#and i was like well. knowing there is a culture under the sea must be. shocking

[kairennart]

pirate gwen x mermaid morgana. send post

for @merlinbingo

[hannie-dul-set]

the breakup soup — [y.jh].

SYNOPSIS. you and jeonghan get into an argument in the middle of the meeting. the rest of your organization’s officers slowly start to realize that this isn’t just about whether the mountains or the sea would be the better venue for your event.

PAIRING. yoon jeonghan x female! reader. GENRE. lovers to exes to lovers, humor, romance, tiny angst, orgmate! jeonghan, college! au, a whole lot of forced proximity, only one bed inn room, a bunch of nosy men. WARNINGS. written breakup (obviously), so much swearing, many many dumb inappropriate jokes (divorce, fucking, diarrhea, to name a few), parliamentary procedures jargon. WORD COUNT. 15k.

NOTE. after six, seven months, this this is finally out of hell (my gdocs). the soup is overcooked. holy shit. everything is written in the pov of a certain teener (excluding jeonghan and the mc. this fic is about them but no, you do not have access to their thoughts). this is super duper fun to write and i hope it’s fun to read as well HHAHAHAHA. please let me know what you think! enjoy!

“TODAY IS SEPTEMBER 7, 20XX. THE MEETING WILL NOW PLEASE COME TO ORDER. Mr. Secretary, please call the roll.”

The words robotically fall out of Seungcheol’s mouth as he turns over the pages of his clipboard, marking a precise, red dot next to the word ‘agenda’ on the page. Another day, another meeting. He can’t wait for the moment he can finally retire from this god damned position. Every single time he repeats his presiding officer script, it feels like a digit gets added to his age.

“Yes, Mr. Chair. Please say ‘present and voting’ once your name is called to be acknowledged.” 

Wonwoo starts the roll call, and Seungcheol is desperately trying to cover his yawn with the clipboard, else Seungkwan is gonna grate at him again for dozing off in his own meeting— the aforementioned straightening himself in his seat when his position is called.

“Public Information Officer 1?”

“Present and voting.”

“PIO 2?

“Present—” says Joshua, flicking a paper clip across the table and into Vernon’s nth latte of the day. “—and voting.”

“Next. Assistant Business Manager.”

“Prese—”

“Okay, got it.” Chan brandishes a look of offense when Wonwoo cuts him off. “Business Manager?”

“Present and voting. Do we really have to keep doing this one by one?” 

Mingyu has a point, Seungcheol mentally agrees. But his god damned seniors wrote in the damned constitution and bylaws that every meeting of SVT (Society of Virtuous Timetravellers. He’s in the process of renaming it because your organization that’s supposed to be for history and culture is attracting weirdos instead— and two of them are Soonyoung and Seokmin) must abide by strict parliamentary procedures, so he has no choice but to suck it up and listen as Wonwoo continues to read out the succeeding positions on the attendance list, and it’s starting to sound a lot like a lullaby.

“Secretary, yours truly, present and voting.” The scratch from Wonwoo’s throat signals Seungcheol that it’s to zone back in. “Vice Chairperson-External?”

“Present and voting.”

Your voice draws Seungcheol's attention. He turns his head towards you and he notices the sheets of binded up papers you have in your hands, straightened with a few taps on the table surface before you settle them back down, a swell of pride when he sees what’s printed on the topmost page. 

It’s impeccably organized, the task he assigned to you only three days prior. Hell, you even have page tabs sticking out of the sides of every page. Your work ethic never fails to impress him. On top of that, you’re always so professional— able to separate your personal and org life with strict barriers in between because even though you and Junhui have been friends for ten years, your sharp glare holds no reservations when you catch him folding paper turtles with sticky notes right next to you when inside the meeting room.

“Sorry,” Jun breathes out. You retract your leg from under the table after giving him a discreet kick.

Anyway, Seungcheol has high hopes for you, and he’s eyeing you to replace him as SVT’s Chairperson next year (he’s already in the process of manipulating you into taking the job: the compliments he gives away aren’t for free). You’re perfect. You’re flawless. There’s no one else fit for the position but you. 

Which is why the next course of events comes as nothing less than a shock to him.

“Vice Chairperson-Internal?” Wonwoo calls out but is met with silence. He looks around. “VCI?”

No answer. You scoff.

“Alright, moving on. Mr. Chair?” 

Seungcheol stiffens, second-guessing what he’d just heard, but the near-invisible crooked twitch of the corner of your mouth proves that no, that wasn’t just his imagination. You just scoffed. A sharp noise laced with derision and contempt. That should’ve been the first sign that something is off.

“Present,” he coughs out, resigning his attention back to the meeting he has to preside over. It must be nothing. Even you can get annoyed sometimes. Maybe Jun is fucking around again and you’ve just had about enough.

“There are thirteen out of fourteen officers present, Mr. Chair. We are in quorum.”

“Thank you. Seeing that we are in quorum, it is now legal for us to conduct business. Mr. Secretary, will you please read to us the agenda for today’s—”

The office door swings open. 

“Sorry, I’m late!”

And Mr. VCI rushes in with his white coat still hanging off his shoulders. The meeting is put to an abrupt pause as Jeonghan hastily walks up to his assigned seat, trying to explain the reason for his tardiness. “Our lab session took longer than expected,” Jeonghan huffs out, dragging out the chair next to him. “Dr. Han wouldn’t let us—”

“It’s common decency to enter the room and sit down quietly when you’re late so as to not disturb the ongoing meeting. Especially when you haven’t informed the body beforehand.”

Seungcheol flinches when he hears the interruption of your sharp tone. His head quickly snaps to your direction before gleaning Jeonghan’s reaction. His friend’s jaw tightens but he says nothing. That should’ve been the second sign.

“Mr. Chair, may we proceed with the reading of today’s agenda?”

He eyes you carefully and, with a hesitant drawl anchoring his tongue, proceeds with the meeting while Jeonghan quietly settles into his seat. “Mr. VCI, you may send your excuse letter later for record keeping. Anyhow, Mr. Secretary, please read to us the agenda for today’s meeting.” Wonwoo does as instructed. The problem is, Seungcheol can’t hear anything that he’s saying. Not when his seat is exceedingly uncomfortable at the moment.

It’s not his seat. It’s the two people cornering his seat that’s the problem.

Cold sweat breaks out from his forehead. The air is stuffy. You and Jeonghan lock eyes for zero-point-five seconds and there’s a chill in the atmosphere that only Seungcheol can feel. What the fuck is going on?

“Thank you Mr. Secretary. We’ll begin with the first agenda— SVT’s Orientation and Membership Training. Alright. As you all may know, this will be our organization’s first event for the academic year, thus I am expecting everyone’s undivided cooperation in making sure that this event will be a success. We have already discussed the initial details of the event during the previous meeting, and we also distributed the tasks to the officers and committees.” He flips through a page and clears his throat. “I believe our Vice Chair External was tasked to scout for the venue. Ms. VCE, have you prepared your presentation?”

You nod, rising from your seat. “Yes, Mr. Chair. I’ve prepared a comprehensive list of all our options.” Okay, Seungcheol breathes in through nose. You seem normal now. Maybe he was just overthinking things. “I ask for everyone’s assistance in distributing the copies.”

Seungcheol looks at the text written in bold when you pass a copy to him— SVT ORYE & MT 20XX: VENUE PROPOSAL. While everyone is passing the paperclip-bound photocopies to each other, you take the liberty to start speaking. “If you look at the second page, you can see the overview of the entire document. I’ve listed five possible venues and compiled their respective addresses, rates, inclusions, menus, and of course, pictures for your reference. We’ll look at each of them one by one, starting with—”

You pause. Jeonghan is raising his hand. Your eyebrow twitches. Seungcheol gets a bad feeling. “Yes, Mr. VCI?”

“Thank you for the acknowledgement,” he says. “I’d like to ask why exactly are all of these venues located in the mountains? Don’t we have other options? It would be fine if it were just us officers, but I believe holding the event in such terrains would be far too inconvenient for more or less a hundred people.”

A very bad feeling.

“I appreciate your insight,” you respond. Uh oh. Your smile is strained and Seungcheol knows it. That’s the smile you wear when you’re about to pulverize a representative for a disadvantageous partnership to the ground. “However, I’d like to bring to your recollection that the theme of this year’s Orye is traditional South Korean folklore. That considered, I came up with the judgment that the mountainous and forested areas would be the most appropriate and immersive venue if we wish to bring this concept to life. I hope that is clear, Mr. VCI. Anyway—”

“It’s still impractical, Ms. VCE.” 

Your face stiffens.

Jeonghan just cut you off. 

Shit, he just cut you off. 

He stands up, leveling you from across the table. “What about our members with asthma? Heart problems? What if it rains on the day of the event? Do you expect everyone to climb up a mountain trail in all these conditions?”

“If you read through my document before inadvertently interrupting me, Mr. VCI, you’d know that three out of the five venues offer uphill transportation in order to get to the accommodations. And although I understand your reservations about the possibility of inclement weather, may I remind you that it’s also the driest season of the year. You’re being unreasonable.”

Fuck. Seungcheol thinks he needs to butt in but he can’t find the timing when there’s literally an invisible fucking electric fence deterring him from reaching the both you. He catches a glimpse of Joshua���s concerned eyebrows. ‘Do something,’ his friend’s eyes say. He’s about to until you drop a sentence that shoots the tension off the roof.

“Furthermore, I’ve surveyed all of the officers through text if they agree with my venue proposal and I was met with no objections. You’d know if you opened any of my messages last night, Jeonghan.”

Holy fuck.

Holy fuck, you called him by his first name. 

You never call anyone by their first name. At least not during meetings and it’s very clear that this is a reason for alarm because everyone else’s eyes fly wide open. Except Jeonghan’s. He just looks pissed— mirroring your very own expression. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong and Seungcheol is slowly starting to realize that this argument isn’t just about the venue conflict.

“Ahem.” He clears his throat for the nth time, a wound might break open. “We will take our VCI’s concern into consideration. If you believe holding our Orye in the mountains is impractical, where do you suggest we should hold it instead?”

Jeonghan’s shoulders relax. He gives you a momentary look before settling back into his seat. “Thank you, Mr. Chair.” You do the same. Seungcheol breathes out a sigh of relief. “I’d like to suggest that we hold it by the beach and sea. Not only would it be more accessible, it would also be considerably cheaper considering there’d be no extra expenses for transportation up the hiking trail. There are also more options if we hold it on the beach. I already have contacts from last year’s set of events. We don’t have to worry about negotiations.”

Seungcheol nods in response. He’s about to say something but once again, he hears an unmistakable scoff from your direction. “Of course, you’d go for the low effort option.”

Oh no. Oh god, no.

Jeonghan’s eyes dart towards you. “What was that?”

Seungcheol doesn’t get paid enough for this shit.

“I’m just saying that it’s so like you to go for the easy way out.”

He doesn’t get paid for this at all.

“What are you trying to tell me here, Ms. VCE?” Jeonghan’s tone is getting more pointed, and the rest of the table are starting to pick up on what’s going on. Mingyu is slowly inching off of his seat and finding the right time to book it. Chan and Seokmin are nervously flitting their eyes back and forth between Jeonghan and you. Minghao hao stopped paying attention. He’s got his airpods on and scrolling through his phone. 

“The sea is not theme-appropriate for our event, Mr. VCI,” you firmly press on. “There are myths and folklore that reference the sea and ocean, however as an introductory event for our organization we should defer from making far too uncommon references since most of our members are beginners to our advocacy.”

Vernon is about to be swallowed by his chair. Seungkwan has his face in his hands. Seungcheol’s phone vibrates and it’s a message from Wonwoo. Should I include all of this in the minutes? he asks. Seungcheol isn’t even sure if this argument is still about the venue.

“May I also add that beach events are overused. Everyone holds acquaintance parties, Christmas parties, sensitivity trainings at beaches and beach resorts. Should we follow that template, I doubt our event would be memorable enough for our members to remember.”

“Then it’d be the obligation of the program committee to make it memorable.” The said committee flinches upon hearing Jeonghan’s words. Joshua and Junhui don’t look like they agree with the additional burden. Jihoon’s forehead is wrinkling from secondhand stress. “We don’t need to sacrifice the affordability and accessibility of our location in order to hold a note-worthy event. And, may I also reiterate that we should consider our members with health problems, Ms. VCE.”

This is enough. This is probably enough. Maybe it’s time for Seungcheol to intervene.

“However, I understand,” Jeonghan continues. “I understand that it’s not easy for you to be considerate.”

But how the fuck is he supposed to do that when you two fucks won’t stop provoking each other?

“Oh, for god’s sake!” It’s hopeless. It’s gone out of control. Your voice has bordered on yelling ang Seungcheol himself is afraid of being caught in between. “Are you still mad about the cat thing?!”

What is the cat thing? What in the hell is actually going on?

“This is not about the cat thing and you know that.” There’s a ruffle in Jeonghan’s voice. He lets out a groan and throws his head back with his fingers digging into his hair. “Fuck. Let’s talk later.”

Yes. Yes, please just talk later so we can move on with the meeting.

“Did you just swear at me?”

Nevermind.

There’s a second silence. One second— until the corner of Jeonghan’s mouth twitches and he expels a huff of incredulity. It’s ominous. It’s a harbinger of uncomfortable destruction. “So swearing is crossing the line, but refusing to let me meet your parents and forcing us to keep this relationship a secret is completely justifiable?”

Well shit.

This meeting is done for.

Silence washes over the office once again. Wide eyes are being exchanged and not even Wonwoo is filling the tension with his incessant typing on the laptop. Chair, I don’t think I should include this part in the minutes, Seungcheol receives another message from him. Of course he shouldn’t. A relationship reveal isn’t part of the agenda. Neither is a breakup but he fears it’s teetering to that outcome.

It’s uncomfortable. It’s suffocatingly uncomfortable and Seokmin looks like he’s about to cry at any moment.

“Well,” you simmer. “I guess it’s not much of a secret anymore, isn’t it?”

“Damn.” Soonyoung receives an elbow from Jihoon. He gets hushed down very quickly to make room for another agonizing exchange between you and Jeonghan. 

“Is that literally all you have to say? You’re so insensitive, it drives me fucking nuts. This is why it’s so hard to keep seeing you—”

“Oh, so you think I’m not having a hard time? If you can’t understand why I had to do that, then let’s just stop seeing each other!”

“Fine, I’m glad we’re on the same page this time.”

“Great!”

“Great.”

“Your clothes better be out of my closet by tomorrow.”

“Throw them away, I don’t need them.”

“I will! Thanks for the suggestion!”

Things have now gone beyond the point of salvation and he can’t even interject to formally end this disaster of a meeting.

“Mr. Chair, I apologize, but I’m afraid I will be leaving early today.” Oh, so now you remember his existence. You’re fuming, slinging over your shoulder bag and haphazardly collecting your things from the table, and Seungcheol simply massages his temples and nods in acknowledgement to your sudden leave. “Please go through the document at your discretion and I’ll be respecting whatever decision the body makes. Thank you and have a good day.”

Just like that, you’re gone. Jeonghan also starts collecting his things. “My phone lines are open in case you need anything. Goodbye.” With that, he also disappears with the harsh swing and slam of the door, leaving behind another blanket of uncomfortable silence for everyone else to drown in.

Seungcheol sighs. He feels a headache kicking in. 

“So...are we having the event in the mountains or by the sea?”

He groans.

Is it too late to file a resignation?

*‎

The following week has been nothing less than hell for SVT (Seungcheol has yet to change to the org name. He’s getting there. Slowly. Fuck university bureaucracies). The Orye is fast approaching, so there are still a lot of matters to be settled— printing documents, processing permits, making calls. The venue dispute is yet to be settled. Mr. Chair instructed a team to check out the mountain and sea accommodations you and Jeonghan forwarded within the weekend to get a better feel of both options.

There’s still so much work, which honestly doesn’t pose a problem with Boo Seungkwan, one of the org’s information officers. He’s used to it, being a member of SVT since his freshman year and all. This workload is nothing to SVT. Nothing to you.

It’s almost like you’re a machine. Printing documents? You’re a one-woman printing shop. Processing permits? You’ve befriended all the office heads and one word from you will get the event approved. It’s basic shit. Completely rudimentary. Seungkwan has always been at awe with how you operate. But right now, the problem is not the work. 

It’s the work environment that’s the problem.

“Can someone pass me the stapler?”

Your voice cracks into the tense silence in the office like a cold blade, causing Seungkwan to flinch and look up from his paperwork. The whirring of the printer fills in the void left behind by your voice, with Chan carefully organizing the freshly printed pages with tight lips. You’re met with no response. He locks eyes with Joshua. The stapler is beside Jeonghan, who’s running through the program for the event. They share a look of dread.

“Where is the stapler?” You look up from the table. The clear stiffening of your face upon noticing where the damned thing is forces knots into Seungkwan’s temples. Oh god. Here we go. “Nevermind.”

The stupid stapler skids across the table. It’s been transported from one end to your end. Jeonghan’s eyes are glued to his laptop when he slides it down. Jun is nervously hovering behind him. Seungkwan wants to throw up.

“Jun,” Jeonghan calls out. “How many steps does it take for you to get from one end of the meeting table to the other?”

“I—I’m sorry?”

“Can you try walking from here to the other end of the table?”

Jun is sweating. He hesitantly nods and slowly creaks away from his spot behind Jeonghan, cautious steps towards your end of the table. Three steps. All eyes are on him. Five steps. Seungkwan is not religious but he’s making the sign of the cross. Seven steps. 

“Wow. Ten steps is easier and faster than I thought! Anyway, you can come back now, Jun. I have some questions regarding—”

Swoosh!

Something rockets through the air, missing Jeonghan’s face by a mere inch from its trajectory. Holy shit. It hits the wall behind Jeonghan and crashes into the floor. “My bad,” you announce. “I wondered how quick it’d be if I threw something from here to there. It’s definitely faster than just walking.”

Assault. That must be assault. This is insane. This is getting out of hand. Seungkwan can’t deal with this shit anymore.

“I can’t fucking deal with this shit anymore!”

As he says, the moment you and Jeonghan leave the office to attend your respective classes. Jun takes a hefty intake of air and everyone relaxes almost immediately. “Seriously. Why should we suffer because they can’t hold their relationship together?!” he fumes. “If they wanted to break up, they could’ve done it in private. I’m sick and tired of walking on pins and needles whenever both of them are around!”

Murmurs of agreement break out. If their Chair was here, they would’ve been scolded. Thank fucking god he’s at the admin office processing their name change. “This reminds me of the time my parents got divorced,” Soonyoung offhandedly mentions while fiddling through their budget plan.

