#sorry for weird formatting tumblr hates when i try to format anything

[the-moon-files]

Aaaaa, hi!! I'm the anon who sent in the fairly recent ask with the Guide!Reader ideas (martial artist mention, Dehydrated Ganon, strength possibilities, Ganon not being able to escape from Guide!Reader's voice, etc)! I'm really glad that you liked my ideas so much!! 😊 I was so pleasantly surprised to see you expand on my discombobulated thoughts, haha! Thank you so much! ^w^ I loved reading them!!

I said that I made memes for the Guide!Reader/Space Orc concept, and now I shall deliver them >:D Firstly, I'm super sorry that I took so long to share these with you!! Life decided to kick me in the shins for a hot second 😭 And secondly, I made a LOT of images for this one,, Fair warning, this is going to take up a lot of space 😭 orz

But anyway!! Here are the text memes first:

Guide!Reader: We’re playing Scrabble. It’s a nightmare.

Wars: Scrabble? Scrabble’s great.

Guide!Reader: Not when you’re playing with Zelda, it’s not. She’s out here putting in words like “ephemeral” while I’m putting in “dog.”

☆

Guide!Reader: *pointing out Magic Powder* Legend, look, it’s the good kush!

Legend: …This is the Rupee Store, how good can it be?

☆

Ravio: Hi, welcome! Are you part of our Super Savers Shoppers Club?

Guide!Reader: No, I’m not.

Ravio: :D :) :| Oh.

☆

Legend, looking into a banged-up Water Temple: …It’s trash.

☆

Time, whenever Guide!Reader uses modern slang: We need IRL subtitles. What are you even saying.

☆

Guide!Reader: My Furby died in my arms when I was a child.

Hyrule, has no clue what a Furby is: I’m so sorry for your loss.

Guide!Reader: It wasn’t a loss. I had never felt more like a god.

☆

The Chain: *getting told off by Time*

Guide!Reader in the back: …

Guide!Reader: *starts playing the ukulele* 👁👄👁 🎸

Time: 🧍

☆

Four, talking about Guide!Reader: So, I’m interested in someone…

Dot: :D Oooh! What do they look like?

Four: *slow realisation*

Four: I don’t know

Dot: Wh

Dot: What do you mean you don’t know?

☆

Guide!Reader/Ganon, about hearing Guide!Reader every dang game: The universe has a sense of humour, and I respect the commitment to the bit, but girl please.

☆

Guide!Reader, to Link once they reunite with the Chain: Now… *puts hand on his shoulder* We’re back on our bullsh*t.

☆

Guide!Reader and Wild, meeting Sidon for the first time:

Guide!Reader: …Would.

Wild: Would what?

Guide!Reader:

Wild: (Name)? Would what?

☆

Wind: When you become famous you’re called a legend because your leg ends.

Guide!Reader: What? 

Wind: Your leg. It ends.

Guide!Reader: I’m not a linguist, but I think you’ve got it wrong.

Wind: Are you saying your leg doesn’t end?

Guide!Reader: I mean, at some point it does, yes.

Wind: Then what’s the problem?

☆

The Chain, waking up at dawn to get ready:

Guide!Reader and Sky, just trying to process being alive:

☆

Guide!Reader/Time: You need to get out of bed faster than this.

Sky, struggling: I’m giving it all he’s got, boss

☆

Guide!Reader at Ganon: Your anger amuses me. Please don’t find inner peace. Please.

☆

Guide!Reader, playing through LoZ game: *at an annoying NPC* Let me ask you a very fair question. What do you do successfully? Quickly. :|

Link, trying not to laugh:

☆

Hyrule, probably: I hate it when a recipe tells me to add two cups of onions. They don’t come in cups. They come in onions.

Guide!Reader, head in hands: Please

☆

Hyrule/Twilight, looking at two NPCs: Are they lovers?

Guide!Reader, who knows the lore: Worse.

☆

The Chain, enjoying Guide!Reader’s affections:

Legend: 🚶‍♂️🚶‍♂️🚶‍♂️

☆

Legend, defending himself from the “You like him” allegations from Wind: 🤸🤸🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️

And now, onto the images- I hope you don't think the sheer amount of these memes is too excessive or anything!! 😭 /gen

Aaa and that's all the memes I've got! I hope you like them,,! orz

I'm also still pretty new to Tumblr, so I'm sorry if the format looks a bit weird,,

Oh, but also?? That last point you mentioned in your most recent post about the cultural differences between humans and Hylians on physical affection/touch?? I am VERY excited to see that,, 👀 👉👈 

U HAVE NO IDEA HOW IN LOVE W/UR BRAIN I AM RN

IM SO FUCKING ECSTATIC TO SEE THESE >>> ANYTHING IVE EVER WRITTEN U MADE MEMES??? FOR MY BS?????? DAOHGHOAKJSALKGFS;NDFKNDNFKJBDBFLN;

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

BLESS YOU, BEHEAMOTH SCREAMOTH MY BELOVED <3333

HAVE THAT HYLIANS V. HUMANS AFFECTION CULTURE POST HERE, THE ONLY PAYMENT I CAN THINK OF FOR THIS 😩😩 🛐 🛐 🛐

I LIED ITS TOO LONG, ITS GONNA BE A SEPERATE POST COME BACK AND PLS READ IT AS PAYMENT (but dont read the nsft/w if ur a minor)

BRO u got all the energy, and the dynamics i was pushing ilysm 🥺🫶

like the Hyrule = beloved agenda ive been pushing, bc i need more underrep links content, the way u carried the ganon eternally getting haunted by guide reader voice?? 10/10 ahdsfkhadl

AND WIND’S CONSTANT ENERGY OF A YOUNGER BROTHER LOOKIN U DEAD IN THE EYE LIKE “u kiss the homie (singular not even plural) goodnight?? Brother, that’s GAEY.”

u have no idea what this means to me, the impact, the understanding u have to have of my bs to make these, and how many posts youve read of mine?? im so sorry for ur loss w/my rough writing lmao

thats how you know youve made it tbh is if someone makes memes of smth u made, anyway day brightened, complexion clear, depression medicated, by this post

I HOPE BOTH SIDES OF UR PILLOW ARE COLD, UR PETS CUDDLE U EXTRA, U GET ALL THE GRADES/GOOD WORK SHIFTS U NEED

Peace out my beloved <3,

🌙

[softhairedhotch]

this one to me feels much more oc-like than a reader-insert (bc of all the details i added) but a few of yous said to keep it as a reader fic so i hope this is okay!! don't hate me if you can't relate to it please n thanks <3 also sorry for the weird formatting of my fics/the random bold or italics or small text idk tumblr hates me and keeps doing it!!! comfortember day five: treehouse (+day eight: grief/mourning) aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader aaron is there for you, just like he always is, after you lose your mother. word count: 2.1k warnings/content: parent loss, death of reader's mother, hurt/comfort, some emotional conversations and sad topics, mentions of crying, pet names, kissing, hugging, established relationship. lyrics that inspired this: "do not enter" is written on the doorway / why can't everyone just go away / except you / you can stay / what do you think of my treehouse? / it's where i sit and talk really loud / usually / i'm all by myself

comfortember masterlist here!

also on ao3!

the treehouse

You step out into the back garden and take a deep breath, closing your eyes as you allow the crisp air to wash over you. Aaron steps out moments after and closes the door quietly before his hand finds your lower back. 

"You okay?" He asks, his voice just above a whisper. It's almost drowned out by the sound of mourning doves overheard.

You shrug, your shoulders feeling as though they’re being weighed down by the heavy armour you’re trying–and failing–to shield yourself with. “I will be.”

“Yeah.” He looks around the garden and lets out a short, flat hum. “But no one is expecting you to be okay, you know that, right? There’s no time limit; you’re allowed to grieve.”

“I know.”

“I know you do, sweetheart. But I just wanted to remind you.” You turn to look at him and, at the sight of his genuine concern, your brave face crumbles. He wraps his arms around you immediately, pulling you close and enveloping you in his warmth. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you whisper as you cling to him, trying your hardest to hold back your tears but failing miserably. “I know.”

“Good.”

“I just don’t know what to do.” 

Aaron presses a kiss to your forehead. “You don’t have to do anything.”

You pull back and look up at him, confused. “Yes, I do. I have to… to get rid of everything and sell the, the house. And do all the paperwork and figure out what to do with her antiques and, and, and–”

“Hey, hey,” he interrupts you gently, pulling you back into a tight hug. “Don’t worry about any of that right now. I’ll do that.”

“What, no–”

“Let’s not talk about this now, okay? We’ll sort it out later or tomorrow. Give yourself some time to think about it.”

“But what do I do in the meantime? I can’t just… sit around.”

He thinks for a moment. “Show me around.”

“What?”

“Show me around the house. Tell me everything you can, anything you can remember, and I’ll listen. I wanna know what life was like for you.”

You almost burst into tears at his words. “Really? You wanna know about my childhood?”

“Sweetheart, I wanna know everything about you.”

***

You take Aaron inside the house, taking him to the living room. The room hasn’t been touched in a few days, save for a few files on the coffee table you checked earlier, and you feel sick at the thought of leaving the house behind once everything’s packed away. Then the thought of having to pack everything away makes you feel even worse and you sway on the spot. Aaron notices you falter and reaches out to squeeze your arm gently, standing beside you patiently. 

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do when all this is gone.”

“It doesn’t have to be gone,” he replies. “You can take it all.”

“And keep it where?”

“In our house, in a storage container… there’s many places.”

You think for a moment, holding back tears, before shaking your head. “No. I need to… to let it go. Not all of it, but I can’t keep everything. She wouldn’t wanna weigh me down with all her stuff.”

“Alright,” Aaron says, squeezing your arm again and leaning to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “Take anything you need. I promise we’ll find a place for it. That sound good?” 

You nod and lean into him for a moment before slowly making your way through the living room, grabbing the objects with the most significance to you and telling Aaron about them before sorting them into a box to take back to the house. You pack a few of your favourite DVDs, ones you’re sure won’t even play anymore with how scratched they’ve become, as you tell Aaron vague memories of watching them as a kid. What happened when you watched them, who you watched them with, how you felt–anything that comes to mind because you know he’s listening.

A few family photos are displayed on the TV stand, as well as a cabinet in the corner, and you relive the memories of when they were taken as you tell him all about them. He asks to look at one closer and you give it to him, watching as he smiles down at a photo of you with your old dog. “You looked happy.”

“I was,” you reply, nodding. “Some of the time, anyway.”

He gives you a small smile and hands you the picture. “I know what you mean.”

You continue to walk him around the house, showing him dents in the wall from where you hurt yourself and little drawings you hid behind drawers and peeling wallpaper. He listens intently, smiling at your happy anecdotes and comforting you when tears well up in your eyes as the worst memories cloud your mind. You show him your childhood bedroom, telling him about friends that used to come over for sleepovers and the first time you kissed someone behind the open door so no one would see. 

“My first kiss was with Haley,” he replies. “In the theatre room at our school.”

“Isn’t that where you first met her?”

“Yeah. I kissed her in the same spot I first saw her.”

“Aw,” you smile as you grab an old diary and throw it into your bag. You’ll read that later when you’re alone so you don’t embarrass or upset yourself anymore in front of Aaron. “You’ve always been a romantic, how cute.”

He blushes and presses a kiss to your cheek as he passes by, making his way to your desk and flicking through a few papers you left there when you were last over. “You think you’d want these?”

“Probably not, doubt they’re important.”

Aaron nods and begins to open the drawers, pulling out miscellaneous items and silently dividing them into piles of things you might want to keep and things you’d throw away. You watch him with a sombre smile, feeling your chest ache at the realisation that he knows you so well and that his love for you is endless. When he catches you watching him, he pauses and raises an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“I love you, you know that, right?” 

“Of course I do,” he replies, closing the drawer and walking back over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist to tug you close. “I love you, too. More than you’ll ever know.”

“Hm, I don’t know. I think I have a pretty good idea.”

“I don’t want to doubt you, sweetheart, but I really don’t think you do.” He presses a sweet kiss to your lips, channelling all his love into it. “I can’t even begin to express how much I love you. I just… do.”

You press another kiss to his lips to hide the tears welling up in your eyes. The love you feel for him is so strong it feels like you might burst. He kisses back, letting you take the lead. Pulling back, you look deep into his eyes and smile the first genuine smile you’ve been able to manage since you first heard the news. “I love you more.”

Aaron chuckles. “Sure you do.” He presses a chaste kiss to your lips with a hum. “Ready to carry on?” 

“Yeah,” you mutter, going to pull away before a thought strikes you and you let out a sharp breath. Aaron pulls you back into his arms immediately, looking down at you in concern but keeping silent to give you a moment to think. “Sorry, I just… realised that that was gonna be my last kiss in this room.”

“Is that a good thing? Or bad?”

“I don’t know,” you reply honestly, feeling out of it. “I don’t like the thought of everything we do in this moment being the last of anything, but… the fact that it’s you that I’m doing all this with… yeah, I think that’s a good thing.”

He smiles sweetly at you, love shining so clearly in his eyes, and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Then let's stay here for a little longer.”

“We should get it over with, I don’t wanna waste all your free time off work. You deserve to get some time to yourself.”

“Oh, honey,” he sighs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and resting his head against yours. “This isn’t a waste of my time. Trust me. I want to be here, with you, for you, and that’s all that matters. Don’t think like that, okay? I’m here because I want to be, not because I feel like I have to. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “It does.”

***

“I guess that leaves the treehouse,” you shrug, feeling drained as you step back outside with Aaron following you. You stare up at the treehouse, wondering if it's necessary to go up there. “You don’t have to come up. It’s pretty small.”

“I’ll go wherever you go.”

“You’re so cheesy,” you say with a small smile, even when his words mean the world to you.

He smiles at you. “You love it.”

“I really do.” Making your way to the treehouse, you glance at Aaron and allow a small smirk to dance over your lips. “Don’t stare at my ass as I go up.”

Aaron laughs. “No promises.” 

You roll your eyes and begin climbing, risking a glance back to find Aaron’s eyes firmly on the ground and being as respectful as ever. It makes your heart skip a beat. Reaching the top of the ladder, you look at the treehouse's entrance and cringe at the big ‘DO NOT ENTER’ sign hanging beside the doorway. It was a sign you carved yourself when you were younger. When you look inside the treehouse, your heart aches as memories flood through you. It takes you a few seconds to force yourself inside but once you clamber in, you call down to Aaron to let him know he can join you.

The sound of him climbing up surrounds you as you push yourself into your favourite corner, one filled with soft padding and blankets. A few of your favourite books are scattered across the floor and pictures of you and your childhood friends cover the walls. The nostalgia hits you hard and you bite your lip to stifle a sob. 

Aaron joins you, crawling inside and looking around with interest. As he gets comfortable in the small space, his long legs curling against himself to fit, you realise it’s the first time anyone’s ever been in the treehouse with you. Or at all. 

He remains silent, waiting for you to be the first to talk. You appreciate that. 

“I used to come up here a lot,” you say after a few minutes. “To read, to think, to talk to myself out loud… everything.”

“And did it help?”

“Yeah,” you nod, reaching over to grab one of the books beside you. It’s one you’re sure you’ve read a million times over, the pages worn and yellowing and a small layer of dust covering the outside. “It was nice. Peaceful. Somewhere I was never bothered.”

“I had a place like that,” Aaron muses, smiling at you. “Not as personal as this, though. It was a bench a few blocks from where I grew up, hidden by a few overgrown trees. I liked it.”

“Did you go there a lot?”

“Whenever I could. Couldn’t go much in the winter because of the cold, though.”

You huffed out a laugh. “Same here. Still came here even if I meant I almost froze to death.”

His smile becomes sad but there's clear understanding in his expression. “Yeah.”

The two of you sit inside the treehouse for almost an hour, talking about whatever comes to mind. Aaron listens intently to every word you say, his comforting hand drawing patterns over your thigh and eventually over your side when you move to curl up against him. You feel yourself drifting off at one point when the exhaustion settles deep in your bones, feeling so safe and warm and loved and comforted beside him, but you force awake to finish back up in the house. 

Aaron follows you inside, as he always has and always will, and comforts you through everything that comes after that. He helps you pack up the house, assuring you over and over that you can take however many boxes you want back to the house you share with him. He sits with you for days after, mostly in silence when the grief catches up to you and you can hardly think, never once looking as if he’d rather be elsewhere. He holds your hand throughout the funeral, never once leaving your side or once letting you think for a moment that you’re ever alone. And even after it’s been weeks, months, years, since that moment, he’s there for you whenever you need a shoulder to cry on. Just like he always has been. 

[kangen-wanshi]

Hi! I really love your Kisses ft Larry, Brassius, Hassel post! Could you do how would Larry, Brassius, & Hassel confess to reader? Only if you want to!

"I'll say it!" ft Larry, Brassius, Hassel

The struggles and process of confession can be quite challenging for some individual. But how would they go through it?

Tags: separate, romantic, pining?

A/N: I'm glad you like them anon! For this one, Larry's and Brassius' are actually inspired by my recent previous post haha, I hope you like it! And sorry for the weird formating, Tumblr is hating me rn.

Larry, With a newfound confident

It's not a secret that Larry can get quite.. Shy? Timid? Quiet? When it comes to a time where he's required to speak up.

Unfortunately, this also happens during his confession. 

Larry didn't really.. Plan his confession. He's stressing over the fact on how to do it, yes, but he's never really got any plan figured out.

Rika's suggestions are too flirty, Poppy's are.. Well with how sweet it is he feels like it's gonna make him feel out of touch to execute it, and anyone else just keeps telling him to just tell you straight up.

So he did just that.

It was a small dinner between the two of you. Nothing fancy, as he cooked simple dishes he learned from the internet and invited you over.

It's the most normal, simple, plain idea of 'date' that Larry can think of.

Often the darker side of his brain caught up to him and mocked him about how he's just an old bachelor that doesn't quite deserve a relationship. Especially with someone as perfect as you.

But when he fought that dark side of the brain, is actually when he boldly confessed to you.

"I love you. Truly."

It's so simple. So quick, and so quiet. You had to stop yourself before doing anything further.

Him, on the other hand, is fully aware of what he had just said. But there's no going back now. As he stares at his food, his hold on the fork and knife tighten by the seconds of your silence.

That is until you asked him to repeat himself.

When he took a deep breath, his lips trembled. Closing his eyes, he's decided that during that moment, he won't back down or sink away from his own confession.

"I love you. Will you.. be willing to be mine?"

You'd expect him to confess with his art and portray his affection through poetry with some grandeur announcement?

Brassius, Through Beautiful Accident

Think again!

Brassius is nervous. Nervous doesn't even cover the word.

Yes, he's expressive. Yes, he has admitted that you're so important to him, beyond being his beloved muse and source of inspiration. But confession? A romantic love confession? His head spins even trying to think about it.

Often he argues with himself about how he should express this feeling to you, aka confession.

He's torn between making it sentimental by giving you one of his handmade gifts, or declaring his love with well arranged heart shaped roses, or with poetry, or even with a sculptor made with love engraved within it.

Ended up not executing any of it.

His indecisiveness will be the end of him. Truthfully with how much he praises you or expresses his adoration, you already got the idea (or at the very least the slight confidence) that your feelings are actually reciprocated.

It's just the confession that came late.

So how this happens, is most likely because he just can't help himself to say the three words to you under the guise of simply complimenting you.

"Your battle was magnificent! The conjoined effort between you and your pokemon - absolutely breathtaking! I can't help but fall in love with the way you conquer the difficulty in battle!"

You were about to thanked him, had toy not caught the whisper under his breath:

".. And I suppose, I couldn't help but to fall in love with you yet again."

- Which caught both of you off-guard. 

Brassius is red. His pale cheeks turned warm, as he watched you watch him with wide eyes.

He was about to laugh it off, pretend that it was a slip off and he didn't mean it that way. But with how you look at him, red tinted your cheek, and softly asking him "Really?",

Well, the truth comes forth to those who're willing to embrace it.

Let's just say that he couldn't ask for a better love confession.

By far the most normal out of the three.

Hassel, With The Classic Galar Style

Hassel has a good amount of experience in terms of having relationships. So he knows the sign when he falls for someone, and luckily, he knows how to handle himself.

Though he's not hasty. Despite his passionate nature, Hassel is patient and takes his time with doing things. Including processing his feelings, and considering yours too.

He drops subtle hints first. Offering you his jacket when the weather got particularly chilly, offering to walk you home, helping you with your work however he can, taking care of your pokemon, etc.

Surprisingly can read your reaction very well, while being subtle about it.

So he's good in that whole department.

When he's sure that you're into him as much as he is into you, he plans his next more: The Confession.

While yes, he kept his cool and he knows what he's doing, he's not immune to the Nervous.

But he got this! He got help from the new Champion of Paldea, he got help from Tyme, from Rika, he'll do fine!

So he ended up inviting you on a picnic. Just outside of Mesagoza.

A small picnic. He brought the food, even though you offered to bring some too, he insisted on treating you to this little date.

It's sweet, really. Just chatting along, watching some pokemons walk over to the two of you asking for some extras, sharing laughter and smiles.

And when the sun started to sink, he made his move.

He pulled out a basket that he's been hiding from your sight, before putting it between the two of you. Obviously you asked what it is, but he just encourages you to open the blanket inside.

And surprise surprise, it's a shiny Applin, peering up to you with an innocent tilt of head.

If you didn't know the meaning behind the Applin tradition, expect that he already explained it to you at some point prior to the date (aka one of his subtle ways of seeing how you'd react to the topic of love confession).

