#two times i have posted it and it has disappeared into the ether

[clarenecessities]

He-man.org will close in 5 days.

He-man.org has been a staple of the Masters of the Universe community since the early days, originating as an email list that worked to document episodes before anything (not footage, not lists, nothing) was available online. It grew into a sprawling, multi-faceted beast of a thing, including an encyclopedia (an in-house wiki), merch lists, a marketplace, forums, anything you could think of.

Several years ago now, the main site went down for updates/maintenance. For a few weeks, we were told, maybe months. The forums remained open for fans to communicate, and barring a period of downtime earlier this year things were going smoothly.

Yesterday, the owner of the site, Val Staples, announced the site would be closed on November 14th, 2023. Six days later. We are currently attempting to contact him, to see if he’s interested in selling, and if he means closed as in “no new posts” or closed as in deleted entirely. Regardless of its eventual fate, the archiving of these forums is essential to preserving the history of the franchise, the fandom, and the brand.

TO SHE-RA (and MotU) FANS SPECIFICALLY: I have personally used these forums to answer questions that could be answered nowhere else. Had I not had access to them, I would never have been able to prove that Purrsia was fake, or found so much unpublished concept art, or discovered that Scott “Toyguru” Neitlich personally wrote Catra’s MOTUC bio (even if he’s put off answering my questions about it for over a year now). Forum members have conducted interviews with the likes of Jon Seisa, Cathy Larson, Janice Varney-Hamlin—essential figures in the very foundations of POP, and those interviews revealed and recorded priceless information for future generations (me! you! us!) to find. Did you know Cathy Larson named Adora? That she originally pushed for “Dorian”, after her own daughter? We cannot let this treasure trove disappear into the ether(ia).

TO THE UNAFFILIATED: Please help. Pretty please. If you’ve ever liked my art or my writing or my haphazard blogging, ever, at all, consider archiving just one board. Just one page. Literally anything helps. I am spiraling into madness & this is my library of Alexandria. The mythical one that was totally unique and persevered nowhere else and was destroyed in a single cataclysmic event. Pretty pretty please help.

HOW TO HELP:

Archive.org has several ways to upload shit but most of them are longer term than “a few days” so we’re focusing on two (which can be run simultaneously): Save Page Now, and browser extensions. From their help page:

1. Save Page Now

Put a URL into the form, press the button, and we save the page. You will instantly have a permanent URL for your page. Please note, this method only saves a single page, not the whole site.

We want to keep outlinks and screenshots wherever possible. The Archive does not keep your IP address, so your submission is anonymous.

2. Browser extensions and add-ons

Install the Wayback Machine Chrome extension in your browser. Go to a page you want to archive, click the icon in your toolbar, and select Save Page Now. We will save the page and give you a permanent URL.

One plus to installing the extension is that as you surf around, when you run into a missing page they will alert you if we have a saved copy.

More extensions, apps, and add-ons:

Firefox add-on

Safari Extension

iOS app

Android app

I strongly encourage you to use these tools even if you aren’t helping with this project/after it ends. Documenting and preserving information is essential in this day and age & The Internet Archive is at the heart of it. Please support them however you can.

I’m serious about paying you, though I may need more communication with folks I don’t know so we can coordinate/verify shit gets done. I think this is a worthwhile pursuit in itself but I recognize your time is valuable & like, people gotta eat. DM me if you’re interested and we’ll talk. I may need to adjust pay depending how many people bite but I’ll do what I can

#motu #he man #she ra #spop #pop #sorry for tag spam but this is important and relevant to you #catradora #it counts! #sorry also if the formatting on this is a disaster #i’m on my phone and haven’t updated my tumblr app in… a couple years #archives #archive #archive.org #wayback machine #help #org forums #neotag #brothers. this has nothing to do with you but don’t you wanna help a bitch out? do it for illusen #please signal boost if you can

[getousatoruu]

Sorry for the delay, but it's here now… Most of them are NC-17 and R rated, so read the tags.

One shots (1k-9k)

Incense by cielelyse (E, 6.6k)

“We wanted to know,” says Mimiko, “who between the two of you is the better fighter?” (Or: Satoru tries to prove he's better at close combat, but Suguru has other plans.)

Curiosity Killed the Crush by xBarbarellax (E, 7.5k)

Today was the day. No more chickening out, no more waiting for him to make the first move, no. Today, Hina was going to ask out Gojo Satoru.

all the world’s a stage by ruche

“I don’t deserve to love you,” Suguru offered. It was placid as a temple pond, at odds with all his feelings. His arms went limp at his sides. He smiled again, sweet and hollow. “Right?” Satoru recovered well enough. Intensity seemed to evaporate off of him within a few stiff seconds. “They deserve this, I deserve that,” he said after a beat. “Who died and made you king of the universe? Talk about obnoxious.” Suguru is horny and Satoru makes that Suguru’s problem.

closer to the bone by sanctify (E, 6k)

“How thoughtful of you.” Gojo eventually says as he rests the cuffs on his lap, skimming a finger along the black padding on the inside of one. “I saw that you had added them to your wishlist.” Geto hums, tilting his head in his direction, the sharp amber of his eyes like spools of molten honey. “I hope it wasn’t too forward of me.” This has Gojo burst out into a brief fit of laughter, the bright whites of his teeth showing as he leans forward to lay a hand on Geto’s chest, easy and playful and flirtatious. “I invite you over so I can record you fucking my brains out and post it online, and you think you’re being forward?” Gojo laughs again, a soft pink coloring the curve of his cheeks this time, accentuated by the highlighter he wore.

Thought you were about to get some foreplay with me by SaintOfAthena (E, 5.7k)

See, Gojo Satoru has a problem: there is a frontier that his true feelings cannot breach. When they try to force it, it is only at the cost of their true nature that they are allowed to pass. Consequently, after a mental breakdown due to a pimple that leads to Geto taking care of him, he jumps on the chance to tell him how he feels but things don't go as smoothly as expected.

up the river, we can go slow by Eskarina (E, 5.8k)

Satoru looks ethereal this way—like nothing has ever touched him. Like Suguru couldn’t even touch him if he wanted to. He does want to, eventually; ask Satoru if he’s allowed to leave marks that won’t disappear within the blink of an eye. He doesn’t think they’re quite there yet.

Trials and tribulations of loving Satoru Gojo.

Woozy by Kiboutie (E, 2.5k)

“I have infinity, remember? No one can touch me,” Satoru repeats, before slowly reaching forward and tucking a stray strand of hair behind Suguru’s ear with a wistful sigh. “Unless I want them to.” Alternatively, The one where omega Gojo continues to spend his heat with Getou, even after they've parted ways.

Longer fics (9k+)

4AM by damiselart (E, 10.8k)

Suguru and Satoru's meet cute but it's horny instead.

His **** is What?! by owl_beans (E, 10.1K)

Gojo Satoru did not have a crush on Getou Suguru. They had never even spoken to each other. Satoru was just curious about what neat and polite Getou Suguru was like when he wasn't all buttoned up. The answer was not at all what Satoru expected and even better than he had imagined. To no one's surprise, they hit it off infuriatingly well.

in the eye of the dragonfly by backbones (E, 9.3k)

Suguru first heard about the Six Eyes when he was still a child. Like most children his age, it sounded like a legend, or a fairy tale out of a book—and when he was a teenager, it became more real. Suguru was slated to be a sorcerer, but he still came from a modest clan inside the same village where the Six Eyes was born, and occasionally he would hear little truths: he was a boy of sixteen (like Suguru), he had eyes like the sky (unlike Suguru), or he will be the strongest sorcerer alive (not if Suguru had a say). But— He’s a boy, Suguru thought. He’s a boy. (In which the Gojo clan arranges a marriage between Satoru and Suguru.)

lovesick lullabye by pastelcoloureddreams (E, 18k)

"Satoru, you can't pretend like there's nothing more to us," Suguru appeals, grabbing the crook of Satoru's elbow. That certainly makes Satoru freeze but his eyes remain hard, an impenetrable fortress to the soft and vulnerable boy he knows still lives inside Satoru. "I still love you." "Love? Is that why you left me?"

Slow Hands by megumiblues (E, 12.3k)

Satoru is in desperate need of a massage, so who better to ask than famous masseuse Suguru, who just so happens to be the best friend he’s been in love with for over ten years now?

The Traveller's Song by No_Ir (E, 23.3k)

When it comes, the death of summer is vapid and quiet. It tastes like stale water and smells like memories gone bad in the heat. Nothing mourns it and the air is speckled with bits of seawater that cling to the dampness on the back of his neck. Crickets chirp throughout the night and the bed is too warm to sleep in, so he buries his face into pillows that smell like dust and salt and ignores the stabbing behind his eyes till he can feel the irritating warmth of another day on his back. I miss the sea, he thinks, staring at the familiar outline of the window, palm resting on the friend-shaped dent on his bed. Exhaustion drapes itself over his shoulders and sweat beads like pearls at the roots of his hair. I miss the sea like I miss my friend.

The Future of a Broken Past by dazylein (34.5k, ongoing)

Temporary amnesia due to severe trauma. It’s all the doctor can tell Satoru when he wakes up bloodied and bruised with no ID on him and no fingerprints matching any record. Plagued with the idea that his life must have been meaningless if no one is even looking for him, Satoru finds himself in front of a buddhist temple that proves him otherwise. As the haze around his memories clears, the guesses of who did this to him and why turn muddier and muddier.

#geto suguru #gojo satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu geto #jujutsu gojo #sugusato #satosugu #satoru gojo #suguru geto #goge #gego #gojo x geto #geto x gojo #satosugu smut #fic recs #stsg fic recs #stsg recs #stsg #sgst #jujutsu sorcerer #jjk geto #jjk gojo #jjk smut #smut #smut recs #fanfic rec #五夏 #夏五

[gomapda]

sidewalks we crossed [side A: you.]

i started writing this over a year ago and never got around to finishing it; it’s meant to be a three-part thing. so maybe if i post the first part, i’ll be inspired to finish the rest. this wasn’t written to be shared with the public, mostly just for myself (which is why some of it can be cringey), but here we are anyway. hehe. happy birthday lee jihoon! 태어나줘서 고마워!

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

genre: romance, fluff

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

rating: 13+

length: 23k (LOL)

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

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

inspo spotify playlist found here!

side A: you.

“Are you insane?”

If it were months ago, you would’ve winced at the harshness in his tone, but you’ve hardened yourself with resolve, almost saddened that this was the most communication you two have had since, well, you couldn’t recall. “I’ve been contemplating this for a while now.”

“But you didn’t talk to anyone else about it!”

No, you thought bitterly. You just didn’t tell him.

“I’ve already talked to my parents,” you spoke coolly.

He scoffed. “As if they’ve ever actually cared about you and your life.”

You felt anger flare up with a cold dousing of shame. “And what—” You spat. “You do?”

“Wha—of course I do! I’ve always looked out for you! I’m your best friend!”

Bile rose in your throat. “Best friends wouldn’t flake on every single hang out to go off and spend time with their favorite noona—!”

“Don’t you dare pin this on me.”

Your eyes shot up to his.

Cold. Piercing.

So unlike the bright crescents you were used to him having around you. He used to shine in your eyes, never too bright, but in a way that demanded your attention as you basked in his almost ethereal glow.

You were reminded that the moon has phases. And maybe that meant it was time to start anew.

Even if it meant disappearing from sight.

A heavy silence passed over the two of you.

You prepared so many answers to the questions you thought he would bombard you with.

What? You were going to a prestigious international academy several thousand miles away.

When? You were leaving in two months.

How? You got a presidential scholarship.

Why? Because you loved him so much it terrified you.

You had all of these answers.

But it didn’t matter.

Because he didn’t care enough to ask.

The tears couldn’t even form in your eyes. You knew it would be selfish and manipulative if you did. He always felt responsible when you cried.

“You can’t leave,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

A lie.

“You can’t just fucking leave.”

Leaving him, the unspoken message.

“Y/N, you— ”

“Let me go. Please.”

You heard his breath hitch.

You forced yourself to smile softly at him, wanting to ignore the visceral pain in his tensed jawline, widened eyes, and clenched fist. You knew the irreversible wound you were inflicting. Your resolution almost shattered at the prospect.

Almost.

“I’ll keep in touch.”

Another lie.

“Don’t bother.”

You supposed you deserved the door slam that followed his footsteps, not even allowed to watch his retreating form.

You closed in on yourself, finally letting the tears slip down your cheeks quietly.

He would be fine.

He always was without you.

Always will be.

Only a week later, in the comfort of your childhood bedroom nestled in the midst of Busan, did you receive the news from your neighbor a few streets down.

Jihoon decided to go through with moving to Seoul to become a trainee. I hope you can come by to congratulate him! His father and I would love to have you at the party!

Questions ran through your mind.

How long has he been thinking about this? Did he ever mention wanting to become an idol? When did he even apply to become a trainee? When is he leaving? Is he cut out for trainee life? Is he going to make his own music or be forced by his company to make inauthentic music? Is he going to remember to eat his meals? Will he be okay?

You paused for a moment.

Was this because of you?

You realized it didn’t matter.

You weren’t going to get the answers you wanted.

You didn’t deserve to.

You deleted the message.

―――――――――――――――――

Years later.

“Man, fuck this thesis work.”

“Careful, if they hear you say that, they might pull your funding out from under you.”

Hyejin glared at you, her lashes unceremoniously sticking a little too high up her eyelid. You wondered whether she knew there was no point in wearing makeup everyday when her only company was her pipettes and centrifuge. “God, sometimes I wish I was in your major.”

“You would wanna read about things like depression and emotional incompetence?”

“Why not? I see it all the time in my major. God. I was at a drinking party the other day—” You winced in advance. “And I just want you to be aware that if you were to include STEM majors in your sample, your EQ mean would drop so fast.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. “Alright. Fair. To be honest, though, my research focus is mainly on the public and government’s responses to providing resources for group homes and how to make transitioning a little easier. I’m hoping to garner more attention and funding in order to do more activism. So, technically, I don’t actually measure EQ. Although, I can make guesses based on the public forums that are out there.”

“All I heard is that you’re an absolute saint.”

You laughed. “Maybe to you, unnie.”

“D’you wanna get schwasted tonight?”

“I can’t. I have book club.”

“God, you’re such a fucking nerd. Why am I friends with you again?”

“I distinctly remember you saying it was to, quote, ‘ruin me.’”

“Seven years later and I still haven’t.”

“I dunno about that. I started watching that drama you recommended and my sleep schedule—”

“Isn’t it so good?”

You laughed as she started parroting off lines from the drama and you agreed after much coercion that, yes, the second-lead was indeed a better fit.

Your phone pinged beside you and you stole a quick glance. Your breath hitched as Weverse popped up on your screen. Your pulse slowed down to a normal rate when you realized the notification was from “RM 🌟”.

Maybe you should just delete the app.

You turned your attention back to the girl who was your first college roommate back at Yale, where quick introductions were made, and not a second later, began laughing at the prospect that your RAs probably put you both together for being foreign students from South Korea. 

She was much more refined back then, having already spent an entire year on her own as a Yale undergraduate, but your burning flame managed to craft something entirely new; just as she, like a river running its course, smoothed out your rough edges over time.

She led you back home.

Back to South Korea.

Back to him.

―――――――――――――――――

“You said you don’t break promises, Y/N.”

You found yourself grimacing. “Jihoon, that’s not fair—”

“Fair? Y/N, I kicked your ass at darts and now you said you wouldn’t keep your promise.”

“I don’t want my first ever tattoo to be whatever that is!”

“You pinky promised, Y/N.”

Your bottom lip jutted out. “I can’t even tell what it is.”

He stared down at the napkin he drew his artistic rendition on and then looked back at you incredulously. “It’s a firefly. Are you blind?”

You blinked. You could see the wings? Maybe? And those are lines that represent glowing? Not some weird excretion? You held your tongue and asked a more appropriate question. “Why a firefly?”

“I dunno. Seemed fitting. We always go see them together in the summer. They remind me of you. You remind me of them. That’s all, I guess.”

“Aw,” A toothy grin spread across your face. "You think I light up the night?”

“Sure, if you want.”

You could tell that Jihoon was getting embarrassed and wanted to immediately stop talking, but you being you, refused to let it happen. You piped up with your typical know-it-all attitude, “I read somewhere that fireflies represent inspiration and guidance. And hope, I think.”

He looked you straight in the eyes.

Your heart leaped into your throat.

“I guess that’s you, firefly.”

―――――――――――――――――

And here you were, in Seoul, a knowing pang in your chest that constantly reminded you of just how close he was. How your relationship always was. Close in proximity, but always left you wanting something more. Something else.

You blinked up at her, a knowing look in her eyes.

“Y/N—”

“I know,” you blurted out.

“You just look like you’re on the brink of a panic attack every time you see a Twitter or Weverse update.”

“It’s not that bad,” you grumbled.

Hyejin’s features softened.

Your chest tightened. You hated that look.

Pity.

“Actually, unnie. I’ll join you tonight. Screw book club.”

A knowing smirk spread across her lips. “Alright, bumblebee. My EQ is high enough to realize you’re running away from your issues, but it’s low enough that I won’t do anything about it.”

“I’ll add that to my data then.”

She flicked your forehead.

―――――――――――――――――

You groaned as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, staring down at Hyejin’s bare legs wrapping themselves around your torso.

God. How much did you even drink?

You untangled yourself from her limbs, quickly checking her skin to make sure she didn’t have a repeat of three years ago when she somehow convinced you to let her get a tattoo of the two paper clips emoji on her inner bicep.

“They represent us, bumblebee.”

“How, unnie?”

“We’re like… leaning on each other.”

“That’s... so beautiful, unnie. Thank you.”

You shook your head fondly at the memory, staring at your own addition of two paper clips on the opposite bicep, sans the alcohol in your system. So, who’s to say which one of you is worse than the other?

You tried to unlock your phone but the brightness did too much damage to your eyes to where Face ID couldn’t recognize your look of disapproval. You quickly swiped the brightness all the way down to read the time.

5:43am

That meant you only slept an hour and a half after getting home.

You peeled off the skin-tight clothing your roommate had so lovingly forced you into and grabbed a loose fitting tee and shorts. You knew you had the weekend to recuperate since you’ve completed your work ahead of your deadline.

You poured yourself a glass of water and emptied it in the span of 10 seconds. You could feel your brain recovering from its shriveled state, as if the water seeped into your skull and was being soaked up. You wondered if Wheein, your ridiculously cute neuroscience major friend down the street, would be able to explain why that is.

You hummed to yourself as you grabbed another glass of water and a reusable metal straw before making your way back to your room, where Hyejin was convinced that your bed had healing properties since she never woke up with a hangover when she slept in your space.

“It’s like you just have this homey superpower.”

“Okay, unnie. Please stop eating your hair when I’m trying to feed you toast.”

You set the glass at your bedside table and decided to go through your phone’s notifications before rousing Hyejin awake.

You scrolled through the notifications, mostly people making sure that you both got home okay, Wooyoung sending you a money charge with the caption: I may have ordered you the taxi, but you’re paying for it. Love you noona xoxo

You scrolled until you saw a lone notification from Instagram (why? you haven’t posted in two weeks?) that nearly made you drop your phone in the same way your heart did.

[04:17] wzljh__ liked your post

Your hands shook as you stared at it.

You took a screenshot.

(Just in case.)

You clicked on the notification that took you straight to the post wzljh__ liked.

It was a random post from three years ago when you studied abroad in Japan during your junior year, where you were praying in front of a temple for, according to your caption, “to be able to change the world… and also get into a PhD program.”

You clicked on the usernames that indicated who liked your post. You couldn’t find the familiar handle anywhere. Secondhand embarrassment rushed through your veins and passed as quickly as it came.

You came to three conclusions at once.

1. Lee Jihoon reactivated his Instagram.

B. He didn’t block you.

III. He stalked your profile.

―――――――――――――――――

“Y/N, I really don’t think—”

“Jihoonie, I need to get more likes on my post. Therefore, I am making you this profile. You don’t even have to go on that often. Okay? You can deactivate it once I go viral enough to have the world at my disposal.”

“That’s never going to happen—”

“Believe in me more, would you?”

“Why should I?”

“Because I believe in you.”

―――――――――――――――――

Jihoon immediately reprimanded you, telling you that you didn’t need to appease anyone as a sixteen-year-old (God, he really was too mature for his own good) but your whining had him yielding once you promised that you’d catch up on One Piece over the weekend and that you would make a bento for him.

He only ever posted once (at your request), but he did like every single one of your posts back then, although, no one would know since those were all archived (for the sake of preserving your current social life by preventing the increase in Hyejin’s arsenal of embarrassing photos of you).

Only months later did you have that falling out and his deactivation quickly followed. You believed he wouldn’t ever reactivate his personal account, especially with his woozi_universefactory account set up for Pledis, which, even then, was hardly posted on.

You clicked on his profile to see the anonymous profile picture still there. You saw his followers list and saw only four names.

That once familiar wave of jealousy that plagued you for over a decade never came when you saw her name. It dissipated a few years back after a night of confessions and mascara stained tears, hushed whispers and muffled sobs tucked away in the corner of a Busan bar in the middle of winter.

You checked his following list and saw several musical artists as well as your own handle.

Wait. Where was hers?

You navigated to her page to make sure you weren’t completely delirious and your brain slowly caught up with your eyes.

He wasn’t following her.

You typed in her username to find her profile. Immediately, her beautiful smile shone brighter on the page than the dimly lit screen could do justice.

You never hated her. She was a confidant and a beloved person in your life. Still is. You were all childhood friends (along with your cousin) with deep ties and connections, although the same could not be said for you and Jihoon currently.

But you hated how it all turned out: she didn’t reciprocate feelings towards Jihoon, but didn’t have the courage to properly reject him either.

Because, who would ever want to let him go?

You did, your mind supplied.

You bit your tongue and wondered if Jihoon found out that she was proposed to by your cousin just over a month ago, the one who she spent her childhood years pining after.

Maybe that’s why he’s not following her anymore.

―――――――――――――――――

“Y/N.”

“Shh, Jihoon. I’m concentrating.”

“On what?”

“My wish!”

You felt a tug at your earlobe and your fourteen-year-old self squeaked out, “Why!”

“What’re you wishing for?”

“I can’t tell you! That’s not how wishes work…”

He let out a gruff noise and sat across from you, his bright red shorts and white shirt were definite contrasts against the dirt surrounding your two small bodies.

“I’ll tell you one of my wishes.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. If you tell me one of yours.”

“You first.”

“Ladies first.”

“I asked and it’s only polite if you answer.”

He huffed. “You never make any sense.”

“Yes.”

He rolled his eyes before he cast his gaze down in a boyish way that was just so charming, you too had to look away. “I want the courage to be able to confess my feelings before it’s too late.”

You stared at the river and wondered whether it was deep enough to catch all the tears that wanted to spill themselves from out of you, the image of her coming to the forefront of your mind.

“Firefly?”

“Hm?”

“What about you?”

You forced a smile as your eyes met his.

“I want to be friends forever.”

You knew wishes would never come true if you said them out loud.

―――――――――――――――――

“Jesus Christ! How long have you been standing over me like a fucking creep?”

Your trip down memory lane was interrupted by Hyejin’s screeching. You promptly rolled your eyes. “Get up, Princess. I got some water for you.”

“I’m gonna spill it on my face—”

“I brought a straw too.”

“How about a diamond ring? Because if you popped the question, I’d say yes immediately.”

You resisted the urge to smack the smug grin on her face and pushed the water over to her. “You would want a diamond, wouldn’t you?”

“All-naturally mined. No lab made stuff. Spent enough time there myself. Don’t need a ring to remind me of it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind to tell Wheein—”

“Shut up.”

“You’re right. She probably already knows. Being childhood friends and all.”

“Shall I remind you of your unrequited childhood love?”

“‘S not the same,” you responded automatically. She raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t even seen him.”

“What? We rewatched their Melon performance literally two days ago, what the fuck you mean you haven’t seen—”

“I meant in person, unnie.”

She clicked her tongue. “And we went to the SEVENTEEN concert seven months ago. We would’ve gotten the fan sign too if you weren’t being so damn annoying about it.”

Your flustered response was enough to make Hyejin laugh at your expense. “I-I just wasn’t sure whether he would’ve even wanted to see me!”

She paused at your words.

You blinked owlishly at her. “What?”

“You used to say that you knew he didn’t want to see you. Now you’re not sure? What happened while I was passed out?”

You gulped.

She set her glass down quietly, a soft smile that seemed misplaced surrounded by her strained features.

“Bumblebee, take a seat.”

You promptly fell to your knees, feeling like explaining the situation would be akin to confessing your sins.

You only hoped she wouldn’t damn you to hell.

―――――――――――――――――

“Just slide into his DM’s.”

“Hell no.”

“Don’t talk to your unnie like that.”

You scoffed. “I’m not going to slide into his DM’s like some sad bitch who’s been yearning for over a decade.”

“...but isn’t that exactly what you are?”

You were so close to throwing your mimosa across the table. Too bad the American-inspired restaurant you were at only had half-off drinks during the weekday happy hour. You weren’t going to waste your full-priced flute of champagne and orange juice.

“Give me your phone.”

“No.”

“Bumblebee, I promise I won’t message him. Just give me your phone, I want to see his profile again.”

You took your pinky, made an ‘X’ over your heart with it, pressed the tip against your lips, and held it out for her to do the same.

“God, what are you, 5?”

“Pinky promises cannot be broken. If you break them, you break my trust.”

“You know, for someone who’s studied Psychology, you sure believe in a lot of non-evidence-based practices.”

You emphatically made your point by bringing your pinky closer to her. She sighed and hooked hers around yours. “Satisfied, bumbles?”

“Always, unnie. There’s something beautiful about how the biggest of promises are made with the littlest of fingers.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up at that.

She took your phone and turned it to where you could see her every move. She clicked Jihoon’s profile and went to his first and only post, already liked by your sixteen-year-old self.

She looked as though she were scrutinizing the caption. You expected her to try and formulate an idea of him that was separate from his stage persona.

