#not to this point yet in longfic

[sesshy380]

How about 'are you even sorry?' and 'jokes on me, right?' for the Bakura Atem thing?

I hope you don't mind, but these prompts are perfect to follow-up the one I did earlier.

Wordcount: 721

Atem stormed his way through the front door of the penthouse. How could he have been so stupid?!

Bakura trailed not far behind, his body now fully restored and covered in something the thief had 'discounted' while walking past an outdoor clothing rack.

"Are you seriously going to stay mad about that?"

Atem quickly whirled around, fist at his sides. "Are you even sorry?! What am I saying…of course you're not. You don't even care. The jokes on me, right? 'Haha, I managed to make the Pharaoh care about me. I actually made him shed tears for me. What a sucker'."

Bakura raised his hands in an apologetic manner. "Okay, okay…I took it too far. I'm sorry. Can we move past this already?"

Atem stared dumbfoundedly. "No. We are not moving ‘past this'. I thought-…” He shook his head in defeat. “You know what…it doesn't matter. I don't even know why I waste my time with you. I don't have eternity to throw around like you do. I don't know why I bothered to indulge in any of your madness in the first place. Get out…and don't you dare come back."

Seeing Bakura’s suddenly pained expression…hurt.

"I really am sorry, Tem. What can I do to make it up to you?" Bakura appeared ominously genuine for a change.

Atem winced at the nickname. Bakura only called him that when he was being honest.

"You let me believe you had actually died. You had the audacity to turn it into a prank. I felt helpless…again…and you thought it was funny. You can't make up for that."

Atem turned away and began to head for his room. A pair of hands snaked their way around his waist and stopped him. A head rested against the top of his.

"Please? Name it, and I'll do it."

Atem shook his head as he tried to remain firm in his decision. “No, Bakura…I can’t. This is exactly what Katrina didn’t want happening. She knew you would do something like this. As much as I hate to admit it, I should have heeded her warning and stayed away.”

The arms around him tightened their grip. “Dammit, Tem…I’m really, really sorry. I fucked up. Please. I promise I won’t do something like that again. Hell, I’ll even shake hands and make a binding contract to prove it. I’ll even let you set the terms of punishment for breaking my promise. What do I have to do? Get on my hands and knees and beg like a good little mutt?”

The arms around him withdrew, and seconds later Bakura was on his knees while staring up at him.

“Bakura, what are you-”

“Proving that I meant it. Do you honestly think I would do something so low as to kneel before you of all people if all this is just another lie?”

Atem brought a hand across his eyes, his will crumbling. “Bakura, please…you’re just making this harder…”

He felt fingers interlace with his free hand.

“I promise, I will never again do something that might hurt you in the way I just did. I’ll never make you mourn me again. No more pranks. No more jokes. I swear on my people, I will never hurt you like that again.”

Atem brought his hand down, pulling his other free from Bakura’s.

“No. I refuse to accept such a promise. I will not ask you to magically bind yourself over something like that.”

Bakura stared questioningly. “So does that mean…?”

“I’m not forgiving you…but you can stay. Don’t you dare do that to me again.”

Bakura nodded slowly, then moved to stand, but stopped while looking up as if asking for permission.

Atem's brow furled in confusion. “What are you doing? I already said you could stay.”

Bakura shrugged dismissively. “I dunno…thought since you currently had the upper hand maybe you might be up to exploring some power-play shit. You know…tell me what to do and I’ll obey and all that.”

Atem scowled. “I’m not about to sleep with you after what you pulled.”

“We could work up to it?”

Atem rolled his eyes and walked away.

“Is that a maybe?” Bakura shouted as Atem rounded the corner back to the living room.

There were many things Atem regretted doing in his life…letting Bakura worm his way into his bed on occasion was one of them.

[noahtally-famous]

not me popping back on here with a post after months of semi-inactivity (uni is being a bitch) just to reiterate how much i love writing the pahkitew island cast.

aside from sammy and amy (obviously), literally everyone else can be shipped with one another and it'd make sense to some degree, like it takes skill to create a group of people so inherently shippable (platonically and/or romantically) and ofc the writers didn't know it they just shoved a bunch of random ppl together and dusted their hands off on it but fr tho 😭

(yeah im planning out my leonave 'stranger things inspired' au, and the gears are turning, and i forgot just how much i love writing for this dumbass group)

(i swear im working on the next chapter of a guide to surviving the apocalypse too)

[obseletrix]

every single day i think about the world trigger/narbonic crossover fic that i have 500 words of in my drafts that i really want to write and i sigh and write down a few more plot ideas. I can't figure out how to get from point a to point b but by god the version of it that exists in my head is massively entertaining.

[yaniluvs]

a song , that sounds like you

[ 한 ] ✷ ‎. . sleepover with your best friend, just like before. except that . . it isn't ?

۫ 𖨂 𓈒 𝑏sf!han ₊ ‎ ‎ 𝑓em!reader ˙ . ꒷ g. fluff , humour , crack , best friends to lovers , uni au , skz ensemble . 71OOw. ⎯⎯⎯ LiBRARY ⟢ cw. kisses , jokes , intimacy . ┆ 💌 ⋮ requested drabble .ᐟ ֹ ₊

yani's note 𑁍ࠬܓ THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ~I.5K WORDS. yani, dont over-write and turn every simple thing into a longfic challenge: go-> status: failed. THATS WHY I TOOK SO LONG. but anyways.... i read this like a gazillion times and im very slightly unhappy about it????? idk. but i got sick of it at some point so i didnt rly proofread for the final time. soooo finally another jisung fic lol >< posted way too much abt seungmo.. not that im complaining hehe. tribute to my beloved permed-jisung and pre-shaved jisung🙏 you're missed plenty. enjoy reading, thanks to anon for the req. <3 comments, likes, req./asks and reblogs are always appreciated !! send in a reply or an ask if you want to be in my mastertag, or my individual series' taglists. happy reading, love <3

the night felt like any other. it was nothing new. nothing unusual.

jisung had crashed at y/n’s dorm more times than he could count, so many that they’d stopped calling it a "sleepover" years ago. it was just… what they did.

tonight was no different—except maybe it was.

jisung flopped onto her bed dramatically, limbs splayed out like a starfish. "i'm dying."

y/n, arms crossed, raised an unimpressed brow. "you literally just walked in."

"my point." he turned his head toward her, grinning wide, dimples pressing into his cheeks. "the walk from my dorm to yours? brutal. my legs almost gave up. i nearly saw the light. i need some support here,"

"what you need is exercise, ji," she laughed, already walking past him toward the kitchen. "come on lazy ass, we’re cooking."

jisung groaned, rolling onto his stomach. "cooking? can’t we order food? delivery is, like, the peak of human civilization."

"you mean the peak of your laziness."

"same thing."

"you’re cooking today."

jisung immediately sat up. "i’m sorry, what?"

"you heard me."

"y/n, have you ever seen me successfully make anything that isn’t watered-down instant ramen or burnt eggs?"

"exactly why you need to learn." she shot him a knowing smile, opening the fridge. "come on, chef-nim, apron up."

jisung scoffed. "you act like i own an apron."

"you act like i don't have a spare." she tossed a black apron his way. he caught it with a dramatic sigh, slipping it over his tee. "this is humiliating."

y/n simply tied her own apron around her waist, moving swiftly around the kitchen. jisung, however, stood in the middle of it like he was lost in a foreign land.

"so," he said, rocking on his heels, "what are we making, masterchef?"

"some fried rice, with stir-fry for the sides."

"sounds safe enough. do i get a knife?" his eyes lightened up.

y/n turned to him, eyes full of doubt, hands on her hips. "do i look like i trust you with a knife?"

he clutched his chest. "ouch."

"jisung, the last time you touched a knife, you almost lost a finger."

"it was one time!"

"one time too many." she handed him a bowl instead. "crack the eggs."

"i can do that," he said confidently.

y/n watched as he picked up an egg, tapped it on the edge of the bowl—nothing. he hit it again. still intact.

"jisung."

"hold on, it's just being stubborn."

"you're literally supposed to—"

before she could finish, he smacked the egg with full force. it exploded in his hand, yolk dripping between his fingers. he blinked.

"…okay. that was aggressive."

y/n burst out laughing. "oh, good lord.."

"why are you laughing?! this is tragic!" he held up his hand dramatically, as if he'd just lost a battle.

she wiped away tears of laughter. "you’re such a disaster."

"and yet you still keep me around."

"i really question why, sometimes."

jisung wiggled his eyebrows. "because you love me."

"debatable."

"wow. you wound me."

she handed him another egg. "try again, but gently this time."

he pouted but followed her instructions. on the second try, he succeeded. barely. a little bit of shell fell into the bowl, but he picked it out quickly, flashing her a victorious grin.

"see? improvement."

y/n shook her head with a fond smile. "barely."

as she moved on to frying the rice, jisung leaned against the counter, watching her. the warm glow of the kitchen lights softened her features, and the way she effortlessly moved around—it was second nature to her.

"you're so good at this," he murmured absentmindedly.

she glanced up. "at what?"

"everything," he said simply.

her movements stilled for a second before she rolled her eyes, turning back to the pan. "corny."

"honest."

she pushed his forehead lightly with her fingers. "shut up and hand me the soy sauce."

jisung grinned, grabbing the bottle and sliding it over the counter toward her. "see? i am useful."

"debatable."

jisung gasped. "you really enjoy hurting me, huh?"

y/n only smiled as she stirred the rice.

they fell into a comfortable silence after that—jisung humming some random tune, y/n focusing on the food. it was normal. routine. nothing new.

except maybe it was.

because jisung found himself staring at her a little longer than usual.

and yn, for some reason, felt a little warmer than the stove’s heat should allow.

the aroma of warm rice, sizzling kimchi, and soy sauce had filled the small dorm, wrapping them in the kind of comfort that only home-cooked food could bring. y/n hummed softly as she scooped the steaming fried rice onto two plates, making sure to add an extra spoonful to her best friend's because she already knew he’d ask.

jisung, sprawled out on the floor like he had no bones in his body, watched her with a lazy grin. "you really know how to treat a man."

"you’re more of a babygirl, but okay," she replied without missing a beat, setting the plates down on the small coffee table in front of them.

"excuse me? i am very much a grown adult."

"sure," she snorted. "a grown adult who can't crack an egg."

jisung gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "low blow."

yn only grinned as she grabbed the remote, flipping on the tv. they didn't even bother picking something to watch—just let some random show play in the background while she scrolled through a playlist on her phone.

and just like that, the room filled with their favorite songs.

the playlist hummed in the background, weaving through the warm, dimly lit dorm like a familiar embrace. soft indie melodies blended into old tracks from their high school days, each song a quiet echo of late-night car rides and whispered confessions. nestled between them were jisung’s own songs—songs he had written on restless nights, songs y/n had begged him to release, songs he pretended not to care about being in the playlist but secretly loved seeing there.

the air smelled of soy sauce and garlic. jisung sat cross-legged on the couch, his loose shirt and plaid pajama pants slightly wrinkled. his fluffy brown hair that he'd recently gotten permed, much to y/n's pleading, was tousled, curls falling over his forehead, casting soft shadows over his sleepy eyes. he scooped up a bite of fried rice, humming in approval as he chewed, blissfully unaware of the way y/n was watching him.

she sat on the floor, knees pulled to her chest, chin resting lazily against them, gaze fixed on him with a softness even she didn’t notice. he looked so at home, so effortlessly him, sitting there with his cheeks puffed out from the food she made, eyes drooping slightly from exhaustion. a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

he always ate with the enthusiasm of someone who hadn’t had a proper meal in days, shoveling food into his mouth like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“you’re staring,” his voice came, teasing yet laced with fondness.

y/n blinked, heat creeping up her neck as she quickly looked away. “i am not.”

jisung grinned, swallowing another bite. “liar.”

but he didn’t press further. he only smirked to himself, going back to his food, pretending he didn’t notice the way she studied him when she thought he wasn’t looking.

what he wouldn’t admit—what he barely admitted to himself—was that he did the same thing.

when y/n wasn’t paying attention, lost in the flickering candlelight of their tiny dorm, jisung found himself staring. he always did. the glow of the fairy lights made her skin look softer, her features delicate and warm. her hair, slightly messy from their earlier chaos in the kitchen, framed her face in a way that made his heart ache.

she was wearing her pyjama set, and the sleeves were bunched up around her fists as she absentmindedly traced circles against the couch cushion, after a bite herself.

she was beautiful. in the quiet, in the soft spaces between their banter, in the way she existed in his world so effortlessly.

“now,” she called out suddenly, breaking him from his trance. “you’re staring.”

his breath caught in his throat, but he recovered quickly, flashing his usual cheeky grin. “i am not.”

