#I mean this was definitely a very very specific era for ME

[anghraine]

So I just discovered a cool conversation that spun off from one of my tag monologues on a gifset—I'd seen the initial tag peer review, but hadn't realized they'd gone further than that until @ladytharen tagged me. Yet again I didn't want to pester the original gifmaker too much, so I decided to respond separately to the part I found especially interesting.

For context, these were my original tags on the "This little thing? Just something I slipped on :)" Kirk captivity scene from "Tomorrow is Yesterday":

#captain gender strikes again! #i appreciate the read on this scene as 'captain kirk is a queer guy flirting with random 20th cent dudes holding him captive. bicon' #but personally my read is 'captain kirk is a queer guy deliberately leaning into effeminacy to fuck with hypermasc douchebros #from the very era in which the show was made irl. bicon' #it's definitely flirty but it is an aggressively feminine-coded flirtiness that's going to triply bother these kinds of guys #ngl i feel like kirk enjoys fucking with gender norms in all directions just because of who he is as a person (his true gender: diva) #but it's extra fun when it lets him troll ultra-military assholes neurotic about their own masculinity who are trying to intimidate HIM #(these guys aren't his type at all - christopher is much more that - but as usual that's not the point of the flirtation #k/s is nerd4nerd but also troll4troll)

I was really intrigued by this response from @mycroftrh, and thinking about it again on this inauguration of Pride month.

#yeah#in a certain context queerness and effeminacy are power#these are also unfortunately often the same contexts where queerness can get you hate crimed#but if you’re gonna be beat up/killed anyway…#you might as well make the homophobes maximally uncomfortable first

Yep, exactly. You can absolutely see the moment when he decides on exactly which side of his personality he's going to use for maximum effect on these gender policing, homophobic, ultra-military, paranoid bigots from the 60s:

I do think it's interesting that the full scene includes not only Kirk's bisexual chaos gremlin diva genderfuckery (enrichment for him!) but moments of fear and defiance:

He doesn't drop the flamboyance until he wants to, though. And the framing, lighting, angles etc only serve to emphasize their attempts to loom even more over him, aggressively get into his space, gesture right at his face to unsettle him, and his refusal to be intimidated by these fundamentally pathetic responses that are by no means free from real danger, just silly and contemptible nevertheless. It's not that he's too disdainful or amused at his own hijinks to understand how easily this could go very wrong. He simply has no respect for these men and enjoys leveraging their own hang-ups against them.

His eye make-up is also more than usually noticeable in the close-ups in this scene—even compared to other scenes in the same episode—which seems maybe not unrelated!

I think it's also worth pointing out that, TOS make-up aside, Kirk's navigation of gender performance in the original series is ... let's say, idiosyncratic. Most of the 23rd-century male characters are far more inflexible and singular about what gendered roles they're willing or able to inhabit. Kirk specifically is very deliberately fluid and versatile and theatrical about a lot of things, very much including gender performance and sexuality.

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

fine line ── l. hs

↳ summary ── heesung's got two problems: (1) he can't sleep, and (2) he's addicted to the 1AM combo of instant ramyeon and coffee milk from his favorite convenience store around the corner. the only thing more consistent than his insomnia? his nightly visits for his beloved snacks (and maybe to glare at the new night shift employee, too). & pstt, spoiler alert: you're the said new night shift employee. and you don't know what's worse: his weird food choices or his apparent superiority complex. either way, if you have to watch him inhale another bowl like it's his last meal ever, you might lose it. but hey, you know what they say—there’s a fine line between love and hate...

↳ pairing ── heeseung x f!reader

↳ genre ── idol!heeseung, e2l!au, strangers to lovers!au, convenience store worker!reader || angst hehe, crack, eventual fluff

↳ ✎ᝰ 15.4k (gasp, she kept it under 20k????)

↳ contains ── so much bickering and banter, reader is kinda sassy and a lil crazy, heeseung is a lil weirdo at first, CRACK (this entire fic revolves around EXTRA HELL FIRE RAMEN PLS), angst, both heeseung & reader can't communicate their feelings & are stubborn as hell, tension tension tension! , deep conversations about life choices lol, cursing

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── IM ALIVE (barely) ! i survived a global expedition (one 12 hr flight) just to come back and face an apocalypse (i got a bug infection and a cold) but dragged myself out of my deathbed (my comfy bed) to finish editing this because i told yall i would and bc i felt bad ghosting everyone for a week LOL apologies (if anyone cares,,,pls tell me u do or i'll cry rn) anyways i hope yall enjoy this one,,,this one was fun to write, it felt very sitcom-y and was lowkey based off of backstreet rookie vibes (only bc it's set in a convenience store). i hope you all enjoy & pls let me know what you think :') thank u for the support & love always <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

It’s simple, really. 

Customer service voice on, a smile plastered on your face, greet the customer, scan the item, take their money, bag said item, throw in a half-hearted ‘Have a good night!’

And repeat. 

Well, most of the time. 

Occasionally, there’s the fun of kicking out a few drunk teenagers looking for a bathroom that you definitely don’t have (yes you do). But otherwise, this graveyard shift at your local corner convenience store? 

Total dream job. 

You get paid—as in actual, legit money—to sit behind a counter, scan snacks, and feast on your personal holy trinity of microwavable cheesy ramen, peach juice, and potato chips. What could possibly go wrong? 

At least, that’s how the manager sold it during your interview. And by interview, you mean the three-minute conversation that went something like: 

“Can you work nights?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Cool, you’re hired.” 

No background check, no follow-up questions, not even a glance at your resume. A broke college student with insomnia and schedule flexibility? You were the perfect candidate. 

And it’s not like you’re picky. You needed cash, and this seemed like a pretty solid deal. What can you say? College is expensive, and someone’s gotta fund your caffeine addiction and deeply specific (and yet completely necessary, you would argue) habit of playing at every single claw machine game you stumble across. 

So yeah. Easy work.

At least, that's what you thought.

Because on the night of your first shift, exactly at 1:09AM, the doorbell gives its friendly little ding, and in walks...something.

Someone?

Whatever it is, it's a walking shadow. Oversized hoodie. Baggy pants. A baseball cap shoved under the hood. A black face mask covering whatever’s left of his identity. You think it’s either a ninja, a celebrity in disguise, or—more likely—a vampire who hasn’t seen sunlight since the Joseon era (you’re leaning more towards vampire).

But more than the wild theories running around in your head, something else piques your curiosity.