Wonwoo narrows his eyes at him. “Wasn’t that also the time you started perceiving yourself as a tiger as a coping mechanism?”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus christ.”

“I agree with Seungkwan,” Minghao announces. He had just finished sweeping up the shattered stapler from the ground. “I can’t keep up with them anymore. Whenever I’m with our VCE I have to talk shit about the other. Why don’t we just lock them up in a closet so they can fuck and make up?”

A grimace creeps into Chan’s face. “I abhor the image you’ve just supplanted into my mind.”

Minghao furrows his brows. “Who told you to imagine them having sex in our dirty storage closet? Weirdo.” Chan is unable to say anything back. “Anyway, how do we fix this? I have to meet with Jeonghan hyung for dinner and I’m running out of bad things to say about his ex-girlfriend.”

“I thought the plan was to lock them up in the closet?” Seokmin tries to clarify. They’re all actually considering it. Seungkwan is sure they have a death wish.

“You guys can’t be serious. Didn’t you see Vice Chair’s face when hyung walked into the room earlier? She looked like she was considering murder, I had the fucking chills. We are not locking them in a closet unless you all want it to end with a dead body in our office.” Seungkwan pauses. “Thirteen. Thirteen dead bodies if she finds out we orchestrated it.”

“Then what should we do?” Vernon asks. “Get one of them to resign?”

“No!” Soonyoung interjects. “I can’t deal with another divorce!”

Jihoon’s face contorts. “They aren’t your parents. You didn’t even know they were together until they broke up.”

“Still,” Seokmin joins in. “I don’t want any of them to leave SVT.”

Jun presses his lips together. “I think I saw her drafting a resignation letter earlier.”

There is silence. Then the dawning of realization. Then chaos erupts.

“Oh no. Oh no no no no way.”

“We can’t let that happen!”

“Let’s burn her letter before she can submit it!”

“Nobody let her near the office!”

They’re all behaving like idiots, but Seungkwan has to agree. There is without a doubt that even though your breakup has recently put the organization into an uncomfortably tight spot— SVT would be done for if either of you leave. Seungcheol hyung can’t shoulder everything by himself. The both of you are the bedrock of SVT’s internal and external affairs respectively. Resignation is out of the question. 

“Heh. You’re all overlooking something.”

It’s a new voice. Seungkwan wondered when this fucker would speak up, and he’s making his entrance in a gratingly obnoxious way.

Mingyu is sitting on Seungcheol’s swivel chair in the latter’s absence. He slowly spins it around, facing the rest of the members with the pads of his fingers pressed together. “To fix a problem, we should find out the root cause first.” Seungkwan wants to hit him, but Mingyu looks like he’s onto something. “Nobody’s resigning. I have a plan.”

*‎

Jihoon didn’t want to have anything to do with this.

It’s not his business whoever from his orgmates are fucking around or have completely fucked their relationship. It’s not his business whether or not you and Jeonghan have the chance to get back together again.

“If your previous supplier didn’t scam us last summer, we wouldn’t even be out here right now.”

Yet that is exactly what he’s been tasked to do— to dig his nose into your business, on a hot day, while having to canvass printing shops in the district. But finding a replacement supplier for your org shirts is the least of his concerns at the moment because—

[Operation We Are Never Ever Getting (Them) Back Together: Kim Mingyu: any update??? have you gotten through her yet?????]

How the hell is he supposed to fish out any information from you about your relationship with Jeonghan?!

“But these rates are seriously unreasonable. I’ll put this one on the table,” you say, ticking off a box from your checklist and Jihoon is sweating bullets. “What do you think, Hoon?”

Sure, you two work pretty well together and you praise his competence any single time you get the chance, but that’s the problem. You aren’t close. Your relationship is strictly professional. Hell, your text convo is nothing but org-related and Jihoon doesn’t fucking understand why he has to be the one doing this job when he can give less than two shits about the situation. 

“Let’s check out the next place on the list first,” he replies. “I think the quality for this one is still better than the previous.

Dealing with someone else’s relationship problems wasn’t part of the job description when he got elected as treasurer. He’s got his own love life (or lack thereof) to worry about.

“Alright,” you reply with a deep exhale. It’s hot, and you’re getting tired. He’s also getting tired. Can’t you all just go home? “We’ll take a break first. Let’s continue after getting a drink, but where’s Mingyu? Did he get diarrhea or something?”

[Operation We Are Never Ever Getting (Them) Back Together: Kim Mingyu: hyung status report plz.] [Operation We Are Never Ever Getting (Them) Back Together: Hoshi: wow we sound like actual secret agents.]

Jihoon feels his head starting to hurt. “I’ll text him.”

“Thanks.”

Mingyu isn’t coming back. Not until Jihoon manages to get something out of you. According to Jun, you’ve branded him as ‘Jeonghan-allied’ (whatever the fuck that means), so there’s no way you’d be talking if that street lamp is hanging around. “They went to the same high school! I can’t trust bastards from Hyangnam anymore,” Jun quoted from you personally, and they all started wondering what your conjectured alignment for each of them is. 

However, Mingyu is functionally obligated to tag along with your canvassing venture today because he’s SVT’s business manager and Jihoon has all your org money. You’re here because you can’t stay put unless you’re directly involved in the task. Mingyu asked permission to go to the bathroom earlier to give his comrade an opportunity. That was forty-five minutes ago. Jihoon still hasn’t gotten anything from you.

“It’s an emergency, he says. A big one. Gigantic.” Mingyu never said that. Jihoon’s phone is a black screen. “Public toilets aren’t trustworthy. He went to his apartment. He told us to continue without him.”

You grimace with the click of your tongue. “Gross. Those god damned Hyangnam bastards. Let’s go. I need something cold.”

Time is ticking, his phone keeps on buzzing, and Jihoon grows steadily more restless by the minute. You two finish ordering and pay for your two lemonades with SVT money. “It’s the least this damn org can do for us,” you say. He fears you might actually resign, and it doesn’t do his ever escalating nerves a favor. How does he do it? How does he bring up Yoon Jeonghan without invoking your fury?

“Jihoon,” you call out, and he flinches. “What’s wrong? You’ve been spacing out since this morning.”

You’re both sitting on the nice leather seats of the air-conditioned cafe. Being out of the heat seems to have bettered your mood. Maybe he can wiggle something out while you’re pacified by the lemonade and cool air.

“So, uh,” he clears his throat. His knees are shaking. Shit. This is harder than processing your cash advance for the fucking orientation. He needs to ease it in. To bring it up discreetly. “I never really suspected that you and Jeonghan hyung were dating.”

Regret comes instantaneously the moment the words fall out of his mouth. 

So much for being discreet. Your face stiffens. Jihoon knows he fucked up badly.

“I—I mean, I’m not trying to comment on anything, I was just surprised to find out.” Dammit. Wrong move. He might get blacklisted like you did with Mingyu. He’s not panicking because their stupid operation might fail. He’s panicking because he’s gonna lose the bragging right of being on good terms with SVT’s intimidatingly unapproachable Vice Chair.

The ice in your drink clinks around. Jihoon squeezes his eyes shut and prepares for the worst.

“God. I can’t believe I dated him in the first place.”

Then he opens one eye. He sees you swirling your lemonade with one hand, the other used as a resting place for your chin before you take a sip from the straw and continue complaining. “I can’t stand him. I shouldn’t have let him sweet talk me into that first fucking date, that venomous bastard. His face is a weapon. I should’ve known better than to trust that face.” 

Jihoon’s eyes are now fully opened. He discreetly pulls out his phone from his pocket— the device still constantly buzzing— and opens his recorder app all while his heart is nervously barrelling against his ribcage from the remnants of his fear. “Did he like—” Jihoon presses record, “—cheat on you or something?”

“What? No way. He’d never do that.”

“Then,” he continues prodding. “Why did you two break up?”

“Ugh,” you grunt, taking another long sip from your drink before slamming it down the table with a thunk. Jihoon flinches. He secures his phone underneath the table, checking if it’s still recording everything. “Don’t get me started. You don’t get it, Hoon. He’s just so—”

Jihoon never expected you to just lay down everything for him. You just continue pouring and pouring everything out like a fountain. A fountain of dirty laundry and too many swear words that his audio recording might get flagged if it gets uploaded online. This...was easier than expected.

*‎

Seokmin’s eyes are narrowed at his senior— zoomed in and in focus as the aforementioned finishes talking to a group of SVT’s new members. He’s taken a step back with a stack of flyers pressed to his chest. He can’t miss anything. He can’t miss a single thing.

“Thank you! I better be seeing your faces during the event, alright? Enjoy your lunch!”

Jeonghan is giving them the copy of the program for your upcoming Orye and MT. Freshmen. All women, as far as his eyes can tell, and they’re all giggling after his senior bids them off. He’s never seen Jeonghan hyung smile at you like that. In fact, he’s never even seen him wave at you goodbye like what he’s doing right now. Has he moved on? Oh no. This is bad. This plan might be ruined before they could even conduct an intervention. 

“Seokmin, what’s wrong?” asks Jeonghan, snapping him out from the brink of a spiral of despair. “You don’t look too good. Is the weather too hot? Should we take a break?”

“N—no, I’m alright! Let’s keep going!” Seokmin needs to know if his hyung’s unnaturally sweet behavior was an isolated case. There’s not enough information in the air to make a solid conclusion.

“Well, I’m not alright,” Jeonghan grimaces. “The heat is unbearable. Let’s have lunch first, then we’ll continue. Go find us a good place to eat.”

A lump grows in Seokmin’s throat and he nervously swallows, watching as Jeonghan pulls out his phone and starts typing a message, to the SVT group chat probably to give them an update. Or to one of the girls he was talking to earlier. Shit. “Hyung, who are you texting?” he asks. Jeonghan responds with a pause, a suspicious smile, and tells him that ‘it’s a secret, hehe,’ and that he should hurry and look for a nice restaurant because he’s starving.

That wasn’t a helpful answer at all. Seokmin’s anxiety grows by the second. “What...what do you want to eat, hyung?” He should ask more questions later.

“You pick,” is Jeonghan’s reply with yet another grin that puts him ill at ease. “I’m placing my faith in you Seokmin. It better be a good place.”

There’s another lump in his throat. Oh god. This guy sure knows how to pressure people in the weirdest ways. And now instead of prodding around to figure out if his senior has indeed moved on or still has lingering feelings for you, he’s scrolling through his phone trying to look up a good restaurant— panic-stricken because god forbid he make a disappointing choice— while Jeonghan starts talking to another SVT member who just happened to pass by.

“We’re having it next month,” he overhears Jeonghan speaking, momentarily taking away his eyes from his phone just to see his hyung yet again looking and smiling at the org member with an alarming amount of sweetness pouring out of his eyes. “I’ll see you there?”

“Y—yes…!”

His observation is cut short by the buzz of his phone. A message bar pops up, covering the top of the screen and preemptively stopping his resto search.

[Operation We Are Never Ever Getting (Them) Back Together: Seungkwan: seok, do we have updates??? jihoon hyung hasn’t gotten back to use since thirty minutes ago!!] [Operation We Are Never Ever Getting (Them) Back Together: Minghao: I told you all this plan was hopeless] [Operation We Are Never Ever Getting (Them) Back Together: Kim Mingyu: why is noona telling me to take herbal teas and drink lots of water?????]

“So, where are we eating?”

Seokmin’s bones rattle and the phone nearly jumps out of his hands like a live fish.

“Talking to people is tiring,” he hears his senior lament with a long sigh. “Seokmin-ah, you take over after lunch. Let’s go.”

Go where? He hasn’t picked a place yet! Why are there so many food places around campus?! Jeonghan quickly starts walking and, out of even more panic, Seokmin picks a random direction, robotically taking the lead, brain overheating and eyes spinning out of focus until muscle memory lands them across the street of a hotpot place he frequents, just a few blocks away from campus. “O—oh, haha! Hyung, we’re here! Let’s—let’s quickly get inside, yes—”

He stops upon the realization that Jeonghan isn’t following him along the crosswalk. When Seokmin turns his head back, he sees Jeonghan staring at the place with a dampened expression. His first thought is maybe Jeonghan hyung doesn’t like hotpot. His second thought is maybe he shouldn’t be stopping in the middle of the road, so he quickly pads back to the sidewalk. 

“Hyung…? Are— are you not in the mood for hotpot? Should we go somewhere else?” Seokmin’s gut churns, devastated because he had just betrayed his hyung’s trust in finding an acceptable restaurant. What’s wrong with hotpot at Red House? Did he have a bad experience here? But his place is so good! He and Soonyoung and Jun hyung have been eating here twice a week, Wednesday and Saturdays, ever since you recommended the place to them as your favorite, and— oh.

So, that’s the problem.

You’ve probably eaten here with him too.

“No, no. We’re not going anywhere.” Jeonghan’s demeanor suddenly switches gears. He brushes past him with a sudden determined look, not looking back even when Seokmin calls after him.

“Hyung, I know another place nearby. We don’t have to—”

“Let’s get inside.”

Seokmin has no freaking idea how to dissect or interpret this reaction. Nervous steps follow his senior inside the restaurant, and a server welcomes them both and leads them to a table by the window. “Oh, you’re not here with your girlfriend today,” says the waiting staff after they’ve made their orders, and he sees Jeonghan visibly flinch in the middle of passing back the menu. Jeonghan simply responds with a stiff smile. Seokmin is sure that he had just screwed up big time.

Why did the server have to mention you? Why?! Now, he can’t help but look at the server with an utter look of betrayal as he sets the ingredients on the table. “Is...is there something wrong, sir?” asks the server with uneasy concern. Seokmin’s bottom lip juts out, shaking his head with a sniffle, and thanks the server with a weak voice and tone.

Jeonghan doesn’t appear to be faring any better. While waiting for the broth to boil, all Seokmin could do is soak up the steadily deflating expression of his hyung and worry that it might affect the taste of the food somehow. He was pretty sure Jeonghan is already over you, considering he seemed to be mildly flirting with the org members earlier and all. But now he’s not so sure. Not when his hyung is poking his chopstick into a block of tofu with a gut wrenching look of longing.

“Hyung...” Seokin makes an attempt. “I’m—I’m sorry for bringing you here, I didn’t know it was—”

“Seokmin-ah.” Jeonghan speaks along with the crank of the stove. “A gente world of advice: don’t bring up sensitive topics when the person you’re talking to has a weapon on him. You’re going to get in trouble.”

The sunlight leaking through the window gives a dangerous glint to the scissors Jeonghan is holding. Seokmin bites his tongue. Jeonghan cuts up the noodles and the two start eating quietly.

Seokmin loves eating. He really does. But this time, every bite tastes like hot sand, and he’s pretty sure he’s going to get indigestion afterwards.

He swallows down another mouthful with the help of a glass of water, and as he’s trying to get the mix of meat and vegetables down his throat, the sound of utensils that were previously clattering suddenly stops. When Seokmin puts the glass down, he sees Jeonghan seasoning the warm broth with salt.

The natural salt that comes out of your eyes when you start crying.

Holy shit, his hyung is crying.

“Sorry, I just— haha, the soup’s a little spicy, right?”

No. No it’s not. They ordered chicken broth. The soup isn’t spicy at all.

“H—hyung…”

Seokmin’s eyes are now also starting to water. Oh no. Oh no, dear god, what has he done? He didn’t mean to bring him here and reawaken stashed away memories. All he wanted to do was find a good place to eat!

“Hyung, I’m so sorry.”

This was a mistake. They should’ve just had kimbap and ramyeon at the nearby 7-Eleven.

*‎

“So, let me get this straight. One of them did nothing but talk shit about the other for thirty minutes, and the other started crying because Seokmin brought him to her favorite restaurant.”

The SVT officers (minus their Chair and Vice Chars) have reconvened the next day at the office. Their upcoming event isn’t a priority right now. The only thing on the agenda is the problem with you and Yoon Jeonghan— to which Mingyu is trying to wrack his brains in coming up with something in light of their initial investigation. 

“After listening to the recording Hoon sent, I don’t think she hates Jeonghan. She sounded like was just nitpicking in the heat of the moment,” says Jun. “If she’s still angry at him...maybe she isn’t over him yet? Maybe there’s still a chance?”

All eyes are on Jihoon, who witnessed your rant firsthand. 

“I don’t know. All I can say is that she looked a little sad while talking about him. She didn’t add anything else beyond the recording.” It’s not like the recording was of any help. Most of it was just you calling Jeonghan a son of a bitch, a piece of shit, and so on, as well as a few tangents about Mingyu that he himself didn’t quite appreciate. He thought he was your favorite. Like, why are you assuming that he’s on Jeonghan’s side?! They weren’t even friends back in high school! 

He spins the office chair in annoyance. To think he gave you a higher score than Jeonghan on your quarterly evaluation. Maybe he should ask Cheol to take it back.

“Well, if one of them is still on the hook, then there’s still a possibility that they can still get back together,” Wonwoo conjectures, eliciting murmurs of agreement from the rest.

“Does this mean we can finally lock them inside a fucking closet?”

“We are not locking them in a closet,” Seungkwan says. Minghao rolls his eyes at the dismissal. “We can’t do that. But we can bring in some forced proximity in a different way.”

Mingyu stops swiveling the chair. Why is Seungkwan looking straight at him? Wait. Why are they all looking straight at him? His throat tightens. He forces down a swallow. What, what, what’s the matter, why are they all looking at him?

“Oh no!”

Suddenly, Seungkwan starts a one-man drama. He exclaims, an arm jutting into the air before he lets the back of the loose hand drop onto his forehead, stumbling into Vernon who’s standing next to him.

“I just remembered I have a doctor’s appointment this Saturday— the same day where I’m supposed to accompany our Vice Chairs and Business Manager in checking out the venues! Oh no! I don’t think I can make it!”

Right. He along with Seungkwan, Chan, Jeonghan, and you are scheduled to evaluate each of the places on your list so that you can finalize the event venue. Not long after, Chan also breaks into a gasp, catching Seungkwan’s signal. “Oh my! I forgot I also, uh, have a thing on Saturday! What a bummer!”

“Then, I also—”

“No!” 

Mingyu winces. He’s shocked. He’s appalled. He’s offended. Why is he being yelled at?! Wasn’t he supposed to go along with the other two? “You don’t have a thing on Saturday, Mingyu. You have to be there to make sure that things don’t go wrong!” Seungkwan tells him, and at first he understands. He’s goes ‘oh, right, of course, yeah, sure,” but the moment what that situation entails finally dawns upon him— the fact that he has to be stuck in between you and Yoon Jeonghan for at least ten hours, maybe more— his blood runs cold and his face pales. There’s no way in hell he’s dealing with that.

