#I know there are websites and things to search even deeper but I try to avoid looking into them so I won’t be tempted

[alistorz]

FRAGMENT OF US

(Aespa x Male Reader Fanfiction)

Chapter 2 - Hope, Not Lies

11821 words

~ “It’s strange how quiet the world feels when you’re waiting for something to change.” ~

A.N - First of all, huge sorry. Its been like more then a month. And this chapter, is a kind of a mess since it was rush. More notes at the end. Thank you.

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They say time heals everything. 

But what if time only makes things worse? 

What if, the longer it stretches, the deeper the wounds become?

.

.

.

There’s no alarm sound. Nothing but silence.

Soft raindrops tapped against the window, their rhythmic patterning the only sound in the silent dorm room. Gray light seeped through the half-open blinds, casting a dull, lifeless glow over the space. The air was cold, damp, carrying the scent of rain-soaked concrete from outside.

Y/N lay on his thin mattress, staring at the ceiling, unmoving. His body felt heavy, his limbs sinking into the stiff fabric of his sheets. His mind was awake, yet he lacked the will to move. He didn't know how long he'd been like this—minutes, maybe hours. Not that it mattered.

He wasn't avoiding sleep. Sleep had long abandoned him. His eyes burned from exhaustion, but every time he closed them, he heard it again.

"It’s getting worse… Surgery is the only option now."

His mother’s voice, strained yet trying to remain composed, echoed in his skull.

"It’s expensive, sweetheart… We don’t know what to do."

Neither did he.

He clenched his jaw, pressing his forearm over his eyes as if to block out the memories. But they remained. "I’ll figure it out." It had been a promise, spoken without thought. A desperate attempt to assure her—to assure himself—that he would find a way. That he wouldn’t just sit here, useless, while his father’s life depended on money they didn’t have.

But what if that was all he was? Useless?

The rain outside grew heavier, drumming against the window. A distant rumble of thunder rolled through the sky. His cracked phone lay beside him, the dull screen reflecting his worn-out expression. He picked it up, swiping down to refresh his inbox.

No new emails. No job offers. No responses. Just silence.

Y/N exhaled sharply, sitting up. His body ached in protest, his muscles stiff from nights of tossing and turning. He ran a hand through his unkempt hair, fingers briefly stopping at his temple, where a dull headache pulsed. He needed to move. To do something. Because if he sat here any longer, he might drown in his own thoughts.

—-

At first, he had been hopeful. The moment he ended that call with his mother, he hadn’t wasted a second. He had jumped onto every job website he could find, filling out applications until his fingers ached from typing. Cafés, convenience stores, delivery services, tutoring gigs—if the job existed, he applied. It didn’t matter if he was qualified or not. He just needed something.

But reality was cruel.

Some places responded, only to reject him outright. Others simply ignored his applications, leaving them to rot in the void of job portals.

A week into his search, Y/N started looking physically—walking into stores, asking managers face-to-face if they needed help.

The first café he entered had been promising. The place was small, cozy, and not too busy. Maybe, just maybe, they needed an extra hand.

"Excuse me," he had asked, forcing a polite smile at the barista behind the counter. "Are you hiring by any chance?"

The worker barely glanced at him before calling out, "Boss?" A man in his late 30s appeared from the back, his expression tired before Y/N even said a word.

"I was wondering if you had any job openings," Y/N explained quickly. "I can work part-time, full-time—whatever you need. I learn fast, I won’t cause trouble—"

"Not hiring," the boss cut in, voice flat, uninterested. "Try somewhere else."

Y/N hesitated. "Are you sure? I can work any—"

"Listen, kid." The man sighed. "I already have too many employees. Adding another one? That’s just extra baggage."

Y/N swallowed the lump in his throat. "I… I understand. Thank you for your time."

He walked out feeling the sting of rejection, but he convinced himself it was just one failed attempt. But then came the second. And the third. And the tenth.

At a convenience store, the manager barely let him finish speaking before shaking his head. "We’re fully staffed. We don’t need another worker slowing us down."

At a delivery company, the receptionist didn’t even look up from her computer. "No foreigners, sorry."

A tutoring job at a local cram school? "We require a college degree."

He even tried a small diner run by an elderly couple. The old woman had been kind, but when he asked about work, she only gave him a sympathetic smile.

"I wish I could help, son, but times are hard. We’re barely making enough as it is."

It became a cycle. Wake up. Apply. Walk around. Ask. Get rejected. Repeat. Each day, his feet ached more. His motivation thinned. His savings shrank. Hope, once so determined, now felt like a candle struggling against the wind.

.

.

Y/N sighed, shaking himself from the memory. Outside, the rain still fell. The cold air seeped into the room, making his already drained body feel even heavier. His stomach grumbled in protest, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since last night. He ignored it.

He grabbed his phone and refreshed his inbox one more time.

Nothing.

How much longer could he keep going? Was there even a point in trying anymore?

Y/N clenched his fists, inhaling sharply. He couldn't let himself break. Not yet.

He had to keep going.

Because the moment he stopped trying… everything would fall apart.

..

By the time Y/N returned to his dorm, he was soaked down to his skin. Again. His shoes squelched with every step down the corridor, drawing a few annoyed looks from fellow students passing by. He didn’t care. He barely even noticed.

It has become a routine now. The same damn routine.

Grey skies. Cold rain. A silent walk home with nothing but wet shoes and a heavier heart. It was like living inside a loop, a bad scene playing over and over. Each time he walked the same road, stood at the same doors, and heard the same answers.

He didn’t even flinch when the hallway light flickered above him as he stepped into the dorm. Everything was predictable now—his rejections, the silence that followed, and the familiar ache in his chest when he realized nothing had changed

The worst were the ones who didn’t even bother to respond. No emails. No callbacks. Just silence.

Y/N had scrolled through dozens of listings, applied to every job that didn’t explicitly say Korean native only, and even some that did—out of sheer desperation. He handed out resumes in person, walking for hours to save the cost of public transport. But in the end, every effort led back here: to a damp room, to soggy clothes, to silence.

As he reached for his phone to check for new replies—anything—a notification flashed across the top of the screen.

[1 New Email] – Professor Seonghyun (Academic Supervisor)

His heart skipped.

For a second, he thought maybe—just maybe—someone had referred him to a position, or maybe his professor wanted to help. He opened the email, eyes scanning fast.

But his heart quickly dropped.

—

Subject: Concern Regarding Your Recent Academic Performance

Y/N,

I hope you're well. I've noticed a decline in your performance and attendance over the past two weeks. Your recent midterm score was well below your average, and I’m concerned.

If there's something going on, please don’t hesitate to reach out. That said, improvement is crucial. Continued decline could affect your scholarship status.

Best, Prof. Seonghyun

—

He stared at the screen.

Of course. Of course that would start falling apart too.

His jaw tightened. He turned the screen off and tossed the phone onto the bed.

Was there anything in his life that wasn’t slipping away?

His grades. His home back in his country. His father’s health. His future. All crumbling, slowly and then all at once.

And now the very thing that brought him here—his scholarship—was at risk, too.

For a moment, Y/N just sat there, unmoving, letting the silence crawl into his lungs like smoke. The cheap ticking of the clock above his desk was the only sound in the room. He didn’t know how long he sat like that.

But eventually, he stood up.

Not out of motivation. Not out of hope.

Just because he couldn’t sit still anymore.

He moved toward the tiny kitchenette to make something warm—ramyeon again, the last packet. As the water boiled, he stared at the steam rising from the pot, eyes unfocused. The heat fogged his glasses slightly, but he didn’t bother wiping them.

In a few more days, he might not even be able to afford the water bill.

—---

He didn’t know how long he had been lying there, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Minutes? Hours? Time has stopped meaning anything lately. At some point, his body moved on its own. Not because he had a plan or destination in mind—he just needed to get out. He grabbed his hoodie—still damp—and stepped outside.

The rain hadn’t stopped. It never did, not these days. The skies above Seoul felt like they were syncing with his mood—gray, weeping, and indifferent.

Y/N walked. Not to submit another job application. Not to hand out resumes. Not even to check his phone. He just walked.

He passed glowing cafés filled with warmth and noise. Laughter behind glass. Friends chatting over coffee. Couples huddled close beneath umbrellas. The world was moving forward—unbothered, uninterrupted—while he felt like he was drifting through it like a ghost, unseen and unneeded.

The city around him buzzed with life, but it only made the silence inside his chest louder.

Eventually, his feet brought him to a familiar bench by a quiet bus stop. He didn’t remember choosing to go there. He just did.

Sitting down, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head heavy. His hoodie clung to him, soaked and uncomfortable, like everything else he couldn’t shake off. He wasn’t crying. Not really. But his lips parted just enough to let something slip out—barely audible under the sound of the rain.

“…What else do I even have left?”

No answer came. No one around seemed to notice or care. The sky above offered nothing but more rain. The bench gave no warmth. He sat in it for a while longer, then eventually stood up and wandered back to his dorm, not because he felt better—just because there was nowhere else to go.

Once home, he changed into dry clothes. Not out of comfort. Just… routine. Then he sat at his desk, eyes blank, laptop closed, his textbooks untouched. He couldn’t bring himself to try anymore.

That’s when his phone buzzed.

He barely noticed it at first, assuming it was another push notification or a job site reminding him of all the places that weren’t hiring him. But it didn’t stop.

He reached for it lazily, ready to silence whatever it was—but froze when he saw the screen.

[UNKNOWN NUMBER]

No name. No label. Just a number.

He stared at it for a moment, thumb hovering over the screen. He didn’t want to pick it up. He had no energy left for another disappointment. But something—small, stubborn—kept him from letting it go.

The call was seconds from ending when he finally tapped the green button and raised the phone to his ear.

“…Hello?”

.

.

—----------------------------------------------------

The lights were blinding, the mics were off, and the final round of smiles had just been flashed to the cameras.

“Thank you for joining us, Aespa!” the host said brightly, their voice still riding the wave of on-air enthusiasm.

The girls waved back in unison — four polished smiles, picture-perfect.

Karina’s elegance led the curve of the moment, Winter’s quiet warmth followed behind it, Giselle’s smirk added the spark, and Ningning’s playful beam sealed the frame with energy.

The cameras cut. They bowed. And once they stepped away from the lights, out of frame and off the stage, the glow dulled.

.

.

Backstage was colder — both literally and metaphorically.

They entered the green room without a word, the heavy door clicking shut behind them. Staff still moved around them in a rush — producers, stylists, camera operators — voices echoing off the walls with directions and calls for final wrap-ups. But Aespa themselves were still.

A small junior group passed by just as the girls entered. Fresh faces, wide eyes, that stage-sweat glow of adrenaline still on them. One of them bowed quickly and stammered, “You were amazing, sunbaenim!”

“Thank you,” Ningning replied with a kind smile, her voice airy but distant.

Another junior glanced toward Karina and said something about having grown up watching their performances. Karina smiled, nodded, and offered a soft “That’s sweet of you.”

Winter gave a quiet quip — something teasing about how they’re not that old yet — and the rookies laughed awkwardly before continuing down the hall.

Once the green room door closed, the masks slid off effortlessly.

Karina lowered herself onto the couch, smoothing out her outfit as she sat. Across from her, Winter tilted her head back and closed her eyes, saying nothing. Giselle sank into the corner of the L-shaped couch, scrolling through her phone with slow, distracted swipes. Ningning leaned against the wall and stared at her own screen, her thumb idle against it.

On the table in front of them, a tray of food and drinks had been left by one of the staff — neatly prepared, clearly with care. Fruit cups, boxed meals, vitamin drinks, and iced teas. Not one of the girls touched it.

The room was neither loud nor quiet — just... muted. Like a TV with the volume turned too low.

Karina watched them from her seat. Her members. Her sisters.

Giselle, who once couldn’t go five minutes without bantering with her, hadn’t said more than three words since the stage.

Ningning, who used to share memes during their breaks and lean into her shoulder like a younger sibling craving warmth, had barely glanced up from her screen. There was no teasing, no playful jabs, no sparkle.

And Winter — the one she shared the closest bond with, the one she once exchanged ridiculous jokes and tongue-tied inside gags with — now sat in complete silence, lost in her own space.

Karina's gaze softened. When did we stop filling the room with noise?

Giselle’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it, exhaled quietly, and locked the screen again.

“That guy again?” Karina asked gently, breaking the stillness.

Giselle shrugged, eyes fixed forward. “It’s nothing.”

Karina didn’t press. But she could tell it wasn’t nothing.

Ningning spoke up, almost to herself, “My mom called earlier. I didn’t answer.”

Karina turned slightly toward her. “Why not?”

“I couldn’t fake a smile today,” she said simply, eyes still on her screen.

No one responded. Not because they didn’t care, but because they understood.

The sound of the door clicking open didn’t stir much of a reaction.

Harin stepped in with a tablet clutched to her chest, her eyes briefly scanning the quiet room. The girls were scattered — Ningning sitting on the makeup chair scrolling her phone, Winter curled up on one end of the couch with her arms folded, Giselle with her legs pulled up, head resting back, eyes half-lidded. Karina sat near the corner, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, quiet and still.

“Hey,” Harin greeted softly, mindful of her tone. “You all did great out there. Seriously.”

Ningning gave a small smile without looking up. Giselle lifted a hand in a half-wave. Winter nodded, almost imperceptibly. Karina met her eyes for a brief second and offered a tired but polite nod.

There was something in the air that Harin recognized immediately — a weight she’d seen too often lately.

She looked around at the scene — quiet, drained, heavy. She didn’t say it out loud, but her eyes lingered for a moment too long. She noticed the untouched water bottles, the barely eaten snack trays, and the silence that had settled like dust on everything.

She exhaled, then walked over a few steps and lowered her voice. “I came to tell you something — a bit of a heads-up.”

She hesitated before continuing. “So, uh… I wanted to let you know that the company’s HR team is in the middle of recruiting again. They’re searching for a new probationary manager.”

Giselle’s thumb paused mid-scroll.

Winter slowly blinked but said nothing.

Ningning turned slightly from the mirror, brows lifting. “Another one?”

Karina’s gaze sharpened. “What happened to the last one?”

Harin’s lips pressed together for a second before giving the answer. “He accepted an offer from HYBE. Better pay. Less chaos.”

Giselle scoffed under her breath and muttered something in English too quiet to catch.

“Wasn’t he only around for… two months?” Karina asked, straightening up.

“Forty-seven days,” Harin replied dryly. “Not even enough time to memorize your coffee orders.”

“So, what’s this one like?” Winter asked. Her voice was quiet, tinged with her usual dry sarcasm, but her eyes remained fixed on the wall.

“Unknown,” Harin admitted, rolling her tablet gently against her fingertips. “We haven’t hired anyone yet. The process just started. Could be male, female — idol-savvy or completely green. I just thought it was better you heard it from me before someone randomly shows up mid-schedule like a surprise group assignment.”

Ningning let out a long breath, leaning back in her chair with a tired tilt of her head. “And we’re the test subjects again…”

Karina leaned back, expression unreadable. “Do we even have time to train someone?”