Because unlike the other weirdos that usually shuffle in at these ungodly hours, this one moves with true purpose. He beelines straight to the ramen aisle, snags something off the top shelf (most likely the ultra-spicy soup one because, of course, you already have the shelves memorized), and then grabs a bottle of coffee milk from the cold drinks section without even so much as glancing at it.

No hesitation. No second-guessing. Like he’s done this a thousand times before and is now on autopilot mode.

You watch, intrigued. And then—horrified.

Because who in the right mind pairs volcanic spicy ramen with coffee milk? Is that even legal?

You’re barely recovering from your own appalled thoughts before he’s already at the counter, placing his borderline apocalyptic snack combination on the counter in front of you with the same eerie precision he has.

You fail to keep your poker face on when you scan his items, your face scrunching up in disgust.

“Uh,” you shake it off, forcing yourself back to reality, “That’ll be—”

But before you can even finish your sentence, he’s already fishing out the exact amount—three crisp bills—out his back pocket and holds it out for you.

There’s a beat of silence.

You stare down at the money in his hand for a second too long, suddenly convinced this guy practices his convenience store interactions in the mirror or something.

When you don’t show any further signs of moving, he eventually gives up, placing the money on the counter with a quiet sigh, grabbing his ramen and coffee milk, and striding off to the self-service corner like he personally owns the place.

All of this. Without. A single. Thank you.

Wow. Okay. So tonight’s customer is potentially a vampire with a side gig as a professional jerk. Good to know.

You internally scoff at the entire interaction, but—unfortunately for you—you can’t look away. Because this guy? This walking shadow?

You’re weirdly intrigued. Like when you accidentally click on a pimple-popping video and immediately regret it, but still end up watching five more.

It’s a curse.

Out of the corner of your eye (because obviously you’re not staring, you’re just…hyper-aware of your surroundings), you watch him execute his ramen-and-coffee-milk routine with the precision of a man possessed.

Step one: Hot water in the ramen cup.

Step two: Ramen into the microwave.

Step three: Wait for exactly one beep before yanking the microwave door open with alarming speed, as if he's scared to even give the second beep the chance to ring.

Step four: Peel the lid back in slowly—so painfully slow you're about to march over there and do it yourself.

Step five: Insert the straw into the coffee milk—of course, perfectly right in the center. Bullseye.

Honestly? It's all kind of impressive. Horrifying, but impressive.

And, of course, just when you think you might finally look away, because out of sight, out of mind—he slides onto one of the bar stools by the window, right in your direct line of vision. The perfect spot for you to get a pristine view of his back, which, spoiler alert, is completely unhelpful in your personal mission in trying to see even a glimpse of what this guy looks like.

Maybe if you squint hard enough, you can make out his face in the reflection of the store window. Maybe. Just maybe—

Nope.

All you catch is a brief glimpse of his eyes—barely visible beneath his excessive hoodie and hat combination. Even his mask stays glued to his face and you wonder how he even plans on eating his outrageous meal.

But even so, you still can’t look away. What even is that color? And why can’t you look away?

Whatever. It’s just eyes. Totally normal. Everyone has them. Not noteworthy at all.

Except it is.

Because you catch yourself still squinting, hoping the glare of the fluorescent lighting against the window hides your not so subtle mission from him. You’re probably risking retinal damage at this point with how hard you’re trying to decode this guy’s entire identity from literally just his eyes.

You catch another short glimpse of his eyes as he shuffles in his seat and just as you’re trying to piece together why his eyes look oddly familiar—

He looks up.

His eyes catch yours in the glaring reflection of the store's windows, and you freeze.

Abort mission. Now.

You cough—loudly, dramatically—and your eyes immediately dart elsewhere, your hands shuffling on the discounted candy bars displayed on the counter top, pretending to look busy and silently praying he didn't catch you looking for too long.

When enough time passes by, you risk another quick glance back at him, to see he’s now digging into his ramen, head tucked so low you can’t even see his eyes anymore. He’s gone full turtle mode.

You lift a brow.

Weirdo.

A weirdo with an ego. Slurping and sipping away at his crime-against-humanity meal as if he owns the building.

Maybe he's mute. Or a people-hater. Or a cryptid who thrives on ramen and coffee milk instead of human interaction. Maybe I'm being pranked?

You shrug it off, because no matter how hard you try to figure him out, one thing is glaringly obvious: he does not want to be bothered.

And you're not sure if that makes him more intriguing or more annoying.

You’re in the clear. At least, you think you’re in the clear. 

After your first weird encounter with Mr. No-Name-No-Face—spicy ramen enthusiast and potential vampire—you’ve begrudgingly adjusted to his nightly visits. 

He shows up at 1:09AM like clockwork, grabs his neon red Extra Spicy Hellfire Ramen (yes, that’s the real brand name, and yes, your soul dies a little every time you even have to think about it), and parks himself in the window seat across from your counter like it’s a Michelin-star ramen bar—and not your humble convenience store with a health inspection rating of B+ (don’t ask). 

By night three, you’ve downgraded him from potential murderer to mildly annoying ramen connoisseur. 

By night four, you’ve decided he’s your own personal karma sent by the universe. 

It starts off with the door chime. You don’t even flinch. 1:09AM. Right on schedule. 

You don’t look up from the colorful juice pouches you’re restocking. You’re halfway through creating a perfectly symmetrical pyramid display—color-coded, of course—because, clearly, you’ve peaked as a human being. 

Behind you, footsteps head straight to the ramen aisle. And sure enough, you peek over your shoulder, and there he is: drowning in black hoodie layers, hood up, mask on, the patron saint of please don’t perceive me. Same old routine, same old—

Wait. 

He freezes, mid-reach for his usual ramen on the top shelf, his hand hovering in the air. And then, horrifyingly, he turns. 

And looks directly at you. 

Your face heats up—probably not as red as the hellfire ramen he was about to grab, but it’s close, you imagine. You find yourself clutching onto the random juice pouch in your hand as if it’s your lifeline before you clear your throat, “Uh—is something wrong?” 

He glances from you and back to the shelf in front of him, and for the first time in…ever, he speaks. 

Gasp. 

So we can cross mute off the list. 

“They’re out of my flavor,” he says. His voice is deep, which isn’t surprising to you, given he’s the literal human embodiment of the color black, but it’s also serious. So unnecessarily serious that you almost laugh. 

Almost. 

Because his tone isn’t just serious—it’s accusatory. As if you personally raided the ramen aisle and hid his favorite flavor for entertainment. 