“Why me?! Why can’t Joshua hyung go?”

Joshua answers with an offended look of bewilderment. 

“Hey, it’s your assignment,” answers Jihoon. “And it was your idea to try and get them back together again. You have the moral obligation to make sure this shit actually works.”

There is no hope to get out of this. They adjourn the meeting and everyone starts filtering out the office— not without giving him looks of sympathy and pats on the back before leaving. “Good luck,” Wonwoo says in passing. Vernon sends him a salute before closing the door. Damn him and his meddling ass. He should’ve just let your relationship die out for good.

The day of reckoning comes. It’s five in the morning at the campus parking lot, you and Jeonghan on the opposite ends of his car, and Mingyu already wants to tuck himself in bed for the day. You’re tapping your feet in impatience, looking at your phone with a glare, while Jeonghan pockets his phone with a sigh and welcome’s himself into the front seat of Mingyu’s car with a distinct slam. You huff and do the same into the backseat. 

Shit. This might actually be his last day on earth. Mingyu hurries into the driver’s before either of you yell at him to get moving.

“Tell Boo Seungkwan and Lee Chan that they’re getting sanctioned for this,” grits Jeonghan. Mingyu closes the door and prepares himself for an inevitable six to eight hours of hell.

“The kids are sick and you want to penalize them?” you interject from the back. Mingyu notices Jeonghan’s jaw clench. He shuts his eyes tight and whispers a few prayers. “You’re abusing your authority, Mr. VCI. Cut them some slack.”

“Negligence of duty. Section one under General Prohibitions,” rebuts Jeonghan, making eye contact with you through the front view mirror. “Failure to inform ahead of time the inability to do a task or assignment delegated to them shall be considered an act of negligence on the part of the officer. I’m not abusing any authority, sweetheart. I am acting well within my functions. It’s too early for this kind of—”

Silence drops. So does the temperature in the car which at this point feels like negative fourteen degrees. Jeonghan stifles a cough and rolls down the window for air. You look down and flit through the pages of the document you brought. Mingyu’s grip on the steering wheel tightens and he wants to cry.

“Can we go now? Please? We have six places to visit and I really don’t want to be driving until midnight.”

“We can rotate,” you tell him. “Let’s switch drivers after every location.”

Something tells Mingyu that if he lets your explosive temper behind the wheel, this will not only be the last he’ll be seeing of his cherished car that his parents got him as a gift for his twenty-first birthday, but this will also be the last he’ll be seeing of this mortal realm as well.

“No, haha, it’s okay,” he answers, finally starting the engine. “You two have been working really hard for this event so the least I can do is drive.”

“Well, alright. But there better be no more emergencies like last time.”

Mingyu still doesn’t know what you mean by that. Nor does he know why you’ve been giving him herbal teas and digestive supplements. Anyway, the three of you finally hit the road and proceed to your first stop— all the way to Daecheon, which will take about an hour if traffic grants them kindness. Jeonghan rolls the windows back up at some point because besides the ice-cold tension between the both of you, it really is getting cold, and the sky has been cloudy since earlier, and the weather app is telling him that there’s a twenty percent chance of rain. Literally all odds are stacked against him today.

He does live long enough to get through three venues, thankfully. The first one, near Daecheon beach, you complained that the rooms were stuffy and Jeonghan told you to sleep by the ‘goddamned beach if you wanted to feel extra fresh.’ The second beach location couldn’t accommodate your amount of people. The third one— the hanok-style villa in Gyeongsang which you’ve just finished surveying and which Mingyu thought was really nice— Jeonghan said that there’s too many bugs for it to be conducive. You told him to wear a mosquito net ‘you fucking princess,’ while walking back to the car. At this point, it’s already past four in the afternoon. The eleven hours of being trapped in a car with your ex-boyfriend is probably finally getting to your head.

“You really could care less about your members’ well being as long as we do what you want, don’t you?”

“I wasn’t bitten by a single mosquito there. You’re just making problems up to discredit my—”

It’s getting to Mingyu’s head, too. One more minute in this enclosed space with the both of you and he’s jumping out the window.

“Anyway, let’s head to the next location,” you say with a sigh. “Woodland Springs Resort. Luckily, it’s only an hour away.”

Mingyu’s knuckles twitch on the steering wheel. “I can’t. I can’t do this anymore.”

He catches your face through the mirror, brows furrowed with a frown. “Mingyu, let me drive this time. You’ve been at it for hours.” 

“She’s right. Go sit in the back, we can take over.”

He has. He’s tired and annoyed and exhausted by the constant fear that you two might actually make a murder scene out of his precious car, that he’s pretty sure that him driving would soon become a road-risk. It would be fine, right? You two have probably expelled your energy, anyway. Or at least about to. Worst case scenario is that Jeonghan hyung pisses you off and you’d expertly crash the car in a way that would only kill him and leave you two alive.

“Okay,” Mingyu weakly breathes out. “I’m gonna rest my eyes for a bit.”

He opens the car and gets out. So do you. So does Jeonghan. The three of you are out of the car. The math isn’t mathing.

“What are you doing?” you ask Jeonghan.

“I’m taking the wheel,” he simply says, already making his way over to the other side of the car.

“What are you talking about, Mingyu was talking to me.” You’re fast. Fast enough to swat away Jeonghan’s hand from the door handle to the driver’s seat. Jeonghan tightly presses his lips together and releases a huff of air. You look at him with sharp eyes with no intention of moving. Mingyu is literally, physically, and positionally caught in between this shit and he wishes he should’ve just floored it.

“I’m driving,” Jeonghan asserts. “You look barely awake, yourself. Do you plan on crashing us or something?”

The worried undertone completely flies over your head. “Are you saying I’m a bad driver?” Mingyu really doesn’t want to witness this argument at this proximity right now. Jeonghan sighs and digs into his hair.

“No, I just want you to—”

Cr—ack! Boom!

Suddenly, there’s thunder.

And when there’s thunder, there’s rain.

Pshhhhhhh!

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

“Hurry and get in, let’s go—”

Mingyu really wanted to yell at that moment. Thankfully, the sky beat him to it.

It starts pouring. The three of you scramble back into the car.

All things considered, you all decided that it’d be too dangerous to stay on the road, taking into account the weather and exhaustion and all, so you looked for a nearby inn through Google Maps and Jeonghan drove you there (yes, he won in the end and you’re still bitter in the backseat). 

Boom! Another round of thunder, and the rain just continues to pour harder and harder. At this rate, you guys won’t be able to check out the rest of the locations today. Meaning, his prison sentence is bound to be extended. God freaking dammit. Mingyu continues to bitterly lament while rushing into the cabin inn. The door jingles upon entry. He lets out a sigh of relief upon being saved from the rain.

“Hi, good evening! Do you still have any rooms available?”

You’re there at the front desk doing your thing, being the externals head and all, while he and Jeonghan wait behind, damp and uncomfortable. He can see his hyung getting more and more impatient by the second, tapping his wet soles against the wooden flooring with his arms crossed. Mingyu can only sigh and hope to take a meditative shower soon, once you’ve booked the three of your rooms.

“Ah, yes,” says the lady behind the front desk. She looks at you, then spares a glance at him and Jeonghan in all their soggy glory, before flitting her eyes back at you. Okay what the hell. He knows they look terrible right now, but that was just rude. “Will it be for the three of you? Unfortunately, we only have one room left available, ma’am, peak season and all, and it’s only good for two people.

“That’s fine, we’ll take—”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Judgemental Front Desk Lady interrupts. “I meant a maximum of two people can occupy the room. It’s our policy.”

Well that’s stupid. The hell were you guys supposed to do, then? Run back to the car, get even more wet in the process, and look for another place to stay in this stupid weather? Mingyu can practically see a vein throbbing on the back of your head. He catches your shoulders lift and drop along with an exhale, a momentary pause before you respond. “Can’t you make an exemption? The weather is terrible outside and we really need a place to stay for the time being.”

Mingyu decides to look over and see how the other ticking time bomb is faring, but when he leers over to the side, Jeonghan is no longer beside him. Wet footsteps against wooden floors can be heard. He snaps his head back to the front desk and sees his hyung walking up to you— placing his arm around your freaking waist when he lands next to you, and alarm bells suddenly go off in Mingyu’s head.

“Babe, what’s the problem?”

Goosebumps prick all over his body.

What. 

What the fuck? 

“What’s wrong?”

Mingyu rubs his eyes, thinking that he just saw (and heard) wrong, but no. Yoon Jeonghan has indeed reigned claim over your waist. The fuck? He refocuses into your expression, expecting you to look disgusted and send a kick to his hyung’s shin, but that doesn’t happen. Instead, you flash a look at Jeonghan, then back to the receptionist, peering down at the desk surface where her hand is resting, before looking back up at Jeonghan and nudging yourself closer to him with a sigh. What in the everloving fuck is going on?

“They’re saying that only two people can stay inside the room,” you lament. “This trip really isn’t working out for us. After our disaster of a honeymoon, the last thing I thought would happen was for us to get stranded in Gyeongsang in the middle of a storm.”

“Let’s just go look for another place to stay, sweetheart.” 

“But it’s pouring outside! I can’t let you drive in the weather. It’s too dangerous.”

Honeymoon? What? What the hell is this improv sketch? Why the fuck is his hyung giving you the lovestruck eyes and why are you letting him look at you with lovestruck eyes? Why are you lovestruck-eyeing him back?

“Oh, you’re newlyweds?” asks the receptionist, and Mingyu didn’t think his eyebrows could scrunch up any further until he heard Jeonghan agree.

“We just got married last week,” he says with a sickeningly sweet tone. 

“How lovely!”

“Actually, we just came back from our honeymoon at Geoje Island,” you add. “It’s a long trip, and we wanted to get home as soon as possible, but that...wasn’t exactly an option for us.” Suddenly, you turn your head back to look at him. Now, you’re all looking at him. Why are you all looking at him? This is fucking scary.

You lean into Jeonghan and whisper something into his ear. A look flashes on Jeonghan’s face. He doesn’t like this look.

“Brother, can you please give us a moment?”

There’s a pause. Mingyu’s mouth is hanging slightly ajar and he hesitantly points to himself. Brother? Me? Jeonghan nods and smiles and returns his attention back to you and the receptionist. The three of you are talking about something. In a significantly lower volume. While sending him looks of remorse in between. What the hell are you two bullshitting about now?

Not long after, Mingyu sees the lady drop a room key into your hands and sends you off with a smile. “Second floor. Thank you, and have a great evening!”

“Thanks!” 

Mingyu isn’t exactly sure what just happened or how it happened, but at least you have a place to stay for the night? When the three of you hike up the stairs and spot the room with 203 labeled on the door, Mingyu decides that he needs to know what you fuckers talked about. “How did you do it?” He blocks the door before you could open it. “I thought only two people could use this? How did you get us the room?” Jeonghan and you exchange a look before relenting.

“Your fiance called off your engagement and you were so depressed that you followed us all the way to our Geoje,” you blankly respond.

“Our parents are on vacation so you couldn’t go to them. We were kind enough to let you third wheel on our honeymoon,” adds Jeonghan. Mingyu blinks. “But on the way back it started raining, so we’re stuck here for the moment. We noticed a wedding ring on Soonja’s finger, so it was pretty easy to get her sympathy.

Soonja. You even know the lady’s name, holy fuck. At least that explains the pitiful looks sent his way. But Mingyu is still very much perturbed. The hairs on his arms are still standing. “You two are con artists,” is all he can say back.

You roll your eyes and toss the key to him. “Hey, it got us the room.”

“Right,” Mingyu grunts, catching it mid-air. “You’re both so good at lying, even I’m starting to think you’re still married.”

The doorknob clatters open. You and Jeonghan quickly jump away from each other, and Jeonghan loses the steady hold he had around your waist since earlier. Mingyu stifles a grin. The alarm and embarrassment on both of your faces makes this day’s worth of stress all worth it. 

“Hurry up and get in! I need a shower and a change of clothes, gosh.”

Fortunately, you three prepared extra articles of clothing for the trip, having anticipated sweat from the heat instead of getting pissed on by the rain clouds. Unfortunately, Mingyu lost at rock paper scissors so he gets to shower last. “There’s a drying rack in the bathroom,” you tell them upon exiting, a towel to your head before plopping down on the bed next to the window. 

When Mingyu finishes showering, he hears you and Jeonghan arguing over something again. Cheol’s voice can be heard somewhere too. Upon re-entering the room, he spots you two occupying the floor right by the bed, a laptop sitting on the mattress that’s showing a very tired Seungcheol trying to cut in between your yelling.

“In hindsight, I think the beach in Daecheon is our best option. The kids can run around more freely there.”

“No, you were right about the mountains. The hanok-style villa is better suited for our event theme. We can just add bug repellent to our budget plan.”

“Listen to me for a second—”

“You’re the one who’s not—”

“This could have been an email,” says Seungcheol’s choppy voice thanks to the shitty reception. Yeah. Mingyu isn’t dealing with this. Over twelve hours of being a third party to your arguments is already enough, thank you very much. He drops down the unoccupied bed, already getting comfortable, and uses the nonstop swearing next to him as a lullaby.

Weird enough, it’s an effective lullaby because Mingyu slept like a rock. He yawns, stretches out of bed thanks to the early morning light through the curtains waking him. It’s clear out. The windows have watery dots painting it from the aftermath of the rain.

It’s pretty outside, Mingyu notices, but there’s something more eye-catching than the pretty natural scenery of the mountainside.

The laptop is still on and laying on the bed, pushed further to the edge with a low battery notification obscuring the open document of the event’s program that he’d seen Jeonghan preparing in the car yesterday. But what’s occupying most of the mattress is the both of you— you and Jeonghan— with your printed documents scattered around, surrounding a sight that he probably isn’t meant to see.

You’re laying on Jeonghan’s arm as a pillow, face turned to the side and slightly tucked into chest. Jeonghan’s chin is buried into the top of your head, his legs tangled with yours and the blanket has been kicked off the side. The morning light is showering the both of you like a spotlight. Mingyu snaps a picture. The kids are gonna eat this shit up.

*‎

It’s the day of the event, and Choi Seungcheol has not slept a wink since last night.

There were some last minute things he needed to take care of. Game props, printouts, and powerpoint presentations he forgot to quality check until ten in the evening. Grocery shopping for snacks, and an error in the bus booking. The works. But none of that matters now. They’ve all been settled, everyone has made it to the hanok villa in Gyeongsang in one piece with no asthma attacks nor heart related concerns occurring, and not once had you and Yoon Jeonghan argued ever since last night.

To be honest, it’s freaking him out a little. He wasn’t the only one who had to pull an all-nighter. His two Vice Chairs had to suffer with him too and the both of you have been extremely civil to the point of unease. It’s weird. It’s eerie. Like right now, as you two are welcoming the lines and lines of members in hanboks and traditional attire with matching smiles and pleasantries. You run out of program printouts and ask Jeonghan if he has any left, he gives you a stack, and the exchange ends without even a scoff, a swear, a mock, or even a look of derision.

This is...ominous, to say the least. It’s like the calm before the storm. Choi Seungcheol cannot rest easy.

“What the fuck is going on with them?”

It seems like he isn’t the only one who’s noticed. Currently, it’s lunchtime. They’d just finished presenting the constitution, bylaws, and internal rules and regulations of the organization. Now, they’re queueing up the kids to the food table. 

Among the ushers are you and Jeonghan. Standing next to each other. You aren’t arguing but you aren’t talking to each other either. Joshua is the one who brings it up to the small group preparing the drinks right now— him, Soonyoung, and Vernon. If Joshua doesn’t know the reason for your sudden civility, then no one does. Junhui gets interrogated too, but he provides no answers, only confusion. “Wow. Wild,” is all Jun remarks. They have no idea if you two have made up, have settled your differences, have gotten back together, or all of the above.

It’s fucking with him, especially after weeks of being perpetually on the edge because of your cold war. Seungcheol calls Mingyu to a corner while everyone else is in the midst of preparing for the next part of the program. Mingyu jogs over, mildly scared and mildly confused.

“Hyung,” he calls out. “What’s up?”

“Our two Vice Chairs,” Seungcheol starts. He looks over at the center field where the members are sitting. Chan and the rest are still handing out the paper slips. He can still interrogate Mingyu. “You went with them for location scouting. Did something happen between them?”

Mingyu looks taken aback. “Uh.” He stiffens. Seungcheol narrows his eyes at him.

“Kim Mingyu.” 

“Define ‘something,’” Mingyu delays. 

Now, this is suspicious. He definitely knows what that something is. Choi Seungcheol isn’t gonna let him off without squeezing the information out of him. “I don’t know,” he huffs. “Anything that could explain why they’re acting like—” 

Seungcheol points in a direction. Mingyu’s eyes follow the trajectory, and his gaze lands on a very alarming scene: Yoon Jeonghan sitting on one of the monoblocks, Yoon Jeonghan seeing you pass by, Yoon Jeonghan standing up, Yoon Jeonghan stopping you with a tap on your shoulder, Yoon Jeonghan offering his seat to you, Yoon Jeonghan leaving the scene and busying himself with some other task, after you had taken his seat.

“Like that?”

Mingyu is now sweating. “Uhhhh,” he hesitantly drawls. Then his eyes dart around. Until he spots Seungkwan pass by with a stack of boxes. “Can I talk to my lawyer first?”

“Mingyu.”

“Let’s—let’s—let’s get back to work, hyung! I have to go—”

He attempts to chase Kim Mingyu down. Attempts. Because Mingyu suddenly has the speed of a track and fielder and drags Seungkwan away into the accommodation building, the hanok, and he’s suddenly pulled back by Chan, who’s holding a box containing two or three small pieces of folder up papers. “Hyung,” Chan starts. “It’s your turn to pick.”

Seungcheol furrows his brows. Drat. Kim Mingyu has escaped. “Pick what?”

“Your manito. Duh,” Chan answers. It’s the box he’s been passing out since earlier— a box filled with the names of all the attendees and whoever you pick out, you’re tasked to take care of them throughout the entire trip and pay them special attention. For relationship building, according to Jeonghan, when he pitched the idea. Seungcheol is aware of this mini activity, but he didn’t know he’d be participating. He stares at the remaining three papers. “Hurry up. I still have to give the rest to Seungkwan and Mingyu hyung.”

“Show me some respect,” he scolds, picking out a random name. “They ran inside. Storage, I think.”