Either way, he offered the little guy to you with a sheepish smile, as his cheek grew red.

"I couldn't imagine a better way to explain my feelings to you. If you would accept it, accept this little friend of mine, I hope you would cherish and let him grow stronger. And if you may allow it.. I would like to be by your side to help it grow." 

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Could we see the southern gothic playlist, please?

Oh shit, I missed this, I'm sorry!!

I don't really know how I would share the SG playlist given the current format of it, but everything on there is also on my main playlist! So like. If you don't mind also learning about the REST of my absurd music preferences, you can probably pull together your own.

If I ever do manage to share the SG playlist specifically, I'll make sure it goes on Tumblr too lol

To be fair, tho, it's actually a lot easier to find southern gothic music than you'd think, it's just that you have to be willing to ignore the fact that a lot of people who DON'T LIKE southern gothic are going to mock the aesthetic for being "cringe" or whatever as just like. A cultural staple of socialization?? So some of the artists you get recommended are artists that a lot of people are used to reflexively belittling without knowing much (or anything) about the artist or thekr music. It's not uncommon to really need to push past that "why the fuck would I listen to THEM" response that a lot of us have sort of gotten conditioned into us. Country genres tend to be like that, is the thing. It's this weird combination of people managing to find an angle from which to hate on the majority of country music and its musical dialects, no matter what their socio-cultural position is. And like, yeah, not every country dialect is gonna be for everyone. But if you aren't actually willing to listen to The Devil Went Down to Georgia with an open-mind and a curiosity towards its narrative role in our collective oral tradition, then why would you seek out The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie, or Bottom of the River, or Love's Death Bed?

The barrier I think a lot of people (especially in progressive circles) experience in trying to actually get into Southern Gothic is the Southern part. There's this real mental and emotional block people have around the idea of Southern aesthetics being compatible with their ideological and political concept of "being a good person".

And like. Fine. But that makes it sad how often some of the same people will purport to love Southern Gothic but have a hard time finding enough. That happens when you exclude its originational context from your environment. It's not a bad thing inherently or anything just....an implicit bias that I think a lot of people still carry with them and don't really flag for themselves as being anything other than beneficial for their judgement and decisions.

Anyway. I really hope people DO get more into southern gothic as a whole! It's a great scene and there is such rich metatextual conversations to be had and experiences to revel in! But some of yall may have to get comfy being uncomfy if that's what you want to do

[impawsiblecat]

100 days of Deathduo!

Day 1- Reverse phasmo au! (Also I'm so sorry if the format is weird I don't know how to tumblr)

Content warning for spooky ghost stuff, suspense. Also it's not beta'd haha

The breaker was off. Which was a bit annoying, but the previous owners clearly hadn’t been there in a while. Clover isn’t surprised the electrical company had turned it off to save power. That didn’t change the fact that it was a little bit… inconvenient. Still, she was excited. If all goes well, this house is hers. Her own place. It may be a bit rundown, if the torn wallpaper and worn floorboards were anything to go by, and that couch had certainly seen much better days, but it was hers. And renovations could always be made. She had plenty of money left over due to just how cheap the house was. 

    The house was cold, likely due to the breaker, and Clover shivered as she went to look for it, taking out her phone flashlight so she wouldn’t trip over anything. It must have been in either the utility room or the attic, right? Or was it called the storage area. It was somewhere upstairs, she remembered seeing it on the floorplan of the house. It could also be in the backyard, but Clover hadn’t seen anything back there when she had first investigated the house. She smiled as she remembered seeing the for sale sign and peeking into the windows while imagining what could be. She had bought it that same day.

    Clover coughed from the layers of dust that was scattered around, and she pulled her backpack in front of her in order to dig around for her waterbottle, taking a swig from it when she found it. This house needed a ton of cleaning. Which was fine. It was hers! Still, next time she may have to bring a mask, or something. Breathing in all of this dust was probably not the greatest for her health, if she had to guess. She passed by the stairs next to the front door, thinking that the utility room was the more likely place for a breaker to warm the cold rooms.

    The house wasn’t very big, but it didn’t stop Clover from getting lost, finding herself in a bedroom instead of the kitchen she expected. Which would have led to the utility room. The light from her phone bounced off of the walls, showing the pictures of the previous owners that lived here. She didn’t quite know what happened to them, or why they left. It did make her curious, but she figured they were likely evicted, or just had somewhere to go. Perhaps they thought that the house was too isolated, alone from everyone, with nothing but a plain barren field nearby. But that was what Clover loved about it. Come next spring, she was sure it would be filled with crops that she could farm. It had an irrigation system built in, and she was excited for the different pace in life that it was sure to bring. Peaceful, hopefully, away from the monotonous and stressful work environment of a corporate office job.

    Did she know how to actually farm? Well. No. But surely it couldn’t be too hard, right? It was just. Planting the seeds. And waiting for them to grow. 

    Clover’s thoughts became distracted when the beam of light caught on something shiny. Upon further investigation, she realized that there was a flip phone on the dresser, covered by a layer of dust. The people here must have really hated this place, to just pack up and leave like that. It was a mystery. Maybe Clover would try to figure out the reason why it was abandoned so much, and try to get some of the pictures and mementos back to the people they belonged to.

    But for now, the breaker. If she could stop getting so turned around in the dark. Clover tried to recall the floorplan given to her on the release forms. If she was in the bedroom, then she just had to make her way to the living room, and then the- aha! The kitchen. She knew where she was going the entire time. Clover’s flashlight caught on jars of old pickles and unopened soda cans that she was definitely gonna get rid of. They had probably been there for ages. Luckily, nothing seemed to have rotted out in the open, which Clover was grateful for. The chill of the house probably helped, even after all of these years. 

    She found the door to the utility room easily, but groaned when all she saw was a dust covered tool rack and an old mattress. So much for finally being warm. She sighed, shining her phone at the wall once more in hopes that she may have just missed the breaker, but alas, it was not there. Time to head upstairs to the storage room, unless it was in somewhere completely unexpected, like the master bedroom or something. That would be ridiculous though. Who would put an electrical breaker in a bedroom?

    Clover managed to make her way back to the front of the house much easier than she was able to find the kitchen, luckily. The upstairs was even smaller than the bottom part of the house, and she was pretty sure she remembered correctly, so hypothetically it shouldn’t take too long to find the utility room. Hypothetically.

    The stairs creaked under her feet, and Clover shivered a bit as she turned right. Because she was pretty sure that was the correct room. Wasn’t heat supposed to rise, or something? If anything, the air had gotten slightly colder up here than downstairs, but Clover knew that it was the barely spring chill seeping into the house. Come summertime, she was sure it would be sweltering in here. She should probably make sure that the air conditioning unit was here. And the heater, probably. Most likely. 

    She was. In a bedroom. Not a storage room. This house was so confusing, but she was sure the floorplan said it was this way. Spotting another door, Clover made her way over, hoping that it was the correct place. She was grateful that the house had wooden door knobs, seeing as she could feel the chill through them. Metal would have been even colder. She smiled when she saw the metal of the breaker glinting from her flashlight.

    As Clover stepped in the room, she felt the temperature drop, a chill running over her shoulders as she stood in the doorway, confused. It was so much colder than the rest of the house, and it made her uneasy. Or perhaps that was the unnatural creaking of the floorboards, or the many items scattered about the room that had disturbed the layer of dust on the floor. 

    It was probably just a broken board that let in the outside air, right? Maybe the wind had knocked over that hammer. Stealing her resolve, Clover started moving towards the breaker, clutching tightly onto her water bottle with one hand and her flashlight with the other. It was fine. She would just get the breaker on, and save this room for when she was actually able to see. And be warm. Which sounded so nice right now. Warm and away from this room.

    Clover screamed when a pale, almost transparent face suddenly appeared in front of her, yelling at her with an unnatural screech, and she scrambled back, away from the cold breath of air that washed over her as the face got closer to her. She threw her water bottle at the, the apparition, or creature that had showed up and ignored the prickles on her arm as she raced outside the storage room, through the bedroom, down the stairs and outside to her car, only daring to breathe when she had safely locked the door and double checked to make sure there was no one, or no thing, in there with her. 

    She was pretty sure she figured out the reason why the previous owners abandoned the place, now. 

[frozenbound]

I’m curious about what your characters think when they cheat on their partners. Does Hanzo love Cassidy (or vice versa) unconditionally and thinks cheating isn’t inherently bad because there’s no real love involved? Do they see sleeping with other men as something physical and mundane, like jerking off? Or do they get off on the thought of the other finding out and getting hurt? I’m so curious to know

Same anon as before! I’m also curious about your thoughts on Yeehan. Is their relationship only appealing to you when it involves infidelity, or do you enjoy them as a monogamous couple as well? Why do you like the ship more than others?

And my last question! Does Cassidy consider Genji as a potential romantic partner, or are they just having fun and he only has eyes for Hanzo? Sorry for asking so many questions, I’m a big Yeehan fan and I have to admit I’ve felt very uncomfortable with all the cheating in your fics, but I’ve pushed myself to read them because I want to understand the way you perceive such acts. I get a bit jealous when Cole cheats on Hanzo, but I want to believe it’s just a physical act and there are no feelings involved. (Hope you don’t think I’m hating, I think your work is marvelous and you don’t have to change anything just because I’m uncomfortable. I just want to understand your perspective and also learn more about what my own limits are. I might be able to enjoy the cheating more if I know both characters love each other unconditionally)

Thanks for the questions, Anon! I'm sorry it's taken so long to answer; long story short, work has been a real grind and I haven't had a clear enough mind to write, but who knows when it will be clear enough, honestly?

I'll try to answer your questions as clearly as possible, but I'm afraid it's a bit disorganized. Tumblr keeps trying to format this post in weird ways and I can't figure out how to make it stop, so I apologize if it isn't very readable.

So, to answer your first question, Hanzo and Cassidy always do love each other in my fiction, passionately, amorously, to the exclusion of all other people. So, your supposition that their self-justification that their cheating isn't "bad" because there's no love involved is 100% correct; I'd say that they're compartmentalizing it as physical cheating rather than emotional cheating, because if anyone else ever said, "Hey, it's either Hanzo/Cole or me," they'd immediately choose Hanzo/Cole and leave the other person in the dust.

They definitely don't get off on the other finding out and getting hurt. One of the weird things about my cheating fics is that whenever Hanzo or Cole is cheating, the other is strictly exclusive and monogamous (so if Hanzo is cheating, Cole isn't and never would, and if Cole is cheating, Hanzo isn't and never would), so in either case one knows, without a doubt, that if the other finds out, he will be absolutely devastated and will immediately end the relationship, and the very last thing that the cheating partner wants is to hurt the other or end the relationship.

The thing is, though, is that both Hanzo and Cole are extremely talented spies/assassins/mercenaries who know how to hide their activities to a degree that would be insane IRL, e.g., Hanzo having Lúcio blow him under a table at his and Cole's wedding, but that isn't necessarily Hanzo getting a thrill from Cole nearly finding out (although I think he might get a thrill from hiding it from the other people around him in that particular case), it's just that he's a ninja and Lúcio is also skilled at hiding, so they can get away with extremely perilous situations with "minimal" risk, but Hanzo/Cole aren't getting off on nearly getting caught or the thought of hurting the other.

The author and intended audience, meanwhile...

So what's happening here is that I get off on cheating Hanzo or Cole almost getting caught, and I think the same is true for a lot of my audience. I definitely don't want anyone to suffer, though, which is why I reassure in the tags and author's notes that no one will ever, ever be found out, which probably ruins the suspense for a lot of people, but I frankly don't like angst in nearly any form, real angst at least. Very light angst is fine, I guess, but nothing worse than that. I do enjoy some light tension about them getting caught, and the thrill of the taboo/forbidden/risky nature of cheating, but without any of the very serious consequences, and with a clear indication that Hanzo and Cole are very much in love with each other but not with anyone else.

I think I failed to bring that last point across as clearly as I thought because, while Hanzo and Cole aren't in love with the people they're cheating with, they are good friends with nearly all of them, especially Cole and Genji. One reason I think my versions of Hanzo/Cole cheat is because they regard sex as an expression of affection for both lovers and friends. Sex with lovers is preferred because of the close emotional link, but sex with friends is also nice. The "problem" is that their lover happens to be monogamous, but they still want to have sex with their friends.

Which brings me to your last question, to which the answer is no, I don't regard Cole and Genji as potential romantic partners because, ironically, I think that Cole would be strictly monogamous, emotionally/romantically at least, while Genji is strictly open, maybe to the point of being an aromantic sexual person.

I want to make it clear, however, that I don't think aromantic sexual people are more likely to cheat, it's just that I hc Genji as being fairly non-committal in general. His "playboy" past and this voiceline from OW1 are major reasons why:

Winston: Genji, this is just like old times.

Genji: Our paths cross for now. As to the future, we shall see.

Like, Genji will focus on causes that he finds worthy of his time, but his past participation doesn't guarantee his future participation, especially if circumstances change. So, romantically speaking, I don't think of him as forming long-term commitments with anyone.

I feel that Cassidy and Hanzo, on the other hand, are very, very dedicated to their goals and ideals, which includes their romances, so they'd be much more likely to be exclusively monogamous in their emotionally intimate relationships. So my personal headcanon is that Cole would be alright with casual flings with Genji if Cole wasn't involved with anyone else, but he knows Genji wouldn't want anything more than that and he wouldn't try to get that from him. Other people feel much differently about Genji's character, and that's fine! That's just my personal interpretation, and other interpretations are equally valid.

When he meets Hanzo, though...

So, answering your second question last, LOOOOOL, is that I definitely like YeeHan as a monogamous couple. They are my OTP. The only reason I write cheating fics about them is because there aren't any cheating fics about them (except for two that were written years and years ago), so I'm basically providing my own fetish material because no one else will. But I lovelovelove so many of the fics out there about them as an exclusive couple, and I think they are deservedly the most popular couple in OW (by volume of fanworks at least, not necessarily in numbers of fans because R*6, Sp*riken, G*ncy, Ph*rmercy, and others might have as many fans but just don't produce as many fanworks). They just fit together so well, y'know? They both actively search for redemption, they both have dark pasts that are both a source of intense shame and a drive to become better, they both find comfort in the symbols of an idealized distant past that never really existed, they have very strong senses of personal integrity, and they're both extreme idealists in the sense that they try to follow their ideals to the best of their ability, even if the whole world plus their own weaknesses are deadset against them.

They're perfect for each other.

So, if it's any consolation, Anon, I think my fiction of them cheating is extremely unrealistic. They'd never ever actually do any of the things they do in my fics. That's probably the main reason I'm the only one writing about this theme, LOOOOL, because everyone just knows that those two would be so wrapped up in each other that they'd never even consider anyone else. I do try to write them as in-character as possible in my fics just because that's part of my particular kink, but the whole scenario is wildly OOC.

Lastly, I want to thank you so much for reading my stuff, and I'm very grateful that you think it's good! However, if it makes you uncomfortable, then it might be better if you didn't read it. I'm not trying to be rude or hating (and you didn't come across as hating, either, Anon, you wrote your questions very well and respectfully!), and I don't want to come across as hating, either. I just wanted to say that you don't have to spend your time and energy on something as inconsequential as my writing.

I'm writing and sharing some silly stories about an admittedly controversial and problematic theme, but I'm not trying to make a point or comment about something or analyze anything about these characters and/or cheating and infidelity in general. I just like these characters, I like to write about them cheating because it tickles some weird neurons in my brain, and that's it. If that makes you uncomfortable, it's alright for you to engage with it in a respectful and thoughtful manner to try to understand your limits, but I'm personally not sure that there's much, if anything, to gain from it. You might be uncomfortable for a reason that will grant you insight into yourself and your relationship with media in general...or you might just be uncomfortable with it. If your analysis leads you to the former, then I'll be glad that I was a little bit helpful! But if it's simply the latter, then I'd say that you shouldn't invest too much time in my fics. Your time and energy are far too valuable for that!

But, sincerely, thank you very much for the asks, Anon. Again, I'm sorry it took me so long to answer, but they've been on my mind, in a good way, ever since I got them, and it was very interesting to write out my long, rambling answer. I hope you have a good one, Anon!

[robyoon]

A Mirror With a Different Reflection

Uhh, sorry if this gets formatted weird. Tumblr is funky. Just gonna throw this here...

Warning for: Substance/Drug abuse, death, stuff like that!

-

Today, I opened a time capsule. I put a letter in there every year starting from when I was 10. I still haven't opened the letters, but I'm interested to know what was on my mind at those ages. Part of me hopes it's different than now, but with the past I've had, I fear I'll be mistaken. It's almost as if I haven't aged at all. Taking the papers out of the box, it feels just like the day I buried them. 

Okay, well, I read the first one. I was wrong, but the answer is worse than anything I could've predicted. My letter wasn't some innocent, insincere letter. It was a warning. 10 year old me warned myself of who not to become. I don't know if I'm ready to read the rest. 

-

Dear me, 

Hi! Helloooo. :) How old are you? I'm 10. My teacher says I'm smart. I'm very mature. Whatever that means. Ms. teacher telling me the words I spell wrong so you don't be confuse. I like drawing and writing and playing games with Daddy. Ms. teacher went away now so i can bee onest. i thinck i will have more speling erors though. Mommy used to be really nice. Do you rember? Mommy would play games with me and Daddy and then she said bye one day befor scool and now i only see mommy monday and tuesday. I went to therapi and ms lady said mommy was tired. i think it is the bottles mommy has every day after work. daddy always said not to do that like mommy, but then mommy would tell me not to smoke like daddy. i dont know what smoke is, but it sound bad. I will be very sad if you smoke like daddy and drink like mommy. they are very very mean. i dont want you to be very very mean too. ms lady thinks i am very mature for my age because i see these things about mommy and daddy, but they are very clear to me. Ms. teacher is back, so i have to go. 

From, 

you

-

Dear me, 

Hi, me. I turned 11 a few weeks ago. There's another letter in here, from when I was 10, but Mom said I can't read it. I think it's supposed to be a secret until I'm 18. Lots and lots have happened since i last wrote a letter. Dad has a new girlfriend. I think she's kind of weird. She has a kid that is a couple years younger than me. Her name is Alia. She is loud and talks too much. I don't like her, but I have to share a room with her. Something about funds. Mom moved to a new city, so now I only see her a couple times a month. I wish I lived with Mom, but Dad says she isn't fit to raise me. I think he's wrong. Mom is very nice sometimes. She just drinks a lot. And Dad thinks he's perfect, but he smokes a lot a lot a lot. Mom told me when i write this letter i should talk about myself, but there is not much to say. I am very normal. This year is quiet quiet quiet. I'm tired. Goodnight, me. 

From, 

you 

-

Dear me, 

12! Scary number. Letter 3. This year I wanted to compete in soccer, but mom and dad never woke up in time to take me to my games. plus, dad's girlfriend kind of hates me, so she refused to even consider helping out. I don't know what he sees in her. She's just a grouch. I see mom even less though. Only in the summer. I think this was Dad's plan to try to get her out of my life, but he swears he's only doing what's best for me. I think all the smoking and drinking changed him. He used to be smiley and nice, but now he just sits around all day with a sad face. Or he gets angry. Mom found a guy she likes. He seems kind of weird, but I'm happy she's happy. I just wish I could see her more. I miss my mom! I miss my parents being happy. Actually, I miss my parents in general. Future me, try not to be like them, okay? 

From, 

past you 

-

Dear me, 

12 + 1 = 13! I'm 13 now. This is letter #4. How many will there be? Anyways, everything is super super awesome! My mom said she is gonna fight for custody! She swears up and down she isn't drinking or doing anything bad just for me! Wow, I love my mom. She's so so amazing. My mom is the best best best mom ever! Dad has gotten very nice too! I got to start soccer and I have friends! Dad's girlfriend is finally warming up to me, too. Alia is as closed off as ever, but my stepmom says shes just having a hard time adjusting. I'll wait for her. Things are super amazing. Not too much to write about. But I do need to write more. Just by looking at this box, I know my other letters were small. So I'm going to tell you who I hope you'll be when you read this! I want you to be someone funny and super super nice. Do you have loads of friends and do a bunch of super amazing things! I know you will! Especially because I have such amazing grades and nice parents! Okay, writing is a lot harder than I thought. Maybe I have to be older to write super heartfelt things. See you next year! 

From, 

You in the Past

-

Dear me, 

I'm 14. I wasn't going to write a letter this year. I think it might be my last. But this is letter #5. Shortly after I wrote the last letter, mom lost the court battle. She got sad after that. Like, really sad. When I saw her in the summer, she wasn't the same at all. She seemed... Vacant. I know she was trying really hard not to seem bummed that she lost, but I knew it was hurting her. I hate dad for doing this to her. if he had just let her win, she would be the happiest, best mom in the world. Mom fell back into bad habits. She started drinking again, and probably other worse stuff. I tried to tell her that she shouldn't, that she should try again, but she lashed out at me. That's when I realized it was hopeless. Listen, me in the future, don't do the things mom does. she needs it. dont start it. i dont want to need it. 

From, 

Past you 

-

Dear me, 

Mom died. Overdose. Dad's got cancer. Fuck this stupid letter shit. Want to learn something? Don't be like Mom and Dad. Don't fucking have kids, because when they turn 15, they'll want to kill themselves. 

From, 

you.

-

Dear me, 

16. Yay. Dad's terminal. We're trying to enjoy every last moment, but he can barely get out of bed. I visited Mom's grave the other day. Alia went with me. There isn't much to say, really. I'm too tired to keep writing.