“liar.”

their laughter mingled with the music, and for a moment, the weight of their hidden feelings melted into the warmth of the night.

jisung exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as he shoved another spoonful of rice into his mouth. he chewed slowly, eyes flickering between the half-empty plate and y/n, her expression unreadable except for the teasing glint in her gaze. his own voice filtered through the small dorm, warm and unfiltered, singing lyrics he once scribbled down at 2 a.m., never expecting them to be heard by anyone but himself.

he swallowed, running his tongue over his bottom lip before muttering, “you do this on purpose.”

y/n tilted her head, feigning confusion as she picked at her food. “do what?”

“this.” he gestured vaguely toward the speaker, his voice quieter now, almost sheepish. “make me listen to myself.”

she shrugged, stuffing another bite of rice into her mouth like it was the most natural thing in the world. “your music is good.”

jisung let out a small, breathy laugh, but there was something uncertain in the way his fingers tapped against the bowl. “you don’t have to lie to make me feel better, you know.”

y/n blinked, chopsticks pausing midair. “i’m not lying.”

“you say that.” he glanced at her, then away, focusing on a loose thread on his pajama pants. “but you’re my best friend. you’d tell me it’s good even if it wasn’t.”

she frowned, setting her chopsticks down with a soft clink against the ceramic. “sung..”

he didn’t respond, just stuffed another bite into his mouth, chewing like he was trying to make himself busy. y/n sighed, shifting so she could look at him properly. the glow of the fairy lights cast gentle shadows on his face, highlighting the quiet vulnerability in his eyes—the kind he tried so hard to hide.

“look,” she started, voice softer now. “i don’t put your songs in our playlists just because you’re my best friend. i put them there because they belong there.”

jisung stilled, fingers tightening around his spoon.

“you write music that makes people feel something. i know because i feel it. i always have.” she toyed with the hem of her top. “and maybe it’s because i’ve seen you go through every stage of it. the late nights, the self-doubt, the way you talk about music like it’s the only thing that makes sense in your life sometimes.”

he swallowed thickly, staring at his plate like it held answers.

“i don’t just like your music, jisung. i believe in it. i believe in you.”

silence settled between them, thick and heavy, but not uncomfortable. jisung’s throat bobbed as he licked his lips, finally daring to meet her gaze.

something unreadable flickered in his eyes, something fragile and hesitant and real.

“…you always say things like that.” his voice was quiet, uncertain. “and i never know what to do with it.”

y/n smiled, small and knowing. “you don’t have to do anything. just don’t forget it.”

he stared at her for a moment longer, chest tightening with something he didn’t quite have the courage to name. then, exhaling softly, he looked away, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

“i won’t.”

they ate comfortably, stealing bites from each other's plates despite having the exact same food. it was normal, the way their chopsticks clinked against each other in midair, the way jisung would groan dramatically after every bite, acting as if he’d just tasted the best thing in the world.

"marry me," he said, mouth full.

y/n gave him a look. "chew first."

he swallowed, grinning. "okay, now will you marry me?"

"no."

jisung clutched his chest. "you are cruel, woman."

"you are an idiot, man."

"a lovable idiot," he corrected, shoving another spoonful into his mouth.

she rolled her eyes but didn't deny it.

a beat of silence passed between them, the kind that wasn't awkward but rather filled with something unspoken. jisung glanced at her between bites, again, watching the way the light from the tv flickered against her skin.

she looked… soft. comfortable. the same as always, but maybe not quite.

"so," y/n spoke suddenly, breaking him out of his thoughts. "how was your day?"

jisung blinked, needing a second to process the question. they spent most of their time together, but during classes, they went their separate ways. it was rare for them to actually talk about what happened when they weren't in the same place.

"uh," he started, stabbing his rice absentmindedly. "it was fine. boring. had a music composition lecture, but hyunjin fell asleep and snored loud enough for the whole class to hear."

y/n laughed. "no way."

"swear to god. professor park just stared at him for a solid minute before moving on."

"did no one wake him up?"

"i tried, but he swatted me away like a fly."

she shook her head, still laughing. "what else?"

jisung hesitated for a moment before answering, "i worked on a song between classes."

her expression softened. "the one you told me about?"

"yeah." he looked away, suddenly a little shy. "i, uh, actually finished the demo."

"jisung!" she smacked his arm lightly. "why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"i dunno," he muttered, playing with his chopsticks. "didn’t seem important."

"of course it’s important," she said firmly. "can i hear it?"

he met her eyes, something flickering behind his own, before he looked down again. "maybe later."

she didn't push, just nodded. "okay. your turn to ask."

he raised a brow. "ask what?"

"about my day, genius."

"oh. right." he leaned back, lazily twirling his chopsticks. "so, how was your day, my dear best friend whom i love and adore?"

she snorted. "it was fine. boring, mostly. but i had this duo project in business class."

jisung hummed in acknowledgment, taking another bite. "who’d you get stuck with?"

"a guy named sunwoo."

jisung froze mid-chew, his spoon hovering just inches from his lips. his brows furrowed for the briefest second before he blinked and forced himself to keep chewing, though suddenly, the fried rice didn’t taste as good anymore.

“i see..” he said after swallowing, voice casual. too casual. “never heard you mention him before.”

y/n shrugged, taking another bite. “yeah, we never really talked until today. he’s nice, though. smart, too. i was kinda worried i’d get stuck doing all the work, but he actually pulled his weight.”

jisung scoffed lightly, poking at his food. “that’s the bare minimum.”

she snorted. “true.”

silence stretched for a beat, the playlist shuffling to another song. jisung tapped his chopsticks against the edge of his bowl, trying to ignore the weird feeling curling in his stomach. it wasn’t a big deal. just a project partner. nothing to think about.

except—

“he was pretty talkative, too,” y/n continued, oblivious to the way jisung’s grip on his spoon tightened. “like, at first, it was just about the project, but then he started asking me random stuff. like, my favorite color, what i do in my free time, my favorite coffee order—”

jisung let out a short, almost incredulous laugh. “your coffee order? what, is he planning on getting you one next time?”

she blinked, considering. “i dunno, maybe. that’d be nice.”

jisung nearly choked on air. he coughed into his fist, shaking his head. “pfft. wow. sounds like he’s… really interested in your business skills.”

y/n laughed at that, nudging his leg with her foot. “oh, shut up. he was just being friendly.”

yeah, okay. sure.

he forced a grin, shoveling another bite of rice into his mouth like it would somehow get rid of the weird, nagging feeling inside him. “so, what else did he say?” he asked, tone still light, still playful. still pretending he didn’t care.

y/n hummed, thinking. “oh, he told me i have a really nice smile.”

jisung almost dropped his chopsticks.

“oh! and that i have pretty hands,” she added, wiggling her fingers in front of his face. “which is funny, ‘cause i don’t really get the whole hand thing, but—”

“he said what?” jisung cut in, voice cracking slightly.

she blinked up at him, confused. “...that i have pretty hands?”

jisung squinted at her like she was missing something obvious. “who compliments someone’s hands?”

“i don’t know! i mean, i guess they’re kinda nice…” she examined her own fingers, flexing them under the fairy lights. “they do a lot for me, you know? writing, playing, cooking—”

“okay, but still,” jisung interjected, trying not to sound too whiny. “that’s like—textbook flirting.”

y/n snorted. “no, it’s not.”

“yes, it is!” jisung threw his hands up. “first, he asks about your coffee order—classic move, by the way—then he calls your smile nice? and now your hands?” he pointed a dramatic chopstick at her. “that’s next-level, y/n. that’s, like, hand-holding agenda.”

she gave him a flat look. “i think you’re overreacting. personally i'd love making friends like that.” she laughed.

“no, you’re underreacting!” he groaned dramatically, flopping onto the couch, staring at the ceiling like it personally offended him. “i can’t believe this. my best friend is so oblivious.”

y/n just giggled, poking his knee. “oh, come on, ji. he was just being nice. and it’s not like i’m interested in him or anything.”

jisung perked up at that, a little too quickly. “you’re not?”

she shook her head, stuffing another bite of rice into her mouth. “nope.”

something unspoken settled in the air.

jisung let out a quiet breath, something inside him easing—but he still had an annoyed little pout on his lips. “still. he was flirting. you just don’t see it ‘cause you’re you.”

“hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means,” he huffed, crossing his arms, “that you’re too cute for your own good, and guys like him are gonna keep trying to hit on you while you remain completely, utterly unaware.”

y/n blinked, caught off guard.

jisung realized what he said half a second too late. his ears turned pink.

“…anyway!” he cleared his throat, suddenly stuffing his mouth with rice. “this is good fried rice. really, really good.”

y/n just watched him, something unreadable in her gaze. a small, knowing smile tugged at her lips.

“dork,” she muttered under her breath.

and if jisung, in his flustered state, caught the way she was staring at him now—soft, fond, admiring—he didn’t say a word.

"sunwoo. what kind of dumb name is that?"

she laughed, shaking her head.

soon, the food disappeared slowly between them, the plates scraping softly as y/n absentmindedly pushed the last bits of rice around with her chopsticks. jisung, on the other hand, had long since finished and was now leaning back on his palms, his head tilted toward the ceiling, looking entirely too satisfied. he stretched with a deep sigh, his tee riding up slightly, revealing a sliver of skin before settling back down.

"i’m convinced you were a chef in a past life," he said, breaking the silence, his voice laced with a kind of sleepy contentment.

y/n smirked, still focused on her plate. "i’ll take that as a compliment."

"it is a compliment," he assured her, turning his head to face her. his cheek was slightly squished against his shoulder, making him look more like a sleepy puppy than a grown man. "i’m genuinely scared of what would happen to me if you weren’t around. i’d probably live off ramen and instant rice."

"you already do that when i’m not around. and still make it taste bad."

"exactly," he said, as if she had just proven his point. "my body is, like, seventy percent sodium at this point."

y/n rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips. "that explains a lot, honestly."

jisung gasped dramatically. "are you saying i look like someone who eats too much sodium?"

"i’m saying your diet is concerning," she teased, finally setting her chopsticks down and leaning back as well. the food had settled warmly in her stomach, and the atmosphere felt hazy in the best way—soft, familiar, comfortable.

jisung groaned, letting his head fall back. "this is why i need you in my life. you balance out all my self-destructive tendencies."

y/n snorted, stretching out her legs. "i’m your best friend, not your dietitian."

"best friend and dietitian," he corrected lazily.

she hummed, letting the conversation drift into a natural lull. the tv played quietly in the background, an old sitcom neither of them was paying attention to, and their playlist continued to shuffle through songs they had both heard a thousand times before. outside, the city was alive, but in their small little bubble of a dorm, it felt like time had slowed down just for them.

jisung shifted, sitting up properly, and y/n could feel him staring before she even turned to look at him. "what?" she asked, raising a brow.

he hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment before finally saying, "i want you to be in my song."

the words were simple, casual even, but they made something in y/n’s chest tighten. she blinked. "what?"

"my demo," jisung clarified, his voice softer now, more careful. "i want you to sing in it."

yn let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "jisung, you know i don’t do that."

"why not?" he tilted his head, brows furrowing slightly. "you’re literally so good. like, so good."

she sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "it’s just a hobby for me, you know that."

"okay, but why just a hobby?" his voice had that familiar edge of insistence, the same one he used when he really, really wanted something. "you could do so much more with it."

she shrugged, eyes flickering to the tv even though she wasn’t really watching. "it’s not the same for me as it is for you," she said honestly. "music is your thing, jisung. you breathe this stuff. it’s not like that for me."

"but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it," he argued, leaning in slightly. "i love your voice, y/n. you know that."

she swallowed, feeling warmth crawl up her neck. he had told her that before—countless times, actually—but something about the way he said it now felt different, heavier. "it’s just not something i see myself doing seriously," she admitted, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve.

jisung was quiet for a moment, his eyes studying her face carefully. then, with a small, teasing smile, he said, "okay. but what if it’s just for me?"

she looked at him, confused. "what do you mean?"

"i mean," he started, tapping his fingers against his knee absentmindedly, "forget about, like, doing music professionally or whatever. i just want you on this song. not because i think you should be an artist or anything—just because it’s us. i dunno. i feel like it’d sound better if you were in it."

y/n bit her lip, uncertain. she liked singing, she always had, but she never really thought about it beyond the occasional harmonizing with jisung when he played guitar, or the times she mindlessly hummed while cooking. it was never something she considered putting out there for other people to hear.

jisung, however, was looking at her with those big, expectant eyes, his wide smile softened at the edges. "just think about it," he said, nudging her knee with his. "no pressure. but i think it’d be cool. i mean, imagine—our voices together in a song? legendary."

yn laughed, shaking her head. "you’re ridiculous."

