#I know I shouldn't based what I draw off what other people want

[profanepurity]

You still working on that Crossover AU? The Cult of Malhare or whatever?

The one where Mike and Sophie were "very good friends"?

Unfortunately, I don't think I'll be returning to that AU. It's been quite a long time since I've thought about it, and I wouldn't really know where to take the plot. Some people were also a little put off by Mike and Sophie together (I thought of the pairing before I found out that Sophie was in a relationship with Jenny). I occasionally get this question in my ask box, so I thought I would address it finally. That being said, I have been thinking about doing some fnaf fanart (not an au this time)... It would be different from the stuff I used to do, but it would still focus on a lot of the same characters. Is that something you guys would like to see? I know I go back and forth a lot between different fandoms and original content on here. Fnaf would by no means take over this blog. It would just be another thing I add back into the wheelhouse.

[astraystayyh]

Invisible thread- one

pairing : minho x reader

genre : university au, academic rivals to lovers (rivals not enemies because they respect each other), slow burn, fluff, angst.

warnings : reader has a very bad relationship with her mother, insecurities, talk about murder but as a joke, mention of alcohol, reader has she/her pronouns.

summary : Your studies were your lifeline for as long as you can remember. What happens when Minho comes into your life and rips it away from you?

word count : 20k

Author's note : I've been working on this fic on and off for the past two months, so if you do enjoy reading, please let me know. asks, comments, reblogs i read them all and they truly make me the happiest <3 (also i based this off my own college experience, where we study two terms and there is one person on top of the class every semester)

part two

You have always been first in your class.

Not because you particularly enjoyed studying. You simply felt that your worth was solely tied to the marks on your papers.

You never wanted to crumble under the pressure of studies, to hole yourself up in your room for an assignment you won’t remember in a month. But achieving good grades was the only way for you to feel seen; to make someone stop in their tracks and acknowledge you. 

A simple “good job” that you preserved inside your mind, as a reminder that you did exist to other people. Considering that the majority of your life was spent in silence. 

Your mom put a roof above your head and food on your table, but she never asked about your day, nor did she seem to care. You felt as though you were no more important to her than the tapestry hanging on your wall.

At times, you imagined that if you stood close enough to that tapestry, you could merge with it as one. The intricate embroidery would wrap around you and draw you in. And your mother wouldn’t notice. She would regard you with the same indifference she showed towards that textile- a mere decoration, at times a nuisance when she had to dust it.

You always ate your dinner alone. When you scraped your knee, you tended to the wound by yourself. No one attended your childhood musicals, and you patted your back when you cracked an egg without dropping a shell into the bowl. 

You’ve come to learn since your young age that all your milestones, both small and significant, would be celebrated alone. 

On the rare times your mother would acknowledge your presence, she’d unleash a flurry of criticism your way as if she was eagerly awaiting the opportunity to strike you down. She'd toss crude comments over her shoulder as easily as a casual hello, leaving you feeling battered and bruised in her wake. 

You felt as if you were shoreline rocks, and your mother was the ocean. You never knew if she would be like a gentle tide, barely brushing against you, or an enraged storm, mercilessly crashing down on your being. And you weren't sure which one was worse: to be invisible or to be seen and despised.  

That’s why you grew up plagued with self-doubt. You made friends throughout your school years but you never allowed them to get close enough to really see you -you feared that they might glimpse the very thing your mother seemed to despise in you. 

Throughout your childhood, you were like soft clay in your mother's hands- pliable, and easy to mold. And she indented you, everywhere, carved in edges and dips where they should not have been ones. Handled you roughly when you should have been treated with care. And as the years went by, you hardened- much like clay, but her touch remained imprinted upon you. It was difficult at times to discern who you were and who she made you to be.

You tried to start anew when you went away to university; to rewire your brain into believing that you were enough- you exist and you shouldn't prove to anyone that you deserved to be alive. But her words haunted you, they were like skeletons in your closet- but the closet was you. You could never part from them.

So, you fell back into the same pattern of seeking good grades and congratulatory words from your professors. Every A+ you got infused you with a momentary sense of worthiness.

But unlike in high school, you weren't always the best. Your competition came in the form of a single man named Minho, who seemed to excel in every class you shared.

Minho was mostly quiet, but whenever he spoke, you found that his words carried weight. Your professors consistently agreed with his points, and you envied the confidence he exuded. You wondered what it must feel like to be so sure of oneself.

It wasn't until a month into the year that you had your first interaction with Minho. You were in your Constitutional Law class when your professor Kim brought up the notion of ‘Separation of Powers’. You were arguing that judges shouldn’t be included in the writings of law when you heard a scoff from the row behind you. You turned around, raising a brow at the culprit, "Is there something you’d like to say?" you asked.

And in response, Minho smiled lazily, an air of smugness surrounding him, "I just don’t agree." The professor urged him to explain himself, so he leaned back into his chair, eyeing you. "Judges are the ones who practice the law every day, and sometimes they find that none of the written texts fit their case. If they get involved in lawmaking, they can help address those gaps or uncertainties." 

"Who's to say that those judges aren’t biased or politically motivated? They’ll end up writing laws to fit their own preferences," you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. "We elect judges to interpret and apply laws, not make them. If they start writing laws too, we'll be violating the separation of powers between the legislative and judicial branches. That's what keeps our entire system from crumbling."

Minho rested his chin on his hand, tapping his cheek thoughtfully with his index finger. "Aren’t legislators prone to biases too? Your point doesn’t stand then," he challenged, tilting his head to the side, "and judges can participate without going overboard. They can provide input on proposed laws without actually drafting them. That way, we ensure that the laws are crafted with a clear understanding of how they'll be put into practice." 

"If your main concern is to ensure that the laws are impartial, we have people who work as consulting experts whose job is exactly that," you flashed him an innocent smile, firing back. "Also, wouldn’t these overstepping branches put the judges in a position to be perceived in a bad light? Is that what you want?"

Before Minho could respond, Mr. Kim intervened, putting an end to your debate, "Let's save this energy for your essays and see who can convince me more."

You gave a quick nod, swiveling in your seat without a backward glance. However, you could sense Minho’s gaze penetrating through your back- as if he was trying to read your most intimate thoughts. 

That was the first thing you noticed about Minho when he walked over to you. His eyes were brown, not a special color by any means. But they held a certain depth to them that seemed to draw you in like a black hole. You weren't sure what you would find on the other side, nor did you have any desire to find out.

He outstretched his hands towards you, stopping you in your tracks. "Minho," he introduced and your hand met his in a firm grip. The second thing you noticed about him was the coldness of his hand, as it wrapped tightly around your palm. 

Suddenly you were taken back to when you built a snowman for the first and last time. You were just seven and the ice was freezing, numbing your fingers as you worked. Your mother never told you that you should’ve worn mittens, or a thick jacket to fight off the cold when she saw you walking out of the house. The memory of your cold hands and the horrible illness that followed still left a bitter taste in your mouth, like an unripe fruit. With a jolt you dropped his hand, forcefully pulling yourself away from that memory. 

"Yn," you said back, and he smiled to himself, repeating your name slowly, each syllable dripping from his tongue.  

"We'll see who'll write the best essay, right?" he asked, clearly challenging you. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes that reminded you of a child gazing up at cotton candy. 

That was the third thing you noticed about Minho; how expressive his eyes were. They moved with his every word, punctuating them. 

He was infuriating but also amusing. You've never had a clear competitor in your life. Or maybe you had, but you didn't notice them. You were always so reclined on yourself, trying to survive the day, you didn't pay enough attention to your surroundings.

"You want to compete with me?" You asked, and he smirked, leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. "What? Scared you’d lose?"

"Please." You rolled your eyes at his taunting, "Don’t come crying when I win."

"We’ll see about that!" He shouted after you as you walked ahead, leaving him behind.

This essay was insignificant. A simple way for your professor to assess your knowledge and work approach. And yet, you found yourself staying up all night to complete it. There was no way you were going to let Minho take this one thing from you.

Who were you if not the best in your studies? You were deathly afraid to find out. 

Later on that week, the professor handed you your grade back, 98%. You turned around to show Minho your mark, and so did he. You surpassed him, only by mere percents. "I told you so," you smiled cheekily and he pouted, holding a hand to his heart as if your grade wounded him.

"I'll beat you next time", he mouthed and you chuckled, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

✹✹✹

The first time you studied with Minho was in a cat café near campus, called Limbo, about two weeks after your initial interaction. You stumbled upon it serendipitously while strolling through your university town. You couldn’t study at home, since you were easily distracted in there, and the eerie silence of libraries often left you unsettled.

Limbo, however, offered the perfect middle-ground: it was calm, not overly crowded, and the buzzing of the coffee machine blended harmoniously with the occasional mewls of cats, which helped you concentrate better. 

You were sitting in a secluded corner table at the café's back, a sleeping black cat comfortably nestled in your lap when you sensed a shadow loom over you. You glanced up quickly to find Minho. He was clad in a grey hoodie sporting a bunny holding up its middle finger. You had to bite your cheek to suppress a grin at his clothing attire.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. 

"You know for someone smart you sure ask stupid questions," you remarked, already looking down at the papers scattered in front of you.

He huffed, taking a seat at the table right next to yours, "I can’t believe that of all places you’ve found this café to study in."

"My apologies, am I disturbing you, your highness?" You asked sarcastically, and in retort, Minho mimicked your words in a high-pitched tone. You threw the pillow right next to you at his head, and Minho swiftly ducked, easily avoiding it. He chuckled loudly while you glared at his laughing figure. That was the end of your conversation that day. 

From that moment forward, it became a routine for the two of you to study at Limbo, every Saturday, without fault. You didn’t explicitly plan on it, but it seemed that both of you found it comforting to work there. And you could also tell that, unlike you, it wasn’t Minho’s first time coming to Limbo. He was friends with the owner, a sweet middle-aged man who offered you pastries whenever you stayed there until closing. The cats seemed to know him too, they mewled at his feet whenever he entered and he always greeted them with a soft smile on his face. 

You didn’t talk much in those unofficial study sessions, the both of you were consumed by your own work. But you’d steal quick glances at him every now and then, the sight of him so concentrated only fueled you to work harder.

Admittedly, your competition left you feeling anxious for days on end at first. Each time Minho came out on top, you’d found yourself losing your grip. Your studies have been the one anchor keeping you afloat your entire life, and now, Minho was ripping it carelessly away from you. So, you resented him- you were human after all.

But then, you realized that Minho’s taunting wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t competing with you to hurt you, he was doing it for amusement only.

You've slowly started to learn that despite his relentless teasing, Minho had a gentle aura surrounding him. Glimpses of which occasionally emerged like rays of sunshine piercing through a thick cloud cover.

True, he chuckled when you accidentally bumped your head on the table while retrieving a fallen pen. Yet, you also noticed how he began to cover the table's corners with his hand whenever you bent down. He swiftly retracted his hand, seemingly believing you didn't notice, but you did.

During class presentations, he deliberately prepared challenging questions for you, urging you to study twice as hard to ensure no stone was left unturned. Yet, whenever the professor praised your performance, Minho offered a subtle thumbs-up as a gesture of support. He winked at you each time he got the right answer and you didn’t. However, when he noticed you struggling with a particular subject, he scooted closer and patiently explained it to you. He got up before you could thank him, swatting his arm in the air as if he didn’t do anything of significance. 

To show your appreciation, you bought him a drink that day he helped you—a simple gesture that sparked an ongoing game of "win a bet, get free food". You bet on who would receive the first mark on an assignment or who would finish an essay first- anything to further deepen the competition between you.

That's how you came to know that he loved puddings, among other things.

Curiously, as the months went by, your mind began to retain these little details about him. How his eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings when he blinked repeatedly during your conversations. How he glanced at the ceiling when lost in deep thought as if he was waiting for the answers to descend from the sky. Or how his lips take on the shape of an "o" while thinking of his response during one of your many debates. But you supposed that it was natural to take notice of such things when you spend countless Saturday afternoons with the same person.

You were still studying for someone else, in the sense that each time you stayed up working, it was solely to prove your worth to Minho. But at least unlike your mother, Minho's words never haunted you at night.

✹✹✹

Just like that, four months have gone by since you joined your university as a law major. It was nearing finals week and you were preparing it at Limbo. Minho was naturally present too, at his usual table right next to yours.

On the last weekend before the beginning of your finals, you were head-deep into your Criminal Law documents when Minho abruptly got up from his seat and settled in the chair in front of you.

"Yn," he whispers and you glance at him, "What?" 

"I have an idea."

"Keep it to yourself," you grin sarcastically, only for him to pick up your spoon and move it around in a threatening manner.

"Are you trying to scare me with a spoon?" you chuckle in disbelief.

 "Anything can be a weapon if you use enough force."

"Okay… that was creepy. What do you want?"

"The end of the first term is coming up. So, to celebrate our little rivalry-"

"It's not a rivalry if I’m always winning," you cut him off.

"Yeah, that’s why I have a fridge full of pudding."

"But-"

"Anyways, how about the top of the class takes the other out for dinner? A fancy one." He suggests, his gaze fixed on you.

"No, thank you. I already see you enough in classes."

"Didn’t think you wouldn’t up for a bet. Guess I was wrong," he remarks, a cheeky smile drawn on his lips. He knows you couldn’t possibly say no now.  

"Fine," you roll your eyes at his proud expression. "Prepare your wallet." 

"Mm, sure," he responds, before rising from his seat once more.

That day, you both lost track of time as you studied in Limbo until it closed down. When you finally stepped outside, stretching your tired limbs, you were met with the sight of falling snowflakes.

"Nooo, go away. I don't want to watch the first snow with you," Minho whines, referring to the superstition that watching the first snowfall with someone could spark love between the two of you. 

"As if I could ever love you," you laugh at the ridiculous idea, "that’d just be signing a death warrant."

You resume walking towards your apartment when suddenly something freezing and hard hits your back with enough force to make you stagger. Turning around slowly, you find Minho erupting in laughter, his body filled with uncontainable joy. He’s jumping and clapping excitedly, and for a fleeting moment, you can’t decide if your shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him. 

Snapping out of your daze, you swiftly retaliate by scooping up a handful of snow and hurling it at him. "Now you are cold too!" you shout, while he’s still laughing uncontrollably. 

Thus begins an impromptu snowball fight between the two of you. Unsurprisingly, you’re being competitive in this too, trying your best to strike each other before the other could recover. But Minho draws nearer to you, and in your desperation to win, you fall to the ground when he throws a snowball at your chest, gasping as if you’re in pain.

"Shit, did I hurt you?" Minho quickly kneels in front of you, concern evident in his voice. It surprises you for a moment- how worried he seems at the prospect of causing you pain.

But you shake that thought off and push him down to the ground, a proud smile on your face. In his fall, Minho instinctively reaches for you to steady himself, which ends up with you landing on top of him. Your faces are mere inches apart, and a soft gasp escapes your mouth at your sudden proximity.

Minho has a mole on his nose. You’ve never noticed that before. 

You quickly push yourself off of him, not enjoying being this close to somebody. "Why did you drag me down with you?" you grumble, shaking off the snow from your hair.

"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," he cheekily stuck out his tongue, and you respond with the same childlike gesture before the both of you burst into loud laughter. The sound reverberates through your entire being, and it echoes in your mind long after the two of you go your separate ways.  

As you lay in bed that night, ready to drift off to sleep, a quiet realization dawns on you. This was the first time you've touched snow in since your childhood incident.

That unpleasant memory didn't cross your mind once. Instead, all you thought about was Minho’s infectious laughter, and the surprising warmth it stirred within you.

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

True to his words, Minho texted you the name of the restaurant where you’d both meet to celebrate your win. As you got ready for your outing, you couldn’t help the nerves creeping up on you. Studying in silence next to Minho was something, going to a friendly dinner with him was another. You feared it would be too awkward and Minho would regret ever proposing such a thing.

So, as you sit in the refined BBQ restaurant waiting for him, you fidget with your hands, counting down to three in your head in an attempt to steady your breathing.

You were clearly not accustomed to existing with Minho outside of the confines of your studies.

"Did you wait long?" Minho asks as he finally pulls the chair in front of you and you shake your head no.

"Are you nervous?" he chuckles at your lack of words, and you frown, suddenly feeling defensive. "Why would I be nervous? This isn't a date."

"Who said anything about a date?" he smirks and you grab your fork threateningly, pointing it at him, "Don't say anything stupid or I will walk out."

"And stand me up on our first date? That's too mean.” He pouts, a hand on his heart and you can’t help but giggle at his antics. You were ridiculous for being nervous. This was Minho, the one person you’ve talked to the most since the start of this year. 

"What will you have?" he asks and you smile mischievously.

 "Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food." 

"Well, it's certainly not for your company," you wink and he chuckles, his bunny teeth on full display. 

"And here I thought we were going to be civil with each other."

"When are we ever not?" you gasp dramatically and Minho swats your hand with the menu. "Just order whatever," you finally answer," I trust your food judgment."

"I could poison you, you know?" He smiles proudly and you roll your eyes at him, "Can’t you be normal, for once?"

Minho calls over the waiter and places your orders. The food is quick to arrive and Minho starts to grill up the meat, while you cut the Kimchi into smaller pieces. 

"Here," he puts the perfectly cooked rib onto your plate first and you smile at him, "Thank you."

"Eat up, don’t wait for me," he tells you and you nod, tasting the flavorful meat.

"Wow this is really good," you compliment and he smirks proudly at your words, "I know."

Minho places four other ribs for you, without eating one himself. You start to feel bad, so you grab his chopsticks, pick up the meat, and move it toward his mouth, "Open up."

"What?" He asks confused and you wave the food in front of his face, "Come on, you haven’t eaten anything."

Minho parts his lips slowly, and you feed the tender meat to him, before eating one yourself. You notice how his cheeks are slightly tinted pink now, and you account it to the intense heat of the grill.

"Oh, let's not talk about studies, my brain can't take another debate with you," you tell Minho in between bites and he grins at you, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "If you were to dispose of a body, how would you do it?"

"I think our next celebration will be in an asylum." you smile too sweetly at him and he stares at you pointedly, "Please, I know you've already thought about it."

"Fine. Probably in a deserted land. What about you?"

"I'd cut their bodies and then bury each part in a different forest. In a different city."

His answer came too quickly, and you pause in your tracks, "Should I be worried?"

"You are too cute to kill." His tone is sarcastic and you make a show of gushing at his compliment, clasping both of your hands in front of your heart, "Growing soft on me, Minho?" 