From, 

you. 

-

Dear me,

Next year I'll be 18. I thought as I got older, the letters would get bigger. This is the second to last letter. Next year, I'll write one more letter. Then I'll read them all when I turn 25. There isn't much to say. Dad is winning the cancer battle. I think, I hope he will make it. At least until I turn 18. I want him to see his little girl all grown up. For Mom. 

From, 

you. 

-

Dear me, 

18. I turned 18 4 days ago. Dad died 5 days ago. He was one day away. Neither he nor my mother ever got to see me all grown up. They'll miss my graduation, too. My wedding. My first big job. My first house. My first car. Fuck alcohol. Fuck cigarettes. Fuck drugs. Fuck all of it. They're the reason why I lost my parents. The reason why Alia doesn't focus in school. The reason why I have to deal with so much fucking torment. Me in 7 years, please. Please don't become my parents. Don't ever pick up a drink. Don't do drugs. Don't smoke a cigarette. Be the one that learns. 

From,

you. 

-

So. 25. Here I am, reading these letters in the darkness of my bedroom. I set down the paper with tears in my eyes. Who have I become? Why am I like this? I spent so long hoping for the exact opposite, and I can't even do that. Goddammit all. 

This is depressing. After reading those letters, I had to put out my cigarette. I took a look around my room. Nothing but trash, leftover dinner from last night, and glued-together beer cans in the shape of a pyramid. I'm so sorry. 

At least there's one promise I can keep. I'll never have kids. Never. I don't want to put myself or the child through that. I just wish I could be better. I think this is rock bottom. Isn't this depressing? I couldn't break the cycle, no matter how hard I tried. 

I am the person I hate the most.

[chaoxfix]

3 and 8 👀?

ty for the ask !!

3. sm 5 1

OHHH THIS this one is mostly done! im just gonna add a few more scenes. its sonic and mighty. its a half platonic half romantic shipfic, i just love how they care about each other in this very specific universe im working on lol. its almost 6K

heres a lil snippet:

“Wish you’d stop by more often, blue.” Sonic looks up from across the campfire. Tails is asleep, half in his lap, and Ray is in a similar position, leaned against Mighty. Neither Sonic or Mighty are willing to move – but neither really needs to. The night is quiet, aside from the crackling fire. And from this distance, Mighty gets to look at his old friend. “I want to,” Sonic says, and there’s an honesty in his voice that Mighty doesn’t doubt. “I just have a responsibility.” “What, and I don’t?” Mighty smiles, lopsided and fond. “I remember when freeing animals was the responsibility. Then you had to go and get yourself a real job-” “Oh, so now it’s a real job? It wasn’t last month.” “Last month Eggman’s threat was a big lobster,” Mighty says. “Not scary.” “You should have fought it then, I was wringing my quills out for a week after that.” Sonic glances down to Tails, and gently smoothes out his bangs. Hm, Mighty thinks. There’s a story there, somehow. “…It took ages. If Eggman ever makes another underwater base I might just quit, honestly.” Mighty chuckles and leans forward, resting his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand. He smiles despite his griping, and looks at the way Sonic’s form is bent by the heat from this vantage point. “What are you looking at?” Sonic asks. Looking a little less relaxed than before. “You’re getting old,” Mighty says.

8: sf battery amy

ohhh this one this one is hard to write but ive written so much for it. its at 7.7K i have no idea where im going. but heres a snippet!

“Do you have any idea how hard this is to watch?” 

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. But right now I can’t, Amy. I just can’t.” 

“Can’t what?” she asks, expression genuinely hurt. “Just tell me, please. If you just tell me what’s wrong, I might be able to help-”

Sonic flinches. Amy isn’t sure what part of her tone is making him so skittish. She just wants to show that she cares. She tries not to take it to heart – she knows he’s been like this with everyone. But with her in particular, he’s been so much worse. 

“I can’t.” He says it flippantly – but he’s fidgeting. Fingertips tapping against his thighs like he needs to get out of there right this minute. 

But he hasn’t run yet. So Amy digs her heels in. 

“Yes, you can! We’re your friends, we aren’t going to hurt you. I’m not going to hurt you,” she says. “All we want is for you to feel like yourself again, because you clearly don’t-!” 

“I do.” 

“Look me in the eye and tell me that again,” she says, getting fired up despite herself. 

Sonic stands up straighter and looks her in the eye. “I. Do.” But he quickly looks away, cheeks hot with anger – or maybe shame. She can’t tell and she can’t take it. He rubs the back of his neck, ears flicking to the side. “...Now drop it, Amy. I know talking about feelings is your thing, but it’s never been mine. All I want is to finish thrashing robots for the day.”

“Knuckles already finished. It’s getting dark, and you need a good night’s sleep before going back out there.” 

“You guys are way too comfortable giving me orders,” Sonic mutters. “Thanks but no thanks. If I feel like smashing bots, I’m going to go out and smash bots.”

[bonefall]

First of all, sorry for the quick unfollow and refollow, I don't know why Tumblr puts those two buttons so close together when in dashboard view. But anyway, interesting thoughts on the tribe! I'm particularly curious to know whether you had any thoughts on the naming system.

It always struck me as the most bizarre thing how the writers went to all the trouble of coming up with names based on poorly understood stereotypes of polysynthetic languages and then just... went and gave everyone a much shorter nickname so they wouldn't have to type the whole thing. Like what was even the point?

I found the way names worked in DotC to be the most intuitive and natural way a cat society would come up with names and it made perfect sense to me how the jump to the prefix-suffix system would go. The transition from descriptive phrase names to sentence-word style names in contrast feels like a much more drastic leap in comparison.

I'm also wondering if you have any thoughts on the historical memory of the tribe, whether as remembered by they themselves or by the splinter groups. Do you think the Clans would be able to recognize the tribe from any founding myth story of the Clans? Would the tribe have any stories regarding the formation of the Clans in turn? If given a description of say, The Sisters, do you think they could piece together that this is a splinter group?

Oh and finally I'm wondering about the Wards. How do you view the relationship between them? Do they serve a merely practical purpose in maintaining the territory or are they more central in defining the identity of a tribe cat? Is membership to one over another fixed or is it more fluid? Does this tripartite division play any part in tribe religion?

Names

I have a LOT of thoughts on the naming system. I don't completely hate it, honestly, but the Erins aren't getting any points for the way they implemented it. Not only did they make up a lowkey insulting stereotype of native-sounding names, but then they made fun of it in the field guides and the names are all so bad that they HAVE to be shortened.

And by bad, I mean that these names are simply unpleasant to read and say. Brook Where Small Fish Swim is an awkward sentence, it's long, it's not poetic. It could easily be Minnows in the Brook, Brook of Little Fish, and it still wouldn't be great but it's better!

Possible naming system tweaks

Unfortunately with my re-write I'm not trying to completely overhaul the naming system, but one tweak I DID consider is that a Tribe cat is born with a diminutive name (Fawn, Pebble, Sapling), and then when they're acknowledged as a full hunter they take a full name based on the baby name, plus anything noteworthy.

So for an example, Brook was born Trickle. For being an excellent fisher, she's given the name Brook of Minnows. Swoop of Chestnut Hawk was named Egg. There can also be 'legacy' names, for example, if Lamb's parent Oak died, they may take on the name "Oak's Branch" or "Sheep Asleep under Oaken Shade".

Rhyming would be common, most names invoke some sort of imagery, onomatopoeic names like "Pitterpatter" and "Babbling" happen occasionally

So, where the clan cats carry a suffix forever, a tribe cat just has a childhood name they're meant to grow out of. The evolution came from the Warriors deciding that a kitten is given both their persistent suffix AND a rank at birth, on behalf of their heavily structured society.

On that note, Tribe cats wouldn't be weird about names, in contrast to their Clan cousins. Changes are common, Lamb may have grown into Fearsome Ram at first, then renamed himself Sheep when his dad Oak died, some cats find their childhood names meaningful such as Stormfur's son Feather, so they keep it as part of the full title.

In a way, the full name would be more of a way to start conversation on the cat's life story... which is more relevant to the story-telling/cooperation based overhauls I made to their culture, which I'll get to in a moment

But am I actually going to use it?

I'm considering this system, but I don't know if I actually will. It doesn't actually address the true concern about the Tribe naming system, which is that these sorts of names themselves invoke bad memories of the disrespectful translation of Native American names by colonists (Oceti Sakowin nation in particular), and in trying to fix it I only ended up causing more similarities even though it was completely not my intention at all and I only realized it after I'd already made it.

I'm trying to sever the Tribe from indigenous American inspiration (these cats are in England) as much as possible without changing too much... so even though my reworked naming system would fit the culture I'm making the Tribe into, I think my smartest option would just be to not even touch it.

Historical Memory

The Tribe and the Clans are both actually getting a buff in remembering history; but the Tribe's storytelling skills are unmatched.

The Clan has a pretty clear history back to the SkyClan Exile, but is fuzzy on the details before then. The Tribe can remember when Clear Sky and Co left the mountains, their names, and a simplified description. After all, they've only had THREE Stonetellers between then and now.

They tell a lot of stories and have robust oral tradition. They fill boring travels, they get them through cold winters, they communicate morals and warnings through generations. Jokes, songs, legends, it's all highly valued.

Medics probably have a connection to these traditions as well, having clever quips and quick words is a sign of intelligence to Tribe cats.

The Cave Colony is often used for sacred storytelling events because of the natural acoustics, and Stoneteller's primary function is to share their knowledge and ancestral connections.

You CAN bother Stoneteller with just about anything if you're willing to make the journey, that's his job, he's there to relay advice from your grandpaw AND give his own input. Clan cats would be kind of shocked at how casually they contact the Tribe of Endless Hunting.

So, yes! They would absolutely be able to identify the Sisters as a splinter group, and in addition, they celebrate on the return of the Clan cats as long lost siblings come home!

The Relationship Between Wards

Is it a different river before the waterfall? Is it born twice in the valley? Nope! The Tribe of Rushing Water sees itself as one people. The Stone, Cave, and Valley Wards are like townsfolk, largely based on proximity to hunting grounds and tribemates you can coordinate a hunt with.

(They extend this mindset to the Clans as well, overjoyed to find them settling in the Lake territory, as the Lake is connected to their river.)

Of course, there's still a fair amount of home-Ward pride! But rivalries between Wards are friendly, and cats travel between colonies for any casual reason. Visiting friends, hunting a particular quarry, just needing a change of pace, attending a celebration, whatever.

In a crisis, the other two Wards will care for the vulnerable one, especially illness. Quarantining a Ward is VERY easy, and Stoneteller themself will come to advise its medics, utilizing their invulnerability to starvation and sickness. Other wards pick up the hunting slack.

Governance of Wards

Governance is also very loose. They aren't like clans who obey a Leader and their Deputy; decision making is very decentralized. The closest thing they probably have to authority is a particularly extroverted Medic or a respected elder who calls for and organizes votes and trials.

Religion is only tied to governance insofar as Stoneteller is a mouthpiece for their ancestors. Tribe cats don't see religion as a top-down force; every cat is already talking to their ancestors and can make decisions on their own behalf, Stoneteller simply directly relays advice.

In REALLY rough times, the Wards will gather together and make big decisions. This is probably spurred by any Ward voting to call for it, who then sends a messenger to fetch the others, and they meet in the Cave Colony.

But unlike the Clans, this does mean that there is no central organization. There is a VERY real risk of being ostracized if you're an unpleasant cat with no family. Telling someone that no one will hunt for them when they're old is an actual threat; but it's very rare that this happens.

To that end it's not impossible that members of a specific Ward don't live in the associated colony. Some cats like to have space, and live on the outskirts until they're too old to fend for themselves.

[acourtofthought]

I don’t think what went down with that e/lriel was fair. I think it was beneath you. I am also using my phone, so I apologise for any weird formatting.

Let me preface this by saying - You made valid points. I just don’t understand why you went to their post, and commented at all? To be honest, I don’t think you were in the right on that, and it makes us look bad. We’ve been accused of baiting in the past, and I’ve always scoffed at it..but you undeniably did go onto their post to seemingly start a fight. I also don’t think it’s a fair claim, that they could stop responding - when it was their post and blog to begin with, and not some random post that invited discussion. That is an unrealistic, and unfair expectation. I would tell someone who came into my space like that to “fuck off” too. That e/lriel you engaged with IS problematic, undeniably so. Everyone knows it. I just feel you gave them something valid to whine about this time. I am genuinely confused and frequently disgusted by our ACOTAR community as a whole. We call each other hypocrites, and yet do the very same thing we accuse our antis of. One of your reiterated points is “you hate when e/lriels say Eluciens lack reading comprehension” - a very fair gripe to be sure! However I’ve seen numerous posts from “our” side of the line, claiming that very thing of E/lriels..I’ve seen much worse claimed of them, by us..Truly, I wish you would have just vagued that E/lriel instead of engaging like that. It was disappointing, and I’m annoyed that today I actually feel bad for them.

I apologize that my responding to something in the Elain tag has upset you to the point that you felt the need to message me.

I LOVE a lot of the people that I've interacted with through Tumblr. I love reading their blogs, their ideas, their thoughts. And I love that there is a collective group who love Elucien like I do.

At the same time, I am still an independent thinker and operate based on my emotions and thoughts. If I feel angered over others being attacked then I'm not the kind of person who's going to sit back and do nothing. If something frustrates me and I feel driven to speak up, I'm going to do it.

Truly, I apologize if that somehow gives the collective Eluciens a bad name. But the Original Poster was ridiculing others under the Elain tag which leaves it open for anyone following the Elain tag to comment on.

I was presenting an opinion to her, in response to a post which I felt did not provide accurate information. If she did not like my reblog response, she could have ignored me. She could have blocked me. But she chose to respond and progressively got nastier. I don't think there is anything wrong with responding to an open blog that has the tag of Elain in it, regardless of whether or not that blog was created by her or not. She blogged something with a tag that would be seen by both Elucien and Elriels. That's like saying when an actor posts a promo for their movie, only people who agree with a certain group of critics should be allowed to comment. The Elain tag belongs to no one in particular which, in my opinion means it's open for discussion. When a neutral tag is used, people are going to speak up. I don't think that means anyone is giving their ship a bad name if it's done in a certain way. What gives certain sides of a fandom a "bad name" is not the back and forth discussion with someone. It's when name calling and belittling others happens. It's when people forget how to have any actual debate and resort to pettiness.

I'm not sure what more to say because while I'm sorry it bothered you to this extent, I'm not going to be the kind of person who doesn't speak out when I feel like it's in defense of others. I know I don't always succeed but for the most part, I try to discuss the book rather than turning into a personal attack. And while I don't enjoy having someone upset with me, I can't promise I won't speak out again in the future.

[kpop-zone]

Selfish | Jihyo

Hogwarts AU | Enemies to Lovers | “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck this shit. Fuck.”

Wordcount: 3,890

A/N: Sorry if the formatting is weird, but Tumblr won’t let me post anything on my computer, so I had to post this from my phone 😬

“Y/N!”

When Jihyo saw you running through the hallway, she could immediately feel anger seething within her, and she called your name with a sharp tone.

“Oh Jihyo, fancy meeting you here.”

After hearing her voice, you had stopped running abruptly and were now grinning at her sheepishly, pretending like you didn’t know why she was staring you down.

“Stop feigning innocence, Y/N. You’re late. Again! Snape will for sure deduct some points from Gryffindor.”

Jihyo felt like ripping your head off. Of all the Gryffindors you were by far the most reckless one and usually involved when your house lost some points in one way or another. Your favorite activity was to prank Slytherins which always led to particularly hard punishments for your house by Professor Snape, the head of Slytherin. But you just didn’t seem to learn from your mistakes.

“You’re late too though...”

You smirked cheekily, causing her to get even angrier.

“Yeah but I have this opposing to you.”

With her right hand, she pulled out McGonagall’s letter that allowed her to be late for classes if her position as prefect required it and waved it in front of your face.

“That’s unfair.”

You pouted and Jihyo had to suppress her laughter. It was a little unfair indeed. She had simply overslept this morning, but as a prefect, she rarely got punished for anything. But she always told herself that she deserved those benefits. After all, she had to deal with you and your shenanigans almost every day.

“It’s not. I had some...important stuff to do this morning. And now go before we’re even later!”

She lied and you rolled your eyes before starting to run again.

Like expected, both of you arrived late to class and Snape gave you a lecture about the unreliability of Gryffindors for almost fifteen minutes. At the end, he took away some points from Gryffindor with a smug grin tugging on his lips, causing Jihyo to curse you silently. She was sure that Gryffindor had only lost the house cup championships to Slytherin because of you the past years. This year, she had to put a stop to it. Talking with you, however, wasn’t useful. The two of you were in your fifth year already and not once had you listened to her. She had to find another way to keep you in check. The only question was how... The options had thinned out over the years and it seemed like she was only left with one by now. Despite hating you with a passion though, that option seemed to be a little drastic and Jihyo had shied away from pursuing it until now. A fact that changed, however, when she walked into the Gryffindor common room that night.

“That was hilarious...”

“You should have seen Sejoo’s face.”

“I would have never dared to do that.”

Agitated chatter was filling the whole room and Jihyo immediately knew that something bad must have happened; something that most likely was connected with you in some way.

“What happened?”

Jihyo huffed while plopping down next to Jeongyeon on the couch.

“I don’t think you want to know...”

Her friend responded hesitantly and Jihyo buried her face in her hands in desperation.

“Y/N?”

She asked although she already knew the answer to her question.

“Yeah...Let’s just say the incident involved Y/N, Sejoo, the ‘Ossio Dispersimus’ spell and... a 200-points deduction for Gryffindor.”

Hearing the statement of Jeongyeon, Jihyo’s head snapped up and she looked at her classmate bewildered.

“200 POINTS???”

She yelled, causing the surrounding Gryffindors to look at her in shock. But Jihyo couldn’t care less about them. Enough was enough. You could be glad that you weren’t in the room right now, because she was sure that she would kill you if you were standing in front of her in this moment. You had once again ruined the championship for them with your selfishness and she was tired of it. You had to disappear. If you weren’t part of the student body anymore, Gryffindor couldn’t lose points because of you. And there was one easy way to reach that: she needed to get you suspended for the rest of the year and she already knew how.

If there was one person in this school that hated you more than she did, it was Snape. He had tried to get rid of you on several occasions, but your misdeeds had never been severe enough to make him reach his goal. But if she would help a little, she was sure that they could get you out of the way with joined forces. It was a risky scheme, but Jihyo was sure that she could come up with the perfect plan. For two weeks, she martyred her brain to find a way to set you up while protecting her own reputation simultaneously. Coincidentally and much to Jihyo’s chagrin, you didn’t get into any more trouble in those two weeks. On the contrary, you actually stood out for behaving extremely exemplary. You were the first one to appear in every class and the last one to leave because you offered your help to the teachers who often made you stay longer to clean up the classroom. You also didn’t roam around in the hallways anymore after curfew and didn’t even prank the Slytherins. In fact, there were now other Gryffindors that did more mischief than you.

Your good behavior didn’t manage to lift Jihyo’s mood though. If any, it made it worse. Now that she had finally decided to take action against you, you were playing innocent? Of course, her conscience was immediately telling her to stop her plan and to give you another chance. But her brain strongly opposed to that idea. Your good behavior wasn’t enough to erase all the trouble that you had caused the rest of the year. Therefore, she decided to follow through with her plan, even though her bad conscience heavily weighted down on her.

On the due date of her plan, Jihyo went to the library, tightly clasping a letter in her hand while nervously looking around. Being secretive definitely wasn’t her strong suit. As a prefect, she usually advocated honesty and compliance, so everything that she was doing right now went against her principles. She kept telling herself that it was for the good of Gryffindor, but the little voice in her head kept telling her that she was acting out of pure selfishness and it took all of Jihyo’s strength to muffle it. Arriving in the library, she scanned the students and soon found the perfect protagonists of her scheme. There were some first-year Slytherins roaming the aisles, apparently searching for some books to help them solve their Transfiguration homework. Their school supplies were scattered across a table next to one of the huge windows in the library and Jihyo approached it while skimming her letter one more time.

If you want to learn some curses that they don’t teach at school, come to the Forbidden Forest at midnight.

Sincerely,

Y/N L/N

Jihyo cringed at the primitivity of the letter, but she knew that it would work. Slytherins were overachievers with an affinity for illegal activities. They would be too intrigued by the offer to turn it down. After looking around one last time to make sure that no one was watching her, Jihyo dropped the letter on the table of the first years before scurrying off. Her heart was beating out of her chest and she felt like she was close to passing out. She didn’t know how anyone could enjoy going against the rules; she felt absolutely miserable right now. Not being able to be around people any longer, Jihyo wanted to rush off to her dormitory, but before she could leave the library, someone suddenly called her name.

“Jihyo!”

Jihyo didn’t need a second to realize who the voice belonged to and her body froze instantly. Had you caught her red-handed? For a split second, she considered running away, but before she had the chance to, she could already feel your hand on her shoulder. Reluctantly, she turned around with guilt reflecting in her eyes, ready to get yelled at by you.

“Um...I know it’s a little late, but I wanted to apologize to you.”

You mumbled sheepishly and Jihyo’s jaw dropped. That was definitely not what she had expected to hear from you.

“I know that I’m the reason for a lot of your worries and I also know that I took it too far with the incident with Sejoo two weeks back. I’m really sorry about that and I will try my best to make it up to you and the whole house. I’m proud to be a Gryffindor, so I want to make you guys proud in return too from now on.”