"i’m right," he corrected.

she sighed, resting her chin on her palm. "i don’t know, ji."

he pouted, but there was no real disappointment in his face—just patience, quiet and steady. "i’ll send you the demo," he said after a beat. "just listen to it. see if you like it."

she nodded slowly. "fine. i’ll listen."

jisung grinned, victorious. "that’s all i ask."

another silence stretched between them, this one softer, almost charged in a way y/n couldn’t quite explain. the tv droned on in the background, but neither of them was paying attention.

jisung shifted again, stretching his legs out next to hers, their knees knocking slightly. he exhaled, tilting his head back against the couch. "i like nights like this," he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost like he was talking to himself.

yn turned to look at him, watching the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones under the dim light. "like what?"

"just…chill." he cracked one eye open, looking at her. "you. me. food. music. no stress."

she smiled softly. "yeah. me too."

jisung hummed in acknowledgment, closing his eyes again. "we should do this more often."

y/n didn’t respond right away, letting the words settle between them. she thought about how much time they already spent together, how their days were filled with each other in some way or another.

and yet, something about the way he said it—like he wanted more, like he wasn’t just talking about casual hangouts but something deeper—made her stomach flutter in a way she didn’t entirely understand.

she swallowed, nudging his foot lightly with hers. "we already do this all the time, idiot."

jisung smiled, eyes still closed. "yeah. but i mean more."

y/n’s heart did something weird in her chest, but before she could dwell on it, jisung sat up suddenly, stretching his arms above his head. "anyway. we should clean around before the angry yunah gets back and starts lecturing us about leaving dishes out."

the moment was gone, dissipating like smoke, leaving yn slightly dazed in its wake.

she nodded, shaking off the strange warmth in her chest, pushing herself up as well.

"right. let’s clean up."

and just like that, the night continued, soft and slow, something unspoken lingering between them—unnoticed, or maybe just ignored.

. . .

the dishes had been washed, the leftovers tucked away, and the night stretched lazily ahead of them, the warm haze of comfort lingering in the air. the tv was still on, playing something neither of them was paying attention to, but y/n could feel the way the atmosphere had shifted—thicker, heavier, filled with something unsaid.

jisung sat on the floor again, back resting against the couch, his fingers absentmindedly drumming against his knee. now, his sleeves were pushed up to reveal his forearms, and his hair was messier now, some strands sticking out in different directions. he looked soft like this—less like the flirty, chaotic mess he usually was and more like the boy she had always known, the one who could say a million things with just a glance.

y/n sat across from him, legs crossed, arms draped over her knees as she studied him. she hesitated for a moment before saying, “play it for me.”

jisung blinked, caught off guard. “huh?”

“the song,” she clarified, shifting slightly. “i wanna hear it.”

he stared at her for a second before scoffing. “you never wanna hear my songs before they’re done.”

“um, wrong, you always reject to play them for me before they're done.” she pointed, trying to sound casual. “i feel like listening everytime. and tonight.”

“and my guitar is right here, so..” she laughed.

something flickered across jisung’s face—surprise, maybe, or something softer—but he didn’t question it. instead, he reached for her guitar, a brown one, which had burgundy, floral borders over its peaks and edges. it had been sitting next to the couch all night, like it had been waiting for the right moment.

he adjusted it on his lap, fingers finding the familiar curves of the wood, the smoothness of the strings beneath his touch. the way he handled just.. guitars had always fascinated her—not just with skill, but with love, like it was an extension of himself, a second voice that spoke when words weren’t enough.

y/n watched, her chin resting on her palm as she took in the tiny details she had seen a hundred times before but never really noticed—the way his brows furrowed in focus, the way his lips parted slightly as if he were already singing in his head, the way the warm light from the tv cast soft shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the fullness of his bottom lip.

he cleared his throat. “okay, but don’t judge, ‘cause it’s still rough.”

she rolled her eyes. “i never judge.”

he gave her a look, but it was softened by a small smile before he looked down at his guitar again. his fingers moved, the first chords filling the room—gentle, familiar, warm.

and then, he sang.

his voice was low at first, careful, like he was still unsure if he wanted to let her hear it. but as the melody flowed, he eased into it, his tone settling into that effortless, raspy sweetness that always made something deep in y/n’s chest ache.

she watched, completely entranced, as his eyes fluttered shut, lost in the song. the way his throat moved as he sang, the subtle shifts in his expression, the slight crease in his brow when he hit a note just right—it was all so undeniably han jisung, and it was beautiful.

she had heard him sing countless times before, but something about this was different. maybe because it was just the two of them, the world outside forgotten. or maybe because she was finally allowing herself to see him, really see him, in a way she hadn’t before.

his voice filled the room, smooth and raw all at once, laced with emotion that made her chest feel tight. and the lyrics—god, the lyrics.

it was soft, bittersweet, almost like a confession hidden within the melody. he sang about late nights and lingering glances, about feelings that hovered on the edge of something more, about someone who felt like home.

and y/n couldn’t help but wonder—who was it about?

her breath caught slightly as she watched him, taking in the way his lashes cast the faintest shadows on his cheeks, the way his fingers moved effortlessly over the strings, the way his lips curled slightly around certain words, like he meant them.

she felt something warm spread through her chest, something unfamiliar yet oddly comforting, like stepping into sunlight after days of rain.

when he finally strummed the last chord, the room settled into silence, save for the distant hum of the city outside.

jisung let out a breath, running a hand through his already messy hair. “so… what do you think?”

y/n was still staring. she realized it a second too late and quickly looked away, blinking. “it’s…” her voice felt stuck in her throat, so she cleared it, trying again. “it’s beautiful, ji.”

he smiled, looking down as if trying to hide how much her words affected him. “yeah?”

“yeah,” she said softly.

another silence settled between them, this one different from the ones before. it wasn’t awkward—it was thick, weighted with something neither of them dared to name.

jisung shifted slightly, leaning her guitar against the couch. his fingers tapped against his knee again, a nervous habit. “i meant what i said earlier.”

y/n tilted her head. “about what?”

“about you being in the song,” he said, his voice quieter now. “your voice would fit perfectly. you have this way of making things sound… real. i dunno how to explain it, but i think it’d be better if you were part of it.”

“i know you don’t take singing seriously, and you did say you'd listen to the actual demo.. oh which i know means a no, almost,” he cut in before she could refuse, “but just this once. just for this song.”

y/n exhaled, her fingers curling around the fabric of her sleeve. “why does it matter so much to you?”

jisung opened his mouth, then closed it, as if he was debating how honest he wanted to be.

finally, he shrugged. “because it’s us.”

her heart skipped.

“i mean, not us us,” he added quickly, looking away. “just… our voices. together. i think it’d be nice.”

y/n swallowed. “i don’t know if i’d be any good.”

“you would,” he said, no hesitation. “and i’d be with you the whole time. we’d do it together.”

together.

the word settled deep in her chest, warm and heavy.

she looked at him again, at the hopeful glint in his eyes, at the way he was watching her like she was something more than just his best friend.

and maybe, for the first time, she let herself wonder—what if she was?

she exhaled slowly, giving him a small, hesitant smile. “okay.”

jisung blinked. “okay?”

“i’ll do it,” she said, and his entire face lit up in that way it always did when he was really happy, the kind of smile that made her stomach flip in ways she didn’t fully understand.

“you won’t regret it,” he promised, excitement buzzing in his voice.

she wasn’t sure if that was true.

because something told her that once she sang with him, once their voices blended together in a song meant for something deeper—

there would be no going back.

and that terrified her more than anything.

. . .

sprawled out on jisung’s bed, surrounded by the soft hum of the laptop fan and the distant city sounds filtering through the window, y/n felt weightless. not in the way that meant floating away, but in the way that meant she was exactly where she was meant to be.

the air smelled faintly of fabric softener, of jisung’s vanilla-and-woodsy shampoo, of warmth. the blankets beneath them were slightly rumpled, evidence of a thousand previous sleepovers, tangled limbs, and late-night conversations that bled into early mornings. the glow from the laptop screen cast shifting patterns onto the walls, moving in time with the video they were watching.

it was their friend group’s latest dance cover, the kind they always hyped up in their group chat but never actually watched until they were together.

“look at hyunjin’s face,” jisung snickered, pointing at the screen as hyunjin executed a particularly dramatic spin, his expression intense. “bro thinks he’s in a movie.”

y/n burst into laughter, hiding her face in her hands. “no, because he so does that on purpose. you just know he was practicing in front of a mirror.”

“i bet he stared at himself for hours,” jisung agreed, shaking his head. “such a drama king.”

they continued watching, throwing in their own commentary as felix’s fluid movements took over the screen, followed by minho’s signature sharpness, yunah’s grace, and minseo’s precise footwork. their friends were insane, and as much as they teased, the admiration was real.

“minho-hyung’s on another level, though,” yn murmured, her head tilted slightly. “look at the way he controls his movements.”

jisung hummed in agreement. “yeah. he’s scary good.”

a comfortable silence settled between them, only the sound of the music playing through the laptop speakers filling the air. the bed dipped slightly where jisung had shifted, moving to lean on his elbow. yn could feel the shift in weight, the slight press of his arm against hers, the warmth of his body radiating closer than before.

she turned her head slightly—just a fraction—to look at him.

and that was when it happened.

something… shifted.

it was subtle, but it was undeniable. like a string pulled taut between them, an unspoken question hovering in the air.

jisung’s eyes were still on the screen, but his fingers had stopped absentmindedly tapping against the blanket. his jaw was relaxed, but his lips were slightly parted, like he had just thought of something he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say out loud.

the glow from the laptop flickered across his face, highlighting the curve of his cheek, the slope of his nose, the way his lashes cast delicate shadows against his skin. his hair, slightly messy from the way he had been lying down, fell softly over his forehead.

and then, as if he could feel her looking, his gaze flickered to hers.

it wasn’t immediate. it wasn’t rushed.

it was slow.

deliberate.

his eyes met hers, and for the first time in a long time, neither of them looked away.

the music in the background faded into something distant, something unimportant.

the flickering light, the sound of their breathing, the way the air seemed to press down on them—it all blended into something almost dreamlike.

jisung’s gaze dipped, just for a second, to her lips.

and y/n’s breath caught.

it wasn’t new, being this close. it wasn’t new, lying next to each other, watching something, talking about everything and nothing.

but this?

this was new.

this was different.

she could feel it in the way the space between them seemed to shrink, in the way her pulse thrummed in her ears, in the way jisung swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly.

his hand twitched—just barely—against the blanket.

and then, before she could even fully process it, he moved.

slow. hesitant. but sure.

his fingers brushed against hers, a touch so light it could have been mistaken for an accident. but neither of them moved away.

yn exhaled shakily, her heart a wild drum in her chest.

and then, suddenly—

their lips met.

soft at first. just a press—a quiet, unsure thing that barely lasted a second.

but then she leaned in.

and he did too.

and it wasn’t just a kiss anymore. it was something more.

jisung’s lips were warm, careful, but there was a hunger beneath it, something restrained, something that had been waiting far too long to be acknowledged. his fingers found her wrist, featherlight at first before gripping just slightly, grounding himself.

her hands curled into the fabric of his tee, and he let out a quiet exhale against her lips, like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

the laptop screen continued playing, casting shifting lights across their skin. the blanket beneath them was soft, but nothing—nothing—felt softer than this. than him.

he pulled away first, just enough to breathe, just enough to look at her.

his eyes searched hers, as if trying to understand what this meant.

as if asking, did we just cross the line?

but the thing was—

maybe there had never been a line in the first place.

maybe they had been here all along, just waiting for the right moment to realize it.

their breaths tangled in the space between them, warm and unsteady, still trembling with something unspoken. the moment felt like it stretched infinitely—long enough for y/n to take in the way jisung’s eyes flickered, dark pools of hesitation and something deeper, something unreadable.

his fingers, still curled loosely around her wrist, twitched, but he didn’t pull away.

the glow from the laptop continued to flicker, painting soft golds and muted blues across his face, across the fabric of his tee, across the slightly uneven threads of the blanket beneath them.

she felt warm.

not just from the shared heat between them, but from something in her chest, something that felt like a slow burn, like a realization creeping up on her.

jisung exhaled, his lips parting slightly as if to say something, but then he stopped.

she blinked at him, suddenly aware of the way her heart was still hammering. loudly. so loudly she swore he could hear it.

“…we just,” she said, as if confirming it to herself.

“kissed.”

jisung let out a breathy chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah. yeah, we did.”

silence. not awkward, but charged.

y/n wet her lips, suddenly hyper-aware of the lingering sensation of his against hers. soft. he was soft.

then, jisung groaned, burying his face into the pillow. “oh my god. did i just ruin us?”

she blinked, before laughing softly. “you’re literally so dramatic.”

