#(for context this was in regards to tags on a post on where you keep your medication)

[mangowillow]

last to know | ch. 3: today's curtain opens

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader / kim woosung x (f) reader

summary: you and jeongguk got together at 16 years old, married at 20, and divorced at 21. what was once love ever after turned into nothing but pain and unfulfilled dreams. you keep going despite the pain in your heart that never really went away, until one day, jungkook comes back— to seoul and in your life.

general story tags: divorce au, childhood friends, angst, hurt & eventual comfort, kind of a slow burn, OC is an adopted child in this fic, a lot of flashbacks later on because context is important; and the others that a lot of people seem to dislike: a love triangle and a LOT of miscommunication. look away if this isn't your thing. tags and warnings will be updated as we go along with each chapter!

warnings: somewhere in this chapter, seokjin punches jeongguk

word count: 12.7k

author's note: oooh look at her coming back after more than a YEAR!

i have no words, no excuses to offer. most people would have forgotten this story already. BUT I DIDN'T and that's all that matters right now <3

gentle reminder that italics are flashbacks! please forgive any oversights or mistakes or whatnot; as of posting, i am sick and i just wanted to post this chapter that's been sitting in my drafts for the longest time now.

one more very important thing: since i haven't updated in so long, i lost track of my taglist i am very sorry! to make everything more organized, i came up with a google form that readers can fill out if they're interested in being included. i know this is such an inconvenience but because i am a very irregular poster, i will need all the help with tracking i can get!!!

so if you're interested in being tagged for this fic, please fill out this form. any requests for tags in the comments or ask box will not be considered at this time. tysm!! enjoy this very humble update!

As usual, you didn’t notice time passing until you realized it was already nighttime.

You are still cleaning up the art room at the university where you were teaching until you heard the pitter-patter of the rain. Big, fat raindrops relentlessly hit the window, creating a steady beat. The sound calms you but at the same time, it seems to mirror the turbulent thoughts that are running through your mind. Not that the thoughts were anything urgent or worrying; your mind just can’t seem to stop… thinking.

You pack the last of the paintbrushes your students forgot to return to the crate when your phone starts to ring. You wipe your hands across your paint-stained apron before picking up. You place the phone between your ear and shoulder as you start packing your bag.

“Hello?”

“Hello. Is this Mrs. Jeon ____?”

You haven’t heard that name in years; let alone be addressed as such.

“I um— may I know who is speaking?” you ask, your grip on the handle of your bag tightens. 

“This is Kim Ae-jung calling from Gangnam Heights Medical Center. I’m calling regarding Mr. Jeon Jeongguk,” the caller states. Your heart starts to beat faster, knuckles almost turning white as you now grip your bag strap even more.

“Oh. Right. Is everything okay?”

“I'm sorry to inform you that Mr. Jeon has been admitted to our hospital. There's been a health emergency and they're currently receiving medical attention.”

The moment you hear “medical attention,” the thumping in your ears becomes louder. You clutch your heart tighter as the caller goes on, “I understand this is a lot to take in. The situation is being taken care of by our medical team. It's important that you come to the hospital as soon as possible to be with them—”

You didn’t have to be told anything further. You start gathering your things, hastily putting them inside your bag, and run out the door. 

It didn’t matter that you got soaked in the pouring rain on the way to the bus stop. Of all days, you had to have your car at the shop for an oil change. You gnaw at your nails as you anxiously wait for the next bus to come. You look at your watch: 9:30 PM. You wonder why Jeongguk was in the hospital. You wonder why he was here— in Seoul.

As a self-proclaimed overthinker, you start to spiral and descend into negativity. You try to recall if Jeongguk has ever had any illnesses while you were still together. You try to remember if you missed anything then— a symptom, a cough, a fever. 

The moment you sit down on the bus your heart starts to steady a bit and it allows you to think a bit clearer. Gangnam Heights Medical Center was a few kilometers away from the university. You can’t help but glance at the time almost every minute, your leg bouncing in agitation.

In that seemingly long bus ride, you are flooded with so many memories of Jeongguk almost instantaneously— the day you met him, the day he held your hand for the first time, the day he kissed you after a fireworks display—

The day he married you.

All of the memories you have tried so hard to keep buried in the recesses of your mind— they all came rushing back like no time has ever passed.

When you are reminded of Jeon Jeongguk, you are reminded of pain. But you are also reminded of the deepest love you’ve ever known your entire life.

As the public announcement on the bus declares that the next stop is the hospital, you hastily push the STOP button above you. 

And you have never run as fast as you did to the hospital lobby. You were met by a very kind nurse who gently asked you to fill up a form before anything else even though you were clearly in distress. 

You didn’t know what to write on the form. Legally speaking, you aren’t Jeongguk’s legal guardian. Not anymore. You grip the pen tighter, the ballpoint hovering just above the line that asks for “Spouse Name”. Your eyes start to blur and because of the adrenaline, you don’t realize right away that you are in near tears. For whatever reason, you didn’t know what to do.

So many questions run through your mind— why did the hospital call you? Why isn’t anyone coming to Jeongguk? Was he alone here in Seoul? Does he have anyone at all? 

Your hands shake as you give back the form to the nurse. She gives you a small smile as she directs you to the room where Jeongguk is. Inside was the doctor in charge, as well as a different nurse.

They tell you Jeongguk had a panic attack on the side of the road. They also tell you that the attack was quite alarming because he fainted from sheer panic. You were asked if he had been taking his medication– a question you couldn’t straightforwardly answer. The doctor continued to advise you on his condition and what you could do to support him further but their words barely registered.

All you cared about at that moment was that Jeongguk was here with you in the same room. Lying on a hospital bed. 

“Is— is he going to be okay?” you ask softly, your eyes never leaving Jeongguk’s form.

“Yes, he will fully recover. However, I do advise that he monitor his triggers and form a safety plan should another panic attack happen when he’s out in public or when he’s alone. Your husband was lucky because kind strangers helped take him here.”

You wanted nothing more but to cry, but your tears cannot seem to fall. You thank the doctor as he leaves the room, leaving you and Jeongguk completely alone.

You didn’t wake up today thinking that you’d see him again. Under the worst circumstances yet again, you look at the man who you used to call your husband. Jeongguk is no longer the lanky 21-year-old you married. He's more muscular now, with his physique sculpted in all the right places. Although his face was covered with an oxygen mask, you could still see the prominent eye lines, perhaps due to exhaustion and sleepless nights. He now sports a full tattoo sleeve on his right arm, a striking blend of intricate designs that flow seamlessly down to just above his wrist. A delicate lotus flower blooms amidst the ink, its petals unfolding with quiet elegance, while scattered stars add a celestial touch, as if mapping constellations across his skin. He finally did it, you thought. You look at Jeongguk and see that everything and nothing has changed. 

You step closer to his bedside, your movements hesitant, almost fragile. With a trembling hand, you reach for the one free of the IV, your fingers brushing against his skin as if afraid he might break or worse– wake up. A shudder runs through you and your bottom lip quivers. You swallow hard, desperate to contain the sob threatening to slip past your lips.

Since when did Jeongguk suffer from panic attacks? No matter how hard you search your memory for warning signs, for any fleeting clue, you come up empty. Jeongguk was always strong, always steady—if anything, it was you who carried the weight of a restless mind.

Jeongguk had always been the one to carry the both of you.

You remain still, fingers laced with his as silent tears slipping down your cheeks. You mourn not just for him, but for everything you’ve lost—the Jeongguk you once knew, the love that once consumed your world, now reduced to fragments of what used to be.

"Mind telling me about you and ____?" Jeongguk starts, voice steady but laced with something ugly underneath.

He had been discharged just a day after—against Yoongi’s insistence. It wasn’t just the recklessness of it all that pissed Yoongi off—it was Jeongguk’s sheer stubbornness, his refusal to rest, his insistence that keeping himself busy was better than being left alone with his thoughts. He claimed it was for his mental health and that working was preferable to rotting away in self-pity.

But the truth was simpler. Jeongguk didn’t want to be alone.

Not after seeing you again.

Not after seven years.

Yoongi exhales sharply, shoving his hands into his pockets, already anticipating where this conversation is headed. He meets Jeongguk’s gaze—there’s something raw there, something unsettled. He tries to deflect. “Are you sure you’re not hungry? Because I am and—”

“I’m not in the mood to eat,” Jeongguk cuts in, his voice quieter but firm, the weight of his words sinking deep. “I need you to tell me what the hell is going on.”

Yoongi stills. The moment Jeongguk’s tone changed to his CEO voice, he knew—there was no dodging this.

The worst part is, Yoongi doesn’t even need to deflect. He just doesn’t think this is the time. They had barely even settled back in Seoul, and already, they’re reopening old wounds that never really healed. Then again… had he really expected Jeongguk to just let it go? To come back here, breathe the same air as you, and not at least try to find you?

Yoongi sighs. Over the years, he’s learned something that even Jeongguk himself refuses to admit—your name still undoes him. Every single time. Jeongguk is haunted by you— in ways he doesn’t even realize. It’s written in the way he grows quiet, in the way his jaw tenses, in the way his eyes darken with a sadness that only those closest to him can recognize.

And now, with Jeongguk looking at him like this—like he’s grasping for something, anything—Yoongi knows there’s no way out.

“It’s not a big deal, Jeongguk.” Yoongi hates downplaying anything especially when it comes to his friends, but even he doesn’t believe his words. “We just talk sometimes. I send her wishes on her birthday, greet her during Christmas, check in every now and then. But it’s rare.”

If Yoongi had any sense, he’d realize he sounded defensive. And if Jeongguk had any sense, he wouldn’t care.

But he does. Of course he does.

Jeongguk lets out a breathless scoff, shaking his head. “And you just… what? Didn’t think to mention that to me?” His tone is sharp, but not out of anger—out of something deeper, something resembling hurt. “Because everything you just said doesn’t sound like ‘rare.’”

And the worst part? Jeongguk isn’t even mad at Yoongi for keeping this from him. He’s mad at himself—for the fact that it even matters. That even after all these years, anything to do with you still destroys him.

God, Jeongguk hates himself for it—because it reminds him of all his past mistakes.

Yoongi sighs. “Because I knew you’d be like this.”

Jeongguk stills. His grip tightens. “Like what?”

Yoongi meets his gaze, exhausted. “Like this, Jeongguk. Tearing yourself apart over something that’s already gone.” He pauses, measuring his next words. “If I told you, would it have helped? Would it have made you feel better to know that your ex-wife still keeps in touch with your best friend?”

Jeongguk blinks, stunned into silence. Yoongi referring to you as his ex-wife is a fresh kind of pain he hadn’t anticipated.

"But you’re supposed to be my friend, Yoongi—” His voice wavers, cracking. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

"I am your friend, Jeongguk. I am on your side.” Yoongi’s voice is steady. Then, softer, “But ____ is my friend too. And you know damn well that I don’t condone what happened between you two.”

That shuts Jeongguk up. His mouth opens, but no words come out. Because he knows. He knows exactly what Yoongi is talking about. He knows the extent of the damage he caused. He’s known for years, and yet, it still hits him like a freight train.

His bottom lip trembles but he forces himself to keep it together. “It just… really hurts.”

Yoongi’s expression softens. “What does?”

Jeongguk swallows, looking past the city skyline outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Everything.”

Yoongi exhales, his gaze dropping to the floor. In the heavy silence that follows, the only thing Jeongguk can hear is the thick sound of him trying to keep it together.

Then Yoongi speaks. “She panicked that night, you know?” His voice is quieter, careful. “Last night was the first time I heard her voice in a long time. She was worried about you.”

Jeongguk turns, eyes glassy. “She was?”

What Yoongi doesn’t tell him is how worried you were. The way your voice cracked when you said Jeongguk’s name. It wasn’t just panic— it was also helplessness, the way you sounded just as lost as Jeongguk feels now.

Yoongi hesitates, but Jeongguk speaks first. “I’ve always thought about it,” His voice is quieter now. “What it would be like… if I ever saw her again.”

Yoongi tilts his head. “And? Was it what you expected?”

Jeongguk lets out a humorless chuckle, one that sounds more like a sigh. “Definitely not me lying in a hospital bed because of a panic attack.” He rubs his face, shoulders slumping. “I thought about it a million times. But never like that.”

Yoongi watches him carefully. “You know what’s interesting?” His voice is almost amused, though his eyes remain heavy. “You never changed your emergency contact.”

Jeongguk doesn’t move.

Yoongi shrugs. “Jeongguk if the same thing had happened while you were still in New York—”

“I know.” Jeongguk cuts him off, a pang of something sharp hitting his chest. His voice drops. “I just… never got around to changing it.”

There’s a beat of silence. A kind of silence that carries the weight of all the things left unsaid.

Yoongi nods, almost to himself. “I guess that’s just it, huh?”

Jeongguk exhales. “I guess that’s it.”

And for some reason, those words feel heavier than anything else.

Yoongi sighs just as his phone notifies him of a text message. "I'll see you later, kid, okay? Take it easy, will you? You're still healing."

Jeongguk scoffed, "Healing is such an understatement, hyung." Yoongi gives him a look. "Fine, fine, I won't work too much today. Happy?"

Yoongi nods and walks out of Jeongguk's office. He takes a look at the message he received once he closed the door behind him.

It was you.

"How’s Jeongguk?"

NEW YORK, 2016

The golden hour light had long since faded from the university's art room windows, replaced by the harsh fluorescent glow that buzzed overhead. You sat motionless on the paint-splattered stool, your brush suspended mid-air above a canvas that remained untouched since morning. The half-finished painting— a landscape of a giant tree where you and Jeongguk used to find shade when you were in high school— seemed to mock you now with its vibrant colors and brushstrokes.

The divorce papers lay beside your easel like a death sentence— a few stark white pages against the chaos of paint tubes and dirty water jars. You hadn't moved them. Hadn't touched them since a stranger had placed them in your trembling hands eight hours ago.

"Ms. ____? Papers from Lee & Associates Law Firm."

The memory echoed in the silence.

The sound of hurried footsteps in the hallway broke through your trance. The footsteps paused, then quickened, and suddenly the art room door burst open with enough force to rattle the supply cabinets.

"____! Thank God, I've been looking everywhere for—" Yoongi's voice cut off abruptly as he took in the scene before him. His chest heaved from running, dark hair disheveled, but his eyes immediately found your slumped figure, seemingly spaced out looking outside the window. The color drained from his face.

You didn't turn around. You continued staring out the window at the empty courtyard below where university students had laughed and studied just hours before. Now it was nothing but shadows and abandoned benches.

"____..." Yoongi's voice was barely above a whisper. He stepped closer, his usual confident demeanor cracking. 

You finally moved but only enough to quietly acknowledge Yoongi’s presence. Your movements were eerily calm, like someone sleepwalking through their own nightmare. Without a word, you picked up the papers and slowly extended them toward him, never meeting his eyes.

Yoongi's hands shook as he took them. The sound of rustling paper seemed deafening in the still room as he scanned the first page. His face went through a series of emotions—confusion, disbelief, and then a rage so pure it made his jaw clench.

"That bastard," he breathed, his voice trembling with fury. "That absolute—" He looked up at you and the words died in his throat.

You had finally turned to face him and the sight nearly broke him. Your eyes were dry but hollow. Dark circles shadowed your face, and your lips were pressed into a thin line that spoke of hours spent holding back screams.

Or sobs.

"____, I... I didn't know. He didn't tell me he was—" Yoongi's voice cracked. He crumpled the papers in his fist, then immediately smoothed them out again, as if destroying them could somehow undo what they represented. "When did this happen?"

"This morning." Your voice was barely audible, hoarse from not speaking the whole day. "Around ten maybe."

"It's past six now." The realization hit him like a physical blow. "You've been sitting here alone for eight hours?"

You shrugged, the gesture so small and defeated it made his heart ache. "I kept thinking... if I didn't move, if I didn't acknowledge those papers, maybe they weren't real."

Yoongi sank into the chair across from you, the divorce papers still clutched in his hands. He wanted to storm out, to find Jeongguk and demand an explanation, to shake his best friend until he came to his senses. But looking at you—really looking at you—he knew he couldn't leave. Not like this.

"Why didn't you call someone? Call me?"

"What was I supposed to say?" Your laugh was bitter, maybe a little broken too. "'Hi Yoongi, your best friend just divorced me through a law firm'? 'Could you come sit with me while I figure out how to breathe again'?"

"Yes," he said fiercely, almost frustrated. "Exactly that. You should have said exactly that."

Your composure finally cracked. Your shoulders shook, and you pressed your hands to your face. "I don't understand, Yoongi. We— we fought three days ago and he never came home after. He— he did that sometimes. But I always thought he’d come back, you know?" Your voice rose with each word, years of pain spilling out. "B-but how do you go from an argument to divorce papers in three days?"

Yoongi felt his own eyes burn. He'd known Jeongguk since they were teenagers, and had watched him fall for you like a man falling off a cliff— completely and without reservation. He'd been your witness at the courthouse wedding, had celebrated with you both, and had listened to Jeongguk talk about growing old with you just last month.

"I don't know," he admitted, his voice thick. "I swear to you, ____, I don't know. He hasn't said anything to me about problems, about wanting... this."

"Maybe that's the problem," you whispered. "Maybe he never talked to anyone about us. Maybe I was the only one who thought we were okay."

The words hung in the air like a funeral shroud. Yoongi wanted to argue, to tell you that wasn't true, but the evidence was literally in his hands. No one files for divorce if they're happy– were you and Jeongguk happy? But no one serves papers through a stranger if they still care.

"I want to confront him," Yoongi said quietly. "I want to find him and demand answers. Maybe punch him. Definitely yell at him." He looked down at the papers, then back at you. "But now... God, ____, I can't leave you alone like this."

"You should go to him. He's your best friend. This probably hurts you too."

"You're my friend too," Yoongi said firmly. "And right now, you need someone more than he does."

You stared at him for a long moment, and he saw the exact instant you stopped holding herself together. Your face crumpled, and the sob that escaped you was raw and devastating. Yoongi was out of his chair in seconds, pulling you into his arms as you finally, finally let yourself break.

"I loved him so much," you cried into his shoulder. "I loved him so much, and it wasn't enough. I wasn't enough."

"Don't say that," Yoongi whispered fiercely, his own tears falling now. "Don't you dare say that. This isn't about you not being enough. This is about him being a coward."

You cried until you had no tears left, until your body was exhausted from the force of your grief. Yoongi held you through all of it, one hand stroking your hair while the other kept the divorce papers from falling to the floor. Even now, even in your pain, he found himself protecting you from having to see them.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes were swollen and red, but there was something different in them. Not peace—you were too far from that—but a kind of terrible clarity.

"I need to sign them," you said.

"What are you– no. Not tonight." Yoongi's voice was gentle but firm. "Tonight, you need to go home and rest. The papers can wait."

"What if waiting makes it worse?"

"What if rushing makes it final when it doesn't have to be?"

You looked at him with something that might have been hope, if hope could be so fragile. "Do you think... do you think he might change his mind?"

Yoongi's heart broke all over again, because he could see how much you wanted him to say yes. How much you needed him to say yes. But he also knew Jeongguk, knew that his friend never did anything without thinking it through completely. The divorce papers weren't a mistake or a moment of anger— they were a decision.

"I think," he said carefully, "that you deserve someone who doesn't make you question whether you're enough. Whether he changes his mind or not."

It wasn't the answer you wanted, but it was the truth. And somehow, that seemed to be what you needed to hear.

You nodded slowly, then looked around the art room as if seeing it for the first time. "I should clean up. I've made a mess."

"Leave it," Yoongi said. "Just... leave it all. Come on, I'll drive you home."

As you gathered your things, you paused at the easel. The unfinished painting of the tree stared back at you, beautiful and incomplete.

"I don't think I'll ever finish it," she said quietly.

