#it wasn't my first choice of scene but once I started I just figured I'd finish

[damngoodbabysiitter]

@giftober 2024 | Day 7: Helping

Juliette helps/saves Nick in his fight with Oleg Stark

[respectthepetty]

I'm here to report on the colors in episode four of Wandee Goodday, but first a few stray thoughts like I have another image to add to my collection of Yak looking at Dee crazy,

yet still going along with whatever Dee wants.

Also, Yak being bothered that Dee didn't immediately think of him as a friend was a good beat in establishing the "friend" portion of their benefits. They are friends who share their lives with each other and scheme together, and I'm glad the show is explicitly stating that.

Because the way the conversation began paralleled the way Yak wants to approach Taem about their relationship - What are we? "Are we datin'? Are we fuckin'? Are we best friends? Are we somethin' in between that?"

But also the nurse stating Yak must care a lot for his lover to get the vaccine and Yak looking immediately at Dee was perfection because 1) safe sex isn't just about you but about the people you are sleeping with,

2) you shouldn't be ashamed of caring about sexual health, so even if you hide behind queer pamphlets, drink water, get the shot, wear the condoms, and use the lube. Also, PrEP isn't just for men just like HPV vaccinations aren't just for women, and

3) it showed that Yak does care enough about DEE, his lover, to take their sexual health seriously -> Yak is on that Bed Friend's King level of sexy, and I'd go through the entire Kama Sutra with them both once all our test results came back clear.

Translations are always iffy but Ter mentioning that Dee wasn't thinking about his professional persona while Yak reminded Dee to not include his face in the pictures and Yei mentioned his brother being fine with Cher when they first started dating gives me hope that this show is going to lean more into the layers of being out because even though that "666" told me Ter was el diablo, he continues to make comments like that and Golf's other show, The Eclipse (which has been featured often in this show) was very much about (not) passing and levels of outness.

Yei and Yak's dad was a world champion boxer, yet he wasn't mentioned in this mom-focused episode and the mom is the one who opened the gym, so is the space that Cher and Yei are giving Yak to figure his feelings out something they weren't given by the father? Because Cher was worried about the pressure Yei was putting on Yak to move up a class.

And if the gym was the mom's, with all of its yellow, is Yak really like his mom as Dee assumed?

Because putting the opening scenes in black and white is an easy flashback technique, but in this particular story, where Yak and his mom are bright yellow, it was a painfully good choice to take the color and brightness out of the scene.

And it was an even better choice to parallel Dee comforting Yak in the same way Yak comforted him with a warmer (yellow) light than his normal purple one.

Because Dee is already in his feelings about Yak without realizing how deep he was, which is why he is wearing a soft yellow while Yak is wearing Dee's fake blue.

When they practiced what Yak would say to Taem, Dee thought about all their moments together, so he is falling quickly, while the signs are pointing out that Yak isn't there yet.

But I wouldn't be there either if I was still daydreaming about this beautiful goddess who always rescues Yak with her brilliance, sassy personality, singular focus, and yellow folders, but that sounds a lot like someone else.

A Purple Prince who is also brilliant and focused on winning but wild and sassy. Good to know Yak has a type. (Sidenote: the music choices swinging between romantic to tension-filled as the scene flipped between Taem and Dee was another great choice)

Because Taem is taken, even if not officially. She matches her guy. She had on a dark brown and black shirt, so he had on a dark brown cardigan with a black tie.

And she had on a brown-striped shirt with a black star, and he had on a brown jacket with black writing and a black tie.

Then again, Dee is no consolation prize. Not looking like that at least.

No wonder Yak is conflicted about what he feels when he looks at Dee because he most certainly is sexually attracted to him because *duh* who wouldn't be attracted to Dee (TER!), but as they sit in Yak's black and yellow room, it becomes more apparent that whatever he is feeling isn't just sexual desire.

And when Dee scratches his back just like his mom used to while tutoring him, it starts to become clearer that Dee, wearing his necklace, and in orange which is sooooo close to yellow fits easily into his life. (Sidenote: Together with Me taught me that in Thai, being itchy is slang for being horny, so good for this show and its layers)

Dee works so well in Yak's life that Yak is willing to get three shots to continue to have sex with him which can take anywhere from eight months to over a year to complete because each dose is spaced out by at least two-to-six months. Basically, Yak committed to a long-term plan . . . with Dee, who is chilling in his yellow-striped shirt.

So it's not surprising that Yak is wearing a deeper blue next week as he holds Dee on the couch since he is far more invested in this fake relationship than he originally intended.

I could write 5,000 more posts about them and this episode which I probably will.

But know that even though the blue Yak is wearing is getting deeper, I will not be satisfied until it turns into purple.

That's when I'll know they are both in love.

[darthgloris]

The Artist (Alicia Sierra x fem!reader)

Summary: Y/N (a.k.a. Akita) is part fo the robbery and works backstage as negotiator. Even though her career in art didn't work out, she still loves it. When she meets the leader Inspector she feels immediately drawn to her and starts sketching...

Requested: yes

Warnings: mentions of violence, fluff, teasing, SPOILERS

A/N: sorry but I lost the request! I'm really really sorry, hope you can forgive me!! Here it is, this was really fun to write! 🥰🥰❤❤

...

Drawing was my greatest love when I was a teenager.

While other girls may have been into make-up, or drama, or gossip, or boys... I'd stay in and draw, paint, sketch. Name it, I've tried it at least once. I was an unusual girl growing up. Girls at that age were interested mostly in the hobbies listed above, while I loved the exact opposite: drawing, reading, listening to music, learning languages, playing with dogs, studying like there was no tomorrow.

At university, I chose Graphic Design. And I loved it. Learning about my favorite thing in the whole wide world, filling in the gaps of my abilities, picking up new skills... that felt like heaven. I got out of college with my head high, amazing grades and an even better graduation. Although I wasn't prepared for the world outside. Soon enough, I started struggling to pay rent, especially in a city like Madrid. And I had no choice but to give it up.

Then, I met the Professor. A man just as unusual as me, who just so happened to have saved my life right there and then. The first heist was a success. I worked well with the gang, and given my love for working behind the scenes, I was the negotiator. Raquel was a very interesting individual, but I didn't get to speak to her much, as the Professor was the leading voice of the heist. It didn't bother me at all when they got together, to be honest I was rooting for them. When it all ended, I took my share of the money and went to live in Japan. It was beautiful: the perfect balance of modernity and tradition, the amazing food, the beautiful views, the friendly people, the new language. Every little detail fascinated me.

A year later, I came to know that Rio got kidnapped. And there I was again, back into the heist business. Once again cast as negotiator, this time I had to take the upper hand, because the Professor and Lisboa had their own part of the plan to take care of.

...

Current day - during the heist

I rested my feet onto the table of my hideout as I watched the TV intently. The news channel finally gave me important information: Rio was in Spain, finally. The poor boy took a tumble down the plane, falling on the ground in handcuffs and dirty clothes. Poor thing, I thought. Behind him, a figure emerged, a red-haired pregnant woman in a white coat and black cap. Inspectora Alicia Sierra. I found myself unable to tear my eyes from her face, as if I was in a trance: she was a very attractive woman, there's no denying that.

I wanted to remember that face while talking to her, so I was quick to reach for a pencil and paper and start reproducing her face. I glanced at the TV once in a while to get an idea of what she was like, memorising her traits as I transferred them on the paper sheet.

...

I pulled on my headphones and lined up the microphone to the side of my face, trying to calm my nerves before talking to the woman I was pining for a few hours ago. I picked up the drawing I made earlier and used it as a reference to draw her from other angles.

"Professor." A female voice spoke. Calm, collected, confident.

"Inspectora Sierra, how lovely to hear you." I replied, mirroring her tone.

"Ah, señorita Akita. I wasn't expecting you." Alicia said. "Well? Aren't you going to ask me what I'm wearing? I'd say it runs in your gang to play games like this."

"I'm assuming maternity clothes. Tell me, is it a boy or a girl?" I tantalised, running the pencil on the paper to make a rough sketch of her face.

She chuckled. "My, my, nosy girl. I didn't remember the Professor being this curious, but between you and me, sweetheart, I like you better." She clicked her tongue, presumably paired with a wink.

"Touché, preciosa," I shook my head, laughing at her attempt at flirting. "That's enough niceties for now, you can flirt with me later. Let's cut to the chase."

There was a long pause after she laughed in shock at my bluntness. I smirked, almost too proudly for my first conversation with a pregnant woman I've seen once on the TV. During the pause, I kept my eyes trained on the rough piece of paper while my wrist made a flicking motion to draw her strands of hair.

"I'm assuming your dear sister is having the time of her life. I don't think you've escaped to Germany. We could find her in a heartbeat, you know. I could barely picture it, a 17 year old girl thrust in the midst of rapists, drug users, murderers in the jails of, say, Northeast Asia? Ah, the poor thing. So young and so naive, the spat image of you, she wouldn't last a beat." She chuckled humourlessly.

"And what's your point, Inspectora? Your empathy for my little sister doesn't add up to when you tortured Rio, does it?" I didn't even bother to look up from my work as her threat was no longer valid. My little sister died of cancer last month, and the news hadn't reached Spain. That offered us a very good advantage.

She ignored my comment. "Akita, listen to me very carefully. Turn the Professor and Raquel in, and your sister remains untouched. Think about it, sweetheart. And think quickly, I am a busy woman, as you know."

"I most certainly do, señora Sierra." I said innocently, in a stupid but successful attempt to tease her.

"It's señorita now, actually." Alicia corrected.

"Good to know," I mirrored her flirty attitude from before. "On second thought, you were right, how foolish of me. What are you wearing?"

"You're impossible, Akita," she replied, laughing. "Don't get any ideas, sweetheart. I'm way out of your league."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

I gasped in mock offense, making her laugh genuinely. "Well, am I mistaken or am I actually growing on you? I bet you wouldn't be upset about being out of my league if that was the case."

"Shut up, sweetheart." She said mischievously.

"Make me." I teased her.

Her playful scoff was interrupted silently as she suddenly hung up.

I was confused for a moment as my hand moved the pencil confidently on the paper. As I stroked the graphite onto the rough surface, my mind wandered. Alicia was flirting shamelessly with me, in front of all her colleagues, and in a recorded phone call, no less. So either she was really brave or really stupid. Maybe a mixture of both.

This woman was really mesmerising: she was incredibly intelligent, as I could tell, she was confident, sarcastic, dominant and gorgeous. She was brave for raising a child on her own, as she specified that she wasn't married.

If the circumstances were different, I'd even go after her. I wished I had met her differently, because this woman was far beyond average and just about the quickest crush I've ever gotten. She was certainly not someone you'd want to lose. I wanted to talk to her again, leaving out our positions in this makeshift war. It seemed like we were getting along perfectly, flirting with each other as if the call wasn't recorded.

I took my hand away from the drawing and looked at my finished product. I was extremely proud of it: it looked just like her, the lines were confident and creative and the shading in a cross-hatching technique was on point. I bet she'd like it, I thought. My eyes lifted from the paper as I got an idea. Maybe she would.

Aikido, my Akita Inu, looked at me quizzically and tilted his head, almost as if questioning my decision. "Who knows? Maybe this will be what wins her heart." He yawned in response. "Oh, shut up, Aikido."

...

It had been a few days since I sent the drawings to Sierra, and apparently it went over well. The next time we negotiated she asked everyone to leave the tent and didn't confront me about the drawing, but rather she got friendlier: she started to open up, telling me things about her, showing her soft side, laughing, being careless, even saying that we'd meet one day. Of course, she loved the sketch, but we were still enemies, enemies who were intensely pining for each other and instead of doing something about their attraction they played games from a phone call and flirted shamelessly. Because acting on things was the most difficult thing you could ever do in your life. It requires courage, determination, confidence, and given the circumstances, you needed double these qualities.

And I was getting brave these days. And also a little crazy.

So I started sending her a sketch every other day to tease her. One day it was a sketch of her, the next of Aikido, the next of the police tent, the next of her holding the teddy bear.

It continued like this until she sold out the Government and started working alone. First she stopped by Sergio, which ended up in the ultimate team-up as they were on their own and Raquel was finally out of custody and in the bank. Then she left the Professor alone for a while.

...

I heard a knock on my door and Aikido got up on his feet, startled. I carefully stepped closer and tried to take a peek. My eyes caught a flash of red that I'd recognise anywhere, I immediately knew that was Alicia. I quickly opened the door and she looked at me, almost fazed. After a few seconds, she smiled at me, and said, "I promised you we'd meet, one way or another." I chuckled, moved, and let her in immediately. The second hideout of the heist was none other than my own home, a detached house in the middle of nowhere that the Professor was able to get me. It suited me perfectly, there was room for me and Aikido, hell, it even had an atelier.

"Welcome to my home, Inspectora," I said as she took in her surroundings.

"You don’t have to call me that anymore. Just 'Alicia' will do, sweetheart," she replied, a smirk playing on her lips. I gazed at her sweetly, meanwhile surprised at how my attraction to her had grown from a small infatuation to a full-on crush, and realised she didn't have a baby bump anymore.

"You-you gave birth?"

"Yeah, I did. In the stormwater tank."

"That must have been... uncomfortable."

"Sweetie, I had to blow a Saint Bernard out my ass. It would have been uncomfortable even on a hospital bed."

I couldn’t help but laugh at her joke, and soon enough she joined in. "So, is it a baby boy or a baby girl?"

"Girl. I named her Victoria." She said.

"That's a lovely name." I smiled at her.

"Speaking of names," Alicia leaned back on the table and gazed at me, her tantalising green eyes twinkling with mischief. "What's your name?"

That question took me off guard, as I almost tripped over my own feet while holding a glass of water.

She chuckled at my antics. "Somebody got flustered."

I cleared my throat. "Keep telling yourself that, Alicia." I loved how her name rolled off my tongue so easily.

"So you're not answering?"

"Not for the time being, no," I clicked my tongue and winked at her, mocking her for the first time we met. "I like being called Akita."

"Like the dog?" She asked.

"Actually, like the city. But yeah, also like the dog."

As if on cue, Aikido trotted inside.

"Oh, yeah, this is Aikido." I said briefly as Alicia offered her hand for the dog to smell.

"How adorable, you even have an Akita Inu." She noticed, chuckling when Aikido rubbed himself on her legs for pets.

"Wow, he never does that with anyone," I said in surprise. "Maybe he has a good feeling about you."

"Well, I have the blessing of your dog now, so we can't go wrong, can we?" She joked, scratching his weak spot. Soon enough, she even got his leg going.

"He really must love you," I laughed. "Usually he's very cat-like, I'm surprised he's actually asking to be petted."

"Well, I tend to grow on people." She said charismatically.

"Yeah, you do." I mumbled. "Hey, why don't you get comfortable? I'll make dinner and we could watch something."

"Dinner sounds great, thanks," she sighed in relief and I led her to the couch.

"What do you feel like having?" I asked her.

"Whatever you want, sweetie. Your house, your rules." She replied.

"Okay." I hunted through my fridge, hoping to find something good. I found a few eggs, and enough stuff to make salad. "You must be tired after giving birth and running away from the police. I'll make you something to restore your energies."

"Yeah, it was quite the drama. I've barely had time to breathe," she rested her head on the back of the couch at an angle where she could look at me. "You know, you draw really well."

"Oh, thanks." I accepted the compliment.

"Where did you go to art school?" She asked.

"Madrid Academy of Art," I replied. "How did you know I went to art school?" I immediately felt stupid after asking that question.

"Well, a ton of things gave you away. First of all, your proportions in the sketch of me you sent me. Obviously, your choice of media and type of paper that go well together, and the fact that you used binder to keep the sketch's lightfastness in a quantity that was balanced as to avoid damaging it. Then the smaller things, like your posture, the way you sit, the way you hold things, your hands, your eye for observation, and of course, the unmistakable smell of paint coming from over there..." she pointed at a room on the other side of the house. "...which I assume is your atelier."

"Wow, you're good," I laughed in shock. "And yeah, that is my atelier."

Alicia hummed in satisfaction. I turned around to check on her and she was looking at me in a different way now: her pupils were dilated and she was making puppy eyes at me, batting her eyelashes while pouting. Her eyes asked the question.

"You want to see the atelier?" I asked her, surprised.

"Yeah, I'd love to," she replied.

"You have beautiful eyes," I blurted out, and immediately cringed internally. Maybe I shouldn't have said that.

I heard her get up from the couch and silently step elsewhere. Since I couldn't hear her anymore, I turned around to check on her and found her in front of me in a heartbeat, hovering over me while my back hit the counter. I swallowed thickly and tried to hide my blush, but she noticed right away. Alicia grazed my face with her fingertips, starting at my cheekbone and trailing down my jawline. Her fingers brushed my neck for a split second, sending a shiver down my spine. Then her thumb slowly traced over my bottom lip, her eyes flickering to my eyes and back to my mouth. Her intelligent eyes asked for permission to kiss me, and I gave in without thinking twice.

In a second, Alicia brushed her lips against mine tentatively, with hesitation. She checked on me to see if I was okay, and that was all she needed. Without a second thought, she crashed her lips on mine more eagerly, her hand resting on the back of my head. I cupped her cheek and kissed her back with the same amount of desire.

She pulled away and leaned her forehead on mine, sighing in content. I licked my lips and gazed back at her, clearing my throat out of embarrassment. "That was, um... that was good."

"Good." She said.

The next few minutes were quiet. I cooked while she kept her eyes trained on my every motion, as if to make sure I didn't get hurt. When dinner was ready, I prepared our plates and took her to the couch. She sat down next to me, thanking me for the food. I put my feet up on the table and she followed suit. I turned on the TV, and she looked for a movie to watch together.

"This one?"

"This one."

The evening was quiet. We ate our food, which she really appreciated, by the look on her face, and Aikido stole a couple of pieces as well. About halfway through the movie, Alicia leaned her head on my shoulder, snuggling her body into mine. I froze in place, taken off guard by the action, but honestly I kind of like it.

"Is this okay?" She asked me, noticing the look on my face.

"Of course," I smiled at her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to me. I pressed a kiss to the top of her head and felt her melt into the embrace.

"Your hug is so amazing," she sighed. "It makes me feel safe."

My heart leaped out of my chest at that. "You are safe, honey," I kissed her temple lovingly. "I promise."

[commehter]

Netflix Live Action ATLA Adaptation

I'll admit upfront that I generally prefer animation over live action, and old school 2D animation in particular will forever have a place in my heart. I prefer the bright colors, stylized art, and easier suspension of disbelief inherit to the medium of animation. I also don't recall ever watching a live action adaptation of any animated movie or series that I considered to be better than the original.

So, I wasn't exactly excited for Netflix's new ATLA project, but I was, at least, curious. I'd not gone out of my way to follow any news or interviews about it, but I heard a few things here and there and I'd watched a trailer or two. Last night, I watched the first 30-ish minutes, and... I have a few thoughts. Just thoughts. No deep-dive critique or fiery damnation, just a few musings from my initial impression of the series.

It doesn't look like the project is Shyamalan bad, at least. Of course, Shyamalan dropped the bar to the floor and then blew it up with blasting jelly, so it would have been impressive if Netflix had managed worse.

The CG bending still has the problem of more often looking like fantasy mage spellcasting than of martial art bending. The bender does a series of movements like they're crafting a spell and after the fact there's an elemental outburst in response, rather than the element moving with the bender as an extension of them. It's clunky. (Also, Aang's first glider is iconic. Why avoid using it in his introduction for a sequence that looks like he's a step away from achieving Zaheer-style flight?)

The project seems to have settled on a tell-over-show approach for getting the uninitiated up to speed. It's a bit painful when a movie does this, but surely eight episodes is enough time that you don't need to cram in an explanation for everything right up front? The audience isn't so stupid that they can't figure out a few things without you telling them direct to their faces, or so impatient that you can't wait to address a secondary issue a few episodes in. You can give your own audience a little credit, can't you?

I'm a bit baffled as to why they felt the need to move the beginning scenes of the show to the pre-war timeframe, and then used some random EK spy. If you're going to mess with where in the timeline you start, why not jump straight into Sozin betraying Roku while they're fighting a volcano? It's got action, spectacle, and you can have Sozin monologue to his once-friend as he's dying rather than some nobody spy that he's only talking to for the sake of the camera. That one scene could be used to establish the Avatar's role, Sozin's ruthless ambition, and the state of the world as well as threat of the coming war. If you want to start things off with a bang and some establishing exposition, which is clearly what they attempted to do, then I don't understand why you don't immediately go to this scene.

This one's small, but why are so many FN soldiers using metal weapons during the attack on the Air Temples? They had to firebend/rocket their own way up from the look of things, so they're all benders. Those weapons would have been unneeded weight during their ascent and the comet is a boon specifically to their bending, so... Yeah, I can't make that one make sense.

Why is Sozin, who is a national leader and old, personally heading a military campaign from the frontlines? Doesn't he have people for that? A literal army of people?

There are some other illogical choices, particularly for folks who know the world, but those are the ones I recall most vividly after sleeping on it for a night. (Reminder: I only watched the first 30-ish minutes, roughly half the episode.)

In summary, it didn't strike me as being terrible but it definitely had its share of avoidable problems. I'm not sure how much of it I'll end up watching, if I go back to it at all.

How about it folks? Any opinions on if I should or shouldn't try watching more of the Netflix series?

[krizaland]

Found Once Again Chapter 9

LMK Wukong x Bao Li

Be warned: There’s slapping ahead.

First Previous

The moment MK answered the call, he was met with an absolutely panicked Mei!

“MK! Bao Li was just kidnapped! You need to get over here right away!”

Wukong nearly choked on his noodles.

“SHE'S BEEN WHAT?!“

In the blink of an eye, Wukong dropped his noodles and jumped off the couch.

“Don't worry, I'm on my way!” MK announced as he ended the call, “Monkey King! Bao Li's been kidnapped! We gotta save her-”

“Way ahead of you, kid!”

MK looked over to find Wukong cleaned up and fully dressed in his usual armor.

“Now, cmon! We have no time to lose!”

And with that, Wukong summoned his cloud, grabbed MK, and flew off to the crime scene.

Meanwhile, Macaque popped out of his portal and made a smooth landing at the park.

He casually plopped down on a nearby bench as Bao Li's portal opened above him.

PLOP!

Bao Li landed safely in Macaque's arms.

“Glad you could drop in.” Macaque chuckled.

“That wasn't funny, Macaque!” Bao Li pouted as she wriggled out of Macaque's grip.

“Aww, you're no fun~” Macaque teased.

“Ok, Let's get this date over with.” Bao Li muttered as she sat down next to him.

“Not with that attitude! This is supposed to be a date not a chore.” Macaque mused with a smirk.

“Well it sure feels like one; considering how you've pretty much given me no other choice!” Bao Li huffed as she folded her arms.

“C'mon, Sapphire. Can't you at least try to have a little bit of fun?” Macaque pouted playfully.

“Well I'm not- Wait. Sapphire?” Bao Li blinked in confusion

“Yeah. Your eyes remind me of sapphires. So I thought it would be a cute nickname for you.” Macaque explained casually as he twirled his wrist.

Bao Li's face burned pink once more.

She tried to speak but all that came out was a flustered squeak.

She turned her head away in a poor attempt to hide her blushing face.

“Aww, don't hide your face from me, Sapphire-” -Macaque turned her face to look at him- “-You're so cute when you're blushing~”

“I-I am not! I'm-”

“You totally are. But hey, there's no shame in it. Pink really suits you.” Macaque purred, his eyes half-lidded.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Bao Li whimpered pathetically.

“Because it's fun. Besides, I've been waiting a really long time for this.” Macaque chuckled .

“Eh? What are you talking about?”

“C'mon, sapphire, do I really have to spell it out? I'm in love with you. Always have been since the day we met.” Macaque confessed, his face blushing as well.

Bao Li nearly fell out of the bench!

”What?! You've been in love with me this whole time?!”

“That's what I said, isn't it?” Macaque grumbled.

“Were you just pretending to be my friend so that I would fall in love with you?!” Bao Li snapped as she put a hand on her chest.

“What! No! Not really. I had a feeling Wukong wasn't gonna give you up. At least not without a fight. But now that he's out of the picture-”-Macaque grabbed Bao Li's face and his voice lowered- “-I've finally got my chance to have you for myself.”

He was about to pull Bao Li into a kiss when-

SLAP!

Bao Li's hand collided with his cheek.

Macaque simply let out a crazed giggle as he rubbed his throbbing cheek.

“Wow! You actually have some fight in you after all.”

Bao Li jumped out of the bench and snapped.