Chan hums in acknowledgement and takes the box away. When he’s left, Seungcheol rolls open the piece of paper. Looking at the members gathered around the field right now (who are listening to the intermission number prepared by Seokmin and Jihoon) he notices that a few of the kids are already getting pretty chummy. He sighs, pretty sure that he picked out a new member that’s most probably three years younger than him. How is he supposed to overcome the generation gap? Won’t the kid find it weird if this old man suddenly starts acting close?

Much to his initial relief, a familiar name greets him. Yours, in big bold letters. That’s...that’s pretty doable. His favoritism for you is already blatant to the point that Soonyoung gets jealous. You’d been working hard since, well— the moment you’ve been a member of fucking SVT. He can just tell you to sit and rest and transfer your tasks over to the other guys.

“Hey.”

Seungcheol calls out to you, who’s sitting on the seat Jeonghan gave away earlier. Seokmin and Jihoon are hyping up the crowd (mostly Seokmin), but you’re hunched over in your seat, massaging your temples while looking over a document. “Chair,” you snap up, visibly tired and stressed (and unrested, by the way). “A few members are absent, so the number of members for each group for the team building later are mismatched. Should we keep it as is, or should we transfer some of them?”

A pang of guilt hits him. Christ, he’s been taking advantage of your competence and diligence. “Transfer, but leave that list with me. I’ll take care of it.” He lays a hand on your shoulder, urging you to go rest inside one of the hanoks for now. “You didn’t even nap on the bus. Go get some sleep. I’ll ask one of the guys to wake you before team building.”

You look up at him, smiling. Oh, his poor successor. He’s been overworking you to the bone. “Will do, Chair. Thanks.”

He mirrors your smile, watching fondly as you walk into one of the houses. It’s all warm and sweet. Until it’s not.

Seungcheol jolts. He feels a chill run down his spine. What the fuck? 

He whips his head around, startled by the sudden cold flash. Then, from a few feet away, he spots Jeonghan, preparing the multicolored handkerchiefs for the team building, but has stopped arranging them by color because he is glaring daggers at him. Hello? What in the world? He’s about to approach, but then he staggers in his steps upon seeing you pass by Jeonghan’s station. 

Jeonghan stops working, circling from behind the station to say something to you. You say something back— something that’s enough to tighten Jeonghan’s expression, and Seungcheol knits his brows. He can’t hear what you two are talking about, but he’s pretty sure it’s an argument. Oh god. It is an argument. You’ve got your angry face on and Jeonghan is raking his hair. Oh no. You two have been so well-behaved. You’ve been getting along so, so well lately. Is he at fault for ruining your peace?! How was he supposed to know your ex-boyfriend is a jealous bastard?! He was just doing his task and being nice to you!

“There goes all our progress.”

Seungcheol snaps his head back to see Jun. He’s sipping on a juice box, a leftover from lunch. There’s a good amount of disappointment in his face. “Pro—progress?” 

Junhui pulls down the juice from his mouth, shaking his head. “Hyung. You’ve ruined everything.”

Now, what the fuck is this cryptic bullshit? Jun just walks away, leaving even more crumples in Seungcheol’s brain. Seokmin and Jihoon’s performance is about to end, the mic screeches, and an applause breaks out, but he’s still debating on what to do. Should he pry information out of Jun? Or run after the both of you? However, he gets to do neither because at the end of the intermission, Seokmin does something off-course.

He’s supposed to pass the mic to Seungkwan by now, to announce the short break before team building. But Seungkwan isn’t here, and Seokmin is still holding the mic, and the crowd is still cheering. He meets eyes with Seokmin onstage. A bad feeling hits his gut. And since the breakup meeting that happened a few weeks ago, Seungcheol has learned that whatever his gut is feeling is unquestionably correct.

“The show isn’t over yet! Let’s give it up to our dependable, hot, and arguably aging Chairperson— Choi Seungcheol! Woohoo!”

This.

This was not part of the program that he remembers approving.

“Choi Seungcheol! Choi Seungcheol! Choi Seungcheol!”

This was definitely not part of it at all.

“Again, give it up for Mr. Chair!”

Illit’s Magnetic, Viviz’s Maniac, and KIOF’s Midas Touch later (with his face mimicking a red and ripe cherry), Seungcheol was finally allowed off the stage. “Wow! That’s our Chair, everybody! Who knew he was hiding this kind of charm?” Seungcheol wants to die. Seokmin’s voice is cheery in the microphone, but his officer suddenly turns his face away from the mic to whisper something to him. “Hyung,” Seokmin’s voice is suddenly grave. “I got a text from Seungkwan. He says he can’t find the VCs.”

Oh, fuck this. He’s going to kill himself.

“Tell—tell the kids we’re gonna have some free time first before proceeding to the team building.” Seokmin nods. Seungcheol’s face is still very very hot, but he swallows the embarrassment aside for now to deal with this problem. You and Yoon Jeonghan can’t just disappear. You’re both leading two teams for the games. Well. Maybe he can give you a pass, but Jeonghan is still needed out there. He feels unreasonably wronged by him too for that glare earlier. 

Seungcheol marches into the hanok. He spots an equally stressed looking Seungkwan inside the living area. Mingyu and Jihoon are there, too. So are Joshua, Vernon, and Chan. Why are they all here? They’re supposed to be preparing for the team building. These kids are slacking.

He’s gonna give them an earful later. For now, there’s a bigger issue to solve. “Where are the two?” 

“We don’t know!” Seungkwan exclaims. “We’ve been looking for them too.”

He hears a sniffle come from one of them. It’s from Soonyoung. “The last I’ve seen them, they were arguing.” Seungcheol gulps. Maybe…by any chance…that may have been his fault? “This happened with my parents too. And they came back with divorce papers.”

“Stop projecting your unresolved familial trauma onto them,” Jihoon sighs. “They aren’t your parents.”

“I’ve sent a text to Wonwoo and Minghao hyung,” Vernon brings up. “Maybe they’ve seen them.”

At that moment, Minghao enters the living area. Seven heads snap to his direction. Minghao stops in his tracks. “What?” He looks awfully relaxed, not looking as though he had just dealt with two ex-lovers who say they hate each other and that it’s over, but have too much sexual tension for their assertion to be believable. In fact, he looks quite at peace. Satisfied, even. Accomplished. This is fucking suspicious. “Isn’t it time for the team building activities?”

“Hao,” Seungcheol starts. “Have you seen the two Vice Chairs?”

Minghao looks at them. There’s a pause of anticipation. There’s literally no reason for this suspense build-up. “Oh,” Hao exhales. Why are they all waiting for the pin to drop? “I did.”

What they hear next, they never could have been prepared for. 

“I locked them in a closet.”

The pin has dropped. 

Seungcheol is the first to speak up. 

“You...you what?” he starts. “Come again?”

“They were arguing,” Minghao shrugs. “I got annoyed.”

Seungkwan’s mouth is hanging open. “You— you got annoyed,” he stammers. “So you…”

“Locked them in a closet,” Minghao finishes. “Yeah.”

It doesn’t hit them at first. Then it does. It hits them hard.

They all exchange looks. In a matter of soundless seconds, they immediately run to the direction Minghao just came from. What does he mean he locked you and Jeonghan in the closet, why would he lock you two in the closet, locking you two in the closet is a recipe for shit-eating disaster, does he want Yoon Jeonghan to fucking die?

“Shit, what if Jeonghan hyung is dead?”

At least they’re all on the same page. They come to a screeching halt upon reaching the room at the end of the hallway, but there is no sign of either of you. The only semblance of humanity within the vicinity is Wonwoo, who is sitting at a table, headphones on, laptop open, and typing without a care in the world. 

Seungcheol’s eyes dart around the room. Closet. Closet. There’s an indication of a sliding door at the opposite wall. He walks up to it, hesitantly with shaky steps, his heart hammering against his chest. The others inch behind him in caution. Sweat starts trailing down from his forehead. He reaches out for the handle, one hand outstretched, and then—

“I wouldn’t open that if I were you.”

Wonwoo’s voice cuts through the tension. He freezes. They all look back at the man by the desk, unaffectedly writing his documents, the sound of keyboard clicking filling the gaps in the air. “Why?” Seungcheol chokes out. Thunk. Their heads snap back to the closet. He feels Soonyoung clutch him from behind.

“There was yelling from in there until a moment ago,” is Wonwoo’s simple answer. “I think they’ve moved on to something else.”

Another tense pause fills the room. “Who...who was yelling?” Jihoon raises. “What kind of yelling? Why didn’t you check if anything was wrong?”

Wonwoo wrinkles his nose, momentarily taking his eyes off from the laptop to give their huddled group a look of disgust. “And risk walking in on them making out or something? No, thanks.” Then resumes what he’s doing. They all look at each other. Surely, that can’t be the case, right? You’ve got more pride on your shoulders than to fold for Yoon Jeonghan just because of some contrived forced proximity. It’s more likely that you’ve found an opportunity to strangle him. To kill him in cold blood. Which is why they’ve all run here out of concern right now.

“Why would there be yelling if they’re making out?!” Mingyu exclaims, concerned.

“I don’t know the kind things they’re into,” Wonwoo leers at them. “And frankly, I don’t want to know.”

“Then...what are you doing here, hyung?” Vernon prods. “Of all places.”

Once more, Wonwoo stops typing to grace them with an answer. “This is the only spot with good reception.” This feels like a fever dream. Seungcheol does not know what to do. His attention is directed back to the closed closet door, hearing another...thud coming from within. He locks eyes with Seungkwan. And then Mingyu. And then Jihoon. Holy shit. In his four years of Chairmanship over SVT, this, by far, has been his biggest obstacle yet.

The officers before him never warned him about this. What exactly is the best course of action here? What would result in the least amount of emotional, mental, and physical repercussions? Leave the door alone? Unlock it and witness horrors untold? There’s still an event they have to manage. Seokmin is probably freaking out outside right now. Yet here they are, watching the unmoving and locked closet door with uncertainty and caution, like it’s an oracle that will show them the way, that will give them a command to do something. Anything. And, much to their surprise and horror—

“Mr. Chair.”

It does.

“Would you please unlock the door?”

The oracle is wearing the sound of your voice? No, wait. It is your voice. From behind the door. “Holy shit,” he hears one of them hiss out from behind. Holy shit indeed. Seungcheol knows better than to test your temper. Quickly, he reaches out for the handle, clicks it open, and a force stronger than his slides the door gaping and completely open, revealing the dark and until interiors of the closet.

You emerge from the darkness. So does Jeonghan. Alive. Unstrangled. Maybe? That’s up for debate because there are some visible marks on his throat. Seungcheol pretends not to see. 

“W—welcome back…?” Soonyoung hesitantly drawls out. You walk out from the closet, Jeonghan trailing behind you slightly from behind. You’re both still wearing the in theme hanboks, but the fabrics are clearly disheveled. And loose. And Jeonghan is hooking his fingers on the hand lagging behind you. And looking at the back of your head with a concerning amount of heart eyes.

You don’t mention a thing about it. “I believe we are behind schedule,” you simply say. “Team building, right? Let’s head off to our posts now.”

They don’t say anything about it either. Seungcheol clears his throat, creaking his body back to the direction of escape. “Y—yes. Everyone is waiting.” The rest follow. You all exit the area except for Wonwoo, who’s still doing his work. When Seungcheol turns back to check on you two— you know, just in case— he immediately regrets it.

Jeonghan is still a step behind you. But he leans slightly forward, dipping his head down to reach your ears. His mouth moves, whispering something. A silent laugh cracks through your features. A laugh. Not once has laughter occurred since the beginning of this predicament. Not a. Single. Instance. You bump your elbow against Jeonghan’s chest. Jeonghan continues to move behind you with a thin smile on his face.

He sees nothing. They see nothing. They leave the house. They immediately scatter to inhale fresh, free air.

“Hyung! Oh my god where have you guys been?! The members are waiting!”

An unspoken agreement was formed. There will be no further mention about this occurrence. Not a single word. 

*‎

“TODAY IS SEPTEMBER 27, 20XX. THE MEETING WILL NOW PLEASE COME TO ORDER. Mr. Secretary, please call the roll.”

“Yes, Mr. Chair. Please say ‘present and voting’ once your name is called to be acknowledged.” 

It’s the first Executive Board meeting after SVT’s Orientation and Membership Training. The agenda for today is just a feedbacking session on the said event. Seungcheol yawns, not bothering to cover it up with the clipboard and Seungkwan sends him a dirty look for it. Wonwoo carries on with the roll call, one after the after stating their attendance for the meeting today. It’s the same routine for the most part. Seungcheol glances at the empty spaces on both his left and right. He taps on the table with a pen impatiently. 

“Secretary, yours truly, present and voting,” Wonwoo drones one. The two seats are still empty. Seungcheol digs his pen into the wooden surface. “Vice Chairperson-External?” 

No answer. Wonwoo continues.

“Vice Chairperson-Internal?

Still no answer. Wonwoo continues.

“Chairperson, Mr. Chair?”

“Present,” Seungcheol gruffs. God damn it, where the hell are you and Jeonghan? This feels like a rerun of their group traumatic experience last week. “Proceed.”

“Yes, Mr. Chair. There are twelve out of fourteen officers present. We are in quo—”

The door swings open.

You and Jeonghan enter in a hurry.

“We’re sorry we’re late!”

Again. Seungcheol feels the horrible, wrinkly slap of deja vu. His eyes follow while you and Jeonghan rush to your seats, out of breath and in a hurry. Joshua has stopped flicking origami frogs on the table. Seokmin and Mingyu pause in between chair spins. Junhui’s mouth is glued to the latte straw while darting his eyes wide back and forth, between you and Jeonghan. And Minghao cannot be bothered by any more relationship problems.

Wonwoo clears his throat. “Fourteen out of fourteen officers present, Mr. Chair,” he amends. 

“Yes, thank you,” Seungcheol sighs out. “Seeing that we are in quorum, it is now legal for us to conduct business. Mr. Secretary, will you please read to us the agenda for today’s meeting?”

Much to his surprise, the meeting proceeds quite...smoothly. Wonwoo reads out the agenda. No objections. They start the feedbacking session. No problems. The incident with the closet is not even mentioned. Not once. Not even a hint despite the shared knowing looks when Seungcheol asks if there are still more matters to discuss.

“No more, Mr. Chair,” Vernon confirms. Seungcheol nods. This is going awfully well. When’s the curveball going to hit him? When? “Thank you, Mr. Auditor. Since there is nothing else on the agenda, let’s proceed to announcements.” He looks at his clipboard. There’s only one thing scribbled under announcements. It’s not his handwriting. Seungcheol squints. “Lee Chan’s...pool…barbecue...dance party on the 29th?”

There’s a pause. Seungcheol looks up from the clipboard.

“What is this?”

All eyes are on Lee Chan. He looks like he enjoys the attention. “Lee Chan’s pool barbecue dance party on the 29th,” he answers, as a matter of fact. “You’re all invited.”

This is the curveball he’s been expecting. Seungcheol feels a knot in his temples. “How many times do I have to say this?” he releases a heavy breath. “Announcements on the order of business are reserved for org-related announcements. It is not an opportunity for you to invite everyone to your parties, nor to your outings, nor to your nephew’s baptismal shower, Soonyoung.”

The man in question swallows down a gulp. Seungcheol sighs for the nth time.

“I hope that is crystal clear.” He’s so done. He’s so tired. When is adjournment coming? Why can’t it come sooner? “Anyway, do we have any other announcements? Relevant announcements, rather.” Seungcheol sees you with your arm up. He feels a rush of relief. “Yes, Ms. VCE, you are raising your hand?”

You put your hand down, allowing it to rest gingerly on the table when you say, “Thank you for the acknowledgement, Mr. Chair.” You look like your usual self— in between smiling pleasantly and staring blankly. Seungcheol nods, prodding you to continue. You do. “I would like to put the matter of my resignation on today’s table, Mr. Chair.”

“Oh, yes, the matter of your—” 

A screeching halt. Seungcheol’s tongue stops working. He stares at you, wide-eyed.

“Sorry, can you repeat that?”

“My resignation.” You pull out a white, ghostly envelope from somewhere. His throat tightens. “I am filing it today and hoping for its immediate attention.”

It’s like time stops completely. The entire office is frozen. They wait for you to say it’s a joke. Any moment now. Please.

“Mr. Chair?” you call out. “Allow me to repeat. I will be resigning from my position as Vice Chairperson-External. What process do we need to undergo to finalize this?”

You don’t say it’s a joke. You are dead serious.

“No?!”

“Did—did I hear that right res—res—resigna—hiccup!”

“Breathe in, Seokmin. Breathe out. Yes that’s—”

“Why would you do this to us?! Why?!”

“Oh my god, it’s happening to me again, it’s happening to me again—”

“What do you mean resignation, what the hell are you talking about?” Seungkwan shoots up from his seat, slamming his palms against the table in distress. “Aren’t you two back together?! Why would you resign?!”

It’s a mess. It’s a room of hysteria and panic except for you, him and Jeonghan. Seungcheol is trying his best to...understand. To not throttle you and shake you violently because why? Where did he go wrong? Has he not been treating you well enough? Did he need to compliment you more? Do you need more compensation? 

Whatever the reason is, you’re looking awfully calm being the recipient of manic yells and hyperventilated cries of anguish. Jeonghan, too, is quiet. He’s just seated there, arms on the armrest, like he is in a completely different room altogether. Seungcheol narrows his eyes at him. Did he do this? Did he talk you into resigning? That bastard— how could he! Seungcheol’s heart is broken, not just once, but twice. First, from his dearest protege. Second, from his (formerly) trusted right hand man.

“Ahem.”

Before things could get worse (i.e. Soonyoung and Seokmin full-on sobbing and begging on their knees), you catch their attention. You look at them, calmly, and, with a carefully enunciated voice, begin your piece that brings all of them to silence. 

“I sincerely apologize for the trouble that our personal issues have caused to SVT,” you begin, a singular glance at Jeonghan. Seungcheol bites his tongue. Traitor. Evil man. Evil jealous man. “I am well aware that my recent behavior has led to some lapses in the organization’s operations, clearly seen in the management of our latest event. We have all heard the feedback, the concerns—where things went wrong. As you have witnessed, it is quite difficult for us to separate our personal feelings from our professional work here in the org, which was the root of most of our experienced problems.” 

That is not true! No one has the best work-life balance than you! Granted, there was an issue just earlier in the month, but Seungcheol can overlook that! He can overlook it as long as you take back your resignation, and take on his spot as Chairperson next semester!

