#guess who just finished crying after piano lessons :')

[funficwriter]

A Wolf and A Snake - Letters' Interlude #4

Taglist: @yue-caelum, @reyy-chanx, @mis-disaster, @ladyarchiviste, @keigo-hawks-takami-simp

Warnings: Cursing, sexism, corruption, mention of violence, some yandere shit but you know that by now. Moral dilemma? Lol.

From: Lady Y/N Balthazar - Balthazar Manor, Court Region, Fontaine

To: Duke Wriothesley of Meropide, Fortress of Meropide, Liffey Region, Fontaine

Wriothesley,

I know I risk sounding like a broken record saying this, but I really do wear each day. I'm just happy that I can still write to you because I feel that it's one of the few pleasures I have left. Between my piano lessons and reading time being interrupted by meeting with Archandelle, my parents' constant nagging, and the fact that I constantly have to sneak around their backs even for things unrelated to my marriage prospects... I'm exhausted, my love. And troubled. That's why I'm writing this.

When our last meeting ended abruptly, there was so much more I wanted to say to you. I was barely scraping the bottom of the barrel and our day lives tore us apart again. At least Frosty is good company and patiently waiting for me to finish this letter and send it to you.

Yesterday, I snuck out to the police station under the pretense of 'shopping'. Do you remember that young officer I once mentioned? Jacques? He looked scared when they let me in his office, even though everyone else seemed excited for him. I guess the visit of a noble does that.

I'm a terrible person, Wriothesley.

The first time I came here, I picked him specifically because he was young and new and a little naive, as all new cops are. He was so ready to help me, even more so when I said: "An injustice is being done upon me. I need evidence to counter it.". He almost jumped out of his seat until he understood what I meant: The 'injustice' is merely procedure. What woman says this, only for it to be her engagement that she, her parents, and the suitor agreed to? What sort of injustice was noble tradition that was carried out for centuries?

And I shoved the cash on the table, and it increased in volume. And I invoked his poor family that he was trying to feed, the girl he wanted to marry... "Do you really want to wait forever on your shitty wage, when you could propose in an hour? All you have to do is give me what I asked for. It's not that hard.". He couldn't. I was corrupting him, and by Focalors, what sort of noble am I - a Balthazar no less - if I use the very enemy of justice for my own selfish gains? All of this to not get married?

It was lengthy. It was uncomfortable and I could feel the fibers of my being twisting to accommodate this act that I would never have dreamed of committing. It was like exerting a muscle I didn't use, but way more intense. In the end, he gave me the pile you saw last time.

I did it again this evening. Wriothesley, last time, I was ridden with guilt. I think you'd understand why better than most. But this time? I started justifying it. With each reason I gave as to why this was fine, good even, my guilt washed away. After all, there would be no need to resort to such extreme measures if I could just be with you from the start. And then I thought: "I've never justified my father's deed until I started committing it. I am more like him and less just than I thought.". I wanted to cry. Who is this new person - no, these new people and this new logic? Why am I less like what I used to be?

Fuck my life, why do I have to be less like what I used to be just so I can marry the one I love? A privilege that many girls today have?

I'm sorry for the plaintive note today. I'm just... So torn. Yes, I think 'torn' comes closest to it. I am turning into what I was warned about my entire life, but it's not like I'm doing it to embezzle money or get someone wrongfully convicted. I just want to be with you, but even that's too much to ask in this stupid class and family...

Total truth? There are times where I want do more. Once, my father was talking to his friends about how excited he was for my prospects. Do you know what my brother said? "I was worried she wouldn't get her eyes off of that Meropide mutt. At least she's probably forgotten about him, as she should.". They laughed a lot and later joked about Father's lack of control during my first social. They said that they couldn't tell who needed a leash more: You for being "a dog", or me for giving you "loving eyes" back then, as if I wanted you for a bit. Father dismissed them by talking about another man's daughter and her bad marriage. He was embarrassed, but I wanted to go over there and scratch his eyes out. Maybe my brother's too, and the other men who were joking. I wanted to wrench my hand into Lord Carmichael's back and make his wife a widow to be judged. Maybe then he'd enjoy it down in hell. Or have some emotional intelligence.

I'm thinking of you, and hoping we can see each other soon. Maybe my spirits will be lifted....

---------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Duke Wriothesley of Meropide - Fortress of Meropide, Liffey Region, Fontaine

To: Lady Y/N Balthazar - Balthazar Manor, Court Region, Fontaine

Y/N dear,

It was only a matter of time until you sent me such a letter. For one, during our latest meeting, you looked like you had way more to say. I can only look forward to a life where the dawn doesn't shut us up and away.

First of all, please don't apologize for the sadness that you feel. Unlike that idiot suitor and father, I don't expect you to be happy 24/7, even if at your own inconvenience. I may call you 'my doll', but I know you've got a far wider emotional range than that.

I don't know how effective saying this would be, but your message reads a lot like my younger self. How it saddens me that you had to realize the double-faced quality of Fontainian justice like this... Even if you knew it deep down, as you grew up and understood how so many noblemen get away with their crimes, engaging with it is a whole greater beast. Sometimes I wonder whether there are judges, prosecutors, lawyers and other potential lawful agents who have lost faith in our judicial systems. Many of our current judges are indeed doing their best to combat it (I know Neuvillette will never rest as long as this issue remains), but it doesn't change the fact that many are still being failed today. Orphans. Young noble ladies. Poor people. Us. By Focalors, us.

As Meropide's administrator and a noble, I'm certain that you would think of me as a man of justice, just like many others. I think of myself that way, too. I know I have the power to end the laws and traditions that are screwing us over (and sometimes I wonder: How many other couples like us?). It sounds hypocritical, doesn't it? I am hiring back-alley investigators and threatening data out of whoever knows what I need. And you, a lady raised in the hearth of justice, you're lying to your parents and corrupting police officers. How could we possibly be good, you may ask?

After these few months, I came to a conclusion: A man of justice should not mean being a doormat, especially if the injustice will cost him his love.

For one, the change that could benefit us is nowhere near as fast as needed. What does this result in? Potentially happy couples are being torn apart. The point behind justice is to protect one's right to a life that he desires, that his loved ones desire and that harms no one. Is our union based on economic exploitation, power dynamics, sexism or leveraging? No. How is it that most noble couples stand on these crimes, while the only one with ours is that I am not fully human and that you want me? I am not going around slaughtering people or terrorizing the city. You, an angel sent by Focalors herself, have never commissioned your husband to kill, silence or bribe. Archons, what did you do to deserve this fate when I can think of women far more rotten than you?

Now you may counter me and say that you have engaged in bribery yourself, and that's bad. But you know what? It doesn't matter to me. I couldn't care less about it. This may sound worrisome to hear from a man of justice. But as a man, without fancy titles and more emotions and feelings, I'm getting real sick of this. I don't bring myself to care about judicial principles if an obvious double standard is taking place, one that is taking you away from me. I know what makes me get up and do my best everyday. I know what I'd turn savage for, who I'd risk a life sentence and a downfall for, and it's not justice. Justice can't enjoy brownies with me on a star-lit night. Justice can't lie in my bed. Justice can't wake me up with a good morning kiss and take me to go swim in Belleau. All of that is you, and it will always be you.

I care about justice. I really do. But justice, along with your father, money and Fontaine, can go fuck itself if it compromises my wife.

I look forward to the day that the noble class is held accountable, and choice unions are the norm. Until then, I'm just going to have to fight tooth and nail for my own. It's actually a must, my dear. We need to set a new precedent for the upcoming generation. Backing down is not going to challenge what your parents and their fellow nobles have always done.

I know your schedule is getting more hectic by the day. When you can, though, please let me know if a free window opens up. Perhaps we can see and update each other on our findings.

Always yours, and you're always mine,

Wriothesley.

[clovercalloway]

We Best Love: Episode 1 [BLIND REACTION]

So, I have a girl friend who is fan of this show and finally convinced me to watch it. Did I make a mistake? Who knows.

But I collected my thoughts and decided to do this. Well, this is gonna be long so get ready. I'll edit with my afterthoughts (note, EAW means Edited After Watching [the episode]) once I'm finished with season 1, or maybe before. We'll see.

Ok, let's begin!

Welp, he's dead, Great start!

You sure this is a romance? This looks more like an intervention.

So, Zhau Shu Yi. I'll guess he's the main character or one of the main characters. I'll try to remember his name [furiously takes notes]

The one gremlin with No Name is asking Zhau why they think it's important for him to win. As a Bakugou fan, I'm excited to hear his answer.

"I push myself forward, so that you can see me." Just one minute and it's already too ‎fluffy for my heart

So, they're fighting underwater. They saw too much anime, istg. Anygays, that tells me these are actual kids (well, the actors may be older, but I'll suppose they're interpreting kids. I bet they're highschoolers).

"LESSON 1: LET'S SUFFOCATE." Okay, wow, great title. So maybe my joke about him being dead wasn't that far off.

Chilhood friends to lovers is such a nice trope, oml, go for it, boy. Be a man and go get your man!

Fang Zhen Wen and Jiang Yu Xin. Hope I remember that. Are those the other two friends?

Me, trying to be smooth

He has a fan club

You gals are fans of a swimmer. What did you expect? You were gonna run out of things to offer him eventually.

So he's Zhou Shu Yi. [keeps taking notes] I'll try to remember that.

Bro, how did he fell? You're supposed to be a pro, Zhou, your gals will be dissapointed.

He sounds way to chill for someone who's almost drowning.

NO YOU'RE NOT????

"How are they talking underwater?" "It's the rainbow connection, don't question it."

My Shojo Academia

Gao Shi De is me receiving gifts (socks and a mug) on Christmas

Anygays, Gao Shi De and Zhou Shu Yi seem to have this kind of rivalry since they were basically on diapers. They came out of the womb wanting to throw hands with each other.

But Gao Shi De seems to be the naturally gifted, always on top, and so Zhou Shu Yi developed some sort of inferiority complex, or so it looks like. (Wow, this reminds me of yet ANOTHER story and ️‍🌈 ship that started in a similar way -if you know, you know-)

"Why did you fall-" THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING, LIKE, WHY

Are you telling me that the actual reason he fell was because of the big gay panic- I mean, rivalry, that he has against Shi De?

OMG HE CUT HIS FINGER! I've seen enough shojo (and shonen) to know what this means. Where's Shi De to kiss it better?

You're not Shi De.

"I'm not crying." He's so Bakugou, istg

Now he's blaming his misfortunes on Gao Shi De. Bruh, the only thing he did was exist.

Oh, so they're in university? Nice to know.

His friends are trying to understand his language, I feel them, literally had no idea what he was talking about other than "Gao Shi De".

I was gonna say they seem like good kids and very supportive friends. The latter is truth. The former...

This poor unfortunate soul keeps falling for their tricks. Gao Shi De it's not that dumb, tho.

Oh gods, he plays the piano, he knows what them girls (and boys) like.

So after having a whole ass "Corpse Bride" moment they went back to bickering

They should make out, ngl. [EAW: Bruh...]

Gay people can't just ask someone out, they have to be very extra about it. Shu Yi is an example of that.

He's been bullying Shi De since they were kids, he's oblivious af.

Boy, just confess, it'll save you and your friends' time.

I want to know his name, he's such a mood.

While Shu Yi can't stop thinking about Shi De, important things are happening.

That girl from the beginning [EAW: Yu Xin, her name is Yu Xin, you big disaster] is asking Fang Zhen Wen out and he's all (,,>﹏<,,)

At least she's honest, nothing more important than THAT.

Shu Yi heard about the proposal and went all fake-smile on them and then left.

"Is Shu Yi OK?" Idk, girl, you tell me, I thought you three were friends.

They're telling him is dangerous to run down the stairs. I think he'll live, but I won't forgive him for dropping his backpack on the floor. Bro, get your stuff.

He's gonna start singing Beat on It.

Annnnnd he went back to the pool. Man, this is were it all started. The flashbacks from episode 1- oh wait.

He's actually making me feel bad, ngl. Maybe it's the acting, or that I understand the whole "why not me" situation. Mitski taught me well.

It's hard. Friendships and relationships are messy, specially when someone is still young. You also have to deal with a lot of feelings being even more irrational than they should, and the inferiority complex definitely doesn't help, making you feel so insecure about yourself, and as if no matter what you're always going to lack something.

I might barely know them but at the end of the day it's no one's fault, really. You can't control how you feel, or how others feel.

MOOOOOVING ON. You know who could help? HEY, SHI DE!

[EAW: He actually came, that mf]

Wait, is he actually? Bruh, did he jumped on the pool?

Why are teens like this. He could've just dropped the collar. Him and his dramatic gay ass.

Speaking of dramatic gay asses.

My guy, this is episode 1, couldn't you just wait until... episode 4, at least?

Dont give me that bs about cpr. The surface was RIGHT THERE!

AND THAT'S THE END OF EPISODE 1. I kinda wanna know if he'll give him the lame excuse about cpr.

I'm dying for more tension, Yu Xin knows what I'm talking about, she also has to finish her thesis.

So, that went quicker than I thought. It was compelling tho. I still need more to form solid opinions, but I´ll bite, I'm interested to know how this develops.

Anyways, whoever reading this (cough cough, bossman), see ya later. I'll watch episode 2 after this.

[josefavomjaaga]

Napoleonic daily soap, episode 1

Scene: Paris. A small, rather shabby room. Napoleon writing a letter to his brother Joseph. Voiceover.

"You would not believe how women behave here. Deciding about every goddamn thing, all preposterous and stuff. Reading and writing and becoming educated and having an opinion on everything, even politics. About time somebody puts them in their place. Good thing Desirée is not like that. By the way, had an encounter with a prostitute, went okay-ish, I guess. Love, Napoleon."

Marmont's voice from the next room:

"Hey, Naps - Junot, Bourrienne and I are off to the Palais Royal, watching the wenches. You coming?"

Napoleon [takes a new sheet of paper]

"Give me ten more minutes. Gotta write to my fiancée."

[writes]

"Dearest Désirée, I received your letter. It's very sweet and all. But you really ought to try and become a little more sophisticated. More like the Eugénie I was fantasizing about in that story I never finished. Maybe read more? And have somebody check your spelling. Thinking about you often. Love, your sweetheart Napoleon."

[puts quill down, grabs his uniform coat]

"Okay, guys, I'm coming!"

CUT to the Clary livingroom in Marseille. Aura of somewhat old-fashioned wealth.

Desirée [puts Napoleon's letter down]

"I can't help it, Julie. Sometimes Napoleon seems a bit weird. And annoying. Actually, he sometimes comes across like an arsehole. Do you have similar problems with his brother Joseph?"

Julie [shrugs]

"Oh, not at all. Joseph is a selfish, cheating bastard who finds about every woman in France more attractive than me. But other than that, he's the perfect husband."

Their brother Etienne François Clary [enters the room, exclaims already on the doorstep]

"Except that Joseph like his brother is a pennyless nobody and lives off our money. Really Desirée, I'm not sure we should go through with your engagement to Napoleon. One Bonaparte in our family seems expensive enough."

Desirée [pretends to cry silently into her handkerchief]

Maid [curtsies on the doorstep]

"Your brother-in-law Monsieur Joseph Bonaparte, sir."

Everybody rises, smiling and cheering. Joseph enters, beaming, hugs Etienne, kisses Julie on the cheek.

Etienne:

"So, how is my favourite brother-in-law today? Any news from your brother in Paris?"

Joseph:

"Indeed. Napoleon has just written to me how much he misses his little Desirée, and how happy he is she's not like those horrible, arrogant women in Paris."

Desirée [beaming]:

"Oh, he's such a sweetheart!"

CUT to new scene: A public festivity somewhere in Paris. Music, dancing. Napoleon, Marmont and Junot [watch as Madame Tallien and Josephine, in almost transparent dresses, walk by without noticing them]

Junot [whistles]

Napoleon [stares]: 

“What the ...”

Bourrienne [returns with drinks for all four]

“What’s up with you guys?”

Napoleon:

“You can see the legs of some of these women up to their armpits.”

CUT to new scene: Next morning. Josephine's bedroom, Josephine sleeping soundly. Small room, furniture rather ramshackle. A clock shows the time: 11.50 AM

Euphemie [enters with a small, darkened silver tray]

"Yeyette, time to get your lazy ass out of bed."

Josephine [muffled sounds]

"Why?"

Euphemie [puts the tray on the nightstand]

"Because your children have written from boarding school. Both of them. When have you written to them last? Or visited? It's only an hour's trip, Yeyette."

Josephine [sits up all of a sudden, hastily reaches for the letters on the tray]

"Oh, my Hortense, my Eugène! Such sweet children, always thinking of their mother ... [reads] Listen to this, Mimi, Hortense writes that she's taking piano lessons. And Eugène needs more books and thinks that the roads are very fine and that the weather today would be perfect for a trip to their schools in Saint-Germain-en-Laye. [sniffles] Oh, they are so sweet, and I'm such a bad mother for not taking better care of them!" [starts crying]

Euphémie [after watching Josephine cry for some time]

"So, shall I get a carriage, do you want to visit?"

Josephine [puts the letters back on the nightstand]

"Heck, no. You know I have to help out at Barras' party tonight; Teresa will be totally out of her depth if I'm not with her. We'll visit some other day. But do bring me some paper and quill so I can write to Teresa and ask if she's already decided what she's going to wear tonight. We want to have matching outfits."

[ifyouknowme-stayaway]

...I should be doing my homework

Assassination Classroom headcanons: mostly about siblings edition

Maehara and his sisters jokingly argue that the others took all of one thing so now they don't have a specific trait.

Oldest sister, at least 5 cm shorter than the two of them: it's not fair, how come you two got all the height genes??

Middle sister, the only awkward and quiet one: at least you can make friends easily, why did both of you take all the social skills??

Maehara, the only one who gets scores lower than 80%: was it really necessary for you to take all the braincells??

They're all actually slightly bitter, insecure, or jealous because of their lack of social skills/braincells/height. All of them know it, all of them are treating their own insecurity as a joke.

(maehara and the oldest both think the middle is lonely when she’s just the only one who’s fine with not constantly having someone’s attention. the middle is the only one in their family who knows how insecure the oldest is about her height and feels guilty for being taller.)

Oldest loves crime K-drama, middle likes romcom or slice of life K-drama. Both make Maehara watch with them. The only thing they've (willingly) watched all together is Hotel De Luna. Everyone said it was good so the oldest wanted to watch it, Maehara and the middle think IU is awesome.

Sugaya is pretty laid back. His older sister? She acts like it, but she really isn't. She's got quite a few justified fears, since she somehow has most of bad luck between of the two of them

Examples: when she was six and accidentally locked herself in her room for over half a day, when she went on a field trip to the zoo and a monkey stole her fries and scratched her arm, when a goat ate her hair when she was five and she thought it was trying to kill her, when a spider crawled onto her arm while she was trying to sleep and it was really dark, ect.

While Nakamura is a very open person and enjoys talking, her older brother is a lot more quiet and reserved, and lets Nakamura take over the conversation when the talk. She sometimes feel like he doesn't really care about her

That being said, he does have her, back though, he just  doesn't really show it much when he doesn't feel the need to. Once Nakamura had a really bad day and just sat down on the couch next to her brother while he was playing video games and started crying. He noticed and talked to her until she stopped crying. And then the two of them teamed up in a shooting game and absolutely destroyed all the other players.

Hara’s little brothers both think that Hara’s really good at cooking, so Hara offered to teach them. The youngest picked it up pretty easily, and Hara was super proud. The older was honestly kinda sad about it, because he couldn’t get it and gave up because he felt bad about being worse than the youngest. 

A month or so later, he asked Hara if she would help him try to learn how to crochet. It took a few days, but he got the hang of the basics and made a little octopus friend two weeks afterwards.

Fuwa is a huge fan of manga, and her brother is just as big of a fan but with books. When Fuwa had started getting into manga, their parents basically decided that fandom related messes should preferably stay in one room, so they would have an easier time looking for things.

They cleaned out a spare room so now Fuwa and her brother do all their fan things in their. They have a little recording area (aka a laptop, a headset, and a microphone) for dubbing manga, or reading out their favorite chapter, or even making a podfic or two. The walls are covered with little notes and red string for their fan theories.

The two of them are making a huge crossover of one of Fuwa's favorite mangas and her brother's favorite book series. The outline includes 7 multi chapter fanfics and 3 one shots, and if they finish it without running out of motivation and patience, they might make a podfic for it too. They have a good pair of parents, who are very proud and supportive of them working together and their huge project. They do remind them not to overwork themselves and to still make at least a little time to study.

Kanzaki and her brother both take piano lessons. Kanzaki's much better than him, and does enjoy playing the piano a little. Her brother absolutely hates it because he's horrible at it. He probably cries over being bad at piano more than he cried about virtually anything else. The fact that his little sister is better than him makes it hurt even more, though he won't admit that. It's not her fault he sucks. He still won't quit the lessons though, since their mom likes piano.

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Top 10 Formative Childhood Experiences:

Hmm. If I had to go with just one -- I mean that's a pretty limited perspective here -- it's something like:

1) I saw my Dad cry. (He had a terrible period of grief in high school. It was a really bad, ugly, sad time, and I felt awful for him, and also kind of guilty for causing it.)

2) There was a brief period in childhood when I wanted to read books by Isaac Asimov, the best-selling SF author. I only read a handful of Asimov books, but it felt like the best thing in the world (I guess this was a reaction to a lot of pop sci/popular SF being awful; I probably would have just accepted it if it came from someone I liked)

3) My Dad is an amazing musician and has performed professionally. I took a piano lesson from him as a kid and liked it a lot, and I have no idea why he stopped

4) There was a brief period when I was in kindergarten or grade school when I could get a paper bag and roll it down a hill and watch it float down the hill and land in a bush in my neighbor's yard. This made me happy, and I wondered if other people's eyes did this (or at least, this was a very vivid thing for me).

5) At some point, I started collecting little glass marbles, and I did not understand why other kids were not interested in them. I was always kind of sad when they came to school without marbles. (I still have them.)

6) It was sometime in middle school that I read a book that was a huge influence on me. It was called The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett, and it was about an English girl who was transported back in time to 15th century England, and she found that she had a very special, "magical" ability -- she could turn lead into gold. The story was all about her trying to use this power to help and "fix" the world -- and also it was all told in the style of a children's story, as if it were a fairy tale. (Her father used to collect old books with magic in them -- he would also make fake gold for other people!) I was really into magic then, and especially magical girls and superheroes, and this book was like a gateway drug to a whole world of magic.

7) I was obsessed with fantasy in a very specific way that is difficult to explain, but I think it had something to do with the feeling that fantasy worlds were an "out there," an other that you could enter into. This would come up in my life again and again as a teenager, a fascination with "being out there" and with fantasy as a metaphor for that (and also, eventually, as a fascination with "being out there" in an even more literal sense -- I was really into DMT and stuff).

8) After The Secret Garden, I read lots of fantasy books on my own. The one I loved the most was the "Voyage of the Dawn Treader," which had a cool mix of magic/magic and realism/fantasy. I still remember vividly how, when I finished the book, I sat at my desk and cried for a couple of minutes. I was really disappointed that the author seemed to think he could do what he wanted, when you were reading a children's book, and did all these things the kids would never be able to experience. I remember being very upset at the author for thinking he could write about a world where all your friends could speak every language, etc.

9) It was a kind of a similar disappointment that I felt at the end of A Wrinkle In Time, when I learned about the special powers of the other main characters. It was like... yeah, I get all of that, but at the same time, we're all stuck in this story and can't experience the outside world, etc.

10) I remember loving a lot of the early Disney animation. I remember thinking "this is a world I could totally imagine existing," etc.

[arumin-arureruto]

Honeytea PT 2

Kyoya x fem reader and Hikaru x fem reader, Kyoya angst, Hikaru slowburn.