“Not really,” Harin admitted, with a hollow chuckle. “But if we don’t… you’ll keep getting shuffled between twenty different assistants who don’t know the difference between a live mic and a prop.”

That earned a faint snort from Winter. Giselle shook her head slowly, lips twitching without humor.

“No one’s asking you to love them,” Harin added, her voice softening now, carrying a thread of sincerity. “Just… give them a chance. Even if they’re clueless. You never know — they might surprise you.”

Karina didn’t answer right away. Her gaze drifted over her members, then toward the untouched food on the table, the damp tissues scattered near the makeup kits, the space around them that felt full and empty at once.

That’s what they said about the last five.

And still, none of them stayed. None of them saw them. Not really.

I hoped for honey once, she thought. But all I got was sugar water.

Harin looked like she wanted to say more — there was a small crease between her brows that hadn’t left since she entered — but her tablet buzzed with a new alert, flashing urgent.

“I’ll keep you updated,” she said, glancing at the door. “And if something feels off, don’t hesitate to tell me. I’ll do my best to make this one work.”

With a quiet wave, she stepped out of the room and disappeared into the hallway bustle.

The silence returned like a curtain falling. No one spoke for a while.

Winter leaned forward to grab her water bottle and unscrewed the cap slowly. “Forty-seven days,” she mumbled.

Giselle pulled her hoodie over her head. “That’s a record.”

Karina didn’t laugh. But a thought flickered through her mind — faint, fleeting.

What if this one’s different?

She didn’t say it aloud. She wouldn’t. Hope was dangerous like that.

But still… maybe this time, the sugar might not be so plain.

.

.

The dorm was silent when Jimin slipped out.

She left a quiet message in the group chat — just in case the others woke up and wondered. “Going for some air. Don’t wait up.”

No security. No staff. No assistant shadowing her every step.

Just her hoodie pulled low, her mask snug, and the weight of the day hanging off her shoulders like a wet coat she couldn’t shake.

The air outside wasn’t fresh. Seoul at midnight was thick with neon buzz and exhaust. But to her, it was still a relief — not the recycled chill of makeup rooms or the conditioned quiet of luxury vans. This was air that didn’t carry the scent of hairspray and pressure.

She walked aimlessly, letting her feet decide the direction. The city moved around her like a dream she wasn’t part of — couples sharing headphones, students lugging backpacks too big for their bodies, a man arguing softly on the phone, delivery scooters buzzing like flies. Life, raw and unfiltered, pulsed around her.

She paused near a small street stall — its striped tarp flapping in the breeze, steam curling from its tiny griddle. Karina’s steps slowed. The smell of tteokbokki — sweet and spicy — curled into her lungs. Her stomach gave the tiniest lurch.

A grandmother, no younger than her late 50s, waved at her like she’d been expecting her all night.

“Good evening, dear,” the woman said, her voice kind and familiar.

Jimin bowed slightly, her voice muffled through her mask. “A serving of tteokbokki, please.”

As the woman worked, the smell of gochujang sauce warmed the air around her. A few meters away, four students sat on plastic stools, laughing through mouthfuls of rice cakes, their chatter louder than the street noise. They looked barely twenty — probably still in high school. Carefree, still soft around the edges, not yet trimmed down by life. One of the girls spoke animatedly, arms flailing mid-story.

“I still think I’ll get into architecture,” one of them said.

“No way. You get stressed building IKEA shelves,” another teased.

“I’m serious! It’s either that or game design. I just want to make cool things.”

“I just want to live in a villa and wake up at noon.”

Karina’s lips tugged upward beneath her mask.

It reminded her — almost too much — of something she'd buried beneath all the comebacks and encores. Of her and Winter sneaking out late during trainee days. Pocket money in hand. Sitting just like that. Eating tteokbokki on a curb. Talking about dreams that still had blurry edges.

“Miss?”

She blinked, realizing the ajumma had called her more than once. She bowed quickly. “Ah, I’m sorry. Thank you.” She handed over the bills and accepted the warm tray in both hands.

Then, without thinking too hard about it, she stepped toward the group of students. They looked up, confused by her approach.

The four froze mid-bite, their expressions flickering with surprise. One girl blinked. “Uh… yeah?”

They hesitated — naturally. One of them even looked around as if checking for a hidden camera. 

Then, with a breath of courage, she lowered her mask just enough for them to see. 

“Mind if I join you for a minute?” Karina asked, amused by their confusion.

And four jaws hit the floor.

One gasped. “Oh my god.”

“No freaking way—”

“You’re—You’re Karina.”

“Are we being pranked right now?”

Karina laughed softly and waved a hand. “No prank. Just… saw you all talking, and it reminded me of someone I used to be. That’s all.”

Still dazed, they shuffled to make room on the curb. Karina sat, folding her legs beneath her.

One by one, they shared their dreams again — a teacher, a designer, a streamer, a nurse. Each story, sincere and raw and wrapped in the kind of hope Jimin hadn't heard in too long.

She sat with them for a few minutes longer, just listening. Laughing with them. Letting herself forget the things waiting for her back home.

When they asked for a photo, she didn’t hesitate. She took the pictures, signed their trays with a pen the vendor lent her, and waved them off as they bowed over and over in thanks.

Karina resumed her walk, biting into the soft, spicy rice cakes as she went. She passed an ad board flashing their comeback visuals — her own face blown up ten feet tall, polished and perfect. She didn’t look at it long. She turned her gaze away before it reminded her too much of the version of herself the world expected to see.

Further down, she spotted the flickering lights of a claw machine arcade.

She stepped inside.

The soft hum of whirring motors and cheap pop songs filled the space. Rows of claw machines gleamed under cool fluorescent lights, filled with pastel plushies, K-pop merch, and candy sets.

Karina lit up for the first time in hours.

She exchanged bills for coins and got to work — eyes narrowing with each grab attempt, mouth twitching when the claw slipped just a little too early. She cursed under her breath. Then laughed. Then tried again.

No cameras. No weight of expectations. Just her, a metal claw, and a helpless plush keychain caught in the middle.

It wasn’t much.

But it was hers.

Fourth try — success. The claw trembled, but it held.

She laughed softly as the plushie dropped into the chute — a round, squishy peach-colored bear with little angel wings. She picked it up, holding it close for a moment.

Then, without meaning to, she whispered, “The girls would love this.”

She imagined Yizhuo hugging it to sleep. Minjeong makes a dumb pun about its wings. Aeri trying to steal it with that smug little smirk. Ning pretended it was hers all along.

Even out here, even alone, they never left her heart.

For a few fleeting minutes, she felt real again.

Time passed — she didn’t know how much. When her last coin clinked inside the machine, she finally sighed, smiling as she pocketed her prize — a small bunny plush.

Sighing, she packed up the two plushies in a paper bag from the front desk and stepped back into the cool air.

On her way home, she passed a PC bang. Just as she neared it, the door slammed open without warning. She startled, jerking back a few steps.

A guy her age, maybe a little younger, rushed out. His hood was up, eyes tired, clearly in a rush — but he stopped the moment he noticed her.

“Oh— I’m so sorry, I didn’t see— are you okay?”

Jimin nodded quickly, waving both hands to reassure him. “It’s okay, I should’ve watched where I was walking.”

He waves a short, awkward bow before hurrying down the sidewalk.

She watched him go for a second. There was something about his rushed, slightly panicked energy that felt familiar.

But she didn’t dwell on it.

She kept walking.

As she approached the dorm entrance, the warmth from the plushie in her bag faded into the chill of the night. She thought about what Harin had said earlier — the new manager recruitment, the possibility of someone new popping up again.

She didn’t let herself get too curious. Didn’t wonder too hard.

After all, how different could one more new face be?

She stepped inside.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------

The soles of his socks had memorized every inch of the floor.

Back and forth.

Corner to desk. Desk to window. Window to bed. Then all over again.

Y/N’s steps were restless, each turn sharper than the last, like the air in his room was thinning and the only way to breathe was to keep moving. His fingers raked through his hair for what felt like the hundredth time that day, muttering words to himself that only made sense inside his own head.

“Strong multitasking ability… fast learner… dependable, even under pressure… favorite food? Kimchi stew—no, that’s too random. Or is that good? Shows personality?”

He stopped pacing and groaned, pressing both palms to his face as he flopped onto the edge of his bed. The cracked ceiling above stared back, unsympathetic.

This was the tenth time today. Or maybe the twelfth. He’d lost count somewhere between “Tell us about yourself” and “Why do you want this job?”

"Hello, my name is Y/N. I'm currently a university student majoring in…" He cut himself off halfway, voice trailing into nothing. "No, no, no. That sounds like I’m reading off a script."

He stood again. Rolled his shoulders. Forced himself to look at the window across the room — not for the view, but for the faint reflection of himself in the dark glass. A silhouette barely held together. Still, he gave it his best attempt.

Confident tone. Open expression. Words that didn’t sound like desperation leaking through a paper-thin smile.

The truth was, he didn’t have time to fall apart.

Not now.

Not after the call that changed everything. That one call that gave him hope and new light.

This was the first real shot he’d had in months — the first reply that hadn’t ghosted him or slapped a “not qualified” label before even hearing him out.

The first real interview since everything began. The first opening that didn’t come with a “sorry, but…” attached to it. A chance, however small, to climb out of the hole he’d been sinking into for months.

It was probably a small matter to others.

But to him, it was everything.

Y/N sat back down, picking up the small stack of crumpled papers scattered on his desk — notes he’d scribbled in every spare moment since the call. Practice answers. Traits he thought sounded impressive. A few jokes that maybe, if the interviewer had a sense of humor, could land just right.

His hand shook slightly as he gripped the edge of the desk.

It wasn’t a job offer. It wasn’t even a second-round confirmation.

But it was hope.

And when hope’s all you’ve got left, even the smallest thread can feel like a lifeline.

He stared at the notes, then at the small clock in the corner of his desk. Almost midnight. He hadn’t eaten dinner, hadn’t showered, hadn’t done anything except rehearse the same lines on loop like a man stuck in a maze with only one possible way out.

He swallowed.

It had to go well. For him. For his father. For everything that was slipping further out of reach.

“Okay,” he whispered, sitting a little straighter. “One more round.”

And then he started again.

.

.

It all started with that one call.

Just one.

It was late, well past the time he usually silenced his phone and forced himself to sleep—or at least pretend to. The cracked screen of his ancient phone lit up the darkness of his room with a soft, ghostly glow. A number he didn’t recognize. He stared at it. No movement. No answer. Not at first.

He didn’t have the strength for this. Not tonight.

His thumb hovered over the reject button. But something—a feeling, a breath, a whisper only he could hear—told him to wait. To listen. A pull. Soft and strange, like the universe gently nudging him forward.

So he answered.

“Yeoboseyo?” a woman’s voice said on the other end, fluent and professional.

Y/N blinked, taken off guard by the Korean greeting. For a second, he didn’t know what to say. But his response came automatically, rusty but polite. “Annyeonghaseyo”

“Is this Mr. Y/N?” she asked, still in Korean.

His brow furrowed slightly. The uncertainty was already crawling up his spine, coiling in his chest. “…Yes,” he answered, keeping his tone simple, cautious.

“Thank you for confirming,” she said. “I’m calling from the HR department of SM Entertainment. We received a job application under your name recently, and I’d like to confirm—did you apply for a position with us?” She continued smoothly, asking whether he had submitted an application recently.

Silence.

Not on her end — she had just dropped the kind of news that usually makes people scream or gasp or break into a thousand thank-you’s. But Y/N was too stunned to respond. His mouth opened slightly, but nothing came out. It was like the words had been robbed from him, stolen by disbelief.

An interview? With an actual company? Not a scam email. Not a rejection notice. Not a robotic message thanking him for his interest followed by a cold “we regret to inform you…”

His mind didn’t know what to do with this information. After all the rejections he had received — after being turned down over and over again in recent weeks — he had built up a quiet wall inside himself, a defense mechanism that told him not to hope anymore. Hope hurt too much. Hope could turn into something cruel when it shattered.

So he said nothing.

The woman must’ve sensed his hesitation because she kept going with a kind, steady tone. “If you're still interested, I can send you the interview details by email shortly after this call. It will be a group interview session — we’ll be seeing multiple applicants that day.”

Y/N stayed quiet for a second longer. His heart wanted to leap. His body was already halfway out the door. But his mind clung to caution like a lifeline.

What if it was fake? A prank? Some kind of phishing scam? Technology was terrifyingly advanced these days — you could find someone’s email and name with minimal digging.

But then she said his name again. Gently. Pulling him out of the spiral.

And finally, Y/N gave a small nod, as if she could see it through the phone. “Yes… I’d like to attend.”

“Wonderful. May I confirm your email address?”

He confirmed it, repeating the awkwardly long handle he’d created years ago. The woman read it back to him with no hint of judgment.

“Do you have any questions?” she asked.

He wanted to ask a hundred things. A thousand. But everything in his chest tangled up on the way to his mouth. “No… I don’t think so.”

There was a beat.

Then, just as she began to thank him again, he spoke up. “Wait — sorry. One question.”

“Of course,” she said patiently.

“What… exactly is this job about?”

There was a brief pause, then a smile in her voice. “Ah, I thought you already knew. It’s a managerial position for one of our idol groups. You’ll receive more details at the interview.”

His lips parted again, but no new question came. That was enough.

“No more questions,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

The woman thanked him again, wished him luck, and the line went dead.

Silence filled the room once more.

Y/N lowered the phone slowly and just stared at it, at the cracks in the glass, at the faint reflection of himself on the screen. What had just happened? Was it real?

He stayed frozen like that for almost a minute.

Then, ping.

An email.

His heart skipped a beat.

His fingers trembled as he unlocked the screen, opened the mail app, and tapped on the new message.

His eyes scanned it quickly.

The logo. The address. The wording. Everything looked real. No broken grammar. No red flags. Just… legitimate instructions. A schedule. A dress code. A list of required documents.

The subject line read: Interview Invitation – Managerial Candidate

His vision blurred a little.

He couldn’t help it. A breathless, trembling smile broke across his face, spreading from ear to ear.

This was real.

This was really happening.

He was still cautious. Still not fully letting himself feel the relief. But some part of him—some deeper part—started to glow.

He stood up suddenly, his movements erratic, adrenaline flooding his system. Moments later he was suddenly at the dorm building. It almost seems like he is teleporting. 

He practically flew down the hall, ignoring the judgmental stares of others in the dorm building as he sprinted up the stairs and threw open his door like a man possessed.

He dropped to his knees in front of the old laptop he’d borrowed from a classmate. He was supposed to return it by morning, but that could wait.

Fingers flew across the keys.

The company name.

Search.

Articles. Photos. Achievements. History. A global presence.

Y/N sat back in awe. Was this really the kind of company that had called him?

He smiled again, softer this time. There was something warm rising in his chest. Something he hadn’t felt in a long while.