What you didn’t expect was for her to unlike the post and quickly like it again.

“UNNIE!”

“Oh, bumblebee, I think you would have broken the sound barrier with how loud that was.”

You were too busy having a meltdown to realize the whispering voices around you, giving pointed looks of disdain. Hyejin smiled at everyone and bowed slightly in apology. She tossed your phone at you.

“You said you wouldn’t—”

“I didn’t message him, did I?”

Your mouth went dry while your tears welled up.

Hyejin recognized the consequences of her actions immediately. “Whoa, hey. Y/N, it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s fine.”

“You don’t get to decide if it’s fine or not.”

She flinched back at your harsh tone.

You stared blankly at the phone in front of you, the once red heart, drained white, and filled again with color in the span of a microsecond.

Your watery eyes met Hyejin’s concerned gaze.

You bit your lip. “Can you pull out your phone?”

She froze. “Why...?”

“Because I’m going to eat everything off of this brunch menu and you’re paying for it, so you’re going to have to make a transfer from your savings now.”

“...Yeah, okay. Fair.”

―――――――――――――――――

“They’re both cooked dough with butter and syrup.”

You gasped loudly. “Jihoon! Blasphemous!”

He gave you a deadpanned look. “Y/N, you mean to tell me that it’s really that important whether I decide between pancakes or waffles?”

“Waffles are obviously superior! They have little pockets that cradle the syrup, with crisp edges and fluffy insides!”

“There’s literally no one here that’s arguing against you right now.”

“I need you to agree with me!”

“No, you want me to.”

You plopped back down into the booth, shoulders slumped at a lost cause.

“...would it make you happy?”

“What?”

Jihoon cleared his throat. “I asked if it would make you happy. If I agreed that waffles are superior to pancakes.”

You stammered, a blush creeping up your neck at the question. “Uh, no. It was a dumb debate. I was just trying to be annoying. I—”

“It’s okay to let yourself be happy even over the dumb things, firefly.”

You twiddled with your thumbs and bit back the goofiest grin as you heard Jihoon call the waiter over to order your shared waffle platter, asking for, ‘enough syrup to fill each little pocket’.

You never saw Jihoon eat pancakes after that day, always opting for the obviously superior choice. 

―――――――――――――――――

The joy of eating butter and carbs and sugar from that day was not enough to sustain you through the week once you realized you had a paper deadline that was sooner than you remembered.

Your eyes ran over the words again, nearly questioning your sanity when it felt like you spent the last thirty minutes trying to reorganize your paper in a way that was cohesive. You spent so much time unlearning the APA 6th edition format to relearn the APA 7th edition, and then moving back to Korea made you throw all of that out the window. Therefore, your mind was a jumbled mess of DOI numbers and misplaced periods.

This paper was due in less than a week and you still found yourself questioning whether the literature review was comprehensive enough to cover all twenty sources you were required to include. Two pages. A list of twenty sources that took up approximately three-fourths of your second page. A singular paragraph of literature review on peer-reviewed articles studying the risk factors of suicide in Korean adolescents before needing to address implications and future research and potential programs that could address these issues.

“Nothing is real,” you muttered to yourself.

You glanced around the library and noticed a scarcity of other human beings. You groaned to yourself as you realized you hadn’t moved from your seat in over eight hours and the library was due to close in ten minutes.

You wanted to stab yourself in the neck when you remembered you still had the Social Welfare 101 class’s papers to grade. You knew that they needed feedback on their writing and you also knew they saw you as a pushover, so the papers are very likely lackluster, especially since the class was filled with people who were trying to get their Humanities credit for their degree in another field.

“Become a doctor, they said. It will be worth it, they said,” your hushed-tone almost mocking.

One of the other TAs from the Educational Psychology department had offered to take some of the grading from you, knowing that you had several large projects due soon, but you quickly brushed off the offer, saying that you could handle it.

A few stray tears slid down your face as you felt overwhelmed by the entirety of the last four years. You graduated early from Yale and dove straight into a doctoral program you could have easily put off by working for a few years.

You removed your glasses and buried your face into your hands, allowing yourself five minutes of reprieve. Just five. Before you needed to pack up and get back to work.

Why are you trying so hard to prove yourself?

―――――――――――――――――

[tw: suicide mention]

“Social work is a useless field, Y/N.”

You grit your teeth. “Eomeonim, I—”

“Did you think I wouldn’t see your interview in the school newsletter? Saying you want to go to Seoul National University and study social work? No daughter of mine is going to go into a field that has no chance of finding a job that makes money. You think that your Abeonim and I will be supporting you for the rest of your life? What will the neighbors say, huh?”

“Eomma—”

“No, you do not get to call me that, you ungrateful child. I did not work as hard as I did to put you through the additional tutoring and classes I have for you to just betray me like this.”

Bile rose up in your throat and you choked back the tears threatening to spill.

“Oh, and there she goes, being dramatic again. You don’t think I feel like crying too? You want to become a social worker? You want to help people? How can you do that when you’re so selfish?”

Your nails dug themselves into the meat of your palms, but not hard enough to cause pain, not when your nervous habit of biting them whittled them down to stubs.

“Get out. Come back when your head is clear.”

You moved, but not too hastily so as to signal her to your anxiety, for you were just a prey and she was the apex predator. You kept your gaze downcast and zipped up your designer brand backpack before looping your arms through the pristinely kept straps. Your family had a reputation throughout the town to keep. And you were the heir to it all.

All of the glamour.

All of the charisma.

All of the pressure.

All of the pride.

All of the distrust.

All of the insecurity.

All of the underlying self-hatred.

You shut the door behind you softly and wrapped your arms around you, letting your feet carry you to the one place you knew you could find solace.

Once you arrived, picking a fallen leaf off of your skirt, you knocked weakly at the window pane.

Jihoon glanced up from his desk and made his way to open it for you. “Hey, firefly.”

You quietly slipped through the frame.

“Bad day?”

“Do you ever, just, think about stopping?”

Jihoon blinked once. “Stopping what?”

“Life, I guess.”

He remained silent and he uncrossed his arms so you knew, at least physically, he was open to listening to you. This wasn’t the first time you brought up this subject to him.

“I could just end it all, Jihoon. I could just have it all be over. My parents wouldn’t have to worry anymore. They wouldn’t have to be so disgusted by the fact that they birthed such an ungrateful and selfish child.”

Jihoon breathed deeply through his nose. You knew how much it stirred up his insides whenever you talked about this, but he would reiterate that your safety was always more important than his comfort.

“I should just do it, right? That’ll prove something to them. That’ll show them that they’re not the perfect people everyone makes them out to be. They drove their daughter to this. Oh, but. They might just use it as an excuse to garner more attention. Woe is the perfect family in Busan, they struggle with loss, just like us. But… I could just end it all now. It could all be over, Jihoon. I have that power.”

“You do, firefly. You could end it all.”

Your head shot up so fast you nearly got whiplash. You were expecting soft!Jihoon, not whatever this was. You spluttered, “I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re the one who said it.”

“Are you saying I should just do it then?”

“No,” Jihoon said evenly. “I’m just saying that you do have that power. But you also have the power not to. You have the power to continue on.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“But you have to.”

“I don’t have to do anything, Jihoon!”

Jihoon clicked his tongue at your raised tone. “Whoa, hey. You’re the one who always says you have to jump through hoops in order to ‘earn’ love. I’m not the one who taught you that bullshit; go talk to your parents about that.”

“But they’re right!”

“No, they’re not.”

“Shut up! You don’t know me!”

“Y/N, I have spent more time with you than those sorry excuses of parental figures ever have!”

“Those are my parents!”

“Yeah, and they’re assholes!”

“You’re the one who doesn’t know! They’re the ones who see me, who know me best. They raised me. They know how disappointing I am. They know how useless I am. They know! They’re the ones who know just how unworthy I am!”

“God! Why do you care so much?! Why are you trying so hard to prove yourself?!”

You sucked in a sharp breath. Your bottom lip trembled as your voice came out, horribly fragile, a complete contrast to your sharp tone from just moments ago. “I… Because it’s me, Jihoon. I’m either too much for people or I’m never enough. So, I have to do everything perfectly to prove that I’m worthy. I have to be better than anyone else. Because I have to make up for the fact that it’s me.”

You were openly sobbing.

“But… you’re not better than anyone else, firefly.”

You tried to muffle your tears enough to hear Jihoon’s voice over your crying. Your eyes met his and you expected to see pity, but instead, his facial expression remained as neutral, a steadfast look in his eyes amidst all of your wavering.

“Firefly, you suck at Super Smash Bros. You’ve never won a game against me. Not even one. In like, ten whole years. Also, you’re really bad at timing when ramyeon noodles are done. You always overcook them. You cry when you see a fat seagull waddling down the shoreline. You can’t eat spicy food to save your life. You use too many emojis when you type. You can’t even jog 100m without wanting to pass out. You get so angry that you blow up at others and shame them for making you angry, but you hate it when people are mad at you. You refuse to share your food when it’s still warm, but force me to finish it when you’re full. You don’t trust others enough to do their part of the work so you never let anyone else help you. You have a nervous habit of saying stupid random facts when a pretty girl talks to you. You once poured milk before the cereal. You’re full of flaws.”

Your lips were pressed in a thin line, but the tears had ceased approximately halfway through his listing of your traits.

“You are not the best. By any means. Mediocre, even.”

“I’m kind of hurt.”

Jihoon snorted. “You don’t know everything, firefly. You’re not always going to be the smartest in the room. You’re not the best that ever existed. You never will be. But you’re never too much. And you’re always enough. And although your parents and nearly every adult in this town could think otherwise, you will meet people, people like noona, like hyung, like me, who will still care about you even when you’re being a shitty little brat like you are now. People who will still care about you even when you’re not number one.” 

“…You don’t know that.”

“Neither do you.”

―――――――――――――――――

“Do you ever think about generational trauma?”

Hyejin gave you a sideways glance. “Do we need to pull out the therapy chair and the rosé for this?”

You swatted the offer away. “I’m serious.”

“What d’you mean then, bumblebee?”

“I just think about my parents and the pressure that was probably put on them from their parents and the parents before. But with each generation, no one decided to try and break the cycle. They just kept taking their hurt and putting it onto the next. It’s just… I don’t know. It’s not just my family. It’s prevalent… everywhere. Did you know that South Korea has one of the highest rates of suicide in all of the OECD countries, second only to Lithuania? Common risk factors among adolescents tend to be academic pressure and family issues. So. I know it’s not just me. The numbers don’t lie.”

“Is this related to the paper you were working on earlier?”

You pondered for a moment. “I think researching adolescents and suicidality might’ve triggered some old memories, yeah.”

“Are you…?”

“Okay,” you finished her question. “The thoughts only come when I’m feeling overwhelmed with stuff. And it being our last semester, it’s just… a lot is being demanded of us. Classes, projects, thesis defense. I’m feeling, I dunno, a little helpless.”

“Hmm, I’m remembering some wise words from my undergraduate roommate at Yale~” Hyejin said, in a sing-song voice. “She said that the best way to stop feeling helpless is…?”

You glared.

“The best way to stop feeling helpless iiiiiis…?”

“...to ask for help.”

“Wow, right on the money.”

You decidedly messaged your fellow TA to ask them to help alleviate some of your workload to which they happily agreed.

Which you only gained the courage to ask for after a straight-winning streak in several online matches of Super Smash Ultimate.

You weren’t mediocre.

You just realized he wasn’t either.

―――――――――――――――――

Just a few days later, on a rare weekend where you managed to pull away from schoolwork, you found yourself in the attic of the group home you worked on-and-off at for the past four years, sorting through boxes of tattered toys, gathering the ones necessary to put through the washer. You laid down on the floor, the rickety boards beneath you groaning at your weight. You passively wondered whether a cartoon moment would happen and the group home inhabitants would find a you-shaped hole in their ceiling.

You reached into your own backpack and pulled out your own toy of sorts. You threw it up in the air only to let gravity do the work to bring it back into your hold. You had to be careful to not give yourself a black eye like you did a few years back.

“Whoa, you played baseball?”

You glanced at the tattered ball in your hand, the stitching almost undone, the yarn beginning to peek through. The color was no longer a pristine white, but that only proved its history of handling. “Choi Sannie, what about me says ‘athlete’?”

“Hey,” your younger coworker put his arms up in defense, fully climbing into the attic space now. “I know all of the things we have here at the home, and that is definitely not one of them. So that means that’s yours. Or you stole it—” He gasped loudly in delight. “You stole—!”

“No, dumbass.”

He deflated. He knelt down on the floor next to you, inspecting the baseball without taking it in his hands, careful to not overstep your boundaries. You taught him all about consent; Choi San was a wild child, but he knew respect. “May I see?”

You tossed it casually over to him.

“Is this handwriting? I can barely read it.”

“Even if it was brand new, I promise that handwriting would be illegible to the average person anyways.”

“You’re not average though.”

“Of course not.”

“So, what does it say?”

“Gwangan-dong, Busan, August 2.”

“Was it a gift?”

“Yeah.”

“From who?”

“An old friend.”

“Why keep it?”

You hummed softly.

“For the days that feel like I’ve lost.”

―――――――――――――――――

Lee Jihoon was a boy who demanded attention. And he always had it. But not because he would go parade and peacock around for the sake of trying to earn it. He naturally caught it, with collected looks and smooth words. Everyone in your town knew him: his ability to work hard and even more, his ability to achieve. He never needed to do anything to garner more attention because all of it was already on him. Even at the perfect attention-craving age of thirteen.

Lee Jihoon would never show off.

You had been to every single one of Jihoon’s baseball games, cheering silently when he made a great call, throwing mental expletives when things were going awry. You knew his mannerisms, his tells. Hell, you even knew the code for when the coach beckoned his players to steal a base.

So, you knew when Jihoon was showing off.

You wanted to gag at the sight of him puffing out his chest while he wore his catcher gear. You often believed him to be beyond this world but the reality quickly slapped you back as you wondered why exactly he was being so obnoxious.

Your unnie turned to you, “It’s almost over, yes?”

You wanted to laugh at the fact it seemed like she aged an additional year for every inning. “Yes, unnie.”

“I don’t understand how there’s no timer.”

“It’s done by the number of outs.”

She nodded, but you knew she didn’t actually take it in, since you repeated that fact three times over the course of the past two hours.

“Our Jihoonie’s doing well, right?”

“Yep, as per usual.”

“I really don’t understand baseball, lovebug.”

You pat her shoulder. “It’s alright. I don’t mind telling you. Although, you might want to ask oppa more about it. He knows more than I do. He messaged me and said he’ll be here in about five minutes so he can take us all out for dinner after.”

She froze. You quirked an eyebrow.

You noticed the redness creeping up her neck.

“Oh my God. Unnie! Do you like my cous—?”

Before she could say anything to defend herself, you felt the bleachers around you shift in tandem and you nearly toppled over until she caught you.

Your eyes found Jihoon, who was holding the ball that sealed their fate: they won. He won.

You saw him and his teammates gather together, his mask coming off to reveal his black hair sticking to his forehead and his ever-so-brilliant smile.

Oh no. You were so smitten.

After several moments of trying to push through the crowd, you finally reach a place where you spot Jihoon animatedly speaking to your unnie, who managed to get ahead of you by several paces.

You immediately froze.

Even from this far away, you could see his eyes clearly. Of course, you could. You were so practiced in searching for them, in times of joy, in mourning, in dancing, in sorrow. In those dark irises, swirled something so raw, your breathing became ragged. You saw the way he looked at her. You knew the look in his eyes.

Because you’d caught glimpses of it in yours in passing mirrors whenever you were with him.

How long did it take you to realize?

Suddenly, you wanted to be anywhere but there.

You rushed backwards, much easier to run away than it was to charge forth. You ran and ran and ran until you reached the back of the bleachers where you crumpled down onto your knees, effectively getting grass stains on your poor clothes.

“Mommy! Mommy! There’s someone crying!”

“Baby, no—let’s go over here.”

“She’s an ugly crier, like you!”

You cursed the fact that children were basically sober drunks and said whatever was on their mind. The fateful “u” word that repeated itself obsessively in your mind.

You thought of your unnie.

Your beautiful, elegant, sweet, soft unnie.

Of course Jihoon would prefer her.

He was pulled into her gravity with no room for resistance. His crescent smiles faced her, never to show his dark side, for she was the earth he orbited: captivating and delicate.

Why would he even care to ever look your way?

You were a given; never a prize to be sought. You were unrefined and blundering in your demeanor. You were on the crux of puberty, an awkward and horrendous time that consisted of your skin deteriorating, hormones running rampant, and just. So. Many. Emotions.

Ugly.

“Whoa, whoa, ladybug, is that you?”

You glanced up, not even bothering to wipe away the dribbling mess that was on your face. Your cousin stared in horror at your tears.

“God, you look horrible.”

A broken sob ripped through your chest and your cousin quickly realized he made a mistake. He scooped you up into his arms and held you as you cried, cried, cried.

If jealousy was the ugliest trait, you must have been downright hideous.

Later, you had your face tucked into your cousin’s chest as he apologized to Jihoon and your unnie, who both reached for you, but your cousin, in his typical knight-in-shining armor fashion, brushed them aside and pulled you closer. He convinced them that you received some off-putting remarks from your parents and didn’t want to talk about it (a regular occurrence), so he would take you back to his place to cheer you up with some Disney movies and freshly squeezed lemonade.

Your unnie offered condolences and a swift pat on your head before she called her dad to come pick her up, all of you waiting until she drove off.

Jihoon spent the time waiting listing off a myriad of your needs (“You have to make sure you have the double Kleenex, okay? The other ones leave weird fuzz on her cheeks. And don’t let her wash the dishes when she’s sad because she doesn’t realize how hot the water actually is and ends up rubbing her skin raw. And make sure you use simple syrup for the lemonade and not just sugar, she hates the crystals.”) while he packed his gear away, preparing to walk back on his own, his home not too far away from the baseball field.

You felt your cousin squirm at the prospect of Jihoon having to carry all of his gear after playing a two-hour game and having no food in his stomach. “Wait—Jihoon, I can give you a ride.”

He looked back at him, glanced at you, probably noticing the way your shoulders still trembled, and shook his head firmly.

“Here, firefly.”

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up to realize what it was doing. You saw a small object in the air, falling within your arms reach.

So, you caught it.

Your eyes trailed up to meet his, momentarily forgetting he was the sole cause of your meltdown.

His jaw clenched so hard, you cowered slightly.

“Why are you giving me this?”

You cringed at the sound of your voice, gruff and raspy.

“It’s your win today.”

You blinked rapidly. “Huh?”

Jihoon sighed and you wondered if he just considered you a petulant child.

“Even when you feel like you’ve lost, even when you feel like you have nothing to gain, just the fact that you’re still here, that’s a win. So. Scream. Cry. You can do what you want. It’s your win.”

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

You sniffled, the corner of your mouth upturned.

Before you could say anything, Jihoon immediately turned on his heel and walked away.

You looked up and caught your cousin staring at Jihoon’s retreating form with a bemused look. 

“Alright, ladybug, let’s get you home. Your parents are probably preparing dinner right now.”

“You promised Disney and lemonade.”

Your cousin sighed dramatically. “I guess I did,” he ruffled your hair to which you let out a prolonged, annoyed groan. “Which movie?”

You pondered for a moment. “Hercules?”

You thought of Jihoon and his reputation throughout your town: attention-grabbing, diligent, admirable, heroic.

But most of all, kind.

“You got good taste, ladybug.”

―――――――――――――――――

“Does today feel like a lost day?”

You resisted the urge to mess with the singular faded green streak running through San’s hair, a test subject from when Hyejin wanted you to dye her hair, but you didn’t want to try it out on yourself nor buy a synthetic wig. A rebellious eighteen-year-old was the best option at the time. “No. It doesn’t.”

“Then why do you have this?” He inquired again.

“Because I can do what I want, San. It’s my win.”

He pulled a face of indignation at your rare (at least to him) display of childishness. Your phone pinged on top of your thigh, alerting you to its presence.

[12:42] wzljh__ liked your post

You bit back a grin, knowing San would question you endlessly if he caught it. So you tucked it away, for a later time, where you could be alone and smile as widely as you wanted to. He was getting more and more bold. Hyejin’s action, you knew, was what spurred him on. You wanted to laugh in disbelief.

Lee Jihoon was a man who demanded attention.

And he always had it.

―――――――――――――――――

“No, no. Noona, you promised.”

“I did no such thing.”

Wooyoung scoffed at your words. He pulled out his phone and his nimble thumbs quickly found what he was looking for, signified by a soft ‘ah-hah!’. “You said you would help me try and secure BTS tickets. You’re the only other person that I know that has the ARMY Membership.”

You glanced at his screen and saw your drunk state and you resisted the urge to keel over at the sight. You heard your slurred words promising the very thing Wooyoung was asking of you now. “I wasn’t sober enough to realize what I was saying. Also, what kind of person films their drunk friend and coerces them into promising to get BTS tickets?”

“I never said I was a good person, noona.”

“Ask San or Seonghwa.”

“They don’t have the ARMY Membership,” Wooyoung repeated, emphasizing the last two words. “I’m out here trying to secure the front section. It’s close enough to the stage where I can see Jimin-hyung’s sweat without the screen.”

You grimaced. “Weird ass fanboy.”

“You cannot deny that he is a beautiful man,” Wooyoung said pointedly. “Although, I assume your type is like 15cm shorter and a muscle bunny.”

“He’s only 11cm shorter, sir.”

“Okay, okay. Keep defending your boyfriend.”

You spluttered, instinctively responding with what you said for most of your middle and high school days to those around you. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

Wooyoung gave you a ‘duh’ look. “No shit. You’ve never even met him because you refuse to get the fan signing tickets because you’re a weak ass coward.”

Well. He was definitely right about one of those things. You often forget that you’ve kept your history with him private from most except Hyejin.

(And Wheein.)

(Because Hyejin told her.)

(Luckily, Wheein is a lot more considerate than her boisterous and loose-lipped counterpart.)

“Wooyoungie, you’re really not making me want to help you here, you know.”

“Noona, please.”

He looked at you with his wide brown eyes and jutted out his bottom lip. The thick black frames on the bridge of his nose gave off the impression of innocence, something you would never again associate with the young man in front of you.

His eyes lit up once he visibly saw your determination crumble.

You bit your lip. “You’re paying for this pizza. And we get pineapples on it.”

“I love you~ You are a goddess I am unworthy of even perceiving~ I worship the the ground you walk on, O sweet and kind deity~”

Your mouth twitched. “A ‘thank you’ would suffice.”

Wooyoung looked at you, a serious look in his eye, took your hand and squeezed it. He gave you a smile that almost melted away your disdain. “Thank you, noona.”

“Men like you give women trust issues.”

“Yeah, probably.”

―――――――――――――――――

“I couldn’t express my feelings because I was too young. I wanted to be your tomorrow, so I lived today. Ever since the first day I saw you until now, in my heart, it’s only you. These typical words, I’m only saying them now. But I hope these typical words will reach you. Thank you, thank you. That’s all I can say. Even all the waiting, all the longing. And all of our memories. Thank you, thank you.”

You half-hoped they would perform this song, half-hoped they wouldn’t. It rendered your heart weak, almost wringing it through with the lyrics and melody, the implication. There was a deep yearning within you that wished these lyrics could have been for you, once upon a time.

You hid yourself with a black face mask and wore a baseball cap. Hyejin told you that you were making yourself look even more conspicuous by wearing such garb, but you couldn’t risk being noticed. You wanted to see him, but in a way that didn’t require vulnerability. Plus, your tears were easier to hide.

Hyejin held your hand, her fingers intertwined with yours, the two of you uncharacteristically calm and still unlike the other CARATs around you, all of whom were cheering and swinging their lightsticks in tandem.

She gave your hand a tight squeeze.

You thought back to what was seemingly a mundane day, going on one of your grocery shopping trips at a Trader Joe’s while still living in New Haven, Connecticut.

The days leading up to your shopping trip, you were a mess of a human being, weighed down by the amount of work you still had left to complete, hardly able to be present in your own life, instead simply watching it go by. Hyejin took over your chores for the week, bought you sweets, stayed up with you even if she finished her own work, made sure to send kind text messages randomly throughout the day, and was all around the best supporter you could have asked for.

You kept apologizing to her for not being able to reciprocate, the only words that your mouth had the energy to form were, “I’m sorry.” And she would, each time, just pat your head with a soft chuckle and say, “You don’t have to keep saying that, you know. You don’t have to say that you’re sorry.”

But you weren’t sure of what you could say instead, so you said nothing at all.

Your grocery trip was made to be more of an adventurous outing that matched the energy that you were able to procure, as cooping yourself indoors only intensified your feelings of stress. However, you were on the mend from the disastrous week, as you finished up your work the day prior to your little trip to the grocery store.

(You couldn’t help but think your ability to even leave your apartment was because of Hyejin.)

After gathering all of the ingredients to cook carbonara (with extra pancetta!) and loading them up in your car, Hyejin offered to return the shopping cart to its designated location.

You saw her from afar and suddenly something overwhelmed you.

You knew what to say instead of: ‘I’m sorry.’

“Bumblebee?”

“Thank you.”

Hyejin gave you a raised eyebrow. “Yeah? Of course.”

“No, I mean...”

You paused. What did you mean?

Did you even have a right to express yourself? That’s all you seemed to do during the week and it was almost embarrassing trying to say something now. Like, this wasn’t the right time and place. The butter was melting in the car.

“Actually, never mind. Don’t worry about it.”

I couldn’t express my feelings because I was too young.

She gave a pointed look and said, “Uh. Alright.”

But something tugged at you. A gentle reminder from a gentle person with a seemingly rough personality.

These typical words, I’m only saying them now. But I hope these typical words will reach you.

If he could do it, so could you.

Before she could get into the passenger seat, you called out again, “Actually!”

She glanced your way, still visibly confused.

You took a deep breath. “Thank you for returning the cart. But, ah, more than that. Thank you for coming to the store with me. Thank you for spending time with me. Thank you for consoling me. Thank you for living with me. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for staying by my side. Thank you for loving me.”