Excuse me? 

Your mouth opens then closes, flopping like a fish that now deeply regrets every life choice. The fire rising in your chest is about two seconds away from erupting into a full-blown lecture on how supply chains work, but you keep it in, deciding getting fired on the fourth day probably doesn’t look good on your resume. 

Instead, you plaster on a flat, unimpressed look. 

“Uh..yeah, it looks like it,” you deadpan, inching closer to where he’s standing to investigate the shelf. 

Leaning up on your toes, you scan the shelf for any hidden Hellfire cups, hoping some miracle will save you from continuing this interaction. 

Nope. It’s empty alright. Emptier than your will to entertain his dramatics. 

“Tragic,” you glance back at him, strategically avoiding eye contact, and settle on offering a shrug. “There are plenty of other flavors. Maybe try…the regular spicy?” 

You grab the flavor below his usual one and hold it up as an olive branch, but he cuts you off with a tone that even convinces you that you’re deranged. 

“No.” 

You blink. 

“No?” 

“It has to be Extra Spicy Hellfire.” 

You blink again. 

You wait for the punchline.

It never comes. 

This man is dead serious. 

You’re standing in the middle of a fluorescent-lit ramen aisle, at your minimal wage night-shift job, at 1:12AM on a random Tuesday, and this guy is dead serious. 

And he’s staring at you like this is a life-or-death situation. And judging from the look in his eyes, it’s looking like you’re facing death. 

But then, you really notice his eyes. And for a split second—just a split second—you’re derailed from your rising anger. 

They’re brown. But not just any brown—the kind of brown that makes poets write bad metaphors. Cinnamon swirls. Autumn leaves. Possibly falling in love in a Hallmark Christmas movie. 

But then you blink again, hard, snapping yourself out of whatever ridiculous moment your sleep-deprived brain just conjured. This is not the time. You’re literally staring at, like, three inches of this guy’s face. 

And he’s a jerk. Get a grip, Y/N. 

“Uh, yeah,” you clear your throat, trying your best to sound professional through your disbelief. “Sorry. We probably put in our shipment request late. But I’m sure you won’t implode by going one night without it?” 

You tack on a small laugh and smile at the end of your sentence, hoping to lighten the mood. 

He does not smile back. 

Not even a flicker. 

Instead, he continues to stare at you like you just suggested he eat plain, untoasted bread for the rest of his life. 

You want to bury yourself into a hole. Maybe getting fired on the fourth day won’t be so bad afterall. 

“I’m sure the regular spicy one is just as good. What’s the worst that could happen?” you offer weakly when he makes no sign of saying anything, and you really hope this guy doesn’t explode in front of you—mainly because you’re not confident in your own ability to explain that situation to your manager. 

“I’m not risking it,” he finally deadpans. 

Your jaw drops slightly. 

“You’re not ris—” you hesitate, debating whether you want to ruin your night further. But you’ve come this far. “You’re being…serious?” 

The question lined with your clear judgement hangs in the air between you two, and no amount of fake customer service can mask the expression of disapproval on your face. 

His eyes narrow at you as he scoffs, “You wouldn’t understand.” 

“Oh, I understand,” you tilt your head, your annoyance slowly reaching a boiling point, throwing all professionalism out the window. All you wanted was to enjoy your juice-sorting in peace, not babysit this walking ramen manifesto. “I understand that you’re just picky.” 

At that, his eyes flash—sharp, unreadable. “I’m not picky.” 

“You won’t eat a perfectly fine ramen just because it’s not named after the ninth circle of hell.” 

Silence. 

He stares at you with the intensity of someone about to write a strongly worded online review. 

Finally, with an exaggerated sigh, he finally mutters, “Fine. I’ll take the mild one.” 

You blink at the flavor in your hand—the one that’s clearly labeled in giant, blazing-red, font: Regular Spicy. Then you look back at him. 

“You mean regular spicy.” 

“Right. Whatever. Same thing.” 

He grabs the ramen cup from your hand and stalks off to grab his usual coffee milk, leaving you stranded in the middle of the ramen aisle, questioning every life choice that brought you here. 

Before you’re about to mentally spiral, his voice cuts through the store. 

“Hello?” 

Oh. Right. Your job. 

You scramble back to behind the register, quickly moving your hands to ring him up and get him out of here as soon as possible. 

He hands you his three crisp bills, and before you hand him his glorified ramen and godforsaken coffee milk, you hesitate, pulling them back slightly. He freezes, his hands hanging in the air between you two. 

“You know,” you narrow your eyes as you look up at him, “some people would say thank you for the recommendation.” 

His brow arches—or at least, you think it does. It’s hard to completely tell under his stupid hat. Then he fires back—

“And some people wouldn’t forget to restock the ramen.” 

Your mouth falls open, your words failing you as he grabs his goods from your hands, heading to the self-serve station to continue his nightly noodle worship as if he didn’t just verbally body-slam you. 

Yeah. It’s going to be a long night. 

Life is unpredictable, uncontrollable, and chaotic. 

Lee Heeseung’s life? Heeseung’s life is that times ten, with an extra sprinkle of what-is-even-happening-anymore? 

Between back-to-back choreo sessions, recording tracks at hours that shouldn’t legally exist, and navigating the emotional and physical minefield of constant shows, interviews, photoshoots—you name it—nothing about his life is consistent. 

However—

There are two things—two sacred constants—that keep Heeseung from spiraling into total madness. 

The first? 

Insomnia. 

Not by choice, of course. He doesn’t love being awake at 3AM, staring at his ceiling and waiting for sleep to take over. But it’s a loyal companion, like a stray cat that keeps showing up at your house no matter how hard you try to shoo it away. Heeeseung’s insomnia is always there for him, night after night, ensuring he gets exactly only four hours of sleep—with a side of existential dread. 

And the second? 

Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen and coffee milk. 

Yes, it’s a weird combo. 

No, he doesn’t care. 

This unlikely pairing is Heeseung’s personal slice of heaven he can actually control and choose in a life otherwise ruled by the rest of the world. 

Every night, he drags himself to his favorite corner store, grabs his fiery ramen and sweet, creamy coffee milk, and plants himself in the window seat to enjoy his culinary masterpiece in peace. 

Then—and only then—can Heeseung catch a few hours of sleep, the spice-induced euphoria lulling himself into a temporary state of calm. 

Does he have a problem? Absolutely. 

Is he addicted? Without a doubt. 