And then his smile faltered slightly.

“Managerial job…” he whispered. “Why would they pick me for that?”

He had no celebrity experience. He wasn’t majoring in entertainment or business. Sure, he’d had some project work related to logistics and people management, but… that was it.

Still.

He looked down at the photo frame next to his bed. A slightly faded picture of him, his mom, and his dad, taken during better days. He picked it up gently, holding it like a precious gem.

“I got it, Mom. Dad…” he said, his voice barely above a breath. “I think this is it. I think this is the chance.”

He smiled again, this time through a slight sheen of tears.

“I just need you both to believe in me—from wherever you are.”

And the room, once filled with silence and darkness, now felt different. Warmer. Brighter.

Maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t walking in the dark anymore.

..

It was strange.

Y/N had always thought that receiving an interview offer from SM Entertainment—one of the most prestigious companies in the country—would bring relief. Joy, even. But all it did was make his stomach twist and his chest tighten.

He wasn’t ready. Not for this. Not for a job he knew almost nothing about, surrounded by people who were born and bred in this world. Managers, trainees, idols. All of them moving at a pace he barely understood, let alone could keep up with.

He read the email at least a dozen times, not out of excitement, but panic.

The words didn’t change.

We are pleased to invite you to the first-round interview...

Pleased? He wasn’t even sure if he had enough clothes to look “interview appropriate.” Was there a dress code? Would they ask him about K-pop? Artist schedules? The only thing he knew how to manage was stress—and barely that.

For the first time since arriving in Korea, he started to feel the weight of everything. Not just the job. Not just the expectations. But the gnawing sense that he was way out of his depth.

He stayed up that night staring at his cracked ceiling, repeating the same thought over and over again:

How am I supposed to do this?

He didn’t sleep much after that. For the next few days, his mind was split between anxiety and frantic attempts to prepare—except he barely knew where to start. Most online guides for manager jobs were vague at best or aimed at entertainment veterans. And asking someone? Not an option.

His only comfort in the mess of his thoughts was the small, worn-out smartphone resting by his side.

It was old—ancient, really—but it had history. A couple of scratches on the corner. A battery that barely lasted half a day. A hairline crack across the screen from when he dropped it during his move to Korea.

And yet he still kept it polished like it was something sacred. Because it was.

His father had bought it for him years ago—not from a store, but from a scrapyard seller who was about to toss it with the rest of the junk. Y/N could still remember the way his father had handed it to him, all smiles and proud eyes.

“It’s not much... but it works. I figured it might help you stay in touch while you’re far away.” He hadn’t even asked for a phone. But his father knew. Knew he’d feel alone. Knew he’d need a lifeline.

Y/N ran his fingers across the cracked screen that night, guilt and longing rising in equal measure.

Appa... if you saw me now, would you still be proud?

It had been raining on and off for the past two days. The sky remained a permanent shade of grey, casting a dull, heavy silence over the city. Everything felt slower—slower buses, slower people, slower thoughts. It was like the world was moving through water. And Y/N was drowning in it.

He had only one thing on his mind that afternoon: borrow a laptop.

The interview was getting closer, and he had nothing. No solid background in artist management, no professional guidance, and no reliable way to prepare. The borrowed laptop he’d been using had already been returned yesterday—because students were only allowed to borrow once a week. He knew the rules, but still, he had to try again. Maybe someone at the desk would understand. Maybe they'd bend the rules.

So he went. Even in the rain.

His umbrella was missing—probably left in a lecture hall two days ago—so he tugged his hoodie tighter around his head and jogged across the wet pavement toward the campus library.

Water clung to his jeans. His socks were already soaked through.

By the time he reached the library front desk, he looked more like someone who’d crawled out of a drain than a student preparing for a future. The student worker behind the counter barely spared him a glance before delivering the blow:

“Sorry, you’ve already borrowed this week. We can’t give out another one.”

“But I—I returned it yesterday. I just need a few more hours. Just today.”

“I’m sorry,” the worker repeated, tapping something on the screen. “The system won’t let us.”

Just like that, the conversation was over.

Y/N stood there for a moment, dripping quietly onto the carpet. He gave a tight nod, whispered thanks, and turned back toward the doors.

The rain was heavier now. He stepped outside and winced as the cold hit his skin again.

Defeated, he pulled his phone from his coat pocket to check the time and look up the nearest PC bang.

And then, just like that— it slipped.

Maybe his fingers were too numb. Maybe his sleeve snagged the edge. Maybe the universe just hated him today.

But the phone tumbled from his hand, hit the edge of the steps, and skittered across the concrete— before landing face-down in a wide, murky puddle at the edge of the walkway.

Splash.

Y/N’s heart dropped with it.

“No—no, no—”

He crouched instantly, fingers scraping through cold water and wet leaves as he fished the phone out of the puddle.

He wiped the screen with shaking hands, pressed the power button.

A dim flicker. Then nothing.

He pressed again. And again. Harder this time.

“Come on,” he whispered, chest tightening. “Please, not now…”

He pulled off his hoodie and used the driest part of the sleeve to wipe it again. Still nothing. The water had gotten in—deep.

He sank onto the wet steps, phone in both hands, staring at it like he could will it back to life.

It wasn’t just a phone.

It was the only way the company could contact him. It was the only thing connecting him to a world he was trying so hard to be part of. And more than that—

It was a gift from his father. The last one, given just before Y/N left for Korea.

This phone had traveled continents with him. It held every message, every call, every blurry photo and saved voicemail from home. It had survived his first semester, homesickness, cultural shocks, and lonely nights.

And now it was dead. Just like that.

He sat there in the rain, hood forgotten, head bowed. His legs ached. His hands were freezing. And his heart— his heart felt like it had cracked open quietly, the way glass does when pressure builds too slowly to notice.

This wasn’t just a bad day. This was the kind of day that made everything feel impossible.

He stared at the lifeless screen, chest still heaving with short, shallow breaths. Rain dripped from his eyelashes, his soaked hoodie clinging tightly to his arms. But the cold wasn’t what hurt the most.

His fingers traced the cracked edge of the phone, already chilled and starting to stiffen. A quiet ache spread through his chest—not just from the day’s misfortune, but from what the phone had meant to him.

His mind drifted, uninvited, to a night not too long ago. Back home. 2 days just before he left.

He was sitting on the edge of his old bed, luggage half-zipped beside him. The room was dim, only lit by the yellow glow of the hallway light seeping through the cracked door.

His father stepped in, hesitating for a second like he always did when emotions were involved. Then, wordlessly, he walked over and sat beside Y/N. For a long while, neither of them said anything.

Then his dad pulled something from his coat pocket and placed it in Y/N’s palm.

An old smartphone. The back was scratched, the screen slightly chipped in one corner.

“It’s a little beat up,” his dad said, voice gruff. “Bought it secondhand from a guy at the scrapyard.”

Y/N blinked, confused. “You don’t even use a smartphone.”

“I don’t,” his dad replied. “But you’ll need one. To call. To find your way around. To talk to us.”

He paused, then added more softly, “Just... don’t forget to call sometimes.”

Y/N had smiled and promised he would. He hadn’t realized it then, but that moment was his father’s version of saying I love you.

Now, sitting alone on a concrete step halfway across the world, Y/N felt like that promise had cracked with the phone screen.

He swallowed hard, wiping a hand across his face to brush off the water—or the tears. He couldn’t tell which anymore.

"I'm sorry, Dad..." he whispered.

He clutched the broken phone tightly in his palm, pressing it to his chest for a moment—like holding it close could bring something back.

Then he stood up, slowly, shakily, and looked out at the grey horizon.

He didn’t know how he'd get through the rest of the week without it. But he had no other choice.

Not anymore.

.

The PC bang wasn’t far, just tucked off a side street past a convenience store with flickering lights. When he pushed the door open, the blast of warm air, LED lights, and rapid keyboard clicking almost made him turn around. It was loud. Claustrophobic. Every seat was filled with people shouting into headsets, hunched over glossy screens with glowing energy drinks beside them.

Y/N hesitated at the counter, glancing up at the price list. He could barely afford two visits between now and the interview. He’d have to make them count.

After paying for a few hours, he quietly took a seat in the far back corner. He pulled out a worn notebook and the stub of a pencil, then logged in.

The screen lit up, and so did his brain.

He started researching everything—idol schedules, manager expectations, how SM Entertainment structured their artist support. He jotted down terms he didn’t understand to study later. His fingers trembled from exhaustion and cold, but he kept typing.

Around him, people shouted, laughed, and played. But he stayed quiet, steady, focused. He didn’t have a choice.

Time melted away.

Eventually, the screen blurred in his eyes. His shoulders ached from hunching over, and the notes in his notebook had become messier with each line. He rubbed his temple, finally admitting to himself that he was too tired to keep going.

He saved his work on a cloud platform, logged out, and packed his things in silence. As he approached the glass door near the exit, the night outside looked darker than before—colder, lonelier. He took a breath, gripped the door handle, and stepped forward.

But he pushed too fast.

The door swung open with a sharp motion—and nearly struck someone walking right past.

“Oh—!” Y/N froze mid-step, jolting back. “Sorry! I didn’t see you—!”

The girl in front of him had instinctively raised her arm to block the door. Her hoodie was pulled up beneath a black coat, casting her features in shadow, but her eyes were sharp and startled, lips parted in surprise.

“No, no—it’s fine,” she said, quickly regaining her balance. “I should’ve been looking ahead.”

Their eyes met—briefly. Just a second. But it was long enough to register the exhaustion on both ends.

Y/N bowed slightly again out of habit. “Still… sorry.”

The girl gave a small, polite nod in return. “It’s alright. Have a good night.”

“You too.”

And just like that, they passed each other.

He walked home in silence, eyes on the ground.

Tomorrow, he'll come back. He only had one more shot at this. One more night to prepare. And no matter how tired he was—no matter how small he felt—he would take it.

The alarm clock buzzed with a shrill, robotic ring, echoing through the dorm room like a countdown. Y/N’s eyes blinked open instantly, his body jolting upright before his mind could catch up. He stared at the dim ceiling for a second, heart pounding.

Today.

It took him a few seconds to remember why his stomach felt like a knot had been tied in it overnight. The interview. The only one he managed to land despite weeks of searching, the one shot that could change everything—and he was going to try to make it work after two full classes, with no phone, no safety net, no idea if he’d even make it on time.

He rubbed his face, let out a breath, and climbed out of bed.

The first class wasn’t difficult to sit through. The professor lectured with his usual slow, melodic tone, and Y/N managed to nod along and take some notes, even if his handwriting wobbled a little more than usual. Still, the class was bearable, the minutes ticking by at a steady pace.

But it was hard to focus.

Every time he glanced at the clock on the wall, he felt a rising pressure behind his ribcage. He double-checked his schedule, the company’s address, the bus routes—all from memory. He had nothing written down, nowhere to double-check except his mind.

And if his memory failed, that was it.

He left the class quickly once it ended, nearly bolting from his seat, muttering apologies when he bumped shoulders with someone on the way out. There wasn’t time to waste.

Then came the second class—and everything began to spiral.

It was a required seminar. He had no choice but to attend, or risk penalties. Worse, the professor was notoriously unpredictable, always veering off-syllabus, sometimes talking for twenty minutes longer than scheduled just to hammer home a single theory.

Y/N sat near the back, hoping the class would pass quickly.

But halfway through, the professor paused mid-lecture and frowned at the class. “Before we wrap today, let’s take a moment to reflect. I’d like each of you to write a short paragraph on today’s discussion and submit it before you leave.”

There was a collective groan.

Y/N’s throat tightened.

He scribbled something down, mind racing. It wasn’t good. It barely even made sense. But he handed it in and slipped out the door the moment the professor waved dismissal.

He checked the time on his watch.

He was already behind schedule.

The sky was overcast when he stepped outside, the cold air biting at his face. He jogged down the sidewalk, cursing under his breath, eyes darting toward the nearest bus stop. He had planned everything down to the minute: which bus to take, how long the transfer would take, the buffer he left in case of traffic.

But the moment he reached the stop, his heart sank.

The next bus wasn’t coming for another fifteen minutes.

He turned around, looking wildly for alternatives. There was no money for a taxi. Walking would take too long. And if he missed the interview completely—

No. He didn’t even want to imagine it.

The bus eventually arrived, and he got on with shaking hands, clutching the pole as if it were the only thing holding him together. Traffic crawled. He tried to stay calm. He tried to breathe. But every red light felt like a curse from the universe itself, every delay a cruel joke.

By the time the bus rolled into the nearest stop near SM Entertainment, the sun was already starting to dip low on the horizon.

He jumped off, heart hammering, and sprinted toward the company building.

Now standing in front of the towering glass structure, Y/N realized with sudden horror—

He didn’t know where to go next.

There was no front desk visible from outside. No clear signage. Just a few people loitering near the entrance, all of them looking too busy or too important to approach. His eyes darted from person to person until they landed on a trio of women near the glass doors. Two were chatting quietly while the third stood slightly off to the side, checking something on her phone.

Summoning the last of his courage, Y/N hurried over.

“E-Excuse me,” he said, voice slightly winded as he bowed. “I’m really sorry to bother you, but—” He pulled a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket, the one where he had printed out the interview email in case he couldn’t access it digitally. “I have an interview today, but I… I got lost. I don’t know where I’m supposed to go.”

The woman—tall, sharply dressed, her lanyard catching the light—took the paper from him with a curious look.

Her eyes scanned the print. Her expression changed for the briefest moment—an almost imperceptible flicker of surprise—but she quickly masked it and glanced down at her watch.

“You’re running a bit late,” she said, voice calm. “But you might still make it. Come with me.”

Turning to the other two beside her, she gestured. “You two go ahead without me. I’ll catch up later.”

They nodded without question, continuing through the doors as she turned back to Y/N and motioned for him to follow.

They walked through the lobby in silence, her heels clicking lightly on the polished floor.

While they waited at the elevator, Y/N bowed again, this time more deeply. “Thank you so much. Seriously. I—I don’t even know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t run into you.”

His words came out quickly, almost stumbling over themselves, a little too earnest—but he didn’t care.

The woman gave him a brief sideways glance but offered a small smile. “It’s fine. Really. Not a big deal.”

“It is to me,” he murmured, almost to himself.

She looked ahead again, then extended a hand. “I’m Harin, by the way. One of the managers here.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh—! I’m Y/N. It’s really nice to meet you.”

“You too. You’ll do fine,” she said, just as the elevator chimed with a soft ding.

He wanted to ask more—something about the interview format, what they might ask, how many people were in the room—but the doors opened before he could speak, and Harin stepped in without pause.

They rode up in silence.

When the elevator opened again, she stepped out, turned to the left, and pointed down the hallway.

“That’s your floor. Take the first left and head all the way down. The interview room should still be open if you’re quick.”

He nodded rapidly, already half-walking backwards. “Thank you again. Really. I’ll do my best.”

Harin offered one last small smile. “Good luck.”

And with that, Y/N turned and ran.

