#I will say even though I only started writing it abt a year ago. I’ve had the planning in my head since I first watched the show. so 2021?

[sadbitchboi]

Me with the unfinished blueprints for a fanfic idea that has been sitting in my notes app for a little less than a year now:

I think I’m ready now

[alangdorf]

Welp, the ref lineup still isn’t done cause I haven’t drawn Shion yet, and the belated valentines I’ve been working on are gonna be like at least a month late cause I just planned three more, but what I did do these past couple weeks is start writing a fanfic and then immediately abandon it to go draw a bunch of only tangentially-related suzutsubas (except for that first pic; that’s a scene from it, albeit one I haven’t written yet), only half of which are fit for public posting (one of ‘em I could make a few edits and feel ok about posting sometime; it’s not that out there, it’s just, y’know. Hamal Cine Bad End Hyperbolic Torture Chamber. I’m usually very “whatever happens happens” about my art but if I don’t show some restraint I know I’ll end up stuck in there forever), but hey, since I’ve been teasing them for ages and finally have some finished stuff with them, take a couple Suzumii! Also gonna ramble abt headcanons under the cut (and it will be LONG)

To begin, a note abt my Len’en gender/pronoun headcanons: as a they/them preferrer myself, I’m thrilled that most people just stick with those for everyone, but I’ve developed some more detailed headcanons as I go through working on designs and I’ll generally be using those. Don’t worry though, most of them are still nonbinary and basically all of them are trans/gq. Relevant ones for this post are Tsubakura: they/them nonbinary (transmasc to some degree) and Suzumi: cis female, question mark?? (to be elaborated on); for clarity’s sake I usually use she/her for Arde and Hamal Cine individually and plural they for the system collectively (also I don’t usually use their nicknames, dunno why), but singular they for Benet (the wiki says Benny is probably short for Benetnasch so I’m assuming that’s their actual name) for reasons which will also be elaborated on (sort of).

Aaalso this clearly isn’t autobiographical or anything but I think I’m subconsciously putting a lot of myself into Suzumi because 1) we do look pretty similar (brown wavy bob + blue eyes) and 2) given their current status as both the main antagonist and the most well-known plural Len’en character (I get the impression that Hooaka also being plural isn’t super common knowledge; I mean it took me several read-throughs of their wiki page and their dialogue with BPoHC Secret Team to get what they were getting at lol) I am probably way too anxious about doing a bad stereotype. Just an observation and also probably partially why I’ve even ended up with so much headcanon for them in the first place

And before I get into the thick of it, notes on derivations from canon: I’m running with the assumption that Suzumi being a system is a relatively recent development tied to whatever incident it was that caused the falling-out, since Tsubakura is like the only person who seems at all familiar with Hamal (including Mitori/Chouki/Fumikado, but they’re more easily explained away as just having met with one of the other alters the few times they’ve interacted) even though she’s supposedly usually the one fronting. They don’t seem to know the mechanics of it though, judging by their confusion when Arde implied that she and Hamal are different people. So basically, I’ll be referring to pre-incident Suzumi as a different character from any of the other three. (Ngl I am very influenced by Dissociation Constant on that and just in general [when will my wife The One and Only Suzutsuba Fic return from the war…..]) I was also debating whether to have Suzumi have any history with the gang before starting to work at the lab/whether stuff would happen around high school or college age, cause they keep referring to everything happening “a long time ago” and I know I, a 24-year-old, feel like stuff that happened five years ago was like yesterday, but I do have the pandemic and not really doing much of anything for most of that time to reckon with so like, eh. College age makes more sense in my head and so does the dynamic of like, Suzumi was only introduced into the friend group (she was acquainted w Hoojiro and Yabu already though bc lab) because she was dating Tsubakura and since that ended, and badly (understatement of the century), they have extremely little reason to be civil with each other and also interacting at all is really awkward.

Ok now on with it! Either end of high school or beginning of college, Suzumi ends up interning at Tsubakura’s lab for college credit (Tsuba’s already practically a department head despite being like 17 or something because. Idk. Who even knows what’s up with them) and she’s like. Only wears t-shirts and jeans (bought a bunch of khakis for this job though), [reading] glasses from the men’s section, hates leaving her hair down (it’s lab safety anyways). Repressed queer in denial, you know the type. Starts interacting a lot with Mx. Tsubakura “wears short shorts that everybody thinks are actually a skirt and also uses ore and omae almost exclusively” Enraku who seems to have everything all figured out and is immediately starstruck (GIRL WHY?? they are such a mess). Lots of “do I want to date them or do I want to be them” confusion (this will be relevant later); eventually evolves into the “am I trans or just a lesbian” question (not that they would need to be attracted to women to be into Tsubakura but you get the picture), which never quite gets answered.

In any case, they do eventually start dating (Tsubakura thinks she’s cute and smart so they reciprocate), and they’re not like super great together cause Tsubakura is emotionally constipated at the best of times (Suzumi’s into that though) and neither of them are the most mentally/emotionally healthy people even back then and also Tsubakura is more or less Suzumi’s boss which is weird, but they’re kind of ok??? Tsubakura’s mom dies at some point, also they move in together (college housing is expensive), the rest of the crew at the very least tolerate Suzumi, etcetera.

And then…! [insert catastrophic event here]!! I don’t have a shot to call on this yet cause I have no idea what it could’ve been (and I’m sure it’ll get revealed at some point anyways); I’m just banking on it being something extremely not mundane and something where you could reasonably set the blame on either (or neither) party cause they sure both seem convinced the other is way worse, huh! In Tsubakura’s case at least, blaming Suzumi is partially a defense mechanism so their self-loathing doesn’t get the better of them over it (guess what the fic was supposed to be about, lol).

The worst part of all this business though is that they DON’T break up over it immediately and it just makes everything orders of magnitude worse for everyone involved. Tsubakura and Arde have hate sex MORE THAN ONCE………… they would both really rather forget about it. Hamal thinks it’s hilarious, ofc, but the less said about her, the better. And Benet… exists??? The only idea that I’m running off of for them atm is the observation that I think they’re the only character with flat black eyes other than Tsubakura/Tsurubami and the subsequent idle thought, “hey if someone malded so hard about a breakup that they ended up with an introject of their ex would that be messed up or what?” So make of that what you will. (Oh and it may have been obvious that this is what I was going for but Hamal is femme and Arde is butch and they’re constantly squabbling abt aesthetic presentation. Having Arde be straight-up male would’ve been too straightforward of an interpretation and I think it’s funnier this way)

The canonically mentioned murder attempts start taking place and I’m leaning towards Tsubakura eventually being convinced to move out even though it was originally their apartment, albeit mostly just because the wikipedia page for house sparrows mentions that they’re known to take over swallows’ nests, usually after they’ve been abandoned, but they will sometimes drive away or kill the current occupants, and that was a very fun fact to come across when specifically doing research for Len’en but idk how else to incorporate it lol. And so on and so forth up until the present time.

Uhhh is that all I have atm? I think so! Anyway, I think I finally shook out all my suzutsuba doodles (and rambling, though I do still have that fic to work on. idk whether I’ll be able to finish it though; I started strong with an extended metaphor in the middle but Iiiii’m not sure if I can successfully write my way up to it while making it make sense. Also I may draw pretty slow but I write even slower!! Eh I’m sure I’ll post some of it sometime) for the time being so I should theoretically be able to finish up my bigger projects now. Maybe I’ll have the valentines ready in time for white day? We’ll see!

[numbknee]

Enough of the suffering thru the asks abt all the other cartman ships, what abt your brain rot? 🥺 what *are* your thoughts on kyman?? Go ham dude

ooooh dear... where to begin with the kyman brainrot....... I guess I’ll start at the beginning. VERY LONG POST under the cut. this is basically my kyman meta magnum opus lmao

I’ve talked about this ad nauseam before, but I really, REALLY didn’t want to get into south park. I had only ever watched like 2 full episodes before 2021 and I simply did not understand the appeal. I just thought the draw to the show was the shock factors: gross-out humor, children swearing and committing violence, and blatant bigotry played for laughs. I didn’t understand how it could be so popular other than “well I guess there are lots of horrible people out there who like this horrible show.” 

I grew up in a very WASP-y town and had peers in elementary/middle school who learned about the existence of antisemitism and other bigotries through south park. because kids are stupid and don’t understand satire, many of them took it at face value and were able to have shittons of words added to their vocabulary to put people down and insult them. it was horrible tbh. and I hated the show for that, even as a young kid. I personally wasn’t perfect by any means but even as a snot-nosed, extremely sheltered little white girl I knew that you just shouldn’t do that shit. our school system in particular lauded the “golden rule” constantly (we had to do a school-specific pledge after the pledge of allegiance every day... yeah I know, very american) and I was like “cmon, you guys can’t even follow that ONE RULE to be a semi-decent human being?? really??”

anyway at the end of 2021, my younger brother asked me to watch the post-covid specials with him and he was very excited about it. I was immediately hesitant, especially because in recent years he has become alarmingly incel-y and took a hard turn to the right while I became a leftist. I reluctantly agreed to sit through it to try to understand him more because, even though his political ideology sucks ass, he’s still my brother and I do love him. 

so I watched the specials, and I came out the other side of it shell-shocked with how surprisingly good the writing was. THIS stupid show, the show that all this time I thought was bottom-of-the-barrel comedy, was... GOOD??? particularly regarding CARTMAN?? 

the only things I knew about cartman going into it were the following: he’s fat, he says the name “kyle” weird, and he’s a horrible antisemite. and they made him grow up to be a freaking RABBI. it completely caught me off guard and *gasp* actually made me laugh???? what???? 

there were plenty of other things I loved about the post-covid specials, like my depressed ass relating WAAAY too hard with stan, the extremely on-the-nose satire of the state of advertisement/capitalism with the stupid “denny’s applebee’s max” restaurant chain gag and all the old people being shoved into a giant prison retirement home once they aren’t productive anymore, kenny getting sick of the gang’s bullshit and writing “FUCK THESE HOES” on a beloved childhood photo, butters become a snake-oil salesman for NFTs, kyle being told to “think like a kid” and like 2 seconds later realizing they need to look up kenny’s ass. I could go on but you get the point. 

I liked it way more than I thought I ever would. and obviously, I often find south park funny for different reasons than my brother does because matt & trey are very good at toeing the line of appealing to both sides of the american political spectrum, but it’s become a point of bonding between us in the year since I started watching the show and I’m grateful for that. 

of course, since i’m terminally on tumblr and ao3, I also started to dive into the fandom of south park. I had heard about the whole creek thing years ago and waved it off as a stupid gag but then I realized wait, holy shit, there’s actually a GIGANTIC shipping culture around south park??? at first I got into style because of the interesting concept of post-covid kyle and stan reconnecting after decades apart and not being the same people they used to be but trying to make it work anyway (I even wrote a fic about it ahahaa...) 

but after a while I got tired of the ship because as I watched the rest of the show, I realized their relationship just wasn’t as interesting as I thought it would be. like they’re best friends but... why? because they’ve known each other forever? they both like video games? they make fun of cartman together? the fact they’re “super-best-friends” is kind of taken for granted by the show and the audience, but imo matt and trey never really explore the intricacies of their relationship very much. y’all can disagree with me on this but idk, all I know is that I got bored with style as a ship after like 2 months.

while scrolling through ao3 and tumblr, I ran across kyman fics/fanart for the first time back in february or so. at first I was appalled because... why the everloving fuck would you ship the blatant antisemite with the jewish kid??? really???? isn’t style a much better choice??? but sheer curiosity got the better of me, so I did what I always do when I’m curious about a ship: select for fics with kyle broflovski/eric cartman, sort by kudos, and read the first result (or in this case the second because the first had creek as the main ship). y’all know which fic that is if you’ve even slightly gotten into kyman. it was interesting, but I personally didn’t see them as the actual characters from the show in that fic. they were fandom versions of kyle and cartman, with their personalities changed enough to fit the standard mlm shipping dynamic that’s popular in fandom spaces (particularly regarding dom/sub aspects). I’ve seen it happen in plenty of other fandoms so I wasn’t surprised, but I still couldn’t see how it could possibly work if one were to use their canon character depictions. 

all the while I was making my way through episodes of the show cuz it’s long af, and over time I became more and more intrigued with kyle and cartman’s relationship. cartman quickly became my favorite character in the show because of how fucking complex and layered his personality is (see my tags on this post), and though kyle despises cartman in countless ways, he still is the only one who consistently tries to find goodness in him, tries to make him change for the better, saves him when no one else will, and remains his friend despite everything. it’s a remarkably complex dynamic.

little hints of kyman started creeping up on me: cartman being frequently queer-coded as a closeted gay kid. kyle getting extremely jealous of cartman and heidi’s relationship. both of them on separate occasions saving the other from death or injury without wanting any credit for it or lording it over each other. “we've been through a lot together, and... maybe that alone doesn't make us friends, but it makes us something” 

needless to say, I started to get it. and then I encountered the straw that broke the camel’s back: “know your enemy” by elsen on ao3. I’m not exaggerating when I say I’ve read that fic probably over a dozen times. it was shockingly well-written and so in-tune with the style and tone of the show that I was like “is this person spirit-channelling trey parker or something wtf???” and all of a sudden, I could see how, in a different universe, kyman could actually be an endgame ship. 

what sold me on it the most was how in-character it seemed for cartman to be a repressed, denial-ridden sub, especially regarding his desired relationship with kyle. there’s plenty of canon evidence that cartman has a secret crush on kyle (see this vid by johnny 2 cellos), but there’s no way that kyle could reciprocate those feelings, right?? imo kyle would probably rather die than enter a romantic relationship with cartman where he had to submit to him all the time, but if cartman would want kyle to be dominant over him??? where kyle has control and is able to curb cartman’s problematic behavior as he sees fit??? that opens up a whole other door of possibilities.

I think what kyle wants more than anything else in the world regarding cartman is for the goodness he sees deep down inside him to come to the surface, and for kyle to be the one to guide him (or force him when necessary) to becoming a better person through love and patience and inherent understanding of his fucked up little head??? I can definitely see kyle wanting that (especially since I see kyle as a repressed, denial-ridden sadist/dom lmao; see this post for my thoughts on that). 

it was all downhill from there. I found tons of other cool kyman shippers on tumblr and twitter whose writing and fanart helped suck me in even more and I’ve been stuck in kyman hell ever since. special shoutout to the asker for her kyman analysis posts that inspired this fic I wrote! love u boo <3

ANYWAY that’s how I became a whore for kyman lolololol ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ have a nice day everybody

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

heyy ari!!

i hope you're having a splendid and enjoyable day today. wanted to ask a very important question‼️

what are your five current favorite songs and/or artists?

very curious to see your favs!!

- 🍒

HI 🍒 ANON !! it’s nice to meet u!! this is a great question…. i’m gonna b honest though when it comes to music i. kinda live under a rock? 😭 i didn’t even start thinking abt my favorite artists until a couple years ago… so that’s. a thing.

i can never keep track of my favorite songs but i do have a couple artists i love that come to mind!! :33 so!! in no particular order……

1/ yorushika

actually i lied yorushika is in fact my number one always and forever if yorushika has a million fans i’m one of them if yorushika has one fan that’s me if yorushika has no fans that means i am no longer on this earth. yorushika is a jpop/jrock band consisting of n-buna (songwriter/musician) and suis (vocalist) and they mean the whole galaxy to me their lyrics are so insanely good i use them for writing inspo all the time and in general they’re just?? so good??? their songs always feel so bittersweet and nostalgic and the instrumentals are soo incredible…. this is my favorite band of all time they fr changed my life i highly recommend checking out any of their songs/albums bc they have literally never missed. I Fucking Love Yorushika.

my favorite songs of theirs are blooming in that summer / hachigatsu, bou, tsukiakari / replicant !! :3 i have a million other favs but i’ll leave it at that..

2/ the front bottoms

i love these guys so bad i do….. i actually know literally nothing abt the band itself but i adore their songs and just. how scratchy and cool the vocalist’s voice is!! idk i’m not good at explaining it i just love their songs sm!! :’3 they have a very specific vibe to them that i can’t pinpoint but it does make me feel like a rabid dog so there’s that <33 if u have any form of daddy issues i’m sure u’ll love them (they’re also EXTREMELY stsg coded hello…)

my favorite songs of theirs are be nice to me / father / funny you should ask !! :3

3/ mitski

we all saw it coming let’s be real i don’t know a single queer jjk fan who doesn’t love mitski we literally owe her everything? jokes aside it actually took me some time to warm up to her songs, at first i only loved her lyrics but eventually i saw The Light. her songs have this specific melancholic vibe that i’ve never found in anything else and i eat it up every single time ….. i adore her instrumentals and her voice and obv her lyrics !! i resonate a lot with them AND i associate them w lots of jjk characters (especially sugu wbk he’s a mitski girlie).. i just really love her !! she’s Mother always and forever :)

my favorite songs of hers are goodbye, my danish sweetheart / a pearl / i’m your man !! :33

4/ ricky montgomery

RICKYYY MY ANGEL ON THIS EARTH i love him so bad. :( he makes me happy. his songs are so comfy so cozy so lovely i just adore them……. they’re very winter-y but also very summer-y i just love them a lot!! and i think his interactions w the jjk/sk8 fandoms are so funny he’s my emotional support artist i think i would probably kill if he asked me to

my favorite songs of his are cabo / california / line without a hook !! :3

5/ beabadobee

what can i even say abt her…. she’s my goddess i think. beabadobee is like mitski in that her songs just have this specific Vibe that nothing else has and it makes me yearn so bad… sooo nostalgic and vibrant i just think she’s so ridiculously good !!! her songs never fail to make me lose it entirely i listen to them often while writing too !!! they’re soooo catchy and wonderful <333

my favorite songs of hers are don’t get the deal / apple cider / cologne !! :3

[lilflowerpot]

hello flower! i’ve never submitted an ask to tumblr before, but i just wanted to say this.

(btw, everything in this post is true. it’s kinda an unbelievable story)

i’ve been a fan of LB since it’s publish! i’m pretty sure i discovered it in mid 2018, so i’ve been here for a long time!

i’ve been following ur writing for years and watched you improve annually. i fell in love with your story and writing extremely quickly, and i always looked forward to your new chapters. i distinctly remember feeling ecstatic when keith finally revealed his face !!

however, in 2019, i suffered a catastrophic head injury whilst skiing, which caused me to lose most - if not all - my memories. in truth, i should of died or been in a coma, but i escaped with some critical injuries instead. a broken neck, fractured skull, broken eye socket, the whole shebang lol.

luckily, i was not paralyzed, and i can say now that my recovery has been well! i’m back to being fully functional (sometimes) except for a couple motor control issues.

but the real problem was my memory, i could remember my family and relationships, but i forgot practically every fundamental fact about myself, including my middle name. additionally, i suffered a lot from aphasia and neuro problems which made me struggle to understand sounds coming from people if that makes sense. to cure this, my mom and dad introduced me to (guess what!) voltron. they knew it was my fav show before the crash, so in a sense, they tried to reignite my memories and help work on my sensory processing ability.

i fell in love with the show - again- and watched it during my recovery. probably the only reason i can talk today is because of vld! i find it a little ironic that despite losing myself in the crash, i came full circle. and u can probably guess what happens next!

in 2021, i rediscovered ur fic whilst in the voltron tab. it kinda shocked me to see “Visited: 309��� under the fic because i had no recollection of ever reading it. the person i was before must’ve loved it, so i gave it a shot! (btw, me before crash and me now i consider different ppl)

so, i began to read, every word from start to finish. and, as cheesy as it sounds, i think i fell in love again. my recovery has been endlessly difficult and was particularly rough 2020-2021, so this kinda supported me in a way. seeing the growing number of how many times i visited LB reminded me that i had existed the day before.

to give context, every morning i woke up, i would forget almost everything abt myself. eventually that got resolved, but it was jarring. so, seeing that number rise, and reliving the joy of reading LB for the first time gave me hope.

LB means so much to me for this reason. sometimes when it felt like i was losing my humanity to depression and pain, it reminded me that, out there, the previous versions of me were hoping to read LB again. in a sense, i was motivated to read the new chapters as an ode to my previous-day self if that makes sense.

now, 7 months after successfully waking up and remembering the previous day, i am writing this with tears in my eyes. i am writing this with a smile, and i’m writing this with the hope that it reminds you that your literature has saved me, and i’m sure countless other people.

in a way, i view LB as the sunrise. even though there’s the chance that tomorrow never comes, the sunrise serves as a reminder that the previous day existed, and that there are more sunrises to look forward to.

and, to be honest, i think that if i woke up forgetting everything everyday, id be okay with it because i get to read your fic for the first time - again. also, the humor in it is 10/10 haha!!

(also, if u were wondering or worried, i’m also okay with waking up with no memories do to other things and not just LB. incase u were worried that i’m strictly dependent on LB, which i’m not LMAO)

i would’ve submitted this a couple months ago, but i couldn’t put it into words. i don’t think i can possibly explain what you and your fic means to me, so the sun over the horizon will have to do.

even if you think that it’s cheesy that a goofy voltron fic means so much to someone, i hope you find it in yourself to treasure your talent and skill in writing.

i’m so excited for the next chapter, and the next sunrise i get to see <3

here is a pic of the sun i took this morning. thank you for writing, and reading this really long ask. there’s no pressure to respond, although it would be cool to see, but i hope you read this nonetheless. btw u can publish the response if u were wondering.

sincerely,

D <3

I have been trying quite desperately to compose an answer to this one since it first appeared in my inbox, and at this point I don't know that I'll ever be able to do you justice, but two months is far too long for you to have waited for something of this magnitude, so please bear with me while I endeavour to do my absolute best.

First and foremost, I am so sorry for everything you've been through (though I can only assume you've heard that sentiment ad nauseam, so do forgive me if you're sick of it), but more than that I am distinctly and unbelievably proud of the grace with which you seem to have taken such catastrophe in stride. I couldn't possibly claim comprehend the true scope of all that you've endured, but I hope in some small way it might give you,,, comfort? a sense of camaraderie maybe? to know that aphasia is something I'm intimately familiar with as a recurrent symptom of my migraines, due to them being hemiplegic in nature, so I know the frustration of being unable to comprehend sounds you know you should recognise- being unable to articulate your own thoughts- feeling half trapped inside your own damn skull- all too well, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone, least of so sweet a soul as yourself.

My darling, I'll say again: I am //fiercely fucking proud// of you, for not only enduring but in truth overcoming all that you have. Though we do not know one another, this message alone bleeds with such admirable strength of character that I cannot think you anything less than a remarkable and resilient individual, and to know that my writing could in any capacity support you through such an ordeal is both an honour and a privilege.

All my love,

lilflowerpot ♡

[void-kissed]

for ur writing ask game, talk abt any of ur reborn fics :]

Clara. My treasured friend. I am going to be here for months. This is one of the best asks I've ever received and I mean that

(source: this post by void-kissed - hey, that’s me!)

Name a piece of writing that I’ve posted, and I’ll give you some thoughts and analysis of it! - I should probably try and limit this to one bullet point per piece, because I'd like to talk about multiple, but.. who knows what will happen, haha

This will probably get VERY long, but oh well! You asked for this! And I am only too happy to provide what you have asked for!!!!

Alright, here we go!!

Okay, so, I believe the first piece of writing I did for Reborn was To Stand Before The Void, back for Sapphic September two years ago. This is the scene where Luna and Adriana find each other within the Void itself, and.. while it covers some pretty serious thoughts of Luna's that I'll admit I wasn't really sure how best to explain in my writing, I like to think it does still hold up.

One thing I do want to point out is that the events shown in this piece are the reason why this selfship's name is "void-kissed"! As a result of being in the Void as they were here, both Luna and Adriana end up with some.. lasting consequences, shall we say. Luna becomes even more one with the shadows than she already was, almost disappearing into any nearby darkness if you aren't looking at her directly, while the white freckles Adriana had across her face spread into star-like marks found all over her hair and body - she also becomes able to see some of the things that Anna can about people, such as Cain's pitch-black eyes and Taka's broken wing. (I'm not sure whether to say she's aware of her wings by this point though - maybe she can start to feel them, but can't see them/figure out which wings they are until the Giratina quest?)

The stars Luna is walking on are "lifeless" and not shining very brightly at the start because of her intentions to escape into the darkness of the Void, as well as to show that the Void is not really a very good place. However, they are still brighter than the ones Cain was running on because of Luna's own affinity with the Void, as shown by how she is later able to manipulate the New World somewhat thanks to the power of her Emerald Brooch.

I referenced Anna a lot in this writing despite never calling her Anna - for example, she is of course both "little Fantasia" and "the little girl with the Jirachi doll" that is the only one not unsettled by Shade's presence at the end. I also used the quote that Anna is shown with on the wiki page for Reborn about falling stars wishing on each other, because I thought it led nicely into saying that "Right now, Luna's wish was to fall". Anna also supports Adriana in not wanting Luna to die, in the form of the "wishes of the starlight" that are present when she makes her decision.