”How dare you?! Did you really think that because I'm no longer with Wukong that I would just fall in love with you?!”

“Well not right away. I figured I'd have to spend some time proving to you that I'm the better choice.” Macaque purred as he examined his claws.

“Ugh! I can't believe you! And to think I called you a friend!“ Bao Li sniffled as a few tears trickled down her cheeks.

“Hey, we actually were friends. But now we can take things to the next level. Sit back down and let's start over-” -Macaque patted the spot next to him.

“Absolutely not! I refuse to participate in this any longer!”

With a loud huff, Bao Li tried to storm off.

Bao Li then let out a yelp as her shadow wrapped around her.

“Where are you going? Are you really just gonna run off by yourself in a strange place?” Macaque chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her.

“No! I'm going to find Mei and-”

“And what? Let her drag you back to Wukong? You do realize that you’re never gonna get your space out here, Right? Wukong and his stupid friends will keep trying to track you down and force you back into an unhappy marriage-”-Macaque turned Bao Li around to face him.

”That's not true! My marriage with Wukong wasn't an unhappy one at all! I was very happy with him!“ Bao Li countered as she trying to wriggle out of Macaque's grip

“Then why do you want to leave him so bad?”

Bao Li let out a gasp as more tears trickled down her cheeks.

She tried to speak but no words came out.

“Look, just because you think you were happy with him doesn't mean you actually were.” Macaque continued.

It was then Bao Li found her voice.

“What are you talking about?!”

“Your nostalgia is lying to you. Things weren't that great with Wukong and you know it. He dragged you into his mess, then lied to you about it. Then he made an even bigger mess that nearly got you killed!” Macaque growled, his grip tightening.

Bao Li froze as she felt a knot form in her stomach.

Macaque's face softened as he released her from his grip.

“Look, I know I'm coming on strong but you might as well accept me. ”Because, let's face it, Bao Li. I'm the only one that you can still trust.”

“But you lied to me too.” Bao Li choked out.

“No I didn't. I just kept my feelings to myself. I let you be with Wukong for all those years and did t try to butt in once until now. If anything, I'm actually the only one being honest with you.” Macaque explained gently.

Bao Li felt her heart sink into her stomach.

As much as she hated to admit it, Macaque did make a good point there.

She let out a sigh and hung her head low.

Macaque put a hand on her shoulder.

“Look on the bright side, I’ll always be here for you, whether you like it or not.”

Next

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[rokkit-story-time]

Hypnovember day 3 - Vampire/Film

CW: Vampire bite, talk of a person as prey

"Oh *gawd*, you can't be serious!" Suzie was remarkably careful about spilling the bowl of homemade popcorn as she plopped down onto the couch. "I know it's October, but a cheesy vampire flick!?"

Ysabelle chuckled. "What can I say? It's most of what's available right now... aaand I have a spot spot in my heart for cheesy schlock~"

Suzie rolled her eyes and patted the spot next to her. "Still, for having me over for the first time? I'd have expected something a bit... different~"

Ysabelle shrugged as she settled onto the couch and leaned against her girlfriend. "Just give it a chance, yeah? I think you might be surprised by some things~"

Suzie took the edge out of her scoff by kissing the other woman's cheek. "If you say so... it's an excuse to cozy up to you regardless~"

"Exactly!" Ysabelle put an arm around Suzie's shoulders and gave a brief squeeze. "So let's at least enjoy that, even if you can't stop harping on my choice of film~"

Suzie giggled and snuggled closer, choosing popcorn over further banter as the opening credits gave way to the movie proper.

Things had been going *well* between her and the raven-haired beauty... too well, honestly, but she pushed away the bit of anxiety that told her Ysabelle was hiding something from her. She'd seen the woman unmask around her at least once, and she herself had already fallen into a comfortable level of openness. They just... clicked. Things that had put other partners off, Ysabelle instead found *cute* about her. And she'd been told a few times that it went both ways for that. They connected in ways Suzie had never had before, and *gods* did it feel good~!

Her thoughts started to focus more on the movie as the tension picked up. The cover, name, and cast all screamed 'bad-acted old-style horror', but it was actually quite an interesting thriller. It wasn't until a third of the way through the movie that the audience found out who the vampire even *was*, and then she started picking off the humans one by one, getting them alone and putting them under her spell to use against the others.

Suzie squirmed a little each time one of those scenes happened. Watching them trapped, staring, held there under that predator's gaze, slowly falling to her words... there was something in that Suzie was fascinated by. And how the lead's crimson eyes would flash at the camera as she spoke sometimes... it almost felt like she was addressing the viewer with some of those lines. Suzie felt herself pulled in, rooting for the vampire more and more, excited to see how she'd trap the next person, to hear what she'd say, to see those eyes flash, and to feel those fangs-

A quick two-pronged poke hit her neck, and she stiffened and let out strangled squeak.

Ysabelle doubled over laughing for a moment, moving her fingers away from where her nails had gently jabbed at Suzie's neck. "You should have *seen* yourself! I think you actually stopped breathing... Oh and hells that blush and pout are *adorable*~"

"I AM NOT POUTING!" Suzie tried to get her voice under control. And her breathing. And her pulse. And her... everything, really. "Y-you just startled me!"

"Really~? Just startled~?" Ysabelle leaned in, and Suzie felt the tone in the room shift. "A bit of jumpscare is all that was~? *Nothing* else~?"

Suzie's mouth worked as she started into Ysabelle's eyes. The movie was on another scene of the vampire and a cornered human, and part of her brain noted that the vibe was oddly similar to that in the room with her. "W-w-well..."

"You weren't, maybe, *excited* or anything~?" Ysabelle's nails brushed against her neck again, and she whimpered quietly. "...wishing you were in that position, maybe~?"

"I-I-I-I-I-" Suzie would've been upset that she couldn't get her mouth to work properly, but she also couldn't seem to figure out how to *think* the words she intended to say either, so there wasn't really much to do about it.

"You what~?" The enchanting creature on the couch mirrored the one on the screen, moving her popcorn bowl out of the way to climb on top of her, straddling her lap. "You found yourself practically entranced by the movie~? By the lovely lady lead in it~?" She leaned in, gaze holding Suzie's own as her arms draped over the shorter woman's shoulders. "...you caught yourself desperately craving such attention, maybe~?" Her voice was a whisper, and her eyes...

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

"*Speak*~" It was almost like the red flash she saw was just the reflection off the TV. Almost. But it wasn't.

Suzie opened her mouth. She *had* to speak. Had to answer. Had to...

She shivered. Had to *obey*.

"...what happens now?" Suzie's voice felt pulled out of her, breathy, terrified and needy both at once. "A-am I going to die...?"

Ysabelle blinked. "...Suzie." The red was gone, and there was so much... *warmth* in that voice. "I wouldn't spend two months and over a dozen dates just to lure in one prey~"

Suzie swallowed. The word 'prey' caused the oddest spike of fear and desire in her. "Th-then why...?"

Ysabelle leaned in and kissed her softly before speaking. "...because I..." She hesitated, glancing away for just a moment. "...I... like you... a great deal. And..."

"I might be in love with you!" Suzie let the words tumble out of her mouth without any effort to stop them.

They hung in the air for a long moment as Ysabelle stared at her.

The smile that bloomed on the pale woman's face made her *so happy* she'd let those words go free.

"...I *know* I'm in love with you, Suzie~" She felt more relaxed now, her hands starting to idly play with Suzie's hair. "I'm rather familiar with the feeling~ I've been what I am for a few hundred years now, and I have become *well* aware of the value of... companionship~" She glanced away again, and the faintest pink tint came to her cheeks. It suddenly clicked to Suzie why the woman seemed so hard to make blush. "...and, with you, I... well, I normally wait at least a year to reveal myself. Sometimes I let them discover it on their own. But..."

Suzie's hand rested on one of Ysabelle's. It was hard to tell who first started intertwining their fingers into the other's. "...but it feels easy, yeah? Natural? ...*right*?"

The smiling, blushing, hand-holding predator in her lap nodded. "Yeah~ All of those and more~"

Suzie chewed her lip for a moment, both in excitement and to try and restrain the idiotic grin she could feel trying to fill her face. "Y-you know, I, um... think we can just scratch off that 'might', then~?"

Her efforts to keep said idiotic grin off her face failed miserably as its twin took over her girlfriend's mouth. The objectively power supernatural being on top of her *wiggled* and let out a quiet "yaaay~"

Suzie's heart melted on the spot.

They just stared at each other for several seconds before a red flash caught her eye from the screen, and Ysabelle's eyes suddenly shifted from giddy to sultry. "...you never answered my questions, you know~"

Suzie thought her face might catch fire as she let out a nervous laugh. So many different replies flew through her head... and the one that she finally landed on nearly stopped her heart. "...so make me then~"

Flash. "*Tell me* how this movie made you feel... my love~"

"Iwanteverythingshewasdoingtothemandmore!" Need. The words tripped over her tongue as she tried to get them all out. "Iwasmesmerizedeveryscenewhereshetookcontrol!" *Need*. She had to tell, had to confess, had to let her *love* know *everything*. "ButI'dmuchratherbemesmerizedbyyou~!" Need need need need need! "IwantitsomuchIcan'tstandit~!"

"Are you sure~?" Suzie's breath caught as Ysabelle smiled... and as she caught sight of two long fangs. "If you want me playing with your head like that... if you 'invite me in' to your mind... I probably won't ever want to leave, you know~"

Suzie swallowed hard. Again her head came up with so many things to say... but only one felt right. Just like Ysabelle did. "...I love you, Ysabelle~ So please, please please *please*... won't you come in~?To stay~?"

Her heart skipped a beat as her vampire lover blushed for the second time she'd ever seen, emotion soaring in her expression as she started to lean in. "Gladly~"

Her voice was a whisper as her mouth reached Suzie's neck.

"...I love you too, Suzie~"

There was a small pinch of pain, and Suzie's world went white with bliss.

[alpacaparkaseok]

Hello hello B!!

Popping in to ask 1. How are you?! and 2. To pick your brain about How to Sell Sunshine. A TikTok has inspired me to MAYBE write a mafia fic about SKZ (because I am seeing them on Sunday and the brain rot is real), and now I have questions on how you wrote your masterpiece.

1. How did you decide who mc would end up with?

2. How in the world did you figure out all the mafia stuff AND keep it sfw? I am simply baffled and overwhelmed 😂

3. Did you plot out everything generally or chapter by chapter (member by member)?

I stand in awe of your genius, that is all.

Delacy!! I'm doing great! Just enjoying seeing the sun again and the snow finally starting to melt!

How are you?? Hope you're doing wonderful!

YESSSSSSSSSS

Ok I saw that "maybe" thrown in there but I'm just ignoring that while I celebrate because I'd read the crap out of a SKZ mafia fic and ALSO that sounds like you're going to have the best weekend ever seeing them!!! Send them my loveeeee 😭

Ok ok ok I'm gonna try to answer these as coherently as possible because I'm a total pantser when it comes to this kinda stuff lol

I had a top three I think going into it, but it was easier for me to decide who wasn't going to be endgame. Like, Joon was automatically off the table due to his history that I really liked and wanted to develop. Having him form a romantic relationship with mc seemed contradictory. (although this didn't stop me from playing around with their dynamic lol)

As the story progressed, I looked at their character development and how I wanted that character to be by the end of the series. it was actually really difficult, because there were a couple of good options, but I also think that's nice because then it isn't this blatant choice. It really comes down to mc and who she feels like understands her the best.

Just adding this: I feel like it's ok if mc makes a decision that also maybe goes against the grain a bit (not saying that HTSS mc did, but just in general...although maybe she did a bit haha), as long as she has a legitimate reason for making that choice. It doesn't have to make perfect sense to the other suitors, but it has to feel right to her. Just like it real life lol. Sometimes we make decisions that make other people look at us funny, but we know why we're doing it.

2. HA this is actually a great questions, because it's hard. There's a lot of other mafia fics out there both in the fanfic world and in other mediums, and not very many of them are sfw. Mainly it was just a personal choice that I made long before, but I also put more weight on the plot than the other stuff. Sure, we deal with blood and gore but we can't find the point of it all if it's off camera drowning in blood. Also, I have no issue throwing in a spicy scene here or there, but the art of implication is powerful and something I respect. None of my characters got far enough to sleep with each other or anything, because I'm a big fan of slow burn. But I'm also a big fan of sexual tension exploding with a single caress and whispered confession. I'd hate for that to go out of style lol

3. The plot! Going into this, I knew everybody's "role", as in, Hobi is a hitman and Tae's a getaway driver, etc. From there I built up their character's a bit more, and honestly those first chapters where we're meeting them one by one, that was just me trying to figure crap out. It wasn't until I was coming up on the Gala chapter and people were getting shot (keeping it vague in case someone reads this that hasn't gotten to that point haha) that I realized I wasn't ready to have this crew say goodbye just yet. They had a higher, more criminal purpose to fulfill. 😂

Once I got to chapter 6, I mapped out a bit more of the overarching plot. But it was fairly vague and really just came to light as I wrote the chapters. I knew how I wanted it to end, but getting there was all on mc & friends. I just had them figure it out lol

I can lightly plot, but I really depend on the characters/members. Getting to know them through character sheets or just writing blurbs that never see the light are usually how that works for me. So it was super general as far as plot goes, and it uncovered itself bit by bit until I knew the ending and how long I needed to get there.

I hope that this makes any semblance of sense! Really truly just had fun with it. And fell in love with this particular cast of characters along the way.

Happy writing! And I can't wait to see what you come up with if you end up writing it! Have sososososo much fun with SKZ!!

tell lee know i'd probably do something illegal for him if he wanted

[bonedors]

first of all, 우리 sweet creature moni. thank you for recommending myungjae's FT and for giving me the chance to express my opinions about it. i LOOOOVED the writing style you went for and the recurrent nostaglia theme throughout all scenes. as i'm quite the remiscent type, it allowed me to stick to the story from the incipit to its very end. it's so, so flipping captivating. i felt your writing was also permeated with some bitterness and.. regret? possibly. i recall the mc's thoughts about jealousy and resentment towards jaehyun's genuineness as well as for his family situation since he was dearly encouraged to invest time, passion and effort in the realisation of his dream career. yet i spotted also some guilt in their (mc's) words? i just couldn't shake off the feeling throughout the whole story. let me know whether it was something you actually wanted to convey with this stylistic choice or if it surfaced along the work's drafting.

then again, can we discuss about descripions? "you and jaehyun were once painted with hues of the sun. this reunion is now painted in blue" or "it's a tornado that brews within you, enough to uproot trees and displace buildings" + the following monologue.... moni HELLO??? it's so figurative and poetic??? let me cup your forehead and stamp a gratefulness-imbued smooch over your brain. I PLEAD YOU. it's with contentment i declare once again my imagination got a giant meal to feast upon. fantasy is so satiated i'm in a euphoric, creative frenzy. AAAAA HOW ONE CURBS THEIR HORSES when i'm so hooked on your writing!! and you definitely deserve more than a mere kith /:

back to our serious selves, i'd like to explain i read the story twice in order to consolidate my insights. the first time i went throght it i was a bit clouded with confusion in some segments, confusion that was later dissipated on the second read. idk whether it was me not reading carefully, my attention faltered due to late hours, or some plot unclarities.... the second read unrevelled all doubts eventually. it was exactly how you feel when you complete a game blind-mode and then start it again yet aware of all the dynamics, details etc. so that you allow yourself to dive in it deeper and with more precision. do you hear me? it gives the hunch the plot is layered! and i bet i'll be able to spot something new if i come back reading it which it encourages me to actually jump on it again haha.

as for the aspect i cherished the most, that goes to the different realities proposed by the two protagonists, despite them living the same social conventions. you know, initially i didn't really vibe with the mc as they seemed to act quite distant, a trait exalted then by the constant comparison with a jaehyun overflowing with passion, a boy who appeared to be the only one caught up in life, in their friendship, the only one who was really trying to make it all happen. and then again, that recurring bitterness feeling that didn't quite hoodwink me.... nope. i wasn't a fan and this feeling only strengthened when they parted according to their parents' wishes.

for a moment i believed they had no reason, office, to wonder how jae had felt those years after separation, what he had been through. after he had always been there, even when he couldn't, even when they (mc) weren't there. but then i realized. the mc did change. the time spent away from home, from the reality of living with jaehyun whom held the scent of home, made the mc's true feelings blossom like a bud in the midst of springtime. and i was able to understand this because mc eventually became a journalist, right as jae suggested. because when they admired his performance at work, with their chin rested on crossed arms, at that instant there was no shred of jealousy, nor regret. but a bunch of admiration. and despite their past, jae continued to feel the just the same as he communicates during the interview. i feel his love towards mc truly never withered, like the most religious of leaves.

oh my chockobuns... i love FT myungjae so dearly. he reminds me of the real jae so much. his dliligence, hardwork, the passion shown for his job and the people he cherishes for.... you know it already moni, but FT jaejae has secured a spot in heart it'll be tough to let go.

now. if i may share this lighthearted, the only part i would object to is the end. i find it too abrubt given how you set the tone through the whole craft. concluding after mentioning the mc at the end, hm. i believe that to each other, jae and our dear mc, they are nothing but sweet memories of a time gone by. i would have omitted that interview's last sentence, in order to maintain the angst, as it was personal and directed specifically at the mc (maybe they could have read it in their head or smth) while i would have softened the blow of closure with a reflection of what were fragments of a heartfelt friendship now shattered. you get it? it is a possibility, and my personal opinion too, but not necessarily a good one haha.

andddd with all this being delivered, i'll tediously repeat myself in the statement of deep appreciation towards FT. it has been a juicy, well layered, and overall delightful story. i can see why you care deeply about it and it shows, in each sentence, your affection and efforts put into making it. i thank you again for allowing me to comment on it, too. hopefully you're some way satified with my words. MWAH <3

finger trapped (ripped to its seams) ➵ myung jaehyun

myung jaehyun x reader

with an unexpected reunion, you and jaehyun relive the memories of cheongju—and confront what could’ve been between you two.

general genre/warnings ➵ friends to almost lovers, angst, fluff, gender neutral reader, some depressive and insecure thoughts, hurt/comfort, the last five years story-telling method (aka present will be told going backwards while past will be told moving forward… i hope that makes sense), brief mention of blood from picking on your skin, tiger parents so… parental issues, both of you come from cheongju for the sake of the story, unexpected reunion, keeping secrets & lying, jealousy remains but love triumphs, journalist reader (u kno i had to do it), reader is a nerd and jaehyun is a student-athlete, kms jokes from jongseob (all /lh), finger traps aren’t efficient after all

word count ➵ 15.7k words

playlist ➵ end of beginning by djo // high school in jakarta by niki // i know it won’t work by gracie abrams // no big deal (i love you) by dodie // keeping tabs by niki // no one knows by stephen sanchez & laufey // so what now by reneé rapp // i wish i hated you by ariana grande // the 1 by taylor swift // seasons by wave to earth

a/n ➵ it's finally out! this work is so so personal to me on so many levels so i hope you all love and treat this fic with care :')) for the bitches who struggle with parents and dreams.... this one's for you (i am in the same boat) i appreciate everyone who's been so patient and looking forward to this fic's release. you can access the changmin & hanbin vers as well! please do reblog and leave feedback!!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

present -> three weeks after the interview, 2024

the newsroom never sleeps. the rings of landlines and clacks of keyboards bounce off the four walls. through light bulbs or sunshine, light continues to remain. and at every corner, a journalist stands—ready to enter the depths of slumber but remain on their toes as they await for an update on their unraveling story.

but the newsroom is rarely busy unless there’s a major nationwide event, election season or the super bowl to name a few, for most journalists are out to discover what the world has to offer.

knowledge doesn’t only come from the chitchat of your coworkers. it’s only on the field that you’ll hear of hearsay and testimonies. after all, the choice to probe rests on your shoulders.

“there’s a typo over there.”

“huh? where?”

“over here,” you mumble as your finger darts to point at a section on the screen. “it’s supposed to say “with their climactic performance,” not climatic.”

“ah, i see it now. sorry about that,” lee jihoon of digital development says as he corrects the error. his hair is disheveled from the hood that once perched on his head during the night he spent in the newsroom. you would’ve scolded the guy—go home and take a shower before you stink up the place—but you are no better, grouped with the other journalists who stayed up in the office.

“there we go. should be all good. now, are you ready to go through the profiles?”

an exhausted chuckle departs from your lips. “yeah, let’s go—”

“what’s the update?” life and arts editor kim namjoon—your editor—comes to you with a smile.

the grey hoodie he wears paired with comfortable jeans shows that he’s a little relaxed. for once, you don’t see him on his phone, battling the deadlines or getting pitched stories by the other editors. it’s a nice sight but one that won’t last for long.  

“we just finished going through the article about the group, so we still have yet to go through the profiles.” jihoon then looks at you. “i can’t believe you basically wrote seven articles. like, six profiles and one main article is a lot. you didn’t want to work on it with anyone else?”

once namjoon stands beside you, you bump your shoulder against his figure. “i didn’t have a choice, did i?” it’s a rhetorical question but one your editor still chooses to answer.

“unfortunately, we’re understaffed, but it seemed like you got the hang of it. i wouldn’t have trusted anyone else to do it.” namjoon shoots you a smile before redirecting his attention back to jihoon. “and as much as i’d love to tell y/n more, we have to pick up the pace.” without any further questions, the three of you resume with work. 

there’s no time to waste in the journalism industry. still, his praise doesn’t go unnoticed. 

one article turned into eight done in a matter of 30 minutes, all with the help of three pairs of eyes to go through them. (namjoon seemed to carry the heavy lifting. after all, the guy was trained to be quick in reading and spotting errors.)

it should’ve been easy to keep up with your editor for all the other articles; you know each profile like the back of your hand.

then, the face of a boy who you once knew sits on the screen.

his gaze seems to pierce through your soul, almost in the same way you last talked to him. the loose ends of composure slip through your fingers; your breath’s stuck in your throat as the hammering of your heart fills your ears. yet, he stands still on the monitor.

as your eyes drift through the passages you’ve written, every sound is drowned out. the voice of your editor fades like the everchanging seasons and the clicks of the keyboard resemble the sobs you let out in the comfort of your childhood room.

and suddenly, the hands of the clock have turned all the way back to 2019. the cubicles transformed into aisles of chips and instant ramen, and you hear mr. kim’s voice in the distance—i have some hotteok! fresh from the pan! but amidst it all, you hear the giggles of the boy, your best friend, as he rushes towards you—i’ll go audition and make you proud. as your arm is wrapped with the heat of his fingers, you almost believe that your life as a journalist is nothing but a dream—

“i knew him.” the illusion disappears within a blink of an eye. namjoon’s eyes snap towards you and jihoon stops scrolling through the website. “we went to the same high school.”

you aren’t sure why you revealed that to your coworkers, let alone your boss. it’s an old memory—your weight to carry. before you can apologize for disrupting their work, namjoon’s hand rests on your shoulder, his thumb drawing shapes into it. when you look over at him, you’re greeted by his smile. it resembles your bed after a long day of work or a slow day at the newsroom.

but it never lives up to him, whose giggles resemble nature’s symphonies. the two shots of espresso you need at the start of the day once came in the form of his warm embrace. most of all, his smile is enough to illuminate the world even through the strongest storms and times when power went out.

for the remaining articles, not a single word leaves you. before you know it, all seven articles were ready to go up on the web.

“that’s all of it. should i still schedule them to go up around 12 p.m.?” jihoon notes as he saves the drafts.

“yeah, 12 p.m. still sounds good. thanks a lot.” namjoon nudges his shoulder before looking over to you. “let’s talk in my office.”

you don’t question his orders. once namjoon takes off, you follow him all the way to his office. as he swings the door open, you are met with the familiar sight of his workspace. hues of green and brown mix, where nature and art meet within the space of corporate.

once namjoon takes a seat on his chair, you find your spot across from him. his eyes stare off to the window. for a moment, you’re not sure what to expect from this impromptu meeting.

seconds pass and not a single word has been said—

“this place’s always alive,” your editor breaks the silence. “don’t you think so?”

you follow his line of sight. busy seoul never changes; the skyscrapers pollute the sky and the people never sleep, off to work or off to party.

“where’d you grow up again?”

you look back at namjoon whose eyes still remain locked on the city. “cheongju.”

he hums. “i haven’t been there. nice place?”

“yeah, but i haven’t gone back in a while.”

“when was the last time?” his eyes finally meet yours.

your teeth grasp the inside of your cheek. “2019, since i first left,” you admit. 