Yoongi looked at the painting, then at you. "Maybe that's okay. One battle at a time, hm?"

You nodded, understanding. Some stories didn't have happy endings. Sometimes love wasn't enough to make someone stay. And some paintings would forever remain half-done, frozen in a moment before everything fell apart.

The muted hum of the café outside your art studio filtered through the walls, but inside, the space remained still, save for the quiet strains of piano music playing in the background. The scent of paint and brewed coffee lingered in the air as you moved through the space, half-distracted by the canvas in front of you— until you heard your friends’ voices.

"Holy fuck, are you kidding me?"

You paused, your brush hovering mid-stroke over the canvas. That was Hoseok’s voice.

"Jesus wouldn’t be too pleased with your manner of expression, but no, I am not kidding." Taehyung’s response was calm, almost deadpan. "Can you keep your voice down? You should be feigning ignorance about all this."

"What good would that do?" Hoseok huffed. "Feigning ignorance, are you crazy? This is big, sweetie, and you know it."

Taehyung sighed like he was explaining something to a particularly slow student. "Honey, you’re acting like this is news. We already knew Jeongguk was back in Seoul."

“Yes, obviously, because you told me like five minutes ago!” Hoseok shoots back.

You froze for half a second before rolling your eyes. So that’s what they were talking about.

"It’s different knowing and talking about it," Hoseok shot back. "You’re gossiping."

"Of course I’m gossiping," Taehyung replied, unfazed. "We are gays, babe. We live for piping hot tea."

Hoseok groaned. "This is not the same as discussing someone’s bad haircut, babe—"

At that, you stepped into the room, making sure your voice was casual. "Someone had a bad haircut?"

The effect was immediate. Hoseok nearly jumped, eyes widening like he’d just been caught committing a crime, while Taehyung— though externally composed—blinked a little too fast.

"Ah," Hoseok choked out, his voice a little higher than usual. "____! Didn’t see you there. You, uh, move so quietly."

You arched a brow. "I literally opened a door."

Taehyung shot Hoseok a glare before turning to you, slipping into his usual laid-back demeanor—except for the way his fingers twitched against the edge of the table. "Nothing important," he said smoothly. "Just... discussing world events."

You bit back a smirk. "World events?"

Hoseok nodded a little too quickly. "Yes. You know, global issues. The stock market. The weather—"

"The weather," you repeated, unimpressed.

"Yes! Very unpredictable these days."

There was a beat of silence where you let them both squirm under your gaze. Internally, you were highly entertained. Two grown men who dominated the fashion industry– usually so confident and self-assured, reduced to awkward messes right in front of you.

You sighed, pretending to contemplate their words. "Hmm. The weather. That’s funny, because I could’ve sworn I heard Jeongguk’s name before I walked in."

Hoseok visibly winced. Taehyung dragged a hand down his face. "Goddammit."

"You two do realize that I already knew Jeongguk was back, right? And that I heard you both talking about it just now?" you asked, amused.

Taehyung exhaled, resigned. "Yeah, but we didn’t know if you were, like, in a place where you’d want to talk about it."

You hummed, considering. "And instead of asking, you decided to whisper behind my back like two teenagers?"

"Technically," Taehyung said, "only Hoseok was whispering. I was speaking at a reasonable volume."

Hoseok scoffed, offended. "Excuse me, I was being discreet!"

"You said ‘holy fuck’ loud enough for the café and for Jesus to hear."

Hoseok looked away. "Can you stop it with the holy jokes–"

You shook your head, lips twitching. "You two are ridiculous."

"But... are you okay?" Taehyung asked carefully.

You took a slow breath. The truth was, you didn’t know what you felt yet. Maybe it would hit you later, maybe it wouldn’t. But for now, you only had one response.

"Yes," you said simply. "I think I am."

Hoseok let out a breath like he’d been holding it for hours, while Taehyung gave you a long, measured look before nodding. They do not believe you— not even one bit.

But they let it slide for now.

"Alright," Taehyung said. "But if that changes, we’ve got you."

You smiled, softer this time. "I know."

The first time Woosung came to your art studio, he didn’t say much. He just wandered the space with his hands in his pockets, eyes drifting over your half-finished paintings and the faint smudges of color on your fingers.

Now, years later, he was here again, seated at the small wooden table near the windows while you worked, a book in his hand and a cup of coffee cooling beside him. You weren’t sure when it started— when he began showing up like this, keeping you company without needing to fill the silence with words.

Today was one of those days. Rain pattered against the glass, the sky outside dark, but inside, the air was warm.

You stood by the canvas, brush in hand, completely concentrating on your work. You had long since tuned out the world, lost in the rhythmic strokes of color. You always tie your hair up in a bun whenever you work but you also barely notice the strands of hair that keep falling in your face, sticking to your skin when you become so focused on the work.

At some point, you felt your lover’s quiet presence beside you. Without a word, Woosung reached over and gently tucked the stray strands behind your ear. His fingers were warm, his touch like a feather, and when you blinked out of your trance to look at him, he just smiled—soft, unhurried.

"Better?" he asked.

You nodded and smiled. "Yes. Thank you."

He hummed, stepping back, but before he could return to his seat, you reached for his wrist.

"Wait."

Woosung stopped, his eyes curious.

"Stay here. Just for a little bit," you murmured, not even sure why you said it. Maybe you just liked having him close.

Woosung didn’t question it. He just nodded, pulling a stool and positioning himself beside you. He watches you paint in comfortable silence.

Every so often, he would tilt his head, his gaze intent as if he were memorizing the way your fingers moved, the way the colors blended together under your touch.

"You’re really focused today," he observed after a while.

You hummed, biting your lip as you tried to perfect a small detail. "I am. It’s nice, though."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I think it’s because you’re here."

You said it without thinking and you realized how easily the words had slipped out. Woosung smiled again, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He lifted his hand, brushing a smudge of blue paint off your cheek with his thumb.

"Then I guess I’ll stay a little longer," he murmured.

And he did.

A little while later, the rain had softened to a drizzle, leaving the air thick with that post-rain stillness. Your brush hovered over the canvas, but your mind had long drifted elsewhere. Across the room, Woosung sat at the table, still flipping absently through his book, but you could tell— he wasn’t really reading. He was waiting.

It had been like this since last night.

He had held you while you cried, rubbing slow circles into your back, whispering, "It's okay, I’ve got you," even though he had no idea what had shattered you. He never asked, never pushed. But now, with the night stretching thin between you, you could feel the weight of everything unsaid pressing down.

"You didn’t sleep much," Woosung finally said, his voice gentle, as if he were testing the waters.

You swallowed, still dragging the brush along the canvas in slow, aimless strokes. "Neither did you."

Woosung exhaled a small chuckle, but it was knowing. "You cried yourself to sleep, ____. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I slept soundly through that?"

You winced at that—at the truth of it. At the guilt that curled in your stomach. He wasn’t accusing you of anything, but you felt like you had placed something heavy between you both.

You took a deep breath, still not looking at him. "It was just… a hard night."

Woosung nodded, his gaze steady. "Because of what happened at the hospital?"

Your fingers clenched around the brush. A long pause settled between you.

You could lie. You could brush past it, act as though it was just one of those nights where the weight of everything caught up to you. But Woosung had always been careful with you, had always made space for you to be honest in your own time. You had told him that you saw someone unexpectedly at the hospital before you went silent all over again last night.

You exhaled. And you poised yourself to tell Woosung the rest of what happened.

"I saw him," you said, voice barely above a whisper. "Jeongguk."

Woosung didn’t react—not right away. He just closed his book, setting it aside, like he had been expecting this. He didn’t ask how it happened. Didn’t ask why you hadn’t told him immediately. He just let you sit with it, let you offer whatever you were willing to.

You hesitated before continuing. "I didn’t even know he was back in Seoul, but then I got a call… he was in the hospital. I don’t know why they called me, but they did, and I—I went."

A deep breath. 

You could feel Woosung’s eyes on you, but you kept your gaze on the canvas, focusing on the way the paint streaked across the surface, trying not to feel the way your throat was tightening again.

"I didn’t stay long," you added, half-truthfully. "I just… made sure he was okay before Yoongi came."

You heard the shift of a chair, and then Woosung was beside you. He didn’t say anything at first. Just reached out, his fingers grazing your wrist before curling around it lightly.

"How do you feel?" he asked quietly.

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. "I don’t know. Everyone keeps asking me that today."

“Everyone?” Woosung asked.

“Taehyung picked me up from the hospital. He uh, of course, he told Hoseok about it right away.”

Woosung nodded as if he understood that more than words could ever explain. Without hesitation, he pulled you against his chest, his chin resting atop your head. His arms around you were steady, warm. A grounding weight.

"You don’t have to figure it all out right now," he murmured. "Just… let yourself feel it. Whatever it is."

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. He smelled like rain and coffee, like the warmth of something familiar and safe.

"I’m here," he added, voice so soft you almost didn’t catch it. "Whatever you need."

And just like that, the ache inside you loosened, just a little.

The apartment in Seoul was vast and hollow. Open-space style with high ceilings and sleek, modern finishes—everything about it screamed luxury. Floor-to-ceiling windows spanned one entire wall, revealing the bustling Seoul skyline, lights flickering like stars.

It was the kind of apartment regular people dream of having. But right now, Jeongguk thought it felt more like an empty shell.

Half-unpacked boxes scattered all over the floor, some opened, some untouched. The air smelled of unlit scented candles, the kind his assistant had left, thinking they would make the place feel more like a home. He hadn’t bothered.

Jeongguk went through his things with quiet efficiency, pulling out clothes, books, old notebooks filled with immature, maybe even brilliant thoughts. His movements were mechanical— until his eyes landed on a single, still-sealed box in the farthest corner of the living room.

Something in his chest tightened.

For a long moment, Jeongguk just stood there, jaw tense. When he finally mustered up whatever courage was left of him, he crouched down, pressing his fingers into the packing tape and tearing it open. Inside, neatly stacked and untouched for years, were remnants of a past he had buried but never truly let go of.

Art books, their covers slightly worn. A few pieces of clothing, folded carefully as if waiting to be picked up again. And at the very bottom, almost like a cruel afterthought— photographs.

Jeongguk swallowed as he reached for them.

They were yours– belongings you never brought back to Seoul with you. And the photographs were from his high school years. Senior year. Before New York, before the weight of adulthood, before everything fell apart.

In one, you were laughing, head tilted back, eyes shining under the golden autumn sun. Jeongguk was next to you, hand in his pocket, pretending to be indifferent, but the way he looked at you even then—it told a different story.

Memories rushed in, sharp and clear as if no time had passed at all. Jeongguk braced himself for a fresh wave of unshed tears.

Busan, Hanseong High School - Three Years Before New York

Jeongguk had been at Hanseong High for three weeks and already, he was used to the routine.

The stares. The whispers. The way people spoke his last name like it carried weight, like it meant something.

Jeon Jeongguk. The son of a powerful real estate family. The new kid who was rich, handsome, untouchable. He was already bored of it all.

That afternoon, he found himself lingering in the school’s indoor gym—not because he had a reason to be there, but because he had nowhere else to be. The air smelled of sweat and old wood, the faint echo of bouncing basketballs in the distance. He leaned against the railing on the second floor, watching the scene below with disinterest. Maybe even boredom.

A group of girls sat huddled together on the bleachers, giggling. Among them was you— though you didn’t seem to be part of it. Not really.

You sat slightly apart, a book open on your lap, fingers idly turning the page. Your expression was neutral, but Jeongguk had already spent the last few weeks observing you in passing. You were in the same classes as him and yet, not even once did you acknowledge Jeongguk’s presence, let alone look his way. You weren't loud like the others and weren't desperate for attention. You had this quiet presence— one that didn’t demand space but somehow held it anyway.

You intrigued the hell out of Jeongguk.

But then it happened.

One of the girls suddenly stood, walking up behind her with a smirk. It was a slow, seemingly calculated movement, the kind that sent an uneasy feeling crawling up Jeongguk’s spine.

“Oops,” the girl said mockingly, just before tilting her hand.

A full carton of milk tipped forward, spilling over your head, soaking through your uniform, dripping onto the pages of the book.

Laughter erupted around you after that.

Jeongguk didn’t move. He should have done something. But he didn’t. Other people who were in the gym stopped whatever they were doing– waiting to see what you’d do next.

You sat there for a moment, milk running down your hair, shoulders stiff, fingers clenched into fists. Then, after what seemed like an eternity– silently, you shut your now soaked book, stood up, and walked away.

To this day, Jeongguk does not know what compelled him to follow you. His feet, at the time, moved of their own accord, his heart knowing he needed to do something. Anything.

He wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was guilt because he could have warned you of what was going to happen. Maybe it was something else entirely.

You had made it outside to the back of the school, where the sky stretched wide and empty, where no one could see you. You stood with your hands braced on your knees, shoulders shaking—not in sobs, but in silent frustration.

“Hey.”

You flinched at Jeongguk’s voice, turning sharply. Your wet uniform clung to you, strands of milk-dampened hair sticking to your cheek. Your eyes flickered with something unreadable before you schooled your expression.

“What do you want?” you asked flatly as you turned away from him in humiliation.

Jeongguk shoved his hands into his pockets. “That was messed up.”

He hears you scoff. “No kidding.”

For some reason, your sarcasm made the corner of Jeongguk’s mouth twitch.

“Here.” Jeongguk shrugged off his school blazer, holding it out to you. “You’re cold.”

You looked at the blazer, then at him. “I don’t need it.”

“Well clearly, you’re shivering.”

You straightened. “I don’t need your pity.”

Jeongguk tilted his head slightly, intrigued. “Who said I pitied you?”

Silence. You stared at him, as if trying to decide whether to believe him. After a few seconds, without another word, you turned away, arms crossed tightly over yourself.

Jeongguk didn’t leave.

Instead, he sat down on the steps nearby, watching as the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the pavement. You didn’t tell him to go away.

And Jeongguk, for the first time since moving to this school, wasn’t bored.

The memory faded, but the feeling remained, lingering in the quiet of Jeongguk’s new, empty space.

He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. The box remained open in front of him, pieces of the past staring back at him. He should have put them— the whole box— away. But instead, he picked up the photograph again, tracing the edges with his thumb.

It had been years since that day in the gym. Since he saw you stand at the cramped space at the back of the school looking so defeated, arms crossed, yet too stubborn to accept his help.

And yet, even now, you remained the only person who had ever made him feel like he wasn’t just Jeon Jeongguk—the boy with a name too heavy to carry.

Maybe, he thought bitterly and quite sadly, he had been trying to follow you ever since.

Yoongi stared at his phone screen, your message glowing back at him: "How's Jeongguk?"

Three simple words that felt like a loaded gun.

He set the phone down, then picked it up again. Typed a response, deleted it. Typed another.

His apartment felt suffocating suddenly. He walked to the window, looking out at the Seoul skyline—the same view Jeongguk probably had from his new place. With a scotch in hand, Yoongi clenched his jaw, thinking about how everything that was starting to unfold was quite funny.

He hadn’t counted on Jeongguk finding you so soon– even if it was by accident. Yoongi chuckles to himself like an idiot. “I guess this is what they call fate.”

Yoongi exhaled slowly and finally typed back: "He's physically fine. Discharged yesterday."

Your response came quickly: "And mentally?"

Yoongi closed his eyes. How could he explain that Jeongguk looked like a ghost of himself? That he'd been carrying this weight for seven years?

"He's struggling," he typed. "But then again, so are you."

Three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again.

"Did he ask about me?"

Yoongi's heart clenched. The honest answer was complicated— Jeongguk had asked, but not in the way you'd want to hear.

"He knows you were there that night— you already know that."

"That's not what I asked."

Yoongi found himself smiling despite everything. Even through text, you were still sharp, still direct.

"Yeah," he typed. "He asked about you."

Yoongi's thumb hovered over the keyboard. He could discourage you, protect you both from reopening old wounds. Or he could do what his heart was telling him to do.

“What now?”

“I just want him to be well,” you respond.

Yoongi purses his lips– you were still the same girl he met all those years ago. Selfless, kind-hearted.

Self-sacrificing.

And he will do anything in his power to protect you.

It was nearing closing time when the bell above the café door jingled softly, signaling one last customer. The warm yellow lights reflected on the glass, casting long shadows along the wood-paneled walls. Jimin, who was wiping down the counter, looked up instinctively and froze mid-motion.

Jeon Jeongguk stood just inside the doorway.

For a moment, Jimin simply stared, cloth in his hand. There was something surreal about it— Jeongguk, in this space, under this light, in this cafe of all places, with his hair slightly damp from the rain and his hoodie slightly crumpled from travel. Seoul clung to Jeongguk in an unfamiliar way, the years since New York etched into the way he carried himself. But Jimin recovered quickly, stepping forward with a practiced smile.

"Welcome," he said, his voice pleasant and casual. “Long day?”

Jeongguk blinked, slightly thrown off. He nodded, eyes flicking around the café. “Yeah. Just needed a place to warm up. This place looked...” He trailed off. Familiar? Safe? He didn’t finish the sentence.

Jimin gave a soft chuckle and gestured to the counter. “We’re just about to close but I can still get you something. Americano? Or do you want something sweet?”

There was a flicker of recognition in Jeongguk’s eyes as he looked at Jimin more closely. “...Have we met before?”

Jimin paused before giving a small nod. “New York. At a student exhibit in university. You came with Kim Namjoon.”

Jeongguk’s brow furrowed, but nothing clear surfaced. “Right,” he said quietly, though it was clear the memory didn’t fully register. “Sorry— I’ve had a long few days.”

“No worries.” Jimin’s smile didn’t falter but there was something distant in his eyes. “What can I get started for you?”

“Oh, um… a hot latte would be nice.”

Jimin worked the register but when Jeongguk was about to give him his card, Jimin smiled politely. “It’s on the house.”

“Oh, god no, I don’t want to—”

“It’s okay, Jeongguk-ssi,” Jimin smiles. Jeongguk honestly does not have the energy to argue further. Slumping his shoulders, he nodded and quietly thanked Jimin.

“You are very welcome. Please take a seat. I’ll get your drink started for you.”

Before Jeongguk could move toward a table, another door swung open at the back of the café.

“Yah Jimin-ah, did we confuse the flour with the cornstarch this time—”

Seokjin.

Still wearing his apron, flour smudged along one sleeve, Seokjin halted mid-step the moment he laid eyes on Jeongguk. The tray in his hands clattered onto the counter as his face twisted— recognition sharp and instant.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

The words cut across the room like a knife. Jimin looked up sharply from behind the espresso machine.

Jeongguk straightened, confusion flashing across his face before he registered who it was. “Seokjin?”

Seokjin didn’t give him a chance to speak further. He strode toward him in a blur of fury, fists clenched at his sides. “You have the audacity to walk in here? Like nothing happened? Like you didn’t fucking destroy my sister—?”

“Seokjin—”

“No,” Jin snarled, closing the distance. “You don’t get to say anything.”

Before Jeongguk could defend himself, before he could even raise a hand, Seokjin’s fist landed squarely against his jaw with a sickening crack.

Jeongguk staggered back, clutching the side of his face. He didn’t fall but the impact left him breathless. “What the hell—?”

The doors to the art studio burst open from the sound and you emerged, paintbrush still tucked behind your ear, paint smudges along your forearms. “What’s going on—?”

Your voice faltered as you took in the scene: Jeongguk standing by the counter, blood forming on the corner of his mouth; Jimin frozen; and Seokjin, chest heaving with rage, his knuckles still clenched and red.

“Jeongguk?” Your voice broke around his name.

He looked up slowly, eyes meeting yours like he’d been hit a second time. He opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out.

You turned sharply to Seokjin. “Did you hit him?”

“He deserved it,” Seokjin snapped.

“What the hell, Seokjin?”