In the game itself, Luna is very associated with Alice in Wonderland - all of her Pokémon are nicknamed after characters from Wonderland, and Luna's adopted parents even represent both the Mad Hatter (Radomus) and the Looking Glass (Serra) respectively. But if Luna herself is Alice, and is a girl who wishes to live in a land of fairytale, then that makes Adriana Wonderland, the place (or, rather, person) she feels truly at home with. This is the conclusion Luna comes to in the Void, and why her story continues even after the point where she thought she was going to end it.

Luna mistaking Cain for Adri mainly just came out of the fact that both have a fair bit of purple in their outfits, but even then they don't really look all that similar (Cain's design is very bright and colourful, whereas Adriana's is a lot more subdued). So it was mostly just to try and pad things out and show that Cain also gets out safely here (which I could retcon now that I know what the full game does, but oh well).

The first line that Shade says at the end - "Abyss is unrelenting.." - is what he says to the player before battling them if they lost to him in his Gym, while the other lines are ones I made up and tried to make fit how he normally talks. He's the one that successfully pulled Adriana and Luna out of the Void, and he's basically telling them to both keep going and make it to the end of the game by experiencing the final episode/chapter together. But in less fourth-wall-breaking terms than that.

Overall: you can definitely tell I wrote this back when Episode 18 was still the newest update to the game. I think that what I changed in it (i.e. Luna and Cain surviving the Void) could still be true to my version of events, since Cain could still become Umbral during or right before the Diancie quest after getting lost in the New World beforehand maybe? I forget when it is that you see him stuck in there, but I know it's quite early, and maybe his having also been void-kissed contributed to higher susceptibility to the Umbral state. And considering Luna comes back to Reborn during the literal first postgame quest of them all, I don't think much is negatively affected by having her just.. have survived the whole time.

Timeline-wise, I think this one can definitely apply to both third and second. You can just explain it as Shade having dragged the player out of the Void before then going back in for Luna and Adri in the third timeline.

Oh dear, that was perhaps a lot for just one piece. Oh well!

The other piece of writing that I've done for my selfship with Luna was Return on Crow's Wings, which describes Luna and Adriana finally being able to reunite after Adri got stuck in the Carnelia region, since Agate City was not safe to travel back through. For context for those who haven't played the game, the last time the two had met was the Gym battle that Adriana had with Luna, where she won her ninth Gym Badge, and they meet again just after Adriana gets her thirteenth Gym Badge. It's been long enough for Reborn City to become very revitalised as well.

This writing is labelled as only being applicable to second timeline, but the only reason for that is because of Adri flying on the back of Kelaino, her Honchkrow; I hadn't finalised her mono-Ghost-type team yet when I wrote this, so any depiction of her with Pokémon that aren't Ghost-types during the maingame story (except Sidera and Argent) refers to second timeline. However, the same events do still happen the same way in the current/third timeline; it's just that Adriana flies back with the help of Drifter, her Drifblim, instead. I rendered that here, incidentally.

The way the end of the battle is described, with Argent knocking out Noivern and so on, was actually how it went when I played through the game after Episode 19 came out! I remember writing down what happened on each turn of the battle specifically for the purposes of this writing piece.

I actually wrote the last lines of this piece first, because I had used them as a caption for a render of the ending that I'm fairly sure I ended up making before actually finishing the writing. If I hadn't have written those lines, I would probably have let the piece continue to show Luna's reaction outright, and probably ended it on Adriana and Luna finally being able to embrace again after so long ^-^

Technically all you said was Reborn fics, so I can mention Tale of a Corybantic Blade here! It's the piece of writing that's all about Corybantia, Adriana's Honedge, going from when she first finds it in the Mirage Tower to when it evolves to stop Titania stabbing Taka. Again, this is a second-timeline-only piece, because Adri doesn't travel through Tourmaline with Taka in the third timeline.

When I wrote this piece, I had two questions in mind: how many references could I put into one piece of writing, and could I write a piece about Pokémon without making it clear that it's about Pokémon? I like to think that the answer to both of those questions was "yes".

I actually have written an entire analysis document myself about all the references I put in, which you can find here! So.. I probably shouldn't elaborate any more here. I invite you to go and read the document if you want the full analysis of that piece, hehe~

I do have one more piece of Reborn writing, technically, but it's very very short, so I don't know how much I'd say it counts as an outright fic. It's this scene, which I wrote out about the concept of Saphira having an opportunity to go and deal with Sigmund like she so desperately felt she needed to, during the Labradorra section, because Adriana had to heal up her Pokémon before battling him and the PULSE-Mr. Mime.

This piece didn't have a ton of opportunity for me to do anything particularly fun, but I did enjoy portraying Saphira as so furious that "a dragon's fullest might could not have held the Gym Leader back". I also managed to slip in both her and Adriana's Trainer titles as part of this, so that was fun.

Rereading it, I have just noticed one fun thing that I did - namely, describing Adriana coming back into the control centre "just as she had done both a few minutes and one clock ago". This is referencing how Noel refers to the previous timelines as being "clocks ago", rather than, say, "days ago", which I remembered thinking was neat! So, in turn, this line is referring to this piece being ostensibly set in third timeline, as Adriana has already gone through the game's events once before in second timeline.

In general, I also just thought the last three sentences built up to a very vivid image. Sigmund deserved what he got.

Okay!! There we go!! Well over one and a half thousand words of my rambles for you, friend!! Thank you so so much once again for this opportunity, and goodnight!

[yersina]

Tbh I wanna ask the whole thing but to stick to the realm of reasonability may I ask 7, 10, 14, 23, and 29? And anything else you might want to answer if there's any. 🦭 [decompresses from the lack of pressure]

[weird questions for writers]

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

Ohhh what an interesting question! I think what I love most abt writing—why I still write even if it only results in unfinished wips—is… hm how to put this… an execution of an idea? Putting my own spin on a concept? Bringing smth to life from my mind and onto a page? Like I just love thinking about things, and writing gives me a way to share that w other ppl or put it into words, and that’s what’s best about it!

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

LOL uh the first definition that comes to mind for a piece of writing ‘haunting’ me is in the ‘god why did I write this’ sense, in which case I’d probably say my fanfic from my hetalia days……. A full ten years ago at this point…… But I’m also an advocate for not being ashamed of your writing no matter how old or cringy it is bc we all had to start somewhere right? And it still brought me joy at one point even if it doesn’t anymore, so I wouldn’t exactly say that it really does haunt me per se haha

The other sense of ‘haunting’ is probably ‘I think abt it a lot’ in which case—my wips haunt me. OTL

14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back?

I do! Not as much (read: at all) anymore bc my friends and I have all diverged in terms of preferences and also physical location, but in high school, sometimes I’d even give my kindle acct in order to share ebooks haha.

But I’ve also always been a library person, and my physical collection is exceedingly small. I also don’t tend to reread anything? So I only buy books if there’s a reason I’d want to display it and/or come back to it. And it’s hard to lend books if you don’t own them haha. I would lend them if I had any though!

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

So. Most often I’m on my bed (full size, cheap, IKEA) and on top of my blankets (cheap, Amazon). I do most of my work in bed and lying down lol and also on my phone bc if I waited until I had my computer I would get nothing done. It’s probably either late at night or very early in the morning (bc I am unfortunately both a night owl and an early bird—no sleep for me!), so the light is rather dim. I have several larger stuffed animals w me on my bed (one is ice bear from CN, one’s a weighted dragon plushie, and one’s a really loooong shiba-dog-thing that’s probably close to my height) that I can prop my head up on or squash beneath me, depending on my mood. I also have an extra pillow to put against the wall for if I do decide to do anything while sitting up (currently cuddling it as I write this). A lot of what I own is a shade of blue or green. There’s a string of white Christmas lights around the wall next to my bed bc I can’t stand the brightness of the overhead light. Currently there’s a half-finished quilt rolled up beside me.

Really tho I write anywhere inspiration strikes me. Once I wrote a decent chunk while sitting in my car in the parking lot of a homegoods lol

29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?

Hm… my inspiration probably comes most often from other people! I had a ton of fun with all the sctir prompts I got a while back :) A lot of my favorite ideas that I’ve executed comes from putting a spin on an existing trope or concept, or from seeing smth around tumblr or twitter and wanting to write my own version.

My inspiration well runs dry very often, actually. I’m a huge binge-writer—most of what you see from me is stuff that I wrote within a couple days, which is why most of my fics tend to be short. I’m definitely not one of those ‘write a little bit every day!!’ kind of people—that would never work for me, and kinda drains my soul. Trust me I’ve tried lol (case in point: I managed to do an entire nanowrimo a couple years ago (the whole 50k!) and never touched or looked at that fic ever again. Was a fantastic exercise, but just not the way I work). Usually if I have an active wip, I do try to go back to it every couple days, just to make sure I don’t forget about it entirely haha. If I’m not actively working on an idea, I try not to let it bother me too much; the waiting is as much a part of my writing process as the actual writing. I’m all for making it easier for yourself—fanfic writing is a hobby, not a job, and I’m here for my own enjoyment more than anything else. I want to lean into it most when I’m happiest, yknow? :)

Bonus question for fun: 11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

Yes absolutely!!! This isn’t to say that you should ruthlessly get rid of what you love most in your writing, but definitely don’t be too attached to every single word you write. The writing advice that I’ve found most helpful so far in my writing journey is: if you’re stuck in your writing, the problem isn’t with the current scene or paragraph, it’s what happened before. I’ve also had an English teacher suggest to us once that we should try rewriting something from memory to pare down to what’s most important (bc anything you don’t remember isn’t essential). I start over all the time if smth’s not working for me and I delete and go back if I get stuck. If I’m getting rid of smth that’s longer, I do try to keep it around or move it to a separate doc in case I need to use it later, or to try and incorporate into a different scene so that I’m not dropping it entirely, but I’ve found myself doing that less and less as I go. It’s annoying, maybe, but I don’t grieve haha

Kill your darlings, for sure 🔪

(ALSO the best part abt fanfiction is that even if a scene that you really love doesn’t work in the main sequence, you’re allowed to write spin offs and side stories and extra scenes as much as you want to lol. Like killing your darlings doesn’t have to mean you resign it to never seeing the light of day, maybe you just fake their death and move them to a different neighborhood skdnejcbjdd)

[sophi-s]

A Karen coworker wants to report me to our manager for "bad behavior"

This story is gonna be a long one but I need to give some background to make sure all makes sense. Don't mind any potential typos and grammar mistakes I fail to catch, I'm still kinda mad while I'm writing this and English ain't my first language. (I wanted this to go on r/F**kYouKaren but it got deleted :[ )

I work at a small confectionery at my hometown for minimal wage to try and get by. I work 8 hour day shifts (6 A.M. - 2 P.M.), 5 days week and my current job is baking cookies, filling them and such, as well as help with other things when I'm done with my stuff. Our kitchen squad consists 100% of women of various ages. I am the youngest member of the staff, nearing my 22nd birthday in autumn and funnily enough, I am good friends with the oldest member, we'll call her Katie (not her real name), who's almost 60 and preparing to retire due to unpleasant atmosphere.

The star of the story shall ofc be called Karen for reasons that will soon become apparent. She's not a stereotypical Karen when it comes to appearance but she's still the short, stocky woman (i'd guess) in her 40s. At the start, I was mostly not paying attention to her, treating her no different than I would anyone else. But I've made a horrible mistake of having the audacity to one day (abt 2 weeks into my new job) ask how you operate the oven with a touch screen as I had no clue what to do with him. The first warning of beginning a slow descent into madness was almost a year ago now and it was a massive, dramatic eye roll followed by unhelpful silence. Go figure. At that moment I knew we aren't gonna be friends.

In my defense, I tried to be nice to her. Saying "hi" to her every day and being as respectful as I could. All I received were scornful glares of entitlement and either more silence or a barely audible "Hey" through gritted teeth as though it would kill her to say it louder and nicer. The real show began when Karen started to boss me around, addressing me in a very disrespectful manner and talking as though she expected me to read her thoughts and know what she wanted me to do 5 years prior to even considering working there. She picks on me about the smallest things like a bucket being 1 inch out of place or a nearly invisible smear on a bowl. One time I was in line to the sink to wash my stuff when I heard "Do you have to stand here?" in a very mocking way. Apparently, Karen's butt is too big to walk around me, even though I was barely in the way, she had two-me-sized amount of space. And when I dared to say she has space to walk around while proceeding to wash my things, I saw Karen storming over to the other half of the sink (it's divided in two) and I already knew wht was coming when she lifed the heavy metal bowl she was holding. Now, I'm rather sensitive when it comes to sudden, loud noises and I tend to flinch at unexpected bangs or crashes and Karen noticed it, hence why she deliberately chucked that metal bowl into a metal sink. Thankfully I was prepared and remained calm despite the pang I got in my chest, merely raising an eyebrow. Karen's bullying goes farther than that, however. She chastised me for not washing the sink after I was done using it at the end of the shift (I took a rag to clean my table and intended to come right back to clean the sink too) and when I used a slightly-above-indoor voice, she went "You don't get to talk to me like that. You can talk like that at home to your mommy". Yes, this is the exact phrasing. Not only did she disrespect me as an adult, she also disrespected my mother. Mind you, my mom is disabled after a stroke she suffered in her mid 30s (plus mishandling of the situation by medical team) when I was just above 3 years old and I still remember to this day. We live in a small town so everyone knows about it. Every time I think about it today, I realize I could've lost her. I haven't received as much attention from my parents as dad had to provide for three kids and a disabled person. Still, I love her very much and I'm thankful she's alive. Every insult directed at her, I take super personally and I'm ready to throw hands to defend her. I was two seconds from doing something stupid when Karen said that. This only gets worse. Twice now, she's gone after me while I was in the freaking bathroom, yelling at me to "get off the phone", even though I entered barely two minutes before. Like, c'mon, let a woman sh1t in peace.

Overall, this delightful person has been treating me an Katie like garbage (other coworkers aren't very helpful). Okay, I admit, I talk smack abt her with Katie quite a lot but I feel like it's kinda called for. I might be a jerk but that's not the topic. Anyway, the story that pissed me off so much, happened today in the morning. And it's a combination of various things, actually. First of all, Karen uses the passive-aggressive approach, saying "someone talks too loudly. And those talks about cats and dogs make me want to puke". That was enough to sorta trigger me, I love my hellspawn of a cat and I enjoy talking about him with Katie while she talks about her dog. But since I'm not fond of confrontation, I kept my head down and muttered "go f yourself" under my breath, thankfully unheard by anyone. I never reply to provokation attempts, I just put every time she mistreated me in a bag for later. Not even 10 minutes later, I was laughing at something Katie told me. Then, after she went to buy some bread from the adjacent bakery that our boss, we'll call her Mary (not real name either), also owns, I heard Karen sh1ttalking me. She was like "She's being paid for working, not laughing!" (because I can't do both, obviously /s) and that was only the beginning. "She works for the same money as we do. That way, she might as well go lie down in the changeroom or go home" (yes, those cookies are baked by pixies and filled by invisible gnomes) "She's the youngest and has the most to say! I should report her to the manager, then the laughs are gonna end!"

Yes. She wants me fired because I had the gall to laugh at sth a friend told me. And she also talks like this out loud but as if I was not there or like I'm some emotionless, innimate object, unworthy of addressing. I just grit my teeth and ignored her to get my work done. And at that moment, I realized her strategy. This absolute b-word thinks I'm scared of her. She thinks she can tell whatever crap she wants to our boss and that I'll just quietly take it as I always do, then leave without a fight. I decided I've had enough. I dare you, Karen. Report me. Say what you wish. I am ready.

Just to make things clear. Mary has a son who used to go to the same class as I. He's my age and because of that, she kinda treats me like her daughter. Calls me with either a fond a dimunitive of my name or "darling" ect. and makes sure I always eat second breakfast during the workday. So even if she does confront me, she knows Karen can be a pile of garbage and despises confrontation as much as I do. So yes. I am looking forward to the day Karen musters enough entitlement to report me. I will just take that aforementioned bag of insults and bullying, use it like a baking mix and make a delicious sh1tcake, sprinkled with a perfect amount of sweet Karma, which I'll just smack her in the face with.

If I don't quit my job before it happens (I'm moving out), I will update the story. That being said, the conviction I stand by is that respect is not a privilege gained with age. You have to work for it and earn it. Karen hasn't done that despite me giving her a chance several times. I hope even if I don't have that particular confrontation, Karma will eventually get her at some point

[merouses]

Games Mero Played, 2022 edition

Yeah the year’s ending, and among other things I’ve been wanting to practice my writing skills in general so here’s short review type things about most of the games I played this year, big and small (as long as I remember them). Not that anyone’ll read this but yeah. Might do one for books too later.

So, in no particular order:

Xenoblade 3 - This one was fun. For those who don’t know me, I’d say that Xenoblade is probably on my Top 2 favourite game series (the other being Zero Escape DO NOT GET ME STARTED ON ZERO ESCAPE), so I was, obviously, extremely excited for this one, so much so I timed my work vacation to play this game. And boy did I need those 3 weeks off, this game, as most jrpgs, took like 200h to complete, enjoyable all the way. Really the only problem to be said abt it is that the real climax of the story happens like 4/5ths into the game? And the rest feels a bit like they ran out of steam or money or time, or all of the above. A greatly dissappointing final stretch, bland final dungeon and tedious final boss kinda sour the game’s conclusion, but otherwise this really was THE rpg of the year.

Splatoon 3 - I’m don’t think I’m that big a fan of splatoon? Like, the gameplay is very fun indeed, but I guess multiplayer games in general will tire me out quickly as I get very salty very fast when I don’t win. But that aside Splatoon 3 is great! Very fun! Cute squid-octopus-kids abound! A fun single player mode that feels complete! Whenever some of my friends want to play something together I think this will be our go to game. I just wish this  ONLINE MULTIPLAYER GAME’s online wasn’t such utter garba- Connection Error, you have been disconnected

Bayonetta 3 - Oof. Thats all I can really say abt this game, unfortunately. Well, clearly not, as there’re more a big paragraph here, but ‘oof’ does capture my feelings in all. I was so so so excited for this game. I loved the previous two games (though Im faaaar from a actual avid player of them, pure platinum is just not something I have patience for, and I didn’t even beat any of the superbosses throughout the series), and I love Bayo very very much. The VA drama happenned, and yes it did dampen my hype a decent amount, but I was still excited to play the game which I did and..... yeah. This game’s just not as fun as the previous games, by far. There’s no fun Bayo backtalk, this time she just lets the  villain monologue. There are a few fun, campy setpieces as usual, but they’re surrounded by such a dour atmosphere! One of them does come close to making the game as fun as the previous ones though, the Ba’al Zebul fight  specifically (this here was THE DIVA MOMENT I wanted. But Bayo herself barely reacted or interacted with her, she just looked silently on after the fight, as she did most of the game). But then the ending happenned and it lands with as much grace as shit hits the toilet (mind you, I don’t really care about the straight thing? Sure it comes out of nowhere but it’s as plausible as anything at that point. What really bothered me was the FOUR ‘Oh we won! oh wait no’ sequences that happenned. In succession. With no payoff). And then there’s the combat, which, yeah, is much closer to the engaging fun of the previous titles’ than the story, but somehow it still didn’t click with me, though yeah keep in mind here I’m not a hardcore player of action games. It’s just... disappointing. I don’t think I’m playing the next games in the series, at least not at launch. I’ll want confirmation that the tone is back where I like it first, at least. Even though it came out years ago, I think Astral Chain takes the cake between these two.

Pokemon Legends Arceus - I didn’t expect much from this game, but in the end it was a fun, refreshing experience. I had a blast exploring Sinnoh through this past lens, even though the edges were very..... polygonal, and the gameplay and focus on just catching oodles of pokemon was like a breath of fresh air. Sure the plot was as simple as I expected, but there were enough twists there to tide me over, and the soundtrack sure helped. I did not play sword and shield, and really only played this cause I love Sinnoh so much (and cause a friend lent it to me), and it was my enjoyment of this game which led me to tentatively buy...

Pokemon Violet - I bring nothing new to the table here. These games might be the best pokemon has felt since black and white, the story (all 3 routes, really) might be basic and not that imaginative, but they’re executed more than satisfacorily, the soundtrack is great and the pokemon themselves are more than decent, barring a couple duds (bellibolt I loathe you. Pawmot you have no reason to exist). BUT yeah these games are broken to shit. Like, yes this is unexcusable. Which makes it all the more confounding WHY do I want to keep playing this game??? I just hope the next games in the series take their sweet time getting here. Please Pokemon Company, let the devs at GameFreak REST.

Dragon Quest XI Echoes of the blablabla S - I played this this year??? Wow. Anyway, a great jrpg with decent enough plot, honestly what I expected from a dragon quest game: doesn’t take itself too seriously but still manages to keep you engaged throuhout. A highlight was the final boss actually needing your party to be close to lvl 99, which is rare for jrpgs.

Touhou 18.5 100th black market - ZUN wanted to make a roguelike and he sure did it! I’m not the best at danmaku games, even though they hold a special place in my heart, but this game was so easy to cheese I managed to 100% it! Take from that what you will, but if anything this was a great continuation from what UM brought to the table.

The Gardener and the Wild Vines - A short indie puzzle-action game, plus it’s gay! I didn’t bother finishing all the challenges, just beat the story and got its collectibles, but honestly this game’s blend of fast action and puzzle elements was fun enough, even though it got a bit button mashy at times. Idk I feel like Im underselling it, it was a charming and engaging experience, clearly heartfelt, and it feels fun to play.

Boyfriend Dungeon - The only game here I just dropped like 80min in, uncerimoniously. I could just copy paste my steam review here, but tldr: ‘The romance aspect feels cheap, simultaneously needing you to engage with it but rejecting you, and that un-makes the game. Combat’s fine but nothing special’.

Bad End Theater - A cute lovely visual novel, which lets you guide the narrative through 4 characters. Small and comfy feeling! Honestly not much else to say other than I enjoyed it!

Great Ace Attourney Chronicles - Almost a remake of the first AA, but in a cool new setting and with different enough characters. Fun throughout, save for a couple of the middle cases, as usual. This game’s failings are the usual AA failings, ‘oh you know how this case will play out already?? Well prepare to slooooowly watch the characters figure it out for 5 whole hours’. I understand why it’s like this but it’s still agonizing. Other than that, man do I feel bad for the people who played this game in 2 parts in the 3ds. The first one alone really isn’t a complete experience. In this package, though, thourouly enjoyable, and an amazing OST.

Paradise Killer - this one is cheating a bit, as I completed it previously around a year ago I think? But there was a decently big content update and I replayed it in full and honestly. This game is a delight. While sure the mystery in itself isn’t anything special, the setting is so interesting. The idea of getting to explore this whole island and collect clues around the whole place is a great one, and all while listening to a STELLAR soundtrack. Do yourself a favour and play this game.

Tales of the Neon Sea - This.... was fine. An interesting, if cliche, cyberpunk setting, an interesting enough mystery... I’ll be honest this game did not stick in my mind, it’s pretty bland, even though it’s fun enough. Sadly the things I most remember about this game are that it opens with a mystery unrelated to the rest of the plot and ends with an unengaging cliffhanger that comes out of nowhere. They’re trying to set up a series, here, but it wasn’t worth it.

Touhou Dream Logical World - The first touhou danmaku fangame I played! And it’s fun enough, the aspect shift mechanic brought a lot of fun to me playing the game, as even if I was just trying to survive a whole run it made me play for a highscore. Some patterns are just bullshit though, especially on first encounter. Oh and the plot is complete nonsense, and it takes waaay too much time from playing. This made me realise that the less speech boxes before a boss, the better, at least for this type of game.

Yugioh Master Duel - I’ve watched yugioh youtubers for a couple of years now, but I still don’t play the game. I tried a bit in this, but... I lost a lot, raged, refused to engage with the gatcha system (don’t do gatcha kids) and uninstalled. As a virtual way to play the game though, its fine.

Bugsnax - I got this as soon as it came out on steam and boy was it worth it. A fun romp through a deserted island, with interesting mystery and lore thats developed just enough to wet the appetite. What really got me though were the characters, I ended the game having enjoyed pretty much everyone, everyone was surprisingly hearfelt, even through the goofy lens of the game! Oh and the snax are great, love bunger.

What the Golf - Cute puzzle game! ...honestly not much more to say. All the levels are fun to at least complete on a first go, some of the 100% challenges go above and beyond to have a fun twist on an already fun twist on golf! Some of these completion challenges though are just... trial and error, and I do not have the patience for that. All in all though, you can tell that the devs had a blast coming up with the weirdest ways to play ‘golf’, and that joy is present throughout.

Aer: Memories of Old - I got this game massively discounted and tbh thats the way it should be bought. Not that its bad per se, flying around and solving puzzles is pretty fun and engaging, even though there’s not that much to do. The big disappointment here is the plot. There’s not much of it, but that in and of itself is not bad. It sets itself up kinda like botw, in the sense that there’s a little set up and then you’re free to explore, and there are some clues as to what happenned here and there. But then the game sets up its endgame, getting into this big monolith in the middle of the map, and you do and then... its over. No boss no resolution to the mysteries, nothing to cap off the experience, there’s barely a cutscene and it ends. This is another one I played a while ago, and honestly? The bummer is that that lack of an ending is what stuck.