Warnings: none

word count: 1.7k

songs to listen to while reading:

What Am I by Why Dont We

Greek God by Conan Gray

hikaru’s outfit:

Reader’s outfit (your outfit can be whatever you want this is just what I had in mind while writing <3):

Cafe Hikaru and reader are at:

you woke up with the sun shining on your eyes, reaching out to feel the spot where your husband had been sleeping cold and empty, he had already left for work. Last night was emotionally exhausting, you had a fight with Kyoya and called Hikaru while your emotions were running high, even though you woke up feeling calmer it would still be nice to see him. You decided to get up and check your phone to see if you were still on for today, there were 6 unread messages from Hikaru.

“checking if ur okay”

“meet me tomorrow at 12pm for lunch at that cafe near my house, the one Honey got banned from”

“btw how the fuck do you manage to get banned from a restaurant for eating too much cake”

*picture of a single spoon inside a sink* “lol me”

“I should probably go to bed now goodnight”

He hasn’t changed a bit since high school, that’s what was so comforting to you about Hikaru. He took you back to a time where everything was much more simpler, lazy afternoons on the grass with the host club, drinking tea by the window in music room 3 with Kyoya, study sessions with Mori and Honey, getting into all sorts of mischief with Hikaru and Kauro, quietly reading with Haruhi, piano lessons from Tamaki…

All those memories started playing back in your mind and you started to feel all warm inside, you really didn’t know how good you had it. It’s not that you weren’t happy, you were married to the man you loved, you were one of the most respected and powerful women in society, what else could you ask for? But sometimes it felt like you were missing out on something, like your world could be so much more. When you mentioned this to Kyoya a couple months ago he suggested you try for children but you quickly shot down the idea, you were 23 and he was 24, having kids right now would be too big of a responsibility.

Shaking those thoughts from your head you checked the time on your phone, 10am. You still had 2hours before you had to meet Hikaru so going back to sleep was a tempting offer, but considering the cafe was almost 30 minutes away and you got easily distracted while getting ready it would be wiser to start picking out some clothes and getting in the shower. There was about 45 minutes before a maid was supposed to come in and clean your room so you figured that should be enough time to take a quick shower, you could just ask them to wait till you were done but you always felt awkward doing so.

After zoning out for a minute you headed for the shower, got undressed, put your hair up and turned on the hot water, you already washed your hair yesterday so there was no point in washing it again. You had always loved showers, the feeling of the warm water on your skin, the sound of the water dripping on the floor and the smell of all your products were enough to wash all your problems away. After about 25 minutes in the shower you turned the water off and stepped out, already missing the warmth of the water. After quickly drying yourself off with a towel you started massaging some lotion into your skin, first your arms and then your legs, this was your favorite part of your routine. When you felt that you had enough lotion on already you put on a robe, walked out of the bathroom and towards your walk in closet. It was september so the weather was still warm, today would be a simple dress day, or as simple as you could. Downside of being married to Kyoya Ootori: having to keep up appearances ALWAYS. After picking out a dress it was time for shoes, you gravitated towards a gorgeous pair of open toed gold heels that would’ve gone really well with your dress, but your legs were still slightly sore from last night so sandals it is.

After scrutinizing every part of your outfit and make up, which in the end you decided to go with a simple eyeliner, mascara and gloss, it was already 11:15. You grabbed your purse and asked someone to bring the car around. You hurriedly walked down the large staircase, excitement clear in your step, you got inside the car and gave a quick hello to the driver.

“Good morning Mrs Ootori, where to?”

“Morning Ryuzaki, Honeytea Cafe.”

“Understood ma’am.”

After giving your instructions you  pressed the button to lift the divider between the driver and the backseat, needing to be alone. You hadn’t seen Hikaru in person since your wedding reception, you talked on the phone occasionally but always for less than 2 minutes, this was the first time in months you would be in the same room again. Was it gonna be awkward? I mean you did call him yesterday late at night crying so what if he thought you were weird? No, no, this was Hikaru, your best friend since your first year of high school, everything was gonna be fine.

The 30 minute ride felt like it went by in less than 15, After getting to the cafe you told Ryuzaki to go back home and that you would call when you were done, since you didn’t know how long you would take. 11: 52pm, 8 minutes till you were supposed to meet Hikaru, meaning you had 8 minutes to get your act together.

You stepped into the cafe and scanned the place, 6 years and nothing had changed. Still the same old tall bookshelves lined the walls. The same paintings on the walls, and just like you remembered, peace and quiet. Since the cafe was a bit old fashioned it tended to attract an older crowd, old people just trying to enjoy their coffee and adults in their 30s that wanted a quiet place to work. While you continued to examine the room, lost in your own world, you felt a pair of slender hands on your shoulders and heard a familiar voice coming from behind you.

“Taking a trip down memory lane while blocking the way huh? Honestly y/n I thought commoners taught their children better manners.”

At first you were startled but then you quickly turned around to face the voice and there he was. Tall, mischievous smile and wild hair, Hikaru Hitachiin in the flesh. “Hikaru I-” you hugged him before you could even finish your sentence. You stood there with your arms wrapped around his neck in silence for a couple more seconds.

“y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re still blocking the way.”

Oh right.

Behind you 2 old ladies stood with unpleasant expressions on their faces, you both moved out of the way to let the ladies through, they walked past you and muttered something about today’s youth having no respect for their elders. You stood there slightly embarrassed, heat rising to your cheeks while Hikaru looked like he might burst out laughing.

You decide to grab a table at the very back of the cafe, away from everyone else. After you sit down Hikaru strikes a conversation. “Haven’t seen you in a year y/n, how’s married life been treating you?” He propped up his elbow and leaned his head on his hand, keeping his eyes focused on you.

Damn so we’re already on that topic.

“We’ve had our ups and downs, what about you? How are you and Kaoru doing?” Hopefully he won't bring up your phone call from yesterday. “We’re doing pretty good, Kaoru actually started seeing someone a couple months ago. Cute boy he met at an art gallery.” You could hear the tiniest hint of jealousy in the last part, but overall Hikaru sounded happy for his brother. “Oh he did? That’s cool” you stay silent for a couple seconds before proceeding with what you were saying. “And how do you feel about Kaoru seeing someone?” Hikaru’s eyes shifted from you to the table and kept them focused there. “In the beginning it was weird, I hated the idea of having to share him with someone else but now, I see how happy he is with Evan and that’s all that matters to me.” He looked up from the table to look at you and smile, then he spoke again but this time in a more playful tone. “So are we eating or what? Man were you seriously gonna let me starve? Typical Ootori.” That comment made you laugh, you really did miss him.

You both ordered and paid separately, since you knew you would argue over who would pay the bill. After you both received your food you sat down to eat, while you ate you reminisced about the past and talked about all the trouble you used to get into back in the day.

“No no, you were the one that tricked Tamaki into dressing up as Haruhi to fool the doctors during the physical exam that one time.” He laughed and pointed at you with a piece of bread. “Whaaaaat? Me? I would never, I was just an innocent bystander” you defended yourself while also laughing, then you remembered something. “No but for real that one wasn’t my idea, actually Kyoya came up with it.” Hikaru stopped laughing but still had a smile on his face, he then asked you a question.

“So Kyoya…” There was a pause before he spoke again.

“You mentioned you have your ups and downs, I’m guessing yesterday was a down?”

The food that was in your throat had trouble going down, you tried to quickly swallow and answer Hikaru’s question. “Yesterday was definitely not one of our best days” You let out a nervous laugh. Before you could elaborate a middle aged man came up to your table and asked if he could borrow one of your chairs for his daughter, seeing that you were both already finished with your food you told him he could have the chairs and got up to leave.

As you were walking out of the coffee shop Hikaru tapped your shoulder.

“Hey my house is just a 5 minute drive from here, we could go there if you wanna talk more in private.”

[mostlycompetentwriter]

TMT One-Shot

F/M Pairing: Y/N x 3racha (Stray Kids)

Word Count: 8K

Genre: High School AU

Warnings: Lots of smut and language; mentions of alcohol

Summary: Y/N is the shy, awkward girl who can’t talk to boys while doing her best to exist as a shadow throughout her high school life. Her two brothers, Minho and Felix, are the complete opposite. Minho is the cool, suave music addict who wants to be in his own band one day, while Felix is the stereotypical popular kid whose best friend, Han Jisung, tirelessly trails after his friend’s older sister. However, despite their differences, the three siblings share a very close relationship and Y/N considers them to be her only real friends. 

One day, Minho brings home two classmates from his community college and Y/N realizes, for the very first time, that the sweet taste of desire is highly addictive.

When my mother died, I was only 10-years-old. She slipped away like a ghost, quietly and without notice, and I was left feeling broken on the inside. If I was a therapist, unlike the contemptuous older woman who always spoke to me with a condescending tone, I’d likely attribute the traumatic event to the person I started to become. 

Instead of bouncing back from her death like my brothers Minho and Felix, I started to feel sad all the time. Accordingly, I lost many of the friends I met in Elementary school because I chose to sit quietly in my classes when I didn't feel like talking to anyone else. Likewise, I also declined their invitations to visit their houses or ride with their parents to the movie theaters. Actually, I exchanged those friendships for the solitude of my bedroom at home where I usually spent the evening staring vacantly at the ceiling while trying not to cry anymore.

Yeah, I guess it was kinda my fault.

Overtime, my status evolved from the kind, amiable Y/N who everyone at school admired, to the sullen and despondent weird girl who sometimes spoke to imaginary friends. I spent recesses inside with my teachers, helping them clean the whiteboard. During lunch, I sat alone with my school tray and thought about how my mother used to pack my lunches for me because I complained about the mystery meatloaf....Oh, right, thinking about my mother inevitably made me feel sad again and sometimes I cried at school in front of my classmates. 

Needless to say, my youth wasn’t exactly as voracious as my peers...or even my brothers for that matter. Actually, Minho and Felix were perfectly normal because they mourned our mother’s death for several months before inexplicably moving on as if it had never happened. Thereafter, Minho developed a passion for music and my father allowed him to take guitar and piano lessons after school. Felix started to play sports and he was quite good at baseball despite his smaller stature. Likewise, in between classes, I heard my classmates frequently gossiping about my brothers: mysterious and alluring Minho who all the older girls adored, and popular and beloved Felix who was the envy of our classmates. 

I didn’t mind being considered an outsider in comparison to my brothers because they still treated me like a friend. In fact, my brothers and I were extremely close, especially after our mother’s death. Despite my introverted tendencies, Minho and Felix often went out of their way to include me in their activities. For example, Minho liked to offer his demos as background music for the raunchier parties in our town and he always begged me to come along and hear his new songs. My older brother was so incredibly talented that I rarely refused his offers, finding myself sitting next to Felix in the backseat of Minho’s car while we drove across town to the wealthier districts. I would spend the rest of the night hanging around my brothers while listening to Minho sing about everything from his ex-girlfriends to the pot he liked to smoke with some of the younger guys.

In any case, I could always count on my brothers to liven my spirits, which might explain why I was so uncomfortable when Minho graduated and applied for University. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing because Minho was only driving thirty minutes everyday to attend his classes and he still lived at home. But it still felt like an unwanted change, and I wasn’t sure how to cope with my brother’s sudden desire to build a studio in the basement of our childhood home while he brought new classmates to fawn over his equipment.

Thankfully, I managed to avoid the unfamiliar faces, and I started spending more time with Felix. Unfortunately, spending time with Felix inevitably forced me to endure the endless pandering from some of his more unsavory acquaintances. For example, when I wanted to play video games one afternoon, I knocked twice on Felix’s door only to find myself in the company of someone who was decidedly the complete opposite of my brother. His name was Han Jisung, and he was Felix’s best friend. “Y/N,” he said quietly, sheepishly attempting to fix the mop on top of his head. “How are you?”

“Fine,” I said, glancing over Jisung’s shoulder. “Where’s Felix?”

“Bathroom,” Jisung said, pointing at the door. 

I groaned. “Are you busy?”

“We’re never too busy for you,” Jisung smirked, but he always flirted with me shamelessly as if he didn’t care that I was Felix’s older sister.

I ignored Jisung when I walked into Felix’s bedroom, finding a relatively clean spot on his bed to wait for his return. In the meantime, Jisung lingered by the doorway, watching me with those ridiculous dark eyes. “I heard Minho made another demo.”

“He’s always making demos,” I replied, wondering why Felix was determined to take his time for once.

“Yeah, but he’s really proud of this one.”

“Minho thinks he’s a genius,” I said. “If you were to ask him, then every song he made would be a masterpiece.”

“Well, he’s the reason why I've started to pursue music.”

“You?” I scoffed, finding the idea of Jisung as a creator of anything other than enormous messes on the kitchen counter to be nothing short of hilarious. “Jisung, you can’t even finish your math homework.”

“That’s not true!” Jisung protested. “It’s just not that interesting, and I like music so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“You’ll find something else to like in a few months,” I said, watching as he frowned with that ridiculous pout he always wore when he wasn’t getting his way.

“Yeah? Well, when my first mixtape comes out,” Jisung grumbled. 

“I’ll be the first one asking for an autograph,” I teased him, rolling my eyes when he sat next to me and held up his pinky finger.

“Promise?”

“Fine,” I sighed before trying to move further away from Jisung.

He didn’t allow the space for very long, sliding right up against me without any traces of his previous frustrations. “Y/N,” Jisung said, hand reaching out for my shoulder. “There’s a party this Friday.”

“I’m not in the mood for a party,” I said. “I have a lot of homework this weekend, and-”

“Actually, Minho invited us,” Felix interrupted, and I didn’t even realize that my brother had returned. I was also surprised to see Minho behind him, stretching his arms above his head like he had forgotten to sleep again last night.

“You’re going too?” I asked Minho.

“It’s Chan’s party,” Minho explained. “He’s playing some of my demo tracks.”

“Bang Chan,” I repeated, narrowing my eyes because I had heard my brother mention that name dozens of times. Actually, if I didn’t know any better, then I would think Minho had some kind of infatuation with his new college friend.

“I think Minho is in love,” Felix teased, dodging Minho’s playful swing before he joined Jisung and I on the edge of his bed.

“He’s just a friend from one of my lectures,” Minho said. 

“Minho also thinks he’s a genius,” Felix whispered to me, but it was loud enough for our brother to overhear. 

“You like him too,” Minho protested.

“Felix met him?”

“Last week,” Felix beamed. “Minho and I ran into him on the way to get coffee. Your lazy ass was still asleep at 12:00.”

“Shut up,” I grumbled. “I stayed up late to finish an essay.”

“College will kick your ass, Y/N,” Minho said. “If you can’t survive high school literature...”

“I get it,” I groaned. “I don’t want another lecture.”

“Good, but you’re still coming to the party because I want you to meet Chan and hear your brother’s masterpiece.”

“Please stop calling your mixtape a masterpiece.”

“I’ll consider it,” Minho smirked, “as long as I see you at Chan’s house this Friday.”

“This is considered blackmail, Minho,” I sighed. “But fine, I’ll need the time and address, please.”

I stood on the porch in the frigid cold wearing a party dress that might’ve been overkill, and I had a desire to return to my house because nobody was answering the door. Actually, when I really thought about it, this complex was too nice for a college student, unless Chan had discovered Blackbeard’s treasure or something. I snorted at my own joke, waiting impatiently for someone to let me inside because my brothers weren’t responding to my text messages. 

The music sounded faint from behind the door, which made me wonder if Minho had given me the wrong address. It wouldn’t be the first time that my brother gave me some kind of misinformation, but I thought he really wanted me to come tonight and hear his music. “Hello!” I yelled, banging my fist against the door. “Minho? I’m leaving in exactly ten seconds if nobody lets me inside!”

I started the countdown in my head, jumping up and down to warm my muscles, when a sudden expulsion of heat relieved the tension slowly numbing my fingers. “There you are,” Felix said with a drunken smile.

“Isn’t too early for you to be plastered?”

Felix giggled. “They’re playing Minho’s music next.”

“Well, let me inside you asshole,” I said, pushing my way into the house because my brother had clearly forgotten that it was basically snowing outside.

“What do you think?” Felix asked. “It’s pretty nice.”

“I can’t see anything,” I complained, narrowing my eyes since it was difficult to notice the details when the house was packed wall to wall with intoxicated college students. The lights were also dimmed, which meant that walking was an unnecessary chore as Felix took my hand and brought me into the kitchen where he promised Minho was waiting.

At least he wasn’t fully incapable. 

“Y/N,” Minho grinned, tossing an arm around my shoulder as he pulled me closer, allowing me to smell the nasty liquor on his breath.

“Drunk at your mixtape reveal party?”

Minho laughed. “I haven’t had much.”

“Felix has,” I said, grimacing when I spotted my younger brother bouncing from person to person with an unmaintainable energy.

“Let him have fun,” Minho said. “I’m keeping an eye on him.”

“Whatever, but he’s your responsibility in the morning when he’s suffering from a hangover.”

“I’ll handle it,” Minho reassured me. “Anyway, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Oh?”

“Chan! Get your ass over here!”

“What a good friend you are,” I remarked, and I was fully prepared to tease my brother further until I realized that Minho was waving down one of the most attractive men I had ever seen.

Chan was absolutely gorgeous, appearing nothing short of debauched under the low-hanging lights of the kitchen. Neatly styled blonde-hair parted down the middle, and bright blue eyes that held the stars inside an endless sea of black. “Are you guys having fun?” he asked with an accent that I couldn’t place.

“The place is fucking awesome, man,” Minho said, wrapping an arm around Chan’s shoulders as he nodded in my direction. “This is my sister,” Minho said with a proud smile. 

“Hello,” I said, cringing at my tone.

“Y/N,” Chan smiled, and I decided that nobody could ever say my name again with such a sexy tenor.

“You have a lovely home,” I said, swallowing hard when Chan leaned in closer. 

“Minho talks about you a lot,” Chan said with a smirk. “Do you want something to drink?”

I nodded without thinking, keeping my eyes trained on his beautiful visage as a beer slipped into my hand. “Pace yourself,” Minho warned me, but I ignored him as I swallowed down the bile-tasting liquid.

“I like her,” Chan nodded, looking at me seductively from over the top of his bottle.

“She’s a bit uptight,” Minho chuckled, and I glared at him because this was not the time to embarrass me. “Are my songs playing next?”

“I’ll make sure everything is ready,” Chan said, giving me one last lingering look.

“Let’s find a good place to hear everything,” Minho suggested, and I followed my brother with thoughts and fantasies consumed by Bang Chan.

Minho’s mixtape was really good, and I begrudgingly congratulated my brother and even allowed him to tell everyone that it was, in fact, a masterpiece. However, while my brother was distracted by a group of younger fan-girls, I slipped away to try and find somewhere peaceful to recover from my headache. It had developed sometime between the pounding bass line of “BEWARE” and the aggressive tone of “Boxer.” 

I paused next to the foyer where there were considerably less people. In fact, only one student lingered next to the open window, and I leaned against the wall as I closed my eyes against the distinct ringing in my ears. Next time, I would wear earplugs when Minho forced me to stand at the speakers.

“You’re not going to pass out, right?”

I blinked several times as the room swam into focus. “I’ll probably make it.”

“There’s a bathroom upstairs,” the rough voice continued, and I finally addressed the hooded figure standing at the window. I realized that he was smoking, holding the bud of the cigarette outside so that the ashes collected somewhere on the porch. “I’m Changbin,” he smirked. 

“Oh,” I cleared my throat. “Do you mind if I share the window?”

He shrugged, tossing his hood back so that I could see the way his black hair fell flat against his head. “Sure.”

I carefully felt my way along the wall until the generous cold breeze was hitting my flushed skin. “Thank god,” I groaned, practically forcing my head outside.

“Drink too much?”

“A combination of that and the music.”

“I heard a rumor that the beer was definitely spiked,” he said, dark eyes looking me over. “You’re obviously new here.”

“I’m with my brother,” I offered cautiously in response to his sudden advances.

“Do I know him?”

“Lee Minho.”

Changbin’s eyes widened. “We’re in the same music composition lecture. I thought he mentioned you in class.”

“He invited me,” I continued, but I didn’t understand why I felt the need to justify myself to him.

“I bet he did,” Changbin nodded. “Why would he hide you from us?”

I shivered. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“Is that right?” he asked before cornering me against the wall with a hungry gaze. “You hear the song playing?”

I nodded. “It’s loud.”

Changbin chuckled. “I made it.”

I nodded again because that certainly explained the explicit lyrics. “It’s...interesting?”

“Yeah?” Changbin purred. “Do you like it?”

“I do,” I gasped, feeling one of his hands grab me around the waist.

His lips brushed against mine, soft and sensual, while he inhaled deeply. “Y/N, is this your first party?”

“No,” I whispered because it suddenly felt like we were the only two people left in the room.

“I just assumed,” he said. “From the way you’re reacting.”

“W-what?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you wanted to go someplace else with me,” Changin said.

I was completely baffled by his assumption, searching for the right words, but they never came. However, the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat forced us apart, and I was surprised to see Chan standing so close. “I guess you’ve met Minho’s little sister,” Chan said and I hated how immature the introduction sounded. 

“She made sure to tell me,” Changbin smirked. “I can’t believe we haven’t met before.”

“He’s looking for her,” Chan continued, and I was confused by the hostility in his tone. “You probably shouldn’t do anything.”

“Wasn’t gonna,” Changbin retorted, planting one of his hands next to my head. “She’s feeling sick. Tell Minho I can take her home.”

“He won’t like that.”

“Oh? Is anyone else sober?”

Chan was quiet for a moment, eyes darting between the two of us. “Wait here.”

“What a good host,” Changbin snarked, but Chan was already walking away and I was starting to feel the effects of my alcoholic consumption darken the edges of my vision.

My brother was nothing short of incoherent, swaying back against Chan as he tried to give me a stern look. “Y/N, I hope you didn’t drink too much.”

“Really?” I snorted. “Isn’t that hypocritical?”

Of course, my admonishment had no effect on Minho. “Chan said that you were feeling sick.”

“It’s just a headache,” I said, although my churning stomach seemed to suggest otherwise.

“I thought I could take Y/N home,” Changbin interrupted. “I guess she could use some fresher air.”

“Sure,” Minho nodded, eyes glassy. “I don’t mind.”

Minho was readily willing to entrust his sister into the care of someone she had just met, and that’s when I knew that he couldn’t be trusted to take me anywhere. “Is that what you want?” Chan asked.

I shrugged because it might be nice to finally escape the endless drumming of Chan’s intricate sound system. “I might be saving myself some trouble.”

“I need more cigarettes,” Changbin said. “I’m running low and I know there’s a store near Minho’s house.

I frowned, but figured that Minho had brought Changbin over to our house before during that brief phase at the start of his college semester when I saw a new face in the basement every week. “I think that’s a good idea.”

“As long as you behave,” Chan warned him quietly, but I never had the opportunity to question him before Changbin was forcing us both outside onto the main porch where the snow was starting to build along the sidewalks.

“This way,” Changbin said, resting one of his hands against my lower back as he guided us down the street.

Changbin’s car was a very old model and the paint was starting to peel from the doors. He helped me inside slowly, reaching for my seat-belt before I slapped his hands out of the way because I could manage to do that by myself. He chuckled at my glare. “Comfortable?”

I nodded in response and waited for him to turn on the ignition before I was savoring the accompanying blast of heat even though it smelled distinctly of ashes. “Minho’s little sister,” Changbin said, eyes focused on the road in front of him. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah,” I replied because the growing distance between us and Chan’s party music was actually nice. “I guess the music gave me a headache.”

“That’s how Chan likes it,” Changbin said. “He’s gotten at least a dozen noise complaints from this past month alone.”

“How many parties does he have!”

Changbin smirked. “He likes to keep his house full.”

“It might’ve been too much tonight,” I said, leaning my head against the cold window. “I’ve never seen so many people.”