“You’re really going to defend him?” Seokjin barked, disbelieving.

“I didn’t say that—” You took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. “But punching him isn’t going to fix anything.”

Seokjin let out a sharp but bitter laugh. “Oh, so now you're protecting him? After everything?”

“I’m not protecting anyone, I’m trying to de-escalate this.”

Jeongguk wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his sleeve and stepped back, unsure whether he was allowed to speak, to breathe, to even stand there. It felt like trespassing. Maybe it was.

Seokjin turned on you now, jaw tight, voice low but shaking. “He broke you, ____. And now you’re defending him like he didn’t spend years forgetting you existed.”

You clenched your hands into fists, shoulders squaring. “I’m not defending what he did. But I am asking you not to turn this place into a battlefield. This is our café, Seokjin. Not a fucking war zone.”

Seokjin looked at you for a long moment, anger still coursing through his veins— but it was your eyes, calm but hurting, that finally made him yield.

“Fine,” he muttered. “But don’t ask me to be civil. Not with him.”

With that, Seokjin turned on his heel and stormed back toward the kitchen, door slamming shut behind him.

The silence that followed was tense. Jimin still stood behind the counter, lips parted as if unsure whether to speak.

You turned to Jeongguk. You didn’t step forward. You didn’t smile. Your voice came out quieter this time. “Why are you here?”

Jeongguk looked at you with wide, pained eyes, as if trying to memorize you all over again.

“I didn’t know,” he said. “I didn’t know this was your place.”

You nodded once as if that explained everything and nothing.

“You should go,” you added, softly. “It’s late and it’s raining.”

Jeongguk didn’t argue. Only glanced once more around the space, at the painting above the pastry display, at the polished wood tables, at you.

Then he turned and left, the door closing quietly behind him.

You stood there for a long while after, the paintbrush behind your ear suddenly feeling like the heaviest thing in the world.

After what seemed like an eternity, the clang of the swinging door echoed louder than it should’ve. You stood in the middle of the café for a moment longer, letting the silence settle like dust, before turning and pushing your way into the kitchen.

Seokjin was by the sink, aggressively scrubbing a saucepan that didn’t need cleaning. His back was tense, shoulders rising and falling with every breath like he was trying—and failing—to calm himself down.

“You didn’t have to hit him,” you said, voice steady, but your chest still trembled.

Seokjin didn’t look at you. “Didn’t I?”

“You don’t get to make that call.”

He whipped around at that, eyes blazing. “He left you, ____. No— he ruined you. And now what? He shows up here, like nothing ever happened, and I’m supposed to just, what, smile? Be polite? Serve him coffee?”

You folded your arms– not out of defiance but to stop your hands from shaking. “I’m not asking you to be polite. I’m asking you not to lash out like this is still your fight.”

“It is still my fight!” Seokjin’s voice cracked. “____ do you really think I forgot what you looked like after he walked out? I remember how quiet you got. How you stopped painting for months. How I had to sit with you in silence night after night because you couldn’t even cry anymore. You were gone, ____. He didn’t just leave you. He took the best parts of you when he did.”

His words stung because they were true. You bit your lip and looked away. “I let him in. I let him love me. That was my choice.”

“Don’t you dare turn this into your fault,” Seokjin said, voice softer now but still full of that same frustration. “You didn’t deserve what happened.”

“I didn’t say I did.”

There was a beat of silence. The sound of the refrigerator humming in the corner filled the space between you.

“He’s not the same,” you said finally, voice barely above a whisper. “His eyes… he looks like someone trying to hold the world together with fraying thread.”

“I don’t care,” Seokjin said but it was a lie. You both knew it.

You stepped closer to your brother. “I’m not defending him, Seokjin. But I’m also not ready to hate him as much as you do. I never did… I don’t know what that says about me… but it’s how I feel.”

Seokjin exhaled, hands braced on the countertop. “It says you’re kinder than he deserves.”

You gave a small, broken smile. “Or stupider.”

Your brother didn’t argue. Instead, after a long pause, he turned to you again. “Just… promise me one thing.”

“What?” You realize your exhaustion was already weighing you down.

“Don’t let him back in just because you think he’s broken.”

You nodded slowly. “I won’t.”

That was a lie too. But you both let it slide.

The door of the café closed behind Jeongguk with a dull thud and the cold Seoul air hit him like a wave. The rain hadn’t let up but he didn’t pull his hood over his head. He decided to walk slowly even though his car was still parked near the cafe, no destination in mind, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket as water soaked through the fabric.

His jaw ached where Seokjin had punched him but that pain was nothing compared to the one building in his chest.

Seeing you again had cracked him open.

You looked like someone he’d only ever see in dreams now—still ethereal, still grounded in color and softness. But the way you looked at him… like he was a stranger wrapped in old clothes. Like he didn’t belong in the same room as you anymore.

And maybe he didn’t.

Jeongguk wandered for blocks, barely paying attention to the street signs or blinking storefronts. He only stopped when he reached the Han River. The wide stretch of water lay quietly under the moonlight, blurred by the drizzle. Jungkook sat on the bench, shoulders hunched, and stared out at the current as it flowed without him.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and stared at the screen. No new messages. No missed calls. He unlocked it anyway and scrolled to his contacts, hovering over your name.

Still there. Still untouched.

His thumb brushed against it but he didn’t press.

Instead, he leaned back, eyes closing. Rain kissed his cheeks, soaked into his lashes. He welcomed it because it was easier than crying.

He let himself remember. Your laugh echoing across a sunlit room. The way you’d wrinkle your nose when you were concentrating on a painting. The way you used to trace circles on his palm when you thought he was asleep.

And he remembered the day it all fell apart.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do now. He didn��t know what he wanted.

No— he did. He wanted to rewind time. To walk into that café and see you smile at him like you used to. But time didn’t offer that kind of grace. It only offered consequences.

Jeongguk let out a shaky breath and leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. He didn’t know how long he sat there— just that eventually, the rain stopped and he was still alone.

The apartment was quiet when you got home.

Too quiet.

You slipped your keys onto the dish near the door and toed off your shoes slowly, trying not to make any noise. The familiarity of home—the throw blanket on the couch, the books stacked near the lamp, the faint scent of jasmine from the candle Woosung lit earlier—should’ve grounded you.

But it didn’t. Not tonight.

You stood in the dark for a moment longer than necessary– unsure whether to head straight to the shower or collapse into bed. You weren’t expecting to find Woosung still awake, let alone waiting for you in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a warm mug in his hand.

“I made tea,” he said gently, as if his voice might spook you. “It’s probably cold by now.”

Your throat felt tight. “I didn’t think you’d still be up.”

He gave you a soft, crooked smile. “You said you were heading back late, not that you'd come home looking like you fought a ghost.”

You offered a weak laugh. “It kind of feels like I did.”

He didn’t press. Just walked to you, slowly, like he always did when he sensed you needed space and presence at the same time. When he reached you, he simply wrapped his arms around you, grounding you in the warmth of his chest, his chin resting lightly atop your head.

You didn’t cry. Not this time.

You just stood there and let yourself be held.

After a long pause, he spoke, voice low and careful. “Was it him?”

You didn’t need to ask who. “Yeah.”

You didn’t miss the way he stiffened just slightly before exhaling. “Did you talk?”

You nodded against his chest. “Not really. Seokjin hit him. I… I stopped it. Then I told him to leave.”

Another silence.

Woosung's hand moved in slow, rhythmic circles on your back. “How do you feel?”

You let the question hang there because you weren’t sure. Hollow? Rattled? Like someone had opened a box in your chest you’d long sealed shut?

“I don’t know,” you whispered.

Woosung didn’t respond with reassurance or try to fix it. He just kissed the crown of your head.

“I’m here,” he said.

You finally pulled back to look at him, eyes scanning his face. Kind. Patient. Still here.

You hated that part of you wished he weren’t.

The sun was already high in the sky when Jeongguk dragged himself into Yoongi's studio. He hadn’t slept. He looked like hell— bloodshot eyes, jaw bruised, hair a mess. But he moved like he had unfinished business burning in his veins.

Yoongi noticed immediately.

“Jesus, you look worse than yesterday.”

Jeongguk ignored the jab and dropped onto the couch with a sigh. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Yoongi didn’t respond right away. He just stared at the screen in front of him, tapping a few keys absently, before finally swiveling in his chair to face Jeongguk.

“Didn’t sleep, huh?”

“I walked for hours. I don’t even know how I ended up by the river.”

“You always end up there when you’re falling apart.”

Jeongguk let out a dry laugh. “You know me too well.”

Yoongi leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “So? What now?”

“I saw her. I mean—I really saw her. It wasn’t just a memory or a picture in some gallery post. She was right in front of me, looking at me like I was…”

“A stranger?” Yoongi offered.

Jeongguk nodded, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah.”

“She didn’t look angry?”

“No,” Jeongguk muttered. “She looked… tired. Like she didn’t know whether to scream or hug me. Like she’s been trying to forget me and I just made it harder.”

Yoongi sighed. “That’s because you did make it harder. By showing up unannounced. Walking into her safe space.”

“I didn’t know it was her café. I swear.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

Jeongguk stared down at his hands. “I think she has someone.”

Yoongi didn’t answer right away, which told Jeongguk enough.

“Where did that come from?” Yoongi asked.

“I’m not sure… but just thinking about it… it hurts more than I expected,” he added quietly. “I don’t know what I want from her. I just… wanted to be seen. Not hated. Not erased.”

Yoongi’s voice softened. “She did see you.”

Jeongguk shook his head. “But not the way she used to.” He slumped further into the couch, staring at the ceiling like it might give him answers.

“I used to be her whole world.”

Yoongi leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. “And then you burned it down.”

Jeongguk didn’t argue. He couldn’t.

“What do I do now, Yoongi?”

Yoongi looked at him for a long, quiet moment. “You ask yourself if you’re ready to rebuild anything. And if you’re willing to accept that the pieces might not fit the way they used to.”

Woosung watched you sleep from across the room, hands loosely wrapped around his coffee mug. The pale morning light filtered in through the blinds, casting golden stripes across the floor—and across your face, peaceful but withdrawn, even in rest.

You hadn’t said much since last night. Just that you were tired. Just that it had been “a long day.”

But he wasn’t dense. He saw it.

The tremor in your voice when you said his name. The way your arms wrapped around him like you were bracing yourself for a storm that hadn’t yet passed. The way your body felt warm against him but your mind had drifted somewhere far, far away.

He knew what a closed door looked like.

Woosung loved you. That wasn’t in question. And in most moments, being with you felt like being home— quiet, anchored, enough. But there were times—like now—when he could feel something slipping between his fingers. Something he couldn’t hold, no matter how gently he tried.

He knew you had a past. He’d accepted that. But he hadn’t prepared himself for what that past would look like when it returned, not as a memory, but as a man.

Jeongguk.

The name alone was a ghost in his mind. You rarely said it but when you did, it was with the kind of softness that didn’t belong to pain. Not completely. Woosung didn’t want to be the jealous type. Didn’t want to become the man who questioned the cracks in someone else’s heart. But when you looked at him last night, it wasn’t just sleep in your eyes— it was absence.

And he hated that he didn’t know how to bring you back.

He walked over to the window, mug still warm in his hand and stared out at the quiet street below. He’d give you time. Space. Safety. Whatever you needed.

But part of him already knew: if Jeongguk was back in your world, he would have to brace for a future that might not include him in it. 

And he wasn’t sure he was ready for that.

The rain had finally stopped by the time you stepped out of the university gates that afternoon, sunlight peeking out from behind thin clouds. You hadn’t planned on stopping by the park, but your legs carried you there anyway. The world felt too loud lately— colors too sharp, memories too close— and you needed quiet after teaching the whole day.

The small café near the entrance of the park wasn’t busy. A few students occupied scattered tables, chatting over drinks, the occasional laughter bubbling into the air. You stepped inside and ordered chamomile tea.

You didn’t see him right away.

It wasn’t until you turned toward the window seat—your favorite one—that you noticed him. Sitting at the far corner of the room, hood pulled low, black journal open in front of him, pen tapping against the edge.

Jeongguk.

Your stomach dropped.

He looked smaller here somehow. Not in stature—his presence still drew attention—but in energy. Like someone trying to disappear into the corners of a page.

He hadn’t seen you yet. You froze, cup warm in your hands, unsure whether to approach or flee. You could walk away. You should.

But then he looked up.

Your eyes met. And time, once again, forgot how to move. He didn’t smile. He didn’t stand. He just looked at you like he’d been waiting. You walked toward him slowly. Carefully. 

“Is this seat taken?” you asked, quietly.

Jeongguk stared at the empty chair across from him then shook his head. “It’s yours.”

Neither of you spoke for a moment. The air between you was heavy but not hostile—more like something ancient and sacred. Something that didn’t know how to begin again.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” you said, finally breaking the silence.

“I didn’t expect to be seen,” Jeongguk replied, eyes flickering to yours. He looked down at his journal, then closed it slowly. “I’m sorry. About the café. About… all of it. I didn’t know it was yours and Seokjin’s.”

You didn’t respond right away. You let the words hang there.

“I know,” you said eventually. “I believe you.”

He blinked, surprised by how easily you’d said it. But you weren’t done.

“That doesn’t change what happened,” you continued, voice steady, even if your heart wasn’t. “Seokjin was right. It doesn’t erase what we lost.”

“I know,” he said again. “I’m not here to fix anything.”

You looked at him then— not as the man who hurt you but as the man who now sat quietly with his regret. Not demanding anything. Not begging. Just… present.

For the first time in years, you didn’t look away.

“You don’t have to walk on eggshells,” you murmured. “Not with me. Not anymore.”

Jeongguk swallowed hard. “I don’t know how to be around you without feeling like I’m trespassing.”

You gave a faint, sad smile. “Then don’t try to be anything. Just… be here. If you want to be.”

Jeongguk nodded, jaw tight with the kind of relief that was almost indistinguishable from grief. And for a while, you both just sat there. Not as lovers. Not as exes. Not even as old friends.

Just as two people who once loved each other so deeply.

Jeongguk left the university café feeling hollow. The brief encounter with you—unexpected, painfully gentle—had undone something in him. You hadn't screamed. You hadn't walked out. But your voice, your eyes, the way your fingers gripped the edge of your mug—it haunted him more than any shouting ever could.

He had rehearsed nothing and left with everything unspoken lodged in his throat. It hadn’t been enough.

Not by a long shot.

So when night fell, his legs carried him somewhere he hadn't planned—your café. The one you shared with Seokjin. He didn’t expect to see you. Not really. But part of him hoped, in the smallest, most reckless corner of his heart, that maybe you’d still be there. That maybe you’d let him speak.

That maybe he could try again.

“I’m telling you, I nearly salted the croffle again,” Seokjin said as he wiped down the counter with exaggerated flair. “That’s the third time this month.”

“Hyung, you’re not cursed,” Jimin laughed, nudging the sugar shaker toward him. “You just have poor labeling habits.”

“It’s not labeling. It’s sabotage. Someone moved the sugar again. Probably Hoseok. He always looks guilty when I serve the wrong order.”

“He looks guilty because you gave someone a tuna melt instead of a vegan sandwich last week.”

“That was one time.”

Jimin smirked. “You are the chaos. Don’t drag Hoseok into your crimes.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes, drying the last mug. “Speaking of chaos, where’s my sister?”

“Still in the studio,” Jimin said, nodding toward the door to the attached workspace. “She’s been trying to finish that commission all week.”

At that moment, you emerged from the studio door with paint on your sleeve and a weary but focused expression.

“You guys can go,” you said, waving them off. “I want to get this done tonight.”

“You sure?” Seokjin asked, frowning. “I can stay—”

“I’m fine, really. The piece is almost done, I just need a few more hours.”

Jimin raised an eyebrow. “You just want to be alone with your tortured genius.”

You snorted. “Exactly.”

Seokjin opened his mouth to argue again but you raised a hand. “I’ll lock up. Promise.”

“Okay, but if a raccoon breaks in again, don’t call me,” Seokjin muttered as he grabbed his coat.

“Noted.”

Jimin gave you a kiss on the cheek before heading out. “Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

You nodded. “Goodnight, both of you.”

The café door clicked shut behind them, leaving you with the hum of quiet jazz and the smell of old coffee grounds. You turned back into the studio, prepared to pull an all-nighter.

You were cleaning brushes when you heard the door chime. Without looking up, you called out, "We're closed today, sorry—"

"I know."

The brush slipped from your fingers, clattering into the sink. You turned slowly and there he was.

Jeongguk stood in the doorway of your studio, hands shoved deep in his coat pockets, shoulders tense. 

"Hi," he said quietly.

"Hi." Your voice came out steadier than you felt.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between you. Jeongguk's gaze wandered around the studio—taking in your paintings, the organized chaos of your workspace, the coffee-stained easel in the corner.

"It’s a really nice cafe… it has an art studio just like how you wanted it," he said, for lack of anything else.

"Thank you." You wiped your hands on a towel, grateful for something to do with them.

"I wanted to thank you," Jeongguk continued. "For coming to the hospital. You didn't have to—"

"Yes, I did." The words came out sharper than intended. You softened your tone. "I mean... when someone calls and says you're in the hospital, of course I'd come."

His jaw tightened slightly. "Right. The emergency contact thing."

"Why didn't you change it?" The question slipped out before you could stop it.

Jeongguk looked down at his hands. "I don't know."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one I have."

You set the towel down slowly, trying to still your hands. The air between you had grown heavier, charged with too many years of silence and everything neither of you had the strength to say before now.

"Why are you really here, Jeongguk?" you asked, your voice low but steady. "Because if it's just to thank me—"

"It's not," he interrupted, voice frayed at the edges. He ran a hand through his hair—a gesture so familiar it knocked the breath from your lungs. "I don't know, okay? I’ve been back in Seoul for three weeks and I can’t stop thinking about you. About us."

"There is no us, Jeongguk."

"I know." His voice cracked. "Trust me, I know that better than anyone."

You leaned back against your workbench, exhaustion creeping in like a tide. “Then what do you want from me?”

“I want to explain—”

"Seven years too late for that, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. Probably. But I have to try.” He stepped forward instinctively, then caught himself, freezing mid-step like he didn’t trust himself to be closer. “The way I left… the way I ended things… it was wrong.”

“Wrong?” You let out a short, breathless laugh— one with no humor in it. “Jeongguk, you served me divorce papers through a stranger. A fucking stranger from some law office. I found out my marriage was over from a man who mispronounced my name.”

Jeongguk flinched, visibly. Shame seeped into the curve of his shoulders, the downturn of his mouth. “I know.”

“Do you?” Your voice wavered now, frustration bubbling up with the grief. “Do you know what that did to me? I sat in a room for eight hours—eight, Jeongguk—just staring at those papers, waiting for someone to tell me it was a mistake. That maybe they got the wrong person. That my husband wouldn’t do something so… something so….”

“____…”

“Do you know I reread the papers so many times I memorized the clause about 'irreconcilable differences'? Do you know I hated that phrase because it sounded so... neat, like we were just a bad spreadsheet?”

His face crumpled. “I’m sorry. God, I’m so—”

“Sorry doesn’t fix it,” you snapped, voice breaking. The tears came before you could stop them, burning hot trails down your cheeks. “Sorry doesn’t give me back the part of myself I lost when you decided I wasn’t even worth a conversation.”

There was a beat of silence so loud it pressed against your ribs.

“You think this was easy for me?” His voice rose slightly, hoarse and unsteady. “You think I wanted to hurt you like that?”

“I don’t know what you wanted. That’s the problem. You never gave me the chance to understand anything. You just... vanished, Jeongguk. I know we didn’t really resolve anything after our last argument. I knew we had our problems but…” Your tears continue to betray you. You bite your lip to keep yourself from sobbing even further.