Moonlighter - This was a fun one, finding items in dungeons at night and selling them in the day was a great gameplay loop! I played up to the final boss, but in the end didn’t bother beating it for whatever reason. I think in the end the combat itself, while fun, didn’t scale great to the later dungeons/bosses.

Cities Skylines - City builders like this are a lot of fun, and I thought I’d get so much out of this game... but turns out I just don’t have the patience, focus and/or force of will to play these types of games for a long while. Good for what it is, and I learned a bit abt myself in the process.

Final Fantasy XIV - Yeah yeah I played the acclaimed yadda yadda free demo up to level blah blah with expansion and cheese. This game’s fun! Thoughrouly enjoyable. Just another game that I just don’t really have the patience for, turns out. I got to what I think was the end of the main plot and peaced out, but what I played was good enough. Doesn’t help no other friends of mine play it, or that my skull’ll melt if I engage in social activities through an MMO.

Kirby and the Forgotten Land - A lovely experience. I don’t know how, but I think this was the most perfect game I played this year! Just pure joy from begginning to end! And I think what really made me just... happy, from this game, was that I was perfectly content when I 100%ed it. I felt extremely satisfied with basically everything I played. Sure I could go for a few more levels or a replay now, but then, when I finished the game, I felt like everything was its perfect length. Kirby came to 3D and showed that waiting however many years for this was entirely worth it.

AI The Somnium Files: nirvanA Initiative - Uchikoshi strikes again!! And man how do I love it when he strikes. The man’s an icon, even though he’s not the director this time around. His games are iconic too! There’s not much I want so say about this game other than ‘go play it’, it’s a great mystery game that doesn’t take itself too seriously. Sure the main, big twist may be a bit too... out there, and there IS an aspect of it that I dislike, but just the way every detail falls into place? I love that shit. The characters? So much fun!! The main mystery? Sure it’s not perfect, but damn is it fun to experience. Again, I love these games!!! Oh, and the completion bonus?!?!?? Oh my god. Oh my god!! What a treat!!! I was laughing to myself almost crying. You can definetly tell that this guy and the team he works with at Spike Chunsoft love the games they’re making.

I think that’s everything? Or at least most of everything. If it’s not here then damn that game was forgettable, I guess. All in all a pretty decent year! A lot of 3′s. The best game I played I think has to go to kirby, but my favourite of the year.... idk a year is a long time and I enoyed a lot of these games.

If you’re interested Im probably going to post links to all the indies here in a reblog, so check if that’s already there!

[drawlfoy]

across the pond P.1

masterlist request guidelines

pairing: hbp!draco x reader

requested: for the harry potter writing event!

summary: y/n y/l/n, an american witch with a fascination for the dark arts, is wrenched from her home to study abroad during a period of political turmoil. things were complicated enough without draco malfoy crashing into her life. 6th year slightly canon divergent fic/slight soulmate AU (if soulmate aus really aren’t your thing, dw. this is still a slowburn)

WARNINGS: this is a very dark fic. be warned. mentions of domestic terrorism, bigotry, slut shaming, explicit language, allusions to sex, violence, mild gore. 

a/n: soooo this is in fact a rewrite of faux diplomacy. i hope you enjoy! i’ve had great fun writing this and participating in the harry potter writing event. apologies for any typos/eerrors. i started this project abt a week or so ago and it’s been a sprint to finish this. 

wc: 13.1k

tags hehe @writeandtranslate @sycathorn-slush @gruffle1 @missmultifandommess @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell @yiamalfoy @crystalox @dracoismybabey @dreamcxtcherr @decaffeinated-turtle @marrymetheonott @felicityofbakerstreet @daedreamss @sycathorn-slush @writeandtranslate @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural @sycathorn-slush @big-galaxy-chaos @lilyrachelcassidy 

enjoy!

It all happened so suddenly. One moment, she was laughing with Jackie in her dorm and attending classes in the modern Arithmancy building and swimming in the lake that bordered campus. The next, she was standing outside the rubble that she once called home with one duffle bag, stretched silly with extension charm after extension charm. 

They called it a freak accident, a tragedy. Y/N knew it for what it was, though. No amount of mincing words would cover up the information that her father had hastily owled her: it was a terrorist attack, clear and simple. The extremist spirit, brought forth by the rise of Voldemort, had seeped into the American Wizarding World and mobilized the long forgotten WFP (Wizards for Purity) group that had otherwise shuffled off into the shadows of the South. So much had been made clear by the attack on the MACUSA Center of Muggle Affairs earlier that month. 

“Do you think you’re ready?” said Jackie from behind her. Y/N turned towards her roommate, clutching her bag so tight that her knuckles paled in the mild autumn weather. 

“I’m going to miss you,” she said. While she meant it, the words seemed hollow. Of course she was going to miss her. “I miss you” didn’t even begin to capture the tearing she was going to feel once they parted ways. “What am I going to do without you?”

Jackie stepped closer, her eyebrows knitted. “You’re going to be fine. I’m sure this will all blow over soon. Once they rebuild everything and reset the wards, we’ll be right back to normal.” 

She offered a watery smile, wanting more than anything to tell her roommate that no, it was not just a matter of rebuilding and architectural logistics. But her father had made it clear to her in his last letter: she needed to keep it under wraps. If the whole of the Wizarding World knew that the WFP was back, there’d be pandemonium. In no uncertain terms, her only job was to ensure that her things were packed in time for her to be transferred to Hogwarts. She hadn’t told Jackie that part—the one that specified that she would not be returning to Ilvermorny. She didn’t have it in her. “Have you heard back from Mahoutokoro yet?”

“Yeah.” Jackie kicked a stone that rested by her foot. 

“And?”

“They say that they’re sorry, but—”

“That’s fucking ridiculous,” said Y/N. “I can’t believe they wouldn’t let you in.”

“It’s the middle of the fall term, Y/N,” she said gently. 

“So come to Hogwarts with me!”

“You know that the only reason you’re able to participate in a non-existent exchange program is because of your dad.”

“Maybe he can get you in too.”

Jackie sighed. “I don’t want to ride your coattails. I’m sorry. I just don’t think I’d be happy there knowing that I’m only allowed because of my best friend’s dad.”

“I get that.” Y/N swallowed. “But you’re still leaving the country, right?”

She shrugged. “I might go visit my family in Japan anyways. Maybe they can help me transfer.”

“That’s good. That’s good you’re doing that.” Y/N’s mouth was dry and cottony. She didn’t like lying. She’d always been an awful liar, the awkwardness of telling a fib obvious in her stature and lack of eye contact. So, as sick as it was, she was almost relieved as Marvin, her advisor, waved her over to the academic green where a group of faculty and staff were forming. “So this is goodbye,” she said, turning to look Jackie in the eye.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” 

“No, I’m just—”

“You’re looking away again,” said Jackie sourly. “There is something you’re not telling me.”

“Y/N! The portkey is about to activate!” Marvin’s voice thundered from across the green as she looked helplessly at Jackie.

“I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you more—”

“Tell me what?”

“I need to go,” said Y/N, sidestepping Jackie’s attempt to grab her arm. “I’m so sorry. Just be careful, okay? Leave the country. Take any opportunity you get. Come to Hogwarts with me if you can.”

“But why would I need to—”

“Goodbye, Jackie.” Y/N took one last look at her oldest friend before turning tail and jogging to the green, the sick feeling of guilt coiled in her stomach.

~

Y/N had never been to Hogwarts before. She had visited the Ministry once with her father when she was a small child, so young that she could barely remember anything beyond the perplexity she felt at the strange accents and the coolness that chilled her to the bone as she walked around London. This time, her family wasn’t there to accompany her. She wasn’t even able to partake in the classic experience of riding the Hogwarts Express—something that she had seen everywhere in contemporary wizarding fiction set in the UK. No, it was the middle of October, and the green leaves had already begun to shrivel and die. 

The portkey spat her and Marvin up on the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley. There had been something horribly wrong with the magical barrier around where she had grabbed the boot. In their travels, she had been dragged underwater for a moment in the Atlantic. Thankfully, she was fine. Unthankfully, she now smelled of seaweed and was shivering so hard that her teeth were chattering. Their arrival brought forth the attention of the passing wizards on the streets. Marvin rushed the cast drying spells over Y/N’s damp Horned Serpent robes, a soft emerald that easily became filmy upon contact with water. Once Marvin was satisfied with his work, he stepped back and gestured at the shops with open hands. 

“Here’s Diagon Alley. This is where most British Wizards do their shopping. The necklace I gave you will act as a portkey to the actual Hogwarts Castle—hopefully that one will be a much drier experience this time around. I thought you might want to stop here to replace any supplies that may have been lost in the fire.”

“Thanks, Marvin,” she said. 

“Well, I should get going,” her companion said, brushing his palms off and gripping the boot again. 

“You aren’t coming with me?”

Marvin shook his head. “You’ll be fine. Do whatever shopping you need to do and be sure to use the portkey once the clock strikes 5. The headmaster will be waiting for you.”

She gave him a tight smile. Without another word, Marvin disappeared, his form contorting and folding into the light until nothing left of him remained. 

It was a gloomy October day with thick, black clouds reaching across the sky. The street lamps weren’t on, but warm yellow light spilled from the windows of the shops on the sides of the cobbled streets. Not every shop was alight, though. Some had their windows smashed in, glass littering the sidewalk and their interiors dark. Wind ruffled the worn edges of the parchment “WANTED” posters posted on the buildings, depicting a manic looking Bellatrix Lestrange cackling alongside other wizards that Y/N couldn’t put a name to. A newspaper stand caught her eye. Copies of The Daily Prophet were stacked haphazardly on poorly painted green shelves, wrought with splinters. She tossed down 2 sickles and picked up a copy, flipping through it as she walked.

As far as she knew, she didn’t need anything. Thanks to the many extension charms she’d placed on her bag, as well as the fact that her dorm wasn’t the first to be destroyed, she’d had time to pack and bring everything she could feasibly ever want abroad. It was clear that Marvin had assumed otherwise. It was half past 4, and there was nothing left for her to do but wait until the portkey opened. It was times like these that she wished that she could legally apparate. 

As she perused the Daily Prophet, something on the front caught her eye. Alongside the many bolded titles depicting the Death Eater attacks on muggles, there was an article on the trial of the Malfoy family. Y/N remembered briefly hearing the name in her European Wizarding History class. It was an old name, she thought. An old, important name. It was a pureblood family, that much she knew. Part of the sacred 27—or was it sacred 28? No matter. A picture was supplied to the left of the column. A boy with blindingly bright hair blinked back at her, a scowl etched into his aristocratic features as the flashes of other cameras danced across his face. An older woman stood behind him, wearing an identical expression. Mrs. Malfoy, she presumed. 

A quick skim of the article told her everything she needed to know: Lucius Malfoy was found guilty in his involvement at the Department of Mysteries earlier that year and was now being held in Azkaban. His wife would continue assisting with the Wizarding League for Young Witches. His son would continue his studies at Hogwarts. 

At the last line, Y/N’s eyes widened. They were letting a Death Eater’s son have free roam of the school? Knowing the kind of influences he had grown up with? She shoved the newspaper into her bag, not caring if it crumpled. Was Hogwarts a big enough school that she would never have to see him? She didn’t even know if they were in the same year. Back at Ilvermorny, there were so many students from both Canada and the US that there were multiple sections for every class. Unless someone was in your dorm or your friend group, you were rarely ever put in a situation where you had to interact with them. She hoped that that would also be the case for Hogwarts.

Her wand buzzed, letting her know that it was 5 minutes to the hour. She took a shaky breath and looked down at the necklace in her palm. It was large—a locket, she realized, but no matter how hard she ran her nail along the seam, it refused to open. This time, as she felt space and time folding around her like a tight blanket, there were no gaps in the magic. 

~

“Name?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Give me a moment…I’m not seeing it…” The silver-bearded wizard flipped through the snow-white scroll in his wrinkled hands, squinting as he ran his nail along the paper before vanishing the list entirely and grinning at her. “I’m just kidding. I know who you are. We’ve been expecting you.”

“Oh,” said Y/N, feeling like she was supposed to be relieved but instead just sick from anxiety. “Haha.”

“May I see your wand?” said the wizard, extending a hand. The black mottled skin startled her.

“May I ask why?”

“To ensure that you are who you really say you are,” explained the man. “I’m going to check your last spells.”

Upon gripping her wand in his hand, his face scrunched in interest. “10 inches, hawthorn wood, and unicorn hair core. Am I correct in my assumptions?”

Y/N blinked. “Um. Yes, sir.”

“Interesting.” He clicked his tongue, then tapped her wand on his forearm. She could see wisps of her past spells wafting out: the warming charm she had cast moments before, the many extension charms to fit her things, a hair-smoothing charm that had been used earlier that morning…

Once he seemed satisfied, the wizard gave a quick nod and gave her the wand back. “It’s lovely to meet you, Y/N Y/L/N. You may call me Headmaster Dumbledore.”

The realization splashed over Y/N like cold water. The Dumbledore? The Albus Dumbledore that she had seen all over her contemporary wizarding politics textbooks? “Thank you, si—Headmaster. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

His aged face split into a wide smile. “Minerva here will show you to the Great Hall to be sorted. Thank you for joining us here, Miss Y/L/N.”

To her shock, the gray tabby that had been quietly sitting by her feet transformed into a human woman. Y/N had been around Animagi before, but it still startled her. The woman had a kind look in her eyes, but the firm set of her lips told Y/N that Minerva expected nothing but respect. 

“Miss Y/L/N,” she began in a lilting accent, “I’m glad to see that you made it safely. You may call me Professor McGonagall. I’ll be teaching you Transfiguration this year.”

“It’s great to meet you,” Y/N said. After a few beats of silence, it occurred to her that she was expected to say more. “Thank you so much for allowing me to continue my studies here at Hogwarts. I can’t begin to express how grateful I am for your generosity.”

McGonagall nodded. “We’re just glad that we can keep you safe. Right this way. Let’s get you sorted.” Y/N quickly found out that she meant this in the most literal term. 

The Great Hall was aptly named. Its ceiling stretched so high that Y/N swore that it must’ve gone on forever. The stars that were charmed to twinkle in the distance certainly didn’t help that certain illusion. Candles floated in midair, a warm yellow contrast to the vast night sky. It was so much better than Ilvermorny’s cafeteria-esque hall with clusters of round tables scattered throughout the giant room. The long wood tables here seemed warm, almost inviting. To her disappointment, though, it appeared that the entire Hogwarts student body appeared to be about the size of Y/N’s class year alone. 

The chatter quieted as McGonagall walked her down the center row, passing by the tables enshrouded in yellow and blue. Eyes peered curiously at her as a voice thundered from the front of the room—Dumbledore, already stood on the platform where the professors ate and poised at the speaking podium.

“Students,” boomed Dumbledore. “Today is a very special occasion. Today, we welcome our very first transfer from across the Atlantic. After all our years of comradery, neither of our schools have taken foreign students. This is a momentous event in our history as an accepting and welcoming institution. I expect all of you to welcome Miss Y/N Y/L/N in as you would any of your other classmates. I shall begin by inviting her up to be sorted.”

McGonagall steered her towards the stairs leading up the platform. Y/N felt her nails press into the pillowy flesh of her palm. There were so many people looking at her. The last time she had felt so watched had been when her father had been sworn into MACUSA, and at least then she was with her family.

An eerie silence blanketed the room. She lowered herself onto the sorting stool, hoping that no one would remember the way that she almost lost her balance. The sorting hat felt supple on top of her head, its weight made heavy with centuries of use. It took no more than a moment of deliberation before sucking in a deep breath and shouting,

“SLYTHERIN!”

She didn’t know what to expect. When she had chosen her Ilvermorny house, the Horned Serpents leapt to their feet and roared with applause, joined by the polite cheering of the other houses. Instead, the only noises that could be heard in the Great Hall was the limp clapping from the Slytherins that slowly crescendoed into a dull thunder. Dazed, Y/N allowed herself to be helped down the stairs and led to the Slytherin table. It was mostly full aside for a few empty spaces on the benches, mostly congregated near the end. She felt the heat rush to her cheeks as she considered sitting in the spots near the wide-eyed first years before she heard someone yell, “Hey, you!”

She whipped around to see a raven-haired girl standing up from her seat, her hand waving. “Yeah, you! Come here!” The girl turned to the boy next to her. “Fucking move, Goyle. We have a guest.” The boy next to her grunted and scuttled off. 

“I’m Pansy Parkinson,” said the girl, holding out a hand. Y/N shook it, noting how cold her skin felt. “And you are?”

“Y/N.”

“Last name?”

“Y/L/N.” She could tell that Pansy was thinking this over, deciding if she’d heard the name before. 

“What does your family do?” she asked as Y/N sat down on the bench across from her. 

“We work for MACUSA,” said Y/N, only partially lying. “My father is a senator.”

“A senator?” Pansy seemed impressed.

“And your father, what does he do?” She knew that it was wrong the moment it left her mouth. Of course Pansy gave her a weird look. Of course. Parkinson sounded familiar to her for a reason—she had read about the family line along with the Malfoys and the other sacred purebloods. 

“He’s in the Ministry,” answered Pansy. “Of course, he doesn’t really have to. We are the Parkinsons, you know. I’m not sure if you caught that.”

“You’re right,” said Y/N, thankful for the easy excuse. “I had a rough portkey trip. My head isn’t quite right.”

Her newfound companion seemed satisfied with this. The rest of the dinner consisted of easy conversation with Pansy and her friends that she met—Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass, and Blaise Zabini. She liked Theo the best. There was something about the twinkle in his eyes when he spoke to her that made her feel at home. She was especially relieved that she had yet to come across the Malfoy son considering that she was sorted into what she presumed to be his house. 

She had not known much of Slytherin before coming, but what little she knew was confirmed by the conversations she overheard at the dinner table. It was the house of ambition, she knew, but apparently also the house of prejudice and blood supremacy. Her father would be so disappointed in her, she realized. The sorting hat thought she belonged with the blood purists. 

It was also becoming apparent to her that she was walking a particularly fine line. She was lucky that her father was a MACUSA senator, but her luck stopped there. Her mother was a muggle, and while she technically hadn’t lied about that, she hadn’t been entirely upfront. She knew that if she told her new friends that she was a half-blood, they would no longer continue to be friends with her. 

Two years left she thought as she stared at the ceiling of her dorm room. This year and 7th year. I just have to get through it. 

~

She saw him for the first time that morning. It was early, just ticking past 7 in the morning as she stepped out of the common room and made her way to the Great Hall for breakfast. She was one of the few who was taking the early period for Advanced Potions and thus had to be awake earlier than the rest should she hope to get something to eat. The Great Hall was largely empty, save for the blue table that Y/N had learned belonged to Ravenclaw. A few students populated the Slytherin table, making it easy for the bright blonde head of hair that belonged to Malfoy to stand out. 

Y/N slid onto the bench on the opposite side of the table, careful to keep her distance. He didn’t look up as she placed her textbook on the table and began flipping through it. It was easy to forget about people like Malfoy when there was an already more pressing stress: the one that involved her having to catch up with the students at Hogwarts. As an honors student at Ilvermorny, she was already better prepared than most transfer students, but she wasn’t entirely sure where her class was in the textbook that had been sent to her by Professor Slughorn last week. 

To her relief, she noticed that she had already brewed the potions in the first quarter of the book and reviewed the basic concepts of simmering down gillyweed and moondust into a base. She was, by all accounts, somewhat prepared for the class. 

When she looked up again, he was gone. 

~

“Miss Y/L/N, so glad you could finally join us,” said an elderly professor at the front of the class as she flung open the door and clambered in over 5 minutes last. 

“I’m so sorry, Professor,” she said, slightly out of breath. “I got lost.”

If he was irritated, he didn’t show it. “No worries. Take a seat. We haven’t begun brewing.”

Whatever short term relief she’d felt at this did not last long when she looked up and saw that the only seat open in the room was next to Malfoy. Blaise caught her eye and sent her a wave from his seat across from him. Without any better option, Y/N approached and set her satchel down on the work table. For the first time, Malfoy turned and looked directly at her. His eyes were a startling silver in a way that wasn’t adequately captured in the picture from the Daily Prophet (that she had, in fact, stared at for a bit last night). His well sculpted jaw rested in his palm, and once he had seen enough, he turned his attention back to his parchment. 

“Draco,” said Pansy from her place across from Y/N, “This is Y/N Y/L/N. She’s the Ilvermorny transfer.”

Draco. The name rolled around Y/N’s mind like a smooth marble. Once she heard it, she couldn’t imagine any other name being as fitting for the boy sitting next to her. 

Draco shifted in his seat to look at her again, this time lifting his jaw from his palm. 

“Hi,” she said shyly.

“Hi,” he echoed, extending his hand towards her in an offering. His hand was warm and unscarred. He had the immaculate hands of someone who had never worked a day in his life. 

The brewing commenced without any further trouble. Each student was instructed to brew the potion with the strongest healing properties they knew. Y/N chose to brew Liquid Episkey—which was really just the essence of dittany added on top of any stable base potion. As she worked, her table chatted quietly.

“I’ve been thinking about your last name, Y/N,” said Blaise. “I think I know your mother.” 

She narrowly missed slicing her finger. “Oh, um, you do?” 

“Is she affiliated with the Y/L/N modeling company? My mother speaks very highly of her work.” 

It felt like someone punched her in the stomach. She had never heard of the company before, but she would take any chance at saving herself. “Yeah, actually. I have to admit that I don’t really have any interest in modeling so I don’t know much about it, but yeah. That’s her life’s work.”

Blaise hummed as his diced beetroot splashed into his cauldron. “Tell her the Zabinis say hi the next time you see her, yeah?”

“Of course.” Y/N swallowed. “She’d love that.”

“Blaise, how’s the Slug Club treating you?” Draco asked. It was the first time she’d heard him speak unprompted. She found her head turning to watch the interaction despite being closely focused on her potion. 

“Oh, you know.” Blaise gave his cauldron a stir. “Pathetic, as always. Slug spends the entire time kissing Potter’s arse. Everyone pats themselves on the back for being so progressive as to invite mudblood Granger and pretending like her opinions on the magical world hold a candle to those who have actually grown up in it.”

Draco snicked. “Riveting. I can’t contain my jealousy.”

Y/N felt glued to her seat the moment she heard the slur easily slip out of Blaise’s mouth. None of her friends would say that back home. She supposed, though, that these weren’t her friends, even if they thought they were. She had a feeling her time in Slytherin would be harder without them. Her new friends had quieted down when Draco turned to her directly and said, 

“How did you end up coming here, anyway? I didn’t think Hogwarts accepted transfers.”

“They don’t,” said Y/N, feeling uncomfortable under the weight of his gaze. “I got really lucky. My father knows someone in the Department of Education who was able to secure me a seat.”

“And why would you want to come here?” He watched his cauldron simmer, his ladle lazily tracing circles at the bottom. 

“There was an attack on Ilvermorny’s campus,” said Y/N. “MACUSA is telling the people that it was a one-off, but they know it was just the start of something worse. My father wanted me to leave as soon as I could.”

She wasn’t sure why she was telling him all of this. He certainly didn’t seem very interested in the details she was providing. His eyebrows were raised in faux engagement.

“Fascinating,” he said. “And naturally you chose the one school situated in the center of Europe’s Wizarding conflict.”

Y/N bristled. “There’s more security measures here.”

Draco made a noise that seemed like he was agreeing before tapping his ladle on the rim once and setting it down. That seemed to be the end of that conversation. And good timing, too. Y/N’s Liquid Episkey wasn’t looking so good.

“Fuck,” she muttered, flipping through her textbook to see if there was any mention of what to do when it turned piss yellow. A few quick chops of the crushed beetles in her workspace and a brisk clockwise stir seemed to do the trick. Despite her sudden preoccupation with her potion, she couldn’t help but pay close attention to the movements of the person next to her. He clearly fostered no interest in her, but it appeared that he fostered no interest in anything. Now that his potion—a very cleanly brewed Sanitum, she noted with a sense of envy—was finished and corked, he was flipping through the yellowed pages of a book and looking exceedingly bored.

What does it matter? she thought angrily. It’s not like it matters what he does.

After that, it became exceedingly clear that Y/N was never going to be entirely free of Draco Malfoy and his pureblooded crew. She’d been initiated into whatever weird friend group they had going on and was hating every minute of it. It was bad enough that she had to bite her tongue whenever Blaise said something that smacked of blood supremacy; she also had to continue to lie about who her mother was, a detail that kept weighing on her. Thankfully, no one seemed suspicious in the slightest, not even Draco, who was quickly becoming the person in Hogwarts she spoke with the most once Slughorn started assigning partners. 

“In interest of saving time, you may work with the person seated directly next to you,” said Slughorn as he circled the room, distributing past Potions essays. “I trust that you each will have the decorum to behave well, even if you’re working among friends.”

Y/N desperately wished that that veiled warning applied to her in the slightest as Draco sat up straighter, unrolling a parchment and pointing at the textbook between the two of them. 

“Sorry, what was that?”

