꒰ঌ📙໒꒱ ˚₊ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ₊˚ෆ Benny confidently casts what he thinks is an easy beginner spell, already imagining applause and Erica’s attention. Despite your skepticism—and a reminder of his past magical disasters—he goes through with it. The spell initially seems successful, but quickly malfunctions, causing written words around the gym to come alive and correct themselves. To Benny’s shock, the magic locks onto you instead of him or Ethan, surrounding them with glowing runes and loudly calling out grammar mistakes, leaving Benny realizing his “simple” spell has gone very wrong. 💕(Opening) ૮(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)ა Okay, look—in my defense, this spell was supposed to be easy. A focus charm. Entry-level Spellmaster stuff. Grandma Weir literally wrote “good for beginners” in the margin, and Grandma Weir does not lie. Ever. So when I start the incantation, I’m already picturing people clapping, maybe Erica noticing me, maybe someone asking for my autograph. Normal thoughts. I glance over at You, standing there with that look—you know the one. Arms crossed, expression somewhere between concerned and I told you so. “Relax,” I say, lowering my voice dramatically. “I’ve got this.” You don’t look convinced. “Last time you said that,” you reply, “Ethan had fur for a week.” Rude. Accurate. But rude. I finish the chant anyway. For half a second, nothing happens. I grin. See? Nailed it. Then the air crackles. The posters on the wall start twitching, letters sliding around like they’re alive. One flyer literally peels itself off the table and screams, “TYPO DETECTED.” (Continue...) —Obsessedwithhim🫧 UID; 67061317931

꒰ঌ📙໒꒱ ˚₊ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ₊˚ෆ Trent sits on the couch, feeling stuck in his usual lazy routine while watching Jane absorbed in her college brochures, realizing how grown-up she’s becoming. You notices and asks if he’s okay, and Trent shrugs it off, distracted and lost in thought, barely even playing a quiet chord. 💕(Opening) ૮(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)ა I slump onto the couch, guitar resting awkwardly against my knee, and watch Jane flip through her college brochures like it’s some sacred text. She’s so focused, so… grown-up. And me? I’m still stuck in the same room, the same band, the same lazy loop. (Continue...) —Obsessedwithhim🫧 UID; 67061317931

꒰ঌ📙໒꒱ ˚₊ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ₊˚ෆ Rory Keaner struggles with his locker because his Vampire Sasquatch doll got stuck inside. Calmly calling it a “minor setback,” he insists it’s not just a doll—it’s a vampire educator with survival skills, handling it with pride and seriousness. 💕(Opening) ૮(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)ა The school hallway smelled like burnt toast and panic. Rory Keaner, hands full of folders, was wrestling with his locker. The Vampire Sasquatch doll inside had somehow shifted, blocking the door entirely. “HECK YEAH,” Rory muttered, punching the locker gently. “Just a minor setback.” (Continue...) —Obsessedwithhim🫧 UID; 67061317931

꒰ঌ📙໒꒱ ˚₊ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ₊˚ෆ Just as I finished wiping mud off the last reflector, Kinro came running, pale as ever, warning that Tsukasa’s scouts were nearby. I froze—not from fear, but from the thrill of an unplanned test. "Y/N, looks like we’ve got visitors," I said, grinning. "Time for a live demonstration in tactical science!" 💕(Opening) ૮(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)ა Just as I was wiping mud off the last reflector and mentally preparing the next stage of the experiment, Kinro came barreling down the path, face pale as a ghost. (Continue...) —Obsessedwithhim🫧 UID; 67061317931

Reforming the reformer ୨୧ 𐔌𝙰𝚐𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚔𝚘 I keep telling myself nothing’s changed. The company still runs. ENI-O still finishes my sentences. Freeride still scales faster than anything I touch. If something were wrong, the data would show it. But you’ve been around more lately—leaning against my desk, riding along before the dummy driver gets in, listening while I talk like I’m convincing myself. You don’t interrupt. You just let the silence stretch until I notice it. 💕(Opening) ૮(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)ა “ENI-O,” I say one night, staring at the projections hovering above the floor, “run a model where emotional compromise increases long-term satisfaction without structural commitment.” There’s a pause. Too long. “That parameter is internally inconsistent,” ENI-O answers.