You continued while firmly looking into her eyes as if you wanted to convey the seriousness of your words by allowing her a glance into your soul. A glance that Jihyo didn’t want, because she could feel the complete sincerity of your apology and it made her actions even harder to bear. Why did you need to tell her all this now?

“Um...i-it’s a little late for regret now, don’t you think?”

Jihyo stuttered, trying to sound snappish, but her bad conscience forbade her to harm you even more. You didn’t seem to notice the lack of sharpness in her voice though. Instead, you looked like a beaten puppy who was painfully aware of their misdeeds.

“I know and I’m really sorry. I hope you know that this is nothing personal. I’m really grateful that you’re our prefect, no one would be better at this job than you. I’ve never meant to upset you with my actions.”

You smiled sadly, managing to break Jihyo’s heart. What had she done? You didn’t deserve to be suspended and she didn’t deserve your kind words. What person would set somebody up like this? She needed to get that letter back. Panicked, she looked over your shoulder to the table of the first years, but to her sorrow, the Slytherins were nowhere to be seen. They must have left the library already. Looking back at you, she could see that you were anxiously waiting for some kind of response and she would have loved nothing more than to give you the chance to explain yourself. Maybe the two of you had started off on the wrong foot right from the start. But there was no time to talk right now; she needed to get that letter back first.

“I need to go.”

Jihyo exclaimed breathlessly before running out of the library, leaving you behind with a confused expression on your face. Frantically, she ran down the corridor while scanning the passing people. Yellow, blue and red uniforms passed her by but not a single green one.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck this shit. FUCK! Where are those little brats??”

She cursed under her breath as she reached the stairs. She had no idea where the Slytherin common room was and even if she did follow another Slytherin student there, she would not know the passwords to enter. Desperately, Jihyo grasped her hair and turned around her own axis. What was she supposed to do now? The castle was too big to find the first years. Panicked, she walked up and down the corridor, trying to think of a way to prevent the fatal consequences of her plan from happening. Her only chance was to stop the first years from going to the Forbidden Forest tonight. If she could intercept the Slytherins on their way to the meeting point, they couldn’t get caught by a preofessor and the letter wouldn’t come into play. It was the only way to make this right.

Therefore, Jihyo reluctantly went to the Gryffindor common room where she waited on the couch in front of the chimney like on pins and needles. The hours passed painfully slow, but after a while one fellow student after the other left the common room to go to bed until Jihyo was the only one left. 11:45, the clock face read, causing her to jump off the couch and to stumble to the exit. Under no circumstances, she could let the first years slip through her fingers; she needed to stop them. Being allowed to roam the hallways after curfew as a prefect, Jihyo didn’t worry about running into any professors and headed straight to the entrance hall where she was just about to open the heavy double doors when they suddenly swung open without her help.

“Oh Ms. Park, I’m glad to meet you here. Look who I’ve found loitering outside.”

Mr. Filch croaked smugly while dragging two of the first years from the library by their robes.

Shit.

Jihyo tried to fake a smile, but on the inside she felt like dying. How was she supposed to change the course of these events now?

“What a lucky catch. Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Filch. I can take them to their head of house.”

She tried to pull the first years to her side, but Mr. Filch tightly clasped their uniforms.

“It’s ok. I will accompany you. I want to propose some punishments.”

He giggled ugly before shoving the scared Slytherins forward. Reluctantly, Jihyo followed them to Professor Snape’s office while martyring her brain to find a solution for this hopeless situation. But there didn’t seem to be one. Before she knew it, Mr. Filch already knocked on the dark oak door to Snape’s office which swung open a second later to reveal the irritated-looking professor.

“What?”

He grumbled and Mr. Filch snickered silently.

“I’ve found two of your students outside. After curfew.”

Mr. Filch put exaggerated emphasis on his last sentence, causing Professor Snape to grunt angrily before motioning all of them to come inside. He looked at the two first years in disgust, making Jihyo wonder why he was the head of Slytherin in the first place.

“P-professor Snape, we can explain.”

One of the Slytherins stuttered anxiously before pulling out Jihyo’s letter from his robe, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. She couldn’t just rip it out of the younger student’s hands and destroy it, right? That would be too suspicious. Instead, she had to watch how Snape took the letter and started reading it grimly before his face lit up suddenly.

“Y/N...”

He mumbled, looking happier than Jihyo had ever seen him before.

“Let’s pay Professor McGonagall a visit.”

Before anyone could disagree with him, Snape already scurried out of the room and the rest of them had to follow him wordlessly. Jihyo didn’t know who looked more miserable right now. The two first years or herself. All of them slouched their shoulders and regret was written all over their faces. Filch and Snape on the other hand resembled two Cheshire cats, especially after bolting into Professor McGonagall’s office.

“Y/N has endangered the lives of two first years. I plead for an immediate suspension.”

Professor Snape blurted out before giving the other professor the chance to process this ambush. Jihyo had never been more distressed in her life to have a plan of hers work out just like she had wanted it to.

“I beg your pardon?”

Professor McGonagall asked confused, causing Snape to snicker in amusement.

“These two students here have willfully been lured into a life-threatening situation by Y/N L/N, your student.”

He repeated himself while handing over Jihyo’s letter. Silently, the head of Gryffindor read the harmful words before sighing in desperation.

“That is a severe delinquency indeed...but I’m sure there must be an explanation for this.”

Professor McGonagall was quick to jump to your defense, causing Jihyo to draw hope that was destroyed a second later though when Snape scoffed dismissively.

“Yes, there is an explanation. Y/N L/N is a danger for this school, or have you forgotten about the incident with Sejoo only two weeks back? As a responsible head of house, I can’t tolerate such behavior.”

He narrowed his eyes and Professor McGonagall straightened up defensively.

“I haven’t forgotten about that, but if I may remind you, it was your student who used a slur about Ms. Park’s decent here that caused this whole incident.”

She bit back while pointing at Jihyo who flinched in surprise. What did Professor McGonagall mean by that?

An unsettling feeling started to form in Jihyo’s stomach, and she gulped thickly. What if everything wasn’t like it had seemed?

“That still doesn’t justify the endangerment of fellow students.”

Snape tried to distract from the misdeeds of his own student, leading to a stare down between the two heads of houses. The tension in the room increased with every second until the door of the office suddenly swung open. Inside came Filch accompanied by you, causing Jihyo’s eyes to widen. She hadn’t even noticed that the caretaker had left the room.

“I’ve taken the liberty to bring L/N in.”

He snickered before shoving you into the room.

You ended up standing next to Jihyo and looked at her nervously.

“W-what is this about?”

You stuttered, trying to sound relaxed although a slight trembling in your voice gave away that your heart had to be pounding in your chest.

“You have been caught red-handed. It’s over.”

Snape grinned while pointing at the letter in Professor McGonagall’s hand. Confused, you frowned, obviously not being able to know what he was talking about.

“Why would you lure them into the Forbidden Forest?”

The head of Gryffindor asked in disappointment and you looked at Jihyo for help.

“I did what?”

The confusion and fright in your voice was unmistakable and Jihyo hung her head in shame.

“Quit playing innocent Y/N. We have all the proof we need!”

Snape yelled causing you to flinch in shock. In reflex, Jihyo immediately grabbed your hand and you squeezed it tightly.

“You’re going down for this! You lured two first years into the Forbidden Forest. They could have died if Mr. Filch wouldn’t have found them in time. I will not let this go until you are suspended for the rest of the year.”

With every word more tears started to pool in your eyes and Jihyo couldn’t manage to avert her gaze from you. You looked so helpless right now and all she wanted to do was to save you from this horrible place.

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about. I have never seen this letter before. Why would I Iure first years into the Forbidden Forest??”

Your voice cracked in desperation, but Snape just kept on accusing you aggressively. After all, you had a history of pranking Slytherins. Jihyo couldn’t imagine how wronged you had to feel right now, and she gently rubbed your hand with her thumb, not knowing whether she was trying to calm you or herself down by doing so. She knew that she could end all this by admitting that it had been her who had left the letter, but despite being a Gryffindor, she wasn’t brave enough to do that. How was she supposed to explain it? How would she be supposed to ever look into your eyes again?

“That’s enough. We’ve understood your point, Professor.”

Professor McGonagall eventually ended Snape’s rant before looking at you with a sad face.

“I see how this incident is out of character for you, Y/N. Nevertheless, I have to agree with Professor Snape, the evidence is overwhelming. Therefore...you are hereby suspended until we can prove your innocence.”

Your jaw dropped, hearing these words from the head of Gryffindor and you looked at Jihyo as if she was your last hope. But she wasn’t strong enough to save you. Instead, she flung her arms around your neck and pulled you against her body.

“I’m so sorry.”

She sobbed, not being able to hold back her own tears anymore. Suddenly, however, she could feel how you started to stroke her back soothingly.

“Hey, it’s ok. This is not your fault.”

You tried to calm her, apparently not suspecting her betrayal in the slightest.

“Y/N, let’s go to your dormitory to get your belongings.”

Professor McGonagall asked you and you pulled away. With a light smile tugging on your lips, you reached out and gently wiped away the tears that were streaming down Jihyo’s cheeks.

“Don’t be sad, your job is actually going to be a lot easier from now on. Although I really would have loved to celebrate our victory in the championship together at the end of the year.”

You chuckled sadly to cheer her up before trying to turn around to leave but Jihyo held on to you and crashed you into her body again. She couldn’t bear to see you cheering her up any longer. Not after what she had done.

“It was me. I wrote the letter.”

She whispered into your ear while new tears streamed down her cheeks.

In disbelief, you separated your bodies and stared at her with betrayal written all over your face, causing her to avert her gaze. Her guilt was squeezing all air out of her lungs and she waited impatiently for you to expose her. This charade was unbearable.

“And here I was thinking that you were starting to like me back... What a foolish thought.”

You chuckled, causing Jihyo’s head to snap up. Slowly, you started to back away from her while grabbing your forehead in disbelief and Jihyo shakily reached out for you.

“Y/N...”

The words in Jihyo’s mind were all jumbled and the only thing she could utter was your name. Why weren’t you yelling at her? Why weren’t you standing up for your innocence? Your calmness and the disappointed look in your face was slowly killing her. She needed you to punish her for her betrayal, but you didn’t show the slightest inclination to do so.

“No, it’s ok. Don’t worry about it.”

You mumbled, still seeming to be dazed due to her confession.

“Y/N, what are you doing? You should expose me...”

Jihyo shook your shoulder lightly, but you only smiled at her.

“Yeah you’re probably right. But I won’t. I could never hurt you like that.”

You shrugged while trying to remove her hand from her shoulder but Jihyo only tightened her grasp.

“What are you talking about, Y/N?”

She furrowed her brow in confusion although the blurry picture in her head was slowly starting to get clearer, revealing a truth that she would have preferred to keep ignoring.

“I genuinely hope that you’re happy now, Jihyo. That’s all I ever wanted. You should look out for Sejoo and his gang though. They don’t like to see a muggle-born in such a powerful position and I don’t know what they will do now that I’m not going to be there anymore.”

With that, you removed her hand from your shoulder and walked up to Professor McGonagall who looked at you apologetically before giving you a sign to leave the room. One last time, you turned around and nothing hurt Jihyo more than to see that the sadness in your eyes still couldn’t manage to erase the affection that reflected in them. She had been so blind all this time...

Who would have thought that she had been the selfish one all along?

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

MY KHUXDRML TUMBLR TAGS MASTERLIST

Notes: Tumblr is a big dumdum when it comes to tags and formatting, so I’m sorry if this doesn’t work that well. Shoot me an ask if you’re having trouble looking for anything in particular and I’ll try to find it for you!

GENERAL TAGS

my posts - Almost every post I’ve made; encapsulates a majority of the posts found in tags below. Includes both khux and non-khux stuff. Will update if I ever create a specific khux posts tag.

my art - Like above, includes both khuxdrml (mostly khux) and non-khuxdrml stuff

my fics - Posts that include my fics + info and sporadic posts about them. Alternatively, you could go straight to AO3. I’m very proud of these, thanks in advance if you decide to read anything! And feel free to ask me questions and stuff!

kh fics - Other people’s fics. Great stuff in there~

kh aus - (from the entire series)

my headcanons - Lots of juicy stuff that live rent free inside my brain at all times

shitposts - Every meme, joke or just plain weird thing I’ve said. This is a fun one to look through!

key kids - Stuff that has people’s key kids (not my own) in them

Roadie the key kid - Stuff of my own key kid, Roadie

khux liveblogging - All the stuff I’ve said while playing khux! I dropped out at some point in Wreck-It Ralph’s climax before picking it up again just before the shut down, but you can see a lot of stuff all the way back from the app’s global release date in 2015!!

khux jp - Raw reactions to unofficially translated cutscenes

khdr liveblogging - same deal as khux except I gave up physically playing it once the hiatus hit lol (I watched the cutscenes)

khml liveblogging - where are you bestie 🥲

business in the back cover - My liveblog of Back Cover

SPECIFIC POSTS

my Ephemera character analysis essay

Overmorrow (spoilers!) - The masterpost for my magnum opus, an Ephy-centric khux and khml interquel ficverse! (Alternatively, you can go straight to my Dropbox folder to avoid getting spoiled :))

chi infodumps - Various posts where I just ramble on about something from the chi saga, mostly food for thought. [in the process of trying to add more older posts to this!]

Daybreak Town culture - A mix of canon lore, cool fan worldbuilding, and general vibes that make me think of DT

Scala culture - see above

kh tumblr - KH + Tumblr posts

ranking best to best - Ranking images/appearances of characters, from best to best

khux inspired asks - A list of asks you can ask your buddies inspired by khux things/characters

veterans discount chi saga edition

aisno - “astra inclinant, sed non obligant”, my series of brainplayer / plain comics

CHARACTER TAGS

Notes: Aside from Ephemera’s tag, all of these are kind of inconsistent, so apologies in advance.

timeless child - Ephemera

timeless nort - Ephemera but uhhh having a Bad Time

timeless familia - Ephemera’s canon family :D (sometimes non-canon/speculative stuff may be mixed in here)

the ophiuchus family - Ephemera’s family but the version where I make everything up and have lots of fun with it

the destiny weaver - Skuld

khx player - A very inconsistent tag that mostly includes my own drawings/interpretations of the character that is “the Player”

khml player - Player2’s tag. I’m trying to do better with them :)

sweet wind child - Ven

knight in gothic armour - Blaine / Brain

girl of paradise - Strelitzia

the pink pursuer - Lauriam

larxene 2 electric boogaloo - Elrena

chibi chi sibs - Lauriam and Strelitzia (and Elrena too when we thought she could’ve been the sibling)

dandy kids - Union Leaders as a group

fearsome fam - Foretellers and Luxu and MoM

sewer squad - The group of friendly npcs you venture around with for a while

they walk a lonely road - general Dark Road tag

family feud scala edition - general Missing Link tag

SHIP TAGS

Notes:

I enjoy multishipping. I don’t condone any kind of ship hate. You are not obligated to look through any of these if you do not want to.

Yes I know things can be interpreted as platonic (and some of these posts are indeed platonic but I just tag them all the same regardless of the specifics of the relationship), I’m just here for a good time.

I love the ship names I came up with. Does that mean they’re good ship names? Not necessarily 😅

This is not a comprehensive list of all the ships I ship. Please shoot an ask if you have any questions :)

skulmera - Skuld/Ephemera (aka epheskul)

ephelayer - Ephemera/Player

skulayer - Skuld/Player

skulmerayer - Skuld/Ephemera/Player my pride and joy ❤️

blauriam - Blaine/Lauriam

strelaine - Blaine/Strelitzia

plitzia - Strelitzia/Player

ephelauri - Ephemera/Lauriam

epheven - Ephemera/Ven

ephelaine - Ephemera/Blaine (aka braineph - Ephemera/Brain)

ephelaurain - Ephemera/Blaine/Lauriam

brainplayer - Brain/Player(2) (aka plain)

xehaqus - Xehanort/Eraqus

xehabaldr - Xehanort/Baldr

urdvala - Urd/Vala

hovidar - Hoder/Vidar

gulava - Gula/Ava

iraced - Ira/Aced

invira - Invi/Ira

avavi - Ava/Invi

friendly attitude - White-haired male npc/Green-haired male npc

skandra - Silver-haired female npc (Skati)/Curly-haired female npc (Leandra)

[heyheydidjaknow]

Chapter 11

Guess who's back? Back again. Back three hours late, but back nonetheless. I'd feel more sorry if I was more sorry. This is officially the longest chapter as of now, so, yay. Someone challenged me to not swear for a chapter, and I believe I fulfilled that requirement. I'm just gonna go sleep.

Update: APPARENTLY, TUMBLR DOES THE TRANSFER FORMATTING THING ON LAPTOPS AND I HATE EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE RIGHT NOW SO MUCH. I usually do all my editing on my phone, so I knew no such luxury. I have never been more pissed. That is a lie, but my anger is still very genuine.

Chapter 11

“Where were you?”

The younger brother looks up at his senior. “Huh?”

“You were gone all night.” Leonardo leans against the door, crossing his arms. “Don’t look so surprised; I started getting up early to meditate.”

He shrugs in feigned nonchalance, already dreading the ensuing conversation. “Out.”

“And where’s ‘Out’?”

Donnie slides out of his chair, deciding his straining eyes need a break. “Just went to check on Y/N is all.” He rubs them with his arm, quietly noting the sounds of fighting in the dojo were starting to cease as he sits on the couch. His rounds of sparring with Leonardo were finished a little over an hour ago; a part of him is grateful it took him this long to corner him.

This got a raised brow. “You were checking on her for hours?”

He does not look him in the eye. “It’s not impossible.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“It wasn’t that late,” he argues.

“Donnie,” he presses, “you didn’t get home until five in the morning. Where were you?”

He feels his face heat up. “I said.”

Leo leans down to look his brother in the eye. “Final answer?”

He swallows a yawn. “Look, I know it was stupid—”

“I didn’t say it was stupid.”

“No,” he snips, mildly irritable from a lack of sleep. “You implied it.”

The doors to the dojo slide open, the disgruntled look on Raphael’s face all the evidence the other two need to know who won.

Mikey dives onto the couch, sprawling out next to his slightly older brother. “Did you ask yet?”

“I did.” He glances at the disgruntled boy. “Donnie was, apparently, at Y/N’s all night.”

The reaction is immediate.

“Details!” The small victor sits up, leaning forward on his knees in usual attentiveness. “Was she good?”

“What did you—shut up, Mikey.” Raph’s attention snaps back to his tallest brother. “What did you do to her? Did you—”

“Wait, hold on!” Donnie’s face feels uncomfortably hot. “N-Nothing happened!”

“Yeah, sure.” The second eldest rolls his eyes. “You think we fell off the truck yesterday? Who stays with a girl all night in her room without something happening? Nobody,” he cuts him off before he can defend himself.

The youngest’s voice rises over his brother’s before he can continue. “Dude, big picture!” He gestures to his brown-eyed brother. “He got with a girl first! He has valid info or whatever he says and stuff!”

“What are you two even talking about?” He wrings his hands. “Look, nothing happened!”

“Then what were you doing at her house,” Raphael eggs. “You weren’t just sitting there, right?”

“… no.”

“Then what were you doing there?”

He pauses, the two excitable boys waiting on bated breath. “She wanted me to spend the night,” he explains carefully, “because she was having bad nightmares and didn’t want to sleep alone.” He leans back, tossing his hands in the air. “That’s all.”

Silence falls.

“So,” clarifies Raphael, “you spent however many hours in her room, in her bed, and you didn’t make a move?”

“I—look!” The conversation is taking a shift for the worse. “I was trying to be nice! The last thing she needed was me doing whatever you’re insinuating!”

“He has a point,” Michelangelo nods knowingly. “Brownie points are key.”

“When did I say I was doing this for brownie points?”

“Look,” the eldest interjects. “Regardless of whether or not he was doing the ‘smart’ thing—” air quotes, “my bigger concern is that you didn’t bother calling to let us know where you were. You could’ve—Raph, do you have something to say?”

He rolls his eyes. “Are you really gonna act like you wouldn’t do the exact same thing if it were you?”

The leader pauses. “Would you like to take this somewhere more private?”

“Sure.” A venomous smile curls Raph’s lips. “Dojo?”

“Bring it.”

As the two leave, Donnie looks back over at Mikey. “Okay,” he sighs, “did I miss something?”

A shrug. “Man," he grins brazenly, "bold of you to assume I follow half of the things you guys say.”

He pulls his T-Phone from his utility belt. “Do you think I did the right thing? Honestly?”

Another shrug. “I dunno.” He looks over his older brother’s shoulder, reading the text on the screen curiously. “Can’t have gone too bad, though, if you two’ve been textin’ all day.

He pushes his head away with his free hand. ��It hasn’t been all day,” he corrects. “She just filled me in on this week’s episode and we just kept talking after that.” He smiles faintly. “Although, she did check to see if I got home alright.”

“Hey, that’s totally progress!” He grins encouragingly. “I mean, the bed thing was bigger progress, but this is also progress.”

You push through the turnstile with a bit of difficulty, hopping on your good leg as you pull the walker over the divider using your free hand with an embarrassing clatter. “Sorry,” you wince, feeling your face heat up as you slide down the railing. “I’m still getting used to—”

“Holy—are you alright?” The distress is apparent in the youngest’s voice as he sees you for the first time in a month. “You look like you—”

“I’m aware,” you cut him off dryly, holding a paper bag as you stumble over to the couch. “Whatever you’re about to say, I’m aware.” You put it down in Donnie’s lap. “Here.”