“Which is exactly why I’m resigning,” you decisively say. Shit. “There were a lot of…ingredients that eventually led to the unforeseen outburst between Mr. VCI and I during one of our previous meetings. One of those ingredients was my affiliation with the organization. The rest of the details can be found in my resignation letter. Thank you for allowing me to serve thus far.” 

It’s like a needle pricked most everyone in the room and left them deflated. Chan looks sunken. Even Jihoon. Minghao just looks like he’d been expecting this. Kim Mingyu looks like he cannot accept this.

So he jerks out of his seat, springing to his feet, and points an accusatory finger at Yoon Jeonghan.

“You!” Mingyu shrieks. “Say something!”

“Hyung,” Seokmin adds onto the pile. He’s choked up and about to cry. “Are you just gonna let this happen?”

For the first time since, Jeonghan finally speaks up. But his tone is…sourer than expected. “What do you want me to say?” he starts. It makes everyone jolt. “That you’ve been overworking my girlfriend since freshman year to the point that we started arguing about it because she’s been skipping meals and sleep and taking care of herself just to manage the org?”

Even you flinch. There’s an apologetic look on your face, but there’s no denial. 

Jeonghan lets out a sigh. Oh, Seungcheol realizes. Oh. Oh, crap. Maybe. Maybe he and SVT had a lot more to do with your breakup that he initially thought. The workload. The shit you had to catch and bury with your bare hands whenever the org had problems, had too much to do, had one person in mind to fix up any messes made. Maybe they’ve been relying on you too much. Maybe he’s been relying on you too much and Yoon Jeonghan noticed that.

Of course Jeonghan would notice that. He’s been dating you under their nose for god knows how long. That explains why Jeonghan would suddenly act pissy towards him. It was whenever you’d been tossed in a sinkhole of work.

Once more, you clear your throat. “I have immense attachment to this organization. However, my priorities have shifted. I am sincerely grateful and sorry, but I hope all of you understand.”

It starts clicking inside each head, one-by-one. It’s slow. It’s hard to accept, but they eventually do. Seokmin eventually stops sniffling. Soonyoung stands up to give you a hug. This was a loss for all of them. All of them except you and Yoon Jeonghan. 

“Hyung, but why aren’t you resigning?” 

Jun pokes the bear one last time. It’s a question in all their heads, and Jeonghan’s expression alone isn’t enough to answer it.

“Jun-ah, do you want me gone?” Jeonghan replies, a little too seriously. They freeze. Then he laughs. “It’s going to be difficult to re-elect someone at this point, so I’ll be taking over some of her workload for the remainder of the semester. The rest of you should do the same as one last thank you to our now outgoing VCE. You owe her that much, at least.”

Before Jeonghan can start nagging, you quickly overtake his field of vision from his left. “Don’t worry, I’ll be finishing up my pending tasks, Mr. Chair. I will also be leaving some notes behind for everyone’s ease of—”

“What did I tell you about being more considerate to yourself?” the one from his rightbutts in. “These kids can handle it on their own. You don’t have to micromanage them. I’m begging you, stop overworking yourself.”

Okay, he sharply inhales through his nose. Seungcheol gets it. They all get it. No need to act all sweet in front of their faces and during org hours. It’s sending shivers down his spine. All of their spines. None of this spine shivering is healthy. “Please leave your resignation letter on the table. We will give some time for the other officers to read and consider it before making a final decision during the next meeting.”

You smile. “Thank you, Mr. Chair.”

“Thank you for your service, Ms. VCE.”

It hurts him to say this. It really does. You were the perfect successor. Now, who the hell from this pile of twelve men is he supposed to pick to be the next Chairperson? Does he have to— god forbid— retain his position?

Seungcheol lets out a sigh.

“Meeting adjourned. You are all dismissed.”

the breakup soup. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello! It's me again. I'm probably pestering you, lol. I think a lotta people give flack for the Octavinelle trio being ruthless and "behaving like a Mafia." But I think considering where they live it makes sense? They live in the ocean. And the ocean is a kill or be killed environment, where you have to the strongest and toughest. If not? You at least have to be quick witted and unable to be seen, otherwise you'll be dead. If the trio become too soft they'll be fish meat.

I think the fandom is pretty divided when it comes to perceptions of what the Coral Sea is like. On one hand, you have the people who think of it as like living in Atlantica, which is basically just like living in a peaceful and pretty city (but underwater). Then you have the people who think the environment would be so different it would shape its inhabitants to behave differently as well. The second one tends to be a darker or grittier interpretation which aknowledges dangers such as other undersea creatures and treacherous living conditions.

Personally, I lean on and enjoy the latter, since TWST rarely ever designs purely for the aesthetic of it; one example of this is how the twins are confirmed to be bioluminescent in the Magical Archives. This is a decision that was not made “because it would look cool”, but because many deep sea creatures rely on this trait to intimidate potential predators. It would make more sense for the cold waters of the Coral Sea to change its people rather than merfolks’ cities simply being civilizations moved several leagues under, especially seeing TWST time and time again really consider the geography and history of each new location and how those inform the cultures that form there.

However, I want to state that the Coral Sea would be very different depending on which area you’re in, just like how there are nice parts and bad parts of a city. It’s not ALL nice or ALL bad. For example, the Atlantica Museum in book 3 appears to be in a more photic zone, so there’s more sunlight and it appears pleasant to be in. Even the merpeople there seem to be different than the Octatrio; they less so resemble specific sea creatures and are much more akin to being human-like. We have yet to really see how the benthic zones are—but we do know they must be harsher, since Floyd has mentioned exploring shipwrecks and various dangers there (like sharks).

I also want to point out that there are subtle signs in dialogue which could imply merpeople prefer traits that promote survivability and adaptability in the ocean. Azul’s bullies are noted to taunt him for his weight, but also for his bulky tentacles and inky tears. Now why those traits specifically??? Because these impede his ability to swim swiftly (making it harder to escape danger) and easily give away his location (if he’s in hiding or camoflauging).

I’ve seen others suggest that maybe these comments are because of racism against octopus merpeople, who are a rare kind of merfolk. This is entirely possible, yes! But thinking about it like that… Isn’t it also possible that there aren’t a lot of octopus merpeople at the moment because it’s more difficult for them to escape or to hide from predators? Which then informs and perpetuates preexisting prejudices. In this context (plus the bullying), it makes sense why Azul may have “hardened” as a defense and survival mechanism. The same goes for the twins, who were explicitly taught how to defend themselves (although this also goes into the Leech mob family theory, which is a whole separate matter) and have often made references to fighting others in the Coral Sea. Their upbringings also play a part in their personalities, but so does the environment they grew up in. Like Azul and the twins, you’d have to harden mentally or physically to some degree to ensure your survival through tough circumstances.

It’s hard to say for sure though! A lot of this is speculation based on current but infrequent lore, and the Octatrio themselves are a very small portion of all merfolk. They may not be representative of the behaviors of all other merpeople, and we should keep this in mind when referring to them as our exemplars. That’s why I’ve been hoping for a Coral Sea hometown event so we have a more concrete idea of what life under the sea is like 😭

[occamstfs]

How To Be A Father

This was meant to be a shorter one but it seems to have gotten away from me, I hope you enjoy! I’ve got a special one coming later this week! Gonna do a little epistolary/diary multi TF to celebrate 500 Followers !! - Occam

Franklin’s older brother, Jack, was a soon-to-be dad, he is terribly nervous about raising a kid, as anyone should be. Franklin was looking for some way he could show his support. His eyes scan the shelves of the local bookstore, sure that there must be something of use in the advice section. He has only just graduated university and remains in a sea of uncertainty but at the very least he could buy his brother some pittance of a self-help book.

There wasn’t exactly a sea of options available, many of them were clearly religious, some were on raising children in other cultures, one particularly gaudy one was a guide on rearing the perfect American citizen. Franklin prepared to throw in the towel and order a book to be delivered, before at the end of the aisle he saw a simple clear cover, upon which was written, “How To Be A Father.” It didn’t even have the author’s name on the front. Franklin couldn’t help but let his interest be piqued as he goes to pick it up.

As he does so it’s almost as if the lights of the store dim as the monochrome cover continues to call out to him. Before checking the contents he checks the back looking for any hint of what lies between the pages and finds another completely featureless page. At this point Franklin’s eyes would usually roll as he returns this obnoxious marketing mishap to the shelf, but instead his brows furrow. He simply must know what is inside. He rushes to open to the first page as his mind can only obsessively demand the contents of the book. 

He opens to the middle of the guide, stumbling on a photo of what may as well be the platonic ideal of man. Franklin’s stomach lurches in discomfort, his heart pangs knowing he could never be such a man, as the image in front of him. His eyes trace the jawline defined even through a dense beard. He hungers to be even a hundredth as masculine as the imagine in front of him. Franklin glances at the next page hoping for some recipe to be just like him, rubbing his hairless jaw as he turns eyes blurring as he reads the sentence:

"A Real Father Is Strong."

He audibly grunts as he reads the sentence and holds that exemplar of man in his mind. He doesn’t dare desire to be a father, but strength. How could he not want that? He looks down the page hoping for work out tips but his eyes find no purchase as the words blur together. Nevertheless he stares at the smudges, willing them to give him answers, as the book begins to work its own will unto him.

Franklin has spent little time on his body. It has never been a priority for him, and yet now he wants strength? The book grows warm in his hands as his eyes roll back. He bites his lip as he feels the warmth begin to surge from the book into his arms. Veins begin to bulge in his hands as they continue up his arms. His hands grow calluses from day after day of lifting iron. His forearms burst forth growing to a size larger than his calves are currently. He feels his shirt soon grow tight around his biceps as muscle begins to bulge. Thick veins appear down the direct center of his arms as he is overcome with pleasure.

The strength does not stop flowing into him as his arms start to rip open his sleeves however. Just as soon as his massive biceps make room for themselves his chest begins to demand its own attention. Muscles that he didn’t even know he had cramp on his chest as pecs burst out of his chest shooting buttons down the aisle. Just after this he feels his back expand similarly giving him a wingspan he never dreamed he could achieve. His knees buckle as he feels the warmth force itself into his lower body. 

He slams to the floor loudly as his growing limbs fall out from under him. Sensing challenge from the forearms his calves rip holes into his pants as they reach a size and definition of a bodybuilder and his thighs swiftly follow suit creating a tear from his waist down to his feet, fully exposing Franklin’s lower body as he struggles to stay conscious. Not to be out done he feels his feet begin to press against to press against the boundaries of his shoes, the tongue bulging out as he starts to hear the fabric tear before he’s interrupted-

“Um, Excuse me sir? Do you need help up?,” asks a clerk at the bookstore, seeing Franklin on the floor.

Franklin’s face blazed red at being caught in such a compromising position as he shoots up to standing. “I! So sorry I don’t-“ he struggles to explain what he thinks happened having fully lost himself in his growth. As he looks down at himself however he sees that although his clothes are fitting tighter, there are no rips to be seen. His nipples make themselves well apparent through the polo, but his sleeves remain untorn, and his pants hug his waist and ass but are clearly in one piece. There is also a massive bulge in his pants though it is thankfully not growing at the moment.

Franklin starts to make small talk with the clerk who checked on them but before getting very far he is thrown off guard as the clerk replies, “I don’t know sir”. Why the kid keeps calling him sir? Kid? Franklin is sure they’re about the same age the kid can’t be less than  twenty three? Well wait? Franklin isn’t twenty three either, that had to have been? Franklin feels his mind start to heat up as a massive headache starts to build. He stares down at his feet as the clerk once more grows concerned.  

The problem does not stay for long however as he sees the book he was so obsessed with is on the floor. That can’t be right! As he goes to pick it up he finds it is on a new page! Excited to learn what new wisdom lies in store he is greeted once more with an all too eye catching man. It’s a mirror selfie which should have no place in what is presumably an advice book. His body is absolutely shredded as he smirks from the page, but even more eye-catching is his massive cock.

Franklin does his best to look away from this clear attempt at softcore porn lest he have yet another issue growing out of his clothing. Unfortunately the text opposite the image is even less help to this end, Franklin can’t help himself but read:

"A Real Father Is Horny."

If the power flowing into him from the book filled him with pleasure, it was truly nothing compared to the energy and desire burning through his veins now. The clerk's eyes widen as the sound of fabric stretching emanates from Franklin’s crotch before being immediately followed by the loud tear of a zipper bursting off. He quickly looks away before seeing whatever has apparently burst from Franklin's pants as he stares at the man in shock.

The embarrassment only heightens Franklin's ecstasy, his clothes caress his powerful body as he feels his balls pulse as he feels them shift into overdrive, begging Franklin for release as they fill his barely hanging on briefs. Briefly keeping his lust at bay he looks up to see the clerk still in front of him and chokes back a grunt of hunger. His body flexes to pounce before he hesitates, god, he looks like he could be my kid. But that would- That can’t be right. 

Before he can question any further he feels his balls grow even bluer as his cock begins to create rips in his underwear. Putting off his lust just long enough to avoid criminal charges he runs from the man who he could have sworn was his age, or his son’s age? His breath catches in his chest as he storms down the aisle. He feels his nipples scratch against his shirt as pre soaks through his increasingly torn briefs. He clenches his jaw to avoid moaning as he leaves a trail of sweat in his wake, barely making it inside the restroom and locking the door.

The cool air shocks his body as he holds his sweaty body against the door. Directly across from him is the mirror, seeing himself sets his hunger aflame higher than anybody can sustain. He sees his cock fully burst from his pants, sticking out straight from his crotch, the length he would’ve sworn his forearm was. Looking back to the mirror he flexes at himself and fully loses the ability to hold back. He moans as he cums without even touching his cock. His balls pulse as they continue producing five more loads to take the place of this one as he slides against the door, leaving a trail of sweat on the door as he moans and closes his eyes.

When he reopens them he finds himself in a thankfully different scene. There is no sign that he came all over the floor of a public restroom and he did not have a boner burst from his pants in front of that clerk. He’s been this horny his whole life, he knows how to handle himself. Fuck did he turn him on though. Franklin decides he needs to masturbate more, can’t be getting so horny for college hunks now that his son’s going to school. Fuck! He doesn’t have a son! Franklin knows something horrible is happening but before he can even start to make a connection he sees in front of him, precisely where he thought he came on the floor, his book. Lying open to a new page. He hasn’t the willpower to even feign resistance. He sees a powerful bear of a man. Franklin craves his power. He craves his virility. He needs to be more like him. He doesn’t even need to read the page opposite for it is already ingrained into him.

"A Real Father Is Mature."

He burps as his tight abs quickly begin to soften and slightly bloat into what can only be described as a dad bod. He rubs his still growing stomach as his pubes inch above his waistline and shadow the whole of his torso.  His body loses definition though he of course exercises to stay tight and strong as any real father should. He feels his hairline then as dark arm hair inches up towards his shoulders. He smirks as he reaches up to scratch at his ever-present stubble. Exposing his hairier pit to the fresh air, he laughs as his mind is filled with thousands of jokes, each worse than the last. You could say he’s Armed for every occasion he laughs as he flexes at himself in the mirror, each chuckle sounding deeper than the last.

Frank looks in the mirror ahead of him and feels and starts to chub up once more. He looks younger than he remembers being, although with each laugh at his own jokes his hair starts to grey and his forehead lines grow deeper. Each final change cementing him as a real father like the book suggests. He needs to go try these dad jokes out on an audience now. His son Jack would love to hear them.

Frank feels content looking at the book in front of him. This will be the perfect gift for his kid. This thing’ll make a dad out of anyone, lord knows it's worked wonders for him! Frank chuckles to himself, as his stubble grows out into a beard, thinking about whatever less-than-clever joke he’ll tell his son when he gives it to him as he heads out of the bookstore. He eyes the clerk that went to help him earlier as a hunger begins to build within Frank once more. The twink seems to be looking at a book on the shelf as if he’s never seen one before. He starts to reach out to its white cover as he thinks to himself, couldn’t hurt to see what’s inside.

[khristie16]

The Fast and Forbidden

Charles is a famous F1 driver with everything one could want: fame, fortune, and fans. But he is missing one thing. Being his new personal assistant changes everything for both of them.

— chapter 2 An unspoken connection gradually weaves between them—forged through chess, shared glances, and a mysterious musical encounter.

warnings: sweet af, sexual tension, invading privacy (not the intention), sentimental and romantic author's note: hi guuys, i missed you, uni gets the best of me the past couple months. I received some new requests and I have them all saved for future work. Don't worry, now I have more free time:) stay awesome! taglist: @buendiabebeta, @pondysselth, @clomo12345, @naty-1001, @maxv33rstappen, @f1lov3r, @cmleitora

The next day, I found myself 10,000 meters in the sky, going at such a fast speed that I was relieved my stomach didn't protest. Our destination was Charles's home. I'd never been to Monaco, and my curiosity grew as we got closer. What would it be like standing in the middle of a street, taking in all the beautiful scenery with my own eyes? I adore the sea and warm weather, the culture, and the food. I appreciate different things. That's one more reason I took this job — the chance to travel. It can really shake up your whole routine, but the opportunity to see Monaco and Singapore in less than a week was unimaginable just two months ago. Thank goodness this job pays well.

Watching Charles absorbed in his iPhone made me feel unwelcome. It seemed like I could make funny faces, and he wouldn't even notice. It wasn't a new feeling for me. Sometimes, during quiet nights, I wondered why he was so distant, especially when I'd seen him be a sunshine around others. Initially, I thought it was because we were purely business for each other. But that could apply to anyone on the Ferrari team. Maybe I was overthinking it, and the simple reason was that he just didn't like me. I decided to let it go; there were better things to focus on. Tilting my head, I wondered if things might improve over time. Silently grumbling, I readjusted my seat, still lost in thoughts about him.

"Hey, do you play chess?"

I looked at him like he was an alien and gulped nervously. Yes, I had played chess — once. And to top it off, I was still learning the basics. Not something I was proud of, but hey, not everyone can be Ron Weasley. I laughed like a maniac at my own joke, resulting in his raised eyebrows.

"Sorry… and no, I've never learned."

Surprise and interest showed in his body language as he leaned closer, his blue T-shirt moving against his skin. With a surprisingly high-pitched voice, he laughed.

"Really?"

Fire me or spare me, but please, not this. I didn't know where to focus first — on his beautiful dimples or the fact that he just laughed at me? The smile vanished from his face as he seemed to notice my confusion, but he still smiled with his eyes.

"I mean, I'm surprised. It's like when Carlos once told me he listens to jazz in the morning."

I burst into laughter. It sounded so much like Carlos.

"I just thought you played chess. You look so serious."