Draco sniffed. “I said, do you want to do the chopping or the stirring?”

“Oh,” she said stupidly. “Um, whichever you prefer. I mean, whichever one you don’t prefer. I honestly don’t care.”

“You chop,” he said finally, his eyebrow slightly arched. He was most definitely judging her. 

“Cool.” She tried to sound casual as she gripped the knife and began to dice the shrew’s head in front of her. “So, um, do you know what you want to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, what do you want to do after Ilvermor–I mean, Hogwarts. Do you want to be a Potions Master?”

There it was again—that coy, calculating look that always came across Draco’s features as he examined her. “I don’t imagine I’ll become a Potions Master anytime soon. I have slightly more pressing matters to handle first.”

“Like what?” she asked, keeping her tone light and conversational. 

Draco shrugged. 

“Do you even like Potions? Why are you taking an Advanced course if you don’t even know if you want to pursue it?”

“I like to keep my options open,” he said simply. “And potion brewing is always a valuable skill to have.”

She nodded. Her tongue felt too big for her mouth. In other circumstances, she could talk the ear off of strangers, but as she watched Draco, his white button up slightly rolled up to his forearms as he stirred, she felt nothing but nerves coil in her stomach, like she was a bottomless pit of anxiety. 

A few beats passed before he cleared his throat. “So, ehm, what about you? Do you want to continue with Potions?” 

“Oh, I’m not sure,” she responded. “I like brewing a lot. I like the ways it expects me to problem solve on the spot. I just don’t really feel like I have enough passion to lock myself up in a lab all day.”

Draco’s lips turned upwards. “Yeah. I think you’d have to be a little self-hating to want that for yourself.”

Y/N sent him a small smile back. “What do you read? I always see you bring a book to class.”

“Nothing special,” he answered quickly. “I just like to shop around the library to see what interests me.”

“What’s it today?” 

He finished stirring the potion and wiped the edge of the ladle before answering. “Today it’s something that I’m not supposed to have from the restricted section.”

“There’s a restricted section here?” Y/N felt her heartbeat pick up. “I didn’t know that. We don’t have those in America, you know. They just get rid of the books altogether.”

Draco looked positively horrified. “They get rid of books?”

“Yeah,” she said, frowning. “Is that not a thing here? There’s a banned book list in the US. If it’s on there, it’s not allowed into the school library. I’d have to ask my father to scour the MACUSA library connections if I wanted one of those.”

He let out a low whistle. “What kind of books do you have over there? I didn’t think much dark magic made its way into your artifacts.”

“It didn’t,” she responded. “There’s just been a lot of tension lately surrounding certain political topics. Like, muggleborns and blood purity. Ilvermorny has decided that it’s better to just ban the books altogether so we don’t have to talk about it during the school year.”

“That’s bloody ridiculous,” said Draco. Y/N was suddenly very aware that she was having a very civil and, dare she say, pleasant conversation with the son of a murderer. “What a cop-out.”

“Anyway,” she said, leaning over the table and motioning over to his side of the table. “How’d you get that? What are your restricted books about?” 

He shrugged. “Oh, you know. Anything. It’s hardly an organized system. Anything deemed too controversial is placed there. If you have the right connections, you can get in.”

While she was many things, she was certainly not stupid. She knew her shot when she saw it. “Would you take me?”

Draco paused. His features hardened. “No.”

She was just about to beg when she saw something poking out of his pocket. “Hey, why do you have my wand?” 

“The fuck are you on about?” Draco stared at her like she’d grown a third head.

“My wand,” she repeated. “I literally see it in your pocket. I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you better give it back right now. Before I, uh, make you regret it.” It was, admittedly, a poor attempt at appearing intimidating, a fact that was not lost on him as he let out a short chuckle.

“You’re gonna make me regret it? And how, pray tell, would you do that?”

She huffed, holding her hand out. “Give me my wand back.”

“I don’t have your sodding wand,” he clipped in response. “If I wanted another wand, I would just buy one.”

“Charming.” She flexed her fingers outwards. “My wand, please.”

Before he could stare at her any longer, something clattered underneath her chair. Draco watched, unmoving, as she glanced downwards. “Oh. I’m sorry. I guess it was on my chai–”

“What are you doing with my wand?” His sharp tone made her jump to attention. 

“Pardon?” she said once she had grabbed her wand and seated herself back into her chair. 

“That’s my wand,” he said simply, pointing to her hands. 

“It’s not—hey!” Her wand was wrenched out of her grip. “That was my wand!”

Upon touching her wand, a gust of wind rushed through the room and nearly knocked her off her chair. Once she regained her balance, she snapped her attention back to getting her wand back. Draco was frozen, staring at the wood in his fingers. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out an identical wand, setting them side-by-side on the table.

“Oh,” was all Y/N could say. “Oh.”

Blaise and Pansy had quieted from their chatting, staring at the pair in front of them as Y/N gawked and Draco frowned. 

“That solves it, I suppose,” he finally said, rolling her wand towards her. “Our wands are both made of hawthorn.”

“I think they’re the same wand,” said Y/N after she found her voice. “Look at them. The engraving at the base is the exact same.”

Draco shrugged. “It’s a common pattern. I’m not surprised that they look similar.”

“What’s the core?”

“Hm?”

“The core,” she repeated, gesturing to his wand. “What’s yours? Mine is unicorn hair.”

At this, Draco paled. “Oh.”

Y/N took that as a yes. “Is it also 10 inches?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Y/N swallowed. “So, I was right after all. We have the same wand. Does that mean something?”

“No,” said Draco quickly. “It’s not the same wand. Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t know what they teach you at that school of yours over in America, but they’re two different objects. They’re not the same.”

“Obviously,” snapped Y/N, becoming irritated herself. It hadn’t quite sunk in yet that she had the same wand as a Malfoy. “I was able to come to that conclusion myself, thank you. We have the exact same kind of wand, does that make you feel better?”

Draco rolled his eyes. He tucked his wand back into his pocket and gave his book a pouting look. “Yes, yes, how very fascinating. Can I go back to reading now?”

Y/N scoffed. “Aren’t you a treat.”

“Aren’t I,” he echoed, picking his book up and paging through it. There was still—Y/N checked the clock on the wall—30 minutes left of class. They had worked so quickly together that they’d managed to finish their potion far in advance. She’d neglected to bring a book of her own, so she waited a few beats before deciding that Draco was morally obligated to entertain her after having the audacity to willingly keep company like Blaise. 

“So, does it mean anything?” asked Y/N. 

“Does what mean anything,” Draco said, though the usual venom was gone, replaced by a tiredness that was reflected in the darkness under his eyes.

“The fact that our wands are the same.”

He scoffed. “You’re really stuck on that, aren’t you?”

“I think it’s perfectly reasonable to be curious about that,” she responded snippily. “Have you met someone else with the same wand?”

“We don’t have the same wand,” said Draco, exasperated. “But no, I haven’t.”

“See! It’s not normal. I don’t know of anyone who has the same wand as me. I don’t know of anyone who knows anyone else with the same wand. It has to mean something.”

“No, Y/L/N, it doesn’t.” The use of her surname startled her. She’d forgotten that British people did that. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s just a coincidence.”

“Oh. Okay.” Y/N finally let out a sigh. “Whatever. Be a pill about it if you want. I’m just mortified that I happen to share a sister wand with someone who is as much of a pain as you.”

“Fighting words,” he supplied in response, though he didn’t seem particularly vexed by this insult. He made it through another chapter without interruption. 

“It responded to you,” said Y/N. “It acted like it did when I first picked it up. That means something, doesn’t it?”

“It means that Slughorn forgot to close the window.”

“It’s closed.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know what you want me to say. It’s not like I know.”

And like that, their conversation was over for good. Draco continued to glower over his book for the rest of the class. Y/N pretended to be interested in her graded paper, reading and rereading the comments Slughorn left her. 

~

The incident of Katie Bell occurred a month after Y/N’s arrival. It was a wonderfully snowy day. Y/N took a walk around the school grounds, wishing she had real friends to go to Hogsmeade with. Pansy had extended an invite as she always did, but she didn’t quite fancy spending a full day dodging questions about her mother’s apparent modeling business from Blaise while feeling nervous about her proximity to Draco. Which, by the way, was certainly only because of what she knew about his father. It had nothing to do with how tall he was or how the silver rings he wore looked on his tapered fingers or the way his hair looked like it would be soft. Obviously.

On her way back to the castle, her mind wandered to the events in Potions class. Something bugged her about the way that her wand responded to Draco’s touch. It hadn’t been behaving any differently since, but she knew that she’d read something about sister wands and old families before. It had been too long. After a few moments of weighing her options, she decided to head to the library instead of the dungeons and see what she could find.

After scouring the entirety of the magical history section, she was beginning to get a pounding headache. She had used so much of her magic casting look-up spells for the term “sister wands” that the incantation didn’t sound like real words anymore. A movement registered in the corner of her eye, but she ignored it, placing her focus on the last shelf in front of her. Then it happened again. She turned.

“Fuck!” She jumped nearly a foot in the air. “You scared me. I thought you were with Pansy and Blaise.”

Draco Malfoy shrugged. A collection of thick tomes was nestled into the crook of his elbow. “I didn’t feel up to going out.”

“Oh.” She cleared her throat, feeling pinned to the bookshelf behind her by his stare. “So, um, what are you doing here?”

“Take a guess.”

She rolled her eyes. “I was doing something called being polite to an acquaintance from class. Perhaps you ought to try it sometime.”

“Just acquaintances?” He frowned. “I’m hurt.”

“Go antagonize someone else,” she said, about ready to turn back to her task before a thought crossed her mind. “Wait, were you in the restricted section?”

“I should go, I don’t want you to feel antagonized,” he drawled.

“You’re going to answer my question,” she said, pulling her wand out and pointing it at him, more for the theatrics than anything else. She wasn’t going to fire anything off at him, and he seemed to know that.

“Americans, so pushy,” he tutted, grabbing the base of her wand and pulling it down. 

“I’ve been so civil to you,” she argued. “I’ve been nice to you in Potions. I helped you crush the leaping lilibets last week while you were too busy brooding or whatever. The least you can do is help me get into the restricted section.”

He sighed. “As fun as this has been, I’ve other things to attend to. See you around, yeah?”

“Wait!” As he turned to leave, she grabbed his upper arm. Purely by accident, the leftover magic after casting with such a broad scope narrowed into an electric current, zapping Draco. He started. Two of his books thunked on the floor. 

“Merlin, what was that for?” he snapped, summoning his books nonverbally and glaring down at her.

“I didn’t mean to!” Y/N took in a deep breath before shaking her hand out and continuing. “I’ll do your Transfiguration paper for you. If you can get me into the restricted section, that is. I’ll write it and I’ll get an O on it for you. I know that McGonagall gave you detention today for missing the last paper. Let me help.” 

“How did you know about that?”

“Pansy. She mentioned it to me.”

“Oh,” He exhaled. “Fine. Just this once, though. And you’ll write two papers for me.”

Y/N didn’t hesitate. She stuck her hand out. “Deal.”

Draco looked at her oddly as he took her hand and shook it once. The tips of his fingers dragged across her palm as he pulled away. 

“Right, then,” she said. “Let’s go.”

“Now’s not a good time.”

“Now is a spectacular time. Unless you want an E, or perhaps an A on your next paper.”

His lips were set in a tense, straight line. “Fine. Okay. 10 minutes.”

“15.” 

“10.”

“30.”

“5.”

“30 and the prospect of framing you for plagiarism will never cross my mind.”

“5 and I won’t think of reporting you for stealing from the restricted section.”

Y/N sulked. Draco’s lips were turned upwards. He was enjoying this. “Ok, fine. 15.”

“10.”

“It appears we’re at an impasse,” said Y/N.

“It appears so. Can’t we just do 10?”

She frowned. “Let’s compromise. 12 and a half minutes.”

“12 in the interest of neatness.”

“Why not 13?”

“Unlucky.”

She threw her hands up. “Fine. I can’t argue with that. 12 it is.”

Draco shoved his books into his satchel before producing a small rusted key from his pockets. “General rules for restricted books,” he began as he inserted the key into the large padlock wound around the entrance of the section, “are to not pick up one that is moving or making any sounds from the shelf. If it is bleeding or dripping any other liquid, don’t touch it. If the cover is bound shut with chains, don’t try to open them. Don’t tear pages out.”

She visibly balked.

“I know you probably wouldn’t do that anyway,” he assured her. “It’s tempting, though. Considering that you can’t check these out.”

“Do you just steal them then?”

He shrugged. “What do you think?”

“Can you steal them? Are there any security measures in place?”

Now he turned to her, a curious look on his face. “Would you? Would you take them if I told you how?”

It was her turn to shrug. “I don’t like stealing. It makes me nervous. But it depends on how hard it is. You’re only giving me 12 minutes to look, you know. Doesn’t give me much time to absorb what I’m seeing.”

“10 minutes now,” he corrected her. “You’ve spent the first 2 talking to me.”

Y/N glared at him before brushing past his shoulder and into the restricted aisle. A shiver ran down her spine immediately.

“Dark magic makes things colder,” he explained passively from the entrance. 

“You’re not coming in with me?” The titles that flashed by her eyes were dazzling, ranging from old blood magic rituals to the journals of great wizards that she’d read about in history class. 

“Someone has to keep watch.” Draco yawned. “Plus, the aisle would be a bit cramped, don’t you think?”

He was right. The aisle was considerably narrower. The span of her arms was wider. Before she could ask him again how to take the books (the journals of Merlin were looking especially interesting to her), she heard the unmistakable sound of a gate shutting and a key turning in a lock. Slowly, she turned back around to face the entrance.

To her horror, she was trapped. The padlock was once again tightly wound around the gate and her Potions partner was nowhere to be seen.

“Malfoy!” she hissed, rushing up to the door. “Malfoy! Come back here!”

Now that she was closer to the gate, she could see Draco around the corner, talking animatedly to a man that she recognized from the faculty table—a tall, dark one with long black hair. Neither of them turned to look at her as she tried to rattle the gate open, confirming her worst fear: that Malfoy had not just locked her in, but placed both a silencing and disillusionment charm on the gate. Not only was she trapped; no one would be able to see or hear her. 

She could catch a few words, shielded by another silencing charm that was hastily and poorly cast on the two. 

 “—I told you, I can do this—”

 “—He’ll be displeased to hear—”

“—The Vanishing Cabinet—”

Y/N pressed her ear to the gate, no longer as focused on her current predicament as she was on eavesdropping. What was Draco hiding? The two kept speaking in hushed tones, Draco’s agitation growing clear as he tossed his wand back and forth. The man appeared to have enough of the repeated movement, reaching out and nabbing his wand before scowling down at him. 

She decided then that perhaps she didn’t want to be meeting this man just yet, even if it meant escaping the restricted section. It wasn’t like she was in any immediate danger—

Thump.

Slowly, carefully, she turned to see what had made the sound behind her. To her horror, the book that had been jittering about above Merlin’s journals had shuffled off the shelf, landing in the middle of the aisle and convulsing on the wood. Thick, red liquid began to pool on the floor. Malfoy’s warnings floated back to her. She’d thought he was joking when he said that books could bleed, but it appeared that he was most certainly not. The oozing book was behaving in a way that was far too akin to a dying human for her to feel comfortable.

The blood crept towards her on the floor. She whipped out her wand and cast a few Scourgifys, but as soon as the floor was clean, the book would only bleed with more deliberation in its movements. Slow tendrils of smoke began to rise from the floorboards that the book was near. What would the blood do to her skin if it touched her? She racked her brain for any possible spells that would put a stop to it. 

“Sanguis Thrombus!” She waved her wand and aimed it at the book. To her relief, the blood-clotting spell that she’d only ever seen used to stop nosebleeds actually worked. Then the shaking began again. The book leapt up and down like a jumping bean, eventually landing on its spine with a crack and spilling open, its pages parting. A horrible shriek filled the aisle, but it wasn’t from her. 

“Petrificus Totalus!” she cried out. It didn’t work. The book continued screaming and shaking, blood forming once again. “Sanguis Thrombus!” Its movements were so rapid that the blood refused to clot, rushing out and racing towards her. 

Malfoy and the man outside seemed to be quiet, so she turned and was about to begin casting frantic unlocking spells when she was met with the sight of Draco, his face half obscured by the gate. He was unlocking the gate.

“Why the fuck did you lock me in here?” she wailed, wasting no time in shoving past the gate the moment he had undone the padlock. He stared at her.

“What? Didn’t you hear? Professor Snape was coming. If he knew I was letting another student back here, he’d have my head.”

“So you decided to trap me?” Her breathing was heavy, ragged.

“What, are you claustrophobic or something?”

“Not usually,” she retorted. “But when I’m stuck in a small space with a book that bleeds and has it out for me, yeah.”

“So I take it you met the Adams volume,” he said, brushing past her shoulder to lock the gate again as she caught her breath. 

“That’s what that thing is called?” 

“Yeah.” He leaned over, peering into the gate. “What’d you do? It looks like it gave you a pretty good thrashing.” 

“I cast a Sanguis Thrombus.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Quick thinking. Despite it being bound from human skin, its blood doesn’t quite behave like you’d expect, though. Hence the part where you failed to stop the bleeding.”

Y/N gaped. “Human…”

“Yeah,” he answered. “Adams’s skin, to be specific. Apparently one of his buddies thought it would be funny to use it to bind his life’s work. Barbaric, really. Are you alright?”

Y/N most certainly did not feel alright, but she didn’t want him to know how much that had rattled her. “Um, yeah. Sorry. I’m still just a little on edge.” She swallowed before bile could rise to her throat. “Anyway. I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

“You really thought I’d leave you in there?”

“Well, considering the fact that you kind of did, you can’t really blame me for jumping to conclusions.”

“I’m flattered by your assessment of my character,” he drawled. “I even gave you an extra 5 minutes.”

“Every minute of that was spent fearing for my life, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” 

They made it out of the stacks before Y/N came to another realization. “You said that Professor Snape would have your head if he knew you were letting ‘another student’ into the restricted section. Does that mean he knows you have access to it?”

He puffed his chest up and reached into his pocket, producing the key. “He gave this to me. Of course he knows.”

“And why would he do that?”

“Oh, well, ehm, family connections.”

“And what was he talking to you about?”

Draco spun around to glare at her. “Stop being so nosy. We’re not friends, you know. You said it yourself.”

“Ouch,” said Y/N, rolling her eyes. They had since made their way out of the library and were now passing by the Hospital Wing. She began to wonder if they were going to walk all the way to the dorms together and hated how the thought made her feel giddy. “Did it have something to do with Vanishing Cabinets?”

An explosion of motion in front of them stopped them in their tracks. An incredibly tall, bulky man was carrying the limp form clothed in a blood red Gryffindor cloak as a few students trailed them, chattering nervously amongst themselves.

“Out o’ the way!” said the gruff man to Y/N and Draco. The students looked grim. Y/N recognized one from the papers and her history books: Harry Potter. The boy made brief eye contact with her before turning to glare at Malfoy, who suddenly looked white as a sheet.

“I have to go,” said Malfoy, rushing off before she could ask what was going on. 

“What was going on” was quickly discovered to be the near-fatal cursing of fellow sixth-year Katie Bell. Within hours, rumors were flying around the castle speculating as to who did it. The culprits ranged from Snape to a seedy stranger she met at the Third Broomsticks to Harry Potter to Voldemort himself. 

She was seeing less and less of Malfoy, even though she was admittedly keeping an eye out in the library for him. He often skipped meals and even began to skip Potions, leaving her to work on her own. She could manage, of course. It wasn’t not like she missed his presence or anything. That’d be ridiculous. 

When she finally saw him again, it was to drop off his Transfiguration paper. Y/N endured the whistling from Blaise when she asked Theo how to get to Draco’s dorm, something she wished to never experience again.

“Is there something Draco hasn’t told us?” said Blaise, the corners of his eyes crinkling elfishly. “Good for him.”

“It’s not like that. Theo, help?”

Theo just shrugged. “Nothing I can do about the way it comes off. The way you’re blushing isn’t helping.”

“He has a book for me,” she lied. While they had never spoken about their deal, she assumed that Draco didn’t want it circulating that he had someone else writing his papers. Y/N certainly didn’t want it to get around that she was doing Malfoy's bidding, either. “Merlin, you two. Get your heads out of the gutter.”

“A book?” Blaise laughed. “Theo, are you hearing this?”

Theo smiled good-naturedly at her. “Don’t worry. We won’t tell. Once you go down the stairs, it’s the seventh door on the right.”

Y/N thought about further defending her honor but decided to bite her tongue instead. “Thanks.”

“Have fun with that book, Y/N!” Blaise called after her. She flipped him off.

It took only two knocks before Draco swung open the door, his usually pristinely styled hair unruly and a tad wavy. “What do you want–oh.” Upon seeing her, he kicked a bottle by his foot under the bed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Hi, Y/L/N. Can I help you?”

She reached into her satchel and pulled out a scroll. “Your Transfiguration paper. Well, mine, technically, but no one needs to know that.”

Draco stared at the parchment in her hand, hesitantly reaching out and taking it. “Oh. Thanks. I’d forgotten about it, to be honest. You didn’t need to write it.”

Y/N shrugged. “We made a deal.”

“Right. Well, have a good night.” He shut the door before she could say anything else. As she walked back to her dorm, she could help but let her mind wander back to what his room looked like. His bedding had been black—not like she was surprised by this—but his room had been a mess, papers strewn everywhere and the lingering essence of stagnant magic. 

Blaise and Theo whooped from the common room couches as she walked through the common room.

“That was fast!” jeered Blaise. At this point, Y/N couldn’t tell if his words were jokes or genuine attempts to slutshame her. 

“I’m that good,” she said dryly. The boys howled in response. 

~

At first, she thought it was the lake lapping at the window by her head that awoke her. But as her eyelids fluttered open to her dark room, the tell-tale gurgling was gone. Her clock read 3:02. Then she heard it again: footsteps, going past her room. Y/N relaxed. Probably Pansy coming back from partying or something. But then she heard the footsteps turn around and approach her door again, she swung her legs out of the blankets and crept towards the door. 

The footsteps were gone. It struck her, in that moment, that someone was standing no more than a foot away from her with only the wood of the door to separate them. She clutched at her wand.

Thunk.

From the little light that managed to creep into her room from the crack of the door, she saw a definitive shadow that was not there prior. Someone had left something outside of her door. 

Unable to ponder it any longer and knowing that she wouldn’t be able to sleep without closure, she wrenched the door open.

“Merlin fucking Wyllt,” yelped Draco Malfoy, leaping back the door.

“Why’d you bring me a book on blood rituals?” asked Y/N, crouching down to pick up the book that was on the floor in front of her door frame.

“Oh, well,” he began, “I was just in the restricted section and I remembered that you paused in front of the section on blood rituals. If you don’t want it, you don’t have to read it. Just think of it as a thank you for the paper.”

Y/N tilted her head as she took in the sight of him in front of her. She decided that she liked tired, rambley Draco. He looked slightly undone, but that was to be understood as it was in the middle of the night. What didn’t make sense was that he was still fully dressed. “Thanks, Draco. That’s really thoughtful of you. But why were you just in the restricted section? It’s Tuesday. Curfew was 4 hours ago.”

“I should probably go,” he said. “We might wake others up if we talk in the hall.”

“So come in.” She opened the door wider, reaching over to flick on the light. 

He stared at her, his eyes big. It occurred to her that he was much worse at appearing stoic when he was exhausted. “No, no, it’s really ok.”

Draco was just about to turn to walk down the hall when Pansy’s door down the hall began to open, apparently having a change of heart about the whole situation and brushing past her shoulder and entering her room.

“Scared of Pansy?” she teased. 

He scoffed. “Scared of what she might start saying if she saw me outside your door in the middle of the night.”

Y/N wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing inviting a Death Eater’s son into her room, but she would be lying to herself if she said that she still saw him as so two-dimensional. “Ha. Well, hopefully she didn’t hear us.” They quieted as the sound of Pansy’s door creaking closed was heard from the hall. Y/N wondered if Draco would take that as his cue to leave. 

“Do you dye your hair?” he asked conversationally as he perched on the edge of her bed whilst she placed the book on her desk.

“No,” she responded. “Why would you ask?”

“The little blonde streak,” he said. “Was that on purpose?”

Y/N ran her fingers through the ends of her hair. “What? I don’t have a blonde streak.”

“Yes, you do.”

She frowned as she sat next to him. “Now you’re stressing me out.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, the edges of his lips turning up. “Do you want me to point it out to you or something?”

“Go for it,” said Y/N, mostly because it was becoming clear to her that he wasn’t going to be entertaining her questions about why he was up so late. Before she could think about it much more, his fingers pushed away the upper layer of her hair and threaded through one of the strands. His thumb brushed past her jaw. She hoped he couldn’t feel the rate of her pulse, racing underneath his touch. 

“Right here,” he said, holding up a small lock of hair that was, startlingly, a pale blonde.

“Huh?” Y/N stared at it, taking it into her own hand. 

“How have you not noticed that?” 

“Is this a prank or something?”