“i am not,” he mumbled into the fabric, voice muffled.

“you are. like, so dramatic. like—oscar-worthy dramatic.”

jisung lifted his head just enough to glare at her, though the way his nose scrunched up made it less intimidating. “okay, miss i-just-kissed-my-best-friend-and-now-i’m-still-here-for-some-reason—why are you not freaking out?”

y/n tilted her head. “do you want me to freak out?”

“no?” his lips quirked. “maybe?” he groaned again, flopping onto his back, staring at the ceiling like it held all the answers. “i just—wow, okay, so we really did just kiss. that happened.”

she rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow, her fingers playing with the loose threads of the blanket. “do you regret it?”

jisung turned his head to look at her, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. he just looked.

his gaze trailed over the shape of her nose, the way her cheek was still slightly flushed, the way her hair had fallen over her shoulder, a few strands resting against her collarbone.

then, he whispered, “no.”

her breath hitched.

jisung swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly. “do you?”

a beat of silence.

“…no.”

another stretch of quiet, but this time, it was softer. like a shared secret, like something that no longer needed to be questioned.

then, jisung shifted, reaching up lazily, fingers brushing against the ends of her hair. “okay. so. now what?”

she huffed a small laugh, flopping back onto the pillows beside him. “i have no idea.”

“that makes two of us.”

they both stared at the ceiling for a long moment, the sound of the laptop’s fan whirring quietly in the background.

then—

jisung turned his head toward her again, watching the way her lips pursed slightly in thought, the way her fingers absentmindedly traced shapes onto the blanket.

slowly, carefully, he reached out, resting a hand against her arm. “can we—just. stay like this? for a bit?”

she turned toward him, eyes softening. then, instead of answering, she simply curled closer, letting herself nestle into his side, the fabric of his tee brushing against her cheek.

jisung let out a slow breath, his arm naturally slipping around her, his fingers resting against the dip of her waist.

she was warm.

he could feel her heartbeat, steady against his ribs, in sync with his own.

the scent of her shampoo filled his senses—something sweet, something vaguely floral, something hers.

the sound of their breathing intertwined with the faint music still playing from the laptop, a mix of their favorite songs.

jisung sighed, letting his cheek rest against the crown of her head. “you’re kinda dangerous, you know?”

yn hummed sleepily. “oh? why’s that?”

“because i don’t think i’ll ever want to sleep without you now.”

she smiled against his chest, eyes fluttering closed. “good thing i’m not going anywhere, then.”

and for the first time that night, jisung felt like maybe—just maybe—things had fallen into place exactly the way they were always meant to.

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger @woozarts @katsukis1wife @bddaramjis @reignessance @peskybirdysya @honeyybbuubblleess @ellemir2404 @4ng3l-ch1ld @urlocalmultigroupfan

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

so i’m probably going to write a series of longfics for the bllk boys…vote on which one you guys want at the end of the post (+ the trope and who first first and who fell harder)

there will be a small excerpt of each longfic below, so after you guys finish reading each, vote on which one you guys want to read the most, and i will continue the story (while giving background context!!!)

———

itoshi sae -

“you’re that girl who went to elementary and middle school with me.”

you stopped in your tracks, stiffly turning around. shit, even that one time you messed up during your middle school graduation speech and forgot the rest of the essay was better than this. “well, uh, yeah. um, i was in the same class as you until our first year of middle school, when you left.”

sae ignored your reply. “you sent me chocolates and boxes of salted kombucha tea every valentine’s day ever since i was first left for spain. my manager found it creepy because i never once told the media that i liked salted kombucha tea, and yet you still sent it.”

the tip of your ears burned along with your face. did his manager find you weird or annoying? did sae find you weird or annoying? did he grow out of liking salted kombucha tea?

“and now you’re here in spain, watching my match and running away the moment i see you.”

TBC.

———

shidou ryusei -

“so, class prez, you upset about somethin’?”

you don’t reply to him. instead, you’re scribbling away at your paper, another length report coming your way. you don’t spare him a glance, which shidou takes as the opportunity to make all sorts of peculiar faces at you.

“you don’t like class prez or something? what about student council prez? in my opinion, class prez sounds way bett—“

“your excuse form.” you shove the lengthy form of how “it was a fight in self-defense” and how “the other student started it, and shidou was just ending the fight that the other student had started.” you knew that all you were doing was feeding the school lies to save shidou, and you could very well have your status taken away, but still. “i owe you one. for that one time.”

a grin crawled onto shidou’s face. “so this is your way of repaying me, class prez? well, you sure know how to make me happy, don’t you?”

TBC.

———

karasu tabito -

“ha! a 95? well guess what, i got a 100!” karasu held up the exam paper as if it were the world cup, although to him, it probably was. a large 100 written in bright red pen with a blue “GOOD JOB!” sticker next to it took up the right corner of the front page. fuming red, you gripped the paper with a disappointingly large 95 to the point where creases began to form.

“at least my hair doesn’t feel like cardboard.” you hissed. karasu stiffened for a moment before a smirk formed on his face. “fine, you win this time.” you took out your wallet before pushing a coupon into his hands; a coupon that granted him 10 free kelp teas from the aesthetic cafe near the school.

“changin’ the subject, are we? at least i don’t have split ends.”

“you little-! well, at least i wasn’t too scared to confess to my crush because i thought i was too ‘mediocre—!’”

“marisa was from when i was 8, okay?! and at least—!”

“alright, alright, split it up, you two. we get that you’re in love and all—“

“we’re not in love!”

TBC.

———

oliver aiku -

“oh, psh. oliver aiku doesn’t date. please, it’s just a fling. we’ll both move on from each other in like what, 3 days?” you’re swallowing down the lump in your throat from that sentence, the painted smile on your face not quite reaching your eyes. your friend looks at you in concern.

“i don’t get why you’re even in a casual situationship with him anyways. i mean, sure, he’s been invited to be on the U20 team, but you’re always first in exam rankings and you’ve got a bright future ahead of you.” she frowned. “should you really be wasting your time on him?”

“he’s just kind of for relaxation.” that’s a lie. you’ve liked aiku ever since you were both 4, and you still like him even now, at 18. you wish that there could be a cringy movie scene between you two where you both mutually in love with each other and you both end up together.

but you and your friend both don’t notice aiku standing right behind the two of you, clicking away on the vending machine rapidly. but only one thought is running through his head.

he’s miscalculated. you’d be the biggest hassle of all time to break up with.

because he doesn’t want to break up with you.

TBC.

———

POLL VOTING TIME!!!!!!

[puzzlebean]

Sometimes a fic does so shitty that I go like yeah not writing for this ship again. Especially if it's a bigger ship and longer than a drabble.

[daz4i]

nvm i tried filtering for longfics (20k+ words) and there's only 26. the economy is in shambles

i got so used to rtrn's 4000+ fics on ao3 that when i go back to my roots (dancae) i find myself sighing over 1400. as if that's a low number. i've been spoiled rotten

[aquamarixx]

breaking the internet

chapter nine sparks fly as Hiori finds himself with unexpected realizations and plenty of "oh" moments, proving that love and self-discovery often come hand in hand. blue lock longfic series pairing hiori yo x reader contains fluff, post blue lock timeskip, afab!reader, hurt/comfort masterlist

You find yourself defending Hiori from haters on the internet, like the petty girlfriend you are. It’s become a borderline hobby at this point, arguing in comment sections and subreddits whenever someone talks trash about Bastard München or Hiori himself.

Of course, as the adult you claim to be, you avoid insults and low blows. Instead, you opt for scathing yet professional comebacks, channeling your skills as a journalist. 

And of course, like the smart adult that you are, you use a dummy account to do so. 

It’s a bizarre pastime, born from the hours you spend researching for feature stories, editorials, and video content at work. Your roommate, Miko, doesn’t think it’s that weird, but she does call you “the crazy girlfriend.” You disagree, though you can’t entirely blame her. 

After all, there’s nothing particularly normal about the sight of you furiously typing away at your laptop, decked out in worn-out college shirt and comfy pajamas, your hair an unkempt bun, crumbs of your favorite salted chips littering the couch. It’s a Thursday afternoon, and there you are, locked in a battle with sweaty fanboys whose egos are probably bigger than their actual football knowledge.

One night, while you’re deep in your moonlighting gig as Hiori’s internet knight, a message pops up on your phone. It’s from Hiori, probably fresh off training.

hiori_yo23: this you? 'Anonymous_screen322'?

Attached is a screenshot of one of your comments on a major JFA subreddit, your username staring back at you like a bright neon sign.

The comment?

A bold defense of Hiori as a better midfielder than Reäl’s Itoshi Sae. In it, you didn’t hold back, calling someone “a pathetic, stuck-up jerkface who clearly knows nothing about football stats because he’s too busy living in his mom’s basement, thinking the sport is all about goals and vibes.”

Panic rises in your chest. You stare at his message, fingers frozen above your phone screen. Before you can think of a response, your phone buzzes loudly, making you jump.

Hiori’s calling.

You take a deep breath and swipe to answer.

“Hello?” you say cautiously.

“Is it you?” he asks, his voice light, amused. You can almost see the grin on his face, imagine him lounging in his gaming chair, leaning back with his phone in hand.

You groan, burying your face in your free hand. “Yeah, it’s me. How did you even figure that out? I’ve been so careful!”

“That’s a pretty popular subreddit,” he says, a soft laugh escaping him. “Of course, I check it out sometimes. It’s fun reading people rant about everyone and everything. Plus, no one talks passionately about me like ya do.”

“Ugh, sorry. I know it’s weird,” you admit, laughing nervously. “I just… I like defending you. Gotta spread the Hiori Yo propaganda, you know”

He chuckles, the sound warm and comforting. “Don’t apologize. It’s kinda funny, actually. You’re like… the most respectful keyboard warrior I’ve ever seen.”

You grin. You’re just relieved that he doesn’t think you’re a total weirdo. 

But you slip up.

It happens during a night out with your coworkers. You guys are talking shop when you stumble across a post from a rival media outlet, written by the same guy you’ve been butting heads with since you entered sports journalism.

The article is a hot take about how midfielders and defenders are “insignificant” compared to forwards and strikers. It’s basically him mansplaining the sport as if rating the players through style points matter. It’s obviously a bait post, made to rile up people and drive engagement. 

In a perfect world, you’d scroll past it. Even with two mojitos in your system, you’d roll your eyes and move on. But then he name-drops Hiori, among other players.

So like the petty girlfriend that you are, it meant war for you. 

Game on.

You crack your knuckles, take a sip of your third mojito, and start typing.

Anyone with half a brain would see this post for what it is: rage bait. As a journalist, you’d think you’d understand the sport you’re writing about. But clearly, you don’t.

You could’ve hit send. That could’ve been the end of it. But no, you’re just getting started.

The worst part isn’t your ignorance. It’s how you put down players who are doing their best under public scrutiny. Maybe you think no one will call you out, but think again. You’re just another toxic fanboy who pretends to know about the sport and brag about it around everyone you meet.  But hey, at least you’re doing everyone a favor for being a pretentious walking red flag yourself that even men and women who have terrible eyesight can see you from miles away.  I would rather be called biased for critically analyzing plays than be someone who’s just spouting jargon and putting down players as if he can play any better. Go read a book about football. Google’s free too. It wouldn’t hurt you to use your brain right.

By the time you’re done, you’ve unleashed a paragraph-long tirade. It feels amazing—better than the mojito, even. You put your phone down, smug, and rejoin the table.

The next morning, you wake up to a pounding headache and the sound of Miko banging on your door.

“Get up!” she yells. “Oh, you crazy, crazy girl. I didn’t know you had the guts to say this! Check your phone. Now.”

Groaning, you stumble out of bed and grab your phone. Notifications flood your screen. Tags, mentions, replies, likes. Confused, you tap one of the alerts.

And there it is.

The bait post from last night. The one where you defended Hiori.

You forgot to switch to your dummy account.

Panic washes over you as you realize you’d commented using your personal, professional account—the one tied to your job.

You open your work group chat, which is also blowing up.

your deskmate: ur insane. another coworker: brave but insane. your editor: Atta girl. 👍 Feisty’s good PR. Keep it up!

Relief trickles in when you read your boss’s message. Apparently, your little stunt worked in your outlet’s favor. People are flocking to your platform, calling it the one with “better takes.”

Miko walks in, handing you a glass of water and paracetamol. “You’re welcome,” she says with a smirk.

You scroll through the comments. A few criticize you for being “biased,” but it’s not like you’re reporting hard news. You write features and editorials, and in this day and age, people appreciate subjective, well-reasoned content over rage baiting.