Does he care? Not in the slightest. 

Because in a world that demands he change at the drop of a hat, this little routine of his is the one thing that stays consistent. 

Well, except for last night. 

Because last night, someone dared to disrupt the cosmic balance of his existence. Someone failed to restock his precious Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen. 

He had stared at the empty spot on the shelf, the betrayal hitting him like a personal attack. He went home last night only a quarter satisfied from the mild spicy ramen he had settled with. 

And the worst part? 

He couldn’t stop thinking about the someone responsible. 

Now here he is, stepping into the corner store at 1:09AM, ready to make up for last night’s disappointment of an outcome. 

Heeseung steps into the brightly lit store, the familiar ding ringing behind him as he enters right on time. He continues his familiar route to the ramen aisle, but not before shooting a quick glance from below his hat toward the counter. 

Yup, there she is. 

You. 

The new graveyard shift employee. The one who dared to challenge his sacred ramen ritual and stared at him like he was a walking poor life choice. 

You’re here again. This is five nights in a row. Heeseung wonders if you 1) are insane, 2) have no life, or 3) are purely here just to spite him. 

But tonight, he’s prepared. His focus is razor-sharp, his mission clear: Extra Spicy Hellfire and coffee milk. Nothing will get in the way tonight. 

Heeseung looks up, exhaling in relief when he spots the fiery red packaging of the Extra Spicy Hellfire sitting innocently on the shelf. There you are. 

He grabs the cup (with too much excitement that it should honestly embarrass him), cradling it like a long-lost love, before he makes his way to snag his coffee milk. 

Perfect combo. Perfect routine. Perfect night. 

Except—

Except, of course, you’re watching him. Again. 

He doesn’t even need to look up to know it. He can feel your judging eyes burning into the back of his head like you did the other night—like you’re seconds away from filing a report against his own taste buds. 

He doesn’t get it—what’s so strange about ramen and coffee milk? It’s not like he’s dipping the noodles in it. Why you’ve made it your personal mission to antagonize him, he has no idea, but it’s really throwing him off his ramen zen. 

Heeseung sighs to himself as he steps up to the counter, making sure you hear the sheer misery in this voice—because, of course, fate has cursed him with yet another encounter with you.

“So…do you actually enjoy these together, or are you just trying to destroy your stomach lining?” 

He freezes. Great, you’re talking. So much for a perfect night. 

He adjusts his cap to peer at you and that same unimpressed, judgmental look sitting on your face as you lean against the counter behind you. “What’s wrong with my choices?” 

Your eyebrows shoot up, “What's right with them? This combo screams, ‘I have unresolved issues I’m trying to boil away with spicy and sugar.’” 

Okay, ouch. 

Heeseung narrows his eyes, trying to ignore the weird pinch in his chest at how quickly you read him, whether he likes to admit it or not. 

“I like them. That’s all that matters,” his voice drips with a certain sharpness, hoping the edge in his tone is enough to make you back off. 

You, however, seem entirely unfazed.

“Just trying to help,” you shrug as you scan his items, “looking out for your poor taste buds.” 

For a moment, Heeseung considers firing back, but then his gaze catches yours for a millisecond too long as you take his cash and, immediately, he’s wondering—for the hundredth time—if you know. 

Do you recognize him? 

The thought has been gnawing at him since the first time he stepped into this store and saw you sitting there five days ago. Sure, he’s got his identity pretty much concealed under his borderline clinically insane hat-mask-hoodie combo, but still—most people at least give him a double take, a lingering glance. Something. 

But you? Nothing. No flash of recognition. No curiosity. Nothing to indicate you know you’re talking to Lee Heeseung—part idol, part insomniac, 100% ramen enthusiast. 

And for some reason, that both annoys and intrigues him. 

“Thanks for your concern,” Heeseung mumbles dryly, quickly grabbing the ramen cup and cold drink from your hands. 

“No problem,” you chirp just as sarcastically, an annoying smile on your face. “Enjoy your…uh, gourmet meal.”

Heeseung throws you one last glare before shaking his head and stalking off to the self-serve station. He puts the cup down on the counter with a little more force than necessary and pours boiling water over the noodles, glaring into the steam as your voice rings in his head. 

What’s wrong with ramen and coffee milk? He scowls. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And I definitely don’t have unresolved issues. 

But as he steals a glance back at the check-out counter and catches you sorting bills like nothing happened, a weird unease settles in his chest. 

He looks down at this ramen, then at the coffee milk. 

For the first time ever, he feels…self-conscious. 

And now you’re in his head. 

Great. 

By night six, you don’t know whether to pity the guy or stage an intervention.

The ding of the automatic doors announces his arrival, as usual, at exactly 1:09AM. You know it’s him—Ramen Guy. The guy who you’re convinced single-handedly continues to keep the Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen business float. 

You lean against the counter and subtly watch him make his usual pilgrimage to the ramen aisle, internally scoffing to yourself at the weird moment he picks up his ramen like it’s his newborn child.

He’s so weird. 

You wonder what kind of person he is outside this convenience store. Does he always make such objectively strange choices? Like, does he wear socks with sandals? Does he mix his cereal with orange juice instead of milk? 

Your haunting thoughts are interrupted by the sound of his usual unholy pair of snacks hitting the counter in front of you with a soft thunk. You look down at the items before glancing back up at him with a skeptical look on your face, “You ever think about switching it up?”

Ramen Guy, clearly expecting the snark, doesn’t miss a beat, “You ever think about minding your business?” 

“Not really. Boredom makes me nosy,” you shrug. “And at this point, you’re the only thing keeping me entertained at this hour.” 

He rolls his eyes so dramatically you’re mildly concerned he might sprain something. 

“And I’m starting to think you like judging me a little too much.” 

“Wrong. I like judging everyone equally,” you scan his items, then tilt your head. “But maybe you’re a special case. With issues.” 

To your surprise, he snorts. Like, an actual, out-loud laugh. 

“Says the girl who voluntarily works the night shift.”

Your smirk falters for half a second. He catches it.

Ramen Guy raises an eyebrow, leaning casually against the counter. “What? Too close to home?”

You shift in your spot, “Bold of you to assume I have issues.”

He shrugs, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You shift the attention back to him. “What about you, then? Why do you keep showing up here, huh?”

At that, something changes. The words in the air, and for the first time, you notice a slight shift in his demeanor—the slight awkwardness in the way he shifts his weight. 

Then, after a brief pause, he meets your gaze and throws the question right back at you.