You couldn’t hold back your tears, so you didn’t. Your beloved friend did not fare much better.

She was in a state of what seemed like hysteria, laughing with tears streaming down her face. “What the heck, dude? What’s the matter with you? God, I love you so much.”

She took you into her arms and you both cried in the middle of a Trader Joe’s parking lot.

Your heart was filled with gratitude as the thirteen boys on stage interlocked their fingers in a pinky promise to love their fans. You mirrored the action as you took Hyejin’s pinky and interlocked yours with hers. She glanced at you and you gave a smile from behind your mask, trusting she knows what you mean. Trusting that she hears the promise you are making to her, to yourself.

Promising to always be thankful.

Promising to always love.

But if she could not hear the wordless promise echoing in your chest, you knew you would repeat it aloud to her for as long as she needed. To whoever needed it.

Because although those words may be typical, they were still worth saying.

That is a lesson an old friend taught you.

An old friend whose smile now shone as bright as the stage lights that lingered on his form.

―――――――――――――――――

Three weeks later, you were up to your neck in deadlines. You were demanded at every possible place you frequented. In the research labs, in the recruitment office, in your collective TAs room, in the group home you volunteered for.

Hypothetically, there should have been no room in your mind for Lee Jihoon.

Too bad you saw him everywhere.

Not just explicitly, like the way his idol group overtook the internet with selfies here and tweets there and ridiculous fan edit videos everywhere.

But rather, in the crevices of Seoul, in the freshly cooked rice found at your favorite family restaurant, ready to serve piping hot meals with heaping portions of a mother’s love, in the off-key melodies sung unapologetically by a circle of children in the middle of the neighborhood park, not caring who’s there to witness, performing for any and all, in the rhythm of the city thrumming beneath your soles and at your fingertips, ready to sweep you off your feet if you gave it the chance.

You saw him everywhere.

That included your notification center.

[15:32] wzljh__ commented on your post—

Your vision blurred.

Was this what cardiac arrest felt like?

A comment? A comment? You were plenty satisfied with the likes on your post, but a comment meant direct interaction, not mindless scrolling and double tapping.

The ringing in your ears was prevalent and you knew for the sake of your body and soul, you needed to shut it all away.

You pushed aside the thoughts, compartmentalized like they taught you during your clinical therapy program, and shoved your phone far into the depths of your unorganized bag.

You breathed in.

You breathed out.

You had work to do.

―――――――――――――――――

“Hey, so, it’s noona’s birthday on Sunday—” 

“I know, Jihoon, you haven’t shut up about it for the past two weeks.”

“Okay, okay. Fine. But I’ve spent so long trying to find a gift for her and I still can’t find anything. Can’t you, just like, come with me to the market for the day? I’ve never spent so much time and effort trying to find a damn gift for a birthday before. I’ll buy us dinner and we can stop by that dessert stand with the black sesame soft serve.”

“I told you. I have college prep exams I have to worry about. You want to woo her? You can. Easily. Lee Jihoon, anyone would be lucky to be loved by you.”

He breathed out a long sigh. “...thanks, firefly.”

You gave a stiff nod before walking away, the singular cardstock invitation (since you only made one for him because he teased you endlessly for your homemade invitations in the fifth-grade and you committed yourself to spite him every year from then on) you scrawled a date on in two week’s time weighing heavily in your bag. You bit your bottom lip to try and prevent the tears from slipping.

Guess your birthday wasn’t worth putting time and effort in.

At least, that’s what you thought until you found a small package in your first-year high school locker on that fateful day, in two week’s time.

Inside a poorly wrapped box, you found a card and a keychain of three tiny medals: simply drawn hands interlocking at their pinkies, the infinity symbol, and a crescent moon.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you opened the card envelope slowly, afraid your shaking hands would accidentally tear apart the paper. The card was homemade and purposefully horrendous (he claims; although, knowing his crafting skills, you weren’t so sure) with his haphazard, yet endearing scrawl.

You read the words once. Twice. Three times.

Moved them away from your eyes so the tears wouldn’t fall and smudge them.

“I saw these charms two months ago and immediately thought of you.

You said anyone would be lucky to be loved by me.

Guess you’re a pretty lucky person.

Happy birthday, firefly.

- Jihoonie

P.S. I have a sun on mine, if you end up wanting to switch.”

And so you skipped the first ten minutes of your last class to fold in on yourself in one of the second-floor girls’ bathroom stalls. You muffled your cries against your sleeve because it’s just so utterly him that you couldn’t even think straight.

When he finds you after school, eyes puffed and disheveled, you half-expected him to comfort you, because it was your birthday and, to most people, that warranted special treatment.

Instead he laughed loudly at your tattered self, pinched your reddened nose with a grip you could say bordered on assault, and said, “Come on, let’s go get some cake and ice cream. I’ll pay.”

You glared at him. “You hate cake and ice cream.”

He merely grinned at you. “Not today, I won’t. You really are lucky to have me, aren’t you?”

Even with the way he teased you relentlessly for all seven blocks to the place you frequented when your pockets were lined with allowance, the dessert shop with the fresh cream green tea cake topped with fruit you knew Jihoon was gonna take when you weren’t looking, even with his eyes filled with mischief and cheeks filled with stolen strawberries, you couldn’t help but agree.

―――――――――――――――――

“He’s been pretty bold lately.”

You cocked your head to the side as you pulled your lunchbox out onto the cafeteria table. You spread the items out in an orderly fashion and Hyejin nearly sneered at the display, but you ignored her. “Hrm? What d’you mean?”

“I mean, he’s been liking more and more of your posts. He also commented today. Isn’t that bold? Considering you haven’t spoken in years? What happens if he’s just, I dunno, playing with you?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Is it dumb to say that it’s just a gut instinct that everything is okay?”

“Again, what is the point of your higher education? Gut instincts aren’t exactly evidence-based.”

You unwrapped your sandwich and your eye twitched at the sauce that dribbled down. Damn. You could’ve sworn you had the right ratio this time. 

You took a bite, your tongue slipping out to catch the excess sauce. You chewed thoughtfully before swallowing. You mindlessly tapped your fingers against the bread before you spoke.

“I dunno how to explain it, unnie. I know all of my observations have been just… through likely scripted scenes and concerts. And I know it’s dumb to think that he’s still the same kid from way back when, but even seeing him interacting with his members… It just seems like he’s happy. Not just the superficial kinda happy, but the everlasting contentment and joy kinda happy. So. I don’t think he’s going to ruin that by trying to dredge up stuff that could ruin it. Or plot revenge. I just... don’t sense any ill intentions. And I never have, even when all that shit happened.”

“Hm… I honestly don’t know the guy, but it does just sound like he made one choice in an unfortunate circumstance. Big decision in the midst of big emotions,” Hyejin murmured.

“So did I,” you said pointedly.

She smirked at that. “Yeah, but you ended up with me, so I’m okay with your choice. But, also maybe, I just trust your judgment a little too much. But, if you consider him as wonderful as you say he is, then. I believe you. Plus, I feel like his lyrics and videos that I’ve seen are proof that he’s not a complete piece of shit.”

“Ah, yes. Thank you for thinking he’s not the scum of the earth.”

“Yes. Just a rung above that. If I ever meet him, I’ll definitely punch him. For your honor.”

“Hah. Thanks, unnie. I’m sure that your stick arms will do a lot of damage.”

“Of course.”

The two of you laughed.

Hyejin hummed. “Do you ever blame him?”

“For what?”

“Leaving before you.”

You raised a brow as you set your sandwich down to bring your attention to your apple slices, peeled in a way to make them look like bunny rabbits. After dunking it into some peanut butter, you decapitated its head with your teeth. “Blame is a funny thing.”

“What d’you mean by that?”

“I mean, think about it, unnie,” you began. “Do I blame him for leaving when I was the one who decided to leave first?”

Hyejin clicked her tongue. “But he left without even saying ‘goodbye’ or even warning you.”

“Mm, yeah. But... I mean, do I blame him for leaving before me when he could blame me for deciding to leave first? Or do I keep going and blame him for making me fall in love with him or could he turn that around and blame me for having feelings in the first place? Do I go further and blame him for defending me from bullies in first grade or does he blame me by trying to become friends by giving him a seashell? Do I blame him for being born or does he blame me for the same thing? Blame is an endless cycle and trying to pin the entire thing on one person or one event is hard. At least, in this instance, you know? There wasn’t a clear cut perpetrator and victim here.”

Hyejin picked at her nails. “You really have a different kinda brain, don’t you, bumblebee?”

You chuckled. “It’s gotten me this far.”

A silence fell over the two of you as you stared at your bunny apple slices, eventually fed up at the odd number of them and choosing to sacrifice one to your stomach for the sake of your peace of mind. 

After a few moments, you spoke again.

“I used to be real angry with him.”

“Yeah, you told me you used to be a fiery little thing. Plus, I heard you blow up at that student athlete who was dishing out homophobic slurs near the Student Center. When you’re angry, whew. I wouldn’t ever wanna be caught in the crossfire.”

You snorted. “Yeah, well, he would often be. I don’t think you can grow up with and know a person for, like, sixteen years and not ever be angry with them. Especially when that person is a prepubescent boy who knows all the little things that grinds your gears.”

“God forbid having feelings for men.”

“Women aren’t that much better,” you reminded Hyejin. She paused for a moment before agreeing to your sentiment. You knew too many of the silly arguments her and Wheein have had over the past two decades.

“Honestly, though. I think he’s one of the only people I ever felt safe enough to even be angry around. So, he usually got the brunt of it all. Honestly, he should’ve left me faster. I was a mess to deal with at the time.”

Hyejin pulled a face at your self-pity. You merely offered a small smile and she rolled her eyes. “So, you were still angry at him when we were at Yale?”

You swallowed another apple bunny. “Absolutely. Remember New York?”

“Which time?”

You snorted. “Specifically the one where we went during the Fourth of July. Where I had hook-ups after hook-ups and had to get a pregnancy test and an STD screening. Where we went bar-hopping literally every night because I wanted to drown in my sorrows. The one that you got on that stranger’s shoulders to shoot off an illegal firecracker.”

“The trip where you got so drunk, you screamed at a man that turned out to be a statue.”

“Hey, in my defense, he looked like an asshole.”

“I’m sure many people would agree with you that Christopher Columbus is indeed an asshole.”

You both laughed.

Your voice lowered to barely above a whisper, Hyejin physically needing to lean in to catch your words.

“I… was angry that he made promises he couldn’t keep. I was angry that he decided to walk out of my life without asking to even try. I was angry that he didn’t even care to ask why I was wanting to leave. That he didn’t care enough to want to know what I was doing. I was angry that he dropped me so fast. I was angry that he moved to Seoul as a last ‘screw you’ because he didn’t want to try and talk it out. I was angry that he was angry. But above all, I was angry at myself that it took me so long to let myself even feel the anger because I blamed myself for everything.”

You let out a shaky breath.

“At the time, I had a sixteen-year-old’s anger and heartbreak and a twenty-one-year-old’s body and ID. So, that anger manifested itself into drunken nights of hedonistic debauchery and cursing out loud for the first time ever, right at a statue of a colonizing murderer.”

You thought she would laugh at your phrasing, but instead, she merely took you in. You wanted to shrink back at her scrutinizing gaze.

“Does it still bother you?”

“...No, not really,” you admitted. “I just woke up one day and realized that I missed him so much more than I was angry at him. At me. Eventually the anger just kind of… faded. I mean, he was hurt when I left. And if he felt like I was leaving him, then it makes sense he would try to do the same in some kind of twisted adolescent retribution. I’m not saying that either of us deserved that kind of treatment, but I mean, we were sixteen and dumb. As a former sixteen-year-old, any kind of change felt like the world ending.”

“As a former sixteen-year-old, I would have to agree,” Hyejin nodded. “Do you ever regret it?”

You shoved another sliced apple into the peanut butter. This time, not picking it up. You stared down at it as you tried to formulate your thoughts. You replied softly after some time, “No.”

“Nothing?”

Your mind trailed back to the time you spent chasing your dream of studying abroad, establishing your place in the world without depending every little decision on him, running after dream after dream and fulfilling them through your own power and accord.

And you thought, as beautiful as the experiences were, you wished you could share the stories with him. He was always your best audience member, applauding your every word and exaggerated action. Sometimes laughing and jeering and heckling, but always, always, always attentive.

You chased your dreams. You always have.

All except one.

But it was okay.

Because he gave you so much more in those fleeting years than the world could ever have supplied in millions.

“No, nothing.”

――――――――――――――――― “Do you still love him?”

Hyejin watched you over the years. You grew and healed, evolved from a bumbling adolescent mess, bright-eyed and terrified, into a full-fledged woman who learned that all most had to offer was a quick fix and prolonged heartbreak. Someone who decided to be kind because she knew first-hand that the world was not. A woman who wanted to be a love letter from the universe. Someone so strong, yet so fragile to the workings of the world because you always allowed your heart to be vulnerable.

She never knew anyone who loved for the sake of loving.

Someone whose living was loving.

Not until she met you.

Your lips pressed into a thin line, but it slowly curved at the ends. “I think I always will.”

Hyejin’s heart felt constricted in her chest; she wanted to scream at you to let go and to move on. Tell you that he wasn’t worth any of the heartbreak and pain and self-doubt.

But she knew. She knew looking into your eyes, that you loved him with a love that transcended the flimsy, insecurity-driven kind portrayed in romantic comedies or Korean television dramas.

Because although she saw your eyes rimmed with unbrittled heartbreak, she also saw the gratitude that overflowed from your irises.

Part of her still wanted to berate and chastise you and tell you to just move on.

But she remembered being on the receiving end of that. How her friends reminded her that to be in an unrequited love was never worth it and that there were plenty of fish in the sea and that she needed to move on because it was just sad.

She remembered how empty that left her, wanting to fill the cracks in her heart with her beloved, because that was always what Wheein would be to her, just as Jihoon would be to you. Hyejin had the privilege to call Wheein at any time, to hear her voice lull her fears and anxieties into soft understandings and warmth, warmth, warmth.

Everyone told her to walk away from all of that.

Not you.

You were the first one to sit with her, hold her hand, smile and remind her what she already knew, a resounding truth in the depths of her soul.

And so, she sat down with you on the edge of your bed, grabbed your hand, smiled, and reminded you of one of your favorite quotes: “What a privilege it is to love.”

A tear slipped past as you beamed. “And to be loved in return.”

“Even for a moment.”

“Even if it is not how we want.”

“Because, still, it is love.”

“And it is the one thing we will never be without.”

―――――――――――――――――

“Two more months,” Wheein muttered before quickly downing her soju shot, not waiting for anyone else at the table. “Two months. And we’re done. No more needing to prepare for a thesis defense. No more needing to sit next to a centrifuge for ten hours at a time. No more needing to read bullshit and selfish opinions on public forums. No more needing to sit next to that weird dude who always smells like he has an open wound that’s infected—”

“Wheein, sweetie, that’s too graphic,” Yongsun responded, bringing her choice of a virgin cocktail up to her lips.

Wheein merely took a swig of the beer next to her.

Byul-yi shot her a glare. “That’s mine.”

“She needs it more, unnie, trust me,” you replied on her behalf. Byul-yi gave you a warning glance that wordlessly said you defended Wheein too much, especially as someone who was younger. “To be honest, I think Hyejin-unnie and I need to catch up to where Wheein-unnie is.”

“No, you need to pace yourself carefully especially with soju because you end up drinking too fast and way past your limit before you even realize.”

“Yongsun-unnie, I know we dated when I was a young and unassuming first-year doctoral student who didn’t understand how to handle her alcohol, but that was the past. Let’s move on, shall we?”

“Hyejin told me you threw up just a few weeks ago.”

“Goddamnit, Hyejin-ssi,” you hissed in mock anger.

She snorted, seeing through your ruse. “Wouldn’t have mattered if she heard from me. Byul-unnie was the one who was holding your hair at the bar, so.”

“Is this how I’m repaid by setting you two up together? The constant risk of potentially being exposed by one or the other? The betrayal. When I introduced the two of you, mere weeks after Yongsun and I broke up, and you two were blatantly flirting in front of me–”

“We were not flirting,” they chimed in unison.

The rest of the table rolled their eyes.

Wheein huffed and whined into her arms, voice muffled against the table. “Y/N, you gotta find me someone.”

“You’ll see them if you just open your eyes. I’m sure of it. They’re right there. Just look in front of you, unnie.”

Hyejin pinched your thigh but you were used to her physical torture.

Wheein groaned loudly, sitting up, but still covering her eyes with her hands. Byul-yi nodded in apology to Hyejin who merely bit her lip.

Yongsun dissipated the tension for Hyejin.

By directing it towards you.

“Y/N, I saw that you posted on Instagram yesterday. The same post from the group home you volunteer for. You were asking for the support of the community, right? And just today, I saw there were a ton of comments on their public page.”

A lump lodged itself into your throat and you stared at her, lips parting but not making any sound.

She cocked her head to the side.

Hyejin rubbed your thigh soothingly with her hand. “Bumblebee didn’t realize that they were going to get that many comments on that post. Plus, uh, I think it was shared by that one singer? Bamsu?”

“Bumzu,” you corrected weakly. Jihoon’s partner-in-crime, or rather, music production.

“Yeah, uh. Him. I guess someone who knows the group home page somehow managed to get it circulated to where he saw it, and… yeah.”

Several other research fellows messaged you privately saying how exciting it was to get the attention your project needed. Your group organizer was saying that tens of calls were coming in at a time, asking how to best provide funding or resources.

You resisted the urge to spiral into oblivion because you knew only one (1) person who would be able to do such a thing.

Bumzu had transitioned from performer to writer/producer and usually had a hand in charity work, at least, over the past couple of years, according to a quick run through his Instagram feed. He wasn’t under the scrutinizing eye of Dispatch, at least, not as much as a certain thirteen-member idol group. His interest in this program didn’t warrant sasaeng fans who would try to track down the people who made the post.

It was the perfect cover up.

It’s not as though Bumzu did anything over the top. He simply reposted the group home’s post on his story, only available for 24 hours, but even then, that was enough time to garner attention.

The group home leader called and cried to you saying that God had really blessed you all.

You wondered whether you should tell her that you didn’t think God was 164cm with moonlit eyes that haunted you in your sleep.

―――――――――――――――――

[15:32] wzljh__ commented on your post: “this is some really cool stuff. do u mind if i share this?”

[19:22] You replied to wzljh__’s comment: “👍🏼 go ahead”

―――――――――――――――――

“Noona~”

“Choi Sannie~”

“I don’t appreciate the mockery~”

“Then get your ass to work~”

San snickered before undoing your haphazardly done ponytail and threading his fingers through your badly tangled hair. “You need to calm down. You have a meeting soon and you look like an absolute mess. So, I’ll at least braid your hair for you, mmkay, noona?”

“San, if you want to reduce my stress, I would appreciate it if you could go and run through the program schedule and let me know what doesn’t work—”

He tugged on your hair and you yelped.

“Noona.”

You leaned back in your chair to see him staring down at you. You grimaced at the fact that, even from this angle, his jawline was inhumanely sharp.

“No one is expecting you to run everything. We have group organizers for a reason. You’re just here to volunteer.”

“But I want to help. I’m responsible for getting the word out there. And I want to be able to make a difference for those in group homes—”

“You did. You helped me. Now I’m in a local college. Working as a barista. Volunteering in the same home I met you in.” Before you could cut him off, San continued, “You can take a break, noona. I’ve never seen you this stressed out before. And I’ve seen you literally down an entire six-pack of banana milk after eating two chocolate croissants.”

“They’re called pain au chocolat. They have to be in the shape of crescents to be called croissants.”

“No one gives a flying shit, noona.”

You gaped at him. “San! Who taught you to speak like that?”

“You did.”

You grumbled to yourself before reaching back for your Apple Pencil. San snuck his hand over your shoulder to pluck it out of your hand. “Hey!”

“Jinwoo wants you to sing him to sleep.”

Your heart ached as you stared at the screen in front of you. There was too much work to do and you couldn’t afford—

“Are you really cost-benefiting the effects of whether you sing a child to sleep right now?”

“...”

“God, what a professional. Where’s the noona that would sneak kids out to go catch dragonflies and then eat bungeo-ppang while washing it down with banana milk?”

“Are all of your memories of me associated with banana milk?”

“I remember what I remember, noona.”

“Why don’t you sing to Jinwoo?”

“Because he’s asking for that song that you sing; the one that only you know.”

You froze.

For some reason, Jinwoo, at the ripe age of eight months, established quite clearly what he liked and disliked, with the latter list nearly double the length of the first.

Every song you sang to him had its expiration date before he would take a metaphorical red Sharpie and cross it off of his likes list.

All except one.

You cursed yourself for singing it so long ago, caught up in exhaustion that you just wanted to quell the baby’s cries as soon as possible.

And so you procured a song that was gathering dust from being long ignored in the recesses of your mind.

You locked your iPad, gathered your stuff together to put away in your bag, slung it over your shoulder and made it up the stairway to where you knew Jinwoo would be.

You found him nestled in several blankets on the floor in the room meant for three-to-six year olds, convinced that the ground would be able to keep him steady unlike the volatile day-to-day he was thrown into since birth. Most of the other kids were out at the local school, but Jinwoo had a lower constitution than them, so would often stay at home. The home did its best to ensure that his schedule was tied with the other kids, including the midday nap.

His chocolate eyes looked up at you expectantly, his arms outstretched for you to envelope him in your embrace. You couldn’t help but smile down at him and scooped him up in one fell swoop. He giggled as you spun the two of you around the room.

You swaddled him as best you could, a three-year-old much larger than the eight-month-old you once knew him to be.

His hand pressed itself against your cheek and you nuzzled your face against its warmth.

“Ready to sleep, Jinwoo?”

“Will you sing to me? The forever song?”

“Yes. Of course.”

And so you did.

You sang to him a song of hopes and dreams and the magic of forever and always. Lyrics of never-ending friendship and pinky promises.

―――――――――――――――――

May 26th.

You thought that date would forever ingrain itself as the day that he forcibly came back into your life by taking you and the rest of the world by storm alongside his group, singing of an awkward and clumsy adoration paired with a point choreography that was, well, pointing.

(At the time, you wondered whether she heard the song, the one you were sure it was written about. You never asked.)

But here you were, six years after his debut into the world as an idol, dressed in your regalia of indigo and black, full bell sleeves, velvet paneling, and a weird puffy hat to top it all off, debuting into the world as a Social Welfare PhD grad.

You were a whole ass doctor.

“WE’RE FUCKING DONE, BITCHES.”

“God, Wheein, can you calm down? We gave you that key for emergencies.”

“It’s an emergency that I don’t have a bottle of soju in my hand right now.”

Byul-yi patted Yongsun in hopes of appeasing her anger. “Remember when you finished your MBA and how that felt?”

Yongsun blinked once before pushing herself off of the couch. “Alright, so how many bottles am I pulling out?”

“Wait! Wait! Wait! We need a picture!” Hyejin chastised her childhood friend for taking off after Yongsun. “Bumblebee, come here. Wheein, you too!”

“Whose phone?” Byul-yi asked.

You all chorused your phone, handing her the latest model of iPhone. She wiggled her brows at you. “Looking for a sugar baby, mama?”

“Bold of you to assume that I’m not paying installments on that sleek piece of overpriced metal and glass.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less from a broke grad. Alright, alright. Okay, ladies. Now let’s get in formation. Wheein, brush your hair out of your face, you look like a mad scientist. Y/N, stop furrowing your brows like you’re reading those mean comments online. Hyejin, stand up straighter, you’re slouching—probably from bending over all the time—”

“Unnie!”

“Over your centrifuge, okay? Chill. Alright. 1, 2… 2 and a half.”

“How old are you? 50?”

“Alright, for that, you just got a burst. Y/N, I hope you find the ugliest gem in that to post.”

You and Wheein laugh at Hyejin who is now putting on her face of Disapproval and you imagine that Byul-yi is just now taking an endless amount of candids. You reach for the phone, a toothy grin still spread across your lips.

“Oop! Damn, this camera is nice. Don’t get too drunk otherwise you might accidentally drop it into my purse.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed at your phone. You swiped through the camera roll, finding too many of your face, especially when reaching for the camera, thanks to Byul-yi’s trigger happy thumb. However, you looked genuinely happy, so you couldn’t be too mad.

Maybe that’s because you were done slaving over papers and deadlines, you mused.

You showed Wheein and Hyejin the photos as well, refusing to delete the ones where Hyejin is pulling her signature face. You smiled down at your screen before pulling up Instagram to post a photo of all three of you (looking like baddies and not like the unhinged beings you usually are) on your story.

You figured you would post the professional photos you had done by Myungsoo at a later date.

You typed up a caption:

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

You locked your phone and tucked it away, ready to simply celebrate with your beloved group of girls.

That is, until two hours passed, which included a passed out Wheein cuddling into Hyejin on the couch and a drunk Yongsun and tipsy Byul-yi retiring to their own room and you sneaking into their second bedroom. You finally saw several responses to your story, mostly clapping and fire reactions and messages of well-wishes and pride. There was one handle that immediately caught your attention and you couldn’t help but think you were predictable in where your eyes always go.

[22:06] wzljh__ replied to your story: i figured u would be a day6 or eric nam kind of fan

[22:08] wzljh__ replied to your story: sorry that was dumb of me to assume

[22:08] wzljh__ replied to your story: of course u would like post malone considering u could rap the entirety of eminems album

[22:15] wzljh__: sorry that was stupid

[22:15] wzljh__: ignore me

[22:15] wzljh__: congrats y/n

You checked the time stamps to see that the first three messages came in rapid succession. While the last three came less than ten minutes later, without the “replied to your story,” meaning he actively searched for your conversation in his DMs to send a message.

You wondered whether it was okay to respond. He initiated it, so you figured this was consensual on his end. But… would you be okay?

Lee Jihoon was the one you believed would always know how to crack the code to tear down the walls of your heart. The one for whom your heart would invite in, with offerings of warm tea and resounding laughter and requests to make himself at home in your messy, but safe, space. You were always so utterly bare in front of him that it was almost nauseating with how much trust you put into his hands.