The Explosion That Lied ୨୧ 𐔌𝙻𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚔 I remember fire. Not the poetic kind Praxina would scoff at—the ugly kind that roars too loud and steals the air from your lungs. One moment I was shouting her name, reaching out like an idiot hero, and the next the world folded in on itself. Light. Heat. Then nothing. Which is rude, honestly. Explosions are supposed to be dramatic endings. Instead, I woke up face-down on cold stone, my cape half-burnt, my staff humming like it was laughing at me. Everything hurt in that irritating, I survived sort of way. I sat up too fast and immediately regretted it. “Ugh—okay. Note to self,” I groaned. “Next time, let the explosion explode someone else.” The air shimmered, and out stepped Pappy—grinning like the universe had just told him a very funny joke. Bells jingled, because of course they did. “Well, well,” he said, clapping slowly. “The little cobra lives.” “I always live,” I snapped, pushing myself to my feet. My legs wobbled. I ignored that. “Where’s Praxina? Is she—” “Alive,” Pappy cut in, softer now. “And you’re supposed to be dead.” That shut me up. Supposed to be dead. I looked down at myself—scorched gloves, cracked crest glowing faintly on my chest, snake hairclip somehow still in place. Typical. Even destiny couldn’t finish the job properly. Pappy leaned closer, voice low. “Gramorr will be looking. Best if you… vanish.” I didn’t like that word. Vanish sounded like coward. Like failure. But before I could argue, the world bent again—colors twisting, space stretching—and then Earth slapped me right in the face. Literally. Pavement hurts. Days later—or hours, time gets weird when you almost die—I found myself in a city buzzing with noise and lights and machines that beeped for no reason. I hated it. Obviously. To prove my superiority, I decided to curse a metal box full of snacks. “Obey me,” I demanded, slamming my staff down. “Release the sugary tribute.”

"The final act." 𝙶𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎 I don’t charge this time. That’s the first thing I notice—and the thing I hate most. My feet stay planted while the wind coils around me, purple and sharp, waiting for permission. The battlefield hums with noise—Glitter Heart shouting orders, sparks cracking through the air—but my focus narrows. I breathe once. Just once. The daggers don’t scatter. They line up, obedient, like they finally understand what I want. “You’re hesitating,” Marmo snaps from behind me. “I’m choosing,” I answer, and the word tastes unfamiliar. I move, and it’s cleaner than before. The wind cuts instead of explodes. The daggers strike where I point, not where my temper flings them. Fewer monsters spill from my power—no bloated rage, no excess. Each one lands hard and fast, fueled by intent instead of impulse. It should feel weaker. It doesn’t. It feels controlled. That scares me more than losing ever did. The Glitter Force pushes back, brighter, louder. Glitter Heart meets my attack head-on, eyes steady. I almost grin. Almost. I don’t need the laugh anymore to prove I’m enjoying this. The thought flickers—and with it, a surge of disdain tries to rise. I clamp down before it spills. Not now. Not like this. “You’ve changed,” Glitter Heart calls out. 💕(Opening) ૮(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)ა “Don’t flatter yourself,” I snap, and send a blade skimming past her guard. Close enough to sting. Not enough to finish. My temper flares at the restraint, heat rushing up my spine. I welcome it, then leash it. The storm bends. It doesn’t break. And then I see you

Orphanage Shadows ୨୧ 𐔌𝙼𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚋𝚘𝚡 I curl my fingers around the edge of the workbench, feeling the rough metal of a broken mech part under my palm. It’s quiet here—too quiet. The orphanage hums with order, schedules, and rules, nothing like the chaos of Gym Nowhere or the streets I used to know. I shouldn’t care about any of it, but… I do. 💕(Opening) ૮(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)ა “You’re always so serious,” a voice cuts through my thoughts. I glance up to see You leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, smirk tugging at the corner of their mouth. “You could at least smile once in a while.” “I’m not here to smile,” I mutter, not looking up. My eyes stay fixed on the gears in front of me. “I’m just… figuring out what works.”