“I didn’t think you’d leave me, Jeongguk…” you whisper helplessly.

Jeongguk took a deep breath then exhaled through his nose like it physically hurt to keep standing there. He wanted to come closer, maybe wrap you in his arms but he didn’t. He stood where he was. “I was scared.”

The words landed like a stone in water.

“Of what?” you asked, quieter now.

“Of everything,” he whispered. “Of not being enough for you. Of waking up next to you and realizing you were slipping away and I couldn’t stop it. Of becoming a burden. Of watching you look at me and wonder why you ever said yes.”

You stared at him, stunned. “So you left instead.”

“So I left instead,” he echoed, bitterly.

Your tears had stopped but your chest felt hollow.

“You didn’t even let me choose,” you said. “You didn’t give us a chance to fight.”

He looked at you then, something desperate flickering in his eyes. “Would you have? Chosen me?”

The silence that followed wasn’t cold—it was aching.

You wanted to say yes. To scream it. But the truth was heavier than that. The truth lived in long nights and unanswered texts and waking up alone.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, and it hurt you to say it. “But I would’ve tried.”

Jeongguk nodded slowly like he had already guessed your answer but hoped hearing it might change something. It didn’t.

“I think about that night a lot,” he said, his voice lower now. “Our last fight. I replay it all the time, trying to figure out where the breaking point was.”

“What was it even about?” you murmured. “I’ve tried to remember but all I can see is you walking out.”

He hesitated. “Money. My parents. My crazy ambitions. But it wasn’t really about that, was it?”

“No,” you whispered. “It was about the silence. About how we were living side by side but stopped reaching for each other.”

“Yeah.”

You stood in that shared quiet for a long beat, surrounded by the smell of paint and memory.

"I loved you Jeongguk," you said, your voice barely audible. "Even at the end, even when everything was falling apart, I loved you."

“I know.” His voice broke entirely now. “And I loved you. That’s why I thought letting go was the least selfish thing I could do.”

Another silence stretched, not as sharp this time. Just tired. Real.

Jeongguk rubbed at his jaw, the movement weary. “I’m not asking for anything. I just… needed you to know. I’ve carried this for so long and it’s eaten me alive… ____ I’m really sorry. I know there’s no apology that can ever make up for everything I’ve done to you but… I’m just really sorry.”

You look up at Jeongguk with your tear-stained eyes and it breaks Jeongguk more than he can ever describe in words.

“____ I am so sorry for leaving you the way I did…”

You nodded, barely. “I— I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replied gently. “You’ve said more than I deserve.”

The studio had grown darker without either of you noticing.

Only the soft light from the café filtered in through the open door, casting long shadows across your half-finished painting and the uneven flecks of dried pigment on the floor. Somewhere in the distance, a car passed. A door slammed. But here, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you—and the distance between what was and what could never be again.

Jeongguk looked down at the floor then back up at you, his mouth pressed in a tight line, like he was still deciding whether to say one last thing. Maybe something small. Maybe something huge.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he stepped back, slowly, like approaching a cliff’s edge he’d finally accepted he couldn’t jump from. His gaze lingered on your face a moment longer—memorizing you, or maybe just letting go. He opened his mouth slightly, closed it again. Whatever words he might’ve said had dissolved before they ever formed.

“I should go,” he said finally, and his voice was hoarse in that way people get when they’ve cried recently or haven’t slept in days.

You nodded. It was all you could manage.

He turned to leave, his footsteps almost soundless on the studio floor. When he reached the door, he hesitated—just long enough to make you wonder if he’d look back.

He did.

A brief glance over his shoulder. Nothing dramatic. No tears. Just that same familiar sadness in his eyes, now quieter. A little more surrendered.

“Goodnight, ____,” he said softly.

And then he was gone. The door closed behind him with a soft click. You stood there for a long while, staring at the space he’d just vacated, your hands still smeared faintly with color and time. The silence returned—but it was different now. Not peaceful, not exactly painful either.

Just... honest.

[blitzwhore]

wait, i don't understand, can u please if u want explain why they scrapped the "Stolitz Montage" song?

Yeah, I can explain! I actually have a lot of thoughts about these songs.

For context, at the beginning of Sinsmas, a song called Day By Day plays in the background while Blitz and Stolas run errands. Originally, a different song (untitled, so Sam Haft—the composer—unofficially called it Stolitz Montage) was going to play during these scenes, but they ended up scrapping it. I mentioned in the tags of a different post that I understood why they'd made this decision.

If you don't want to keep reading, my TL;DR is that I believe the tone and mood of Stolitz Montage doesn't fit Stolas' emotional journey in Sinsmas as well as Day By Day does.

If you do want to read my full personal analysis, keep reading below the cut!

-

(Note: I'm going to focus on the songs' lyrics, because I'm not knowledgeable enough about music to analyse the musical aspect of the songs. If anyone else wants to add their thoughts in that regard, be my guest!)

Let's start by taking a look at the lyrics of the scrapped song, Stolitz Montage:

So you're having a bad time

You're stressing and everything all seems much so

You've been having a sad time

And your family probably hates your fucking guts so

The song starts by describing Stolas' situation and emotional state in the days following the trial: he is sad and overwhelmed, everything feels like "too much", and his family probably hates him.

It's pretty clear from the get-go that they wanted a song for this montage that conveyed Stolas' struggle to adapt to life as a commoner, away from everything he's known, and having gone cold turkey on his depression meds (the lack of which is emphasised visually throughout the song).

The song is also in second person: Stolas isn't him, or me, he's you. This is something both songs have in common. It keeps the song at a slight emotional distance from Stolas. Whereas a first-person song would make the feelings too personal—would make Stolas too aware of his own struggle—and a third-person song wound be too distant, the second person allows Stolas to be only passively aware of his emotional state. He's not the one singing; he's the one being sung about. What he's feeling is being pointed out to him by an external, seemingly omniscient voice.

The song continues:

Ooooh-oh oooh ooh

I know you feel it too

You lost your way

And just can't fake it for another day

It's hard to take it

Just pretend you're gonna be okay

Here is where I think the tone of the song starts to deviate from what they wanted to convey in this montage.

At first glance, this is a continuation of the previous verses, and mostly expands on Stolas' emotional state: "it's hard to take it"; "you lost your way".

The key difference is that the lyrical voice now plays an actual role in that emotional state.

First, it states that it shares Stolas' feelings ("I know you feel it too"—implying that Stolas isn't the only one who feels this way). Thus, the lyrical voice starts shifting into an active character within the scene. And not any kind of character—one that can relate to Stolas and, more importantly, one that can offer some comfort.

Then, there's the line "just pretend you're gonna be okay". Now, I see two possible interpretations for this line. It can either be a piece of advice for Stolas (hey, I know it's hard, but just pretend), or another description of his struggle, a continuation of the previous line: "(it's hard to) just pretend you're gonna be okay". Personally, I lean slightly towards the former interpretation, especially because the lyrical voice's intention to offer comfort and advice becomes clearer in the next line of the song:

You're not okay and that's okay

This is where the focus of the song shifts fully towards a hopeful, even optimistic view of Stolas' situation.

Now, I get where they were going with this. "It's okay to not be okay" is a very powerful thing to say to someone who's struggling with mental illness and hard life circumstances, and it's one Stolas badly needs to hear.

In fact, it is a message that is conveyed to Stolas multiple times throughout the episode. By Blitz. Not through words, of course—but through actions. In the montage itself, as well as throughout the rest of the episode, Blitz constantly stands by Stolas' side, offers him company and comfort, meets him where he's at emotionally, doesn't pressure him to be okay, and (especially at the end in their apartment) gives room for Stolas' sadness and grief to exist. He hugs Stolas, puts his hands on Stolas' arms, and opens up emotionally about his own sister, and those are all ways of showing Stolas that it's okay that Stolas isn't okay.

But here's the thing. The knowledge that it's okay to not be okay is Blitz's, not Stolas'. That is Blitz's emotional state, not Stolas'. Stolas doesn't know it's okay to not be okay, and even though Blitz keeps conveying this message to him, he's not able to hear it just yet. Not this early in his descent to rock bottom.

In fact, learning that it's okay to not be okay is a journey that Stolas only begins at the end of the episode. By then, Stolas still isn't okay, but he begins to come to terms with the fact that that's alright. And he does this by allowing Blitz to sit in silence with him, to dance with him, to pry a laugh from him, to hold him without any expectations of being held back. The final scene of the episode is all about them both being okay even though Stolas isn't. We see this in the fact that Stolas lets himself stay in Blitz's arms, going as far as closing his eyes. He's there. He's finally in the moment. He's finally allowing the "not okay" feelings in his body to just be.

The Stolitz Montage song ends with:

You put one foot in front of the other

Then you take it day by day

Knowing you got nothing

You still got each other

Ooooh-oh oooh ooh

Again, most of these lines do match Stolas' emotional state. In fact, the notion of just living life one day at a time, just focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, is very representative of what a depressive episode can and does feel like.

But, in the very last line, the song shifts right back to a reassuring tone: "you still got each other".

Now, not only does the hopeful, optimistic sentiment of this line belong—once again—to Blitz's emotional state, it also goes directly against what the emotional arc of the episode aims to achieve.

Sinsmas isn't about them having each other—Sinsmas is about Stolas having Blitz.

It takes him all episode to realise this, too. At the beginning, when the montage takes place, Stolas is just going through the motions. As stated above, he's just focusing on putting one foot in front of the other—he's fully on survival mode. During the fight with Andrealphus, Stolas is shocked that Blitz came to save him, that he risked his life. That is the moment Stolas begins to truly comprehend that he can lean on Blitz. And then, after they get home, he slowly continues to learn it, as explained above. By the end of the episode, he's only just starting to allow himself to lean emotionally on Blitz.

And significantly, Blitz doesn't lean on Stolas. Because he's at a very different part of his own character arc, and he already had his opportunity to lean emotionally on those around him with Millie in Ghostfuckers, and to a lesser extent, with all his employees during their mission on Sinsmas.

Blitz has gone through enough pain, character growth, and healing to both understand exactly where Stolas is at, and be able to meet him there and be a rock for Stolas to lean on.

So the reason that line—that last line, positioned strategically to drive home its message that it's all gonna be okay—doesn't work for the montage is twofold. Firstly, because Stolas isn't ready to see that he has Blitz. Secondly, because it is now Blitz's turn to give comfort without needing to receive it in exchange.

And, if we take a look at the whole song, the reason it doesn't work for the scene is because it doesn't meet Stolas where he's at. The song says, "yes, you're sad, but—" and shifts to optimism. It doesn't fully allow Stolas to simply not be okay. To not be there yet. It doesn't fully allow his depression to just suck. The feelings of sadness and overwhelmingness are shadowed by a positivity and hope that belong to Blitz, and not Stolas.

Let's now take a look at Day By Day, and at which ideas from the original song were kept, which ones were changed, how, and why it works:

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

You take it day by day

You got everything that you had thought you wanted

But you still feel so blue

And you don't know what to do

Right off the bat, the lyrics are very similar in tone to the ones at the beginning of Stolitz Montage. Once again, a lyrical voice in the second person describes Stolas' emotional state: he's blue (sad), he's taking it day by day.

But there's already a change. "You have everything you thought you wanted, but you still feel so blue".

The fact that Stolas had always wanted a life with Blitz is something the previous song doesn't touch on whatsoever. And it matters, because "what Stolas thought he wanted" is a central part of his arc in the episode. It comes back during his breakdown at the office: "and I did it for what?! These stupid, foolish fantasies?" And it comes back again when Blitz saves him from Andrealphus, and when Blitz dances with him and their eyes meet afterwards.

As stated above, this is the episode where it dawns on Stolas that he has Blitz. But he isn't there yet at the beginning of the episode, and so he still believes what he and Blitz had was just a fantasy of his. And because he's never had anything with Blitz that wasn't a fantasy, because fantasy is all he knows, he doesn't immediately know what to do with the real thing. With the domesticity, and the errands. He doesn't recognise the signs Blitz is sending his way that he's got Blitz to lean on.

These two lines are also important because they bring forth another aspect of depression that the previous song doesn't: that love doesn't cure depression, or make it magically go away. That going cold turkey on your meds and having a massive depressive episode is going to suck no matter how many good things you have in this life, because depression is a biological process, not a state of mind. Depression takes away your ability to find joy in things that used to bring you it. It takes away your feelings, your energy, your strength.

Notice that Stolas doesn't seem apathetic or hollow inside on the night of the trial and the morning after. Yes, he's had his title and power stripped, he's been physically assaulted in the street, and yes, he's worried about Octavia. Obviously, he shows signs of being dissociated, and he's exhausted. But, emotionally, he's still hanging on. He still thanks Blitz for everything, and he talks to Blitz in the morning, and smiles when Blitz offers to get him rats. Before the effects of going cold turkey on his meds start to kick in, he's grateful to be around Blitz.

It's during the montage, as the days go by, that he starts feeling blue. Because depression is very quickly taking away the joy he found in Blitz's company.

And that's why, even in the first few lines, this song conveys Stolas' state of mind so much better than the previous one. Because while the message in Stolitz Montage was "yes, you're sad, but—", the message in Day By Day is "yes, you should be happy, but."

It lets the sad win over the happy. It lets depression take Stolas down with it, it lets him feel helpless and lost. "You still feel so blue, and you don't know what to do."

The song continues:

You're sitting at the end of the rainbow, but the pain grows

And you can't help let the strain show

'Cause what else are you to do?

These lines emphasise the ideas presented in the previous ones: that Stolas should be happy, but he isn't. That the pain that has planted itself in Stolas is growing. So much so that he can't help but let it show.

Stolas' helplessness, his slow descent into misery, are given the room to exist. Everything around him seems fine, but he's not fine. And he's not told that it's okay to not be fine. Because this is Stolas' emotional state we're exploring, and for him, it's not okay to not be fine right now. He's too busy going through the motions to grant himself that kind of mercy.

The song finishes:

Keep it calm, life goes on, and on, and on

Nothing's wrong, nothing's wrong

So why do I still feel this way?

Ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh, ooh-ooh

You take it day by day

And, much like in the previous song, we get a small hint of what could be interpreted either as advice/reassurance from the lyrical voice, or as Stolas actively telling himself to pretend to be okay. "keep it calm, life goes on, nothing's wrong". In this case, though, I lean towards the latter interpretation for a very simple reason: the next line shifts to first person. "So why do I still feel this way?"

And that's the thing: once again, the hope and calm he's trying to make himself feel are immediately overpowered by his feelings of sadness. Once again, it's the sadness that wins over, and not the happiness. His depression is given room to drag him down, take him slowly towards rock bottom.

And once again, the last line—at least the last one before the chorus is repeated—is used to drive home the message of the song. But this time, the message is that, despite it all, despite having what he wanted, despite sitting at the end of the rainbow, despite trying to convince himself he's okay, he still feels sad. Because that's what depression does. No matter how many good things you have in your life, it drags you down.

And that message, in that last line, is delivered in the form of a question. "Why do I still feel this way?" This matters for two reasons. The first one is that it shows that Stolas isn't (fully) aware of what's happening to him. He obviously knows he needs his meds, he knows he should be taking them. We see him reach out for them. But he is also living his emotions, and not just experiencing them from the outside. And as the emotions take over, he loses perspective of where they come from, too caught up in how they're drowning him.

The second reason this matters is because the song and the lyrical voice don't offer Stolas answers.

In Stolitz Montage, Stolas gets an answer to his struggle: that, ultimately, [Blitz and Stolas] still got each other.

But in Day By Day, all Stolas gets are questions. What else are you to do? Why do I still feel this way?

Day By Day meets Stolas where he's at during the days leading up to Sinsmas after the trial. It allows for these questions to exist without an answer; it lets the answers come later in the episode. It lets his journey through the episode play out, allowing him to learn that he has Blitz, that he needs his meds, and that he has to be okay with the fact that things are not okay.

By the end of the episode, he can acknowledge that he made his choices and has to deal with the consequences. He starts to understand Blitz is by his side, willing to help him through this. That his relationship with Blitz might not feel like he thought it would, because he's too mentally ill and heart-broken to be there—but that they still have each other, they still love each other, and they'll be okay.

But during the montage, he's not there yet, and it wouldn't make sense for the song to be there, either.

So, yes, as cute and optimistic as Stolitz Montage is, and as glad as I am they released it anyways for us to enjoy, I believe the writers made the right decision by scrapping it for the episode.

If you read this far, thank you for your time! Please treat yourself to a glass of water for me, and feel free to share your thoughts ❤️

[crguang]

607. I MISS YOU.

" And I found photographs of our school, on the day we met I thought that you were so beautiful, it was love, I guess."

VIOLINIST AU MASTERLIST

It's here!! The official lore-filled post for the Violinist AU that my wonderful anons, @shalomniscient's godly input and I have concocted over the past three months. This masterlist will serve as guidelines for the AU so that newcomers and current enjoyers (me included lol) can easily refer to it and see if any burning questions have already been answered or not. Speaking of, every anon questions and rambles can currently be found under the #violinist au tag. Things will inevitably be added as time goes by, so I'll do my best to update this post when they do. Let's get into it! ♫

SOME BASICS!

SUMMARY ♫

╰┈➤ Kafka and Reader are classical musicians and childhood best friends who have been playing together since their respective instructors discovered their potential and made them work together on a piece at just 8 years old. At the time, they are both young prodigies in the making who share a dream of becoming the best in their field. They navigate the carefreeness of childhood, heavy expectations, close friendships and tumultuous high school years hand in hand. As they grow, so does their music. The two are intrinsically tangled up; where there is one, you can surely find the other. One day, when they're around 16 years old, R moves away. Their last bus ride together is a memory Kafka holds close to her heart and she remembers it viscerally whenever comes the time to bring an especially complex composition to life. This musical prowess eventually becomes the source of her recognition and success.

After R moves away, Kafka loses herself in her ambitions and Elio's strict teaching. He continues to groom her into the perfect musician and has little regard for her self-destructive behavior if the results surpass his expectations. She isolates herself from her friends, practices until her fingers ache, and spends a long time exteriorizing her feelings of abandonment through her music. She’s snarky, irritable and mean. She grows up to play the violin professionally and is recognized as a prodigy in that world. She goes through pianist accompaniment after pianist accompaniment, always looking for the “missing key” to her art that’s disappeared alongside R, but it remains unattainable.

R grows up insecure due to Elio’s hurtful favouritism towards Kafka; they never feel skilled enough to keep up with her, strong enough to shoulder their instructor’s expectations for them and thus worthy of Kafka’s attention and respect. When they move, they stop playing the piano for a while. Even they pick it back up eventually, it’s never in a professional context. While KFR have different relationships with music, since they’ve learned it as a duo, they understand each other’s art like no one else. R now makes records of songs covers that they’ve only recently started selling due to their popularity among the locals. It’s a hobby, not a career.

PRESENTING... KFR ♫

╰┈➤ KAFKA

We all know her, we all adore her, forever a superstar... Kafka's as close to HSR's canon as I could make her. Since this is an AU, there are obviously backstory/character traits that I've added to further flesh her out but the base of her character remains the same. Classical music is her life and she's played professionally as soon as she could; praised and admired almost all of her life (by her instructor and her fellows), she's a goddess with the violin. She's playful, confident with the skills to back it up, and guards her true feelings behind easy smiles only the ones closest to her can pick apart.

Some Kafka facts:

She's most definitely a media sweetheart. Her practiced elegance and distinct fashion style make her look very Cool, and it's an image she's carefully built brick by brick!

She lives in a condo with minimalist design, so it looks pretty empty despite her collections of records, musical instruments and mini libraries filled with books, music sheets and the likes. You can find an intricate, pretty vase in almost every room.

Outside of music, she doesn't do commitment. She sucks at it, hates feeling "hindered" and is often preoccupied by someone something else anyway. Hookups and FWB are more her style. She’s had like one serious relationship up until the present time.