“do you miss it?”

you’re not sure how to answer. the pavements you’ve scraped your knees against and the walls your laughs bounced off of—do you miss them all? or is the reason behind your laughter and scabs the one you long for?

“is that why you were hesitant about interviewing them?” namjoon’s thumbs fiddle with each other. “because of your history with him?”

now, you stare at your linked hands. maybe the silence from you is enough to answer his question but you know namjoon would never settle for a soundless answer.

“i—i’m not a good person. and even if i didn’t make the choice to leave, i—” you hold yourself back. your fingers start to pick on the skin around your thumbs, peeling it so blood can spill. 

“it’s okay, i understand. you don’t have to share it with me.” your eyes drift back to namjoon, spotting a small smile that rests on his face. “it must’ve been hard to relive it all.”

the bond you have with namjoon is one that you hold close to your heart. through his mentorship, you got to learn about what it means to be a writer. the fears of being a journalist would loom over you, where questions of salary and demanding work hours would occupy your mind, but namjoon became someone who would absolve them all. he became a pillar in your life, one that provides you hope and comfort within the industry.

“so, don’t feel pressured to talk about it. but if you ever want to open up about it, then i’ll be here.”

namjoon’s giving you an exit. are you willing to take it?

you cross your arms as you lean back into the chair. “you know how i was a science major then?”

“yeah, i remember looking over your resume. and then i saw that you were part of your university’s publication.”

your tongue pushes against the inside of your cheek. “i would’ve gotten some job in that field, like, i had it lined up for me.”

“really? like lab coat and all?”

as namjoon attempts to hold back his laugh over the image, you chuckle along. “yeah, lab coat and all! it’s crazy how my life was all set for that field, but i’m here now.” you look down at your arms. “i think just facing him in a completely different field that i once used to imagine with him was just strange. but i think hearing his answers really did it for me.”

namjoon nods at your words. “care to have lunch with me?” your eyes snap back to your editor. “i’m guessing you want to talk about it, after all.”

all you do is smile before getting off your seat.

spring of 2019

the season of spring has graced cheongju; the sun gleams in the expanse of blue and birds perched on tree branches sing their songs. it’s the perfect season to embrace the wonders of the town.

while it would be a delight to bask under the returning warmth, you’re stuck within the walls of the classroom, head resting on crossed arms. 

still, the lilacs have yet to bloom.

“y/n.” you quickly sit up before your eyes settle on your adviser, ms. jeon, who stands in front of the classroom. “let’s take attendance.”

with that, you’re beside her as you call out each name on the class list. it’s a quick process of saying your classmates’ names for them to respond in variations of “present,” until you reach the section of last names that start with an ‘m’.

“myung jaehyun.” no response.

you rip your eyes off the piece of paper, only met with your classmates who either look at each other in confusion or spaced out in their own worlds.

“myung jaehyun?” when you’re met with the same reaction, you’re ready to mark the student absent—

“sorry!” the doors slam open. a boy clad in a white polo and jogging pants is panting by the entrance, covered in sweat as he rests on the edge of it. “sorry, i’m late.”

“oh, it’s okay! you arrived just in time.” ms. jeon smiles at the tardy student. as you watch him take a seat, his eyes lock with yours, but your adviser nudges you before saying, “y/n, proceed.”  

myung jaehyun made his name a few years back at a competition. the applause and roars from the crowd marked his spot in the school. others describe his movement as of cranes, standing in the middle of a pond as they do their best to minimize forming any ripples, or of elephants, swaying their trunks with control like no other.

but he’s a versatile dancer; nothing can truly capture him.

once you’ve finished marking the attendance, you go back to your seat. you’re ready to start the day with no bother but you can’t shake the feeling of being watched.

“now, you can see in these,” your art teacher, ms. park, points to the screen showcasing works from her favorite contemporary artists like kwon yongju and félix gonzález-torres, “that there are no borders to what constitutes art. and that’s not wrong because we have to recognize that art comes in different forms as we progress, from traditional painting and sculptures to digital ones.”

this field isn't your strong suit. with a greater understanding of the sciences, you struggle to create anything that could be on par with the works of any artist. yet, you enjoyed learning about every piece that your teacher shared, like unfolding and admiring something you know you can never replicate or create. still, the universe decides that they have other plans for you.

“as i mentioned before, i’ll be giving you time to work on your final assessment, which is to create an artwork for the class exhibit. for this deliverable, i’m asking that your work will be a collaborative one, meaning you aren’t working alone.” in a sea of chatter, some groans exit your classmates. “remember, inspiration doesn’t come from your own bubble! take this as your opportunity to create something that you’ve never imagined.”

within a split second, students are off their seats as they attempt to find a partner to work with. you, however, were struggling to think of who you could team up with. admittedly, you have a very different work style compared to others—even baek jiheon, aspiring valedictorian, didn’t enjoy working with you. she turned every activity into a competition against you. (you didn’t enjoy her, either.) while you’re considering shamefully going up to your classmates like a stray dog looking for anyone willing to care for them—

“hi!” in front of you stands the tardy student of today, all smiles as his hands find comfort in the pockets of his jogging pants. “do you have a partner already?”

with furrowed eyebrows, you can’t help but look him up and down. “no, why?”

“well,” jaehyun looks around the classroom, “everyone seems to have paired up except for us.” as his eyes drift back to you, he flashes you a smile, one that shows the dips engraved into his cheeks. “which leaves me to ask if you would like to work with me for this.”

you don’t have a choice. ms. park would never bend the rules for you. if anything, she would find a way to pair you with another student who would dread the idea of working with you. (“i’m sure they won’t mind being partners with you, right?” is what she would ask the poor student, only to be met with their retreat.)

“unless we accept a failing mark, which i’m sure we both don’t want.” it’s not like jaehyun had a choice as well.

“okay.” with one word, light fills his eyes, enough to resemble the starlight that grazes your skin every night. “we can meet and discuss our schedules, especially because i’ve got ap stat, and you have, uhm,” a cough leaves you, “training, i’m assuming, or rehearsals. i don’t really know what you call them.”

his eyebrows shoot up as his mouth parts open. “o—oh, yeah. i usually have training after class until 8 p.m. on tuesdays, thursdays, and saturdays.”

“same. my classes are until 7 p.m. on tuesdays and thursdays, so maybe we can use the other days to work together?”

with one nod from him, his dimples reappear. “great! i’ll see you tomorrow.”

before you know it, everyone finds their way back to their seats for ms. park’s final reminders. you do your best to pay attention to every announcement, jotting down every word on your planner and planning out your agenda for the upcoming weeks. yet, your eyes seem to have a mind of their own as they drift back to the boy who discreetly passes notes to hwang intak, another dancer on the team, all while listening to the teacher.

you don’t notice how long you spend staring at jaehyun until he turns to meet your gaze. in that split second, you look at each other—then, embarrassment washes over you. you shift your attention back to ms. park. as you drum your fingers against the desk, mentally kicking yourself over the interaction, you still can’t shake the feeling of being watched.

you look back at jaehyun; he’s still looking at you.

his dimples make their reappearance before he looks back at ms. park. you do the same as you attempt to listen to her ramble about banksy’s works. 

(you’re still thinking about the dips in his cheeks.)

the first time you get to meet with jaehyun for the project happens the following week. you two had different commitments to attend to, whether it be other projects or training. and while you would usually settle to meet in the school library or a cafe nearby, you find yourself inside the empty gymnasium, sitting on bleachers while your partner stands in front of mirrors.

“don’t you think it would be nice to combine our hobbies together?”

your pencil taps against the notebook. “like, your dancing? with what?”

“whatever you like to do!” once he makes his way to you, he leans on the row in front of you with crossed arms. “i mean, do you have anything you like to do during your free time?”

a scoff leaves you. “funny of you to assume that i have free time.”

“what’s your schedule like?”

“well, i have our classes and ap ones, then kumon at night.”

jaehyun reels at the thought of your schedule. “that’s brutal. the last time i had kumon was back in grade 4.”

“yeah, but i’m sure yours is busy as well. the amount of time that you put into training is…” his eyes are wide, hanging on your words. it’s the hope they hold that has you say, “admirable.”

a shy smile takes over his features. “yeah, but it’s only because my family is supportive of what i do.”

then, limbs whose color resembles the void slither their way to your heart, wrapping around it while the organ struggles to beat; it’s a slow process but an unending hole that will birth from it. yet, you do your best to fight off these limbs, unraveling them one by one in hopes it will give up—until you settle for shaking them off.

you only muster out a hum.

“do you have anything you like to do during those short breaks?”

your lips trill. “i don’t know. watch something on youtube?”

his cheeks puff up, stuck in his thoughts as he tries to navigate this project—and you—until his eyes glint. “what do you do when you want to vent?”

“you sure have a lot of questions,” you comment, trying to hold back a chuckle at his curiosity. “i can just adjust to you. maybe attempt to draw, picture, or even film you.”

his eyebrows furrow. “but that wouldn’t make it collaborative. i want us to work on something that aligns with what we do.”

a beat passes.

he holds your gaze. “i want us to create something that shows us.”

inside you, a gong is struck; its sound reverberates throughout your body, from the crown of your forehead to the tips of your toes. then, silence seeps in—a moment only for you and him.

“i, uh, write,” you whisper as your eyes shift to the notebook resting on your lap.

“really? like, stories and poetry?”

you nod. “i like writing people’s stories more, but i do like making ones.” when you look back at jaehyun, his eyes are still filled with curiosity. “i would, like, find interviews online and try to make my own, sort of, uhm—god this is embarrassing. forget about it.”

“huh? no, it isn’t!” he attempts to reassure your shrunken figure. “i mean, you don’t have to share more if you really don’t want to, but i’d like to hear more about it.” and when his dimples appear, you almost can’t help but feel your face warm up.

“i’d make articles, i guess?” he nods along with your words. “i don’t know, it’s just interesting to hear about people’s lives and kind of create something out of it, and i like thinking about all the possibilities of who would love to hear them. like, don’t you think that some of the stories that we read hold fragments of someone?”

“that’s an interesting way to look at it.”

as you doodle on your notebook, you say, “yeah, it’s just fun to hear these stories and maybe create something out of it. or even think of stories that i could never live out, you know?” you expect yourself to be met with the bored face of jaehyun but his eyes remain on you.

“what if you interview me?”

your eyebrows shoot up. “you?”

“yeah,” he stands up before walking up to your row, finding a spot beside you. “think of me as your first interviewee if you want.”

the sudden suggestion has you stumbling over your words. “huh? b—but, i don’t have questions prepared. and how does this help our project?” 

when his arms brush against yours, you start to become aware of the distance between your shoulders—and his face from yours. warmth spreads throughout your body, almost like you’re about to have a fever. once his open hand rests near yours, you don’t know what he’s asking.

“let me draw it out for you.” you hand him your pencil and notebook, allowing him to see your doodles. (you don’t miss his grin.) “you know, with that article you make, we can cut it up and create something out of it.” a roughly drawn sketch of a boy posed in the middle of a dance move now rests on the page. “i don’t know if a collage would be okay.”

as you think about what can be done, you perch your chin on your palm. “we can do papercut art? basically, it’s cutting up the article in a way to form an image.”

“oh, that sounds cool!”

“yeah, but the only challenge is that we can only use one piece of paper.” a sigh leaves you. “it would be impossible for me to even do that.”

“that’s why you have me.” his small smile causes wind chimes to ring. (you’re positive you heard them, even if there were no such things in the gymnasium.)

he continues to sketch out the layout of your joint artwork. “how do we feel about this?” on the paper, there are two boxes beside the figure, where one is labeled as “photo of me” while the other is labeled “an article by y/n.” your head tilts. “it’ll be a three-set piece. so, it’ll be a photo of me and your article, and in between is the papercut art that we’ll make.”

you hum. “you know, you’re very creative.” you look at him only to see that he’s been staring at you. “like, you’re inclined to the arts. i wouldn’t have been able to think of something like this.”

“you’re just as creative,” he argues back as he writes down something.

you shake your head before retorting, “jaehyun, you’re very talented. i’ve seen the way you dance,” his movements halt, “and you’re like no other dancer i’ve seen. if you ever try out to be an idol, i’m sure you’d do great, maybe end up on the list of the best dancers in the industry.”

but he shakes his head, going back to writing on your notebook and shutting down your compliments. you decide to not push.

“i can get the photo sometime during my training,” he says as he hands you your notebook.

“then i can have the questions sometime this week. for the article, i can have it done maybe four days after the interview. how does wednesday, after school, sound for the interview?”

he shoots you a smile before standing up from his seat. “that’s perfect! i’m looking forward to meeting journalist y/n.” you can’t help but scoff at what he calls you. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you shake your head. “it’s just a silly name.” because the reality is that you had your future planned out—and it definitely didn’t involve that field.

he shrugs. “i don’t know, i think it would fit you.”

“but you haven’t read any of my works.”

“but i want to root for you in the same way you do for me. i don’t want you to feel ashamed of your works.” a fire ignites in your heart; it’s a fireplace.

you’re baffled that jaehyun, out of all people, now holds your secret, but you’re even astounded over the idea of him supporting you. you almost can’t remember the last time you heard such words of support. is it genuine or nothing but a facade?

“anyway, i’ve got to go. i need to catch up on some homework.” while you shoot him a nod, his dimples make their appearance once more. “i’ll see you tomorrow!” as he takes off, you’re left in the gymnasium with your opened notebook and unlocked heart. you look back down at his sketch surrounded by your doodles, but you don’t miss his little note—cute doodles btw <3

the season of spring has unfolded in cheongju; a single lilac has bloomed.

present -> a day before the interview, 2024

it’s a late night on a tuesday, about to be a midnight wednesday, and you’re in a convenience store as you scout for your dinner. all hauled up in the newsroom, the idea of ordering food during a time where restaurants would still be open slipped your mind. now, you’re left to scan through the same options you’ve eaten for the past years since you started living in seoul.

the convenience clerks are familiar with you, both kim jongseob and kim jiwoo. with your constant late-night meals at the store, you’d talk to whichever one had a shift. jongseob is saving up to upgrade his setup at home to record more music. with all the stories he shares about his time in underground rap battles along with the short verses he’s performed for you, you’re positive that he’ll get signed to a label soon. as for jiwoo, this is one of the many jobs she has in order to save enough money for fashion school. you’ve seen her sketches and outfits she’s put together and you’re hoping that she’ll get accepted.

a sigh leaves you. you didn’t have a problem with eating the food here but you were craving for something new in your life in seoul. the perpetual cycle of eating takeout food and unconsciously skipping meals for work needed to be disrupted just for a moment. but you weren’t seeking michelin-star food—all you wanted was something home cooked. something from home.

the spice of tteokbokki, the burn of freshly fried hotteok, and the sweetness of homemade peach iced tea—mr. kim’s convenience store had it all.

your tastebuds long for cheongju.

“planning to beat your record of spending 23 minutes on deciding what to get?”

you roll your eyes before looking to your right, seeing jongseob stock up the drinks in the fridge. “i hate you.”

“what? i’m just saying, you’re taking a lot longer to decide today.” he chuckles before placing the last bottle of sweetened probiotic milk in the fridge. “none of the options look good to you?”

“sort of,” you hum before you scan through the aisle of packaged meals. “i think i’m craving for something different.”

“i get it. the food here can get boring, which is why i’m planning to order pizza if you want to split the costs.”

your eyebrows shoot up at jongseob’s suggestion. “really? you’d share pizza with me?”

“yeah, as long as you pay for your share.” he shoots you a smile before grabbing on a trolley carrying empty boxes. “unless… you want to pay for the whole thing.”

you bite back a smile as you shake your head. you should’ve known the guy would ask you to buy him food, but you knew that he needed the money and you at least had a stable income to keep you comfortable. “fine,” jongseob’s smile grows as you fish out your wallet from your pocket and pull out a couple of bills. “just order enough for us two.” 

“of course,” he says as soon as you hand him some money. “i’ll make sure to order the most expensive thing on the menu.”

you scoff at his joke. “just make sure to treat me to something.”

the bell by the door chimes. “sorry, can’t hear you over that! need to attend to a customer!” jongseob dashes away from you while dragging the trolley. that little shit just knew how to press your buttons, but you love the kid, anyway.

still, you stand in the middle of the mart and your heart longs for home.

then, you shut your eyes, and you’re transported back in front of the familiar aisle filled with bags of potato chips and sweet corn. the noisy fan along with the soft sounds of mr. kim’s korean drama fills your ears. a mix of yellow and orange hues paint every corner of the mart, including you—and you’re not alone.

your best friend stands on your right, wearing the unbuttoned school uniform polo over a tank top along with jogging pants. he’s lost in thought as he scans through the options of snacks you two can have for today’s afternoon. he starts to giggle to himself, probably from a silly thought he’ll share with you in the next second or a memory involving you, and the dips in his cheeks appear—your heart thumps in your ears.

and just like how quickly you were transported back to cheongju, your surroundings transformed into the cool-lit convenience store found in seoul. all you have left is the image of him bathed in the sunlight.

but he fades away like the ink on old receipts, never gone, because the glowing image of him warps into a different version who stands next to you in the cold mart. he’s grown a few inches taller and his hair doesn’t get in the way of his line of sight. while he wears a green sweater, you notice that he’s gained some muscles. his eyes scan through the aisle behind you filled with different brands of instant ramen.

but he bites the inside of his cheek and his dimples appear.

it’s a tornado that brews within you, enough to uproot trees and displace buildings, all because of an unexpected reunion with jaehyun. why did the universe decide to bring two ex-best friends on a random tuesday night? what brings him to the convenience store at the same time you’re there? and why did it have to happen a day before the interview?

you weren’t going to commit the same mistake; keep your eyes off of him and make your way out of the store. it didn’t matter if you had an empty, growling stomach, or gave free money to jongseob. you need to leave without the distant, familiar face noticing.

your feet act fast, and you're almost certain that might’ve caught his attention, but it didn’t matter as you see jongseob standing behind the cashier with his phone out. “i just ordered the pizza. it should arrive in about… 20 to 30 minutes.”

“yeah, about that…”

“don’t tell me you’re taking your money back.”

at the sight of jongseob’s pout, you roll your eyes. “no, keep it. i just—i need to go.”

“what? why?”

you peek behind you. it seems like he didn’t recognize you, after all. “i’ve got… work!”

“but don’t you only have your interview with boynext—”

“hey!” your fingers snap at him. “you cannot—i mean, you just… just take the goddamn money.”

“but we’re supposed to share the pizza. you haven’t eaten.”

an exasperated sigh leaves you. “jongseob, just treat me next time. i can eat at home.”

and you’re ready to leave the convenience store, bid farewell to jongseob and a delicious pizza made for two, and never greet or say goodbye to the living fragment of what you last know of cheongju—

“y/n?”

and the plan failed.

when you meet his gaze, you’re able to take in the different version of him. he’s grown so much—it’s such a pain that you weren’t there to witness it. his eyes are a pool of emotions; you can’t identify them.

all it takes is one breath from you. “jaehyun.”

a beat passes.

“i’m just gonna… go through the storage,” jongseob points his thumb at the back of the mart, “and maybe kill myself afterwards. i don’t know.” before you can protest, he’s already gone. (and he still has your money. that fucker.)

you and jaehyun were once painted with the hues of the sun. this reunion is tainted with blue.

jaehyun’s fingers tense up, almost as if he was hesitating—debating—on how to approach you. his body would waver, but he never took a step towards you. “i… i wasn’t expecting to meet you here.” 

“same here.” you lean your back against the checkout counter. “d—do you stay around this part of the city?”

he shakes his head. “i live around 15, maybe 20, minutes away from here. i’m only here because…” your breath gets caught in your throat. “i don’t know.”

fate. that’s what brought us here.

“do you live here?”

you nod. “yeah, ever since—” the sentence never gets completed; you and him already know.

for a moment, sorrow flashes in his eyes, but a smile shows up. the dimples don’t appear. “i, uh, i was going to get something from here but it seems like your friend is busy.”

“sorry about jongseob.” you whip out your phone and scold him through text. “he should be with us in a bit.”

jaehyun hums before walking to the freezer filled with different ice cream. as he looks through the selection, he asks, “do you still like twin bar?”

“y—yeah.”

“still the grape flavor?” you don’t know what to say, but when his gaze meets yours, you settle for a nod. with your favorite ice cream in one hand and a sandwich in the other, he finally walks towards you. you don’t miss the slight stagger in his steps.

jaehyun finds his spot beside you. there’s still distance between you two—two tiles worth, enough space for one person—but it’s enough for your muscles to freeze. thankfully, jongseob comes just in time to manage the cashier (with an awkward smile plastered on).

he scans jaehyun’s item first before grabbing onto your ice cream.

“oh, i’m paying—”

“no, let me,” jaehyun insists. “you can always treat me another time.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, thinking over the second half of his sentence. jongseob holds back from scanning the item, until you shoot him a nod. jaehyun pays for the food before jongseob hands them to you.

“i’ll just let you know when the pizza gets here.” his small smile is enough for your shoulders to ease and a quiet exhale to leave. a small nod is all you give him.

you follow jaehyun outside to the tables in front of the mart. once he’s settled on a spot, you sit across from him. he tears away the plastic wrapping of his food while you play with the ends of yours. 

while he swallows what you assume to be his dinner of the day, you’re left to swallow your own pride.

“i’ve seen your performances.” his chews halt. “you’re—” captivating. “you’ve improved a lot.”  

with one gulp, a shy smile takes over his face. “i still have a long way to go.”

“you always say that, even back then.” a half bitten sandwich now rests on the wrapper. “but i admire your drive.” always have.

while a different version of jaehyun sits across you, the one you knew back in cheongju still lives. in the busy, unfamiliar expanse of seoul, meeting five years later, he’ll never be stranger. you could never treat him as such, even if you wanted to.

“there’s always room for improvement,” he says.

you hum along with his sentiment. “did you stick with early childhood education?” you’re met with his orbs that hold a thousand of emotions, some you can name as shock, confusion. a question hangs in the air—what did you deserve to know?

“sorry, i’m assuming you still went to college, which is totally fine if you did or didn’t, by the way. and it’s also okay if you didn’t stick to your major. i mean, you always talked about pursuing a performing arts degree before—”

“y/n,” he giggles, “you’re okay. i still went to college but i took media & communication.” your eyebrows shoot up at the revelation. “i thought it made sense to study something related to what i do, just the more technical and theoretical side of it, i guess. and the online classes were easy to squeeze into my schedule.” he lifts up the sandwich. “what about you?”

“uh, i ended up in the same course as well.” a hum of shock leaves jaehyun. “yeah,” you chuckle, “i managed to shift courses.”

“that’s amazing! i’m happy for you.”

you smile at him. “thanks. now, i’m just—” you should tell him what you do. what would be a better time to reveal that you ended up in the path he dreamed for you to be than now? “—figuring things out.”

with your vagueness, jaehyun only nods before munching away. if there’s anything about you that still remains, it’s that you shouldn’t be pushed to share something you didn’t want to talk about. he still knew that.

as he finishes his sandwich, you tear off the plastic wrapping of your ice cream. with the twin bar in your hands, you snap it into two before you hand him a piece. confusion paints his features, wide eyes glossing over the popsicle in your hand, but he takes it before you can say anything.