At the end of the hallway, double doors stood wide open. The space inside looked like some kind of multipurpose conference room. But instead of a bustling group of candidates, he saw rows of chairs already pushed back into stacks, and a pair of staff members—janitors, maybe—were rolling up a carpet runner near the podium.

Too late.

His stomach dropped.

He stepped inside slowly, eyes sweeping across the half-lit room, heart pounding in his ears.

No reception table. No waiting candidates. Not even a visible sign with the SM Entertainment logo. Just leftovers. Like the party ended before he was even invited.

No… no, no. Please.

Before he could spiral, the door on the far side opened, and three people stepped out. Two men in suits, one woman in business-casual, still holding a clipboard.

Y/N’s legs moved before his brain could catch up.

“Excuse me!” he called out, voice cracking. “Excuse me—sorry, I… I know I’m late.”

They all turned to look at him.

He bowed deeply, nearly a full 90 degrees. “Please, just give me a minute—I’m here for the interview. I had class, the traffic, I got lost—” His words were a blur, his voice trembling. “I printed the email—I showed someone downstairs—I swear I tried everything to get here on time—”

One of the men looked at his watch with a tired sigh. The other glanced toward the cleaning staff, then exchanged a look with the woman. She didn’t look annoyed—more like wary. Cautious.

“I’m really sorry,” she said. “But we’ve already finished for the day.”

Y/N’s chest caved in.

No. He couldn’t let it end like this.

“Please,” he said again, stepping forward. “Just a chance. Five minutes. I… I know I don’t have experience like the others, but I prepared. I studied. I worked hard for this. Just one chance. That’s all I’m asking.”

They hesitated.

He could feel it—that thin line between rejection and possibility.

The woman tilted her head slightly, studying him. Her expression softened.

…

“Five minutes,” she finally said.

Y/N blinked.

“Just five,” she repeated. “We’re already over time.”

He nodded rapidly, bowing again with a flurry of thank-yous tumbling from his mouth.

They exchanged a few quiet murmurs among themselves, then the woman motioned for him to follow them back into the room.

The chairs were gone. The lights dimmed slightly. Just a long rectangular table at the front, with their papers still spread across it.

Y/N stood before them.

His palms were sweating. His shirt stuck to his back. He couldn’t tell if it was nerves or the sprint from the lobby—but either way, it was time.

The door closed behind him.

The interview had begun.

The room was still.

Three interviewers sat in a clean, intimidating semi-circle across from him. Not a single one looked particularly pleased to be there.

Their suits were sharp, their expressions sharper.

Y/N sat upright in his chair, trying to steady his breath. His hands—tucked into his lap—were slightly damp with sweat. But his posture didn’t waver.

The woman in the center, name tag reading Jinhee – HR, glanced up from his resume, her tone void of warmth.

“Why were you late?”

No greeting. No smile. Just that.

Y/N bowed from where he sat, low and respectfully.

“I’m very sorry,” he said. “There were... a few things that went wrong today. But none of them should be used as an excuse. I take full responsibility.”

A quiet scoff came from his right.

The man beside Jinhee—Mr. Nam, according to the nameplate—leaned back slightly in his chair, arms crossed.

“So, your first impression is this: irresponsible, late, and unprepared.” He stared at Y/N, deadpan. “Why are you even here?”

The words landed like a punch, but Y/N didn’t flinch. He paused, swallowing hard, then looked up and answered evenly.

“Because I believe I can contribute something of value here.”

Nam clicked his tongue. “You have no background in management. No experience. And you’re a student. What makes you think you’re better than the other twenty applicants we saw today?”

Y/N glanced down at his hands—open, trembling faintly—then back at the panel. His voice was low, but steady.

“I don’t think I’m better,” he said. “I think I’m different.”

That got their attention.

Jinhee blinked. Nam raised a brow, skeptical. The third interviewer—a younger man with soft features, Manager Seo—tilted his head slightly, more curious than annoyed.

“Different how?” he asked.

Y/N let a few seconds pass. He wasn’t here to bluff or sell a perfect image. So he didn’t.

“Most applicants probably came in with all the right skills, degrees, and training. I don’t have that.” 

He met their eyes, each one of them in turn. “What I have is pressure. And a reason to keep going when things fall apart.”

Jinhee narrowed her eyes. “What exactly does that mean?”

Y/N hesitated, just a moment—then answered honestly.

“It means I’ve had to keep moving while everything in my life was falling apart. I’ve spent the last few months balancing school, part-time jobs, helping with family matters back home... all while living alone in a foreign country, with no safety net.”

He took a slow breath.

“I don’t have the ideal resume. But I know how to endure. I know how to take care of things under pressure. I’m used to being tired, behind, and afraid—and still pushing forward anyway.”

This time, the silence that followed wasn’t judgmental. It was thoughtful.

Y/N leaned forward—not desperate, but grounded in his truth.

“What I lack in credentials, I’ll work twice as hard to earn. What I don’t know, I’ll learn. But if what you need is someone who can stay grounded when things get chaotic, who won’t walk away when it gets hard… that’s me. Because I’m already living it.”

Nobody spoke for a moment.

And then the just moment moved on.

The woman on the left — the sharpest one so far — leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing.

"Let’s say you get the job," she began, her voice cool. "It’s been a rough week. The group’s schedule has been a mess, one of the members is having a breakdown backstage, and you're the only manager nearby. Fans are screaming outside, the stylists are late, and your head manager is unreachable. What do you do?"

Y/N blinked.

He didn’t respond right away. Not because he didn’t have something to say, but because he understood what this was. This wasn’t just a situational question — it was a trap. A test of composure. They were seeing if he would flinch.

He sat a little straighter, folding his hands on his lap.

“I think…” he began slowly, carefully, “…that the most important thing in a situation like that isn’t to fix everything all at once. It’s to decide who needs you most in that exact moment.”

There was a pause. The man on the right tapped a pen against his notepad, eyes not leaving Y/N’s face.

“You’d leave the rest of the problems alone?” the woman asked, skeptical.

“No,” Y/N said quickly, but still calm. “I’d prioritize. If a member’s having a breakdown, that’s a mental health crisis. That has to come first, no matter what. I’d get her somewhere quiet, stay close but not push. Just be a person in the room who isn’t panicking.”

“And what about the others?” the man pressed.

“I’d call backup while handling her. Or text whoever I could from the staff. After that, I’d start checking off whatever I can do. Stylists are late? I’d ask if we can prep the basics ourselves. Fans outside? I’d contact security or venue staff for help. But the key is not to freeze. Just… move. One step at a time. Let the member feel safe, and don’t let the rest fall apart while you’re at it.”

Another pause. It wasn’t heavy — it was quiet in a different way now. Even the pen stopped tapping.

The woman leaned back slowly. “You’ve never managed anyone before, right?”

Y/N nodded. “No, ma’am.”

“You speak like you have.”

“I just…” Y/N gave a small shrug. “People are people. You don’t need a title to treat someone like a human.”

One of the interviewers, the man who had been mostly quiet until now, finally looked up from his notes. He had a faint furrow in his brow as he leaned forward slightly.

"You speak well," he said, voice calm but edged. "And you clearly know how to navigate people. But…" He tapped his pen lightly on the table. “Don’t get your hopes up too high just because you can read people or say the right things under pressure.”

Y/N’s expression stiffened.

“This job isn’t built on kindness and instincts alone,” the man continued. “It’s logistics. Planning. Coordination. You’re expected to juggle scheduling conflicts, location changes, live broadcast windows, visa renewals, budget reports, vehicle routes, staff rosters, costume management, health reports, backup plans, emergency plans—sometimes all in the same hour. It’s high-speed, no-hand holding, no safety net.”

Y/N nodded slowly. “I understand. I know I don’t have all of that knowledge yet, but I’m willing to—”

“Yes, I know you’re willing to learn,” the man cut in, his voice even but firm. “But this isn’t a school.”

He leaned forward slightly, the table between them feeling thinner now.

“This isn’t a university class where someone teaches you from A to Z. We don’t have the time, or the luxury. It’s just work. Fast, chaotic, unforgiving work. You either pick it up as you go or you get left behind. And if you mess up…” He paused for a moment. “It’s not just your problem. It becomes the artists’ problem.”

The silence that followed felt heavier than anything so far.

Y/N didn’t have anything to say this time. He just bowed his head slightly, acknowledging the weight of the warning, letting it settle into his bones.

There was no silence this time — just a small, mutual stillness. One of the women let out a quiet exhale, almost like she’d been holding it in. The man nodded once, his gaze steady.

“Alright,” he said. “That’s all from us.”

Y/N stood quickly and bowed, deeper than necessary. “Thank you for your time. Thank you for letting me speak even when I was—”

“Go,” the woman on the left cut in, but not unkindly. “Before we all change our minds.”

He blinked. Then let out a quiet, shaky breath. “Yes, ma’am.”

Just as he turned to leave, Y/N paused and looked back at them.

“Ah—sorry, just one thing. My phone isn’t working right now, so… if there’s any update, could you please contact me through the email I applied with? I don’t have a backup at the moment.”

There was a beat of silence. The middle-aged man gave a small nod. “Noted.”

That was it. No smile, no comment—just a quiet acknowledgment.

Y/N gave a final bow again. “Thank you for your time.”

As he stepped out of the room, the hallway lights felt too bright, too white. He didn’t know what to make of what just happened. Didn’t know if he did well, or if he’d just embarrassed himself trying.

But he hadn’t backed down. He’d stayed honest. Said what he believed.

And as he walked away, unsure of what came next… that was the only thing he could hold on to.

As Y/N stepped out of the elevator and into the spacious lobby, his steps gradually slowed. The weight of the long day had started to settle into his shoulders, but something else tugged at his thoughts—something small, but persistent.

He hadn’t properly thanked her.

Turning around briefly, he glanced toward the hallway he came from, half-considering trying to find her again. But the place was a maze, and he didn’t even know where she had gone. With a quiet sigh, he made his way toward the front counter near the building’s entrance.

A woman sat behind the desk, typing something into her computer. She looked up as he approached.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

“Uh… yeah, sorry.” He offered her a polite nod, adjusting his posture. “I know this might sound a bit odd, but… is there a staff member here named Harin?”

Her expression shifted into something between curiosity and caution. “And who are you?”

“My name’s Y/N. I had an interview just now, and… she helped me find the way. I was kind of a mess when I got here. I didn’t get the chance to thank her properly.”

The woman studied him for a moment, clearly debating whether this was some strange excuse or something sincere. After a beat, her expression eased.

“I think I remember. You two rushed through the lobby earlier, right?”

He nodded quickly. “Yeah. That was us.”

“What did you want exactly?”

“Nothing much, honestly,” he said. “I just… wanted to ask if you could pass along a message. Just to say thank you. For helping me, even when she didn’t have to.”

There was a moment of pause before she gave a small shrug. “Alright. I’ll let her know.”

Y/N let out a soft breath and bowed slightly. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

With that, he stepped back and headed toward the glass doors. The sky had dimmed outside, casting the street in early evening tones. And though the outcome of the day was still uncertain, there was a quiet sense of relief in knowing he had at least done this one thing right.

The moment Y/N stepped outside the building, it felt like the world finally gave him permission to breathe.

He tilted his head back slightly, took in a deep inhale, and let it out slow. The city was still buzzing around him—cars rolling past, conversations drifting in waves, horns and footsteps and life all moving on as if nothing in the world had changed. But something had shifted inside him.

That was when it hit him.

The exhaustion.

It came crashing down like a slow, heavy wave—no warning, no chance to brace for it. His legs felt heavier than they had a moment ago, his arms loose at his sides, and his mind buzzing with the dull hum of everything that had just happened. The sleepless nights, the rush to make it here, the stress, the ache in his feet from walking too far in shoes too thin—all of it had stacked up quietly behind his determination.

Now that he had nothing left to chase, the weight caught up to him.

He stood still for a long second, blinking at the sky. The clouds had deepened into a soft charcoal gray, swallowing what little daylight remained. People still hurried past him, brushing by with backpacks, coffee cups, business calls echoing from phone screens. But he felt… still. Like he didn’t quite belong in the motion anymore.

What now?

He didn’t know. He really didn’t. There was no sense of victory. No relief. But no defeat either. Just this strange, quiet blankness—the kind that came after giving everything you had and still not knowing whether it would be enough.

His fingers twitched slightly as he curled them into his palms. He looked one more time at the building behind him, then turned away.

He started walking—slowly, this time—blending back into the city’s rhythm, heading toward his dorm.

—-

By the time Harin reached the practice room, the sounds of idle conversation and warm-up stretches greeted her. The four members of Aespa were already inside, scattered around the room in their usual rhythm—Karina doing slow stretches by the mirror, Giselle sitting cross-legged and scrolling through her phone, Ningning humming as she adjusted her in-ears, and Winter, quietly tying her shoes by the wall.

Giselle looked up first when Harin entered. “Unnie, who was that guy you were with earlier?”

Ningning perked up at the mention, spinning around with interest. “Yeah, we saw you walking in with someone. Looked kinda rushed.”

Harin blinked, not surprised they caught it. “Oh, that? Just someone who asked for help. He was late for a manager interview.”

“For real?” Ningning tilted her head. “Was he Korean?”

“Not sure,” Harin replied as she stepped further into the room. “His Korean was decent, but his accent definitely sounded foreign.”

Karina, stretching her arms out, glanced over. “Was it for that opening you told us about? The one possibly for our team?”

“If I remember the paper he showed me right… yeah, I think so.”

Karina raised an eyebrow. “Can foreigners even join the management team?”

Harin shrugged as she opened her tablet. “It’s possible. Not common, but not impossible. That’s more HR’s call than mine.”

Giselle leaned forward slightly. “So the interview’s over?”

“Yeah,” Harin nodded. “All the candidates went in already. The team will evaluate everyone today or tomorrow.”

No one said anything after that. The room returned to its earlier calm as they each sank into their own space again. The quiet was filled only with the subtle scuff of sneakers on polished wood and the low hum of the speaker system booting up.

Harin settled into her usual spot near the wall, tapping through the schedule on her tablet.

Before she could focus, though, her eyes flicked to Winter.

The girl hadn’t said a word through the entire conversation. She wasn’t looking at anyone, wasn’t frowning or smiling—just calmly lacing up her shoes, almost detached. But Harin noticed. She always noticed.

She knew the reason why…. but chose not to hold onto it for long.

—-

A few days passed.

With each silent hour, the hope inside Y/N began to fade a little more. There had been no call, no email—nothing. And without a working phone, there wasn’t much else he could do but wait and wonder. Had they forgotten him? Or worse, had they already made their choice?

He told himself not to think about it. He had other things to focus on—classes, assignments, surviving day by day. So when the university’s computer lab finally reopened after maintenance, he slipped in quietly, found an empty seat, and logged in. The screen glowed to life.

First thing he did was check his email. Just another day, just another assignment waiting for him.

But then— His breath caught.

His eyes stuck on the screen.

An email. From SM Entertainment.