“Exams,” Changbin said. “When college students feel stressed, they like to get shitfaced.”

“But you’re not drunk.”

“Who said that I was stressed?”

His tone was strangely flirtatious, especially when he looked at me. “You didn’t have to help me, you know?”

“I know, but it was my window we were sharing,” Changbin said. “You looked like you were seconds away from crashing.”

“I can take care of myself,” I replied, even though it was rather harsh to criticize someone who was currently neglecting the speed limit to take my home as quickly as possible. “When did you meet Minho?”

“A few weeks ago,” Changbin said. “We worked on a project together.”

“I guess you’ve already been to my house.”

“Yeah, but I sure as hell don’t remember seeing you.”

“I don’t really like to socialize with most of my brother’s friends.” 

“Well, that explains a lot,” Changbin said, briefly glancing at me. “Are you that type? The unattainable girl next door?”

“I just don’t like people,” I grumbled, but Changbin seemed to think it was funny, laughing at my expense while reaching down to turn on the radio despite the fact that music had caused my headache in the first place.

Of course, I didn’t want to be that type, so I endured his self-promotion, listening to his gravelly voice suspend the entire car into some kind of hip-hip haven. He talked his way through the introductions of every song on his mixtapes, bragging about his compositions and arrangements. “It’s all about authenticity,” he explained when we finally pulled into my driveway.

“Is that so?” I sighed, frowning when I realized Felix had forgotten to turn on the front porch light.

“I guess I should wait until you’re inside,” Changbin chuckled.

“Thanks,” I said, reaching out for the door handle.

“Woah! Baby, where are you going?” Changbin asked, and I quickly returned my hands to my lap. “Are you trying to get away from me?”

“No,” I shook my head, breathing heavily when he reached for my thigh.

“You probably don’t hear this a lot,” Changbin continued. “But you’re really sexy.”

I startled at his words. “Thank you?”

“I mean it, Y/N,” he continued, fingers inching along my thigh like it was free real estate. “Thank god you wanted to share my window.”

I shook my head rapidly when he turned off the ignition, navigating the waistband of his panties to drag his hand against my sensitive core. “What are you doing?” I whispered.

“I’m trying to make you feel good,” he said. “Do you want me to?”

I nodded this time, waiting with my fists balled against the leather seats while he penetrated the soft walls of my core, moving in and out slowly to help me adjust to his fingers. I tried to relax, dropping my shoulders and controlling the way I was panting in desperation for more of the addicting feeling he was creating in my lower abdomen. It all felt entirely scandalous, feeling the way his fingers dragged across my insides, curling against the most responsive parts and watching me with an intensity that I could barely tolerate. I was moaning for him, calling his name softly because he was starting to increase his movements, and I focused on the way his wrist reappeared from underneath my skirt before losing itself in a sea of denim fabric.

“It’s wet,” he remarked, and the sounds of his penetration were growing louder, intermingling with my rapid breaths and the dark tone of his voice. “I can feel it.”

I knew what he meant because my entire body was pulsing in time to the pace in which he played with me. It was like I was his personal experiment, testing how I reacted to certain touches, especially when he crooked his fingers and a moan would displace the temporary quiet. “Changbin,” I whined, reaching for his arm because everything was starting to feel overwhelming.

“I got you,” he said. “You’ve been so good for me, Y/N, I’m not gonna stop until you cum.”

I orgasmed at his filthy words, falling down from the place he sent me and into a deep headspace. He pulled his fingers back, holding them up so that I could clearly see the evidence of my release in the faint light from the street lamp outside. “You didn’t expect that,” Changbin said calmly, reaching for a tissue from the backseat while I tried to figure out what just happened. “I don’t really care who your brother is,” he continued, moving in close. “I think we should fuck next time.” 

“Changbin,” I said, “if Minho finds out-”

“Why are you always worried about him?”

“He’s my brother!”

“Oh? Well, in that case, since you want to be good for your older brother,” Changbin smirked. “I guess I’ll have to find a different way to see you again.”

The next morning, I took a shower because I could still feel traces of Changbin’s touches between my thighs. The water was hot, fogging up the mirrors and making it difficult to breathe. It was necessary because I could function better when I re-emerged with fresh clothes and a sudden hunger for those little chocolate muffins my mom bought at the store.

I walked downstairs, noticing Felix and Jisung both sitting at the counter while they talked over their breakfast. Felix noticed me first, watching as I grabbed a leftover pastry from the fridge before leaning back against the cabinets. “Did you have fun last night?” he asked.

I narrowed my eyes, but then I realized that his question was innocent because he definitely didn’t know about Changbin. “It was nice.”

“What are you doing today?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I haven’t made plans.”

“You can hang out with me and Jisung today,” Felix suggested. “We’re just going for coffee.”

Jisung met my gaze from over the table and he quickly looked away as if he wasn’t expecting the contact. “Yeah,” I nodded. “I could use some coffee.”

It wasn’t often that I accompanied Felix and Jisung when they decided to actually leave the house and my brother’s massive collection of video games. Felix was never the problem, but I could only endure so much of Jisung’s flirtations before I inevitably made another pointless vow to try and ignore him. It was an impossible promise to keep since Felix was practically glued to his hip, and I can’t remember the last time Jisung actually spent the night at his own home.

However, coffee was nice and the taste was bile so it sat heavy on my tongue and provided a good distraction, even if that meant listening to my brother and Felix talk about the party. “I met Chan,” Jisung said. “He was really cool.”

Felix nodded, eyeing his coffee with obvious distaste. “Minho seems to like him.”

“He introduced me to his partner, Changbin,” Jisung continued and I fidgeted nervously at the mention of his name. “Apparently, they do a lot of work together.”

“I’ve heard their stuff,” Felix said, finally pushing away his coffee cup in exchange for his orange juice. “I think they’re really talented.”

“It’s like you’re meeting real professionals,” Jisung gushed and I rolled my eyes. “I let them listen to one of my demos,” Jisung chuckled. “I think they want to work together.”

“Really?” Felix gasped. “That’s amazing!”

“I guess they need another partner,” I remarked, shivering when I thought about my encounter with Changbin from the previous evening.

“You can always come with me to the studio tomorrow,” Jisung said. “If you want.”

The idea of being alone with Jisung wasn’t exactly high on my list of priorities. “I don’t know...”

“Changbin will be there too,” Jisung added. “Minho said he really thought you were cool at the party.”

“I bet he did,” I grumbled.

“Why are you inviting her instead of your best friend?” Felix pouted.

“You said you needed to work on a project,” Jisung reminded him. “Actually, you made me swear to keep away distractions!”

“Alright, fine,” Felix sighed. “You’re right, but that doesn’t mean that I’m okay with it.”

Jisung ignored my brother’s sullen expression. “Y/N? Do you want to come?”

“I guess,” I said, and I had no idea what possessed me to agree with his request until it was too late.

The next morning, I met Jisung outside of the address he had sent to my phone with several rather inappropriate emojis. I made sure to scold him for the messages, but he was far too excited, ignoring my complaints when he started talking about the new project he was working on with Chan and Changbin. “Come on,” he said, holding open the door as I walked inside the tiny lobby of the simple two-story building. “We’re on the top floor,” Jisung smirked as if that was something to brag about considering the condition of the worn-down warehouse they were using as a studio.

However, I knew that he was excited, so I feigned a smile as he continued talking about the building’s intricate history while we walked up the staircase to pause outside of a studio room. “Is this it?” I asked.

He nodded, reaching for the door handle. “They should be inside.”

True to his word, Chan and Changbin were standing together in front of a large computer monitor, turning around when they heard me and Jisung enter the room together. “There you are,” Chan said, but his gaze was strangely focused on me.

“We have some stuff for you to hear,” Changbin said, stretching his arms above his head. “I need some coffee first.”

“There’s a gas station down the road,” Jisung said. “I’ll go with you?”

Changbin looked at me for a moment before agreeing to Jisung’s proposal. “We’ll have plenty of time to work when we get back.”

“You’re in for a surprise, Jisung,” Chan said. “Actually, while the two of you are gone, maybe Y/N could look at some of the tracks?”

“Really?” I asked, surprised that he would be so willing to share, but he was already dragging me down into the desk chair, pulling me closer to the monitor.

“You can take you time and browse,” he said, joining Jisung and Changbin at the door.

They started talking about something else, but I was too busy admiring the vast number of tracks listened in sequential order on Chan’s computer. Despite how I might feel about Changbin, it was impossible to deny that their work was impressive, spreading across years of effort. It felt like I was being allowed an intimate glimpse of the artists who were growing more popular everyday.

“Try to be back in twenty minutes,” Chan said, and I watched Jisung and Changbin leave together, whispering in low tones while Chan shut the door behind them. “Your music is really good,” I said, scrolling through the library of his songs. It only made him that much more appealing when I could see the evidence of his passion.

“Are we going to stop playing games, Y/N?”

I frowned at his question, turning around in the chair. “What do you mean?”

Chan smirked, and I realized that it wasn’t playful. “Do you have any idea how fucking gorgeous you are?” he asked.

“Chan...” I trailed off, frozen in place while he slowly leered in my direction, taking several, meaningful steps before he was bracing himself on either side of the desk behind me. 

“Changbin told me about what happened in the car.”

I swallowed hard. “W-what?”

“Is that all it takes? A couple of fingers to satisfy you?”

“Chan, I don’t understand,” I tried, gasping when he picked me up out of the chair, legs wrapping around his waist automatically before he sat me down on the desk.

“Do you want it again?” Chan asked, running his hands alongside my waist before crawling his finger across the bare skin of my thighs, disregarding the thin barrier of my skirt. I felt him press the palm of his hand against my wet heat, fingers testing the edges of my panties. “I can make you feel good.”

The sensation was too much, and I found myself nodding without really thinking about the consequences. “Please.”

His fingers were suddenly penetrating my delicate walls, sliding in and out at a vicious pace that left me aching for something more. “Tell me, Y/N,” Chan demanded, using his thumb to circle my throbbing clitoris. “How does it feel?”

“I want it, Chan,” I moaned, bracing my hands against his firm chest as he continued to pleasure me. Unlike Changbin, I could tell that Chan was determined to make me cum as soon as possible, twisting his hand and jamming his fingers like he was aiming to make me lose my mind. I practically fell against him crying, riding out the waves of my high, while he ignored my whimpers when everything was suddenly feeling overstimulated.

“Come here,” he said, pulling out his fingers before falling against his chair and patting his thighs.

My legs were shaking when Chan helped me onto his lap and I moaned when his fingers crooked against my walls again. “Do you want my cock?” he asked and I nodded viciously, sending strands of my hair flying in all directions. “What a good girl,” he snarled, ripping his fingers away and leaving me whining around the empty space he left behind.

“Chan,” I groaned, resting my head against his shoulder while I watched him make a show out of undoing the belt around his waist, unzipping his skinny jeans before shoving the material down his thighs. His erection strained the silky material of his boxer shorts, and I was practically salivating.

He reached down to rub himself through his shorts, outlining his cock in a way that made me realize that I wasn’t going to leave this studio without an obvious limp. “Y/N,” he said. “Take off your skirt for me.”

I whined, but obeyed him instantly, bracing one hand against his shoulder while the other practically ripped the fine material of the pretty skirt down my legs and into the studio floor. Chan’s eyes darkened, grabbing my waist between his hands to grind the front of my soaked panties against his erection. “Please,” I cried, wanting nothing more than to take matters into my own hands, but Chan’s grip was impossible to break.

“I’m going to fuck this little pussy,” Chan growled. “Can you last long enough for me to come inside?”

“Yes,” I whined, stuttering around a broken sob when he pulled his cock into the studio light, stretching my panties to the side before sinking deep inside my pulsing heat.

“That’s right,” Chan said, eyes closed. “You feel so good.”

“Chan,” I moaned, eye widening when the stretch felt impossible, like he was splitting me open even when common sense told me that it was just my body accommodating to his cock.

His hips slammed into mine, and I could barely reciprocate when he easily overpowered my attempts to meet him somewhere between our bodies. Instead, he took control and I let him have it because he knew exactly what to do before sending me over the edge again, ignoring my cries when he continued to chase his own high, grunting against my ear when he came inside.

“Y/N,” he sighed, keeping me in place despite the fact that his cock was completely flaccid. “Such a good girl.”

I was incoherent and incapable of offering a response in return. Instead, I buried my face into the side of his neck, smelling the scent of his cologne mixed with sweat and the sex polluting the air around us. His body was firm and warm, and I closed my eyes because everything felt like an incredibly lucid dream.

I was still exhausted from the previous afternoon, unable to walk much further than from my bedroom to the living room before the painful reminder of my unexpected session with Chan started to ache between my legs. There was a movie playing on the television, but I was only somewhat focused on the lazy plot and characters. Instead, I was thinking about my interactions with Chan and Changbin, wondering if the two men were playing some sort of mind game with me.

I only managed to tear myself away from those thoughts when I saw Minho as he walked down the stairs with Felix and Jisung talking about something to do with a sports competition. “There you are!” Felix exclaimed. “We were just talking about your visit to the studio with Jisung.”

“I heard you got a tour,” Minho said. “That was nice of them.”

“Yeah,” I agree because there was a lot more to talk about besides the tour of the dilapidated studio.

“I haven’t had a chance to visit,” Minho said. “But they said I could record my new demo there.”

“Another one!” Felix gasped, looking at my brother with wide eyes. “You’re a fucking genius, man.”

“Oh, I know,” Minho smirked. “Actually, I can show you before my first lecture,” Minho said, starting in the direction of his bedroom.

Jisung watched Felix trail behind Minho before he joined me on the couch. “What did you think of the studio?”

I swallowed hard. “It was fine.”

“I think it’s really nice,” Jisung said. “Chan said something making us a permanent trio! He even gave us a name and everything!”

“Oh?”

“3racha,” Jisung giggled. “It’s like a pun-”

“Yeah, I get it,” I sighed impatiently. “I’m trying to watch the movie.”

Jisung was undeterred by the sharp comment, and he buried himself further into the cushions before turning his attention back to the screen.

“Our first show is tomorrow, Y/N,” Jisung giggled, and I finally turned to look at him. “I hope you can watch?”

“Where?”

“It’s a club somewhere downtown. I can send you the address? I know that Chan and Changbin were both insisting that you come.”

“I’m sure they were,” I grumbled, but Jisung was more interested in talking about his contributions to the album. 

“It would mean a lot to me,” he managed after thoroughly explaining their newest concept. “You don’t even have to stay for the whole show.”

“I don’t know...”

“Minho and Felix are coming!” he quickly added, and I wondered if he knew that I would feel more comfortable with my brothers around.

“Okay,” I finally relented, groaning when he started jumping up and down on the couch like an overzealous puppy.

I rode to the club with Minho and Felix who were excitedly chattering about the impending concert while I looked out the window despondently. It felt like a huge risk to show up to the concert considering the recent events concerning my meetings with Chan and Changbin. However, I didn’t want my brothers to be suspicious, so I reluctantly followed them inside where we squeezed together around one of the tables in the middle of an enormous crowd.

The atmosphere was euphoric, draped in a haze of alcohol and the flashing neon lights decorating the stage. It was actually quite civil considering the fact that we were moments away from listening to loud music full of pounding bass and fast rapping. I was half-way convinced that the other guests had no idea what they were actually getting themselves into by coming here tonight.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” an annoucement blared overheard, “please welcome, 3racha!”

The audience started clapping while a familiar melody began softly playing, and the fans around me started to cheer for the three shadowy figures who had suddenly walked onto the stage. “Let’s go!” Chan shouted, beginning his verse of the song which I now recognized as one of the tracks they had played for me at the studio. They were all wearing black, matching the tone and vibe of their music, playing through each track with an infectious energy. However, I was still unnerved because I noticed that they all managed to look at me at some point, even though the crowd, and I was starting to feel hot all over my entire body.

“They’re really good,” Felix remarked, and I nodded in return even though I was finding the table much more interesting.

“Thank you, 3racha!” an overhead announcement said and the audience were rising to their feet in synchrony to offer the artists a round of applause for their stage.

“Jisung sounded amazing!” Felix said as if he couldn’t resist the opportunity to brag about his friend.

“Maybe we can meet them backstage,” Minho suggested, and I halfheartedly protested when my brothers forced me to accompany them.

Subsequently, Minho forced Felix and I to wait by the stage for his friends because he was convinced that I really didn’t have an important project to complete before tomorrow. “You never do anything last minute, Y/N,” he said, smiling when he spotted Chan’s messy hair from the middle of the crowd.

“Hey!” Chan greeted him, accepting Minho’s failed attempt at a cool handshake. Changbin and Jisung followed him, and I couldn’t help but notice how the youngest had started to stumble on his feet. 

“You guys did great,” Minho said, talking extensively about his favorite performance while a sudden bombardment of alcohol hit my senses.

I instantly recoiled, covering my nose when the smell grew stronger. “How much did you drink, Jisung?”

“Not much,” the younger boy slurred, and I noticed that his eyes were distant.

“I’ll grab us more drinks,” Changbin said, giving me a familiar dark look before disappearing into the surrounding crowd.

“He’ll be fine,” Felix said, tossing an arm around Jisung’s shoulder. “You deserve to celebrate tonight, man!”

I tugged on Minho’s sleeve to catch his attention, unwittingly drawing Chan’s gaze at the same time. “I think he’s drunk.”

Minho sighed, ready to launch into one of his world-famous lectures, when he was interrupted by the DJ onstage who confronted Chan. “Hey! We couldn’t find you after the show.”

Chan rolled his eyes. “I was out here the entire time.”

“Well, you need to pick up your CD backstage,” the DJ said. “The owners will throw it out tomorrow.”

“I’ll be right there,” Chan grumbled while glaring at the DJ.

“Now,” the man growled and Chan quietly excused himself with a brittle tone. Meanwhile, I had to help Felix with Jisung because his friend was starting to sway dangerously back and forth.

“He needs to go home,” I sighed, watching as Jisung leaned more of his weight against a much smaller Felix.

“I’d take him, but I already had two beers,” Minho said, looking at Felix expectantly.

“Me!” Felix whined. “But I want to stay.”

“He’s your friend,” I glowered.

“Alright,” Minho groaned. “Y/N, you haven’t had anything to drink and you’re way more responsible than Felix.”

It was easy to meet Minho’s stern gaze since this was the perfect opportunity to finally leave the club. “Fine, I’ll take Jisung home.”

“Then it’s settled,” he agreed, tossing me his spare set of car keys. “Take him to our place.”

“Okay,” I said, groaning when Felix helped Jisung wrap his arms around my shoulders and waist. The additional weight was burdensome, and I cursed Jisung under my breath as I helped him through the club to where the bouncer waited at the exit. “I’ll never let you forget this,” I hissed, waiting for the bouncer to open the door while I took one last look over my shoulder to check on my brothers. Instead, I found myself looking directly into Changbin’s dark eyes as he waited by the bar, a familiar smirk making him appear even more dangerous. I shivered in response before I slowly shuffled to the car with Jisung practically breathing down my neck.

When I finally managed to accompany Jisung inside my house, I unceremoniously deposited him on the couch, ignoring the way he groaned in complaint. “I’ll find you some medicine,” I said, searching through one of the side tables.

“It hurts,” Jisung whined, and I rolled my eyes after shoving a bottle of Aspirin in his direction.

“Remember that when you decide to be stupid again.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, dropping two pills into his hand before swallowing them eagerly.

I grimaced as I sat down next to him. “When did you start drinking?”

“Before the show,” Jisung said. “Changbin said it would help take the edge off.”

“Yeah? Do me a favor and don’t listen to him anymore,” I said, frowning when Jisung curled closer to my side. “What are you doing?”

“Tired,” he said, looking up at me with a smile. “You look beautiful.”

I scoffed, trying to push him away, but alcohol apparently made him bolder because he was suddenly twisting one leg around my hip to hold himself in place. “Jisung, you need to stop,” I said, gasping when he brought his lips against mine, kissing me with skill and a surprising amount of tongue. “We can’t do this!”

“Please,” Jisung whined, grinding his hips against my legs. “Just one night, Y/N?”

“Your drunk,” I said, which was only one of a dozen problems with the scenarios currently playing out right in front of my very eyes.

“I’m sober,” Jisung promised, frantically chasing my lips with eager kisses.

It was nothing short of desire, the way he was looking at me, while I watched our clothes end up in a pile around the couch as Jisung fumbled with the condom before I helped him roll it onto his erection. He groaned at the contact, and I moved my hand up and down his cock a few more times before directing him between my legs. Jisung slid inside with a messy exhale, and his arms trembled as they supported his body looming over mine with his delicate frame.

It was a pleasant contradiction because Chan’s thrusts had been nothing short of confident while Jisung’s inexperience showed in the frantic way his hips stuttered against mine. He tried to move faster, losing his previous rhythm, and his cock fell all the way out, erection sliding between my thighs instead. He whined pathetically, rutting against my legs for several moments before he re-adjusted himself deep inside. “Y/N,” he moaned.

“It’s okay,” I told him, petting my fingers along the crown of his head. “You’re doing so good.”

“I like you so much,” Jisung replied earnestly and my heart ached at his words.

He looked unbelievably sinful, eclipsing my body against his as I felt the fabric of the couch against my skin. The friction was delicious, and I focused on the way his cock felt, thrusts growing more and more assured as he finally found a way to please us both, thumb brushing across my clitoris. He was still kissing me, tongue moving across mine deliberately, and I was breathing harshly as I fought to control the rising heat building in my abdomen. It was an intense build-up to an orgasm that I could’ve never anticipated since Jisung was always Felix’s friend who I usually avoided. The same Jisung whose endless flirtations usually annoyed me, but something had changed the moment I looked into his eyes and saw the lust and desire coming together to create an intoxicating mixture.

It was suddenly impossible to ignore the way he made me feel and I felt him come deep inside with a stuttered moan. His hips moved harshly against mine, and I chased my release with a sensual grind of my hips until I was throwing my head back with a cry, groaning when his lips found the sensitive skin of my neck. “Jisung,” I murmured, watching him through a haze of darkness as he rolled over next to me with a moan.

I studied the way Jisung’s hair fanned out across the cushions, making him look angelic beneath the influence of the moon’s light breaking the barrier of the  curtains. It made me feel guilty, realizing that I had finally returned Jisung’s feelings only after my tumultuous affairs with Changbin and Chan. In fact, I was nothing more than the very girls I often mocked when they threw themselves at the most popular boys in school. I swallowed hard at the realization. “What have I done?”

[lilac-melody]

LipxLip Romeo Novel Chapter 2

I do not own anything, I am not a professional translator, so take my translations with a grain of salt!

Masterlist here

The next day, when class was over and he left school, Aizou went to his favorite musical instrument store in his uniform. It was a small shop on a narrow street behind the station.

There was a karaoke shop next door to it, and lively sounds leaked during the daytime.

Morita’s Musical Instrument Store was the name of the store.

Looking into the glass door, the owner, Morita-san, seemed to be serving customers.

(I’ll talk to him later...)

He went up the outer stairs from the side, taking out a key from his pocket and inserting it in the door and opened it and went inside.

There was a narrow corridor, and if you go in the back, there was a room of about six tatami mats.

A thin light entered through the gap between closed curtains. Aizou looked at his guitar case and bag and opened the curtains and windows. While letting fresh air in, he started cleaning.

The room seemed to have been used as a lesson room for music classes before, and there was a piano in the corner. It had been ever since.

Although he didn’t use it, Aizou still dusted it.

After cleaning, he gazed at the room while drinking water from a plastic bottle.

He met Morita-san in his first year of junior high school.

On his way home from school, he found this shop on a different back road. He casually stopped by, because he remembered the guitar his dad had played. He had looked at the acoustic and electric guitars lined up in the showcase. That was when a large person in an apron came out. Morita-san.

“Did you want to get started playing guitar?”

“No...I just wanted to look at them...”