“Why do you keep working the night shift?”

You freeze, putting his items back down on the counter, caught off guard by the reversal. "Touché. But I asked first."

There's hesitation again for a moment, his fingers tapping the edge of the counter impatiently—nervously?

"I like the peace and quiet,” he finally says, and for the first time tonight, he meets your eyes.

For a split second, you’re startled by the sincerity in his gaze and sudden shift in tone—it’s almost distracting. But you shake yourself out of it just as quickly.

"Nothing about Extra Spicy Hellfire and coffee milk sounds peaceful or quiet," your voice softer now but still teasing.

"Okay, Miss Graveyard Shift," he fires back, leaning a little closer over the counter. "Why are you here every night? Do you have a thing for fluorescent lighting and cleaning up after drunk customers or something?"

You don't miss the faint challenge in his voice as you narrow your eyes at him.

Then, you settle for a shrug and take a breath, answering honestly.

"It's flexible. Pays well enough," you start, before looking back at him, and add, almost as an afterthought, "...and I like the quiet too."

It’s an honest answer, one that seems to hang in the air between you two for a beat too long. His gaze softens ever so slightly, and you swear you see something shift underneath that stupid cap of his, but before you can dwell on it, he straightens up.

He places his three bills on the counter, grabs his items, and pauses.

“So,” he starts, his lighter tone breaking the silence, “do you have a name, or should I just keep calling you Graveyard Shift Girl?”

You raise a brow, amused, as you start putting his bills away, “Do you have a name, or should I just keep calling you Ramen Guy?”

For a split second, you think you see something flicker in his eyes—something smug, something entertained. And you don’t know it, but under his mask, his lips twitch, fighting back a faint smile.

“Touché,” he murmurs, echoing your earlier words before stepping back from the counter, items in hand, but lingers just a moment longer than necessary—like he wants to say something else.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he turns towards the self-serve station, falling back into his regular routine.

And you should do the same.

You try to do the same. But as you go back to your usual tasks—wiping down the counter, restocking shelves, pretending to be productive—you find yourself sneaking glances out of the corner of your eye toward his window seat.

He just sits there, just like he always does, stirring his ramen absentmindedly as he stares out into the empty street. And yet, tonight, something feels…different.

It’s nothing. You tell yourself it’s nothing.

Just curiosity. Natural, given how he keeps showing up every night, breaking up the monotony of your shift with his weird food choices and even weirder personality.

And yet—

No matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to stop thinking about him—the way he looked at you earlier, the way his demeanor shifted even slightly.

It’s nothing.

Still, your gaze flickers back at him, catching the way his fingers tap lightly against the table, lost in thought. You wonder what kind of things keep a guy like him up at night.

And maybe—just maybe—you’re starting to find his weird little habits endearing, too.

The faint sound of the store’s music plays in the background, the clock ticks, and eventually, he finishes his ramen, tosses his trash, and makes his way toward the door.

And then—he hesitates.

Just for a second. A small pause, a barely-there moment where he stops, glances over his shoulder just slightly—just enough to look at you.

“See you tomorrow, Graveyard Shift Girl.”

You blink, caught off guard, and for a moment, all you can manage is to stare at him. Then, as you fail to ignore the weird blooming feeling in your chest, your words slip out almost on instinct:

"Goodnight, Ramen Guy."

The next night, you do something completely out of character, entirely unprovoked, and maybe just a little bit unhinged—you take your cheesy ramen, peace juice pouch, and bag of potato chips and plop yourself down right next to Ramen Guy and his usual window seat. 

He pauses mid-slurp. Keeping his head low, he turns to you slowly. Suspiciously.

“What…are you doing?” 

“Having dinner,” you say matter-of-factly, popping open your bag of chips. 

His gaze drops to your meal, and then back to you. “It’s almost 1:30AM.” 

“Okay? Dinner, early breakfast, midnight snack, call it whatever you want,” you shrug, unbothered as you continue unwrapping your meal. 

Ramen Guy exhales through his nose, shaking his head to himself like he’s just accepted his fate. Without another word, he turns back to his own meal and resumes eating. 

A surprisingly comfortable silence follows—the only sounds filling the empty store the quiet hum of the store’s playlist, the buzz of the lights above you, and the synchronized slurp of two insomniacs with poor diet choices. 

Then, without thinking, you tilt your bag of potato chips, holding it out between you two, “Want one?”

He stops mid-motion, as if he’d almost forgotten you were still here.

Almost.

A glance into your bag, a small shrug, and then, just like that, he grabs a chip and pops it into his mouth, moving so fast you barely catch a glimpse of his face without the mask.

“Thanks,” he mutters before taking a sip of his coffee milk, still keeping his head low.

You hum in response, your fingers drumming against the counter before your curiosity wins the best of you, “So…what kind of life leads you to seek peace and quiet in a convenience store?”

It’s a question that’s been on your mind since last night’s conversation. What can you say? You’re a creature of curiosity.

Ramen Guy shrugs next to you, “What do you mean?”

“Like…you’re here every night. Why at night? Why not during the day?”

He lets out a short chuckle. “You want me to leave?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Sure sounded like it.”

You exhale sharply, your fingers now absentmindedly swirling the noodles in your bowl. “Look, I’m just saying—most people are asleep at this hour.”

He smirks. You can hear it in his voice without even looking. “You’re here too, aren’t you?”

“That’s different, this is my job,” you scoff, amused, before pointedly gesturing at this meal before him, “Unless you want to call your weird habits a job. Which, honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone was paying you to subject your tastebuds to that every night.”

And he laughs. It’s small, barely there, but you catch it. Then, with a quiet exhale, he finally answers, “It’s like I told you before, I like the quiet at this hour…I don’t get a lot of that.”

You stop twirling your noodles, the air shifting into that same unspoken understanding from last night. Faint, but unmistakable.

Something unsaid hanging between the two of you, something that tells you this guy is more than just an insomniac with questionable food choices.

You tilt your head. “So, what, you got a bunch of loud roommates or something?”

A small, almost knowing smile tugs at his lips. “Something like that.”

You raise a brow at his vague answer but don’t press. Instead, you nod towards his food. “And your criminal meals? That part of the quiet too?”

He huffs, “Maybe I just have superior taste.”

“Right, totally,” you laugh, the tone in your voice almost testing him. 

Ramen Guy finishes up his meal, wiping his mouth quickly with a napkin before putting his mask back on and finally turning to face you fully.

He narrows his eyes at you, “You think you have me all figured out?”