"Yeah, I’m basically sooo in love with you," he replies with a smirk and you roll your eyes at him, an amused smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"What's your favorite color?" you finally ask, changing the subject.

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You'll buy me purple flowers?" He coos at you and you shake your head as you grab the utensil from his hand, to grill the meat your turn. 

"No. I'll paint your tombstone purple," you grin and he laughs loudly, eyes squinted close, and you can't find it in you to care that the people next to you are staring. 

"What's yours?" he asks when he calms down and you shrug, "Navy blue, I think."

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

"When you look at it, at first glance, it looks like black. But the more you stare at it, the more layers you uncover. Just like you. There’s more to you than what meets the eye."

You grab your glass of water, gulping it down to hide the way your eyes just glossed over. You suddenly felt bare in front of Minho. How did he know?

You clear your throat, racking your brain for a way to move on from that question. "If you were to describe colors to a blind person, how would you do it?"

"Mm," he looks up at the ceiling as he mulls over your question, "I’d say that yellow is the feeling of eating ice cream on a sunny day, in an amusement park. Your fingers are sticky but your cheeks ache from how much you smiled that day."

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

"I’d say that... Red is the thrill that rushes through your veins when you do something you are passionate about, you know? It’s what makes our blood boil and our heart race. The very essence of our humanity."

Minho smiles softly at your words, seemingly agreeing with your description. "Don’t you think it would be easier if we simply asked, what color are you feeling today, instead of a 'How are you'?" He questions and you tilt your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you could say, I feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to. Or, I feel bright yellow as if the world's energy is stored inside me."

"And right now, how do you feel?"

"I feel orange, not the ugly orange." He precises and you chuckle, "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean."

"A bittersweet orange, an ending that instantly strings along a new beginning. And you don't have time to rest."

Minho places his chin on his palm, eyeing you curiously, "Is that what you want? To rest?"

"Yeah." You admit quietly, "Don't you sometimes wish that the world would just stop, for a few seconds? Just like in a song, right before the beat drops. That silence, I wish I could live inside of it."

"I do too."

You both hold each other’s gaze for a while after that. You felt as if he was keeping you captive with his brown eyes, and he was slowly peeling each of your layers, in silence, as you were peeling his. For the first time, you think that you and he are similar, more than on a studies level. There was a part of his soul that understood yours perfectly. And it felt good, to be understood, for once.

"If you lived in this silence, what would you be doing?" he asks, breaking the serene quiet that surrounded you.

"I’d open a café that had books. And there'd be a little space, where people could paint. Or do pottery. And I’d have cats in there too." You reply excitedly, hands moving around in the air, you end up missing the way Minho gazes fondly at you before his smile morphs into a smirk.

"Please tell me you won't be cooking."

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

"You dance?!" you whisper-shout and he frowns at the surprised look on your face. 

"Yeah. Why are you looking at me like this?"

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

"No." he cuts you off immediately and you pout. 

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

"Please, I won't make a sound I’d just watch. Pinky promise.” He grabs your now outstretched pinky with the tip of his index and thumb, lowering it down. 

"I’d only grant you this wish when you’re on your deathbed."

"Bold of you to assume you'd still be around."

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

Minho chuckles at the crestfallen look on your face, "I’ll think about it."

Just like that, three hours of talking have gone by, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. And when you finally leave the restaurant, Minho grabs you a cab and you wave him off with a smile. You couldn't lie to yourself, you had a really good time with him. You liked to think that Minho was no longer just a rival, but a possible friend.

But now that you were laying in your bed, you couldn’t help but curse Minho in your brain. His repetitive talk about murder made you paranoid, and now every creak in your apartment made you feel as if death was really right around the corner. 

You decide to text him, figuring that if you couldn’t sleep because of him, you could at least disturb him for a bit. 

Yn : I hate you I'm paranoid from your murder talk

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

Suddenly your phone rings, the shrill sound echoing around your apartment. It was a Facetime call from Minho. You panic for a few seconds, before remembering that you just spent your entire night with him. A call can’t be more daunting than a real-life meeting. 

"See, I’m in my home," he tells you as soon as you pick up and you laugh.

"It's pitch black, I can't see."

"Just say you miss my face." You can’t see him but you can clearly hear the proud grin in his voice. 

"What's there to miss?"

"Are you actually scared?" Minho asks gently and you clear your throat, feeling ridiculous all of the sudden. 

"There is a tree right outside my window and it keeps rustling from the wind," you grumble and Minho laughs at you. 

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

"Close your eyes.” He instructs and you frown at his words. 

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

"Fine.” You close your eyes tentatively. It’s quiet for a few seconds and you feel yourself relax slightly. 

"So, I bought a sous-vide machine and-"

"Is your bedtime story going to be about meat?"

"Yes?” He replies as if it’s an evidence, “Now be quiet." You pretend to zip your mouth and Minho faintly giggles, before resuming his story. "So, I was saying. I bought one and I wanted to experience different kinds of meats. So, I bought a 30-day aged one and a 58-day aged one and I cooked them both."

"What did you use?" you ask quietly. 

"Just garlic, and thyme, I didn't want to overpower the taste of meat. Anyways I cooked them, but I didn't have plastic bags so I had to go out and buy them."

"Mm," you hum in acknowledgment. You could feel your nerves slowly dissipate with Minho's every word. His story might be ridiculous but his honey-coated voice compensated for it, wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. 

"And I found pudding there so I had to buy it."

"Obviously," you whisper. Sleep was knocking on your door, but paradoxically you tried to fight it off. You wanted to hear the rest of Minho’s story. 

"And I went back home and I cooked it, then I plated it nicely with vegetables that I sauteed with butter and garlic. Just mushrooms and potatoes, nothing too fancy. Again, my main focus was the meat. But there wasn't a difference between the two. They tasted the same for me, for some reason. And I didn't like this because the aged one was very expensive. Maybe I was scammed. Honestly, that butcher looked kind of suspicio..."

Your quiet snores make Minho pause in his tracks, and he laughs quietly. You did end up falling asleep. He can't see your face clearly, but he can see its outline and he stares at you for a while. You look peaceful.

He goes to hang up but his finger hovers over the 'end call' button. You aren't talking, but your hums are quiet enough that they fill up the space around him. It calms him down, and he lets his head fall on the pillow, his phone lying beside him.

He closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on. 

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

The second semester had just started and with it the return of frat parties. You were excited at the prospect of going to one with your new friend Mina. You met her in the library when you both went to grab the same book. You quickly apologized but she waved you off, handing you the book with a huge smile on her face. She was bubbly, like a human serotonin boost, and she started gushing about how much she loved the author. You saw her again in the campus cafeteria, and she skipped towards you as if you've both known each other your entire life. That was the start of your friendship.

You walk into the frat house, both your arms encircling each other. The flashing lights of the party blind you for a moment, and it takes you a while to adjust to the loud music bouncing off of the walls. But you like it, it was like a shield from the outside world and its problems. 

You feel yourself letting loose in the crowd, swaying your hips to the music. Mina spins you around and you laugh, dancing with no care in the world. It was just the both of you in that instant. 

Mina spots Jeongin in the crowd, a friend of hers that she had an immense crush on. You couldn’t blame her- he was very attractive; his easy smirk and his blonde tousled hair earned him lots of appreciative looks from the people around him. But when his eyes locked with Mina’s, you found that his face morphed into a beautiful smile, that made his dimples look on full display, as if it was only reserved for her.

“Go get your man!” You shout in her ears, so she’d be able to hear you. 

“What are you talking about?” She yells back, but you could see the nervous smile on her face.

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

“I don’t want to leave you alone. We came together!” She clasps your hand in hers and you smile touched by her kind spirit.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll go to the kitchen to get some drinks. Go have fun!”

“You are sure?” She asks, her eyes darting between you and Jeongin, who was still looking at her, and her only. 

“Yes! Go!” You say, gently pushing her away. Mina jogs up to Jeongin who greets her with a side hug. He quickly glances at you and you shoot him a thumbs-up, to which he grins. You loved playing Cupid.

With that, you decide to head to the kitchen to grab a drink. You pick a beer from the fridge, double-checking if the can is closed before opening it. 

You lean on the countertop, sipping on your drink while you watch the crowd, humming along each time a song you knew played. You enjoyed watching people dance freely from afar, with no apparent care in the world.

You feel someone stand next to you and you brace yourself, getting ready to tell the person off if they decide to bother you. You didn’t have the energy for mindless flirting. But then, you smell the cologne that has lingered around you for the past term- Minho. You haven't seen him since your dinner. That was a month ago.

"Fancy seeing you here," he greets as he leans on the counter right next to you, his eyes fixated on the mingling bodies.

You turn around to face him, faking an outraged gasp, "Are you following me?"

"Mmm. You look nice", he compliments and you smile cheekily, "I know."

"Won't tell me I look nice too?" he smirks, leaning closer to your face. "Someone didn’t get enough compliments tonight?" You pout, placing a hand on your heart in mock concern.

"I did, but I want to hear it from you. You’re the only sensible person in this room."

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

"Come on, I know you can do better than that", he jokes and you roll your eyes, muttering “You’re annoying”, under your breath.

Still, you comply, placing your arms on top of the counter and leaning your head on them to get a better look at him. He does the same, smiling, and you both stare at each other for a while after that.

The strobing lights dance on Minho’s face, casting enticing shadows on him. You've always known he was a beautiful man; you've looked into his eyes far too many times in your heated conversations. But this time was different, there was no cheeky smirk on his face nor a furrow in his eyebrows. He was simply looking at you, and it made a pool of warmth huddle in your belly. You feel yourself relax under his gaze, everything around you seemingly melts away.

You weren’t wrong when you thought that his eyes were like a black hole, pulling you in. But this time, you realize that you didn’t mind knowing what was on the other side. On the contrary, you longed for it. 

"I like your eyes right now. They remind me of the night sky. Black, with tiny little stars littered in them," you finally say.

Minho is taken aback by your words, he wasn't expecting you to compliment him, let alone to tell him something so special. He can feel his cheeks burn red at your words, feel his heart hammering in his chest. He's afraid you can hear it too.

He doesn't know what to say, so instead he clears his throat, plastering a smirk on his face, "I heard better." He hasn't. This is the first genuine compliment he's ever gotten.

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh and he joins you. The music was loud and yet the only sound his ear seemed to pick up was your laugh.

"Are you here alone?" He asks, and you shake your head no, "Came with my friend Mina."

"Did she leave you by yourself?" He frowns and you feel yourself warm up at his worried tone. "I told her to go talk to Jeongin."

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

“Fine, Dad.” You chastise and he stares pointedly at you, "I’m serious, yn."

You take another swing of the beer before turning your body fully towards Minho. After a few beats of silence, you finally ask a question that has been on your mind for a while. "Why do you say my name this way?"

"What way?" He questions and you shrug, "Slowly. People used to always rush it but you don’t."

"Well, it’s a pretty name. It deserves to be pronounced as a whole."

You beam at his words; you smile so brightly it makes his heart skip a beat. This is the first time you’ve grinned this widely at him, no hand in front of your mouth as if to hide it. He did notice how you were a reserved person outside of class, as if you were afraid of taking up too much place. But he could tell you were slowly unraveling, growing bolder with each passing month. He wanted to tell you that if people like you spoke more, the world would be a far better place. 

But he couldn't bring himself to say all of this, so he forced those bubbling words down his throat. "I’m hungry," he whines instead and you laugh at his pout. "I'm kind of craving a greasy pizza."

"Should we go buy it? You can tell Mina to come so we can walk her back."

"I’ll ask her."

You shoot Mina a text, asking her where she was and telling her about your plan. She replies that she’s with Jeongin who just offered to take her home, so you could leave without her.

"We can go." You tell him and he nods. Minho shrugs his leather jacket off, gently placing it on your shoulders. His warmth engulfs you and you sink further into it. His arm hovers around your shoulder not touching you as he leads you out of the party. He has never touched your body, you note, it's like he was everywhere and nowhere at once.

You both walk to an open parlor near the frat house, and you order a Margarita pizza to share. You sit down on a nearby bench to eat it- the night breeze too liberating to pass up on.

As you both finish eating, a cat with white and orange stripes all over her body approaches the both of you cautiously, and you pat her head softly. "Aren't you the cutest thing ever?" you coo and Minho chuckles as he scratches the cat’s chin. She purrs at his touch appreciatively, and you smile at the soft look on his face. 

"Never knew you to be this gentle", you giggle and Minho shushes you, "Let's not do this in front of the cat."

"Why are you acting as if we are a divorced couple and she’s our child."

"Easy, yn. You make it sound as if you want me to marry you."

"Now you're just projecting," you chastise and he laughs, eliciting giggles from you. He had a melodic laugh, you noticed, and you always felt a surge of pride whenever you made him close his eyes and tip his head from laughter. You felt as if it's a sight only you can see.

"I have three cats", he says softly and you gasp, "Really? We spent all of our Sundays in a cat café and this is when you tell me?"

"I only tell my friends."

"So we're friends now?" You gush and he rolls his eyes at you, "I take it back."

"What’s their names?" You ask curiously and his eyes soften at your question- you could easily tell he loved them dearly.

"Soongie, Doongie, and Dori. They are rescues."

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

"Most of my scars come from them though," he chuckles but you sober up at his words, quietly scratching the cat's ears.

"What’s on your mind?" He asks and you glance at him. It was scary how well he’s starting to know you. But it was also nice; to be known is to exist, after all.

"I just... Sometimes I wish that memories would leave physical scars on you. Because at least then, you could treat them, put a band-aid on, and watch them fade away day by day. Because when the scars are emotional, you can’t treat them, you know? And someday someone brings up a name or a place, or you smell a certain scent, and suddenly they reopen as if no time has gone by at all.”

Minho stays silent for a while, mulling over your words. You don't mind, you weren't expecting him to comfort you. You just needed to free those words from the mental prison you've held them in for so long.

"Do you know Kintsugi?" he finally asks and you shake your head no.

"It's a Japanese art. They put back together broken vases with molten gold. It represents strength despite our flaws."

"That sounds nice," you sigh wistfully and he nods. 

"It is. When you look at that vase, you know that it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty, on the contrary, it adds to it. Scars, whether they are emotional or physical are there for a reason. They remind us of how we pushed through whatever life threw at us."

"Am I supposed to be grateful I survived this?" You chuckle lowly, as your hand scratches the cat’s ear. Your fingers brush against Minho’s and you hesitate for a few seconds before moving them away.

"I wouldn't say grateful for what you went through," he speaks once again, "but grateful to yourself. At the end of the day, the reason why you're still here is you. You put yourself back together," he then bumps his elbow into your side softly, "and hey, even if your scars reopen there will come a time when they wouldn’t anymore. Sometimes, it takes a while to be okay again."

This was Minho’s way of telling you that someday it wouldn’t hurt anymore. That someday you’d be okay. And you needed to hear that. You needed to hear someone else other than yourself tell you that.

"Thank you, Minho, I needed that", you smile at him and he grins back at you before his smile turns to a smirk. "I charge 15 dollars for the hour by the way."

"Oh, come on! You didn't even say something revolutionary." You are lying. Minho's words will echo in your mind long after this night- a beacon of light to hold onto.

"Oh, so now it’s no longer ‘I needed that’. Tsk," he jokes a smirk still plastered on his face.

"Okay, Mr. Therapist. I’ll pay for your coffee tomorrow, sounds good?"

"I should have you as my client more often," he winks and you laugh, head tipped back. You were grateful more than ever for his teasing, loving how it wasn’t awkward between you after your discussion.

"You are a good listener." You tell him as you stand up, dusting your pants.

"I’m good at everything," he grins cheekily at you and you roll your eyes playfully, "And here I thought we were having a moment."

You both start walking side by side toward your home when Minho speaks again. His tone is quiet as if he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear him. "About earlier, your compliment, I mean. I suppose I didn't thank you. So, thank you," he scratches the tip of his ears and you shrug nonchalantly. "It's the truth. You might get on my ass but that doesn't change the fact you are a pretty man."

He doesn’t respond and you tug at the sleeve of his shirt playfully, "You won't tell me I’m pretty too?"

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

You laugh loudly, hand tightly clutching your stomach and he joins you. There is a newfound lightness in your steps now. Unbeknownst to him, Minho just managed to lift a small weight off your shoulders, allowing you a brief moment of respite.

"This is me," you say when you arrive in front of your apartment block, "Thank you for walking me home."

"Of course. Don't dream of me."

"Idiot," you laugh waving him off and he does the same. "Oh, and text me when you get home safely!" you shout before heading inside.

For the second time this night, Minho is blushing profusely at your words. He sighs to himself, waiting patiently until a light turns on in your place to leave.

✹✹✹

It’s been two months since the start of the new term. You still went to Limbo, every Saturday with Minho- even when you didn’t need to study. 

Sometimes you’d just grab a book and you’d both read, a cat lazily lounging at your feet. You started sitting at the same table too; you figured it was easier since one of you always pays for the other. When you have a bet, but also randomly, when you notice that the other person is feeling down and you want to cheer them up without saying anything.

That's why you bought three bubble teas for Minho in a row. He was quieter these days, you noticed. He didn’t talk to you nor did he retort back in class. It was the first time you’ve seen him this way. As if he was a simple shell of the person he usually is. 

You were walking out of your Communications Strategies class, which Minho weirdly didn’t come to when you realized that it was pouring rain. You smile lightly to yourself, grateful since you thought about picking up an umbrella this morning. 

As you walk through campus, everyone around you running to take shelter, you spot someone sitting on a bench, completely drenched from the rain. Their head is hung low and you frown to yourself. They would surely get a cold if they stay there.

But then the person raises their head and you quickly realize it's Minho. You jog up to him instinctively, standing in front of him and shielding him from the rain with your umbrella.

He looks up at you and you feel your heart clench. His eyes are void of emotion and he stares blankly at you. "Are you okay?" you ask and he blinks at your words, as if his brain hadn't yet registered that you were there.

"Yeah."

"You don't look like it", you tilt your head to the side and he looks down again. You have to strain to hear his next words, muffled by the rain and his mumbling, "I don't want to talk, yn."

You decide to put away your umbrella and sit down next to him on the bench. The rain falls rapidly on both of you, and you feel yourself grow cold from it. 

"What are you doing?" He questions, turning to the side to look at you.

"Enjoying the rain. It is kind of stupid that we have umbrellas, right?"

"You'll catch a cold."

"I mean we always complain about the drought and then when it rains, we hide from it. But it's really beautiful."          

"Stop, I don't want you to get sick."

"Well, neither do I. Let's go eat some soup. My treat."