As a teen, she was pretty rebellious. Though rigorous when it comes to the violin, she was never above skipping a day or two of class to have some fun and almost always dragged R along whether they thought it was a good idea or not. As an adult, she still enjoys the thrill but is much more calculated due to being under the spotlight most days.

She’s always heard humming! Though singing’s not her thing, she’s constantly humming her favourite orchestras, pieces she’s currently learning or just songs that she likes.

Heavy smoker, especially when she’s feeling some type of way.

She has no living relatives.

She harbours some repressed anger that she’s never fully healed from until the present time. That explains a lot of her defense mechanisms and current guarded behaviour.

She wears her sunglasses when she wants to hide.

Her closest relationships are: Blade, Acheron and Black Swan.

She meets Blade sometime after college and offers him a job as her personal driver. He understands her needs implicitly and she deciphers his moods just as easily. He’s the one who takes care of her when she drinks too much or needs to clear her head with a long drive. Sometimes, shared silence is enough. Kafka and Acheswan have been friends since high school and have stayed friends throughout adulthood. The three of them grew closer right after R moved away.

╰┈➤ Reader

Because this is still an x reader AU, they don’t have a specific appearance. All of their specificities lie in their character. R is an excellent pianist despite their traitorous mind convincing them otherwise, they genuinely have a passion for the piano and classical music as a whole so they’re very knowledgeable when it comes to it. They currently work at a record store alongside Serval and make music for themselves that others happen to enjoy. They’re an overthinker and tend to diminish the place they take up in people’s lives but they’re also very sweet, reserved and thoughtful.

Some R facts:

They’re a terrible liar. It’ll show on their face whenever they’re bothered by something, or they’ll have little tells like fidgeting or avoiding eye contact.

Funnily enough, they were the most direct one out of the two as teens. R had no issue calling Kafka beautiful on concert night or holding her hand unprompted as they walked to the bus stop. While she hid behind shitty humour and sarcasm, they were more open in their affection. It’s a little more complicated in the present time, as they have to relearn each other with their respective baggage.

Elio's berating is the reason why R starts hiding things from Kafka and their other friends. As a teen they keep more secrets from her than she thinks, it's something she'll come to realize in the present time.

R moves away for a couple of reasons; their parents consider moving due to having to take care of chronically ill relatives but that decision isn't cemented until R tells them that they're okay with it. By the time they make this decision they've let their dwindling passion for the piano, years of Elio's expectations and their own insecurities take up so much space in their mind that they simply don't believe they're needed anymore. They couldn't do it anymore, look at Kafka and be reminded of how insignificant they were. They don't inform her simply out of cowardice. At 16 they were going through so much that they just believed leaving was for the best.

They have a little sister! She's 14 years younger than they are, so she was 2 when their family moved away. In the present time she's 14!

R sings! Not professionally or anything, but their singing voice is (one of) someone's favourite sounds.

They live in the one bedroom apartment right above the record store. It's cozy and seems packed at first glance, complete opposite from Kafka's home. There are music sheets and drawings from when their sister was younger on the fridge, pictures framed on the walls, old posters of bands they still love in their bedroom, etc.

Their closest relations are: Serval, Acheron and Swan

Serval and R met at the record store, where she already worked at before they were employed there. R is often invited to her band's performances, and they grew close from working together so often (outside of the owner, they're the only two employees in the store.) They're here for each other as they both go through these ridiculous homoromantic situationships... Acheswan are high school friends and once KFR reconnects, so do R and our fav purple ladies. They're closest to Acheron.

TIMELINE ♫

╰┈➤ KFR are the same age and meet at 8 years old. They grow together under the same instructor, Elio. They go to the same school and don't live that far off from each other, only one bus ride away.

At 14 years old, in high school, KFR befriend Acheron and Black Swan who have just started dating. They're high school sweethearts!

At 16 years old, the Bus Breakup happens and R moves away. Kafka's left to finish the rest of the school year with Acheswan and throws herself into her music/goals to cope with R's sudden absence.

Kafka starts to get recognition in the classical music world in college, but more so in the years that follow. At 23, she's already pretty known as a violinist prodigy. Also the year she meets Bladie!

Around a decade after they last saw each other, at 28 years old, KFR meets again in the vintage record store R works at. When I say "present time" I'm referring to their first meeting and on.

KFR officially get together about a year later, at 29 years old.

SOME FUN STUFF!

DRABBLES

╰┈➤ I've written a few short drabbles for specific moments of KFR's lives together that particularly spoke to me. I intend to write more whenever I feel inspired, and you're all welcome to pitch in as well !

🎼 Bus Breakup

🎼 Record Store Shitshow

🎼 Random KFR drabble

HEADCANONS ♫

(more like fun facts since I decide what's canon...)

╰┈➤ These aren't in chronological order because that would take me an insane amount of time to figure out. As always, if anyone wants me to elaborate on any of these they can always send me an ask :)

R has natural perfect pitch while Kafka's worked hard to hone hers. In the present time, she’s much better than they are due to playing consistently and professionally.

Kafka picked up smoking in college to alleviate her stress. Very bad habit that she can’t seem to stop.

Kafka has tattoos! I don’t care, she at least has a spine tattoo. Her and R probably get matching ones at some point, much smaller though. I’m thinking particular music notes.

R eventually comes to own the record store they work at.

Kafka’s very close with R’s family. They hang out without R often. Their sister loves her and they've had a few spa days.

R’s dog tag is from a grandparent that passed away. It’s sort of a way for them to remember to keep their loved ones close. I can see Kaf gifting them one with a date engraved on the back.

Kafka’s tried her hand at composition but the one she’s been working on and off on for years is still unfinished.

Once KFR gets together, they're always touching in some way. One of them toying with the other's fingers is a common occurrence.

R still has the drawing their 8 year old self made with Kafka somewhere in their teenage bedroom. They've also held on some specific annotated music sheets/partitions that they've worked on with Kafka when they were in the school orchestra.

Kafka and Serval have a funny relationship; Serval loves to get on Kafka's nerves because she's a rich snob and Kafka's always a fan of getting even. The passive aggressiveness between them is off the charts, but they can also be found giggling together when drunk. They'll deny it wholeheartedly.

R and Himeko are friends! They go to the same coffee place almost every day and see each other often but work in very different fields.

Serval and Cocolia have something weird going on. They've been friends who kiss sometimes since college and now they have different career paths that add some distance between them but they still want each other but Cocolia tends to prioritize her work and Serval feels she doesn't care as much anymore and--- it's complicated. Bronya doesn't exist at this point in the AU, but she likely will in the future.

R's followed some of Kafka's success on social media for a few years before they met again. Kafka has a little fanbase!

R sells their personal collection of the records they make at the store. When Kafka gets wind of it, she makes sure to have a copy of each (mostly by having Blade buy them from people’s hands…) and keeps the records at home. That’s before they get together.

R plays the piano for Kafka for the time the morning after they sleep together hehehe.

R confesses to Kafka about Elio's mistreatment after Swan convinces them to. I would say it’s the biggest chance Kafka has to make them understand that she wants them at her side.

Swan was the pretty but kinda weird girl in high school who was very into palm reading and tarot cards. Acheron was probably on the track team or something. Super sweet but reserved.

Kafka and Acheswan see each other pretty often. They have brunch.

Acheron studied philosophy in college.

Acheron mostly taught Kafka how to do her makeup as teens.

Swan has always been able to see through Kafka's bullshit and defense mechanisms.

When they were in high school, R’s house was the designated hang out spot for the 4 of them. At school they had classroom 311B which was often vacant so they hung out there most of the time.

KFR's confession happens in R's teenage bedroom after a family dinner. Sev and I already have the whole thing planned out...

Their bus number, 607, means “I miss you” in pager code! I thought I was being clever when I chose it lol. It’s kind of the official title me thinks.

CONTRIBUTIONS!

╰┈➤ KFR PLAYLIST MADE BY @blinkinn <3

Very grateful and giddy about this one because I still can’t believe my brainrot has inspired someone to make a playlist out of it. It’s full of angst, as it should be, so I’m very happy. I’m still adding on songs that make me think of them and have some instrumentals/violin sonatas that I need to add as well, and I'm always taking anon suggestions for songs y'all think would fit them <3

╰┈➤ KFR PINTEREST BOARD

This pinterest board is unfinished but is essentially meant to be a progression of KFR’s childhood to adulthood. It was supposed to start off representing childhood carefreeness and nostalgia then progresses into their angsty teenage years, their separate lives, all to come back to the time they meet again well into adulthood. However, the board is structured from most recent to older years, so the oldest memories are at the bottom.

Thank you to all my anons and Sev for brainrotting with me, this AU is getting kind of big now and I’m really happy about it. I’ll add more info to this post periodically, I think about it often and I’ve likely forgotten some stuff that has been mentioned to me before so it’s a work in progress!!! Hope more people enjoy what we’ve all made together <3

[nonverbalnaji]

Merfolk Anatomy and Worldbuilding for my Jayvik Mermaid AU

Cross posting from the threads I did over on Bluesky into one place for ease with some wording adjusted for clarity. This is what I've done for my fic The Ebb and Flow of You which is on Ao3.

Please note before you read on that I will be discussing physical speculative anatomy, the impacts of that on society, culture, and gender, as well as information about reproduction. Additionally, in my fic I tweak how Viktor's disabilities present, and he doesn't have a terminal illness. (Tooth-rotting Fluff is a big tag for my fic aha).

Setting - Undercity Underwater

So in this story, Zaun is the underwater city/region for merfolk and Piltover is much the same but spanning over both sides of the bridge. Topside/Bottomside and Undercity are still used as terms between them

Zaun is made up of three levels in Runeterra and Arcane. The Promenade (where the warehouse is), the Entresol level (the lane), and the Sump (the fissures and mines). Fissures were easy to nod to underwater, while the Promenade and Entresol is more about proximity to the city than levels of depth.

While Vander isn't a Baron in the show, he still holds a position of power that felt analogous to here. He and Silco still had a fight, but in a slightly different context with the scarring becoming promenant due to Gray toxins which is a mixture of underwater gases and pollutants from Topside.

While I figure an air-based and water-based pollutant would work differently, I've gone with the assumption that the Gray is still trapped in certain areas or zones that affect the livability due to the toxicity affecting food sources and farming potential, as well as being a risk to construction.

Merfolk Anatomy and Viktor

A thread on the merfolk anatomy I have in The Ebb and Flow of You. While this was based on the amazing art by Snow Le Art, it was as early as chapter 1 that I realized that there would be some differences that I wanted to make logical sense (or at least to me) in regards to fins and organs.

As a quick aside, Silco is half merfolk and half Sharfin (shak fin with constant elision) hence why he has a sharp sense of smell. It's also thanks to discussing logisitics of mpreg with my partner that 'seataurs' were coined since we were talking about how seahorses aren't actually viviparous.

We'll get to that topic in another thread but this will be covering fins and why Viktor has hearing issues. When I wrote this thread initially, I realize I've hit a bit of a plot hole perhaps, but I'm going with he learnt to talk and the issues were a later development from being born in the Gray.

In my mind, merfolk have: a pair of pelvic fins, one on each hip; an underfin that starts at the edge of their 'seam' or 'pouch' and ends where their tail has a knee-like bone (idk maybe); their dorsal fin extends from their scales and there's a slight colouration there and where scales end.

Viktor was born with a twisted spine, and as such this is shown with his dorsal fin. One of the important functions of a dorsal fin is to keep fish from rolling belly up, so Viktor needed to compensate for this, he swims slower than other mer and with a tilt if he's not moving his hips as he swims

This was to nod to his leg like in the show, even though the injury to his tail fin is also analogous. While he won't be dying in this fic, the delayed impact of breathing the Gray was a usable reason for what I will get to in the fic regarding his hearing which might sound strange buuuttttt

There are some Amazonian fish that have enlarged swim bladders (used to breathe and buoyancy) that have evolved to have *lung tissue* and so they breathe air. Perfect for merfolk! THEN I came across something called the Weberian Apparatus, which connects the swim bladder to the auditory system...

This apparatus uses the swim bladder as a kind of resonance chamber, so my logic here is that it's either not fully developed for Viktor or there's some issues that need investigating perhaps, you'll have to read on to find out but it was a neat find to adapt his lung issues to hearing issues

When I word it like that it sounds weird XD Worldbuilder things though.

Merfolk Reproduction - the Hear Me Out

So. Cloacas. Hear me out. In part, it was from a 'Why Not Both' moment but also because I was trying to figure out if merfolk would have a similar separation of uh, passages like we humans do. For fish, their anal or cloacal fin (which I've dubbed as underfin) can separate these passages.

It also made sense that even without a cloaca that there would be a pouch or sorts to protect uh, appendages. While it's more so amphibians and non-bony fish that can have cloacas, technically by definitions, merfolk *are* a kind of amphibian, being able to breathe both under water and in air.

It also made sense that even without a cloaca that there would be a pouch or sorts to protect uh, appendages. While it's more so amphibians and non-bony fish that can have cloacas, technically by definitions, merfolk *are* a kind of amphibian, being able to breathe both under water and in air.

In the previous thread I mentioned Seataurs or Seahorses being ovoviviparous. Instead of this live birth like mammals, this means that they hold eggs that develop internally before birthing them. Otherwise, fish are ovoparous, in that they lay eggs and either fertilized before or after.

I decided to have both as an option, taking into account environmental and social safety as both can have advantages and disadvantages. While carrying an egg can make sure it's safe, it does put the birthing parent at risk, but laying eggs is also risky depending on where the eggs are laid.

The other thing I wanted to explore was the impact of this physiology on gender identity and expression. And at least in a fantasy setting, accessibility for transfolks and any diversity is a no-brainer to me. So while this story won't focus on the humans, the city of progress is progressive here.

This is also nodding to what I've read about fish that change their reproductive anatomy in response to environmental circumstances as well as some fish like clown fish who literally transition from male to female as part of maturing. So in this fic, merfolk are androgynous and change as they grow

This means that modelling of diversity and education is important for understanding. It wouldn't be a sudden change say from the ages of roughly 12-25, and experimentation with pronouns and expression would be a norm. Viktor's case, he has leant masculine but not too far from androgyny out of choice

The flexibility and choice in part is because I like the idea of Viktor being able to have a space where he can experiment and explore, living his best life vibes. Even when he falls pregnant, that won't make him any less masculine, just like with any seahorse dad. Hopefully I can write this well <3

And if this all sounds interesting, you can find this fic over on Ao3 here:

[memen18-m5r3]

new installment in my authleft lore saga ヾ(•ω•`)o this one's adding details to the things i've established in my previous posts so feel free to check them out for context (it's under "authleft family drama" tag now).

quick recap of what's going to be relevant here: the steel factory where all of authleft lives appeared long before any of them and as if by itself. this + the chthonic atmosphere of the workshops lead some to believe that this building is "alive". with its own will and needs.

Commie suspects Trotskyist of subversion and usurpation of production (how's that bad, you might ask? well, nobody knows what's gonna happen if production were to ever seize...and Commie's not risking it), and takes him out when no one's looking. Does it with a heavy heart, but believes it to be for the good of the family (or so he tells himself to better sleep at night).

There's no solid evidence, no go-to suspect (Trot wasn't popular with the rest of authleft for various reasons, at this point it could be anyone 'cept selected few), and no body. Therefore, the common story becomes that Trotskyist "disappeared" on the factory grounds. Naturally, Commie keeps quiet about his participation in this disappearance. Trot gets proclaimed dead after a while of him being MIA. It's a precedent that has never happened before so everyone's a little freaked out. Posadist searches under every pipe, but finds no trace of his father. It's at this moment when intrusive thoughts and voices turn more and more frequent for Posad. Gradually he is pushed towards the idea that it was the factory itself that ended Trotskyist.

This creates and fuels fear and paranoia regarding the factory's machines, and given that Posadist serves as a mechanic, he becomes unable to perform his duties. Which is a problem. Commie doesn't go straight for the kill this time as he finds Posadist more pliable, as well as less of a threat (and they need their mechanics). So, Commie tries to "fix" his nephew, but he doesn't know how to deal with this kind of situation and ends up making it worse, solidifying the delusions. Posadist reaches a point of breaking, where he starts to consider the factory an extraterrestrial technology or even a life form sent to Earth by a more advanced communist civilization. Not only does he fail to do his job, now he actively interferes with production.

Commie, in his final attempt to reason with Posadist, blurts out that he (Commie) is the one guilty of Trotskyist's death. This revelation comes too late, however, as it falls neatly into the conspiracy theory. Posadist calls his uncle an "alien accomplice", but he won't take him alive, for he himself almost got in touch with these alien creatures, and that he has something greater to offer them. Posadist hides in the factory's depths, and that's the last time he is seen in his "normal" form.

TL;DR: Commie kills his brother out of personal suspicions, then drives his nephew to psychosis with inept attempts at psychological help (and lying...lots and lots of lying). For the greater good tho!

[witchofthesouls]

Could I get a little context about the "DinoDad!Starscream" AU?

I just read the post of the ask you recently answered, and I find the scenario interesting, but I could use a little bit of context, if you don't mind 😅

Primeval Anon

Yeah, I decided to give that specific AU a proper tag with 'Dino!Dad au' to make it easy to consolidate all the posts about it.

Overall, it's a TFP divergence of the Rogue!Starscream based on an ask sent in. Basically, Starscream made completely different decisions where he managed to find a Primal Artifact with the capabilities to revive Cybertron from sheer desperation and pure gambling... only to have it disintegrate in his hands. The Emberstone then utilized the bones within the pool it was housed for an eternity to bring back a little Predacon femme to life along creating a brand new line of beastformers with a baby Utahraptor and Deinosuchus bones.

Starscream isn't in a really good mental space prior to this, so he gets weird dreams and audio-visual hallucinations of his dead trinemates that implore him to take them in. I'm keeping vague on whether or not he's having a complete breakdown due to Seekerkin quirks as he's essentially alone and without resources or if Skywarp and Thundercracker are really speaking from beyond the grave since the Aligned verse is just that wild.

Bottom line, I've been receiving a lot of asks in regards about this AU since last year, and I'm going back into it since I've given it more thoughts where to take it as I really want to explore the concept where Starscream remains a rogue, delve into Predacon species and their relationship to modern Seekerkin, the (mis)adventures of a father with his animalistic and semi-feral children, Starscream forming friends/acquaintances with a random rural community and the local college, and actually has the power to actually make a decision on whether or not to rejoin the war on either side...

Plus, I think it would be absolutely hilarious for both sides to go 'pstpstpspt' to him for different reasons. Autobots since Tempest, the littel Predacon femme, has the capability to seek out Energon deposits as her sensors are more finely tuned and far more advanced than modern equipment, and the majority believe that Starscream has no parental instinct or will allow M.E.C.H. access to them. Deceptions as Starscream has now become the foremost expert in extinct frames and the only mech with healthy sparklings, so Shockwave can't let that professionally slide and Soundwave would like to hear pattering little pedes to tell himself that the movement was worth it as those three wouldn't have the yoke of the Golden Age upon them.

[shield-and-saber]

So feel free to ignore this but I am literally so intrigued by your HCs about Sol's childhood?? Spare a crumpet pls???

P.s. thank you for filling my dash with Baze and Chirrut (and Sol) <33

so a lot of my headcanons come from a combination of trying to add context to what little we know about him in canon + my own self-projections lol. buckle up, we're going for a ride (my ideas span from his pre-jedi childhood on his homeworld probably up to his teenage years as a padawan!!)