Did he deserve that same trust after what transpired between the two of you?

Regret lives in the past. Anxiety lives in the future. But you lived in the present.

Present (tipsy) you said, “cute human messaged must respond”

You opened up the conversation. 

[23:16] You: alexa, play congratulations by day6.

[23:16] You: happy anniversary to svt!! 🥳 

[23:16] You: hope you’re having fun with the members!!

Immediately, Seen popped up on your screen.

Your breathing hitched as you saw those damned three dots. You really should ask your old Biology tutor why your chest felt as tight as it did. Or maybe Wheein would know the science as to why it felt like your brain was firing a million and one things but was also completely shut down.

[23:16] wzljh__: oh

[23:16] wzljh__: oh wow

[23:17] wzljh__: i didnt think u would know that

[23:17] wzljh__: thanks you

[23:17] wzljh__: thank uou*

[23:17] wzljh__: you* wow im genius

You giggled softly to yourself.

―――――――――――――――――

“You look like an oversized peach, but, like, not a nice one. One that fell off the kitchen counter and now has bruising forming.”

“You’re fucking rude.”

You tutted. “Jihoon, language.”

“One of these days you’re gonna drop the fuck word too.”

“Mmm. Nope.”

He grabbed at your cheek and pinched it softly. You made a dramatic display of faked annoyance. “You will. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll be the first one to hear it, alright? I’m gonna hear the fuck word from the kid that everyone else is foolish enough to believe is entirely wholesome.”

“Um? But I am? So very wholesome?”

He barked out a laugh. “Sure. You got most people convinced, but I know you. You’re too fiery for your own good.”

“Oh, so you have me all figured out, huh?”

“Of course,” he replied in English, his words laced with his thick Korean accent. “I’m genius.”

You giggled before you corrected him. “‘I’m a genius.’”

He grinned. “We both can be.”

―――――――――――――――――

[23:18] You: the other caratdeul are posting it all over twitter so it’s trending, of course i would know that 😤 i’m in touch with the insiders nowadays

[23:19] wzljh__: the other caratdeul

[23:19] wzljh__: ??

You cursed silently. Did alcohol loosen your thumbs too? Is that possible? Would you remember these questions to ask Wheein later?

[23:19] You: uh, i’m also a carat? duh? have you /seen/ jeonghan-oppa’s visuals? 😍

[23:20] wzljh__: unfortunately every day

You laughed out loud at that.

You saw the three dots come. And then disappear.

You couldn’t help the twinge of sadness that hit, but you figured that he had his own celebration to do.

That is, until a video was sent from his end five minutes later.

You swore Lee Jihoon was going to be the cause of your death one of these days. 

You clicked on the video.

“Annyeong, Y/N-ah!!”

You balked at Yoon Jeonghan’s face grinning at the camera. What the frick.

“Jihoon told me that you graduated with your PhD today! Congratulations! Hanniehae!!”

Your heart burst at the sight.

God, Jeonghan was so cute. You so desperately wanted to be his friend when you first discovered SEVENTEEN, almost more jealous of Jihoon for being surrounded by twelve other fantastic human beings rather than the other way around.

[23:28] You: omg i’m gonna cry

[23:28] You: !!!! how!!!! is he!!!! so CUTE!!!!!

[23:28] You: this is the best grad gift ever

[23:29] You: my years of indentured servitude to SNU was worth it to just bear witness to that 🥰 i can die happily now; thank you yoon jeonghan for existing

[23:30] wzljh__: um excuse me who else

[23:30] You: and to lee jihoon for the provision and distribution of content: i shall remember your services

[23:30] wzljh__: i now owe ur “jeonghan-oppa” a new lego set just for that

[23:31] You: he’s cute when he goes on vlive and builds it so just think of it as an additional gift to me, ok

[23:31] wzljh__: no.

[23:31] You: 🙄 rude

[23:31] wzljh__: u owe me too now especially since u said i gave the best grad gift ever

[23:31] You: i’m!!!!!

[23:32] You: ok so technically no one else has given me a gift yet so you were just better than nothing 🤧

[23:32] wzljh__: yes thats always my goal. to be better than nothing

[23:33] You: 😂😂😂

[23:33] You: wait!!

[23:33] You: you can’t distract me!!

[23:33] You: gifts are exchanged for the sake of selflessness and glad tidings!!

[23:34] wzljh__: thats not what u said when u guilted me into buying u the cardcaptor sakura cards because u got me plushies of the straw hat crew

[23:34] You: i didn’t GET you them! i MADE them!! my craftsmanship and time are worth much more than the ccs cards!! equivalent exchange!!

[23:34] wzljh__: god u are such a weeb

[23:34] You: if you recognize my reference you’re not so innocent yourself

[23:34] wzljh__: …

[23:34] wzljh__: damn

[23:35] wzljh__: anyway u think ur craftsmanship is worth more than the $50 i dropped on those cards?

[23:35] wzljh__: u wanna tell that to chopper whose head was too big for his body and now looks as though hes in inexplicable pain??

You stared at the screen. What?

[23:35] You: ???? pics or it didn’t happen

[23:36] wzljh__: at the dorm

[23:36] You: !!!!! you still have them with you???

[23:36] wzljh__: yea? ofc lol

[23:37] wzljh__: they may be dopey but mostly dope

[23:37] You: bihhhhh

―――――――――――――――――

“Always remember this, Y/N.”

You swallowed the handful of popcorn you so elegantly stuffed in your mouth just seconds prior. “You always do this, Jihoon. You always wait until my mouth is full—”

“Good people watch anime.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Okay?”

“I’m serious. Don’t trust anyone who says that they don’t like anime, alright?”

“What, so, that’s a requirement for whoever I’m going to be involved with in the future?”

“Yes. How can someone be a bad person when they have Monkey D. Luffy to look up to?”

“Fair, but—”

“And if the person can commit to nearly a thousand manga chapters and over eight-hundred episodes, they can commit to you.”

For some reason, his logic overtook your own. You nodded in slow agreement. “I mean. You’re not wrong.”

“Of course not.”

“So, you’re saying I’d have to find my Luffy?”

He eyed you. “I think you’re more of a Nico Robin than a Nami, honestly.”

Your stomach flipped but you brushed aside the implications of his words.

And even years later, your first-date questions always included, ‘If you were a Straw Hat member, who do you think you would be?’

You had yet to find another Zoro.

―――――――――――――――――

[23:38] wzljh__: anyway u still owe me

[23:38] You: BIHHHHHHH

[23:39] wzljh__: ill let u know by the end of the week

[23:39] You: 🥺 do i not get a choice

[23:41] wzljh__: u always have a choice 

[23:42] You: hrmmmmmm then… i shall hear you out… maybe… perhaps… mayhaps

[23:42] wzljh__: always been a poet, since that second grade writing contest, havent u

[23:43] You: me? a poet? how about i quote one of the greatest poets of our generation

[23:43] You: ‘let’s have fun’

[23:43] wzljh__: …?

[23:44] You: ‘everyone stand up and clap’

[23:44] wzljh__: ok

[23:44] You: 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

[23:45] You: wait

[23:45] You: that’s one too many

[23:45] wzljh__: fake fan

[23:46] You: 😢 i come here and get bullied by a member of my favorite k-pop group

[23:46] wzljh__: favorite

[23:46] wzljh__: ?*

[23:46] You: asjdkksncsls yoinks

[23:47] You: i wish i could unsend messages

[23:47] You: or go back 3 seconds in time

[23:48] You: but what if i jump forward 10 seconds..

[23:49] wzljh__: HA

[23:49] wzljh__: alright u are at least a cubic if u watch gose

[23:50] You: 💖💙 it’s what pulled me thru my thesis

[23:50] wzljh__: lololol

[23:50] wzljh__: alright alright

[23:50] wzljh__: i gotta go soon

[23:50] wzljh__: but

[23:51] wzljh__: congratulations y/n

[23:51] wzljh__: seriously

[23:51] wzljh__: u do some amazing things

[23:52] You: 🥺🥺🥺🥺

[23:52] You: thanks jihoon so do u

[23:52] You: oh wait i just remembered

[23:55] wzljh__: ?

[23:56] You: an amazing thing u did

[23:56] You: thanks for sharing the info abt the group home project!!

[23:58] You: i don’t think i can ever explain how grateful i am!! it went so smoothly because of the response from the surrounding communities

[00:00] You: and you didn’t need to share the information

[00:00] You: but you did

[00:00] You: and i just

[00:00] You: idk i’m really grateful

[00:02] You: anyway!!

[00:02] You: sorry

[00:03] You: oh wait i’m supposed to say thank you

[00:03] You: thank you thank you thank you

[00:03] You: thank you lee jihoon

[00:05] wzljh__: is it bad if i just send a 👍🏼

[00:05] You: you’re gonna ok, boomer me? and my authentic and genuine heartfelt words??

[00:06] wzljh__: 👍🏼

[00:07] You: ...i’m unsubscribing

[00:07] wzljh__: lolool

[00:07] You: 😭😭😭

[00:08] wzljh__: still a crybaby

[00:08] You: more like crylady

[00:09] wzljh__: i suggest u never say that ever again

[00:10] You: yep noted i regretted it as soon as i hit send

[00:10] wzljh__: looooollll

[00:11] wzljh__: ill let u know what i expect for my equivalent exchange

[00:12] wzljh__: i need to consult with my lawyers on what exactly i can get away with

[00:12] You: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[00:12] wzljh__: i can hear that message and i dont get how

[00:13] You: i’m gonna d word 😭

[00:13] wzljh__: not until i get my gift lol anyway ill message u by the end of the week

[00:14] You: ok 😞 fine

[00:14] You: you’ll message me?

[00:14] You: 🤙🏼?

[00:15] wzljh__: lolollllllll thats not a pinky promise emoji

[00:16] You: don’t care!!!

[00:16] wzljh__: lollll still so stubborn

[00:16] wzljh__: okay fine

[00:17] wzljh__: 🤙🏼

[00:18] wzljh__: goodnight y/n sleep well

And so you did.

You dreamt of crescent moons, steady heartbeats, gentle melodies, and open arms.

And falling, falling, falling.

―――――――――――――――――

Five weeks.

Four interviews.

Three community project ideas.

Two job offers.

One major minor meltdown.

Zero Instagram messages.

Not that it particularly mattered when your entire future was splayed out right in front of you.

“So… you either stay in Seoul…” Hyejin began.

“...or I move to New York,” you finished for her.

“...okay, but like, what is even over there?”

“Unnie.”

“I know it’s your favorite city in the world—”

“Strongly so.”

“And they have Broadway—”

“An absolute treat.”

“And you’d be lecturing at Columbia—”

“The first Social Work university in America and most prestigious school in said field.”

“But I’m not there!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Hyejin’s pout. “Unnie, you and Wheein were already talking about living together next year because you’re both heading over to Jeju!”

“Which is the same time zone as Seoul! AKA, I can call you at any point I want—”

“We both know that’s not true even if we were in the same time zone.”

“...okay, touché. But! Are you really going to move halfway across the world? Again?”

“I enjoyed my time at Yale!”

“Bumblebee, you left Korea because you were running away from something. Someone. Are you sure you’re not leaving Korea for the same reason?”

“...Unnie, I love New York.”

―――――――――――――――――

“Doesn’t this city just reek of anxiety?”

You ignored her and instead took in the hustle and bustle of the streets around you. The neon signs of overpriced bags just begging to be haggled, the misogynistic advertisements of computer-generated women overhead, unassuming hot dog stands and bodegas whose businesses depended entirely on locals, live music found on nearly every street corner, committed to entertain in order to survive.

This city was the physical manifestation of everything right and wrong with humanity.

Bodies close. Minds worlds away.

The perfect place for someone like you.

“So full of life.”

Hyejin looked at you. Her face softened once she caught a glimpse of the glimmer of light she always saw in passing.

She hoped it would return for the long-term.

“Yeah, bumblebee. Full of life.”

She promised herself that she would take you every year from then on.

Your first trip was during the nipping frost of winter, filled with artificial twinkling and overconsumption of goods; the holiday cheer dampened by the cold reality that heartbreak and loneliness were inevitable byproducts of the season.

Your second trip was in the welcoming arms of autumn, decidedly going upstate for one day; the leaves faded into reds and golds, apples ready to be picked to be baked into a sweet pie, accompanied by the warmth of spiced cider and slow healing found in vulnerability wrapped in double crochet blankets and friendship.

Your third trip was during the sweltering heat of the summer, bad decisions and dangerous impulsivity. Late night drives of yells and whoops echoed into the Lincoln Tunnel with the wind rushing through your hair. The invincibility of youth and rekindling of the burning fire you thought was long gone.

Your fourth trip was in the blossoming of springtime, maturation of seeds sown and bountiful harvests. Gentle breezes and flowy dresses. Picnic baskets and overpriced coffees. The unspoken connection of humans collectively sitting in Central Park enjoying the gift of now, thankful to be alive.

As the seasons changed, so did you.

―――――――――――――――――

“But,” Hyejin started, exasperation already apparent in her tone. “Come on, bumblebee.”

Annoyance flared up. “What?”

“You’re thinking about running away again.”

“What are you talking about?”

Hyejin rolled her eyes at you and you could feel the simmering anger building in the pit of your stomach. You tried to quell it down with breathing, but you still felt the flames lick at your insides. “Jihoon just started messaging you again and you’re off here just thinking about fleeing the country. Again.”

“This has nothing to do with him.”

“I think it has everything to do with him.”

“I’m not some lovesick puppy who can’t make her own decisions, unnie. I applied to Columbia because I thought that it would be an amazing opportunity to be an assistant professor. Do you know how many PhD grads get to score a job like that right out of graduation?”

“Oh, yes, we get it, Y/N. You’re always cream of the crop. Top of your class. Always pursuing something bigger and better than what we mere humans can provide.”

Your jaw dropped. “What the hell?”

“You were offered a full-ride to NYU for your PhD, but you declined it because you didn’t want to, and I’m quoting you here, ‘dirty your healing place.’”

“Things change, unnie.”

“No, you’re just fucking scared.”

Rage filled you. “You don’t know me. You think you have me all figured out, but you’re just projecting onto me because you, for one, are constantly running away from your own feelings for Wheein! You wanna know who’s scared? It’s not me. Because I make my choices and I don’t regret them. Can’t say the same for yourself, huh?”

You grabbed your belongings and stomped out of your shared living space, slamming the door behind you, the beating in your chest ringing in your ears with a resounding thump, thump, thump.

Part of you wondered if the reason you snapped was because she was right.

Maybe partially.

But you also knew that you hated being carved and molded into what people perceived you as.

And she perceived you as something you were not.

Your happiness wasn’t reliant on him. You were a wholly and complete person without him. You knew that. You found that Truth long ago. You proved that through the years of work you put in; years that Hyejin witnessed herself.

So, it felt like a backhanded slap when it felt like she saw the girl you were when she first met you. As though you didn’t put in the effort to take the course of your life into your hands and crafted it to be the way that it is now.

You were a whole person.

She never said you weren’t.

You tried to pull out your car keys from your bag but struggled to find them in the midst of your frustration. You growled before giving up, stomping your way down the now dimly lit streets, the sky never quite achieving a pitch black, with the light pollution of the city. Stars were nowhere in sight, but the moon hung low near the horizon.

You found yourself walking (nearly stomping) for almost an hour as different voices argued in your mind. You were several blocks away from your home now.

She overreacted.

She’s just worried about you.

She didn’t have to be.

She probably doesn’t want you to experience the heartache that she’s seen you go through.

She was treating you like a child.

Because she loves you. And love makes you do crazy things sometimes. Like yelling at your best friend. Or flying halfway across the world.

You groaned inwardly.

God! Why did you have to have a conscience?

You said some pretty shitty things to someone who may have not portrayed her care in the best way, but tried to anyway. She gathered the courage to try and challenge you and you blew her off by rubbing salt into her own wound.

She wasn’t right.

But neither were you.

You felt the wash of shame come over you as you twiddled with your bag’s strap, trying to muster up the determination you needed to trudge back down and apologize.

“Oh, thank God, bumblebee.”

You pivoted your entire body at your unnie’s voice, wanting to shrink back at noticing the redness in her skin and puffiness under her eyes, even in the faint light of the street lamps. She looked so frazzled, her flip-flops nearly hanging off her feet from what looked like running around trying to find you. “Unnie, I—”

“I know you said you don’t like apologies, so I’ll say thank you instead. Thank you for your honesty, even if it was really mean. Thank you for listening to me, at least the beginning. Thank you for getting angry because I know that’s really fucking hard for you to do so and I feel weirdly honored but also still spooked by it. Thank you for not driving, especially this late and on a weekend when you’re upset—”

Your heart sank at the memory of Hyejin recounting her story of losing her friend to a drunk driver, something Hyejin felt immensely (and irrationally) responsible for, having been the person to last send her off.

You had forgotten about that.

Here you were, trying to figure out how you were going to apologize, and here she was, worrying about whether you were going to come back to her at all. You bit your lip before you piped up, “I’m sorry for scaring you like that.”

“Yeah, well, I was right. I learned that I never want to be caught in the crossfire. Your anger is terrifying. You’re not a bumblebee; you’re more like an agitated hornet. With a gun.”

“Unnie—”

“I’m not done. I don’t know how to process my emotions like you do so I didn’t really think before I came running after you. I’m still hurt and mad that you said all of that shit—”

“I was wrong,” you interrupted. She went quiet at that. “I don’t know everything. I hardly know anything. But what I do know is that I was wrong. I said some things that I knew were going to hurt you because that’s what I wanted to do. I was wrong. But... so were you, unnie.”

She remained silent, so you continued.

“I’m not that same, young, dumb teen that you met at Yale. I’m not the brat who was still trying to figure out how to be her own person without being an off-brand version of all of her friends from Busan. I’m… I’m not weak, unnie.”

“I… I never said you were.”

You wondered when you started crying. “Yeah, well. It felt like you didn’t believe in me. That you didn’t trust me. You are the only person in my life who saw all of the changes I went through and you still said I was running away. So, it just made me think that all of my growth was… I don’t know. Fake.”

“What? No. Oh, bumblebee. Never.”

“I’m… I’m my own person. Who can make her own decisions. I don’t need anyone else to complete me. So, there’s no one and nothing that I’m trying to run away from. I’m just trying to figure out where I want to go. Is that so bad?”

“...No. Not at all,” Hyejin answered softly. She slowly stepped towards you and tentatively wrapped her arms around your torso. You leaned in and breathed in her scent, muffling your sniffling against her shoulder. “You were right that I confused the woman you are now with the girl you were then. But I’ve never ever seen you as weak. Or incomplete. Not then, not now.”

“Then why?” You sobbed. “Why do you think my life revolves around him? Anyone else can think I’m some love-struck dumbass, but why you?”

“Oh, bumblebee, I fucked up when I said I thought it had everything to do with him. I definitely… projected. Like you said. As much as I hate to admit it. But... I also want you to know that I don’t see you as some sad girl who’s been pining after some crusty dude. I see a woman who has gone around the world, fallen in love with it and its people, and still knows exactly with whom she feels safest. And I don’t want you to deny yourself of that.”

“I’m not denying myself anything. He doesn’t love me, unnie. So, I have to be the one to do it. Because he won’t. And that’s okay. I’ve learned to love myself and isn’t that good enough?”

Hyejin squeezed you tighter in her embrace. “Call me crazy, but… I think there’s something there. Call it a spark. Call it a string of fate. Call it a grown love. But… ah. I’m not good with words like you, bumblebee. You are good enough. Just as you are. Wonderful, even. I… I’m not saying he’s a missing piece of you or anything like that. But. Agh. Like. He is bread. And you are butter. You’re both complete by nature and can exist without each other, but you’re just… better together,” she tried to hold her tongue, but you knew her resolve was weak, so you braced yourself. “Butter together.”

“...unnie, you really are bad with words.”

You yelped when she grabbed at you to pinch your thigh.

She promptly turned the two of you around back to your apartment, her arm looped around yours. You easily walked past your building, though, caught up in smoothing out the harsh lines said during your earlier conversation. She admitted her fears regarding pursuing her own unrequited love and you confessed you often chased things that were of grandeur rather than that of simplicity. And you both touched on exactly the roots of your insecurities: hers in her fear of being unwanted and yours in the idea that you were incomplete without him.

The two of you found yourselves swinging at a neighborhood park that probably closed several hours ago, but it was a safe space for the two of you, to air out the tension, to have the beginnings of healing and mending, although most of it being left to time and future efforts of rebuilding trust.

Together.

―――――――――――――――――

[19:21] wzljh__: this might be a dumb question but did ur kkt account change

[19:21] wzljh__: i tried messaging u and it said delivered but

[19:21] wzljh__: nvm u dont have to reply sorry

[19:42] You: omg

[19:42] You: jihoon i made a new account bc my username was @narutofanfreak123 and i couldn’t bear to tell people that was my username but i didn’t know how to change it LOLLL

[19:43] You: so i made a new account once i came back to korea!!

[20:01] wzljh__: i

[20:01] wzljh__: i shouldve asked

[20:02] wzljh__: i thought u werent replying because u were busy with job searching since u were posting about it on ur story

[20:02] wzljh__: or maybe u didnt want to talk to me 😣

You rubbed your eyes in disbelief.

Jihoon used an emoji?

[20:05] You: oh no lol i already got offers

[20:05] You: still deciding between two of them

[20:17] wzljh__: before u tell me whats ur username on kkt?

[20:18] You: oh yeah!

[20:18] You: oh

[20:18] You: uhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[20:18] wzljh__: ???

[20:19] You: haha

[20:19] You: ok so

[20:19] You: uh

[20:19] wzljh__: are u ok???

[20:20] You: yeah! haha

[20:20] You: welp

[20:20] You: it’s @madamefirefly

[20:20] You: heh

Lee Jihoon (@wzljh__) added you on KakaoTalk! You accepted Lee Jihoon’s request!

[20:23] Lee Jihoon: nice username

[20:23] You: thanks it was inspired by someone who used to bully me as their pastime

[20:25] Lee Jihoon: sounds like u were a masochist

[20:25] You: 🙄🙄🙄

[20:25] You: nice username

[20:25] You: sounds like it was randomly generated off of a sketchy site on naver that just so happened to have your initials

[20:26] Lee Jihoon: that ‘sketchy site’ somehow managed to predict the initials of my english stage name

[20:27] You: that was easily!!!! within your control to manipulate, woozi-ssi!! it should technically be uji!!

[20:27] Lee Jihoon: no that site knew my future and spoke to me

[20:28] Lee Jihoon: speaking of futures

[20:28] Lee Jihoon: whats coming up on the y/n agenda

[20:29] You: oop sorry hyejin-unnie is back home and i promised we would get dinner together so i might not respond until later

[20:30] You: but i’m deciding between staying here in seoul to continue the work i’ve been doing and being an assistant professor at columbia university in new york city!!

[20:30] You: although i’m def leaning more towards one than the other

[20:30] You: ack she’s yelling at me to hurry sorry i’ll ttyl!!

[Read at 20:30]

――――――――――――――――― 

 Your phone rang.

You saw the FaceTime ID and never slid the bar faster than you did in that moment.

“Unnie! I—oh God, is that a wedding dress—oh my, oh no, the tears—”

One of the most beautiful laughters of your childhood rang out as she flipped the camera back to her face, stained from salty tears already passed. “Oh, lovebug—” Your lips split into a wide grin at the childhood nickname. “I think this is the one. I needed to show you. What do you think?”

“Hold on, I’m crying so hard that I can’t see—”

337.1km away, your future family member (although, one could argue she always had been) burst into a renewal of joyful tears, so exuberantly over-the-moon to share this moment with you, and you sharing the same exact sentiment to be able to bask in the joy of a promised love.

“Unnie,” you said emphatically. “You are… so beautiful. So stunning. So radiant. So dazzling. My goodness me. You are… just so splendent.”

She hiccuped. “Lovebug, no one uses that word anymore.”

“I had to go back to words of old to explain myself because language oft fails me when I see you.”

“Stop. God, you and Jihoon both with your ability to speak. How do words even come out of you two like that?”

You made a noise.

You don’t think she caught it.

“Y/N, you are sunshine personified, so to hear you say that makes me feel like I’m being blessed by Amaterasu herself.”

“I wouldn’t want to go lock myself in a cave.”

“Then don’t, lovebug,” she said dismissively. “Plus, you can’t. The bachelor and bachelorette party is gonna be in Seoul and you promised you would be there.”

“Yes, yes. To help me get blackmail on everyone else in case they try to turn on you later. You’re using me, you know?”

“You’re a useful person.”

You clicked your tongue. “So I’ve been told.”

A comfortable silence passed between the two of you before she broke it, a slight hesitation in her tone.

“So… turns out that Jihoon’s gonna be at oppa’s bachelor party. Oppa asked him to perform and he said no because of his schedule, but he said he would be at the wedding. And the bachelor party.”

You quirked an eyebrow at that. He was willingly going to the party and the wedding of the man who stole the love of his life away from him? “Really?”

“Yeah…”

“Huh. Weird.”

“I’m sorry, but he’s coming to the wedding. I know you don’t want to see him, but—”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Uh, you literally went across the world to avoid him—”

“Why does everyone think that? No, don’t worry about me, unnie. It’s fine.”

You didn’t look directly at the screen but you could feel her stare boring into the side of your face through it. She thought you were lying. But you weren’t. It wasn’t about you.

“Lovebug—”

“He texted me.”

Your words stunned her into silence.

That is, until she went rapid-fire.

“Oh my God. What? How? When? Did you reply? Was it an emergency? Did you have a conversation? Was it a casual conversation? How long? Oh, thank goodness—”

“Whoa, whoa, chill out, unnie. Wait. Why do you look happier now than you did when you were showing me your wedding dress? Wait. Aren’t you at a boutique right now? Don’t you have your mom waiting or something—?”

“Shush, I’m asking the questions around here.”