“thanks.”

you shake your head. “don’t even worry about it. it’s only tradition.”

silence settles between you two. as you eat away on your share of the twin bar, you look up to the sky. from where you sit, you can’t see a single star; the lights of seoul seemed to outshine them. and during those moments, you almost can’t help but miss the view of the starry night from your childhood room.

you glance at jaehyun who looks up to the sky as well. yet, one hand remains in his pocket, almost as if he’s fiddling with something. 

as if he feels your eyes on him, he asks, “did you ever think about coming back?”

you halt your movements. if there’s one thing you were expecting your old friend to ask, it would be related to your sudden departure. but you’re hit with an entirely different question, one you didn’t get to rehearse the answer to in case you ever cross paths with him. 

because after all this talk about your yearning for cheongju, why didn’t you choose to visit? despite how much you long for mr. kim’s home cooked meals, skies filled with stars, or the presence of your best friend, why didn’t you ever come back?

if you miss home, why is your first instinct to run away from it?

and the reality is that you do think about it all the time. since you left cheongju, you drafted out how many plans to go back. you were homesick, missing the familiar landscape you spent your entire childhood growing up in. but most of all, you missed jaehyun. as long as you had him, you would survive anywhere, whether in seoul or cheongju.

despite how much you yearned for him during your years away, you learned that your relationship wasn’t always filled with the warmth that would grace you two every afternoon. for so long, you’ve sat with jealousy. while his family was his pillar of strength, you were met with a home that offered nothing but criticism.

the black limbs slowly ate away at your heart; the void was born.

it became easier to remain resentful. with the distance, you weren’t faced with jaehyun’s genuineness. yet, with time, you discovered that you still cared for him—regardless of your jealousy—because you still wanted more for him than you did for yourself.

for a long time, you resented. now, it’s only guilt that held you back from going back to him.

so when you remain silent, jaehyun takes it as your answer.

and for the first time, the distance feels greater since you first left cheongju.

summer of 2019

it’s the peak of summer. amidst the expanse of verdant fields, bees seek solace in the fully-bloomed sunflowers and kaleidoscope wings illuminate as they soar.

but summer is where mouths go dry and clothes cling to skin. as days blend with each other, the comfort of your bed is all you have until the season passes.

the fan rumbles against the wooden floor, doing its best to cool you, but the heat prickles against the back of your neck. the wind has turned into nothing but hot waves. with your elbows perched on the desk, a sigh leaves you as you attempt to make sense of the worksheet filled with math equations.

your room is your favorite place in cheongju. within these four walls are scattered fragments of you, from your favorite books and mangas that rest on the bookshelf to the stuffed toys that rest on your bed. book tabs stick out of your workbooks lined up on your desk and your cork board is filled with crossed out to-do lists.

and every once in a while, you would look out through your window, admiring the neighboring houses and all their greenery. as people walk on pavements, you cannot help but think about where they’re off to—are they on their way to work? did they leave an important document back home? or are they coming back to a meal and home filled with warmth?

despite the halo soundtrack filling your ears, the cogs in your brain seem to drown them out. the numbers on your paper have jumbled up. it should’ve been easy. after all, you’ve become friends with the letters who’ve squeezed their way into math. once you’ve wrapped up on this assignment, you know you’ll wake up to another set of work to do. it didn’t help that you’re stuck watching kids your age enjoy their break.

with a tired mind, you consider making yourself another cup of iced coffee. maybe another dose of caffeine will make sense of the numbers—

your phone buzzes against your table. as your eyes rip from the unfinished worksheet, you spot the familiar name flashing on the screen. with one glance at your door, you bring your headphones to rest around your neck. it takes three rings for you to answer.

“what do you want?”

“the fuck? what’s wrong with you?”

you roll your eyes as you fiddle with your pen. “i’m studying, you fucker.”

“on a sunday?” jaehyun’s question has you only groan. “what happened to resting?”

“i wish,” you murmur as you scratch the back of your head. “i’ve been stuck on this stupid worksheet for the past hours. it’s annoying too. i mean, i already know this topic, so i don’t know why it’s so hard.”

“awe, is my best friend suffering over kumon?”

your forehead rests on crossed arms. “yes. i think i’m going to die.”

“okay, then. i’ll take that as my sign.”

“sign to what?”

he chuckles as if it were obvious. “to save you! let’s go to mr. kim’s.”

a groan leaves you as your back meets the chair. “no, i can’t. do you know what would happen if i don’t finish my kumon?”

“uh… no?”

“me, neither. i’m not taking my chances.”

“but, you’re not even doing anything!” jaehyun pointing out the obvious has you rolling your eyes. “wouldn’t it be better to take a break with your best friend? i can even help out.”

as you bite the inside of your cheek, you glance once more at your closed door. you weigh it out; would you rather take a break with your best friend or would you save yourself from the consequences brought by home?

but the answer was already clear. “give me 10 minutes.”

jaehyun laughs before you drop the call.

it’s the smell of fresh hotteok that greets you. the quiet buzzing of the fan accompanied by mr. kim’s favorite trot music fills your ears. while the owner seems to be away from the cashier, a white, stray cat takes over, body flopped on the counter as it snores away the heat. as the sun pours through windows, coating every corner of the mart with a glow of fireflies, you know this will be a place of its own.

“y/n, over here!” a familiar voice calls out. as you whip your head to the source, you see your best friend by the chest freezer, eyes crinkled and all dimples.

now, you’re certain that nothing could ever replicate this.

you walk towards jaehyun, finding your spot beside him as you two look through the collection of frozen treats. “so, what do you want from here?” you ask.

“uh… i’ll be honest, i just realized i’m short on money.”

you glance through the price tags, only for a groan to leave you. “i’m short too. when did mr. kim raise the prices?”

“no clue. i thought i’d have enough to get a summer crush,” jaehyun complains as his eyes are glued to the coffee sorbet. “i hate inflation.”

“come on.” you fish out for the coins in your pocket. “let’s see how much we have together.” jaehyun does the same. with palms out, you two count through your shared funds.

“we can get a summer crush!”

“you can get one. i’ll be left with barely anything.” you look through the selection once more. “man, i really want samanco. the red bean sounds so good right now.”

defeat casts over jaehyun’s features. for a moment, you almost consider giving up on having a frozen treat and settling for a glass bottle of orange soda, until you spot a familiar popsicle brand.

“holy shit, it’s right there.”

“what?”

“there!” your finger points at the stack of twin bars. “we can probably get that and split it.”

jaehyun’s expression morphs into realization. “okay, let’s get—”

“dibs on grape.”

“dibs?” he furrows his eyebrows at you. “you can’t just call dibs. you’re doing it wrong. clearly, we should discuss—”

“nope,” you retort. a chuckle laced with disbelief leaves your best friend. to him, it seemed like you were joking around. “i made the suggestion and contributed a lot more to our shared funds.”

“okay, but—”

“don’t tell me you want the peach flavor more than the grape.” as you continue to shut him down, he knows there’s no way around you.

(plus, he wasn’t a fan of peach-flavored things, anyway. how unfortunate that mr. kim only has those two flavors right now.)

“next time, we’re choosing a flavor that i want,” he gives in. you let out a cheer before grabbing the frozen treat.

you two make your way back to the cashier and spot mr. kim slouched in front of the television, hand stroking the sleepy feline. he’s still wearing an old, red plaid apron on top of a pair of basketball shorts and a loose graphic tee which had the name of a band you’re unfamiliar with. with how he sits, you’re afraid that his back problems will get even worse. (still, you don’t say anything. he’ll only play it off and say he’s still one of the “youngins”... whatever that means.)

once his eyes land on you two, a grin takes over. “ah, my favorite kids! it’s nice to see you both.”

“yeah, it’s been a while,” jaehyun starts off. “y/n’s always busy with kumon.”

you narrow your eyes at the boy. “hey! you’re busy, too! you’ve been practicing at the studio almost every day!” the wrapped popsicle now rests on the counter. “every time i’m free, you’re not.”

“hey! whenever you’re free, i’m tired from training!”

“okay, let’s settle down,” mr. kim breaks up the banter. he then takes note of the ice cream on the cashier, the price showing up on the cashier. “isn’t the heat hard enough for you two to be studying or practicing?”

“yes, very much.” you count the coins once more before dropping the exact amount on the counter. “but,” you glance at jaehyun and his disheartened expression is enough for mountains to move, “i don’t think we have a choice.”

in reality, these were the circumstances you two had to work and live with. during the days jaehyun ended practice early, you were drowning in summer school assessments. whenever you managed to finish your homework, it would be during the hours your best friend was off at the studio or passed out at home from exhaustion.

“choice, no choice, people always say that.” mr. kim counts your payment before putting it into the cashier. as he takes note of what you’ve bought, he says, “everyone has a choice. i’m sure you two can figure it out.”

the only difference is that one chose this path; the other had to suffer from the decision forced onto them.

“don’t worry, mr. kim,” jaehyun nudges your shoulder. “i’m sure we’ll figure it out.” and when the dips in his cheeks appear, you find yourself smiling back.

maybe you were okay with the life you had to live, just maybe.

“anyway, we’ll go ahead,” jaehyun bids farewell to mr. kim.

you giggle. “he means we’re just going to eat our ice cream at the front.”

as you two slowly make your way out of the mart, mr. kim shakes his head. “you lovebirds go ahead. i’ll see you next time!”

“mr. kim!” you and jaehyun shout in unison before glancing at each other.

“what?!”

your best friend groans. “you know we aren’t together.”

“yeah! like, i can’t imagine it,” you join in.

still, the owner laughs at your reactions. “you two are so funny. just go and enjoy your ice cream.”

you roll your eyes at his words. “bye, mr. kim!”

with that, you and jaehyun were out of the mart and took a seat on the benches. you hand your best friend the wrapped frozen treat before letting out a sigh. “i still can’t believe this is one of the few times we got to meet up during the break.”

“i know.” he tears the plastic wrapping off. “you would think that summer break would mean we get to hang out nonstop, but i’m starting to think we saw each other more whenever we had school.”

you hum. “i know. and i had ap stat while you had training.” your eyes dart at jaehyun who grips onto the popsicle sticks, struggling to split it into two. “oh my god, don’t tell me you can’t split it.”

“hey! it’s hard.”

as you giggle, you reach your hand out. “let me do it.” once jaehyun hands you the twin bar, you attempt to split the two. for a moment, you almost think about agreeing with him. yet, the frozen treat splits into two perfectly, and a satisfied smile rests on your lips.

you hand him one popsicle, only to be met with his glare. “i know, i’m just better.”

“just shut up.” to that, another laugh leaves you.

under the sun, you enjoy the coolness of the twin bar. while you would’ve stared off to nowhere, you and jaehyun were here at the right time to catch civilians bustling away. some were on dates, where one would go on about their interest while the other would smile at their rambling. there were kids whose chatter could be heard all the way from the end of the block, and blue-collar men who were off to enjoy their break.

you can’t help but imagine what people saw—thought—of you and jaehyun. did they think of you as unexpected friends? has it ever crossed their minds that you two were only classmates who seemed to always be paired together? or did they ever think the same as mr. kim?

“you know,” jaehyun starts off, causing you to look at him, “i was going through college courses the other day.”

your eyebrows shoot up. “oh?”

with your reaction, jaehyun giggles. “i was just curious, you know? not that i’m giving up on dance or anything, but,” he licks the popsicle, “early childhood education sounds cool.”

you hum. “i wasn’t expecting that.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“no, it’s not a bad thing!” you reassure the boy. “it’s just,” you rip your gaze off of jaehyun and look at the playground, “i always thought of you as a dancer, you know? kind of like you were meant for the stage.” the laughter of the kids who passed by you two bounces all over the block and you can’t help but smile. “but i don’t doubt it.”

the breeze graces your sweat-covered skin. “what about you?” you look back at him. “would you ever consider journalism? maybe communication as your major?”

you’re quick to laugh at his suggestion, but when confusion paints his features, you realize it’s a serious question from him.

“no.” it’s a straightforward answer from you, but jaehyun could never settle with that

“why not?”

a sigh leaves you. “i just don’t consider it. i mean, i think about it,” all the time, “but not enough to consider it. plus, astrophysics is cool.”

“but is it your dream?”

jaehyun’s question is an easy one to answer—not at all. you’ve had enough learning about theories and making sense of the numbers. if your future is going to only complicate that further, then maybe astrophysics isn’t made for you. 

but who’s to say that you’ll even enjoy journalism?

“we’ll see.” you leave it at that and jaehyun didn’t push for more.

because the reality is that if you ever did consider it, transform those dreams into action plans, you were terrified to be met with your parents’ disappointment—it wouldn’t only be from your lousy desires but from jaehyun’s role in your life.

the first time you mentioned jaehyun to your parents happened over dinner, letting them know you would be staying later at school to work on the final project for art class with him. they didn’t bat an eye at his name as they continued to talk about what happened during work and pester you about your progress in other classes. (art class didn’t matter to them, only the sciences and math were ones they seemed to track. still, they would criticize you if you didn’t place first honors.)

with your parents’ oversight, something blossomed between you and jaehyun. from there, there were more days you would get home later than usual. while you were still on top of your work, they took your late arrivals as a form of negligence.

all it took was one night for them to demand an explanation. the reappearance of him in the conversation had only caused them to reprimand you—jaehyun’s not like you. he’ll only hold you back. 

from that day on, you’ve learned to keep his name out of conversations. you’ll enjoy what you have with jaehyun, even if it has to be kept under the wraps.

“how’s training?” you change the subject, trying to keep the attention off of your failed dreams to jaehyun’s flourishing ones.

“well, it’s a lot,” he chuckles as he munches a piece. “you already know that it takes how many hours to get to the company, and the hours i spend in the practice room are unlike the trainings i have at school.”

as his eyes meet yours, you only shoot him an apologetic smile. it was never going to be easy; you two knew that before jaehyun entered the doors of the company. yet, he still held on.

“you know, i never considered it before, but i like where i’m going,” he admits. “even if i’ve always had dreams to pursue dance, i want to make my family proud if i ever get to debut.” 

jaehyun knows how to persevere. regardless of all the bruises he gets from performing complex dance routines or the hours of sleep he longs for, he knows how to hold on. you wish you could say the same for yourself.

“and you will,” you reassure the boy, wrapping your arm around his shoulders. “who wouldn’t be proud of you?”

he holds your stare and your smile falters. for a moment, you don’t know if you touched on a sensitive topic. would he shrug your arm off? do you think he’ll shut you off, maybe cut your time together short? will jaehyun get mad at you for something you didn’t know was wrong? would he be just like them?

“i want to make you proud.”

that’s enough to answer it all.

you shake your head. “don’t even doubt that for a second.” your arm finds it spot back to your side, and jaehyun’s loops his with yours.

although he knows how to persevere, he never knows when to shut his ears from the shadows. 

“i am proud of you,” you tell him. “always have, always will.” he can’t help but smile. all you can hope is that he’ll listen closely to your voice.

“i almost forgot,” he says out of nowhere.

“forgot what?”

as he tugs his arm away, his hand fishes for something in his pocket. “close your eyes.” you furrow your eyebrows. “just do it!” you follow his orders. “and keep them closed, okay?” you let out a hum.

before you know it, something wraps around your index finger. you would’ve opened your eyes, confused over the foreign yet familiar material, but they remain shut. 

“okay, open.”

your gaze rests on your finger wrapped in yellow and blue. it’s a finger trap—and the other end is connected to jaehyun. despite your tug, it still holds you two together.

it’s the warmth that fills your cheeks, the heartbeat in your ears, and your starstruck eyes that has him smile. “no matter what happens, we’ll stick together, okay? regardless of what paths we end up pursuing. all that matters is that we have each other.”

he’s filled with hope. hope for his dreams. hope for your relationship. hope for what the future holds for you two. you can’t help but hope as well.

all it takes is a nod from you to solidify the promise to the universe.

you two sit in silence, finishing up the popsicles as people continue to pass by. at one point, you heard mr. kim let out a curse over the drama he’s watching. the sun is about to set, wrapping you two in a golden blanket, and all that matters is the finger trap.

present  -> two weeks before the interview, 2024

it’s no surprise to you that the newsroom is quiet. while your peers are off to gather more information, you’re with lee chaeyeon of news as she tries to meet the deadline for her article’s first close.

“do you think dokyeom will be late?” you ask as you watch her rephrase sentences.

she laughs. “when is he never? minho’s always assigning him coverages.”

“that’s true.” your eyes drift to the hallway. “i’m just hungry. he still owes me food, you know?”

“over another bet? or you saving his ass?”

“over helping him with an article,” you reveal, earning a shocked look from her. “for some odd reason, he needed another writer to help out with a live coverage, and all the sports writers and sports editor were busy handling the other events.”

“holy shit.” chaeyeon continues with her work. “i didn’t expect you to work on anything sports-related.”

“yeah, but it helped that it was a dance competition. at least i know something about dance.” you only know who to thank. “i’m going to make sure i get compensated for that. i’m planning to raise it to minho and namjoon, anyway. that’s if dokyeom would fucking come and help in explaining the situation.”

with the mention of the tardy writer’s name, he’s scrambling through the halls with his backpack in one hand and a paper bag in the other. the moment he sees you, he shoots you an apologetic smile.

“speak of the devil,” you say as you stand up straight. “why do you always show up late? i helped you with the article.”

dokyeom finds his spot beside you as he sets down the bag on your desk. “i’ll have you know that wasn’t the only article i had yesterday. i was catching up on other ones that minho assigned me.” before he can plop down on his seat, he spots chaeyeon working. “damn, tough life at news.”

“no need to point out the obvious, doofus.”

“wow, harsh,” he replies to her insult. “just so you know, i bought food for us.”

“thank god,” you exclaim as you open the paper bag filled with takeout containers and sealed cups. as you pull them out one by one, you spot your usual order from the vietnamese restaurant around the corner. “oh my god, thank you for getting me this.” you take a seat before you pass dokyeom his food and utensils.

“yeah, i know. i’m just the best.” his shower of compliments for himself only has you rolling your eyes. “but thank you, by the way, for helping me out with the article. i needed an extra pair of hands and my own editor couldn’t stand in to help out.”

“it’s fine. just make sure you help me get compensated for that article,” you say before you open the container. as the smell of bun bo nam bo fills your nose, you can’t help but let out a quiet moan. “holy fuck, i’ve been craving this.”

“i made sure to get you some vietnamese coffee also.”

“yeah, i saw. thank you.” you split the chopsticks with one hand. you’re about to mix the bowl of your favorite food—

“is y/n here?” your editor calls out, causing you to let out a sigh before you stand up from your seat.

“yes?”

namjoon’s gaze lands on you. “can i talk to you for a bit?”

despite your grumbling stomach, you give him a nod and set your food down. as he retreats to his office, you glare at dokyeom who munches away on goi cuon. “i hate you.”

“hey, what did i do?!” you ignore his attempts to defend himself as you make your way to your editor’s office.

once you swing the door open, you spot namjoon whose eyes are stuck to the screen. “you can take a seat,” he says with no attempt to look at you. you sit across from him, hands folded on your lap, while he types away on his keyboard.

the moment he hits the ‘enter’ key is when he finally looks at you. “sorry about that. i was just replying to minho regarding your compensation for the article you worked with dokyeom. we both appreciate what you did. next time though, make sure to loop in minho or me before you two start working on beats not within your staffs.”

“sorry about that,” you start off. “dokyeom only asked for my help and i thought it would be fine since i’m familiar with dance, anyway.”

namjoon shakes his head with a small smile plastered on his face. “it is fine, just make sure to inform us.” you only nod.

“anyway, i’m sorry to have this meeting with you right now but i have to leave work early today, and i thought that you’d appreciate that i tell this to you now instead of tomorrow,” he says. you hum, curious about what he has to say. “i have a coverage for you, a very, very, long one.”

over the sight of your wide eyes, he can’t help but chuckle. “it’s seven articles,” he says and your mouth gapes over the number. “well, one main article and six profiles with very brief introductory paragraphs.” his attempt to ease your shocked state does nothing.

“namjoon, that’s… a lot.”

“yes, i know. i would love to split the workload but everyone else is handling other articles, and i trust you. i know i’m asking for a lot but i’ll make sure to help you out with them. it’s just that we’re working on a time crunch and i don’t know anyone else i can ask but you.”

the faith that your editor seems to have in you is like no other.

“profiles, like, those q&a transcripts?” you ask.

he nods before saying, “yes, and just a brief introductory paragraph for each profile. i’m just expecting you to put more work into the article about the group. i’ll make sure to help out with the profiles.”

namjoon’s trust should be anxiety inducing, enough to send you complaining, but you find yourself relieved. your mentor became your second-in-command; the mountain of workload transformed into a hill.

“okay.”

a relaxed smile appears on his face at your acceptance. “thank god! i was going to stress about this the whole day if you refused. i’ll make sure to send you the details about this once i’m done with my appointments, and then we can see how we’ll divide the work later on.” he types something. “we’re covering a k-pop group which is why there’s one main article about the whole group and then six profiles.”

“yeah, i figured that out.” this isn’t anything out of your usual articles. “can i ask who we’re interviewing? maybe i can do some research on them while you attend your meetings.” you pull out your phone, ready to search up whoever your editor says.

“don’t know if you’re familiar with them but they’re called boynextdoor?” you still in your seat. “wait, let me check. yes, that’s their name.”

“boynextdoor?”

namjoon looks at you, now met with your features that have transformed from wide eyes to scrunched eyebrows.  “yeah. do you know them?” 

you shake your head without a second thought. “no, i don’t think i do,” you whisper the last sentence to yourself. his narrow eyes look over you, almost dissecting you.

the walls surrounding you are painted in solid colors of pearl, almost untouched. yet, under the paint are cracks that spread like cobwebs. every burst is a testament to the earthquakes they’ve faced; no one should be able to see a single line of black amid the white sea. now, they’re filled with paste, and it should be enough to cover them all.

but for the first time, the paint has chipped and the paste has deteriorated; the different colors of cheongju seep through the cracks.

you clear your throat as you straighten your back. “i’ll be sure to research them.” you wave your phone at him, hoping to divert his attention, but his gaze remains on you.

a sigh leaves him. “okay. expect to receive the documents later in the afternoon.”

he doesn’t push any further. for now, the walls remain intact. (or appear as so.)

it was never going to be easy.

“honestly, i gave up expecting to win as we practiced,” the youngest says through tears. as they huddle, they let out silent wishes for the upcoming years. before they blow the candle, they don’t forget to express their gratitude to the fandom who stuck with them through thick and thin.

a time of celebration turned into a moment to remember their struggles. these were pockets of their time that marked their spot in history.

“oh, everyone behind us is crying!” another member points out as the camera captures the team’s bittersweet cries.

and when you catch sight of the brunette who hides his tears behind his friend, the ache in your chest starts to spread through your veins. the video cuts to his low-hanging head as his members comfort him. they knew all of his hardships—you only know a fraction.

such a tender moment happened a year ago; it’s shorter than the amount of time between this achievement and your departure. within those years, what did jaehyun undergo? did his trainings waver his passion or did the fire burn just as bright as it did since he first auditioned? was he confident in his skills or was he still critical about every performance he had?

but most of all, what did he face? what did he learn? to hate? to love?

what did he go through without you?

you don’t forget to take note of their first win on your document filled with bullet points of information. while you were going to continue watching, a recommended video caught your attention. it’s a jaehyun focus. you don’t hesitate to click it.

the video starts off with him checking up on the fans before the performance starts. as he mimes out eating, they answer his question with reassurance.

and there they come—his dimples appear.

it transitions to their group in their opening formation. as they await for the song to play out, jaehyun’s familiar smile shifts into a dominant gaze.

in the same way the first notes draw people to listen, your eyes never leave the boy. his movements are fluid, like water droplets sliding off leaves. he commands the stage regardless of where he’s positioned.

jaehyun is meant to be on the stage—no, every stage is made for him. every crowd is meant to cheer his name and remain captive to his talents, and every spotlight is meant to shine on him.

you rest your chin on crossed arms. long gone was the bowl cut and loose school uniform. he’s grown. matured, even. yet, the moments where his smile appears makes you realize one thing: the 16-year-old boy you knew still lives within him.

as their performance comes to an end, you don’t bother to move your cursor, letting the next recommended video play. and when his vlog plays out, you realize that a fragment of his identity is a whole of what you know.

what an honor it is to have known him for even a fraction of your lifetime.

his voice is a lullaby, the same one you used to fall asleep to, so you allow yourself to close your eyes. you let go of the responsibilities for just this moment, and allow yourself to be transported back into the warmth of his arms.

fall of 2019

out of all the seasons, autumn took its spot in being your favorite. clusters of green slowly morph  into shades of oranges and browns. it’s a symphony of chirps that fills the silence. while the breeze brings you comfort after the heat of summer, it also reminds you of the looming winter.

it’s a shame that autumn does live up to its other name: a season of fall.

“you’re always like this,” your mother comments. you stand in front of your parents, slumped shoulders and downcast eyes, as they hold a sheet of paper they believe dictates your future. “always so sensitive. we’re just asking you what went different. why did your grades drop?” to them, a shift from a to b+ is a threat to your future. 

while your feet stand on wooden floors, a flood starts to form. murky waves crash against your legs, but you do your best to keep your balance.

“answer us when you’re being talked to.” your father snaps you out of your thoughts. “what have you been doing for your grades to drop?” you want to answer but a single sound that leaves you may only lead to blubbers that your parents will scold you for. 

with your silence, your mother sneers. “i knew we shouldn’t have let you do your own things. i told you so.” she shifts her gaze to him. “what did i tell you about y/n? you know they’ll only slack off!”

“i thought we could trust them. clearly, i was wrong.” your father’s glare raises the water levels, reaching your chest. you don’t know how to swim in the foggy ocean.

“i know why.” she crosses her arms. “it’s because of that jaehyun boy, isn’t it?” she says his name laced with disgust.

you don’t think twice to defend him. “no, it isn’t!”