It wasn’t as though he wasn’t interested. However, he couldn’t play the guitar at home anymore.

Morita-san took one of the guitars out from the showcase and played it for him.

None of the guitars were cheap enough to be bought so easily by a middle school student, but everytime Aizou came to the store, Morita-san did not hesitate to let him play.

Aizou had been so happy, he started stopping by almost everyday on his way home after school.

Because of Morita-san, he had pulled out his guitar with the broken strings that had been shoved in the closet.

He was dying to play it, and even though it was about closing time at the store, Aizou still ran to the store while it was raining, clutching it in his hands.

“This...please fix it...”

Morita-san, who had been closing up, was surprised to see Aizou soaking wet outside.

Aizou’s eyes were huge.

He had watched Morita-san work on exchanging the strings while listening to the sound of the rain outside of the store.

For some reason, his chest hurt and he couldn’t help the tears that spilled down his face. He tried to hide his face with the borrowed towel.

Aizou still remembered clearly that he kept crying silently until the work was finished...

_

Aizou set the water bottle on the window ledge and took his guitar from the case. While preparing the guitar, his mouth loosened to a small smile.

“I’ve been playing since that day...”

By the time he was a second year junior high student, it became difficult to stay at home, and he was often immersed in this shop.He had even started to keep track of the store and help with the maintenance of the instruments.

Aizou never told Morita-san about his home life, but he must have had a good guess about it.

He couldn’t bring his guitar home, after all. If he played it at home, his mother would get angry.

So Morita-san had lent him a room that had been completely used as a storage room after it stopped being a classroom.

Of course, it was only on the condition that he “go home properly” sometimes.

Since then, Aizou’s been in this room almost everyday. He sometimes stayed the night, but he went home about every two days.

Without the room and the guitar, Aizou was sure he would be more subservient.

When he saw the audition recruitment advertisement, he thought about the song competition that he had participated in when he was a kid. 

He had stood on the brightly lit stage, the people in the audience applauded with a smile, and his parents and older brother were proud too. He felt exhilarated and joyful. It was a feeling he had forgotten for a long time.

He would definitely call that moment happiness.

He wanted to stand on stage again. He wanted to sing in front of people again.

Despite the urge, he thought, “I can’t be an idol...”

He wasn’t good with girls, and he had a bad reputation.

And yet, he wanted to be an idol who made noise with the children of fans.

He was confident in singing and dancing, but it wasn’t something he could do on his own. With that in mind, he was motivated to auditioning, hoping something may change.

He wanted a chance. He couldn’t see the future, he didn’t know what he wanted to do and kept getting lost.

Only the audition seemed like a hopeful ray of light.

On stage, people may need it.

Some people may be happy to hear his songs.

He was determined, so he applied that day.

And after passing the audition, he felt the world around him change. It wasn’t without anxiety, but the expectations were high.

Aizou adjusted the guitar pegs to match the sound. He started playing a song and humming it. He felt better than expected today, as he was usually feeling sluggish.

He stroked the guitar.

Aizou then started playing the guitar, while tapping to the rhythm with his feet.

👑

When he finished with the guitar, he walked down the outer stairs and noticed he was humming a song he was lately crazy about.

He stopped by the store, and Morita-san, who was by the counter, smiled at him.

“You’re here.”

“There were customers earlier.”

“Yeah. There’s going to be a meeting in the shopping district. I’ll be back in about an hour. Can you keep the store running?”

“Isn’t that just a drinking party?”

There was no doubt Morita-san was heading to a bar about three houses away, which he calls a meeting. Sometimes Aizou watched soccer or baseball games with the people around there.

“I can’t neglect my neighborhood.” Morita-san removed the apron he had been wearing and handed it to Aizou.

He can’t exactly refuse, as he stayed here often for free.

Besides, he didn’t have lessons today and he didn’t need to do any other errands, so he was free.

“Well, that’s fine then...only if it’s an hour!”

(I’m sure he won’t be back for two hours though...)

Aizou walked behind the counter wearing the apron.

“I have meat buns and steamed buns there, you can have them.”

“I’m not an elementary student...”

While Aizou frowned, Morita-san laughed and shook his head. “You’ve changed a lot.”

“And I’ll keep changing.”

Morita-san left the store, waving. “Anyway, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, old man.”

Aizou looked at the bag on the counter. Inside it were three meat buns and three steamed buns. They were still warm, so they were probably just bought.

“This...I can’t eat all of this alone.” Aizou took a meat bun from the inside and chewed it.

He didn’t have to do anything while in charge of the store. He then remembered he had been given homework in math class.

He took his paper and the textbook out of his bag.

_

He was still working when he heard a nice sound.

He raised his head because of the pleasant noise. He heard it coming from the pianos lined up in the store. Someone must have come in.

(What’s this song...it’s classical...)

Aizou felt like he’s heard it in music class, but he couldn’t remember the song titles. He wondered who was playing, so he moved the half eaten bun to his hand.

It was behind the piano, so he couldn’t see the person’s face.

The moment their eyes met though, a voice cried out, “eh!”

He was surprised by the voice. The other person turned his legs quickly.

Aizou grabbed his shoulder and stopped him.

“Hey...wait!”

Yujiro’s eyebrows wrinkled. He turned around after sighing. There was a paper bag on his arm from a nearby CD shop. Aizou guessed he was on his way back from that.

“...What are you doing?” Yujiro asked with suspicious eyes.

“Looking...after the store?”

“You’re going to give up being an idol and change jobs? You can’t stop now.” Yujiro’s gaze turned to the apron being worn by Aizou.

“I hate it, but I haven’t given up and I’m not changing jobs!”

Yujiro’s sarcasm made him annoyed.

(But that performance, was it really his?)

Aizou looked around, but they were the only two people in the store.

“Oh, sorry.”

As usual, his tone was not cute. But he was getting used to it.

Yujiro’s gaze shifted to Aizou’s hands.

“Why are you eating meat buns? I thought this was a musical instrument store. Are you also selling meat buns?”

“No, I just got it.”

“Hmm.”

“Do you want to eat some..? We have steamed and meat buns.”

Morita-san had got them for him, but he couldn’t eat them alone.

Aizou thought Yujiro would refuse with a stubborn “I don’t need it”, but he tried anyway.

“...I’ll eat.” His voice replied, and Aizou felt surprised.

_

Aizou sat on the counter chair and drank water from his plastic bottle. Looking to the side, Yujiro was chewing with his cheeks puffed and his elbows on the counter.

They had the day off from lessons so he assumed he wouldn’t see Yujiro today.

He sighed and picked up his mechanical pencil. He was still doing homework and wanted to finish it.

“...Why are you looking after the store?” Yujiro, who was looking around the store, asked.

“I was asked to. I’m indebted to the old man.”

“...A relative?”

“No...I’m just someone who rents a room.”

“A room?”

“It used to be a practice room.”

“Hmm...”

Yujiro carried the rest of the bean paste to his mouth and wiped it from his lips with his thumb.

He seemed more sociable than usual.

Yujiro was always indifferent with people, but he was asking a lot of questions. It was unusual, so Aizou had to ask.

“So the piano...do you play?”

“...” Yujiro frowns in a discouraging manner.

“...Are you learning?”

“I played before...I don’t have a piano at home now.”

(What a waste...)

“Well...there’s a piano in the room.” Aizou suddenly remembered the piano in the corner of the practice room. “But I don’t know if it’ll make much sound since it’s left unattended.”

There was silence before Aizou asks, “...would you like to play it?”

Yujiro blinked and stared at him. “What?”

“I’m looking after the store today, but...when we don’t have lessons I’m often here.”

He wanted to take a step forward.

Yujiro did look like he wanted to play it.

👑

Usually, he wouldn’t want to get involved with Yujiro in his private time.

They met at the office almost everyday and went to lessons, but they were just peers. Aizou didn’t know much about him. They weren’t interested.

“Aizou.”

Aizou, who had been practicing the guitar in the room, noticed he was being called and wasn’t wearing the headphones around his neck. The door was locked.

When he moved to the front door with his guitar and headphones and opened the door, he saw Morita-san standing there.

“You have a friend coming?”

“Friend?”

“It’s unusual to call someone in this room.” Morita-san moved from the door.

Aizou then saw someone standing there and said “ehh.”

“I’m sorry, thank you.” Yujiro politely bowed his head.

As soon as Morita-san went down the stairs, his face went to it’s usual unfriendly one.

“He just misunderstood...” Yujiro explained, looking reluctant.

Only Yujiro knew about this room, so Aizou already knew no one else would be here.

(Well...I was the one who told him to come...)

Aizou put a hand behind his neck and sighed.

“...Come in.” He stepped back, and Yujiro entered silently.

As Aizou took him to the room through the corridor, Yujiro immediately walked up to the piano.

(Really, you should have said something first...)

There was a score still on the lid. Aizou got rid of it quickly.

Ah, come to think of it...the two haven’t even exchanged contacts yet.

(Even if I ask, I won’t get an answer...)

Yujiro stared at the glossy black piano for a while. His hand slowly played some of the keyboard after he opened the lid.

“I don’t think it’s tuned...” Aizou retreated to the side as he spoke.

Yujiro, with the fingers of one hand on the piano, started playing while standing. A beautiful sound was heard.

After checking the sound, he muttered. “It’s tuned properly.”

“Is that so..?”

(Maybe the old man does that from time to time...)

A faint smile floated to Yujiro’s mouth.

It wasn’t a smirk that he was used to, but a real smile seemed to spill across his face naturally.

When Aizou plays the guitar, he has so much fun that he forgets the time. The case was probably the same with Yujiro.

He remembered saying there was no environment to play.

(And you put up with it...)

Aizou left the piano and moved to the sofa.

The windows were closed, so he wasn’t worried about sound leaking out.

While listening to the melody that was being played, he picked up and turned over a music magazine.

The sound was soft and gentle. He had the same thoughts when Yujiro played in the store.

Aizou shifted his eyes to the piano.

He couldn’t see his face as he played, as he could only see his back. The person who was difficult to understand and was often indifferent.

(He’s the same as me...maybe)

Aizou liked music. He liked dancing. They were always competing with each other because they didn’t want to lose what they liked.

Maybe for that simple reason...

Aizou looked back at the magazine and turned the page.

He’ll let him keep playing until he felt like stopping.

It was okay to give the room to Yujiro for today.

_

Yujiro hadn’t felt the feel of a piano in a long time.

When he was heading to the station after stopping by the CD shop, he saw the piano in the musical instrument store. He suddenly wanted to hear the sound, though he normally just passed by. So he opened the store door.

(If I knew he was there, I wouldn’t have entered...)

As he played with his fingers, he remembered the surprised face of Aizou.

Yujiro was also surprised at what he was doing.

Apparently, this was Aizou’s favorite hideaway.

And the room was clean and tidy. There was even a blanket, which probably meant he slept here too. The wall seemed to be soundproof, so he could practice his guitar.

The piano was old and the lid of the keyboard was scratched in some places, but otherwise it was in good condition.

He started attending piano class before he entered elementary school.

Before entering the Someya house, there was a piano in the living room of the house he lived in, and he would always sit in front of it and play.

The piano was the first thing that taught him the joy of music.

He had been in the classroom for a few years before he entered his current home, but he never had time to practice.

Besides, he didn’t have a piano at his house now. He hasn’t touched a keyboard since he stopped.

“Would you like to play it?”

When he was asked this by Aizou, he didn’t reply immediately. He was at a loss. It’d been so long.

However, when he started playing, his fingers moved naturally. It seemed he didn’t forget how to play.

When he was a kid, he was always so absorbed in playing it.

But then there were many others things he needed to do and focus on. He devoted himself to practicing the performing arts. He didn’t want to play anymore.

When he passed in front of the musical instrument store, he saw the piano and suddenly remembered the sound.

The light tone he always listened to.

He wanted to play it, so he had gone inside.

The moment he touched the keyboard, the first feeling that came up was the feeling of love he always felt when he was a kid.

He shouldn’t have given it up for the sake of the performing arts.

People don’t easily forget what they loved doing.

However, the urge probably came because he didn’t have to put up with that anymore. He didn’t have to be tied to his house anymore.

(By the way, what is he doing..?)

It was quiet and Aizou wasn’t talking. Yujiro was worried, and his fingers stopped. He turned around and looked at the sofa. Aizou was lying down.

(He’s sleeping...)

There was a music magazine on the floor.

When Yujiro took out his cell phone and checked the time, he saw it’d been more than two hours since he came here.

He didn’t have a sense of time when he was absorbed in what he was doing. He thought it’d only been about thirty minutes.

The incoming call history from his mother remained. She needed help with the house.

A small, melancholic sigh spilled. It was unavoidable.

He gently closed the keyboard lid and stood up.

He needed to go home now.

He walked by the sofa and called out. “Hey.”

Maybe he was sleeping soundly. He didn’t wake up immediately. Yujiro put his hands on his hips.

(Why...why am I...)

He could kick him off, but decided to use that as a last resort.

He reached out and called his name.

“Get up...”

As soon as he shook his shoulders while leaning forward a little, Aizou suddenly sat up quickly.

There was no avoiding it. Their heads collided with a slam.

“It hurts!” They both screamed and held their bumped foreheads.

_

Yujiro and Aizou, who left the musical store room, were walking away from each other towards the station.

There was still a bump on his forehead.

Yujiro puffed his cheeks in annoyance.

“Never go over to me again...” Aizou glared at him.

“I don’t want to go in there! Not even one step!”

“Why are you angry? You headbutted me!”

“No, the first thing you did was wake up headbutting me!”

Aizou frowned. “Ha?!”

(I won’t wake you up anymore..!)

Yujiro made a face and touched his sore forehead.

“You stone head!”

Both of them got more moody.

“A stone head that was hit by a mammoth in a previous life!”

They both stopped and glared.

They turned away and walked in different directions.

Their destination was the same station, but he couldn’t stand being with him any longer.

Yujiro looked back after walking a bit, and Aizou looked back at the same time.

Yujiro stuck his tongue out as hard as he could towards Aizou, who looked annoyed.

_

As soon as school was over, Aizou headed to the musical instrument store as usual. He thought he’d play guitar for a while because there were no lessons.

“Yujiro’s in the room.”

When Aizou stopped at the store, Morita-san told him this.

Aizou wrinkled his eyebrows as if to say “huh?”

“Hijacked...”

Even though he declared he would never come here again, Yujiro still came on days off from lessons. Thanks to that, Aizou couldn’t enter.

It was Aizou who rented that room. There was no need to refrain, but they’d be together in the same room.

“Yes, I made a new key and gave it to him.”

“Why?!” Aizou put both hands on the counter.

“Is it inconvenient? You should always come.”

“That’s why I’m in trouble if I can come anytime!”

“Are you practicing together?”

“I never practice with him!”

“You two will be idols. Is it any different?”

Aizou struggled with his words. “It isn’t different...”

Morita-san retired to the office, saying “well, make sure you get along well.”

(It was my only room...)

Really though, Morita-san was kind enough to lend it to him. So he really can’t complain about Yujiro coming.

(If I didn’t tell you about that room...)

He supposed he could keep playing.

Aizou’s mom wouldn’t come back today, and school will be closed tomorrow, so he was going to stay here. He could practice guitar when Yujiro leaves.

“It can’t be helped, huh...”

Sighing, Aizou sat on the chair Morita-san had been sitting. He took out his headphones and mobile phone from his bag and started playing songs.

He flipped through a catalog.

[heckyeahponyscans]

Yeloli Watch Party!

Season 1, Episode 5: Solitary Shelly

English translation

We start with Shelly heading down the alley, following the magic flower petals to the Yeloli Doll Shop.

The end of the alley is incredibly narrow and the shop is in a cul-de-sac. I love this little detail.  A cut off, quiet space in an urban environment--now that is how you set up magic.

Shelly is drawn to the doll shop, which still has Loli in the window, whoops. (Maybe she’s just visiting.) 

Heading into the shop, Shelly meets Evelyn and tells her the dolls are beautiful.

Shelly also talks about how lonely she is;  her studies and extra lessons mean she has no time to make friends and her parents are rarely home.  She has quite a lot of dolls at home, but they aren’t the same as a friend.

Evelyn says these dolls can be a friend.  But a doll and owner much mutually choose each other before leaving the shop.

Then Evelyn uses her magic to open the doll cabinets.  This lady is not circumspect, but I guess she doesn’t have to be.

So when I first saw this scene I thought it was weird how unsettling it was, instead of being a magic moment of awe for Shelly.  Then I translated the subtitles and you won’t believe what happened next (not clickbait).

What you are seeing here is a bunch of dolls rejecting Shelly. 

 “She’s rich, I’ll bet she’s a spoiled girl.” 

“She’s proud and indifferent, not my choice.” 

 “Didn’t she say she had some dolls already? She would ignore me.”  

And Shelly can hear all this, mind you.  Like, wow dolls.  You could just say “no thanks”, you don’t have to roast the poor girl.

So after all that Evelyn says, “I’m sorry, no one chose you.” and Shelly says, “Even dolls don’t want to be my friend. :( “

But then, just as Shelly is resigning herself to a life of loneliness, a mysterious voices says, “I will be your friend!  Only a perfect girl like you is allowed to be my owner.  I will make you happy!”

The voice is coming from a magic peacock feather, which leads Shelly down the hall.  (The animation on the peacock feather is phenomenal.)

Following the feather, Shelly enters a room full of more dolls, including a peacock themed one, who Evelyn introduces as . . . Peacock!

This doll is significant in that it’s the only that really got me interested in Yeloli dolls. What a beautiful design.

Anyway, Shelly and Peacock have a conversation--like, astrally, in a floaty magical liminal space--and Peacock kicks it off by saying, “Hi. I choose you.”  If only Ash had had it this easy with Pikachu.

Evelyn brings Shelly back to reality and tells her, “Peacock is stubborn and arrogant at times. The other dolls think she is proud and indifferent, but actually she is very lonely.”

Of course Shelly immediately identifies with this.

Unlike Mary, Shelly has plenty of money so she asks to buy Peacock.  But Evelyn doesn’t sell dolls.  Evelyn makes magic contracts from magic books.

Books that already have your personal info in them!  (Shelly asks how Evelyn knew her name and Evelyn says, “A doll told me.” Nice.)

I think the Yeloli contract thing is supposed to tie-in to the brochure that comes with the dolls, which has a space for kids to write their names, like the adoption certificate that used to come with Pound Puppies.

Anyway, Shelly agrees to the terms (being sole owner of the doll and never giving it away) and she happily leaves the store with Peacock.

At least she’s happy until she gets back to the car, where the driver frets that she missed her piano lesson.  Give the kid a break, she was getting a magic doll.

Shelly returns home, where she is sad to find she is returning to an empty house . . . again.  Her workaholic parents are never home, and she dreams of returning to the simpler days where they . . . ate whole turkeys together.

It’s especially devastating that they’re missing today . . . on her BIRTHDAY!  Dun dun dun!

So Shelly is crying on her bed, sobbing “I wish my parents would come home”, and oh hey there’s a wish-granting fairy in earshot.

Almost instantly there’s the sound of the front door--it’s Shelly’s Dad!  Followed a minute later by Shelly’s Mom!

A couple things about this scene:  

At first I was nervous that Peacock had magicked up fake replacement parents but no, they’re Shelly’s real mom and dad.

Peacock cancelled Dad’s meeting and Mom’s rehearsal to get them to come home.  Which is, uh, very utilitarian but kind of depressing that the parents weren’t motivated by suddenly remembering their daughter’s birthday or something.

Finally, I’m picking up some tension in the marriage.

Like, when Mom comes through the door this is Shelly’s expression.

And this is dad’s expression.

Then Shelly happily grabs them by the hands, but I can’t help but notice the parents are physically distant from each other and there’s a painting in the background that symbolically makes it look like there’s a big rift between them.

Time will tell if I’m reading too much into this!

For now, they are going to enjoy the cake that Shelly’s mom picked up.  You can tell China has different copyright laws because they sing the entirety of “Happy Birthday” (in Chinese, but same tune).

Shelly’s mom tells her to make a wish, and Shelly does.  For being a rich kid, her wish is quite modest and attainable:  “I would like to make friends at school with my classmates, and also to be able to have ice cream after class.”

Oh wait, it’s not attainable at all because Shelly’s mom is fucking furious.  How DAAAARE Shelly want to socialize and have a life??  Her destiny is to practice the piano at all waking hours so she can become a famous concert pianist like her mother.

Shelly immediately capitulates because she’s clearly used to having her dreams crushed.

Is the dad going to challenge this viewpoint?  No, he also wants Shelly to become a famous concert pianist and he gives her a piano music box for her birthday.  Go to hell, Shelly’s dad.

Shelly at least likes the music box and takes it to her bedroom where she reflects that she’s very happy that her parents came home early.

“But how did they get home so quickly? It's as if a fairy had granted my wish.”

From her box Peacock says, “Yes, it was me”, to which Shelly’s like “HWHAAAT?  I hear a VOICE??”

I really don’t get this; Peacock has talked to Shelly multiple times already.

We finish off with the narrator asking us, the audience, who’s talking to Shelly. We know who’s talking to Shelly, narrator!! Get it together!

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

Justice

ao3 link

They weren’t supposed to be here this long. 

Even after they forgot everything else, that thought still lingered in their minds. Too long. We’ve been here too long. There was something, something dangerous about being out too long… we have to go home. 

Where’s home? 

Sometimes at night the eldest would remember a little bit. Never enough to stay come morning, but enough to make him wonder. Hands brushing over his fur, whispers about something of theirs being blocked off, disrespected. “So we’re sending you, and if you do a good job…” There was some kind of promise there, a promise he knew was important but slipped away about twenty years into their imprisonment. But it was important enough that they’d all agreed, and waited for their opportunity to start the mission. They couldn’t get there until a path opened up for them, and it took two of the planet’s years for them to make their way to the right time, the right place, close enough to where the offense occurred that they could finally deliver consequences. 

They got there, and did what they were supposed to do; deliver punishments, not torment. The three of them, they were judges, not criminals. Unfortunately, the hard part came when they couldn’t exactly explain their mission. These people’s small minds couldn’t pick up on it, or maybe some kind of magical block was going on. But that was fine, they could continue messing with them until they figured it out and made it right. And it was easy- they kept getting slighted for the smallest things, so they’d “slight” these people right back. 

Sometimes it wasn’t even intentional, but when they saw people get angry, they figured out how to roll with it. They could roll with anything, really, that was how they were. Sometimes they just wanted to play, spend their time with these people in as fun a way as possible; they were children, after all. But then the people would get angry over nothing, and then the siblings would sigh and roll up their metaphorical sleeves in order to teach them a lesson, as they were meant to do. 

They figured out the rules of this world pretty quickly- comedy was the basis of everything. If something was funny, it could happen, any other physics be damned. Which worked out great for the trickster siblings, especially since so rarely did anything or anyone die, meaning they could keep their mission going as long as necessary. 

It ended up going longer than they wanted, though. Longer than they could have ever wanted. Their kind didn’t like waiting, after all, but then they had no choice. 

It took the humans about a year to find a place that trapped them effectively, and even then, it was a mistake on their part- they didn’t know why this worked and the others didn’t, they just assumed it was luck or a stroke of genius, if they had a big enough ego. But it started with the siblings running, running, running, and then they were mid-air, a net keeping them up, and then they were in a tall tower, a small tower, and they were let out, and they thought this might be a fun new room to play in, like they’d been playing with everyone the last year, and then the door slammed shut. 

They didn’t notice at first, barely cared. They weren’t afraid of closed doors yet. They messed around with each other a little, and then got bored, and then the oldest tried to open the door and found that it was stuck. He pushed more, and then tried to manipulate the rules of this world to get out. He threw himself at the door, threw his brother at the door, pulled a piano out of a bag to throw against it, did dramatic leans and half-hearted witty remarks. But then the hours kept wearing on, and his siblings sat against the wall and asked when the door was going to open, and after what might have been an eternity and might’ve only been a few minutes, he had to admit that it might not. 