You mirror his actions, facing him fully for the first time tonight, folding your arms, “Oh, I do have you all figured out, Ramen Guy.”

“Oh yeah?” He leans forward slightly. “Alright, go on. Tell me who I am, Graveyard Psychic Girl.”

You roll your eyes but accept the challenge, leaning back in your seat.

“You’re a creature of habit, clearly. You like consistency. Probably because your life is very inconsistent otherwise.”

Ramen Guy doesn’t react, so you continue.

“You’re a night owl, but not by choice. You want to sleep, but your brain won’t let you.” Your eyes flick down to the coffee milk. “So, instead, you drink this, even though it probably makes it worse.”

Still no response.

“So now, you just keep showing up here because it’s predictable,” you finish with a small shrug. “And maybe…‘cause you’re kinda lonely.”

That makes him pause.

You immediately regret saying it. Because…what was that?

That was too much. Too deep. Too intrusive.

But to your surprise, he doesn’t deflect. He doesn’t scoff, or roll his eyes, or peer them at you the way he does a million times a night.

Instead, he tilts his head slightly, eyes glinting with something you can’t quite place.

“…Not bad,” he says finally, reaching for another chip from the bag in your hands.

You blink. “Wait, really?”

“I mean, kinda harsh, but…mostly true.”

“Oh,” you don’t know what you expected, but it wasn’t that.

A beat of silence passes before Ramen Guy speaks up again, “So basically, you’re saying we’re the same.”

You let out a snort, “Not even close.”

“We both work weird hours. We both like the quiet. We both eat the same convenience store junk food.” He holds up the bag of potato chips before eating another one.

“You just started eating those,” you deadpan. 

“Yeah, but I’m still eating them, which means my taste is obviously elite.”

“You literally eat coffee milk with nuclear ramen.”

“Okay, you’re the one who made it weird.”

A mischievous smile starts forming on your face as you snatch your bag of chips back from him, “So you agree your food choices are weird?” 

His smirk falters as a small giggle rises out of you. 

“Whatever you say, Graveyard Shift Girl.” 

The next night, Heeseung does something completely out of character, entirely unprovoked, and maybe just a little bit unhinged—he’s late. It’s 1:30AM, well past his usual 1:09AM show-up time, and the store is Heeseung-less.

He blames late-night dance practice. He also blames Ni-ki for stealing his usual black hoodie—forcing him to spend an extra thirty minutes looking for another one. Not that the hoodie matters, he would argue (yes, it does).

When he finally steps through the door at 1:32AM, the familiar ding barely finishes echoing before—

“Wow,” you drawl from behind the counter, arms crossed. “Tragic. Unbelievable. I was starting to think you found a new place to bother.”

Heeseung snorts, making a beeline for the ramen aisle, “You wish. Wouldn’t want you to get bored without me.”

You let out a dramatic gasp, “Wow. Thoughtful and self-aware. Who knew you had layers?”

Heeseung tries to ignore you, moving to grab his coffee milk. But his lips twitch under his mask, and he’s glad it’s hiding the way he’s failing to fight the smile growing on his face.

When he finally reaches the counter, you push off from where you were leaning against the counter, hands settling on your hips. “Okay, be honest. Outside of this, do you have anything else going on in your life?” 

Heeseung raises a brow, completely caught off guard. If there’s one thing he’s learned over the past few nights, it’s that you’re incredibly nosy. And for someone who claims to like working the night shift because of the quiet, you’re absolutely terrible at keeping things that way. 

“Excuse me?”

“You mentioned that you work weird hours yesterday,” you gesture vaguely at him. “So, spill.”

His stare remains blank, debating if he can distract you by handing you his three bills of cash (he can’t).

“I do…stuff.”

“Stuff,” you repeat, “Quite riveting.”

Heeseung exhales, “Why do you care?”

You shrug, taking his cash and putting it away. “You must do something interesting. You’re too weirdly confident for a guy who just bums around convenience stores at night.”

Heeseung scoffs. "Weirdly confident?"

"Yeah, like—" You wave around you. "You walk around like you have some big, mysterious purpose. But all I ever see you do is glare at instant noodles and sip milk like a sad Victorian child."

Heeseung shakes his head, letting out a breathy laugh. "Maybe that is my purpose."

Then, he simply shrugs. But there’s something in his gaze—something unreadable, like he’s deciding exactly how much he wants to say.

"It’s hard to explain,” he finally says. “I just…have a weird work schedule.”

"Weird how?"

"Weird as in, I don’t really get normal hours. Always moving, always working. Makes sleep kinda impossible."

You pause, taking in his words. Then, you shift slightly, crossing your arms. "Sounds exhausting."

Heeseung exhales a laugh, leaning against the counter. "You have no idea."

For a moment, a familiar and warm quiet fills the air as the two of you linger, as if waiting for the other to say something more.

And he doesn’t know why, but his chest feels a little too tight—like he’s let you stumble into a part of him you weren’t supposed to see yet.

“Well,” you say quietly, your lips curving into a soft smile that sends a weird jolt through his body that he chooses to ignore. “I’m honored you’ve chosen this fine establishment as your official sanctuary.”

He scoffs, reaching for his items. "Don’t let it go to your head, Graveyard Shift Girl.”

He then turns to head to his usual corner when—

“Y/N.”

Heeseung pauses, turning back at you like an awkward child lost in the middle of a store.

“My name,” you clarify, casually returning to sorting the register’s bills. “A lot easier to say than Graveyard Shift Girl.”

Heeseung gives you a slow nod, something unfamiliar and unplaceable twisting in his stomach as he turns back around.

And when he finishes his meal and leaves that night, he calls out—

“See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

And, this time, he doesn’t fight the smile under his mask when he hears your voice, a little softer, call back out:

“Goodnight, Ramen Guy."

It happens the moment he steps inside.

Heeseung doesn’t even make it past the threshold before a familiar melody drifts through the weak convenience store speakers and to his ears.

Familiar because he’s heard it a thousand times.

Familiar because it’s literally his voice singing the line.

His stomach drops.

Instead of his usual beeline to the ramen aisle, Heeseung turns towards the counter where you’re idly tapping on your phone, oblivious.

The hum of the melody continues, and Heeseung is suddenly too hyper-aware of how loud his own voice sounds in the otherwise dead-silent store.

Panic creeps up his spine.

He moves fast, crossing the store in a few long strides, slamming his hands down onto the counter that divides the two of you.

You jump in your seat.