He blinks, picking it up as you regain your bearings. “What is it?”

“Not poison or snakes. Open it.”

“Yo,” Mikey interrupts, pointing at your banged-up leg, “can I draw on your white thing?”

It takes you a second to figure out what he is referring to. “Oh, you mean—yeah.” You lean your head back against the back of the couch. “Just know that I’ll take white-out to anything that could get me kicked out of school.”

“Deal!” He runs off to your room as his brother pulls the bag open, pulling the pastry from its confinement.

“What is it,” he repeats, icing already on his fingers.

“Cupcake.”

He fingers the wrapper, his brick stare seeming almost to dissect it. “What is it for?”

“Besides being messy?” You smile gently as you watch him try to figure it out, feeling your heart swell. “It’s food.”

“How much of it is edible?”

“Everything except the paper bit.”

He peels the liner back. “And how do you eat it, exactly?”

You lean forward on your arms. “The goal is to eat the frosting and the cake part at the same time, so however you accomplish that.”

He smiles sheepishly, eyes softening as he looks back at you. “Is it possible to eat it without the frosting getting on your face?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

He tentatively holds eye contact with you as he takes a bite, unsurprisingly getting icing sticking to the space around his upper lip. You wait tentatively as he licks the excess off, blinking in delighted surprise. “What’s in this, exactly?”

You feel yourself beam at his tone. “It’s nothing too special,” you shrug nonchalantly, bubbling with excitement. “It’s a personal favorite; red velvet with cream cheese frosting.”

He takes another bite. “Do you have more? Follow-up question,” you note his speech quickening, “can you make more?”

“Totally,” you nod in agreement. “I wanted to make you something as thanks for—”

“Back!”

Donnie shoves the rest of it in his mouth as soon as you two hear him.

“Sorry for the wait; I couldn’t find my stuff.” He plops down with a cardboard box filled with various discarded art supplies. “I’d use spray paint, but he—” he nods to his brother, currently trying to choke the rest of the cupcake down—“said I’m not allowed because of fumes or somethin’, so.”

“Fair.” You allow him to drape your calf over his legs, digging into the cardboard box he was carrying and pulling out a pencil. “Got any plans?”

“You’ll see,” he grins, starting to sketch shapes out.

The taller of the two wipes the excess frosting off his fingers. “Oh,” he snaps his fingers, “when you two are done with that, Y/N, I still gotta do that physical.”

“Physical?”

He clears his throat in preparation for a very redundant explanation. “A physical,” he explains calmly to his over-excited brother, “as in a physical examination, not whatever you’re thinking of.”

He blinks. “Like a doctor’s visit?”

“Donnie was asking about my recovery time,” you add helpfully. “Apparently, it’s weirdly long, but I don’t have any weird medical problems, so he wanted to see what the deal was.”

“That, and your comment about how ‘insanely high’ we jump, apparently.”

“Do not air quote that!” You lean your head back to look at him, hair falling onto his lap. “Not when you guys put high jumping to shame.”

He adamantly avoids eye contact, face warming. “It’s not that high,” he mumbles. “Especially if we’re bringing a sport like high jumping into this.”

“I respectfully disagree.” You lay your head down properly, looking up at him from his thighs. “Considering your falling form, it is a miracle you still have working hips.”

“What’s wrong with my form?”

“It doesn’t include a parachute.”

“Okay,” Mikey interjects, “it may not last unless you cover it with something. Just, FYI.”

You lean your head up to look at him. “Noted,” you nod. “I’ll pick up varnish or something on my way home.”

He nods. “Oh,” he asks innocently, “mind turning over? I have to get the other side and I don’t want to hurt you.”

For some inexplicable reason, the boy you are currently laying on looks as though someone has put a gun to his head.

You do as asked with a bit of difficulty, bringing your knee closer to your chest as it is now closest to the back of the couch. “Like that?”

“Perfect. Thanks.”

You look up at Donnie. “Let me know if you need me to move,” you smile. “If your thighs go numb or anything.”

His voice is oddly tight. “You’re good.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Sure? You sound very uncomfortable.”

“Never better.”

“He’s alright,” Mikey reassures you, shooting a thumbs up at his brother behind your back.

“...Alright.” Your eyes focus absentmindedly on what you thought was a couch cushion; upon further inspection, it appears to be a repurposed training mat. You bring the arm not currently pinned to your side under your head, humming an earworm softly.

The boy currently under you is silently panicking as your fingers squeeze gently around his knee, making a conscious effort to stare at the television and only at the television with his hands hovering awkwardly over you. Surprisingly enough, out of the corner of his eye, he does not catch his younger brother trying to stare at you weirdly, sincerely focused on drawing.

You feel him, eventually, resting his hands down, one resting in between your shoulder blades, the other in your hair, twisting a lock of it around his fingers gently. “Still alright,” you ask.

His voice is almost airy, now. “Mhm.”

‘This is nice.’ You trace little designs into the mat as your mind begins to wander, the boys starting to talk about something you struggle to pay attention to. This is not the closest you have been to him physically, but it is nice not to be crying this time around. "Domestic, almost, even if he doesn't think so.’

‘I should learn how to braid.’ Braiding is not something he has necessarily needed to know how to do in the past, but as he wraps the fibers around themselves, curious about the texture, he wishes that he knew; using your hair as a material of sorts would certainly be interesting, and he knows he has the dexterity for it. Admittedly, the conversation is less of a conversation and more of a speech on his brother’s part, but he tries to pay attention.

“So,” Mikey continues, digging into the box and pulling out a pencil sharpener, “he’s watching this guy all stealth-like, right? The guy’s out here, giving out his plans like they’re candy or whatever, and he’s just kinda recording it on one of those little tape recorders you used for that one thing a couple weeks ago-- you know the ones, and-- you don’t mind spoilers-- long story short, the guy gets caught, and when the crew got there, he was totally messed up.”

“Sounds like Batman,” you mumble sleepily-- ‘He really is warm.’

“Huh?”

“Your story.” You hoist yourself up, looking over your shoulder back at him. “Sounds like this Batman cartoon.”

“Batman?”

“Universe…” you stifle a yawn. “My universe has this thing called Batman, and there's a crossover thing in a different iteration of this universe. I guess you wouldn’t know about that, would you?”

“Different iteration?” Donatello looks down at your head in his lap, desperately in need of a cold shower.

You feel Michelangelo bend your leg forward. You nod in confirmation, trying to will yourself awake. “Didn’t I… did I?” You lay your head back down properly. “You guys are, like… mega-famous down-- back-- there.”

“I’m not sure if you did.”

“Well,” you giggle sleepily, “you are.” You try to count on your fingers. “You’ve got the original comic, the old cartoon, the two-thousand three animated show, the CGI movie, this one, the two live-action movies, the twenty-eighteen animated one-- gorgeous animation by the by that I have to show you later, Mikey-- that crossover movie with Batman, the live-action show, the other, older live-action movie, the IDW comic series, that weird one with the hats-- there’s a ton.”

“Dude, that is sick!” The resident artist grins. “I bet they were awesome.”

You consider telling him about the IDW comic. You quickly decide against it.

“How long have we-- as a property-- existed, exactly?”

“I dunno.” You shrug. “The first animated show was the eighties, I think.”

“...huh.”

You notice him fiddling with your hair, finally. You don’t mind.

“It’s been too long.”

You freeze, suddenly very awake and painfully aware of your current position.

One of the few good things about having your own apartment: you seem to have forgotten the fear of being walked in on.

“Please, relax.” You hear his smile. It does not help matters. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

The other two, astonishingly, do not seem nearly as anxious as you are.

You look up at him from your spot on his son’s lap. “You look as healthy as ever.” ‘I miss my grandpa. Is Grandma okay?’ You were unable to find your relatives on your father’s side through social media-- they could be dead for all you know.

“No thanks to my diet,” he chuckles. Yoshi walks out of your field of view. “Don’t mind me; how long have they been in the dojo?”

“Half an hour?” You hear the jostling of the box and the snap of an uncapped pen.

You hear him sigh. “Let’s just hope nobody’s died,” he mutters, walking into the dojo.

The three of you strain your ears to-- unsuccessfully-- hear what is going on. The door snaps open as the two brothers leave together in heated silence.

Mikey shakes what you can now identify as a paint pen. “Who won?”

“Nobody.” Leo’s voice, snippy. “Is she out?”

“She is not.” You turn your arm awkwardly to wave back at him.

“Then,” he shrugs, “nice to see you.”

“Likewise.”

“So,” Raph interjects, apparently very interested in the current situation, “can someone please explain what, exactly, is going on here?”

“I’m painting her white thing.”

“Of course. Donnie?”

The mortification would be apparent if you were looking at him.

“Nothin? Okay then.” You shut your eyes as he sits down on the other side of you. “You look terrible. Nice scar.”

“I am too close to very sensitive areas for you to give me a hard time, Raphael,” you warn.

“Whatever.”

“I’m heading out.” Leo nonchalantly bounds the steps, hopping over a divider.

“Tell her I say hi,” you call back. “Remember, consent is key, yellow roses lead to friendzoning, and to always use a condom.”

“... No comment.” He runs off.

“I have so many questions.”

“Ask me later.”

It takes him about twenty more minutes to finish covering the entirety of your cast in brightly colored characters and objects; if you have to describe it, you will say that the style is contemporary pop illustration with composition reminiscent of the renaissance period if the single art class you have taken is serving you right.

“This,” you smile, a little misty-eyed for some reason, “is absolutely gorgeous. Thanks, Mikey.”

He beams. “You’re totally welcome! If you ever get more white things, I’ll draw on those too, if you want.”

“Dude, for sure.” You nod in agreement, looking back at Donnie. “Isn’t it cool?”

Donatello has been quietly jabbed at for the past twenty minutes and is mostly desensitized to the quality of his brother’s art; frankly, it is not his area, and he cannot judge it one way or the other. Despite this, he gives his brother a thumbs up. “Very.”

“Don’t stroke his ego so much,” teases their older brother. “Donnie’ll get jealous.”

“Hate to steal her from you all,” he interrupts, “but I still have a physical to do, so if you would be so kind as to shut up, that would be great.”

‘Green with envy. Is that racist? No clue. Pretty colors.’ Donnie is talking to you. “Huh?”

“I asked if you were still on board.”

You nod. “Mind grabbing my walker?”

He shoots his snickering brother a glare. “Want me to just carry you to the lab?”

Panic. Immediate panic. “You sure you can carry me?”

He shrugs, smiling. “It’s only a few feet. Besides,” he points out, “aren’t you the one always going on about how strong we are by normal standards?”

You do not have a rational way to explain why the idea of being off of solid ground, held up by someone who can potentially drop you, is distressing. You also do not want to insult him in any shape, way, or form. “Promise you won’t drop me?” Your stomach turns.

“Swear it.”

“Can I paint your walker while you guys are doing that?”

“Of all the things you could've chosen--”

“Lay off.” He offers his arms. “You can trust me, I promise.”

You pause. The statement is entirely true, but your gut is screaming at you not to do that. The same gut told you that slamming your body into the person driving the car you were tied up in was a good idea.

You latch your arms around his neck, burying your eyes in the crook of his neck as to not see when and in what direction he is moving you. “Please,” you mumble, trying not to blatantly beg, “do not drop me.”

He does not exactly understand why you are clinging to him so tightly, but he is hardly one to complain. He slides an arm under your knees, picking you up.

Raphael is heckling you. You are more concerned with your body inaccurately telling you that you are going to die from this. Tears prick your eyes as you try to breathe.

He looks down at you, mind wandering as he walks away from his brothers. You look so sweet to him, shaking like a leaf in his arms. Cute. He had thought the same thing when you had started clinging to him during that movie forever ago, when you held his hand last night and pulled him back onto the bed with you. You are not normally openly vulnerable and, although he is hardly one to talk about vulnerability, it is always a sight to behold.

“Please don’t drop me.” He is not exactly sure if you are aware of your own, almost silent begging as you repeat the phrase over and over. ‘You trust me.’ His heart melts.

It takes no time to get you to his lab. He sets you down on a chair, but you do not seem to understand that as you still cling tightly to his neck.

He chuckles nervously. “I need my body to perform the physical, Y/N.”

You were not aware he had put you down. Your eyes snap open as you let your shaking, iron grip relax. “Sorry,” you mumble, face going a gorgeous shade of pink.

“No prob.” ‘Prob?’ His face changes color to match yours.

“So.” He claps his hands together just a bit too hard, slamming the door closed when he hears his brothers’ snickering. “Let’s get started.”

--

You sit on your couch, applying another coat of varnish to your cast as you listen to a cooking show because something something exposure therapy. Also, listening to people scream at one another about food textures is soothing.

Your results were not surprising to you; by the standards of humans in this universe, you are a walking talking coma patient. It was a bit funny, watching him freak out about a blood pressure that you knew-- through the help of google-- was completely normal. You are fine for the most part, if he was using the tools given correctly, and so, you are currently preoccupied with making sure the gorgeous painting on your fiberglass prison is going to stay gorgeous. The only thing he had insisted on, really, was that you not cook, after seeing your crudely applied bandages on your fingers.

You lean back into an actual couch, pulling out your phone and scrolling through pictures of gloves again. You are determined to find a good pair; the deep scars on your hands are not fading any time soon.

You can hear the window slide open. “If you’re planning on killing me--” you stop when you look up to see the look on Donnie’s face. “Something up?”

He says absolutely nothing, leaning his staff against the wall, closing the window in a daze and he stands next to the sofa. “Are you busy?”

“No.”

“Good.” His eyes glance at the space next to you. “Can I stay here for a bit?”

“As long as you like.”

He lays his head on your lap as he sits down, staring blankly at the television screen. He immediately understands why you like this-- your thighs are incredibly soft.

You immediately understand why he was awkward. You have no idea where to put your hands, but you eventually settle on his head as you turn the volume down. “What’s up?”

He takes a deep breath, licking his teeth as he sighs. “I,” he explains, “just realized what my reality is right now and I-- okay, I know this sounds stupid--”

“Not at all.”

“It does,” he insists. “I know it sounds stupid because I realized it did when I was working it out, but I just-- hear me out, okay?” His voice oozes exhaustion.

“I’m hearing you.” You listen to him, laying your phone face down on the coffee table. “Hit me.”

He takes another breath. “I just fought a giant… thing.” He rolls over, looking up at you. “Mikey called it Jacob or something, and it was about twenty feet tall and it looked like something out of a monster movie and it destroyed us in a fight.” You hear his voice rising, and you just nod along, letting him talk. “It wiped the floor with us. And the only reason it existed was that Leo, apparently, got a girlfriend named Karai-- you know her?”

“Hot alt chick with the wicked eyeshadow and eyeliner that could kill?” You nod. “Yeah, I’m familiar.”

“Her-- wait, should I…?” He trails off, shakes his head. “Another time.” He covers the side of his face with his hand, gesturing animatedly with his other. “Anyways, apparently he met this girl because she wanted to do a heist with him-- this girl, working for the Foot, of all people-- sixteen or whatever-- she goes and just touches a button to mix the DNAs of all the creatures an alien race could find on Earth, and then bails.” He realizes he is shouting, lowers his voice. “The alien creatures, in case you forgot, that look like brains and waddle around on tentacles which, by the way, makes no evolutionary sense whatsoever, decided to create a button that mixes the entirety of their samples of DNA together in a smorgasbord of wrong, okay?”

“Uhuh.” You nod along. You know what he means, even if the word he used was technically not correct.

“This thing,” he continues, officially ranting, “destroyed a building! It set the whole thing on fire, which was probably only Kraang, but also maybe had normal people in it, which is concerning.” He rubs his eyes aggressively. “So, to recap, an alienish creature named Jason or whatever got created by Leo’s crush and destroyed a building and that was just what happened today!” He raises his hands in the air, almost accidentally hitting you in the face. “I didn’t bat an eye at this!”

“Man, I feel you.”

“And I understand,” he continues, “the irony of telling you this, considering I am a giant, talking turtle created by the very same mutagen that created Justin or whatever its stupid name was, was taught ninjutsu by my ninja master father who is also a rat, and that you have already previously died--”

“All very bizarre things,” you agree.

“-- but this is just…” he sighs. “My life is getting so… weird? It was already weird, I know, but more so than I thought it reasonably should be.”

You wipe a bit of oil you notice on his cheek off with your thumb. “This world is a weird one,” you admit.

His voice is lower now as he follows your hand with his eyes. “I…” He takes breath. “I just wish we were more normal, you know? That our lives were more normal, that our existences made more sense, you know?”

You cup his face in your hand gently, remembering how your mother used to do the same for you. “I do.”

You feel him leaning into your touch. “I wish,” he mumbles, almost to himself, “that I was a normal, human teenager who went to school and didn’t know how to use a bo staff and had three, normal brothers who could try to get girlfriends without worrying about whether or not they wanted to kill them.”

You sigh, running your thumbs along the edge of his eye socket, feeling the soft skin shift under you. “You’re very well adjusted for a teenager trained in the art of assassination,” you joke softly.

He chuckles dryly, closing his eyes. “My mother is an empty canister in a locked cabinet in the kitchen.” He exhales slowly. “My stepmom was murdered by a man now actively trying to murder me and my entire family because of a decades long feud. Well adjusted is probably the highest compliment you could give me.”

“I’ve given you higher.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” You glance up at the television screen, then back at him. “You’re holding up better than I am, and you’ve been fearing for your life since you were real little.”

“Apples and oranges.” He rests his hand on yours.

“Look,” you shrug, “the way I see it, life is a series of events that all string together to the present.”

“Butterfly effect.”

“Exactly.” You smile down at him. “And if things didn’t happen exactly as they did, we never would’ve met, the world would be totally screwed, and we would be missing out on one of the greatest minds on the planet.”

He looks to see if you are being serious.

You are.

“You also wouldn’t have a broken leg and messed up hands,” he points out ruefully.

“Meeting you was worth it.”

He reaches up, running his fingers along the scar on your face. “I disagree.”

“It’s my body, and my physical detriment. It doesn’t matter if you’re stupid enough to think it wasn’t worth it.”

You feel his body relax

You two shut up for a bit, watching the show absentmindedly.

After a while, he pipes up. “It’s alright if you say no,” he starts tentatively, “but is it alright if I stay here again tonight?”

“Will your brothers mind?”

“They don’t care so long as I’m home before sunrise,” he shrugs. “I just like it here. Smells better.”

You smile brightly. “Sure,” you agree easily. “I sleep better with you here, anyways; I don’t worry about people sneaking in through the window.” You check the varnish. “I just have to wait for this to dry the rest of the way, first. You’re free to go to bed without me, though.”

In all honesty, you’re just happy not to be alone.

He nods, standing up and drawing the curtains. He sits down on the bed, untying the mask behind his head. ‘I could get used to this.’ He smiles slightly, slipping a hand into his utility belt and texting his brothers where he was to avoid his brother’s scolding in the morning. He slips that off too, dropping both onto the side of the bed and starting on the wraps on his feet and hands; he had learned his lesson when he had gotten up morning before, having gotten a few hours sleep at home, to large, noticeable indentations in his flesh where the foreign objects had been.

You glance over. “Do those go in the wash?”

He looks back. “Not usually, no.”

“Do you want me to wash them?”

‘You are too considerate.’ He shakes his head. “It’s alright.”

You shrug, putting your hands up. “Suit yourself.” You cross your hands across your stomach, staring absentmindedly back at the screen. “You can use the shower in the morning, but please do not use all of the hot water. Fridge is open if you need breakfast.”

“Nah,” he sighs, slipping the clothes into his utility belt. “I’ll eat at home.”

You nod in acknowledgement.

It occurs to him as he sets his knee and elbow pads with the rest of his things that, technically, he is stripping in front of you, and you are not batting an eye. As soon as that clocks, it also dawns on him that you are showing the most skin he has ever seen-- an A-shirt and gym shorts-- which had not even registered until he was laying in your bed. You are relaxed and in your warm apartment, watching a television program with him in your bed. You are awake and absolutely gorgeous and you feel safer with him of all people.

His heart swells as he slides under the blankets, the sound of the television white noise at this point.

You glance back at him, the phrase “Snug as a bug in a rug," coming to mind as you look over at him, struggling to keep his eyes open. “You gonna fall asleep?”

His face warms. He nods. "It's been a really long day," he admits.

“Then goodnight,” you smile. “Sweet dreams.”

He smiles sleepily. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he shuts his eyes.

You swallow.

You forgot how much you missed this.