He froze. For a second, he just stared at it, heart pounding in his chest. A dozen thoughts rushed through his mind, each louder than the last. Then, with trembling fingers, he clicked it open.

.

.

Congratulations. After careful evaluation, we are pleased to inform you…

And there it was.

Words he had to reread. Once. Twice. Three times. Until they finally sank in.

He got it.

He got the job.

His chest caved in with a breath he didn’t know he was holding. A strangled laugh crawled out of his throat, mixed with something dangerously close to a sob. His hands flew to his face, clutching it like he could hold himself together just a second longer.

His shoulders shook. His vision blurred.

He wanted to scream. To cry. To collapse.

To run outside and yell it to the sky— That something finally went right.

After everything. After the sleepless nights, the empty stomachs, the quiet breakdowns, the way the world seemed like it was closing in on him—

He made it.

It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a maybe. It was real.

He whispered it to himself, over and over again, just to believe it.

“I got it… I really got it…”

For the first time in a long, long time— Hope didn’t feel like a lie.

…

To be continued... --

Notes,

Thank you once again for taking your time reading this story.

I just wanted to take a moment to sincerely apologize for how long it took to finally release this chapter. I know the wait has been long, and truthfully, this chapter didn’t turn out the way I hoped. It feels messy, a bit rushed, and far from my best work.

I’m also sorry for stepping away from this story for so long without any updates. Coming back after that break with a chapter that feels less than average is something I feel bad about—but I still wanted to share it, even if it’s imperfect.

Thank you so much for your patience, for reading, and for sticking with this story. I hope, despite everything, you still found something to enjoy in it.

More to come soon—hopefully better.

[blackenedsnow]

SHADOW X MOBIAN!READER REQUEST PLEASE

Here’s a funny fanfic idea, Shadow finds out his gf is an active 4chan member so he looks into 4chan to y’know bond with each other more but he finds the interesting content on the sites like When 4chan sent Taylor swift to a deaf kid school, when 4chan tried to send Justin biber to North Korea,Mlp rainbow dash jar,the time they hacked a website so the founder of 4chan would be the number 1 of time 100 etc etc

dark corners

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader

NOTE: LMAO. This was such a fun idea to write! Hope you enjoy!

SUMMARY: Shadow, in an attempt to bond with you, stumbles across 4chan.... He just wanted to understand his girlfriend more.

"What is this?" Shadow muttered, his brow furrowing as his eyes scanned the glowing screen in front of him.

He had never considered himself a tech-savvy hedgehog, but recently, he had become curious about something you had mentioned in passing—your involvement in 4chan. At first, it seemed harmless enough, just another strange part of the world he didn't quite understand. But after hearing you talk about it with a strange mix of excitement and amusement, he figured he'd give it a shot.

"I’m sure it’s just a place for people to talk and share ideas," he'd told himself confidently. "It’ll be easy to understand. I’ll know more about her. We’ll bond."

The moment he typed “4chan” into the search bar, he realized that things weren’t going to be as simple as he’d hoped. The first thing he clicked on was a post about Taylor Swift almost being sent to a deaf school. He blinked, rereading it. Did they really do that?

Curiosity gnawed at him. He clicked deeper.

Then there was the one about Justin Bieber almost being sent to North Korea. Shadow's face twisted into a scowl. "What is wrong with these people?"

And then there were the pictures. The ones with Rainbow Dash. In a jar. Shadow leaned forward, squinting at the screen as his mind struggled to process what he was looking at.

His thoughts grew more complicated as he kept scrolling, he found posts about hacking, pranks, and more absurdities. The chaos of it all was overwhelming. He was beginning to feel like he had made a grave mistake, thinking he could understand the appeal of this “4chan.”

"How does this have anything to do with her?" he muttered to himself, trying to make sense of it. "This is pure madness."

Later that evening, you walked into the room, your eyes lighting up when you saw Shadow at the desk.

“Hey, Shadow! What’s up?” you asked, casually flopping onto the couch.

Shadow looked at you, a little uncomfortable. “I… I did what you said. I looked at 4chan. I thought I might understand you better.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And?”

Shadow hesitated, trying to collect his thoughts. “I… I don’t think I understand anything anymore.” He ran a hand through his quills in frustration. “Why would people… Why do they even do these things?”

You blinked, your lips twitching into a smile as you tried to hold back laughter. “Oh, you found that stuff, huh?”

“Found it? I was bombarded by it.” Shadow slumped into the chair, exasperated. “How can you enjoy a place like this?"

You chuckled, sitting up and giving him a playful look. “Yeah, it’s definitely weird. But that’s kind of the fun of it. It’s like... the internet's version of a circus. Weird stuff happens, and we just roll with it.”

Shadow sighed, rubbing his temples. “I feel like I’ve entered an alternate dimension. How is this supposed to help me understand you more?”

You smiled warmly, moving over to sit beside him. "Psh, who cares! Just appreciate it."

Shadow raised an eyebrow. “Appreciating chaos…” He took another look at the screen. “I suppose I did learn that I can’t understand a single thing that happens here. But... I’m still willing to try.”

Your grin softened, and you gently took his hand. "Hey, if you find yourself getting lost, at least you know now why I laugh so hard at this stuff.”

Shadow sighed, looking at the screen again. “If I must… But if I see one more pony....jar.... I swear I’ll…” He trailed off, trying to think of a fitting threat. But he couldn’t help but let out a short laugh. Maybe this was something they could bond over.

[sevinagreatergood]

I want to talk about the comment whose name is too long. That motherfucker. Before anyone goes for my head. I said that Snape built the marauders fandom.

For context, it was a TikTok about 3 fandoms within the Harry Potter one. Which are:

- harry potter itself aka golden trio

- marauders era

- Slytherin boys

To which I posted a comment on the TikTok.

[@Harry Potter Fan:

HP is canon

Marauders is fanon but act like canon and are filled with snaters yet somehow they refuse to believe that Snape basically built that fandom

Slytherin gang is just pure thirst]

I'm not lying. I just know that. Then this person said:

[@ChuuyasSlvttyWaistfanclub 👁🚦:Snape built the fandom??? Do he didn't, the fandom was built off of wolfstar]

Since then I've gone into a deep research on fanfiction.net, ao3 and archive.org

Imagine my bitter surprise when I saw more wolfstar fanfics in the 2000's than snupin. So I did some deeper research into this. I spent about my whole morning on this. All I got were reddit bs from the marauders fandom taking a crap and whatnot. Believe me, I used Google. Couldn't find a thing.

So I turned to look at chatgpt. I now more about the history of websites than I intended. Many of the fanfictions date don't even check out. There is litterally a wolfstar fanfic on ao3 that was made in 1950, it also has jegulus and indian James (that was basically booming last year). Many fanfics there are also dated back to 2002 and 2001, meanwhile ao3 exists in 2008.

(also, no hate to the author's that mixed up the dates. Maybe they thought the date was meant as a setting in which time period their story plays at, I also saw one of 1984.)

So I found it unreliable to search based on fanfictions when authors could change the dates. Then I turned to livejournal as chatgpt offered. That is a hot mess. Maybe it's because I am new but I have no idea how that works. So I landed on 2 answers.

Answer 1: wolfstar and snupin equally gained the same popularity. So neither snupin nor wolfstar began first or built the fandom.

Answer 2: according to chatgpt. It was snupin that raged with it's popularity between 2003 and 207. The pictures posted below, explain it well. But in short. Snupin was popular on other platforms that many fans do NOT use anymore nowadays. After 2010, ships excluding Snape like jily and wolfstar then many many more took the wheel and veered that maraudersfandom into the hotpot we know as today. The fandom that excuses death eaters, but not Snape.

That was the cause of ao3 and Tumblr. I believe even the wolfstar fanfics of back then we're more likeable and nicer than the ones we have today where they yank out all character traits of the characters and call it a day.

I hope this helps. So you either settle with snupin or nothing, your choice really. 😂. So fuck that comment with a too long name. I choose snupin.

Also, believe me when I say, I truly did try to search for other methods. I spent my entire morning on getting to the bottom of this but there simply were no other leads left. So as a measure against AI favoritism. I will borrow another phone, of my sister who is not a maraudersfan at all, and my mom's phone who doesn't even know what a harry potter is. Then go to chat gpt, type in the same question and see those answers.

Now, as promised, I checked on multiple sources to not base it on preference. My sister isn't even into harry Potter a lot, but into lord of the rings. About 5 years ago she was into the fandom but by then chat gpt doesn't exist. Fairly obvious she has no clue what marauders even is. This is what her chat gpt says:

This is the link to what my mom her chat gpt says:

Pt 2:

Pt 3:

Survey:

[accio-victuuri]

another interesting angle about wyb’s hat during the GQ event. i looked up both cpf and so/o wardrobe accounts and i didn’t see them identify where the hat came from. everything else tho was chanel, and the suit was dunhill which the brand themselves posted about. we didn’t think too much about it at the time cause we were too busy connecting it to luffy and other things.

now a post from fans & a little bit of detective work tells us where it could possibly come from. a fan posted about a hat store (hat of cain) in raffles hotel where xz stayed and took photos for his ralph’s club event. they look v close to what wyb wore.

if you go back to xzs vlog, there is a cut (p3) where you see downstairs from XZ is. people are saying that it is close to where the shop is. so that was a little clue from them. we have talked about how it appeared out of character for xzs to post a vlog in the midst of all the GQ event noise. they could easily post it the next day or even the weekend so it will go on hot search or better yet, so he won’t be accused of trying to steal the spotlight from other celebrities. no we think we know why. and why he was trying to match ybo’s caption. it’s him ( allegedly ) trying to say that he was responsible for WYB’s fashion accessory of the day. in his own way, showing off the same way that wyb was. 🤍

I’M SORRY XZ & XZS, we didn’t catch up on that hint sooner. We could only do so much investigative work. Lol. We will be better next time 😌😌😌😌

You can visit their IG to compare and see for yourself how similar it is to what WYB wore. I also looked up their website and Raffles Hotel was listed as one of the locations that have their store. You can even see one of their ig posts that talks about their product and a detail inside the hat ( p3 is yibo and p4 is the ig post ) is the same as yibo’s. I’m not an expert so i don’t know if this is a standard when making all hats with the same material but i have to say that the similarity is v interesting.

I mean, what are the chances really???

You have XZ who was recently in Singapore. Very publicly at that and it was not a secret that he stayed at Raffles Hotel. At this time, the theme of GQ MOTY was already set and they have already given the theme of the guest having to walk on land & water and not just your usual red carpet. Maybe XZ picked it cause he knew how much WYB loves hats. It could also be to match what he would be doing for his public event where he is the Guest of Honor.

Then WYB comes in and showed off this hat. We were all thinking it’s One Piece & Luffy coded, which it could be, but we’re now only realizing the deeper meaning. Why he was so attached to it too. YBO released a bts video earlier 12/9 and WYB was joking that he had a hat too like the one rowing, so that means he can also row the boat. Turns out, the style he was wearing is called a boater hat. So it fits. XZ bought it for him as a souvenir that he knew WYB would like, with the thought of the GQ event’s theme.

Maybe XZ wasn’t even implying that WYB wear it that prominently. He just thought of WYB when he saw it and being the person that he is thought that it would be a good accessory for a photoshoot related to WYB’s public event. Maybe he can explore parts of the old town venue and get some shots of him with it. However, much like WYB loves to show off things that XZ gave him, it became his main accessory for the day ( not my words, YBO said that in their caption lol ).

Lastly, I remember one of XZ’s staff was holding a raffles paper bag when they were going home. What’s on it that he had to hold it for safekeeping? If the shop was in the Raffles Boutique, wouldn’t a thing bought from there use the hotel’s paper bag? Wouldn’t you want to hand carry a hat like that in case it gets deformed when shoved in a suitcase?

Anyway, this is all a coincidence 👀👀👀

[justali-anne]

Thought Week: Papyrus

Ahh, Papyrus... I'm not surprised that he was in the top 3. Honestly, I thought he would be number 1, but hey! Life can surprise you!

My honest thoughts about this amazing skeleton below:

(BTW, if you have anything to say about Papyrus, please share your own thoughts in the notes!)

First Impressions

The first time I remembered encountering Papyrus was in Minecraft animated music videos, funnily enough. And it wasn't even me watching them! It was my little sister, who was about 8 at the time? I think it was during lockdown, actually... Anyhoo, they were music videos of Undertale fan songs like "Down To The Bone" and "Way Deeper Down". Papyrus just seemed like a goofy goober who wants to capture a human, you know the drill. He was pleasant.

Those music videos set the stage for my special interest in Undertale, and when I got into the fandom, Papyrus was the very first character I latched onto. He was just adorable, being so egotistical and silly while also being so darn kind. Although back then, I only had a surface-level understanding of Papyrus, I still found that I related to him on a personal level. His hyperactive energy and deep desire for friendship just hit me because I have those traits as well. I remember searching for Papyrus fanfic after Papyrus fanfic, I just wanted to read about him, see him, etc. all the time! He ended up becoming my favourite character, and he still is to this day, although nowadays, he shares the top spot with Sans, who I will cover tomorrow.

My Impressions Now

He's still my favourite, but he shares the top spot with Sans. It just doesn't feel right having one without the other, you know?

Being in the fandom made me realise a few things about Papyrus that aren't noticeable at first glance. But I'm sure everyone has realised how mysterious he is now, even more mysterious than Sans, actually! At least Sans gave us some hints! Papyrus gave us zilch!

But I'm not mad about that. If anything, it makes him more appealing to me. Why? Because it's flexible. That's one of the main reasons why I love Papyrus. He's mysterious enough that you can take creative liberties in his (and Sans') backstory. And that's what I've seen the fandom do, all the time! Remember Handplates? Babybones? The Dadster comics? All of those AUs were made by creators who took liberty in his mysterious nature and filled in the gaps of his mysterious past. And I love it. I do it too. It's fun to think about. And to be honest, I hope the brothers' backstory never gets revealed in canon. Not in full, anyway. I dunno, I just feel like some of their appeal would be lost, to be honest. I like that they're so mysterious.

He's still by far the most relatable character to me though. That's the reason why I enjoy writing him so much. It might just be because of his autism swag, though. I remember reading this post about Papyrus being autistic pretty early on during my time in the fandom, and I've pretty much been subscribed to it ever since. It just makes way too much sense to me I can't!

Also, I just wanna bring this up.

PAPYRUS. WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT. PAPYRUS.

Ah, he was probably being sarcastic.

Hell, I love his sarcasm! That's one of my favourite things about him actually! He's WITTY! He's SARCASTIC! And NO ONE FREAKING NOTICES!

That's just way too relatable to me, as a tone-deaf (but not when it comes to singing) autistic person who is frequently misunderstood because sometimes my tone sounds sarcastic when I really wasn't trying to be and sounds sincere when I was actually trying to be sarcastic. I wonder if Papyrus legitimately has that problem too, and just goes with it, or if I'm just projecting because I relate to him that much.