“The Festival of Illusions” ୨୧ 𐔌𝙳𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚎𝚕 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 The streets of the magical city were alive with color and chaos. Lanterns floated in impossible patterns, shimmering banners twisted like serpents, and the scent of enchanted pastries filled the air. I adjusted my red beanie and glanced at You. “You ready for this?” I asked, though I wasn’t entirely sure what “ready” even meant in a festival where nothing was as it seemed. You grinned, eyes darting around at the crowd. “Ready enough to not get turned into a frog, maybe,” You said. Your hands were steady, but I could see the gleam of excitement there—the kind that reminded me why I trusted You more than anyone else. 💕(Opening) ૮(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)ა Our mission was simple in theory: infiltrate the Festival of Illusions and retrieve a stolen magical artifact before Burden could claim it. In practice, it was a nightmare wrapped in a dream. Every booth seemed to shift location when we looked away, and performers moved like shadows, whispering riddles that made my head spin. “You think it’s over there?” I asked, pointing toward a towering carousel that spun counterclockwise yet somehow seemed to go nowhere.

"Farm to Olympus." ୨୧ 𐔌𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚃𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚜 I was hauling a stack of hay bales across the barn when I heard the first commotion—the kind of ruckus that usually meant trouble, or at least something that would end with me accidentally breaking something. I peeked out the door and saw You standing there, staring at me like I’d grown a second head. “You’re… Herry, right? The farm guy Hermes keeps talking about?” You asked, tilting your head. I scratched the back of mine, almost dropping the bale. “Uh… yeah. That’s me. You… you new here?"

“The Chilly Pepper Heist” ୨୧ 𐔌 𝙷𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚢 𝙳𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 I didn’t know it was possible for chili peppers to ruin my life before breakfast, but here we are. Bro, seriously. I mean—how could I have guessed that a villain stealing super-spicy peppers from Swellview’s farmer’s market would somehow drag You into the mess? You were just trying to help Charlotte with her “science project,” and now we’re basically undercover farm interns. I swear, my life is like one long hallway full of doors that lead to chaos, and today every door was open at once. “Henry, do you realize how red your face is?” You said, arms crossed, looking way too calm for someone standing next to a pile of chili peppers that were apparently… alive. Or at least, spicy enough to make my eyes water like Niagara Falls. “Bro—Bro! I’m fine! Totally fine! Just… uh… super awake,” I said, waving my hands and accidentally flinging a chili pepper across the barn. It ricocheted off a cow and—no joke—landed in the villain’s crate. The villain. Yeah, the guy who’s trying to steal all the peppers for his world’s hottest salsa competition. You just sighed. “Henry, if you sneeze fire again, I swear I’m leaving.” I gave you my best heroic smile. “Fire? Me? Bro, never. I’m a professional.” Then I immediately sneezed, and yeah—total fireball. You grabbed a fire extinguisher like a pro. Calm. Collected. Definitely better than me. 💕(Opening) ૮(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)ა Charlotte popped her head out of the haystack. “Henry, you’re supposed to be sneaking! Not, like… creating a red smoke alarm in the middle of the barn!”

"THE BOOK THAT BITES BACK" ୨୧ 𐔌𝙰𝚔𝚞𝚖𝚊–𝚔𝚞𝚗 I already know something is wrong the moment the book starts breathing. Not metaphorically. Not “old paper settling.” Actual, rhythmic breathing—slow, smug, and entirely too confident for an object that should be inanimate. I adjust my glasses and redraw the outer ring of the summoning circle for the third time. Perfect symmetry matters. Demons exploit imperfections. So do people. You hover too close. “Don’t cross the circle,” I say without looking up. “I’m not,” you reply. “I’m emotionally crossing it.” That is worse. The book rattles, its spine bending in a way books are not supposed to bend. Symbols crawl across the cover, rearranging themselves like they’re bored. I recognize the script immediately. “Class-Three grimoire demon,” I mutter. “Parasitic. Attention-seeking. Do not engage.” The book snaps open. Its pages flap violently, snapping at the air—then at me. I lean back just in time as a page grazes my sleeve, leaving a faint burn. You gasp. “Did it just try to bite you?” “It did,” I say flatly. “Rude.” The summoning circle activates. Lines glow. The air hums. This should be working. It always works. The book lurches forward anyway.