Most of the comments are positive, commending you for calling out the post. It helps settle your nerves—until a new notification pops up.

A mention. From Hiori himself.

hiori_yo23: Always coming to our rescue. Thanks for taking care of us, /yn_offthepage.

Your jaw drops. The replies to your comment skyrocket. Everyone’s losing their minds over the fact that Hiori Yo noticed you. Again.

You roll your eyes, though you’re smiling. He’s teasing you.

You fire off a message to him.

yn_offthepage: Good morning to you too. Thanks for stirring the pot even more. hiori_yo23: Not my fault someone forgot to switch accounts during her white knight duties. yn_offthepage: I’m sorry, okay? I had drinks, and I got triggered when he mentioned you. hiori_yo23: yer good. It’s funny, honestly. but you don’t have to defend me. don’t want ya stressing over this stuff yn_offthepage: I want to, though. so don’t worry about it. thanks for having my back. hiori_yo23: anytime, princess. i gotcha.

Hiori is unusually excited today. It isn’t a high-stakes game, just an exhibition match between Bastard München and a visiting foreign team. A chance to relax, strategize, and test out new tactics alongside Ness, Coach Noa, and Grim.

The stadium is still packed, though. Even an exhibition match meant money for the JFA, and the crowd turnout reflected that.

Hiori played the first half, but midway through, he swapped out with Kiyora. The team is experimenting with different combinations, testing player synergies, and fine-tuning strategies. Even so, they secured a win, and Hiori felt good about the results, already anticipating the debrief with Coach Noa.

It’s nice that he’s getting pulled into these things for the team. It really shows the value he brings to the table and how he’s grown as a player with them.

After the game, he’s all smiles, he knows he’ll see you for sure. Until he saw them.

His parents. Both of them. Together.

They’re approaching him from the VIP section, their faces a picture of calm neutrality, though the sight of them side by side sent a jolt through Hiori’s chest. He has given them VIP tickets as a gesture, assuming only one might show up. They’ve vaguely mentioned attending, but he’d never expected them to come together.

Especially since they got divorced a year ago.

Breaking away from the team, Hiori approached them. He greeted his mom first, who pulled him into a warm, tight hug.

“Yo-kun, are you eating well? Have you been sick? Is that why you didn’t play the whole match?” Her voice was tinged with worry as she fussed over him, pinching his arms to check his muscle tone.

Hiori let out a soft laugh, trying to ease her concern. “M’fine, Mom. Just working on strategy with the coach and the seniors. It’s better to watch from the bench sometimes. Helps us figure out what needs improving. And it’s just an exhibition match.”

“Just an exhibition match? Are you hearing yourself, Yo-kun?” His dad’s sharp voice cut through the moment like a blade, his tone already brimming with frustration.

Hiori stiffened, his stomach knotting.

“You’re probably slacking off, that’s why you got benched,” his dad continued, crossing his arms. “I told you before, midfielders are easily replaceable. You should take notes from Isagi. Look at him—a go-getter. A real player. I thought Blue Lock and playing for the German club were supposed to make you better, but it’s like you’ve been regressing ever since.”

“Dad, that’s not—”

His father snaps, his voice rising. “What’s the point of being a player if you’re not the star? Are you really satisfied being second-rate?”

His mom tries to interject, placing a hand on her ex-husband’s arm. “Stop it, it’s—”

“I’m just telling him the truth.”

And just like that, It was like high school all over again. The criticisms. The pressure. The suffocating weight of expectations his parents had piled on him since he was a child. Memories flooded his mind. Nights spent training past exhaustion, lectures about how being the best was the only option, the constant feeling that nothing he did was enough.

His dad’s voice continued to ring in his ears.

“What’s the point of playing football if you’re not leading the team? If you’re not scoring goals, you’re just another cog in the machine. Football is a star’s game, Yo-kun.”

As if his dad could ever understand the intricacies of football. The roles. The teamwork. The balance. It wasn’t judo, where individual prowess reigned supreme, or high jump, where you competed against yourself. Football was about synergy, trust, and playing for the team, aside from being an excellent individual player yourself. But explaining that to his parents felt as futile as screaming into the void.

His gaze drops to the ground, shame burning in his chest. His dad’s voice droned on, but Hiori stops listening.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees you.

You’re standing just a few feet behind his parents. The smile on your face dissolves, replaced by something he couldn’t quite place—concern? Sadness? Disbelief?

Hiori freezes. His chest tightens as if the air had been sucked out of the stadium. He wishes the earth would swallow him whole.

You aren’t supposed to hear this. Not the ugly criticisms, not the suffocating expectations, and certainly not the pathetic version of himself standing there, crestfallen and powerless.

He clenches his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He doesn’t know what hurts more. His dad’s words or the thought of you seeing him like this.

“Excuse me?” you say, your voice dripping with theatrical offense. Hiori has never heard you sound so offended.

“Are you talking about Hiori Yo? The Hiori Yo? The genius midfielder of Bastard München? Rated as one of the best midfielders in the league—on par with Alexis Ness and Itoshi Sae? Hell, maybe even better than Itoshi Sae himself? The best midfielder to come out of Blue Lock?” You look in absolute disbelief with what you’ve heard, it was written all over your face.

“You’re calling him a second-rate football player? Are you kidding me? Do you hear yourself, sir?” Your voice cuts through the air like a whip, halting Hiori’s dad mid-rant. Both of Hiori’s parents turn to look at you, bewildered by the sudden intrusion.

You place yourself firmly between them, just slightly closer to Hiori’s side, as though shielding him from further harm.

Hiori blinks, stunned. You don’t stop talking, but for him, it’s as if his entire world stopped and all he could see was you.

“That’s an utterly ridiculous take,” you continue. “Midfielders are the heart of the team. It’s a massive disservice and frankly, a huge disrespect to label them as second-rate players just because they’re not as flashy as forwards. Just because they don’t score often doesn’t make them any less important. And respectfully, let me correct you—this man,” you point directly at Hiori, your eyes blazing with conviction, “isn’t just any midfielder.”

Hiori can only stare, his mouth slightly open, as you keep going.

“This man is an ultrasadist of a midfielder. He controls the game. He calls the plays, manipulates his teammates and his opponents, and makes split-second decisions like a freaking mastermind. And that, sir”—your tone softens just slightly, your lips in a tight fine line—“is hot as hell, if you ask me.”

A poorly stifled snicker comes from somewhere behind you. Hiori recognizes it immediately. Isagi. When he glances around, he notices several of his teammates watching from a respectful distance, their expressions ranging from amused to genuinely impressed.

You’re not done yet.

“So please,” you say, your voice calm and deliberate now, though still brimming with authority. “I say this with the utmost respect to my elders…”

Hiori’s dad flinches, his earlier bravado faltering under your gaze.

“…show some damn respect to midfielders. Especially to Hiori Yo. He’s a damn good player, and any team would be lucky to have him.”

You step back, catching your breath, your glare never wavering. Hiori’s dad looks thoroughly flustered.

He clears his throat awkwardly, mumbling, “I—I’m sorry. That was uncalled for, Yo-kun.”

Yo-kun?

The shift in tone surprises you, but what catches you off guard more is his next question.

“Sorry, who are you again, miss?” His gaze shifts back to Hiori. “Who is she, son?”

Son? Oh no.

Your head snaps toward Hiori. He looks flustered, his face a mix of shock and panic as he tries to come up with a response.

“Uh… she’s… a friend,” he finally stammers.

Before you can process the tightening in your chest, his mom squeals in recognition.

“Oh! You’re the journalist who wrote about Yo-kun!” She beams at you, reaching for your hand and shaking it enthusiastically. “Thank you so much! I loved your article—it was so thoughtful!”

You’re too stunned to react. “Uh—thank you, ma’am…”

Before the situation can spiral further, Hiori gently pulls his mom away. “Let’s catch up later, Miss Journalist, okay?” His voice is cold, detached, and entirely different from the Hiori you know.

Your heart sinks.

“R-right. Sorry,” you mumble, bowing slightly before walking away as quickly as you can without outright running.

Embarrassment churns in your stomach. You just humiliated him. You overstepped. You messed up.

Back at home, you send him a text.

yn_offthepage: I’m so sorry for what I said earlier. I shouldn’t have gotten involved. I crossed a line, and I hope we can talk about it.

You stare at your phone, waiting anxiously for a reply. Minutes feel like hours, and when he finally reads your message, the notification of him typing disappears. He leaves you on read.

Three hours later, a reply comes through.

hiori_yo23: s’fine. I’ll see ya tomorrow, ‘kay? have a good night.

You stare at the message.

Everything is definitely not fine.

The weather is perfect. Almost annoyingly so—like it’s mocking the nerves still clinging to you after yesterday’s altercation.

You’re supposed to meet Hiori at the station before taking him to your secret date destination. You’d planned it all out, but the anxiety from the day before had left you tossing and turning all night. Unable to sleep, you arrived early, only to find him already there.

Standing near the station entrance, Hiori sticks out like a giant amidst the crowd. He’s wearing a navy blue bucket hat, a windbreaker in a matching shade layered over a plain black shirt, straight-cut pants, and white sneakers. He looks good. Really good.

You glance down at your outfit—a frilly black skirt paired with a fitted white crop top that shows just a sliver of midriff. You hope it looks okay.

Walking up behind him, you tug lightly on his windbreaker. “You’re early. Did I make you wait?”

“Yer good,” he says, turning to you with a small smile. “I just got here.”

Before you can respond, he leans in, catching you off guard as he presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Hey!” you gasp, swatting his arm. Heat rises to your face as you glance around nervously, scanning for familiar faces. “Hiori, we’re in public!” you whisper. “What if someone recognizes you?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “What? Can’t kiss my girl now?” His voice is teasing, but the warmth in his tone makes your heart skip a beat. “And s’fine. Look around. We’re just a normal-looking couple on a date. Lighten up, princess.”

Before you can argue, he slips his fingers through yours, holding your hand firmly.

The train is crowded, as expected on a weekend. As you board, Hiori pulls you close to shield you from the jostling passengers. With your back against the train wall, he stands in front of you, one arm braced against the wall beside your head while the other keeps a firm hold of your hand.

He’s close. So close you can feel his heartbeat faintly through his shirt. The citrusy, woodsy scent of his cologne surrounds you, grounding you in the moment.

You stay like that for five stops, your body tucked securely in his protective space. Finally, you whisper, “Let’s get off here.”

Hiori glances down at you, nodding as he guides you through the bustling crowd and out of the station, his hand never leaving yours.

Once outside, he looks around curiously. “Where to now?”

“You’ll see.” This time, you take the lead, practically bouncing with excitement as Hiori trails behind, basking in your energy and the warm sun.

The two of you chat as you walk, catching up on small things. You pointedly avoid bringing up the incident at the exhibition match. Fear and embarrassment gnaws at your insides just thinking about it. 

Eventually, you stop. Letting go of his hand, you jog a few steps ahead, spinning around to face him with your arms spread wide. “Tada!”

You beam at him, gesturing toward the colorful entrance to the amusement park.

For a moment, Hiori’s expression is unreadable. Then, a soft chuckle escapes him as his face lights up.

“An amusement park?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

You jog back to his side, clasping your hands behind your back as you walk beside him. “Amusement park dates are a classic. Thought we’d try it.”

You reach for his hand again, lacing your fingers together. “Plus, you told me how you spent most of your childhood practicing or training for football. I figured you might’ve missed out on this kind of thing.”

A small smile plays at the corners of his lips.

“And for the record,” you add with a grin, “you’re never too old for an amusement park.”

Hiori stops walking, his eyes studying you as if seeing you in a new light. You’re pretty much accurate, if you ask him. 

“Thanks,” he says softly, squeezing your hand. “I’m looking forward to enjoying my first amusement park trip with you.”

And Hiori does. Both of you do.

Even though you’re not a fan of thrill rides, you indulge Hiori, letting him drag you onto roller coasters that he clearly loves. The first drop has you screaming at the top of your lungs, while Hiori sits beside you laughing, his hand squeezing yours reassuringly. By the second ride, he’s still laughing, though now it’s at your expense.

You play carnival games together, trying to one-up each other to win a plushie prize. The competition is fierce, filled with playful teasing, but in the end, you both win something—two small plushies that you exchange with one another.

There’s a cafe stop for a light lunch, and throughout the day, you try as many snacks as you can get your grubby hands on—cotton candy, churros, and even some fried delicacies that make you laugh at how messy they are to eat.

It’s so much fun.

Hiori hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted to experience an amusement park until now. Growing up, he’d always thought he was better off training for football, trying to live up to his parents’ expectations. In high school, he’d closed himself off, preferring the solitary escape of video games. And by the time he hit his twenties, he felt too old for amusement parks, too self-conscious to admit he’d never been to one, or too shy to ask his friends to go with him.