“don’t you dare talk back at me!”

“but i’m not! he’s done nothing.”

your father begins to raise his voice. “and that’s what’s wrong! that lazy boy does nothing for his studies. he clearly doesn’t care about his future.”

you always knew it would be a losing battle, but you’ll put up the fight to protect your best friend’s name. “that’s not true! he does care. he’s planning to do early childhood education for college, maybe become a teacher.”

“that job has no money. see, i can already see that you’re being influenced by him,” he argues back.

and as the murky waters rise, filling your lungs, your first instinct is to close your eyes and scream. “stop saying that about him!”

a beat passes.

“i don’t want you hanging out with him.”

“but—”

“shut up.” your mother’s words cause you to look up, meeting your parents’ faces filled with anger.  “go to your room. now.” you’re nothing but a puppet for them.

was it even a battle if you always knew you were going to lose?

despite the safety of your room, you don’t let the tears flow down. you do anything to distract yourself; maybe a book will convince you that your life is only a figment of your imagination.

waves continue to crash against your body. if you let them take your body, would they send you far away from cheongju? from your parents? from the weight you were entrusted to carry since birth?

but would you allow the waves to send you away from jaehyun?

your phone buzzes against the mattress. with tear-filled eyes, you see your best friend trying to reach you. you don’t think twice about declining his call and shutting off your phone.

as you curl in your bed, you hope the sea will swallow you whole—the slow, burning pain that comes with drowning won’t compare to the burns that haven’t healed. but you know that the blame rests on your shoulders. if only you had studied harder, cut off hours of rest for your work, then maybe you would be the perfect child your parents wanted.

were you wrong for allowing yourself to enjoy the small breaks between classes? was the time spent in the mart supposed to be for schoolwork? should you have found yourself a tutor? were you in the wrong for not working yourself to the bone? did you not work enough?

are you not enough?

then, a knock. your eyes snap open. like a stroke of light in the middle of the dark, jaehyun is by your window.

you get off your bed to open the window. as the glass barrier disappears, he enters your room. “are you okay?” he spots your glassy eyes and his hands find their spot on your shoulders. “what happened?”

you break eye contact. “what do you want, jaehyun?”

“you didn’t pick up your phone. and when i tried calling again, i couldn’t reach you,” he starts to explain.

you shrug off his grip on you before you take a seat on your bed. “i’m fine. my phone died.” as you feel the spot beside you dip, you look at your best friend. at the sight of his furrowed eyebrows, you know he doesn’t believe you. “i said i’m fine.”

“i didn’t say anything.” for you are an open book to him.

he opens his arms towards you—it’s your move to make. then, a tight-lipped smile shows on his face, his dimples appear, and you allow yourself to fall. with his arms wrapped around you, you shut your eyes as you nestle your face into his neck.

breathe in. breathe out.

his hand finds its spot on your back, rubbing it in circles.

breathe in. breathe out.

“it’s okay, i’m here,” he says, and you allow yourself to crumble in front of him for the first time.

the tears hit jaehyun’s neck like a light drizzle. your wails bring earthquakes into his world.

yet, his warmth is enough to dry up droplets, and his embrace protects you as you fall into the cracks of the earth and into the depths of the world. the flood starts to subside.

in your time knowing jaehyun, how much did he know about you after all? had he always known of your strained relationship with your parents? did he hear about it from others or was he able to connect the dots?

because you didn’t know yourself outside of your parents anymore. did you like science because of your kumon classes? was your interest in writing birthed from a desire for validation from your parents?

are you nothing but an array of achievements and failures?

but your parents will never be satisfied; a standard too high is practically nonexistent.

jaehyun moves so that you two can lie down. his arms remain wrapped around you as you hide in his neck. “i’m sorry if i wasn’t there for you when you needed it then.” his whispered apology causes you to shake your head.

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” you blubber out to his neck.

“and you didn’t, as well.” his hand finds its spot behind your head. with every stroke, a tear streams down. “and i want you to know that i’ll be here for you.”

in your house, your room was the only space you called home. solace built by you. 

now, your home is jaehyun.

present -> two weeks before the interview, 2024

something about the newsroom feels odd to you. there’s nothing out of the ordinary aside from it bustling with journalists. the familiar sounds of printers and chatter from your workmates fill your ears. it’s a typical occurrence for your peers to meet their deadlines on the day itself. the tug in your gut doesn’t resemble ones formed out of your anxiety. why does it feel like one of destiny?

“where is dokyeom? i swear, this guy never shows up to the office.”

you snap out of your thoughts, looking over at chaeyeon who browses through her phone. as you shove a bill into the vending machine, a chuckle leaves you. “when is he never?”

“maybe if he finishes his coverages on time then he’d be getting enough sleep. then, he won’t be late.”

you side-eye your friend before you click on a button. “you know that’s not true.”

she sighs at the same time your bottle of iced tea drops. “yeah. apparently, if you have free time, you’re not a good journalist or some shit which i find stupid.” you grab your drink before facing her. “am i not allowed to do something else that’s not related to my job? i swear, this is why i’m single.”

“then date another journalist.” your joke earns a scowl from her.

“i’m never dating anyone in my field. a journalist dating another journalist is like,” she looks up to the ceiling as she thinks, “a long distance relationship with how much they’ll never see or have time for each other.”

a laugh erupts from you, one that may be too loud for your liking. “true.”

as you walk out of the breakroom with chaeyeon, you notice something in the corner of your eye: a brunette by the restroom. while you can’t see his face, you spot what’s in his hand and you halt in your tracks—a finger trap.

“hey, is there someone there?” your eyes snap back to your friend who looks at you in confusion. when your eyes drift back to where the brunette once was, he’s already gone. you shake your head before walking back to your desk.

the same gut feeling lingers. with a frown, you open up your article only to be met with a few comments that namjoon left last night. maybe your gut knew that you weren’t done with your work. thankfully, it’s nothing too major, and you can have them done within the next few minutes.

“there you are!” chaeyeon exclaims, causing you to look up from your screen to a panting dokyeom. “were you working on your articles again?”

“actually, i went out last night.” while you shake your head at dokyeom’s reveal, chaeyeon gasps. “yeah, i did! i actually had fun for once!”

as he nods proudly at last night’s events, she complains, “are you serious?! how come you have time to go out? i was just talking to y/n that we never have time to ourselves.”

“i’m in sports,” he points out as he shrugs his shoulders. “you’re in news.” at this point, you’re expecting the two to spiral into an argument, so you redirect your focus back to your article.

“hey, did you hear though? there’s a k-pop group in the building.” you glance at chaeyeon.

your other friend leans on the cubicle. “really? who?”

“no clue.”

dokyeom lets out a groan. “what type of journalist are you if you can’t find out?”

“yah!” chaeyeon smacks his arm, causing him to wince in pain. “says you who can never submit on time.”

“hey, i’ll have you know that minho has been understanding!”

“whatever.” she rolls her eyes before looking at you. “that means you’ll probably be handling them. i hope they’re cute so that you can finally have something going on with your life outside of work.”

a chuckle leaves you as you get back to work. “i’m never dating an idol. i’d get hunted down by their fans.” 

“yeah, but can’t you dream a little? do you ever imagine what it would be like?”

the past plays in your mind. after school performances and interviews. broken-up popsicles. finger traps. a life you shared with jaehyun then—one you still cling onto.

yet, you shake your head as you edit your article. “not even.”

it’s a life you’ll keep to yourself.

“what’s the update?”

the three of you look away from each other, spotting namjoon who comes to you with a smile. long gone were the sweaters that failed to drown out his figure and the boxy glasses that would rest on the bridge of his nose. now, he wears a dress shirt and trousers with hair slicked to the side. there were no frames for him to hide behind.

“ah, namjoon! you’re dressed so nice today.”

with dokyeom’s compliment, he can’t hold back on his smile. “thank you. are you guys done with your articles?”

as your friends nod, you add the finishing touches to the document. “and done! i just finished addressing your comments.”

“great. thanks, y/n.”

“do you have something?” chaeyeon asks your editor, causing you to roll your eyes. one thing about journalists is that they love to know everything.

namjoon nods before saying, “i just had a meeting with some possible interviewees.”

“is this the one with the k-pop group?” as dokyeom asks the question, you can’t help but laugh as chaeyeon looks at him in disbelief for spilling confidential information.

your editor chuckles. “yes.”

“can we know—”

“no, you can’t know.”

chaeyeon pouts at namjoon. “not even a hint?”

namjoon ignores her question and begins to walk off. “good work, y/n!” he calls out before leaving you three alone.

“man, namjoon never tells us shit,” chaeyeon complains as she leans on the table.

“to you guys, at least,” you argue with a small shrug.

still, the gut feeling remains.

something about the newsroom feels odd to jaehyun. while he’s had his fair share of paranormal experiences, his gut tells him that there’s something in the office. yet, the tug isn’t one that speaks of danger. why does it feel like one of destiny?

“should we have a short break before we discuss the schedules for the photoshoots and interviews?” jaehyun is snapped out of his thoughts by namjoon’s suggestion.

his manager looks at the group. “do you guys need a break?”

“should we have a short break before we discuss the schedules for the photoshoots and interviews?” jaehyun is snapped out of his thoughts by namjoon’s suggestion.

his manager looks at the group. “do you guys need a break?”

although everyone seemed fine with proceeding, he couldn’t shake off the feeling. maybe the leftover curry he had this morning went bad. “i’ll go,” he says as he gets off his seat.

namjoon slowly stands up. “okay, i can bring you there—”

“it’s okay! i saw the washroom on the way here,” jaehyun says before walking to the door. “you can discuss the details without me first.”

with his manager’s nods, namjoon settles back into his seat. “okay then, here are some of the dates i have in mind...”

jaehyun exits the room. he bites on the inside of the cheek as he thinks of what his gut could be telling him. is it the nerves for the upcoming tour? is he worried about the next comeback they’ve been preparing? or is he scared about what the future has in store for his group?

with his mind on these questions, he doesn’t realize that he arrives in front of the bathroom door. a sigh of frustration leaves him. the worst thing about gut feelings is never knowing what they’re trying to say.

he grips the handle, ready to swing the door open, until a familiar laugh hits his ears. one of the past. one he hasn’t heard in years. his muscles freeze.

when was the last time he heard that chortle? when was the last time he became the cause of it?

his eyes dart around the area for the source but no one else is here. he can’t help but shake his head in disbelief.

it should be stupid for him to think you two would ever reunite. in what world would you be in the same place as he is? it’s been five years. you could be anywhere around the world. yet, he fishes for something out of his pocket; the same finger trap he linked you to him rests on the palm of his hand.

he sighs before entering the washroom and shoving it back into his pocket.

maybe he’ll hold out a little longer.

winter of 2019

out of all the seasons, jaehyun’s favorite is winter. snowflakes fall, filling the sky with stars that people can touch, and snow piles on sidewalks, letting him throw snowballs at his friends. despite the freezing temperatures, jaehyun prefers this over nearly-boiling ones.

he can’t wait to share this season with you.

yet, the familiar, chilly breeze of the season transforms into whispers, and word gets around like thrown snowballs. 

“is y/n really not going to school anymore?” jaehyun looks up from his desk to see jiheon standing in front of him. he tilts his head in confusion, causing her to roll her eyes. “are they not going here anymore?”

he frowns. “huh? what kind of rumor is that?”

“i don’t know. it’s what people have been saying,” she says as she crosses her arms. “i asked because i wanted to know if my competition’s gone, you know? and you’re the only one here who has an idea about their whereabouts.”

jaehyun laughs in disbelief. “no, i was with them last week.”

when jaehyun last saw you, you asked for space. with what’s been happening with your family, you needed time to process and cope with your issues, and he respected that. after all, he only knew a fraction of your relationship with your parents, and he didn’t want to intrude in anything you didn’t want him to be a part of. still, jaehyun reminded you that he’ll be there if you need him.

“damn, that sucks,” jiheon groans as her shoulders slump. “these stupid rumors.” as soon as she leaves jaehyun alone, he shakes his head.

the bell rings. students start rushing into classrooms and teachers scold those who aren’t on their seats. ms. jeon enters the room, walking to the desk in front and setting her things down. “baek jiheon, you’ll be in charge of attendance today.”

as jaehyun’s classmate gets off her seat, he can’t help but look at your desk that still remains empty.

“you have to message us when you land,” your mother says as she fixes the collar of your coat. despite your nod, she clicks her tongue. “answer me properly.”

“yes, i will.”

once your father finishes placing the last luggage in the trunk of the taxi, he stands beside your mother. “don’t forget why we’re sending you there. we expect you to do better with no distractions.”

your phone buzzes in your hand. as you look down, you see a message from jaehyun. as he asks about your whereabouts, the weight gets heavier—will you stand or crumble under it?

“who’s that?”

you stash your phone away as you look back at your parents. “nothing. it’s just an email from the school. they sent over the date for the orientation.” at the sight of their satisfied smile, you let out a small sigh of relief.

“well, go on.” your nod at your mother before getting in the car. with the windows still down, she adds, “don’t forget to get endorsement letters from the professors i sent over to you or else you won’t get to study abroad like we planned.” her choice of pronouns is funny; a plan that they crafted which never considered your input.

“okay.”

as your father commands the driver to go, your gaze remains on the two. it should be okay with you to leave cheongju; you’d be far away from your parents and experience an entirely different landscape to explore. it’s time you break away from the chains of this town. learn a life outside of what your parents forced you into.

yet, as the car takes its leave, the figure of your parents slowly shrinks. the distance from them should’ve given you the space to breathe, a relief you’ve longed for, but it only reminds you of your strained relationship. to them, it would be better that you’re out of their sight—and with your farewell, you never heard the three-word phrase.

the window rolls up. you try to hold back the tears, but the scenery of cheongju that you pass by births a storm within you. you didn’t want to say goodbye to home, regardless of how much you say you didn’t have a home in this town. every corner holds a piece of you in the same way you hold a piece of them.

the car approaches a safe haven you share. despite the snow that piles at the front, mr. kim’s convenience store is still open. you’ll never get to have his hotteok again or hear his favorite dramas play in the background. worst of all, you never got to say goodbye.

then, the familiar figure of your best friend exits the mart, and the storm transforms into a typhoon. the plastic bag he holds is filled with your favorite snacks, from the grape-flavored twin bar to a bottle of mr. kim’s homemade peach iced tea.

and in that moment that your car passes him, he pulls out his phone from his pocket, and you spot the familiar trap wrapped around his finger—the other end holds no one.

as quickly as you came into jaehyun’s life, he disappears from your view.

finger traps were fascinating. if you tug hard, the contraption won’t let your fingers go. yet, if you allow the two fingers to meet, allowing the toy to loosen, it’ll let you go with no harm.

but your finger trap with jaehyun was different. maybe it was already ripped to its seams.

interview

q: what made you decide on becoming an idol?

a: i’ve always loved dancing. growing up in cheongju, i always made time [for dance] whether it be [for] school competitions, talent shows, or even [choreographies] i wanted to try out. but i never considered becoming [an idol] until high school. a lot of my friends and family thought i was capable, and i’m glad they trusted me. it feels good to give back to them with every performance.

q: compared to your other members, you’ve spent a lot of years dancing and training to become an idol. what kept you going throughout your years of training?

a: my family’s support was one big thing that helped me [during my training.] every trip from my house to the company would last hours, and it drained me physically. so as the years went by, i started to question if all the time, money, [and] effort i was putting into an unpromised debut would be worth it, but my parents and brother were always there to support and [take] care of me. but i’d also like to think my best friend was a major support in training years. i think they were the first one to [tell me that they saw me as an idol,] and at the time i brushed off the idea. but, look where i am now? so i think i owe a lot to them.

q: is there anything you’d like to say to those who’ve supported you as boynextdoors’s myung jaehyun? a: mom and dad, thank you for believing in me. i know it wasn’t easy to wait until midnight for me to come home or take care of me whenever i got sick from training. thank you for always supporting me in every performance. to my brother, thank you for helping mom and dad out at home. every day, i remind myself that you gave up so much just so i can pursue my dreams, and i want you know that i’m forever grateful for your sacrifices. to the rest of [boynextdoor], thank you for always allowing me to rely on you. i’m glad i can say i have brothers who i get to achieve my dreams with. onedoor, thank you for your love and support over the years. i wouldn’t be boynextdoor’s leader or myung jaehyun if it weren’t for you. and lastly, thank you to my best friend. i hope you’ll always be proud of me the same way i’ll forever be proud of you.

taglist: @kflixnet @blankjournal @blissfullsvn @lovialy

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Heart’s Choice - Chapter 40 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Carlos Martinez

Detective John Turner's house is quiet and lonely without him and if I didn't have Becky and the dogs to keep me busy and entertained, I'd quickly lose my mind in the quiet stillness.

His late brother's style leaned towards industrial chic, making the place look more like a museum or a modern art gallery than a home, I wonder if it's too soon to talk about redecorating, once John gets back.

If he ever does.

Whatever business David and he had with the vampiric council lasts longer than the promised 'few days.'

Soon, days become a week, which now stretches into two.

At first, John had texted me with regular 'if brief and cryptic' updates and called in the evenings, though he didn't 'or maybe couldn't' tell me much about what he'd been up to but on the fourth day, he sent a single text in his characteristic broken-lined, emoji-free style, which read almost like a poem.

Hurts too much to hear your voice Be home soon Sorry

After that, I hadn't heard from him and he hadn't replied to my messages or returned my calls.

I guess he'd turned his cell-phone off but that didn't stop my imagination from running wild and taking my anxiety along for the ride.

The best I can do is to keep myself busy and between the dogs and figuring out what to do with the rest of my life, that's easy enough.

"What about your shop?" Becky asks as we sit together one evening on the titanic leather sofa in the lounge.

She's leaving for Sacramento in the morning, where she has a job and a life of her own to get back to and we're spending our last night together eating pizza and playing with the dogs.

"Can't you just move? Start again?"

I take a bite of pizza to avoid answering right away.

Once the crime scene had been cleared, the county had taken possession of the garage, along with the rest of Lucille's estate.

Even if I'd been able to continue renting the space, I wouldn't have wanted to.

The thought of all the hours I'd spent working with the bones of murder victims inches beneath my feet still makes me shudder.

It would have been worse for Kyle, had he lived to know it, as those victims had been his parents.

Poor kid.

"Not easily," I say at last.

"Especially not now that I've sold most of my equipment."

I'd had little choice.

Sure, I could have rented a storage unit while I hunted for a new rental site but all of that costs money I don't have.

I poured everything into my business, put all my eggs in one basket, as my aunt would have said and now it's gone.

At least I got some money for the tools and machinery.

Not much, given it was already used when I bought it but something and something was better than nothing, which is another thing my aunt used to say.

Rick comes trotting over with his favorite stuffed rabbit in his mouth and presents it to Becky, inviting her to play tug-of-war with him.

She takes hold of it and lets him tug away to his heart's content while she talks.

"You know, David is far from my favorite person," she says.

"But if nothing else, I have to admit he's always been there for John. He's offered to write John a blank check several times, though John never accepted it, he'd have made a wonderful father-in-law, if he wasn't so damn creepy."

Sensing that she's missing out on the attention, Morty joins us as well, resting her head on my knee and shoving her muzzle beneath my hand.

I scratch her ears and smile distractedly.

I'd taken her and Rick to the groomer earlier that day, so their coats are clean and shiny and they smell pretty good, for once.

"Call me stubborn but I prefer to make my own way, if I can. I relied on my aunt for long enough, I want to stand on my own two feet, even if I have to crawl at first and yeah, I'm aware of the irony of saying that while living here rent free."

I nod at our expansive and expensive surroundings.

John could sell this place for several million dollars, if he wanted to.

"Speaking of your aunt," Becky says, keeping her tone carefully casual.

"Have you had any word?"

Sighing, I leant into the creamy, genuine leather cushion at my back and stare up at the exposed beams of the high ceiling.

"Nope. Nothing but I guess I'm getting used to that."

Morty whines and Becky reaches over to rest her hand on my arm.

"Another thing about David, if I trust him with nothing else, I trust him to take care of John. They'll be fine. As for your looking for your aunt, have you thought of hiring Freya?"

"Freya Hunter?"

She gives me a look.

"How many people named 'Freya' do you know?"

"Fair enough but Freya's a bounty hunter."

"Exactly. Finding people is literally her job."

"Finding people for a fee," I remind her.

"I'm broke."

The look she's giving me grows more intense.

"Carlos, I've known the woman for two weeks and I can already say with absolute certainty that you're practically family. I'm sure she'd take it on if you asked."

I shrug and wince.

"It's complicated. You know how I explained that the Morellis were demon-hunters? Well, my family was the same. We mostly stuck to the incorporeal shit but we weren't above shooting werewolves or staking vampires, if the chance arose. Speaking of vampires, you're taking all this really well."

It's Becky's turn to shrug as she serves herself another slice of pizza.

"People are people," she says.

"I figure vampires and werewolves and whatever else is out there, are just people, too. Like John and Freya and you. Everybody just wants to be happy and most people are good."

"I'm glad you see it that way. Good or not, I think most people would have run screaming."

[redrosesandforgetmenots]

Through Your Eyes

Pretty Little Liars (Chapter Four)

3,974 words

The storage closet of Art Room B was quiet, the stiff air smelling like oil paint with a lingering under current of pencil shavings and paper. Tweek was tucked away into a corner, working on the project that would make or break his grade this semester- a mixed media project meant to "evoke the image of the written word." He sometimes wanted to know what was going through his teachers head when she assigned this type of shit.

He had chosen to depict a poem from "Crank" by Ellen Hopkins. And was trying to figure out what picture from a magazine evoked the word "coalescing." Tweek gently pulled the magazines out of his bag, the folder Craig had given him earlier falling out as well. Distracted by remembering its existence, he opened it, curious to see what he had dropped.

He was immediately greeted by Craig's face, the half finished portrait of the boy who sat next to him in first period. Tweek quickly closed the folder, flushed. Craig had seen it? It was the first thing in the folder that the other had assembled. Questions flooded his mind. Is that why Craig came out to him? Did he think Tweek had a crush on him? Did him coming out mean he had a crush?

Tweek quickly shoved the folder back in his bag, turning his attention back to the magazines. He stared blankly at the images in question, but his mind was still racing with thoughts about Craig. Soon the bell rang, and he made his way into the actual classroom, quickly zipping past everyone on their way out and running to Wends' locker. 

Thankfully, they were actually there, in an animated conversation with Stan. Tweek stood behind the dark haired boy, not saying anything. Luckily he was quickly spotted. "TT?" Wends asked, looking behind Stan.

"Hey, Tweek! We were just talking about this weekend-" Stan noticed Tweek absolutely shaking, his breathing ragged. "... You okay man?"

"I-Im- What if I like Craig?" Wends expression went vacant, eyes empty as they measured their response.

"That … would be okay. But hes… I don't think you know him well enough to like him." Wends pointed out, before mustering up a pitiful smile. "I'm not sure he's exactly boyfriend material, T…"

"Craig's a dick!" Stan exclaimed.

"I know." Tweek replied bluntly. "B-but I could get to know him better!" Wends and Stan shared a glance.

"... Well dude… I know parties aren't your thing, but … my dad's taking my mom to a cannabis convention so I have the farm to myself. I was gonna have a little get together. I could invite Craig, if you want?"

Tweek paused for a moment. He knew Stan meant the best, but he was also inviting Bebe and Eric, so chances were their little get together would become a full on rager, and that was absolutely not his scene. But if Craig went, it'd be a nice neutral place to talk. "I'd be okay with that." 

"Cool! Chances are he won't show up unless I invite the other guys he hangs with… I guess this little party isn't going to be that little." Stan said, looking to Wends, who shrugged. With who he was inviting, it didn't seek like it ever would've been in the first place. 

"Charge a door fee, see who still shows up," Tweek joked, before the bell started ringing. He quickly scurried to his next class, dodging others in the hallway.

*****

"Its not l-like it's a full on date Bebe, i-its just a party!" Tweek had once again been dragged out shopping. This time it was just the two who were out thrifting, Bebe holding an assortment of women's blouses up to Tweek, attempting to visualize him in them.

"Mmm… this isn't gonna work, you're gonna have to actually try stuff on." Bebe said, putting her choices into the cart. "And besides, Craig dressed up to give you your papers back! You need to like, return the favor?"