"Yn, I don’t-"

"I thought you were smart enough to know I won't take no for an answer."

"But I-" you cut him off again. "Also, I’m doing this for me because when you order for two, they give you a lot of side dishes. Now come on."

You stand up and he looks doubtfully at you, before following suit. You open up the umbrella again and hold it over both of your heads. He has to huddle close to you, and your shoulders brush against each other. Once, twice. Not that you're keeping count. But your body is always hyper-aware of Minho’s proximity. You also notice how he silently moves from your right to your left, this way he's the one walking right next to the speeding cars. Your hold on the umbrella tightens. You were still not used to those small attentions of his. 

You arrive in front of your apartment block and he hesitates. "Come up, I won't murder you I promise." You joke and he smiles lightly back at your words. Progress.

He enters your dorm and you can see him eying his surroundings. You know that if it was another time, he would have teased you about something- anything. But he stays quiet, and you find yourself missing the sound of his voice.

"Would you like to shower?" You offer and he nods, "Please."

You lead him to your bathroom and show him where the washing machine is. "Put your clothes in there for a quick wash and dry. You can shower meanwhile."

He nods again as you hand him a towel. "I'll be outside."

You quickly leave the bathroom to place the soup orders, and Minho discards his wet clothes, walking into your shower. The water is piping hot, and he leans his forehead on the cold tiles. He doesn’t move for the first ten minutes, too tired at the prospect of lifting his limbs.

Nothing particular happened. But he’d go through days when he’d quiet down because everything around him was too much. The feel of his clothes against his skin, and the sun streaming through his curtains. But it always passes. Minho was a realistic man and he knew that his emotions would regulate themselves. That’s why he didn’t like appearing vulnerable in front of other people.

But for some reason, he didn’t mind lowering his guard with you. He knew you wouldn’t judge.

He sighs, grabbing your cherry-scented shampoo and pouring it into his hands. He can clearly smell you now. The scent of your hair that always tickles his nose, whenever you are sitting close to him. Your body wash is next and he wonders if this is how your skin smells, like vanilla and jasmine, and something entirely you. 

Forty minutes later, Minho finally steps out of the shower. His clothes are clean and he quickly puts them on. He dries his hair with the towel as he walks out of your bathroom towards the living room. 

He finds you sitting on the ground, in front of a heater that looks close to giving up. He makes a mental note of giving you the one he has since he doesn't really use it. You changed out of your clothes too, and you are now wearing a pair of pajamas with little bunnies sewn into it. The sight almost manages to make him smile. 

"Still cold?" you question when you notice him standing behind you, unmoving, and he shakes his head no.

"Good, the soup is here." You say cheerfully, pointing at the steaming bowls sitting on your table. Minho hums in reply and you stand up, grabbing the towel from his hands to place it on the drying rack.

You come back, a soft green blanket in your hands. You sit on the couch and pat the spot beside you. Minho sits next to you, and you lay the blanket on both of your laps, before handing him his soup.

You start the show you’ve been last watching, as you both eat in silence, your legs crisscrossed. You make some comments throughout the episodes. You figured that it was a safe territory, to talk about something as mundane as this. He didn't reply but you didn't mind. You weren't here to have a conversation with him. You just wanted to distract him.

You realize at that moment that Minho always looked so put together to you. But he had problems of his own too. That much was obvious. It made you feel closer to him, in a sense. You were both just trying to make it through the day.

Two hours later, you get up to grab a book, handing Minho the remote to put on a show of his own. You curl in a ball in the corner, reading where you left off last night.

"Can you... Can you read out loud?" Minho speaks for the first time in a while and you look at him. His eyes are closed, his head resting against your couch.

"Sure."

You start to read, and Minho further sinks into the couch. He feels at home here. Because the blanket is soft and the light is dim enough to not hurt his eyes. Or it could be that he smells like you, a scent so comforting he wants to bury himself in it. Or maybe it's your voice that floats through the air, slowly clouding Minho’s every sense. He feels as if he could see the words you were pronouncing dancing in front of his eyes. You enunciated each syllable clearly, making sure that no sound was forgotten.

As Minho gently drifted to sleep, he felt as if he was part of the words you read out loud. He felt as if you were treating him with the same care, making sure that he knew he wasn't invisible. At least not to you.

When you wake up the next morning, Minho is gone. And his place beside you on the couch is empty. He made you breakfast, scrambled eggs, and freshly pressed orange juice. And right next to it you find a note, "Thank you for reading to me."

✹✹✹

Minho didn't believe in having a lot of friends. He was content with the two people he had, Chan and Changbin. The latter was his high school friend, he skipped a year and ended up being in the same class as Minho. They didn't talk at first until the day Changbin dropped a book on Minho's foot. The brooding man started apologizing profusely, and that was the start of their friendship. They've kept in touch since.

Chan was his roommate at university. It's not that he particularly wanted to befriend him, but Chan was a social butterfly and he quickly managed to pull Minho into his friendly trap. He annoys Minho the most, but in an endearing way. And although Chan is older, Minho still strangely developed a soft spot for him. 

And he supposes he has you too now. At first, you weren’t friends, rivals at most. He enjoyed reeling you up and having you frown at his words in your heated debates. He also liked talking to you, because your ideas were interesting and you always gave him a new fresh perceptive to see things.

That’s how he strictly saw you as, an intelligent human who he liked to debate with.

But then he started to look forward to meeting up with you at Limbo. He no longer minded the fact that you took his self-assigned table, from his high school days. And he laughed more freely with you, enjoying how you always had a witty retort sitting at the tip of your tongue. 

That’s how he started to notice things that friends most definitely notice. How you have a charm bracelet you always fidget with whenever you are nervous. How you stray away from physical touch. How you scratch your eyebrow when you are deep in thought.

But also, how you seem to have an obsession with cherries. Your cherry pendant, your cherry-scented shampoo, and your cherry-tainted lips. A friend would most certainly think that your lips are like red wine-stained glass.

He remembers one of the many times when you were at Limbo, and he saw you reapply your lip tint, or so you called it. You caught him looking and he swiftly averted his gaze, but it wasn't quick enough. Suddenly you were in front of him, a tiny red bottle in hand.

"Let me apply it to you," you smiled and he pushed your head away with his pointer finger. "No."

"Please," you pouted and he couldn't help but find you adorable. You sometimes reminded him of a small kitten. But he didn’t dare to call you by that nickname. 

"Never."

"If I score more than you in our environmental assignment then I will do it."

"Fine." he huffed so that you'd leave him alone.

Minho didn't study for that assignment. He blamed it on a headache, not that it's ever stopped him before. And two weeks later you were in front of him, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. You applied the lip tint gently on his plump lips, carefully tracing over his cupid bow. 

Your face was mere inches away from his and he noticed how you were wearing a gloss today, for change. It was shimmering under the lights and he usually didn't like glittery things, but he couldn't take his eyes off your lips. 

"All done!" you clapped excitedly, snapping him out of his haze. You then shove your phone camera into his face so he'd look at the results.

"You should be a model. Your face is perfectly sculpted," you comment nonchalantly, before sitting back in your seat. 

“I know.” He replies confidently, but his hand kept fiddling with the tip of his now pink ears. He couldn't concentrate for the rest of the night.

You were his friend because he always worried if you were eating enough. That’s why he urged you to grab a bite in the convenience store near Limbo, whenever you finished up your studying late.

This was one of the many times you sat on the minuscule table outside, hot ramen bowls in front of the both of you. Minho huffed in annoyance between each bite, his bangs were getting longer, disturbing him when he leaned down to slurp his noodles. 

“Here,” you stand up from your place, a hair tie in your hands. 

“What are you doing?��� He questions as you stand behind him. You don’t reply, silently grabbing his hair and putting it up in a tiny ponytail, this way it wouldn’t get in his eyes anymore.

“Voila,” you sit back down, resuming your eating. Minho was grateful for the dimly lit street because his entire face was burning up. Your fingers in his hair were gentle and he wondered how it would feel if you ran your fingers through it. 

This was something friends think about, right? 

"I’ll cut my hair tomorrow," he clears his throat. He didn't know why he told you. You certainly weren't interested in his hair endeavors.

"What?!" you yell, "Don't. Your hair is beautiful why would you cut it?"

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

Minho also noticed how you always threw compliments his way. Not in a flirtatious way, but in a genuine one. He couldn't help but wonder what made you this way. Did you so freely give love to others because you knew how it felt to not receive it?

"I’ll still cut it."

Minho returned home; his hair still clipped back in a ponytail. Chan eyed him weirdly but he shut him off with a glare. The elastic remained at his bedside since.

He didn't cut his hair.

The moment Minho started to consider you a close friend, was when you invited him over to watch your show. You didn’t force him to open up that night, and he appreciated it, more than he let on.

That's how a week later, he finds himself walking towards your dorm again. The thoughts in his head got too much, and Chan was immersed in his makeshift studio, which meant he won't be free for the next four hours, minimum.

He didn't plan on going to you. It was late at night and you were probably asleep, but his feet naturally led him to the direction of your place.

He knocks softly on your door. He wasn't even sure if he wanted you to open. What would you think of him showing up at eleven pm? He should have thought this thro-

"Minho?" you call out, and he startles a bit, his feet already inching away from the door.

"This was a bad idea, I'm sorry," he starts to retract back but you grab the hem of his jacket to stop him. "Do you... Do you want to watch my show with me?" you ask, a soft smile on your face and he nods tentatively.

"Okay, come in," you open the door wider and Minho follows you inside. The look in his eyes reminds you of the day you found him sitting under the rain. You didn't like it, you wanted him to find his spark back, his usual demeanor. He wasn't deserving of anything but happiness.

"I’ve started a new show, this one's a bit more romantic, so don't go around imagining me as the main character," you tease and he scoffs at your words, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He doesn't reply, but you don't mind. There was this secret agreement between the two of you, you would talk and he would listen. He needed the distraction, and you needed the company. Sometimes the line between alone and lonely blurs, and on days like these, Minho’s presence fills the void inside.

You comment on the scenes and Minho hums in reply, you watch three episodes in a row, and your eyes are getting drowsy, so you close them.

"Minho," you call out gently and he turns his head towards you.

"Yeah?"

"What color are you feeling tonight?" You ask, referencing to what he told you on your dinner celebration. That felt like an eternity ago.

"Black." You stay silent and Minho fidgets with his hands before speaking once again. "I feel a lot at the same time, too much of every color. That's why- that's why I said black."

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

"You already do." His admission came softly and it made your breath hitch in your throat. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him, but you figured it will only make him close off even more.

“Okay. Will you stay for breakfast?”, you whisper. You were very sleepy, the soft chatter of the TV and your hushed conversation were like a lullaby to you. 

"You want me to?" he asks, and he sounds so vulnerable you can't find it in you to say anything but the truth.

"I do," you admit, and that's the last thing you remember before sleeping.

Your head falls near Minho’s lap on the couch, your hair tickling his exposed thigh. Minho shouldn’t feel this way, he thinks. He’s sitting on the leather couch and his feet are touching the cold floor and yet all he can feel is three strands of your hair tickling him.

He glances at you, at your now parted lips and your relaxed eyebrows. His hand hovers over your hair, but then he curls it into a tight fist. What is he doing? He thinks to himself as he drags an angry hand through his face. He sighs, before standing up and grabbing the blanket you had on the opposing chair. He gently lays it on your body before sitting next to you once again. 

You told him to stay for breakfast. He’ll stay.

✹✹✹

2 months later

"Yn!" Minho shouts in your ear as he plops down next to you. You startle, dropping the book you were reading. 

"I hate you," you grumble, picking up your book and he smiles cheekily at you, "No you don't."

You were laying on the grass of your campus garden, in between two classes, trying to kill the time. It was April so the weather was perfect for lying under the warm sunrays. You loved spring, it always held within it the promise of a better time. 

"What are you doing?"

"I was reading before you got here and started to annoy me." 

"Don't mind me. Do your thing." 

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

"You couldn't find any other place to do so?"

"Nope."

"You're annoying" You try to sound mad but the smile on your face betrays you. You started looking forward to any moment Minho randomly shows up throughout your day. Sometimes it's late at night when he's suddenly craving sushi and he drags you with him because if he's not studying then you shouldn't be too. 

Sometimes it's during the day, when he takes you to a new garden where he found the quote "cutest cats in existence". Not as cute as his cats, of course. 

Sometimes it's late afternoon when he just knocks on your door, and he's there with Chan-his roommate who sometimes joins your study sessions- snacks in their hands. You've learned that what Minho doesn't say in words, he compensates by spending time with you. And you didn't tell him but waiting for these moments has been the joy of your life for the past few weeks.

It made you feel excited- like a child waiting up for Christmas morning to discover what gifts they are receiving. 

So, you resume reading, as Minho is lying next to you. You could smell his pinewood cologne and you wished you could pour his essence into a bottle and carry it with you everywhere. 

You notice how the sun is hitting Minho’s eyes directly, and how his eyebrows are scrunched up at the aggression. So, you grab your book with your left hand, and hover your right one over his eyes, shielding him from the sun. Minho's breath tickles your hand and you can feel goosebumps rising through your skin. 

It's as if every physical proximity with Minho made you feel hyperaware of every part of your body, and how he can lighten it with a simple breath from his part. It made you wonder what it would feel to have his hands on your skin.

As if Minho heard your thoughts, he gently wraps his thumb and index finger around your wrist, steadying your hand in place so it wouldn't strain your arm. You suddenly don't know what page you are in, too overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you. 

His touch is very featherlight and you are afraid to move, to break the bubble you are suddenly pulled into. 

"Read to me," he tells you and you gulp. You never understood why Minho enjoyed it when you read to him. 

"Like my voice that much?" you tease, in an attempt to hide how affected you are. You were so close to him; it would be easy to slide down and lay your head on his chest. You wondered how his heartbeat would sound. Was it steady, or racing just like your own? 

"Yeah, it's calming," he replies sincerely, catching you off guard. You didn't expect him to compliment you, and now you are racking your brain for a retort, anything to make you breathe again. 

"Growing soft on me Minho?" you say, the same question you asked on your first dinner out. The first time you truly saw him, the first time you felt as if you were two pieces of the same puzzle, just waiting for someone to connect the both of you. 

He doesn't reply. And you sit there, patiently waiting. His first answer came so easily, so naturally, because he was being sarcastic, "I’m basically in love with you", he told you back then. So why can't he say it again?

"Yes, I am." He finally replies and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You try to account it for your brain misguiding you. It wasn't Minho speaking, it was the rustling of the leaves and the singing of the birds that you just heard. But it was him, and now his eyes are open and he's looking at you. Your hand is still shielding his eyes and his fingers are still wrapped around your wrist. And you are suddenly feeling. You are feeling too much. You don't know what to do with those feelings cursing through your veins and you can't face them. Because they are scaring you.

"I'll just... Yeah, I’ll just read," you say quietly, too flustered by his intense gaze. You were already on the other side, you realize. His eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey. 

"Out loud," he says and you chuckle, "Fine, Min." The nickname slips out of your tongue naturally and you quickly snap your head towards Minho to see if he noticed. 

His eyes are closed, and there is a slight smile on his face, and you can swear that he just repeated the nickname to himself softly. 

✹✹✹

You've been so sick these past days, you barely managed to go to class. Your head throbbed with pain and your entire body felt as if someone thoroughly boxed it. 

You were grateful that Minho reeled down his teasing because you had no energy to retort back. He may have noticed how sick you felt and truthfully it would be hard not to. You stayed silent throughout the day, and you looked so pale, you avoided looking at the mirror altogether.

Though Minho didn't talk to you, he still silently placed water bottles and some of your favorite snacks on your desk. You'd down the water, grateful for the relief it brought your sore throat. And when you didn't touch the food, he'd immediately text you 'Eat up', followed by a simple 'Please'. Having someone else care for your well-being felt weird, but it warmed your heart beyond what words could describe. 

You only came today to pass your Criminal Law mid-term, but your head hurt so badly that you weren't even sure what you wrote on your paper. The words blurred in front of your eyes and you almost slept in the middle of your exam, exhaustion threatening to take over your body. 

You fucked up, badly. You haven't screwed up this much in years.

You thought that you were slowly getting better since Minho surpassing you no longer sparked an unworthy feeling within you. But apparently, you were wrong to believe so. Self-doubt crept up within you once again, and the ugly feelings it stirred slowly clawed at your throat, making it hard for you to breathe.

It was one test, and yet it reeled you back ages ago. 

Tears threaten to spill out of your eyes as you hurriedly walk out of your class. You make a beeline for the library, figuring that it will be mostly empty by now. 

You pull out a chair and sit on it, lowering your head down so no one will see you. Your tears are falling rapidly and you hit your thigh repeatedly.  You hated how weak you felt in that instant. 

"Yn?", someone calls out and you curse internally. You don't have to look up to see who it is, Minho's voice has become a part of you- you could easily recognize it between a thousand mingling sounds. 

You don't want him to see you, especially not like this, weak and vulnerable and on the verge of breaking down. So you quickly slip a pair of sunglasses on your eyes, before raising your head to look at him. "Hm?"

"Are you okay?" he asks, his tone so soft it makes you want to cry ten times fold. You hated it, hated how attentive he was to you. You didn't deserve it. 

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just here to pick a book," you lie, abruptly standing up and heading toward the rows behind you. You desperately needed to get away from him. 

You pause in front of a random shelf and then you feel Minho standing behind you. You grab a random book and he peeks above your shoulder to see it, "Economics? You hate this subject."

"Why are you following me?" you turn around attempting your best to sound mad. When in reality, your heart was brimming with hurt. You wished you could get away from your body and seep into someone's soul to feel what it's like to love yourself.

"You aren't okay," he asserts and you hate it. You hate that he sounds so sure of himself. Was it that noticeable? Were you not fooling anyone?

"I am," your voice is shaking but you are adamant about contradicting him. You couldn't let him see you. What if he runs?

"Then..." he steps forward and you take a step back until your back is against the shelf. His left arm cages your body, but his right one stays by his side. He is leaving you an opening, you realize, an outing in case you feel uncomfortable. Against all odds, you don't.

 "Why are you hiding from me?" he asks, gently taking your sunglasses off your face, and placing them on the top of your head.

You don't look up at him, and he hooks his finger underneath your chin, gently raising your head. When your tear-stained eyes meet his, he frowns deeply, "Why are you crying?"

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

"I fucked up, okay?! That was the worst test I’ve ever given in years." The tears start to flow at your words and you wipe them away aggressively. You despised crying in front of people. 