Okay, this is getting worse. I must have looked like a crazy woman with diagnosed schizophrenia, and he tells me I look serious? Tell that to a woman, and you shut her down completely. Readjusting my seat again, I focus on the rug under the wooden table.

"I can teach you if you want."

Lifting my gaze, I try to find some hidden answers behind his green eyes, but all I feel is a hot sensation in the pit of my stomach. Wearing a white tank top, I know it's not because of the fabric. He's genuinely smiling, and I take a pause to exhale before nodding my head.

"Do you like to play a lot?"

I ask to smooth things between us, but he just nods and focuses back on the chess pieces on the board. Turning my head to the side, I notice that the closer, the less cloudy it is outside, and I feel an energetic shiver run down my spine.

"I always win. But for you, — I'll make an exception."

My heart stops beating. Why is it so hot in here all of a sudden?

After we landed, our shared ride slipped into an uneasy quiet. In the midst of my spontaneous chess lesson with Charles, laughter and focus filled the air, creating a vibrant atmosphere akin to the scattered energy of someone wrestling with ADHD. Amid our animated conversation, I lost track of our surroundings; the outside world turned into a distant blur.

A smile graced Charles's lips as he locked eyes with me. In that shared gaze, a fleeting connection unfolded. Happiness shimmered in his green eyes, and an unexplainable urge to draw closer wrapped around me. It felt as if his eyes held a depth I yearned to explore. However, the moment dissolved abruptly. Charles, with a subtle shift in demeanor, reverted to his usual aloofness, extinguishing the warmth that had briefly ignited between us.

"I got my keys copied for you in case you need something from my apartment," he offered, extending the keys.

An unexpected gesture left me grappling with a mix of surprise and uneasiness. Taking the keys, I delicately stashed them into my bag, careful not to make direct contact with his skin.

"My driver will first go to your place. Tell him the address," Charles instructed. Uncomfortable, I shifted in my seat, seeking distraction by scanning the outside world. Families strolled happily, painting picturesque scenes. A flicker of yearning for such simplicity rose within me—an ache for a love that protects and cherishes.

"YN?" Charles's voice interrupted my reverie, demanding my attention.

"I don't have a home," I stated matter-of-factly, my gaze returning to the outside world. Despite the nonchalant tone, the admission carried a weight that lingered in the air.

"I need to visit some company for renting a flat here."

I took in a deep breath, feeling the cool air settle around me. My eyes drifted down, observing how the white tank top hugged my body like a second skin, accentuating the curves beneath. Fingers idly played with the fabric, a quiet excitement brewing inside. In my mind, thoughts twirled, a hidden longing to peel away the clothing, exposing the vulnerability beneath. And this is what Charles does to me. And it is getting dangerous.

"I know a place," Charles declared. He reached for his phone, dialed a number, and engaged in a focused conversation. His determined expression and the play of his toned arms intrigued me. A heat lingered in the air, intensifying the atmosphere within the car.

"Ciao l'amigo," Charles spoke into the phone.

Charles's words flowed, a steady stream escaping his perfect pink lips. My gaze fixated on his profile, an intense scrutiny fueled by a hunger simmering beneath the surface —an irresistible force tempting me to devour him, a longing I hadn't anticipated when accepting this job.

The struggle intensified, threatening to override the professional boundaries I had naively assumed would be steadfast. As Charles's eyes met mine, a sudden freeze paralyzed me in place. His gaze lingered, delight evident in the subtle nuances of his expression, as if he sought to unveil the secrets hidden in the depths of my eyes. The hum of conversation from his friend acted as a backdrop to this silent exchange, heightening the tension that hung between us. I braced myself in anticipation, uncertain of what he sought to uncover.

Abruptly, his attention shifted, his head turning back to its previous position. A wide smile adorned his face as he concluded the call, the sheer charm of it momentarily rendering me breathless. Even without facing me, he seamlessly transitioned to a task on his phone, leaving me suspended in a state of uncertainty and unspoken intrigue.

"I found you a free apartment. Do not worry about money," he said, his attention now absorbed in his phone, leaving me to deal with the unexpected twist.

Days slipped away, and the looming Grand Prix trip to Japan demanded my attention. I meticulously handled remote tasks for Charles, consciously keeping a distance to avoid the unraveling of my composure under the weight of desire. Knowing Charles would be engrossed in a morning squash match with his brothers, I discreetly seized the opportunity to attend to a domestic task: swapping clean laundry for the soiled.

Entering his apartment, arms loaded with bags, I navigated purposefully down the hallway. A distant melody reached my ears, halting my steps. Recognizing the tune, my thoughts paused, and I followed the enchanting notes to their origin.

In the sunlit living room, a grand piano stood like a silent sentinel. There, orchestrating a melancholic melody, was Charles. Our eyes met as I stood there, and he smiled in response to the unexpected serenade.

"That's 'Sadness and Sorrow,'" I stated the obvious, and Charles observed me cautiously. Surprisingly, I overcame hesitation, moving closer and placing my hand on the piano keys. Each note, played with sincerity, carried a hum of remembrance. Charles shifted, creating space for me to join him. As I sat down, my focus on the piano, he positioned his hands beside mine, and we began to play in harmony.

Eyes closed, I allowed the music to transport me, feeling the warmth of our synchronized notes. The vibrational waves between us painted an imagined scene, where I lay on the sea's surface, gently swaying with the waves.

The room resonated with harmonious echoes, our shared melody creating a tangible connection between Charles and me. Vibrational waves seemed to ripple, as if an unseen force wove a tapestry of connection, binding our notes into a seamless symphony. Amid our synchronized play, the world around us faded, and I found myself transported to a different realm.

In my mind's eye, I lay on a mat, gently drifting atop the surface of a tranquil sea. The sun cast a warm embrace, painting the water with hues of gold and azure. The waves, like delicate fingers, played a tender serenade, cradling my body with rhythmic caresses. I surrendered to the immersive sensation, the music becoming the gentle current that carried us on this shared journey.

With Charles beside me, the connection forged through the shared music was palpable, creating a timeless moment where the ordinary world ceased to exist. It was a serendipitous encounter, a convergence of hearts and melodies, leaving me suspended in the beauty of our shared composition on the sea of music.

A genuine smile adorned my face as we played, stealing glances at Charles. His concentration on the music was profound, but when our gazes met, I detected an ocean of emotions in his eyes. The desire to caress his cheek and offer comfort overwhelmed me.

Our fingers danced on the keys, minds lost in the melody. As Charles and I maintained our gaze, I discerned a myriad of colors in his eyes, each shade revealing a facet of emotion that resonated with the melodic symphony we created. In this suspended moment, his face drew nearer, an invisible force pulling us together until we were so close that our breaths mingled, and the air became a shared essence.

The piano keys, now a conduit for our unspoken connection, echoed the final cadence of the song. With a delicate touch, my right arm, closer to him, found a resting place on my thigh, bridging the physical space between us. As the final chords resonated, the room held its breath, encapsulating the unspoken intensity of our shared musical communion. And Charles, hesitating only briefly, mirrored the gesture, his eyes lingering on my lips.

"You're the boat I would protect in my full stormy ocean," he spoke, and the sweet sentiment ignited warmth within. In that moment, nothing else existed but him and his words, a connection forged through music and unspoken understanding.

[gliphyartfan]

Happy New Years folks! Another year ended and another year begins!

@yanderelinkeduniverse @ice-cream-writes-stuff @linked-heroes @screaming-until-god-hears-me @imprisioned-in-the-hole @crestfallenmermaidan @eternadreeblissa

Gosh, so much done, so much left to do! I hope what I produced left you guys happy!

I can go on and on about how I appreciate you guys for sticking with this little old blog. But I'll settle with a New Years one-shot that I knew you'll enjoy!

For those who played TOTK you'll know what location I'm mentioning (not that subtle), for those who haven't played, i kept it very vague for everything else.

I'm using the 'Wild was yanked back to his era for his second journey and time shenanigans meant it was only several months for the chain and (y/n) and maybe a year or two for him.' Idea for this cause why not?

Happy New Year folks! And Thanks for spending another year on this blog with me! I hope to impress you guys this new year! 🥰

---

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"What was it like in your world?" The winds were a gentle noise around them. strong yet peaceful.

The recent portal had taken them back to Wild's era. Though in one of the recent Sky Islands that popped up in his Hyrule.

The one they were one, the Great Sky Island, wore it's named proudly, the sight of the sun just below the horizon from so high up, it's lingering hue a faint echo of the brightness that was known by all, the stars quietly claiming their place on the earth's darken sky.

(y/n) could never grow tired of the sea of stars above, and to be closer to them than she had ever been in her life was incredible.

Something she definitely wasn't capable of seeing back home unless she left the city.

So sitting by the waters of the largest 'lake' on the island (and questions on how water was even produced there sprung in her head.) looking up at the beautiful starry sky, she had been understandably distracted and hadn't realize Hyrule had settled next to her until his shoulder brushed against hers and he spoke up.

"Hm?"

"Well, the new year." He said, his voice soft.

(y/n) hummed in reply, ah yes, they had been discussing that before they entered the portal, "Well...it's very different for everyone." (Y/n) chuckled under her breath, "No culture is the same but the general public celebrates pretty much the same way in big cities."

She shrugged one shoulder and smiled, "It can be a pretty crazy thing at times."

Hyrule let out an amused huff of laughter, "You have a good point there, I've never experienced a culture quite like yours so hearing you talk about it is always fascinating. It's hard to believe you've lived there all your life." Hyrule tilted his head, "And how do you celebrate?"

His eyes flickered up to the starry heavens above before looking back at the woman beside him.

She grinned, "There's a big party normally. Sometimes we sing songs, some times we dance, we definitely eat a lot. And of course, most of the time the adults get drunk until they pass out."

"Sounds fun." Hyrule said happily.

"I guess my personal favorites were when things didn't go to plan."

"What didn't go to plan?" (y/n) and Hyrule turned to Four walking over to them.

"Also Time said to stay away from the edge."

"Oh, that's the eighth time he said that, I got it already! and we just talking about how the New Year was celebrated back home." She answered as he settled down on her opposite side. "My personal favorites were when things didn't go to plan."

"So you liked new year plans going wrong?" He asked, eyebrow raised in question.

"I liked it when people found a workaround when something went wrong." She clarified.

"There was always something about watching what could have been a tragedy turn into a memory that everyone involved talked about years later."

(Y/n)'s smile as she thought of some special occasions was contagious and Four smiled back warmly. "I like to imagine what kind of trouble you caused back home, because I know there must have been a lot." Four teased.

"That is false! I was an innocent bystander during those times!" She cried, mock offended by his accusation. Four couldn't help but laugh at how silly she looked. (Y/n) rolled her eyes.

"Food's ready!" (y/n) let herself fall on her back, looking over to the others behind her.

Wild was tapping a wooden spoon on his cooking pot, catching everyone's attention.

"Get it while it's hot!" He declared cheerfully.

Everyone gathered around to get their share. It wasn't long before everyone sat around eating, chatting casually about anything they could think of.

"You'll be able to get us down from here tomorrow right Cook?" Legend asked between bites.

"Yeah yeah, I have a few rides that can easily get us all down." was the cheerful answer.

"Can't you use your...uh...pad?"

"You can call it a slate, it's the same either way, and probably! I like my method better though."

"Doesn't make me feel confident." was the answer to that.

"Well Excuse-"

(y/n) happily ignored them as she hummed in happiness with each bite she took. Wild's rice and curry was always a delicious treat. Especially when he added a side of delicious chicken. She was eating it and still craved another bowl! Then again, all his meals were amazing, so it was expected.

"So (y/n), you never said what was your favorite new year's mishap." Four spoke up during the tail end of the meal. Everyone had their seconds (and some had thirds) and plates were stacked to be cleaned.

"What's this now?" Warriors spoke up, everyone's attention turning to Four.

"(y/n) was talking about how she celebrated the new year back home." Hyrule responded.

"Was she?" Warriors raised a brow at her.

"Then it turned into what her favorite memories were and she answered that it was when celebration turned differently than expected." A nod from (y/n) confirmed Four's statement.

"So what was it?" Legend asked her, "your favorite mishap?"

"Oh loads of times." She answered, "When one year, a sudden snowstorm disrupted our outdoor New Year's Eve plans. Instead of feeling disappointed, we embraced the unexpected and had an impromptu indoor celebration with close friends, turning it into a cozy and memorable night."

"That sounds rather nice." Sky commented.

"On another occasion, transportation issues prevented me and some friends from attending the new year's party at my house. We decided to explore the local area looking for help, but stumbled upon a charming small gathering, and ended up forming new connections that made the night surprisingly delightful." She continued, "They even helped us get home and we merged our groups into one big gathering!"

"That does sound like a lovely way to spend a New Year's Eve." Wild said, elbows on his knees.

"Yeah, mom still calls them up and sends them care packages." She replied, smiling softly, "But my favorite new year's mishap...hmm.." She tapped her chin in thought.

"Oh yeah! When I was little, final two hours before we counted down to bring in the new year, the lights around the whole area went out unexpectedly, leaving us in complete darkness."

"Really? Everyone must have panicked." Wind commented, looking curious.

"Yeah, a bit! It would have been scary, but not even half an hour later, people were lighting candles, turning on any available lights that had a separate power source, lighting up glow sticks, which are like luminescent stones but have several colors and only last a short while, and people started playing music."

(Y/n) continued, grinning at her fond memories. "What was more fun was when people started lighting fireworks in the middle of the streets, which is illegal mind you! It was so fun watching the fireworks going off and than people hiding the evidence when the police, uh our version of knights? came around to check on what was going on."

"It must have felt like a wonderful night indeed." Wind commented in awe.

(y/n) laughed at his remark.

"It was cold to the point my ears and face was aching, I still remember my nose being runny as hell, I was shivering like everyone else!" (y/n) sighed happily, "and I remember how there was so much laughter and excitement. us kids running around with handheld lights, we were like oversized laughing fireflies with the way we zoomed back and forth through the street."

The young girl continued reminiscing, smiling brightly, thinking about her family and friends, happy memories of the past celebrations she'd spent with them.

She missed them all dearly.

"It all sounds so nice." Four said, his eyes shining brightly, "People back home would spend more time worrying if the power went out rather than trying to make the situation better."

"I'm pretty sure that's the general sentiment with most of our eras."

"Every family for themselves if such a situation happened." Hyrule piped in with a shrug, never really celebrating much in his era.

"You guys never lived in a city where the lights are on 24/7." (y/n) smirked as she reminded them.

"Even in the middle of the night, the city is always awake in some way. So when the power goes out, there's a level of excitement that comes with it." She laughed and shrugged, "I mean it sucked cause ya know, no power, but we always made it work in some way."

She looked up at the night sky.

"I still remember how my mom and dad gathered us up and sat us on the roof of their car, horseless carriage that moved with electricity and oil." She smiled as the mouths that opened to ask what a car was closed shut.

"Watching the fireworks light up the sky, hearing people laugh and play music. Having the food vendor pass by and set up shop at both ends of the street and us getting to eat delicious food while bundled up as much as our parents could..." a sniffle was heard from her, she quickly shook her head and blinked her teary away with a chuckle, "I..It was everything I never realized I wanted to experience! ...And..." her smile dimmed.

"It's one of those moments that'll never truly be replicated again. no matter what."

She sighed again, still happy but with some bittersweet sadness. "Moments like that are one of a kind you know."

"Wish we could have experienced it with you."

"I wish you guys could have been there too." She said, smile a bit bigger, though still sad.

Wild, having taken a seat next to her during the meal, reached over and rubbed circles on her shoulder.

"At least we know it would have been nice to have seen the festival, and it certainly seemed like it was spectacular." Wild pointed out, "but it seems like you had a great time, and that's what matters to me."

(y/n) smiled at the blond boy's gesture.

"Thanks," She replied, placing a hand on top of his and leaning against him slightly.

"I bet the fireworks were amazing." Wind sighed wistfully, "wish we could have seen it."

"I know." She groaned, shaking her head sadly, "that was always the best part! People would either go watch the fireworks and set them off themselves!"

"Maybe next time, if we're lucky enough, we get to see some." Legend added quietly as he gave her a sympathetic look, "Though I doubt it'll be as amazing as the ones back home."

(y/n) smiled appreciatively and nodded. "It's the memories made that make them amazing. So I'll love every moment if there's fireworks.

Everyone chatted amongst themselves, talking about some of the ways they all celebrated the new year.

Each equally unaware of the things happening below on the Surface.

They weren't witness to the chaos happening around the Skyview Towers.

How smoke filled each of the bases, keeping anyone near from approaching.

At Lookout Landing, people were scrambling, trying to find the answer, some suspecting that it was ready to explode.

In a way, they were right.

...

"What the hell??"

Back on the Great Sky Island, everyone looked at Wind as he stood up and looked towards the distance.

Everyone followed his gaze, all equally confused as they saw several bright flames shooting high into the air.

"The fuck?!" Legend exclaimed, shooting up to his feet.

"Wait, did we miss something?! Cook! I thought you said most monsters don't come up here?!" Warriors snapped at him, already reaching for his sword.

"No, no, no! They don't!" Wild waved his hands in front of him frantically.

They all watched as the bright flames shot up into the night sky, each person was wondering what exactly happened.

Gasps erupted as each ball of flames bursts into an eruption of bright colors.

Fireworks, as large as buildings and as numerous as a crowd of children celebrating the New Year together.

"Holy shit!" Wind yelled in shock, standing in bewilderment with Legend and Hyrule beside him,

"Who set off those fucking fireworks?!"

(y/n) stood up and slowly turned in a full circle, noticing how the fiery displays seemed to surround Sky Island.

Wild pulled Wind close to him and whispered something quickly before he tapped at his slate and after a blue circle appeared at his feet, vanished into tendrils of glowing blue.

Wind pulled out his Pirate's Charm and held it at the ready, in another moment, Wild's voice was heard.

"It's coming from the Skyview Towers! They're all shooting these things into the sky!"

"Isn't that a bad thing?!?" Twilight asked frantically, standing a bit closer to an awestruck (y/n).

"N-No? I don't think so? It's just...shooting fireworks?"

"Well someone decided to go big or go home." Hyrule said under his breath as he stared at the constantly changing lights bursting in the sky.

(y/n) stared open mouthed at the brilliant fireworks exploding around the outskirts of the Sky Island, staring at the spectacle above them, seemingly enthralled by the display.

"Purah is probably going ballistic right now." Wild said as soon as he arrived back where the blue circle was, "Those towers are for shooting people in the air, not fireworks."

"I'm sorry, it shoots what?"

"Damned cannons." Twilight muttered, a grimace clear on his face, "(y/n) we should...(y/n)?"

