.

Virgil glared at him, but he couldn’t deny the streak of fear coursing through him. He knew it would only be a matter of time before Remus realized that Virgil couldn’t fight back anymore. 

His grin stretched. “What’re you gonna do? Cry really hard? You know, I heard that if you stomp on the ground and say his name four times, he’ll show up.” 

Virgil stalked away, off to the river to clean himself up. He heard the crunch of Remus hopping out of the window and tromping through the snow after him. Virgil may not be able to fight back with magic anymore, but he was still taller than Remus by two and a half feet. That had to mean  something, right?

Virgil knelt in the snow at the riverbed, quickly shucking off his stained tunic and dunking it in the water. If he were his normal self, he could have been rid of the stain in a matter of seconds with a few quick words. Now, he was shivering next to a river like… like a mortal human. 

He was a familiar. A magical creature. And yet in that moment by the river, with Remus tracking lewd pictures into the fresh snow only yards behind him, he’d never felt more human. 

“Kitty! Come check this out! Did I make the tits too big?” Remus shouted, apparently forgetting his previous engagement of pestering Virgil. “What am I saying? Tits can’t be too big. They are a bit lopsided, though.” He shrugged. “Points for realism, I guess.”

Virgil didn’t respond, shivering as the winter breeze swept over his bare shoulders. It was going to take forever for the fabric to dry if he hung it outside. Maybe he’d hang it by the fire, and keep a careful watch on Ursula’s bedroom door. 

His hands became numb and clumsy with cold as he wrung out his tunic. It still smelled like stew. 

He’d have to try and warm himself by the fire as well, if that didn’t attract too much attention.

Steeling himself, Virgil dipped his cupped hands into the stream and splashed his face with the icy water, working the tacky broth from his skin and hair. 

A ball of snow struck the back of his neck, and he nearly lost balance and fell into the water. 

Remus hooted triumphantly and sauntered over. “You know, I think I’m gonna miss your old self.”

Virgil glowered up at him. “What are you talking about?” 

Just as he said the words, something smooth and wet wrapped around his ankle. Virgil’s head filled with the glint of smooth gold scales and he scrambled back, managing to slip on the bank and tumble into the icy stream. 

“Old Virgil didn’t make it so easy,” he said, crinkling his nose. 

Seething, Virgil pulled the slimy black root from his ankle, and chucked it at Remus, who easily dodged. 

He started back toward the cottage. “See you inside, kitty-cat!”

Virgil stood, trying to still his shivering body and hammering heart. He retrieved his tunic from where it had landed in the snow, and made his way back to the cottage as well.

The cottage meant warmth and shelter from the elements.

But it also meant pain. And memories. And shame that hung around his neck like a chain.

Yes, it was in these moments Virgil felt more human than ever.

                                                * * * * * * * * * *

Six months later.

Virgil followed behind Ursula as his normal, four-legged self, watching her back and tensed shoulders. They hadn’t been back inside the Witchlands in decades. Not much had changed. 

Ursula fingered the charm she wore about her neck, something she'd spent months crafting for the express purpose of slipping past the banishment spell keeping her out of the Witchlands.

Remus walked beside Virgil, absentmindedly trying to grab his tail as it swished through the air. 

Ursula was in a bad mood. Primarily because the entire reason she’d needed the charm was so she could meet up with someone who apparently knew how to fix Virgil. 

He was proving more than a little inconvenient to say the least. 

They all rounded the side of a hill and found a quaint little log cabin nested among the trees. Smoke seeped from the chimney and warm light shine from the windows. 

Ursula stalked forward, pushing the door open without knocking.

A figure in a billowy green blouse, brown leather corset, and cotton pants looked up from her seat beside the fire. Her hair was the color of coal smoke and her eyes as amber as the setting sun. 

She smirked. “You know, Ursula, maybe if you had more manners—“

“Oh, shut up, Amaryllis. I need a favor.”

The other witch shut the book open on her lap. “A favor?”

Ursula scowled. “I broke you out of a demon-guarded dungeon, you know.”

Amaryllis winced at the word “demon.” Virgil guessed she must have similar, bad experiences with the beast. As did most people who crossed its path.

“More like blowing a hole in the wall and letting us take care of the rest,” she muttered. “Fine. What do you want?”

“My familiar’s broken,” she said, stepping aside and gesturing to Virgil. 

“Really?” Amaryllis said, looking between Remus and Virgil skeptically. “Which one is he?”

“Don’t be smart,” Ursula snapped.

Amaryllis rolled her eyes, then fixed her gaze on Virgil. His ears flattened against his head against his will, his tail dropping to the floor. He’d grown hateful of attention.

The black-haired witch looked at Ursula and Remus. “I’m going to need you two to step outside.”

“Are you serious?”

“As the constellation.”

“Whatever,” Ursula muttered, turning on her heel and pinning Virgil with a glare. He took half a step back, watching as both she and the hobgoblin left. 

Amaryllis grabbed her book and reopened it, leaning back into her chair. “Finally,” she sighed, touching her finger to her tongue and turning a page, “She’s such a terror, isn’t she?”

Virgil shifted, unsure of what to do. Should I shift to a human? he thought. How would he talk with her otherwise? Unless, of course, she didn’t need to talk to him.