(banner is an edit made by the blorbo from my blogs @/armoralor)

so first off, jj actually spoke very briefly about sol's childhood in an interview from july 4 where he mentions that sol was very lonely and kind of struggled with his training when he was growing up. plus we have that line from vernestra in ep 1 about how sol was shy when he was a youngling

funnily enough, i hadn't seen that interview when it first came out but i was thinking a lot about sol's childhood around that time, so i'd made like a whole post about it literally a week after, which i'll add my favorite parts here:

i keep thinking about what would make a man so dedicated to being a jedi so reckless and selfish when it comes to wanting a padawan, and all i can think about is him growing up lonely he's so shy that he's unable to connect with his peers and thus feels closest to his mentors and the adults in his life, but nothing feels satisfying to him the way he wants it to. he doesn't feel like anyone truly knows him bc his peers see him as odd and the adults see him as a child, and he feels somewhere in between

^ especially in regards to the 2nd part, i kind of headcanon sol as being neurodivergent or on the autism spectrum. now this is much more of a me-specific headcanon bc i'm also on the spectrum and i grew up feeling much the same way, so i ended up projecting onto him a lil bit. but i digress.

me personally, i was a very lonely child bc i loved books and learning more than being with my peers (and i couldn't socialize to save my life). i got along better with the teachers & other adults in my life than kids my own age. similarly, bc of sol's deep friendship and connection with vernestra, i like to think of her being a mentor to him when he was a youngling, that she was the jedi master he always turned to instead of any of his peers bc she made him feel safe and heard (maybe she was the one who found him???). plus she had her own "gifted child who advanced too fast too early" complex, so i think she would've understood sol and tried to support him (i also like the idea of her being sol's master & i know that's not canon/wouldn't work bc of qimir, but i still like to headcanon it anyways lol)

as for his family life before the jedi, i get p much all of my thoughts on that from ep 3 & 7. he tells osha that he was taken from his family at the age of 4 & that not only was he different from the rest of his family, but he discovered that with the jedi there were other children like him. so again, on his homeworld he was probably very lonely and separated from his peers bc he (and everyone else) knew he was somehow different (which would again relate to him being on the spectrum. when ur growing up and ur not neurotypical, you kinda just know that you don't fit in with everyone else but you don't understand why)

where my other thoughts on his childhood come is also ep 3 & 7 related. like i mentioned in the tags of this post, you can see how sol is reacting to his observations of the baby twins in the forest. my biggest takeaway from this scene is when koril shows up and says "there will be consequences for breaking the rules"

^ tell me that's not the face of a traumatized man. my very first thought when i realized this was, oh god he was abused. maybe that's dramatic of me, but i think that either emotionally or physically, baby sol was mistreated by his family (if he's this terrified of "consequences", did he get hit as a kid for disobeying/breaking rules/not doing the right thing?). he literally has that ptsd deer in headlights stare, he's visibly shaking, and for the rest of his time on brendok, sol is acting under the impression that the twins (but mostly osha) are in danger. he's projecting his own trauma and fears onto osha bc her predicament reminds him of his own

other less angsty headcanons i have of his childhood/homeworld have just gradually developed from wanting to see him happy, things i've seen explored in fics, etc etc. but i like to think that sol grew up in a little farming community, like a foresty rural korean village, and i think he had a mom, dad, and some siblings, altho i definitely think he was the youngest. (this also leads into my thoughts that, if sol had never become a jedi or he'd left the order, he would have been really happy becoming a farmer on his homeworld and getting married, starting a family of his own. or maybe he would've been a teacher to the local children. either way tho, i think a quiet and peaceful life with a family of his own that he absolutely treasures would've been so wonderful)

i also think maybe he was also very fond of nature. he probably enjoyed the river, exploring the woods, feeling the force energy that emanates from every living thing. so ofc when he gets taken to coruscant, that's an incredibly jarring experience for him bc everything is cold, hard metal or stone. even as beautiful as the jedi temple is, it's all stone. there's no grass or flowers or gardens or animals except for like, the one singular tree in some meditation garden i think?? and the last surviving piece of the planet is the highest mountain that you can only see the very top of. so i think maybe that contributed to sol feeling alone as a young padawan bc he was disconnected from nature and it left him feeling really unmoored for a long time

so like, all of that combined with sol's inherent fondness for children really screams to me about a boy who grew up feeling very alone, probably didn't have a lot of friends, and had a very emotionally painful life, and then he saw all these little younglings who want to become jedi and he thinks to himself "i could show them that they don't have to be afraid, that there are no wrong answers when it comes to the force, i won't let any of these children feel the way that i did". which is, i think, why he connected so much to osha ("you're going to be okay, osha. you will never feel like this again."). he saw that she didn't want to be on brendok, she felt like an outcast among her family, and he really connected with that 💔

[nausikaaa]

Six Sentence Sunday

thanks for tagging me @that-disabled-princess @roomwithanopenfire and @artsyunderstudy! i made a pedantic post about the ides of march last year so now my notifications are flooded and i almost missed the tags! people are always surprised, based on my novel, that my actual favourite historical period was the early Roman empire. i'm obsessed with the Julio-Claudians.

i'm still sick, fml, but i got a small flash of inspiration last night and grabbed it by the horns, and managed to wrangle about 4000 words out of it!

here's some Polyxena, with context, under the cut. and lamb photos.

if you don't know, Polyxena was the youngest daughter of Priam and Hecabe, the king and queen of Troy. Achilles fell in love with her (or just wanted to assault her, depending on the telling), so she made sure she was seen entering a temple, and he followed. when he entered, guard down, Paris shot him in the heel, killing him.

after Troy fell, Achilles's ghost demanded that she be sacrificed to him to be his wife in the underworld. despite the fact that he already had a) a living wife, Deidamia, b) another sacrificed child bride, Iphigenia, and c) a war bride, Briseis. greedy git.

interestingly, the person to most strongly oppose this sacrifice was Agamemnon, who most people regard as being the Absolute Worst. maybe having been strongarmed into sacrificing his own daughter (the previously mentioned Iphigenia), he didn't want another parent to suffer the same? it's a surprisingly sympathetic moment for a usually very unsympathetic character.

Polyxena leaned in and kissed her mother's cheek, then stood. She smoothed her dress, ran her fingers through her hair, and stepped forward, the picture of bravery.

Days ago she was a mere child, crying at having witnessed Achilles die. Now she stood like a woman, ready to face her own death, to walk down to Hades and meet the warrior again. Her veil was already charred, her marital bed was a pyre. I did not think she would play the role of meek and obedient wife that Achilles hoped for.

Polyxena went nobly to her sacrifice, saying she preferred death to slavery. here's a short story i love about one possibility of her afterlife.

however, her mother Hecabe (more commonly called Hecuba but that is the roman name, i don't use it) went somewhat mad with grief. after also discovering that her youngest son Polydorus, who had been sent away to his sister's husband's kingdom where he would presumably be safe, had also been killed, she gouged out the eyes of said husband who killed him, and murdered his own two sons (with a different woman so not her grandkids at least) so he would understand what she felt.

later, the gods got sick of hearing her curse her fate and transformed her into a dog. in some accounts Odysseus then killed her (this is the version i go with, my Odysseus is the worst to counteract the apologism i keep seeing for him lmao), but in others she was adopted by Hecate, the goddess of witchcraft (i do also like this one... maybe she swoops in and rescues her at the last second?), and in yet another she travelled with Pyrrhus and Helenus, and when she died of old age was buried at a place known as Bitch's Tomb. because she was a female dog, not because... okay well a bit to be honest, but she went through a lot. i support her.

anyway. lamb blast! we currently have 19 lambs to 9 ewes, so an over 200% success rate, with 7 left to go. most of them are now outside enjoying the less than ideal british weather. i posted a cute video of them here too.

and bonus Lucy, who refuses to indicate to me whether she is even pregnant at all after coming back around in season FOUR TIMES. i suppose i'll found out in June. it was supposed to be may, but there's no scheduling around goats.

tagging @forabeatofadrum @cutestkilla @run-for-chamo-miles @prettygoododds @bookish-bogwitch @youarenevertooold @noblecorgi @orange-peony @larkral @confused-bi-queer @aristocratic-otter @thewholelemon @alexalexinii @hushed-chorus @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @martsonmars @meanjeansjeans @leithillustration @j-trow-95 @blackberrysummerblog @monbons and @bookishbroadwayandblind

[theheirofthesharingan]

Hi,

I found your tumblr, and really enjoy reading your posts. I love the Uchiha brothers. There is no bond in Naruto even comes closer to the bond between itachi and sasuke.  Thank you so much for sharing these beautiful analysis on itachi's life, thoughts, and his relationship with Sasuke. I really want to learn more about them. The analysis you made here: https://uchihasavior.tumblr.com/post/131420711841/sasuke-itachi  

is beautiful. Do you have a collection of these posts? (Sorry I am not familiar with tumblr and don't know how to find them all.)

There's one thing I found strange in the manga that I am not sure if I got it wrong. Itachi seems to be the only one Uchiha who constantly opens his sharingan (3 tomoe) in the manga. He opens his sharingan when having snacks with Kisame, contemplating in the rain, walking in the forest, and even when having a meeting with the rest of the Akatsuki members.  As far as I know, using 3 tomoe Sharingan won't lead to loss of eyesight, but it does consume a lot of chakra and is perhaps bad for maintaining the eyes condition. (see how Kakashi always feels tired when he overuses his Sharingan). And Kishimoto deliberately shows this in the manga before Itachi talked to sasuke all those nonsense about the side effects of overusing mangekyou during their fight. (I am going to be blind so I will kill you and take your eyes). But see how contradictory this guy is..... If he were a true power hunger as he described himself, he should have taken care of his own eyes. Because they are the source of his power (ability). But....see how he constantly wasted those eyes in trivial daily activities.... That's really unusual and illogical for me. So I feel like it's also a kind of foreshadowing before the revelation of the truth. 

And I think the reason he did this is because he wants to punish himself, in a way of displaying the traits of being a Uchiha......

Is that right? Or maybe I misinterpret the whole context? 

I really want to know your opinion. Thank you so much for reading my question!  And sorry for my poor English. I am not an English native speaker. I just want to know how other people think of this.

I am happy to find your tumblr. My native language is Chinese, but there are so many haters in the Chinese forum...They call Itachi a beast or monster, in Chinese word 畜牲, because he killed his parents and his clan.  While Sasuke is loved and credited for doing the right thing (avenge for their parents and clan)  , Itachi is rather a cold blooded machine who is considered the most evil guy in Naruto ....even worse than Obito. I felt hurt when reading those posts, so I decided to check English websites. For me, Itachi is 菩薩心, 修羅命. Which means a man with a kind heart of a Bodhisattva, yet bound to a Shura (warrior)'s fate.

Thank you so much! I'm glad you found solace here, because I know there aren't many people who actually like him. Unfortunately, the hate for him is bad here on Tumblr too:(

I have written a lot. Here's my ask tag where I keep writing about Itachi and Itachi's relationship with Sasuke. There's more, but it's scattered everywhere, so you might have to look up a bit for that.

Regarding the use of Sharingan, I think it was his way of staying alert from the enemies. That was his weapon, of sorts. So he'd stay alert. And even if it exhausted him, because using Sharingan must be exhausting, he did it anyway, because he didn't mind that exhaustion/pain that came with it. You're right that he was trying to punish himself. From being sick to doing things that would exhaust him rather saving his strength. In fact, I think when Kisame said he'd fight Roshi, Itachi only agreed because he'd had to fight Sasuke and he was already weak enough he might not have survived.

Even though he made some selfish decisions in his life, Itachi still managed to be selfless. He wasn't power hungry or desired better outcomes for himself. He didn't really wish for a better ending for his life. If someone had known his story, they would have seen all that goodness inside of him, but he never opened up because he didn't want to be seen as a good person. He wanted to be known and remembered as a monster.

It's okay. Your English is fine.

Itachi is really hated in the Chinese fandom? I thought only the Western audience hated him. Tumblr is no better for him and his fans. But we can curate what kind of posts we want to see. I hope you have a great time here. :)

[inkybyl]

It’s 4AM and I’ve just had a bloody idea regarding Crosshair in the Modern Batch AU (Ramble)

(Not the most original but omdhakabajdj I have to write it down and ramble before I fall asleep and forget, yknow what I mean?)

Tagging @sp4wnofch40s & @clonethirstingisreal because y’all have a talent for literally deciphering anything I say whenever I post anything about this 🤣 (that, and I can’t help but tag you both bc it’s so much fun talking about this with you 👉👈🫶)

I might make a dedicated navigation list for this AU, I’m having waaaayy too much fun with this and wanna keep up with what I’m waffling about

In the Modern AU of the bad batch (⚠️this will contain names and roles of characters that may Spoil The Bad Batch!!⚠️) I’ve come up with a few wholesome things and general dynamics that have an easy translation between Star Wars canon, and this alternate universe idea.

However I just thought of another, but before that, quick context I’ve mentioned in other posts:

All the clone boys are raised in a group home run by Shaak Ti & Plo Koon after they wanted to be the sole guardians of all the clones. Keeping in line with CF99’s canon relationship with the Regs, their relationship with the other clone boys led to constant fights - so Hunter took them out of that and left school to start working so they could have a place for themselves. Older brothers like Rex & Cody, etc keep an eye on them and help them in anyway they can.

(In this AU, I kinda want the boys to be different ages, if they do have different ages it would look like this: When Omega arrives, she’s 5. Crosshair & Tech are 13. Wrecker is 17, and Hunter is 19. These are also the ages when Wrecker gets hurt, a few months before Omega arrives. Important to note, after the events of the idea spoken about below 👇 about 5 years would’ve gone past, as that will line up slightly with Omega & Crosshair’s interactions like in the canon. She will be 10 & Crosshair will be 18 or 19)

The new addition of context ideas:

But the agreement with the council/ government states that once a clone leaves the home or turns 18 they lose any and all legal authority over them. So if one of the clone boys got into trouble after they’ve grown up/injured as an adult - Shaak Ti and Plo Koon can’t do anything about it. (Another subtle system put in place to wash out the clone boys as they grow up, essentially casting them to the streets and stuff)

The actual idea I just had but needed to make sure I could connect the dots with the early ideas I already had:

Any clones that are disobedient get sent to military school, funded by Tarkin and run by Hemlock.

Crosshair hasn’t adapted to Omega being dropped on them very well, despite it being 5 years since she’s been a part of their family, and he’s started acting out a lot more, causing more fights, threatening more people while battling a raging superiority and/or inferiority complex.

(This next bit is very much under construction because I’m not sure how I’d like this to work out: Crosshair meets mayday around this time period and they’re the same age, if not then Mayday is probably a year or two older, and he starts spending a lot of time with him instead of at home - Mayday isn’t a trouble maker and he’s quite similar to Hunter where he took his squad and made a house a home for them all - he’s acting as a symbolism of what CF99 might’ve looked like if they weren’t defective - Hunter would’ve stayed in school like mayday, and would’ve been able to help his brothers out with a lot more things if that makes sense? Crosshair hangs out with Mayday, but mayday isn’t a troublemaker.

One day while Crosshair is chilling out with Mayday, Hexx & Veetch, (Lieutenant) Nolan starts harassing and laughing at them with his rich boy posse. ((This next bit is very much in the works)) But because Mayday is employed by Nolan’s father (a government official) and even though he’s in a higher position than the wee shite, he doesn’t say much and just shrugs it off.

Eventually the harassment gets significantly worse and Mayday is jumped by Nolan’s gang and is sent to the hospital. Crosshair then bugs out and beats the whole gang up, including Nolan. He’s caught by police and due to Nolan’s status as an official’s son, Cross is then taken to the military school to get him back in line. )) <— End the ‘under construction idea’

Military School idea

After Crosshair was causing too much chaos with fights + beating up Nolan, Governor Tarkin ordered for him & some other clone boys that had went ‘rogue’, and since they weren’t underage/ under Shaak Ti/Plo Koon’s supervision anymore - there’s nothing they could do to get them back.

(In the eyes of the government, it would just be seen as two strangers trying to claim back an adult if that makes sense?)

At the military school he’s then treated horrendously, like the other clones that are brought there, under the guise of “discipline”, hence the links with the canon trauma. (As this is a modern AU and even though I love me some corrupted experimentation storylines, I think it’s probably better to stick with adults in positions of authority abusing that power. AKA, Hemlock)

Anyways, after some more brainstorming I’ll need to figure out a way to get Omega and Crosshair to meet again cos she’s the one who manages to break his shell like in the show and takes care of him, like she does in the show.

But yeah!

Sorry if this is so scattered, I’ve literally been struggling to sleep and this popped to mind, so I had to write the ideas out as soon as they came! Everything’s still a rough idea, and all an’ all, a very fun concept to play with!!

Hopefully it’s legible 🤣🤣 I’m having so much fun playing with all of these concepts and ideas, I haven’t proofread this so sorry if anything is a bit confusing!! Gonna try n fall asleep listening to some Daz Black now

🫶✨🩵

[ripplestitchskein]

I didn’t watch the video and I won’t because I don’t enjoy their takes or the way they present their content so I may be missing some in video context but someone mentioned something that really struck me this morning in the tags. I don’t add on to posts as a general rule unless I really feel the need, and this is in no way meant as a call out for either source but I do want to address the general idea presented.

Stolas was never triggered by Stella yelling at him so he should not have been triggered by Blitz yelling at him.

There are a few very glaring things about this idea.

First the entire premise that a person wouldn’t have different reactions to different people in their life doing similar things is kind of silly on its face. There are a number of reasons why you would have a disproportionate reaction to being yelled at by one person over another.

Being yelled at by a stranger in a public confrontation is much different than being yelled at by someone you know in a space you consider safe, for example. Being yelled at by someone you consider physically intimidating is much different than being yelled at by someone you don’t. Being yelled at in a professional space is much different than being yelled at in a personal one. Etc. etc. etc. They all produce very different emotions and very different responses.

There are a number of contextual circumstances that will change how someone reacts to a similar situation as well. The most obvious to apply here is the relationship dynamic between the individuals.

On the one side we have Stella who Stolas in no way wants to be with, who he has been forced to be with for 17+ years, and who has seemed fairly consistent in her treatment of him over that time period. Where we see Stolas in the narrative is after many years of putting up with her behavior. Not only would Stella’s yelling be something Stolas is probably a bit inured to after dealing with it for so long, but he has also trained himself to change his behavior to keep the peace as it were. On top of that he has spent the past 17 years pushing down his own emotions and reactions to provide a family environment for his daughter. And we do see Stolas react negatively to her abuse, he flinches, he drinks excessively, he takes medication to regulate his mood, he backs away from her, he modulates his behavior to placate her.

Blitz on the other hand is someone Stolas is emotionally invested in. He cares for Blitz and while Blitz is abrasive and crude we don’t have examples of him outright yelling in anger at Stolas. He has also mentioned multiple times that Blitz is the one who broke him out of this repression. Of course he would react differently to Blitz versus Stella, they are literally the two opposites ends of a core character conflict he has.

We must also consider the power dynamic. Up until this point Blitz went out of his way to maintain their relationship, he deliberately avoided confrontation. He states this directly in his part of the duet, we see it in his text messages or the lack there of, we have evidence of it with the sex chest and his little shopping spree. So from Stolas’s point of view this person yelling at him now has only ever accommodated him or avoided him before, which, while also being a huge issue in their relationship, also escalates the moment when Blitz does push back and break down.

Stella has none of this baggage, her yelling does not reveal hard truths Stolas has to also deal with and confront. Stolas can justify his behavior with her because she never cared for him anyway, he did not hurt her with his actions. Stella’s yelling does not come from a place of hurt and betrayal regarding Stolas as she never cared for him or their marriage anyway. He did hurt Blitz however, and that hurt is being presented to him in a very aggressive way, and he had hoped up until this point that Blitz cared for him as well. So not only does he now realize Blitz doesn’t care for him (or that’s how he interprets it) but that he also views him in this really horrible way, as someone who takes advantage of those lesser than him, that he is pompous and unfeeling and cruel. He is the monster he feared being.