Minho raises his hand to wipe the tears away for you but he quickly retracts it- you probably wouldn't want him to touch your face. It was enough that he had grabbed your wrist a couple of weeks before this. He quickly racks his brain for something to do, because the sight of your tears is making his heart ache in a way he hasn't felt before. It's as if he's feeling your emotions deep within him.

In desperation, Minho pinches your arm and you yelp, startled. "What was that for?" you whisper-shout and he raises his hands in defense, "I didn't know what else to do."

"So, you thought about pinching me?" you chuckle in bewilderment and he scratches the top of his hair sheepishly. 

"I mean, it worked. Look, you stopped crying," he points out raising his brows at you proudly and you shake your head at him.

"Remind me to never cry in front of you again." 

Minho grins at you before his face turns serious once again. "Look, you are the smartest person I know," he pauses, adding with a cheeky smirk, "After me of course." Which makes you giggle against your will. 

"Shut up", you lightly punch his chest and he smiles. "One test doesn't define you. You always work very hard. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Mm," you hum and he frowns at your lack of enthusiasm, but still, he doesn't comment. 

"No more crying," he wiggles his finger in front of your face and you roll your eyes, wiping the rest of your tears away. "Fine. Pretend as if this never happened."

"What are you talking about?" he asks as if confused, and you can't help the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It's as if Minho knows exactly what to say to cheer you up. 

"Come with me," he tells you, gently pulling you by the sleeve of your hoodie. 

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

"You're craving ice cream too," he says in a matter-of-a-fact tone. 

"Only if you're paying," you add with a giggle and he whines loudly, "I feel so so used around you." 

True to his words, Minho takes you to the nearest ice cream parlor. It's a 20 minutes walk away and you are grateful for the distance because it helps you clear your head a bit.

Minho lets you pick whatever flavors you want, and when you hesitate between two of them, he tells the cashier to put them both into your cup. This is how you end up with a container of 5 scoops of ice cream. You insisted you'd share, and Minho begrudgingly agreed when you threatened to walk out and leave him.

You then walk to a deserted alley and sit on the sidewalk. You didn't want to be around people right now, and thankfully, Minho understood without you having to say a word.  

You munch silently on your ice cream and Minho does the same, the both of you lost in your thoughts. You naturally take turns holding the freezing container, so it wouldn't numb the fingers of one of you.

When you're done, Minho stands up to throw it away in a nearby trashcan before sitting back again next to you. 

Suddenly you feel him gently tapping your hand. You look down to find that you've curled your fingers into a tight fist, so much that there are crescent indents visible on your palm now. 

"Let's play thumb war," he tells you and you giggle at his words. You never knew what to expect from him. 

Still, as your fingers hold each other, and your thumb circles one another, you feel yourself calm down slightly. You play a couple of rounds, and you know he's going easy on you, allowing you to quickly trap his thumb down. 

No one has gone to such lengths to cheer you up, and you suddenly feel so grateful for Minho’s presence in your life. You didn't care in what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it. Which in turn makes you think how bad it'd hurt if he ever leaves. 

You don't want Minho to leave. You've gotten so attached to him that the thought of not talking to him again makes your heart race in panic. 

Minho notices the change in your expression, suddenly melancholic once again. Your hand has gone limp in his, the thumb war long forgotten by you. 

He curses under his breath, before looking at you. "If I dance for you, will you quit being so sad?"

"Dance for me?" you repeat incredulously and he nods, "Yes. I’ll show you an upcoming choreography just... Please smile?" 

"Okay," you giggle, plastering a wide grin on your face. 

"Not like that you look scary."

"Get to dancing!" you clap excitedly and he rolls his eyes, standing up and looking through his phone for a particular music. 

"Oh and no comment!" he looks pointedly at you, and you nod, pretending to zip your mouth and throwing away the key. 

'Finesse' by Bruno Mars starts playing and you are left mesmerized by the way Minho dances. It's short but it leaves you yearning to see more. His body moves smoothly, hitting each beat effortlessly. He made it look as if dancing was second nature to him, that it came as easily to him as breathing. 

You were speechless, rightfully so. You wished you could build a world where all Minho did was dance. 

"That was-" you start when he stops the music but he cuts you off instantly, "I said no comment."

"But--" Minho places his finger on your mouth to silence you, seemingly not thinking too much of it. But the feel of his finger on your lips makes you dizzy. Minho quickly takes off his hand, a blush evidently creeping up his neck. 

"Let's just go home," he sighs in defeat and you laugh despite the intense feelings cursing through you.

You don't know if you are imagining it but you swear that your pinkies brush against each other on your walk back. As if there was this magnetic force pulling them together. You wondered what would happen if you just linked your pinky with his. Would he grab you by the hand or will he let go of you entirely?

You were too much of a coward to find out. You were scared of messing up anything with him. So, you'd settle for this. Stolen glances and random outings. You just need him in your life. 

"Thank you for today," you tell Minho once you arrive and he shrugs, as what he did wasn't a big deal.

"No, I mean it. Thank you," you repeat, trying your best to convey how sincere you were being. You take in a deep breath, before grabbing his hand and squeezing it, for a fleeting second, before dropping it again. 

Minho is sure that your hand will now be imprinted into his, that the lines tracing over your palm will merge with his as one. Your touch was barely there but it had electrocuted him. He wondered to himself if his body would be able to handle more from you. But he'd gladly burn in your fires for the sake of holding you. And he'd wait, unwaveringly, as time stretches alongside the two of you. He'd wait as long as it takes for you. 

"Yn, I..." he stammers, taking a step closer to you. His scent engulfs you and you shamefully close your eyes, inhaling it. When you open them again, you find Minho glancing down at your lips. You gulp, dazzled by his proximity. 

"You have a mole on your nose," you suddenly speak up and his eyes snap back to yours, an adorable confusion drawn on his features. 

"I like that mole," you continue and you wish you could dig yourself a hole and bury yourself in it. 

"Thank you," he chuckles and you nod vigorously, "You're welcome." 

"Can I ask you something?" he says and your breath hitches in your throat. "Sure."

"You don't like it when people touch you, right?" 

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?" 

You want to confide in him, to tell him that it’s because you long for it, you crave it so badly. That this need has woven itself into the very fabric of your being. An ache so raw that it scares you at times. You’ve never known what it feels like to be held- it was uncharted territory to you. 

"Isn't everyone scared of the unknown?" you settle on saying, and he nods in understanding. Of course, he understood. No one knows you as well as him. 

"It's okay. I just wanted to know if I ever overstepped my boundaries."

"You didn't," you reply instantly. 

"Good. You'll tell me if I ever do, right?"

"I will." 

"Okay." 

"Um. I'll get going," you point behind you and Minho smiles at you, waving you off.

You walk for a few steps before coming back again quickly. You then grab Minho’s hand, gently squeezing it like before, "You are an amazing dancer." 

And then you drop it, running back towards your apartment block without waiting for a reply. 

Minho stays frozen in his place. You think he's an amazing dancer. And you held his hand for five seconds. 

That's four seconds more than the first time. 

Progress.        

✹✹✹

You haven't gotten out of your house for the past three days. 

Everything crashed around you rapidly, it made you realize that the ground you once stood on was only an illusion, elusive and fleeting. 

You were doing well; you were getting better. But then Monday came and you went out for a walk in the park near you. As you sat there, you saw a little girl playing on the swings, delightful joy dancing across her features. But then she fell to the ground and you instinctively stood up to help her, only to notice her mother running to her. 

The world stilled around you as you clearly saw it- how the little girl clung to her mother's embrace, her embodiment of hope and love. You never had that. You don’t even know what perfume your mother used because she never allowed you to get that close to her. 

You stood up abruptly, quickly heading back to your apartment block. As you ran up the stairs, you ended up bumping into one of your neighbors. You were quick to apologize but they ignored you, and the feeling of being invisible came back to haunt you ten times fold. 

You knew you shouldn’t have done it, you knew you should have deleted your mother’s number when she sent you away to university without a backward glance, relieved at the thought of you getting a full-ride scholarship and not needing her anymore. But you didn’t, you kept her number in the hopes that she’d call. On your birthday, on holidays, on a random Thursday to tell you that she did remember who you are. 

With trembling hands, tears welling in your eyes, you dialed your mother’s number for the first time in a year. You didn’t know what you were expecting. Maybe she regrets it. Maybe she misses you. Maybe she didn’t find the courage to mend her wrongdoings and that's why she never called. 

"Hello?" her voice rang through your apartment. Goosebumps erupted on your arms and your hold on the phone tightened. Her voice took you back to memories you thought you had buried. How you spent countless nights yearning to hear the sound of her voice, how you regretted it once she spoke to attack you.

You hate her. You miss her. You want to hang up. You need to ask if she's doing okay. 

“Who is this?” Her voice was devoid of recognition, freezing you in your tracks. You felt as if a bucket of ice was thrown over your head, dousing the flame of hope that flickered in your heart. 

She deleted your number.

You quickly hung up, placing your phone down on the table. The tears refused to fall. It was as if your body had long anticipated this outcome, leaving only your wounded soul to bear the pain. 

Healing isn't linear, you've read about it in books and heard it in shows and movies. One step back doesn't mean that your entire progress is gone. You know this, you've memorized those sentences. So why do you not believe them? Why does it feel as if you can never be free from the past? Why does it feel as if you’ll always seek something out of her? 

Those questions roamed your mind for the past three days, making you too tired at the prospect of lifting your limbs, let alone leaving your apartment. You sent your two friends a text, telling them that you're sick so they wouldn't worry. Not that you believed they would. Nothing made sense to you anymore.

You laid on your bed in utter silence- a tense quiet that was disrupted on the third day by someone knocking on your door. You didn't know who was there; you just hoped that they'd leave you alone.

To your surprise, you open the door to find Minho, some notes in his right hand and a coffee in his left. He sends an easy smile your way. You don't smile back.

"What do you want?" your voice is cold, but Minho doesn't bristle. A cheeky smile settles on his lips as he leans on your doorway.

"You didn't come to class for the past three days, so I brought you the notes. So, you wouldn't think our competition is unfair."

"Competition," you chuckle coldly, heading inside your apartment, and he follows suit. You start to pace around furiously, and Minho looks at you worriedly. "Competition?" you repeat, the word dripping off your tongue like venom. You turn around, marching towards Minho and standing a few inches from him. "You know what? Fuck you and your competition!"

"Yn-"

"Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted a part in this competition? That all I wanted was to be left alone?" you say, growing louder as you jab your finger into his chest repeatedly. "I never wanted any of this! Do you understand? I never wanted to be this way," you shout angrily in his face.

The worried look in Minho’s eyes snaps you out of your haze. You realize that you are being utterly ridiculous lashing out at Minho, when the one person you are mad at is yourself. 

Your anger quickly deflates, leaving in its trail an agonizing sadness. It's so sudden that it knocks the breath out of you, and you clutch your chest as if it could soothe the burn in your heart. Suddenly you are twelve years old again, crying in your room because you feel like no one has ever loved you.

But this time you aren't alone. Minho is in front of you, and his eyebrows are so furrowed you want to lean forward to ease the tension between them. His eyebrows, you liked his eyebrows, they were arched, and they framed his eyes nicely, and his eyes are brown and so big, and they always look at you softly and why is it getting so hard to breathe-

"Did I do something to you? Whatever it is I’m sorry," Minho panics, cutting off your frantic train of thought. But now, the weight of guilt adds to your overwhelming emotions. You shouldn't have lashed out at him, he brought you coffee and you yelled at him. Maybe your mom was right after all.

You shake your head left and right furiously, your words coming out in hiccups. Since when did you start crying? "It isn't- it isn't you."

"Then let me help you-", he steps forward, hand outstretched, but you take three hurried steps back and wrap your hands around yourself protectively. "Don’t. Please, don't."

"Why are you pushing me away?" his tone isn't accusatory. You've learned time and time again that Minho wouldn't do anything that made you feel uncomfortable.

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

"Because I’m afraid!" the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I’m afraid if you ever hug me, I wouldn't be able to go back to hugging myself. I'd need you and I can't afford to need someone else."

You regret the words as soon as they fleet away from your mouth. He would look at you differently, he would find you pathetic and then he’d leave. And you wanted him to leave. But you also wanted him to stay. It was all so confusing. 

You felt as if your being was torn between two great forces, each one of them trying to win the war raging inside you. You wished someone else would make the decisions in your place, for once.

Minho places the coffee and notes on the ground before approaching you, his palms facing up in a gesture of surrender. "I won't leave you," he says softly. "I’ll be by your side for as long as you'll have me."

"Minho..." your voice catches in your throat as you utter his name- like a broken prayer. He stands before you, his eyes shimmering like the reflection of a river on a sunny day.

"Please, let me make it better." 

You nod tentatively and Minho comes even closer to you. He was treating you like one would with a wounded animal, giving you a chance to ultimately back out. But for once, you listen to what your heart has been yearning for. Your bones are aching to be held, to feel the warmth of a body against your own, to feel safe and secure. 

Minho embraces you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you to him. You slowly bring your arms up and lace them around his waist. You are afraid, deathly afraid. His grip is loose, and you almost can't feel him around you, but when you lay your head on his chest, he tightens his hold on you and you instinctively let out a sob. 

He's hugging adult you, the woman whose heart was once again broken by her mom. But he's also hugging little you, the girl who was craving affection from everyone around her. In that instant, Minho is hugging every single version of you that ever needed a hug. 

You were right to be scared because you don't want to let go, you want to stay in his arms because they feel safe, like a shield protecting you. You can't go back to not hugging Minho. 

The sensation is overwhelming and your knees buckle underneath you. But instead of holding you up, Minho falls to the ground with you, as if you are two inseparable pieces of one puzzle. He isn’t here to fix you, he’s here to break down with you and help you pick up the scattered pieces.

You think back to that night in the park when Minho told you about Japanese vases. At this moment, it dawns on you that Minho has found a way to become a part of you. He was the molten gold binding your broken parts together. He was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together.

Who were you fooling? It was him; it was him all along. 

Minho rocks you gently as you cry and cry and cry. His hand finds your hair and he plays with it as you sob. He tells you you'll be okay, you'll feel better and you try to believe him, his words wrap around your bruises like a healing balm. 

"There, there, love. You are okay", he murmurs, tenderly patting your head. A fresh set of tears wells up in your eyes. Love.

"I’m sorry. I'm so sorry," you apologize as you pull away from his embrace. 

"Why are you apologizing? Is it because you wet my shirt? I don't mind," he reassures you with a smile and you shake your head. 

 "I was mean to you and you didn’t deserve it," you explain through hiccups.

"It's okay, you weren't mad at me, were you?" he asks, wiping your tears away so gently with his thumbs, careful not to irritate the sensitive skin.

"No. Still, it isn't okay and I’m sorry. I'm so sorry." 

"Shh, don't apologize. It's okay." you look at him doubtfully and he rolls his eyes playfully, "Here I’ll even do your silly pinky promise, okay?" he laces his pinky with yours, but then he suddenly leans forward and places a chaste kiss on your thumb pad. "There, sealed forever."

You giggle faintly as a blush dusts your cheeks, "That's not how it works."

"I know."

Your giggle was far different from the ones Minho was accustomed to. It was small, and it didn't brighten up your face like usual. But he was grateful for it nonetheless. He realized how much he missed your laugh, and how all the other sounds in the world pale in comparison to it.

In that moment Minho thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you smile again. He'd make a fool out of himself if it meant making you happy. He'd settle for a simple tug at the corners of your mouth, anything but the sadness that seemed etched in your face, as if it was blended into the colors that drew you.

You tentatively move around, before laying your head on his lap. Minho's hand instinctively finds your hair and he starts to gently play with it. It feels as if you've done this a million times before, when in fact it was the first. 

There was something wildly intimate about laying on the floor with the man who just comforted you. It made you want to spill all your secrets to him, one by one, and have him hug you through them.

"Did you mean it? When you said you'll stay?" you felt so vulnerable in his hold, as if he could twist you whoever he liked. But you trusted him. You trusted yourself with Minho.

"I did. Your walls are always up. It's hard to peek behind them. But I don't want to tear them down. I want you to slowly unbuild them. I want you to do it for yourself."

To do it for yourself, it's hard to even know who you are anymore. 

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

"Okay. Take your time, kitten." he pats your head gently, and you try to sync your breathing to the rhythm of his touch. You were grateful that you were lying on his lap since you couldn't see his face. It made talking feel a little less daunting.

"On my 9th birthday... I was very excited. I'd been on my best behavior that month, trying to please my mom in the hope that, for once, we'd celebrate my birthday. Like a normal little family," you smile sadly, you were so hopeful back then.

"My birthday came, I woke up, excited. My mom was still asleep, nothing out of the ordinary. So, I made my breakfast and walked to my school. I wore my prettiest dress and put on pigtails with hair clips. It was my birthday after all," Minho smiles softly at your words, his hand now resting on your own.

"I got back home and waited for my mom to come back. She remembered my birthday, I thought. And then, she came but she didn't talk to me. So, I thought, oh a surprise party!" you chuckle, but this time the smile on Minho’s face is gone.

"It was then 11 pm, and the hope had slowly died in me. So, in my stupid innocent self, I went to my mom, and asked her "Did you forget my birthday?". And I remember... I remember the way she laughed. Cruelly. Like I had told her the funniest joke in the world. And then. Then she looked me dead in the eye and said 'I hate the fact that you are born. Why would I celebrate that?'"

Minho sucks in a deep breath at your words, and you exhale one right out. It felt comforting, to have someone else stomach the hurt for you. To take the weight off your shoulders, allowing you a few moments to breathe.

"I confronted her about it one day, but she said she doesn't remember saying that. It's funny how it was a random Thursday for her, but for me, it shaped my life." you smile bitterly, "I remember how jealous I was of the way the other kids talked about their mothers. They said the word so lightly. It must have reminded them of sunshine and ice cream and rainbows. But for me, it held an uncharacteristic heaviness to it. I grew to hate the word."

"I drove myself crazy, Min", you whisper and he brings you closer to his body, "was it me or was it her? When did it start? Was it because I was too loud as a child or maybe too quiet? Did I not cater to her fantasies of a kid? I wanted to remember every single thing that happened throughout my childhood, thread through every single memory. I tried to pinpoint the exact moment my mom stopped loving me."

Minho squeezes your hand tightly in his, and you feel as if he was pulling you away from the memory that had long trapped you. You were now watching it unfold from outside of the window, your hand in his, safe from the hurt it had inflicted on you.

"It's not you. It could never be you. Some people are simply not fit to be parents. It's never their kid's fault."