“It would be a stupid prank. Why would I even–”

“Because it’s the same color as your hair,” snapped Y/N, the realization hitting her. Draco held his hands up. 

“Merlin, I was just trying to make conversation until Pansy went back to sleep. I don’t have anything to do with whatever’s going on with your hair. Are you a Metamorphmagus or something?”

“Not that I know of,” she said, still staring at the piece of hair in her hand. “I’ve never seen this before.”

Draco cleared his throat and laced his fingers together on his lap. He looked almost gray. Y/N pulled her own legs up under her, resting her head on the wall. “So why were you interested in blood magic?” asked Draco finally after a few beats of silence.

Y/N shrugged. “I don’t know. Dark magic and blood magic aren’t really spoken about back home. I’ve always found it really fascinating, but maybe that’s just because none of us are allowed to learn about it.”

“You want to know more about dark magic?” asked Draco. “Do you want to take over the world or live forever or something?”

She laughed. “No. No, I don’t want to do anything with it. I think I’d be too scared to, even if I had the chance. I’m just curious. Is it like that here in Britain? Is it just as taboo?”

“It really depends on the family you’re born into.” He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. “They don’t exactly teach about dark magic in Charms class, but it’s not hard to learn about it if you’re from the Sacred Twenty-Eight. I’m surprised your family didn’t teach you much about it.”

Her heart rate quickened. “Well, like I said, my father is a senator. Dark magic is so clearly disavowed publicly that any suggestion that we study it or have interest in it is enough for us to lose our seat. It’s more politics than anything.” 

“Hm.” He didn’t press further about her family, something she was immensely grateful for. “So how long are you here until?”

“Until I graduate.”

“Oh. So you actually transferred.”

“Yeah, I did.” 

“I’m sure you miss your friends,” he said, mirth creeping into his tone. “Especially when you have tossers like Blaise as replacements.” 

“Did he tell you—”

“About the book thing? Yeah. That’s another reason why I brought it for you.”

“Thanks,” she said, and she meant it. It occurred to her then that she actually enjoyed Draco’s company over anyone else’s at Hogwarts. A traitorous part of her wished desperately that he felt the same way.

“It’s probably a safe bet that Pansy’s asleep by now,” said Draco, sitting up and wringing his hands. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Y/N nodded, though she really didn’t want him to leave. “Goodnight, Draco.”

He gave her a tired smile. “Goodnight, Y/N.” And then she was alone to ponder the sudden change in her hair.

~

It was normal for her to not see Draco for prolonged periods of time, but when it had been over a week without seeing him at all, she consulted Blaise.

“Did Draco leave early for the holidays or something?” she asked over Potions one Friday, gazing at the empty seat next to her.

Blaise snorted. “What, miss him already?” 

Pansy looked considerably less amused. “Merlin, I can’t believe you don’t know. Did no one tell her?”

“Tell me what, exactly?”

“Draco’s in the hospital wing,” explained Theo, ever the saving grace. 

 “Is he okay?” Y/N gasped. 

“He’s going to be fine,” said Pansy, though her jaw was clenched. “He was in an accident.”

“What kind of accident? And how long ago?” 

Theo and Blaise shared glances, though Y/N didn’t know what for. 

“We don’t really know,” said Theo finally. “I think maybe he got in a tussle with a magical creature or something on one of his night walks. Merlin knows it’s not the first time.”

“Have any of you gone to see him?” 

Blaise shrugged. “I’ve been busy. Draco’s a notoriously self-pitying invalid, too. You can’t blame us for opting out of that.”

She nodded sharply. She got a feeling that if she continued to press, they’d never stop teasing her about liking him. Besides, she had more pressing matters to worry about; namely, the Drought of Paralysis simmering in front of her and the fact that she still hadn’t figured out what had turned the strand of her hair the pale blonde that was distinctly different from her natural hair color. She’d tried to dye it back with charms, potions, and then eventually muggle hair dye, but nothing worked. It remained a bright platinum. She was beginning to worry. Had she been cursed? What kind of curse subjected her to a long life of having…one strand of blonde hair?

After dinner, she swallowed her nerves and decided to pay Draco a visit at the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey gave her a cold look as she entered.

“I’m here for Draco,” she said, creeping past the doorway and melting under her withering stare. 

“Draco Malfoy?” 

“Yes ma’am.” Y/N swallowed. 

Madame Pomfrey eyed her suspiciously. “He’s very tired, you know.”

“I know,” Y/N rushed. “I just…brought some of my notes. I know he was stressed about this Potions exam and I wanted him to have a copy of the class material. If I need to go it’s–”

“Make it quick,” commanded Pomfrey, extending a finger to point to a bed, curtained off in the corner. “And if the boy is sleeping, I don’t want you here.”

Draco looked ghastly. Of course, he was still devilishly attractive, his aristocratic features as regal as ever and his hair still soft. It was the coat of bandages that covered his body that startled her.

“Y/N?” He sat up, wincing. 

“What happened?” she asked, pulling the chair closer to his side and taking a seat.

“Fucking Potter,” said Draco. He offered no further elaboration. 

The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. “I’ve missed you in Potions. It’s terribly rude to leave like that without any notice, you know.”

Draco snorted. “My deepest apologies. I’ll keep that in mind the next time I’m cursed into oblivion.”

She rolled her eyes. 

“For the record, I missed you too,” he said. Despite the cold hospital air, she’d never felt warmer. “Did you read the book I brought you?”

“Yeah, I did,” she responded. “I actually had some questions about one of the sections on contemporary European blood bonding…”

And just like that, they’d slipped back into their playful banter. She realized then just how much she’d missed his company and sourly reflected on how meticulously she looked over her reflection before her visit. 

“So, are you going back home for break?” said Y/N during a lull. 

He shifted, a short gasp of pain escaping his lips. She wished briefly that she could reach out and help him, but she wasn’t sure how to react. “I was planning to, but considering the current circumstances—” He motioned to his bandages, “My family agreed that it’d be best if I stayed.”

“I’m sorry,” said Y/N. “I’m sure you must miss your parents—er, parent.” Her cheeks flushed. 

Thankfully, Draco didn’t seem too bothered at her slip-up. “Eh. I miss them, sure, but it’s kind of a relief if I’m to be honest. My extended family is, ehm, a bit of a nightmare. I can’t say that I’m heartbroken that I won’t see them for another few months. What about you? I assume you’re heading across the pond for the holidays.”

“Yeah,” said Y/N, though she was keenly aware of the sudden desire she had to remain over the break to spend more time with Draco. She diligently beat that thought back with an imaginary broom. “I leave next Friday afternoon, after the final Potions exam.”

She met his eyes and was startled to see the soft way in which he was gazing at her, then came to the conclusion that it had something to do with the empty bottle of pain relieving potion on his night stand.

The curtain was yanked to the side, revealing a rather peeved looking Madame Pomfrey. “That’s quite enough, Y/L/N,” said the woman. “You may see yourself out now.”

She didn’t see Draco again until the morning of her last day. He sat across from her at the breakfast table, perusing his Potions notes and writing up the notes that he had missed. The comfortable silence was broken by the arrival of a single owl, releasing a familiar squawk as a few letters dropped in front of her plate. Y/N gave the owl a few pets before it took flight.

“You’re popular,” Draco mused, motioning to the pile of mail in front of her. 

She scoffed, then rifled through them. There was one from her father, one from Jackie, and one from Ilvermorny Admin. She opted to open Jackie’s first.

Y/N,

I’m starting to get why you weren’t able to tell me what was going on when we first said goodbye. I’ve been thinking of you a lot lately. Your father reached out to me once again and offered a chance at admission to Mahoutokoro, so I’m writing to you from Japan. It’s been really lovely visiting family. The tensions over here aren’t quite as bad as they are in the US. 

While a part of me is still angry that you lied to me, I choose to forgive you. I know you’re going through a lot. I can’t even imagine how hard it would be to go to school at Hogwarts without being a pureblood. I was hoping that we’d get a chance to see each other over break and catch up. I’m coming home, you know, but I just read the news that you won’t be able to. I suppose it makes sense in terms of security, but it doesn’t make it any better. Write back, will you?

Yours, Jackie

She stared at the writing in her hand. What did she mean, “I just read the news that you won’t be able to”? After a moment of processing, she tore open the envelope from your father.

Dear Y/N,

I’m sure you’ve read the news by now. Don’t worry. It’s for the best. I don’t want you traveling, portkey or otherwise. I heard about your mishap across the Atlantic on your way over. I imagine that if you come home, the magical interference will be much worse. Both the Death Eaters and the WFP have utilized so much dark magic over the past season that it easily taints sensitive spellwork; for example, an international portkey. Do not attempt to get on a plane or travel through any otherwise muggle means. Given the high number of attacks on muggles, I don’t think that would be safe. 

We’re discussing now the option of banning all incoming mail and packages from the UK before we get any more cursed heirlooms showing up at the doors of our lawmakers. This may be the last time I write to you until this is all settled. Rest assured that I am well-taken care of here and that you are as well under the care of the Hogwarts administration. Don’t panic. You are in the safest place possible and I’ll have the chance to see you in the future. I’m sorry it will have to happen after the holidays.

Your mother says hello. She misses you quite a bit. She wanted to send you one of those muggle advent calendars, but I doubt that would be received well if you were to open that at the Slytherin table. 

Love always,

Dad

Tears pricked in her eyes as she opened the final letter.

Dear Miss Y/L/N,

As I’m sure you’ve already heard, the MACUSA voted last afternoon to cut off all travel and communication from the UK. You must be alarmed. Do not worry. We know exactly what we’re doing. This is all part of a great plan to stay safe. While we recognize that you are no longer officially our student, we want to reach out and assure you that Hogwarts is more than capable of taking care of you.

Best,

Headmaster Charleston

“Y/N, are you alright?” Draco peered at her, concern etched into his face. Wordlessly, she pushed the letters towards him. His eyes skimmed the words, his eyebrows shooting upwards. He took a few moments before gathering up the words to say, “Merlin, I’m sorry. At least your father seems like he’s okay.”

She nodded, anchoring her lip down to keep her from crying. 

“Hey, look on the bright side,” he said, bumping her shoulder and giving her the letters back. “Now you’re stuck with me for the holidays. I’ll take you on as many restricted book trips as you want.”

True to his word, they found themselves crammed into the aisle of the restricted section late that night, wine drunk and giggly. The rest of Slytherin had gone home to their families for the holidays, leaving the two of them to celebrate their midterm exams alone. 

“How do you take books, anyway?” asked Y/N as she stared, dazed, at the titles in front of them. “Do you just take them off the shelf and walk away? Is it that easy?”

Draco rested his chin on her shoulder as he squinted at the book she was pointing at. “Merlin’s journals? Yeah, I can get those for you.”

“That’s not what I asked,” retorted Y/N, but she couldn’t manage to put any venom in her tone. He was warm against her side, his hair soft against her cheek. He smelled good, like a mixture of spearmint and lapsang souchong. 

Thump.

She squeaked, jumping away from the now familiar book that tumbled to the floor and began to bleed. Draco startled, his hand coming around her waist as they leapt back. Once he saw the book, though, he let out a chuckle. “Ah. It likes you.” He murmured an incantation that she didn’t recognize, and the book rolled away from them. 

“Won’t it come back?” she asked. She turned to look up at him then, his other hand remaining on her side. They were close enough that she could see the slightest spray of faded freckles across his cheekbone. 

“Not for a while.”

Y/N could feel the vibrations sent through his diaphragm with the words. She couldn’t look away. Her heart was pounding, and this time they were standing so close that she had no doubt that he could tell. The last thing she remembered before she kissed him was the feeling of her chin being tilted up by his unoccupied hand. 

The effect was immediate. Her hands were wound in his hair, her back pressed against the bookshelves, her weight supported by the knee that had risen to pin her against the books. Deep down, she knew that it was wrong. She’d been lying to him, and the lie she was telling him was concerning enough. She knew that if she came clean, he would regret it all. 

At that revelation, she pulled back, their lips separating audibly.

“Was that okay?” asked Draco, suddenly looking very concerned. 

She couldn’t help but smile. If she was smart, she’d tell him no. “Of course.” 

His fingers curled around the green satin of her Slytherin tie and pulled her in once again. 

~

Draco clearly wasn’t planning on having a relaxing winter break. This was made clear by the amount of studying he constantly excused himself to do after their (admittedly very frequent) meetings. Y/N appreciated the time she had alone, though. It gave her the opportunity to walk around the castle, stew in her feelings, and ponder her options. Neither of them had expressed an interest in putting a label on it, something that Y/N wasn’t quite certain of. On one hand, she really liked Draco. On the other, she knew who he really was: the son of a Death Eater and an undoubtedly blood prejudiced wizard. She was toeing a fine line. There was nothing redeemable about catching feelings for a Malfoy.

Y/N knew it wasn’t right of her to want Draco as much as she did. But he was so kind to her, so intelligent, so unlike any other man she’d been with before. It wasn’t fair, she settled upon during one of her castle walks. It was a difficult time for everyone involved. She might as well enjoy what she can. 

Her walk was interrupted by quick footsteps in the corridor ahead of her. She froze. No one else frequented the castle during this hour of the night. Hell, not even she was supposed to be out. She debated the prospect of following the footstep, finally resolving to trail them.

The footsteps led her down to the 2nd floor girl’s bathroom. Her interest piqued. What was someone doing there? The one time she had entered, a transparent ghost girl jumped out of the toilet and started crying at her. She quickly realized that there was a reason why it had been such a quiet, untouched bathroom. 

She paused by the entrance, leaning against the wall. For the first few moments, it was silent. Then the faucet was flipped on. Once that had been turned off, Y/N heard what could be nothing other than the sound of a sob. 

Y/N moved into the doorway. 

Draco Malfoy was crouched over the sink fixture, his powder white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. The ghost girl was floating a little above the mirror, murmuring something quiet as he cried. She looked up, and upon seeing Y/N, she vanished.

“Myrtle?” said Draco in a strangled voice. “Where’d you–” His eyes flickered up, seeing the reflection of Y/N behind him. 

She stood, frozen by the doorway. “What’s going on, Draco?” 

He exhaled shakily, then bit his lip and turned away. Y/N took it as her cue to come forward and place her hand on his shoulder. “Draco, please. You can tell me, you know.”

Draco shook his head, tears pooling in his eyes. He wouldn’t look at her. “No. I can’t. I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” she soothed, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. He shuddered. Myrtle, as Draco had called her, materialized in her eyesight, sending Y/N a sour look. “You’re okay. Do you want me to make you tea? We can break into the library again. It’ll take your mind off things.”

“I don’t have time,” he choked out. 

“Don’t have time?” She frowned, pulling away to look at him from a clearer angle. “Draco, we’re on holiday. You don’t need to be studying all the time, you know. You’re so smart already. You’re the smartest person I know.”

He was quiet for a few moments. 

“Hey, what are you thinking about?” she asked gently.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw clenched. “Okay. Okay, you can’t think any differently of me, okay? I know that you will. You just…you can’t. And you can’t say anything. If you do, I’ll…I don’t know yet.”

“What are you talking about?” 

“This.” Draco rolled up his sleeve, rotating his pale forearm so she could see what he wanted her to see in its entirety.

A Dark Mark.

final a/n: i promise i will contiue with a part 2 that ties up the hair/wand lore and the whole ordeal here if y’all want. apologies to the sweet commetns i have neglected on btoh 4/1 and wonders of ohio 11—i’ve had a crazy few days of corporate girlbossing and some family drama. 

[yoongiseesawmp3]

just about perfect - seonghwa

howdy folks, back with another fic but i’m switching it up on ya! i might start writing regularly for ateez as well so y’all are cool with that right? right.

summary: this is NOT inspired by seonghwa saying he watches nevertheless. why would you even think that.

warnings: not the kind of warning u were expecting but there’s no smut (i know its based off a show abt friends with benefits so that’s why i’m warning u. do not get ur hopes up) a little cussing, a lotta me waxing poetic abt the perfect man park seonghwa. also slight tomfoolery from the teezers

word count: 10.6k

the bookstore just off campus is your current go-to study spot, mostly because the cafe inside has a drink special where you buy one coffee and get a voucher for the new bakery next door. so, let’s just say the past few days you’ve been well caffeinated and well fed. you’re on the way there now, already planning out what your treats are going to be. 

today you were supposed to meet your “study group” after your last class of the day, but it looks like you’re the only one here so far. and you say “study group” loosely, the professor for your music theory elective encouraged everyone to make a study group for the upcoming final and your group of friends chose to work together. there’s been no studying going on, though.

especially not when hongjoong’s new friend seonghwa has been flirting with you literally nonstop. he’s apparently friends with everyone else in your group too. san knows him from an art class they took together last semester, meanwhile wooyoung and yeosang claim they lived on seonghwa’s floor freshman year and he always bought them booze. seonghwa denies it, only because hongjoong would slap him if he admitted to buying alcohol for underage kids. 

tasteful delinquency aside, seonghwa is a fine person. you mean personality fine, not like, fine fine even though san would beg to differ. he knows you’ve developed a thing for seonghwa despite trying not to, and he’s secretly trying to get you two together. 

which is why san suddenly texts you and says he can’t make it, and neither can yeosang or wooyoung. they decided to ditch studying to practice for the final in their dance class instead, so it’ll be just you, seonghwa and hongjoong. and little did you know, hongjoong was trying to do the same thing as san. so we’ll see how this goes. 

- 

“y/n, you can’t do that,” hongjoong warns you, referring to the scale you were trying to fill out. 

“why not?” you ask, looking down at your work and wondering what’s wrong.

“because it’ll sound like shit,” seonghwa replies before sipping his coffee. 

“what he said,” hongjoong agrees, grabbing your paper and erasing some of the notes you had scribbled out. “it should look more like this.”

you glance over at what he’s done on top of your old work and sigh. you took this class because you like music, and you thought learning about how it works would be interesting, but it’s hard. 

“can’t you just do all my work for me?” you plead. at this rate, you don’t think you’ll be able to pass the final. 

“no, i don’t want you dragging me down in this class,” hongjoong replies. “my grades are great.” 

“i hate you.”

“what are you struggling with, y/n?” seonghwa asks as he finally looks up from his laptop. he had been working on an assignment for another class this whole time because he, like hongjoong, is great with music theory. so maybe this study group was a good thing. 

“here, you can switch seats with me,” hongjoong says as he clears the spot next to you on the weathered loveseat. “i’m going to look for a book i should’ve started reading two weeks ago.” 

before you can protest, seonghwa is sliding his laptop across the coffeetable and slides himself into the spot next to you. when he sits you notice your thighs are touching, which is weird because there was plenty of space when hongjoong was here. you don’t know that seonghwa is doing this on purpose, that hongjoon really left so he could flirt with the cute cashier in the cafe to give you and seonghwa some alone time. 

“so,” seonghwa starts once he’s settled. “what are you struggling with?” 

“hmm, all of it?” you reply. your answer makes seonghwa smile, and you like the way his eyes sparkle when he does.

“then i guess we’ll be here a while.”

-

about an hour later, seonghwa has walked you through all the major and minor scales you need to know for the test and you’re starting to understand a little more. you’re still having problems with the back of the study guide where you have to come up with note combinations that can apply to those scales, but you have time to work on that since the final is two weeks out. right now, your brain is fried and you need a break. 

“do you mind if i go get a coffee?” you ask seonghwa, who was in the middle of sending you the minor scale cheat sheet he made. he looks up from his laptop and shakes his head before he speaks.

“i would only mind if i can’t come with you.”

“it’s literally right over there, why do you need to come with me?” you question.

“i think i would just miss you too much,” he pouts, and you roll your eyes. seonghwa shuts his laptop and stands up. “what if i need coffee too?”

“you already had one,” you remind him as you stand.

“yeah,” he nods. “but teaching you is exhausting, so i need another. c’mon.”

he walks ahead of you to the counter, and you’re too busy searching for your wallet to notice he took his jacket off, revealing a sneaky tattoo on the back of his neck. it isn’t until you’re behind him in line that you get a look at the hand drawn star right on the nape of his neck, and you have to refrain from reaching out to trace the lines.

“i didn’t know you had a tattoo,” you decide to say. he turns around and instinctively rubs his hand across the tattoo, smiling at you with those sparkly eyes again.

“yeah, i have a couple,” he replies. “but this one is my favorite.”

“why?”

“because my name means ‘to become a star’, so i like knowing that i have a reminder with me all the time,” he explains.

“nice. it’s really pretty.”

“thanks, so are you.”

“sir?” the barista calls, pulling seonghwa’s attention from you. he steps up to give his order as you stare at the tattoo again, noticing alongside it a couple of freckles that almost make it look like a constellation.

“y/n?” seonghwa’s voice draws you out of your thoughts and you realize he’s finished ordering. “what do you want?”

“oh, i can get it,” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“no, my treat,” he insists, and you sheepishly walk up to the counter to give your order. seonghwa makes a mental note of what you get, and he also snatches the bakery voucher from you before you can put it in your pocket. you make a confused sound and seonghwa laughs. 

“why’d you do that?” you whine.

“you only get to use it if you come with me to the bakery later,” he teases. “say yes or i’m drinking your coffee and getting myself an extra cupcake.”

“fine,” you huff. “but i have an assignment due at midnight, so i can’t stay long.”

“it’s 4pm, that’s not enough time for you to finish it?” he asks while you step out of the way for the next customers.

“i haven’t started yet,” you admit. 

“you like saving things until the last minute, don’t you?”

“what makes you say that?”

“well, it looks like you haven’t been studying music theory at all, and now this,” he shrugs. 

“not everybody can be perfect like you, park seonghwa,” you grumble as the barista places two coffee cups on the bar. you hear seonghwa giggle shortly, and you give him a questioning look.

“so you think i’m perfect?” he smirks.

-

it’s the next day, almost midnight, and you really need spray paint. 

why? well, you’re stressed because you have so much to study for your finals and you don’t know where to start. yes, seonghwa helped yesterday, but he’s not in all your other classes, so you’ve decided you need a break from tearing your hair out over the material you can’t comprehend. the best way to distract yourself from that is to finally paint that dresser you got from a garage sale a few months ago, hence the spray paint. 

thankfully, san is still awake, and he has a car, so you ask him to pick you up for a quick run to the art supply store that’s surprisingly still open. a bonus of going to college in the city, you can get anything almost whenever you need it. 

“thanks for coming to get me,” you tell san as you hop into his car. 

“no problem,” he replies. “i was bored and hongjoong said he needed paint pens so this is a win-win situation. plus, i get to hear about your date with seonghwa yesterday.”

“it was not a date,” you groan, choosing to ignore the suggestive way san is looking at you right now. 

“but you spent the whole afternoon together,” san starts. “he bought you coffee and you went to the bakery together and talked about, like, your favorite colors and stuff. sounds like a date to me.”

“how do you know all that?”

“seonghwa told hongjoong and then hongjoong told me,” he explains as he turns onto the street that’ll take you to the art store. 

“well tell hongjoong that i’m still mad at him for ditching us,” you reply. “and i’m still kinda mad at you and the other two for bailing in the first place.”

“hey, if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have had your first date with seonghwa,” san points out.

“it was not a date!” you cry. “we studied most of the time we were together, then he bought my coffee and bullied me into going to the bakery. i couldn’t stay long because i had a paper to write, so we talked about stupid shit until i had to leave.”

“it sounds like the beginning of true love to me,” san sing-songs. 

“stop the car, i’ve decided to walk.”

-

when you get to the store, san separates from you quickly because he sees his friend mingi behind the counter. they’re busy talking while you search the store for the paints, and you’re so busy looking up at the aisle names that you don’t notice you’re about to run into someone. 

“hey-” you start to complain, but you recognize the man you almost bumped into. “oh, seonghwa.”

“y/n,” he smiles at you. “what are you doing out so late?” 

“uh, distracting myself from how small my brain is,” you explain. “what are you doing here?”

“hongjoong needed paint pens,” he says, and you’re about two seconds away from finding san and slapping him. did they really plan this too? 

“why didn’t he come get them?” you ask as you remember what you’re here to find. your eyes scan the aisle behind seonghwa and you spot the paint cans at the end, but he’s in your way.

“i offered,” he says with a shrug.

“you must be a really good friend, then.”

“well you did call me perfect yesterday, so...” he trails off, smirking. you roll your eyes at him but can’t help the blush creeping up your neck. he interrupts his new favorite activity of staring deeply into your eyes (just to fluster you, of course) and he sees that you’re looking past him at the shelves of paint. “you need something down here?” 

“um, yeah, the spray paint,” you reply, awkwardly trying to skirt around him to get into the aisle. he steps aside to let you through, but still follows you as you search for the color you want.

“what are you making?” 

“i’m painting a scuffed up dresser i’ve had for a while, so i want something simple that’ll go with the rest of the things in my room,” you explain as you stop walking and crane your neck to scan the bottles on the top shelf. seonghwa stops behind you and places his hand on the small of your back as he reaches for a can just out of your reach.

“what about this one?” he offers, handing you a can of light blue paint. it’s really pretty, and it’ll stand out with the white furniture you already have, but you really like it.

“oh, that’s perfect!” you say as you take the can from his hands.