Tweek shrugged. "He probably had s-something else to do, or he just ran out of clean laundry-"

"I've seen Craig wear the same exact shirt for a week straight. And there definitely wasn't anything else going on today, I would know!" Bebe pointed out. She went to the sweater section next, pulling out a mint green cardigan. "Cute… but not super you. Yknow?"

"That colour is f-fucking ugly." Bebe gasped in faux shock, horrified by his hatred for pastels. 

"Excuse you, it's almost spring! You really need to experiment with florals, or something." She pulled another cardigan off the rack. Brown, with little crochet leaves hanging off it in various shades of green, vines giving it more texture as they ran parallel down the front and sleeves. It looked handmade.. Tweek had to admit he liked it. They put it in the cart.

"OK so like… cargo pants are not going to go with my Spring Awakening forest academia vibe I'm trying to go for..  how do you feel about shorts."

"Abhorrent." Tweek replied, but was dragged over to the rack anyway, this time on the men's section. 

Bebe huffed. "You're not being a very good dress up doll!" She joked, pulling a pair of very short corduroy shorts off the rack. They matched the brown of the cardigan, but Tweek shook his head. Who would ever want to see that much of his legs? "Pleeeaaaassseee at least try them on? You'll be so cute!"

"Im n-not supposed to be cute, Bebe." Tweek replied, "I-Im trying to not get peoples attention." He already looked weird enough.

"Okay but, do you wanna look cute for Craig?" She asked, putting the shorts in the cart. Tweek flushed, but didn't push any further. He had to admit, he regretted not putting in any effort today. He literally just picked the same sweater from yesterday off the floor because he knew it was still mostly clean from being washed two days ago. Should he have worn a button down too today? No- he could never get the buttons right. Which was concerning considering how many of them were in the cart right now. 

Bebe rifled through them, picking out one that looked pretty sheer, it was white, and had way too many ruffles for Tweek's liking. They lined the collar, down the front, and the ends of the sleeves. "It's not perfect," she said, "But I have an idea!" She handed him the shorts, shirt, and cardigan. "Go try these on right now!" Tweek groaned, but did as asked, entering the dressing room.

There was a slew of hangers already in the dressing room, and the mirror was cracked on one side. Still, it would work. Tweek changed as quickly as possible, avoiding his reflection before stepping back outside for Bebes reaction. He hid in the door frame, pulling down the hem of the shorts. They couldn't even make it past the middle of the middle of his thighs. 

"You look so perfect!" Bebe replied, but swooped in to make adjustments. She tucked the top into the pants and thankfully did up the cardigan. It left only about an inch of shorts hanging out the bottom of it, and Tweek glanced down to his bony, bruised knees with a grimace. "Okay, so I'm gonna take this blouse, wash it obvi, and then dye it green. So then for jewelry-"

"No." Tweek stopped her in her tracks. He was already uncomfortable enough, the party was bound to be overstimulating, the last thing he needed was the feeling of accessories. "Th-this isn't girls go games, Bebe. I-I was just gonna wear jeans and a t shirt or something. This is… i-its too much."

Bebe was pouting. "Okay… no jewelry, I can do that but please, please at least come in with this? We can bring you a change of clothes, I promise! But you'd look so good next to me and Wends in our matching sweater dresses!" Tweek sighed, but relented. 

"A-as long as I can change … c-can we go now?" The music was loud, and the smell was really starting to get to him, it made his exhaustion feel all the more prominent. 

"Totally, thanks for doing this, TT! You're like, the first customer in my new stylist business!" She joked. Tweek quickly went into change back, ignoring the mirror once more. Now he was gonna smell like thrift store all day… hopefully Bebes trip to Ulta wouldn't take that long, he desperately wanted a shower.

Tweeks phone buzzed in one of his pockets, and he pulled it out as he exited the dressing room.

Unknown Number:

Have a good weekend everyone! Enjoy the party, I'm sure it's gonna be killer!

-L

Okay, what the actual shit? Tweek rolled his eyes and blocked the number. How cheesy, who even signed their texts anymore?

The shopping trip wrapped up with relative ease, and Tweek and Bebe made it to Wends house for the pre party sleepover. 

*****

"But, are you sure you like like him?" Marjorine asked while Bebe was pushing Tweeks cuticles back. Tweek groaned.

"I-I don't know! He's just- AGH! This is too much pressure!" Tweek pulled his hands away from Bebe to grab at his hair. He wasn't sure how the topic of his liking of Craig came about, but he wanted this conversation to be over. 

"Isn't he straight?" Nichole asked, looking up from the TV where she and Heidi were trying to figure out a movie to watch. Tweek simply buried his head in his hands, refusing to answer. He knew Craig wasn't, but that wasn't anyone else's business. He was good at keeping secrets- he'd kept his parents for long enough after all. 

"Didn't he have that crush on that kid with tourettes in the fourth grade?" Heidi offered.

"Craig is definitely gay." Red piped up, "at every family reunion it always gets brought up. He's never had a girlfriend, at least."

"Guys! It's uncouth the speculate on someone's sexuality!" Wends said, "... but I remember in fifth grade he held hands with Tweek all the time until Cartman called him… well, you know."

"Fags?" Tweek replied for them, before letting out a sigh. "I-i mean.. he's always been like that though! H-he was a very clingy kid."

"To you," Nichole said, "I don't remember him ever holding hands with Tolkien or Jimmy."

"H-he held hands with Clyde!"

"Yeah, but Clyde was a cry baby. I mean like, I get it after his mom died, but it's like he never stopped." Bebe replied, gently taking Tweeks hand again to finish her task.

"Well, I think Craig's just afraid of what other people will think! And you can't live your life that way!" Marjorine said with a smile. "And I think all the fellas just gave him shit because they're too afraid of themselves."

"Well said," Wends said, handing Marjorine a bag of Cheesy Poofs. 

"C-can we just not talk about Craig tonight?" Tweek asked, and all the girls nodded and replied in agreement. 

*****

Craig couldn't believe he got dragged to a lame party and Stan's house. He would have absolutely said no, if Stan hadn't promised that Tweek would be there. Now he was in the living room, sitting on the couch with Kenny and Jimmy as they passed a blunt back and forth. 

He still hadn't seen Tweek, but honestly he was just trying to zone out the overly loud music and chatter around him. Thankfully the lights were dimmed, but he still could hardly think. "..  I wanna go home." He mumbled, more to himself than anything.

"H-hang on, the girls aren't even-arent even here yet!" Jimmy replied, before taking a hit. That was a lie. There were plenty of girls at this party, but he knew which ones Jimmy meant. 

"Yeah dude! And they're bringing the tweeksterrrrr!" Kenny replied, sing songing the nickname for Tweek in a teasing tone. "And I heard from Marj that he's gonna look super hot tonight." Craig rolled his eyes, leaning back. He guess he could at least hold out to see Tweek, then go home…

The door swung open, letting in a blast of cold air. Bebe, Wends, and their friends all entered in, Tweek bringing up the rear, wearing the shortest shorts he'd ever seen. Wasn't he freezing? Still, Craig took a long, appreciative look at his legs. They were pale, and covered in light blonde hair and bruises- they looked like they were sculpted out of marble… at least to Craig. Tweeks internal monologue was far less kind.

"Everyone is looking at me- these shorts are too short, I'm fucking freezing! Are my legs turning blue? Oh god fuck everyone can see my goosebumps they must look so gross-" Tweek's mind rant was cut short when he made eye contact with brown eyes from across the room. The door closed behind him,but he didn't move to get closer inside. He and Craig stared at each other for a moment, before Craig finally made a move to get up. 

"...Hey." Craig greeted, feeling much less confident on his feet than he had sitting down. He finally felt the full effects of the weed hitting him, and he was probably staring a little too intensely at the shorter blonde in front of him. 

"Hey…" Tweek greeted back, wrapping the cardigan tighter around the sheer green blouse underneath it. Luckily the cardigan covered everything, but it still made Tweek nervous.

"You look cold." Craig said simply. "Do you want a blanket?" He had no fucking clue where the Marshs kept their spare blankets, but he could figure it out.

"Uuuhh… kinda.. kinda wanted to get a drink first? Maybe a snack or something?" Tweek couldn't give a shit about snacks right now. Truth be told he wanted the blunt sitting plainly in Kenny's hand, but he needed to get a scope of the party first. At least make the rounds before bailing. 

"Oh… yeah, for sure. I'll come with you." The song changed, playing Speed Drive by Charli XCX, which effectively got most people dancing. Craig absent-mindedly took Tweeks hand to lead him through the surprisingly thick crowd and into the kitchen. Thankfully it was mildly quiet, Stan and Kyle having a conversation by the fridge withstanding. There was a good amount of alcohol on the kitchen counter, mostly stolen from Randy's stash. 

"What did you want?" He asked, dropping Tweeks hand, who looked at them briefly, before grabbing a beer off the table. "Gross… that's all?"

Tweek shrugged, "I'm a simple man." Craig cracked a smile, before pouring midori into a mountain dew. "That's disgusting…"

"You have your drinks, I got mine." Craig replied, now secured with his stereotypical red solo cup. "Wanna head back out to Kenny and Jimmy?"

"... Not really? I-i mean… it's kinda loud in here, man." Tweek replied, shifting from foot to foot as he looked around. 

"I brought my car. I'm sure we could just sit in it with the heater on and smoke." Craig replied. "Come back in when we're good and stoned."

"... I'd like that. Yeah…" Tweek replied, grabbing another beer. Just in case he finished it in the car. Craig took Tweeks hand again to lead him outside, out to his shitty PT Cruiser. 

"So…" Craig started once they were inside with the heater blasting, and he pulled out a joint from his pocket in a plastic baggie. "You look really nice tonight."

"... Thanks man." Tweek replied, and Craig could swear he saw Tweeks cheeks redden in the dim light. "I never dress like this though… i-its um… I-I'm pretty cold?" Craig passed him the joint, and finally noticed the polish on the others fingers.

"Did you paint your nails?" Olive green had been perfectly manicured onto them, with flecks of gold sitting on top.

"Ummmm… B-Bebe did, actually. Said my outfit needed more green tones." Tweek pulled his hand away protectively, before taking a hit off the joint. 

"Maybe she can do mine sometime." Craig replied, showing off the manicure he'd done in sharpie. It was mostly faded by now, but the black was still managing to just barely hang on. "I think nail polish is pretty cool."

"Damn, you really are gay." Tweek said without thinking, immediately shutting his mouth and looking towards Craig, who was… laughing? He didn't seem to be upset at all.

"I mean… yeah I guess… I mean I had to think about it and..  I guess everyone else realized before I did, and that sucks ass but, I am pretty damn gay." He locked eyes with Tweek again, his gaze hazy. "And you look really pretty…"

"You are so stoned right now!" Tweek replied, going to take a few more sips of his drink. The way Craig was looking at Tweek made him feel butterflies, but he was so obviously high out of his mind- he couldn't really mean it, right?

"Tweek… I am so serious. You're the prettiest boy in the whole damn school I swear- you-you..  fuck man, I don't know what I'm saying."

"...Clearly." Tweek replied. "I-I'm just going to smoke the rest of this, if you don't mind." 

Craig nodded, focusing more on his drink instead. He still stared at Tweek, his eyes drinking in the way moon light looked on him. It highlighted the curve of his nose in pale light, caressing his gaunt cheekbones and long eyelashes. He even looked pretty smoking a joint, his lips wrapping around it in a way that made Craig's recent realizations about his wants prove more than true. "You look like an angel," he said after a while of silence, feeling the warmth of the alcohol fill him.

"D-dont say cheesy shit like that man!" Tweek replied with a laugh, "I'll think y-you have a crush on me or-or something!" The joint was almost done, looking like it was down to the tips of Tweeks long fingers. Piano hands, Craig remembered.

"Do you still play piano?" He asked quietly, now staring at Tweeks hands.

"Uhh… y-yeah. Thankfully my-my parents never cooked anything or brought any-anything to the house so I got to umm… sorry I got to keep my stuff? S-s-sorry I didn't mean to talk about it."

"No its okay… I'm glad you gotta keep your piano." Craig replied. Tweek was still shivering slightly, and Craig took off his hoodie, handing it to Tweek. Tweek graciously took it, immediately putting it on. He'd tolerate the teenage boy stink if it meant that he'd be warm..  and honestly, Craig didn't smell that bad.

"Thank you," Tweek said, zipping the hoodie up.

"Ready to go back inside?" Craig asked, to which Tweek just shrugged, but got out of the car anyway. The hoodie was so long it actually covered his shorts. Something about the sight made Craig feel warm inside- or maybe that was the alcohol. Either way, the warmth kept him going until they got back into the house, where rain started pattering on the windows. It went unheard over the music.

"You do look really nice tonight, that outfit looks good on you." Craig complimented. It looked like Tweek had even made an attempt to tame his wild blonde hair, though any effort was destroyed by the wind outside.

"I feel l-like a ti-tik tok alt kid circa twenty twenty."Tweek replied bitterly. "But thanks man… B-Bebe just wanted t-to dress me up t-to-FUCK. … Tonight. She just wanted to dress me up tonight."

Craig slid a little closer to him, taking his hand again. It was subconscious. It honestly felt natural. He could feel Kenny gleefully staring at them, he looked up to see the bastard flashing him a thumbs up. "Why'd she wanna do that?"

Instead of a reply, Tweek just smiled awkwardly at him, squeezing his hand. "... I think I need another drink."

"Third beer of the night… I'm surprised you're not a lightweight." Tweek just shrugged.

"M-my bodys been through worse."

They made their way back into the kitchen, which had gotten busier in their absence. Tweek quickly grabbed another beer before he was pushed out of the way by a girl with long black hair, and he and Craig retreated to a corner. "T-too loud in here…" Tweek mumbled.

"Hey queers," Came the ever grating voice of Eric Cartman. "You guys need a room or what?"

"Fuck you-w-wait… is that an offer?" Tweek looked at the larger boy in confusion. Eric had the most smug look on his face, but it wasn't evil… it was so odd.

"Figured if you two fags wanted to hook up you should at least have your own room! They've got a spare bedroom now, I could take you to it." Cartman offered. Craig and Tweek looked at each other incredulously.

"I… we.. we're not gonna fuck, dude." Craig replied, incredibly confused.

".... sure, whatever, but isn't it too loud in here, aren't there too many people here for your autistic asses? Don't you guys wanna confess all your gay feelings and shit?" Craig tensed at that, but nodded. There were too many people here for his autistic ass, actually.

They followed Eric up the stairs to a bedroom that looked like it belonged to Stan's older sister once upon a time, and Eric quickly shut the two of them inside alone. Never in his life did Tweek think Eric Cartman would be his saving grace.

Tweek went to sit on the bed, immediately pulling the blanket up over his legs, kicking off his boots. He leaned back against the wall, letting out a sigh of relief as the noise was finally muffled enough for him to relax.

But now the two were alone. In a room. Together.

Sure they'd been in the car together, but being in a bedroom had more expectations. People would certainly talk, especially since Cartman was absolutely running his mouth right now. "Hey so… we aren't gonna be…y-yknow… sleeping together?"

"I'm not interested in sex." Craig said plainly. It sounded almost rehearsed.

"C-cool! Just checking!" Tweek replied, "me neither… a-anyways um… I guess we could talk?" Craig nodded, sitting on the bed next to him, but reached out to hold Tweeks hand again. Tweek didn't protest. Actually, it was kind of nice.

"W-we held hands all the time when we were kids…" Tweek whispered. Staring at the interlaced fingers between them.

"Yeah… why'd we stop?" Craig asked, his words slurring slightly.

"Cartman called you a fag and you stopped."

"Oh…"Craig had a look of concentration on his face. "... sorry." He mumbled finally, his thumb stroking the back of Tweeks hand. 

"D-dont worry about it. A-a-after that I came out and we stopped talking as much."

"Wait- I thought we stopped talking because your parents got arrested?"

"A-are you kid-kidding me? Dude, I came out and you never texted me again! Y-y-you wouldn't pick up my calls-"

"My dad took my phone that year. Shit grades."

"What-why didn't you say that then?"

"I didn't know you were texting me!" 

Tweek and Craig stared at each other for a moment, mouths agape in mirroring expressions of shock.

"Oh… I… I guess I didn't think to ask… wh-why you weren't picking up."

"And then your parents got arrested and you kind of… you kind of stopped talking to anyone but Wendy and Bebe." 

"Yeah…." Tweek bit his lip in thought, before looking back up at Craig. "Everyone thinks you're a complete dick, you know?"

"I know." 

"I-i-its kind of funny… y-you have a reputation of being such an ass wipe, b-but you've always been nice to me… I mean-usually."

"I like you." Craig stated bluntly, putting his other hand on top of the one he was holding.

"Man, y-you can't say shit like that-"

"No. Tweek. I like you. I have a crush on you. I have for years."

"I-you-I-WHAT?"

[votestaynight2]

9th Day - RAIN (Scene 4 & 5 & 6)

Alright, so the next few choices all come in the space of, like, 5 minutes in a single conversation with Tohsaka, so I'm just gonna do them myself to avoid the blog getting weighed down by a bunch of short posts.

"No. I probably can't obey you unconditionally." "…Hey now. Who do you think you are, answering like that from the very first question?" "But isn't it normal? For example, I'd be in trouble if you give me a reckless order."

"I won't be that stupid. If you think it's reckless, it's probably because you don't understand what I'm planning. …Oh well. So you'll obey me, as long as the order's reasonable?" "Yeah, I can keep that promise." "Then here's the second question. Can you trust me like I'll be trusting you? Will you stay on my side, no matter how ugly things get?"

CHOICE: Yes. (obviously)

"I see. So you will give me your absolute obedience?"

"――――Mm." Tohsaka says something dangerous with an evil smile. That seems to be the final question, but――――

CHOICE: No Way! (Once again, obviously)

"――――No way…! I'll admit that your instructions are better as a magus. But I'm sure you make mistakes once in a while. If you say something ridiculous, I can't just obey you. I'll protest if I think you're wrong. That's what it means to cooperate, right?"

"Of course. I can't cooperate with you unless that's the case. I tend to do things my own way, so I need someone to act as my brakes. It'll be helpful if you can take that role."

"Huh――――――――?" …I'm a bit disappointed. I expected disagreeing to spark an argument, but Tohsaka is nodding in satisfaction.

"Then here's the last question. I'll help you as much as I can if it's something I can do and you can't do. But… can you do the same even in the opposite case?"

"…? Something I can do that you can't do…?" Is there such a thing? Is it possible that she can't cook and needs my help?

"Hey. Come on and answer since this is the most important question. Yes or no. Quick." "…Well. Um, it'll help me out if you can give me a specific example…"

"Geez…! I'm asking if you'll let me win or not!"

"――――――――" She says with her cheeks blushing, as if she's sulking. It looks childish, completely unlike Tohsaka.

But―――― "……Yeah. I'll let you win since I'm cooperating with you. I promise." …It's actually really cute.

"Then we'll meet at the front gate after school. You're going to have club activities at my place, starting today." "Hm――――club activities at your place?"

"Yup. We're cooperating, so I need to teach you how to fight by yourself, right? …Well, I know from what I've already seen that you're an amateur, so you'll be working overtime every day."

"Well, I don't mind, and that's actually helpful――― But is that starting today?"

"Of course. I have to figure out your ability and determine our plan from tonight on. You'll be going home late, but it's no problem since you live alone, right?" "Huh? Well, that's true, but how do you know that, Tohsaka?"

"…! I-I thought so because there wasn't anyone at your house when I treated your wound before. A-Anyway, that's how it's going to be, so you just have to wait for me at the front gate!"

"――――――――" Tohsaka waves goodbye and runs off. It's Friday today… Classes run to sixth period, so we'll be going home after three o'clock.

"…This is bad. I told Sakura I'd be coming home early, but I can't cancel Tohsaka's proposal on the very first day." I feel bad for Sakura, but I'll go with Tohsaka for today.

…Well, she isn't a devil. So she might let me go home early today if I tell her about Sakura…. Right?

"――――――――" I wait for Tohsaka by the front gate. The sky is gray, and it looks like it'll rain any minute now. There's a chill wind, so it'll be a cold night if it rains.

"What are you thinking about?" ―――Then. Tohsaka is in front of me when I notice. She must have ran here, as her shoulders are moving up and down.

"Nothing. I just thought it might rain." "Oh, the weather? I guess it'll just be a drizzle. We have to go patrol at night, so it'll be a pain if it rains too much."

…Hm. It seems Tohsaka has already made plans for us to go on patrol tonight. I don't mind, but I'd like to go by my house and check on Sakura before that.

"Tohsaka, about that…" "I know. I'll train you as your cooperator, so prepare yourself. I'll make you a proper magus."

With those confident words, Tohsaka sets off down the hill. …Crap. I can't bring up the subject of going home early if she smiles like that.

We make the long walk up the hill south of the intersection. This residential area is filled with Western-style houses. Tohsaka's house is at the top of this hill, past Sakura's.

"Wow――――" So this is Tohsaka's place. Sakura's house is bigger, but this house feels more like a Western mansion.

…And it somehow feels cold. There's been an air that seems to reject anyone nearing this place ever since we finished climbing up the hill.

"Why did you stop? This is my house." "Y―――Yeah, I know. I was just coerced."

"…Yeah. My house is different from yours. It's just that even someone who's ignorant of magical energy like you can feel the coldness of this house." Tohsaka goes into her home, speaking in bored tones.

"Hey, come on. I don't have any traps set up, so you don't need to hesitate." She beckons me from the entrance.

"……No. It's not because of the atmosphere that I'm hesitating." Muttering to myself, I gather my composure and go in.

…This place certainly does have a cold atmosphere, but that's nothing. She has no idea what a big deal it is for a guy to come over to Tohsaka Rin's house. …Well, I'm sure she won't understand even if I explain it to her. If I'm lucky, she'll just laugh.

――――Wait.

"W-Why are we in your room and not the living room!"

With an utter lack of concern, she shows me through the living room and into her bedroom.

"It's because this place has more instruments ready. The living room is where you have tea, but we didn't come here to drink tea, right?" "Uh――――um. You're… right, but…" Um, I wish she'd think of me as a boy her age.

"…? Just sit down wherever. I'll be using sage and cards to consecrate you, but tell me now if you don't like either."

Tohsaka opens the box by her bed. It looks like a treasure chest from an adventure movie.

"Hmm… Kishua's agate is useless for this. …Oh, I'm out of sage. Can you bring some up from downstairs, Archer?" "Scarlet sage, right? …Well, I don't think you'll need to go that far to distinguish this man."

"I'll do whatever I please. You can rest downstairs after that. We have a pact, so you don't need to protect me." "―――You're right. I doubt he has the nerve to betray you. I shall get ready for tonight."

That must be Archer. His presence must be thin when in spirit form. I didn't feel much magical energy from him.

"…I'm surprised. I didn't notice that he was in the room." "That's how it is if he's in spirit form. Even if he takes form, his magical energy won't leak outside as long as he's in this house. It's elementary for a workshop to shut in the magical energy."

"Oh. So is it the same for Makiri… no, Matou's place?" "Yes. But that place has no need to hide magical energy anymore. If they are hiding magical energy, it'd be the energy leaking out from the magus himself and not from the house."

"Well, either way, it takes nothing to hide magical energy. I'd take Archer with me to school too, but I'm resting him during the day since he's not up to par."

Tohsaka rummages through the treasure chest with a difficult expression. …It seems she can't find what she wants. Is she the kind of person that never keeps anything in order?

"…Really, why doesn't the wound he received from Saber heal when all other wounds can be healed easily? I'm sure they had some connection… Geez, why am I finding my master's jewels now? I can never find them when I want them, dammit!"

She leans forward and keeps fumbling around. …That chest looks small, but it seems big enough to be able to fit Tohsaka inside.

"――――Man." There's nothing to prepare for. All I can do is pray that she'll find the thing she wants, or just look around her room aimlessly――――

"……?" Then. I see something.

―――It's a photo. A bookshelf that's about waist-high is at the corner of the room. On it is a photo that looks to have been forgotten. Dust falls off of it when I pick it up, and I can tell it has been left alone for a long time

"…It's not that she never cleans. Just this picture is undisturbed." Does Tohsaka not like seeing herself as a kid? …No, if that were all, she could just put it away. Maybe it's important to her, but she doesn't want to touch it…

"……But…" People sure can change. Tohsaka looks like she's five or six years old, and she's really cute in the picture.

"…So she had long hair back then, too…. Huh?" The girl in the picture looks just like she is now, except younger. That's why I notice the one thing that's different.

"Thanks for waiting, I'm all ready now. There'll be a little pain, but it's nothing you should be worried about… Huh, what's going on, Emiya-kun?"