But now, with you beside him, wearing ridiculous animal headbands and pinning cute ear clips onto his bucket hat, everything feels different. He finds himself laughing. A little louder and more free than usual.

You make him happy.

It dawns on him slowly, as the afternoon sun dips lower in the sky. You understand him. Not just surface-level things, but the deeper parts of him. The ones he doesn’t even talk about. You’ve barely been together, yet you see through his walls and make him feel safe to open up, even if it’s just a little at a time.

There’s no pressure. No crushing expectations. You don’t demand greatness from him or put him on a pedestal. You let him be himself. Just Hiori Yo. And for once, it feels enough. He feels enough.

He watches you from a short distance as you buy drinks for the two of you, his chest tightening with gratitude.

By dusk, you both arrive at the ferris wheel.

It’s the last stop on your itinerary, and as you wait in line, the twinkling lights of the park glow softly against the night sky. When it’s your turn, you step into the carriage and settle into the seats across from each other.

The ride starts, the gentle motion lifting you higher. Hiori admires you in the dim, golden light, the way it softens your features, your hair catching faint glimmers of color from the park below.

The silence is comfortable.

Until you break it.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out suddenly.

Hiori tilts his head slightly, his brows knitting in confusion. “For what?”

“For… yesterday,” you admit, your voice quieter now. The carriage continues its ascent, and as the lights dim outside, Hiori’s face grows harder to read. You swallow nervously, wondering if you just ruined the moment.

“I didn’t know they were your parents,” you say quickly. “I just… spoke out of instinct. I didn’t mean to offend them.”

Hiori’s lips press into a thin line, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“I know you said I didn’t have to defend you, but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t just stand there and let them talk to you like that.” You glance down, your fingers twisting nervously in your lap.

“You’re… you’re so amazing, Hiori. And I want everyone to know that. Even if people call me a groupie or a biased journalist, I don’t care. What I care about is telling the story of the incredible midfielder I know.”

You’re rambling, but the words won’t stop spilling out of your mouth it's like word vomit.

“You’re a great player and a great person. I know I probably say that a lot, and maybe it doesn’t mean much anymore, but I mean it every time. And I’ll keep saying it because it’s true. I think you’re amazing, Hiori—not as a fan, not as your girlfriend, but as someone who knows you.”

Your voice falters as the words leave your lips, and the carriage comes to a gentle stop at the very top of the ferris wheel. The view is breathtaking, but you can’t focus on anything except Hiori’s stunned expression.

His eyes are wide, his mouth slightly open as though he wants to say something, but the words don’t come. He closes his mouth, then opens it again, but nothing escapes.

You look away, embarrassed, and the rest of the ride descends in silence.

By the time the carriage reaches the ground, you’re staring out at the park lights, your chest heavy with regret.

Hiori takes your hand as you both step out of the ferris wheel carriage. Despite the late hour, the amusement park is still alive with soft, buzzing energy. The lively chaos of the day has given way to a calmer, more magical ambiance under the glow of twinkling lights.

He leads you to the boardwalk, stopping at a clearing that offers a breathtaking view of the entire park, its vibrant lights stretching out into the night.

Oh god, he’s going to break up with me. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

Your stomach churns as you stare down at the floor, unable to meet his gaze.

“Hey,” Hiori says gently, his fingers guiding your chin upward until your eyes meet his.

“Hi,” you whisper, your voice shaky.

He scratches the back of his neck, a faint laugh escaping his lips. “Sorry, uh… I’ve been processing everything you said earlier. Ya kinda caught me off guard. Had me tongue-tied there.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, words tumbling over each other. “If you want to break up, it’s okay. I understand. I—it was stupid of me to say all that—”

“Hey, hey, who said anything about breaking up?” he interrupts, his voice laced with concern.

“But you were so quiet,” you say, your chest tightening. “I thought you were mad.”

“I’m not mad. Not at ya,” he reassures, his tone soft yet firm. “I’m mad at myself for not saying those things sooner.”

You blink, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Sure, I was shocked when ya stood up to my parents. But… it made me happy. I didn’t realize how much ya admired me or how ya saw me. It was brave of ya.”

He pauses, fiddling with the zipper of his windbreaker, his eyes darting downward.

“My parents… they’ve always been like that. My mom’s gotten better lately—she’s trying, y’know? But my dad… it’s been harder with him. After what happened yesterday, though, we talked. The three of us. It was short, but they actually listened. They even apologized.” He hesitates, glancing at you. “Ya helped, a lot. It’s progress, if you ask me.”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his voice. Without thinking, you take his hand, tracing soft circles on his palm, hoping to soothe his nerves.

“And earlier,” he continues, his voice quieter, “I didn’t realize how much it bothered ya that I didn’t bring it up. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make ya worry.” He leans forward, his forehead resting lightly against yours.

“Ya just flustered me, is all,” he admits, a small smile tugging at his lips. “The way ya see me… it’s different. Not like the way other people do. With all the pressure and expectations. And I like the version of me that ya see. Ya make it feel like everything I’ve done to get here was worth it. Because I met you. And I’m here with you.”

“Really?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“Really.” He grins, his thumb brushing against your hand. “And by the way, the amusement park? Amazing idea. I had so much fun. Thanks for taking my amusement park experience virginity.”

“Oh my god, please don’t call it that,” you groan, bursting into laughter.

“But you called me an ‘ultrasadist’ and, I quote, ‘hot as hell.’” His grin widens, his breath warm against your skin as he teases you.

“You and your big ego,” you laugh, shaking your head.

“Hey, ya did this,” he says with a chuckle. “Ya make me feel like the best player in the world.” His lips hover dangerously close to yours.

“You are,” you murmur, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“Better than Noel Noa?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh-huh.” You kiss him again.

“Better than Itoshi Sae?”

“Yup.” This time, the kiss lingers a little longer.

“Better than Gagamaru?” he jokes.

“Don’t push your luck, ultrasadist. Gagamaru’s the GOAT,” you quip, playfully swatting his chest.

Hiori laughs, pulling you closer. “Yeah, I’ll take my chances. As long as I have ya.”

This time, the kiss is deep, his hands resting on your hips as yours cradle the back of his neck. It’s slow and tender, yet filled with an intensity that makes your heart race.

And then, fireworks.

Literal fireworks burst behind you, painting the night sky in dazzling colors like the world itself was celebrating this moment.

Hiori doesn’t pull away, the explosions reflecting in his eyes as he looks at you mid-kiss. He wishes time could stop, because that’s how it feels kissing you right now—like fireworks. Stunning, explosive, and beautiful.

He just can’t get enough of you.

amari's notes: i literally wrote this just last night. the coffee i got from the cafe yesterday was so good i can barely sleep. definitely the longest one i've wrote. i had to write this by hand, which helped for some reason before i typed it out and it came out pretty good. it's been a busy month for me, with my vacation coming up and my birthday too. but i plan to update one more time this month! anw, I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a reply or drop an ask. i'll greatly appreciate it! Hope you all enjoy this chapter! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ (if you wanna join the taglist, just comment or send me a message!)

taglist: @inu1gf @pookalicious-hq @dontmindtheevie @wannabepoeticischiya @chokifandom @momoriii-i

[myokk]

✨MASTERLIST✨

(fanart, longfics, oneshots)

Welcome to my blog!!! Here is my masterlist of ALL of my little sketches, artwork, writing, and general brainrot related to Hogwarts Legacy💘

🌿 - Madeleine / Maddy / myokk

🌱 - AO3

🌿 - likes and follows come from my main blog, @oerflink, because this is a sideblog (🥲)

🌱 - Eloise Babbit, my MC and basically the whole reason for this blog🫶 I don’t necessarily view her as the game’s MC, as my fic is quite canon-divergent and she is sweeter than the evil gremlin I played in-game😆💓 [link to her character sheet]

🌿 - my art tag🫶🫶🫶 here you can see basically every drawing I've done since joining the fandom!

🌱 - tag for all of the art the lovely people here have gifted me🥹🥹🥹 I feel SO honored whenever anyone takes time out of their day to think of me and draw my little gremlin♥️♥️

Writing:

Before It Felt Like A Sin (AO3 / tumblr - ongoing)

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC, canon divergent, longfic, wip, dual pov Eloise/Sebastian

Summary: Eloise never wanted to be different.

And yet, her differences are what have defined her life up until this point: growing up as a squib in one of the most prominent wizarding families, being exiled to muggle society, and then attending Hogwarts at the age of sixteen.

She finds herself thrust into the life she should have been prepared for from birth but was denied. As she navigates this new life and her new precarious position in her family, she must come to terms with the fact that maybe what she dreamed of her whole life isn't turning out how she ever expected it would.

Tags: slow burn, angst, magical theory, mythology references, pureblood culture, occlumency, legilimency, hurt/comfort, family dynamics, eventual romance, eventual smut, sacrificial magic, blood magic, dark magic rituals, implied/referenced child abuse

[coming soon] - an excerpt from the Ominis longfic I’m working on💘

Oneshots:

clumsy (AO3 / tumblr)

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 9,1k

rating: E

summary: sebastian is clumsy.

or: two stubborn brats make things more difficult than they have to be.

cw: fluff, mutual pining, idiots in love, two really stubborn idiots in love to be exact, sir cadogan guest appearance, anne and imelda are the gremlin best friends every girl needs, smut (18+ ONLY), oral (f. recieving), no y/n

note-taking (AO3 / tumblr)

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 3,6k

rating: M (language and sexual themes)

summary: mc loves flustering sebastian with her notes during class😇

cw: NONE this is just fluff, mutual pining, idiots in love, it takes a while for them to admit their feelings, I rated it M for some language/sexual themes

legilimency (AO3 / tumblr)

pairing: Ominis Gaunt x f!MC

word count: 1,7k

rating: M (language)

summary: (His parents and Marvolo insist it’s a gift handed down from Slytherin himself, just like the Parseltongue Ominis despises. It is not. It is a curse.)

or: The Gryffindor student has caught on that Ominis can read her thoughts and decides to get her revenge.

tags: ominis is a natural legilimens, he is entirely too introspective, fluff, no y/n

remembering the snow (AO3 / tumblr / tumblr (old))

pairing: Imelda Reyes x Poppy Sweeting

word count: 3,3k

rating: G

summary: Imelda remembers the first time she saw snow.

Her parents always started the story telling her that she cried and cried and cried.

or: a character study on Imelda and how she grew up because I love her & she doesn't get enough appreciation :)

tags: character study, fluff, romance, first kiss, emotional hurt/comfort, I just wanted to write a sweet story & explore Imelda as a character

Illustrated scenes:

(aka where I illustrate little scenes from my longfic and oneshots💓)

🌿 - the summer before Sebastian and Anne’s first year at Hogwarts🥺💓

🌱 - Sebastian hates Eloise’s guts😳

🌿 - Eloise is really, really bad at chess😔 (this scene always makes me laugh SO MUCH)

🌱 - right after the pensieve scene🫶🫶🫶

🌿 - Eloise and Sebastian’s first kiss😇😇😇

🌱 - some angst after their first kiss😇😇😇

🌿 - sebastian overthinks things a lot😔

🌱 - an excerpt from my oneshot, clumsy💘

🌿 - another scene from my clumsy 🫶 I really love writing Sebastian’s pov & this was just so much fun to paint and write😫💓

🌱 - Eloise and her mother😔

🌿 - Eloise is NOT flustered by Sebastian😤

🌱 - late night in the common room 🫠

🌿 - comic of note-taking 😇

🌱 - right before *that* scene in clumsy 🫶 (as requested by Mallow bc of the lighting🤭)

[everythingwasnormalhere]

« Freedom You Said? »

I'm gonna try to avoid big spoilers, as I plan to write longfics about this au sooner than not :3

The main premise is that some people (very few) are born with powers in this au, and there's a big hero organization, named Freedom Pals, trying to get to them as soon as possible, so they can avoid the evil ones doing... evil stuff

There are two main hero teams, that I guess will be interacting at some point (I don't have the whole plot thought just yet), which would be m4 and catg, since Butters is Prof Chaos there'll be more on him specifically too

The leader of the first team would be Mysterion, with the power of immortality. He was born with it, and learnt it was useful to protect his family. FP found him and recruited him, he's one of the few heroes with not only all expenses covered but also a salary, and with permission to see his family. Unlike canonical Kenny (and most Kennys I write), FYS Kenny's immortality is rather a regeneration thing, Deadpool style. As all my Kennys, immortality-caused chronic pain, yet he forces himself to ignore it - the way his suit is pretty tight helps with that a bit, too.