“there you go again,” seonghwa teases, and you shoot him a questioning look. he smiles as he responds. “calling me perfect?”

“i said the paint was perfect, weirdo,” you snap. “but thank you for finding this.”

“anytime,” he tells you. “you said your favorite color was blue right?”

“right...” you mumble, thinking back to the conversation you had at the bakery yesterday. “how’d you remember?”

“ugh, i’m hurt!” he exclaims, hand flying to his chest in mock surprise. “i can’t believe you already forgot that it’s my favorite color too.”

“hm, guess i was too distracted by how perfect you are,” you joke. seonghwa laughs at that, a sharp sound that seemed to catch him off guard. he covers his mouth to stifle the sound, but you’re close enough to the cash register now that it draws attention from san and mingi.

“find what you need?” san asks with a shit eating grin.

“hm, just about,” you say as you place the paint on the counter. “couldn’t find a hammer big enough to drop on your head, though.”

“wow, harsh,” san scoffs. “and to think i brought you here out of the goodness of my heart.”

you’re too busy half-bickering with san to notice that seonghwa has paid for your paint and the pens he promised hongjoong. he mumbles something to mingi, who then hands him a piece of paper. he scribbles his number down for you before handing you the can and his number. 

“i gotta go, but i’ll see you later for study group, right?” he confirms. you’re still processing the fact that he keeps buying things for you and you can’t respond in time, so san steps in.

“yeah, y/n will be there,” san assures seonghwa. he nods and shoots you one last smile before he excuses himself and leaves. you’re stuck with san and that stupid grin again. he looks at you and then checks the paper with seonghwa’s number on it. “yep, i think you got what you needed.”

-

even though seonghwa very willingly gave you his number, you’re still afraid to text him. it’s kind of hard to believe that he’s into you the way you’re into him, so you’re fine with just seeing him for study dates. or, uh, not study dates. study gatherings. with just the two of you. because the other guys have bailed, again.

this time, though, you’re not working on music theory. you have an assignemnt due for your ethics class, and you need family and friends to read about your results from this morals test. you wanted san to do it, but he’s currently “chasing a sweet piece of ass,” whatever that means. he’s probably bothering his lab partner that he claims descended from greek gods. you would usually tease him for saying something like that, but it’s a thought you’ve had about seonghwa, so you kept your mouth shut.

anyway, you know you need someone to answer these questions for you, but you can’t bring yourself to ask seonghwa. he kept up his “perfect” demeanor again today, showing up at the bookstore before you so he could get you the coffee you like. you would ask why he keeps doing things like this for you, remembering your favorite color and your coffee order, but you’re afraid he’ll stop if you bring it up. little do you know, every time he learns something new about you, he writes it down in his notes app, keeping a running tab of the things you like.

“y/n?” you hear him ask. his voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you realize you’ve been staring at him this whole time. the smirk you’ve become so familiar with makes another appearance as he gets ready to tease you. “something on your mind?”

“no, i...no,” you stutter. “i’m just thinking.”

“about what?” he questions as he lifts his coffee cup to his lips. you watch the way he slightly pouts them before taking a sip and you have to stop yourself from staring again.

“just this ethics assignment i want to finish,” you explain. “sorry, i didn’t realize i was staring at you.”

“must be an important assignment,” he nods, leaning forward to put his cup back on the table in front of you. you get another glimpse at the star tattoo on his neck as he does. “because i was definitely staring at you too, and you didn’t even notice.”

“oh?” 

“yep,” he confirms. “i was giving you my best puppy dog eyes and everything.”

“puppy dog eyes?” you ask, unsure of what’s coming. “do you need something?”

“eh, not really,” he shrugs. “i’m just worried.”

“why?”

“you never texted me the other night.”

“after the art store?” you ask incredulously. 

“isn’t that when i gave you my number?” he smirks. 

“i didn’t think you wanted me to text you immediately...”

“well, it’s been three days and i still don’t have your number,” he pouts. 

“hold on a second,” you mumble, reaching for your bag. you fumble around in there, searching for the piece of paper with seonghwa’s number on it as he watches you fondly.

“what are you doing?”

“looking for your number,” you reply like it’s obvious. seonghwa laughs a little and places his hand on your arm to stop you. 

“you do know i’m right next to you, and i could just put my number in myself?” he asks, eyes sparkling as he half-smiles at you. you blush, because no, you weren’t thinking about that. you sheepishly hand him your phone and watch as he adds his number and then texts himself. he gives your phone back and replaces it with his own before asking, “what’s your favorite emoji?”

“um, the smiling cowboy?” you offer, not sure why he’s asking. he laughs again, like he did in the art store, but this time it’s harder for him to quiet the breathy giggles coming from his chest.

“why that one?” he asks, typing something quickly.

“it’s funny,” you shrug. “why?”

“needed something cute to put next to your name, but you’re a weirdo, so it’s not as cute as i was imagining,” he explains, showing you the contact card in his phone. your number is saved as “y/n 🥰🤠” and you can’t help but laugh. you look up at seonghwa, warmth in your eyes, and he starts laughing too.

“see?” you giggle. “it is funny.”

“whatever, at least now i have your number.”

-

after exchanging numbers with seonghwa, you’re starting to let yourself believe little by little that he might feel the same way you do. it’s not anything serious, but there’s definitely something there. the texts he sends are always flirtatious, and it has your heart beating faster every time you get a notification, hoping that it’s him. you’re in the middle of studying for your spanish final when you feel your phone vibrate on the bed next to you, and you smile when you see who it’s from.

seonghwa 🥺💫, 6:28pm: are you busy rn?

you, 6:28pm: not really, just studying

seonghwa 🥺💫: can’t be studying too much if you replied that quickly 🥸

you: what do u want

seonghwa 🥺💫: be nice :-(

you: sorry

you: hi seonghwa, how are you? what do you want.

seonghwa 🥺💫: come get dinner with me? 

you: right now?

seonghwa 🥺💫: no, in 30 years. yes right now 

you: but i’m studying ://

seonghwa 🥺💫: liar!

you: fine, when and where?

seonghwa 🥺💫: i’ll pick you up in ten 🤠

- 

“you sure like staying close to campus, huh?” you ask seonghwa as he walks you about a block from your usual hangout and to a little hole in the wall restaurant that looks like it could seat maybe 20 people, uncomfortably. 

“i know what i like,” he responds with a shrug. “speaking of things i like, you look nice.”

“oh, thank you,” you semi-laugh. you’d been close to panic trying to figure out what to wear (because you’re not sure if this is a date) so you went with something simple, but you’re glad seonghwa likes it. not that you wanted to impress him. but you did, a little. anyway, he looks...well, perfect, wearing black ripped jeans and a velvet-y navy shirt. you continually have to stop yourself from reaching out and stroking his arm just to feel the soft fabric (and maybe his muscles). 

“so i take it you’ve never been here before?” he asks as he hands you a menu. you shake your head no in response. you can’t tell if he’s doing it intentionally, but seonghwa leans closer into your side as he explains. “you pick a main entree, but each dish comes with these sides. they say no substitutes, but i know the guy behind the counter so you can ask for more of something else if you don’t like one of them.”

“i might do that,” you say. “i don’t really want dumplings, so could i get extra sweet potatoes?”

“of course,” he nods, noting the way you smile slightly. it makes your eyes light up, and his heart does a little backflip knowing that he’s the reason for it. well, the sweet potatoes probably are, but he’s the one getting the sweet potatoes, so he’s taking that win for himself. once you both confirm what you want, he places his hand on your back and guides you to the counter.

“hey seonghwa!” the tall guy with a lopsided smile behind the register greets. “long time no see. who’s your friend?”

“hey yunho,” seonghwa smiles back. “this is y/n, a vip, so make sure you give us the good stuff.”

“extra sweet potatoes?” yunho laughs. you and seonghwa both nod as yunho continues taking your order, and you find yourself comfortably leaning into seonghwa as you wait for yunho to calculate the price. before seonghwa can even think about taking his wallet out, you’re handing yunho cash for the food, which makes seonghwa sputter.

“what? y/n, i was going to pay,” he whines, and you simply shake your head.

“nope, my turn,” you tell him. “you’ve bought me coffee too many times.”

“but i asked you out! i don’t want you to pay on our first date if i’m the one who brought you here,” he continues to complain.

“so this is a date?” you confirm, right as yunho asks suggestively “oh, this is a date?”

“yunho, give y/n’s money back,” seonghwa says, ignoring the two of you. “i’m paying.”

“yunho, if you give me that money i’ll be forced to leave and stand seonghwa up for our date,” you say, emphasizing the last word. now you’re glad you wore clean pants.

“seonghwa, why don’t you let y/n pay for this, and then you can get the next one?” yunho suggests, sending you a wink before he turns to the kitchen to share your order with the chef. you’re left with a flustered seonghwa, which is a sight you’re not used to, and it makes you laugh.

“c’mon,” you say as you pull on his arm. “let’s go find a table.”

you’re the only ones in the restaurant, so the food comes out pretty quick, and you have to stifle a laugh when you see that someone has arranged the sweet potatoes on a separate plate in the shape of a heart. seonghwa blushes at this, and you’re taken aback by how shy he’s suddenly become.

for some reason, seonghwa showing signs of nervousness puts you at ease, and you lead the conversation to something stupid san told you about the boys and their shenanigans at their dorm. the story has seonghwa laughing, and he confirms that yes, yeosang does have a sword by the tv, and yes, hongjoong did threaten to use it on him after he lost an intense match of fifa. 

“in hongjoong’s defense,” seonghwa begins, “i do think yeosang cheated. wooyoung was definitely helping him.”

“it still sounds ridiculous,” you tell him. “why does anybody need a sword?”

“yeosang is just...yeosang,” seonghwa replies. “he’s weird but he won’t admit that to anyone.”

“i’m just saying, if i went to someone’s house and there was a katana by the tv, i’d haul my ass outta there.” seonghwa giggles at how serious you look, but this conversation reminds him...

“you never showed me your room,” he says bluntly. you pause for a moment, spoon halfway to your mouth, and seonghwa realizes how that must sound. “i mean, the paint, your dresser. you never showed me a picture once you fixed it up.”

“oh,” you breathe out. “let me grab my phone, i can show you.”

“show him what?” a familiar voice suddenly asks from the seat next to you. when you notice that san, and some of your other friends, have snuck their way into the restaurant, you have to keep yourself from groaning.

“why are you here.”

“i’m hungry,” san replies, then turns to seonghwa. “you didn’t tell us you were getting dinner.”

“i didn’t want to,” seonghwa deadpans. “ i wanted it to be just me and y/n.”

“too late for that, pal,” honjoong says as he slides into the seat across from you. “hi y/n.”

“hey hongjoong,” you grumble. “please tell me you’re getting your food to go.”

“we were, but then we saw our good friends eating all by themselves and thought we should join them,” hongjoong teases. by now, the rest of the boys have sat down around you, some at other tables, and one of them you don’t recognize. that must be jongho, their younger “roommate” who technically lives in first year housing but doesn’t get along with the other guy in his room. you’ve heard seonghwa complain that jongho eats all of his snacks. 

“well, i hope you enjoy your food, but seonghwa and i were just about to leave,” you lie, looking at seonghwa with a stare that pleads ‘please go along with this.’

“where are you going?” wooyoung asks, one table over.

“my apartment,” you respond quickly, standing up as seonghwa follows your cue with a stupidly adorable look on his face.

“oh, perfect!” san chirps. “we’ll come with you!”

- 

so much for your date with seonghwa. it was hard to stop the boys from insisting they all join you at your apartment, especially after yunho said his shift was over and he could really use some destressing. and by destressing he meant booze, so you currently have 8 tipsy boys scattered across your living room. if you thought they were loud before...it’s amazing that your neighbors haven’t complained yet. 

it started off innocent enough, you were just playing card games at first and the loser of each round had to drink. then it turned into never have i ever, and each time you put a finger down you had to drink. then yeosang suggested shots, and it really went downhill from there. san tried convincing everyone to play a round of spin the bottle just for the chance of making you and seonghwa kiss, but mingi and wooyoung were the only ones down, so majority ruled there. 

“san, stop pouting,” you laugh, noticing that he’s upset over his evil plan not working out.

“it’s fine,” he lies, duck lips on full display. 

“spin the bottle is such a tween-y game too,” jongho pipes in. “and we’re adults, so it would be kinda stupid to play it anyway.”

“says the baby of the group,” yeosang scoffs. 

“what about truth or dare?” hongjoong suggests. “still immature, but we can make it fun.”

“yes!” san shouts, suddenly back in a positive mood. 

“i’ll start,” mingi volunteers. he takes a deep breath as he looks around the room, eyes narrowing when he looks at you and seonghwa. you’re currently smushed into your armchair together, not really by choice, because the couch is completely full and neither of you wanted to sit on the floor (you know how dirty it is, and seonghwa has a bad hip). thankfully, mingi has mercy on you and directs his gaze to his best friend. “yunho, truth or dare?”

“truth,” yunho slurs out. you’d say he’s the opposite of stressed by now.

“did you sleep with that girl you met at the party last week?”

“no,” yunho replies quickly, cheeks turning a knowing shade of red. “i just walked her home.”

“and went missing until the next morning?” yeosang asks. he gets a few snickers, and you laugh a little too because you remember san and wooyoung talking about their friend who disappeared for a few hours last weekend.

“whatever,” yunho groans. “yeosang. truth or dare.”

“dare,” yeosang chooses confidently. 

“kiss wooyoung on the cheek.”

“no,” he replies, just as confidently. 

“then take another shot,” yunho concedes, waving his hand at the stubborn boy. wooyoung mumbles something about how kissable he is as yeosang downs what looks like more than just a regular shot.

“this is boring,” jongho whines, which makes him the next target. he chooses dare, and you have to detach yourself from seonghwa so you can go into your kitchen and find the lemon juice in your fridge so jongho can chug what’s left. he’s sputtering after a few sips and gives up, grumbling up to you, “ i hate you for that.”

“hey, it wasn’t my dare,” you defend yourself. “you owe me lemon juice.”

“i’ll give it to you if you choose dare,” jongho challenges. you roll your eyes and take the bait, earning a round of ooo’s from the boys around you. 

“make her kiss seonghwa,” someone hisses.

“or me!” wooyoung chirps. jongho looks over at him with a death glare, and wooyoung shrugs. “i just want someone to want to kiss me.”

“i think you’re cut off,” hongjoong says as he leans across your coffee table to move the bottle away from wooyoung.

“everyone be quiet!” san shouts. “jongho has to give y/n a dare.”

“hmmm,” jongho starts, tapping his finger on his chin. “what should i do?”

“for someone who said this was boring, you’re really milking this,” seonghwa says under his breath. you’re perched on the arm of the chair, close enough to hear him, but thankfully no one else does.

“what’s that other childish game called?” jongho wonders aloud. “seven minutes in heaven? i think you should do that with seonghwa.”

“do i have to?” you pout, and your reluctance makes seonghwa stiffen. he thinks you said that because you’re uncomfortable, and not because you don’t want the boys pressing their ear up to the door while the two of you make out.

“rules are rules,” hongjoong concludes, nodding his head toward your room. “go have fun. i’ll keep the kids from bothering you.”

you look to seonghwa, who isn’t looking directly at you. you tentatively take his hand, giving it a squeeze before you stand up and lead him to your room. there are so many catcalls, whistles and cheers coming from your friends that you barely hear san say “take your time! it doesn’t have to be just seven minutes!”

once you get to your room, you let seonghwa go in first and then you lock the door behind you. he quirks an eyebrow at that, and you shrug shyly. 

“don’t want one of them bursting in,” you explain. seonghwa nods, and you both fall silent. it’s not necessarily awkward, just tense. you both want to do what seven minutes in heaven is meant for, but you’re not gonna make the first move and seonghwa still isn’t sure you even want to be in this situation. so he takes this time to turn around and take your room in, pointing to your dresser.

“is this it?” he asks. you hum out a yes in response, and he runs his hand over the freshly painted wood. “it looks nice. whoever picked out the color sure knows what he’s doing.”

“eh, he’s just lucky,” you joke, and you both laugh. you move to stand next to him and place your hand on top of his. “sorry we couldn’t finish our date.” 

“sorry my friends are so annoying,” seonghwa adds. 

“sorry san pushed me into your lap earlier,” you continue, and seonghwa smirks.

“well, i didn’t mind that,” he says. “i wanted you to sit with me, but i didn’t want to draw attention.”

“oh,” you squeak, feeling a blush on its way to your cheeks. a heavy silence falls over you, and seonghwa is the first to break it.

“listen, if you don’t want to kiss me, that’s cool,” he begins. “i kinda got the vibe earlier that you didn’t want to do this, and that’s cool. if you don’t want to do this we’re still cool.”

“you don’t sound very cool about it,” you chuckle, and seonghwa’s face flushes. “but i was only nervous because i didn’t know if you wanted to kiss me.”

“oh i want to kiss you,” he says firmly. “have for a while.”

“why don’t you do it then?” you challenge. seonghwa takes a step closer to you, and before you know it he’s pinned you against your dresser. you balance your hands on it and the cool wood helps you ground yourself as your body heats up from having seonghwa so close.

“are you sure?” he asks, only a few inches from your face. you nod and whisper out “i’m sure” and seonghwa quickly cups your face and smothers you in a kiss. it starts off slow, and your face warms at his touch. once you relax into it you move your lips against his, nipping at his bottom lip slightly and earning a groan from the man before you. you take the chance to slip your tongue past his lips as you bring your hands up to the nape of his neck, slowly brushing through his soft hair. his hands find their way to your waist, gripping tightly but not too hard, and he leans in to get as close to you as possible. you keep kissing for a few moments, but eventually you need to breathe so you lightly tap on his neck. he pulls back, breathing heavy, and his smile shines like the most beautiful stars in the sky. “so?”

“so?” you repeat, equally out of breath.

“that was nice.”

“it was.”

“the boys are gonna know we made out.”

“of course they are,” you laugh. “your lips look swollen.”

“so do yours,” he counters. 

“but wasn’t that the whole point of us coming in here?” you ask. your hands have fallen to his chest, and you finally get a chance to smooth out the soft velvet of his shirt. and you notice his chest is very, uh, firm, too.

“we didn’t have to kiss,” he says with a shrug. “we could’ve just talked.”

“about what?” you ask with a smile.

“my keen eye for interior design,” he replies. “how sexy you look in low lighting.”

“so you think i’m sexy?” you tease, and seonghwa rolls his eyes.

“i just had my tongue in your mouth, does that answer your question?”

another silence comes over you both, but this one is lighter than before. you’re subconsciously rubbing your hands over his shirt, and seonghwa brings a hand up to cover yours, stopping it right over his heart.

“we don’t have to tell them,” you offer. “i mean, they kept it a secret from us that they were trying to get us together this whole time.”

“oh no, i was fully aware of that,” seonghwa tells you, and you scoff. “do you think i really wanted to get out past midnight just to buy hongjoong some expensive markers? he never even paid me for them.”

“well now i really don’t want to tell them we kissed,” you whine. “how could everyone be in on this except me?”

“it was more fun that way,” seonghwa teases before pecking your lips. “but we can keep this between us, for now.”

“i think we should,” you say with a nod of finality. “it’s more fun that way.”

“c’mon, let’s go back out there before they send a search party.”

you return to the living room before seonghwa (so he can sneak into the bathroom and fix his hair) and you find most of the boys asleep on the floor. you sigh as your eyes meet hongjoong’s, and he shrugs.

“at least they didn’t bother you,” he says. 

“can you help me find pillows and blankets for them, please?” you ask, and he nods before jumping into action. he throws one of the couch pillows down to yeosang, who takes it and hugs it to his chest. you have a couple extras in your hall closet and you pass them to yunho, who’s sitting up when you come back. he places one under mingi and another under jongho and keeps the last one for himself. san and wooyoung are on the couch, and hongjoong tells you he’s fine with the armchair. seonghwa is out of the bathroom by now, and, like the perfect man he is, he’s carrying blankets in his arms. the three of you work on getting all the boys covered before you realize that seonghwa doesn’t have a place to sleep.

“i can take another spot on the floor,” he assures you. “do you have another pillow i can use?”

“let him sleep in your room, y/n,” san mumbles from underneath wooyoung. you pause and look at seonghwa, who’s looking back at you with something you can’t read in his eyes. 

“it’s not a bad idea,” hongjoong pipes in from somewhere within the blanket cocoon he made for himself. “he was just there. you can put him on the floor.”

“y/n?” seonghwa asks, pulling your attention back to him. “i don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable.” 

you would try to fight it, so you could hopefully ignore taunts from the boys in the morning, but you’re suddenly really tired and you just want to lay down.

“i’m ok with it if you are,” you yawn. “take the rest of those blankets, we can use those for your bed.”

“make good choices,” honjoong mumbles as seonghwa leads you back to your room, and you hear san going “oooooo” as you close your door a second time tonight. this time you don’t lock it though, and when you turn around you see the blankets on the floor and seonghwa sprawled out on your usual side of the bed, so you tell him.

“well why don’t you come join me then?” he teases with a grin. you blush and shake your head.

“scoot over.”

he does, but only by an inch. he still looks at you with that flirty glint in his eyes, and you can only shake your head again as you crawl into the tiny space next to him. he immediately wraps an arm around your waist and gives you a tight hug, placing a kiss on your shoulder.

“thank you,” he whispers into your back.

“for what?” you reply.

“for not putting me on the floor. and for liking me.”

-

you just woke up from maybe the best night of sleep you’ve ever had. seonghwa’s arms and legs are draped over yours, so you can’t get up without waking him, but having him so close is a welcome source of warmth. your apartment is quiet, and the sun is peacefully filtering into your room through your curtain. it’s the perfect moment, with your perfect boy, until- 

“i think they’re still asleep,” you hear someone whisper from the hallway.

“wooyoung, leave them alone!” another voice hisses. there’s silence for a moment, and then a smack, followed by someone jiggling the doorknob to your room. you quickly untangle yourself from seonghwa before you watch as the door cracks open a bit, revealing wooyoung in all his bed-headed glory. you close your eyes as much as you can while still peeking at who’s sneaking into your room, and you see jongho close behind him. he must’ve been the one who got smacked. or did the smacking. either way, they’re both staring at you and seonghwa in your bed, but you notice wooyoung smile and pause.

“i knew it! they definitely got together last night.”

“how do you know?” jongho asks. “maybe y/n let seonghwa sleep on the bed because of his old man hips.”

“whatever. they’re in the same bed, so that’s at least something,” wooyoung replies. “lame, but still something.”

“what did you expect?” jongho asks incredulously. “you thought we would catch them doing it?”

“i mean, not exactly, but couldn’t i get a little cuddling maybe?”

“you want me to cuddle you hyung?” jongho deadpans.

“yes, actually-”

“hey!” a third voice whisper shouts. you hear footsteps and then you see hongjoong pulling wooyoung out of your room by the neck of his shirt. “leave them alone. and you, jongho, i’m surprised you’re playing along with this.”

“well...” jongho mumbles.

“well what?” hongjoong asks, sounding like the mom-est mom to ever mom.

“they’re the only ones that know how to make breakfast.”

“both of you, out! now!” hongjoong semi-shouts, and you feel seonghwa stirring behind you. hongjoong doesn’t realize you’re both awake and closes the door as he leaves.

“what time is it?” seonghwa grumbles out, and your heart skips a beat hearing how deep his voice is when he wakes up.

“early,” you reply, turning around to be face to face with him. his arms slowly snake around you as you look up at him and share a sleepy smile. “how can you look this good when you first wake up?”

“weird, i wanted to ask you the same thing,” seonghwa replies, leaning in to kiss you but you touch your fingers to his lips and stop him, so he pouts. 

“uh uh, not until i brush my teeth,” you say as you try to get up, but seonghwa’s grip on your waist keeps you down.

“please,” he pouts again, sparkly eyes on full display as he pleads with you. it takes about half a second for you to cave and kiss him quickly, catching him off guard. he shifts to pull you on top of him and deepen the kiss, but he loses his grip on you and you’re able to slip out of bed before he can stop you. a noise comes from deep in his chest that almost sounds like a growl, and you shoot him a glare.

“hey, you got your kiss,” you warn. “now i’m going to make breakfast for the gremlins. do you want to help me?”

-

after the intrusion into your bedroom, wooyoung obviously told the boys what he saw. but, like jongho said, most of them thought it was just because of seonghwa’s hips that made you share a bed with him. there wasn’t enough evidence otherwise, and none of them really expected either of you to make a move despite their efforts. but they’re starting to get suspicious.

little do they know, after the set up fell into place, seonghwa wanted to take you on a real date. the only way to do that without your friends knowing was to sneak around without them, which was kind of fun. it was nice having this bubble with seonghwa, just the two of you, but it was getting harder to avoid your friends. seonghwa lived with them after all, so they pestered him about how often he was out and who he might be out with. 

“san keeps asking if you’re a good kisser. i told him i didn’t know, and then he asked if he could find out for me. should i be concerned about that?”

“we need to be more careful, yeosang said he saw us at the taco place yesterday, and he said we hold hands weird.”