"Oh. This, Tohsaka." I show her the picture I found.

"Oh, that's an old photo. I just put that in the corner, but is something wrong with it?" "Huh… Well, there's nothing wrong, but…"

It's nothing much, so I hesitate. It's nothing I need to ask about, but it just caught my attention.

"Oh. I see, you want to say I have a different ribbon on, right?" "――――――――" I nod.

"That's natural. I'm a girl, so I have lots of ribbons. Even if it's my favorite, do you think I'd keep the same ribbon for over ten years?"

Oh. She's right now that she mentions it. It's just an ordinary ribbon. Why was I so concerned about it?

"I'm kidding. That's what I want to say, but ribbons are special. It's the last resort for female magi. It's an appropriate magical item, so there aren't many substitutes for it." "…Wow. Then is that ribbon some sort of a magical item?"

"Yes. Holding the hair in place means holding the magical energy in place. My family doesn't have mystic eyes, so we have to at least keep our reserve magical energy from our hair. It's something that controls your body, so it's best if you make it yourself, right?"

"That's the first ribbon I made. It was my favorite, but I parted with it for various reasons. …Well, let's stop with the idle talk. I'm starting the consecration, so sit down in that chair―――"

Tohsaka's analysis ends rather quickly. She lit an incense, did something like tarot fortune-telling, and asked me a few personality assessment-like questions.

And Tohsaka says… "―――You don't correspond to anything. Further testing would be useless." …And quickly gives up diagnosing my Magic Circuit.

"Hey. Does that mean you can't tell?" And when I ask her…

"Excuse me. I found out that you're not related to the five elements. Any more consecration is out of my expertise, so it's useless to keep going. I'll just see what magic you can use and figure it out from there."

…That's how it is according to her. I run through the "strengthening" magic using the clay she prepared.

It's called an ether cluster, and it's a strange object that returns to its original form no matter what happens to it. It's a good conductor of magical energy. I strengthen it so easily that I'm afraid it won't recover, but…

"It's like shiniku, so don't worry about it. It restores its original state in a day even if you bundle it with strong magical energy." …She says something like that. Shiniku, by the way, is meat that never goes away, no matter how much of it you eat.

…Anyway, I keep repeating the strengthening magic on the clay. I can't fail in front of Tohsaka, but I only succeed two out of ten times. Activating my Magic Circuit, which was easy when I had Saber, took a lot of time and effort.

Tohsaka asks me a few questions while I cast the strengthening magic. Whether I'm self-taught, whether I can use any other spells, how Kiritsugu taught me, and what I have the easiest time imagining.

So. Tohsaka's expression darkens further with each answer I give, and by the end she's shut up entirely. I don't know what she's angry about, but it's really awkward to be here if she makes a face like that.

"Tohsaka? …Um, I know it's only a matter of course, but are you regretting cooperating with me because I'm such an amateur?" I ask her the most likely thing.

"Huh…? Yeah, I do regret that you're an amateur, but in your case, you were taught wrong… Or should I say that I'm surprised you're still alive with the way you're doing things." Tohsaka ponders.

"…? Heeey, Tohsaka? You lost me." "………?" Why is she glaring at me?

"……Fine. I guess if I'm going to correct you, we'll have to start with the fundamentals. But let's go back to what we were talking about earlier. Is it true that the things you projected are still in your shed?" "Yeah. Things don't normally go away unless you break them, right?"

I told her that I use projection as a breather in between strengthening magic. It seems Tohsaka is particular about it, and told me to use projection using the clay. She told me to make a vase. Everything started out smoothly, but in the end I still failed.

"―――Hmph. For now, I'll teach you how to turn your switch on and off. It's faster to make an actual switch in your body. Stay over tonight. It's a drastic measure, so you'll have to stay in bed all night."

"What――――? You mean here?" "What's with that face? Don't worry. I'm not going to be performing surgery on you. You'll just drink some medicine. Well, you won't be able to move for a while because it's so strong."

"Oh… Um, it's not that I don't like drastic measures…" …I look at the clock. It's almost five. I didn't notice since it's cloudy today, but it's getting late.

Tohsaka is helping me as a fellow magus. It makes me happy, and I'm grateful, but I'm worried about Sakura too. I should――――

[ghirahimbo]

A (for Blind, But Now), Q and U! + some figurative 🍵 for the plague

Thank you for the figurative tea! Hoping to curl up with some literal tea soon 💖

A: How did you come up with the title to Blind, But Now?

I once was lost, but now am found / was [blind, but now] I see :D

But yeah, basically I had that song stuck in my head, liked the theme of redemption, and ran with it.

U: A pairing you might like to write for, but haven’t tried yet.

Ohhh, I've had an angsty sidlink idea kicking around for ages that might be interesting to try to write someday? Urbosa/Zelda’s mom could be fun, too! I do generally write what interests me, though, and I guess I have relatively narrow interests T–T

Q: Do you have any discarded scenes/storylines/projects?

Do I...

lmao actually though, do you want a deleted scene from Crystalline? I started scrolling through my old documents trying to remember just how many unused projects I actually have, and I realized that I'd completely forgotten about the version of Crystalline featuring the Thunder Dragon. I'm pretty sure I abandoned the idea when the pacing wasn't working out right and I couldn't get the scene to resolve the way I needed it to, but I still might reuse the idea for something else someday ;)

((obligatory disclaimer that this never made it out of rough draft stage))

--

On "good" days, Ghirahim managed to track down a Wolfos den or Molderach nest for Link to clean out—but when all else failed, the Thunder Dragon at Lanayru Gorge was still happy to let Link throw himself against the simulated enemies of his past. More and more often, Ghirahim's thirst for a challenge led them to Lanayru eventually.

Today, Ghirahim took them straight to the gorge without bothering to look elsewhere first.

"Good to see you back here, Link!" Lanayru boomed from his usual place as they approached, sitting back on his tail. Even when Ghirahim led them, he always addressed Link. "It's been a few weeks, hasn't it? You up for another trip down memory lane?"

Link nodded, considering his options. The battle with Tentalus was difficult, but he thought Ghirahim resented how much he relied on his bow and arrows. Scaldera had lost most of its challenge now that he had the hang of it, and they'd fought plenty of Molderachs already, so…

Link opened his mouth to say Koloktos.

"He is here to fight Ghirahim," Ghirahim announced before he could get the name out, and Link whipped his head to stare. "The first battle, if you please."

"Ghirahim," Lanayru repeated, deep voice inscrutable. His cloudy beard let off barely a wisp as he stroked it, strips of lightning rippling up his stomach. "The first battle." Turning to Link, he asked, "Is that really your choice?"

Biting his lip, Link nodded. They had never faced any of his remembered battles with Ghirahim before, any more than they’d faced Demise… by unspoken agreement, he'd thought. It occurred to him that Ghirahim's spur of the moment desire for bloodshed was perhaps not as unplanned as it seemed.

“Ghirahim it is, then!” Lanayru clapped his hands together—a thunderclap. “Look to the past to understand the future, as I always say. I assume you both remember the rules, so… are you ready?”

Link nodded. Ghirahim said nothing, but his dark eyes spoke volumes as a dark mist rose from out of nowhere in Link's mind, swallowing up first the looming desert cliffs, then the grassy oasis they stood on, and finally Link himself.

The world brightened again as the simulation took hold, but not by much. The deepest chamber of Skyview Temple was dim, with only hints of sunlight shining through hidden cracks in the ceiling above, though his pale opponent seemed to gather what little light filtered through as he approached. Walking slowly, arm outstretched, Link remembered his taunting smirk all too well. That confident, unarmed approach had frightened him once.

“He’s toying with you, of course,” Ghirahim murmured from beside him, and Link spared him a glance. Gaze focused on his double, the true Ghirahim’s red cloak peeled away in diamond wisps until the two were mirrored. “Not that he would hesitate to kill you should even his pared back strength prove overwhelming. The weak must learn to survive on their own merits.”

Like the Kikwi? Link thought but didn’t say, raising the tip of his black sword experimentally. The false Ghirahim’s eyes followed it, his hand drifting sideways.

As always, the Thunder Dragon had let him bring the sword he carried with him—Ghirahim's sword now, instead of the Goddess Sword. Could this simulated Ghirahim still steal it away?

For the moment, he needn't find out. He had sparred often enough with Ghirahim since this battle to make his "training" style of battle all too familiar. Switching his sword's direction quickly, Link scored a line of diamonds down his side.

"You've grown quite comfortable with me, haven't you, Link?" the Ghirahim beside him mused. The Ghirahim he had struck approached again, silent. "No wonder you have come to harbor such affection."

[helloalycia]

teenage dirtbag [two] // wanda maximoff

summary: your crush begins to get more intense for Wanda, ensuing awkwardness between you both

warning/s: none

author's note: so glad you’re all liking this, here’s part two! 🥰

part one | part three | part four | part five | masterlist | wattpad

I knew it was a dream as soon as it began. Dreams never tricked me as I always detected something didn't feel right and figured out it wasn't real. But that was my only 'talent' with dreams, as everything else was left down to my subconscious. I couldn't control them, break away from the script or deviate from the scene in any way. I just knew when it wasn't real.

Admittedly, it took a little longer for me to recognise this one was a dream compared to others I'd had. It just seemed so normal as I headed into Chemistry class, seeing other students filing in and joining their partners. Mr. Hale was at the front of the class, occupied by his laptop and the projector, and it felt like any other day at school. The lights were off and the blinds were closed slightly, leaving the room in darkness except for the light from the board.

"Are we watching a film or something?" I asked Wanda as I set my bag on the desk beside her, earning her attention.

She looked up from her notepad and smiled widely, blue eyes sparkling in the darkness. "You're here, you took forever!"

"You saw me two lessons ago," I teased, taking a seat beside her.

She moved closer to me, hands immediately moving to my left one, playing with my fingers mindlessly. It felt right at the time, but I knew deep down that this wasn't real. In what world would this happen?

"Still," she mumbled adorably, before meeting my eyes. "We're watching some video about the periodic table."

I hummed, glancing at Mr. Hale as he struggled to pull up the video.

"Thank God because I couldn't be bothered doing work," Wanda added with a sigh, before moving closer to me, leaning on the palm of her hand as the other held mine still. "D'you think you can cover for me whilst I sneak in a nap?"

I stifled a laugh, moving closer and admiring the way her eyes changed colour in the light from the board. "I'm sure you're supposed to be paying attention."

She scrunched her nose, an uninterested smile on her lips, and it made my heart flutter.

"Fine, I'll cover for you," I gave in easily, before pressing a kiss to her nose.

She giggled quietly and when I pulled back, she leaned in and kissed my lips. Her free hand moved to the back of my neck as I rested mine on her lap, closing my eyes and falling into her without question. Okay, so yeah, definitely a dream, but I wasn't complaining.

"If Miss Maximoff and Miss Y/L/N can kindly stop making out, then we can begin the lesson," Mr. Hale announced, breaking Wanda and I's kiss.

Some of the class snickered as we separated from each other's hold, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He gave us a fed up look.

"Thank you," he said, before erupting into a speech about today's lesson.

When he started the video, I leaned forward on the desk to get comfortable and felt Wanda do the same, leaning her head on my arm and continuing to play with my hand. I smiled to myself, kissing the top of her head gently before getting comfortable. It all seemed too good to be true, but God was it a nice thought.

When I woke up the next morning with butterflies in my stomach, I groaned loudly. I knew I'd screwed myself over. I was in too deep. Dreaming about Wanda was not good, not good at all...

And it definitely didn't help when I showed up to class that same day, approaching my table and an already-seated Wanda. Just a dream, I told myself as I took a seat. Not real. And not a big deal.

"Good morning," she greeted when I sat down and pulled my books out. Her usual picture perfect smile was on her lips as she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "How are you?"

Trying my best not to think about my dream, I gave her a small smile. "G-good, yeah."

Fuck me, why did I stutter?

"You sure? You seem distracted," she noticed, making me swallow hard and look away from her piercing gaze.

"Yeah," I managed to say without stuttering once again. "Just tired. What about you?"

"Same," she said with a breathy chuckle, her leg brushing mine under the table and making me freeze. She didn't seem to notice as she continued, "I stayed up late binge-watching Netflix. Probably the wrong choice, but here we are."

I bit my lip to contain a laugh, relaxing a little. It was just a dream. She wasn't that bad. I was fine!

Class started and Mr. Hale was explaining something about doing a practical experiment today, but if I'm being honest, I was barely listening. Stuck in a daydream, I was wiggling my pen in my right hand and staring at the display behind Mr. Hale's head mindlessly.

Suddenly, a warm hand rested on mine, pressing it to the table and stopping me from shaking my pen. I shit you not, my heart stopped when I saw Wanda smirking playfully at me.

"D'you mind?" she asked, clearly finding my wiggling pen distracting.

All I could think about was how soft and warm her hand was, and then I became aware of her bare leg still brushing against mine – she just had to wear a dress today, didn't she? – and then the fact that she was still staring at me with amusement dancing in her eyes. My dream from last night returned to mind as she was still yet to remove her hand and I was lucky I managed to find my words as I choked out a response.

"S-sorry," I said, frozen in place, yet again, by Wanda's presence.

She snickered, shaking her head at my dismay, before finally letting go of my hand. I licked my lips nervously and let go of my pen, but not quite finding the energy to move my hand. I could still feel the warmth of her hand lingering on mine and, oh God, this was getting worse by the second. Why did I have to have that stupid dream?!

Clearly distracted by my own stupidity, I failed to realise that Mr. Hale had let us begin with our experiment, whatever that may be as I wasn't listening. Wanda was nudging me slightly, bringing me back into reality, and said something about getting lab coats and goggles whilst I got the bunsen burner.

I watched her leave and massaged my head, telling myself to get my act together. I was not the stupid cliché of a girl who acted nervous around her crush. I was better than that, goddamn it.

After getting the bunsen burner, I hooked it up to the gas tap as Wanda returned with our lab coats and safety goggles. We both put them on before Wanda gave me a knowing look, humoured smile tugging at her lips. I was beginning to hate (love) that look.

"You totally weren't paying attention during that, were you?" she asked, but she definitely already knew the answer.

"'Course I was," I played it cool, before wandering over to the handout on our desk. "We're doing an experiment."

She chuckled as I distracted myself with reading the instructions.

"So it says the first instruction is to boil some water in a beaker," I said with a nod. "Seems easy enough. Just gotta get a beaker."

My mouth went dry when Wanda hunched down on the desk, reading the paper between us. I hoped she couldn't hear how fast my heart was beating in my chest.

"You think you can manage that one?" she teased, glancing up at me with that same playful smirk on her lips.

Her eyes twinkled with mischief, similar to the one her twin possessed on a regular basis, and I'd never felt more stuck in place in my life than I did now. Without thinking, my gaze lowered to her lips and I realised then and there how badly I wanted to feel her lips against mine for real. She was so close I could move forward a mere few inches and feel it, but I didn't.

"Y-yeah, I'll get it now," I stumbled out, before literally stumbling over the stool as I made a move to leave.

I tried to ignore the way her gaze followed me and instead focused on getting to the beakers without passing out. To my relief, Y/BF/N was also collecting a beaker for him and his partner, too. When I stopped by his side, he looked up to see who it was, then smiled.

"You alright?" he asked, sensing my panic.

I shook my head frantically. "Definitely not. This is really bad, Y/BF/N."

Y/BF/N furrowed his brows, making me give him the look, to which he eventually followed what I meant.

"What happened?" he asked, trying (and failing) to hide his amusement.

I made sure nobody was nearby or could hear us before admitting, "I had a dream."

He raised his eyebrows suggestively, making me slap him on the arm quickly.

"Not that kind of dream, you perv," I clarified, before sighing. "But a dream. About you-know-who. And it threw me off and now I can't seem to act like a human."

He snorted as he tried not to laugh. I glared at him, shoving him again, making him laugh out loud.

"I'm sorry," he defended. "It's just– you've got it bad."

"Very helpful." I narrowed my eyes.

"Look, it's new which is why you're all awkward," he said knowingly, collecting his beaker. "It'll eventually pass when you get used to it. Until then, try not to do anything stupid."

"Too late," I mumbled under my breath.

He patted me reassuringly before leaving. I grabbed a beaker and turned around, deciding to take it easy. I'd get over it. I always did. I wasn't stupid. Yeah, I wasn't stupid. I had this!

But that thinking immediately went out the window when I approached our workspace and saw Wanda leaning on the desk, looking over the handout with thought. Her hair was pulled back for safety reasons, exposing her tensed jaw and pursed lips. She was wearing her lab coat over her black, knee-length dress and I'm not gonna lie, she looked extremely sexy today because she was wearing matching black knee-high boots. I gulped.

God help me.

—

You'd be relieved to know that my crush on Wanda died down after a while. Not in the way that I no longer had a crush on her – God knew I was overflowing with feelings for her – but in the way that I was getting a lot better at hiding it.

Which was perfect for when I saw her with her dick of a boyfriend. You'd be surprised how many times he kept popping up. And when he did, I always seemed to want to strangle him.

This time, I was working my new part-time job at a pizza place in town. Y/BF/N was keeping me company on my shift by taking extra long to finish his pizza so we could talk at the counter. I was drying some glasses as we spoke when the door to the parlour opened and the bell jingled, signalling new customers.

"I believe that's your cue," Y/BF/N teased, making me roll my eyes playfully.

My gaze wandered to the door where I saw a small group of teens walking in and finding a seat. It took me a second to realise that it was actually Wanda and her friends, including her boyfriend, who were looking for a table. My eyes widened with surprise as she looked around. Her eyes found mine and an excited smile appeared on her face as she waved to me.

"This just keeps getting better," Y/BF/N said when he saw Wanda heading our way, thankfully without her friends.

I pinched him before straightening up and plastering my best customer service smile on my lips. Wanda stopped before me, smiling between Y/BF/N and I.

"Hey, guys," she greeted brightly, to which Y/BF/N smiled in return, before looking my way and making my stomach flip at how pretty she looked today. "Y/N, I didn't know you worked here!"

"Yeah, it's kinda new," I answered coolly. "Gotta get that extra money, right?"

She nodded before grabbing the tip of my cap on my head and wiggling it, letting out a laugh. "You look adorable in your uniform, I must say."

I forgot how to breathe as she let go of my cap, her eyes still glittering with joy. Y/BF/N tried to hide his laughter as he sipped his drink, meanwhile I felt my neck heating up with embarrassment.

"Th-thanks," I got out nervously. I know what you're thinking – I said I got better at hiding my crush. And I have! I just– why did she have to put me on the spot like this?!

"I should get back," she said after a moment, pointing over her shoulder towards her friends. "But it was nice seeing you. Are you serving us?"

I nodded, regaining composure. "I'll be over in a minute. Give you chance to pick something."

"Awesome," she said sweetly, flashing me a final smile before heading back to her friends.

I released a shaky breath when she left, taking my cap off and massaging my head momentarily.

"I feel like she flirts with you just to see what happens," Y/BF/N said with amusement.

"It's just her personality," I mumbled, before putting my cap back on and taking a deep breath. "Time to work."

I continued to do my job as usual, thankfully not being affected by Wanda's presence, and took their orders. It was pretty uneventful as I served them their food and continued to hang with Y/BF/N by the counter. Every time I'd look over at her out of bad habit, I'd feel uneasy at the sight of Nate having his hands all over her. I mean, obviously he could – he was her boyfriend – but admittedly, I was a little jealous. I tried to ignore the feeling by busying myself with other things.

Wanda's friends were being a little noisier and rowdier than I'd liked, but it wasn't particularly busy so I saw no need to shut them up. Yeah, in hindsight, maybe I should have.

Clearing a table after some customers left, I balanced a tray of glasses in my hand and headed back to the counter. But on the way, a football came out of nowhere and got launched at my chest, making me drop the tray onto the floor with a loud crash. The rowdiness from Wanda's table ceased momentarily, as did the chatter from other customers, and I looked up to see Nate and his friends watching me, trying to suppress laughter.

"I am so sorry," Nate called with anything but guilt.

"Shit, Y/N, you okay?" Y/BF/N said, racing to my side in an instant.

I nodded, clenching my jaw, and bent down to clean up the mess. My boss must have heard the commotion as she came out from the kitchen and saw what happened, putting two and two together.

"Right, all of you out," she ordered without questioning anything, looking to Nate and the rest of the table. "We don't tolerate that tomfoolery here."

They groaned their complaints, but I didn't bother looking up to see, instead focusing on cleaning up the mess. Luckily for me, the tray took most of the hit rather than my chest, so unlike last time, I wasn't hurt.

"You're lucky I'm not charging you for the broken glasses, honey," my boss continued to scold Nate as he walked past, grabbing his football.

I saw feet shuffling past me, presuming it was their table leaving, and focused on picking up the large shards of glass and putting them on the tray. Y/BF/N helped out, even though he didn't need to, and I smiled at him as he knelt opposite me doing the same.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," Wanda's voice grabbed my attention, making me look up. She had a guilty frown on her lips as she looked between the mess and I.

I stood up, shaking my head. "It's fine. It's–" But I stopped speaking, instead letting out an exhausted sigh. "No offence, but your boyfriend is a dick."

She pressed her lips together, not saying anything. I felt bad for saying it, but this was the second time he'd hit me with his stupid ball. It was true.

"I should clean this up," I mumbled, avoiding her eyes. "See you at school."

She opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it. I knelt down and continued to clean up, hoping she'd walk away already. This was awkward enough as it was.

"See you guys at school," she finally spoke, making me pause. "Sorry, again."

Y/BF/N bid her a goodbye before she left for good. I let out another sigh, deciding not to say anything as I continued cleaning up. It would never make sense to me why someone as lovely as Wanda would be with someone as obnoxious as Nate. I guess I'd never know.

—

Since that lovely incident at the pizza parlour, things had been a little distant between Wanda and I. Mostly on my part if I'm being honest. I couldn't help it – the whole situation had been uncomfortable and embarrassing, making it impossible to return to how we usually were.

This meant that Wanda was the one to come to me and check in, which I definitely wasn't expecting.

I was at home one afternoon, hanging with my older sister who was staying with us for a week. She'd moved out a year ago, getting her own place a few towns over, so I missed her presence a lot. I took advantage of her weekly visit by having a catch up as we played basketball in the front drive.

Disclaimer: none of us were good at basketball, but the hoop came with the house and it was simply tradition for us to attempt to shoot baskets as we had a catch up. Only, this time, as we were talking, a loud car engine pulled us from our chat and we both spun around to see an unfamiliar car parking up.

"That must be mum's customer," Y/S/N realised, holding the basketball underneath her arm. She glanced at me with a quirked brow. "You think we're gonna get roped into helping?"

"Most definitely," I answered with a chuckle, and just on cue, our mum opened the garage door behind us.

She was a florist and had a large pick-up delivery for a customer today. Apparently they were a good friend, so she had the flowers delivered to our house and they were waiting in our garage until now.

"Can you girls give me a hand?" she asked my sister and I, motioning for us to go to her. "I'm gonna say hi. Just start bringing the crates out, yeah?"

We both saluted playfully before watching her go to the customer's car. My jaw dropped when I saw who it was – Wanda's mum. And to top things off, Wanda and Pietro were both with her, the three of them getting out of their car and greeting my mum with smiles on their faces.

"You cool?" my sister asked, nudging me slightly.

I closed my mouth, straightening up. "Yeah, yeah, duh."

She gave me a funny look but grabbed a crate and began to leave it in the drive for the moment. I swallowed the lump in my throat and did the same, knowing both Wanda and Pietro were approaching us after my mum pointed them our way.

"Y/N, hey," Wanda said, stopping before my sister and I. She gave my sister a friendly smile before looking to me with nervous eyes. "It's good to see you."

I tried to say something – anything – but my words got stuck in my throat and all that came out was a weird noise. Partially because of the awkwardness between us at my fault and partially because of how pretty she looked in her sundress.

"Hi, I'm Y/S/N," my sister cut in, noticing my quietness. She gave me a sideways glance before looking to the twins. "It's Wanda and Pietro, right?"

"Yeah," Wanda said with a smile, eyes lingering on mine before looking to my sister. "We're just helping our mum out to load the car."

"I'm the muscle," Pietro joked, lifting his bicep, making Wanda roll her eyes jokingly.

"Okay, muscle, you can come help me get these out the garage," my sister played along before looking to Wanda and I. "You guys okay to load the car?"

Wanda nodded. "Sure thing."

Y/S/N grabbed Pietro, who shot me a friendly smile, before leaving Wanda and I alone.