That was the thing about time here, while they were trapped. It could’ve been a century, it could’ve been a week. It was no time at all and all the time in the world at the same time. They weren’t of this world, but were trapped inside, had been fitting in with the flow of things. And they were very close, so close, to the way home, but it was just out of reach. Just close enough to mess up everything they tried to do, and just far enough to keep them trapped. 

For a long time, they tried everything to get out. But the saws the middle child tried to use on the floor simply shattered, and the windows the youngest tried to paint wouldn’t open up and let them out. The eldest had been taught, before they left, how to teleport them where they needed to go, but it only worked under certain planetary formations, in certain times. He almost never guessed right, and when he did, they’d be thrown somewhere that was worse- three-hundred years in the past and halfway across the planet, unable to transport again another month, for instance. And then when they’d be able to teleport again, they’d be back in the cage, like no time at all had passed. Maybe it hadn’t, maybe they’d just been dreaming of their last escape. 

Years went by, years and years of the youngest wondering if someone would come to visit and the middle asking why they didn’t have food, shouldn’t someone be feeding them, and the eldest spending nights, while his siblings were asleep, trying to get that door to open. Years passed by, but the children didn’t age, neither mentally nor physically. This wasn’t their world, they wouldn’t grow here. Like a seed, planted in the wrong soil, they’d remain forever underground- or, in this case, high aboveground and unable to break free. 

At some point, he couldn’t remember when, the eldest child tried to make things better. This was all another game, he told his siblings. It was like hide and seek, and eventually the humans would find them and let them out and then they could finish their mission. 

The middle was already forgetting the mission by that point, but he’d never been one for attention to detail, he just liked to have fun, and they’d been having fun the last year. They would have fun, or they’d give misfortune to someone who deserved it. They hadn’t done anything wrong. The eldest must be right, this must be another game. When the humans came, they’d tell them that they didn’t like the game anymore, and they’d whack the ones in charge with a hammer as punishment or something, and then move on. 

The youngest remembered for longer, her mind had always been analytical, more focused. She’d wanted to complete the mission faster, to get back what was theirs and then return home for… she felt like they’d left something behind, sometimes, even after she forgot about home, sometimes in her sleep she’d mumble that they’d forgotten something or someone for so long, too long. 

The eldest tried to keep them distracted, and it took maybe a decade for it to work. Though the universe’s rules would not allow them to escape, it would allow them to fill the tower with what they wanted. If it was funny enough, the youngest could pull a book out of midair to whack her brother with, and then they’d have a book to read. The eldest would complain that they didn’t have a bed, and then the middle would be able to pull a triple bunk out of the wall. They worked around the rules of the universe, worked around their imprisonment to at least make it a bit more like home. Every now and again they’d switch things up- now the tower is a huge trainyard, now it’s got a lot of different rooms, now it’s a dance hall. 

Their hopes of being released, of this all being a mistake or a game, however, got crushed very, very suddenly and horribly. It had been a few years when they were first let out, but there was no giggles of “You’re It!” or “Found you, finally!” or even the most yearned-for “We’re sorry, we’re fixing it.” Instead, the door was thrown open, and they were grabbed and shoved into a net and tossed down the tower, into the arms of a guard, who tossed them into a room. The middle bit a hole in the net so they could escape, and they ran to the office of the man in charge, and told them they were just about done with the tower, thank you very much. The man in charge then just laughed, and they were happy, this was a game after all! 

And then he told them that they made no sense, they didn’t fit with the world, with its people. They couldn’t follow orders, they couldn’t talk to people without scaring them, they couldn’t listen. They were disobedient, they were chaotic, they were broken. Wrong. Different. 

He yelled this for a long time, and the eldest tried to stand tall, to look defiant, so that when the man quieted he could yell back. The middle stared at the wall, then the desk, then the floor, trying to keep his mind on anything else, so he didn’t have to hear that they’d done a bad job, they were here to do a job, they’d been doing it, didn’t this man understand? Or were they the ones who got it wrong? The youngest, meanwhile, started to cry, hiding behind her brothers and burying her face in their arms, shaking and trying to ask if it was true, if they were really hated. They weren’t supposed to be hated. They shouldn’t be hated, they couldn’t be hated… 

The guard came back and managed to grab the middle, and ran off with him, and the siblings had to follow. They wouldn’t leave their brother, not alone, not after they’d only had each other for so long. And so when the middle ended up back in the tower, they ran in after him, and shook as the door slammed again. 

The tower, they realized, had only been opened to be cleaned, so that it didn’t smell, so that the humans weren’t bothered by it. Nobody cared about the siblings in there. Not one person. 

The youngest and middle cried for a very long time, to the point where the tower was filled with water as it once had been. And then the eldest, who himself was feeling like his heart had plummeted into the depths of hell below them, used the universe’s laws again, pulling a raft out of nowhere for them to lay in. 

He hugged them and told them first that this didn’t matter, they weren’t here to make friends, just to make things right. The youngest said that they’d thought they were communicating, though, they’d thought that people were listening to them, were having fun with them! The middle said that there must have been a reason they were hated, it must have been something they did, something unfair and cruel, what had they done to deserve this? The youngest asked why the adults hadn’t just told them they were doing something wrong, the middle asked why this world was so confusing and why their job wasn’t done yet. 

The eldest didn’t have any answers, so he took a deep breath and told them that, okay, this world was a bit… wrong. Clearly the people didn’t even know what they were, what they were dealing with. So when they got out, they’d punish them more. For locking away their judges, mistreating the ones who were there to guide them onto the right path. But even that didn’t work, because his siblings no longer cared about their mission, they just wanted to be free again. 

The middle spoke, then. And though they all forgot the words later, the eldest was still haunted by them, even after he long lost the ability to remember why. 

“Why have we been here so long? Shouldn’t they have come looking for us?”

And once again, there was no answer for him. So the eldest simply smiled and started talking. About anything, nothing- a joke, perhaps, or a story. Just kept talking, kept them distracted. And soon they were asleep, and then the next morning their tears had dried and he had set up a new room for them to play in. To make the best of things. Make the best of things. Make the best of things. Make… 

The forgetting began then. Maybe it was just because of how long they’d been trapped in this world, maybe it was their proximity to freedom denied to them, or maybe it was just a way to protect themselves. To make things a little better, to convince themselves that they wanted to be here, that there was nothing else they had to do, this was home, this was fine, everything was fine.

The youngest, of course, forgot first, and the middle not long after. The eldest hung on as tightly as he could, but after thirty or forty years it slipped from him, too. He remembered a few things, like how to teleport- except they always ended up somewhere strange and then were back in the tower. He remembered, and reminded his siblings, that they didn’t just cause pain, they delivered justice, even as his memories slid and this became less of a job and more of a moral obligation. He remembered the rules of this world, so that he could pull a television out of nowhere once it was invented, in order to discover what was happening in this world, or to entertain them with something, or so that he could change the tower room to keep them from getting bored with their environment. He remembered that the adults were mean, that nobody ever listened to them, and that… they had a job to do? But what was that job? It slipped from him eventually, but he did feel like there was something they had to do. The man in charge said they were supposed to work for the people on whose land they were on, but were they? Maybe? Maybe not? What were they doing here? 

They didn’t just forget their job, they forgot their world, too. About fifteen years in, when the youngest could no longer remember what their old house looked like, how high she could swing on the tree in the backyard, she had sobbed between her brothers until she fell asleep. And then fifteen years after that, she didn’t even remember they had an old world at all. It didn’t take long for that fact to slip from her brothers as well. They spent so long in the tower, in this world, that it was becoming their world. 

Where else did they have to go? Who else did they have to go home to? Who, indeed; the youngest asked one day, “We’re siblings, so where are our parents? The rest of our family?” And the eldest had a flash, a memory of loving hands and soft songs and people like them, who looked and acted like them and knew who they were… and then the flash was gone, and he shrugged, and said that the people who owned the tower seemed to have created them. 

Every now and again they’d be let out while the tower was cleaned again, but they didn’t try to be nice this time, they simply ran, found something to entertain them, someone to grant justice to. But then someone would get them back in the tower, and they’d be alone again. Once, just a few years before the doors failed, they’d literally been sold off for a limited time, dragged away in a net to work until their employers got upset with their chaos and sent them back, back to the tower. By this point, they didn’t even hate the cage anymore, it was the closest thing to home they had. 

And every now and again, a memory of someone lost or left behind would come into the eldest’s memory, during these excursions. When they’d be yelled at for not listening, even though they thought they had been, he’d get another flash, of someone who might’ve been their father or uncle or brother, teaching them to play with a toy while they listened so their mind didn’t wander. Someone would tell them they were strange, and the eldest would put a hand on his sister’s shoulder and remember a woman who might have been a mother or grandmother or cousin putting a hand on his own shoulder, telling him that she understood. He would see his brother flap his hands with excitement, and a voice in his head would say that someone used to do that, too, and would jump up and down with them in the garden when they were excited, flapping their hands as if they were wings. He would see his sister curtsey and introduce herself, a smirk on her face saying that this rude person they’d encountered would be playing with them soon, and he’d feel a familiarity in her announcing that she had a family name- yes, someone had her name before, her names before? But then those thoughts would disappear, and he’d forget again. 

And once they forgot what they were there for, they struggled to make sense of it. Why were they in the tower again? Why were people so mad at them all the time? Why did these people feel like the siblings just weren’t right? No, it must be the people who were wrong, it mustn’t be them… after all, the youngest and middle reasoned, they liked themselves fine, and they liked each other, so they couldn’t be wrong. The eldest, whose self-love would wax and wane, just nodded along, and then told them they were the best siblings in the world and hugged them tight and wouldn’t let go. 

It was about sixty-three years before there was a burst of magic- not much. Not enough to take them home, not when they couldn’t remember or recognize it. But there was a burst of magic, and the tower door opened, and the siblings waited a moment, to see if someone would run in with a net or rope. But then nobody did, and they realized the door was truly open, and they wasted no time in running out. 

They couldn’t remember a mission, a job they had to do. They only remembered this world, what they had learned here, and that the adults didn’t listen. And they remembered their obligation- they were not here to hurt, but to deliver justice. So they’d try to make things better, to play with the humans, to find some fun, to make a friend or two. Occasionally they found someone who understood them, some of the workers around who were pretty close to them- in fact, the siblings had been mistaken for these workers upon their arrival, not that they really noticed- and thus understood them. But these workers were often busy, and would go home at night, and had their own lives to live. The other workers, and the other people living in this world, were either openly hostile or just completely unaware of how to deal with these children. Either way, the siblings couldn’t find someone who’d stay with them. 

They got close a few times- a few people who tolerated them most, but even then, they’d do something they found fun, perhaps with a bit of magic or universe-bending, and then those people would be angry or scared, and then it was back to square one. They seemed to always be stuck at square one. And now they couldn’t even remember why. 

They did remember how alone they felt in the tower, though. So the youngest ran for attention, rushing for validation and demanding that she be respected and adored, asking for others to tell her that she was adorable, she was lovely, she was brilliant, she was good. The middle would eat whatever he could find, remembering how they’d had no food in the tower and one day that door would close and be stuck again and he’d better eat whatever he could while he was out. The eldest would try to talk, to keep the people of the world entertained. If they were entertained, if the world thought he was funny, he wouldn’t be locked away, his siblings wouldn’t be locked away, everything would be fine. They were there to entertain, to have fun, to deliver justice, and… nothing else, right? They’d been created by this world, this was their world, there was nothing else they had to do. Nobody else to go back to. If they had family, they must be gone, or they’d have found them. Someone would have found them. 

They’d even forgotten how close and far freedom was from them. Because the door was no longer stuck, and they had nowhere to go, they’d sleep in the tower still, it was home now, the only home they could remember. So they didn’t know that their goal, their ticket home, was right beneath them, that they’d been sent here because of the tower, and so the fact it was their home now was sort of ironic. They might find it funny if they remembered. 

The tower had been built over their family circle, one of the many circles of the fae. Those were not to be disrespected, to be built over and disrupted. If the tower was destroyed completely, if the pavement ripped up, the circle would open and so would the way home, to the land of the fae who lived between time and space, between worlds, delivering justice with their tricks and twisting words. 

And home was waiting, beneath the tower, wondering why the Warner siblings hadn’t yet returned. How long did time pass on Earth, anyway? Shouldn’t Yakko, Wakko and Dot be home by now? 

They should be home by now. They weren’t supposed to be here this long.

[minyoonmeme]

Normalcy of the Pretty Posse

Chapter 4

Word count: 3232

Pairing: Jeongguk x reader, ??? x reader

Description: Stupid Jeongguk and his cute sweaters and pretty posse of hyungs

Genre/Warnings: Min Yoongi is not very good at meeting people, but Park Jimin is. 

Tag List: @luvtaeha @holaaaf 

Previous Next

masterlist

“Do you know what’s going on?” 

“Nope.”

Jeongguk and Hoseok whispered to one another huddled over a family size bag of chips, crumbs falling each time they shifted. Their eyes danced between (Y/N) to Yoongi while they mindlessly shoveled chips into their mouths. Yoongi had let Jeongguk and (Y/N) into the studio twenty minutes ago and beyond introductions not much had happened. Hoseok almost pouts from disappointment. Where's the flare? The dramatics? Why hasn’t Yoongi pissed himself yet from nervousness? 

“Are you love birds gonna stand outside holding hands or are you gonna come in before you waste time?” Hoseok’s grip on the door was light as he narrowed his stance and let the two past him. “Hi (Y/N), you look cute today. Jeongguk you look cute too, I guess.” Hoseok smiled to himself as (Y/N) skirted past him with an embarrassed smile. Jeongguk followed suit with a wave to Yoongi, who was too occupied trying to make himself look busy, and a pinch to Hoseok’s arm for the added embarrassment. 

“You speak Korean right?”

“Hyung!” Yoongi barely spared Jeongguk a glance as he glanced toward (Y/N) from his seat. Yoongi noted that she was a small thing with her head barely past Jeongguk’s shoulder. Her head bobbed up and down before she fell into a bow. 

“Hello, My name is (Y/N). I’m a commercial music and production major at KNU. It’s nice to meet you, please take care of me.”

Yoongi blinked a few times and shook his nearly empty coffee before responding. “So.. do you speak Korean or..?”

“Hyung, she just spoke Korean!”

“Jeongguk-ah, you and I both know she could have prepared that.”

“She goes to a Korean university in the middle of Seoul, I highly doubt that.”

Yoongi gave a small shrug before reaching his hand out. “You shake hands where you’re from right? I’m Min Yoongi. It's nice to meet  you.”

Hoseok was loving every second as he watched from the couch. 

“Should we say something?” Jeongguk watched as (Y/N) tapped her fingers against the table. Jeongguk recognized a few familiar hand positions from the few piano lessons Yoongi had reluctantly given him his sophomore year. 

“I don’t know. I’m kind of intimidated right now. Hyung looks like he wants to jump out a window or run out the door any minute now.” Jeongukk shrugged and leaned closer to Hoseok crumbling the chips between them in the process. 

“It would be great if we could hear what they were listening to instead of listening to each other finish an entire bag of chips. Did you know you eat with your mouth open? Fucking heathen, I didn’t raise you this way.” Jeongguk smacked his greasy crump covered hand across Hoseok’s shoulder for that. Hoseok just whines and rubs at the spot tenderly. 

Yoongi and (Y/N) sat adjacent to one another as Yoongi’s soundboard desk shuffling through the drive she had brought. Yoongi had asked (correction: forced) Hoseok to wheel in another chair for (Y/N) to sit in while they listened, but her feet barely reached the floor as she swung them back and forth with nerves. Jeongguk was sure she was overwhelmed as Yoongi usually chose to sit in silence while he listened to tracks and Yoongi’s silence was nothing short of intense. A plain matte black pair, a pair Yoongi had pulled out from a random drawer, sat on top of her head just slightly too big. Jeongguk had never seen the pair before and felt a small flutter on his stomach at the thought that Yoongi had bought a new pair for her to use. He knew Yoongi tended to shy away from leading or teaching, but felt grateful his hyung was willing to even try. The flutter had nothing to do with the fact that he thought she looked cute as the headphones slipped around repeatedly off of her head. Nope, none at all.

“How many songs has it been? Like 6? My back is starting to hurt from this couch. Hyung should really get another one.” 

“It’s uncomfortable for a reason, you brat. How long are you trespassers going to keep talking?” Jeongguk and Hoseok jumped up, effectively smacking their heads against one another at the sudden voice. Both met Yoongi’s stare as he looked over his left shoulder, one ear free from his headphones.

“Sorry, Hyung we’ll stay quiet.” Hoseok nodded along with Jeongguk’s words, even going so far as to mime zipping his lips closed and tossing a key over his shoulder. 

Yoongi rose his eyebrows up before lifting his headphones off of his head with a deep breath. (Y/N) followed suit, although slightly more hesitantly. “You guys can leave, actually.” 

Jeongguk’s eyes darted over to (Y/N) as he watched her body freeze. The hand that had been tapping chords onto the table unplugged her headphones before stiffly beginning to neatly wrap the cord. He wished he knew what was going on in her head as he watched her eyes dart back and forth along the floor. His hand itches to stop her small trembles as she reached to pull out the usb drive. 

“Yoongi-hyung don’t you think you’re being too harsh. It’s only been like twenty minutes...”

Yoongi threw a confused look at Hoseok before spinning his chair fully to face the couch behind him. “I kick you guys out of my studio like twice a week, this is nothing new. Now out.” Yoongi emphasized the “now” with a flick of his chin towards the door before turning back to his monitors. He hadn’t even acknowledged (Y/N). 

Hoseok loved his friend, he did, but watching Jeongguk beat himself for bringing (Y/N) here made his skin boil. A look at (Y/N) left him even more mad. Her shoulders were squared inward as she shoved her things into her bag as quickly and quietly as possible. They weren’t close in any way, but Hoseok had grown up with a sister and hated seeing anyone, especially girls, cry.  

“Fine. we’re leaving you hermit. Don’t think we won’t be having a talk about this later when you get home.” Hoseok heaved Jeongguk up from the couch by his elbow and did the same for (Y/N). Their eyes met and Hoseok mentally cursed in his head for Yoongi’s asshole tendencies. He knew Yoongi wasn’t an actual asshole, nor was he intending to be mean, but this just is how Yoongi was. ‘All think, few words' is how Hoseok described Yoongi’s communication style or lack thereof. Yoongi could feel a million things and somehow sum it up in twenty offensive words or less. Looking at her again Hoseok leaned down and whispered, “Let’s get some ice cream, yeah? My treat!” His heart eased little when a small smile and a squeeze to his hand on her elbow were returned. 

“Where are you going?” Yoongi looked up from his now blank monitor confused and blinked in (Y/N)’s direction. All think, few words indeed.

Jeongukk, Hoseok, and (Y/N) looked between each other. Jeongguk had his head wrapped around the door’s handle ready to storm out toddler style while Hoseok’s hand slid from her elbow to her wrist. 

(Y/N) shook a little while she stuttered, “I thought that you-- I mean you said to--” 

“I thought you said you could speak Korean?”

“I can! I’m-uh just confused, I think. You said to get out?”

Yoongi met her eyes for a few seconds before furrowing at the ground. “I meant them. Why would I kick you out? That’s dumb.” 

(Y/N)’s hand swung to Hoseok's wrapped around her elbow and threw him a brief bright smile. Hoseok, confused but slowly understanding the situation, smiled back just as big and gave their hands a small shake in victory. Another crisis avoided, he supposed.

“You’re right, I’m sorry for misunderstanding Yoongi-shii! Where were we? Let me get my hard drive back out!” 

Yoongi handed her a reconnected pair of headphones, keeping his hand out for the usb drive she had taken back. Her hands left hoseok as she excitedly ruffled through her bag. The usb fell onto the open palm before her as she threw the headphones over her ears. She made sure to throw a smile and thumbs up to Jeongguk still standing by the door. Crisis very much so avoided, actually.

Hoseok patted (Y/N)’s head before grabbing Jeongguk’s elbow in tow. “We should probably get out before Yoongi-hyung starts throwing pens at us. I think he started sharpening them down after Jin-hyung took an HDMI cord.” 

Jeongguk opened his mouth to reject Hoseok’s idea, but was interrupted by (Y/N) spinning her chair away from the soundboard to face him halfway. “I’ll text you when I’m done and let you know how it went okay?” Jeongguk nodded, mouth a little too dry from the smile lingering on her lips, and tried to return it. “Bye Hoseok-shii, we can get ice cream later maybe? Bye Jeonggukk-oppa!” 

Hoseok kept his giggles in as he dragged a flustered Jeongguk out the door. 

_______________________________________________________________________

God he was intimidating…

Yoongi had chosen to forgo any excessive speaking and instead settled for minimal verbal explanations with lots of subtle grunts and pointing. It worked for a bit as Yoongi pulled up the tracks of my songs in a much more advanced version of Logic Pro than I owned. College budgets don’t really allow for excessive spending these days, ya know? 

“Uh Yoongi-shii, I really appreciate everything we’ve done today, but I have no idea what you’re saying right now.” Yoongi, I had noticed, tended to mumble and despite having spoken for Korean for a couple of years now satoori and mumbled things tended to make understanding someone very difficult. 

Yoongi looked at me sideways and blinked before taking a deep breath. He had looked more sure of himself when Hoseok and Jeongguk were here, so I chose not to mention how his shoulders seemed to move inward as he inched to face me. “You distorted this sample right?” I nodded in response. “Right, well I was just wondering why you added so much reverb if you’d already added distortion. It throws the whole thing off after the second verse, no flow really. You should probably scrap it and start over.” 

“Oh uh, I mean you’re right actually. It’s kind of an overkill. You’re very honest, Yoongi-shii.” 

I watched as Yoongi finished off the last of his now mostly water iced coffee with a nod. “You could say that.”

“In that case, I’ll be honest too. I think you’re being a little picky because you don’t know what you’re doing or what to do with me, specifically.” 

Yoongi narrowed his eyes and leaned backward in his chair, the joints squeaking slightly as he did so. So much for a cool guy move. “Picky? Did you expect me to graze over your mediocrity? I’m a professional kid, we don’t take mediocrity in the big world and Daddy’s money isn’t gonna get you far.” Yoongi whipped his hands on his pants as he clicked around. 

My arms tingled as a heaviness settled in my chest, something akin to disappointment and failure making a home. “Daddy’s money? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Yoongi turned and refused to look at me any longer. “It means I can smell the money rolling off of you and I don’t think working in a cafe can get you the program needed to mix music like this.” 

My chest felt heavier than before as I geared myself up to respond. “You’re right. That was expensive and maybe I do come from money, but that song was made in 2014 and I’ll have you know that I’ve been living on my own in Korea since I was fucking shipped off in 2015. I didn’t come here to get profiled Yoongi-shii, I came here because I thought you were a professional who knew how to scroll and find my recent tracks.” Fuck Min Yoongi if he thinks he can walk all over me.

Yoongi clenched his jaw with a slight tilt of his head to the side before visibly gulping down whatever was in his throat. His free hand meanwhile gripped the mouse and clicked into another folder. _______________________________________________________________________

To: JJK-Oppa 

Heading home now Yoongi-shii is weird and mean 

From: JJK-Oppa

How was it? I’m sorry about earlier by the way. Yoongi-Hyung isn't the best at expressing himself or talking really

To: JJK-Oppa

I figured as much, he seems harmless though just a little idk??? So much attitude in a tiny body Don’t tell him I said he’s tiny oh god I already kinda sorta maybe went off on him

From: JJk-Oppa

Secrets safe with me :) Why did you go off on him???  I’ll beat him up for you >:)

To: JJK-Oppa

Jeongguk-oppa, I don’t think you could hurt a fly but thank you <3 Do you think Hoseok-shi would still get me ice cream? I’ll give you all the juicy details later

From: JJK-Oppa

Hyung said he’s always down for ice cream We can pick you up..?