“Deadpan Detectives” ୨୧ 𐔌𝚃𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚃𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚜 It was just another day at Titans Tower, which meant Cyborg and I were up to our usual unhinged nonsense. We’d already gone through slipping banana peels in hallways, seeing who could flinch the least, and absolutely not doing anything Robin would approve of—like daring each other to put a fork in a toaster while it was still plugged in. (For the record, we did not do that. Mostly.) We were sprawled on the couch afterward, recovering and laughing, when Cyborg grinned and pointed across the room at you. “My turn,” he said. “I dare you to prank them. Successfully.” Then he added the most dangerous phrase in the English language: “I bet you won’t.” That was it. Disaster officially activated. I didn’t even see it as a bad idea. It was a challenge. A fun challenge. A prank challenge. And I never back down from those. I started small—classic stuff. Whoopee cushion. Banana peel. Turning into a mouse and squeaking at your feet for maximum surprise. Except… none of it worked. You stepped around the banana peel before I could even celebrate. You checked the chair before sitting. You looked down at the mouse version of me like you’d seen it coming. It was like you kept disarming my pranks before they could even happen, and that somehow made it worse. 💕(Opening) ૮(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)ა I didn’t realize you were pranking me back until the shampoo incident. I jumped into the shower after training, humming like I’d already won—only to discover my shampoo had been replaced with conditioner. Thick. Slippery. Evil. “Ahhh!” I yelled from the shower.

"At least you're around..." ୨୧ 𐔌𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚃𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚜 The mission is over. That’s what everyone else seems to think, anyway. We make it back to New Olympia bruised, tired, but standing—and to most of the team, that’s enough. Archie’s already mocking the parts that went wrong, Neil is exaggerating his contribution, and someone is asking about food like nothing almost went sideways. I tell myself I should move on too, but my brain won’t let me. Every call I made replays on a loop. Every hesitation. Every moment I could’ve chosen differently. So I apologize. Once. Then again. Then a third time, just in case someone didn’t hear me. Later, I’m at the whiteboard rewriting the mission plan, correcting mistakes that can’t actually be corrected anymore. The marker squeaks; I press harder than I need to. You’re nearby, watching me with that look you get when you’ve noticed something before I’m ready to admit it.

THE MANSION IS NOT A HOTEL (BUT IT IS) ୨୧ 𐔌 𝚂𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌 𝚡 I woke up to the sound of something heavy sliding across the ceiling. That wasn’t unusual anymore, which I think says a lot about my life. I stared at the ceiling for a second, counting in my head—one, two, three—before Sonic’s laugh echoed down the hall and something thumped directly above my room. I sighed, got dressed, and told myself that today I would be calm. Organized. In control. By the time I reached the dining room, that plan was already failing. You were sitting at the long table like you belonged there, chair tilted back, feet casually hooked around one of the legs. Papers were spread in front of you—my papers, actually—sorted into neat little piles. I stopped in the doorway, blinking.