And so, you answer them. You told your future family, your confidant, your safe space. You told her of the accidental like, the off-chance comment, the purposeful messages, and everything caught in between.

337.1km away and you felt right at home.

―――――――――――――――――

“Y/N?”

You knew that voice anywhere.

Of course she was here, of course she was. This was one of your collective dreams, two girls fantasizing about inebriated situations and uninhibited fun by means of burning liquids in a local Busan bar. A dream of spending a night here, sharing a story for every shot.

You learned a year prior that you would really only be able to tell two stories before wanting to quit.

“Oh… hey, unnie.”

“You’re… you’re back.”

You forced out a laugh. “Yeah, I, uh. Graduated.”

“From Yale.”

“Uh… yeah. From Yale.”

“Can… I sit here?”

You glanced up at her before gesturing to the seat in front of you, the corner booth really far too large for your person. You could almost see the thoughts that raced in her mind before she gave a small nod and sunk down into the cushion.

“So, how have you—”

“I heard you—”

“Oh, no, you go—”

“Oh, sorry, I just—”

You both locked eyes.

And promptly burst into a fit of laughter.

“God, what is this?” You managed to get out, holding your stomach.

She was no better, in her signature hiccuping stage. “I just—!”

“We have the communication skills of five-year-olds.”

She wiped away a stray tear. “We’ve become a drama.”

“I call being the second-male lead.”

“Wait, that’s not fair. We all know that the second-male lead is objectively better.”

“That’s exactly why, unnie,” you winked.

She scoffed. “Alright, I’ll give it to you this time, lovebug.”

You saw her freeze, as if she didn’t expect herself to call you by that nickname. She looked like a deer caught in headlights and you quickly gave her a wave of your hand. “You spent more years calling me that than you did my actual name. Let’s not break the trend now, yeah?”

She visibly relaxed and you couldn’t help but smile fondly.

A lull passed over you, but you felt much more comfortable with this silence than the strained one prior. You closed your eyes and simply took in the moment, gratitude filling your lungs.

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyes fluttered open. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I’m sorry that you had to leave because of me—”

Oh.

That was heart wrenching to hear.

The apology signified a wound, an old one.

A self-inflicted one.

Oh no.

“Unnie,” you began slowly, reaching for her hands. You could see the tears brimming. “Do you… do you blame yourself for my decision? Has guilt been eating at you all of these years?”

“I just… you left. Jihoon left. If I had just said something, then—”

“Unnie.”

She bit her lip at your definitive tone.

“Nothing, nothing, about this was your fault.  Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t mine and it wasn’t his either. We all struggled to ‘just say something’. Unnie, we were young and dumb. We still are young and dumb,” you squeezed her hands for emphasis. “If you say you’re sorry, then okay. I forgive you. But I just want you to know that past me never blamed you. Never.”

She let out a choked sob and you found yourself crossing to the other side of the table, enveloping her in your arms, tucking her head under your chin. She buried her face into your chest and you just rubbed her back soothingly. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for never reaching out. I’m sorry I never cleared the air. I’m sorry I was so scared.”

“We needed time and space apart, unnie. To figure ourselves out. And I did. I really did. And I wouldn’t have been able to do that if I kept tying my self-worth into Korea, into Busan, into you, into him. But that doesn’t mean I cut you off in order to do it. I don’t think I ever could,” you squeezed tighter. “Thank you for saying that you’re sorry, but there really is no need, not to me.”

And so she cried into your arms, emptying herself of tears. Later, you filled that space with your stories of adventure, your kind words, and your love. And she did the same for you.

In that moment, Busan never seemed so much more like home.

―――――――――――――――――

“So, New York, huh?”

You glanced up at your boss, the social worker in charge of running the different programs tied to the university, the same one who got you involved with the group home, the same one who offered you a full-time position after graduation in training new recruits, specializing in the Child and Family division, but also providing self-care guidance to the rest of the staff since your specialty in school was around Behavioral and Mental Health.

The pay was good, seeing as it was run by professionals partnered with SKY: Seoul National University, Korea University, and Yonsei University. What most Koreans would consider to be the ‘Ivy League’ of South Korea. Although, being a community leader was definitely a far-cry from a prestigious position as an assistant professor.

“Ah. Yeah, New York.”

“Nice place.”

“It’s… yeah. It’s nice.”

“Is the air better there than here?”

“No fine dust, but there’s a lot of smog.”

She pulled a displeased face. “Is that better?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

There was a pregnant pause between the two of you. You wanted to reduce into a puddle and slip through the vents, dreading this conversation.

“You should go.”

Uh. What?

You parroted those exact words out loud.

“I may have lost some of my mind’s sharpness to age and time, but if I remember correctly, New York City is one of the most popular places in the world. And I hear that it would be a good place for a young, spry lady like you to get your bright mind out there. The world needs a little more of you and if New York City is the best way to do it, so be it.”

“I’m… I’m…”

“A wonderful human being who will make the most of the hand that she’s dealt. I’ve seen you make castles out of cardboard.”

“You… you want me to go to New York?”

“Oh, Heavens no. Not at all. I would love to just keep you here forever,” she sighed, going so far as to lean back in her desk chair. You resisted the urge to laugh at her theatrics. “But you’re not a princess locked up in a tower. You have the power to make your own choice, and I know that whichever path you go down, it will be a flowery one. You’ll make it one. Because that’s just what you do, Y/N.”

“What if… What if I’m not sure?”

She tilted her head back down to meet your eyes and gave you a smile that was slightly off-putting, as though you had fallen into a trap she carefully laid out. “Then, what can I do to convince you to stay here?”

“I think a part of me thinks I’m wanting to stay here because I’ve found my home here. I think I’ve become incredibly comfortable here. In Korea.”

She blinks at you. “Is… that a bad thing?”

“I think... I think that I’m wanting to stay here because I love it here and the work I do and the people I’ve met, but I think I’m wanting to leave because I’m trying to prove that I’m not tied down to a particular person. Because I feel like everyone thinks that I can’t live my life without them, so I want to prove that I can do it. That I will.”

“So… you’re trying to prove that you’re not influenced by said person, by, uh, being influenced by said person?”

“Uh.”

“‘Uh,’ indeed.”

“What if… I’m staying here because I subconsciously think that everyone is right? That I actually can’t live without them? Not actually?”

“Is that person me?”

“No, ma’am.”

“I’m a little hurt you answered that so quickly, but. To prove my point. You are here, in my office, yes?”

“Yes…?”

“Are they?”

“No…?”

“Then. You’re living without them, aren’t you? Right here. In front of me. Heart pumping out blood through your veins and your brain shooting off neurons. You’re alive. Without them.”

“It’s… it’s a little different, Doctor, I—”

“Y/N. You’re dazzling. Almost overwhelmingly so. There is no one. No one who can overshadow you in the way you think they can. No matter what underlying influences, no matter what puppetry you may think is going on, you call the shots. You get to decide what to include in your life moving forward. If this person has as much power as you think they do over you, I’d like to meet them. Because you’re a force to be reckoned with.”

You bit your lip. “Is… Is it okay to be so selfish?”

“You said so yourself, Y/N. You found a home here. Or more like, knowing you, you built a home here. Korea will forever be marked by you. Seoul. Busan. Everywhere you’ve gone. That’s something that the majority of the world cannot say, because everyone feels a little lost, a little out of place. But you? No. You have a place. Right here. And, I mean, even at the end of the day, if you go off somewhere else, you’ll always have a place to return to that will welcome you with open arms.”

“Doctor, I…”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“...I think I wanna stay.”

“Perfect. I’ll have them write up your contract.”

―――――――――――――――――

[04:12] Lee Jihoon: i know its late. rehearsal never ends until 3am and i know that when u get texts you wake up even if ur phone is on silent bc the vibration wakes u up so im trying to type this all in one message so that it doesnt wake u up (hopefully) but i didnt want it to seem like i left u on read because i was upset or something. but i didnt want to message until i had the time to have a full conversation but i dont think thats happening any time soon anyway. when you see this i hope it makes sense im not sure if i am

[4:12] You: i still have the sleep schedule of a doctoral student, you know

[4:12] Lee Jihoon: oho i see

[4:12] Lee Jihoon: and u still owe me a gift, doctor

[4:12] You: 🥴🥴🥴 i thought you forgot

[4:12] Lee Jihoon: never

[4:13] You: ok lee jihoon, what do you want?

[4:13] Lee Jihoon: can i call u

[4:13] You: ? sure?

Before you could even type, ‘is something wrong?’, his name and profile picture (which wasn’t even of him, it was that dumb photo of Hansol) flooded your screen. Your finger slid across before you could even give a second thought.

“Um. Hello?” Silence met your ears. You wondered whether the call actually went through. You pulled the phone away from your cheek and pressed ‘speaker’. “Jihoon…?”

“Ah, sorry. Yes. Wow. Hi.”

You knew speaker was the better option. Hearing his voice that close to your ear would have given you heart palpitations, or at least, worse than what was already happening. “Yes, hello yourself. Did you need something?”

“Huh?”

“You called?”

“Oh. Yeah. No. I just. Wanted to talk.”

“About what?”

“Anything. I think staring at a screen would’ve made me fall asleep faster, but I wanted to talk. To you. If that’s okay.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s okay.”

You heard him release a sigh of relief (?). “Yeah. Okay. Thank you.”

You hummed, realizing there was a chance he didn’t exactly prepare conversation topics. “I decided to stay in Seoul.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. My boss here convinced me.”

“Tell them thank you.”

You snorted. “It wasn’t hard to.”

“Columbia is a pretty prestigious place, though.”

“Huh. How’d you know that?”

“Might’ve asked Hansol and Jisoo-hyung.”

You clicked your tongue. “Jihoon, just because they’re American doesn’t mean—”

“Nope. That’s exactly what it means.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “Okay, okay.”

“I’m proud of you, you know.”

“Uh—what?”

“You got a whole ass PhD. From the best university in Korea. You got offered a job at a super big school in America. One that’s super big in the field that you studied. You graduated from an even bigger school for undergrad, a school that even I know the name of. And just… I know that people expect you to achieve because you’ve always been a genius, always so brilliant, but. You also work really hard. So. I’m proud of you.”

Your throat felt tight. “It’s not that big of a deal—”

“But it is, firefly.”

Oh, that nickname. “I mean, I just—”

“You don’t have to believe me. But that won’t stop me from feeling it.”

“Jihoon, I—”

“I’ve missed you.”

Before you could even make a noise (not that you could), he continued.

“I’ve missed you a stupid amount. Like us stealing your dad’s car to drive to McDonald’s at 3am and then running a red light on the way there. And then somehow almost hitting an entire flock of seagulls. And then going to some random, deserted parking lot. And then realizing we didn’t know the way home, so we drove aimlessly for, like, 45 minutes. And then panicking when we kept seeing the gas needle go down. That kind of stupid.”

You couldn’t form words.

But you tried.

“I… I missed you too.”

You could’ve sworn you heard utter satisfaction in his voice. “I have to sleep now, but. I just. I couldn’t not tell you. That’s all.”

“Okay.”

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

“That sounds like a cartoon villain.”

His laughter rang throughout your empty room and your chest tightened.

“Alright, we’ll go with just firefly then.”

Tears formed in your eyes at the ‘we’. You felt like you were fifteen and back in your childhood bedroom, after a long, long hours, ending your night by telling him about your day. The words you denied yourself for years tumbled out of your mouth, “Night, night, Jihoonie.”

A low chuckle met your ears.

“Sleep well, firefly.”

―――――――――――――――――

“He fucking booty called you?”

“Unnie, that’s not—”

“Nuh-uh, bumblebee. Any call past 3am is a fucking booty call.”

“So, when you called me past 3am, it was a booty call? I feel violated.”

“Time zones, Wheein. Doesn’t count,” Hyejin said dismissively.

Wheein puffed out her cheeks and stabbed the salad in front of her, piercing a lettuce leaf. You wanted to laugh at her infantile display, but you knew that would only result in her turning against you. And Hyejin was already a formidable opponent.

“He’s an idol,” you repeated for what seemed like the millionth time. “His rehearsal didn’t end until 3am.”

“He didn’t even tell you what he wanted for a gift,” Wheein interrupted.

“Yeah, what the hell is that about?” You muttered, turning back to your own plate of fries. You chewed on one thoughtfully as you made eye contact with Hyejin who gave you a deadpanned look. “What?”

“God, you two are dense, aren’t you?”

“Um, rude?”

“The phone call was the gift,” Hyejin explained.

“What a shitty gift.”

“Yeah, what? I would’ve asked for, like, Y/N’s homemade japchae.”

“Or my kimchi jjigae.”

“Or her dwaejigogi-bokkeum—wait. Stop distracting me,” Hyejin shook her head. “Regardless, bumblebee. He called you and that was his gift.”

You rolled your eyes at the ridiculous notion. “Sure, Jan.”

“Don’t make Brady Bunch references at me. We’re not American.”

“No, but we do use the internet,” you reminded her. “Anyways, it’s not that big of a deal. I’ve got other things to worry about. Like the fact that my cousin and his fiancée are coming in about a week and they want to get dinner together before they get shit-faced over the weekend. My only task is to gather blackmail material whenever the bachelorette happens with her friends.”

“Sounds like my kind of job.”

“Yes, Wheein-unnie, it really does.”

“Aren’t you gonna see him then?”

“Who? Jihoon?”

“Yeah, like. Aren’t you gonna see him next week? Isn’t he in your cousin’s bachelor party troupe or whatever the hell it’s called?”

You cocked your head to the side. “I don’t think I’ll see him? I shouldn’t see him. I think they’re gonna be in a different part of Seoul.”

“Huh. That would’ve been cool, though.”

“What?”

“You know that scene in dramas, where the main characters meet each other again for the first time in a long time and it’s all fuzzy and slow motion and there’s music playing in the background?”

“That’s—what? No. That doesn’t actually happen in real life, unnie.”

Hyejin pursed her lips. “Sure, Jan.”

―――――――――――――――――

“Ladybug!”

“Move aside, second-rate, that’s my lovebug.”

Your unnie ran into your open arms after she shoved her fiancé aside. You laughed at his crestfallen face but squeezed your future family as tight as you could. She squealed at your strength but nuzzled her face into your neck anyway.

“She’s… she’s my cousin, you know.”

“Yeah, but she chose me, which means that she likes me more. Chosen family is always better.”

“What? No—”

“She’s right, oppa,” you quipped. “Chosen family is always better. Has Lilo and Stitch taught you nothing?”

“I—you two always do this. You two always gang up on me and Jihoon, and—”

“Our table is ready, oppa. Let’s go take a seat.”

“For once, can you two listen to me, please?”

“He’s asked that before, unnie.”

“And we abided at that one time, right, lovebug?”

“Yes. He said to listen for once and we did.”

“Once only means one time, am I wrong?”

“No, unnie, you’re not.”

“God, forget it. Where’s the damn table? I need a drink.”

The two of you laughed at your cousin’s outburst and retreating figure as you both linked arms to follow after.

―――――――――――――――――

One appetizer in, you swirled the lemonade in your hands, appreciating the visible pulp as an indicator of its freshness. Your cousin, on the other hand, was several beers in, face slightly flushed, a permanent lazy grin plastered on his face.

“Wow, I’m surrounded by my two favorite girls—”

“What about your mom?”

“Or your dog?”

“Or Jennie from Blackpink?

“Or Zero Two from Darling in the FRANXX?”

“Oh God. He watched Darling in the FRANXX?”

“Ugh, yes, lovebug, let me tell you—”

“ANYWAY. YEAH. MY TWO FAVORITE GIRLS.”

The two of you snickered at his outburst. Your cousin’s phone pinged and he shielded it from you, squinting like an old man, staring at the screen with a tilted head. “Oh, hey, he’s five minutes away.”

You made an inquisitive sound. “Who?”

The two of them exchanged nervous glances, your cousin visibly swallowing.

Your unnie was the one who decided to speak up.

Because they knew you wouldn’t ever get mad at her.

Oh no.

“I know we didn’t give you the time to prepare, but we thought that you would’ve run away if we told you earlier, but Jihoon is coming here and—”

You could see her mouth move but you only heard a dull ringing.

You tried to speak, but no sound came out.

Wait.

Could you even speak? Where was your mouth again? Did it even move? What was happening? Where were you? Who were you?

“Y/N.”

You thought you felt a hand place itself on your shoulder. You turned to the sound source. “Yes?”

“Are you breathing?” “I think so.”

Your vision focused enough to recognize the looks of concern from the two seated at the booth.

Your heart sank. Oh no. Oh no.

Jihoon was going to see the two of them together, engaged.

He was going to be completely shattered.

“Lovebug, are you crying?”

“I—”

“Jihoon! Hey!” Your cousin’s voice went up several octaves from its regular position. You froze and cast your eyes downward, shrinking back as far into the seat as you could.

“Hey, hyung.”

Even the highest quality of speakers could not do this man’s voice justice, you realized.

“Oh my goodness, it’s our Jihoonie! Hi!”

You prepared yourself to hear the strain in his voice that you knew would tear you up inside.

“Hi, noona.”

Wait. What?

He spoke with such nonchalance, your head shot up in surprise.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Was your vision still fuzzy from earlier?

Did someone turn the playback speed to 0.5x?

Was that music playing?

(Shit. Hyejin was right.)

Your tongue mindlessly ran across your lips.

Oh wow.

He was really built like that, huh? His fair skin was so clear, you could have sworn there was a halo of light emitting from him. Cleanly done undercut, his ebony bangs fell messily just above his eyes, oh God, those crescent eyes, those bright, bright, bright—

Has he always looked at you like that?

“Hey, firefly.”

“Holy fuck.”

The older two gawked for a moment before your cousin began to berate you, going so far as to threaten to wash your mouth out with soap, while your unnie had her jaw dropped in horror. But you couldn’t look away from Jihoon. Surprise flitted across his face, but only for a moment. It settled into an uptilted corner of his lip and amusement dancing in his irises.

The woman before him, he only ever caught fleeting moments of. From social media posts by old friends to grainy photos from news outlets regarding your doctoral work. You were always so hard to pin down, like trying to catch a sunbeam in his hands.

You changed. So much.

You grew more into yourself, a woman you crafted with your own hands. There was a quiet confidence woven into you, so blatantly obvious, even though your current posture would convince everyone else otherwise. But he wasn’t everyone else. He could see the burning flame you’ve had since you were children, but it was more refined, more honed in, more in your control.

That made you more dangerous.

But that flustered look on your face.

Maybe you hadn’t changed too much.

And that gave him hope.

―――――――――――――――――

[side A: you. end]

[side B: him. coming soon]

#lee jihoon x reader #woozi x reader #lee jihoon #woozi #seventeen x reader #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #seventeen #svt #kpop svt #woozi fic #seventeen fic #svt fic #mine

[peachdem]

a self-indulgent post about my spiderverse oc ft. hobie brown

first off, some context !!

1. ✧˖°SPIDER SAGE! (✿ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)⁾⁾𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ✧˖° real name: eden osei, age: 20, race: african-american, ethnicity: west indian (bajan). hails from e-767, likes art, takes martial arts! her hobbies include reading, writing, making collages, and creating art! After an adventurous descent into the park with her brother, she’s bitten by a radioactive spider - courtesy of her universe’s Norman Osborn dumping toxic waste into the woods And with that, Spider Sage is born! She was inducted into the spider society around her second year of being spiderwoman ( she’s seventeen here ). Having just lost her brother to a supervillain, she has high hopes for the organization. Under the assumption she’s making the world a safer place to prevent tragedies like her brother’s from happening again. But towards the time when the movie takes place, she took on a more pessimistic view and became distant. The spider society lost the nobility she once saw. She regards Miguel’s words with a grain of salt. She doesn’t get how preserving the canon is more important than saving lives. But she relents. Until she hears Miles’s story.

2. Spider Sage moves → Webbed Rock: Fills webs with rock and or rocks and uses it like a flail, twirling it above or to the side. There’s also a variation to this on → Double Whammy: Sage twirls while swinging webbed rocks in both hands, knocking out her opponents! Typically used against two villains. Mother Earth: Places both hands to the ground and plants from below, ripping through concrete. Shield of Sanctuary: Twisted vines rise from the ground, forming a shield to protect her from onslaught. Breath of Venus:. emits a pink flowery fume from her mouth that can anesthetize her victims. Twisted Arm: Thorny vines encapsulate Sage’s arm, delivering one powerful punch! Butterfly Cocoon: Sage can wrap her opponents up in a “butterfly cocoon” consisting of flowery webs and or plants. And this isn’t really a power move but Sage grows plant life on her back too, which she used to create wings. This one I haven’t found a name for yet, but i imagine her in one of those old-fashioned video games for it, y’know the ones : A giant tulip sprouts around Sage, swallowing her up and plunges into the ground, before reappearing behind her opponent, blooming before disappearing again.

3. An ongoing strike that afflicts Earth-767 are environmental violations. Earth 767, rhymes with heaven *･ﾟ♫₊ ♪ *♬‧ I wanted to reference the number for heaven without it being too on the nose, since eden’s universe looks alot like it ( could also be a reference to paradise, or garden of eden ) it’s basically a greenery abundant bed-stuy adorned with flora and fauna. It’s a breath of fresh air. It’s wild and free. It’s ethereal, unique, and refreshing. Heavenly and euphoric. Spider Sage swings through the air with a complete loss of inhibition, as her organic web vines twist around her arm. And when she descends, she’s like an angel dropping from heaven.

a couple of fun facts! 🎀🐾🍮💕

- the spider that bit eden was not only radioactive but mutated with plant life from the forest, giving eden flower power 🌸 think of like a spider with a peony on its hump. I'd provide an example, but I really don’t wanna look up spiders :( she also has a peony on her spider suit, referencing the spider that thrust her into her newfound identity

- When Eden grows new flowers in her hair, a pop up caption appears to explain the significance of them. They symbolize how she’s feeling at the moment, for example yellow roses grow on her when she meets miles, which is an indicator of friendship! 🌼

- Spider sage’s theme sounds refreshing and peaceful with a touch or two of unconventionality! A couple of music rec’s to get a better feel would be puzzle by g.a.t instrumental or si un jour by la femme

- When she was still getting used to her powers, her flowers would sprout unexpectedly in HQ, sometimes sticking to others or objects

- Spider Sage’s nickname is ‘The Green Goddess.’

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧 SAGE PUNK 🐰🌷⊹♡ ‧ ( Eden & Hobie ) HEADCANONS :

1. Eden started out in the Spider Society around the same time as Hobie ( I headcanon she was seventeen, imma just make Hobie seventeen too since they’re around the same age. ) They’re polar opposites, Eden being shy and reserved and Hobie being able to find comfort anywhere. Eden warms up to be people once she gets used to them though, and she warms up to Hobie quickly. He doesn’t give her much of a choice. When Eden first sees Hobie, she thinks he’s cool. Because they’re both new to the spider society, they go on a mission together to start off. E and Hobie start to grow more familiar with each other, sharing aspects ( such as eden’s art and hobie’s music ) of their life with one another and get sent out on more missions. They make a good team, Eden being the one to drag Hobie back in when he gets too reckless, and Hobie encouraging Eden to go all out. They complement each other perfectly. After a while Hobie invites her to one of his shows, something he regularly does with others, but it’s meant differently when inviting her. He feels a connection and wants to see where this goes. little does she know she feels the same way :)

2. More on the first one, Eden was inducted to the spider society a little before Hobie was, and although he won’t admit it, her presence persuaded him to join. It’s no secret Hobie protects the ones he cares about, eden being no exception. Ugh, I can just imagine them stepping through the portal in Hobie’s dimension, Miguel attempting to recruit him. He’s not impressed by the tall man claiming to be Spider-Man, but the shorter girl peeping behind his shoulder catches his eye. So he reluctantly agrees. Little do they know Miguel plans to make them partners, thinking Eden would soften him up ( he was wrong ) and they’re sent off on a high-stakes mission to prove their worth. Eden’s incredibly moral so she ignores the red flags at first, but Hobie steers her in a more ‘oppositional, anti-authoriatrian ‘ ideology.

3. Eden always attends Hobie’s shows, making an effort to finish her homework on time. Sometimes she doesn't even bother. Hobie always laughs with a shake of his head, " I wouldn't want you to sabotage yourself. “ “ Nah, man it's cool! I'm a smart girl, I can handle it.“ she ends up paying for it later, stuck behind her desk at 2 am, struggling to keep up her energy. Hobie gives her a call, hearing the exhaustion in her voice " But it was worth it, " she tiredly whispers, belly churning at his deep chuckle over the phone.

4. Sometimes, people will joke about how Eden and Hobie even got together, being so clearly opposite from another

5. Hobie likes to serenade Eden with the songs that he’s made. Just don’t call it that, or else he'll get fussy. I remember I talked about this before with Eden showing up to his band practices/performances and cheering him on, but what about the times where it’s just the two of them? They’re sitting on Eden’s bed and the room is bathed in a warm glow from the candle she’s lit. He revels in the way her eyes light up as he plays his guitar, fingers effortlessly drifting across the strings as he maintains eye contact. Once he finishes the tune he sets his guitar down against her bed, enthused by her light clapping.“ jus’ a likkle ting I worked up, love. wanted you to be the first to ‘ear it. “ He leans back with his arms behind his head and a satisfied smirk on his face, gazing at her expectantly. Eden usually follows with loads of pleasant compliments with observant feedback and Hobie glady listens, taking in whatever she has to offer. He ignores the queasy feeling he gets in his stomach as Eden’s mouth stretches into a grin, showing off a dimple on her right cheek. “ Well I’m honored you’d share something this special with me. You’ve got such amazing talent. “ His chest reverberates with a chuckle, closing his eyes bashfully.“ Yeah, well..I wouldn’t ask if you weren’t special. Y’know? “ He tilts his head in her direction, meeting a pair of eyes filled with soft awe.“ Yeah? “ Eden stares back, searching for the affection she knows is there. A low breath escapes him and his eyes never leave hers. “ Yeah. “

6. I have a headcanon of Eden and Hobie from that one scene of Adventure Time, y’know where PB had kept the shirt Marceline gave her? Eden’s been to practically all of his shows before, and rocks his band’s merch proudly.