Toolshed would be in Kenny's team. He was recruited after a very bad accident (or was it?), which would have killed him on the spot had FP not done anything. He was one of those already superpowered people, with a slight ability to control metal, nothing too big or useful. Yet, FP had him on their lists before the accident happened, so they rebuilt his body, enhanced his powers, turned him into a weapon. All of his prosthetics are in materials he can control, which is very useful in fights. Another of these is placed on his heart, which he has to consciciosly make beat (or connect to a device at night in order to sleep), as if he stops FP will control it remotely, which is extremely painful to him.

Kite arrived to Earth nobody is quite sure when. He can use his voice to speak most human languages, but he's not the best at learning them, nor can he pronounce many things the way it's done (aka heavy alien accent). As soon as he got to this planet, FP were there to take him with them. He has a FP-assigned family, therefore he can meet up with them relatively often. Oxygen is extremely toxic to him, so he uses an air mask to breathe Earth air.

Cartman is from FP himself. Liane works for them, principally cleaning and making rooms comfortable. She needed money and badly, so she offered to do a little extra job, letting them create her a hybrid child. Cartman was the first successful hybrid by FP, which, combined with the whole superhero mentality, gave him a huge ego. He's quite an ass to his teammates and even some random people, but deep deep down, he's a good guy. He wishes to go by Coon, but his teammates don't allow him to, he goes by Raccoon instead. He's the youngest current hero.

Now onto the others!!!

Craig was also born with superpowers, in a relatively normal family. He wasn't aware of them until he turned sixteen however, having to take part in some weird family prophecy. Soon, FP was onto him. He's very much against being a superhero, he'd rather keep his nice and boring life but he has no other choice. His powers include shooting red energy out of his eyes ("they're not lasers!") and hands, super strenght, and short-distance flying. He despises all of it.

Tweek's powers were between an accident and not. He got struck by lightning, yet was left with no physical mark, and that got attention from FP. After several experiments and drugs, they not only made him immune (CANDY IF YOU SEE THIS THANKS FOR GIVING ME THE WORD YOU SAVED MY LIFE) to electricity, but gave him all storm-related powers. He's, however, not the best at controlling them just yet, and this whole thing increased his already tendency to panic about every little thing. His skin is so cold it burns to the touch, too; between this and plain comfort, his superhero costume is simply an slightly oversized sweater.

Mosquito was the one who inspired FP to keep experimenting with hybrids, which would later on cause Cartman's whole existence. At twelve, he was bitten by - typical - an infected mosquito, which caused his powers to appear. He has mosquito wings that allow him to fly however he wishes (it took him a long time to get there), and he sucks blood with two fangs he has, which he needs to survive. Other physical changes too, but these were the main ones. The FP doctors know damn well he has h-EDS, but they're unsure on whether it was caused by the infection or it was a preexisting condition - they won't let him know about this, though: he thinks it is normal.

[I haven't finished developing Fastpass nor Tupperware just yet, but I will share their info as soon as I do]

People out of these teams now!!!

Scott would be four years older than Mosquito, and he used to be his team captain. They were very close, both as friends and as student - teacher. He has diabetes type 1, and also superstrenght, which FP hasn't found any relationship between - yet he believes they are connected. Deceased.

CallGirl was experimented and given powers by a secret organization, making her a soldier since she was a little kid. FP rescued her, and finding her technology control powers useful, they made her a spy, having her find anyone with powers and get them into FP. She was Stan's girlfriend, and also the one to find out about his powers. They broke up after the accident, though. Stan is still the only one who exclusively calls her Wendy, even knowing about her identity as CallGirl.

Timmy has a similar background as CallGirl, but instead of technology control he received telekinesis and telepathy. FP is unsure on whether he's disabled because of the experiments, or because he was born disabled, nor Timmy wishes to answer. He can technically communicate mentally, but he much prefers to use an AAC device - will only communicate by TP, and reclutantly so, if it's strictly necessary. Such as Wendy, he works as a spy-informant. [Might be changed in the future, as I'm not sure I'm entirely comfortable with playing into this whole character trope]

Chaos is a villain, therefore, not part of FP, nor he wishes to be. He has had electric powers since he was born, shooting lightning out of his hands. His parents, afraid of and for him, had him locked in a closed room for his whole childhood, until he ran away - killing them in the process - when he was fifteen. He began recruiting Chaos Minions at sixteen, by suggestion of General Disarray, and now he has a quite big army. His electricity used to burn his hands, so now he has low mobility and control in them. He developed a pair of gloves he uses to increase his control over his powers and decrease their negative effects on his body. He got his eye injury from Raccoon, he covers it with an eye patch so the low vision he has in that eye doesn't distract him.

General Disarray joined Chaos soon after he became a villain. He lacks powers, yet he's extremely intelligent in all areas, principally technology. He built the virtual walls around the few Chaos things online, which not even CallGirl can tresspass. He helps Chaos make plans more often than not.

I think that's it lol :3 ask me any questions you have ✨✨

(was asked for this by @l-lawliets-pussy @northernparkservices @fleatomatosauce)

[envysparkler]

so this.  this would be one of the nightwing longfics.  the long, character-driven fic that I wish I had time to write but alas.

the crux of this fic is when Tim goes to ask Dick to return to save Batman from his grief, Dick agrees.

Nightwing coming back to Gotham.  fighting, every day, to keep Bruce from self-destructing in a manor so full of grief that sometimes he sits in empty rooms and cries.  Dick that can’t visit Jason’s grave, it’s too painful, but sometimes he sleeps on the couch in the library and pretends like his little brother is sitting on the other couch and reading.  and Nightwing also needs to deal with this precocious twelve-year-old who might not be Robin but thinks that it is perfectly reasonable to stalk them around Gotham.

it’s hard.  it’s so, so hard.  Dick losing pieces of himself, bit by bit.  he sees hallucinations of Jason and eventually, the hallucinations are the only things he talks to truthfully.  he has to keep Bruce sane while Bruce keeps lashing out at him.  Alfred’s not getting younger.  Barbara’s furious and upset and grieving what happened to her.  Tim has no parental supervision, what the fuck is going on with this kid, Dick needs to watch out for him too.

it’s slow, but the pressure just keeps piling on.

meanwhile, the people he’s helping start to get better.  Bruce notices their baby stalker, figures out Tim’s situation, and puts in immediate paperwork to get temporary guardianship.  (Dick still hasn’t been adopted.  it’s fine.  he doesn’t care.  he doesn’t.)  Barbara recovers and becomes Oracle, a saving grace to the wider caped community.  (she’s so busy.  Dick just wants a friend to talk to.  please.)  Tim is introduced to the Titans and makes fast friends with them.  (the Titans were Dick’s first but they’re gone, all gone, why does everyone keep leaving him.)

and then there’s a mention of a new crime lord on the scene, Red Hood, who’s looking to shake things up.

things build and build and build, Hood taunting them and Bruce’s suspicions and Tim’s stalking, until it reaches a breaking point.

a warehouse.  Batman and Red Hood and Tim and Dick.  everyone is shouting at each other, yelling at each other, accusations flying, emotional barbs thrown.  Dick trying to keep the peace and failing.

maybe someone snaps something that wounds.  maybe Dick just collapses under his own exhaustion.  either way, he gives up.  he walks away.  he can’t do this anymore.

no one notices him leave.

Dick leaves his suit in the Cave and writes a short note explaining that he’s quitting.

he’s done.

this world--Gotham and Batman and all the heroes and villains--has taken too much from him. he’s barely twenty-one and yet he’s lived lifetimes.  he’s shouldered the weight of the entire world on his shoulders for so long he cannot remember what it feels like to fly without a net.

he returns to the first place he called home.  there’s a Flying Grayson at Haley’s Circus again.

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 58

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

The Value of a Moment by @a-fools-errand

When Lance’s previously obsolete skills in language suddenly become very useful, he finds himself wondering why aliens can’t account for the fact that humans, particularly him, need sleep and would prefer linear timelines. (Or: an Arrival AU because I love that movie)

yall OBSESSED does not begin to cover it. i have never read a fic where lance was so goddamn cool. and in like. the insanest of ways?? like of course lance is a polyglot but THIS....this is a whole new level. i havent even finished it fully yet but like god this thing is so fucking cool. if ur looking for a longfic stop looking

2. Rest Stop by @flaming-potato-arsonarson

Lance wasn't like the rest of the world. And he had never had a loving mother tell him it made him stronger for it. So he told himself, gathering up his courage and grit to face a world of winged humanity, when he, in fact, has no wings and turns into a mermaid instead. A world that wants him to die. So he'd keep this secret like a knife in his boot, a sharp weapon until he died on his own terms. Not because of who he was. Except, Team Voltron isn't so sure why Lance is all rough edges and sharp points about showing off his wings. Or acting like a member of the Flock in general. It's clear he cares for them, but he's never shown an intimate part of him. Until he has to.

oh god this has gotta be one of my CLASSIC fics. read it a few dozen times. i read it right when it came out, six ish years ago (goddamn), i can remember curling up in my old bunk bad and eating this up as the hours ticked by. i was HOOKED. my jaw was dropped my eyes were glued. could not get enough. if youre looking for mermaid lance with a twist....brother this is it

3. Looking for Rain by @thewriter2

Like most things, it starts with the little things: his smile, his confidence, his talent. Eventually, all these little things add up to one big thing that threatens to crash over them like a heavy rain. But, maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing. Maybe something beautiful would come from it. A 5+1 (really a 10+1) of Lance and Keith falling in love.

oh god guys..... @thewriter2 knows how to fucking haunt you. if a 10+1 (!!) isnt enough for you, i want you to know this line has been echoing in my head since i first read: "He looks at you like you’re a storm and he’s a desert desperate to drown." UM??? EXCUSE ME???? SIMILE OF ALL TIME ACTUALLY???? keith being so so visibly obviously in love with lance is my actual roman empire shit never leaves my mind

4. Astronauts by @thewriter2

When they entered the Blue Lion, Keith was Lance’s rival--the person Lance was working so hard to surpass. But slowly, Lance found himself thinking of Keith less as a rival and more as something close to a friend. So of course, Lance’s traitor of a heart decided that it would be Lance’s kind of friend that it would fall in love with.

tags to sell you: "keith is a dork but lance loves him anyway" (dorky keith my beloved), "hunk is an a+ friend" (yes he is), "lance is a lovesick fool" (yeah), and "allura is older sister goals" yes yes YES you get it. and like....while keith pov is my favourite to write by far, lances pov as he realises he is in love....that will always hold such a special special place in my heart

5. his own worth by frogsterz

In the middle of the conversation, Lance stops talking and no one notices. It’s not like he had been leading the conversation, for he hadn’t been, but somehow the fact that his lack of input or opinion isn’t noticed tightens the grip loneliness has on his heart. He looks down at his food, his face burning, his throat tightening up.

now usually anything but team as family isnt my deal. im not big on classic langst. but keith as a knight in shining armour.....what can i say i am weak willed. deeply. also " It’s what made it worse. I miss home and I miss being held and the rain, and I loved you. I thought you hated me." got me so bad got me WEAK like i have never recovered from that line and i doubt i ever will

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[hannie-dul-set]

karma comes in the form of vehicular accidents and designer leather jackets. — [preview].

SYNOPSIS. when you’re nearly run over by a car, and said car happens to be a porsche 918 spyder, your broke ass knows better than to let this one in a million miracle slip by. 

PAIRING. shen quanrui x female! reader. GENRE. emotionally-stunted idiots to lovers, implied college! au, rich boy x not-so-rich girl trope but neither of them are normal! they’re both not well adjusted! mc is an actual scammer and ricky’s love language is throwing out exorbitant amounts of cash, romance, humor, angst if you squint but i prefer it when things are stupid, suggestive. WARNINGS. swearing, probably a number of illegal things, dubious medical practices, scamming, gold-digging, mild manipulation, a not very healthy dynamic at first but we’ll get there, more tba. WORD COUNT. teaser: 915 | full fic: est. 15-18k.

RELEASE DATE. within january, maybe. TAGLIST. send an ask/dm/reply to be added.

NOTE. hello riyangi nation i have another insanity-driven wip to offer. hopefully i go crazy again and write 4-5k a day like my last ricky longfic HAHAHHAHAH. this one has a bit more plot, a bit more seriousness, but still on the spectrum of unhinged!!! hope u enjoy.

preview under the cut.

IT’S A DOG EAT DOG WORLD OUT THERE. You’ve learned this lesson time and time again, ever since the early age of six— when your father got kicked out from his own start-up thanks to his greedy cousins, when you got in trouble for punching a classmate in first grade because he lifted up your skirt but the fucker was the grandson of your primary school’s dead, and when your high school scholarship got screwed over because “your parents unfortunately don’t support the school enough,” and you flipped off your home teacher all while calling him an ass-kissing, money-grabbing piece of shit.