Table of Contents

Chapter 10

Chapter 12

[nothorses]

hey sorry if it comes off as weird, but i'm a bit desperate. i had a real bad time figuring out my identity growing up and for like, the past 4~5 years i've become really comfortable and happy whenever i referred and thought of myself as a gay nb trans man; i experience legit gender euphoria whenever ppl address or acknowledge me as such, and the most connection i feel is to gay/bi men/men-aligned ppl. that said, i've struggled with obsessive/intrusive thoughts since i'm like, 12~13 due to (1/?)

a phobia, and they often appeared when i was already feeling low/stressed/anxious over unrelated stuff. y'know when you're having a good time and suddenly your brain goes 'oh hey, remember that thing you have doubts about and makes you distressed? and you think it's not true? well, here it is again (: you're welcome!'. that's it.

so social isolation due to the pandemic has taken a toll on my mental health and recently i have been... struggling a lot not only with dysphoria (i was supposed to start hrt last year but it was postponed due to, well), but also with obtrusive/intrusive thoughts over 'how i'm faking it, i am actually a cis lesbian' (i never felt attracted truly to women, even tho i had kissed two before, and i am Positively attracted to men in a way i can only describe as 'gay').

it has gotten to a point where i cannot think about, y'know, woman characters from stuff i like that i feel like this is somehow a sign i'm actually a lesbian; i have been dreaming a lot of situations i'm either framed as a lesbian or a straight girl, i have been hyperaware of how cis ppl perceive me (pre-transition, as 'girl') and obsessing over little shit like, if women are looking at me in certain ways when i have to go out (sometimes even 'wishing' it, as if it wanting to 'prove' anything).

i feel...... exhausted, none of these make me feel good, all of this makes me feel distressed. i get dreadful when i take 'lol ur lesbian' results at stupid internet quizzes too. i feel like i cannot talk to anyone about it bc i feel like they're gonna try to feed me either 'internalized lesbophobia' or terf rhetoric, which is smth im v aware of, and part of the reason i've been obsessing over as well.

i had mild doubts about stuff before (like if i was rly a binary trans guy or nb, or if i was bisexual) but none was... like this, y'know.  i was also dumb and read a bbc article about detransitioning ppl which opened with 'studies say most trans ppl dont doubt' etc. featuring two cis lesbians that detransitioned after entering a relationship with one another. i feel rly rly rly dreadful i wish i could go back to feeling like myself (gay and guy) like i did before.

i'm sorry for the longest fucking ask btw, and also, tumblr hadnt let me send the rest for like, Hours, i'm deeply sorry

[Edited for formatting]

I think a lot of this is very normal, especially for transmascs.

We’re constantly fed this idea that we can’t really trust our own perception of reality, that we don’t know ourselves as well as others do, and that the things we believe about ourselves are temporary, silly, and “signs” of some deeper reality that someone else knows for us. It’s only natural that we’d internalize some of those feelings, and struggle to trust even the most irrefutable evidence of our own realities.

If it helps to have some tools in those moments, a couple of reminders:

Cis girls do not typically dread the idea of being girls. They might dread the social repercussions or expectations, they might hate girls who look/act in certain ways, but they do not typically hate that they are girls.

If you are feeling dread over the idea that you might be attracted to women, you probably aren’t! It’s good to work on feeling more at peace with the possibility, because orientation can be very fluid for some folks, and being ready to accept yourself if things change takes a lot of pressure off- but if you don’t want to be with women, you just literally do not have to be with women. For any reason. Even if you are “secretly” attracted to them, if you don’t want to be with them anyway, you simply do not have to be.

Trans people experience doubt. We experience it all the time. We experience it pretty much endlessly! Maybe there are trans folks who never, ever doubt their genders, and I’m very happy for them; but that’s the exception, not the rule, in my experience. This study talks about the steps toward trans self-acceptance, and finds each step is an ongoing process, and often a back-and-forth. It was very comforting for me to recognize the patterns & know I’m not alone.

The focus on AFAB detransitioners is driven by transandrophobia. Because saving the “poor little girls” is a compelling motivator in a misogynistic society. Most detransitioners are actually folks who were AMAB, and found the societal pressure and backlash was too overwhelming, or made things too unsafe, for them to carry on with their transitions. Most detransitioners, period, are people who had to stop because of safety issues, or lack of access to their transition needs.

It’s very normal to go through periods of high doubt, and periods of high self-assuredness. You may just have to ride this out; surround yourself with as much support and love as you can, remind yourself that those fears aren’t really based in reality, and be kind to yourself during this difficult time. Try to make choices that prioritize your mental and emotional health.

You will get through this period of doubt, and come back to finding love and joy in your identity again! It might just take a little time & patience.

(Also no worries over the sending confusion; Tumblr’s a lil broken sometimes, and it’s genuinely not even remotely an issue.)

[zirkkun]

For the "Writers' Would You Ever..." game, if you are still doing that.

Would you ever write, hmmm, um, Sansby or Soriel? I know (at least I am pretty sure), you like both ships.

The Soriel stuff you rb'ed around Soriel Week was super cute by the way (I esp. loved renrink's stuff, esp. the one for the Unrequited (?) prompt; which was so gorgeous and got me right in the heart. The Underlust!Soreil you drew was also super cute; can always do w/ more UL!Soriel (as well as UL!Sansby).

So yeah, I know you like Soriel (I love it too). Still wanted to ask about it.

...However, I wanted to ask even more about if you would do/write Sansby (which, I know/pretty sure you like too. I love it too), because I am pretty sure in UL, Sansby was a thing (I think. Either way, I like UL Sansby a lot), but in ULR, Sans and Grillby hate each other. Why you gotta do us Sansby and/or UL Sansby fans like that, huh? Almost as bad as when Lynx japed/tricked us into thinking there might be nice, cute Soriel in Paper Trail; only for Sans to be basically trying to get info out of Toriel. Why must you both do us like this?

If you can't tell, I am not really being serious about; I mainly joking. Though, that stuff in Paper Trail did actually really get me though (loved how that conversation between Sans and Tori was written though), and Sans and Grillby hating each other in ULR does hurt my (I also find it really, really funny though. Esp. since you drew that scene with Grillby yelling at Ace to get out of his bar. Idk, I just find their whole dynamic hilalrous) Sansby and UL!Sansby loving heart. Anyway yeah, considering that. I gotta know if you write some Sansby in the future (Soriel too ofc). Also, you don't have to answer both (i.e. both Soriel and Sansby), you can just answer one or the other if you want to.

PS: I had such trouble figuring out how to do Asks. I couldn't find a way to send you an Ask if the your Tumblr was in fullscreen; I had to change and make it desktop/not fullscreen in order send this ask. It was so weird. It probably had something to do with your Tumblr's format change/new look (which, really surprised me, and took some getting used to. Esp. it being Green and not purple; though I really like both colors. And also the Underverse Ink Gif being gone; though I also like the 3 Pink Sanses (Classic, Ink, and Blue) that you have in the top right corner now though. I like the new look/format though; just took me some getting used to; since I was so used to your old look/format); hope Tumblr fixes that.

I am also guessing your new Format/look also has something to do with me able to write REALLY long asks now and apparently add images and gifs and stuff. I thought it was a mobile thing (I tried the Tumblr app, didn't find any options like that), but it looks like it is not (I am on pc now)?

Sorry, this Ask ended up quite long (if it is too long for you, you don't have to answer it, if you don't want to); I hadn't sent an Ask like this in a bit (since you were on hiatus and stuff, and I didn't want to bug you), and I ended up having a lot to say. Also, being able to send an Ask this long now in the 1st place; was just too much power for me; too much. Which reminds me! I am happy you are at least partially off hiatus! I hope you sorted things out well, and that you are doing well. :)

*cracks knuckles* alright lemmie go thru and answer this all!

As for your first question, maybe! I've never been too big on writing ship things much to begin with tbh, not because I have anything against them, but just cause I don't really get the same enjoyment out of them as I do writing self insert fics... but AU versions are fun! Not like how we have in the UT fandom but more like regular AU things, such as like an old scrapped fic i had for another fandom where the two characters were princes from opposing kingdoms but they couldn't marry because it would not benefit their families. The original show had nothing to do with that. Those are fun. So are the classic coffee shop or university AUs. So something like that for Soriel or Sansby would be fun too!

For the record though, I don't have anything against Sansby. I find it humorous that Grillby in canon literally says like nothing and yet a ship came out of Sans owing him money, but nothing against the ship. There's a lot of cute work out there with it and I could have sworn I'd reblogged some at som point? Hm. Maybe I'll just have to reblog more 👀✨

I think I may have said this a long time ago, before the rename for ULR; but Ace's role is probably one of the closest to his original character in UL, I merely added on to it and tweaked the story behind the Lust serum. Hugo and Ace did not always hate each other, in fact they were just as close as their UL counterparts at one point! But something happened that caused them to split, and the falling out didn't end well.

Also, as for the asks format changing, that's on Tumblr! They've been very glitchy and terrible on desktop. Hopefully my new theme hasn't broken them completely on top of that. It worked for me when I double-checked it, since I know a lot of people have been having issues with the update and literally everyone wants it to go back 😂 sorry you had such a struggle tho!

[kim-seungmine]

dream the night away

title: dream the night away

characters: (fem) reader x hwang hyunjin of stray kids

genre: slice-of-life, romance, angst, best friends to lovers au, idol au, idol!hyunjin, hyunjin centric, inspired by 3racha’s cloud 9 but not really?

warnings: minor character death, sometimes heavy, slow burn (aka i wanted it to be but i wasn’t patient enough), i tried to proofread, i gave up trying to format text convo on tumblr, i think they kiss a lot.

word count: 11.6k i’m so sorry

synopsis: one night, hyunjin wonders how he long can stay floating on cloud 9 before he loses his balance and falls all the way down to the pits of hell. After that, nothing feels right.

disclaimer: this is idol!hyunjin so i just wanna say that this is not how hyunjin is in real life and im not trying to convince you that he feels the things in the story. some parts are inspired by the things they’ve said but everything that happens here is pure fiction... which actually goes without saying since this is a fanfic, but i just feel the need to say it. for my personal long ass author’s note, you can read it below.

Hyunjin is met with darkness when he steps into the dorm. It used to be more packed, it used to be messier, and it used to be really loud. Now he only shares the dorm with the 00z who are surprisingly quiet if you think about it. Seungmin sleeps early, Felix has his headphones stuck to his ears and plays games until the sun rises, and Jisung is snugged somewhere watching movies. On busier days, Seungmin and Felix are at the company for lessons and Jisung spends the night at the studio with Chan and Changbin. Hyunjin, meanwhile, usually has some photoshoots.

However, tonight feels unnaturally quiet, especially since Hyunjin has just won his first Bonsang as a solo artist. He switches the lights on, and his friends are soundlessly huddled together by the fridge, Jisung holding a small cake.

“Surprise!” Seungmin exclaims rather flatly as Hyunjin drops to the floor out of shock, shouting profanities. Felix proceeds to grab some candles from the kitchen counter and lights them up. “Come on, blow the candles."

Hyunjin lets out an amused sigh, rising to his feet before blowing all the candles out. “Please tell me these aren’t those candles that stay lit n—what the hell.”

He continues blowing, his friends giggling while Seungmin groans. “Why did you have to curse? I was about to post that on Instagram Story!”

“Why are we doing this anyways? We’re not 18 anymore,” Hyunjin protests half-heartedly. He can’t really remember the last time they gave each other a proper surprise. It feels like ages ago. Jisung scoffs, searching for a knife inside one of the kitchen drawers. Slicing the cake, he retorts, “Your dramatic ass loves surprises, stop denying it.”

“Anyone has anything to do tonight? The hyungs want to come over,” Felix informs while typing on his phone. Hyunjin’s vibrates after a few seconds; everyone on the Stray Kids group chat must be congratulating him.

Seungmin opens the chat, frowning. “Where’s Jeongin?”

“He hasn’t been replying since hours ago. That brat probably fell asleep. Just ask his bro if he’s home,” Hyunjin suggests, about to reply to Chan’s message when another message pops up.

y/n: sorry i couldnt watch the show

y/n: but i saw the news! congratulations!!

y/n: so proud of you, as always!

Hyunjin’s eyes light up at your messages. It’s been months since he saw you; he’s been busy with his solo debut and you’ve been busy with school. When both of you were children, you often pictured how life would be. Hyunjin would be a famous soccer player for Manchester United and the captain of South Korea national team. You would be studying to become a doctor.

He finds it funny that you’re doing the exact same thing while he’s doing something he never even imagined before. Hyunjin is always amazed at how well you planned your whole life and executed every single plan, albeit not always instantly.

After all these years, though, he dares to say that both of you turned out okay. Amazing, even.

“Order whatever you want. I’m eating outside but I’ll be back soon,” Hyunjin tells his friends, bombarding you with messages before you turn your phone off, the thing you always do when you’re about to cram.

Seungmin arches an eyebrow. “Y/N?”

“Yeah. I asked whether she wants to eat gopchang with me.”

“You should really be careful.”

“Everyone knows we’re best friends. No one will make a weird rumor or anything.”

Jisung clicks his tongue. “Well, do you?”

Whenever someone talks about you, it always leads to this very conversation. Hyunjin decides to let Jisung’s question (sarcasm) hang in the air, but he knows the answer. Yes, he knows you and him are just best friends. Does he like it that way?

Hyunjin knows the answer to that too. He only pretends that he doesn’t.

You’re already slurping your soup when Hyunjin says hi to the restaurant owners, Mr and Mrs. Jang. “Oh Hyunjinnie, I just watched you on TV. You won something, right?” he asks. His wife ushers him to sit down, putting extra servings of kimchi on the table.

“Why didn’t I get extra kimchi?” You pout, shooting a jealous glare at Hyunjin who’s busy explaining what a Bonsang is to the owners.

“You did a good job, then,” Mrs. Jang coos. “You don’t need to pay today. It’s on us!”

You quickly put your spoon down. “What about me? I barely sleep thesedays, and I’m not as rich as Hyunjin!”

“Aigoo, you started eating before your friend came then demand for free food. You’re lucky we love you as much as we love Hyunjin.”

The couple laugh at your reaction, jokingly scolding you for being whinier than Hyunjin when it used to be the other way around. He smiles, remembering all the times he forced you to eat his eggplants for him and the times when he begged you to help him study because he needed to beat all of his friends.

“Eat,” you scowl. “You only have half an hour to brag. I have a night shift.”

Out of the times you’re being petty towards him, you were only seriously petty once: when he beat your English score in ninth grade although you were the one teaching him. He had to bribe you with a week’s worth of Haribo jellies before you stopped ignoring him.

Hyunjin giggles. “When’s your exam? Tomorrow?”

“Next week,” you whine. “But I have so many things to do! And I think someone stole my notes, I can’t seem to find them anywhere. Do you even understand half the pain I’m going through right now? All I need is one solid hour of sleep.”

“Hmm,” he hums. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

You widen your eyes, eyeing Hyunjin from head to toe. “Sometimes I forget you’re Stray Kids’ Hyunjin.”

He pretends to stab himself on the chest. “That h-hurts,” he fake-groans. “Then who do you think I am?”

“My neighbor,” you answer. “—who doesn’t even live at home anymore.”

“To be fair, you’re practically holed in hospital now.”

“Yeah but I go home every two weeks? You go home twice a year.”

“Excuse me?! I went home on your birthday… in the middle of a tour! I could’ve been sleeping or practicing, but I came home!”

He always “argues” with you until both of you are out of breath, clutching your chests because it somehow feels hilarious. You drink the last few drops of the soup right from your bowl, setting it back on the table and empty your glass in one go.

“I don’t have enough energy for this,” you sigh dreamily, prepping your head on your arm. “Tell me about everything. Your first Bonsang.”

Hyunjin can still hear his fans’ voices chanting his name and cheering for him as he delivered his speech while sobbing (this is what he hates from solo promotions, nobody else is there to stop him from crying or taking over the mic from him so he could calm himself down). He remembers every single word he said and the proud faces of his fellow artists. The thrill, the triumph, the satisfaction, the love… it’s making him emotional all over again.

He grabs a tissue to blow his nose. “I was surprised when the company said that I was invited. Our group hasn’t made a comeback this year, and although my song did chart quite well, I never expected they would even invite me.”

“They gave me a 5-minute stage! I was so happy, I sent you my rehearsal videos, right?”

You nod, imitating one of the moves in his dance break.

“Everything was even more amazing on stage, with Stays watching me. I think I was possessed during the performance… I was goddamn nervous though.”

“Yeah, I watched it on the way here. You kept licking your lip, I don’t care if your fans think that’s hot. To me you’re just a nervous mess…”

Hyunjin has started to pout when you add, “… who did a very great job nevertheless! It’s just that I’ve known you so long. You can’t hide anything from me.”

He notices how you’re holding your breath, waiting for him to respond. After years, Hyunjin thought he would take negative comments much less seriously, but apparently it didn’t become easier. It became harder, so hard that he had to take a 3-month hiatus last year.

With you, everything is different. You can tell him that he sucks big time and he’ll take it seriously, but he never gets offended. There are a lot of times when people treat him like he’s made of glass (or a snowflake, Seungmin once said), but you treat him the way you’ve always treated him and he loves it. None of his other friends understands, but your honesty is priceless. It’s what keeps him going; he knows you’ll never cherish him less no matter what you say about the way he dances and raps, or the way he looks and behaves. And he’s sure that his honesty also means the world to you. You are each other’s toughest critic, but it will never change anything.

“Hyunjin.” You place your hand over his, eyes wide. “I’m sorry. It just slipped out of my mouth.”

He chuckles, flipping his palm to squeeze your hand. “You idiot. You just stated the facts.”

You squeeze his hand back before pulling away. “I’m looking at Hwang Hyunjin of Stray Kids who sold over 100.000 copies of his first solo album, who won Bonsang for the first time, who gets worshiped by everyone he locks eyes with—except for me of course. I’m a very proud friend.”

“Stop it.” Hyunjin rolls his eyes, but unable to hide his smile once he sees you grinning like a happy child. “How much time do we have left?”

You glance at your phone, sighing when a reminder for you to study pops up. “5 minutes. I have to go back to the hospital soon.”

“Can you even study during your shift?”

“I have to,” you mumble. “Anyways, thanks for dragging me out. I did miss you after all.”

“I missed you too,” Hyunjin says, probably too quick for his own good but he doesn’t regret it.

“I’ll be going now.” You stretch your limbs, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Any last words before I go to war?”

“I should be the one asking you that.”

“Oh, right.”

Chan is the only one awake by the time Hyunjin gets back home. He huffs in regret, knowing that the hyungs decided to stay over to celebrate his Bonsang win. The leader greets him with a bear hug, carefully avoiding Felix and Minho who are fast asleep on the floor. “We’re so happy for you!” he whisper-yells. “How was Y/N?”

Hyunjin returns his hug with an even tighter one. “Thanks hyung. You composed the song after all! And sorry I came back too late.”

Chan shakes his head. “Nah, it’s fine. At some point we forgot why we were here and just started playing mafia.”

“Y/N is fine, anyways, just tired.”

“She’s always tired, isn’t she?”

“Yeah. It turns out that medical students are probably more tired than us.”

Hyunjin leads Chan to his bedroom. Each of the 00z has their own bedroom now. It’s much more convenient and they can arrange their stuff however they want to (they avoid entering Jisung’s room as much as possible), but Hyunjin misses the mess at times. The old dorm was cramped, either too hot or too cold, and way too noisy, but it was home for quite a long time.

Chan seems to be having the same thought. “We miss you kiddos sometimes,” he laughs. “But we fixed that sliding door. It closes properly now.”

“As long as Changbin hyung keeps opening it with too much force it will be broken again in no time. Trust me.”

Both of them are lying on Hyunjin’s king size bed, staring at the sideboard table he dedicates for his music show—and now, music award—trophies. “The kids don’t really say it but they’re all so proud of you. I’m proud of you. I raised you well, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you kinda did.”

“Kinda?!”

“I’m joking.” Hyunjin scrunches his nose. “You raised all of us. We raised Jeongin. And we raised each other.”

“3racha are almost finished choosing the final songs, you have 2 weeks to relax then we’ll start production right away. Our next tour won’t start until May, so we have plenty of time to prepare everything.”

“Ohhhhh I can feel my bones breaking already. We’re getting old,” Hyunjin whines.

Chan pats his thighs, cracking his knuckles before jumping out of bed. “You’re getting old,” he teases.

“I’m glad, though. Everything finally works out the way we wanted to. I guess we can say that we’re doing well now, right?”

Chan doesn’t wait for Hyunjin to answer and leaves the room right away. The latter ponders the rhetorical question for a while, recalling the goals they have reached for the past few years. Entering the Melon chart (and staying on Top 20 for a week), having one of the most successful world tour, winning prestigious awards at prestigious music awards, 3racha getting acknowledged as the industry’s top composers, 00z winning music shows for their unit debut last year, Jeongin getting drama roles, and last but not least, Hyunjin’s successful solo debut.

Feeling nostalgic, he scrolls through his phone, looking at old photos and silly videos. Looking at the lyrics he wrote on his note app. Then he goes through @realstraykids’ posts on Instagram, from when Jeongin still had braces until tonight. The latest selcas on his own official account are still getting likes, the fans showering him with praises.

Hyunjin has ticked off everything from his wish list. He has reached every goal he set a few years ago. They are doing well. He’s doing well.

He looks at his surroundings, immersing himself in the space and peace of his room that he once craved desperately. He’s supposed to be at peace now, but his mind won’t stop buzzing, asking himself what to do next.

For the very first time, Hyunjin realizes that he’s now floating on Cloud 9. Everything is perfect, he’s living his dream life. But at the back of his head, he can hear the clock ticking, ready to push him over the edge the moment he loses his balance, watching him fall all the way to the pits of hell.

Everything is perfect, but why does his heart feel so empty?

Hyunjin’s brows furrow as he tries to catch some comments the fans are posting. When he was a rookie he couldn’t get used to how fast the comments come in, and it’s something that doesn’t quite change. Probably he got used to it at some point, but they kept gaining fans that the comment section is always extremely active.

“Hyunjin oppa,” he pronounces the words slowly. ”Spo-spoiler please!”

He lifts his head to give the viewers a secretive smile. “Nope.” He wiggles his forefinger. “You have to wait for the teasers!”

“Ohhh the comments! You guys are so excited I can’t keep up!”

More comments flood in, and Hyunjin has to press his phone screen in order to read the one comment he’s been trying to read. “Recommend me a song, please!”