Minho tries his best to keep his touch soothing, to make his voice sound as soft as possible. But he was angry, he was so angry at the world for not taking care of you when you were younger. His heart broke, thinking of 9-year-old you being told such cruel words.

He wanted to turn back time and tell you that you were enough. He wanted to make the pain that seemed so anchored in you float back to the surface, and dissipate like sea foam meeting the shore.

But he couldn't do that. All he could do is comfort present you.

Minho gently pulls you up from his lap, making you sit upright. He crisscrosses his legs and you do the same. Your knees brush against each other and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You didn't know that even knees could emanate such warmth.

"Yn, look at me. The world wouldn't be the same without you in it," he cradles your face between his hands, "You hear me yn? I’m so thankful you exist."

His doe brown eyes are sincere, and it made you want to believe him badly. That's a good start, right?

"I’ll be back," he tells you, letting go of your face and standing up.

You hear Minho rummaging through the kitchen and you take the time to calm yourself down. Sharing those parts of you with Minho felt therapeutic. As if you were healing parts of your inner child. You have never talked about this with anyone before, maybe this is why it still hurt as badly.

Minho comes back five minutes later, his hands behind his back. You raise a brow at him inquisitively and he just smiles secretly at you. "Close your eyes," he tells you and you giggle, doing as he says. He crouches in front of you, and you hear him shuffle in his place for a bit.

Then, "Open your eyes yn," and you find him, in front of you, a cupcake you had stored in your fridge in his hands, and a makeshift candle lit up. "Happy 9th birthday, love. You did well."

You stare at him in utter bewilderment. You couldn't believe your eyes. How could this man be so thoughtful? He was wishing you a belated birthday, to compensate for the 9th birthday you didn't celebrate.

You panic, at the look in his eyes. You've never seen it, never dared to dream of it, of someone caring for you unconditionally. So, you try to scare him, to push him away. You didn't want him to regret knowing you.

"There are things I need you to know um", you chuckle nervously, "When I... When I throw up, I hold my hair, and when I’m sick I nurse myself back to health, and when I have a nightmare I- I hold my hand in the dark. It will be hard for me to hold yours instead."

"We'll start a finger at a time, yeah?"

"It will take time."

"I have time," he speaks easily, as if loving you was effortless and not a strenuous task. You couldn't fathom it.

"You are too busy-", he cuts you off instantly, "Not for you." 

"The world doesn't stop because we need it to." Your voice is quiet; this is your very last try. You are tired of fighting. You are putting down your armor and waving a white flag.

"We'll make it stop. Here, the two of us. On this floor. We'll take as long as we need to."

"I never deemed you as an optimist", you smile a little, a hint of teasing in your tone.

"I’m not," he pauses, gazing down at the cupcake between his hands and then at you. "But I feel that we deserve a bit of happiness together, don't we?"

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

You close your eyes for a few seconds, before blowing on the candle.

"What did you wish for?" he asks a fond smile on his face.

The answer came naturally to you, you didn't even need to think about it. "I wished for you."

Minho's lips come crashing down on yours, and you imagine that this is what it feels like to see colors for the first time. To discover a new world beyond the one you've always known.

The kiss isn't urgent nor feverish, it is one of comfort. Your lips spilling the words you have not yet said to each other. "I love you," he kisses you, "I love you too," you kiss him back. "I need you to stay," you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, "I’m never leaving you," he opens his mouth allowing you entrance.

As you kiss him, you remember a fact you once learned in high school. The human body possesses seven trillion nerves. And for the first time in your life, you feel as if each of these nerves is alive. You feel that even the smallest atom is electrocuted with Minho’s love and it’s all you know within you.  

You feel as if the pain, the hurt, and the ache you've been through are slowly unraveled, and in their place, a timid happiness is starting to bloom. You imagine that when Minho’s lips met your own, the seven trillion nerves inside you exhaled in relief 'We've made it', they said, 'we'll finally be okay.'

Epilogue

You've always thought that epilogues were useless. How can you resume the rest of your life in one sentence, boil down the rest of your existence in mere pages? Because life doesn't stop at the epilogue, and a new book can start once again, right where you left it off.  

But with Minho, you didn't mind an epilogue. On the contrary, you longed for a soft one. You wanted to rest on this last page, you wanted to lay your worries on the words and tuck them into the syllables. And you wanted to wake up anew.

And this wasn't the end of your story with Minho. A lot happened after it. But it didn't worry you, because epilogues are about the one thing that doesn't change throughout the long march of time. And luckily for you, that constant was Minho’s love for you. From that day he held you, he has never let go.

It took time, for his warmth to seep through your bones. It took time, for your heart to forget the cold. But you wanted to do it. With him. You wanted to love and be loved.

The sound of cats mewling fills your apartment, pudding can always be found in your fridge and you haven't felt invisible in years.

[certified-bi]

Okay all my thoughts because some people have been saying that not supporting this change is not supporting artist and creators and as an artist fuck that.

1. Audiences owe you nothing. You have to convince them to engage with your creation not the other way around. This is something both the nonprofit theatre I work with recognizes and huge companies realize. It's just part of life. There are so many talented people in the world making amazing art, videos, music, writings, and on and on, and there's only so much time in the day. I'm not saying you shouldn't know your worth, just that being flippant about how little you care about those who can't pay isn't a good move. On that note...

2. PR is everything. If you haven't made a visible effort to push patreon, channel memberships or other avenues of making money, don't be suprised that your creation that was previously accessible to those without extra cash and to those who can't support foreign subscriptions due either to conversions or because it simply doesn't work, being made private isn't popular. There's a big leap from "We want to have more artistic control" to "We can't afford to make our content accessible to most of our audience," and people are smart enough to see this. You either have to make budget cuts or give into sponsors. This isn't unique to Watcher, it's part of literally every production from broadway, to Hollywood, to YouTube. Unless you can fund it yourself or get viewers to pay(which given how many are already strapped for cash...) that's life.

Not to mention they simply do not have enough followers to make the switch to a paid only site(dropping the first epsiode only on YouTube isn't going to draw people in, they're just going to say "oh why start if I'm not going to see the rest" and not watch) especially not one that is buggy and a security risk. Even if the switch had been supported its not going to end well. The only reason services like nebula and dropout work is because of the large amount of series and creators and the fact those creators still are partly on YouTube so new people are drawn in.

3. As for the price, 6 dollars a month is a not a good starting price for only their content and that's as someone who pays for nebula. I'd be paying the same amount for a fraction of the access to others work. Actually it'd be twice as much. And before someone says "it's only a coffee-" that's for you. Not everyone has your lifestyle. And with every other patreon and subscription service that says the same thing, it all adds up and I simply don't think 60 dollars for 48 videos a year on a subscription basis where you don't get to keep the videos if your situation changes, some of which don't appeal to every viewer is a good move. If you were able to buy physical copies of your favorite series they've made that'd be different, but that's not what this is.

4. I do believe that the employees deserve a livable wage. I also did not hire them. It is not on the viewers that they hired more people than they could afford to. They can charge that much if they want to to try and balance this out. They also shouldn't be suprised if not many can or will sign up. They also don't have to be based in L.A. L.A has ridiculous costs associated with it, and quite honestly it doesn't really add much to the content. I'm not saying they need to move to the middle of nowhere Kansas. Simply that living and basing your studio in a super expensive city and then being suprised money is tight is just weird.

5. Something that occurs to me is that they might get more views if their playlists were better set up. Only some series are given playlists. It'd be easier to find all of the series and binge them if they didn't just show off their more popular shows. Honestly the only draw the streaming site has to me is that the series are actually labeled well.

Do I think the weird ass energy towards Steven is necessary? No. He's not the only one at the company and they're all adults. I actually liked grocery run and homemade, and like to see them back. The parascoial attachment to Ryan and Shane is annoying in people's criticisms, but that doesn't make them completely wrong. If you're going to brand yourself as the anti capalist underdogs you can't get away with being dismissive of your poorer fans. The dissonance is what is causing this backlash and makes you look like hypocrites. I definitely think Steven is turning into the fall guy which is fucked up, his statement and the fact dish granted is one of those shows that make people uncomfortable about wealth flexs doesn't help matters.

[taiey]

a minor analysis of Manepear's manipulation (mane-ipulation)

A few thoughts to frame the discussion: Clownpierce has the mace; Clownpierce has not yet died. Clownpierce doesn't log on very often, and of everyone on the server Clownpierce is closest to Kaboodle.

With that in mind... 1hr 13min into 'A New Leaf..?', after a lot of open honest conversation about the war, morality, honour and Mane's potential as an interior decorator, Kaboodle brings up her constancy towards Clownpierce and Manepear starts telling her she should put herself first, because Clown doesn't.

He starts with the basic, obvious facts: Clown doesn't log on very often, he's never attacked Mane for her, he's never sacrificed himself for her like she has for him. Even... Woogie..? backs him up on all that.

Then she starts bringing up counter-examples and he pushes back, with subtle mis-framings like "it would have been easy for him to say I searched for Mapic on purpose so that I could get back for you" when, like, I saw that video and I bet you did too, he said that to Mapicc, and not to Kaboodle. Or brushing off that time he did fight Mane's team as if there's "10 people he knows he's not going to get targeted and if he gets a kill on Main and Flame that would be huge for him", when, uh, it's not that Mane has specific knowledge that the other group chat was considering jumping Clown for the mace earlier in the day, but I do feel that dynamic is sufficiently common knowledge.

I've actually had this thought before because I thought that he was, I was, I was confident that he was betraying me cuz I was thinking like "why would Clownpierce betray and and use everybody except for me? how does that make any sense? why would I be the only one?" and it doesn't make sense like nothing would make me special

Drawing parallels digs into her fears without him directly saying she's not special so as to elicit sympathy and not offense. (and pay no attention to the dissimilarities in their relationships to clown)

I think it was easy for him to defend you from Subz because he knows that he can kill Subz but if it was me in that situation I'm not so sure if he would he would have done the same thing

(y'know i didn't actually notice at the time that uh that's a very different line than his Subz Glazing to Zam&Mapicc)

Mane: did he leave my alliance or did I force him out? Kab: you did force him out Mane: he didn't have a choice not to choose you Kab: yeah that's a horrible... Mane: [crosstalk] he could have at least shot me a DM—wait! Oh my gosh! I just remembered

Things I did not notice on first listen: sorry, when could he have shot you a DM? When you turned on him?? No, no, that segue makes no sense. Mane absolutely did not "just remember". DMs only came into this because he wanted a segue into: his climactic reveal.

When I was looking for your base, I told him about my, my plan to find you using dogs, and he was telling me how to do it more efficiently.

So. Let's look at [the screenshots that i copied off someone else o7]

The first thing that stood out to me, as I was watching the stream, was this: Mane says "he was telling me how to do it more efficiently", and then he lets Kab stew in that for a bit, and then he sends her these screenshots. The framing is set up. But there is not one line in there that is Clown giving Mane advice on how to track her.

The nearest he gets to advice is "she knows when you do tho". Mane glosses that to Kab as "he was telling me exactly what not to do as well", but listen: look at it. The closest he gets to advice is: maybe don't track her. Maybe you shouldn't even try.

Mane asked "what should I say", he relates it like it's another example of advice, which looks like it could lead to advice, and then the screenshot cuts off. And... it's shorter than the first one. We know for an absolute fact that the height is not limited by, say, the height of the screen. It cuts off there because whatever comes after that does not back up the narrative Mane's selling her.

Laughing about her, saying she's scared: it's emotionally affecting, but it's not actionable information. It does not help Mane find Kab. All it does is give the feeling that Clown is on Mane's side.

After exiting the conversation Kaboodle grieves to chat about it; she starts off thinking of it as"actively telling Mane how to find me is, is..." but a few minutes later she's caught on to "if you look at the messages he's not actively selling me out"; she has prior history of coming back the next day going hang on...

Very interested to see how far she gets with it. That thing with the dogs was streamed live; I watched it. The memory of it tickled at my brain, so after today's ended I tracked it down, and found:

Clownpierce: Did he find the manepears? What? Kaboodle: So all the manepears teleported to me when they hit, when he hit them. Clown: [AWKWARD LAUGHTER] Kab, fearless: I'm thousands of blocks away, I'm really far away. Clownpierce: Maybe they... they sometimes do move in the direction they teleport to, maybe he knows the location. Maybe - maybe move around.

Clownpierce was DMing Manepear saying "ok good idea"—and then, on a call with Kaboodle, telling her Mane's tactic and what to do about it.

:)

(He doesn't maximally betray Mane, he doesn't tell her he knows Mane's doing that or tell her before it starts happening; there's a degree of trying to stay on both sides. But he isn't neutral, and he is ultimately, materially, on Kab's side.)

I, like Kaboodle, saw Manepear's "removing all netherite" video and really enjoyed it (the twists genuinely surprised me) but there was this doubt where—videos and not streams usually feel this way to me—I wasn't sure whether, to convince the server that he wasn't the guy on his friend's account, he had to actually convince them. I just knew that was a kind of story he wanted to tell, and hoped he'd try it on Lifesteal.

Now, though, I believe it. I've seen maybe two other fandom people even doubting this. I believe he did because I see he can. And oh my goodness I love it.

[erabu-san]

You are literally French. What would you know about any of this, an issue and drama stirred up by anericans.

Blackwashing exists and is used by bigots that hate white people. Its used to erase the ethnicity of asians just because people dont think they are "poc enough" because of their pale skin. Its used to demonize people with pale skin because its becoming more and more the norm to view anyone with pale skin as evil. That anyone who is "too pale" isnt enough or a human being.

They arent real people, and their skintones are fine as is. You wouldnt go up to, for example an albino or mixed race black/poc person and tell them they arent "dark enough". They dont even need to be special like that to be pale. Some just are pale.

Whether you think there should be more characters that are dark or not is not the issue. Its that you think they wouldnt be/arent good enough as is with pale skin that shows how much of a bigot you are.

Blackwashing is not the progressive act you think it is. Its obvious that your only experience with it is through genshin drama. You obviously know nothing about how much red haired pale characters & asian ones are substituted with black characters. How characters are simply replaced in the name of "diversity". How this forced inclusivity and diversity is just bigots trying to "get revenge" on the white people they hate so much, and to tick off DEI boxes on their little bigoted checklist.

You tell me to educate myself but its actually YOU who needs to be educated.

Many are complaining about sumeru and natlan characters with names similar to gods in cultures of our world that are pale when their inspiration is dark skinned. Claiming they want representation and for it to be accurate, to reflect our world on a 1-1 scale.

Yet these same people will make xiao, zhongli, Ei, and many more asian characters darker " because asians can be dark skinned too". Yet so can mostly dark skinned races be pale.

So why cant you (gen) respect such characters, who are gods and divine beings based on a culture where pale is more beautiful, and gods of such cultures are pale?

There is hypocrisy in everything to do with blackwashing. Its okay when its done to pale characters because in real life black people have been oppressed? But these characters are not real, nor are they a reflection of our reality, as far as we have seen they dont even have racism in this fictional world.

It is one thing to explore a character like with the recent hatsune miku trend, atleast there most people arent going at each other's throats saying black miku is better than japanese miku(as far as i have seen)

Seriously how can you even begin to justify this. And who ever told you that dark skinned characters "scare white people" is an absolute fucking liar trying to justify their own bigotry towards white people.

No black washing IS just as disgusting as whitewashing. Neither should exist, and you shouldn't feed into the stupid circle jerk of bigotry that both of them are.

Aaaah that's what I like ! Yes ! Thank you for telling me your opinion, explaining what is wrong. I absolutely love to learn, and I prefer to read this long text calling me ignorant and explaining why that just a simple text of you saying you are annoyed by a fanart.

Thank you for telling me ! First yes I am french, and indeed my culture has more an european pov. But again, I also grow up as a minority "race" with my parents culture !🙏 in france, i don't look like a french. Well. Still I am aware that it doesn't remove anything from what I said

And I totally agree with you, some are just pale !! It just happens I draw Kinich black because I like it like this. Is Kinich true inspiration are actually pale ? Tell me more, I wish to learn !!

Tbh when you talk abt gods being pale is beautiful, I thought about Nahida. I did research when she were out and yes, I do agree, there is character who are fine as they are.

And because I live in France I also see "dark skin scare white" as a true fact. It happens and it is harmful. 🧍 not only in France tho, in country where pale skin is portrayed as beautiful, people who have tan skin are less represented even if it is the majority. I suppose the contrary happens too !!

"Character are not real" and yet you are annoyed, I guess it is the action of "blackwash" that make you mad, more than "a fictional character w diffent skin tone" tho! My opinion is fiction does affect real world, as do real life affects fiction, and this is something I won't debate on

"They don't have racism in this fictional world" sorry but it does in Sumeru. 🙏 about this one npc she is reject by forest and desert because of them being mixed, desert not being access to book and even Cyno said his scholarship was complicated because he is from desert

If you wish to continue, please send me DM with arguments. I don't know if I would change my mind of not drawing Kinich pale, but I am super interested about what you have to say !! 👍👍

[silverynight]

The heart of the barbarian King

<---Previous

Chapter 2

Izuku doesn't have much time to worry about Katsuki; the King of the barbarians is brutal and very efficient when he fights.

Besides, the omega can see clearly that Chisaki is cheating; he's trying to hit the other alpha even though the fight it was supposed to be about throwing the other person to the ground.

As the effect of the potion slowly wears off, Izuku feels the need to help Katsuki (even though he clearly doesn't need to), but he knows he can't because that'd probably be breaking a couple of rules.

"It's alright, Midoriya. He's a lot tougher than that," Kirishima startles him a bit, getting closer to where he is.

However, the omega has decided that he trusts that alpha too; he even smells like he's mated to someone already.

"Yeah, I know Kacchan will win."

Kirishima chuckles.

"I forgot you used to call him that."

"How do you know that?" The omega blushes to the tip of his ears, already regretting using that same childhood nickname... Katsuki is a king now, Izuku shouldn't address him so informally.

"He talks about you a lot."

He does?

"I'm really glad destiny helped him find you again," the alpha with red hair mumbles sincerely, showing him his very sharp teeth as he smiles at Izuku.

When the omega tries to process what he's been told, they hear a grunt and realize that Chisaki just broke one of the rules and made a cut on Katsuki's shoulder with a knife.

"Kacchan!" Izuku tries to get closer, but Kirishima stops him by putting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you for giving me enough reasons to banish you," Katsuki smirks before grabbing the other's hand and twisting it in such a painful way, Chisaki doesn't have any other choice but throwing the knife.