7. Hobie called Eden “Ed” once as a nickname and was immediately shut down. Sometimes he brings it back up just to annoy her. “ ‘ey ed. ‘ow you doin’ this fine mornin’? “ eden turns her head to the side and back around “ you talkin’ to me? I don’t see any ed around here.“ hobie also likes to torment eden with stuff he knows disgusts her. eden making a gross face at someone’s snotty nose? He’ll bring it up randomly, taking in her disgusted reaction. bugs creep her out? he’s already chasing her around the house, silverfish in hand. “ aw c’mon love, it just wants to say hi! “ “ Hobie get the fuck away from me!! “ he’s a menace, but it’s okay cause she always gets him back for it.

8. Organized girlfriend and Hectic boyfriend. 100%.

9. Hobie likes to show up at Eden's house unannounced, and she doesn’t even question it. She could be working on her latest assignment when Hobie comes in through her window, wanting to take her along on the newest adventure he’s dedicated himself to that day. And who is she to deny him? It’s always a blast hanging out with Hobie. Eden often finds herself reminiscing about the escapades they’ve gone on together. If he’s not taking her out to a party, a protest, or a music showcase run by some friends then he’s at her house playing with his guitar or listening to her ramble about anything going on with her life. Speaking of protests, Eden makes sure to pack backpacks with all the food, water and snacks they need - including a first aid kit in case of injury. Hobie takes it lovingly, kissing his thoughtful girlfriend for the trouble she went through.

10. Hobie and Eden are always willing to help each other, especially when it comes to their hair :) <333 this one is extra important !!

11. Eden loves to hug Hobie from behind while he’s playing his guitar. She smiles into his shoulder as she feels a light chuckle throughout his body.“ You’re awfully ‘andsy today. “ He tilts his head back, looking at her from behind. “ you need somethin’? “ Eden hummed absentmindedly, toying with the straps of his tank top. “ No.. just felt like touching you. “

12. Hobie is engrossed in a conversation with Pav. They’ve got a couple of hours until their next mission, so they’re chilling out in the cafeteria until then. That’s when Eden walks by, right on time for her morning cup of tea. A flowery scent wafts gently from her body that grabs his attention and he immediately turns his face in her direction. Quickly dismissing himself to Pav, he makes his way over to Eden, who’s dipping the tea bag into her cup. “Ey’ there. You’re smellin’ nice today.“ Eden turns to see Hobie who’s slipped next to her undetected. She grins at the compliment, eyes glowing. “ Thanks! I’m surprised you noticed.“ Hobie’s eyes widened at the unintentional jab.“ Ah, so you that’s the kinda guy you take me for, eh? “ Eden snorts and waves her hand dismissively. “ That’s not what I meant, and you know it. “ “ Suuure, love. Wha’ever you say. “

13. Hobie is not the type to get Eden flowers knowing that it stems from patriarchy. He follows no social quo. Plus Eden can grow flowers and plant life from her body so like why would she need more?

14. Eden turns her head in the direction of the sound, only to be pressed deeply into a red and blue shirt. “ Agh! Hobie! “ She giggles as Hobie hugs her and enveloped her in strong arms, picking her up from the ground. He swings her around earning a squeal, before setting her back down on the floor. “What’s goin’ on mate? How’s my fav gyal doin’? “ Hobie then slings an arm around her shoulder, his face dangerously close to hers. Eden ignores the heat flaring up in her cheeks, choosing to focus her energy into teasing him. “ You’re chipper this morning! What you just got back from a mission or something? “ “ What’d you mean by that, eh? Man can’ jus be chuffed to see you? “ He removes his arm from her side and Eden misses the weight against her shoulders. “ You di’n’t answer my question, love. How's your day been’? “ He folds his arms against his chest, leaning back coolly on the table behind him. Eden smiled, lifting her arms into a shrug. “ Eh. Can’t complain. Just got here actually. What about you? “ As the two continue to chat, Pav, Miles and Gwen can be seen watching them in the background. “ Can they.. not see how they act ? “ Pav questions, mirth leaking into this tone. Gwen gives a shake of her head and Miles laughs, shaking his shoulders.

15. hobie who notices when eden’s upset, offering her some candy he’s found cause he knows it’s her favorite. " strawberries your favorite, innit? " " yeah. " eden says through sniffles, wiping the tears from her eyes. " cheer up, supergirl. " hobie trails a tear running down her cheek and wipes it off. He rubs her back lovingly, staying with her while she rides her emotions out. Resting a head on his shoulder, she shakes out a laugh. “ Wha’s funny? “ “ Nothin’..you’re just..so good to me. “

16. Eden and Hobie like to rock each other’s clothes. Hobie’s wearing combat boots and ripped skinny jeans while donning a pink strawberry sweater stolen from Eden's closet. Eden’s sporting cutesy overall shorts, flower placed symmetrically in her hair and one of Hobie’s rock band t-shirts. They like to coordinate outfits. Hobie picks out punk elements that could work on her. Eden also tends to gift him necklaces and bracelets, and he enjoys putting them on with his outfits ( even if they don’t match. ) oh yeah, and he’d definitely steal eden’s skirts when she’s not looking. I can see him walking into her kitchen, strutting his long legs in her plaid red skirt just eating that shit up. And he’d be so nonchalant about it too, like sitting on her couch chowing down on a bowl of oats while his feet are kicked up on the coffee table. Eden’s used to it by now, so she doesn’t bat an eye, but she does hate it when he puts his feet on the table.

17. Eden actually believed him when he said he was briefly a runway model. How could he not be with his beautiful hair, eyes, lips and jawline? He doesn’t clarify for her, finding amusement in it, but eventually his stance on modeling becomes apparent and she realizes her misinterpretation.

18. Hobie would either piss Eden tf off when she’s drawing or admire it, there is no in between. I’m talkin’ resting his chin on her shoulder as she sketches while pointing out something he likes goin, “ Tha’ looks real nice. Maybe add some more lines ‘ere. “ He’s super sweet when he’s trying to be helpful. It’s that or putting himself in the way while she’s trying to finish a drawing/painting. “ Uh…Hobie, can you move to the side a bit? I’m trying to finish up here. “ “ Hmm…I dunno doll, I’m pretty comfortable where I am.”

And that’s all for now!! Thanks for indulging me >.< much more to come when i’m not swamped with homework!

#across the spiderverse #spidersona #self insert #hobie brown #miles morales #pavitr prabhakar #gwen stacy #miguel o'hara #original character #original work #oc #black oc #writing #headcanons

[thepastisalreadywritten]

You can’t keep a good dog down, Charlie Brown.

When NASA launched a mission to the moon last week, the unmanned cabin included a stuffed Snoopy in an orange flight suit.

The space beagle was among the small items that serve as “zero gravity indicators,” which visually signal that the capsule has reached “the weightlessness of microgravity.”

Turns out, the agency couldn’t have picked a better pop culture symbol:

For seven decades, Snoopy and the rest of the “Peanuts” gang have defied the forces of time, freed from the gravitational pull of trends.

The globally beloved cartoon characters still pop up daily in comic strips, books and gift shops, as well as in animated specials, both new ones and the classic holiday programs such as “A Charlie Brown Christmas” that now stream on Apple TV Plus.

“Peanuts” is in the ether as surely as the jazzy Vince Guaraldi Trio riffs that bounce along the airwaves once Christmastime is here.

This year, the headquarters of Team Peanuts in Santa Rosa, California, has another reason to hold gatherings at its museum and library and ceremonies at its ice rink:

It’s the centennial of the birth of “Peanuts” creator Charles M. “Sparky” Schulz, who was born 26 November 1922 and raised in St. Paul, Minnesota.

Schulz died in February 2000, the same weekend that his final original strip was published.

Yet what he launched into the zeitgeist in 1950 remains a cultural touchstone. On Saturday, many syndicated cartoonists will mark the centennial in their strips.

So why does “Peanuts” endure so strongly — remaining so firmly woven into the fabric of popular culture — when so many aspects of mass entertainment all but disappear?

Jeannie Schulz, widow of the cartoonist and president of the Charles M. Schulz Museum’s board of directors, puts it concisely:

“Sparky tapped into a universal humanity and translated it into simple lines with a subtle humor.”

Those elegant, poignant, slyly simple lines curled and curved their way into religion and sports and war and mental health and love unrequited.

To mark the centennial, The Washington Post asked celebrities from various areas of achievement what Schulz’s creation has meant to them.

‘As good as anything ever’

Producer Lee Mendelson approached Schulz in the mid-’60s with an idea: Coca-Cola was interested in a TV project.

Out of that seed grew one of the two greatest animated Christmas shows to emerge from that decade: a classic that, like “How The Grinch Stole Christmas,” melded the genius of artistic minds.

Schulz teamed with animator Bill Melendez and, working under a deadline of mere months, the three men created “A Charlie Brown Christmas,” a masterpiece that daringly led with its heart.

Charlie Brown battled seasonal depression, Snoopy engaged in flights of fancy and Linus Van Pelt delivered the biblical monologue that, out of the mouths of a babe, still moves viewers regardless of age or faith.

“Over the course of my life, I’ve probably watched ‘A Charlie Brown Christmas’ more times than any single episode of television,” late-night host Jimmy Kimmel says. “It’s one of the main reasons I decided to have more kids.”

Kimmel thinks that special reflects the larger excellence of what a boy from Minnesota ultimately gave to the world.

“As soon as our daughter Jane learned to read, I bought her all the ‘Peanuts’ anthologies,” the comedian says. “I bought an original drawing of Snoopy by Charles Schulz that may very well be a forgery. I cherish it even if it is.

“The best of Peanuts is as good as anything ever. For me, it’s one of the greatest achievements in American art and literature.”

Pixar chief creative officer Pete Docter, director of such films as “Inside Out” and “Up,” says that brilliance was firmly rooted in the comic strip, which launched in fewer than a dozen newspapers before eventually being syndicated to thousands, becoming one of the most widely read strips in the world.

“Schulz was brave enough to talk about human, adult, often non-funny things in his strip,” Docter says. “He featured kids dealing with anxiety, insecurity, jealousy, unrequited love, which gave ‘Peanuts’ a real weight and importance.”

Growing up in Minnesota himself, Docter was drawn into a world that stays with him today.

“As a kid, I was totally hooked by Snoopy and the escapist fun and humor of that character,” he says.

“But whether Schulz was conscious of it or not, it was those deeper emotional things that made me continue to read into adulthood. Those deceptively simply drawn characters have real complexity and depth."

“And besides, they’re still funny 70 years later. How many comic strips can claim that?”

Bay Area author Gene Luen Yang considers how Schulz’s comic evolved from revelation to quiet revolution.

Says Yang, author of such graphic novels as “American Born Chinese”:

“He is so influential that pretty much every strip-format comic today, whether in the newspaper or on the web, has borrowed a bit of that innovation.”

‘We stayed close’

Ever the athlete, Schulz embraced baseball, golf and hockey from a young age. He grew to love sports like tennis and these passions regularly found their way into his strip.

Before he befriended some professional athletes well into his career, though, Schulz could not have known how much he buoyed them.

“As a young skater growing up, it was always fun to see the comic strip and celebrate everything we experienced at the rink,” says figure skater Scott Hamilton, who won Olympic gold in 1984.

“To see the ‘Peanuts’ [characters] come alive on the ice made it seem like what we were doing was more than just skating. We had a place in popular culture.”

Schulz relocated to Northern California in the late ’50s, but you couldn’t take the Minnesota boyhood out of the man.

In Santa Rosa, he built the Redwood Empire Ice Arena, also known as Snoopy’s Home Ice, in 1969. And there, in the early ’80s, Hamilton began working with Schulz on ice shows.

(The skater will host “Sparky’s Ice Spectacular” at the venue on Saturday to mark the centennial.)

“Sparky was very hands-on in everything he did,” Hamilton says.

“In one of the productions I did for him, he had this dream of doing a cocktail party where I got to play the host of the party.

That character was interested in a girl at the party, but she gets swept off her feet by another guest, kind of like his stories of the Little Red-Haired Girl in the comic strip. Just when it seems he lost the girl, she comes back after all the other guests had left.”

Adds Hamilton, “To see how much Sparky loved that production made it one of my all-time favorite skating memories.”

Schulz also became a strong supporter of equality in sports, which included joining the board of trustees of the Women’s Sports Foundation, founded in 1974 by tennis icon and civil rights activist Billie Jean King, to “advance the lives of women and girls through sports and physical activity.”

Schulz would not only draw Snoopy serving aces. He would also reference his friend King.

“Sparky was actually very shy, and his comic strips were a great source of inspiration and comfort for me, especially as I traveled the world during my tennis career,” King says.

“I knew if he added my name to a ‘Peanuts’ strip, he was checking in on me and wanted to have a chat.

“We stayed close until he passed, and I will always cherish that.”

’A perfect pairing’

Mendelson, who died in 2019, believed in creative serendipity. He once told The Post that the first time he heard the music of Vince Guaraldi — while driving across the Golden Gate Bridge — he thought he might use it someday.

Singer-songwriter Ben Folds views Guaraldi’s music as inseparable from the classic “Peanuts” animation it accompanied.

“When you match the music with ‘Peanuts’ and the era and what it was doing and saying, then it starts to hit like Beethoven Piano Sonata time,” Folds says of Guaraldi’s sunny West Coast sound that “distilled jazz into something popular.”

Guaraldi’s “Peanuts” songs and the animated specials were “a perfect pairing,” he says, adding that the music “just gets the vibe.”

That “loomed large” when Folds was asked to write theme music for the recent streaming Peanuts special, “It’s the Small Things, Charlie Brown.”

He meditated on Guaraldi’s music rather than trying to imitate it: “I didn’t try to drop riffs. I just went with the color.”

‘Pursue their dream’

This month, “Jump Start” creator Robb Armstrong appeared on a Schulz Museum panel with other celebrated cartoonists to share personal stories about the Sparky they knew.

As he sat onstage, Armstrong appreciated that Schulz “made other budding artists either realize their dream, pursue their dream or smooth the road on their journey.”

“He was one of the most grand-hearted human beings I’ve ever encountered,” Armstrong says.

A 6-year-old Armstrong was inspired by “Peanuts” in the summer of 1968, when Schulz integrated the strip by introducing a Black character: Franklin.

Armstrong’s reaction: “I’m in this strip.”

(About a quarter-century later, Schulz gave Franklin the last name of “Armstrong” in a salute to his friend and syndicated colleague, an honor the “Jump Start” creator calls “otherworldly.”)

Barbara Brandon-Croft, the trailblazing creator of the comic “Where I’m Coming From,” also responded strongly in 1968.

“I was excited to see a Black character in ‘Peanuts.’ Even if Franklin’s presence was only that — a Black kid amongst the group — it absolutely made a difference,” she says."

“When you grow up as an ‘other,’ which is what this country laid out for us, when you see yourself represented, it gives you a sense of belonging.”

‘The cool astronaut’

Schulz, a World War II Army veteran, was long fascinated with aviation.

NASA and “Peanuts” have a long relationship that includes the Silver Snoopy Award, which is bestowed upon outstanding NASA contractors and employees.

In 1969, Schulz appeared in public alongside the Apollo 10 astronauts who rode in the module called “Charlie Brown.”

That was also the year that a future astronaut was inspired by Snoopy and space.

“In 1969, the Mets won the World Series, [astronauts] landed on the moon and I went to see ‘A Boy Named Charlie Brown,’ the new animated feature, at Radio City Music Hall, says Mike Massimino, an engineering professor and space adviser.

“It all happened within a few months of each other, and it kind of set up the passions for the rest of my life.”

That year, Massimino received a stuffed Snoopy astronaut toy as a gift.

In 2009, on his second NASA space mission, Massimino took that same Snoopy toy into space, a symbol of his lasting attachment to “Peanuts.”

Noting that his attempts to become an astronaut failed three times before he was accepted, Massimino says he admires Charlie Brown’s spirit of optimistic resilience.

“Charlie Brown is the friend and person I wanted to be, and Snoopy is the cool astronaut I wanted to be,” Massimino says.

Adds the astronaut, “I think it’s the greatest comic strip and characters ever created.”

#Snoopy #Peanuts #Charlie Brown #Charles Schulz #Charles M. Schulz Museum #Snoopy’s Home Ice

[rescue-ram]

HAVE YOU READ THIS BOOK??

Saw a post about "formative gay books from your youth" which set off my third fruitless quest for a YA novel I read once when I was like 12 and has lived rent free in my head ever since. Objectively, as an adult, when I reflect on the scenes it burned into my neurons, I acknowledge it was probably not that great. But it made 12 year old me have insanely complicated feelings and it's MADDENING I can find no trace of this novel.

I've searched several times over the years, and just tonight spent an hour going through Amazon, WorldCat, Google Books, Goodreads, and like three other book search databases to no avail. My last hope is that someone on Tumblr has also read this novel and recognizes it.

If any of the below ring a bell, PLEASE let me know!

Young adult novel published prior to 2008

Set in a Houston art school. I might be having false memories that it was specifically the High School for the Performing and Visual Arts.

Centered around two boys- an extremely shy visual artist and a very confident but secretly depressed writer.

Very shy boy might've had selective mutism? Definitely had a strained relationship with his family

At the beginning of the novel, shy boy has to submit a portrait for admission to school. He initially draws a caricature of himself wearing art like armor, but his mom laughs at him and tells him he misunderstood the instructions and he was supposed to write a personal essay. Shy boy struggles with this.

There was a weirdly vivid metaphor about social anxiety being like being eaten by wolves? There was also a very vivid description of being a puppet or marionette.

There was a conflict over shy boy wanting to do cartooning but having to learn painting instead?

He was initially intimidated by confident boy, but confident boy sees his cartoons and really likes them

As they get closer confident boy opens up about feeling crushed by pressure and expectations of others, conflict with his family as well? He may have been self-harming?

They keep their friendship a secret and it's either extremely homoerotic or confident boy was explicitly gay. I do not remember clearly. It gets very intense and shy boy is conflicted and uncomfortable about the secrets he's keeping.

At the end of the book, confident boy kills himself in a way that looks like a tragic accident. He intentionally overdoses on medication that induces a heart attack, but injects into a healing injury on his arm so there's no puncture marks. He leaves a suicide note for shy boy, encouraging him to be himself and be a great artist, but to tell no one confident boy killed himself because he doesn't want his family to be upset?

Shy boy is traumatized and initially keeps the secret, but at the end of the book opens up to... Someone. One of the teachers? It ends on a bittersweet but hopeful note that now shy boy is opening up and is forming healthier relationships.

As an adult, this summary sounds rather maudlin, but I remember being really struck by the writing style as a kid, especially the imagery and descriptions. I just feel crazy that this book really affected middle school me and then seemingly disappeared into the ether. If you have any idea what I'm talking about, PLEASE let me know!

#book search #bookblr #looking for a book #readblr #help finding a book #litblr #please god someone help this has been driving me nuts for years

[mabsolgirl]

Headphone warning

Transcript below! :3

I made this a while ago, around when I first started making art of the Supernova AU AU. There have been some slight changes since then but I wanted to post this anyway since its been just sitting in my drafts and starting to get dusty. The changes aren't enough to alter anything in the audio in a major way anyway so neeeeh.

It's been a while since I did voice stuff so hopefully I don't sound terrible lol

Obligatory @linxprime ping cause au of their au

Watch me pull world lore outta my ass cause I still don't know what im doing

-------------------------------------------------------

In the ruins of a crashed and destroyed ship, you find a strange audio file labeled "Project Supernova". You made a copy of it and now you have the time to give it a listen...

--------------------

Transcript

Warning. The following video is the private property of [REDACTED]. Any outside or uncertified personnel caught viewing this video will be terminated by any means necessary. Viewer discretion is advised.

Log 1.

I am Dr. Jane Doe and I’ve recently been put in charge of “Project Supernova” after the old one quit. I decided to keep audio documentations of my findings and observations. I find it easier for me to document things by recording them by audio then writing it all out later.

Project Supernova is a study on the abilities of intelligent lifeforms, how they manifest, if different abilities can be manifested in specific situations, and researching the phenomena of Berserkers. Before I came in, an embryo was successfully fertilized and grown into a stable state. There were many failed attempts with this being the only one that has made it this far, living for roughly 12 years as of this recording. To be honest I question the decision to make a lifeform rather than study the cases of people who already have abilities, but the higher-ups wanted to do this rather than the simpler way.

Regardless it is planned to come out of the tube once it reaches 13 years, which is a couple months away. It should be stable enough by then. Until then we monitor it for any changes.

End log.

Log 2.

Right, so I forgot to mention info about the lifeform last log. My bad, heheh.

So, the lifeform is female and it was made with the DNA of multiple organisms with the two primary ones being Human Earthling and Cuixcus. I think I pronounced that right. Cuixcus was used for their adaptability and Human Earthlings to counteract the weaknesses of the former. It has bones, can withstand hotter temperatures, and while it doesn’t need to, it does breathe oxygen. The DNA from other organisms were used to help stabilize it so it doesn’t just die spontaneously. The genetics chosen specifically to see if heritage has an influence on what abilities would appear.

Now the real reason I am logging this. Earlier today it was monitored that specs of light were floating around the lifeform’s tube. They looked so… ethereal. It was like looking at a cluster of tiny stars. I should probably mention that the lifeform is in an unconscious state. It has been like this since its creation and this was the first time these lights were documented. They disappeared before we could study them. Maybe it dreamt them up? We’ll have to keep an eye on it.

End log.

Log 5.

Today it came out of the tube, emphasis on “it”. We weren't supposed to take it out for another week but I guess it had other plans. One second it was in the tube, the next the lights appeared again and it was out and fell face-first into the equipment. It teleported itself out.

Since it wasn’t connected to the machines anymore it woke up quickly after that. Of course we were all freaking out but it didn’t seem too bothered by us. We ran some tests and it was stable. It bruised its head but other than that it wasn’t significantly injured.

It’s a very curious one. It would grab and inspect what we had. We let it for the most part and it would hand us back what it had when it was done. Right now it’s in its own room that we had to quickly scramble to finish putting together. It’s a quiet little one. The team and I decided on the name “Nova” after the project. As per usual we’ll keep an eye on it.

End log.

Log 27.

A lot happened today. Today is the first day Nova went into her Berserker state. The first thing I noticed was that she was much calmer than I expected. I expected a rampaging beast like the other cases of Berzerkers but Nova would just… stare at us. We kept an eye on our monitors to watch to see what she does and then we watched her create light orbs; like the ones from one of my first logs but much bigger. This time we were able to scan them to see what exactly they were…

They’re stars. I am not joking, she was making literal stars, balls of collapsed burning gas, in her hands! From our observations they disappear when she loses focus but still incredible nonetheless! We later figured out the key piece to what her abilities are: a limited form of matter manipulation. She can teleport herself, and those she touches, by willing her own matter into another space and the stars are made by manipulating the matter of gas and dust to collapse in her hands. It is theorized she can manipulate any form of matter so long as physical contact is made.

After a while she went out of Berserker state and fell unconscious. We hooked her up to make sure she’s alright. Right now she’s comatose; we’re hoping she comes back alright.

End log.

Log 39.

Earlier today one of the higher-ups came in and told us that we were not needed on Project Supernova anymore and that in the coming days a new team would be coming in to take over the project. Of course we were outraged. We were consistently giving them good results! We did what we were told! We did nothing wrong, didn’t question a thing. Nothing we said could convince him otherwise. None of us wanted to leave the project. I’ll admit, Nova has grown on us. She’s like family and now for some reason she’s being taken from us. When he left we all decided to look into it ourselves.

The more we dug, the more things began to not add up. Then… we found something. We’re not here to do what we think we’re doing. We’re gonna get Nova out of here. This place is no longer safe. We’ll get her out and we’ll be the whistleblowers to this place.

End log.

Log 40

…I’m… I’m sorry…

Dr. Jane Doe, Dr. Bailey Shindo, Dr. Margoba Entano, Dr. Manbagea Nals, and Dr. Ripley Hedon have been terminated. Project Supernova assets will be transported to [REDACTED] for further completion by a new team effective immediately. End communication.

#my sister compared this to mewtwos backstory and tbh shes not wrong #btw the name Jane Doe was a placeholder name since its commonly used to refer to someone dead that cant be identified (John Doe for dudes). #the name kinda just stuck while i was making this. I might draw Jane sometime in the future since i have design ideas #art #fnaf au #fnaf oc #supernova au au #i know the supernova posts dont do well but i dont care! i like making them :3 #im really happy with the scene at the end. the weird humming does have a purpose. id like to see if people can identify it >:)

[sgnblg]

Little innocence

6.0 spoiler I guess? Inspired by miqomischief's post reblogged by arinaxiv ! Thanks for the motivation and sorry for my English !

Jethrault is difficult for me to imagine as Azem. Like, I don't see him get along very well with Ancients. Maybe Hythlodaeus ? I think Emet and Azem would have been close only because Emet was powerful enough to contain Azem if he broke too many Ancient laws.

Yet I have one headcanon about Azem!Jethrault. He already had his ferocious nature but his endless curiosity too. Not fond of the creation politic, he didn't make any concept. But he created some creatures, gifted by a soul since he designed them for for the first purpose to live. Since this kind of creature were highly regulated, and because he never presented his concepts, he was advised to stop creating more of them. An Ancient, member of the Concile, and watched to prevent any of his creation, in a world everybody can create, no matter how silly or dangerous or vicious the concept is? Of course he created one more ! He put all his mind and ether and creativity in this creation. It took him a whole year to create it, thinking of every detail of it. He wanted not only to create something the Concile could never get, but his first motivation was to recreate something he thought his people lost, a too long time ago. He used his admiration for the young Themis, got inspired by the joy of his mentor Venat, by the wonder in Hythlodaeus' eyes in front of new concept, even the tenderness within Emet when he witness success despite his pessimism. But most of all, he gathered all his knowledge about the whole planet and its inhabitants. To form his creation, he used the most fragile and powerful ether he could form, produced by his soul itself. The process alerted Emet Selch who rushed but arrived too late. Azem was exhausted, but smiling at the creation. Even if it hadn't a physical form, made of pure aether, Hades saw that the planet had also granted a soul to it, a will and life by itself. If he had to, he would have described it as a laughing boy, floating and gasping at everything he saw. Ancient had lost this concept for a long time in two different ways : They didn't believe in superior entities beside the planet, and their cycle of life prevent them to bear such naivety. So Azem crated a little God of Innocence. And even the stoic and stern Hades was bewildered by the entity when they slid past him to escape hiding itself forever as a nice breeze of air. A remembrance of the imagination, and happiness guided by the ignorance of harm and fear and consequences.