“Geez—” you clutch your chest, wide-eyed as you take in his very sudden, very urgent presence. “What the hell?”

Heeseung ignores you, pointing above him, “Did you put this on?”

Your brows furrow as you put your phone down, glance up at him, then at the speakers he’s pointing at. You barely register the song before recognition flickers across your face.

“Oh—this? Nah, it’s the store’s playlist,” you gesture towards the iPad behind the counter, currently playing a Current Hits playlist on shuffle. “It’s some group’s new song. Pretty catchy.”

Heeseung just stares at you, mind racing.

You don’t recognize it.

You don’t recognize his voice.

The realization sends relief crashing over him, but he quickly snaps out of it with a brand-new problem—because now he has to decide what the hell to do with this information.

Does he tell you? Drop the act and lay it all out? Would you believe him? Would you even care?

“You okay?” Now you’re staring at him, suspicious. “Why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?”

Heeseung clears his throat, realizing his stance is way too conspicuous, and slowly removes his hands from the counter to stand up straight, attempting to sound normal, “No reason.” 

You squint at him.

Then—

“Oh my god,” you gasp, eyes suddenly lighting up. “Wait.”

His heart stops. Oh, shit. She figured it out. This is it.

“Are you a fan?” you blurt, leaning forward in your seat eagerly.

Heeseung blinks.

…What.

“Oh, you totally are,” you continue, completely missing the way his soul is currently leaving his body. “You came straight to the counter like a man on a mission. Oh my god. Are they, like, your favorite group or something?”

Heeseung has never wanted to laugh and cry at the same time more than he does in this moment.

“Something like that,” he mutters, bringing a hand to rub this temple, because no way this is happening right now.

You beam brightly from your seat, “That’s cute. Who’s your bias?”

At that, Heeseung does laugh—because this is now officially the most ridiculous thing that’s ever happened to him.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

There’s a long pause.

And then—after a deep breath, a long and heated internal debate, and one last glance at your innocent, completely oblivious face—he finally exhales, looking you straight in the eye.

“This guy,” he says as he hears his own voice ring out through the store. “Because that’s me. That’s my voice.”

Silence.

You stare at him.

You blink. Once. Twice.

Then, after what feels like an eternity—

“…Huh?”

Then you tilt your head. "I'm sorry—what?"

Heeseung watches as your expression cycles from confusion to skepticism to outright disbelief. He braces himself.

"My name is Lee Heeseung," he repeats slowly. "From Enhypen."

Another beat of silence.

Then—because you’re you—

You burst out laughing.

"Okay, Ramen Guy," you snort, crossing your arms. "Very funny.”

Heeseung sighs, "I knew this would happen."

"Because you’re delusional?"

"Because you don’t pay attention."

You roll your eyes, "Oh, I’m sorry, but when in our thriving relationship have you ever given me a reason to believe that you’re actually a famous idol and not just some guy who has concerning dietary habits?"

Heeseung groans.

He regrets everything. He regrets this entire conversation. He could have lied. He could have said literally anything else. But no—he had to be honest. And look where that got him.

"I’m serious," he insists, leveling you with a look.

You stare back at him.

Then, something seems to click in your brain, because you suddenly lunge for your phone.

"Oh, we’re doing this," you mutter, fingers flying across the screen as you type in his name. "Let’s see if—"

You stop.

Heeseung watches as your eyes widen, scanning the images in front of you. Then you look up at him. Then back down at the phone.

Then back at him.

“Take the mask off,” you mutter quietly, slowly holding your phone up next to his face.

With an exhausted sigh, Heeseung does what he’s told and pulls it down for the first time in front of you.

You scan him. Then the phone. Then him.

"You've gotta be shitting me," you breathe.

Heeseung shrugs, "Told you."

You gape at him, your mouth opening and closing.

You don’t know what shocks you more—the fact that a literal celebrity has been standing in front of you this whole time, or the realization that the once-random stranger you used to relentlessly tease has, somehow, always been this ridiculously good-looking all along. 

"So…you’re famous?"

"Something like that."

"Something like that?" You shove your phone toward him, your screen now displaying the group’s Instagram page. "You literally have fans. Like, millions of them."

Heeseung cringes, "Okay, you don’t have to say it like that."

"Like what? Like you’re a superstar and I’ve been treating you like a regular guy who can't cook for himself?"

"Because that’s exactly what I am?"

“Unbelievable,” you scoff, shaking your head. “So you sing. You perform. You—commit crimes against humanity with your ramen choices each night.”

Heeseung groans. “Oh my god.”

“Oh my god,” you echo, standing up from your seat behind the counter. “So you’re telling me that every night, an actual, real-life idol has been showing up here, inhaling a week’s worth of sodium, and I—” You pause, eyes narrowing. “Wait. Are you even allowed to be eating this garbage?”

“And are you ever able to mind your own business?” Heeseung counters, now fully regretting this entire conversation.

“Absolutely not, Lee Heeseung, because this is literally the plot of a drama,” you wave your hands in disbelief. “Mystery insomniac convenience store guy turns out to be a world famous pop star—”

“Okay, let’s not get carried away.”

“—and I, the unsuspecting cashier, unknowingly roast him every night like he’s just some sleep-deprived college student instead of a millionaire with talent. Wait—” you then pause again, placing your hands on your hips, staring at him with a newfound judgment. “—you’re loaded, aren’t you?”

Heeseung pinches the bridge of your nose, exasperated, “Why is that your takeaway from this?”

“You are!” you exclaim, your smile widening as you ignore his suffering. “You’re rich and you’re out here eating instant ramen every night!”

Heeseung groans again, dropping his head onto the counter in front of you, “Oh my god.”

Grinning, you bend down to this level. “So this whole time, you’ve been lying to me?”

He lifts his head just enough to glare at you. "It’s not lying. It’s…selective honesty.”

You scoff, straightening up just as Heeseung does, meeting his gaze with an accusatory squint. “That’s literally the definition of lying.”

“Look, it’s not like I planned to make a habit out of this,” he gestures to the store around him. “I came in one night, and then I came back, and suddenly, I had a thing going. Then you showed up and started running your mouth, and—”

“And you kept coming back anyways,” you finish, crossing your arms, a slow, amused smile tugging at your lips.

Heeseung freezes. His mouth opens. Then closes.

“…Yeah.”

A silence stretches between you—charged, almost personal—until you decide to cut through the tension with a smirk.

“What if I play your group’s music over the speakers every night?”