I really love this exchange because it highlights that aspect of him.

(I found this on a website that listed all of Papyrus' phone calls. And Undyne too, I guess.)

I lost track of how many times I've had to clarify what tone I meant to convey because people kept misunderstanding me. It's like being on the Internet, but in real life lol. (Okay, it's more like being on Twitter, but I don't have Twitter, and no, I will never stop calling it Twitter!)

I also just enjoy Papyrus' goofy nature in general. He has always been such a fun character, and his date is hilarious! I love this man and his autistic little antics so much! Do you think he'd like it if we all came together and met him in real life? Because considering his desire for popularity, I think that would be something Papyrus would definitely get behind! Personally, I would give him a hug.

The Mascot of Monsters!

Have you guys ever noticed how Toby Fox seems to really lean towards Papyrus in content outside of Undertale? Heck, even IN Undertale?!

Think about it. Who gets the special song in the kickstarter? Papyrus. Who gets the interview in the newsletter? Papyrus. Who does Toby Fox's avatar character set its sights on and targets the most? You guessed it! Alphys!

...Oh, wait no, it's Papyrus.

It makes me wonder what Toby Fox is planning with him. Unless Papyrus is just his favourite, which is understandable.

Seriously, though, besides the narrator, Papyrus gets the most lines in the game! I mean, cut your favouritism back a little bit, alright, guy? /j

I could theorise about this if I wanted to, but I'm just gonna do something different instead.

Papyrus is certainly the best mascot, lol!

The Narrative

At first glance, Papyrus doesn't seem to be that important to the narrative besides being the second boss. But as I've explained before, he's kind of the reason why the merciful ending even exists? To be brief, befriending him means you can befriend Undyne, and befriending Undyne means she will join Papyrus in the phone calls, which means Papyrus could convince her to make that love letter to Alphys, which means you can befriend Alphys, which means you get to see the True Lab (sharp inhale), and also he's the one who rounded everyone up and brought them to the castle, which meant that Flowey could complete his plan and- Well, you get the gist. Papyrus is the reason the best ending is possible.

I should also mention that Papyrus is literally the embodiment of the concept of MERCY in general. I wouldn't call him a pacifist. Not by a long shot. But he IS merciful. He literally does a variant of the same thing you do when you beat monsters up until they're at low health and then you spare them. He LITERALLY does that to you.

And then there's the more pacifistic approach in the murder route that everyone knows about. You know, the moment that solidified him as 'best boy'? The moment that genuinely made hundreds of people quit murdering everyone because he was just THAT kind?!

He basically teaches us mercy in the world of Undertale. Both ways, actually. Sure, Toriel gave the verbal version of it, but Papyrus showed us what it actually looks like. And that is awesome.

Conclusion

Papyrus is my favourite, no bones about it! The first character I got attached to, and I'm still attached to this day. He'll always have a special place in my heart. Also, he's just so adorkable.

Look at his dramatic numbnuts pretending he got shot when you eat his spaghetti. Look at him go. Consider this a BONE-us.

Anyway, that's all for now! Remember, please share your thoughts about Papyrus in the notes! Replies, reblogs, whatever, as long as you get your voice out there! Well, less voice, more text, but the principle is the same!

[poems-and-cows]

R3st assur3d, th3s3 ar3 my pr!vat3 d00rs. !f any0n3 was t0 run a “h0n3ym00n scam”, !t w0uld b3 that f0ul pr3t3nd3r, but sh3 !s n0t r3l3vant n0w 0r 3v3r. :}}

And n0, y0u ar3 n0t a k!tt3n. As th3 Slay3r 0f r0t d3scr!b3s !t, m0r3 0f a “Sa!nt B3rnard w!th a barr3l c0llar 0f t3a”. A v3ry sw33t !mag3, !f 0n3 !gn0r3s th3 avalanch3.

I’m sensing some hostility towards this ‘foul pretender’. Is she really that bad? What did she do?

Anyway, sorry for thinking you were an AI scam. In my defence, you definitely acted like one. You can’t blame me for that. Read your early messages, you 100% sounded like a scammer.

Who’s ’the slayer of rot’? Usually I can piece together your nicknames, but not this one. Maybe it’s someone I don’t know who talks about me? Actually, is this some sort of riddle? ‘A Saint Bernard with a barrel collar of tea’ with an avalanche involved? I have no idea what you’re talking about, to be honest. I’ve never been good at riddles, but I hope you’re being nice to me.

Great. After a google deep dive, I’m forced to pick this apart piece by piece.

I’m getting my information from that article, since that’s all I could find. ( Update: found more! )

I’m assuming you’re comparing me to this, but tea instead of brandy? As in, comparing me to a dog who does what anyone tells it to do, and serves tea to anyone who wants it. On this website, it says that the dog serving brandy was doing more harm than good, because it was primarily used to treat hypothermia. Brandy made the hypothermia worse.

Oh, apparently the brandy thing is a myth, and the barrels carry food and water? All the articles are saying different things now I’ve searched deeper into it and have found more things about it.

I found the link to avalanches! Apparently they were used for avalanche rescue, bringing people supplies in their barrel to make it home or to a monastery. So, are you implying that I’m rescuing people with the tea I bring? I’m assuming the avalanche is a metaphor for what my tea is helping with, wether that be stress or tiredness or whatever. So ‘a very sweet image, ignoring the avalanche’ is saying that me bringing people tea is very sweet if we ignore all the issues that the tea helps ( even if it only helps a little bit ). I’m assuming that’s implying a big buildup of stress, and I’m ’saving people’ by bringing them tea. It’s sweet if we ignore the pressure everyone is under.

I can’t find anything on ‘The Slayer Of Rot’, so I’m assuming that’s just another one of your nicknames.

Thanks for the little bit of poetry ( poetry?) to unpick! That’s was quite fun. I had no understanding what so ever of what you were trying to say at first. I had no idea that Saint Bernards were depicted and seen with barrels around their necks. That was a fun knot to unravel! You learn something new every day.

Thanks for that!

[januarys-blues]

The Harsh Reality of Perfectionism

I'm going to be completely honest with you: it is killing me that I am writing my first ever post on this blog with a purple-pink shaped diamond with two dots for eyes and a bright orange background. If you have created a website or a blog from scratch on Tumblr, you know exactly what I'm talking about. As someone who spent their teenage years endlessly re-blogging and scrolling on Tumblr, spending hours and hours perfecting my Arctic Monkeys dedicated Tumblr (yes, legendary British band Arctic Monkeys!), it is excruciating to post this without searching for the perfect theme. Which is exactly why I am posting this as it is. For myself, for others? Right now, it doesn't matter. What matters is that this is getting posted.

I do not think that perfectionism is spoken about enough; I think it is absolutely idealised and honestly, worshipped. I know I worshipped perfectionism for years and it nearly killed me (literally) not once, but twice. It has absolutely crippled me, torn me apart, and I cannot tell you how many wars and battles I have fought against my mind and body to even get to the point of being able to write this down, let alone publicly post it on a blog.

I am tired of hiding in shame. The shame I hold about my mental health struggles, my endless, everyday battles with perfectionism, procrastination, and shame itself. Again, I cannot tell how much part of me wants to backspace this ENTIRE first entry, how much I want to pick it apart until it doesn't exist anymore; until I shut my laptop, crawl back into bed, numb myself out with TV, and tell myself it is stupid for ever even trying. Feeling sorry for myself? Perhaps. I think, however, that these habits, these thought patterns, these impulses, these addictions, these whatever-you-want-to-call-them go far, far deeper than what meets the eye. I think we too often tell people, tell ourselves to 'just snap out of it!' - okay, but how? This is the thesis of my blog.

Before I dive any deeper, I wanted to paint the harsh reality (or at least my harsh reality) of perfectionism in case anyone else tries to further idealise it and strive for perfect:

Perfectionism looks like starving yourself because you feel so completely paralysed that you cannot choose what to eat for fear of making the 'wrong' choice.

Perfectionism looks like being too scared to leave the house for fear of people noticing you have worn the same outfit twice in the same week.

Perfectionism looks like completely dissociating out of your body and into a fantasy world because reality feels too excruciating, too difficult to bear.

Perfectionism looks like endlessly deliberating every single option, researching and researching and researching and writing and writing and writing until you find the 'perfect' answer, the 'perfect' diagnosis, the 'perfect' whatever to put into a neat little tiny box.

Perfectionism looks like relationships and friendships filled with resentment and anger because of all of the feelings you never let yourself feel, and all of your needs you never allowed yourself to meet.

Perfectionism looks like never going after your goals because what if you get found out? What if people know how much you struggle with procrastination? What the inside of your room looks like? What your finances look like? How many job applications you started and never sent?

Perfectionism looks like isolating yourself because you fear that you are not 'ready' or good enough to be loved as you are now. That only 'future' and the 'new and improved' version of you is worthy of love and celebration.

Perfectionism looks like making your world smaller and smaller in an attempt to control the anxiety that looms over every single aspect and crevice of your life until you feel suffocated and in a trap of your own making.

Perfectionism looks like wanting to create things and stopping yourself (e.g.: creating a tumblr and only finding the courage to post on it an entire year later).

Perfectionism is maladaptive and it is killing us. It is my mission to understand it and offer practical tools on how to tackle it to change our behaviours to live lives that help us, not hinder us. How? I don't know yet, and that is why I am here, writing this.

[t00-tired-to-be-t0ugh]

Hello!

I wanted to know people’s theories about the most recent An Observer’s instagram posts— and how that might tie in with the Observer’s Twitter

We were able to find which image the zoomed up hand came from (zouis my beloved) but I haven’t found any connection or seen anyone find anything about the triangle

It’s zoomed in with some sort of woven pattern so I was thinking it’s some sort of clothing. There’s a lighter section in the middle right and with the layout being so perfect I think it might be an article of clothing from some website? Honestly I’m at a complete loss and I’m assuming that the caption has something to do with the image (especially since the last caption was an ode to the pic of zouis) but I’m not positive about the link. Something about the capitalization of Macro and Micro? MM? Maybe it’s more of a nod to zooming up on these images until we can get to the bigger picture? I’m genuinely at a loss, if anyone’s got any suspicions or ideas or can correct my guesses please

(Please don’t flame me I refuse do get Twitter) I assumed that the insta post was also tied into this tweet as well since there was something similar with the last, yet I can only see this as some sort of push towards taking a deeper look (with a possible nod to some bluegreening in there) I don’t think we need to look at the pattern of the fabric or there’s something in the fabric or what— maybe it’s something needed to manipulate in photoshop to see some sort of secret message? (Am I going too far? Where are you Matt if this is an analog thing I swear) I might be going a bit crazy with this image but we’ll see.

I’m really glad to see that An Observer is still going to be posting stuff on Twitter!! Though it makes me wonder if some of the images on Instagram are being posted by The Observer, but we’ll have to see. Maybe it’s An Observer guiding us to the image that we peer at through the microscope and The Observer annotating it since An Observer usually speaks in quotes

Speaking of quotes, this one was pretty easy to find with a google search

I don’t know much about the sitcom or its relevance but I’m assuming it’s important? The sun imagery coming back again is an interesting pattern that I’m going to assume we’ll see more of (“how long, sun?” “15.”)

The scenario surrounding the quote peaked my interest— the idea that these guy is voicing his concern and doesn’t believe that they can fight something and the other characters response being:

It’s oddly reassuring yet at the same time very on the nose. Are we the army in this scenario? All I know is that I kinda see it as endearing as a “we can do it!! Even if it’s literally impossible we can!!” Don’t know if we should take is as some sort of mockery, but I want to take it as a message of hope and that there is a way (these accounts are really trying to give us hope)

—Update as I’m writing—

Speaking of hope, I was genuinely expecting some sort of big “April fools” drop to happen today, but instead we’ve been given a new image and a new tweet!

Somethings happening in the studio I’m guessing? I’m assuming it’s a photo of a guitar with that little bar thing that holds down the strings. The caption of this image strikes me as eerily familiar to the caption for the image of zouis

I can only assume that this would be a recent photo of an old guitar that holds some significance to the boys (since Zayn was featured on this I don’t think it would be too much of a stretch to assume we’ll see images of the other boys as well) this might be an image that’s a blast from the past for us (maybe a Niall guitar call out?)

This most recent tweet has me feeling some sort of way

Possibly it’s because I’m untrusting or this tweet struck a nerve with me or maybe it’s April first, but I feel like there’s something odd. Does that make sense? Am I going crazy? It seems familiar yet at the same time I can’t understand why. The Observer already introduced the idea of moments being brought together previously when first introducing the Instagram

But for some reason this feels odd to me and I can’t explain why. Maybe it’s the phrasing of makeshift being put in there? Maybe the insistence of us being home? Or maybe it’s the idea of promising us “no more makeshift moments” on a day that’s literally dedicated to trolling. I’m not sure if I’m being too paranoid or if I’m reading too far into it— but let me know your thoughts!!

[back2themax]

Writing the 80s and other decades

If you’re not as into the decade(s) or being close to accurate as I am, maybe this post isn’t for you but I’d still like to be heard out. I don’t think I’m too much of a nitpicker for being upset when a character from the 70s or 80s has a smart phone and watches Netflix on a flat screen, ok? In fandoms with a larger amount of younger fans that take place in the past (which can be as recent as the 80s our example for today) or was made 20-30+ years ago there’s a lot of people who outright refuse to learn about it or even make the effort to try. I’m not saying you have to write a thesis or dive into endless hours of research but I can guarantee you google searching a few key details will not kill you.

I’m also begging you to search a bit deeper- there’s more music than Guns n’roses, Madonna and Motley Crue.

Watch movies and shows made then! Besides finding good stuff to watch it’s also great to get a feel of the decade. What everyday items do people own? How do they dress? What/where do they eat? What’s some good slang? (The best for the 80s tends to be horror movies. There’s good glimpses of daily life before the plot itself kicks in)

Make sure you know the year it takes place in. So you know if what you’re referencing is possible/makes sense - why would a character from 82’ be talking about a movie that came out three years later? This is a nitpick on my end but it can make it very cheesy/noticeable. — and! Don’t just reference stuff I read a book that just said a string of things that existed then and it was … not good

Ask! I can guarantee if you weren’t alive then you have a family member who was, this goes for all of the recent decades. Ask about something specific, they might know.

Thrift!!! Single best advice I can get is thrift/antique, even if it’s not your hobby you can get a lot out of it. There’s old appliances, clothes, books, movies , furniture etc you may find something you hadn’t seen or heard of before! Incredibly helpful.

Check websites! One of my secret weapons is slang websites ran by people who were teens in the 70s/80s - little dictionaries of terms that were common then so I don’t risk modern phrasing.

[rivvenofthelake]

Misunderstood Mischiefs: Types of Rats (2)

Disclaimer: I am not an essayist, or a formal educator, but I do enjoy teaching people about things I find interesting or important. I try to ensure any knowledge I share with others is true and verified, but sometimes I might make mistakes. Let me know if I do, but please be kind ♡( ◡‿◡ ) Also, unless stated otherwise, I do not own any gifs or images used in this post.