Azem regretted his creation, not for itself. He was happy to see more creatures and Ancients having some moments of wonder, of playfulness, influenced by a minor god. Innocence enhances hope and dreams, imagination and creativity, it might lead to problems, but isn't Azem's role to solve them? Yet, it didn't prevent the apocalypse. It wasn't its role. Perhaps even because the creatures had this renewed innocence, their return to the ether was made more difficult for Hermes to bear. It inspired the Zodiarch project, and Azem couldn't stop it since he was the creator of "a successful prototype". But Azem knew his creation stripped him of a part of his soul, the very one it encourages in others.

That's why Azem, and later his reincarnations, never believes in gods, and lost their innocence at a young age. That's why Jethrault hates Vauthry in particular, even though he wasn't really powerful. That's also why the innocent Meteion trusted him in Elpis, influenced by the little god. Maybe the repressed memory of this creation led Jethrault to be scholar, mimicking this very moment when he summons Selene. This nameless God might have disappeared at the fragmentation of the world, and even their creator has no memory of them. Yet, they might still exist ? Following him, unable to interact with him, but capable of maintaining his companions innocence and hope ? Helping in the creation of - other - miracles.

#ffxiv #ff14 #jethrault #final fantasy xiv #wol #6.0 spoilers

[priapus-at-the-gate]

Shameless self-plug eminent! Keep an eye out for a Vampire Chronicles fic on A03 under the simple title “Splash” to be posted in the next couple of days! Two birds with one stone here! I wanted to write something for VC Mermay, but also for the hilariously named “Dick-Or-Treat: Uvula Region” event. Long story short, all you have to do to enter is write and submit an explicit fic named after a Pokémon move. Yup. Anyway, here’s a preview of Splash! (That thrumming you hear is me practicing vibrating with excitement, lol.)

Human Louis starts working on a fishing boat to support his family estate. One night, several months in to his employment, he catches something HUGE. Everyone else is asleep, so it’s up to him to drag the catch aboard. 

He’s gotten stronger, but this is ridiculous! After nearly twenty minutes, he’s got the net aboard. He sits down by the net and shines his lantern on his catch. Louis can’t believe his eyes: it’s a merman. Said merman is cowering and hissing like a cat. Louis waits for his muscles to stop screaming before doing anything. On one hand, he’d get a hefty reward for a merman, but on the other… this thing looks far too human for a sea monster, despite the huge fishtail. Louis sees salt-drenched golden curls and silver-blue glowing eyes. Soft-looking pale flesh that disappears into red onyx scales. Such a beautiful, ethereal monster. Louis doesn’t know what to do with it. On one hand, the merman could earn him a huge monetary reward, but on the other…

Louis decides to throw the merman back. First he needs to get it— him— untangled. Louis quickly realizes that the merman has a huge gash in his tail from the net. “Hold still. Let me get you out.” Can the anthropic fish-man even understand him? Carefully, Louis draws his knife. The merman snarls and thrashes around in fury. “Please, just let me—“ Hiss— “I won’t hurt you. I’m sorry this happened.” ‘Are you going to sell me? Eat me?’ Louis jolts at the voice in his head. “No. I’m going to send you back. You don’t belong up here. You aren’t just some animal. You are a person, aren’t you?” The mention if being thrown back into the water in his current state irritates the merman. “I won’t just dump you in the water. Let me help you with your tail.” Reluctantly, the merman lets Louis cut him loose. ‘Thanks. I guess.’ “Can you speak? How did you even manage to get entangled in the net?” Louis’ questions are answered with a horrifying vision of other merfolk fighting the blond and one, a small auburn-haired man, slitting the blond’s throat. “Why would they do that to you?” No answer. Louis shines the lantern in the merman’s face to get a better look. On the other man’s neck is a telltale healing slash. Louis definitely can’t throw the merman back, not right now. He stands and reaches to lift him up. The merman hisses, smacking Louis in the knees with his tail. It’s a good thing Louis’ lantern is one of those nice closed ones, huh? Louis gets thrown onto his ass. “I’m going to take you to my quarters. I want to clean your wounds. I’m not going to do anything to you. Please,” Louis tries again. The merman stops fighting him, so Louis passes the merman his lantern and hefts him up. 

Louis puts the merman in his bathing tub and grabs a bucket, which he fills with sea water. He dumps the sea water into his tub. The next 20 minutes are spent cleaning and dressing the nasty gashes. When Louis is nearly done stitching the merman’s tail, he nearly drops his needle when the voice pokes into his mind again: ‘Lestat’. “What? Is that—- oh. That’s your name?” A silent nod. “Lestat. My name is Louis.” ‘Thank you, Louis.’ “Of course.” 

Louis makes sure Lestat is settled in before going to bed. At some point during the remainder of the night, Louis wakes. He watches Lestat sleep, and takes the time to really look at the merman. Lestat is beautiful. His golden salt-drenched curls run down his bare, smooth shoulders in shiny rivulets. His face is soft and elven, sharp but gentle. His pretty pink mouth is open slightly as quiet breaths escape him, his carved chest rising and falling in tandem. Lestat’s dorsal fins twitch cutely in his sleep. 

Desire fills Louis, and a wave of great shame hits him like Lestat’s tail did earlier. Louis wants Lestat, but it’s wrong, this poor man has already been through enough. Louis doesn’t want to break the trust he’s earned. Perhaps if he’s quiet, Louis can…

Guiltily, Louis yanks his trousers down to his thighs. He wraps his hand around cock, biting his lip to stifle his moans as he starts stroking. Louis closes his eyes; it’s bad enough he’s getting off at the thought of his willing captive, but to look at Lestat while doing so would be even worse. 

‘Lestat’, Louis’ mind whispers, ‘Lestat, oh please—‘ Louis rocks his hips, thumbing the tip. Suddenly, he feels a warm wet hand over his. ‘Louis,’ Lestat murmurs. “Y-You shouldn’t be out of the water, Lestat!” Louis hisses gently. ‘Then come join me. I need you, Louis.’

OwO what happens next? Stay tuned…

-B76

OH MY GOSH WE CAN'T WAIT TO READ THE WHOLE THING!!! 🥵🥵🐠🐠

#VC MERMAY FIC TEASER #lestat/louis #fish fucking #make sure to send us the link/tag us when it's up! 💦💦💦💦 #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac #vc mermay after dark

[madamlaydebug]

The Right Use of Energy

In considering the overcoming of wrong vibration and the right direction of astral energy it might be of value here if we were very briefly to list the major energies which impress the human organism and circulate through the sentient body of man.

1. Energies passing and repassing through the sentient body of the planet itself. [see prior post].

2. Certain astral energies, emanating from some planetary forms which as yet exist not in the form of physical planets, nor yet in the etheric realm, but which are enclosed within the ring-pass-not of our solar system. They represent, in the planetary sense, two groups of lives: - First, those astral shells of decaying and disintegrating planets which are to be seen by the initiate, still revolving around our sun, but which are nevertheless fast disappearing. Our moon will join their number when the complete disintegration of the outer form has taken place. Second, the astral forms of those lesser solar lives on the evolutionary arc who are taking form slowly but have not yet taken an etheric body, and will never in this world period take a physical body. These two groups are the planetary correspondences to the reincarnating types of men, and to those who have passed over and are slowly shedding their bodies, prior to eventual rebirth, or who have completely vacated their shells.

There are two of these astral forms in close proximity to our Earth, which are rapidly "decomposing", if I may so term it, and yet have a very potent influence. On account of this close relation, they produce two types of desire or of astral tendency among men. One produces much of that instinctual tendency to cruelty which one sees in children and in certain types of men, and the other has an effect upon the sex life and produces some of those tendencies to perversions which cause so much difficulty now. Sadistic tendencies and sex perversions find much strengthening influence from these dying astral emanations. In ancient days they were still more potent, being closer to our earth than now; hence the ritualistic cruelties and the horrors, for instance, of Sodom and Gomorrah. Their power is rapidly declining and it should be remembered that they would have no power at all were there not in humanity itself certain instincts upon which these energies can work. It should also be remembered that in Lemurian times their influence was constructive, for in those days, the lesson of sex and the intelligent registering of pain had a place in the schemes of those who were endeavoring to lead animal man into human consciousness - not into soul consciousness or even into self-consciousness in those very early times.

Close to our earth, on the road to rebirth, is a great Life in process of taking etheric form. This Life, being on the evolutionary arc and not constituting the life of a decaying shell, is having a real effect in the inauguration of the New Age. This effect is twofold: - through the emanations from the astral body of this great Life the work of breaking down the separate wall of individualism which demonstrates in man as selfishness and in nations as nationalism is carried forward. Through this rapidly integrating etheric body this Life is bringing the etheric body of our planet into a state of increased rapid vibration. Reference will be found in the Treatise on Cosmic Fire to an avatar from Sirius who comes to bring about certain planetary effects. This Life is not that avatar but is in the nature of a forerunner - of a St. John the Baptist, who "baptiseth with water (astral emanations) and the Holy Ghost". More information along these lines is not possible, but mention is made of it, as the energies coming from these two factors must be borne in mind.

[a-land-lacking-sleep]

Submas/PLA Fic: Electric Trains are the Future Chapter 1 - Koraidoning into Hope

Current Chapter - Next Chapter (2)

I finally am writing and posting the large fic I’ve been mentioning all month, and so Chapter 1 is posted! This fic was inspired by a post from @fluorescent-air-fresheners with the specific post in the fic itself.

Summary: Akari attempts to summon Ingo's forgotten brother from the future, and finds that plucking people from time is much harder than anticipated. Ingo finds himself altering course with Akari's newest attempts at help, and conducting personal safety checks with the new visitor. Elesa is ecstatic to find her second favorite conductor (the other one never disappeared on her, no he didn't), but now worries on how to get home. And Emmet has lost someone once again. Word Count (Ch. 1): 2057

Read it here or on AO3! I’ll be cross-posting the chapters, though once I get more post, binge reading will be best on AO3.

Bright lights, loud voices, and sudden sounds were par for the course for Elesa’s life. Between an electrifying rise from challenger to Gym Leader, and her glass shattering debut on the catwalk a few years after her initial Gym challenge, and her two beloved twins building their dream under Nimbasa, it was all normal to her.

On the catwalk, the spotlights came down upon her. The bright lights, the attention. As she dropped her outer coat to show off her new outfit. The loud voices, the crowd. Then the air cannons lining the catwalk, shooting confetti into the air. The sudden noises, the flair.

Wai-

The air around her crackles with lightning, swirling around her and above her. Bright lights, ethereal… Screams filled the air, some calling for her, some calling others away, some asking if it was part of the show. Loud voices, panicked… The sound of glass shattering as Elesa watched the world itself break into a void. Sudden noises.

Danger.

She was instantly pulled through.

It wasn’t a long fall, but landing on her butt was enough to drop her flat on her back, no air in her lungs for a moment. She was on sand, from what she could grasp with her hand, which meant she was going to need to wash her hair out three or four times in the shower, and this new coat, as fluffy and warm as it was, was fucking ruined. ‘ What a Magikarp of a day, ’ she thought to herself, sitting up and rubbing forehead to clear a growing headache.

「ギラティナ に 頼めば よかった...(1)」Oh, she spoke in Kantonian, so tha- Wait. Giratina? What was this person saying abou-

Holy Carp.

A teenage girl stood in front of her, dressed in a blue uniform of some kind, sweating nervously and looking like she just got caught stealing from her parents. But that wasn’t what killed her train of thought. This girl had DIALGA and PALKIA standing behind her, also looking like they were caught stealing from their parents (Arceus? Bah, she’s not a theologist). Palkia even looked away, almost sheepishly, and scratched at its chin.

“Hold up,” Elesa finally manages to sputter out. “What just happened? Where am I?” The question seemed to snap the girl in front of her to attention, with her focusing on Elesa now.

「は？ガラル？(2)」She pauses for a moment, trying to think before speaking back up. “I should have expected someone from Galar, he talks just like the professor.” She shakes her head and shakes both of her fists in front of her like a kid who is trying to cheer a friend up. Was this kid trying to cheer her up?

“Hold up, stop, please,” Elesa begs as she stands up, rubbing her temples to fight off the headache. “First, I’m from Unova,” that elicited a soft ohhh from the girl, “and secondly, who talks like the professor,” the girl raises a hand to speak before Elesa cuts her off to finish, “and third,  why the Muk am I here?!”

The girl looks down at her shoes in dejection, and Elesa can’t help but feel a little bad for starting to lose her cool. “Ok, also, who are you, mystery girl who kidnaps people with the help of literal gods?” She glances back up at Dialga and Palkia, who were trying to listen in and quickly turned away from her glare. At least they had the decency to look at least a little ashamed the entire time she was looking at them.

It takes the girl only a second to perk back up, waving politely to her kidnapping victim. “Hi, my name is Akari! I was using these two,” she says, not even pausing her speech as she points up at Dialga and Palkia, who, Elesa wants to remind her, are gods, “to look for my Uncle’s brother! At least, I think it's his brother. I, uh, accidentally got you, because you might have been nearby? Sorry?”

This girl was going to be the death of her. Elesa grabs the side of her head and grips it, ruffling her own hair in the process. “And why on earth do you think someone from Unova sounds like someone from Galar? Our accents aren’t anything alike, like, c’mon! I say Tuesday, not Chewsday!”

Akari doesn’t know why she’s making this point, and neither does Elesa. “Laventon does not say Chewsday! No one says either, we don’t speak Galarian, I only learned it in school!” She throws her hands into the air and stomps around a bit, her pet legendaries backing up to give her space. “All I know is that Laventon is from Galar, and Uncle Ingo talks like him, and”

Akari honestly kept ranting for a few moments, but Elesa stopped listening. She said her Uncle Ingo. She was trying to get his brother, and got her instead. This girl was trying to steal Emmet?

Elesa steps forward and grabs Akari by the shoulders, stopping her in place. “Stop. Ingo. Wears black, frowns all the time and never smiles properly, really loud? Am I right?” Akari quietly nods, smiling. Elesa lets go to put her hands in front of her face, then turns to walk onto the grass to keep herself stable in these heels. “Me and Emmet have been looking for Ingo for 3 years, and he’s here in… Where are we, even?!”

“Oh, that’s easy! We’re in Hisui!”

“That explains nothing. What is Hisui? You were speaking Kantonian, so is it in that area? I know they tend to teach Galarian around there, too.”

That seemed to have killed Akari’s smile, and she scratches at her cheek a bit as she looks away. “It’s Sinnoh? And roughly around, I think 1870? Give or take a few years?” Elesa can feel her face pale at that. That confirms Emmet’s theory that he was sent to the past.

Who knew that the joke that the three had shared of Ingo being an old soul because of that old Sinnoh guy they read about on Bulbapedia was correct.

Akari seemed to take Elesa pausing as shock, considering she quickly went into a flurry of motion and speech. “But don’t worry! I think I can send you back, I just gotta have Dialga and Palkia open another rift, and hopefully you won’t even be gone for long, and-”

“Take me to Ingo.”

Akari froze in place, and then smiled wide and pumped her fists excitedly. “So you do know him, awesome!” She returns her Legendaries to their Pokeballs, and starts walking backwards away from the beach. “He’s actually in Jubilife right now, but, oh, wait, do you know Kantonian? We’ve been speaking Galarian, but it’s mostly just Laventon and Ingo and I think Kamado that speak it, but I can translate for you!”

Elesa starts power walking after the girl, silently cursing both the heels she was wearing, and that her Kantonian was actually pretty rusty. The twin’s mother used to keep her up on it, but they haven’t been gossiping as much recently. It takes a moment for her to turn the cogs in her head before responding to the girl in Kantonian. “I am a bit rusted, but I do know it.”

Akari’s eyes light up and her speech starts racing now that she is using her native language, causing Elesa to struggle to keep up with her words, let alone her actual pace. “Perfect! Ingo has the same accent now that I think about it, so it makes sense that the two of you are from the same area. So, what is the place he’s from like? He still doesn’t really remember anything, even after all of our battles!”

Doesn’t really remember?

“Wait, he doesn’t remember anything?” Elesa says, kicking her heels off and running up after Akari, ignoring the occasional rock digging into her feet. “My Ingy doesn’t remember me, or Emmet, or his parents? His subway ?” She brings up her hand and bites her thumb knuckle in worry. If Ingo didn’t remember his beloved trains, then he really didn’t have anything in his memory banks at all.

“I mean, he has the metaphors? But he definitely had to be explained what a train was by Laventon one time,” Akari says, slowing down so that Elesa doesn’t have to rush, “and then he started rattling off facts about the trains that Laventon was telling him about.” Hearing that did ease the fear in Elesa’s mind, though it still left her worried.

After all, hearing that your boyfriend has no recollection of you not only hurts, but makes explaining the whole polycule web much more complicated.

The pair wind through a small village full of wooden houses, which fits the timeframe that Akari told her. After all, this is less than a decade after the Log Cabin Champion in Unova, apparently. Akari was talking the entire way, but Elesa honestly was tuning her out. She seemed like a good kid, excitable and apparently impulsive, but she cares for Ingo, and that’s enough for Elesa to want to give her a chance.

The pair passed by some farmland, with several of the villagers pausing to look at and gossip about Elesa. She’s used to this, she can deal with the aftermath later, they can’t be worse than the paparazzi. As they cross the bridge, she can see him. After 3 years, he still has the coat and the cap, so it wasn't hard to see him, even if he was slouching like an emo kid in high school.

Akari calls out to Ingo, who seems to be mid-conversation with a tall woman with red hair, but Elesa has broken into a sprint, her braids and coat trailing behind her. Her target turned to greet his friend, and froze in place upon seeing her.

Before he could move or say anything, Elesa threw her arms around him, burying her face into his coat to try and hold back the tears. After a moment, she pushes back, feeling that Ingo wasn’t hugging back and not wanting to make him uncomfortable, but tears were now threatening to gush. “You don’t remember me, do you?” It doesn’t even occur to her that she asked that in Galarian.

Ingo’s frown deepens, an expression she recognizes as him trying to recall information. Behind him, she barely registers that his conversation partner looks towards someone else and signals them away. But Elesa’s attention is on Ingo as he slowly shakes his head, his eyebrows furrowed.

��No. No memories have come into station, though…” He responds in the same language, and then gently reaches up and brushes a hand against her jaw. “Your face. Your jaw, your eyes, they ring bells in my head, but there seems to have been a delay.” He pulls his hand back and lowers his cap. “I’m sorry. I want to know you, but your cab is still unknown.”

She hears Akari step up behind her, but Elesa doesn’t give her any mind as the tears break their dam and begin to pour down her face. Of course. Of course it’s not easy. As Elesa crouches down to curl up and cry, she registers that Akari is explaining that she summoned Elesa here, and that she had hoped that she could help with his memories. She was sorry it didn’t work.

Why was she sorry? She didn’t kidnap Ingo, she just kidnapped her. Oh, poor Emmet.

Ingo’s next statement pulled her back. “She is quite lovely, you’re right Miss Akari.” Elesa blinks a few times to stop the tears, and shakes her head before standing back up straight. “I wish I could remember more about her. I remember her Pokemon, but…” He remembered her Pokemon? She looks down and sees that her team were attached to the edge of her sleeves, as designed, so that could be helpful.

But before she could say anything, a very severe man walked up to the group and cleared his throat. Whoa, that moustache is impressive.

“I hear we have a new visitor?” He asks, glancing between Ingo and Akari before settling on Elesa. “Welcome to Jubilife Village. I am Commander Kamado of the Galaxy Expedition Team, and I have a few questions for you.

Translation Notes: (1) - “I should’ve asked Giratina” (2) - “Huh? Galarian?” Elesa did understand these sentences, she was just in shock from the teleporting to process what Akari was saying. I also threw them through Google, so it's not the closest.

#pokemon legends arceus #Pokemon fic #submas #submas fic #pokemon ingo #pokemon akari #pokemon elesa #my writing #Electric Trains fic #the trains have eaten me #this thing is shaping up to be 25 chapters at a minimum #so woooo that's gonna be fun once I'm back at work #I already have two other chapters ready to post #but I'm gonna wait a bit before I post them so I have a backlog #I hope you all enjoy!

[tabletoptrinketsbyjj]

Trinkets, 56: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

A collection of occult scrawlings written on what looks like stretched and tanned human flesh.

A bamboo scroll tube with strange geometric designs on it. It is quite heavy and rattles with metal ball bearings that can be poured out when one end is uncapped. There are 24 ball bearings each with similar geometric designs but forming stylized glyphs.

A small piece of parchment with a list of how to say “You’re beautiful, let’s go back to your place” in six languages translated from Common.

A small slate with mathematic formulas written on it in white chalk. The notations change each time they’re observed.

An artistic painting of two hamsters locked in mortal combat.

A wormwood flute carved with coiling centipedes along its length and lacquered to a warm color. When blown, it produces a deep, earthy tone which attracts crawling insects.

An anatomically correct serpent heart, made of black jet stone and veined with quartz. A horrendous item to behold, ethereal green blood pours from the open vessels, only to disappear before hitting the floor. Those who watch the heart swear that it beats in time with their own. Serpents in the presence of this artifact are hyper aggressive. It causes them to writhe and strike out at random, spit venom and flare their hoods at any who approach.

An unsigned contract with an otherworldly entity that grants the undersigned a favor at the cost of one returned, anytime, anywhere, anyhow.

A scrap of leather folded several times with roughly scrawled on it. "I said 500 gold. No happy family reunion until then!" PC’s proficient in calligraphy would be able to compare the handwriting to other writings in order to find the author.  

A red knit cap that is covered in stains and smells as if it has been repeated dunked in blood and never washed. It once belonged to a vicious unseelie fey whose sole purpose was bloodlust.

—Click Here to be directed to the Hotlinks To All Tables post, which provides (As you might have guessed) convenient links to all of the loot and resource tables this blog has.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A collection of occult scrawlings written on what looks like stretched and tanned human flesh.

A bamboo scroll tube with strange geometric designs on it. It is quite heavy and rattles with metal ball bearings that can be poured out when one end is uncapped. There are 24 ball bearings each with similar geometric designs but forming stylized glyphs.

A small piece of parchment with a list of how to say “You’re beautiful, let’s go back to your place” in six languages translated from Common.

A small slate with mathematic formulas written on it in white chalk. The notations change each time they’re observed.

An artistic painting of two hamsters locked in mortal combat.

A wormwood flute carved with coiling centipedes along its length and lacquered to a warm color. When blown, it produces a deep, earthy tone which attracts crawling insects.

An anatomically correct serpent heart, made of black jet stone and veined with quartz. A horrendous item to behold, ethereal green blood pours from the open vessels, only to disappear before hitting the floor. Those who watch the heart swear that it beats in time with their own. Serpents in the presence of this artifact are hyper aggressive. It causes them to writhe and strike out at random, spit venom and flare their hoods at any who approach.

An unsigned contract with an otherworldly entity that grants the undersigned a favor at the cost of one returned, anytime, anywhere, anyhow.

A scrap of leather folded several times with roughly scrawled on it. "I said 500 gold. No happy family reunion until then!" PC’s proficient in calligraphy would be able to compare the handwriting to other writings in order to find the author.  

A red knit cap that is covered in stains and smells as if it has been repeated dunked in blood and never washed. It once belonged to a vicious unseelie fey whose sole purpose was bloodlust.

A blue knit hat that looks a bit like a bottle folding in on itself.

A silver lapel pin of a finely detailed gorgon's head with ruby eyes.

A painted wooden key whose teeth change configuration every day at dawn.

A bloodstained dreamcatcher made from fishing line, sinew and snowy owlbear feathers.

A fletcher’s kit that contains various items needed to make and repair bows and arrows such as knives, a whetstone, a pair of pliers, sandpaper, additional bowstrings, glue, and feathers.

A sealed, one-gallon keg containing a liquor known as “Fireflare Schnapps”. It has a gentle orange flavor at first with a sudden fiery spicy burst. Fireflare Schnapps clears the nose, ears, and waters the eyes with a bold burning that will make even the strongest cry. One swig of this daring beverage will cure the common cold.

A wooden gavel that when pounded, emits the sound of a judge yelling “Order! Order!”

A bottle of expensive wine (Based on the label) that was emptied and is now filled with rich soil and growing a single flower.

An oar, made of driftwood with a multitude of seashells and waves engraved along its length.

A tri-folded flag for a country which no longer exists.

A scrap of paper inscribed with a haunting elvish poem.

A small compartmentalized enameled box containing a set of fine pigments, dyes and colored powders. The hinged lid has a mirror on the underside, and the exterior of the box is decorated with images depicting a harem of dancing girls.

A hefty iron paperweight in the shape of a fist.

A tiny iron anvil, used in certain religious and civic ceremonies among the dwarves.

A charcoal drawing of an elven goddess shooting a dragon with a bow.

A recipe for mushroom ale, carved into a wooden plank.

An inordinately heavy and unwieldy, bronze ceremonial staff.

A small, amber colored glass sphere covered in repeating runes, written in celestial. It reads “I am with you. Relax and be calm.”

A wide earthenware jug protected by a wicker frame and stoppered with a large cork. The one-gallon container is filled with high proof rum, an alcoholic drink distilled from sugar. A stained leather tag around the jug’s neck proclaims the contents as “Alvarado's Bathtub Boot Screech: If you can read this, you haven't drunk it”.

A small grey silk pouch containing nodules of raw silver and polished finger bones.