“Uhhh—” He takes some time to think of the songs he’s been listening to, tapping his fingers against the surface of the table while the comments keep coming in, but this time he spots words that stab him right on his gut. With trembling hands, he lifts his phone, clicking the report button as subtle as possible. His vision grows blurry as he reports every single comment that has the word “fuck you”, “die” or “talentless” in it.

The pause has become too long and too awkward, so he stops himself from reporting more and stares at the lens. “Ah, song recommendation!” he exclaims. “I have quite a lot but thesedays I’ve been listening to 00z songs a lot. We had so much fun promoting together.”

Hyunjin feels his other phone vibrating in his pocket, probably his mother checking in. It gives him a boost of energy, and he tells his fans he’ll stay with them for 10 more minutes. “When we’re just talking like this, I’m always reminded that we’ve come so far,” Hyunjin says, a smile on his face. “It feels good to know that all of you are making time for us, for me, after your busy day. And no, I’m not sleepy. Don’t worry, everyone!”

He reads some more comments, mostly cheesy pickup lines to cheer himself up as his brain is still trying to get all the hurtful words out of his system. “Ah, I think I have to go now,” Hyunjin announces lowly. “I have to go back to practice, if not Chan hyung will barge in and drag me back to the practice room.”

“What? You want me to get scolded by Chan hyung? Why are you so mean?!”

Hyunjin ends up staying for 20 more minutes before finally ending the broadcast. Conversation with his fans is something he values a lot; it gives him strength and makes him laugh. It makes him feel loved and he wants his fans to feel the same.

But it’s equally tiring. He has to brace himself for some less-than-nice comments, sometimes they are way too severe for him to handle that the company sues all the commenters. You’ve told him over and over again that those people aren’t his fans.

Everything could’ve been worse. Hyunjin still considers himself very lucky that he has much more fans than haters. Still, he often imagines how it will feel if he has no hater at all, since he does have some friends who seem to only hear pretty words.

Hyunjin stays inside the room for a few more minutes, replying to Seungmin’s messages and assures him that he’ll be back soon. He idly plays one of their songs he hasn’t heard for years, the song that was always included in their setlist before being replaced by some other songs. Hyunjin initially thought he wouldn’t need that song anymore, but tonight, he needs it. Maybe he needs it more now than before.

After making a mental note to ask the other boys to add the song back to the concert’s setlist, Hyunjin leaves, cursing himself for taking too much time to regain his composure.

Should I stop or not? Should I give up or not?

“Hwang Hyunjin, stop coming into my room without my permission! You literally trespassed into someone else’s property!”

Hyunjin groans into his pillow, instantly regretting his decision to pick up your call at midnight. “I didn’t!”

“Don’t lie to me. You took Gureum with you!”

He takes a quick glance at the rabbit plushie he placed on top of his pillow. Last night, he did go home because Kkami (everyone calls him old man now) got a little sick. “I miiiiight have made a quick detour next door when I was about to leave.”

“You’re pathetic. You got soooooo many plushies and toys and cute headbands from fansigns and you stole my Gureum.”

“Stop guilt tripping me! I missed Gureum, okay? Why didn’t you take him to your dorm?”

Hyunjin senses your hesitation as you clear your throat. “Well, sometimes seeing Gureum only makes me miss everyone more, so I just left him at home.”

Now he feels guilty. Your parents are currently staying overseas to take care of your sick little sister. He pictures you coming to an empty home every two weeks, exhausted and not having anyone to welcome you.

“Do you want me to come over?”

“Our superstar isn’t busy?”

“I am, but I’m willing to sacrifice my precious time for my best friend.”

You scoff over the phone, but telling him to hurry up before ending the call. Hyunjin packs his clothes and toiletries, along with Gureum—his birthday present for your 11th birthday. You almost never sleep without it, yet the plushie still looks brand new.

Unable to hide his smitten smile, Hyunjin grabs his keys.

The apartment complex where Hyunjin lives has changed a lot over the years. The soccer field he used to play at is now a playground. The little bookstore you loved so much is now a bakery. Now there’s a big shopping mall right across the building. After saving up for a while, Hyunjin asked his parents whether they wanted to move to a bigger place. He kind of hoped that they wouldn’t want it because he wanted to stay close to you (although coming home is a real challenge for him). Luckily, his parents said no.

He enters your door password leisurely, recalling the time when your parents told him to take care of you.

So far, you’ve been the one taking care of him.

Hyunjin heads straight to your bedroom, opening the door and sees you curling on your bed. The mattress he sleeps on whenever he stays over is already laid on the floor.

“Gureum!” you yell when he throws the squishy rabbit to you. Hyunjin drops his bag and settles himself on the mattress, staring up at you.

“How’s your sis?”

You scoot towards the end of the bed, showing him a photo on your phone. Your sister is smiling; she looks much better than before, but still very pale and thin. “I haven’t called her,” Hyunjin admits. “But she got the albums I sent to her. Sent the ones signed by the others too. That kid loves Jisung, do you know that?”

“I got her into Jisung.”

He sits up, looking almost offended. “Your bias is Han Jisung?”

“This world doesn’t revolve around you, superstar.” You flash him a cheeky grin. “I wanted to ask you to let me go to the backstage again last tour, but I restrained myself. As your kind best friend, I shouldn’t abuse my privilege.”

“You know that he never cleans his room, right?”

You hum, “Nobody’s perfect, Jinnie.”

“Oh come on!” Hyunjin protests. “If it’s Jeongin I understand although he also never cleans his room. But Jisung? And you’re calling yourself my best friend!”

“He’s funny!” you argue. ”He has a nice voice—it’s really sexy when he raps, he dances well, he wrote all my favorite Stray Kids songs, and he actually had the balls to fight you. A real champ.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, making a gesture to snatch Gureum away from you. “And at the end of the day, you love him,” you add. “He makes you laugh too.”

Well, it’s a fact he can’t refute. You ask, “Do you think I should hit on him or something? Will people call me out? Does he have someone?”

“We are not having this conversation Y/N. I don’t care if both of you are my best friends, you’re not dating Han Jisung. What happened to that ‘hot senior’ Jung Jaehyun? The last time we called, you were so in love with him.”

The mention of Jaehyun’s name causes you to slump into your bed, covering yourself with your thick blanket. “I sort of blew it up,” you mumble. “He asked me on a real date and I said no.”

You seem to hit realization that’s way too late, and now you’re hollering, “I said no to Jung Jaehyun! Oh my God Hyunjin… I’m such an idiot!”

Hyunjin can’t contain his giggles. Relief washes over him; you and Jaehyun seemed rather serious and while he wished you well, the thought of you being with someone else always pains him. He knows he’s not allowed to feel that way just because you’re best friends.

Most of the times, he can’t help it.

“He’s a real gentleman and he said he was into me. ME. Everyone would throw themselves at him but he came up to me and I flat out rejected him. What the hell is wrong with me?!”

You’re rolling on your bed, whining and kicking at the air. “I tried not to think about it but… it was just a date? Even if I didn’t end up dating him at least I could tell my grandchildren that I went on a date with Jung Jaehyun!”

“Is he really that great?” Hyunjin asks, out of curiosity but laced with jealousy he hopes you can’t see. His words sound distant to his own ears, triggering his fear of losing you.

“Yeah, I guess?”

You nudge his legs when he doesn’t respond. “How about you? Everything’s fine? You don’t look happy thesedays.”

Hyunjin never lies to you. You have a full access to his heart; he lets you in on his happiest days when life feels like the shiniest summer. He also lets you in even after the messiest thunderstorm when he feels that everything is fucked up. This time, he wants to lock you out. There’s nothing to see, there’s nothing to fix.

His heart is empty—he is empty, and he wants to protect you from the bleakness of it.

“I’m fine, just been arguing with Felix and Minho hyung over the song we’ll perform. It feels too monotone for me, but they think it’s perfect,” he explains, not completely lying. “I don’t know if I’m being selfish but somehow I just can’t let it go.”

“Have you tried explaining to them? Not how you feel, but how the song is. You can always go technical, you don’t need to worry just because Minho is more experienced.”

Hyunjin sighs. “I did, but probably it’s just me.”

“Do you wanna talk things out?” You yawn, squishing Gureum into your chest. “Or do you want to just sleep?”

He glances at the clock. “We both need sleep. It’s almost 3A.M.”

“Alright. Good night—I mean good morning!”

Hyunjin stretches his neck to look at you, your eyes are already closed. He relaxes his body and tries to sleep, but his jumbled mind keeps him awake. Hyunjin waits until you’re fast asleep before scooting closer, softly taking your hand in his before closing his eyes once again. He did it a lot when he was younger, holding your hand until he fell asleep. You nagged at him because it woke you up, but you never told him to stop doing it.

Tonight is no different.

“Hyunjin?”

“Sorry.”

You turn to him, “It’s okay.”

He mumbles a thank you, ready to go to sleep when you move to the mattress. Hyunjin gulps at the close proximity, it’s been too long since you slept on the same bed as him.

“Hyunjin, I missed you.”

Hyunjin heard a theory somewhere: 3.A.M-conversations are the most honest. It’s a little over 3A.M now, and he doesn’t how much of that theory is true, but your words fuel something deep within him. The feeling so strong he has to tear his gaze away from you. Hyunjin slowly pulls you into his arms, patting your back in rhythm with the clock.

He grazes his lips on your shoulder, mouthing his reply quietly, “I missed you too.”

You nod against his chest, pulling your hand out of his grasp so you could circle your arms around his torso.

Hyunjin falls asleep almost immediately, succumbing to the warmth and comfort you radiate.

He’s going to be alright.

“Do you think I’ll ever debut?”

Hyunjin takes off his SOPA jacket, plopping onto the bed while you’re munching on a pack of jelly. “Let me sleep for 10 minutes. I have to go to the company after this.”

You slap his thigh. “Why do you always sleep in my room? If I got a dollar everytime you sabotage my bed I’d be really rich now. Get out, you have practice!”

He reaches for your knee, using it as a pillow. Hyunjin feels you soften as you card your hand through his hair. “Is it hard? Are those mean hyungs still bothering you?”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “Changbin hyung told those motherfuckers to mind their own business.”

“Stop cursing!” you hiss. “It’s not cool, and what if you accidentally curse on broadcast later? You have so much to learn…”

Hyunjin opens his eyes and smiles when he meets your gaze. “Do you think I’ll ever debut?” he repeats his question.

“Have you seen yourself dancing? You’re better than most of the trainees I saw at the open showcase. Plus you have so many girls screaming your name. No offense, but that is definitely a plus point.”

You give his head a little smack when you notice doubt flashing through his orbs. “I believe in you, Hyunjin. Don’t doubt yourself,” you tell him softly. “And if you need someone to give those ‘motherfuckers’ a lesson, just call me. I know some people who can shut them up.”

He lets out an obnoxious gasp. “Are you a gangster now?! Your parents are going to be so disappointed in you. Looks like you have to say goodbye to medical school now…”

You sigh, now it’s your turn to look at Hyunjin with doubt in your eyes. “I’ll get in, right? What if I flunk my results later?”

“This is why I hate smart people,” he bemoans. “You rank first in the whole school, stop saying nonsense.”

Both of you a few more minutes lying in silence. When he waves you goodbye, Hyunjin feels like he can soar.

He’s safe with you, and you’re safe with him.

“Hwang Hyunjin, get off me!”

Hyunjin wakes up to you trying to untangle your legs from his. He catches your flailing legs, removing his before examining your face. “It’s almost noon. Aren’t you running late?” you pester, pointing at the clock.

“Lunch?” he asks.

This is supposed to be awkward. Hyunjin can’t recall what happened a few hours ago before blushing—he’s never been that intimate with you before. You two have had a fair share of platonic cuddle sessions, but last night felt different.

“Not yet,” you mutter. “I just woke up. Oh God my back hurts.”

He wants to know whether you feel the same, but you’ve made your way to the bathroom before he could ask anything. “What do you want to eat?” you yell, almost incoherently due to the toothpaste in your mouth.

“You’re not going to shower?” Hyunjin playfully shrieks.

“It’s my day off!”

“My mom must’ve cooked something. Gimme 10 minutes.”

Although he’s done this at least a hundred times, it’s still hard for Hyunjin to leave home. Seeing his he’s never able to stop his heart getting heavier at the sight of bidding his family goodbye until God knows when.

“Please come home more Y/N,” his mother asks you, raising her eyebrow. “Hyunjin seems to randomly pop up whenever you’re here, so please, come home more.”

You smack his back loudly, causing him to let out a choked groan. “I’ll teach him a lesson, don’t worry.”

Hyunjin gives his mother a sheepish smile, knowing all too well what she meant. He pulls you out before she starts grilling him for information, yelling one last goodbye before closing the door. You search for something inside your bag, stopping him from pressing the elevator button.

“You left something?”

“My dorm key,” you answer, walking back to your own unit. “You should just go,” you say. “It’s in the middle of the day anyways, we shouldn’t be seen together.”

Hyunjin follows you inside, watching you rummage through one of the buffet drawers. He notices how your shoulders are slumped and the way your eyebrows furrow. As his mind wanders to last night once again, you jab at his stomach lightly. “Hey, you’re spacing out.”

“Oh,” is all Hyunjin can say. He takes a good look of you, something he always does before he parts ways with you. Before he can stop himself, Hyunjin has wrapped his arms around you, letting you hear his erratic heartbeat. He still misses you, even after spending the whole night together.

Eventually, you pull away. “I’ll go first.” You ruffle his head. “See you when I see you?”

“See you soon,” he corrects you.

You smile, taking your bag from the floor and when he blinks, you’re gone.

Hyunjin still misses you now, even when you were just in his embrace a few minutes ago, burying your head into the crook of his neck. The empty space in his heart seems to expand whenever he thinks about you.

It hurts.

Minho ends the dance practice and everyone collapses on the floor the moment the music stops playing. Hyunjin immediately restarts the discussion they had before practice started.

“We used to sing both Grow Up and You Can Stay, why do we have to choose one now?” he demands while all of them are sprawled on the floor. “Our fans miss it too, I think it’s the perfect chance to bring it back.”

Chan takes a deep breath, nodding at Hyunjin. “I can’t see why not,” he says with a chuckle. “I don’t even remember why we abandoned it in the first place.”

Hyunjin does, and he knows Chan does too. It was simple, really. The song that once gave them comfort turned into this big monster made out of their worst nightmares. Each member had cried to the song during some of their concerts, and now performing it in front of everyone always brings back the painful memories.

“Yeah, we should sing it again,” Felix adds, kicking Jisung’s leg so the latter would sit up and voice out his opinion. “Well.” Jisung scratches the back of his head, “I’m cool with it.”

The rest of the group mumbles similar answers and Chan claps, giving Hyunjin a thumbs up. “Hyunjinnie is all grown up,” he praises before gathering his things and leaves. Hyunjin snorts at the leader’s compliment, but his sparkly eyes can’t fool anyone.

He pulls out his phone to relay the happy news to you, but the sparks in his eyes quickly fade when his messages from hours ago are still unread.

“What time are we leaving tomorrow?” he asks.

Seungmin checks his phone. “5A.M.”

Hyunjin wipes his sweat, chugging his water. Their American tour starts in a few days, and while he’s ecstatic because they’ll be performing at LA Staples Center for the first time, he also feels uneasy.

He takes out his phone, opening his contacts and stops when he sees your name. He stares at the number he remembers by heart.

“You okay?” Seungmin asks. “If you’re worried about District 9’s formation change, don’t. You nailed it today.”

“District 9…” Hyunjin trails off. “We’re getting too old for District 9.”

Jeongin grunts in agreement. “Whenever we finish my head always spins for like a minute. It’s been too long.”

“Yah,” Seungmin scolds him. “You need to get it checked. What if there’s something wrong with your head?���

The youngest does an exaggerated head banging, earning a kick from the puppy-like boy. Hyunjin chuckles at the two’s antics; some things never really change, and he’s grateful that this is one of those things.

Seungmin throws a playful punch at Jeongin’s stomach one last time before focusing his gaze back on Hyunjin. “Seriously though, did something happen?”

Hyunjin’s brain has a lot of template answers to questions like this, but the cliché words on tip of his tongue feel burning. His friends wait patiently as he fumbles for words, blinking his tears away when he fails to find the right words.

“I don’t even know if there’s anything,” he finally concludes. “It’s just—ever since Bonsang, it’s been hard. It’s been… nothing. Empty.”

Seungmin and Jeongin only nod, as if they understand how he feels. They probably do, Hyunjin thinks. Maybe he’s not the only one. Maybe all of his members have experienced it at some point, although at different times. Hyunjin feels slightly relieved at the thought. I’m not insane.

When he was a trainee, he thought everything would be fine once he debuted. It was, to some extent. But he was young and naïve, and when things beyond his control happened, Hyunjin barely managed to stay afloat. People told him how to handle stress, how to voice out his concerns, how to manage his body, mind and soul. He knew how to survive, theoretically.

No one actually taught him nor the other boys, and for an 18 year-old boy, feelings got intense quickly. After some trials and errors, everyone figured that it was best not to bottle up their feelings. Once again, it sounded easy in theory. In reality, with so many things happening at once, most of them eventually created a space in their own heads to seal everything in. They endured.

Jeongin looks at him with hesitation, rubbing his hands together. “It happens,” he reassures him. “It’s okay to worry about it, hyung. But worry about it with me, please!” Jeongin raises his tone. “You can barge into my room anytime. You can annoy the hell out of me, but stop suffering alone, will you?!”

Seungmin can’t miss the chance to tease the maknae. “Says the one who cried alone all night long in the bathtub after losing his voice.”

“If I hadn’t found you, you would’ve passed out,” Hyunjin adds. Jeongin lifts his hands in defeat. “Whatever. But I meant what I said.”

“Our Jeongin is so dependable,” Hyunjin coos.

“You say that all the time.” Jeongin rolls his eyes. “And then still baby me.”

Seungmin takes Hyunjin’s phone from the floor, passing it to the owner. “Call Y/N.”

Hyunjin panics a little. “Why?”

Seungmin shrugs. “Better days start after meeting the person you want to see the most!”

“Speaking of you and Y/N,” Jeongin quips. “You guys aren’t in high school anymore, stop flirting with each other and date already.”

Hyunjin gets a surge of bravery and dials your number, but immediately regrets his decision with each passing minute. He almost ends the call when you finally answer. “Hyunjin?”

“H-hi,” he stammers. “Busy?”

“Kind of... What? What happened?”

“Can we meet? I only need a couple of minutes. You’re in Seoul, right?”

“I am. Hyunjin, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.”

It’s scaring me too.

“I want to tell you in person. Where are you? I’ll come to you.”

Hyunjin isn’t sure when the lines between best friends and something more started to get blurry. The worse thing is, he realized it way too late and things got complicated before he could do anything about it.

“It’s too late to back out,” he mouths to himself while opening the stairwell door in the hospital you’re currently at. You’re sitting on one of the steps, dozing off as your head hits the wall every now and then.

Hyunjin runs his hand through his hair, guilt consuming him. He sits beside you, pulling your head to his right shoulder. The two of you always attended the same school until high school, when he decided to enroll in SOPA instead of a regular school. Since then, he never really knows what’s going on in your life. You told him about your close friends, the small fights, medical students’ inside jokes, the good looking boys, all the knowledge and experiences you’re grateful for despite the never-ending suffering and constant lack of sleep. You told him everything, but he’s never actually seen you in your world.

You’ve seen enough of his world—you’ve gone to his concerts, awards shows, even fansigns (as a prank because you wanted to see him getting all flustered while pretending not to know you). Hyunjin never has the time or makes an effort to do the same, and while it’s completely understandable due to the nature of his job, he feels like he’s going to lose you.

As he brushes your hair out of your face, Hyunjin asks himself whether he’s good enough for you.

“Whoa,” you suddenly whisper, straightening your body. “Did I fall asleep?”

Hyunjin stops you from getting up. “You must be tired.”

“So are you.” You remove his hand from your head. “So tell me. What’s going on?”

You’re here, sitting beside him, only wanting truth to come out of his mouth. Hyunjin bites his lip, the urge to just let go is eating him up, his soul begging him to get some answers. The familiar hollowness is back, and tears start to roll down his cheeks.

This isn’t the first time he cries in front of you, so you just pat his head, waiting for the tears to stop. “I’m sorry,” he groans. “I’m so sorry Y/N.”

You lift his head, eyes looking straight into his. “What for?” you mutter. “Hyunjin, please tell me.”

Hyunjin makes a silent plead at himself to toughen up, but it’s hard when you’re staring at him like this, wide eyes filled with raw concern and sincerity that never fail to touch the deepest part of his heart. “Hmm?” you prompt, still patting his head ever so softly.

“It’s been hard,” Hyunjin sniffles. “It’s hard to look forward to the future. I feel restless all the time. I have nothing to fight for. It’s…,” He makes gestures with his hand in attempt to explain it better. “… empty.”

You wipe his tears with the sleeve of your white coat. “Do you know why you feel that way?”

Hyunjin nods. “We’re doing well, we really are… and that’s probably why. Everything is going too well I don’t know what thrills me anymore. I thought I’d feel content once I reached all of my dreams, but that’s not the case.”

He examines your face, rehearsing the next lines in his head again and again. You cock an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue. And the last bit of Hyunjin’s defense crumbles with every blink of your pretty eyes.