In my quest to research rats, I have found myself looking into the different types that there are.

Turns out, there are 56 types of rats in the world, even more if you count rats that have since gone extinct. I found that I actually was having quite a lot of trouble finding a list of these types. There was one article that listed 60-something rats species (including extinct ones), which I used for reference for a while, but I was finding very little information on specific species when I tried to look deeper into them. I ended up just searching 'Rattus' on Wikipedia, to see if it would lead to articles about species under this genus..and...

HUZZAH!!!~ So....now for the nitty gritty fun stuff.

Oh, and I should also specify that while there are many critters with names including the word 'rat', a true rat is an animal in the 'Rattus' genus. So, for example, the kangaroo rat (Dipodomys phillipsii) belongs to the Dipodomys genus, and while it is a rodent, it is not a true rat. If you ask me, being a rat should be all about vibes, but for the sake of science we will abide by this definition.

Fantastic Survivors

Part of the reason why there are so many types of rats is that they are really really good at surviving. There are estimated to be as many if not more rats on the planet than humans, though because there are so many of them all over the place it is really hard to get a more precise number. The most commonly known types of rats are the black rat (rattus rattus) and the brown rat (rattus norvegicus).

Fun fact: If you are a rat parent, you likely have a fancy rat. Fancy rats are the type of rat bred to be pets, and are a type of brown rat!

Now, I could go on for a while about each type of rat, but the fact of the matter is that for many of them there isn't a lot of information that I can find online about them, at least not in a short period of time. But I shall endeavor to do my best!

｡✧ 🎀 𝒯𝓎𝓅𝑒𝓈 🏵𝒻 𝑅𝒶𝓉𝓈 🎀 ✧｡

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Black Rat (Rattus rattus) ♥

Aka roof rat or house rat; despite being called the black rat, it can be anywhere from black to light brown in color. This little fella was previously believed to have been the primary culprit in the spread of the Black Death, however this has been seriously called into question in recent years. It is believed that the bacterium (Yersinia Pestis) most likely spread from fleas via humans themselves. Though the rats certainly had some role in the spread, they were far from the main vector. That being said, they can be carriers for other diseases and should be treated cautiously. Black rats are a social type of rat, forming packs that are typically lead by the dominant females of the group.

2. (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Brown Rat (Rattus norvegicus) ♥

Another common name for the brown rat is the Norway rat, owing to its scientific name. It is bigger than the black rat, and that is one of the ways you can tell the two apart. I found a really good diagram from the LA Country Natural History Museum website that highlights the differences in a really good way.

Including the tail, brown rats average 16 inches in total length. They can weigh just over 1 pound.

Despite its name, the brown rat is not from Norway. Like most rats, it originates from Asia (native to northern China). Apparently they don't really know why this happened (the misnomer, not the rats themselves), but it is believed to have been the results of a misinformed scientist.

As I said before, the popular fancy rat is a type of brown rat bred to be pets. There are tons of different varieties of fancy rats. To do them justice I would need to post as many pictures of different types as I could, but to make this easier for the both of us I will just share the link to this National Fancy Rat Society webpage: https://www.nfrs.org/breeding_varieties.html

Fun Fact about Me: My favorite type is the dumbo fancy rat. See example picture, I need not explain:

Anyway, like black rats, brown rats are omnivorous and opportunistic when it comes to their dietary choices. According to the Smithsonian's article on brown rats, there was a study where one rat's stomach had over 4,000 different items in it. I didn't look super deep into this specific study, but my presumption is that these were small bits of different things....unless this was a really big boi...

Unlike their black rat cousins, brown rats form male-dominated groups, and dominance is determined by size. Also, where black rats are polygynous (males mate with multiple females, females mate with one male), brown rats are polygynandrous (both sexes mate with multiple partners). Brown rats breed incredibly proficiently, which is why they can have such an impact on the environments (natural or man-made) that they live in.

Again taking my info from the Smithsonian:

" Females go into estrus just 18 hours after giving birth and are capable of having seven litters a year. Females experience a six-hour period of estrus, during which they mate with as many as 500 times with multiple competing males."

And of course it really doesn't take long for gestation to complete (a little over three weeks) and litters average 8 pups/kits. A cool fact is that, likely due to the fact that there are probably multiple pregnant or nursing females in a group at any given point, females will provide for the pups of other females as if they were their own. From some of the rat owner social groups I have seen online, this can be observed in fancy rats too!

3. (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Nonsense Rat (Rattus burrus) ♥

Looking for a third type to mention on here, I came across this gem of a rat name. To my extreme and immeasurable dismay, there is very little information online about this species of rat. The nonsense rat can be found in a couple of different places, primarily the Nicobar Islands in India.

From the multiple sites I looked at, I could not really find any pictures or visual references to what this rat looks like, except for one picture of a deceased one. And that was like, the ONLY picture I could find that was listed as a nonsense rat.

Nobody really knows where the name 'nonsense rat' comes from. If you try to look up anything about this rat, the majority of sites are all copy pasted of the same text. That being said, I am not sure where the original text comes from.

The IUCN has this species listed as endangered, but even that has little information. I was able to find some suggestions that this could be due to human expansion and a recent tsunami.

Fun fact about the nonsense rat: It's latin name, Rattus burrus, means "red rat".

[queenlucythevaliant]

I'm a fresh college student looking for churches (of Christ) nearby, do you have any recommendations on what to look for/what questions to ask? I've grown up in the same church pretty much all my life so RN I'm just kind of going based on vibes

Ooh, how exciting! I mean, I'm pretty new at the whole Church Hunt thing too (the church I attended in college just sort of fell in my lap), but I can tell you sort of what I'm doing.

So the first thing I did, before I even moved to town, was just a sort of general search for what churches are there in my new area. I made a list of the ones that are worth exploring based on denomination: for me that's Presbyterian, Reformed, and open to Lutheran but not first choice. Then, I made a list of the qualities that I'm looking for in a church, which is the basis of my spreadsheet.

Before I started visiting churches, I hopped onto all my contenders' websites and did a little snooping. I read through their statement of faith/"What We Believe" pages and also looked at what sorts of people they had on staff and in leadership. This was mainly to avoid any red flags, but it also helped me get a feel for the churches' general theological values and what polity might look like. I'll be asking much deeper questions about this stuff down the line, but this way I at least have a good idea what to expect. I'm also planning to do some further reading on denominations and creeds and whatnot before visiting for the churches where I'm not as familiar with their affiliation.

I did my first church visit last week and updated my spreadsheet with impressions. I chatted for a few minutes with visitor information on the way out with a couple of questions I'd prepared ahead of time. I will say, though, this was probably the church where I had the best idea going in what I was going to get, so I did go a little easy.

The question-asking is actually the part I'm most excited about, and I have been ever since I was little. At some point when I was a kid, my mom described the process of asking the information people questions to try to gauge the church's various stances and for whatever reason it just sounded super fun.

So like, the PCA church I visited last week, my questions were mostly about polity. I wanted to know if the process was smooth last time they had to nominate a pastor, what the turnover rate of the session is like (PCA churches don't have term limits for elders generally, which I don't like), that sort of thing. If I'm well enough, I'll be attending the EPC church tomorrow, and if I do that I'll have a whole lot of polity questions AND a bunch of theological and a few political questions, because EPC is a much looser denomination than PCA.

Once I've done my first round of visits, I'll see if there's a clear frontrunner and hopefully at that point start looking to attend one of the churches regularly if there is. If not, I'll bounce around a little and then try to settle. I'll have another round of questions before I pursue membership (mostly polity- I got really badly hurt by polity issues at the church where I grew up and want to make sure whatever church I attend now is healthy and structures-driven), but that's a little ways off yet.

This is probably way more exhaustive than you were looking for, but that's my process. If other older, more experienced folks want to chime in with their own approaches, that's fine by me!

Best of luck to you, my friend! I'm sure God has a great place for you to worship ♥️

[rimaakter45]

The Benefits of Bible Games: Fun Ways to Deepen Your Understanding of Scripture

Reading the Bible is important, but let’s be honest—it’s not always easy to stay focused. That’s where bible games come in. They make learning God’s Word more fun, interactive, and memorable. Whether you're a teen, a parent, a teacher, or just someone who wants to grow in faith, Bible games can help you understand Scripture in ways you never imagined.

Here are some powerful reasons why Bible games are more than just fun—and a few great places to find them!

1. Learning Becomes Exciting with BibleQuizGraduationGame2.com

If you're looking for the best place to begin, check out BibleQuizGraduationGame2. This site makes learning the Bible feel like a celebration. The quiz format feels like you're graduating through different levels of Bible knowledge. It’s easy to use and perfect for all age groups.

The best part? You don’t have to be a Bible expert to enjoy it. The questions are challenging, but fun. You’ll learn about Bible characters, stories, and verses without even realizing how much you're absorbing. It’s perfect for youth groups, families, and even solo players.

2. Boosts Memory and Bible Knowledge

Bible games aren’t just fun—they help you remember what you’ve read. Games like flashcard quizzes, verse-matching challenges, or trivia tests can make facts stick. For example, when you play Bible memory games, you train your brain to hold onto verses and names more easily.

Apps like Bible Trivia Quiz by Salem New Media or Bible Word Search by Hope Games offer this kind of learning in short, fun bursts. You can play on your phone, and in just five minutes, you’ll walk away knowing something new.

3. Brings People Closer Together

Bible games are great for groups. Whether it’s a church youth night, a family gathering, or Sunday school, games create laughter, connection, and teamwork. You work together, learn together, and sometimes even compete in a healthy way.

Try playing Bible Charades or Who Am I? with your friends. These games involve acting or asking clever questions to guess Bible characters. You’ll have fun and grow closer to each other—and to God.

4. Makes Bible Study Less Boring

Let’s be real. Sometimes Bible study feels a little hard or even boring—especially if you're reading alone. But Bible games can change that. Instead of just reading a chapter, imagine playing a game where you have to find hidden clues in a verse or answer questions to unlock the next story.

5. Teaches Kids (and Adults) in a Fun Way

For kids, Bible games are a fantastic way to learn. They don’t even realize they’re studying. You can use coloring games, puzzles, or matching games to help them remember Bible stories and characters.

But guess what? Adults can have just as much fun. Even grown-ups enjoy a good challenge, especially when it's about something as meaningful as faith. That’s why websites like BibleGamesCentral.com or ChristianGamesandCrafts.com have games for all ages and learning levels.

6. Helps You Apply Scripture to Real Life

Many Bible games go beyond just facts—they make you think about what the verses mean. Some ask, “What would you do?” or give real-life situations and ask you to pick a Bible-based answer.

This is a great way to connect God’s Word with everyday life. You stop seeing the Bible as just an old book and start using it as a guide. And when a game makes you stop and think about kindness, forgiveness, or truth—that's when real change happens.

7. Encourages Healthy Competition and Growth

A little competition can be a good thing. Bible games challenge you to grow. They push you to study a little more, remember a little better, and understand a little deeper. Whether you're trying to beat your high score or answer faster than your friends, you're learning in the process.

Final Thoughts

Bible games are more than just entertainment—they’re a smart, joyful way to grow closer to God. They help you understand Scripture, remember key details, and enjoy the process of learning. Whether you’re a student, a parent, or someone simply wanting to explore the Bible more deeply, games can make your journey richer.

And if you’re not sure where to start, don’t forget—biblequizgraduationgame2.com is one of the best places to begin your adventure. Fun, faith, and learning all in one place. So grab a Bible, gather your friends or family, and press play—because learning God’s Word should never be boring.

[youruvwrites]

2.7.2025

Hi internet,

My name is Aman, I like to be known as UV.

How AI Helps Me!

There was a time when I used to spend hours searching for the right information, making notes, and still feeling confused. But now, things are different. Things are better. Thanks to AI. It has slowly become a part of my daily life — not just for fun or random stuff, but for my studies, content creation, and even gathering knowledge. I don’t even remember how I worked without it now. This blog is exactly about that — how AI helps me!

✍️ For My Studies – My New Study Partner

Let’s be honest — textbooks don’t always help. Sometimes, you read a paragraph three times and still don’t get what it’s trying to say. That’s where AI comes in.

I use AI to simplify complex topics. When I don’t understand a concept from my syllabus, I just type it and ask for an explanation like I’m five years old. And boom! It gives me an easy-to-understand version. It doesn’t stop there. I can also ask it to give me a quick summary before exams, make revision notes, or even quiz me on chapters I’ve studied. It doesn’t judge. It doesn’t get tired. It just helps — every single time.

AI is like that extra tuition teacher I never had to pay for. And honestly, it’s way more patient than any real teacher.

📚 Information Gathering – Daily Dose of Smartness

You know how sometimes you randomly get curious about something like “What’s the current situation of the Indian economy?” or “Why is Canada’s weather so crazy?” I use AI to answer such things almost daily. I don’t need to go through 10 articles to figure it out. I just ask once and get a compact, well-researched answer.

It saves time. Like a lot of time.

Even when I’m having a conversation with someone and they talk about something I don’t know, I quickly search it using AI. It’s like my private assistant that helps me stay updated and not look dumb.

Also, sometimes news websites get too boring or technical. So I just ask AI to explain the news in a fun, casual tone — the way I like to understand it.

📝 Blogging – My Silent Co-Writer

If you’ve read my blogs (which I hope you have), then you know I have a particular style. A style that sounds like me, talks like me, and writes like a teenager with thoughts a little deeper than usual.

But here’s the thing — every good writer needs a good editor. And sometimes, a good helper. That’s where AI steps in.

I don’t copy-paste stuff from it. I use it like a friend. I give my ideas, and it helps me structure them. I type my thoughts raw, and it helps me refine them. If I’m stuck on a sentence or can’t figure out how to end a blog, I just ask for a suggestion — and most of the time, it works like magic.

I even brainstorm blog topics with AI. Like, “Give me ideas about teenage life blogs that aren’t boring” — and it gives me a full list! It’s like having a mini creative team right on my phone.

🖼️ Generating Pictures – No Copyright Headache!

Another thing I love doing is adding images to my blogs. I used to struggle with this part earlier because most good pictures were either copyrighted or didn’t match my vision. But now I generate pictures using AI tools!

If I want an image of “a boy sitting alone on a rooftop with headphones looking at the sky” — I can literally create it.

That freedom is unmatched. And it makes my blog posts feel more me. I don’t have to settle for whatever I find online. I can imagine a vibe and bring it to life.

Also, I’ve realized that custom AI-generated pictures make my blogs stand out. They look more personal, more unique. Not some random image from Pinterest.

⚙️ How It All Comes Together

You see, AI isn’t just helping me with one thing. It’s helping me become more me. Whether it’s learning better, staying updated, writing more consistently, or making my blogs look cooler — AI is just there, quietly doing its job.

But I also know one thing — AI won’t replace me. It just supports me. It doesn’t think like me. It doesn’t feel like me. It doesn’t live the way I do. I’m still the one writing. The one thinking. The one expressing.