Which leads me to the next glaring difference. Stolas spent however long preparing for this moment where he revealed his feelings, he was hopeful and excited and nervous. He is then, in his mind, rejected. He is experiencing a range of emotions during this confrontation that all come to a boiling point.

With Stella her yelling is not a building confrontation of emotional ups and downs, it’s an environmental constant. In just a matter of minutes with Blitz he goes from nervous hope to rejection to realizing the person he cares for thinks really terrible things about him and the manner in which that is revealed is extremely charged. There is a world of difference between something you expect to happen (Stella yelling) and something you didn’t. Stolas has no idea Blitz had these feelings inside him, that’s part of the problem, and they were revealed to him in a very crushing and intense way.

We also have to consider that these are not real people reacting to the situation as real people might. This is a story being told to us and the writers and animators are presenting what is relevant to that narrative and these characters in a very concentrated way. They only have so long to get a point across and they must continue the story by contriving reactions we would not see in reality. In this episode and in the story overall so far we are given all the information we need to see it from both points of view and see why each of them reacted in the ways we did.

With storytelling of this nature you are not in the character’s heads so you much rely on actions, dialogue (which can be reliable or not) and environmental cues to get these points across. They did a phenomenal job in my opinion.

We have both of their mental headspace’s at the beginning presented in song, we get an idea of where they are at when the confrontation begins, and where they end up is a natural conclusion to the high emotions on display. The atmosphere is tense and dark, it’s a building anticipation with the music and the silence and the lightning being used, how the shots are framed. We get a sense of Blitz chasing him down, weaving through hallways and kicking open doors. It’s cinematic, because it’s a visual medium. Stolas HAD to remove Blitz from the situation in order to continue the narrative, he has magic in this story so he sends him away. In the real world there would be a lot of “Get out.” “No.” “I said get out” etc etc but that’s not interesting for the audience and in this world we have magic so whoosh, out he goes, the conflict continues into the next episode.

There are a number of things I could discuss related to domestic violence, or emotional triggers, or trauma responses but I don’t think that’s necessary here. Not only are these not real people and we are not privy to all of the baggage they have, how their individual brains process it and how they respond to it but the storytelling method is not conducive to those kind of real world considerations. What we do know is people react to different things in different circumstances with different people and the narrative absolutely justified Stolas’s response to Blitz and its contrast to his responses to Stella.

That is actually kind of the whole point?

[arom-antix]

So, with the main part of this whole thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai (Samurai from here on) situation having blown over, I thought I'd make a final-for-now summary post that outlines the key points in this situation so that I can cap this for the time being. It's also for the people who've stumbled upon one of the many posts about this and have no clue where to start or don't understand the context, because yeah, there's a lot. I've had multiple people reach out who were in that situation, so here's the summary for anyone who's interested.

Links to all the posts in this situation:

Initial posts: 1. Samurai's answer w/ my response 2. Samurai's response to me

Main threads: 3. Culture and fandom thread 4. Screenshots thread

Other threads: 5. Initial receipts 6. First ask 7. First anon ask, rebuttal 8. Second anon ask 9. Third anon ask 10. Fourth anon ask 11. Fifth anon ask 12. Sixth anon ask, thread 13. Disclaimer to not misuse my posts 14. Follow-up regarding Samurai's continued hypocrisy

I will be referring back to these post in the normat "no. #".

There are multiple key players in this whole thing but seeing as this post contains primarily my words and take on things (and the others involved have honestly had enough stress about this for one month) I've elected not to tag them. You can find them in the posts I linked to. However, I will note the abscence of any real response from Samurai. I'll get into that further down.

A big thank you to everyone who's contributed to this discussion. It's been wonderful finally getting all this stuff out in the open.

Break for those who want a usable dash or don't care. But I encourage you to do so because this does matter for your fandom experience going forward.

So first, what happened? Well, the first thing to understand is that this whole thing started a long time ago, and the reason it's becoming a big thing now is pure chance. It was going to happen eventually. It happening now is just how it went. But for the sake of cohesion, I'll approach it from where the situation itself arose, especially since it displays some of the behaviours I'll be highlighting later pretty well.

The way this all kicked off was that Samurai posted no. 1 in response to an ask about the canon vs. fanon spelling of Yuuri and Viktor's names. In this response Samurai was pretty rude and demeaning towards Japanese name translation inconsistencies. There was also a minor spelling error. I pointed these things out in a reblog of Samurai's post which can also be found in no. 1. Now, Samurai did respond to this, but not in the way you'd think. She didn't reblog my post. Instead, she quietly edited the spelling error in her original post (just became incorrect in a different way), and then reblogged that new version of her own post and tagged me in it. Strange, but okay, I guess. In her response she apologised for the cultural insensitivity and explained that English was not her first language which, sure, that's fair. However, she also went on to explain the spelling error was actually just a misunderstanding, and then was even more wrong about Japanese in her explanation of that. Go to no. 3 to get an explanation as to why she was doubly wrong. I couldn't be bothered to start anything about this poor response, so I reblogged it so people could see it, said "sorry if I was harsh, have a good day", and went on my way.

Later that same day I then got an ask (no. 3 and 4) about that last reblog which said that I shouldn't have apologised for being right, and explained that Samurai was not a stranger to poor behaviour and bad takes. I was already tired of Samurai and had been for a while, so I answered the ask by explaining that I just apologised to keep the peace, but I was over trying to do that anymore.

And this is where the situation took off from. People started reblogging my post with their own grievances about Samurai, including bad experiences from interacting with her, and I began getting asks where people corroborated these claims and shared their own frustrations. I won't explain those asks and reblogs here since they're in the links at the beginning, and their main points can be boiled down to the following:

Avoiding accountability Samurai has a knack for worming their way out of taking accountability for their actions. She'll divert attention from the issue at hand, she'll use whataboutism to point fingers back in your face, she'll fabricate a sympathetic angle of her actions and use your natural tendency to want to see the good in people against you, she'll make sure you know just how sad and insecure she is, and she'll do it all while talking like she's an expert. Like when she responded to my post but didn't actually admit that the spelling mistake was just that. A mistake. She didn't have some advanced knowledge that she proceeded to explain. She was just wrong. Twice. And she couldn't even just say "Ah sorry, my finger slipped."

Victim complex She's also always the victim. She doesn't get enough engagement? The fandom doesn't understand her. She's trying so hard, why are worse posts getting attention when she makes such high quality stuff? The fandom must be rotting from the inside with no academics left to admire her supreme intellect. Someone posts an anylisis similar to hers? Plagiarism! Thievery! Piracy! It could never be because there are only so many scenes and conclusions to draw about said scene in a show that people have been analysing for eight years. Someone disagrees with a conclusion of hers? Well they're an acephobe, of course! A bigoted Karen who's trying to erase the real academics in the fandom! God forbid someone criticises her? Blocked, blocked, blocked, the fandom is so toxic, omg, she needs to get better at recognising fake friends, smh.

Manipulating the narrative As you might not be surprised, she also loves being in control of what her audience sees of the discourse she gets into. See: her not reblogging my post and instead making a separate post when that was more work than just responding directly. She's also notorious for editing her posts so when people criticise them she can feign ignorance and claim she never said that. And in terms of the individuals who've been intimidated into silence by Samurai and her entourage, if their stories got out, that would be a catastrophe, right? It would hurt her precious reputation after all.

General Manipulation and Gaslighting And yeah, that leads us to the big one. Now, these are hefty accusations and I'm especially bringing up the latter a bit dubiously. However, I think it needs to be said that many of the tactics she uses are manipulation strategies. I'm saying that as someone who's been at the receiving end of these methods. They get you to shut up. They get you to doubt your own judgement. They get you to think things you wouldn't have otherwise. And, most importantly, they get you to forgive things you never would. They worm themselves into your brain and get you to question your own ability to make decisions and understand the world. And that right there where it becomes gaslighting. Again, I'm not saying Samurai is being all that extreme but I am saying that she's leading people down the slippery slope of accepting this type of behaviour by convincing them that it's actually okay because she said so.

Insincerity This overlaps a good amount with manipulation, but I thought it was necessary to point out separately, because she's notorious for it. As was mentioned in no. 12, she has repeatedly displayed disingenuous behaviour across social medias and has used those different behaviours to twist the story into what she wants it to be, so she comes out of it looking either like a victim or like an underdog and saviour of the fandom. Is it a crime to want to look good online? Of course not. Does she use that liberty to fabricate a benevolent image of herself despite repeatedly not living up to said image? Very much so.

Bullying and Namecalling This goes back to how I mentioned her accusing people of being acephobes for not agreeing with her very important and perfectly correct analyses. Beyond this, she has also called people illiterate for not agreeing with her analyses as if these "academic" takes of hers are so obviously right that only someone incapable of accessing the source material would disagree, has called someone a Nazi for using the actual current DSM-5 medical term for autism (as far as I've been informed in private, see no. 3, 4, and 5 for partial context), and has recently become very fond of calling people dicks.

Superiority complex This all of course comes down to the actual issue at the bottom of all of this: Samurai thinks she's better than the rest of us. She thinks she's more academic, more literate, more intellectual, and laments the lack of people who can match her frea- I mean, level. No weird takes on her blog as she says (no. 4). This is a "dick" move to use her own vocabulary but is even worse when you realise that she's not all that academic or intellectual herself. Which, by the way, is completely fine! You don't need a PhD to discuss anime men. However, she makes it sound like that. She belittles posts that aren't as "academic" as hers simply because they upset her or have more interactions. She belittles the entire fandom simply because other people don't subscribe to her lonely intellectual narrative and enjoy fandom casually. She insists that her analyses are better than other metas when the academia she's so proud of isn't even really there in a lot of them. And she will absolutely make you feel worthless for thinking you can contribute to the fandom on her level because no one is as good as her.

Do I really care much about some arrogant loser on the Internet? No. Do I care that she's belittling her entire community by ridiculing their contributions and positioning herself as the one true deliverer of gospel? Absolutely. See, the issue isn't just that she's arrogant. It's that that's not enough for her. She pushes the rest of the community down so that she can feel even more superior. She also routinely complains about her lack of engagement which, wow, what a mystery, what might be scaring them away? But secondly, she's indirectly belittling the support the fans of her content are giving her. No. 11 is from one such fan who experienced this. Let it be made clear that Samurai might genuinely want to form a community and be social, but she does not see herself like the rest of us when it comes down to it. She sees herself as better. Or, at the very least, she posts as if she does.

Okay, that's all well and good, but Arom, why does this matter? Isn't it just petty fandom drama? Why should we care? Well, you should care because the people who've been hurt by this behaviour and those who've left the fandom to be free of it are your peers. They're not random Internet strangers. The next one could be your close fandom friend. The one after that could be you. The reason I'm making this post is so that you can understand how Samurai operates and not fall for her tactics. They're incredibly easy to start forgiving. I've been there. You have to catch this stuff before it turns into something legitimately damaging. I also want you guys to be able to take this situation with you and apply what you've learned to other actually dangerous people. I don't consider Samurai dangerous. To be frank, I consider her an immature embarrassment. Can she hurt you? Of course, but the scope will be limited. However, there are plenty of people of there who are much better at doing these things and do them far more insidiously with far worse goals. I want you all to be able to realise before it's too late. I was in one of those much more insidious friendships once even if the goals weren't any worse than Samurai's. They sneak up on you so damn fast.

And now, because I know some of Samurai's entourage might be itching to hit me back with this: Why is this public? Shouldn't stuff like this be kept private? Isn't this just us bullying Samurai in the hallway where everyone can watch?

Now, if you're a specific person, you'll likely recognise these coming points because yes, they're lifted directly from your ask. However, seeing as this ask was not sent to me (I'll leave you guys to ponder why that is considering all other asks were) and has not been published because the recipient didn't want to spend their energy on it, I'm not going to say who the asker is nor am I going to be speaking to them directly in this part. Rebutting a statement no one but me and a few others have even read wouldn't be fair to the asker. However, the ask brings up some very common points in discussions like this that I want to catch right now before anyone starts thinking those points are good.

So first: Why is this public? Now, on the surface this seems quite reasonable to ask, right? I personally agree that private beef should stay private and that there's no need making a bigger scene out of things than necessary. But this beef isn't private. It's not a one-off thing, and it's not new. It's been happening for at the very least months and has been happening both publicly and privately on different social medias. Oh, also, it has already been attempted to be handled privately. Doing so did diddly squat. People have actually been scared into silence by attempting to handle it like that. Some things just cannot be handled one on one because one party is entering it with malicious intent.

Allegedly Samurai has also been called out in a Discord server before (no. 12) which I can't confirm but wouldn't surprise me. Guess how much that did. Nothing. Nada. Nul og niks. But then you might be asking why a second call-out is supposed to do anything, and that's where I get to the real point of this whole thing: Getting the word out. This and all the previous posts aren't about actually getting through to Samurai because I'm acutely aware that she won't actually change by being told off. She's demonstrated time and time again that she'll simply wait the situation out and then vaguepost about how much of a victim she is and how toxic her ex-friends are.

So, instead of getting her to own up, we're trying to reach everyone else. If we can make people aware of her tactics so that they can avoid her or at the very least be wary around her, I consider that a success. If we can limit her access to victims, we'll have done what we set out to do.

Second: What about Samurai's mental health? Aren't we hurting her by destroying her reputation? Well, dear reader, what about everyone she's hurt? Do they not deserve to talk about this stuff simply because it'll make Samurai upset? This might be a kind of wild suggestion, but there's a very easy way to not be publicly called out for being an arse: just don't be an arse. No one made her do these things. Like mentioned in no. 12, she destroyed her reputation all by herself. If stating aloud what someone has done ruins their reputation, then the person who did said things is at fault. Spare the messenger. They've already been hurt enough. If Samurai had simply owned up to her behaviour and apologised and made a change when people had called her out in the past, we wouldn't be here. She made this necessary. Don't feel bad for her that she's getting what was always coming to her.

Third: Why are we digging up old posts? Isn't it unfair to hold Samurai's past against them? Now, I want you to notice what this whole situation is actually about. Is it about a single incident? No. Is it about a set of repeated behaviours which are harmful and manipulative? Now you're onto something. I agree that digging up unrelated dirt on someone just to slander them for their past when it has no or an at best flimsy relation to what's actually being discussed is mean and unnecessary and should not be done.

However, the point of showing those older posts is to make it clear that this isn't a new thing, and it's repeated and unchanging. Bringing up their posts about being insecure and being sad about not getting traction isn't about those posts, it's about showing how much Samurai clearly cares about interaction and to point out a repeated behaviour of deflecting criticism by hiding behind insecurity and making their own fans feel bad about not being good enough. It's not about the posts. It's about explaining why Samurai is uncomfortable to be around.

Oh and fourth because this is the funniest thing: What about the new fans? They'll think we're all mean and negative! Okay so first of all, and please excuse my French, absolutely dogshit take. "What about the new fans?" Dude, what about the ones who are already here and are being driven away by Samurai's awful and demeaning behaviour? What about the people who've been hurt and are finally being heard? What about when the new fans see Samurai calling others acephobes and Nazis for disagreeing with her? Is that not driving them away? Is that not projecting negativity?

Now, yes, that was targeted towards the asker because oh my fucking stars, I haven't seen a take that bad in a while. If you want to ignore or criticise this point of mine, go ahead because I can't source it and the asker's full statement isn't publicly available so I'm aware that this is a weak argument. But I want everyone to know that if you've been ignored and demeaned and called names for simply trying to assert yourself, you're allowed to be negative publicly. You're allowed to publicly make it clear that someone isn't listening privately and so you're speaking in the only place they can't ignore. You're allowed to not be peachy and positive at all times just because a new fan might come across your post. You don't have to treat every post and word you make public as an exhaustive representation of the entire fandom.

And so, with all of this outlined, I have a personal message for Samurai and Co.: Do. Better. I know you can because I've seen you interact amicably with the fanbase multiple times. I'm not here to tell you to get off the Internet and I'm not here to get you to stop participating in fandom. What I am here for is to get you to treat the fanbase with the respect it deserves. You're not better than people just because you're queer. It's the Yuri!!! On Ice fandom. Basically everyone is queer. Get over yourselves. Develop some maturity and accept that you can be contradicted. Accept that not everyone will agree with you. Accept that just because you point really hard at canon, your analyses will still just be theories. And that's okay. You don't need to be an academic to be part of fandom. You don't even need to be right. You can be straight up wrong and still be allowed to be here. However, you also have to let others do all that stuff too. You can't tell people to be nice and then not be so yourself. Fandom is collaboration which means that sometimes you have to just accept that some members of the group have takes you disagree with or find straight up stupid. However, that does not give you the right to tell them they're doing fandom wrong or claim that your way of doing it is better. Because that's how you come across. Whether intentionally or not, that's the message you're sending. Stop acting suprior. It's actually very easy and frankly embarrasing that you haven't figured out how to not be insufferable yet. You're adults. Act. Like. It.

Finally, and I promise this will he the last thing: What do we do now? Samurai has been exposed, hasn't responded, and will probably just wait for this to blow over. What are we supposed to do with all this information? Well, you're free to choose of course, but my suggestion is to simply keep an eye on her and her entourage. They've so far showed no sign of wanting to change, and if you see them misbehaving, don't be afraid to hold them accountable, or, if you'd rather not be mixed up in this, feel free to shoot me a DM or even an anonymous ask. If I get enough reports or the reports are egregious enough, I might make a follow-up post just to keep people updated.

And if keeping a 40+ year old (yes, Samurai is really that old, I was shocked too) on an Internet leash seems extreme, just remember that she made it necessary. She clearly won't listen when people tell her directly how she's hurt them. In my opinion, some social pressure to behave is in order. All she has to do is be nice and nothing more will come of this. It's up to her. It takes a village and sometimes the entire fanbase.

So, it's up to you, Samurai. Your behaviour will be the direct catalyst for whatever I and others choose to do or not do. All you need to do is behave. If you can do that, we'll get to go our separate ways. If you can't, well, you've seen what that results in. But if you do legitimately make a visible effort to change, I'll gladly make a post about that too. I'm all for a redemption, but you're the one who has to put in the effort. Not your friends, not your fans, not your victims, not me.

Your choice. I'll be waiting.

And to anyone who's dying to tear my head off: Please read all the posts linked to at the top before responding. I'm not naming any names. You know who you are.

[moonchild-in-blue]

Massive thank you to you and everyone else who calls out how shitty it is to get mad at peoples interpretations. Sleep tokens music is romantic. Its also toxic. These statements can coexist. Its not your business if someone plays bloodsport or vore or hell even atlantic at their wedding. Youre not them, you dont know what the music means to them. If you see a weird take just roll your eyes and move on, its not a big deal. Absolutely sick and fucking tired of all these "why are you calling this romantic/sexy? Youre stupid and a terrible person!" takes like fucking relax. Media literacy is important yes. Respecting that this music is dark and personal to vessel is also important. Same goes for respecting how people relate to the music in dark ways. But as long as people are not saying things directly to vessel or fans about how their individual trauma is sexy then just chill out and respect peoples different interpretations. It sucks that i cant talk about how i view certain songs without being called horrible things and having really fucked up vitriol aimed at me. Yall need to grow the fuck up and get over yourselves. Im not thinking of your personal shit when i call a certain song romantic/sexy, i dont even know you, sometimes im thinking of my own trauma actually lol. Lets all discuss this music maturely where we respect each other and what each of us as individuals bring to the table for interpretation, stop making this fandom toxic as hell for anyone who doesnt agree 100% with your own interpretation. (Also the whole "youre not allowed to say this song is romantic/sexy" thing is very dismissive of some peoples trauma in itself, it ignores how messy someones feelings toward their abusers/toxic partners can be. Pretty fucked up to call a trauma survivor stupid or a terrible person because a song reminds them of their positive feelings towards someone who hurt them) Anyways yeah, just tired of people being so harsh because they refuse to see other peoples perspectives. I genuinely think one of the most toxic aspects of this fandom is the vitriol over different interpretations, people act like outright children at times with it im ngl, especially with more sexual discussions. It also feels infantilizing towards vessel at times, hes a grown adult who put romantic/sexy elements in his music and he doesnt need people trying to protect him from those themes. Im rambling but this stuff pisses me off so much, this fandom needs to do better

Context post for the clueless ones - regarding my tags/replies

Here's the thing - I've been in fandoms for many, many, MANY years. This type of discussion isn't anything new nor unique to Sleep Token, but it sure does make a comeback quite often. It's tiring to keep repeating the same things over and over, but that's what fandom is all about isn't it?