“Oh you’re quite alright the way you are, Virgil,” she said, not looking up from her book. 

Virgil stiffened. She knew his name! 

You can hear me?

The witch’s eyebrows knit together. “Of course, I can. I’m a witch.”

You’re not my witch.

“So? As long as you want me to hear you, I can. Jeez, did Ursula not teach you anything?”

Virgil shrank. Sorry.

Amaryllis’s eyes went wide. “What? No! I wasn’t mad at you, I’m angry with Ursula if nothing else.” Her voice went soft. “What has she filled your head with?”

Can we get onto the part where you fix me? Virgil asked impatiently. The sooner he was out of the spotlight, the better.

“Okay,” she said, though she looked as if she was definitely not okay with moving on. She glanced at the corner of her cottage, but there was nothing there. “What seems to be the problem?”

I can’t do magic anymore.

“What do you mean?”

Other than shifting, I can’t do magic. It just doesn’t come out. Even shifting gets hard if I’m… upset… or something.

“Do you have any idea why this is happening?”

…Yes.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

No.

Amaryllis’s eyes narrowed and Virgil’s pulse picked up. “Was it Ursula?”

No, he said, then carefully thought to just himself, though she certainly hasn’t helped. 

The witch set her book on the side table. “When was the last time you sat on someone’s lap?”

Virgil went still.

“Or let someone pet you? Any type of affection?”

...I don’t remember. 

Amaryllis patted her legs. “Would you like some?”

Virgil hesitated.

“You can say no, if you want,” she said. “Whatever you decide is fine by me.”

He padded forward slowly, fighting with himself inside. Yes, he wanted it, but at the same time his body was freaking out at being within range of her hands. Hands that could grab and tug and hit. How was this supposed to help him fix his problem?

Entirely too soon, he was at her knees and was faced with a decision. Biting back on his fear he leaped from the floor to her lap. He remained facing her as he sat down on her legs, but couldn’t bring himself to look at her, instead fixating on the arm of her chair. 

“Thank you for trusting me, Virgil. That was very brave of you.”

Virgil felt his throat grow right with emotion. He couldn’t cry as a cat—not the same as a human would, at least—but it would have been a close thing had he been in his other form. 

“Can I touch you? Feel free to say no,” she said. Virgil was shocked. She was being so gentle with him. It made sense, seeing as he was broken, but he wasn’t used to being asked permission for anything. 

Go ahead, he said, still not meeting her eyes. He tried not to jump when the tips of her fingers grazed the fur along his spine, but his body jerked anyway. 

Sorry.

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said, petting him again, this time with her full hand, scratching very softly. 

Virgil felt his eyes closing, a deep rumbling filling his chest. He greeted the purr joyfully, like a long lost friend he hadn’t seen in ages. 

Amaryllis stroked his back, his legs, his chest, even the side of his face. Virgil felt more relaxed than he had in… in a really long time, now that he thought about it. She ran her hand over the top of his head and down the back of his neck—

Every muscle in Virgil’s body tensed. He felt dizzy and suddenly weightless. Tossed through the air into a gaping, fanged maw…

Her hand left his fur immediately. “I’m sorry. I should have asked.”

He blinked, swallowing back the revulsion creeping up his throat. He shook his head. It wasn’t your fault. It was actually quite nice, he said.

She smiled softly. “Your claws are buried in my legs, Virgil. I think that’s a pretty clear sign you aren’t alright.”

He looked down and saw with mounting horror that she was right. He’d hurt her. He retracted his claws as fast as he could, scrambling back off her lap. She didn’t try to grab him, which he was a little thankful for.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, he blurted, ears pressed flat.

“I assure you, I’m fine. Look, I’m barely bleeding. It was just a scratch.”

He’d made her bleed. Oh, Ursula was going to kill him. 

We need to leave soon, he said, glancing nervously at the door. Can you help me get my magic back, or not?

Amaryllis looked at him sadly, but stood and said, “Yes, I can.” She rummaged through a few of her things before pulling out… a button? It was black and oblong, with purple swirls spiraling toward its center.

What’s that supposed to do?

“It’s a talisman—well, not yet, but I’ll make it one in a minute. It’s sort of like a link, connecting you to the magic you lost.” She lifted a finger. “Now, this doesn’t fix anything. Without it, you’ll remain as you are until you go through the much longer process of actually healing.”

But I’ll be able to do magic again?

“Yes,” she said, almost sadly. “You will do magic again.” 

The witch fixed the button to a chain, looped it around his neck and chanted sweetly, “Stitch the soul and patch the heart that power never again shall part. As long as round the neck you wear, this talisman shall your load bear.”

Virgil felt something click back into place inside of him and he couldn’t help but give a content little sigh. 

Amaryllis stood and opened the door without another word. Remus was a little ways off chucking pebbles at birds. Ursula stood from her seat on the front steps, looking between them. 

“Well?”

“He should be fine, now. Just make sure he keeps the talisman with him all the time,” Amaryllis said.

Ursula left with little thanks, Virgil trailing after her.

Virgil’s life would not get easier, but he would never forget the kind witch of the woods who reminded him what it was like to be loved.