To: JJK-Oppa

Say less <3 

______________________________________________________________________

“(Y/N)! Over here!” My head flew right as I looked in the direction of the voice. Jeongguk stood half in the back door of a black SUV. I threw a hand up and waved back noticing he had changed from a casual oversized sweater and jeans to a matching baggy grey sweatsuit. 

“Hi Jeongguk-oppa, it’s nice to see you again.” I gave a small bow of my head before ducking beneath his arm holding the door open and sliding in. I released a happy sigh when I felt the heat coming from the vents. “Hi again Hoseok-shii, thank you for picking me up.” 

Hoseok and scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Back it up women, what’s this “Hoseok-shii” business all about? You call Jeongguk Oppa and not me? You’re soon to be dance captain too?”

I smiled and leaned forward to place my cheek against the side of his seat. My eyes fluttered and smiled up at him. “Would you like you to call you oppa hoseok-shii?” Hoseok turned to face me and pinched my other cheek with a scrunch of his nose

“You brat, it’s Hobi-Oppa now okay? You’re gonna be trouble. I can tell already.” I rolled my eyes and pulled his hand from my cheek before slumping back. “This is Jimin, by the way. He wormed his way into the car before we could stop him, so I apologize for anything he does beforehand. He is also trouble.” 

Jimin, for what it's worth, only smiled and turned from the passenger seat to smile at me as I buckled my seatbelt next Jeongguk. “I heard there would be free ice cream and gossip about Yoongi-hyung, so I had to come.” His eyes melted into crescents as his smile grew in a way that I can only describe as heart clenchingly cute. God dammit another member Jeongguk’s posse.

“It’s nice to meet you Jimin-shii. Free ice cream is the best kind of ice cream, so I don’t blame you for tagging along.” 

Jimin studied me for a few minutes with a small smile before Hoseok yelled at him for not wearing his seatbelt. 

“You think I want your dead body on my hands if we get into an accident? I’m all up for living on the edge Jimin, but please put your seatbelt on so Jin-hyung doesn’t have a heart attack, please.” 

“I’m too cute to be a corpse.” 

“I hate to break it to you, but being cute doesn’t constitute not dying Jimin.”

“God clearly has his favorites, look at me! I’ll be fine.”

“Do not tempt me into killing you with this car to prove you wrong. I’ll do it. (Y/N) tell him I’ll do it.” 

“(Y/N) sweetie, you stay out of this okay? Just sit there and hold Jeonggukie’s hand while Hobi-hyung and I sort this out.”

Jeongguk, most likely used to this kind of conversation, was glancing out the window in thought as a nudged him. Though the flush on his cheeks that matched mine told me that he was still listening. “Is this normal for you guys?”

“Hm? Oh you mean Hobi and Jimin hyung? Yeah, all of my hyungs bicker like old married couples. Says is what they get for raising me.” 

Before I could respond, Jimin was tapping my knee closest to him with a pout. “Ya! Weren’t you listening? (Y/N), you’ll call me Oppa right? Hobi-hyung and Jeonggukie aren't the only ones, right?” Hoseok and Jeongguk both scoffed from their seats.

My eyes widened as I gave a quick glance to Jeongguk only to receive a shrug in response. Just great, thanks for the help. “Uh yeah Jimin-shii, I guess I’ll call you oppa one day.” 

“One day?” Jimin scoffed and pinched my knee. “You call me Jimin-oppa right now, young lady. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other more often. Us cute people have to stick together against people like Hobi-hyung.” The hand that pinched my knee returned and gave it a few pats. My mouth hung open slightly before I nodded and fought off a few giggles as a response. 

Things settled down for a few minutes before Jugguk shifted in his seat away from me slightly. His head was no longer facing the window, but now towards his lap as he flipped his phone between his hands. I was happy to see him not ripping at his fraying sweater sleeves, but curious as to what was causing the furrow between his brows. The atmosphere was light as Jimina and Hoseok continued to bicker about ice cream shops, so his look only made me worry. I snuck a glance at the two up front and decided texting was probably better than announcing any worries out loud. Jeongguk seemed like the private type anyways.

To: JJK-Oppa

Everything okay?

Jeongguk blinked as his phone lit up with my text message. He read it before furrowing his eyebrows deeper at the screen. I motioned for him to text me back with a pout. 

From: JJK-Oppa

Why are you are texting me

To: JJK-Oppa

Do you not want me to text you? :( 

Jeongguk looks at the screen with wide eyes before shaking his head no at me. It’s dark but I can still see the pink dusting across his skin nonetheless. Cute.

To: JJK-Oppa

I’m kidding, but really what’s up? 

Jeongguk goes to type again, but freezes his fingers a couple of times before typing and erasing a few times. Trying not to overwhelm him and give him some peace, I look away to listen to Hoseok and Jimin talking about which chores are overdue at their place. A chime of my phone brings my attention back to my phone.

From: JJK-Oppa

It’s nothing

To: JJK-Oppa

It’s okay. Sprinkles make everything better :)

Jeongguk’s small giggle eases the worry in my chest and any residual hurt lingering from my meeting with Yoongi as his eyes crease at the ends. It’s then that I suddenly remember why Jeongguk and his friends were so well known around campus. He’s so pretty. I hear Hoseok and Jimin cackling from the front and give my chest a few pats as it races. Correction: they’re all pretty.

[A/N: Hello~ I feel very ehh about this one, but honestly props to me for putting this out despite working two jobs, being a full time student, AND being major depresso espresso lately. Let me know what you guys think!]

[cordonian-literature]

The Aftermath - Ch. 4

Emotions and Confrontations

Summary: Eleanor has a difficult week with her mother in the hospital, and Bastien asks Riley’s mother for some information

A/N: this one’s a bit of a long one

Word Count: ~5.0k

Warning: Mention of character death

*All characters belong to Pixelberry, except those that are unique to my story (I’ve also used some characters and fictional instances from Donna Tartt’s “The Goldfinch”)*

Catch up here!

Tags: @captain-kingliamsqueen​​ @marshmallowsaremyfavorite​​ @gkittylove99​​ @lovablegranny​​ @loudbluebirdlover​​ @mom2000aggie​​ @kingliam2019​​ @queenrileyrose​​ @shanzay44​​ @cordonianroyalty​​ @hopefulmoonobject​​ @hopelessromanticmonie​​ @cinnamonspongecake​​ @queenjilian​​ @kuladekiwi​​ @twinkle-320​​ @iaminlovewithtrr​​

- Eleanor -

Grandma had work on Sunday, which was the same day that the city was re-opened, so we went to the hospital before we went home. She put us in the care of a friendly nurse, Cheryl, who told us we had to sit in the ICU waiting room until Mama came back from her surgery. I was scared that she was gonna look different when she came out, like an ugly Frankenstein or Coraline’s Other Mother, but when her bed was wheeled back into the ICU, she only had a bandage wrapped around her head, covering her hairline. Besides the bandages and a bruise on her cheek, she was still my Mama.

Grandma had left us some cash in case we got hungry and wanted a snack or something from the cafeteria. I didn’t have an appetite, but I constantly asked Gabe to bring me to the vending machine (it was a little far from the ICU, and Grandma didn’t want us going by ourselves, so I had to go with him) and I would purposefully drag behind and take forever to choose something.

I could tell it annoyed him, but that wasn’t really what I was doing. I just hated being in the ICU. It wasn’t boring — we had our phones to play games on, there was a TV which the other people waiting let us have the remote for, and the nurses and doctors who passed by us would always try to start a conversation or give us sad smiles, which made me feel bad because I didn’t have the energy to smile back — it was just that sometimes the ICU felt a little scary. Looking at some of the other patients who were sick made me afraid that this was just a place they were storing Mama before she was going to go join Daddy. I didn’t want to be reminded to think about that, so every time I could I would ask Gabe to bring me to get a snack. I never ate them, and he would only take a bite before leaving it, so very soon the tables next to Mama’s bed were filled with junk food.

Grandma was upset about that. She said that if we didn’t like something we shouldn’t have gotten it. Thankfully, Gabe didn’t rat me out and say that I had made him bring me twelve times, so Grandma thought we just got twelve things at once. She talked to us about it in a gentle voice, but I still started crying and said that I hated it here. I had an audience, which made me nervous, so I hid my face in Grandma’s stomach. We said goodbye to Mama, even though she was still asleep, and went home.

When we got to our door, there was a man and a woman wearing dark suits waiting for us. Grandma told us to go to our rooms while she talked to them, and afterwards called us into the kitchen for dinner, where she told us that they wanted to remind us we would have to stay with her until Mama got better, and that Daddy's funeral was on Friday.

Grandma called our principal and told her that we weren’t going to be going to school for the rest of the week. I wasn’t upset about school, but what I didn’t like was that I would also have to miss my ballet classes and I wouldn’t be able to take piano lessons for the rest of the week, either.

I cried about it. I wanted to go. I wanted something to happen that was normal, something that I used to do before all of this. At least when I was dancing I would be able to pretend like Mama and Daddy were gonna pick me up together from the lobby. At least when I was in front of the piano with my teacher, Molly, next to me, I could pretend that Mama and Daddy were sitting somewhere behind me listening to me play.

On Monday, Mama was still unconscious, but the doctor said she was doing much better. Grandma’s shift was shorter that day, so she told us we would be visiting Daddy’s work to make sure everything was alright.

We walked into the office building through the revolving door. Gabe and I got into one section while Grandma was in the one behind us. When it was time for us to jump off, Gabe wouldn’t let me pass and began running to make the doors turn faster. It made me a little dizzy, but when Grandma told us to come out, Gabe and I tumbled out together and laughed. I realized it had been a while since I had seen him smile, and that made me sad again.

The receptionist says hello to Grandma and one of Daddy’s workers brought us towards the elevator and up to his office.

As soon as we step out of the elevator, I can see the inside of Daddy’s office through the room’s glass walls.

We pass through cubicles before reaching Daddy’s assistant’s desk, who looks at us with a smile.

“Mrs. Brooks! It’s nice to see you,” she says to Grandma. She looks down at Gabe and I and goes, “Hey there, kids! How are you two holding up?”

“We’re fine,” Gabe says and I manage a small smile.

“I would like a word with you, Ashley,” Grandma demands.

“Oh,” she exclaims. Though Ashley’s skin is dark, a deep pink appears on her cheeks, which I didn’t expect, and she begins to look around her desk nervously. “Yes, of course. Give me a moment.”

After she collects a few documents and folders, Ashley looks at my brother and I to say, “A co-worker’s birthday was today. There’s cake, donuts, and some juice over there. Why don’t you guys take a look?”

We nod our heads and walk off in the direction that Ashley pointed towards while her and Grandma walk into Daddy’s office.

In the room, people are talking to each other and they don’t notice us when we each grab a donut. Gabe pours himself some juice and asks me if I want any.

“Could you also give me a slice of cake, please?” I request.

“The knife for the cake is already there,” he tells me.

“Mama told me no knives. Remember what happened last Thanksgiving?” I laugh to myself.

“I wish I could forget what happened last Thanksgiving, but this knife is different, Ella, it’s more blunt. Just cut how big you want your slice and pull it out.”

He puts my apple juice on my plate, goes to grab his own plate and walk off, but I whine, “Pleaseeee?”

“Ella, I swear. Look, the pieces are already cut up! You can just grab it with your hands!”

“But....” I give a sad pout.

“Oh, God,” Gabe sighs and uses his fingers to grab a piece and put it on my plate. I look at it distastefully.

There’s frosting on his fingers. He licks it off, thinks for a second, and then grabs another piece to put on his own plate. Grabbing two forks he leads me to a couple chairs against the wall.

We sit down and eat. I finish my cake and my donut, and then ask Gabe to get us seconds while I get more apple juice. The table with all the food on it is near the door, and while I pour my drink I can see Grandma talking to Ashley. Ashley pulls out some papers from the pile she brought in and hands them to Grandma. She then goes into Daddy’s desk and pulls out some more papers. Grandma examines everything with a frown. She turns back towards Ashely and nods. She walks towards the door, but at the last second says something else to Ashley, who looks down at her feet. She replies, and Grandma seems disappointed.

“I wonder what they’re talking about,” I say.

“Grandma looks mad,” Gabe notices. “Do you know why?”

I shrug and go back to our seats.

Once Grandma finishes talking to Ashley, she comes over to us and tells us to eat quickly. Every worker in the room turns to give her a “Good afternoon, Mrs. Brooks,” or a polite nod.

On Tuesday, Grandma calls Molly, my piano teacher, and asks her to come in to give me a lesson. The night before I cried to my grandmother about how I wanted something to go back to normal, so I guess this was her way of giving me that.

When Molly came in, she gave me a long hug, then hugged Grandma and Gabe, too. After she had a short conversation with Grandma, she sat down in a chair next to my stool. Looking through my folder of music sheets, she couldn't decide what to give me.

“I know,” she says at last. “Why don’t you play your dad’s favorite piece? Remember how proud of you he was when you mastered it?”

I nod my head, but there are tears threatening to fall. I had never cried in front of Molly before. I didn’t want her to think that I was a baby who couldn’t get over anything. I wanted her to think that I was the girl who wanted to make her father proud, so I was determined to play it.

My fingers are stiff when I hit the first note. Molly doesn’t say anything. When I bring my right hand to play along, my fingers don’t flow — they just jab at the keys. I can tell my wrists are too stiff. Molly still doesn’t correct me.

Daddy wouldn’t have liked that. He would have wanted you to play better. And you can play better. So why aren’t you? Why can’t you do it for Daddy? Do you want him to be disappointed in you?

I stop playing and my hands hover over the keys. They’re cold and shaking.

“Ella?” Molly tries to get my attention.

My shoulders drop, and my arms fall to my sides. I shake my head, staring down at the keys, at the instrument I loved so much. I don’t cry, but Molly still brings me in for a hug.

Grandma has work again on Wednesday, but I wasn’t looking forward to going back to the ICU. I asked her if I could go with her to the part of the hospital that she was working at and be away from the ICU for a little bit, but Grandma convinces me: “When Mama wakes up, don’t you want to see her right away, instead of later, after Gabriel gets a chance to come and get you?”

Thankfully we didn’t have to go into the waiting room, but whenever a doctor or Cheryl wanted to check in on Mama, they’d ask us to stand on the other side of the curtain for a few moments.

Gabe and I don’t cry as much as we had been the past couple days, and I was proud of us for it. A while after we had been sitting there, Gabe gets out of his seat and sits on the edge of Mama’s bed, putting his head on her stomach. He doesn’t cry — just looks at her. I go to the other side of her bed and hold the palm of her hand. I begin to tell her about how the first half of this week has gone, and how much I miss talking to her and hearing her laugh at the jokes Gabe always said weren’t funny.

He sits up and laces his hand through her fingers. We both sit silently.

I turn my head around in surprise at the sound of the curtain moving. Mama’s doctor holds the curtain open for a tall man who stares at us. His blond hair was messy, like how Gabe’s got sometimes when he’d forget to brush it. He stands there and looks between Mama and us. The doctor motions for him to take a seat, and he walks towards it, but doesn’t sit down.

He’s too quiet. It made me nervous. The area under his eyes were dark, and I knew he hadn’t slept for at least two days. Daddy’s eyes did that sometimes, too.

I didn’t like him staring at us. I wanted to ask him what he was there for, but I try to be nice and say, “Hi. I’m Ella. This is Gabe. Are you here to see our mom?”

Finally he starts moving towards me, but his eyes were locked on Mama, so I move away and stand near Gabe.

He holds her hand. I hear him start crying. He kisses Mama’s knuckles in between his cries.

I’m almost mad. No one kissed Mama except for Daddy. And who was this man anyway? But seeing a grown man cry, waterfalls falling out of his eyes and his face scrunched, I start crying, too.

Gabe tries to comfort me, but my head jolts up when I hear the sheets moving. Mama shook her head around and finally looked at the man. She pulls her hand back and I think, “Ha!”.

He stands up straight and looks a little intimidating. “Hello, Riley,” he says.

Mama frowns at him. She then looks at us, her eyes wide. I want to jump and give her all the hugs and kisses in the world, but she looks so shocked I’m almost scared to move.

“Do I...,” she takes another look around the room. “Do I know you people?”

We all stare at Mama in shock. My heart thunders in my chest.

“Riley...,” the man starts. “It’s me... Liam.”

“Who? I don’t... I don’t know you....”

“Mom, what do you mean?” Gabe asks, he reaches for her hand, but she pulls it back. Gabe’s face falls, defeated.

The curtain moves again, and Grandma walks in. Immediately, I rush to her and cry, “Mama doesn’t remember us, Grandma, Mama doesn’t know us!”

Cheryl was right behind her, and once she hears me, she turns back and calls the doctor in. Grandma pulls me out, calling for Gabe, and the doctor asks the man to step out as well.

We stand at a distance from the curtain for a few moments. I can hear the doctor talking inside, but I don’t know what she’s saying. The man who said he was Liam turns to Grandma and asks in a small voice, “Has her condition improved since the incident?”

“Not significantly,” Grandma responds. “She’s been unconscious ever since the surgery on Sunday. This is the first time she’s woken up.”

Another man, this one with dark hair, walks up to us and goes, “Surgery?”

Grandma looks at him. “Yes. She suffered a head injury.”

“Are you the nurse assigned to her?” Liam questions.

“No,” she answers. “I am her mother.”

“Ah,” Liam holds out his hand. “Liam Rys. A pleasure to meet you.”

Grandma shakes his hand, not breaking eye contact. Liam regards Gabe and I.

“These two are...?”

“My grandchildren. Riley’s children. Eleanor and Gabriel.”

Both men stare at Grandma, their mouths slightly agape. “I see.” Liam clears his throat. He looks down at us and forces a smile. “It’s nice to meet you two.”

The doctor finally comes out from the curtain and says something to a couple of nurses. She then comes to us and says, “We’re going to take her in for another CT scan. See if there’s anything we didn’t notice before.”

“Of course,” Liam goes.

The doctor motions the two men towards the waiting room, and then comes back to us.

“Will you let me know what happens?” Grandma asks. “I have to take these two home.”

“Of course,” the doctor promises.

We leave the hospital, not saying anything to one another.

Once we’re in the elevator of our building, Gabe turns to Grandma and questions her, “Grandma did you know who those men were?”

“I knew the blond one. Liam,” she answers, continuing to stare at the elevator doors. “I could guess who the second one was. Your Mama told me about them some time ago.”

“Why are they here? I’ve never seen them before.”

“Because now they know where your Mama is.”

“They didn’t know before?” I ask.

“No,” Grandma says curtly.

“Why?” Gabe continues. I almost tell him to stop. Grandma looks annoyed, but I want to know why, too.

“Because they didn’t know Mama’s last name was Blaise.”

Gabe scoffs. “What did they think it was?”

“Brooks.” She still doesn’t look at us. My anxiety increases, and I want to almost yell at her to just be direct with us.

“Why did they think she had your last name?” I question.

“Because that’s what Mama’s last name was before she got married.”

“So they didn’t know where she was because...,” Gabe starts, but he doesn’t know what to say next.

“Because her name changed?” I continue for him.

“Yes. And no one knew what your Mama looked like. Your Daddy told people he was married. People only knew his wife’s name, not her face. Now people know her face, so they used her old name.”

“Did Daddy do that on purpose?” I wonder aloud.

“Yes,” Grandma says.

Gabe looks at me, frowning. He’s confused, just as I am. I can see he still wants to ask questions. I want to ask some, too, but the fact that Grandma hadn't looked at us when she spoke made me think she was mad. I didn’t want her to get angrier.

For dinner we have some leftover pasta from the night before. We eat in silence, scared that we would agitate Grandma. But once she finishes her plate, she looks up at us. “I don’t want you both talking to those men, okay?”

“Yes, Grandma,” we say, but I want to ask more questions. I decide against it, and go to sleep confused.

The next day, they finally move Mama into a regular hospital room. There are two more men who came to see Mama. Today was the day that they were going to ask her questions. First the doctors and Grandma asked questions, and they found out that she knew her own name and she knew who Grandma was. Mama also knew the names of every school she had gone to.

Next, they asked us if we wanted to go ask questions. We walked in, but once we looked at Mama, and Mama’s empty, emotionless face looked back at us, Gabe and I couldn’t say anything, so we shook our heads.

They let us sit in the little room with her. Cheryl stayed, too, in the corner of the room. Liam was the next person. He stood at a distance from her this time. He looked like he had done enough crying for everyone in the room. He gently asked her about a bar who’s name I had never heard of, then about the Statue of Liberty, then about some place called Corndania, I think it was. I thought it was the name of a town, and wanted to tell him that she had never been there. Then he asked if she remembered anything about a social season or a tour. I could tell that he had to stop himself from asking her more questions. With every sentence, Mama looked more distressed, and the same distress was mirrored on Liam's face. She looked like she was going to cry, and I thought it was interesting that she didn’t.

Then the other man that was here yesterday walked in after Liam left.

“Do you recognize me?” he asked.

“No,” she stated.

“Name’s Drake.” He lifted his eyebrows.

She nods.

For a couple moments, they just stare at each other. Mama looks like she’s trying to memorize his face. 

He doesn't look like he has much to say. Drake catches his breath and starts again: “Do... do you remember what I said to you, at Applewood Manor, or what happened when the court was there?”

“...Where?”

“You don’t... remember anything about Applewood?”

“No. At least, I don’t think so....”

“Well... then do you remember when you helped me pick an engagement gift for Liam?”

“For who?”

He paused. “Liam.... The guy that was just in here.”

“Oh. No, I don’t. Did you end up with a nice gift?”

“I did, thanks to you.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah...,” Drake trails off. He sniffles and wipes at his eyes. “Well, I don’t have anything else to ask you, really. There are two guys who are gonna come in next, Maxwell and Bertrand. After that some detectives are gonna ask some questions.”

“Okay.”

He opens his mouth to say something more, but decides against it and walks out.

While we wait for Maxwell and Bertrand, Gabe asks her a question: “Do you remember us? Or know who we are?”

She examines us for a second. “No.”

“What about our dad? Do you remember him?” Gabe continues.

“What’s your dad’s name?” she asks.

“Theodore. Theodore Blaise.”

“Oh, yeah. I've known him since we were both kids. I think we went to high school together? Maybe it was elementary. It might have been both.”

Gabe and I look at each other. Mama and Daddy had never told us how long they had known one another, so we didn’t know how to react.

Two men walk in, and I assume that they’re Maxwell and Bertrand. The one in the vest notices us, and gapes. “Who are you? What are you doing in here?” The second man turns to look as well.

“We’re Ella and Gabe. That’s our Mama.” I point at my mother.

The men look at each other for so long I imagine they’ve turned into statues. “Baby blossoms?” one of them breathes. The other one scoffs at him.

“Aren’t you here to ask her some questions?” Cheryl asks. I almost forgot she was in the room.

The man in the vest clears his throat. “Yes.”

They walk up to the foot of the bed. The second man goes, “Do you remember us, little blossom?”

Mama shakes her head.

“Duke Bertrand Beaumont of Ramsford,” says the one with the vest. “Does that ring a bell?”

“No,” she answers.

“I’m Maxwell,” the second one continues. “Do you remember our Beaumont Bash? Or our investigation on the Engagement Tour?”

“I... don’t know what that is...,” she states.

The men look at each other hopelessly.

We see people in suits at the door to her room. They knock and come in, and ask the two men to step out. “You too, kiddos,” one of them commands, almost as an afterthought.

Gabe and I follow behind Maxwell and Bertrand. Near the door, Liam and Drake are waiting for them. I look around for Grandma.

“Any luck?” Drake asks.

The two men shake their heads.