Well, you were forced to transfer after that.

At least your new school didn’t base their scholarship grants on fucking PTA donations instead of grades.

From then on, you’ve learned that the only way to survive is to screw people over before getting screwed over yourself. There’s no point being nice. You can’t bother being a doormat to people who don’t even contribute a cent to your rent. You’re not wasting your smiles for people you can’t use.

Maybe it’s how you’ve grown to be so opportunistic, because the moment you and a friend were told that only one of you could get a full ride to Yonsei University— you didn’t think twice to cut him off. You stopped sharing your notes. You stopped studying together because why should you be nice to your competition? He was more well off than you anyway. His future doesn’t rely on handouts like it yours does. 

Bottomline, yes, you’re not the nicest person in the world. Sure, you screwed over some strangers opting to go to the same job interview as you by giving them the wrong directions. Maybe you cut yourself off from your parents the moment you turned legal when their debt started getting to them and they started relying on you to get out of the pitfall instead of pulling their own fucking weigh. Yes, you’re not a good person. You’re fully aware of that.

Which is why you can’t exactly say fuck you to god when karma comes to bite you in the ass via a car accident on your way to your weekend work shift.

The dead and quiet road you usually cross is now filled with noises of panic.

“Oh my god— dude! Call an ambulance!”

Your lungs hit asphalt and your head starts ringing. A pained hiss slips through gritted teeth. Something’s broken, you grunt, or at the very least not how it should be based on the sharp pain you’re feeling on the arm wedged between your body and the rough and dusty road. “Are they dead?!” you hear someone yell, followed by a car door swinging and footsteps running closer, yet your eyes remain squeezed shut from the blinding headlights and the aching of your entire body.

But it’s not the pain you’re dwelling on. No. It’s the hospital bills and the inevitable days off you’d have to take thanks to your god forsaken fucking luck.

The car should’ve just killed you on the spot.

“Are you okay?!”

However when you finally open your eyes and recognize the embodiment of your karma body slamming you into the ground in the form of a freaking Porsche, your worries suddenly get washed away into oblivion.

Holy shit, you’re fully conscious now. You’ve just hit the jackpot.

“O—oh, she’s awake, she’s awake! Gyuvin—”

Whoa.

There’s a person hovering above you. Rather, the person’s gold gilded necklace is dangling in front of your face. This is more than a jackpot. This is better that the fucking lottery.

“What—what do I do?”

“Is she responsive?!”

“U—uhm— are you okay?” Pretty boy that you assume is the one who nearly killed you is flitting his eyes in panic and is unsure with what to do with his hands. His face aside, the guy is decked out in designer clothing. You don’t miss the engravings on his jacket, the shiny glints of gold coiled around his panicked fingers. You’re not letting his chance slip away. You let out a grunt of pain and start folding into yourself. “Ahh, I don’t think she’s okay! What’s the number for 119?!”

Half acting. Half actually fucking hurting because ow. Maybe you did break something.

“I don’t know! Taerae, what’s the number for—”

“Are you two stupid?!”

Well shit. The pain stops paining because if they bring you to a hospital different from the one you have in mind, it’d be a loss for you. So you play it up even more. “A—ah, I think something’s broken,” you wince. Pretty boy drops his phone and tries helping you prop yourself up. 

“Crap. I think it’ll take too long if we call an ambulance,” says one of his companions behind him. “H—hey, do you mind if we just take you to the hospital right now?”

Now, this doesn’t sound safe. Around three men in their early twenties with very evidently no first aid experience delivering an injured woman to the hospital with what you think is a two-seater car is a recipe for disaster. You’re still on the dirty ground, arm definitely broken, with a rich guy looking like he’s about to start crying at any moment very hesitantly trying his best to help you sit up.

They’re waiting for your answer. And the answer is pretty obvious.

“Yes, please. Thank you!”

Because if you get even more injured along the way, that’ll simply be an extra bonus for you.

karma comes in the form of vehicular accidents and designer leather jackets. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[sflow-er]

For YR Faves Fest organised by @youngroyals-events Prompts: 6. Favourite non-Wilmon ship (Walty)

For this New Year's Day and last day of Faves Fest, I want to celebrate my favourite non-Wilmon ship by reposting the holiday chapter of my S1 longfic. You don't need to have read the whole fic to enjoy it!

At this point of the story, Henry and Walter's connection is shifting from platonic to romantic, but Henry hasn't figured that out yet. The fic is a very slow burn because their friendship deserves to shine first, and also because Henry is a confused ace burdened by his parents' expectations on his future marriage who has never fallen for anyone before.

So get ready for some oblivious pining, physical affection, holiday and party feels, and playing in the snow!

The first scene set on 27 Dec is in the first reblog, and I will reblog this with the ones set on 31 Dec and 1 Jan later today.

[vinelark]

ALL timkon recs I BEG

hello hi! here are some of my favs! it got long so putting some under the cut

💄 Lipstick on the glass by @cairoscene read for timkon being soft and goofy and disgustingly in love, set in vague future college-y years with amazing core four dynamics too. cair is one of the funniest people to ever exist and we are so blessed that they decided to write some timkon. (also read for my own greatest contribution to literature, the fictional “jerry the void nexus” meme)

🎢 been a number and a name by @wynterstars i had SO MUCH FUN reading this one, a 90s comics-divergent AU where robin and superboy become friends—and crushes—when superboy is pretty new on the scene. feat. lex luthor being terrible, tim staging a rescue operation that at one point involves platform shoes and a blonde wig, spice girls references, and fantastic action sequences. it’s also a series, with an installment focusing on kon & clark, and a currently updating longfic sequel with SO MANY timkon identity shenanigans (my beloved) and kon feelings (also my beloved).

📸 the surveillance series by @smilebackwards i feel like i rec this all the time but it’s because it’s THAT GOOD. a tim-centric AU where tim joins the family late, but is still involved in bat business without the bats realizing. there’s some fun timkon identity shenanigans at the top, and some of my all-time favorite tim characterization (ruthless! lonely! brilliant!) plus a great tim & bruce arc, too.

🦉 Detours by miyaji_08 this is part 2 of a series and i def recommend reading the whole thing! a reverse robins + joker jr au that has lots of trauma and lots of healing, and in part 2 there’s timkon identity shenanigans that’s simultaneously enemies to lovers + And They Were Roommates. tim sure does run a gauntlet of horrors in this series, but it has so much healing and also one of my fav reverse robins concepts i’ve read so far.

📱 unfurl by @burins tim and kon might be dating, and there’s no kryptonian sex ed handy. bruce, being bruce, makes it his business, which means talking to clark and Realizing some things about his own feelings. superbat are billed first here, but i think timkon steal the show—i laughed out loud like five different times reading this. hilarious and sweet on all sides. (and if you like this, check out their timkon road trip fic!)

🌾 A Saturday Evening by malcyon in which tim visits the kent farm for family dinner with kon, feat. very sweet established relationship timkon and fun superfamily dynamics, and it touches on tim’s past grief over kon’s death (and complicated feelings post-undeath).

🤼‍♂️ Sore Loser by @hearteyeshayley kon learns that tim always let him win while sparring, and has to process that. this was such a fun exploration of tim’s prowess as a fighter—one who regularly has to go up against superpowered friends and foes alike—and also tim as a person who is always doing mental calculations about the people around him (in an endearing way). kon, too, got his time to shine and grow, and the ending was so smart and sweet.

🔮 Ascension by Violet_Witch an AU longfic where tim is a witchling and kon is a fallen angel who has (oops) just lost his wings. tim sets out to help get kon’s wings back, and there’s a ticking clock because angel wings are dangerous in the wrong hands—and tim has a big, horrible secret that’s about to come due. the plot/worldbuilding of this was WILDLY cool, and there was a big ol misunderstanding in the middle that had me clawing my face off (in a good way).

🌌 straight on ’til morning by merils kon vs. the terrifying ordeal of growing up, feat. sweet friends-to-lovers timkon and really thoughtful exploration of some of kon’s canon past relationships and their abusive dynamics. i haven’t finished this one yet but it’s been rec’d multiple times and i’m excited to dive back in (and it's recently complete!)—and what i have read so far gave me an amazing sequence of kon and dick interacting and dick’s big brother mode activating in an instant, which is something i now desperately need more of.

📧 aaaand would it even be a reclist by me if i didn’t include send to all by @cairoscene the absolute moment i find myself feeling down i go reread this and boom. i am instantly laughing again. timkon are just one part of a bat grab-bag here but they are so so funny and cute and in-character. maybe one day i’ll compile the timkon-centric sequel that exists in my head but for now i’ll just go reread this for the zillionth time.

okay yeah!! i’m probably missing so many good fics here because i constantly have like a zillion tabs open that i plan to read someday. also i reserve the right to reblog later like OH I FORGOT— but in the meanwhile, happy timkon reading!

[cer-rata]

Cerata's 2024 End of Year Artist shoutouts! (part 1)

Okay so this year was the first time I'd really participated in fandom in over a decade, but I'm truly glad I did because I met a ton of great people, and even got to work on projects with some of them. So I wanted to put all of the cool visual art that I've received last year, whether it be art trade, commission, part of an event, or...fanart? Because that happened somehow?

Anyway, there are a number of other people that I worked with last year, but a bunch of that art started near the end of the year, and as such is not finished yet, hence why this post will be two parts, one now, and the second when everyone else finishes up.

No particular order, all of these artists are great, and lovely people, so do go check out the rest of their work and tell them how cool they are, yeah? Also, some are currently open for commissions, so keep an eye out for that.

(Also, this is my first time trying to do ID text, so bear with me if they're a little rough, despite being a writer, I hate words?)

So first we have @fiyaharts with a lovely illustration of a number of the my favorite Krypton and Krypton-adjacent children. Shadi is lovely to work with and fast to the point where it spooked me a little bit, go off girl.

Next we have two pieces from my favorite Evil Woman Apologist, @vivictory-draws, one of a divorced Barbara and Kara being totally normal about it, and the other of my child and blorbo that haunts my waking hours, Conrad. Love N to death, which is why I haunt her with threats of commissioning Joker/Desaad Yaoi.

...Maybe for the next list, who knows...

So next we have the art created for the last @womenincomicsminibang (which is going to be returning with a reverse bang in a few months, keep an eye out on that.)

The lovely and evocative cover was done by the talented @breakingthespacetimewall, and the scenes of Cassie trying and failing to get her life together were done by the wonderful @soop-jpg

Working with them was a pleasure and honor, and their dedication and kindness really helped me through finishing that fic, and I remain incredibly grateful for that.

The first person I worked with this last year, and the one who really helped solidify the core of a lot of my projects, @nicodrawings drew a glorious cover for my mania-induced first longfic, and also a character reference for the aformentioned disordered young man who haunts my waking hours. She's a professional through-and-through, with wonderful instincts and great communication. She's also working on a fan-comic project of her own that I think is wonderful and am excited to see continue.

I lucked out and was paired with the super chill, super talented @byeara on my first fan project ever, and they hooked me up with this super fun and detailed cover for the fic I wrote for that one kon-centric minibang. I loved working with them, and would love to do so again, logistics willing.

This jerk @vnekey made me cry by drawing really sweet, totally unexpected fanart for that mania-fic I wrote. I'm still a little speechless really, I'd never gotten fanart of any sort for any reason before, and to receive something so lovely as the first thing really touched me deeply, and honestly kept me writing through some rough patches.

...Fight me!

My first ever art trade! Kind of! @spider-jaysart is super sweet and supportive and made my...second biblically (is there a Source bible? Are there religious Coluans?) cursed son and his hapless, frankly narratively cursed best buddy look so precious that they ALSO made me cry, can we stop that actually--

Speaking of my cursed son and his narratively cursed Kryptonian, @spicy-apple-pie created this really pretty piece that's...a number of weird deep cuts smushed together into something really specific, but neat if you have the context, which nobody does :3

She was so wonderful and patient and I really enjoyed seeing her run with her inspiration, the Kryptonian mural is super neat and not something I would have ever come up with on my own.

@mediaraiz Is really stylistically flexible, and their "Blob" style really scratched that itch I had for something cute and playful, and they were so game in taking on a larger project, and then went above and beyond in making my lanterns looks truly special.

Finally (for now), @riverdeansart drew a sweet little scene of two horrifyingly stressed totally fine spacebros chilling and chatting about how everything is completely okay!

I was super vague about this one and Dean did a great job getting the vibes right anyway, and with haste.

...So yeah, that's if for now! I'll circle back in a bit when I'm forced to let more artists out of my basement everything else is done!