"Your sister seems nice," Wanda tried to make conversation as we both grabbed a crate and took it to the back of her mum's car.

"Yeah," I agreed uncomfortably. "She's just visiting."

Wanda hummed in acknowledgment, neither of us knowing what else to say. We walked past our chatting mothers before setting the crates in the back of her mum's car.

"Are we okay?" Wanda asked suddenly, as soon as our hands were free. I looked to her and saw she was debating something internally before looking to me. "I mean, I know we're okay, but I just– I feel like you've been off since, well... since Nate threw that ball at you."

My neck heated up with embarrassment as I cleared my throat; my eyes fell to the flowers in the crates.

"I really am sorry," she apologised again, resting a hand on my forearm, sending shivers up my spine. "He can be such a jerk sometimes. Does stuff without thinking."

"You don't need to apologise," I said, finally lifting my eyes to meet her anxious green ones. And I meant it – Nate's idiocy wasn't her fault and it was harsh of me to make her seem like it was. I sighed, knowing my distant behaviour would end here. "We're good, Wanda."

She still seemed uncertain. "You sure?"

I gave her my best smile, hoping she knew I meant it. "I'm sure."

Her tense shoulders relaxed and a relieved smile spread across her face. "Okay, good. I'm glad."

She held my gaze and I just knew my heart was beating too fast to be useful as she did. She was just so beautiful.

"You know, the whole point of splitting into teams was to be done quicker," Pietro's voice interrupted our staring contest.

He stepped between us, glancing between us with amusement, before setting a crate in the back of the car.

"Right, yeah, we were just on our way back," I said, smiling sheepishly.

Pietro smirked. "No harm no foul, princess."

I was taken aback slightly as he called me that, and even more taken aback when he plucked a flower from the crate and offered it my way.

"For you," he said, half joking and half serious.

Unsure what to say, I accepted the flower. "Er, thanks... I think."

Wanda crossed her arms behind him, eyes narrowed in his direction. I wondered what she was thinking, but never got the chance to ask as their mum's voice called out to us.

"Pietro, I paid to use the bouquets," she said with mild distress, "not so you could ruin them."

His cheeks flushed as he called back, "Sorry!"

I tried not to laugh as the three of us headed back to get the rest of the crates, being sure to set the flower to the side. We ended up filling her car with the bouquets before facing our parents as we bid them a goodbye.

"They're lovely, Y/M/N," Wanda's mum was complimenting the flowers. "Thank you again."

My mum patted her back. "Anytime, dear." She looked between the twins and my sister and I. "Thank you all for helping out."

Y/S/N and I smiled her way as Wanda's mum nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, thank you!" she added, looking to Y/S/N and I. "It's so great to see you all together. Especially you two, Wanda and Y/N. It's nice to know you're good friends after so long of barely speaking."

Wanda's face was beginning to turn pink as I'm sure mine was doing the same.

"Yes, I agree," my mum said with a smile. "Anyway, we won't keep you any longer. Good luck with the banquet!"

Wanda and Pietro waved goodbye to Y/S/N and I before joining their mum in the car. I followed her figure subconsciously, butterflies floating in my stomach until their car was gone.

"Damn, I really missed a lot," Y/S/N said when they were gone, wrapping an arm over my shoulder and tugging me closer. "You're crushing hard."

Instantly, I looked to her. "What? What are you talking about?"

She rolled her eyes, letting go of me. "So we're playing that game. Okay. I'll bite."

As she began to walk away, I chased after her. "What game? Y/S/N? What are you talking about?"

She merely laughed and allowed me to chase her, wondering how the hell she knew of my crush on Wanda. Was I that obvious?

[lothrilzul]

Funny how most of my predecided plans fail once I start listening to characters, and once I allow my PC to settle on a personality after their first few interactions.

Emerencia Cousland was a warrior, because I figured it'd easier to watch out for the tank if I was the tank. Having a heal mage is nice, of course, but I can chug potions too. She was eager to get fighting, just shy of her 18th birthday. She was hushed to stay and keep Highever. She was discouraged from even speaking to Duncan. She was urged to find a husband be a good wife. She didn't want to marry a nobleman. She hated Rendon Howe from the moment I laid eyes upon his face, and wasn't particularly fond of any other one, either. She was polite, but kept her distance.

And then everything went to shit. Her dear father and her brave mother died, her brother lost and she was forced to flee. And than Duncan saved her. Or so I thought. She was eager to join, because she had nothing to lose. After the Joining, which was a disaster, she felt betrayed. And if that wasn't enough, she was made public enemy number one for trying to do the right thing. But she couldn't get answer from Duncan anymore. She couldn't turn to Alistair, because he was barely any more experienced. She stumbled into the most haphazard band of misfits and befriended most of them. All she ever wanted was a peaceful life, where everyone could tolerate ther others and problems could be solved through words first.

Thrn, her past acquaintance with Alistair evolved into friendship, then interest, then love. She knew it would have the potential to hurt both of them, and so must he, yet neither of them stopped.

I always replied what I thought fit her mindset. This lead to Alistair remain unhardened, and thus not wanting to be King. So she didn't make him. He was on the fence, she could've push him either way, but she only wanted him to be happy. So I kept Alistair a Warden, despite I started a Couslanf so I had a chance at all to be Queen. Then I throw it away. Was it a good choice? Perhaps not, because this will mean I'll see Alistair again in that quest.

Then, Alma Hawke. How do I unpack her? I made a rogue, because I wanted to open the locks myself. In all honestly, I still entertainrd the thought of a Fenris romance but that would mean either making Fenris OR Emerencia grieve later and I didn't want that on him, so I jumped on the first time he declined my interest and called the matter finished. Which left me with my original, more tragic intention. I made a purple, pro-mage Hawke and relentlessly teased the apostate. I befriended him before Act 1 wrapped up.

And then that ominous kiss scene happened. I'm not gonna lie, I love a vocal man. I love touch starved man. And I love two idiots against the world relationships. So I dug myself deep, deep into Handers pit.

I originally planned to have them break up or have her kill him, but the more they interacted, the more I saw everything unfold, the less and less control I had. I said to myself ig Hawke feels it was anything personal she will act like it. And it was nothing like that.

So I spared him, saved the mages and they are supposedly on the run together.

Which is bad, because now I have choose between sacrificing Alistair and taking the last thing that keeps any light in Emerencia or sacrifice Alma, and let Anders loose with the possibly most devastating reaction any DA2 LIs could have.

And there's also the very much existing friendship between Emerencia and Anders. Either of them loses their other half, the other would feel bad about it.

I briefly considered leaving Alistair there and my cognitive functions shut down. There's no way I'd do that.

So, Emerencia will have a very bad timr trying to console Anders, and then trying to shelter him and possibly stop him from doing any harm, himself included.

Then, I was halfway finishing my Trevelyan when Kiddo reminded me I promised to make an elf. So, I backtracked, made a Lavellan anf named her Tünde. That's a valid Hungarian name, equivalent of Fay, used for elves in fantasy translations. Oh, and she's a mage.

There's no way I romance Cullen after that. I don't need another layer to this rollercoaster. Can you imagine the added bonus to all this package? No, let's stick to something of the original plan by going yet again for the Warden.

Or go Egg. That's a tragedy on its own.

[mimisempai]

Missing you comes in waves and tonight I'm drowning

Summary:

After seeing Loki disappear before his eyes and confined to the TVA because of the failed mission, Mobius decides to still believe in Loki and search for him. He witnesses the discussion between Sylvie and Loki on the train

Notes:

My theories on the method used by Mobius to locate Loki is probably very far-fetched and lacks technical truth, but that's not the most important point here, so I hope you'll forgive me for my short cuts. (I miss them together!)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32162878

2008 words - Rating G

"Loki! Wait!"

Loki looked at him for a moment before stepping through the portal.

By the time they got there, it was too late Loki and the portal was gone.

"I knew he would betray us as soon as he could!" said one of the hunters right next to Mobius.

"Shut up!" shouted Mobius at him before returning to the TVA.

As he walked toward Ravonna's office, the same thoughts swirled over and over in his head.

Had Loki betrayed him! What were his plans? But worst of all, was he in danger?

He tried to think rationally.

Loki always said he was one step ahead, but Mobius knew that wasn't true. Loki was improvising. Loki was adapting. So reason told Mobius that this is what he had done.

That's when Mobius decided to do something he'd never done in his life at the TVA, he was going to bet on chaos. On the fact that Loki had chosen to follow the variant not only for his own sake but also because it was his mission.

Because Mobius could not imagine that what they had shared was nothing in the eyes of the god.

"Mobius! In my office!"

Ravonna... he was already imagining her reprimands, "I warned you" "he can't be trusted"...

As soon as he entered her office, she showed him a screen and just said, "Look!"

A scene showing the variant fighting in a hallway with the guards and Loki in the locker room retrieving his daggers then arriving at the place where the guards were eliminated.

Next scene Loki and the variant fighting, Loki trying to convince her to team up, at this point, despite the faith he has in him, Mobius could not determine if this is a way to stop her or get what he wants.

Then Rovenna arrives and the variant uses Loki as a hostage.

Mobius could not prevent a gasp.

Still on the screen, seeing that Rovenna is not persuaded, Loki grabs an object that opens a portal above them and he and the Variant disappear.

Mobius tried not to show his relief, but he saw that Rovenna was not fooled.

"So you still trust him?"

Mobius looked at her defiantly, "As long as I don't have concrete, real proof that he betrayed us, yes I’ll trust him!"

"Always the idealistic dreamer huh?"

Mobius didn't answer, Rovenna continued, "You're grounded here until I tell you otherwise. You can get out."

Once out, Mobius sat in a chair, held his head in his hands, and began to think. He was grounded, but there was nothing to stop him from trying to figure out where Loki was.

He just had to figure out how to locate him.

The difference was that now, thanks to Loki, he knew to look in the apocalypses, what he had to find now was the equivalent of that candy, something out of the ordinary, something anachronistic.

He stood up suddenly, he had found it!

He went to the office, where the screen that displayed all the nexuses was located.

"Casey! Come here!"

The younger man got up and joined him. Mobius spoke more softly, "Will you help me with a secret project?"

Casey, who had great respect for the man, nodded.

"Follow me."

They headed into the archive room. Mobius chose a table a little out of the way.

"You sit here. I'll be right back."

A few minutes later, he returned with a stack of files that he separated into two piles.

"In all these apocalypses, we need to find one where it mentions two Lokis variants and unusual magical acts."

"Got it!"

Mobius didn't know if his smoky theory would work out, but he didn't have much choice.

He couldn't help but think back to a similar scene a few days earlier, when Loki had fallen asleep. He had let his guard down in the presence of Mobius, so that meant something, didn't it?

He started to flip through the files.

"M-Mobius! I think I've got it!"

Casey was showing him a file, Lamentis-1 - 2077, a woman reports that two demons tried to attack her. One even allegedly posed as her deceased husband in order to get information.

Mobius could feel it in his bones. It was Loki and the Variant.

He was going to have to gamble on someone again.

"Casey. I need you to keep this a secret for a while longer. If Ravonna gets wind of this, I'm afraid she'll launch an assault and won't hesitate to eliminate Loki."

Casey nodded without taking time to think, "As long as you need Mobius."

Mobius was surprised that he didn't have to persuade Casey more than that.

After all, he seemed to be the good, loyal employee who never disobeyed.

Casey, seeing his reaction, added with a knowing smile, "You know, I like Loki too. He promised me he'd show me what a fish is and you know? The drink he took from me the other day, he bought me another one and apologized. A villain wouldn't take the time to do something like that right?"

Mobius's throat tightened. Casey was the first person other than himself to acknowledge that there was good in Loki.

"Thanks."

Casey nodded and returned to his desk.

Mobius headed straight for the video archive room. The advantage of being an agent of his rank was that he had unrestricted access to this section of the archives.

He searched through the shelves until he found the videos of Lamentis 1 in 2077.

He sat down in front of one of the small projectors provided for this purpose. He was going to start from the described scene that Casey had shown him.

After entering a few parameters, the screen lit up with Loki being blasted by an old woman.

The noise of the meteors that rained down around

Loki and the one who accompanied him, prevented Mobius from hearing what was being said.He pressed the fast-forward button until Loki and the girl, after some trouble to enter the train, found themselves in a box in the dining car.

He turned up the volume to hear their conversation.

He was amazed at how easily they seemed to converse, despite the jabs on both sides, and couldn't help a twinge of annoyance that he refused to recognize as jealousy.

The variant said to Loki, mockingly, "FYI, that wasn't even a plan."

"Oh, really?"

God how Mobius missed that cheeky attitude. Even when unmasked, Loki still had that irritating confidence.

The variant replied, "Plans have multiple steps. Dressing as a guard and getting on a train is just doing a thing."

She couldn't hold back a yawn.

Loki responded, "Oh, are you a bit tired? Feel free to, you know, get some rest."

One thing Mobius had realized and Casey had confirmed to him just before was that Loki cared more about others than he let on if you paid attention.

The variant grunted and replied, "I can't sleep in a place like this."

"You can't sleep on a train?"

The variant retorted, irritated, "No. I can't sleep around untrustworthy people."

Loki replied, still cheeky, "Oh, right. That's me?"

Fearing he might misinterpret what had been said, Mobius pressed rewind and let the scene play out before him.

The image of Loki nodding in agreement about not being able to sleep near people he couldn't trust was superimposed on the image of Loki sound asleep in his company.

He could not suppress the pang of his heart.

Loki trusted him, Loki considered him trustworthy.

While he was thinking, the video had continued and Loki was now talking about his mother.

Mobius had witnessed Loki's relationship with his mother and his devastation at the news of her death.

Loki's voice had become more hushed, with that hint of fragility he had whenever he spoke of her.

"She was, um... A Queen of Asgard. She was good. Purely decent."

Then the variant and Loki respectively provoked each other about the fact that they were adopted and Loki continued, "You know, when I was young, she'd do these little bits of magic for me. Like turn a flower into a frog or cast fireworks over the water. It all seemed impossible. But she told me that I'd be able to do it too because... Because I could do anything. You wanna see?"

Loki sets off tiny fireworks over his hand.

Mobius could not deny his feelings at that moment.

The sight of magic coming from Loki's hands, pure magic, was enchanting.

Loki continued, "She was the kinda person you'd want to believe in you."

Mobius could not help but whisper, "Loki, I believe in you."

For a few moments he didn't catch the conversation until it was audible again. Apparently they were talking about their love interests.

The variant asked Loki, "How about you? You're a prince. Must've been would-be-princesses or perhaps, another prince." She finished with a wink.

Loki, replied with a serious look, "A bit of both. I suspect the same as you. But, nothing ever..."

The variant finished his sentence, "real."

"Let me find you and I'll prove to you how real it is." Mobius didn't realize he was speaking aloud. He pushed fast-forward again.

The Variant had fallen asleep and Loki looked a little giddy.

Loki waved his hand and was back in his TVA agent costume.

He could wear the illusion of any outfit, and he chose this one. Why stay in these clothes?

Mobius really didn't want to be under any illusions, because how could he imagine that someone like Loki, a prince, a god, would want to claim a belonging to something like the TVA... to someone like Mobius?

Loki had started to dance and sing.

Mobius could not help but laugh. Then his laughter died down as Loki's song became more melancholic,

I stormsvarte fjell, jeg vandrer alene

Over isbreen tar jeg meg frem

I eplehagen står møyen den vene

og synger "når kommer du hjem?"

Men traner danser og fossene stanser

når hun synger, hun synger "kom hjem"

Then seeming to regain his spirits, Loki began to dance and sing happily again as if trying to prevent nostalgia from invading him.

When the music stopped, he joined the Variant and resumed his seat in front of him. Mobius managed to understand what they were saying to each other.

"What did you just sing to look so disturbed?"

Loki looked a little moved and answered him with the voice Mobius knew well, the one he used when he was serious, when he was sincere.

"It's Asgardian, it says:

In storm-black mountains, I wander alone

Over the glacier I make my way

In the apple garden stands the maiden fair and sings,

"When will you come home?"

Loki stopped, apparently moved, and the Variant simply said, "So there's a would-be-princess somewhere..."

Loki chuckled looking so sad before answering her, "I like metaphors you know, it's not a princess it's a prince, and I don't know if he's waiting for me or hoping to see me again, it's not even really my home, but..."

"But you'd like to believe that right?"

Loki nodded.

Mobius, didn't dare to believe that it was him that Loki was talking about, even though he couldn't stop the hope from rising up inside him.

The video continued, much more animated, after a wild fight, both jumped off the moving train and found themselves walking through a kind of desert towards the energy source they apparently needed to reactivate the tempad.

Mobius saw Loki suddenly stop, looking shocked. But Mobius was unable to hear what they were saying, the sound of the meteors again covering their voices.

Suddenly, Loki shouted louder, "But they don't know that!"

And they began to run.

Mobius could see that Loki was repeating something as he ran, an expression that Mobius had never seen on his face. Like he was worried. But he couldn't hear him. He zoomed in closer to try to read Loki's lips and finally succeeded.

Mobius.

_________

The whole serie here : The story of Loki and Mobius

Not beta'd I hope you enjoyed it 🥰

[book-o-scams]

'Sorry Wrong Ed' Alternate Ending Storyboard Sequence

Check out Al Kang's Ed, Edd n Eddy portfolio!

Al Kang worked on the show during seasons 3-4 and had roles on the storyboard and prop teams apparently. (IMDb says he was credited as Al Choi at the time, but it also says he worked on season 1 episodes, which doesn't line up with the timeline he mentioned.. anyway.)

I discovered his portfolio a few months ago after seeing fandom discussion of the alternate 'Sorry Wrong Ed' ending. I was pleasantly surprised to find a few other treats as well! But yes, I even sorta liked what I learned about 'Sorry Wrong Ed' in the process... (I threw in a little analysis comparing the two endings at the bottom)

I noticed Al seemed to mix up the order on these, so I thought I'd try my best to figure out the right order. This was the most confusing one for me to try and figure out the order of since almost all 8 pages were out of order. I think I finally figured out what's going on in the original ending.

So this alternate ending starts at an unknown point with Eddy flat on the ground, presumably injured, picking himself back up. At this point in the final cut of the episode, Eddy has just been squashed by a tree, but this seems more like a different injury, and he's not even retaining his injuries from the truck scene... The scenes with Jonny and Plank from the final cut of the episode seem to not exist at all here, Jonny and Plank don't appear in this sequence.

Anyway, Eddy picks himself up in the middle of an on-going scene, sees Jimmy drop a coin in a jar for Ed, who has inexplicably turned the cursed phone into a scam on his own. Edd is glaring at the off-screen kids, who have somehow learned about this phone and are excited to kill Eddy with it.

Eddy: "Jimmy! No!"

Jimmy answers the phone: "Hello?"

Ed: "HA HA HA"

Edd: "You people don't seriously believe--"

Then we sync up with gags that did happen in the ending of Sorry Wrong Ed, with context that makes its tone a little more sadistic than random. Jimmy's paid phonecall drops the sandbox on Eddy.

This page has the most skeletal dialogue...

Kev: "Yes." (I think he's meant to be fist pumping because Eddy got hurt, more of a "Yes!")

Jimmy: "BAD LUCK EDDY PHONE." (this dialogue must have been a placeholder)

Edd: "HA HA" (sarcastic ha-ha or did Al mean to write "Ed" for this?)

Jimmy seems to offer the phone to Edd.

We sync up again with Edd's denial from the final cut of this episode, except now it actually makes sense that he's so one-track-minded, because there are people actively arguing with him and keeping him disengaged from the victim.

Edd: "There must be a cargo plane overfilled with playground supplies..."

Sarah interrupts him.

RING RING

Sarah: "Oh, that's for me."

Eddy at this point holds Ed responsible, as he should, and starts running to stop Ed or Sarah. Ed offers no explanation for his betrayal.

Eddy: "Ed! What are you doing!?"

Sarah: "Hello?"

Sarah's paid phonecall summons the hippos, the most random moment in the final cut of the episode. Note how both of these slapstick gags were storyboarded on the same generic background, seems like the lane or an empty lot, but clearly a different location than Eddy's front yard from the aired ending.

And that's all we have to go off of!

I'll put my updated opinions below the cut, but suffice it to say, I like the episode a little better now! Knowing what the ending was going to be and trying to figure out the choices that led to the ending we got, I feel more appreciative that it didn't end up a lost episode or something and less annoyed that it was 11 minutes of one joke.

I know I have a reputation for not finding slapstick funny and disliking this episode, but violence was never my only issue. Lots of episodes have lackluster slapstick that I just let wash over me. My point that never gets as much focus is that this episode never felt FINISHED to begin with. It's just a slapstick vacuum with no ending and no point, and it used to be frustrating to me not knowing for sure if my hunch was right or not that it felt like the episode just wasn't working and they had to cobble it together from the scenes that almost worked.

I am surprised to say I like the episode more now that I know that is pretty close to the truth. Judging from this peek into the episode's development, this episode seems to have reached Danny Antonucci's and/or Wootie's (the episode's lead board artist) limit for being mean-spirited with the characters without a reason. I'll still probably avoid rewatching it, but knowing the episode has no ending specifically because it's been trimmed to bare bones is somehow reassuring.

The most obvious flaw to this original ending is the lack of motivation for Ed's or the kids' actions. The kids presumably still weren't in the rest of the episode, so there's really no reason for them to be here other than reiterating the same idea from 'Your Ed Here' and 'The Good Ole Ed' that the neighborhood kids are always looking for a reason to gang up on Eddy, something that isn't really true of those characters in earlier seasons.

I think I can imagine how, on paper (in the writers' outline), this episode sounded funnier. Trying to imagine this ending as part of the whole episode, I think the script's idea of the final joke is that Ed is not satisfied with ending the tests at the point where they tried to return the phone to Rolf. I think Ed converts the curse-testing process to a scam at that point, building off of how Ed already wasn't processing Eddy's safety in anything so far, and is probably more focused on proving to Edd that curses are real (as Ed was previously in league with Evil Tim). The addition of Ed running his own tests and the kids arguing Eddy's point against Edd's while Eddy's busy, does sound more like a complete manic cartoon boiling point than the way the finished episode just petered out with Edd as the sole antagonist. But unfortunately, in visual execution, suddenly piling in so many aggressive characters and so much random violence at once, would only really result in it petering out at a higher volume.

Meanwhile Edd's characterization is made much more structurally sound in the original ending. He's annoyed FOR Eddy's sake, and the only reason he's not actively helping Eddy is because like 3 other characters were supposed to be arguing with him while this was happening. It seems extremely apparent to me that the cuts made to this ending were for the sake of mitigating Ed's reputation in the fandom, as well as the kids', and I think it's really unfortunate that Edd's characterization was the cost for salvaging everyone else's. I'm glad I already considered his behavior in 'Sorry Wrong Ed' non-canon, because now it feels like the reason the aired ending is so out-of-character is just because Edd is basically arguing with the ghost of the original scene. I formally forgive 'Sorry Wrong Ed'. Production turnarounds are tough and AKA did their best to not turn this into another forgotten 'Special Ed' episode that simply wasn't working.

I think ditching the original ending was ultimately the right call. It was not an exemplary episode, but I can admit it's less out of place to have a pure "vacuum of violence" story than it would've been to essentially give the kids a supernatural revenge plot like this. That would've been really weird to have to accept-- Eddy definitely wouldn't want to be friends with anyone at the end of the movie if THIS was their past. Changing it to an unaware Jonny and a questionably aware Plank being responsible, indeed, was a vibe that landed much more like standard EEnE fare. It was weird enough that the kids all saw Santa in JJJ, can you imagine if they all knew curses were real AND participated in attacking a neighbor with one??

If there was a silver lining for me the first time I saw this episode, it was that none of the kids were directly involved in Eddy's suffering. It made the questionable reality of the cursed device slightly more acceptable that only the Eds and Rolf know about the curse. If this ending had happened, I would've reacted the same, but I would've rejected its continuity even more than I do now, because it would just feel like they animated one of the DC Comics (where the kids can blow the Eds up with fireworks at the end or the Eds can randomly be crushed under an avalanche of anvils)-- the art could end up gorgeous but the characterizations don't exactly land as real human beings, the balance this show strives for typically.

And I think that's all I wanted to say! In the end, I found myself liking 'Sorry Wrong Ed' slightly more than I used to, all thanks to this glimpse into how the animation production system morphs the outcome of a cartoon. Thanks so much to Al Kang, for sharing your art and this insight into the industry! I don't know whether he did both the gesture drawings and the revised art, but judging from his other boards I think the cleaned up art is his, and I liked seeing the poses that almost were!