“What about you two?” Liam asks us in a gentle voice. We look at each other, wondering if Grandma would be mad if we answered a simple question. “Did you get to ask her anything?”

“We asked her if she knew us,” Gabe starts, turning back towards the man, “but she said no. She remembers our dad, though, but from when she was a kid.”

“Ah,” Liam breathes. “Were you both at the museum when... everything happened?”

I don’t really like him, so I stay quiet. Gabe answers, simply saying, “No.”

“You two didn’t have school today?” Maxwell asks.

“Grandma got us time off.”

“That must be nice.”

Gabe shrugs. “I guess.”

After a few moments, the third man, whose name I assume is Bertrand, asks us, “How old are you two?”

“I just turned ten. Ella’s seven.”

He makes a “humph?” sound, as if he’s confused, and frowns. Grandma calls to us from the other side of the room, talking to another nurse. We wave goodbye.

“Will you both be coming back tomorrow?” Liam asks.

“No. Tomorrow’s our dad’s funeral,” Gabe answers. I grab his arm and try to pull him away. I don’t want Grandma to see us talking to them.

“Maybe we’ll see you guys on Saturday?” Maxwell inquires cheerfully.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” We wave again and walk next to Grandma. Once she sees that we’re at her side, she grabs our hands and leads us out. I wonder if she’s going to reprimand us for talking to those men, but for the rest of the night she talks to us about something that one of her patients did, and doesn’t mention any of the four men or Mama.

- Bastien -

After paying the taxi cab driver, Bastien stands to regard the modern building in front of him. The doorman eyes him, smiling. Bastien gives him a curt nod and the man holds the door open for him. There’s another staff member in similar uniform at the reception desk. “Excuse me, sir?” he calls out to Bastien. “Can I help you?”

“No, thank you,” Bastien doesn’t look at him. “I know where I’m going.”

Theodore Blaise’s funeral should have ended more than five hours ago. He knew that Riley’s children and her mother would be back in their penthouse by now.

He walks into the elevator and presses the number he memorized.

A woman walks in and reaches over Bastien to click her button. When they reach his floor, she watches him silently step out and walk down the short hall way.

Once Bastien gets to the end of said hallway, he knocks on the last door.

When the door doesn’t open, he knocks again.

Eleanor is the one to open it. Her short, curly hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail. She wears a white leotard and pointe shoes. Sweat drips from the corner of her brow, but her breathing is even.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hello,” Bastien looks behind her. “Is your grandmother nearby?”

“Yes.”

“Could you go get her, please?”

“Okay.” She closes the door.

A few moments pass, in which Bastien thinks that the girl left him just to pull on his strings. But the door opens again, this time by Charlotte Brooks.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Brooks. May I come in?”

The woman stares at Bastien for a moment. He can tell she’s contemplating whether to close the door in his face or not.

“Yes,” she allows, stepping aside.

Bastien takes a step in and regards the entryway. To his right he can see a doorway to a kitchen, and to his left are stairs going down.

Mrs. Brooks walks straight ahead, leading him into the living room with wall-length mirrors. Before she reaches the couches, she turns around. “Would you like to sit down?” she asks.

“No, thank you, ma’am.”

“Tea? Coffee?”

“I’m alright.”

“Then what are you here for? To spy on me again?”

“Sorry?” He frowns.

“Don’t you remember? A couple years ago you sent out a team to spy on my house. I saw you come and leave sometimes. It was around when my daughter left your king.”

Bastien holds up a hand. “I apologize for that, but I am here for something else.”

“What more do you want from my family?”

Bastien sighs. “Do you remember seeing Duke Bertrand yesterday? Him and his brother were there to see Lady Riley.”

“Yes, I remember. The one with the sweater vest.”

“Precisely. Your grandchildren spoke to him momentarily yesterday.”

Mrs. Brooks takes a deep breath. “And?”

“This morning the Duke alerted me that he believes Gabriel Blaise is His Majesty’s and Lady Riley’s son.”

She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Do you have proof?”

“No,” he begins, “which is why I am here. If you have followed Cordonian news after His Majesty broke off his engagement with Countess Madeleine, you’ll know that he has had a lot of pressure to produce an heir to the throne.”

“So?”

“Some of his advisors and his step-mother have tried to convince him for years to marry or to begin attempts for a child who could later rule Cordonia. He continuously refuses, and his close friends know that he hasn't gotten over Lady Riley. Since there has been no chance of them marrying or His Majesty having children, other countries have been quite... unfriendly, you could say, and some have even tried to begin hostile occupations in Cordonia, in an attempt to attack our king and our already weakened monarchy. If Gabriel is his heir, Cordonia would have stability, which is what the country and its people desperately need.”

“Did Liam tell you to come here?”

“No, ma’am. His friends simply helped me piece together the puzzle.”

“Does your king even know you’re here?”

Bastien sighs. “No, ma’am. I wished to speak to you first. I still believe His Majesty is oblivious to the fact that he may be a father, and wanted to make sure that you would be alright with us taking a DNA sample of your grandson.”

“So you asked me before talking to him about it because you wanted to finish the difficult task first?”

“...Yes.”

“Do you really think I would subject my family to the same type of pain that your king made my daughter suffer through? Do you really think I’m going to let my daughter, who was shamed by a foreign country, have her child be put to the same, if not similar, subjection?” Her voice breaks.

“I understand, ma’am—.”

“Do you now?” she interrupts, laughing.

“I am not asking you to do this for Cordonia. I am asking you to do this for a man. Wouldn’t you agree that every father has the right to meet his son?”

Mrs. Brooks takes a moment to absorb Bastien’s words. He can hear music playing from another room.

In a soft voice, quieter than a gentle summer breeze, Mrs. Brooks agrees, saying, “Alright. I’ll be bringing him and his sister to the hospital tomorrow. Tell the king before then.” At the last second she adds, “I’ll bring his birth certificate as well. Hopefully it'll all be enough to prove paternity.”

[bangtan-sonyeonddaeng]

BTS Reaction: They teach you how to play an instrument

got a little carried away writing Jungkook’s heh. That one is a little longer than the others oops 😅

Namjoon (Producing)

You had asked Namjoon to teach you how to play an instrument. However he had shied away from this and told you that he really didn’t know how to and mostly just produced music and wrote songs. 

“Well can you teach me how to do that then?” He smiles at that and agrees. You find yourself in his studio, watching him explain all of the different programs and controls and you find that your head is spinning with all this information. 

“Okay, that’s about it! You got it?” You shake your head in disbelief.

“Namjoon I feel like you just explained all of this to me in a language I can’t speak. I didn’t understand anything.” He chuckles at that and pats his lap for you to sit. You blush at that but sit down anyway. He grabs your hand and guides it over the different keys and buttons, showing you what each one does rather than just explaining it and you find that you are starting to get the hang of it. He rests his chin on your shoulder and smiles at watching you try and produce different beats. His hand never leaves from where it is resting on your waist. It’s nerve wracking for you having him so close, but slowly you become more comfortable and relax into his gentle hold he has around you. 

Jin (guitar)

You were sat on the couch with him, listening to him play the guitar. It always made you feel relaxed and you found yourself wanting to learn how to play it too.

“Jin?” He stops playing and looks at you. 

“Hmm?”

“Can you teach me how to play?”

“Ah of course! I’d love to!” He places the guitar in your hands and try to copy where you saw he had placed his hands when he was playing.

“Alright so move your one finger here, and the other one just there... good now go ahead and play.” You run the pick down the strings and Jin smiles happily.

“Good! You just learned a cord. Now try to play another one.” You move your fingers around to a random position and play but realize it sounds off key and not good at all. You cringe at the sound. “Hmm, maybe move to just here instead.” He grabs your hand and positions your fingers where he thinks they should go. All the while you are blushing madly and it doesn’t sneak past Jin’s notice. “Try again.” You do and he smiles at you proudly again. 

“Is that okay?”

“Perfect! I will teach you how to play a song. And if you do a good job how about if I take you out to dinner? Just the two of us?” Your eyes widen but you nod. 

“I would really like that.”

Yoongi (piano)

You had followed Yoongi to the studio to listen to him play the piano. Every time he went you always asked if you could come, absolutely loving the sound and watching the way his fingers gracefully danced over the keys. You were watching him play when you just blurted out that you wanted him to teach you. 

“You really want me to?”

“Yes, please. I’d love to learn how to play.” Yoongi smiles and pats the bench next to him and you sit. He shows you how to play a simple melody at first. And you try to follow along with him. Yoongi watches you with a fondness on his face. You are catching on pretty quickly and it makes him feel a sense of pride. He finds your concentration face adorable and when you finish playing you look towards him and catch him staring. He quickly looks away shyly and you see a pink tinge to his cheeks. 

“Was that good?”

“Y-yeah um.. you did really well you’re a fast learner.”

“Can you teach me how to play I need u? The piano version of it that you played was really beautiful and I’d love to learn.” Yoongi’s smile widens further at that, that you want to learn one of their songs, and that he now will get to spend more time with you. It’s a double win for him.

“Of course.” 

Hoseok (recorder)

You were watching Yoongi play the piano and praising how good he was at it and Hoseok found himself feeling a little jealous. He really wasn’t skilled at playing any instruments except... 

“Hey y/n!”

“Hmm? What’s up Hobi?” 

“Did you know I can play my heart will go on with my nose on the recorder?”

“You.. what now?!” You immediately burst out laughing as Yoongi chuckles too. 

“He really can. It’s quite funny.”

“Oh my gosh I wanna hear. Please play it for me.” Hoseok runs off to grab it and then comes back. Sure enough he jumps right into it playing the song and you are laughing so much you are wheezing. When he finally finishes he bows to you which just makes you laugh even more. When you finally calm down you wipe your eyes and continue giggling. 

“Ah you have to teach me how to do that. Please oh my god.” Hoseok laughs with you. 

“I’d be happy to!” He hands you the recorder and you look at him with a blank look on your face not touching it.

“Oh.. oops. Yeah you probably want your own not the one my nose has been playing on huh?”

“Probably would be for the best, yeah.”

“How about if we go get you one tomorrow and I can teach you how to play.”

“Okay, Hobi! I can’t wait for tomorrow then.” He feels really happy that he was able to make you smile and laugh. And he is looking forward to getting to spend even more time with you.

Jimin (piano)

You and Jimin had gone out to eat dinner and you noticed the restaurant had a piano off to the side. 

“Ah, Jimin! Can we play that?”

“I don’t know let me ask, okay?” He waives your waiter over and asks if you can play the piano and he says of course. You get up excitedly, meal long forgotten as you sit down on the bench ready to play. Your hands hover over the keys and Jimin sits next to you.

“What’s the matter, jagi?” 

“I don’t know how to play anything.” Jimin giggles. 

“You were so excited to play this piano and you don’t even know how to play?”

“I can play chopsticks!” Jimin laughs even more at this and you pout. He thinks you’re adorable.

“Let me show you how to play something, okay?” You nod. Jimin grabs your hands and places them over the keys and demonstrates which notes to play. Having him sit so close to you, and touching your hands like it’s nothing is making you blush madly. You hope the dim lighting in the restaurant is dark enough that he can’t see. 

“Ah, y/n you are blushing.”

“S-so? Don’t sit so close to me.” Jimin scoots even closer until your legs are touching. 

“Why? Are you nervous, jagi?”

“Park Jimin cut it out!” You playfully push him away from you and he laughs. 

“Okay, sorry. But after I teach you how to play this I’d like to continue our date if that’s okay,”

“Date?” 

“Yeah. I mean if you want it to be that is..” 

“I think that sounds great to me. Maybe we can come back to this later after you buy me cake for dessert.” Jimin’s eyes disappear as he smiles at you. 

“Alright y/n. Whatever you want.” 

Taehyung (saxophone)

“Taehyung I literally have no idea how to play the saxophone.”

“That is why I will teach you!”

“But it seems really hard. There’s so many buttons and things that I have no idea what they do.” 

“I’ll show you y/n don’t worry.” He loops the strap around you and you stand there, lost on what to do next. “Okay so..” He grabs your hand and you immediately blush. Taehyung thankfully is so focused on showing you how to play that he doesn’t notice. “You’re going to want to put your hand here and your fingers like this. Perfect. Now blow.” You do and it seems like no matter how hard you do only the quietest sound squeaks out. Your face is turning red and Taehyung waves for you to stop. “Might have to adjust the reed hang on.” He fixes it for you and places your hands back where they need to go. “Now try.” You try again and this time a sound comes out with much less effort, although you still feel a little breathless. “Perfect!”

“I don’t think I have the lung capacity for this Tae. I already feel light headed.” You say with a chuckle. Taehyung giggles at that along with you. 

“Well we’ll just have to work on fixing that then won’t we?” He says with a smirk on his face. You blush immediately at the implication and Taehyung looks absolutely scandalized. 

“Yah! I meant by practicing you pervert! What were you thinking?!” 

“Oh my god Taehyung stop. You’re embarrassing me.” You hide your face in your hands and he immediately reaches out to pry them away from your face.

“You’re cute when you blush though. Don’t hide it okay?” 

“Okay.” 

“Now! Let me teach you the scales. And then once you get those down we can take a break for the day and I will take you out to get a hot chocolate. Sound good?” You nod and smile. “And yes I did mean on a date.” 

Jungkook (singing)

You had listened to Jungkook’s angelic vocals too many times to count. And each time you found yourself more and more wanting to learn how to sing so someday you could maybe be half as good as him. So you decided to ask him for lessons. 

“You want me to teach you?!”

“Yeah! Who better than you? You have an amazing voice Jungkook. You literally sound like an angel and make me cry because your voice is so pretty. If I could even sound half as good as you, I would be so thankful.” Jungkook feels his ears turning red at your praise and he pulls his hat down a little lower to cover them. 

“Um.. s-sure. I guess I can. I’m not a professional vocal teacher though you know.”

“I know. But I’m sure you remember enough of what they tell you right?” He nods. “And besides I’m too nervous to ask an actual vocal coach because if I am that bad I don’t want to be embarrassed or judged in front of a stranger. I trust you.” Jungkook’s heart races at that. 

“Alright. I guess first I’ll teach you the warm ups.” You both finish that lesson before he moves on. “I’ve never actually heard you sing before y/n. So why don’t you show me what you got already?” You find yourself feeling anxious. “It’s okay, remember? I’m here to support and help you. Not judge you.” You nod and go to take a breath but Jungkook stops you. 

“Ah, wait a minute. You don’t want to breathe from your chest you’re going to want to support your breath from your stomach.” He grabs your hand and places it on his stomach and he takes a deep breath. You try to focus on that but find all you can think about is the feeling of his abs underneath his t-shirt. 

“You got it? Y/n?” You snap out of your daze and nod. 

“Yeah I think so.” You try again and sing part of your favorite song that you are semi confident in your vocal skills on. When you finish Jungkook says nothing for a few moments and that worries you. 

“What the heck do you mean you need a vocal coach?! Y/n that was beautiful! I had no idea you could sing like that!” 

“You really think I sound good?”

“Good? You sound amazing. I think we just need to work on supporting and controlling your notes a little bit more because your voice cracked a little when you sang the high note. But other than it was fantastic. Really.” You blush and smile at his praise.

“Thank you, Jungkook. That means a lot coming from you.”

“Of course. Shall we take it back from the top then?” You nod, looking forward to getting to spend more time with him and hopefully be a singer he can be proud of someday. 

[princesstutufandemonium]

Rapsblüte no Yoru (Princess Tutu epilogue skit) and my thoughts

Or: Why a bitch is still salty after 9 years

So, as previously mentioned on this blog, there was a skit presented at a Princess Tutu convention in 2004 by series creator Ikuko Itoh and chief director Junichi Sato called “Rapsblüte no Yoru.” It takes place about a year after the anime’s ending and serves to wrap up some loose ends about the characters and their feelings - particularly Ahiru and Mytho.

So I’ve talked about it before, but now more time has passed, so I thought I’d let the raging monster out of its slumber to REALLY address the epilogue and my own uncensored thoughts and feelings about it. Half of this ended up reading like a rant, really, but I just had to get it all out there. 

Here is the skit, as recited by Japanese blogger Goma and translated by LiveJournal user csakuras, along with my reactions and thoughts, which are indicated by the blockquotes.

"Quaack.." Ahiru seems to be swimming on the river during a night with a beautiful moon It's been a while since then, and every day I'm happy. It's fun talking with my bird friends, and Madam Pelican is a little noisy, but...it's fun. And besides......whenever I look up, Fakir is always there.

So Ahiru has returned to life as a bird and has settled in well. Good for her.

Ahiru: "I've come all the way to Gold Crown Academy....somehow I feel like dancing." Saying that, Ahiru climbs onto the bank and is surprised to find the whole surface covered with rape blossoms. Ahiru: "Gwak!!" Autor: "Oh? What's this?" It seems he stepped on Ahiru.. Ahiru: "Gwakgwak!!" Ahiru protests. Autor: "Oh it's you, Ahiru-kun...isn't Fakir with you?" Autor backs away as Ahiru tries to talk to him. Autor: "Sorry, but could you not get so close? I'll start sneezing from my bird allergies." (The mystery of his dislike of birds is solved.) Ahiru: "Charon-san and Raetsel-san had a child so Fakir went to the celebration."

The idea of this seems to negate all of Raetsel’s development, but okay then.

Autor: "I see....by the way, did you come to see the Night of Rapsblüte too?" Ahiru: "Rap..Rapsblüte?" Ahiru asks curiously. Ahiru: "Rapsblüte are rape blossoms, right?" Here, Autor goes Hnph! with his nose as if making fun of her. Autor: "The Night of Rapsblüte is when once every 50 years, all the rape blossoms bloom simultaneously on a night of the full moon. According to what I've researched in the library, in the records of a student from 50 years ago, there is an eye-witness account." Ahiru heaves a sigh (lol) Autor: "And tonight, the weather, the date, everything matches with the past data!" Autor is full of confidence. "Besides that, you're in the music department so maybe you should be studying piano instead..." Ahiru mutters. Autor: "Did you say something?" Ahiru: "Huh? Autor can understand me." Hnph, he laughs at her with his nose again. Autor: "Anything can happen tonight and it wouldn't be strange." Ahiru: "The moon is so pretty..." (Here, a man wearing a mask of the moon appears from behind..it's a great hit in the assembly) Autor: "What's that? An onion?" Ahiru: "!!" Uzura: "Ho~ Ahiru zura~" *Tototon* (her drum) Ahiru: "Uzura-chan!!" Ahiru: "Uzura-chan! Where were you?" Uzura: "I've been wandering the interval of time with the old man zura."

WHAT does that even mean?! What is the interval of time?! Considering Uzura’s previous life as Edel, it’s surprising that Uzura chooses to stick with Drosselmeyer. He’s the one who put her Ahiru and Fakir through so much trouble, after all. Then again, Uzura is a child and probably has no memory or idea of the role Drosselmeyer played and the evil things he did. Uzura also isn’t human, so maybe human morals don’t bother her as much.

Ahiru: "By the old man do you mean Drosselmyer-san? Then where's Drosselmyer-san?" "Drosselmyer?!!" <--(Autor's switch is on) Uzura: "The old man is busy with updating the site zura, sorry he's so irresponsible zura." (Here, Director Satou is rolling with laughter.) Autor: "Why didn't you bring him with you?!" Clearly, his Drosselmyer otaku switch is on lol

I hate you, Autor. I try not to but I do.

Uzura: "One more is coming zura." Autor: "One more?" Mytho: ".......Tutu." Ahiru: "Mytho!!" (I can never forget Ahiru's sad voice here)

Ah, and here it is. The agony.

You know, I could possibly stomach the whole damn ending of the show if the epilogue doesn’t go on to make it entirely clear how heartbroken Ahiru still is. I mean, if Ahiru is actually happy, there’s nothing more you can want for her. But this here kind of ruins it. Like, why?! How am I supposed to be content with her situation when she’s sad at the mere sight of Mytho?!

Mytho: "It's been a while...." Uzura: "He was dancing on the balcony so I brought him zura." (....At your own pace as usual, Prince.) Autor: "Prince Siegfried from the story!! Myu...Mytho-san." (He sounds as emotional as if he were meeting Drosselmyer.) Mytho: "Are you Fakir's friend...?" Autor: "I'm Autor!" Mytho: "You were the one who helped Fakir? Thank you..." (How does he know..)

How DOES he know? Well, there was a tiny time skip between the defeat of the Raven and Mytho and Rue’s departure to the story. Perhaps things were explained a little during then.

Autor: "No! It was an honor." (only dimly remember) Mytho: "If I remember correctly, during our ballet lessons you were asked by Neko-sensei to accompany us on piano." Autor: "Yes, I was asked to accompany you on piano by Neko-sensei 11 times, and I passed by you with Neko-sensei in the hall 27 times." (Jeez, Autor's in high spirits (lol)) Mytho: "Fakir sometimes sees cows and alligators flying in the sky, so I'm worried. Could you take care of Fakir?"

 Mytho seems to naturally be a little bit of an airhead. It’s funny to see that qualities of him that we saw in the anime can be attributed not to his lack of a heart and common sense, but just to how his personality really is. Cute.

Autor: "Yes!! Mytho-san, please leave him to me." (He's been left to him without having a say, Fakir's in a pinch (lol)) Ahiru: "Mytho? How is Rue-chan?" Mytho: "Rue is doing well." Mytho: "It seems Rue is good at singing too and she's a popular princess among the people." Autor: "Rue-san?"

So Rue is a true lady of the arts, not good only at dancing but at singing too. Interesting that she’s so popular, considering that she honestly doesn’t seem to be the most sociable person. Polite, but not going out of her way to be friendly. Perhaps her time in the story with Mytho has defrosted her even more. What is the new Rue like, I wonder?

Uzura: "Mytho is rabu-rabu with Rue zura~" Autor: "Could you be quiet for a while..." His voice is lacking energy and sounds like he might cry (He knows they're rivals in love..is that okay?)

WHY is Autor so torn up over Rue still?! He never even really spent time with her. Foolish kids, I tell you. She was hardly more than a pretty face to him.

Ahiru: "Thank goodness... Mytho. "The Concluding Volume of The Prince and the Raven" got published. It's not a story without an end anymore." Ahiru: "And also, soon Fakir's going to dance an all-male version of La Sylphide with Matthew Bourne-sensei's choreography!"

Soooo this part is confusing. The concluding volume… So The Prince and the Raven was a story published in installments? The show made it look like it was just a single novel. Unless they mean that they simply published an official ending… But if the story was given an ending, wouldn’t that affect the storybook world? And who wrote the ending and got it published, Fakir? A couple of questions that remain here.

Mytho: "Fakir....I always feel like I'm connected with Fakir..the more my country becomes peaceful, I can feel him close by." (It's...mostly dim recollection. Just the nuance of it.)

Yeah, don’t act like you didn’t just up and leave him AND Ahiru once your business was finished, Mytho. Anyways, skipping the salt, does this mean that Fakir’s conclusion to the novel made things more peaceful in the story world? That’s what it sounds like to me.

Actually, isn’t it kind of scary that Fakir can still wield influence over Mytho’s world? What if he got pissed off at him? yikes

Ahiru: "Mytho...." "You should meet Fakir! He's coming back tomorrow..so then.." Mytho: "I can't..I can only come here because the interval of time is connected tonight..see, the moon is already sinking this much." (The man playing the moon sinks down (lol) The assembly bursts into laughter again) "I see..."

WHAT is with this ‘interval of time’ nonsense again! Someone explain it to me!

Also, fuck Fakir, apparently.

Mytho: "Princess Tutu.....thanks to you, I can be like this. Thank you." Ahiru: "I wanted to see you smile, so my wish is already granted." (only dimly remember)

 AND THERE IT FINALLY IS!!!

“Thank you, Tutu, for risking your life to save mine and restore my happiness and holding your tongue about your feelings for me so I could do nothing for you in return and leave hours later.”