“hongjoong has been saving seats for us at the bookstore, and each time we don’t show up i think he steals something from me.”

you have been ditching study group lately, but that’s more because you need to do some deep studying for your other finals and your friends are too much of a distraction. seonghwa can be distracting too, but at least he can take a hint and back down when you really need to focus. it’s been nice actually, just spending time in his presence. you were so nervous around him just a few weeks ago, and now you feel like you could trust him with just about anything.

today, you don’t get any personal study time, though. your music theory final is coming up and seonghwa wants you to get all the terms memorized before the review session in class tomorrow. he’s motivating you with a kiss for each right answer and the promise of him making dinner once you’re done. you’re currently cruising on five wrong in a row, and you’re getting frustrated. 

“c’mon y/n, you know this,” seonghwa encourages you, but you just whine in response. “we did this like four minutes ago, and i told you the answer so you could remember it.”

“yeah, well i obviously didn’t,” you snap, and seonghwa fakes being hurt. “sorry. can we skip this and come back to it?”

“sure,” he agrees quickly. “but first you need to write down the circle of fifths for me.” 

“i hate you.”

“hm, wrong answer,” he hums. “but kiss anyway. maybe that’ll keep you from getting so grumpy.”

“i am not grumpy,” you defend after kissing him gently. “i’m stressed.”

“you know what you need?”

“hm?”

“you need to go on another date,” he begins. “with me, obviously.”

“damn, i wanted to know if yunho was free,” you tease, and seonghwa doesn’t think it’s funny. “now who’s grumpy?”

“ignoring that,” he scoffs, but you can tell he’s trying not to smile. 

“when would we go? i’m really busy the next few days.”

“what about after class? we could both clean up and do something nice before we get some dinner?” seonghwa suggests. “why don’t we go to that art exhibit you told me about?”

“ugh,” you groan as you learn your head on his shoulder. “that sounds amazing, but we both said we’d be at study group tomorrow, remember? hongjoong practically begged me to be there, and i said i would ask you to come.”

“what about not letting them know we’re a thing?” he pouts. you don’t tell him about the youngest two that saw you all cuddled up, but instead you assure him that you inviting him to study group wouldn’t look unusual to the boys.

“plus, if we both cancel last minute, they’d know for sure we were up to something together,” you continue. “so yes, we need to go on another date, but just not tomorrow.”

“fine,” he mumbles. “now i am grumpy.”

“would something from the cafe make it better, my little boba ball?” you ask in a baby voice.

“ooh, actually, boba sounds good,” seonghwa smiles. “let’s go.”

-

the next day you get to the bookstore late because your professor gave a pop quiz at the end of class and you’ve been so busy studying music theory you forgot to study for anything else, so you needed all the time you could get. when you finally arrive, all of the boys are there, surprisingly. since you’ve never seen yunho, mingi and jongho here before you’re a little confused, but happy to see them nonetheless. 

as you walk up to the usual spot, you notice a coffee cup sitting in front of an empty chair, and you point to it as the boys greet you.

“is this for me?” you ask, placing your bag on the ground before grabbing the warm mug. “thank you, coffee angel.”

“you’re welcome, actual angel,” seonghwa replies, and you almost choke on your first sip. what is he doing?? you’re supposed to be sneaky sneaks and keep your relationship quiet, but here he is flirting with you in front of everyone!

except, that’s what he did before you started dating too, so it’s not out of the ordinary. in fact, no one pays any mind to it, so you’re left with a burnt tongue and blushy cheeks while seonghwa looks at you with a stare that only you would understand. you quickly shoot him a wink before you put your mug down and reach for your notes.

“um, hello? what are you guys doing?” you ask yeosang next to you, who’s rabidly tapping at his phone, just like everyone else. if they weren’t distracted they might have picked up on the vibes between you and seonghwa, but thankfully they’re the oblivious ones now.

“playing a game,” half of them respond, just as hongjoong says “writing lyrics” and jongho mumbles “texting my mom.”

“aren’t we supposed to study?” you ask. “or did you already learn everything in the world while i was gone?”

“well you’ve missed a lot of study sessions, y/n,” san begins. “so yes, we have learned everything. now we just come here to hang out.”

“so then why did you insist on me being here, joong?” you ask newly orange-haired hongjoong. it’s been a while since you’ve seen him, he must’ve dyed it recently. 

“we missed hanging out with you,” he says simply, eyes peeking up from his phone. your heart constricts at this, and you catch seonghwa’s eyes again. you might have to rethink the whole sneaking around thing if they really do miss you.

“yeah, we missed you AND we had to make sure you and seonghwa are still spending time together,” wooyoung adds, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“where have you been anyway?” yeosang asks. “you don’t have other friends.”

“yes i do,” you scoff.”

“give me names and numbers.”

“ignore him,” yunho tells you, and you nod.

“i always do. but i’ve been really stressed about finals, so i had to do some soul searching on my own to decide if i need to graduate or not.”

“seems fair,” mingi agrees. “i almost had to drop a class.”

“because he forgot he was even enrolled in it,” jongho clarifies, and you laugh.

“but seonghwa has been missing a lot lately too,” san starts. “i wonder what he’s been doing.”

“or who,” wooyoung snickers, and hongjoong reaches over mingi to slap him.

“i haven’t been feeling well,” seonghwa says with a shrug. “i’ve mostly been in my room, or at the pharmacy to get medicine.”

“oh, so you could’ve bought new paper towels for the dorm then, huh?” hongjoong asks, and as the two of them start to bicker, yeosang nudges your arm.

“i saw you two,” he says quietly. “at the mexican restaurant.”

“i know,” you whisper back. 

“so i know you’re dating.”

“are you gonna say anything?”

“hmmm, no,” he thinks. “but you have to buy my silence.”

“with coffee?” you offer, and yeosang smiles. he stands up and puts his phone away before speaking, looking directly at seonghwa.

“my best friend y/n is gonna buy me coffee, we’ll be back,” he says as he loops his arm around your shoulders. seonghwa watches as you walk away (and stares at your ass) but he’s mostly thinking about how he’s a little jealous right now. like, he knows you wouldn’t do anything, he trusts you, but he doesn’t want his friends thinking you have a thing for anyone but him. so while you’re gone, he talks.

“i haven’t been sick,” he admits. “i’ve been seeing y/n.”

“we all knew, dude,” hongjoong says casually, and everyone agrees.

“then why didn’t you say anything?!”

“because YOU weren’t saying anything,” jongho replies.

“yeah, we figured that we did enough trying to get the two of you together, so if you didn’t end up dating then that was your fault. we were just waiting on you to make a move,” san explains. 

“then why did you let us lie to you like that?”

“it was fun,” wooyoung shrugs. “by the way, did y/n let you sleep in the bed because of your hips, or because you wanted to cuddle?”

the red tint on seonghwa’s cheeks gives him away, and the boys start laughing and ooo’ing so loud he’s afraid you’ll hear it over by the coffee counter.

“ok, ok, just. keep this quiet for now,” he says. “y/n may still want this to be private.”

“but you just told us about it,” yunho says. “why would you do that if you knew y/n wouldn’t want you to?”

“well,” seonghwa begins. “i need your help with a date.”

-

seemingly by an act of god, you have time this weekend to go on a date with seonghwa. little did you know, he’s the reason your plans suddenly freed up. san said you could critique him and wooyoung for their dance final another day, hongjoong said he would send you his music theory notes from the review and save you hours of studying and then yeosang found the exact spanish book you needed to finish your performance final ahead of time. it was the perfect circumstances, orchestrated by your perfect boy and his perfect-adjacent friends, who all agreed to help him with this (hopefully) perfect date. 

it starts with seonghwa picking you up from your apartment, coffee in hand. 

“you’re the man of my dreams, you know that?” you say in passing as you grab the warm to-go cup. even if you were only saying it lightly, it made seonghwa’s heart soar. you notice he hasn’t said anything to you, so you meet his eyes to find them full of stars like always, but this time there’s something scheme-y in there. he’s up to something.

“are you ready for the best date of your life?” he asks with a smile that puts the stars in his eyes to shame.

“yes, i think,” you respond, grabbing your keys and locking your door. “but i don’t know what we’re doing.”

“and it will stay that way until we get there,” seonghwa says firmly as he laces his hand into yours. you squeeze his hand and sigh.

“i guess i just have to trust you then.”

“but that won’t be hard right?”

“wait, didn’t you say something earlier about going to that art exhibit? is that it?” you question, even though you know he won’t budge. seonghwa just shakes his head no and punches the button for the elevator. a moment of silence passes before you guess again. “a movie? you rented out a movie theater, like you said you wanted to?”

“i tried, but it was expensive,” he admits and you have to laugh. “funds are tight right now.”

“i watched you buy a couple hundred dollars worth of legos the other day babe. maybe that’s why the date fund is lacking.”

“you’re not coming between me and my collectables, y/n,” seonghwa scolds. the elevator pings to open to the parking garage under your building, and you’re confused for a moment before he explains. “i want this to be a nice date, so yunho let me borrow his car. it would be no fun if we show up all sweaty because we were walking.”

yunho’s car, which is actually pretty nice thanks to all the tips he gets from flirting with clientele, is parked by the elevator. seonghwa leads you to your door and opens it for you, revealing a basket of flowers and candies in the seat. you coo as you pick it up, and seonghwa looks on proudly. you lean over to give him a kiss, and you whisper your thanks as you pull away.

“that was mingi’s idea,” seonghwa tells you, smiling brightly “i got all your favorites.”

“i see that.”

“but look around the flowers,” he guides you. “there’s something else.”

you hold the basket up to eye level, noticing the silver sparkle around the stems of the flowers. is it glitter? you tug at a flower and realize it’s a chain, and attached is a hand drawn star charm to match the tattoo on the back of seonghwa’s neck. 

“seonghwa, this is beautiful,” you say breathlessly. “we’re gonna match! that’s so cute. who’s idea was this?”

“would you believe me if i said it was mine?”

“no.”

“that’s what jongho said too,” seonghwa laughs. “it was his idea.”

“tell him thank you,” you say as you play with the charm. “mingi and yunho too. it’s a good date so far.”

“oh baby, it hasn’t officially started yet.”

-

in the car, seonghwa plays a mix of songs that he really likes, and he’s mixed in some of your favorites too. he has to keep convincing you that the songs aren’t clues, because you ask every time a new song plays.

“so are the songs just distractions?” you ask, finally giving up on getting any information out of him. 

“why do you ask that?” he smirks as he turns down a familiar road.

“because i can tell you just took the long way to the record store,” you explain. “are you stalling?”

“me, what? why?” his response does nothing to manage your suspicions, and suddenly you remember how your friends have helped with the date so far. are they all in on this? you need answers.

“seonghwa, i swear to god, if san or wooyoung jumps out to surprise me wherever we’re going-”

“that won’t happen,” seonghwa laughs while he parks the car. “we’re here anyway, and i promise this is the last surprise of the night.”

“the record store?” you question, looking up at the shop you’ve been to countless times to shop and to bother hongjoong while he works. 

“yeah, you said there was a new album out you wanted to get, right?”

“yeah,” you blush. “but i just said that in passing, i didn’t expect you to remember.”

“y/n, i want to know everything about you,” seonghwa says seriously. “so of course i remembered. wait, don’t get out yet. i’ll open the door for you.”

as seonghwa helps you out of the car, you quiz him on the other things you’ve said around him that you didn’t think he remembered. sadly, he does remember you saying your favorite disney movie is ratatouille and you’ve always wanted to try the mushroom/cheese concoction remy makes in the first scene.

“that’s a little embarrassing,” you sigh as you reach for the door. you’re going to complain some more about how seonghwa doesn’t need to remember everything about you, but the sight in front of you makes you stop mid-breath.

the record store has been decorated from floor to ceiling in fairy lights, and there’s more flowers all over the place. as you look around, you notice the flowers are tucked in the shelves next to your favorite artists. next to the door is the album you were talking about, and a little further down you see your favorite album of all time with a few extra flowers next to it. you’re still taking everything in when you notice hongjoong behind the counter.

“did you help him with this?” you ask breathlessly, and hongjoong nods. 

“yeah, but the flowers next to the albums was my idea,” hongjoong explains. “we’re running a new special called “y’n’s favorites” so everything that’s marked with a flower is yours, if you want it. everything is on the house.” 

“i...i don’t know what to say,” you start. you turn to seonghwa and there are those starry eyes that you love to see. you reach out to cup his face and smile. “thank you. this is...perfect.”

“it’s even more perfect now that i’m here!” wooyoung shouts from the front door of the shop, followed by san and yeosang. you look at seonghwa and all he does is laugh.

“what? at least he didn’t jump out and scare you,” seonghwa teases.

“oh, i would never,” wooyoung nods with a half-serious look on his face. “but i definitely wouldn’t do that when i have your dinner in my hands, i can’t let all this hard work spill.”

“especially not on my clean floor,” hongjoong warns. 

“you made dinner for us?” you ask wooyoung, but you’re looking at seonghwa, who simply shrugs.

“yep, i made one of your favorites and then threw in a couple recipes i thought you’d both like,” wooyoung says as he and the two other boys place food down on the counter by the register.

“and what did you two help with?” you ask san and yeosang.

“who do you think made this place so beautiful?” yeosang asks incredulously.

“yeosang did the lights and i bought all the flowers,” san explains with a smile that makes his eyes turn into happy half moons. “you’d be surprised how many places i had to go to get all your favorites.”

“i really don’t know what to say,” you whisper in disbelief. “i can’t believe you all did this for me.”

“it was all seonghwa’s idea,” san tells you. “we did it for both of you.”

“yeah, we’re just his little minions,” yeosang jokes, and wooyoung giggles. 

“you tell me how that food tastes, got it?” he asks as he backs out of the store. “don’t say anything mean though. i only accept compliments.”

“wooyoung,” seonghwa smiles tightly. “please leave.”

wooyoung holds the door open for san and yeosang as he gives seonghwa a thumbs up. san waves goodbye sweetly and yeosang gives you a knowing smile before the door closes behind them.

“well, i think that’s my cue to go,” hongjoong says, handing the keys to seonghwa. “don’t make a mess. if i get fired, i’m selling all the stuff i stole from you when you were sneaking around with y/n and not telling us about it.”

“i’ll keep him under control,” you assure hongjoong, who nods as heads to the door. you don’t see him leave because seonghwa has stepped in front of you, and he places his hands on your waist to pull you closer.

“so,” he begins.

“so.”

“what do you want to listen to while we eat?” he asks, pulling you by the waist over to a row of records. you stand there quietly, looking over the albums hongjoong pulled to the front for you, and you just can’t believe how much work went into this date. you can’t believe how sweet it is that each of your friends helped, and you put your hand on seonghwa’s and give it a squeeze.

“hwa,” you whisper. he hums in response, but you place your hand on his cheek and guide his gaze to yours.

“thank you,” you tell him. “thank you for this.”

he smiles at you with a look in his eyes that can’t be anything else but love, and you smile back with that much love, if not more, in your own face. you use the hand on seonghwa’s chin to guide his lips to yours, and you lose yourself in the kiss, in seonghwa, for who knows how long.

“mm, y/n,” he mumbles against your lips before detaching. “the food will get cold.”

“you’re right,” you sigh. “but we didn’t pick any music.”

“how about this?” he asks, pulling an album out from the top shelf. you smile at the cover, knowing exactly what song seonghwa wants you to hear. 

“perfect,” you agree. “i’ll put it on while you get the food?”

and that’s how you end up eating the perfect meal, on your perfect date, with all of your favorite things around you, sitting right next to your perfect boy.

[bootlickerhawks]

I don't know if it is a bit too late but could you do AFO for the character ask game? I just want to hear your thoughts about him.

/!\ 900 words of Pure Salt under the cut /!\

Hoo boy where to even begin...

AFO is a character that worked really well at the start of BNHA but now, the more time he spends on screen the more he drags the story down :/

AFO falls under the very hard to execute character archetype "all according to my keikaku" (i know there's an official name for it but shh) . These types of characters only work well when the plan is comprehensible and "simple". Allow me to elaborate with one of the best executed, imo, example: Sousuke Aizen. 

(spoilers for Bleach and more specifically the Soul Society arc, skip the orange text to avoid spoilers)   

Aizen completed 2 key steps that allowed the rest of his plan to run smoothly: he managed to hypnotize all the captains and lieutenants with his "shikai presentation" and he assassinated central 46 who serve as the judicial authority in Soul Society. So while the rest of his plan is complex it's believable for the readers because of the 2 key steps I mentioned.   

To the reader’s knowledge, AFO’s plan for the longest time was to troll All Might, recover and gather more quirks, and most importantly, to raise Tomura to be the Symbol of Fear. Now we know that raising Tomura was a facade in order to body snatch him because he needs “hatred” to obtain OFA. Also he wants to become the Übermensch Capitalist Demon Lord… cuz of Reasons. 

The problem with AFO isn’t his plan, that’s fine it’s boring but serviceable, the problem is that he makes decisions that work against his own interests. Let’s list some:

He refuses to take BJ���s quirk because it “wouldn’t suit Tomura” even though he planned on taking over Tomura’s body anyway. (I will concede that this one is nitpicky because it’s likely Hori hadn’t fully committed to the bodysnatch plotline and wanted to keep his doors open.) 

For some inconceivable reason he doesn’t take Overhaul (the quirk). This becomes especially bizarre if you take into account the theory that Chisaki was one of the kids in Ujiko’s orphanages. AFO wouldn’t have lost against All Might in the fight 5 years ago if he had had Overhaul! He would have been able to heal himself! And even if you disregard that theory, why take a risky gamble with Rewind now when he could have just taken Overhaul during the prison break?!!!!   

Hori is good at writing perceptive and observant characters (Izuku and Bakugou being good examples of this), but, and what I’m abt to say isn’t meant to disparage Horikoshi but uh… he’s not the best at writing smart characters. 

A good example of this is Hawks’ coded message to Endeavor. Full offense to Skeptic but if I was in charge of surveilling Hawks I would have known right away that something was up when Hawks kept insisting that Endeavor read the “highlighted parts” of the manifesto in chapter 245. Plus Hawks’ code was basic af but that could be explained away by Hawks’ thinking that Endeavor’s an idiot.  

Other examples include Deku’s revelation to start kicking instead of punching, and Endeavor’s advice to *checks notes* “learn to multitask”. 

Hori frames these instances as being a lot more clever than they really are. And honestly that’s fine, at the end of the day they’re just small plot points. But it does show Hori’s difficulty writing intelligent characters, which becomes a problem when writing a character like AFO. He's supposed to be smarter than the rest of the cast, he's supposed to have planned for every contingency and yet, as I’ve pointed above, he makes stupid mistakes which makes that hard to swallow.

But of course this isn’t where our problems end! AFO biggest crime isn’t murder, or kidnapping or grooming a traumatized child to be his sockpuppet. No no no no… his biggest crime is that he’s BORING AS HELL 😩

What do we know about AFO? 

He’s over 100 years old

He had a little brother and he still has hang ups about him 

He’s a petty manipulative egomaniac 

He won’t shut up abt a comic book he read with his brother as a kid 

This would be fine if he weren’t the Final Fucking Villain! 

And to add salt to the wound AFO’s continued existence has deprived us of the best character in bnha, Shigaraki, for over 50 chapters. 

This is the part where I feel conflicted. Because it does make sense for AFO’s character to refuse to relinquish his empire to Shigaraki. It makes sense for AFO, an egomaniac from a bygone era, to refuse to move on.  

I’ve seen people argue that it ruins the parallels between All Might/Deku and AFO/Shigaraki. And I can definitely understand that argument but it makes more sense than if AFO just gave everything away to an immature, at the time, kid that he groomed. 

So on a textual level I’m fine with the plot development of AFO Norting Shigaraki but as a reader it’s frustrating to watch because AFO sucks on all levels :/ 

AFO used to be entertaining at least, throwing All Might’s catchphrase to his face during the Kamino fight was funny as hell. But recently he’s just been throwing quips around like an MCU character 🤮 “iN tHe oLd CoMic I uSeD tO rEaD tHeRe WeRe JoBbEr ChArAcTeRs WhO oNLy ExIsTeD So ThE dEmOn LoRd CoULd ShOw WhAt He WaS mADE Of” Someone pls rip his tongue out I’m begging 😭

It's a shame cuz there are conceptual aspects of AFO's character that I enjoy: his opportunistic nature, his pettiness, "oopsie daisy" as cringe as it is could have been better if Hori leaned more into AFO's old-timiness, even his stupid comic book references could have been a nice subversion of the typical "villain monologues and quotes classic literature" trope if executed better.

[brackenfur]

au starting from lost stars/one non canon event mentioned but i cant stop thinking abt a scene where bramblestar slips up abt thinking abt killing firestar in sunset n how squirrel would react to that. this is a very quick drabble aka its not rly thought out or edited, i jsut needed to write and get it out somewhere ! i also cant rly definitively say that everything abt bramblestars version of events/what squirrelflight knew abt the foxtrap scene is canon-accurate since its been a minute since ive read tnp + that time period is extremely muddled in terms of which author writes it and what any cat outside of bramblestar ACTUALLY knows.

anyways tysm for reading <3

"i've sacrificed everything for this relationship, for you," bramblestar snaps, eyes that were at one moment dim and exhausted from his oncoming illness now alight with anger. "you don't even know how much pressure i was under all those years ago, after we got back together and i became deputy. i was dealing with my new position, with thunderclan's mistrust, with hawkfrost telling me to-" and he stops dead in his tracks, eyes widening just slightly as he realizes he let something slip.

squirrelflight blinks, deeply uncomfortable by his reaction. she knows that he and hawkfrost kept communicating after she and bramblestar got back together, and she knows to this day that hawkfrost never had good intentions - but there is something about the way bramblestar looks away from her, how his fur prickles along his spine, that makes her think there's more to this story.

"hawkfrost telling you to what?" she tries to keep up her bravado and confrontational tone so he doesn't detect how disturbed she's becoming, but her voice wavers. "what are you talking about?"

"nothing," he says too quickly, shaking his head. "it doesn't matter. i'm tired, squirrelflight; this leafbare is the worst i've seen, and i'm not feeling my best, either. you know that - i've been so sick, and-"

"yes, you are sick, and i've told you to rest," she reminds him, cutting him off. "and i'm sorry about that, but what are you talking about with hawkfrost?"

"i said it was nothing."

"it doesn't look like it was nothing."

bramblestar sets his jaw, shaking his head. "you know how he was. i was just going to say that he was just trying to pressure me to stop talking to you, that's it."

it doesn't feel like that was it. she has no love for hawkfrost and doesn't particularly care that he didn't like her much either - but bramblestar wouldn't be so upset and secretive about something that trivial. there's more.

"you're not telling me something," she says finally. "i know you - or, i mean, i think i know you. you're hiding something from me about hawkfrost, and i swear to starclan - we just had a conversation the other night about being truthful."

"i've always been truthful."

"it seems like you're not right now, though. i've laid out all of my secrets and told you every bad thing i've done - i've let the whole forest know my demons. not by choice, but what's done is done. there's something you're not telling me about hawkfrost - and don't tell me he didn't like me, we all know that. what was he telling you to do?"

he twitches his whiskers. "squirrelflight, you need to drop it."

this just makes her more angry. "i've told you everything i've done and you're always going on about how we need to stay truthful to each other to make this work - whatever it is, i'll listen to you about it. i know how hawkfrost was - did he want you to take over the forest, or something? i know he talked to mudclaw about things like that; he wasn't subtle about his plans to be tigerstar junior."

bramblestar looks deeply uncomfortable. "i didn't do what he wanted me to do, you know i didn't," he finally says after what seems like an hour; she blinks, unsure of what he's talking about.

"what do you mean? like...yeah, you didn't take over-"

"he wanted me to become thunderclan's leader. that's it. now, please, just drop it."

she frowns. she kind of expected that, but there's....a deep shame in his eyes, and she thinks there's an element to this story he's not saying. he's being evasive and private, and her heart begins to beat harder when she really, really thinks back on all those years ago.

a memory surfaces, one that she always thought about with pain and yet an underlying feeling of pride - for brambleclaw, for her mate, for saving her father....

it hits her then. she always thought that the foxtrap was brambleclaw's moment of undying loyalty to her father - stumbling upon hawkfrost about to kill firestar, and immediately jumping to his defense. that's always how he told it, anyways; he knew what hawkfrost wanted to do, and put an end to it.

but there were always these underlying moments that she couldn't quite place over the years - some type of underlying shame and embarrassment that she just chalked up to grief for his brother.

they look at each other, and she tries to keep calm. "when you found my father in the foxtrap," she says slowly. "did you think about letting hawkfrost kill him?"

bramblestar's beat of silence is all she needed to know; he immediately tries recovering it, though.