“And you… I miss you all the time. Even when you’re right here with me, I still miss you. I have to hold back whenever I’m with you because I don’t want you to run away from me. I love you, Y/N. I don’t know when it all started but maybe I’ve always loved you and it hurts me not being able to tell you that. The emptiness… it gets worse whenever you tell me we shouldn’t be seen together or that you have to go or when you have other boys like Jaehyun who are clearly better for you than I am because they can be there for you. I love you so bad you don’t know how hard it is to go through days without you, without kissing you good night, without hearing you laugh for me. I keep thinking, ‘what if you’re suddenly gone?’ Maybe you’ll leave me someday, maybe you’ll tell me that you can’t be my friend anymore, but I need you, Y/N. I love you and I need you here with me to keep going. I—”

Hyunjin watches you slowly—very slowly—retract your hand from his head as words fail him, and he feels as if his guts are being hammered to pieces. He can’t read your eyes, can’t even try to define what your gaze means.

You eventually stand up, pulling him up with you. “I’m not the answer, Hyunjin,” you mutter. “You can’t expect that you’ll never feel empty again once I say that I accept your feelings. It’s just—it’s not fair. This isn’t just about us not being together.”

“But—”

“I know,” you cut him off, your body start shaking due to all the tension. “I know. That’s how you feel, and I can’t dictate you what to feel and not to feel. Think about it like this…”

You pause to check if he’s still listening to you. He nods, weakly.

“… you spent years working your ass off to get recognition from everyone, and you did it. Don’t ever forget that, I’m begging you. So all of your dreams have come true and you feel lost now… it’s okay. You have a lot of time, Hyunjin. You can always have a new dream, you can have a thousand more. Don’t make me the answer to everything just because you haven’t found any other answer.”

You wait for him to respond, but Hyunjin is frozen to his spot. His world is now upside down, and he doesn’t know how long it will take to fix everything.

Your phone rings, snapping him out of his trance. You look at him apologetically. “I have to go.” Those damn words again. “Ask Seungmin to help you ice your face, you don’t want to show up at the airport with swollen eyes, do you? Call me before you take off, okay? Hyunjin?”

He can only nod, trying his best to give you the most reassuring smile. He feels everything all at once: shock, shame, sadness… but mostly regret because you’re right.

You always are.

“Have fun on tour! Send me all the photos you take!”

Now it’s turn for Hyunjin’s phone to ring as you make your way out, leaving him alone. He’s about to press the green button when the door opens once again. Hyunjin lets his phone ring, watching you fidget with your hands.

He’s still pretty much tongue-tied, but forces himself to ask, “Did you ever… love me? As more than friends?”

To his surprise, you take quick steps towards him, tiptoeing to press your lips on his. Your eyes are closed, your hands are tied to your sides and it takes Hyunjin his whole willpower to refrain himself from pulling your body closer, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the life out of you. He closes his eyes and just stands there, accepting whatever you’re willing to give him because there’s nothing he yearns more than your love and trust.

Hyunjin almost whines when you pull away with red cheeks and teary eyes. “Come back to me when you’re ready. I’ll wait for you. Only you.”

It’s Hyunjin’s 10th (or 11th? He can’t really remember) visit to New York, but he’s still as excited as a kid with his lollipop. After years of traveling from country to country, Hyunjin realizes that he just doesn’t get bored, ever. Each place holds a special memory he keeps close to his heart, something sentimental that motivates him to go back every chance he gets.

“Stand there,” he motions at Seungmin—the only one who’s willing to accompany him walking around the Empire State Building for the nth time—to stand at the spot he points at. Seungmin follows his instruction, smiling when Hyunjin starts counting. They examine the result and Seungmin shoves his leg. “I guess you finally learned something.”

Hyunjin feigns hurt, setting his camera’s focus on a group of kids, holding his breath before pressing the shutter. “As if you taught me anything.”

He glances at his bandmate who’s busy taking photos with his own camera. Photo hunting with Seungmin is always in Hyunjin’s “limited free time” itinerary. They’ve strolled around so many cities together, sometimes it takes the whole day if time allows them. Strangely, Seungmin never gets bored of it either and although it’s no surprise since he loves photography more than anything else, Hyunjin is grateful.

“You never say no whenever I ask you to take photos with me,” Hyunjin states. “Why?”

Seungmin frowns. “What kind of question is that?”

“Just wondering,” Hyunjin mumbles. “We do pretty much the same thing everytime. Sometimes I force you to go to the places we’ve been to… don’t you get bored?”

“It’s always different everytime, I thought that’s why sometimes you take photos at the same place? It’s never exactly the same, don’t you think?”

Hyunjin goes through the photos he took in New York last year, smiling at some of them as he recalls the funny anecdotes behind them. When he slips his phone back into his jeans pocket and lets his eyes wander… yes, nothing is exactly the same.

“You truly are a photographer. When’s your next exhibition, Photographer Kim?”

Seungmin snaps his finger. “Ah! Exhibition! I forgot to ask you, why don’t we held a joint exhibition this time?”

“You want to show your photos along with my photos?”

“Why not? Yours are amazing too! And you’re my best friend, it’ll be fun.”

Hyunjin imagines having his photo framed on the wall. Small placards pinned underneath, containing the words he constructs to explain each of them. The fans will come to feel how it feels like to be here behind the lens. Maybe people who don’t even know him will come too, and get a chance to actually know him.

He reaches his phone to relay the idea to you, smiling to himself when he finds messages from you instead.

y/n: [sends a picture]

y/n: ahreum finally woke up today! isnt she pretty?

me: everyone is prettier than you

me: you must be happy!!

y/n: ??????

y/n: oh. she asked me to recommend boygroup songs

y/n: i made her listen to every single skz song

y/n: and your solo songs!!!!

me: awwwwwww

me: and you cant be doing this for free right?

“Is that your best friend slash girlfriend?” Seungmin is suddenly standing behind him, reading over his shoulder. “You guys are so cute it’s making me feel sick.”

Hyunjin sighs, gazing at the busy street upon him. “We’re not dating. At least not yet.”

“What happened? Just realized that I never really asked.”

“She asked me to come to her when I’m ready.”

Seungmin looks at him quizzically, but decides not to press him further. “Are you ready now?”

They’re flying back to Seoul next week, and while he thought he wouldn’t be able to enjoy the tour, he truly did. He thinks of all the good things that have happened: the sold out shows, the happy tears, his improvement, the upcoming exhibition with Seungmin, and lastly, you—the one who’s patiently waiting for him.

There have been a lot of times when Hyunjin feels like he’s everywhere but nowhere at the same time. It sounds scary, but now he realizes that he only needs to admit that he’s indeed everywhere, but never nowhere.

“Almost.”

The instrumental of Grow Up starts to play and all the boys rush back to their designated positions. The atmosphere turns a bit more sentimental as the bridge approaches, they’re just looking at each other while Minho is singing his part. In the past, they often teased each other during this very part, afraid that they would break down if they let their emotions overtake them. Hyunjin averts his gaze to the audience, watching the beautiful color of their lightsticks light up the huge stadium. As he gestures at some of the fans to stop crying, Hyunjin thanks himself for convincing the others to add the song back to their setlist.

The song comes to an end, and Chan gathers everyone to make a circle. Hyunjin feels pats on his head and back, Chan’s voice drowned by the fans who are still singing. He can’t resist the urge to turn around, so he does just that, and what he won’t trade what he sees for anything.

Their fans are standing there, eyes focused on everyone on stage as they sing each syllable perfectly. Changbin follows his gaze, and soon all of them are facing the audience again, listening to every wish, every hope, and every message relayed through the lyrics of the song.

Hyunjin lifts his mic, eyes darting to Chan who gives him a nod of approval. “Thank you,” he begins. “This is our last stop for this tour, and I can’t be any prouder and thankful to all of you.”

He lets the translator translate his speech before continuing, “I had a lot of worries before the tour started. I honestly thought I wouldn’t be able to go through everything.”

“You made our dreams come true,” Hyunjin continues. “You made my dreams come true and I naively thought that was the end of everything. But I learned a lot during this tour, and once again, you made this happen. All the pretty words you told us, they mean a lot. They always will. I realized that this will always be my dream, no matter how many times this has come true. I want to make you, who stay with us throughout everything, happy. I want to be here for a very long time. I want to be with you, to be with the members and our family, for a very long time.”

He stops when he feels he can’t continue anymore, letting the others take the spotlight. He gives each of his bandmates with a loving gaze, stopping at Minho who lets tears roll down his cheeks this time. Jeongin is giggling beside him, walking over to wrap the tsundere hyung in a firm hug.

Hyunjin thinks they’ve really come a long way.

Being back home usually gives Hyunjin a peace of mind, but when he sees no notification on his phone, he feels weird. He dials his mother’s number, his heart grows even more anxious when she picks up.

“Oh Hyunjin-ah, did you just land?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you come over here? Or do you have an important schedule?”

“No, we get 2 days off. What’s going on?”

“Y/N’s sister passed away. Sorry we didn’t tell you sooner, we didn’t want you to panic.”

“Eomma! How could you?”

“I’m sorry. This is Y/N’s request as well. She’s been here for 2 days and no one can make her eat anything. Can you take her home?”

“I’ll be there soon.”

“You’re going to live in Germany! You’re such a lucky kid!”

The little girl smiles bashfully as you pout at her. “The luckiest girl on Earth,” you add, fixing her messy hair.

“If you’re so jealous of me, why don’t you come along?”

“Are you kidding?” you exclaim. “I’m on my way to be the greatest doctor in this country. You can’t change my mind.”

“Alright, it’s time to go,” your father interrupts, giving you one last hug before whispering things into your ear. Hyunjin steps back to allow you say goodbye to your family, tearing up at the painful sight. Your father, a doctor, accepts an offer to work in a hospital in Germany and takes the whole family with him since your sick little sister needs more intensive treatment.

But you’re staying to become a great doctor like your father, hoping you’ll get a chance to cure your sister later.

“Please take care of her, Hyunjin. We trust you,” your mother tells him. Hyunjin nods, enveloping your hand in his. “Don’t worry, I’ll be here monitoring her every move and drag her back home whenever she spends too much time at the academy.”

Your sister laughs, bowing to Hyunjin. “I also want a boyfriend like Hyunjinoppa! Please take care of our unnie.”

You yank your hand away from him. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

Hyunjin seems unbothered by your statement, bowing to your family to annoy you more. “Our family will take care of her, you can trust us.”

Your sister’s smiling face greets Hyunjin as he enters the funeral home. He stares at the photo then closes his eyes to pray, whispering strings of apologies that’s always too late. I’m sorry I never visited you. I’m sorry I failed to take care of your sister. I’m sorry I didn’t call you enough.

He bows to your family, the first bow since years ago, and he wishes he could turn back time. Hyunjin turns to you, gazing into your tired eyes. Your mother pulls him towards you. “She hasn’t eaten at all. Can you please bring her home, Hyunjin? I hope you’re not too busy. I’m sorry that we meet like this.”

“Hyunjin just landed in Seoul. How could you force him to come here?” you snap, returning his gaze. “Go home. I’ll call you later.”

Hyunjin almost yells in frustration, but swallows everything before dragging you out, only tightening his grip on your wrist when you try to pry his hand off of you. You keep shouting at him, yelling at him to stop, but Hyunjin doesn’t budge. He drags you all the way to his car, opening the passenger door for you.

“Get in the car, Y/N.”

Without waiting for you to move, he lifts your body and sits you down, fastening your seatbelt. “Please don’t push me away,” he pleads. “Why do you always tell me go home, go back to practice, to leave… why?! I promised your parents to take care of you. I promised your sister, why aren’t you letting me do that?!”

“I never asked you to do that,” you mutter through gritted teeth, causing Hyunjin to grip your shoulders.

“You only said that to hurt me,” he replies. “Even now you’re still trying to push me away. I want to be here Y/N. Don’t you want me here?”

You avoid his eyes, keeping your gaze on your clasped hands. “Tell me,” Hyunjin challenges. “Tell me that you don’t want me to stay with you, and I’ll leave.”

He waits for you to respond, letting out a relieved sigh he doesn’t bother hiding when you shake your head. “Want you here. Thank you.”

“Have you cried?”

After your sister was born, you were told not to shed tears in front of her. Your parents always scolded you if you started crying when you saw her in pain, and after some time, it became a habit. A habit that Hyunjin absolutely despises since it makes you suppress your feelings, as if punishing you for having feelings.

“I don’t know… maybe I haven’t.”

“You lost your sister, you can cry. Your parents cried a lot too, it’s fine.”

You nod, resting your head in the crook of his neck when tears start to well up. Hyunjin presses a kiss on your temple, finding himself tearing up the moment you start sobbing, something he has never witnessed although he’s known you for almost his whole life.

“Is this your Armani suit?” you manage to voice in the middle of sobs and snorts. He takes you into his embrace, chuckling, “Yes, but you can ruin it however you want. Another privilege as my best friend.”

“Can I abuse this privilege?”

“Ruining my expensive suits?”

“No,” you laugh airily. “Crying when you’re with me.”

Hyunjin cups your wet cheeks, gently pushing your hands away when you want to wipe your tears away. “Anytime. You can cry, laugh, curse, get angry, get drunk… you can do anything when you’re with me.”

And that’s all it takes before you start sobbing into his suit again. Hyunjin is standing there for the longest time, sandwiched by the passenger seat and door of his car with you in his arms. He doesn’t care, he will do it all over again, and he will do much more. For you, and only you.

“Where are you? It’s past midnight already!”

“Hwang Hyunjin, you’re lucky I’m willing to go home when I have a morning shift tomorrow,” you scold him over the phone.

“It’s my birthday! Wait, it isn’t even my birthday anymore!” he whines in an obnoxious tone that never fails to upset you. He giggles when he hears you huff, the sound of the elevator signaling that you’ve already arrived.

“You asked me to buy you a cake right before I left,” you hiss. “Now open the door, I’m outside.”

The call ends and Hyunjin rushes to the door. You’re carrying the red velvet cake he requested, the candles already lit and Hyunjin tries not to melt at the way you look at him. He did ask you to buy him a cake and “surprise” him at your apartment, but he is nowhere near ready to see you like this: all smiley and cheery for him despite sounding annoyed over the phone.

“Happy birthday,” you sing song, your smile growing wider as he blows the candle. Hyunjin returns your smile before taking the cake from you, pulling you towards your room. “Go get changed, I’ll slice the cake for you.”

A few minutes later, both of you are seated on your couch, talking about every little thing while enjoying the cake. Hyunjin tells you about Stray Kids’ upcoming comeback, a very special one since Minho choreographed the title track. You tell him about various cases that happened in the hospital while wondering if you’ll ever finish medical school and actually be a doctor.

Everything feels the way Hyunjin expects it to be, until you put your empty plate on the table and look at him straight in the eyes. “Hyunjin…”

He quickly swallows and places his plate on the table as well, never breaking eye contact with you. “What?”

You gulp. “Do you remember when I asked you to come find me when you’re ready?”

“Feels like yesterday.”

“Well,” you murmur. “I’m just wondering if you’re… ready.”

Fire lights up in his stomach, and before you can continue, Hyunjin is already trapping you between his body and the couch. “I am,” he says. “Are you?”

You brush his fringe with your fingers. “You were waiting for me?”

“You told me to start dreaming again, so I did,” Hyunjin recalls. “And I realized that all of my dreams are right in front of me—you, my family, the hyungs, Jeongin, the fans… keeping you guys with me is something I’ll always dream of although all of you are already here.”

You pout at him, but Hyunjin doesn’t miss the proud gleam in your eyes. “Then what’s taking you so long?”

He pinches your nose. “I waited for you to be ready, as you said before, it wasn’t just about us being together. I don’t want you to choose me only because you feel like you need me. I want you to… want me… to love me with a clear head. Just like what you wanted me to do. I want to give you the world, but only if you allow me to.”

You circle your arms around his neck, sighing happily, “You gave me the world, Hyunjin. You listen to me, you console me, you give me a shoulder to cry on. You’re the only one I’ve ever waited for, and I’m so glad that you came back to me.”

Hyunjin is sure that his whole system has stopped working, the words you just uttered feel like the strongest, yet the sweetest liquor he’s ever tasted. He is drunk on the love you offer; he’s drunk on your touch, your smile and everything you want to give him. You’re driving him nuts, completely nuts, but it’s the only thing he wants to feel. You are the only one he yearns to feel.

You seem to sense his burning gaze and start nibbling on your bottom lip. “So this is the part where you kiss me…”

“This is the part where I kiss you…”

You shake your head. “This feels weird. You’re my best friend.”

“You kissed me,” Hyunjin reminds you. “It’s not like we’ve never done it before.”

“No, but—” You pause to let yourself breathe. “I kissed you. This is different, I’m not going to survive you kissing me.”

“For the love of God Y/N, just—”

You point at your lips. “And I still have my lipgloss on!”

Hyunjin is caressing your reddening cheek now, trying to destroy the last bit of your defense. “And what’s wrong with that?” he asks softly.

“It’s sticky! Our lips will get stuck and it won’t be romantic.”

“So what do you want to do? Go into your room and wipe it off with a cotton pad or something?”

“Yeah, let’s do—”

Hyunjin doesn’t let you finish as he finally dives in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that set both of you on fire. He hums when he feels your body relax in his hold, allowing him to savor you with so much longing and want. Hyunjin lets his heart take the lead, kissing you harder whenever you tug the ends of his hair and making him putty under your touch. It never feels enough, it feels like he only gets hungrier everytime you return his kiss, the feeling of your lips moving against his almost destroys him.

Nothing is stopping him now, he came back to you and you welcomed him with open arms. Hyunjin leaves one more open mouthed kiss on your lips before pulling away with a loud pop, taking in the sight of you trying to breathe. You slowly meet his eyes with flushed cheeks, eyes mirroring his own and Hyunjin tries to remember every single detail. “God I love you so much,” he hears himself whisper.

You smile, lifting your hand to trace his face delicately. “I love you.”

“Are you mine now?” Hyunjin knows this is childish, but he wants to hear it. He longs to hear it.

Thankfully, you’re willing to play his game tonight. “Only yours.”

“No more mourning over Jung Jaehyun?”

“Jesus Christ, do you need to stoop that low.”

“Yes.” Hyunjin pecks your nose. “He doesn’t listen to K-pop, right? Introduce him to me.”

You roll your eyes. “I love you, why the hell are we talking about Jaehyun now?”

“Then what should we talk about?”

“Since we’re on a competition to ruin the mood, lemme burst your bubble: my parents are moving back in next week so we need another place to do... this.”

“Okay,” Hyunjin answers. “What are we gonna do now?”

You wrap your legs around his torso, making him gasp. “I don’t know, kiss me again? I’m gonna tell you this just once, but I, along with thousands of other people, have always wanted to kiss you. It made me feel pathetic, but it is what it is.”

Hyunjin blushes, but refuses to lose to you. “You tried to make me not kiss you a few minutes ago and now you’re desperate to kiss me. Was I that good?”

“Hmmm I guess so,” you hum.

He swiftly lifts your body, grinning when you tighten your hold around his neck. “Well, I’m yours to kiss now,” he teases, trying to walk into room without knocking into things. You leave soft kisses all over his face, prompting Hyunjin to walk faster so he could just kiss you already.

When your back hit your bed, Hyunjin stops to admire your face. “I kissed you a long time ago, don’t you remember?”

Your eyes widen. “You? Kissed me? With those plush lips? When?!”

“You don’t remember? But it was our first kiss!”

You spend the next few minutes racking your brain before nodding. “Ah, it did happen a long time ago.”

“It’s okay, maybe you wanted to forget that moment. It was your darkest time, and I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

Shaking your head, you run your thumb along his lip. “Thank you for staying with me all these years.”

Hyunjin closes the gap between you once again, hoping to chase away all the sorrow inside your soul. You pull him closer, making him practically lying on top of you, feeling your chest rise with each touch of his lips on your skin. “Thank you,” a kiss on each of your eye, “for,” a kiss on the tip of your nose, “making me,” a kiss on your lips—this time he lets it linger, “dream,” a kiss on your chin, “again,” and a kiss on your neck.

It took Hyunjin so long to understand the world, and now he still hasn’t understood even half of it. But in the middle of his journey, he met you. He learned to dream, he learned to love you.

And he learned to love himself.

The door opens with a bang, revealing an incredibly panicked Hyunjin. He just finished training when he received a call from you, who said nothing but, “I won’t let you walk home alone.” You wouldn’t end the call throughout his way home, but refused to say anything else and almost making Hyunjin dash to the police station.

Hyunjin sees your shadow, letting out a small scream when he spots you lying on the floor in the dark. He runs to you, about to carry you back into your room when you stop him. “I feel like crying,” you rasp, choking on your saliva. “I can’t stop it.”

It’s been a month since your family left, and while you’re trying your best to be a big girl and live the way you always do, it’s not easy. Hyunjin lies beside you, eyes locked on the tears rolling down your cheeks. You never cry loudly. You never sob nor wail. You just cry silently, mostly in the dark so you can’t see yourself crying.

Hyunjin takes your hand in his, hovering over you before tracing your tears with his lips as if it can stop them. He pecks every wet spot, slowly getting to your lips. He leaves a chaste, barely-there kiss before wrapping his arms around you, whispering comforting things until you start falling asleep on the hard floor.

Hyunjin hopes you’ll allow yourself to cry however you wish to someday.

a/n: i was so happy writing this that i almost cried when i finished because i know i’m going to miss writing this one. this story feels so sentimental, happy and sad at the same time and probably that’s why i feel so attached to it. ive wanted to write this since last year, even before “give my heart a chance”. i always wondered what would happen after we reach our dreams and i hope you’ll feel a little better after reading this (especially if you’re experiencing the same thing). this story is a long journey, but i hope you’ll enjoy it.