(y/n)'s attention taken hostage by the lights in the sky, simply turning slowly in place in order to take in as much as she could.

"It's beautiful..." (y/n) breathed, eyes sparkling as she looked at the beautiful spectacle surrounding them.

Everyone soon settled down, not sensing any danger despite the sudden excitement.

She, and slowly everyone else, was mesmerized by its beautiful display.

It's bright colors turning night into day. A constant stream of color, lighting up the world in a dazzling display of light and beauty.

It was a sight they could never forget, nor could they ever hope to replace.

(y/n) sighed softly, a content smile on her lips as she looked up at the fireworks.

"I hope you guys back home are doing alright." She whispered under her breath, a hand resting over her heart.

A small, yet sad smile graced her features as her eyes began to fill with tears.

"I miss you, Mom, Dad, everyone...I miss you guys so so much..."

She took a deep breath, "But I'm doing alright. I'm not letting things keep me down."

(y/n) could just imagine her mom and dad fretting over her, her friends sarcastically teasing her while looking her over to see if she was ok. Her sister threatening to lock her in her room if she ever worried her again.

She could practically see it in front of her, how it made her heart hurt.

She missed them, missed spending time with them.

But she knew she wasn't the only one feeling like that too. They probably were worried sick over her.

She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment, just focusing on the noise around her.

And if she strained her hearing just a bit, she could faintly hear the chatter, the laughter, and the sounds of celebration from a memory that was already many years old.

She missed her loved ones dearly.

But...

She opened her eyes again and gazed out at the night sky with so many lights that reminded her of home.

She'll be ok.

She smiled as she watched the others point of the fireworks that caught their eye, Wild snapping picture after picture as quickly as he could.

"Another year, another set of memories." Soft quiet laughter escaping her.

And she stood there, enjoying the beautiful view surrounding her.

---

---

In the distant behind them, a pumpkin headed figure sat on the edge of the floating island above them. Slowly kicking their legs as they watched the group below them.

Shoulders shaking in silent mirth as each kick seemed to set off another firework.

An echoy giggle sounded from within the pumpkin.

'Happy Happy Home/Friend/Warmth! Happy Happy Sillies!! Which means Happy Happy me!'

With another giggle, the figure hopped off the ledge, vanishing with the next breeze appearing.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Sarah and Simon’s wedding. Any hints on how it went for them?

...Well! 🫦 *draws breath*

First, they frolic around Florence all cute and happy before the ceremony. Simon takes her to galleries -> somehow the idea of this giant soldier listening to his enthusiastic, sparkly-eyed wife-to-be giving him a monologue about a painting like Birth of Venus does things to me. He def. gets a hard-on from that, and Sarah gets all flustered when she notices. ("We're in a gallery, for god's sake" or "I should've known you can't behave yourself" while her eyes are just wide and shining from love)

As for the wedding: nothing too fancy, nothing too luxurious or overly elegant. Instead, crazy romantic – nothing is official and there will be no legal documents on any marriage taking place, but Simon would do his all to make the day memorable for the both of them. He loves to pamper and spoil Sarah, even if she gets shy about it (she loves it actually). So good food and a beautiful dress are a must, and the venue has to be something Sarah would love – something historical, from the romantic period, perhaps. Some old villa with lemon trees or magnolias, a wild garden that is overwhelming to the senses, nothing too pruned or symmetrical. They spend their wedding night there, too, sleep late in the morning and have a hedonistic 2-hour brunch in the garden.

I don't know if even Soap would be present because we're talking about a secret elopement here. Simon would have a hard time asking John to be his best man, and Sarah has yet to see him too many times, so it might be just the two of them + someone suitable to conduct the ceremony. After all, the marriage is mainly a powerful symbolic gesture from Simon that he is dedicated to Sarah and wants to grow old with her (I see them planting those apple trees in Simon's "hideout" later that summer: one for her and one for him).

But what would be even more monumental than the actual wedding is the honeymoon that follows.

Simon takes weeks, almost a month off his work to explore Italy and especially the seaside together. There is an overdose of art, culture, good food and wine. Sarah tries to teach Simon to appreciate a good Amarone or Valpolicella and he's just like I'd rather not but gives in like he always does (*sigh* "Let's try it then, dove"). There's lots of swimming and hikes in the woodlands and just all kinds of fun under the sun, and all around them, the nature is blooming. 

Sometimes they are too tired to even make love because they've been too busy going around yet another bend or a corner to see if there is a great view or a better restaurant or a hidden beach empty of people. But he brings her breakfast in bed, and it usually ends in slow, passionate sex before they venture out again. Or then there's the occasional quickie in the shower just before dinner. Her cheeks are still flushed when they rush to their reservation and the waiter brings the menus to the table (Simon only looks annoyingly content with himself). 

If one thing is sure, it's this: Simon gets actual dimples on his cheeks from that honeymoon, and Sarah teases him about it for the rest of their lives. 

Every time the weather turns cold and rainy in London, they remember their Italian summer and the gardens filled with foreign scents and their wedding night which was a little too hot to get some sleep, not to talk of making love (of course they still did and were all sweaty and spent afterward, poor things), they remember their walks on the beaches filled with beautiful sea shells and how they should go back there someday, but Simon says it would never be the same... so they decide they will explore a new country and a new place every year. A few weeks, almost a month off from work, no matter what, so they can go and have some adventures and a slice of peace and live their lives to the full. 💞

[merakiui]

Omg!! :0 neige i love seeing more stuff about him and just adding more to unknown characters because they give us so little about them T_T like idk about you mera BUT i am waiting (eagerly) for Rielle crumbs!! (definitely not because of all the ideas of him and the octotrio wanting the same darling) we don't even get his official appearance yet i personally think that Rielle is oblivious to everything and also some drawings of an artist i don't remember the @ of inspire more thoughts in me! Just Rielle being unable to communicate with anything else that isn't mer when speaking to his darling due to nerves? Amazing. In my balance of darkness i would say he is a bit similar to neige and not knowing much about human culture which could result in him not respecting some boundaries but he is the one who suffers in my head *cof cof by the octotrio cof cof* Rielle being an absolute himbo while the trio watch and mocking him because "As if thats going to work!... WAIT WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT HE IS TAKING DARLING ON A WEEK LONG TRIP TO THE CORAL SEA????" maybe this doesn't make much sense because i just toke my meds but Rielle <3

And i would absolutely love to hear your thoughts about just in general! I hope you are doing well :D

-Cuchito anon (possibly high on meds)

Omg yes!!! Every day I hope we will get a Rielle reveal. I must know what he looks like. <3 but I absolutely agree with your points about his limited knowledge of the human tongue, considering he's likely never been to the surface before or interacted with humans until eventually attending RSA! He definitely only knows mermish and he's doing his best to learn more words and phrases in the human language, but beyond that he really is lost when it comes to verbal communication. I like to imagine body language plays a big role in strengthening your bond with him, which Azul curses to hell and back because body language is his secret weapon and Rielle is ruining that by being unintentionally cute and starry-eyed and so precious and... Sea Witch below, he can't stand it!!!!! >:(

Azul tries so hard and here Rielle is, charming you by simply being his gullible self. The envy is so all-consuming that Azul begins to regret learning the human tongue, if only so he could rely on you and keep you close for translations like Rielle does whenever the two of you hang out. What he'd give so you could spend hours in the library with him, teaching him your language, smiling at him, helping him sound out every syllable... It's really not fair. If Rielle ever foolishly steps foot into the lounge to ask for Azul's help in winning your heart, you can be sure he is scamming him. Three days is much too generous. Azul halves that, boosts Rielle's confidence with all sorts of flowery words, and tells him he can definitely win your affections in such short time.

Unfortunately, by some miracle or curse, he does and it ends with you agreeing to visit the Coral Sea with him. Azul is in agony. T_T just what is he doing wrong? He's so heartbroken, too. Rielle has the ideal mer body, while Azul is stuck as a gross, slimy, clumsy tako (none of which is true, but to Azul that's all he'll ever be no matter how hard he tries to be better, slimmer, cooler, etc). He has to do everything he can to ruin your little trip with Rielle. He refuses to let the two of you get even closer, especially not under the sea! One day you'll be Azul's beloved and you'll live alongside him in the sea. There's no room for Rielle. In Azul's fairytale romance, it's just you and him.

[myreia]

Sketches of Times Lost

Day 13: Butte

aureia and avi'li discover some "interesting" art on aymeric's wall. wol friendship (aureia and avi'li). set during heavensward patches. written for ffxivwrite2024. rated: teen 820 words ao3 link thank you to @lilas for letting me borrow avi! 💕

The hall is already packed by the time she arrives.

Aureia slips through the crowd, quiet and unnoticed. With her hair down to cover her ears and her nondescript clothing that says neither High House nor Brume, she may as well be just another Hyur come to see what the fuss is about. It’s quite a good showing, far more than she expected. Lowborn families cluster together, cautious yet excited. Some parents hold back excitable youths bouncing on the balls of their feet as if they are about to sprint the length of the hall; others sooth crying children already overwhelmed by the bright lights and loud sounds. Meanwhile, the highborn do as they do best—strolling the corridor with their heads held high, chatting loftily about current interhouse gossip.

There are too many people here to see much of a divide. It’s present, of course, but both sides have no choice but to mingle.

By design, of course.

A smile tugs at the corners of her lips. She slips around a Brume family of four, quickly stepping behind the eldest son to avoid eye contact with Artoirel, and makes her way to the edge of the hall. The gallery was Aymeric’s idea, a bid to bring highborn and lowborn together disguised as bringing culture to the Brume. Yet another part of the ongoing restoration efforts and to bridge the gap between Ishgard’s two halves. 

She can’t quite bring herself to tell him that most of the lowborn citizens are here for the food and not the paintings, but his heart is in the right place.

“Aureia, my dear!”

Oh, no. Artoirel spotted her after all, and now he’s walking towards her, his noticeable height making him stand out. The crowd ripples, splitting naturally to make way for the lord. She grimaces and looks away as if she hadn’t seen him, the back of her neck prickling. She has little desire to be trapped in a conversation with him today. Not after how their last one went.

Someone bumps her and an arm links through hers. “What d’you think of this one?” Avi’li says and pulls her away in a leisurely stroll, his white ears wiggling back and forth. “I like the… colours.”

“Thank gods,” Aureia breathes. “But what are you doing here, Avi?”

His eyes crinkle with mischief, tail swishing behind him.

Her brow furrows.

“Ah, yes! Right you are, the colours are fantastic,” he continues loudly, pulling her further away and in front of a line of paintings. “Very… Colour-y.”

“Yes,” she adds. “Very so. So much colour.”

“And detail, don’ forget about the detail.”

“The detail, yes!”

They pause, halting in front of a vivid painting that has not caught anyone else’s eye. If anything, most of the crowd has turned its back on it.

“Thanks for the rescue,” Aureia murmurs under her breath.

“Saw you strugglin’, thought I’d step in.” He grins. “What sort of friend would I be to leave you all alone to tangle with good ol’ Artoirel?”

“He’s not that bad.”

“No. He’s not.”

“But—”

He nods sagely. “But.” 

They fall silent.

“The artist must really find this subject interestin’,” Avi’li continues. “On account of all the detail.” He blinks and cocks his head to the side. “Bit of honesty, Aur: I don’t know what in the twelve hells I’m lookin’ at.”

“I…” She frowns and also cocks her head to the side, all thoughts of her narrow escape vanishing. “I don’t know either.”

“Maybe it’s better from the other side?”

They turn as one, tilting their heads.

“Nuh uh,” Avi’li says. “That only makes it more confusin.’”

“I think it’s supposed to be the Sea of Clouds?”

“You think?”

“A landscape, yes.”

“You’re kiddin’ me.”

“No, I really think it is!”

“Yeah, by someone who has maybe seen the Sea of Clouds once. In a dream.” He steps up to the painting, his arm still linked through hers, and leans in close. “I don’t see it.”

“I see some trees there.” She points, tracing a finger through the air. “And some rocks. And—uh—what do you call that thing—”

“What thing?”

“It’s a type of rock. A hill. A… butte?”

His lips twitch, his tail swishing back and forth. “Well, I see do see a butte,” he says. “A very butt-iful butte.”

“I—what?” She presses her lips together. “Hm.”

“Yeah.” Avi’li flashes her a grin, trying not to laugh. “‘Hm’ sounds about right.”

“Oh, no. That’s quite…” She tilts her head to the side. “If you look at it that way, that’s quite—”

“Expressive? Lovingly detailed? See, if you look here—”

“Oh, gods.”

He throws back his head laughs, cackling with mirth. “Once you see it, you can’t unsee. Now, who’s gonna tell Aymeric he put erotica on his wall?”

Aureia catches his eye. “You know,” she says lightly, “I don’t think he needs to know.”

[cerberus253]

okay, what if it was for the eight demon sorcerers meet other cultures and discover that humans can actually have a varienty of skin color, and also the cases of people with albinism or vitilige! And honestly, i feel like some of them could be surprised or curious, especially with the fact that also heterochromia exists too! And it would be cool they discovering how some of the countries are noawadays! Such as brazil, america, mexico, china, russia, and also england! It could be pretty cool, especially at they reaction to afro people aswell!^^

Well, according to mine and another Questioner's research, the Eight Demon Sorcerers must have existed at least before 220 BC (last Dynasty of Ancient China). With that being said, even during the first recorded Dynasty of China (the "Semi-Legendary" Xia Dynasty) at around 2070 BC, humans were all over the world. Not as plentiful like today, but still present on almost every continent.

("Overview map of the world at the end of the 2nd millennium BC," Wikipedia)

Now, according to the cartoon, these were the locations of their kingdoms: - Tso Lan- The Moon - Shendu- China - Po Kong- Japan - Bai Tza- Southeastern coast of Europe (Atlantis, the Mediterranean Sea) - Dai Gui- Western coast of Europe (Spain?) - Tchang Zu- Western coast of the USA - Hsi Wu- Eastern coast of the USA - Xiao Fung- Latin America

This means they had the closest interactions with people in America (USA and Mexico area), southern Europe, and Far East Asia when they were on the Earth. However, we don't know how long their ruling was, so we cannot say if they took part in the Silk Road or even made contact with those who have migrated to South America (from the Bering Strait or form the Pacific) or even Australia. I have been looking into Lo Pei's apparel for a couple hours now and I cannot find anything matching his "Ling Dynasty" outfit, which is, in fact, not an actual Dynasty. Therefore, the Demon banishment date is still a mystery.

Anyway, seeing as how they are extremely racist and believe humans are here to serve them, I think they would be curious on their variety of skin color, but not in the way you probably want. For example, they probably noticed people with darker colored skin can work under the Sun more than those with lighter skin, therefore, depending on the Demons and their domain, they would probably prefer one skin tone over the other for labor. Although, as seen with Hsi Wu and Shendu, some Demons may keep humans for entertainment purposes that do not require practicality, meaning they may go with what looks the best for the job. Every human is a slave to them, no matter what they look like.

If you want my honest thoughts about the Demons' thoughts on albinism and vitiligo, it's not going to be nice. Don't get me wrong, I personally do not think there's anything wrong with either skin, but to the Demons it would most likely be laughed at. Being so drained of color even the light hurts you? That's pathetic. Being patchy like a filthy farm animal? That's funny.

Don't even get me started on Po Kong and her eating habits. She probably wants to taste every single human of all cultures/ethnicity and skin colors to see if they taste different, which tastes the best, and what they go good with. She could easily wipe out an entire group of people if not careful.

Anyway, how they would react to the modern day. Well, we already saw some of it during Season 2 when they were released one by one. They seem pretty chill about it, nothing too over-reactive like, "Wow! Humans did this?! That's unbelievable!" If anything, they would say, "Huh, impressive. Anyway, this is mine now and I want 20 more." This comes off to me as the Demons know humans are great at making and building things, even believing they can make extravagant buildings on their own, but they don't care. Demons just want them to use this power for their own wants. Heck, they probably expect humans to always make great things, so the stuff that we have today probably won't phase them that much, just, "Hey, why didn't you make this for us way back when?!"

If anything, the Demons might be so impressed/inspired by what humans have made that they want their entire kingdom to look like it and then claim it as their own idea. Like, 'yeah, humans have made these widely unique structures/details, but it was I who designed this kingdom! What they did was a waste of ability!'

Remember, EVERYTHING human-wise goes back to the Demons and how they are better and humans are just things to control and make serve. Humans are only tools/pets for the masters to use and none should not put a single human over demon-kind. They are, like I said, straight up racist towards humans, and a lot of people forget that crucial detail when making fan stuff about them.

I think the only Demon out of the Eight that could possibly make a genuine, "Great job!" comment to a human would be Xiao Fung. He seems to be the most down-to-earth one and is actually seen to get along with humans. However, like I said, I'm pretty sure he still views himself higher than them, but I think Xiao Fung is more low-key "appreciative" if you do the right thing for him.

[cain-e-brookman]

Happy Worldbuilding Wednesday! So, I know a little bit about the gods of your setting, but how does your average citizen worship? Which gods get the most attention and which are less well known?

ahh, thanks for the ask! i need you to know, every time i'm asked about world building i become this image

this is undoubtedly going to get long so answer under the cut

the the short answer is: it depends. i think i mentioned in my post about Raschic but i'm not sure, but there are the 8 main gods who give power to one of each of the Mage Kingdoms. (Light, Shadow, Fire, Water, Plant, Stone, Sky, and Force. This doesnt really matter for the context but there it is.)

So Mages are expected to be somewhat religious, but depending on the god they're tied to, it changes what that looks like. The Sea God isn't horribly concerned about day to day life of his Mages, but they must still do certain rituals and pay proper tribute to allow them to remain attached to him for their power and immortality. As such, the kingdom of the Water Mages as a whole isn't super immersed in religion. On the other hand, Shadow Mages are very devout, to the point where even those without magic are still incredibly religious because it's so steeped in the culture of the ruling Mages.

even when you get into human kingdoms, it's going to look different depending on who a person is and what they do. Uslaria, (the setting for my current WIP) has the most concentrated group of witches in the known world, so much so that one town is known for being the unofficial capitol for witches. everyone in Uslaria can tell you a bit about the Goddess Lythis, Grandmother of Witches, but few actually worship her. a farmer in Uslaria might pray to the Sky God to bring his godly children through with warm winds and generous rains, may also pray to the Goddess of Stone to bless his crops with good soil, may also attend festivals or holy days for the main pantheon if they live close enough to a city or town that might make a big to-do about it, but as far as most gods go, especially the main pantheon, they're so distant from the reality of most people. gods in the minor pantheon, like the Trickster, are more the topic of superstitions and tales to tell by a fire. day to day worship might be done for a lesser god residing in their area, or sometimes house gods that follow a family line, but the names of those gods are too intimate to the area to be remarked upon outside of that circle.

tl;dr: the average citizen (except maybe in the Marshes with the Shadow Mages,) only really cares about the gods that affect them and treat any others with a distant respect. (for the most part)

[the-lightning-strikes-again]

Lotura Week 2023 Day 3 - Beach Day Bliss / What's the Weather

Sun and Water

Emperor Lotor of the Galra peeked out from behind the curtain of the changing room, cheeks visibly heated. “And you’re sure this is…socially acceptable clothing in human environments?”