"squirrelflight, i would've never done that- hawkfrost and tigerstar were-"

"tigerstar? what does your father have to do with this?"

bramblestar is very quiet; she thinks that the world around them is completely silent as they stand in the middle of a snowy clearing. the cold usually heightens the sounds in the air, but in this moment all squirrelflight can hear is the thudding of her own heart.

bramblestar seems like he's trying to piece his thoughts together carefully; she forces herself to wait until he finally says: "i was never going to do it," he says, voice tight with emotion. "squirrelflight, i loved your father - you know that." she can barely hear him anymore as she finally grasps what exactly he's telling her. "my father and my brother- you've heard about how they are from lionblaze and ivypool and the others that went to the dark forest, how could i have- they were my family once, i thought that maybe-"

so that was his big secret, the one that he never meant for her to uncover. everything makes a little more sense now; the guilt and shame in bramblestar's eyes for those first seasons after hawkfrost's death whenever he'd look at firestar, the overcompensation bramblestar tried to preform as deputy. it wasn't because he felt like he allowed his brother to cause harm to firestar before saving him, it was-

"hawkfrost told you to kill firestar," she says softly, looking up at her mate. "but that- if it was just that, you would have told me, not lead me to believe that hawkfrost was the one who wanted to do it all along," she feels herself shaking as the shame begins to come back into bramblestar's expression. "you thought about, didn't you? about killing my father so you could become leader?"

bramblestar gives one moment of hesitation, and she shakes her head.

"i'm going to be sick," she says quickly, stepping away from him.

"i didn't hurt him. it wasn't-"

"this whole time, you've shamed me and made me feel like the worst cat that's been born because i kept a secret for my sister," she almost spits, her fur raising. "i don't know if i was morally right or wrong, i don't know what anyone else would do in my paws during that time - but you made me feel like i was worthless for a year because i protected leafpool, and now i finally get to know that you not only met up frequently with tigerstar but that you actually- you thought about killing my father. you thought about hurting firestar just so you could become leader."

ashfur's jibe all those years ago suddenly makes more sense - after the fire, the way he bumped into her with his shoulder and sneered you don't really even know your own mate, do you?

who knew that even after all this time after his death, ashfur still got the last laugh.

[jayflrt]

alice as one of the older kids on sfw enhablr (not saying ur old !! 😭😭 it’s just that there’s a lot of minors on here) how do you feel abt the current content for the maknae line? like ik it’s not always super sexualized or anything but sometimes i see stuff that’s just the way it’s worded really rubs me the wrong way ☹️ esp bc some of the kids on here are so young it makes me feel like if they see stuff like that , they might start think it’s okay for others to treat them the same or vice verse … whenever i see edits of niki on tiktok , i have to avoid the comments bc there’s almost always like a “daddy” , “how is he 16” or “you don’t know what you do to me” like wtf he’s a literal child ?? it makes me so mad and honestly so uncomfortable :( and i saw an article on kboo today too that said niki apparently has around 200 explicit or mature fics written abt him on ao3 … sometimes even the fboi trope (usually when it’s written abt minors) bothers me bc i see minors writing abt it (like 13-15 y/o) and i don’t understand why they don’t just use the term player or smtg … bc they’ll go out of their way to mention how the character has sex a lot an whatnot , even that feels way too suggestive for me personally for a minor too write let aline abt a minor too , sorry for the rant,, i was just wondering how you felt … omg also though tbh i noticed that some of the minors on here / blogs in gen seem way too comfy on here like they’ll be sharing where they live , their actual names and sometimes like giving a lot of personal info … like did they not learn abt internet safety or do they just no care? as one of the older kids , i kind of worry abt them :( i really hope everybody stays safe on here <3 & some reminders: never be afraid to block anyone ! bc i’ve seen a lot of minors on here get sent stuff from the p*rn bots or just weird dms :( & u don’t need to force yourself to interact with someone , make sure ur comfy with them first !

HAHAH dw anon i know what you meant !! plus i’m aware i’m on the older side of the enhablr audience 😵‍��� you actually bring up a point that’s been my mind a lot recently because i’ve been seeing a lot of suggestive undertones in comments directed towards riki especially on tiktok lately 😭😭 as you said, i get that there’s a trend of comments that are like “how is he only 16” and “the things he does to me” but i always feel so weird about the first one especially 💀 idkkk i thought i was just being a buzzkill but the comments do put me off a little LOL like these ones

yeah idk ab minors writing fuckboy tropes bc it’s like veryyyy suggestive and very much toeing the line of borderline smut 💀 also i don’t get the point of a fuckboy trope for riki :/ i feel like it adds absolutely nothing to the plot too if the point is just a “bad boy au” other than fanservice so i truly don’t understand the point. and riki has over 200 mature fics written for him??? that’s so horrible oh my god 😭

i think it’s much more common to share more information over the internet now than it was years back, and it’s a little scary sometimes 😵‍💫 i do hope everyone is practicing internet safety tho bc there are some evil evil people out there <//3 also i actually find it hard to block ppl HAHAH but yes don’t be afraid to block porn bots and people who are being suspicious !! i actually blocked a porn bot just a while ago 💀 i’m not sure why there’s soooo many of them on tumblr all of a sudden :o

[wickedpact]

dear tumblr user crim wickedpact pls write the essay/dissertation about nicky being shakespeare's fair youth (if you have time, ofc!!)

Not To Imply Nicky Was Shakespeare’s Fair Youth But Ive Read The Fair Youth Sonnets & Nicky Was Definitely Shakespeare’s Fair Youth, an essay by me, tumblr user crim wickedpact

background knowledge: our man shakespeare wrote some 120 sonnets about a young man referred to as the Fair Youth during the mid 1590s; there has been some debate among shakespeare enthusiasts whether shakespeare’s interest in the Fair Youth was platonic or romantic (but like. they were definitely romantic). no one knows for sure who the Fair Youth was, but it was definitely nicky and my first and most important piece of evidence regarding this hypothesis is the ‘lmao babe do you remember that guy who had a crush on me?’/ ‘i try not to remember the guy who had a crush on you’ look joe and nicky exchange when Merrick brings up shakespeare during the movie. especially since gina confirmed in a tweet that joe and nicky canonly did know shakespeare

my second piece of evidence is that it just Works (except for a couple small facts like.. the Fair Youth was prolly closer to his 20s than his 30s. and the fact that shakespeare implies that the Fair Youth slept with his mistress at one point. but he doesnt know what hes talking about shhh we IGNORE)

long post under cut

A. The Description Matches

when describing the Fair Youth (who I’ll call the FY from now on), shakespeare says he has a ‘gold complexion’ and ‘beautiful eyes’ and compares him to a ‘summer’s day’. He says the FY has “A woman’s gentle heart" and “An eye more bright than [women’s are], (...) Gilding the object whereupon [they] gazeth”

As much as shakespeare’s perceptions of sexuality and gender are very........  late 1500′s (whoo boy sonnet #20 is a wild ride) ...... the description does match, and also:

  B. The Fair Youth Refused to Get Married

it’s never really said why one way or another (shakespeare assumes it’s because the FY is selfish) but the FY didn’t/wouldn’t take on a wife and have a kid, and this was something that was a real sticker for our man Willy S. because, as he says in his sonnets a million times: beauty doesn’t last forever, but having a child not only passes down the FY’s beauty, but also blesses the woman the FY would have a child with (im not saying shakespeare wanted to bear the FY’s children, but he definitely did)

Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest, Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother. For where is she so fair whose uneared womb Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?

(ie. If you don’t renew yourself/ have children, you deprive the world and deprive a woman from having your child, since what woman out there is so beautiful that she wouldn’t want to bear your child?)

Like.

1.) if nicky is the FY then so many of these poems center around the idea of nicky growing old sometime soon and that must have been pretty funny to Nicky and

2.)  the fact that shakespeare would have been So Desperate for nicky to find a wife must have been the opposite of funny to joe. considering the ease of his and nicky’s relationship and the fact that being gay in late 1500s england was probably not a walk in the park, it is very likely shakespeare wouldn’t have known they were in a committed relationship-- or at least not known how close they actually were. Thus:

  C. The Rival (aka. Joe)

shakespeare mentions having a poetic rival in regards to the FY in several sonnets. In sonnet #21 he talks about how he’s not like Those Other Writers who use grand metaphors to talk about their muses

So is it not with me as with that Muse, Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse, Who heaven itself for ornament doth use And every fair with his fair doth rehearse, Making a couplement of proud compare With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems, With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare,

(ie. I’m not like other poets who, when inspired by a ‘painted beauty’ use heaven and every other beautiful thing on the planet to make a grand comparison to their muse: he specifically lists the sun and moon as examples as well as other beautiful things)

He then goes on to say

And then believe me, my love is as fair As any mother's child, though not so bright As those gold candles fixed in heaven's air:

(ie. my love [the FY] is as beautiful as any other beautiful person, though I wouldn’t compare them to the stars/heavens (which is what he means by the 'gold candles’. those are stars.))

So shakespeare insults poets who compare their subjects to the sun, moon, and stars (amongst other things) and in the comics, Joe does literally exactly that

That man is the stars in my sky, and the sun that lights my days. That man is the moon when I'm lost in darkness, and warmth when I shiver in cold.

shakespeare also goes on to say in the same sonnet “Let them say more that like of hearsay well / I will not praise that purpose not to sell” which is to say ‘let people who like that kind of language use it, I wont because I don’t want anyone else to have the subject of my affections (the FY)’.

(which is a bit of a contradiction regarding his feelings abt the FY getting married, but these sonnets are full of contradictions. shakespeare was a confused dude; man spent the first 100 or so sonnets convinced the FY loved him back only for him to start wondering if the FY ever loved him near the end)

(not to mention Marriage For Love wasnt really.. much of a thing in Ye Olden Times but thats a different conversation. so shakespeare prolly didnt associate marriage with love/competition? anyways)

Shakesy-boo goes on to complain about this rival several times. In #79, he says

Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent He robs thee of, and pays it thee again. He lends thee virtue, and he stole that word From thy behaviour; beauty doth he give, And found it in thy cheek: he can afford No praise to thee, but what in thee doth live.

(ie. everything ‘your poet’ (as the FY apparently favored this unnamed rival) says about you, he takes it from you in the first place. he talks about your virtue, but learned the word from watching your behavior. he calls you beautiful but only discovered beauty by looking at your face. every compliment he gives you he took from you in the first place)

[and, as a smaller example, he also bemoans the fact that people want to paint the FY in #67, saying, “Why should false painting imitate his cheek, / And steal dead seeming of his living hue?”. and yknow. Joe’s an artist.]

And then another example in #86

Was it the proud full sail of [the rival’s] great verse, Bound for the prize of all too precious you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew?

Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead?

(ie. he’s talking about how he’s having difficulty writing abt the FY and is rhetorically asking if ‘the proud sail’ of the rival’s verses was the reason his ‘ripe thoughts’ were killed in their ‘womb’. He then asks (again rhetorically) if it was the rival’s ‘spirit’ (or creativity, maybe) ‘’’‘by spirits taught to write’’’’ that killed his own drive to write. none of the analyses I’ve read really explain what shakespeare means by ‘spirits taught to write’, other than maybe being a joke or reference to something we dont know, but... ‘taught by dead people to write in a way mortal people can’t’ very much sounds like a description of an immortal poet, eh?)

Which brings me to,

  D. Willy Boy Thinks There Are 500 Year Old Writings About the Fair Youth

shakespeare talks about people having written about the FY ‘500 years ago’ from the late 1500s in #59 which......................... would have been around 1100 AD. :thinking face:

Oh that record could with a backward look, Even of five hundred courses of the sun, Show me your image in some antique book, Since mind at first in character was done, That I might see what the old world could say To this composed wonder of your frame;

(ie. Oh if I could look back 500 years and see how you were described in some old books so I could see/reference what people used to write about you)

Which again brings me to,

  E. I’m Not Saying shakespeare Stole From Joe, But:

1.) In #22, shakespeare says this,

For all that beauty that doth cover thee, Is but the seemly raiment of my heart, Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me: 

(ie, your beauty is due to the ‘clothes’ my heart gives you-- probably means something like ‘you’re beautiful because i love you’. goes on to say his heart lives in the FY’s chest, and the FY’s heart lives in shakespeare’s chest)

so: shakespeare tells the FY he has shakespeare’s heart. in comparison, Joe calls nicky ‘my heart’ in the comics...... :thinking face x2:

2.) In #109, shakespeare tells the FY ‘thou art my all’,

For nothing this wide universe I call, Save thou, my rose, in it thou art my all.

which rings similar to Joe’s ‘he’s all and he’s more’ as well as (from the comics) ‘he is my everything’

and just saying. joe looks pretty #done the mention of shakespeare.

  F. The last One

Despite shakespeare writing 30+ poems about the FY eventually growing old, the very last poem he writes about/for the FY says,

O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle hour; Who hast by waning grown, and therein showest Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self growest. 

(ie. you [the FY] have power over the ‘mirror’ (fickle glass) of time as well as time’s ‘harvesting’ ability (sickle hour) and as you grow older, you remain beautiful while your lovers [shakespeare] wither and grow old)

The transition from ‘get married and have a baby before you get old!!!!’ in #1-20 to talking about the FY’s presence in 500 y/o books in #59 to admitting the FY isn’t growing old in #126 kinda seems to imply shakespeare learning of/about nicky’s immortality at some point, and this last poem is him accepting it.

TLDR: not only does it make perfect sense if nicky was the Fair Youth from the FY sonnets, but it also makes perfect sense if joe was the Rival from the FY sonnets. its canon nothing will convince me otherwise

[un2-verse]

BILLY — Kim Taehyung (3)

Synopsis: News of a Sadistic Serial Killer nicknamed “Jigsaw” is spreading around town like wildfire… the nickname stemming from the puzzle piece he cuts from every victim’s body. No one knows who he’ll trap next but in a town full of delinquents and criminals, it could never be you. Right?

Pairing: yandere!Taehyung x f!reader

genre: angst, horror, weirdly some fluff lol

Warnings: dark themes, yandere, stalking, manipulation, conditioning, mentions of abuse, suicidal ideations/attempts, self harm, murder, depictions of torture etc (basically its gorey and fucked up), angel trap, etc stabbing and guns. do not read if triggered!!!!

wordcount: 2.2k

taglist: @yes-sol-not-soul @yoongiofmine

a/n: pt 3 is here!! honestly i wasnt expecting this amount of support as i’ve never published my writing before so thank u sm ♡ i was inspired to write this one night and i had no idea where it’d go or anything but i’m happy with the way its turning out :D fun fact abt me, i’ve been obsessed w the franchise since i was little and i actually have 2 saw tattoos, one of billy and one above saying “cherish your life” since that’s pretty much the motto of saw :) and i have quite the collection of saw/billy items so why not turn my fav horror film into a fucked up love story! let me know if u would like to be added to the taglist and pls enjoy reading^^ feel free to send me asks abt the series or anything u want~ i love hearing from u guys!! :D ps— taehyung and the reader dont have much interaction in this part,, theyll definitely be more of them together in part 4 :) unedited so pls excuse any mistakes!! tysm <33 and remember these are fictional characters and do not represent bts personally in any way!!

series masterlist

part one part two

The headlines constantly named the Jigsaw Killer, Billy. The somewhat eerie little doll that had a face as white as a Calla Lily with spirals on it’s cheeks as red as the blood that was shed during the tests. Billy was always dressed in a little black suit with a red bowtie and he was (most of the time) situated on a squeaky battered tricycle. Attached was always a tape that read “play me” and when the subjects did, a chilling voice— one that could make even the world's worst predators shiver with terror— would echo around the room.

Everyone knew that a doll clearly wasn’t responsible, yet they gave it the name Billy in hopes to somewhat humanise the face that instilled panic— they did not want to live in fear.

It was the only face behind the killings.

But this time, there was a different subject stuck in the test and Billy had made sure there was no way for them to survive.

“How are you scared of heights? You’re practically a giant yourself!”

“Just because I’m tall doesn’t mean I can’t be scared of heights Y/Nie.”

You had no idea how long had passed since Taehyung had turned up at the garage, you were too busy chatting away squeezed into the kitchen while your Dad, Yoongi and Hobi worked on the cars in the shop. If anyone could hear you both, they would think you’d known eachother since childhood— the playful jokes and light touches exaggerated that.

You’d only known him for a few hours really, if you added the time spent with him on the first day and now. It hadn’t seemed like all those weeks ago that you first met, he had a familiar presence, as though you had known him for years compared to the hours.

“I just wouldn’t imagine you to be scared of anything Taehyung… you seem so confident and fearless.”

You saw the way Taehyung looked at you. His eyes flashed with understanding.

“I did have my fears back then, much like yours.”

“What do you mean?” you had a rough idea on what he meant but you needed him to voice it.

A deep inhale and the words flowed from his lips before he could stop it, “The fear of living. I had been through some stuff you know, growing up. My mum was working a lot and my dad was an alcoholic, he was so fucking possessive and wouldn’t let her go anywhere without kicking off. It was a fucking shitshow and so toxic. This one time though, I’d pretended that I’d gone to school and waited outside the front door. It didn’t take long before I heard shit getting smashed and my dad shouting.” Taehyung was telling the truth only, he left out the part where he was also as possessive, if not more, than his father. Well, let's say… obsessive. “I just ran in the house and saw my dad towering over my mum and I don’t remember what happened but, I do remember my mum crying and my dad disappeared.”

Now Taehyung was lying through his teeth. He remembered clearly, almost like it was yesterday. He smashed the nearest bottle, pulled his mother away from the monster that scared her and stabbed him. Not just once, not twice but thirty-seven times. Hence the thirty seven tattoo on the palm of his right hand (the one he’d actually killed his father with). There was only Taehyung who knew what it meant, he counted every single time the broken glass pierced his father’s body, he counted with a smile on his face and a chuckle in his throat.

You were at a loss for words. Your mouth gaped in shock, eyes wide and your brain scrambled for the right thing to say. You reached over and grabbed his hand, interlacing your fingers. His thumb running back and forth along your hand. “I’m sorry, I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like.” There was no way you could relate, your mother and father were happy and in love. They had the ideal relationship, one you wished for yourself. You could empathise though.

“You don’t need to be sorry baby, it’s in the past and I’ve moved on from it. I was like you though, poisoned by the roots that keep you on the ground even though you wanted nothing more than to break free and be no longer.” A silence fell over you both before Taehyung uttered, “I wasn’t successful with my attempt so now I’m here to help you.”

Warmth spread throughout your body, a smile graced your features as you no longer felt alone.

You had a completely different idea to what those words actually meant.

It was nearing the evening when Taehyung’s car had been fixed. Yoongi popped his head in the kitchen to tell him but stopped himself so as to not interrupt the scene before him. You were laughing along to whatever Taehyung was babbling about with your hand resting on his bicep, with that look in your eyes that he hadn’t seen for years. Yoongi felt himself smile as he saw you hanging onto Taehyung's every word.

For the first time in forever, you looked alive.

Yoongi cleared his throat which drew yours and Taehyung’s attention, “Sorry to interrupt guys. We’ve finished with your car so whenever you’re ready we’ll be outside.” The infamous gummy smile overtook his features, you felt yourself beam in return.

“Thanks man! I’ll be like, five minutes.”

Yoongi nodded his head in reply and swiftly left the room.

You’d taken Tae’s hand into yours, playing with the array of rings that occupied his fingers. Solemn thoughts overtook, am I not gonna see him again? Was this, whatever this is, over before it had even begun? Your eyes stayed on his hand as you turned it over and traced your finger over the inked ‘thirty seven’ on his palm. “What does this mean?”

Taehyung didn’t think twice before he practically beamed out, “It’s my lucky number.”

The difference was, it wasn’t really his lucky number… although he did see it that way. It was the number that had stayed with him. It was something he was proud of, whenever he looked at the hand that killed his father, his chest filled with pride and a joyous feeling overtook his senses. It was his first murder. Something he relished in and thus, created the onslaught of Jigsaw killings. He targeted a certain type— those whose sins would lock them up forever if they were ever found out. Racists, murderers, rapists, drug dealers, con-men. Authoritative figures who abused their power. He even went as far as subjecting suicidal people.

You see, things aren’t sequential. Good doesn’t lead to good, nor bad to bad. People who steal, don’t get caught, they live the good life. Others lie, cheat and get elected.

Some people would call it karma but Taehyung, he called it justice.

He’d started this with one thing on his mind— those that don’t appreciate life do not deserve it.

Whenever a serial killer was on the loose, the press did what they always did. They gave them a nickname. While the public had named the doll Billy. The actual killer was named ‘Jigsaw’.

This stemmed from the jigsaw piece that was cut from the victims skin, no one knew why he was doing it or what it even stood for.

It did have a meaning although unknown to the public.

The jigsaw piece that was cut from the subjects was only ever meant to be a symbol that that subject was missing something. A vital piece of the human puzzle. The survival instinct.

After all, until a person is faced with death, it’s impossible to tell whether they have what it takes to survive.

Across town an underground abandoned warehouse, was where the next subject had found themselves.

They were suspended in the air, their feet merely dangling above the ground. The putrid smell of death lingered in every crevice, the sound of rats scurrying along the concrete floor filled their ears just as they began to stir awake.

A pain in their ribs was the overwhelming factor to them finally coming around. When they groggily opened their eyes, they were paralised with fear due to the scene in front of them.

A doll sat a few feet ahead, perched upon a tricycle. Adorned with a black suit and a red bowtie. A slow red light flashed in his eyes.

Billy.

Before the subject could even register how, when or why they found themselves trapped in a test, footsteps echoed behind them. The subject called out, “Help! Please, somebody help! I shouldn’t be here!”

A tsk reached their ears, as a disembodied voice replied, “Trust me, no one can hear you. Scream all you like. You’d just be wasting your breath, you may as well cherish it before it's gone.”

With hairs stood on end, the subject stilled. “What do you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything from you.” The man's footsteps grew louder. “I’m here to serve justice, that’s all.”

The man rounded the subject, settling in their view with only his cloaked back visible while he tended to the little doll. He touched Billy delicately—like he was a little child that he loved dearly. He combed his gloved hand through the doll's black hair and eventually pulled his fingers from the tresses to pat his head gently.

“You fucking psycho! Let me go!”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that which only infuriated the subject more causing them to shake in anger, a movement they soon ceased when they realised something was penetrating their ribs.

“I’d be very careful if I was you, we wouldn’t want you hurting yourself now… would we?” The cloaked figure spun around. An angry glint to his eye.

“What the fuck, you’re fucking crazy. Let me out, this isn’t right!” The subject tried their hardest to swing their legs, to somehow kick the man who’d imprisoned them.

“I think you’ll find it is right. You’re unworthy of the body you possess.” He inched closer, “see, when someone purposely intends to harm others, they lose their right to life.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

The man arched a brow as he replied, “Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He felt like it was a game of cat and mouse except, he was a tiger and his subject, was the tiniest prey to mankind. “But, let me remind you! Since you can’t get your thick fucking head to work. You’re a liar, a cheater and an abuser. That ring any bells?”

The subject's face dropped.

“Ah, I see by your expression you know exactly what I’m talking about! Glad to see we’re on the same page.” He shrugged his cloak off placing it to the side of the doll. “I want to play a game.”

“What game? This isn’t a fucking game! You’re sick in the head you fucking cunt!”

The atmosphere shifted, the man remained calm while the subject went ballistic.

“What is this? What fucking game?”

“You feel the machine that’s currently occupying your ribs? Well, in about ten minutes that’s going to rip you apart. I’m proud to say that trap is my baby. I’ve been working on it especially for you! How nice is that?” he reached out to tug at the subject’s legs, tormenting them like a cat would a mouse. “Anyway, as my beautiful angel trap will rip you apart, my darling little friend Billy over here,” the subject followed the direction the man's hand pointed, “is going to match your face with the ugliness of your soul.”

“Fuck, fuck this! How do I stop it? Tell me how I fucking stop it!”

A boxy grin overtook the man's face, laughter poured from his mouth as he leaned over and slapped the subject’s leg. “This is a special game.”

“Who are you? What do you mean by ‘special game’?”

He raised himself so he stood tall and grabbed a knife from his pocket, “I’m the man you call Jigsaw.” He traced the tip of the knife along the subject’s ankle, “and when I say a special game… I mean you can’t get out.” While the subject was screaming in realisation, Taehyung walked back for his cloak, hung it over his shoulder and stalked off back the way he came. He sent one last smile to the subject as he rounded them and within the blink of an eye, he gripped the knife and slashed the subject’s achilles.

A chilling scream pierced the eerie atmosphere, the subject couldn’t string words together. Abundances of anxiety, terror and pure panic took reign of their body. Taehyung grabbed the injured muscles and forced his gloved fingers in as he gripped and twisted them, “That’s for Y/N.”

Taehyung had pressed the timer before he cut the subject’s tendons. He grabbed the tape from his pocket and threw it on the ground and with a chuckle he shouted, “Game over!”

Before he reached the end of the hallway, he heard the gunshots pierce his subjects face followed by the sound of the angel trap, even this far away Taehyung heard every crack of the ribs and the noise of the body being tore apart.

Without looking back, Taehyung rounded the corner and slammed the door shut.

He’d chosen the Angel trap for the irony, the subject that was currently hanging from the ceiling was no angel. They were a fucked up, evil, waste of space. Taehyung had done the world a favour, he’d done you a favour.

That got him thinking, how much blood would you shed in order to stay alive?

[a/n: who do we think was in the trap???👀]