A brass toy duck enameled in garish colours that flaps its wings and quacks when wound up with its key.

A pair of wool socks that randomly tickle the bearer's feet.

A whale-shaped candle holder made of blue stone.

A potted plant that only thrives and flowers during winter.

An expertly tanned reptilian hide sporting keeled, glimmering scales like those of a mammoth carp. The hide is as large as one might get from a sheep and glows softly in the dark with a multitude of colours.

A violet bedroll covered with rude scenes. It can easily expand to fit two people.

A peacock feather that repairs itself if damaged.

A toy flumph that floats gently to the ground if dropped.

A tiny bronze sundial with numbers marked in infernal.

A lidded basket woven from black rose briars and filled with dried bracken and mushrooms.

A bloodstained black porcelain statuette of a rearing pegasus.

A metal flask containing a milky mixture which bubbles and sizzles when unstopped.

A yellowed and cracked tooth of a hyena, hanging from a leather thong.

A fetish made from a giant spider’s mandible suspended on a braided silk cord.

A small rectangular bookmark crafted from the tanned wings of a bat and embossed in gold-leaf with an arcane glyph.

A large crystal orb that appears to have been crafted with wild, twisted glyphs that glow with their own inner radiance.

A shawl made of black wool and sewn with small crystals that glitter and shimmer in the light.

A rod almost as long as a staff, made from smoky quartz that sparkles with flashes of light; some brilliant white, others blood red. When gripped, a thin wisp of smoke trails from the tip.

A metal spinning top that never tips over when spun.

A set of sheet of music that goblins find upsetting when they hear it played or sung.

A leather bag containing a black silk shirt with eight silver buttons.

A one-foot tall hourglass encased in a frame of dark chestnut wood. The frame itself was carved from an extremely hard wood found only in the Sword Fens. Images of hounds, foxes, tortoises, hares, cheetahs, and other animal life grace the slender curves of the frame.

A wax candle that roars and crackles like a bonfire while lit

A music box that plays a sprightly tune you remember from your childhood.

An aberrant fiddle that quite simply looks wrong. The geometry is slightly off-center, the interior looks non-euclidean while the color scheme is disgustingly sickly. Only a madman would own this instrument. And from its strings, an equally horrid tune plays. The music cannot be described as anything from this realm, but is nevertheless truly ghastly.

A stone fertility figurine of a Random Humanoid woman sitting cross-legged.

A drum crafted from gorilla skin whose sound carries for miles in the jungle.

A shed snake skin that slithers around on its own when not observed.

A painted stone that makes a loud frog's croak when thrown at something.

A one gallon cask filled with an alcoholic beverage known as “Chasind Sack Mead”. It is a brutishly strong honey liquor, reminiscent of warm summer days, apple blossoms on the wind with an unexpected aftertaste of father going off to war, never to return. Bitter, to say the least.

A small iron box, engraved with drawings of tornadoes and towering cyclones.

A smooth, shimmering crystal the size of a fist that seems to shift colors as one gazes upon it.

A black cat’s eye marble with a hint of blood red. A fleeing convict once slipped on it and broke his skull.

A sleeveless leather vest possessing several pockets and pouches. A small emblem is etched in a golden thread along the collar.

A lacquered tarot card entitled “The Lotus”. The tranquil card depicts a pleasant grove where five naiads play lyres and feed fruit to weary adventurers resting on satin pillows.

A silver talisman resembling a winged humanoid, holding an opalescent kiteshield as they fly upwards.

A canteen made from hammered copper, decorated with a snake motif.

A glass orb filled with water and bubbles of other liquids. It becomes cloudy before a storm.

A terracotta stamp used to imprint patterns on cloth. It's stained from blue paint.

A single palm-sized golden coin bearing an unfamiliar emblem. Unknown to the bearer, the gold has been enchanted by a local group of bandits who can seek it out with a paired magical compass and will ambush whoever is carrying the coin at the worst time for the coin’s bearer.

A scroll in a waterproofed leather case. Written on it is a melancholy poem about drowning.

A sealed clay jar containing a bone fragment from a deceased angel, bound in linen.

A burlap pouch filled with sea glass in a variety of blues and greens. Cloudy shapes seem to move under their surface.

An articulated wooden hand, with jagged lightning-like patterns along the fingers.

An offering bowl, coated in dust. The surface bears circular patterns of lightning.

A bright green cap of ettercap silk lined with black linen.

A sealed bottle of wine known as Blood of the Raven. Knowledgeable PC's have heard rumors that this drink is produced by the members of The Cult of the Raven, an old and secretive organization. The wine is black in color, salty to taste and is consumed communally among the worshipers of the deity only referred to as the Raven. The wine had the ability to pass dream-like visions of the Raven's will to its worshipers, although that happened very rarely and only to the favored individuals.

A lightweight walking stick that glows in the dark.

A rough chunk of stone that is perfectly black, reflecting no light on any of its surfaces.

A wooden fife that cannot be heard by humans.

A slender wine glass made of stained bone, rimmed with gold.

A small magic wand that commands the flight of a tiny illusory butterfly.

A sealed glass bottle labeled “diamond dust” that is actually full of crystallized sugar.

An ornately decorated skull made of hardened sugar.

A set of four wicker dolls in the shape of winter animals. They're attached together by a small chain.

A brass collar engraved with ancient hieroglyphs.

An oil lantern with crystal sides, which show shimmering faces when lit.

A sheaf of wheat made of gold wire, marked with sigils of healing.

A small pouch containing the shattered iron pieces of a sun-shaped medallion.

An amber wand that end in an eagle's talon.

A bright red flower kept alive by a minor enchantment.

An ancient bronze coin given to the dead to use to cross into the underworld.

A torn out piece of parchment that has a new story every morning, the ink still wet. The story always builds great tension before leaving out the ending.

A broken hand mirror that shows the user with older and frailer features.

A glass paperweight in the shape of a lobster's claw.

A skein of Randomly Colored yarn so light that it almost floats.

A skirt that shifts colors through the day, from bright blue, to black speckled with silver dots.

A tea bag that causes any liquid it’s placed in to taste like pure honey.

A feather far too long and colorful to belong to any bird you’ve heard of.

A small piece of salt stained wood that smell of sealing pitch and seawater. It is heavily damaged and was obviously splintered off of a much large section of a wooden structure. The wood rattles when creature sing near it and Knowledgeable PC`s suspect that the item was once part of the Songbird, the mythical boat belonging to a minor God of Seas and Songs. 

[liliansun]

PROMISE ME LOVE (teaser)

synopsis: Not only had he been the boy next door, he was your best friend. Practically inseparable, you were too comfortable with how things were. Now that you're not the only girl he's looking at, things begin to take a turn. Better or for worse?

genre: fluff, angst, comedy, college au, best friends to lovers, boy next door/childhood friends

warnings: swearing, slight suggestive(?) due to mentions of sex, I doubt there’s more to add but if there is I will

estimated wc: 5k+

teaser wc: 500+

estimated release date: was supposed to be 24th - 27th of April,, sike I posted it early → promise me love link!

please send an ask/comment to be added to the taglist!

taglist: @kac-chowsballs @todorokiskitten @jayk2025 @msxflower @woniecf @luvrjn @hobistigma @gongiz @kyleeanne @shysakuno @jaeyunify @jaylaxies @candidupped @icywhatim @ja4hyvn @hooniesoul @rutowonz @acciomylove @soobin-chois @saucytaehyung @enhacolor @ethereal-engene @ant-ton-ya @gyuszn @doublesung @njmverse

“Looks like the two lovebirds decided to grace us with their presence today.” Mark added on, earning a slap by the one next to him. “Leave them alone, you’re gonna scare her away.” Chenle said as he waved to you. Renjun also waved, sitting beside Chenle. You waved at them all, noticing one was missing. “Where’s hyuck?” You asked, looking at the boy next to you. “He’s in the library, why?” The entire table started to make an ooo sound as they looked at you two.

“Trouble in paradise, y/n? Maybe someone has heart eyes for our poor haechan?” Mark said, leaning more towards you. Playfully flicking him on the forehead, you rolled your eyes. “I’m only asking because he’s always with you guys, butt out mark.” Jisung, who was sitting on the opposite end of the table, spoke up. “Mark, stop teasing her, you’ll feel the wrath of Jaemin if you don’t.” Jaemin only smiled at the comment about him before turning to you. You didn’t pay attention to the way his eyes were staring at you, instead focusing on the food in front of you. Unwrapping your sandwich, you started to enjoy your lunch while the boys continued to tease and make jokes with one another. Jaemin was occupying his time by watching the way you eat. It seems kind of creepy, but ever since you could remember he always did that. You had gotten used to it, not minding him and his quirky actions.

As you’re finishing up lunch, Jeno stands up to gather his things. “Oh hey, y/n you’re coming to the party this weekend right?” Lifting your head, you shrug in response. “C’mon, it’ll be fun! Plus, Chenle and I will be there so you can ditch these hooligans.” Renjun said. You laughed, considering their offer. “I don’t know guys, I have a test in a couple weeks and-“ before you could finish, Jaemin cut you off. “C’mon, I’ll be with you the whole time.” You scoffed, standing to grab your bag. “Yeah right, you always leave me to go get into another girl’s pants.”

The entire table went silent as you and Jaemin went back and forth. “I promise I’ll be by your side the entire night. Pinky swear.” Hesitantly, you interlocked your pinky within his. To others, this may seem childish or even silly to pinky promise someone something so simple, but to you and Jaemin, this meant loyalty. Smiling, he interlocked his pinky with yours and the silent exchange between you two was picked up by the other five boys. “Alright alright, we have to go to class, but we’ll see you later!” Mark said, walking off with Jeno and Renjun. Chenle and Jisung waited for Jaemin to join them.

“See you later y/n.” He said as he saluted you before turning his back to you and left the cafeteria. Watching his figure disappear behind the cafeteria doors made you realize the audience that you and him had created. Many wandering eyes watched you exit the building, some in jealously and others in pure curiosity. Making your way back across campus, you finished off your final few classes and headed home after.

©️LILIANSUN., 2022

please do not copy, paste, translate or repost my work, this includes the header. please give feedback, it helps encourage writers to become more creative and makes us feel more purposeful when we write.

#ficscafe #enhypenwriters #k-radio! #nct dream #nct dream au #nct dream fanart #nct dream fanfiction #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream crack #na jaemin #na jaemin fanfic #jaemin fanfic #na jaemin fluff #jaemin fluff #na jaemin angst #jaemin angst #jaemin crack #college au #best friend au #best friend to lovers au #©️ liliansun

[baidar-oroq]

Further Adventures In Writing

So here I am, still working through the current part of the WiP, tying off various and sundry knots from Unheavenly Creatures-you'd think after nearly 250,000 words there wouldn't be any, but turns out a few remained! This is not the first time this has happened to me-there were elements of Venat's trauma that really should have gone into my first completed novel, The Fragile Art of Existence, but wound up being spread through the early chapters of Unheavenly. Mainly because I didn't really grasp that I'd written a novel with Fragile until I posted the whole thing on AO3 and found that it was ninety-two thousand words long. Really thought I was writing at most a novella. Whoops.

Anyway, so here I am, tying off some things while also planting a seed or two for the story to come in my little epic series, and there was one thing I had wanted to do in Unheavenly, a little clever thing, but it got shouldered out by the action of the story. No problem, though; I could just do it now before I moved Baidar and Venat to where I needed them for the plot, and tie off the other knots as well.

And I had a pretty productive day, writing about two thousand words, feeling good about myself. I tied up some things and I did some set up and had some clever moments (or at least they will be once I edit this part) and I got to the really clever bit I wanted to do back in Unheavenly...

And as I was writing it, I realized that my really clever bit was really, really fucking stupid. It was based on a purely ludicrous contrivance that actually wasn't going to work. And if you've read Unheavenly, you probably know that if there's something I love, it's ludicrous contrivances, so if I see one as being bad, it's pretty fucking bad!

Fuck me, I thought as I erased the paragraph I had written and closed the document. Thankfully, it's a no harm done kind of thing-I had barely set that point up yet, and it's something I could probably just let disappear into the ether without really addressing it again, but it's a teaching moment for me. Namely, if you come up with something with the INTENT of it being clever, it's really likely to be pretty damn stupid.

#ffxiv #venat #baidar and venat AU

[ruiniel]

Prickly thorns, tender roses

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Rating: Mature 🔞

Relationship: Alucard/Original Female Character

Characters: Alucard, Original Characters

Summary:

Set after the events of Castlevania (Netflix) Season III. After the betrayal of his young apprentices, Alucard feels barely alive in his lonesome castle. Days wear on, chipping away at his mind and sanity. And what is the son of Dracula to do with this unwanted visitor, suddenly come at his doorstep?

Chapter tags & warnings: Inspired by Castlevania, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, POV alternating, Post-Castlevania Season III, Hurt/Comfort, Personal interpretation of post-season III Alucard, Written before season IV, OC has 0 special abilities, Except for Nerve

IX. So little

Ravenna struggled to regain her inner balance, breathing deeply and regularly. She was standing on her own two feet, having survived yet another night creature mauling. The thought came with glimpses of fire and horrified cries rising on a misty night. The beast moved so swiftly she had not even the time to utter a single word before being trapped in its reptilian gaze. Ravenna shivered involuntarily as she advanced, following the strangest being she had stumbled upon in this part of the world. The woman dared a glance at him under her lashes. Just when Ravenna thought that was to be her end, the stifling weight and force keeping her submerged disappeared, and she had wasted not a beat crawling to the bank, to safety.

Her eyes trailed over his grim bearing. He had prevented her demise. What left its mark on her was the prompt manner in which her host savagely dispensed with the creature, using nothing but his bare hands. It had all come in such sharp opposition to that rather frail and near ethereal appearance. Yes, this one would surely stand out in a crowd, and perhaps it was... better, that he adopted this solitary lifestyle? She doubted it did him any good, though.

Adrian relinquished his support once they had entered the castle, and now Ravenna was stumbling forward in a stunted, uneasy gait. She was also woefully aware of how naked, exposed and bootless she was as he led them slowly up a spiral staircase. None of them spoke, and both seemed content to wallow in their own flavor of silence for the time being. The pair came to a straight hallway and continued on for a while, their footsteps echoing loud and lonesome on the darkened tiles. This was one of the more torn down and ravaged parts of the castle, and the young woman had to be careful not to step into any of the sharp or ragged pieces of debris.

“What happened here?” Ravenna asked, if only to relieve her own mind of the strain owed to the recent happenings.

“Father and I,” Adrian replied after moments.

There was a sharp chill wafting through their surroundings, and Ravenna shuddered beneath her coat. She fastened it tighter around her waist, pushing forward with her arms crossed. And then she remembered the last of what Adrian had said before the attack.

I killed him.

His own father. Admittedly, that father was Dracula and there was surely more to that tale. If his response was anything to go by, all of it had passed within the confines of this castle. In their home. Ravenna wondered if he had done the same to his mother, seeing as she was also gone? She recalled the portrait of the yellow-haired woman, such joy and confidence in her eyes.

Either way, the fact of the matter was, he had saved her life again.

Try though she did to stave off the thought, Ravenna had never felt as conflicted before.

They had ceased walking, and the young woman waited as he opened a door and motioned for her to enter.

There was a bed, and the room was bright, with a wide window looking out to the forest and lands beyond. There were also wide drawers and a changing screen. An immense wardrobe cabinet rose high against one wall. It was all masterfully crafted from dark wood, and the room was accented in white and creamy nuances. Ravenna wavered at the entrance.

Adrian went farther into the chamber, appearing lost in thought. “You may use this room,” he said, turning to face her. He pointed to the wardrobe. “There are garments, I think.”

He then turned to leave, not sparing her a glance.

“Adrian, wait,” Ravenna called, still holding his coat fastened around herself.

He stilled, his light amber eyes set on her. Ravenna noticed something she had failed to see before. He appeared bone-weary, drained. “You aided me, again.”

Adrian closed his eyes in a frown, opening his mouth to speak.

“I know, I know, you have no use for my gratitude,” the young woman interceded. “But you may have use for my skill. I could try to aid you with that.” Her eyes strayed to the side of his face.

Alucard regarded her coldly. “I need no tending. It heals on its own,” and he made to leave again.

“But I could aid with relief from the pain, at least,” Ravenna insisted, her schooling ruling over her misgivings. “And it does look rather deep.”

He threw her a displeased grimace before his gaze fell on his reflection in the tall mirror placed against one wall. A deep red burn lined the side of his face from brow to chin. It was gaining a bluish hue at the edges, where the rotted, poisoned tongue ate into skin and flesh. And it had not healed yet, which was slightly disconcerting, but unsurprising. It also stung so deeply he barely kept himself from hissing in pain. Alucard closed his eyes and sighed. “I will wait outside,” he said, and left the chamber.

Alone, Ravenna shed his coat and rushed to one wardrobe. Opening the sliding door, the young woman was astonished to see many dresses and other items of clothing. Her eyes then swept over every corner of the furnished chamber and, seeing another door, she rushed to open it. She found shelves bearing other items, such as shoes. All the apparel in the room was of a similar cut, made to fit a slender frame. Ravenna returned to the wardrobe and rummaged through the clothing in pursuit of suitable garments. As she did so, one item caught her eye. Its dark violet hue and cut left no room for doubt. It was the dress she had seen in the study painting of his mother.

So this may have been her space. Curious. Her fingers briefly traced over the silk material of a soft pearly sheen before tucking the garment back. She continued her search and found a pair of leggings and a white shift. These would do. She layered a fitted robe of dark blue over it all, fastened at the waist. After she hastily donned her garments and a pair of boots, Ravenna left the chamber.

Adrian was waiting for her outside, propped against the opposite wall. When their eyes met, she recognized the signs of one stifling their agony. He seemed to be in much pain if the strain in his expression was anything to go by.

“There are a few ingredients I need for the salve I wish to make, but I will not presume to have that luxury,” the young woman said as they fell in step together.

Alucard eyed her briefly, but said nothing. He led her down and through yet another high arched hallway, and they walked for some time until a large domed space appeared before them. Her eyes widened at the sight, bathed in afternoon rays streaking through a great glass opening.

There were tall shelves lining the walls, all of them laden with tomes, and there were different levels of them.

“Greater than our University library...” Ravenna whispered in awe, wondering at the wealth of knowledge contained within. So the great Dracula was himself a keeper and pursuer of teachings.

There were also straight and sturdy metal contraptions which the woman had only heard of in Styria, ones she presumed were used to study the skies. The true science.

But, all of this was marred by the ruin and destruction which had also made its way here. There were working tables upon which lay abandoned an array of broken utensils and artifacts. Looking to Adrian, his face betrayed nothing but the burden of witnessing something else entirely.

He led her to a corner of the enclosure where Ravenna saw the familiar tools of her occupation. She rushed towards the tables and shelves with unrestrained curiosity.

“You may find what you need here,” Alucard spoke from behind her.

“Yes... yes,” Ravenna replied with delight and astonishment, “but, how is it you have these supplies?”

“My mother was a practicing physician,” he explained, crossing his arms at his chest as his gaze roamed across the various bottles and jars, beakers and flasks. There were dried herbs but also powders of different colors, ranging from bright yellow to murky greens and deep blues.

A physician, married to Dracula. Ravenna figured she may as well cease any attempts to anticipate him altogether, as there was ever a novel twist and turn. Instead, the young woman began a search for what she needed. “I will also require water and clean cloth,” she told him while selecting various jars, carefully checking the inscription on each. Once satisfied, Ravenna began the task of blending all the ingredients together.

As she worked, Adrian returned with the items she had requested. When the salve was ready, the woman turned to him. “Lie down on that table there,” she directed, only to be met with a nearly offended expression. “I must have proper access to the injury,” Ravenna said flatly. What was this, now?

His gaze sharpened in suspicious warning. “If this is some ploy...”

Her mouth dropped agog. “Do you truly think so little of others?!” Why would she harm one who had just prevented her death?

Alucard shrugged in an infuriatingly detached way. “You are a stranger with an undisclosed purpose wading through Wallachia, having strayed into my home.”

“And you are someone I have just seen kill a creature of the night with their bare hands,” Ravenna retorted. “I am not daft.”

“I never said you were.”

“Lie down on the table?”

After a few moments of defiant staring on both sides, he looked away and turned, warily complying with her request.

Ravenna came to stand close at the edge of the table and placed her wares there, leaning over him to inspect the wound. “Tilt your head to the side,” the young woman asked with a methodical voice as she stirred the mixture to be applied.

He did as she asked and closed his eyes. I must be going mad.

It had to be said the wound appeared less grave than before, but it was still deep enough and with a high potential of scarring, and so it required treatment. And he did not look as though he needed more scars, Ravenna thought. Her eyes involuntarily flitted to the deep red mark which began under his collarbone and ran across his chest, part of it hidden by his garment. There were others as well, though thinner and barely discernible. When he reached and tucked strands of hair away from his face, Ravenna noticed something she had not seen before. Those same light red marks adorned his wrists and snaked upwards along the pale forearms. What has happened to you?

Remembering her task, Ravenna took the cloth and dipped it in water. She leaned closer, hovering a little above his averted gaze, cleaning the droplets of blood from his neck and face. His skin was so pale it appeared nearly translucent. When done, she applied the paste in a thin layer over the wound.

“It is because of them I came here, you know,” Ravenna spoke as she worked, feeling him flinch ever so slightly beneath her fingers. “The night creatures.”

“Is it, really?” Adrian quipped, unconvinced.

“I narrowly escaped their clutches before, as I have said. But, in the past year especially, their numbers had grown considerably in Styria. They are terrorizing living inhabitants and driving entire villages of people out of their ancestral homes. The goal of my journey is finding a way to thwart them.”

He stiffened at the last words, but she saw nothing of it. “In circles...” he hushed, but not low enough.

“What?” Ravenna asked, but at his sullen silence decided to continue. “I have discovered something intriguing in the experiments conducted at our University with my master: there may be a way to revert the forging of these abominations.”

“Revert the forging?” Alucard felt something akin to intrigue, though the notion sounded rather ridiculous. “An antidote of sorts,” he followed.

“A weapon. To expel the blight and return the bodies to their initial lifeless states. But... we are missing a part of the equation. We are far from completion, but my master has the formula. And so,” she finished applying the paste and stepped back, “Several of us were sent in all four corners of the world in search of sources to aid us. I was sent South of our land, to Wallachia, in search of the famed Belmonts to ask for their aid. With the wealth of knowledge it is said they stored, they may have had similar recordings to enrich our research. But if I am to believe you, I came for nothing.” There was deep disappointment etched into her words.

Alucard had to admit the burning had subsided as she applied the strange-smelling paste from pure torment to a kind of constant niggling pain. “Are you nearly done?” he asked, as though her words went unheard.

“Yes.” Ravenna stepped away, wiping her hands. She looked to the skies visible through the great glass windows. The light of day had faded.

“Your experiment, does it involve transmutation?” the question took her by surprise.

“It would, though I am yet unsure.” Ravenna met his gaze. “A by-product released during the process is needed for the serum. Why?”

He was staring through her again, and deigned not to answer. Instead, Alucard made his way back whence they came, motioning for her to follow.

“Where are we going?” Ravenna asked as she reached him.

“I don’t know about you, but after all that excitement I need a proper meal.”

“Define a proper meal,” Ravenna retorted, walking by his side.

“Probably not what they were feeding you in Styria.”

She made an ill-humored sound. “And you accuse me of wit.”

“I have an eye for it,” Adrian replied.

Without the slightest of warnings, a stubborn smile lit her face, and Ravenna stole a swift glance at him, to his partially exposed scar, then back to his profile.

“What is it...” Alucard muttered without looking her way.

“I would have ended as a body in tatters today, were it not for you.”

“All right, no need for that now,” he waved her words away before tiredly running a hand through his hair.

“Very well, then,” Ravenna grumbled. “But tell me at least you will not revert to using chains. They chafe,” she reasoned blankly through the remnants of her smile.

His wound stung all the more when he attempted to keep a straight face. “I will consider it.”

NEXT

#ruiniel:fanfiction #prickly thorns tender roses #alucard x oc #not rewritten has my 2020 style rip

[haydenn]

Crowley looked out the front windows, knowing full well he hadn’t killed enough time for his angels to have returned. He paced for a bit, keeping his eyes on the lift door access the street, fiddling with Aziraphale’s ring on his pinky. It was a little too loose for his liking, so he moved it to his third finger. It felt more at home there.

Finally, gave up pacing with a sigh and sunk into the couch. Maybe he could sleep until they got back. That would silence the worry gnawing in his gut, wouldn’t it?

The bell on the door tinkled and Crowley heard two sets of feet entering the bookshop but felt none of the ethereal presence of angels with them. Humans, then.

“Bugger off. We’re closed,” he said without opening his eyes.

“Yeah, well, we don’t give a shit,” said a brusque female voice.

“Nina, love, you could try being nice,” said a second female voice, higher and kinder than the first.

“No, I couldn’t. Oi, you!,” someone kicked his foot where it hung off the couch, “Where the Hell have you been?”

Crowley looked up to see a grumpy Black woman with long dreadlocks glaring down at him. Another woman, blond and anxious, looked over her shoulder.

“Nina. Maggie. What a surprise.” Crowley sat up so he could look at them properly.

“Answer the question, Crowley.” Nina leveled a finger at him. “Where the Hell have you been? You and Mr. Fell just vanished. The girl who’s been looking after the shop, Muriel, wouldn’t tell us a thing except that you weren’t together and then she disappeared a couple of weeks ago. We peeked in the window and saw it looked like someone plucked a flock of bloody chickens in the middle of the shop. We called the police but they refused to get involved. What the Hell has been going on?”

“It’s a long story.”

—————————

I’m really bad about posting updates for this fic, but here’s a snipped from the most recent chapter. And here’s a link to the fic.

Here’s another link to part one if you haven’t already read it.

#good omens #ao3 fanfic #good omens fanwork #ineffable husbands #fanfic #ineffable partners #crowly x aziraphale #aziraphale #crowley #good omens 2 #good omens series 2 #muriel #good omens season 2