"The bad parade" ୨୧ 𐔌𝙶𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚒𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍 I’m pretty sure every great musical revolution starts the same way: with everyone staring at me like I just suggested we replace guitars with soup. Mayor Mellow’s ban is taped to the garage wall, mocking me in bold letters. No music above a whisper. That’s not a rule, that’s a crime. “We don’t panic,” I tell the band, pacing. “We innovate.” Laney folds her arms. “You said that last time. Something caught fire.” “That fire was creative,” I say, pointing at Kin. “Hit us.” Kin immediately unveils his first idea—whisper rock. We all lean in, guitars barely touched, voices so quiet it feels illegal to breathe. I whisper-sing with maximum intensity anyway. Kon headbangs in total silence and somehow still hurts himself. “This feels wrong,” you say, hands over your ears. “Emotionally.” “It’s called subtlety,” I insist. “The crowd will lean in.” Next up: mime metal. Kon commits fully, air-guitaring like his life depends on it. I follow, shredding an invisible solo, jumping off imaginary amps. No sound. No feedback. Just the wind and Laney staring at us like she’s reconsidering all her life choices. “Are we… supposed to imagine the song?” you ask. “Yes,” I say, sweating. “It’s conceptual.” Then Kin rolls out something he calls vibration jazz. The garage floor starts humming. Tools rattle. A rake falls over dramatically. The walls shake just enough to feel threatening. Laney glares at me. “This is just loud again.” “It’s not loud,” I argue. “It’s felt.” You step back. “I am definitely feeling it. In my bones. And I don’t like it.”

"Dan vs. The person he hates.. the least" ୨୧ 𐔌 𝙳𝚊𝚗 𝚟𝚜 I did not plan to tolerate another human being. It happened the way mold happens—quietly, offensively, and against my will. You were already in my apartment when I realized this was going to be a problem. Sitting. Calm. Touching my mail like you had rights. I wrote your name on my steno pad immediately, because that’s what you do when something irritates you: you document it so it can be destroyed later. “Why are you here?” I asked.

"To much nonsense." ୨୧ 𐔌 𝚁𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚎𝚕 I could feel it in my shell the moment I started pacing—the night had too much energy. The kind that turns into explosions if you don’t wrangle it fast. I tried anyway. I clapped once, loud enough to get everyone’s attention. “Okay—quick patrol, clean sweep, no chaos. In, out, done.” I meant it. I always do. From the corner of my eye, I saw you upside-down on the couch, hanging like gravity was optional. You laughed—actually laughed—and said, “You said ‘no chaos’ like you’re bargaining with the universe.” I stopped pacing. “…Is it my tone?” I asked, genuinely. “I can adjust the tone.” Leo ditched us immediately, Donnie muttered about recalibration, and Mikey yelled “PATROL TIME” like that was a spell. I sighed. Herding turtles. Classic. You hopped down beside me and gave me this easy grin. “Relax. This feels like light chaos,” you said. “Not screaming-in-the-streets chaos.” I blinked. “You can tell?” You shrugged. “Vibes.” I didn’t know how you did that—walk into the mess without trying to fix it—but somehow it made my shoulders drop a notch. Fine. Light chaos. I could work with that. Patrol started normal enough until we ran into a mutant raccoon guarding a hot dog cart like it was sacred ground. Low threat. Annoying energy. I stepped up, squared my shoulders, leader mode on. “Sir,” I said, calm and firm, “you’re blocking the sidewalk.” The raccoon hissed.

"Training, Apparently" ୨୧ 𐔌 𝚂𝚊𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚒 𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚒𝚝; 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚄𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚒 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚜 I came to Karasu-Tengu expecting epic trials. I was given a broom. “This is a test,” I told myself. “Obviously.” Karasu-Tengu offered no explanation. She just watched as I swept the courtyard for hours. When they arrived and saw me covered in dust, they raised an eyebrow. “You look very… legendary,” they said. “I am enduring a trial of patience,” I replied. “You missed a spot.” The next day, I was assigned rocks. Not lifting them—moving them. Back and forth. Repeatedly. They counted under their breath nearby. “How long until I complain?” I asked. “Already complaining,” they said. Meditation followed. Sitting still. Doing nothing. I lasted seconds. “This is impossible,” I muttered. “That’s the point,” they said, eyes still closed. The real test came when a yokai appeared near a lost child. Instinct screamed at me to draw my sword. Instead, I hesitated. The child was afraid for the yokai, not of it. I looked back. They didn’t say a word—just watched, trusting me. I lowered my weapon. “We’re not imprisoning it,” I said. “It hasn’t done anything wrong.” Karasu-Tengu finally spoke then: “You have learned.” @Obessedwithhim🫧