Someone needs to say something, and I am not one to shy away from uncomfortable conversations like these. Something something, build your own community, be the change you wanna see, etc etc.

I've said pretty much everything I wanna say already under that post, but for the sake of clarity, and because I can't keep my mouth shut apparently -

Under the cut for length - you know the drill:

Music is art. And art is subjective. Meaning, each individual will have their own personal connection and interpretation of a given piece of art, which in this case is Sleep Token's music.

Did Vessel write the songs with a certain intent or meaning? Most likely yes! It's not hard to connect the dots and guess what events/emotions might've transpired and served as inspiration for them (accuracy to personal life is irrelevant and none of our business, but it's also no rocket science to understand what's been said).

Can we establish a base meaning for any given song, or better, can we have a general consensus of what a song is about based on its lyrics and themes? Absolutely! Not every song is like that, but we can all agree there's a lot of recurring themes of past relationships and mental health struggles.

Is it wrong to diminish the songs to one basic element (eg. the sexual undertones) and/or completely disregard the bigger, more important theme? I'd say it is.

Giving Atlantic as an example (which as a lot of you know, is my most favourite song of them and very dear to me): this one has some very blatant references to suicide and depression. Regardless of whether it is based on irl events or not (none of our business!!!), it is extremely heavy and emotionally charged. I find it incredibly disrespectful when people say random stuff during the rituals when he plays this one.

Or for example, how certain people reduce Sleep Token to "baby making metal", instead of acknowledging the insane (insane!) variety of genres and the profound lyricism they present.

Should we limit our views, and by extension, those of others, to surface-level interpretation, without allowing room for different views and interpretations, either fictional lore based or not? ABSOLUTELY NOT.

Vessel himself said to "not restrict ourselves to labels or genres because music transcends it all" (paraphrasing here). It's literally their whole thing. It's very hypocritical to be shouting from the rooftops about "media literacy" and assuming people are stupid or idiots for not understanding the basic, surface-level meaning of a song, when Vessel himself constantly writes in metaphors and half-truths.

I've touched on this a lifetime ago on one of my analysis, but if you *actually* look at the lyrics, you'll realise Vessel hardly ever says what he means. There's always something else behind his words, something he purposefully keeps hidden. It really sneaks upon you sometimes! I'm over a year in and I still find something new everyday on their music. That man has a way to weave in a hundred and one statements under a single sentence, that is just truly beautiful to study.

Is, say, The Love You Want, about a man (Vessel) mourning the fact that his love isn't reciprocated? Yeah! Is it about someone who, despite knowing they can never receive from their lover the attention and affection and care they want, will stay by their side anyways? It is!

Is it about bitterness, spiteful accusations aimed at the one person who should love you fully? Or a reflection of how little self-regard the singer has, so much that they are willingly and actively choosing to stay in a sinking one-sided relationship, because the alternative is too painful to bare? Can you flip the switch and see it as someone who is obsessively pursuing another person, and painting themselves as a victim? All of this, yes!

You can even eliminate the romantic aspect all together and apply it to a relationship with the self (past or future, or an alter ego), or a parental figure. The options are endless. There isn't one universal truth when it comes to music, and as such, all of these takes are 100% correct.

Many statements can be true at the same time - it doesn't make one more true or correct than the other. Simply different. The way we connect with music is very much dictated by our own life experiences, and no two people have lived the exact same life.

Can you prefer a certain way to look at a song, or completely disagree with certain takes? Absolutely! I know I sure as hell do! That's normal and expected and part of the fun in being in a community such as ours. More people means more ways to look at a song - isn't that just wonderful?!

Now, this is very obvious for most of us, but some people, especially in the younger rage, have been taught to look at things in a very black and white way. Not to be that person, but the truth is that the rise in awareness of social issues and "pc-ness", is slowly starting to eliminate the possibility of things being flawed and nuanced.

If you're wrong, you're awful. If you're right, you're obnoxious. Made a mistake? Get cancelled. Grow from your mistakes, but not like that. Learn from your actions, but change your whole personality in a day otherwise you're problematic.

You know what I mean.

Life isn't black and white. Art isn't black and white. Music isn't black and white. What may seem like a toxic, dark, obsessive depiction of a relationship to you, might translate to the deepest and most truest of loves to me. I can acknowledge something is Not Right, while still drawing my own conclusions.

Is Blood Sport a sad af song? Yeah! Definitely not the first thing I'd think of when in a happy relationship. But maybe that's the point. And maybe I do. And that's okay, and none of anyone's business. "Okay but The Apparition isn't a good example of a healthy and romantic-" TO YOU! Maybe that's what love looks like to me! Maybe I just happen to be into it! And what about it?

Maybe to me love comes with all the ugly sides too. The violence, the despair, the self-doubt. Who are you to dictate what I can or can't think? I highly doubt Vessel would go 🗣️ "WRONG! NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT! >:::(", so why would you?

You can, and should, discuss the songs with others! Maybe some people do genuinely need a fresh pair of eyes to help them get to the juicy core of the songs - that's why we're here! To discuss, and exchange ideas! You can, and should, call people out when their engagement with the music is being harmful to others (joking and laughing during Missing Limbs? No bueno. Speculating about Vessel's personal life? VERY no bueno. Choosing a potentially weird song to walk down the aisle? None of your business + not your wedding + you weren't even invited + none of your business. Notice how I've been repeating that. Notice again).

You shouldn't, however, shame and ridicule others for having different views from you.

I think, rather than engaging in pointless discussions and start accusing people of being this or that, we should all exercise a little "don't like? scroll past". Is it harming you or others? No? Then scroll past! Is it an awful, truly horrendous take about something you're really passionate about? Okay! Disgusting! Scroll past! Good for them! 👍

Also - keep an open mind. We're all doing this living businesse for the first time, no one holds all the answers to everything. It's okay to change your mind. It's okay to say the wrong thing and backtrack. It's okay to make a mistake and learn and grow.

You know what's not okay? Being a dick to others because the thing you like is being misinterpreted. It's hard, I know!!! You can block people! You can scroll past! You can look at pictures of your favourite vessel and cleanse your brain!!!! I know I do!!!!!

And this is a last afterthought but - you don't get to complain about the fandom you're in if you're doing nothing to change that. I see many, maaaaany of you bitch about this and that, while having 0 engagement aside from the bitching. Like?? Maybe if you spent more time reblogging cool art or gifs and less time whining about literally everything, this would be a much more pleasant space!! And I DO get to be a little petty here because I sure do try my best to make this a fun and nice community. I am allowed a little bitching 😌

Anyways, tl/dr: don't be a dick; don't like - don't engage; keep an open mind; gaze upon the vessels. Peace and love yall 💙💫

[gilbirda]

Yet Another Fandom PSA - tagging ships

Hi, it's me again.

Today I come with a small (ish?) pet peeve regarding proper tagging - tagging ships.

(⬆ This is where the magic happens)

What should you tag in "Relationships"?

Tag only the main relationship(s) that show up in the story. The relationship the fic is really about. Is about siblings? Is about a romantic relationship? Is about a platonic ship? Tag that, and only that.

Note: For Romantic relationship, use Character A/Character B. For Gen and Platonic relationships, use Character A & Character B

Don't tag relationships that are not relevant, or appear as background.

That includes, secondary ships that develop in the background or are established "off-screen" and don't actually have any screen time in the fic.

What if I want to warn/describe a ship that does show up anyway?

You can tag them as background in Additional Tags, adding some information that nuance how they show up if you want. For example, if it's a mention, or past relationship or if it's a temporary pairing but not the endgame.

eg. "Background Character A/Character B" or "Minor Character A/Character B" or "Mentions of Character A/Character B" or "Past Character A/Character B"

You can also use the Summary to specify and give context in what manner these relationships show up.

Why would I care? Is just a tag.

There are many reasons why tagging relationships properly is beneficial for the fandom as a whole.

First of all, keeps your tags clean and simple. It is easier for people browsing the Archive to know at a glance what the fic is about if your tags give the right amount of information and nothing more.

Second, it makes very difficult to filter if you like a ship that's not as popular as others. It can get very frustrating expecting your favorite ship to appear only to get to chapter 13 and neither of your ship shows up.

Third, the "otp:true" trick can only do so much.

If this is the first time you hear about "otp:true", it is a filtering trick that will automatically filter out all fics that have more than 1 "/" ship tagged in Relationship, leaving only the ones that have just the main ship tagged.

ID has been added to the pictures as ALT text.

For more info, you can check out AO3 official Tagging FAQs and this helpful guide: "The Fanfic Author's Guide to Metatext" (This is the chapter about relationship tagging)

Here's more filtering tricks for AO3

As always this post is not meant to shame if you do or have done this. I have done this too.

I felt so bad when someone approached me and said "hey, your crossover fic with this ship is the number 1 fic by kudos when you search for one of the main fandom's small ship" and honestly? wake up call.

So there's that!

Remember to be kind and happy fandom! 🥰✨

[chasedeys]

i can't link it but I'm still thinking about your tags on the post about ja'marr reassuring evan that he'll be there for him no matter what 🥺 and how ja'marr's comments always get taken out of context and made to seem worse. and how ja'marr seemed to take a dig at evan in that post-game interview, but did he mean it like that?? or was he just saying shit frustrated after a loss! and i'm thinking about ja'marr maybe seeing that going around, seeing what people are implying. and how he DOES love evan, how that's been his guy since they were rookies together almost 4 years ago! and like!! do we think he went out of his way to reassure evan this week, because he didn't want him thinking that he's just throwing that friendship away after a few bad games (we KNOW how much friendships mean to ja'marr 😭)

anyway. just felt like yapping in your inbox. have a lovely day <3

:((((((( as you can see i got incredibly into my feelings regarding the whole ja'marr and evan thing 😭

i can't even begin to figure out why he replied the evan question with the big bucks thing sigh. his face when they mentioned the two missed kicked goals :(((( man was most definitely beyond pissed at himself and the entire play-calling and missed fgs and defense etc that he actually called out the play-calling and getting asked about the missed fgs probably pissed him off even more 😭 like 'yeah evan did miss those kicks fuck' and maybe reminded that evan did get extended ahead of him (probably got brought up during the discussions with the fo tbh) and his mouth ran faster than his brain or he just didn't even bother thinking about it at all because he was so pissed that he just blurted it out.

i highly doubt he meant it as cruelly as people think he did though. he's just the type of person to be straight up when you're playing shit (proven btw with him needling evan's missed kicks that one mic'ed up training moment). he loves evan, they were THE 2021 rookies extraordinaire who were undeniably one of the main reasons they made it to the super bowl! he knows exactly what evan is capable of, 'he knows to make those kicks', mentioning he got paid could also possibly be a reminder to everyone that they did extend him for a reason!! that he's proven many times before he's clutch, the amount of times he's won them important games from his game-winning kicks!! but again this is all speculation who knows what goes on inside ja'marr's head and i don't actually know him lmao.

no idea if evan approached ja'marr or the other way around but it's nice to read that they did talk after the entire shitshow!! ja'marr throwing his full support for evan :(( 'have the sort of relationship where they’re comfortable needling each other about mistakes' very obviously having joked around before on their mistakes but the one last week seemed to have broke their little friendship bubble and taken to the fucking grinder by the public so they had to do some good old fashioned reassurance. the way evan said ja'marr said would always be there for him 😭 oh shut up that's cute as hell.

ja'marr complicated mess of a man with big feelings and incapable of keeping his mouth shut at times 😔 i think ja'marr is just....incredibly blunt with his words 😭 had like 6 mandatory pr training in his life and walked away with nothing but 'don't cuss in front of the cameras so help me' and even then his impulse control is....shit.....and probably learned more from real life experiences than any actual trainings. (incredibly cute when he fails to keep his mouth clean though like that time when he cursed about d-lines shit cleats (look at tee's face at ja'marr's little oop and look around!!!!) or that 'always open' comment where he followed up with 'excuse my profanity' (incredibly attractive tbh))

and it just pissesss meee offfffff when his locker room quotes post loss (when he's in his feelings, when he's trying to defend himself, when they're obviously baiting him for a shitty soundbite to get taken out of context when he's never fully mastered how to pr talk and probably never will) gets clipped and shared around all these sports accounts and gets added clickbait captions that just make him seem like a shit teammate or a shit friend or a shit player who is just unsportsmanlike?? and when his thursday (??friday???) solo pressers gets clipped and posted they comment shit like 'i didn't know he was so funny' or 'never seen him smiling like this' or 'surprised he isn't bitching about something' like excuse me?? that's from the narrative you 🫵 put out yourselves 😭😭 so it's a good thing he has those pressers and gets asked these light hearted questions where he can joke around with the reporters who aren't hounding him after a shitty loss!!

and he's always been so blunt with words, words things in ways that can be taken out of context very easily by the public (its just who he is as a person okay 😭 like look at all those quotes about joe...) and the only way to stop people from running with the shit he says at times is basically to just lie his ass off (bless him. though the madden lies still confuse me. i think he just forgot tbh.) or just say 'i don't know' and clamp up (good on him tbh. do you think he's ever gonna have a little 'im here so i dont get fined' marshawn lynch moment). essentially though it's very much a ja'marr chase get behind me 𝖎 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖈𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 kind of deal for me <3

and i mentioned malik (the qrt askfjkjfj truly fascinating how nearly all star wr1s are like this tbh) lmao people have commented absolute crap about him taking lessons from ja'marr in a very much /derogatory way but let me take things from a way more lighthearted point of view and say wow 😭😭 that's exactly a ja'marr fucking chase locker room interview special /full of love and joy and fondness. the gum chewing, the 'i don't knows', telling them to ask his coach, the absolute terrible choice of words 😭😭😭 my fondness for malik nabers has gone exponentially up i fear. he didn't even walk his shit back after this on his next interviews!! adore him <3

and thank you!!!!! i had a lovely day of voting mayoral elections and sleeping all day lol. i hope you have a lovely day too 🥰🫶

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  Pricklywhicket/@messessentialist ! Prickleywhicket has four fics published to AO3 -- All in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by pricklywhicket:

so let's sneak in from the cheap seats, honey

it's supposed to be fun (turning twenty-one)

start by pulling him out of the fire

"Sadie is so super talented in the way she describes literally everything. She is so good at writing and it's a shame that she's flown under the radar because she's not the quickest at putting things out there." -- Anonymous

Below the cut, Pricklywhicket answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Why do any of us write anything? Because we want the story to exist in the world, and it doesn’t yet, so we gotta hike up our pants and do it ourselves!

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Hurt/Comfort. I’m always a sucker for the blorbos taking care of one another, in whatever form that takes. This has always been true, across a truly astronomical number of fandoms I’ve found myself dabbling in over the years.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

…actually, probably hurt/comfort! I just need to get those little dudes some validation and unconditional positive regard, okay?

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

I’m sure I won’t be the first one to say this, but: I HAVE TO PICK ONE????? Okay, alright. I can do this. I’m gonna say…Sanctuary by SpicedSage.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’ve only written canon or canon-adjacent fic so far, so I’m eager to work on something that’s completely AU. I think there’s a unique challenge to keeping characters recognizable as themselves in a world that might not have all the same contexts that made them into that person.

What is your writing process like?

I would love to say it’s super organized and well-planned, but the truth is it’s mostly about routine and responsibility. I set aside time to do it every day, even if I can only tap out a few sentences. I’m not very strict about writing in a straight line - I can stop a scene if it’s giving me trouble, write a note about what I think happens in some [brackets], and move on to something that I have more fully fleshed-out ideas for. Sometimes writing the next scene helps you know more about what needs to happen in the current one. 

Do you have any writing quirks?

I'm sure my betas would say yes 🙃 I tend to write a lot of dialogue - a lot of my revision process is going back through and realizing I have two pages of a conversation with no indication of what’s physically happening in the world around the speakers.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Definitely when I’m finished. Prior to my ‘23 bang fic, I had never written anything chaptered. I knew going in that I could NOT start posting if it wasn’t finished, because I’ve been burned too many times by abandoned works. I didn’t want to do that to people reading my fic, and the best way to avoid it is to finish before you post.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Easily start by pulling him out of the fire. The biggest, most ambitious thing I’ve ever attempted - I still kind of can’t believe I wrote 85k.

How did you get the idea for start by pulling him out of the fire?

Like most terrible ideas, it was spawned in a fandom discord chat. We were discussing the tendency of Steddie fics to centralize the party at Steve’s house, because his parents are never there anyway. And then someone mentioned what if the parents came home and found their house occupied, and someone else mentioned Wayne being there, and it just sort of…spiraled out from there.

When writing start by pulling him out of the fire, what was something you didn’t expect?

I had no idea, going in, that I was going to write a comprehensive history of the Wayne and Eddie Munson relationship. I started writing it where I did to give some background on Wayne’s existing distaste for the elder Harrington, and then I just…kept writing. Over the course of a month or two I wrote 20k of WayneAndEddie that I had no idea was in me - it just kept coming.

What inspired it's supposed to be fun (turning twenty-one)?

@wynnyfryd. It was a gift for her birthday. We were talking about our mutual love of Letterkenny, and she mentioned that the episode was her favorite and wouldn’t it be funny if someone wrote… and the rest is history.

What was your favorite part to write from it's supposed to be fun (turning twenty-one)?

I had an unreasonable amount of fun with that one in general. But I think my favorite part was Eddie polling the party about what Steve means to them all. It was fun to sort of put myself in each character’s shoes and think about how they would answer. Plus y’know, any excuse to unironically love on Steve Harrington.

How do/did you feel writing so let's sneak in from the cheap seats, honey?

I believe my exact words upon deciding to write it were “jingles miserably to a blank google doc.” This was a classic case of saying “god I wish there was a fic where—” and having friends tell me that it was now my responsibility to write it. I’m glad I did, though. I love that story, and it proved to me that I could write sex and publish it and not burst into flames. I also just really, really love summer storms. And Wayne’s use of the singular ‘herpe.’

What was the most difficult part of writing so let's sneak in from the cheap seats honey?

Getting over the fear of publishing something E-rated. It was just something I hadn’t done, and I had a lot of anxiety that people were not going to respond well to it. I made three people individually review the sex scenes before I even asked anyone to beta the full fic. Of course I was worried for nothing, the reception for that fic was super lovely and gave me the confidence boost I needed to attempt start by pulling him out of the fire!

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

This is like asking me to pick a favorite child. I’ll say this: most of my favorite lines in start by pulling him out of the fire were taken directly from conversations @wormdebut and I had about the fic. She’s my number one cheerleader and sounding board, and sometimes she’s so goddamn funny that I just have to include it. You have her to thank, for instance, for Steve quite literally dropping his croissant when he first sees Eddie in glasses.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I have a couple of irons in the fire, but nothing I’m ready to share just yet! I’ve been taking a breather from writing (blame baldur’s gate 3, okay) but my WIPs are still very much IP. Stay tuned!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Not that I can think of!

Thank you to our author, Pricklywhicket, and our anonymous nominator! See more of pricklywhicket's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!