Princess Allura leaned against the wall in her bright pink bikini and glittering sarong, admiring her own suit. “Oh, very.” She leaned in and added, “I think it’s freeing after so many years stuffed into thick clothes and armor. Don’t you?”  

The alien man’s slit eyes narrowed, and his blush deepened. “The Galra do not…show themselves in this way. Typically.”

“Are you afraid to partake in opening swimming? How then do your people ever enjoy an ocean or a sea?”

“We have swimming suits,” he complained, “and do not trounce about half-naked.”

“But such dress doesn’t mean nakedness here,” Allura said as she placed a hand on her hip. “Come on, if I can do it, surely you can as well. I thought you said you like exploring new cultures, besides.”

He made a noise in the back of his throat, then disappeared behind the curtain again, mumbling under his breath. In time, he pulled it back to reveal himself in navy swim trunks and a white, open button-down shirt, carrying an orange and blue-striped beach towel under his arm. “I am doing this only because you have partaken in the wearing of the bikini.”

Allura’s cheeks heated upon glancing over his form. Lotor’s armor was fitted to his lithe body, but the sunlight streaming into the changing rooms shined bright over his scarred lavender skin and sleek, corded muscle. His long hair glowed about him.

“Oh,” she said, eyes wide. “On second thought, do hide, or else I shall have to fight for my claim when all others see how handsome you are.”

Lotor gave her a half-pleased and half-miserable look as he reshuffled his beach towel and awkwardly placed sunglasses atop his head—an action still new to him. “And you do not think I must anticipate the same for you?”

She beamed at him and held out her hand. “The humans are quite used to this state of dress and to me, but I do love your flattery. Come on, let us go together, then, and we shall make it quite clear that we are claimed by each other.”

He paused before he reached out and intertwined his long, calloused fingers with hers. “…Together,” he agreed.

The two alien royals stepped into the warm sand of the Earth. Lotor glanced down at the sensation upon his bare feet, curious of the pleasant softness of sand between his toes, and then he glanced back up at the crowds before him.

Human children laughed, chasing one another, while other couples walked hand-in-hand, with several adults sunbathing or chatting beneath large, blue umbrellas.

Lotor’s ear twitched. In the background was the gentle cresting of waves as they crashed against the beach. Among them, the Paladins of Voltron played a game with a multi-colored ball. With all the activity, and the several other aliens lounging about humans, the crowds paid no mind to either Lotor or Allura besides a friendly wave as they passed by.

And the Earth’s sun—it pleasantly heated his skin, so unlike the cold darkness of space.

In great curiosity, he inhaled the scent of the sun and the beach. It was an airy, salty scent that inspired a lightness in his heart. A sense of cosmic alignment.

Allura tugged on his arm and pulled him along to the edge of the waves. “You do know how to swim, yes?”

He followed her without complaint, glancing about all the activity. “Of course, but I do not swim or traverse a beach for pleasure as humans seem to do.” The waves crested against his ankles, streaming past to cover the sand, and the water cooled his warm skin. “I’ve always seen swimming as a survival skill only.”

Allura pouted in a cute way, tightening her grip on his hand. “It pains me that you’ve known no fun whatsoever for ten-thousand years.” Her fingers stroked against a harsh scar that ran along the side of his palm.

Lotor squeezed her hand back, careful of his claws. “But I am here now with you,” he said, voice rising with merriment. “Teach me all the ways of fun, for I am a quick learner and quite interested in the concept.”

That lit up Allura’s eyes. “Oh, there’s lots of ways to have fun at a beach. Perhaps we should start with simple fun, as I would hate to wear you out after the latest battle with rift creatures,” she said, pulling away. Her sarong glittered in the sun as she leaned over, grabbing onto one of the free sand chairs.

“I could do without rift creatures,” he agreed and moved to help her.

Soon, they sat side by side in the sand chairs, their towels tossed farther up the beach. Lotor reached out in pleasant awe as a wave crashed over his outstretched legs, the water splashing up his heated arm before it receded.

They still held hands between their chairs—a slack, comfortable grip.

“I see now why humans do not wear armor at the beach,” he said. “The water and sun are pleasant here.”

Her expression softened. “Isn’t it?” she agreed. “Back on Altea, our oceans contained giant Eravutes—large nightmare creatures that made their nests on the beach, and could be occasionally be tamed into pets. It always made for an interesting time but certainly not a relaxing one.” She sunk back into her chair, breathing deeply as she closed her eyes. “I could get used to this.”

Lotor made a noise of agreement, glancing down to peer curiously into the clear water. “As could I,” he murmured. “It seems that simply enjoying the atmosphere is a popular pastime at Earth beaches.”

“Oh, quite.” She peeked open one eye. “Do remind me to slather you with the sunscreen lotion sooner rather than later.”

His white eyebrow quirked. “You would encourage touching in such a way while we are underdressed in public?"

Her nose crinkled with laughter, even as her face heated up from a different energy than the sun. She pulled away to pile her white curls into a top bun before saying, voice prim, "It's about sun safety, above all."

Lotor leaned in. "Do I get to return the favor of the slathering of sunscreen?"

Allura tightened her bun and waggled her eyebrows. "Of course."

@loturaweek2023

[chrononautintraining]

All right! Fine! I’m in! Can you recommend me your favorite fic in the non-hobbit fandom that you post about a lot? I’m not familiar with it all so a fic that explains canon a little more than an a total AU would be best

No biggie if you don’t want to recommend any hahaha just send me on my way with a ‘no’

Yes! Join us! You must be referring to The Untamed, which is a Chinese drama based on a web novel translated into English under the name The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation. It has a lot to recommend it to Hobbit fans! Swords! Legendary monsters! Do you like that scene in the Fellowship of the Ring where the hobbits stumble across the ancient tomb and are almost laid to rest by a barrow-wight, but come out with the Numenorean blades? I have good news about both leveling up weaponry in graveyards and ancient tombs!

If your preferred way to enter a fandom is a fic rec, I have to say A Narrow Bridge by JoLaSalle and FrameofMind is my current favorite. It's a Fix-it-AU that tells most of the early canon through flash back scenes while diverging wildly. I'd say it goes into even more detail than canon about how some aspects of cultivation and demonic cultivation works. Moreover, it has a *lot* to appeal to Hobbit fans. "How do you feel about pastoral novels?" she asked knowingly. Please enjoy two devoted, justice-loving idiots growing radishes in a graveyard, zero feet apart because they are in love.

Okay, so A Narrow Bridge is 700 thousand words. A big part of the appeal of this fandom is how many incredibly writers go for sprawling, epic AUs. There is a library here waiting, if you find you like the blorbos. That said, if you're looking for something a little shorter:

Short and Sexy - if this is what you like in a fandom, my friend, this one has a tremendous amount of well written, niche smut.

River-to-the-Sea Sure by Deastar is ~7k words of heat. This fic is A/B/O, which is not usually my thing. So believe me when I say that it is both extremely sexy and genuinely virtuous. It captures the characters of our main leads and their usual dynamic very well. Interestingly, this is the first in a series of A/B/O Bingo by the author, which somehow manages to keep Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian in perfect character no matter their "dynamic". But the dynamic illustrated in this story is the one you meet with most often.

But the rose was awake all night for your sake knowing your promise to me by x_los is ~8k of magical lovemaking. Very magical. Using tentacles of resentful energy...

Midlength Mysteries - my understanding of the genre is that the typical format involves two cultivators traveling together to investigate supernatural mysteries. Here are some of those.

And I will Call You Home by Spodume 42k of a post-canon investigation into some mysterious deaths. This is an interesting example of the ways the monsters in cultivation novels differ from traditional western Dragons In Need of Slaying, ala Smaug. At its core, this is two investigators working a problem, and one very smart protagonist coming up with an answer. Also, the investigators are in love. Love is the answer.

Vagabond by xantissa is 65k of something similar, equally good, with added undertones of gay culture in ancient china. I really adore this one, but maybe read one or two other stories first so the climax has its full impact.

Look Not With the Eyes by Spodume 28k Classic tropes, truly classic mythological creature, absolutely adorable. Is it kind of cheating to recommend two by the same author? Maybe. Do I low key think you should just start with this one? Yes. Two men travel to investigate a mystery. After a strange encounter, they find that everyone they meet falls instantly in love with one of them. The other is totally not extremely jealous, but works hard to solve the mystery and fix this serious problem.

And once you're in deep, hit me up again! I have a million AUs to recommend.

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐀 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋

˗ˏˋ main masterlist ˎˊ˗

pairing(s) — pirate captain!ERIK KARLSSON x reader word count — 600

note — this is a snippet of a full AU (SO incredibly self-indulgent, btw) i’ve been playing with for a bit; lmk if you’d like to see more <33 also i am mortifyingly proud of this re-creation of the og poster + the moodboard dividers

recommended viewing — potc: the curse of the black pearl (2003), the superior peter pan (2003), and maybe a flip-through of the first book in barry and pearson’s series, peter and the starcatchers

bingo squares and additional content warnings under the cut.

bingo squares — stranger sex and CMNF additional content warnings — 18th century purity culture and oral (f receiving) 

CAPTAIN KARLSSON’S touch is assured and unhurried.

His weathered fingers are devoid of the girlish trembling that so plagues yours, thwarting any attempt to glean a bit of pleasure. As if your body were rejecting the sin outright.

Absent is the fear of being discovered by one of your maids or, heaven forbid, your lord father; your captain vowed any who dared to enter his quarters would be measured for the chains.

—and he had done so with his fingers idly exploring your untouched mouth. The very ones stroking the walls of your once-untouched cunt, your peak on the horizon.

You are finding it quite difficult to reconcile the desire you feel with the sight of the filthy scoundrel granting it to you. It would be confounding any evening, but none more than this, with your mind as murky as the sea rocking the ship.

What you do know with certainty is it feels infinitely better than your own hand, or the host of downy pillows bunched on your floor; the ornate bed frame your late mother imported slams against the wall otherwise. And you’re equally as sure your stern governess would have a conniption—as well as your head, if she were privy to the ease of your seduction.

The captain’s arms, a map of hardship and violence, curl around your bare thighs. The juxtaposition of his skin and yours is significant, and with his corded forearms tight to keep you still, the jagged scar that brands him an enemy is, for your rational mind, inescapable.

Your conscience burns as fiercely as the hearth in your belly.

His touch—a most lovely distraction indeed—reaches new depths, and your vision is ornamented with constellations of your very own.

Your hands clutch the edge of his stately desk so tightly that there’s sure to be dainty crescents imprinted in the varnish.

The captain spies your paled knuckles in his periphery and affords you a far better place to find purchase.

He groans into your heat when your fingers weave through his unruly mop and softly tug at the dark mane. The captain captures your gaze without slowing or ceasing his delicious torment.

A gentle redness has blossomed on his cheeks and the tip of his nose since you last glimpsed his handsome face; the mark of a pirate who drunk ardent spirits to excess.

But, it is your essence with which his lips glisten.

You are just as affected by the unforeseen thrum of vibration as you are by the knowledge that you have somehow managed to please him in any way, perhaps more so.

With his calloused palms, Captain Karlsson, the fabled King of the Pirates, draws you nearer. Your hips roll against his relentless suckling, all of which is presently concentrated on the sensitive spot a little north of your entrance— a pearl, he’d called it.

He divides his attention between sucking the gem swollen and tending to the pulsating hole below it with a broad, flat tongue. Too enraptured by his mouth, a wicked finger delves into your softness when you’re least expecting it.

A most indelicate sound fills the candlelit chamber. A lewd squelch unlike any noise you have yet to hear, from yourself or otherwise, wilts what little nerve you possess.

Aghast, both hands clamped over your mouth.

The heathen knelt between your parted thighs gives a hearty chuckle; that particular sensation must be exhilarating for a pretty, sheltered thing leading such a regimented life.

Perhaps, he shall keep you. To entertain his mind and warm his bed.

Nay, that be the rum talking.

It would seem he's loaded to the gunwales. 

You fail to see what amusement could possibly be found in such obscenity, so unbecoming of a lady of your station.

Captain Karlsson nips your inner thigh and grins.

“Don’t get shy on me now, Duchess.”

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[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

“You did not live in a house of horrors. I was raised to believe in hellfire; now that was bad!” Okay and impending global genocide of any culture that disagrees with your beliefs isn’t? Being raised mentally preparing to withstand torture at the hands of police in a “do it to Julia” situation isn’t? Being socially isolated from your peers on the grounds that they’re evil uneducated dumb worldly heathens controlled by Satan isn’t a bad thing? No. Those are all good things which every child should be taught in order to experience “the real life.”

The legitimate truth is that we are all in “the real life” right now and in “the real life,” the Governing Body is doing the very best they can to cover up the fact that they’re a cult by relaxing the cult’s rules in a futile attempt to prevent the prosecution in the numerous ONGOING child sexual abuse cases from handing their non-tight-pants-wearing asses to them. And the other legitimate truth is discovering this fact to be the legitimate truth while having to navigate a sea of lies and high school is extremely traumatizing, especially when you feel the need to take a hard stance against the cult to prevent others’ children — children like you — from befalling the same fate by dressing up as some miserable wretch who cooked and ate children, hoping the way you look and carry yourself and stare into the parents’ eyes will scare them away. And even more traumatizing is that your tactics worked; proving that you are just as bad and scary as your preexisting OCD made you out to be. Yes I did it to myself; but consider the reason why I felt so compelled to sacrifice the entirety of my mental health to sabotage you with what little tools I had. I wouldn’t have done it had I not had a very good reason, and my very good reason was that I was a child who loved children. You were trying to protect me and it was a sacrifice; but I was also trying to protect children. My endeavor is not — and was never — a selfish one. It is not that I don’t care about you; I only prioritize the class which is most oppressed, and you are not a part of it because you are adults. Your feelings, unfortunately, are expendable in my mission to end religious child labor. I will not support your corrupt religion to make you happy when I know what it’s done to others and to myself; it is wrong, and you are wrong for supporting it. I, as a paraprofessional, refuse to support a religion which hides the sexual abuse of children for its own gain. By law I am now a mandatory reporter; I must report child abuse when I see it under penalty of law. Therefore it stands to reason that I must report your cult from the top of every mountain for the entire inhabited earth to hear so they may not even take so much as one step in your direction. I am sorry if I seem like I hate you; if the fact that I reject your ideals of theological expectational fascism disturbs you so much, then maybe you need to re-evaluate your choices.

“Your actions affect others.” I know my actions affect others; I know how they affect others as well. You’re crushed and demoralized and suffering physically from all the emotional stress; I’ve likely dug you both early graves. I know what I’ve done and I can live with it — Not easily — but I am not defeated because I know I’m in the right, and have always been in the right. No. The real question is: Do you know how your actions are affecting others? In exquisite detail? Have you listened to the victims? Have you allowed yourself to hear both sides of the story with your human ears, not ones made of tin and thought-blocking strategies and “I had it worse than you” excuses? No? Then you’d better start because the key to healing yourself is to aid in the healing of others. We are all connected as one body; and I refuse to be a cancer cell. Sorry I’m aiding in your downfall but it’s got to happen at some point.

[daffodilhorizon]

i've always been outspoken about equal rights. It started with posts about mental illness stigma. Since being traumatized as a child, i've struggled with depression and anxiety. I opened up about this, in hopes others would feel inspired to share their stories. There's every reason why suffering from mental illness should not happen alone. Then i started talking about gay rights and biphobia and feminism and #metoo and the patriarchy. I tirelessly educated on rape culture and mansplaining. I went hard on telling people to vote (haha) for the most liberal option available. I told people about the wealth gap and classism. I educated myself and read both anarchist and communist theory, and then i started criticizing colonialism and exploitation itself. I advocated for unions, i told people to never cross a picket line and to support strikes. I was already ACAB before Ferguson, but after that i spent years reading antiracist theory and seeking out black revolutionaries. I had to tell an extended family member "all lives don't matter until black lives do". I did not shy from my work in attempting to gently radicalize the people in my life. I attempted to educate others on why we need prison and cop abolition and the alternatives. I got pretty far, even with people i don't consider leftists! Like anyone else, i of course, advocated for environmentalism. I myself do not own a car and go to great lengths to use fully renewable energy. I re-use before recycling. I avoid plastic when i can. In my veganism self-education, i learned about disability rights. This was enforced further during covid. I stopped using ableist language or comparisons. I have successfully eradicated using comparisons to intelligence in my daily life and gently correct people around me when they use them to use a better word. None of this lost me any friends. Until i brought up animal rights. Even the tamest "i'm vegan" had acquaintances putting distance between us. My entire family turned on me, simply for saying stuff like "you are a good person, you just don't see the difference between your cat and a pig because of defense mechanisms, but you would be upset if your cat went through what animals at those places do." or saying killing a turkey is wrong. Then i started losing friends and being ostracized. From people who said nothing even when i pointed out war crimes against Palestine and are full anti-capitalists. People who are open minded, and generally kind to others. People's environmentalism evaporated when i pointed out that methane from cows is x28 as heating as CO2 in the short term, that we can't stay under 2c without people being plant based, or that the majority of plastic in the ocean is from fishing nets, or that fishing is killing way more sea turtles and other "cute" animals than straws. Even just mentioning animal victims a few times every now and then is enough to make people uncomfortable. Definitely not a sign of their own guilt or anything! How painful must the reminder be, to have to completely block out not only the victims at every meal, but humans who remind them of the suffering they are inflicting as well. So it's very jarring to me now, to see other people advocating for other causes saying much more extreme things and not getting any negative social feedback. Straight up mainposting things like "you are a bad person for voting wrong" is becoming more normal with the election season coming up. But vegans get shut down simply for bringing up animal abuse, because carnists know deep down it's wrong to hurt animals and objectify them into commodities. That's why they care so much about animals they view as "cute" "pets" or value (at least on the surface) animals they admire for being free and wild such as Elephants, pretty birds, and whales.