"I don't care! I'll be leaving with my ome–"

He gets kicked in the face so hard he passes out before falling to the ground.

"Kacchan!" The omega beams before jumping into the King's arm. "You won!"

"I always win, nerd! You know that!"

Izuku chuckles in response, feeling the alpha nuzzling against his cheek; a couple of memories come right at him... of a blond kid constantly calling him nerd and rubbing their noses together every time they played.

"Kacchan, let me see your arm."

"It's just a scratch, nerd. I'll be fine!" Katsuki takes the omega by the waist and helps him up on the horse; his cheeks turn pink when he notices Izuku has freckles on his thighs too or maybe he's just staring at the omega's exposed legs in general. "You'll ride with me."

When he jumps on the horse too, he looks at his friend again, who's watching their interactions with an amused smile on his face.

"Kirishima, made sure that scumbag leaves for good. I don't want him back in our kingdom," he growls, quickly looking back at the other barbarians under Chisaki's orders. "And you, you either follow him or come back... I don't give a fuck! Just make your choice!"

Izuku had no idea the barbarian kingdom was not that far away from where they were. The people in the small houses get out or just open their windows as soon as they hear the horse.

Everyone seems to be happy to see the King and very curious when they finally notice the green haired omega riding with him.

Katsuki stops halfway to the base of the mountain, hops off and grabs Izuku by the waist to help him down.

"Horses only get so far," he says with a smile. "I don't blame them because my house is close to the mountain where my dragon lives."

"Do you have a dragon? Kacchan, that's so cool!" The omega beams again, this time with sparks in his eyes. The prospect of seeing a dragon up close has made him forget a bit of his awful week.

"Aren't you scared of dragons? Like everyone else?"

Izuku shakes his head.

"I've always wanted to see one!" He admits. "And perhaps get to draw them and take a couple of notes in order to understand their behavior better."

"Such a nerd," the alpha snorts, staring at him fondly. "Well, I'll introduce you to Dynamight tomorrow because he's probably away at the moment, hunting."

Tomorrow... right, he can't leave the barbarians now. Although Izuku is not sure how to feel about that at the moment; he's glad to have found Katsuki again, but he misses his mentor.

"Now," Katsuki clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks away from Izuku. "This... Uhh, you look really good with those, but you can choose what you want to wear. You could wear something like this instead, if that makes you feel uncomfortable."

Izuku supposes that he's talking about everything he's wearing besides the red cape over his shoulders. Katsuki doesn't have anything to cover his chest, which is kinda distracting if the omega is being honest. However, he wears pants, dark boots, and a belt.

"I'd rather wear something like yours," Izuku says after a while. "But I'd like to keep the top."

Katsuki nods, already leading him to a street full of red tents, which Izuku guesses it's kinda the town's market.

"I can buy you a couple of pretty tops like that one," the alpha says. "And a few pants."

"You don't have to–"

"Shut up, nerd! It's not like you have money on you. Besides, I don't mind."

Izuku closes his eyes for a second, thanking the gods for having put Katsuki on his path again.

"Thank you, Kacchan."

They get to a tent where a small woman is arranging a lot of clothes on piles, they all look in perfect condition.

"My King!" The woman bows as soon as she notices the alpha. "How can I help you today?"

"We need clothes for him," he mumbles, tilting his head in Izuku's direction.

As soon as the woman's honey eyes land on the omega, she grins from ear to ear before looking back at the barbarian King.

"Oh, I thought this would never happen. Congratulations, my lord. This is the most beautiful omega I've ever seen!"

Izuku blushes to the tip of his ears, ready to say something... anything to clear up the misunderstanding, but Katsuki only makes it worse.

"I know, right?" He says, looking incredibly smug.

"Kacchan!"

"What's your name, sweetie?"

"Midoriya Izuku," the omega mumbles, still flustered.

"And what are you looking for, Midoriya?"

For a moment, the omega thinks the woman is asking a completely different thing, but that's ridiculous, she's obviously talking about clothes.

"Actually, I saw a few people outside wearing long skirts with side slits, can I have a couple of those?" He whispers shyly. Izuku knows he's not in a position to ask for things because he's basically an intruder, but he has always liked pretty clothes. "Is that okay, Kacchan?"

The barbarian King seems lost in his own thoughts for a moment, then he blinks and nods, turning slightly pink.

"Of course, Izuku. You can have whatever the fuck you want."

"Thank you!"

For some reason, the woman chuckles, watching the two of them with amusement.

***

Katsuki's house is clearly bigger than the others, but it's still just a house, and Izuku is very glad about that; he's not sure he can deal with a full castle at the moment, his excited energy ran out a few hours ago when he started gushing about the dragon.

"It's just me here. So you can choose whatever room you like except the one at the end of the hallway, that's mine."

"Where do your parents live?"

"They... don't anymore."

"I'm so sorry, Kacchan." Following his instincts, Izuku decides that it's okay to hug his childhood friend, even though they haven't seen each for years.

"It's alright, nerd," the alpha sighs, nuzzling against Izuku's cheek. "It was a while ago."

"My mom died years ago too," he whispers, feeling the strong hands around his waist pulling him closer.

"I'm sorry." It looks like the barbarian wants to say something else, but Izuku notices the cut on his arm again.

"Let me help you with that! Do you have a cloth or something like that?"

After a few minutes, they're sitting at the table next to the fireplace; Izuku has a bucket of warm water at his feet and he leans to pull the wet cloth out before calmly cleaning Katsuki's wound.

"It's just a scratch," the alpha assures him, but he doesn't move away.

He's right, it's just a superficial wound, nothing to worry about.

"Thank you for saving me, Kacchan," the omega smiles, genuinely grateful. His life would have been miserable with Chisaki.

For a moment, it looks like the alpha is going to make a dismissive gesture, but he stops before leaning closer until their foreheads are touching.

"You're under my protection now, Izuku. I won't let anyone hurt you."

"You're very kind, Kacchan!"

"I'm not kind!"

Izuku chuckles at his reaction because he knows deep down Katsuki liked being called kind, judging by the way his scent changes into something more sweet.

Katsuki makes him something to eat; it's cooked meat with bread and cheese.

"Here, nerd, taste this."

For a moment, Izuku wants to tell him that there's no need to feed him, he doesn't feel that weak anymore. But Katsuki's cheek are pink and his red eyes are glimmering with focus and joy, like it's something important to him.

Maybe it's a barbarian custom to feed a guest or something like that. Izuku makes a mental note to ask Katsuki a book on barbarian traditions later.

He takes a bite from the cheese and bread Katsuki is offering him, and watches as the King's face turns even more pink.

But he's grinning now.

"It's really good! Thank you, Kacchan!"

After that bite, he lets Izuku eat on his own; when he prepares his own dish too, the omega wonders if he should do the same.

When he notices that the alpha is not eating anything, Izuku thinks that maybe he's waiting for him to do something.

"Listen, Izuku... I saw my parents do this for so long that I just did it without–"

"It's alright, Kacchan!" If it's one of his customs, Izuku will gladly do it. He'll probably be living among barbarians for the rest of his life, so it's the least he can do.

He cuts a piece of meat and offers it to Katsuki, who blushes even more, but he takes a bite anyway, looking very pleased.

After that, they eat next to each other in silence. For a moment, Izuku feels at peace.

He can get used to this.

***

Katsuki heats a couple of buckets of water so Izuku can take a bath in the washroom downstairs. The alpha must have such a good heart to do all those things for someone who hasn't seen in years.

They're basically strangers to each other now.

When he's done and he's wearing his new skirt and top, he rushes to where the King is to show him.

"Thank you! They look really cute!"

Katsuki blinks a couple of times before turning completely red again. He's been blushing a lot, maybe he's getting sick.

"Izuku, can I scent you?"

Even the omega thinks that's a good idea; sometimes, it helps bring people closer together. Maybe that way he can be friends with Katsuki again.

"Of course, Kacchan!"

The alpha takes a deep breath before moving closer to the omega; he puts his arms around him before leaning forward. He has to bend down a bit because he's way taller than Izuku.

As a nose rubs against his neck, Izuku smells the delicious scent of burnt caramel, filling his nostrils.

Katsuki moves away a bit, looking quite pleased before exposing his neck too. He even pushes a couple of necklaces out of the way to make it easier for the omega.

Izuku sighs happily, nuzzling against the alpha's neck. Katsuki lets out a very pleased alpha purr.

"You should go sleep for a while now. I know the last days haven't been easy for you."

"You're right, Kacchan. I think I should rest..."

He falls asleep right in the alpha's arms, still standing, but when he wakes up, he's on a bed on his own.

He cries a bit after everything that happened to him comes back like a long, very exhausting memory.

Even though he knows he's lucky to have found Katsuki again, he still misses All Might.

He'd like to see him at least one more time.

***

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[radiostaticsmile]

Safety and rapid attachment in BPD

People with BPD often form rapid and intense attachments to new people, and this can be especially intense when both people have BPD. These rapid attachments can be dangerous and painful, since you start to get very close to a person before seeing them in many situations and really knowing them. Most of the advice I have received as a person with BPD is to just avoid these kind of attachments. However, in my experience, that will just lead to me self-isolating, because I literally do not know how to make friends with a new person otherwise. I am sort of an all or nothing person, I can let myself talk about everything and be very familiar with someone or I can be entirely closed off and struggle to connect at all.  Additionally, attachment to a new person in this intense fashion causes feelings of euphoria, which I think people with BPD should be allowed to enjoy.

Our goal should not be to have relationships that look like everyone else’s, even if that were possible, which I really do not think that it is. Forcing yourself not to have these attachments can be harmful. However, like I said, these kind of attachments can be dangerous, especially for people who are emotionally volatile like people with BPD are. So instead we need to focus on how to have these kind of attachments safely. The following is advice on how to do this, based on my own experience as a person with BPD who as experienced the good, the bad, and the ugly as a result of rapid intense attachment.

Possible results of attachment

There are three possible results of a rapid attachment. Knowing what all three of them are, and most importantly accepting that they may happen, is important in both keeping yourself safe and treating the person you are attached to well. When you are intensely attached and it is going well, it can feel like you can trust that person with your life, and it is going to last forever. It is not. The intense attachment phase will end, and it is important to know that. It is really a sad news, because it honestly is the best feeling in the world. Something being temporary doesn’t mean you shouldn't enjoy it, however. So enjoy your feelings, lean into them as much as the person you are with consents to it, but accept the that it is not a permanent state. Accepting this can help prevent a BPD crash when it does start to fade in intensity, and it can help you keep an eye out for signs that it is going to end badly.

So what are these three ways it can end?

1. The relationship cools down, but remains good.

This is the ideal! Yippee, you have yourself a new friend. You may miss the intense feelings you had in the beginning, but they can and will come back sometimes, especially if your relationship is kinky and you do a scenario lol. But you are unlikely to have that constant obsession feeling long term, it will come and go or it may stop and you will have a more regular relationship. It is okay to feel less intensely about the person! It doesn’t mean you don’t like them anymore, it just means that intensity is difficult to maintain for a long time!

One important thing to remember about this is that the person you are attaching to may reach this phase before you do! You may have been constantly messaging in the beginning, and now they are replying less often and doing other things. This does not mean they do not like you any more! BPD makes us very sensitive to rejection, and someone reaching this phase before you can hurt! But I promise everything is okay, and this is what you want to eventually happen, because it is what allows you to be able to have a sustainable long term relationship. Do some coping mechanism things while your person is busy, play your favorite games, talk to other friends, color or draw, whatever helps you feel better when you are down. Do not try to make the person talk to you more than is comfortable for them! This is crossing their boundaries and will either scare them away or damage them mentally.

2. The relationship fizzles or ends because of an incompatibility.

When forming an intense attachment, you tend to think about the other person 24/7. You form an idea of them in your head that you really like, but since you do not actually know them that well this idea may not actually match the reality of what that person is like. Sometimes after a bit one or both of you will realize you aren’t actually as compatible as you thought! This is okay! This is normal to happen when getting to know a new person, and you are still getting to know a new person even if they feel very familiar quickly! If this happens, it is important to learn to let the relationship go. Realize they aren’t the person you imagined, and don’t try to force them to change to be that person, and don’t try to convince yourself you still like them if you don’t. It is okay to thank them for the good time and part ways! Often this will just kinda be a fizzling in conversation and both people message less until you just kinda stop. You may need to let the other person know that you do not want the relationship to continue though if they are still interested but you are not. Tell them firmly but politely you are no longer interested. This can be scary but it is important to assert your boundaries! If they try to argue and continue when you are no longer interested, block them. No one is entitled to your time or affection!

3. Abuse and mistreatment.

This is the worst case scenario, and unfortunately it is not uncommon. When you attach to someone quickly, you can often make yourself vulnerable to someone when you don’t know them well yet. Personally, I think it is okay to share personal things quickly, since I do not know how to connect to people otherwise and have a bad sense of what is appropriate to talk about when. Instead, it is important to look for signs that the person is using the things you tell them against you. If you tell them something personal and they then use that to trigger you on purpose or control your behavior, run immediately.

In addition to those who are purposefully using your vulnerability to take advantage of you, there are people who will abuse you on accident. In my experience this is actually a lot more common, so it is important to look out for the signs. If someone is not respecting your boundaries, acting entitled to your time and attention when you are not able or not wanting to give it, or trying to change who you are or modify your behavior, run. And by modify your behavior I do not mean boundary setting or them asking you to treat them differently; that is normal relationship negotiation. I mean if someone is trying to get you to change your sleeping or eating habits for them, control who else you talk to, push you to do something you are not comfortable with, or just trying to control what you do when it has nothing to do with them. People can raise concerns if they are worried about you, but they should not be trying to force you to do anything.

Sometimes people think they are doing these things ‘for your own good’. It is for no ones good to have their autonomy taken away, or to live in fear of upsetting or disappointing another person, or to have to live up to impossible standards. Some people will do this because they cannot let go of the idea they made of you in their head, and are trying to make you into the person they wanted you to be. This is why it is so important not to try to force that onto someone; not only is it not going to work and you will be disappointed, You will be abusing them. DO NOT DO THIS!!! Learn to let go if you need to or accept them for who they actually are. This is so so so deeply important.

It can be difficult to admit when someone you like is abusing or mistreating you. After all, you like them a lot and they made you feel so good. You think maybe you can teach them how to treat you well. You can’t. Even if you could, it will hurt you the whole time. It is not your job. If someone starts to disrespect your boundaries, you gotta go. If they mess up a couple times and apologize, that is okay, but if they keep doing it thats no good, even if they apologize, because they are showing you they are not putting in the effort to change the behavior and not hurt you. I know it hurts and its hard and they will probably be mad and that makes it scary. You still gotta do it as soon as possible, the longer you stay the harder it will be. Its okay to block them on everything. Its okay to leave without explanation (though its nice to give one). YOUR SAFETY IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN THEIR FEELINGS! 

Other things to keep in mind

Honestly just keeping those three ending possibilities in mind and accepting the reality is the number one thing you must do to keep yourself safe in a rapid attachment relationship, but there are a few other things to keep in mind.

1. Boundary setting.

As I mentioned above, your boundaries are important! Setting clear boundaries and expectations for what you want out of the relationship, and leaving if the other person cannot respect that, will keep you safe and happy. Often I have been in an intense attachment relationship where I wanted it to be romantically kinky but not romantic, and the other person interprets romance where I did not intend it. Once this happened the other way around where I thought the relationship was romantic and the other person did not intend that. By being very clear about what you want, what you are open to, and what you are not open to, you can prevent pain and misunderstanding for both of you. It may feel a bit weird to talk about if you are open to dating or not early in a relationship where neither of you may really be planning on it, but it can honestly be useful for both people to know. If you ask about this and the person gets weirded out you can link them this essay to explain, lol.

2. Be careful about doing things that are hard to undo.

Speaking of dating, people who attach quickly will often also start dating quickly. THIS IS A BAD IDEA!!! I will not stop you, you can make your own decisions, but it is a lot more difficult and painful to end a relationship with an official dynamic like dating than it is to just stop talking to someone you are getting to know and don’t have an official relationship of any kind with. I know you feel very intensely and you feel like you love them and you will love them forever, but you might not! And if you do turn out to be perfect for each other long term you have plenty of time! It is okay to be fun and flirty, its ok to be horny and lovey, but please both be clear that you are not intending that to be an official relationship (see above point) and WAIT TO DATE. 

(And don’t say that it is okay for them to tell their friends that you are their partner if you do not consider yourself so. I once told someone this because they said they just wanted an easier way to explain it to people, but then they took that and decided we were actually dating because of it, I didn’t know how to boundary set and say no, felt trapped and had to break up with a person I never intended to be dating. Do not confuse your terms!!)

I think that’s all. Please add on to this if I missed something you learned in your experience!!

[solar-sunnyside-up]

Hey, I’m sorry to dump this on ya but your blog gives me a lotta hope and I just wondered if you had anything to say to my current ails- I am but a very anxious teen and I am so scared. I see so many people talking of how the world “Will end in 2040” or how “damn the past was so much better because it was simpler” and I am lowkey starting to believe that. I’ve got a problem with romanticizing a past I wasn’t even a part of and I really don’t want to live in some awful dystopian future and I fear I’ve missed out on so much because of when I was born :( and how come no one can afford basic shit anymore? I don’t wanna have no money at all! I really would like to be happy in the future but with all the bullshit caused by social media and the lack of money it seems bleak. I’m sorry that this is such a negative ask but I am not doing so hot and was hoping you’d have an insight ? Don’t respond if you don’t wanna

Hey ya there sprout 🌱 it can be really tough out there!

Your feelings are valid, so valid in fact that those exact feelings are why Solarpunk as it currently exists is around! We've all been there!

Between the wages of the top 10% of ppl vs everyone else being greater then during the French revolution, the average citizen globally being worse off then when the great depression was happening, climate crisis after crisis, all while consuming endless bits of info both horrifying (ex Politics) and hopeful (ex Social Media activism) it's waaaay too much for anyone to bare alone! Much less constantly! That burden shouldn't be on any of us!! But since it is, I'm here to help at least lighten the load even if temporary.

The best thing to do when we feel like this is to stop. Find 5 minutes to be still. We are fight/flight/fawn creatures and we will only loop in our solutions without actual clear choices if we don't Chill Out. We're mammals our natural state is Chilling Out and Play.

Next, think about how cool the planet is and particularly how cool humans are?

How there's finger flutes on ceilings thousands of years old, smaller then average indicating that parents held their children up to draw on the ceilings.