No, I’m not salty. Anyways, the abrupt ending to the show without much dialogue was due to time constraints, not necessarily a true display of Mytho’s character, which I guess this epilogue was partly written to fix. It does seem pretty heartless when you watch the anime, though.

Mytho: "Princess Tutu, I wanted to be with you longer. I wanted to talk with you like this longer....to me, you are the light....because you are someone very special..." (?? Mytho/Ahiru?)

See, this is why I just can’t do it. Like, Mytho, are you fucking kidding?! You leave her alone as a duck and now you want to sweet-talk her?!

But actually, all bitterness aside, this is really sad. They obviously care for each other, but because of circumstances and plot, never once did they have the time to really just… talk.

And he still sees her as the light. I saw some people kind of making fun of this, but of COURSE he does. There was a considerable period of time when she was the only person vouching for him, keeping him safe, acting as his voice… and ultimately saving him in every way. He can only be a real person again because of her, and she never faltered in her mission. That’s INCREDIBLE. Of course he would hold her in high regard.

Mytho: "But, I have to protect Rue. Rue needs me...." (I'm sorry, it's completely out of memory...because I was so overwhelmed..(lol) I should take my reeling in moderation)

And here’s the dagger. After talking about how highly he thinks of Ahiru/Tutu… he backtracks by saying Rue needs him.

And you know why this is REALLY fucking sad? He doesn’t say that “But, I really enjoy being with Rue” or “But, I love Rue.”

He says he has to PROTECT Rue. Rue NEEDS him.

I don’t think I need to dive too deep into the implications of his wording to spell out why this is upsetting, but I’ll sum it up quick. Instead of saying he likes being with Rue, he says Rue needs me. That’s the first thing that comes to mind.

And if it means what I think it means, that’s just fucking harsh. That’s not fair for Rue. That’s not fair for Ahiru. That’s not fair for Mytho.

I mean, we all know the prince has a savior-complex, but the implication that he chose Rue because he feels a sense of duty to protect her instead of romantic affection is kind of… tragic. That’s not a happy ending at all, really. Does Rue have any idea?

I think this is why I have an issue with Ruetho, because no matter what you can’t escape the fact that Mytho will always view her through the lens of what she suffered. It’s just in his personality as a heroic, selfless prince. Doesn’t Rue deserve someone who sees her as… more than someone to protect?

Whatever, can’t be changed now.

Mytho: "Tutu...you have done so much for me, but I couldn't do anything for you." "Is there something I can do for you, Tutu?"

WHAT on Earth could he possibly expect to be able to do for her?! I mean, short of turning her human again, but I’m guessing that’s out of the scope of his abilities. Don’t be so bait-y.

Ahiru: "......Mytho! I.........." "No, nevermind..." (Ahiru sounds incredibly sad)

AUGHHHHHHHH

What was she going to say? You know what, probably doesn’t matter anyway. We know what she wants… she can’t have it, though.

Mytho: "It's almost time..." "See you again....Tutu...." (Jeez..I don't remember any of it) Ahiru: "Can we meet again?" Mytho: "Surely we will meet again..." Mytho (or is it Yanagi-san? lol): "We can meet again, when Sakurai-kun is here." (The assembly explodes with laughter)

NOOOOOOOO

No no no

No, do NOT meet again. This is just asking for trouble. Ahiru clearly isn’t over Mytho, and Mytho… clearly does not have his priorities straightened out. If they keep meeting like this…

Well, as the anime shows, it wouldn’t be the first time they put themselves through the wringer for love. Mytho recites something in German. "Waaao!!" <--(Uzura)

What did he say? I’m curious.

Here, Mytho says his never-ending feelings for Tutu (if someone remembers this part please tell me~) And at the end, Mytho: ".......Ahiru."

 ……..Yeahhh, probably not a good idea to meet again.

Like, I get that this epilogue is to ‘tie up loose ends’ including the torched remnants of Mythiru that were dropped so abruptly at the end, but...

Why, oh why, Mytho, did you choose Rue if you’re still hung up on Tutu?

Additionally, we see that Mytho DOES now know that Tutu is Ahiru. That’s bittersweet too, but in more of a good way. He finally knows that the little passionate goofball was the princess all along. I wonder who told him, or how he found out. Did he just figure it out on his own? Like, the duck that was once Princess Tutu must be Ahiru because Ahiru = duck? Maybe Uzura told him? I doubt Fakir would’ve, simply because once she was back to being a duck again permanently, there was really no reason to tell Mytho. Couldn’t much matter anymore, right?

Ahiru: "I get the feeling I heard Mytho's voice at the end." I am a duck....I can't wear toe shoes, I can't dance.. (I'm sorry, I don't remember) But inside my chest there is a sparkling gem that will never be broken. The end.

And that’s it.

Sooo a lot of conflicted feelings coming at me from this, if you couldn’t tell. I guess first is the question of whether or not this could be considered canon.

Honestly? I think so. Both Ikuko Itoh and Junichi Sato, the people behind Princess Tutu, worked on this and presented it. They even had some of the Japanese VAs present to act it out. Additionally, as I’d mentioned previously, it addresses some questions that were left open due to the somewhat rushed ending of the anime’s finale. And nothing presented in this skit goes against the show’s canon or really comes out of left field (aside Charon and Raetsel man tf). It’s short and sweet.

Moving on, the first time I read this I was really happy, simply because it makes it clear that YES, Mytho does return Ahiru’s feelings. Which I guess was clear in the anime too, but this skit makes it undeniable. It’s nice to feel validated.

But as time goes on and I’ve had the chance to chew over and really digest it… It’s kind of a really crappy situation for our heroine and hero. Like, so they are in love, and they want to continue seeing each other… but Mytho is SUPPOSED to be spoken for with Rue, and Ahiru is a duck. Not to mention that Ahiru is Rue’s FRIEND. C’mon girl, chicks before dicks. Of course, they could still interact platonically, but the confession from Mytho in this skit kind of shot that possibility dead. And what about Fakir in this mess? Granted, Fakir isn’t stupid – he’s known that Ahiru loves Mytho from the beginning, and it’s not exactly like he can be in a relationship with a duck. But still.

Maybe I’m just looking too far into things, but with a piece this short and direct, I don’t know how deep you can really dive.

Anyways, my final thoughts are: Mythiru is canon but in the most tragic way possible, Rue deserves better, annnnnnd I’m still left unsatisfied.

[sorry-but-we-have-moved]

The ABSOLUTE CRAZIEST shit happened on my Sims 3 game last night, so i’m going to make a long list detailing the events in chronological order.

Also note, my Sims are both fictional characters and OCs living on this resort-type lot. The lot is custom built, and the main focal point of the story is the pool, which is located in the center of the lot. In hindsight, this all could have been avoided had i had more step-ladders and had never added a fence around the edges to prevent Sims from climbing out. Also, it probably didn’t help that i used a trick to merge the basement with the pool, a trick that proves itself to be very buggy. I’ll be referring to Sims by their first names, and i’m only tagging/including the ones that are relevant to the story.

- The household i’m controlling is 8 people, 2 older adults and 6 younger adults, 7 are related to one another. At the beginning of this story, they’re all pretty spread out and split up in the place.

-Alice, the oldest youngster, is the only one at the pool besides her father Jack. She jumps in via diving board.

- ^ Seeing this, Jack decides to enter the nearby bar to “express fear of swimming” to Mei, who is listening to a woman named Salotta play piano. Mei doesn’t seem to want to respond to Jack, or she’s too enthralled with the piano playing to pay attention. He sits and waits there for many, many minutes.

- Meanwhile, Alice(OC) is already out of the pool, which is now filled to the brim with other sims. I initially don’t see this as a problem because they’re still able to swim around and use the ladders. What i don’t realize is the ones who have to wait on others to climb out are the ones in danger.

- Jack finally gives up trying to tell Mei of the impending disaster and just turns to face the piano player and listen. Again, i figure since he’s no longer worried about the pool, that the trouble is over. How wrong i am.

- Seconds later, Hoang(OC) drowns. Everyone’s first reaction is to immediately try and leave the pool.

Then, after climbing out, Lucio makes his way onto the water slide and re-enters the pool Hoang just died in.

- A majority of them just never leave the pool, in fact they started having a fucking breath holding contest. BLU Scout and Candie(OC), nearby also holding a contest are Troy and Alice. The choices Sims make in the face of death truly astound me.

- At this point, Hoang appears to have been blipped from existence because there’s no ghost, no corpse, no urn or gravemarker, and no sign of the Grim Reaper coming to get his body. The only one who’s reacting to his death is Guthard(OC) because they shared a household. Guthard also happened to be present in the pool when Hoang died.

- Back in the bar, everyone is reacting to the drowning with symbols that suggest they want to try to find Hoang’s body in the pool but can’t. Everyone in the pool appears stuck, like they, too, are searching or they’re just in total shock.

- ^ Remember, Jack has the Hydrophobia trait. He has a fear of swimming, and knew something bad was going to happen with the pool. But, against his better judgement he is now IN that very pool, looking highly distressed but again, he put himself in there. Also, people are still having underwater contests cause that’s what you do when someone drowns. - Also, he just casually turns into Jesus because of course he does:

- ^ The Grim Reaper finally shows up to try to collect Hoang’s ghost. But there’s a problem. He, like others, is climbing into the pool to try to find the body, but it’s not there. So he spends a good few minutes climbing in and out of the pool from different floors, taking the nearby tube elevators as he does.

- Suddenly, ANOTHER person drowns, this time it’s Akande (Doomfist). Now, HIS death is really fucky for several reasons. Shortly after he drowns, EVERYONE that was in the pool suddenly ascends through the roof of the lot. The only remaining Sim is Ashe because she was taking the water slide.

- After some searching, i find everyone NOT on the roof, but on the bottom floor in the basement area. Outside of the pool somehow.

- Now Akande is wandering around, apparently trapped in physical form so he’s not going to be collected to go to the underworld anytime soon:

-He produces TWO, i repeat, TWO gravemarkers in his name. One of these, i’m assuming is Hoang’s and the name’s just a misprint by the game, but there’s another glitch going on that is absolutely hilarious. - Akande is technically a ghost according to the game, since he started phasing through walls and doing the floating animation. But at the same time, he doesn’t have the ghost texture, and he’s able to interact with the environment like he never died, with the added bonus that he can haunt things and people.

- ^ Angela, whom always has some form of interaction with him in previous playthroughs, decides to strike up a casual conversation with him now that he’s a permanent ghost resident. Gabriel (Reaper), who’d been absent this entire time, suddenly rushes to the scene and looks at Akande like “oh what the f***?” - And just like other playthroughs Akande makes a mean comment to Angela which she berates him for before leaving. Even while dead, he’s still an ass.

- ^ I check on the other members of the household to see how they’re handling the chaos, Hazel(OC) is just in the kitchen sharing a canned soup lunch with Jenny(OC) so i’d say this didn’t get to him too much. Also, Akande decides to get himself a ghost salad from the mini-fridge:

- After eating the salad he goes and grabs one of the soccer balls from the “item shop” i have set up on the lot. Then everyone walks in and grabs a ball for themselves, now they’re taking soccer lessons from Akande’s ghost

- Alice, for some reason, goes all the way to the opposite end of the lot to play soccer not with Akande, but with BLU Scout from earlier - Akande sees himself in one of the mirrors on the lot and thinks he looks pretty good as a ghost - Then he goes upstairs and haunts a telescope for a few minutes

- ^ This also happens - Third drowning death happens out of nowhere, and it’s Juelle(OC). This leads to a cascade effect and Jenny(OC) drowns around the same time, and despite me taking the time to actually delete some of the fence now that i’ve suspected it to be the problem, it doesn’t prevent the next several deaths from happening - Mei is the next one to drown. And Angela just. Decided to quicken the process:

Mercy said “No heals 4 U” - Junkrat and Roadhog end up dying together which idk whether to be happy or sad about that, either way they died a couple - Candie and Tyreen go down next, followed by Ashe and Salotta (The piano player from earlier) - Lucio dies right next to the fucking step-ladder like he was gonna climb out and then just gave up

Like seriously dude - Troy lasted a pretty damn long time in this cursed fucking pool, but then he drowns as well:

- Akande is still living as a fucking ghost btw, and he’s casually floating past the pool as all of this happens like “hm. interesting.” - The Grim Reaper, meanwhile, FINALLY gets around to sending ghosts into the underworld. Sometimes people walk by it, react to it like it’s a roadshow, and go about their business. Just some normal everyday shit, y’know? - When he finishes, Grim goes down to the laundry room and does laundry for everyone, only to leave a soggy pile of clothes on the floor in front of the washing machine.

- ^ He also goes upstairs and mops up a puddle someone made, i guess someone pissed themselves seeing him or the ghosts - Laughs while pointing at Gabriel (mad he took the moniker of Reaper i guess?) and then just poofs out-of-scene - Moira starting mourning Akande and Roadhog (Junkrat and Roadhog were part of the Talon household cause convenience) in the kitchen which makes Akande start ghost crying - At this point the population on this lot has been dramatically reduced, so it’s actually impossible to fill it up to the point of overcrowding. And it seems that everyone’s learned their lesson, and they never get in the pool ever again. They just walk past it on their way to the bar or something. Also, shockingly, no one from my active household ended up dying. - However, Kyle(OC) ended up frozen for a few minutes because he was going to mourn basically EVERYONE who ended up drowning and that filled his action queue too full. I had to cancel the actions so he could use the bathroom and get some sleep

- TLDR This story ultimately ends, entire households have been decimated, pets have lost their owners to a fucking pool, i can’t do anything with the gravemarkers even on my own community lot, no one wants to go swimming ever again in their lives, i think i now have PTSD

ᴼᴷᴬʸ ᵗᶦᵐᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗᵃᵍᵍᶦⁿᵍ ʰᵒˡʸ ˢᴴᴵᵀ

[isoisolated]

I have ADHD and it's not fun

29/12 edit: coming back to this post, I just wanted to add that at the time of writing, my adhd was unmedicated. Thought this might be good thing to note. 

My friend Ondrej kept sending me articles and texts posts written by other adhd people (mostly adult males) that it finally pushed me to write my own, because even though I could relate to some minor and major parts, something always felt a bit of and also because ADHD is a condition that's been heavily ignored by medical professionals not only in adults, but especially in adult women, which is a group I sort of represent myself. 

I could talk about this for ages, my therapist frequently tells me that I have this gift of intense self-analysis and immense passion to get it all sorted out once for all. I guess it's another way of saying I'm so hyperaware of my own existence and my brain simply latches onto it and constantly tries to solve its own problems. 

If you do not care about my own personal history, just skip to second headline.

I was clueless for the first 20 years of my existence

Now, ADHD isn't the only thing that's been making me feel almost alien, I dare to say that my puberty years were mostly about developing and internalising bit of trauma and processes that do no good in later life. 

I love music. And I mean I truly endlessly unconditionally love music. Being a daughter of music composer, I was 6 when I first asked my dad to show me where to press record in Logic Pro and told him to leave me alone while I recorded my first song. It was called Autumn is here and it sounded like something made by 6 years old. 

I remember we were attending castings for TV shows or commercials and later I was told that it was me who initiated such trips and that I always wanted to be a part of such things. I don't remember initiating such things but I remember for sure that I was very shy and uncomfortable when I was supposed to show off. 

I remember I was supposed to take piano lessons. And I was so baffled that I had to follow the book and play what's in the book, instead of playing thing I wanted. I think I told my parents after few lessons that I do not like it and was dropped outta it. This became a pattern, if I recall correctly. 

But that's nothing out of ordinary, kids are harder to get focused and entertained. I remember two moments from elementary school where I was told by my classmates that I'm acting like I have ADHD and it got me real mad every time, because in my head ADHD looked like not paying attention in class, being body hyper and overall just annoying. 

I could find a proof that I made myself first to-do list when I was 14. Since 14 I felt like I need more self control and self regulation, that I need to fit myself more into ambitions I had and have and in order to do that, I started making to-do lists with ambiguous tasks such as “work more on music” and “work-out”. It was also in during my great isolation era, I had no real life friends but one that I was seeing occasionally, I wasn't going out, I came from school on Friday afternoon and left my room on Monday morning. I was making friends online since I was 11 and lived mostly online. 

At that time I also started figuring out what was wrong with me. Since ever I always felt a bit “off” compared to my peers, I always felt weird (and was told that thousand of times in my life), I always felt like I was thinking about things a bit differently and my humour was different and my hobbies were seen obscure by my classmates (even though they weren't obscure at all). I felt alone for most of my growing up and feelings of complete loneliness and detachment haunt me to this day, making me spiral. 

I thought I might suffer from bipolar disorder, because I had high energy episodes and my emotions were so intense. I was crying almost everyday for both external and internal reasons, my head sometimes felt like too much and I found temporary peace in self-help books and esotericism. 

I was around 17-18 when I realised all of this is bullshit and that no book can make me do things that I wanna do. I'd spent hours, days and months thinking about doing things, being crippled by this weird force that hold my body down, unable to do anything, no matter how much I wanted it. I'd beat myself up for it, thinking I was just so damn lazy and stupid and pretentious. I wanna be a popstar, a successful musician, I have to do all these things and if not, I'm gonna fail so much and my life will lose its meaning. 

When I was 17, I released my first EP and for some reason, it found some attention and success, if we might call it that. Suddenly I felt on the right path, I was seen as a musician and also very young one. Even though I still was sad almost every day or had intense sadness episodes that could last for a week, it felt right and I couldn't wait to finish high school and become a full time musician. 

I'd produce music in unplanned episodes of total focus, where I would sit and do things for hours straight, without eating. My most favorite songs were made during 6-8 hour sessions and it felt amazing. I couldn't bring myself to produce music if I hadn't the right vibe or idea for it. 

It was around that time this woman texted me, saying she wants to be my manager and that she really likes my music. It felt so unreal but here I am, with my own professional manager, on my way to be the most amazing music person.

I'd crush on people (and mostly boys and men) constantly, it was also very episodic, could last for days to month where I'd had nothing on my mind but them, drowned in daydreaming and just imagining things and also letting them know all of that. It was magical but it was fleeting. It still is. But it is the greatest inspiration, where I feel so much emotions it makes me see things and then I can transform them into music. 

But there was still something wrong with me, I was very emotional, still struggling with making my routines work, I'd come up with new plans and schedules every week just to fail them the day after. It was exhausting and I saw nothing alike in my world too, I was alone and my experience was just not enough will power. 

I could get mad so easily, I'd clench my fists and was so close to punching someone and when I hated someone I hated them with immense passion and spent hours just imagining myself confronting them. I was so mad all the time on background too and even slightest thing would put me in classic rage mode.

I have problems remembering dates and names, I'm bad at remembering people's faces, I'm bad at learning things by myself even though I have interest in them. I'm bad at making routine for myself and actually following it.

I finished high school and planned to go study abroad but it turned out it isn't what I want so I came back and started looking for a job. Around that time I met my now best friend and thanks to him I actually started thinking even harder what might be wrong with me, so I looked up ADHD. And didn't believe that at all. I wasn't like this, was I? 

Then, the summer came and I met my friend (and also a fan) while being out for a beer. We chatted, had a great time and then told me I kinda am like a person with ADD. I was confused because I didn't recall what that does mean, later I remembered it's another (and outdated) term for ADHD, but it's the “quiet type”, where the hype happens mostly inside and doesn't manifest outside that much. So I started researching once again, because I trusted him and it was that one push I needed.

It's been year since that moment and it took me months to accept that I might suffer from ADHD and to this day I still have feelings of impostor syndrome, making it all harder for myself just like that, to be more interesting for myself. I still yet have to accept this. 

I was transitioning into adulthood and yet had actual emotional breakdowns, I was crying and my heart was aching and I couldn't bring myself to do things I want, to learn more about music production, to learn how to sing better, to learn my favorite k-pop choreos, to work-out, to embody my own vision of who I want to be. With music, I am my own boss and it's the worst.

Covid-19 hit our country and here came the first lockdown. It pushed me over the edge and I felt like I was losing all of my friends, I felt those feelings of loneliness and weirdness again, I felt like nobody knows what's wrong because I don't have it as bad as others, I was hurting so much my body was shaking and twisting. I decided to try medication, even though I told my psychiatrist I don't want to, I just felt like I cannot be like this anymore, it's too much pain and no matter how much I try, I can't make it better, I can't make it work. 

I started taking Strattera and after month or two, I saw it working. A bit, I could focus better and bring myself to do things more and more frequently, and if I had these weird emotional meltdowns, they weren't as intense as before. This serves me as ultimate proof that I am not making this up, because if I were, the medication wouldn't work and make me feel better, right? 

So, what am I doing now? 

I'm still a huge mess and I cannot see myself in a better light. Even though I have job that I perform at at stable rate, even though I have just a little problem cooking for myself, even though I have no troubles falling asleep, even though I can enjoy things greatly when those high energy waves hit me. 

I'm tired of myself, I'm tired of myself not being able to do anything again. I ignore my manager because I already know I have nothing else to say than “I cannot bring myself to do things and you know that, I'm sorry for being a constant failure.” When people compliment me, I thank them but deep inside I don't accept it. 

I have unreleased and WIP songs I can see never being released, ever. When I listen to music from my favorite artists, I can also feel the pain from the fact that I'm not like them and that I probably won't ever be, because my brain sabotages me every damn time. 

From the very moment I wake up to the very moment I fall asleep, there's music playing in my head. I don't choose what's playing, sometimes it's song I don't even like and yet it's stuck on loop. I talk with my therapist in my head, I'm having weird flashbacks in my head to my memories, I'm having “you should do X right now” and “why aren't you doing Y” stuck on loop too. This all is happening at once, every moment I'm awake, even when I'm talking with people. It's exhausting. 

I'm bored most of the time, I have interesting books in my bookshelf and still cannot read them because I have to reread paragraphs in order to actually understand them. And even then, I find my mind wandering again. I have problems with long texts and long tutorials.

I get frustrated easily, my head is overflowing with ideas I can't act on. I'm living in weird worlds I made up for myself, and then reality hits me. 

I had my first depressive episode few months ago. I felt like nothing matters, that I don't matter, I felt nothing and emptiness, I crawled up in bed and was mindlessly watching youtube videos. I didn't want to eat or drink, I wanted to not exist at all. That episode passed but it was my first encounter with actual depressive state and I know I can slip into it more easily now, it simply developed along the way, after 21 years without acknowledging that I have problems and I struggle. 

People don't understand the struggle, when talking to them about my problems, it's like talking to an automated assistant, coming up with phrases like “Did you try yoga?” “everyone struggles sometime” “you cannot accomplish everything”. They say they wanna listen and help until they don't. 

I have a mental graveyard for ideas I won't ever finish, no matter how good they are, because my brain won't let me. Proper medication would help, therapy also helps but I can't talk myself out of actual executive dysfunction. 

ADHD is a neurodevelopmental disorder, our brains are literally underdeveloped in some areas and wired differently. Our emotions lack regulation normal people have and our motivation is fragile. This can't be changed with yoga, this cannot be solved by trying more. Not to even mention, capitalist society is especially damaging to neurodivergent people (and not only them, of course). 

While on this journey, I am still meeting more and more people having same struggles like me, finding people who understand you is the best thing to battle impostor syndrome. Sometimes I can't help them and sometimes they can't help me, but it's okay, because we know we understand each other and if I wanna complain and vent, we can do so without having to explain this condition over and over. 

And I hope that someone finds this relatable too, because as a woman I know my group isn't represented enough. We are not children, nor adult males, we need more attention and more support, from both healthcare system and each other. 

While doing this, I hope to get myself proper medication and continue doing what I love the most - music. I don't love anything else more than that. I hope to get rid of “all or nothing” mindset, I hope to be more consistent, I hope my music will reach its listeners and fans. I still have enough time, I think, even though my sense of time is neurologically altered.