AI is just the hand that holds my ladder. The steps are mine.

So yeah, if you ever ask me “How AI helps you?” — this is my answer.

It’s not just helping me.

It’s pushing me. Guiding me.

Helping me become a better version of myself —

one question, one blog, one idea at a time.

And I’m loving it.

See You 💛

[lens-67]

Digital Marketing Services: Empowering Businesses in the Digital Age

Digital Marketing Services:

Helping Businesses in a Digital World In our fast-paced and technological world, having an online presence is vital to business. A business looking to thrive, regardless if it is a small start-up or large corporation, needs digital marketing services to reach an audience, offer visibility and awareness for their brand, and develop sales online. Digital marketing is at the heart of business strategies in the expansion of sales across a wider customer base, and it is the new normal to develop a hybrid mode of sales through an online presence.

What Are Digital Marketing Services? Digital marketing services are strategies and tools developed to offer products or services through digital communication via search engines, social media, websites, email, and much more. These digital marketing services try to help businesses connect with their target audience, making them aware of the existence of their services or products, while increasing traffic for the business, and hopefully even profit through engagement from visitors.

Do you hear the terms SEO, SEM, and SMO and think, “huh?” Or maybe you think, “Yeah, I should probably get on board with that.”

It’s not just for the mega giants in the online world. In fact, if you hope to be in business in the coming years, you can’t afford NOT to know what they are and how you can implement them for your business.

Search engine optimization (SEO), search engine marketing (SEM) and social media optimization (SMO) aren’t concepts you have to be scared of. They aren’t something only the wealthy, well-established companies do, leaving small and medium businesses out of the loop.

Online marketing is all about awareness and visibility. Your customers will find you in one of three ways:

They already know your company and look specifically for you

You’re recommended by another website or company, and they find you by following a link

Your company is found through searching

Where online marketing comes into play is to help you be found in the online world. If a person isn’t quite sure of what to look for, is performing general searches to get more information, that’s the place you want to be. You want to be the company that provides high-quality information, becomes a friend, and provides the proper resources when a prospect is ready to take the next step.

So how do search engine optimization (SEO), search engine marketing (SEM) and social media optimization (SMO) come into play in all of this?

Search Engine Marketing (SEM)

SEM is the marketing process of getting more visibility in the search engines. You can do this by getting more free traffic — SEO — or paid traffic — paid search advertising.

With paid advertising, you are buying advertising space in the search engines. You pay money to come up under the various search terms associated with your products and services, within your business environment and your industry. You pay for results.

The most well-known advertising for paid search advertising is Google Adwords. With Google Adwords, you can get your ads to appear in the Google search results and pay for clicks you receive while being there. This process is commonly referred to as pay-per-click or PPC advertising.

SEM traffic is considered to be the most important source of Internet traffic because of how targeted and specific it is. When people have a question or a problem, they head to the search engines to find out the answer. So when a searcher clicks on a result and follows it to a specific web page, they are more likely to convert to a high-quality lead.

The relevance of the displayed information and advertisement makes SEM traffic more valuable than any of the other sources.

Dig Deeper How Long-Tail Keywords Add Power To Your Blog Social Media SEO — Is There Such A Thing?

Search Engine Optimization (SEO)

SEO is a subset of SEM. SEO is the free traffic you receive from gaining access to ranking within the search engines. It refers to techniques a business can use to improve how their websites rank “naturally” or “organically” within the search engines.

Done properly, SEO best practices can help your website naturally rank higher than other similar offerings. With SEO, you can’t buy your way into better organic rankings. These rankings are determined to a proprietary set of search engine algorithms established by the search engine companies themselves. If you do everything right, your website may show up higher in search results. If you misstep and do things the search engines don’t like, your results can cause lower search rankings or even get delisted from Google

Search engine crawlers look to deliver the highest quality rankings possible and will look for things like:

Descriptive page titles and URLs which incorporate keywords

A website that is regularly updated and has highly relevant content such as articles and blog posts

Inbound links from other websites that help showcase your site as credible and authoritative

Mobile-friendly content

The challenge with SEO is it is always an ever-changing environment. Search engines like Google change its algorithm for ranking websites all the time. It can require a lot of upkeep to ensure your website is always relevant and playing by the updated rules. This is why many smaller businesses prefer to leave this portion of their SEM strategy to the experts.

Social Media Optimization (SMO)

SMO is the next wave of online marketing and is the perfect marriage between SEO and social media. As a business trying to gain customers online today, you can’t do it without addressing the critical intersection of online visibility and customer interaction. That’s what SMO is designed to do.

SMO is a technique designed to promote your product, service, or company through various social channels. It includes video sites like YouTube, networking sites like Facebook, Twitter, and LinkedIn, bookmarking sites like Stumbleupon and Reddit, and much more.

SMO is designed to build the trust factor in the online world.

With SEO, it means targeting traffic through search engines. That includes both on and off-page optimization techniques. With SMO, it is mostly on-page optimization. That includes creating content that is easily scalable and available to all social networks.

In the SMO world, content is king. Content needs to be targeted based on proper research and include proper data throughout the page.

Which is right for you?

Now that we’ve defined each technique, which is right for you? Although SEM will get results fast, it is limited to the size of your budget. SEO and SMO are more long term solutions which, if done correctly, can continually bring in desired results. Most businesses select a variety of techniques within the online marketing umbrella to ensure full reach and a long-lasting impact.

Looking for a digital marketing firm in Portland Oregon, DMG is just one call away.

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How to Choose the Best Digital Marketing Company Near Me

Picking a digital marketing agency near me may seem like an easy thing to do—search the words on Google, select the first entry, voilà, right? Not exactly. Just because an agency is listed first doesn't necessarily mean they're right for you.

Throughout the last five years writing content for small businesses and adult industry clients, I've watched numerous individuals find themselves in the wrong marketing crew—agency overpromising who do too little, or even worse, those that take your cash and disappear. Let's discuss how not to do that and instead find you a digital marketing firm within your area that suits your needs, personality, and budget.

1. Start with a Clear Goal (Before Googling "Digital Marketing Company Near Me")

Before you even Google a digital marketing agency near me, you must know why you're looking for one. Are you wanting to drive traffic to your adult website? More phone calls to your small business? Do your competitors always get ahead of you on Instagram?

I previously helped a small Chicago couple's adult toy company. They hired a local digital marketing firm with no goal in mind—just a general "we want more sales." The agency created costly ads but didn't monitor conversions or refresh content. After three months, they were disappointed. We sat down, outlined real goals (SEO on niche keywords, increasing site speed, and creating a solid email list), and began growing in six weeks

2. Look at Their Actual Work

When looking for a digital marketing agency near me, don't get clouded by buzzwords such as "data-driven" or "full-service." Request examples. Not just screenshots—actual sites, live advertising campaigns, or better yet, client referrals.

I've witnessed firms that boast large but haven't laid hands on a genuine campaign in months. Some could be fantastic at website design but have no SEO expertise. If you're in a niche, such as adult products or services, ensure the agency is at ease and experienced in that niche. Not everyone is.

Practical advice: Ask this: "Can you demonstrate two or three local companies you have assisted recently? What did you actually do for them?"

3. Meet in Person or Hop on a Real Call

One of the advantages of going with a digital marketing firm near me is facetime. You don't have to do it, but sitting down to a cup of coffee and discussing business face to face matters. It is more difficult to fake the results or avoid answering questions when someone is sitting right in front of you.

If you’re in a smaller town and choices are limited, a video call works just fine. Pay attention to how they speak about your goals. Are they just trying to upsell you? Or are they actually listening?

Red flag: If everything they discuss is how wonderful their tools are, but they don't really inquire about your business, keep on searching.

4. Check Reviews, But Dig a Bit Deeper

Yes, online reviews do count—but don't glance at star ratings alone. Read the words themselves. Are the reviews composed of empty praise? Or are they genuine anecdotes, such as "They tripled sales at my bakery" or "They created a fantastic site and ranked me for local terms"?

A client of mine once chose a neighborhood agency with dozens of 5-star reviews. But when we looked deeper, most were written in one week. Out came a discovery that they were purchased or traded. That client spent four months and almost $5,000.

5. Understand Their Pricing and Packages

A good digital marketing agency local to me should be forthcoming with what you're paying for. You don't require a 20-page PDF, but if you say, "What will I get for $1,000 per month?" and they can't tell you simply, then that's an issue.

Some agencies bill flat fees, some work on retainers, and others bill hourly. All can work—if expectations are established from the start.

I once assisted a friend (who owned an adult content membership site) in negotiating a quote from a local agency. The quote included "SEO optimization package: $1,200/month." But when we questioned them for specifics, they had no idea what keywords she needed, and they didn't discuss any content writing, only "monthly reports." That ain't SEO. That's billing with a pricey label.

6. Don’t Just Go with the Cheapest

I get it—especially if you’re starting small, budget matters. But the cheapest digital marketing company near me isn’t always the best. Simultaneously, the priciest option isn't necessarily the most efficient

See what's covered. If someone promises to "do your SEO" for $100/month, they're probably employing old strategies—or even worse, black-hat techniques that will get your site in trouble.

Imagine if you were hiring a mechanic. You wouldn't hire a person simply because they're $30 less if they could possibly ruin your engine.

7. Make Sure They Offer Reporting You Can Understand

It's your business. You should know what's working and what isn't. Any good digital marketing agency close to me should give you regular reports, and better still, be able to tell you in plain English.

Request to view a sample report. Can you read it without having a marketing degree? Are they displaying the proper metrics for your objective (calls, leads, traffic, buys)?

Tip: If someone starts talking about "impressions" and "engagement," ask: "How does this relate to real sales or actions by customers?

8. Do They Understand Your Industry?

Not all agencies are willing to work with adult material, cannabis, gaming, or other "forbidden" businesses. You need to be aware of what is effective and what is not

If you're in an industry, ensure that the digital marketing agency near me has some background or at least an open mind regarding your business. Webex Solution, for instance, has done some work with a couple of clients in adult and alternative businesses, and they're not afraid to tackle difficult subjects. That level of honesty counts.

9. Communication Style Is a Big Deal

Some agencies will inundate you with jargon. Others don't even respond to emails. Neither is effective.

You need a digital marketing agency local to me that keeps in touch and speaks clearly. Ask them about how quickly they usually respond. Will you have a personal contact? How often will you sit down or speak with each other?

Tell them if you detest meetings. Tell them if you prefer voice calls to emails. Find out if they can accommodate your way of working.

10. Trust Your Gut (But Still Ask Questions)

Selecting a digital marketing agency local to me isn't purely a numbers game. It's also about having trust. If it doesn't feel right—even if they appear wonderful on paper—press further. A good agency would never become defensive when you seek transparency.

Imagine it as dating. First impressions are important, but not the whole picture. Pay attention to how they follow up. Are they reliable? Do they do what they promise? Do they have an interest in your business, or are you just another project?

Final Thoughts

Getting the appropriate digital marketing agency near me requires a bit more effort than clicking the first result on Google. But if you invest time in establishing your objectives, review their actual work, sit down with them (even just briefly), and remain vigilant for red flags, you'll have a much better chance of hiring a team that will actually work to help you grow.

And when do you find the right fit? You can do what you do best—operate your business—while your marketers drive traffic.

Whether you have a brick-and-mortar shop, a local business, or something more specialized like adult content or goods, there are individuals out there who understand what you do and want to assist you. Just ensure they're close enough to familiarize themselves with your market—and smart enough to help you capture it.

Need a starting point? Take a look at Webex Solution—they've been making waves with their actual results and client-centered approach.

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Common Misdiagnoses and Overlooked Conditions in Dogs: What Every Dog Owner Should Know

A Limp, a Look, and a Lesson When Sarah noticed her golden retriever, Buddy, limping after a long walk, she assumed it was just a sprain. Her vet agreed and suggested rest. But weeks passed, and the limp remained. What was dismissed as a minor strain turned out to be a partially torn ACL. Had she waited any longer, Buddy could’ve faced more serious mobility issues. It wasn’t until she explored options like a Dog Knee Brace that things turned around. Stories like Buddy’s are more common than you think—and they highlight a bigger issue: misdiagnoses and overlooked conditions in dogs, especially related to joint and mobility health.

The Hidden Epidemic: Misdiagnosed Dog Knee Pain

According to a study published in Veterinary Surgery, up to 38% of dogs with hind limb lameness are initially misdiagnosed, particularly in general veterinary practices without advanced imaging tools. One of the top misdiagnoses? Dog knee pain caused by partial ACL tears, which can often be mistaken for hip dysplasia or simple muscle strain.

While many websites emphasize surgery as the primary solution, less attention is given to conservative management, such as using a Custom Dog Knee Brace or a Vet Recommended Dog Knee Brace. These can often help reduce inflammation, support healing, and avoid invasive procedures—especially when the issue is caught early.

Overlooked Conditions That Mimic Knee Injuries

Let’s go deeper. Some of the most overlooked and often confused conditions include:

Patellar Luxation: A misalignment of the kneecap that often mimics ACL injuries.

Hip Dysplasia: This condition can cause altered gait that puts undue pressure on the knee, leading vets to focus on the hip while ignoring secondary knee strain.

Neurological Disorders: Issues like lumbosacral stenosis can present as limping or rear-leg weakness but have nothing to do with joint mechanics.

In many of these cases, dogs are prescribed painkillers without addressing the underlying issue. That’s why using tools like a Dog Knee Brace for Arthritis can offer both support and a clue to the real problem—if mobility improves with a brace, the issue is likely biomechanical rather than neurological.

Why Bracing Deserves More Respect

There’s a surprising gap in how bracing is viewed in veterinary circles. A 2020 article in Frontiers in Veterinary Science notes that non-surgical interventions like bracing and physical therapy are underutilized, despite growing evidence of their effectiveness. One problem? Owners don’t know where to look.

Searches for Dog Knee Brace Near Me or Dog Knee Brace Amazon yield dozens of results—but finding the Best Dog Knee Brace for Torn ACL often comes down to understanding your dog’s unique anatomy and the severity of the injury. A Custom Dog Knee Brace can ensure proper fit and maximum support, especially for larger breeds or long-term conditions.

Be Your Dog’s Advocate

Here’s the takeaway: don’t settle for a quick diagnosis. If your dog is limping, moving stiffly, or seems to tire quickly, push for further testing. Ask about bracing options. Try a Dog Knee Brace for Arthritis even before surgery becomes a conversation.

Because sometimes, it’s not just about curing an injury—it’s about catching it before it becomes irreversible.

Sources:

Veterinary Surgery Journal, Volume 49, Issue 5, 2020

Frontiers in Veterinary Science, “Orthopedic Bracing in Dogs: Current Status and Emerging Options”, 2020

American College of Veterinary Surgeons (ACVS), ACL injury statistics and treatment approaches

Want help finding the Vet Recommended Dog Knee Brace that’s right for your pup? I can guide you through it—just ask!