Think about the invention of looms and spinning fibers! What other creature could do that? Think about the kids that could build Snowmans without aching fingers because of lovingly knit mittens.

We sing like whales do, like birds do, like wolves do, and we do it to share stories and ideas over food! It is the first things babies mimic! We have songs so old we no longer know their origin just that they came from love! We even have songs to herd cattle meaning music transcends just us but bleeds into our relationships with the planet!

That we have play behavior! Just like wolves and foxes and whales and octopus it is so built into our DNA to play its generally how we learn things! This ranges from agriculture (children tossing seeds around, blowing on dandelions!) To chores (parachute games > folding laundry, playing pretend > usually chores/job based) to hunting (tag! Hide and seek!)

Think about our interconnectiveness with the planet too, how we are guided by Honey guides to find abandoned hives to share in the spoils of bread and honey. How Sweetgrass needs us to flourish, how berries and nuts need us to spread across the land, how we fix other animals broken bones and beaks and help them return home when otherwise they wouldn't ever get home.

Now that you can remember we deserve to be here, that you deserve to be here. We can look at the current situation and bare it.

And we do that by doing small things. Jam out and listen to music while picking up litter on your block, go to a library and just hang out or research something you love, make seed Bombs and toss them I to abandoned lots, make silly cartoons. Whatever it is, it will be enough.

The weight of the world isn't ment for the individual no matter how much Capitalism and Elites will try and guilt you over their failures. That weight is ment for collective groups, but your job as a Person is to be happy where you can and to be kind so others can be happy. The last thing that I always keep in my heart is a quote from my fave author Ursula Le Guin:

Hang in there, a brighter tomorrow is gunna happen. I promise 🌻

[uzi-with-an-uzi]

Two Kirby Right Back At Ya AUs

1. What if there was an episode of Kirby Right Back At Ya where Dedede decides "Oh hey, I probably shouldn't put Dat dare Tiff in constant danger unless I want Lady Like to strangle me, but then how would I get a monsta to clobba Dat dare Kirby?...! I know! I'll just teach her how to defend herself!" And then the episode is literally just Dedede managing to convince Tiff that using hammers is the best... AND IT WORKS! Somehow Tiff, despite being shorter than Dedede, managed to not only become really effective at using a hammer, but a hammer that's comically large compared to her.

I'll give an example of how comically large the hammer is. So, according to Google, Kirby is 8 inches tall. It also says that Tiff is about two times taller than Kirby, giving her a hight of 16 inches... her new hammer is two times her size. That's a total of 32 inches, that's massive compared to all of the KRBAY crew, not including the monsters. Needless to say, if Tuff says he doesn't look up to his sister, he's lying.

2. Literally just Kirby and the Forgotten Land, but it's anime Kirby. Another difference is the appearance of other anime characters and the fact that it isn't actually Dedede that you fight during the second time you would see him in the base game, instead, you fight a brainwashed Tiff. On top of that, when you go to fight Triple D for the third time, Tiff joins him by riding on his shoulders and would have a three second gap before she started slashing at you with sharp claws if you were to get too close. At half health she would jump off and start attacking you that way. If you defeat Tiff and then Dedede, Tiff will look more normal when she is freed from her brainwashed state, but if you were to defeat Dedede first, than Tiff will still be brainwashed and will also get absorbed into Fecto Forgo with the rest of the animals, leading to the things added to her like the cat ears, the cat tail, and of course, claws!

If anyone wants to draw this, I'm not stopping you, I wouldn't mind seeing what people would turn these descriptions into!

[shortmoke]

May I have cg ellis hcs,, holds out my bowl like a lil victorian boy,, i love ur stuff sm!!

Yess ofc! I was getting to this (I literally had the same thing on my pinned under 'List of Characters'). I guess I'll be nice and give you your food 🙄 (All jokes)

Thank you so much! The support means a bunch to me 🫶🫶

I'm sorry for this being so late, I was gonna post earlier today, but then I totally fumbled and regressed. When that happens my brain and hands don't work so... whoops. Wasn't meaning for it to happen today but whatever brain 🙄🙄

Cg!Ellis Hcs

(Based on an AU that they get sent to a government built town with carriers. So it's all pretty much normal, except for the military checking their every move. So, no zombies!!)

🛻 Toddler regressors are his favourite, especially the energetic ones. Equal amounts of energy bouncing off the two of you

🛻 Doesn't mean he won't mind you not being energetic or quiet. He'll just be the energetic one regardless

🛻 100% the fun uncle / older brother

🛻 At first especially, he made you cry more times then he'd like to admit. He goes too far or too intense with either a game or a joke and it spirals

🛻 If it's nice out he'll get you up early just so you two can go run around in a field. Since barely anyone's awake, no one going to care

🛻 Alternatively, just sitting in said field if you don't want to run around.

🛻 Will be getting you outdoors as much as the weather and you'll allow him. It's stuffy and crowded in their shared home (with 5 people, holy...)

🛻 Gets upset when seeing you with someone else. Like what? Your HIS baby

🛻 Puts his hat on your head and pushes it down just enough to cover your eyes

🛻 Pinches your cheeks randomly

🛻 Causing mayhem with him? You're his favourite now... as if you weren't already

🛻 Absolutely (not) pro at those kids arts and crafts. Like macaroni art

🛻 LOVES your drawings. Two swiggles, well they look better then what he could ever do

🛻 Puts your finished art up in one section of his room or on the fridge

🛻 If you're upset, he'll do everything in his power to try and make you happy again

🛻 If around the others and your little, he'l cover your ears, say something like a curse then take his hands off. He does NOT want you repeating you

🛻 ... tried so hard not to laugh as you repeated it back.

🛻 Somewhat of a pushover. I mean.... he wants a snack too and having a little bit wouldn't hurt. Still, he knows he can't give you EVERYTHING even if he wants to

🛻 Compared to the others, if you have something you shouldn't, it's way easier for him to get it away from you because he's more trustworthy. He just wants to see it, and of course, he'll give it back! (He doesn't)

🛻 Don't hesitate to bother him. If it's in the middle of the night, he's barely had any sleep but you're scared? He'd rather you wake him up then you staying alone he doesn't want you to feel like that, ever.

[thoughtsofdarc]

'Go powder my nose'

-Warnings: none

-Y/n, Ghost, Soap, and maybe Gaz? Friends

-i spend say too much time on Tiktok.

I now have a slight mask kink and I'm going feral for Ghost and König. Fuck my life, right? This is what came of it.

The group, 3 men and one woman, was sitting by a table in the back of the bar.

Far away to not draw too much attention, but able to scan the location and we who enters and leaves.

Side effect of the life they're living. Even on their days off they are still on guard.

Soldiers.

Though they weren't in uniform, it's evident in the way they hold themselves.

They needed the time off. The bar was regularly visited by the soldiers from the base. It was known to be the place to go.

Which also meant that people, mostly women, came to the bar to see if they could hook to with a handsome soldier for the night...

They usually could.

But tonight, the 3 men and the woman wasn't there to find a hookup. They just needed to rewind from a mission. Just needed to throw back a couple of beers, before they went back to sleep for a day or two.

"Im gonna go take a piss.."

The woman stood, from her seat, pulling down the fitted shirt, making sure she didn't show any unwanted skin, to the other men visiting the bar. She didn't care for unwanted attention tody.

"Fuck sake, y/n You're a lass, ya shouldn't talk like that"

Soaps grin told that he didn't really care, he was just talking friendly shit.

The two other men grunted out small laughs.

The man, with the skull mask pulled up to his nose, leaving room for him to drink, lips curled up in a lopsided smirk.

Though he wasn't the most vocal of the group, he enjoyed the friendly banter.

Y/n weighed the consequences of saying out loud, the first thought she had. Of the only thing about her being a 'lass' was the vibrator in her room on base.

But she bit it back, knowing that Soap would never let he live it down, it he knew about it.

Instead she shot out her hip, pretended she wore a dress and dipped her hips to take a bow. With a fake posh upper class accent she looked at Soap and said "Excuse me Gentlemen, I have to go powder my nose"

"oh piss off y/n!" Soap flipped her off, in all friendliness of course.

"That's what I fucking tried to do, but you complained about that too!" she shot back, causing everybody to laugh.

"Just go y/n, or he'll complain all night" the man with the skull mask, Ghost, ushered her to go take care of her business.

"Oi, you piss off too, mate" Soap scoffed, but there was a little smirk playing on his lips.

Y/n laughed and walked away.

Not many minutes went by, from y/n leaving the table, before a woman approached the 3 men left there.

She was a bit more than tipsy, dressed up to catch attention and the look she had in her eyes, was set on Ghost.

"Hello boys, what are you doing out on this fine evening" she purred, as she sat down on the empty chair that y/n left.

She made sure to shoot out her chest, making her boob's bigger.

The woman adressed the all, but her eyes were fixed on Ghost.

Y/n approached slowly, the woman trying to flirt with the skull masked man hadn't seen her. She stood back, watching the interaction silently.

"Sorry, not interested, darling" his British accent rolled of his lips, which held a small smirk. He shook his head, fixing his eyes on the beer instead of looking at the woman.

"Oh come on sweetheart... I dig the whole mask thing. You can keep it on..."

She purred, the silent promise of she wanted from Ghost, thick in the air.

"listen to the man, lass... He has a Girlfriend" Soap tried to get her off the masked man's back, when he noticed the irritation in Ghost's eyes.

Neither of the men around the table had a steady woman in their life.

But girl code, right? If the man was taken, the unwanted attention would back off... Right?

Wrong. The woman gave Soap the side eye and then turned her focus back in Ghost.

She let her fingers trail up his arm, her eyes fixed on his mask.

Ghost tensed, but kept calm as to not cause a scene. Though, very ready to catch har wrist, before the hand reached his mask.

"well, I don't see her..." The woman purred, as if it would make him want her advances more.

Y/n stepped closer to the table, right behind the woman's chair.

"Turn around...!" she barked, her voice full of authority and anger, causing the woman to jump in her seat, letting go of Ghost's arm.

The woman slowly turned and looked at y/n from her boots to her hair, taking in the woman standing begkre her and glared daggers.

"...Now you see her!" y/n's voice was laced with a poisonous anger, and the woman just silently slipped away.

The 3 men looked at y/n with wide eyes, smirks playing on all of their faces.

"Now, where were we?" y/n sat down, as if nothing had happened, and took a large gulp of her beer, as she looked around the table to her 3 friends.

Ghost gave her a subtle nod as a thank you.

"I don't know what the other two are doing, but lass, you just gave me something to dream about tonight... That was hot" Soap chuckled jokingly.

"Oh piss off, Soap!" y/n rolled her eyes, but couldn't hold back a grin.

Soap smirked

"No no! I just learned it's called 'to go powder my nose'!"

[dreamwreaver]

god I feel bad for that charlastor artist on Twitter. To have your work that you put a lot of love and effort on, only to be horribly stolen, traced and tagged with the very ship your antis keep harassing you with. Why are a lot of radioapple shippers like this?? They literally have hundreds of amazing artworks and fics across the internet but they go out of their way to be an utter asshole to people minding their own business.

This lead me to hating the ship. If I ever see a glimpse of Lucifer x Alastor, I'm scrolling and ignoring IMMEDIATELY. No hate to the other decent shippers of them, I just can't stand to see a crackship that has caused so much pain for so many of us Charlastor fans.

I mean, that's basically it nonnie. I don't have visceral negative reactions to ships I don't care for. I'm apathetic by and large. I block the tags and move on with my life. But, there's just the behavior of some shippers... it's been terrible. To the point where I cannot honestly see anything having to do with them without wanting to go on a rant. The main difference? I do that shit in a discord and DONT TAG THE SHIP IM HATING ON. But the behavior of most ra's makes me brace for impact just about everywhere. That ugly ass hoodie being released led to like a two hour vent session with friends. Their propensity to make everything about their ship? Makes me want to scream. The way they play the victim when they're the source of most of the bullying? I want to tear my hair out. And here's the thing; they eat their own the moment they fall out of line. Thankfully Bluesky has people who aren't garbage humans so any ship bullying gets shut down real fucking quick regardless of shipping preferences (the nice ra shippers are on there I will say that) but I saw it happen in real time. An artist known for drawing ra (and has since come out as a multishipper) was commissioned to draw charlastor, did a fabulous piece, and was harassed with two comments so vile they took the piece down. You know who was in the replies calling out the assholes? Ra's AND charlastors, and not a single one of them was fighting with the other.

So, I'll give credit where it's due. There ARE some nice people who have that ship and I respect them. It just depends on where you're finding them. But that toxic and vocal minority? Yeah, may they always step on legos in bare feet. And I will say this; hazbin antis are perhaps some of the most boring antis I've ever experienced in my life. They have normie who discovered fandom because of the pandemic and are appropriating weirdo culture written all over them.

Do you have any idea how many tiktoks I saw where people were cringing because the hazbin soundtrack was in their wrapped as one of their top albums? That's normie behavior. I do not feel cringe, I do not feel shame. I like what I like even if it disappoints me in the end (looking at you miraculous, please Jeremy zag release another movie and piss off the creator when the fandom likes it better). I don't regret liking anything I've ever liked. These people? Nah. And even their insults are like the basic white girl of fandom toxicity. Telling me to kys in one of five ways? I'm a pedo? A homophobe? I shouldn't exist? Boring. I had a Beetlejuice anti once threaten to turn my kneecaps into dice. You know what? I don't like you as a person but I at least respect the creativity. I definitely never heard that before.

And when you don't have any creativity, you tend to steal from the ones who do. Now the ra's are stealing lucillith art and doing it badly to boot. Normally I'm not one to critique art technique. Art is hard and people are always learning, but for the love of god if you're gonna steal someone's art don't add insult to injury by making the drawing ugly as fuck and somehow anatomically fucked. Yes I'm thinking of a specific example, no I won't share it mainly because tumblr says no sex based fun allowed. But I suppose that's what happens when you treat your ship and fandom experience as "content" rather than something you enjoy for fun. And hey, maybe it's my imposter syndrome talking but I still feel a little weird when people say they're fans of my work and seem to think of me as like... a big name fan or whatever. I'm just me, I create because I love my blorbos and if that attracts fans then it's a bonus, but not necessary.

Speaking of which; let me take a moment and say how grateful I am, not just to you Nonnie, but anyone who follows my nonsense on any of my socials. I'm not great with replies but just know I treasure the interactions we have no matter how small.

[puppiesandnightlock]

LINK: But since the world’s obsessed with saying ‘psych’ (pt 1)

summary: Detention, coffee, and holy shit Damian can hot-wire a motorcycle-

aka Damian and Jon get their shit together (sort of) and start off their tentative friendship, only strengthening when Jon finds out something that draws him to Damian even more....

Okay.

Here’s the thing.

In order to keep his nice, shiny record, and his top student status, as well as not making his older brother turn on the accursed dad voice, Damian had to make amends with stupid Jon Kent.

The last few weeks consisted of their back and forths, some mildly amusing, others…rather physical, leading them to where they were now, Saturday morning detention. 

Damian was certain he’d be able to breach what he was positive was a cover, perhaps self defense, and maybe even fix the boy up.

Granted, he was no miracle worker, and in his opinion,  Jon Kent was in desperate need of a miracle.

However, he was certainly persuasive. The added benefit of being a former delinquent himself gave him a way to worm past the defenses, not that the other boy would know. 

And something most everyone but themselves knew was that maybe, despite everything pointing to the contrary, they didn’t really want to hate each other.

Admittedly, detention was a familiar environment to Jon, countless weekends lost to the silent drab classrooms. 

“Yo, Kent!” A teen with close cropped brown curls called out from the side of the room as he entered the designated detention room.

“Heard Wayne kicked your ass last week.” The shit-eating grin plastered on their face gave the hint that the words were teasing, but Jon knew it was also to get a rise out of him.

“What do you know, Akira?” He snorted. “At least I’m here for somethin’ other than scribbling on the walls.”

They made a mock offended gasp, the jacket they were wearing covered in tastefully placed paint splotches, patches and pins, much like the rest of the outfit.

“I’ll have you know it was a beautiful piece of work, and a form of self-expression. Besides, it was technically for an English project, so I shouldn't even be here.”

“Sure.” He rolled his eyes, shooting them a grin that would leave most people swooning. Akira only smirked back, and spoke up again.

“So, how was it like to have a good boy gremlin kick your ass? Bet you thanked him after, what with the drooling you’ve been doing lately.”

Jon flushed and opened his mouth to retort, but as he did, a teacher stepped in the door.

“Jon Kent, you’re to be in the classroom down the hall instead.”

He nodded, flipping Akira off behind his back and walking out. Unfortunately for him, the only other person in the room was Damian fucking Wayne, who was on time and probably a few minutes early to everything, including detention, apparently. 

“Hello,” he said cautiously. “Good morning.”

Jon startled. What the hell was going on? Sure, Damian was polite when they had their tutoring, although after the first few days it was more sarcastic. 

“Were you body-snatched?” He blurted out. Damian’s lips twitched upwards, but the flicker vanished as quick as it came.

“No.” Jon watched him suspiciously, before turning and sitting in the back. The other boy got up and  slipped in the seat next to him.

“Seriously, man, what’s wrong with you?” He crossed his arms, scowling at the boy next to him. Damian held out a cup, similar to the one in his hand. 

“Here.”

“Did you poison it?” Jon looked at it warily.

Damian shot him a deadpan look, shaking the cup at him. “Take it or leave it, Kent.” 

Hesitantly, he took it, and under his watch, sipped from it, sighing as the bitter taste of caffeine flooded his senses. Not too much milk and lots of sugar, just how he liked it.

Wait.

“How do you know my order?” he demanded immediately, Damian nearly dropping his own cup. 

He flushed, whether in embarrassment or anger, and avoided his gaze. “I only guessed. You bring a coffee cup during tutoring every week and based on what the contents smelled like, I added it up.”

Jon took the lid off of the cup and sniffed hesitantly, much to the other boy’s amusement. “I don’t smell anything,” he pouted. “It’s just coffee.”

Damian covered his mouth with a hand, hiding the small smile that appeared. “Well, we can’t all be winners, can we?”

“You’re telling me.” Jon scowled, poking at the fading bruises on his pale skin. “Since we’re being civil today for some reason, mind tellin’ me where you learned to kick ass? Because as much as I hate to admit it, you sure kicked mine.”

His expression became guarded and he shook his head, opening a book. “No, thank you. I’m afraid this is as far as my pleasantries extend today.”

“C’mon, we were gettin’ somewhere.” He whined, draping himself across the desk, staring up at him with black framed blue eyes.

“I’ve beaten you once, provoke me and you’ll receive it a second time.” The words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them, and inwardly he cursed his own uncontrolled anger. 

This is what would always get him into trouble, the lack of brain to mouth filter as his mind clouded with the emotions, taking hold of his actions without thinking of the consequences.

“No thanks.” Jon muttered, ducking his head and pulling out his phone, scrolling through his socials. The silence stretched out, Damian considering he’d done a wonderful job of being civil, although they weren’t exactly joined at the hip yet.

“Sorry I punched you in the face.” He blurted out against his will. “And you know, just generally beat you up. In my defense, you were very provoking.”

Because this was how to properly apologize. Ah yes, justifying your actions with their own. Honestly, what was it about this boy that made every one of his perfectly crafted walls and mannerisms come crashing down in flames?

To his surprise, Jon put his face down, shoulders shaking. Damian was quickly hit with a large dose of anxiety, concern, and fear. He carefully reached out a hand like what his brothers would have done, and placed it on his shoulder, causing the other boy to jump up and reveal something that caused Damian to scowl and turn away.

The fucker was laughing .

“I’m sorry,” He chortled. “I just didn’t want you to punch me in the face-”

“I should still do that.” Damian grumbled, hitting him in the shoulder a bit harder then needed for a ‘friendly’ punch. “I was concerned I'd made you cry.”

Jon looked nearly offended, the expression off-put somewhat by the fact that he was still smiling. “Takes a bit more than that to make me cry, Wayne.”

“Good to know.” Damian deadpanned. 

They stared at each other for a moment, the corners of Damian’s mouth twitching upwards and sparking a new round of laughter from Jon. The other boy fell victim to the unspoken hilarity as well, quiet chuckles catching the other boy’s attention.

“Hey,” He said after they’d quieted and gone back to the things they’d been doing. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

And why am I falling for it? 

Damian shrugged. “It’s a little hard to have to hate someone like this. You’ve no idea how much I wish I could go back and erase it. If I want things to go the way I do, then I think I should keep my patience.”

“I’m sorry too.” Jon muttered. “I was an asshole, I know. And I kept going even when I should have stopped. I was surprised, to be honest. I didn't think you’d be so…good at fighting back. It was stupid and kind of mean, even if you weren’t super bothered by it.”

And maybe…maybe I was a little drawn to you, too. Unexplained, aggravating enamourment. Couldn’t catch it, always just out of reach. And always would be. 

Damian fiddled with the pencil in his hands. “Apology accepted. No more bothering me to the point where I punch you again, right?”

“Yep.” He popped the ‘p’ at the end and offered him a lopsided smile.

“And you'll be showing up on time for tutoring?”

“Can’t promise that, darlin’.” Jon shot finger guns at him, Damian shaking his head, a smile threatening to break through the stern facade.

“I guess that’s something.” a flicker of some emotion flashed across his face, and he stuck out his hand to be shook. “Would you like to start over?”

Jon nodded, and Damian’s small hand was enveloped by the other boy’s leather clad one. “Jon Kent, bad boy extraordinaire and all around flirt. Nice to meetcha, gorgeous.”

He scoffed as a wink accompanied the words, rolling his eyes good naturedly. “Damian Wayne. Your tutor for the foreseeable future. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

They shook once and let go, for once at peace. Jon turned his head to the side. “Since we’re chill now, teach, wanna get outta here? Get a bite to eat?”

“As tempting as that is, I promised I’d not get into any more trouble at school. After our time is served, however, I might consider the offer. On the condition that you stop the godforsaken flirting. ”

Jon smirked, poking at him. “Did I fluster the great Damian Wayne with a few notes on his appearance?”

“No!” He sputtered, pink dusting his cheeks. “It’s just annoying, and I don’t want people to think you’re my boyfriend.” 

Jon faltered at Damian’s clear dislike of the thought, not that he could blame him. He wanted to stay on this boy’s good side, now that he’d gotten a taste of it. The other side had been fun, and knowing the buttons to push, he could easily get a rise out of him if bored.

He played it off, pulling a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I’ll have you know I would be a wonderful boyfriend. But, if you’re not into perfection, I understand.”

The laugh was quiet but genuine, hands flying up to his mouth to hide it. “Whatever.”

“Did Mr. Eloquent just say whatever ?” the other boy gasped. “A piece of informal language from Damian Wayne?” 

“Dramatic.” He scoffed. “I’m really not as bad as I seem.”

“Yeah right.” Jon laughed. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He gave a daring grin, causing something to flare in the depths of Jon’s soul. The smile mirrored the one he so often wore getting into trouble, and suddenly he was more inclined to believe that the boy he’d thought as a teacher’s pet goody two shoes with a mean right hook really wasn’t all grades and perfection.

“Guess maybe you ain’t so bad, Wayne.” Jon said at last. “Pretty on the outside, but you’ve got a different side to ya. Gremlin-like, probably.”

“I feel mildly offended by that.” Damian muttered, before responding in kind. “You aren’t ‘so bad’ yourself either, I suppose. Despite all of this , you’re softer than you’d like to admit. Puppy-like, probably.”

“You know, I see your point of mildly offending.”

They laughed together, a timer on Damian’s phone ringing. “Oh, would you look at that? Almost free.”

“I guess time does fly when you’re having fun.” Jon responded, hesitant. “Guess we were kinda having fun.”

“It would seem that way.” The other boy typed something rapidly, and quickly received a response. “I’ll take you up on the lunch offer, Kent, if you’d like to continue this fun .”

“I would, actually. I’ll take you to meet one of my friends, her family runs the best diner in this city.” Jon grinned. 

“Another miscreant such as yourself?” Damian raised an eyebrow.

“Nah, only when she’s with me.” He grinned at him, kicking up his feet onto the desk just to make the other boy scowl. “You’ll have more fun than your good boy senses are used to.”

“Mm, we’ll see.” The other boy tapped a pencil against his lip. “I think there’s a lot about me that you don’t know, Jon.”

“I’ll bet.” 

“And get your feet off the table, were you raised in a barn?”

“Yes, actually.”

“I’m getting more context on that later.”

The short amount of time left in the classroom was mostly spent in silence, the promise of an adventure hanging in the air. And maybe a friendship as well.

[rantinglarry]

Gech's Server is Full of Hypocritical Losers

I wouldn't normally resort to making callout posts, because I like to think I'm better than that. Petty drama isn't something I typically find myself engaging in, but after seeing this server and the hypocrites that reside in it, and after the harassment and lies they've flung toward my friend, I've decided to go through with this 'callout'.

First things first, what started it all?

Earlier today my friend, Mira, came to me in DMs to show me that she had been added to a server blacklist and banned. I thought that was weird so I took a look.

Looking into the server I found that, not only are over half these claims blatantly false, if being used as valid reasons to ban her, then multiple other members of the server should also be banned. But they (as far as I'm aware) were not. This is unacceptable.

Let's start off by talking about what IS true, first.

Point number 3: "blocking someone based on their speculative sexuality" and point number 4: "attention seeking"

Those seem pretty bad at first glance. Especially that first one. But lets take a closer look.

The "speculative sexuality" being referred to is objectum. Someone in the server had mentioned possibly being objectum and Mira blocked them because she is uncomfortable interacting with people openly identifying with the label. She's uncomfortable interacting with ANYONE openly identifying with a paraphilia. Would the right thing to do NOT be to block them instead of starting an argument about it?

You could argue that she shouldn't care so much, but to retort that I have to ask, why do YOU care that she's blocking people she doesn't want to interact with? Is that not the point of the block button?

Let's move on to the other actually true allegation, attention seeking. Now, if you know Mira you know that she vents a lot. She rants about almost anything that upsets her. Would I, personally, count that as attention seeking? Not necessarily. BUT I can understand why most people would! The way she goes about it can come off that way. Is that enough to put her on a blacklist? According to these people it is.

When venting she uses a lot of "I feel" statements. That tends to come off as attention seeking. According to Mira herself that is not her intention, it's just how she communicates. I feel like there should've been more of that from this server to her, but there wasn't from what I saw.

Now, let's move on to the claims I believe to be not only false, but also hypocritical.

Sending overly sexualized art in a server full of minors

Now, at first glance, this accusation is terrible. Why would I defend someone willing to send art like this to other minors? I'll tell you why, don't you worry.

This server has a suggestive art channel. A suggestive art channel that is not only NOT locked behind the age-restriction filter you can turn on via discord itself, it's also a role ANYONE can grab from their roles channel.

In the rules, it mentions that NSFW is NOT allowed.

So, if nsfw isn't allowed and the server is, as admitted, full of minors, why is there a suggestive art channel?

Well, they claim that suggestive art "isn't nsfw"

And yet they allow art like this to be posted

(I have a reason to include that third one here, keep reading.)

I don't know how that is considered "not nsfw" but Mira's art is.

THIS is what the server considers porn.

Is it weird? Is it possibly even suggestive? Absolutely. But it is NOT porn, nor is it somehow worse than the art in the image above

The server thinks all of Mira's art is sexual. Let's see some more examples of her "sexualized" art, shall we?

More examples can be found on her blog.

According to one of the mods, the reason these drawings are "sexual" is the fact that when Mira draws women, she gives them big boobs.

That's it. That's the reason.

Do these people know that real people HAVE big boobs? And they aren't inherently sexual? Apparently not because they seem to think anything that isn't slim and flat chested is "suggestive art"

I'm starting to think these people don't know what suggestive art and nsfw actually is. Which makes sense, considering, like they themselves said, the server is full of minors.

But that leads us back to my point. If you don't want nsfw in the server, why do you have a channel where nsfw can be and is posted?

Let's move on to the second point given for her blacklisting,

2. Fetishistic tumblr activity

This is referencing Mira's [SFW] tickle blog. She posts and reblogs art of characters she likes being tickled.

Is it odd? Sure. Personally, I think it's weird, but it's a far cry from fetish content. It's not pornographic, the worst on there is the tentacle tickle art shown above. I think it's weird to sexualize something that she isn't sexualizing herself. If you don't think her art should be "13+", that's fair. But to claim it's porn is ridiculous and shows how immature you are. At MOST it could be suggestive, but it is NOT porn.

This actually leads us to the last point on the blacklist

5. reblogging full-on porn to her child audience.

I SEARCHED through her blogs, both her main and her tickle blog, and I could NOT find this "full-on porn" she reblogged. I can only assume they mean literally any tickle art she's reblogged. But assume is all I can do, because these people do not provide proof of their allegations.

Now, you must have noticed that points 2 & 5 relate to her activity outside the server, here on tumblr. I asked Mira and she claimed to have never given the names of her blogs, and when I checked the server I found that to be true. So she wasn't advertising it to the 'server full of minors' and she wasn't encouraging them to interact with it. So why is it an issue? Why is it her fault that people in the server had to go out of their way to FIND her blogs? Why would they do that?

Well, it seems being anti-objectum and an attention seeker isn't enough to kick someone out of your server. You have to FIND reasons and completely overreact in order to have a valid reason to ban people. Does that also include sending people to harass her? Does that also include sending people to accuse her of being a criminal? Apparently it does, according to these people.

She's out of your server. She can't talk to you anymore. Leave her alone.

What Mira has done is NOT enough to warrant this hostility and hate. If you hate her, then stop engaging with her.

Do not harass these people. Do not join the server seeking to disturb them. I joined to try and reason with them, to give Mira's side of the story, and they banned me.

Please listen to her side. This post is to make people aware that the people in this server are maliciously lying about my friend, all because she's a little odd and they don't like her.

[vexwerewolf]

Hi! I'm working on a TTRPG by the name of Starburn: Asclepias (I'd be honored if you checked out my post about it, but no pressure, this isnt a self promo thing). What I was wondering is, once I finish the damn thing, what next? Should I go find a publisher, or just drop it on itchio? Should I run a kickstarter? How do I get people to hear about it??? I'm sending this ask to a couple people, so it may not be 100% your field, but I'd love to hear any thoughts/suggestions!

So the problem about giving advice is that the things that worked for me were quite specific to me. I had a very strong presence on Twitter and Tumblr prior to launching my Kickstarter, was well known in the Lancer community as the Lancer Ransom Note Meme Guy, and was well known in the furry fandom. I was well-connected and that meant that my Kickstarter got a lot of exposure and support.

My advice based on that would be:

Work out a succinct description by which your product can be easily explained: IGF is Borderlands But In Space With Mechs. Of course there's way more to it than that, but this makes it easy to explain to people. With that description, most people who hear it will understand right away whether or not it's for them.

Do NOT be generic. Establish a very distinct and specific brand for your product and take that shit as far as it will go. For me, IGF has consistently performed better the weirder I make it. It is, as I have described it, "a serious story told in a fundamentally unserious world" and the more goofy off-the-wall shit I add to it, the more people seem to enjoy it. In these times, the indie RPG scene is consistently churning out totally bizarre power fantasies like INFINITE REVOLUTION where you are a superhero with a nuclear turbine for a heart and you can love humanity so much you explode. That game knows precisely what it wants to be. Do NOT need to water down your creative vision for the sake of mass-market appeal because You Will Never Outsell D&D But You Also Don't Have To. Make the game you want to make. Make it as weird and specific and idiosyncratic as you want. I guarantee you someone out there is going to be into it and they will be more attracted to a game that is bizarre but unashamedly authentic than a compromise version of the idea that looks a bit like everything else.

Build an online presence.

Promote your game as part of a complete social media presence. It shouldn't be the only thing you talk about, but you should talk about it, consistently and frequently. Project confidence - assume that people will want to hear about your ideas. If you seem confident that your ideas are worth hearing, it's more likely that others will as well!

When drawing up a Kickstarter budget, work out how much everything that needs to be in the final release will cost, and then add about 20%, because Kickstarter is going to take about that much off of what you make.

Ideally, your Kickstarter should start on a Tuesday at between 12 noon - 5PM Eastern Standard Time, run for 30 days and neither its first or last 72 hours should overlap any major holidays. Promote it consistently and respectfully, especially during its first and last 24 hours, which are the times in which you will make the most money.

If you're going to distribute on itch.io, get your itch.io mass mailer authorization WAY in advance, WAY WAY WAY in advance, like at least a week to two weeks off your release date. It takes a while.

There are probably more things I could give advice on but I have COVID right now so I hope this suffices.

[sounds-of-some-day]

A lot of people are really upset about this Marvel/RDJ news. And I know a lot of people are just upset with the MCU in general right now.

And like, I wouldn't say that I'm upset with it, but I had definitely gotten to a place where I just didn't care about new MCU. I was in it for the OG6 and once the core of that was gone, I just didn't care anymore.

But this news actually makes me cautiously optimistic, so I'll go ahead and lay out why. This is just me, putting my thoughts out there as someone who once studied screenwriting and very much wanted to go into it. So this is where I think they are potentially going with this, because to me, this is both narratively logical (based on this latest news and rumors) and narratively compelling.

Obviously I don't have any actual inside knowledge and I'm just building this off of scraps of information I've picked up on the internet over the past day/few months. And everything I say here could end up being completely wrong. Or not. Who knows.

Caveat, I feel like I'm very rarely right about these things, but I just can't see any other reason for this casting choice, so here you go:

1. Okay, so the people saying he won't/shouldn't ever take off the mask, sorry that's just not happening. Disney isn't paying rdj-money for RDJ to wear a mask the whole movie*. This idea is absurd. If they were going to do this, they could have literally any actor playing the body and just have RDJ do voiceover work for much cheaper. Not that they would do that anyway, because again, this idea is just not how Hollywood works. It's not happening. The mask is coming off.

*There's a small chance it doesn't come off in the first movie if RDJ ends up being in Secret Wars. I don't actually know much about the plot of Secret Wars, but my very vague understanding is this is what collapsed 616 and 1610, so this is thought to be working as a soft reboot of the MCU. I don't think any of this conflicts with my thoughts, but look, again I have no inside knowledge.

2. The people saying this is going to be a new character not in any way related to Tony Stark are wrong (or in the case of Marvel and Kevin Feige, playing loose with the truth to mislead the audience). We're not talking about Gemma Chan or Alfre Woodard or Laura Haddock being cast in two roles, where one of these roles was so minor it could have been played by anyone. We're talking about RDJ/Iron Man, the cornerstone of the MCU. Yes, I know they said he's playing Victor von Doom - not just Doom. I know that. And yes, RDJ is a great actor, but there is literally zero reason to cast him if it doesn't tie back Tony. Again, Disney isn't paying rdj-money for this to not relate in some way to the most iconic and beloved character of the MCU. If it was just a Victor von Doom casting, then yes, this would be a ridiculous and stupid, and *stupidly expensive* casting choice. It's not.

So what do I think is happening? I think Marvel are *technically* telling the truth about the casting, but they are holding back a lot.

The only way this particular casting makes sense is if it has weight on the narrative, meaning of it relates back to Tony in some way.

Now there is apparently some universe where Doom body swaps with that universe's Tony. There's also a (616?) plot where Doom animates Tony's dead body <- I don't think they'll go this route because this is pretty bleak. Also, while the MCU draws inspiration from the comics, it's not beholden to them.

If they go this route, then technically they didn't lie when they said they cast RDJ as Victor von Doom, since it will be von Doom's brain in Tony's body. But they're also not telling the complete truth.

Why?

Because the thing that makes this casting choice interesting from a narrative standpoint is having the heroes (like, say Peter who's supposedly playing a large part in leading the Avengers moving forward) that loved and respected** Tony, having to fight someone who looks like/is in some way Tony Stark.

So I think that this is von Doom in Tony Stark's body from another universe. And I think that either Doomsday or Secret Wars ends with that universe's Tony back in his own body, and the universes collapse into one, and honestly I'm not really sure where they take Tony's story from there.

This also leaves room for an actual future Doom casting that's a different actor. Because I have no doubt that Doom has a very big role to play.

**Potential unverified rumors/leaks, do not continue reading of you don't want to know.

It's long been rumoured that Chris Evans has already signed on to play Steve Rogers in Secret Wars. And look, I'm obviously both a Steve fan and a Tony fan, so you can call me biased, but I don't think I am. I think a lot of MCU fans would agree that Steve and Tony were the heart of the Avengers and the MCU, and that losing both of them hurt the franchise.

I can absolutely see Marvel setting up a showdown between Steve and a villain that looks just like Tony. I can't imagine how that would fuck with Steve, having to, in a way, relive something he probably deeply regrets.

This is what I think is potentially really narratively interesting and compelling with this casting choice.

But hey, I might be completely wrong about all of this, and that casting rumor could be complete bullshit. 🤷‍♀️