The look on his face is deadly. “You wouldn’t.”

Your grin grows, “Wouldn’t I, though?”

“This is the worst night of my life,” Heeseung drags a hand down his face and turns towards the ramen aisle. “I’m leaving.”

“Aww, c’mon,” you tease, calling out after him and delighting in his suffering. “Also can we talk about how you literally just said you’re your own bias?”

“Shut up.”

You’re still laughing when he returns to the counter thirty seconds later—Extra Spicy Hellfire and coffee milk in hand, cheeks tinged pink.

“Alright, serious question,” you say, leaning in slightly from your seat at the window barstools. “If you had to give up either Extra Spicy Hellfire or coffee milk for the rest of your life, which would you choose?”

Heeseung immediately stops chewing, his chopsticks frozen midair as he turns to you with a look that says you just personally offended him.

“That’s straight evil.”

“You must choose, Ramen Guy.”

Heeseung groans, throwing his head back dramatically. “You can’t just throw life-altering hypotheticals at me like that.”

“Choose.”

He stares at his ramen. Then at this coffee milk. Then back at you.

Then back at his ramen.

Then back at you.

“I hate you, you know that?”

“Aw,” you flash him your sweetest, most infuriating smile. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me. Like, ever.”

Heeseung shoots a glare at you, “I hope your regular spicy ramen tastes like disappointment.”

“Oh, it totally does,” you look down at your own ramen in front of you and take an exaggerated slurp, “It’s just so awful.”

Heeseung’s lips perk up into a smile at your weirdly endearing antics before shaking his head, “You’re a lost cause.”

You giggle to yourself, taking a sip of your own juice when you hear Heeseung, barely audible, suddenly mutter:

“…I’d give up coffee milk.”

It’s quiet. It’s barely there.

Your jaw drops.

“I know, okay?” He rubs his temples as if the decision is actually hurting him. “It’s like choosing between two children. But at the end of the day, ramen is ramen.”

You nod along, pretending you understand the gravity of his heavy decision (you don’t). But still, you smile—because you were the one who got him to betray his beloved coffee milk.

Heeseung takes a sip of it anyway, groaning as he swirls the bottle in his hand. “I hate that you made me think about this.”

“You should be thanking me. Y’know, character growth and all that.”

“More like character damage.”

You grin, victorious, and he just rolls his eyes before pausing for a second to think, then—he nudges his ramen cup toward you.

“Here. Try some.”

You recoil immediately and look up at him with a look that tells him he’s absolutely psychotic.

“Absolutely not.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why? You scared?”

“No, Heeseung, I just have these things called taste buds.”

He scoffs, shoving the bowl between you two closer. “Just one bite. C’mon, Graveyard Shift Girl, live a little. For me.”

You hold his gaze, suspicious but faltering, because—damn it—he’s looking at you like that. All smug and teasing, head tilted slightly, and it affects you.

And then he moves. 

He picks up his chopsticks, twirls them in the bowl, and catches a perfect bundle of noodles before leaning forward, holding them up between you two. He waits.

Your breath hitches. Your eyes flicker to the steam curling from the noodles, twisting in the air between your faces, fragile and fleeting.

Heeseung doesn’t move.

Neither do you.

It’s ridiculous, really. I mean, it’s ramen. But the way the space between you suddenly feels thin, the way his grip on the chopsticks stays steady, his fingers just inches from your lips, the way his dark eyes stay locked onto yours, watching you with something unreadable flickering beneath the usual teasing glint—it feels like time slows down.

You blink rapidly, clearing your throat. It’s fine. It’s cool. You’re overthinking.

Heeseung tilts his head slightly, watching. Waiting.

You let out an exaggerated sigh and slowly lean in to take the bite.

Your lips brush the chopsticks as you close your mouth around the noodles, and for a split second—one charged, unspoken, split second—neither of you move.

Heeseung is so close.

So close.

You can see the soft curve of his mouth, the way his gaze flickers over your face, the way his breath catches slightly like he just realized something.

You’re suddenly painfully aware of the close proximity and it sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. Panicked, you pull back quickly and settle into your seat like nothing happened.

But then you start chewing.

And that’s when you realize—

No, wait. Wait. That heat in your cheeks?

Oh.

Oh no.

Yeah. It’s definitely not because of Heeseung (well, maybe a part of it is). 

Because the second you swallow down the bundle of noodles—the embodiment of heat, pain, and suffering all slams into your mouth instantly.

You freeze.

Your brain short-circuits.

And then—

“Oh my GOD—” you choke, slamming your hands onto the counter, your body shaking as the spice courses through your veins.

Your throat ignites, your sinuses clear, and you swear you can hear colors.

Heeseung? Heeseung loses it.

His laugh bursts out of him—loud, unguarded, and completely delightful. He clutches his stomach, nearly hiccuping from how hard he’s laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners, dimples deep in his cheeks.

If you weren’t literally physically dying in this current moment, you’d probably be absolutely too flustered to function at the sight.

“No way—” he wheezes through his laughter,“—are you actually struggling right now?”

“WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE, HEESEUNG?!” you glare at him through the tears forming in your eyes as you desperately flail your arms around, searching for your juice pouch. “You eat this voluntarily?!”

“Every night, baby.”

“You’re sick.”

“And you’re dramatic.”

Your hands finally find your drink and you gulp it down as if it’s your lifeline, eyes still watery, throat still burning, lungs barely breathing. But somewhere in the middle of your suffering, you catch yourself staring.

At Heeseung.

At the way he’s still smiling, like he just had the best meal of his life. At the way his eyes sparkle when he laughs, his dimples peeking out like his own hidden secrets, the way his nose scrunches slightly when he’s amused—

Weird.

You blink the thoughts (and your tears) away, shaking it off, and blame the spice, the delirium, and sheer trauma of what just happened.

You clear your throat, sitting back with a desperate huff.

“I hope,” you catch your breath, gesturing to his bowl, “that when you come in tomorrow, we’re all out of this horrid flavor.”

Heeseung smirks, leaning back in his chair as he gives you a knowing look.

“You’d still restock it for me, though.”

Damn it.

Your shoulders slump, and both of you know you’re defeated.

He knows you know you’re defeated. 

Heeseung just grins, then, without a word, slides his coffee milk toward you in a silent truce.

You stare at it. Then at him.

His smile grows.

And you accept it.

Begrudgingly.

It’s 1:20AM when you find yourself behind the counter, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes of instant noodles and bottled drinks. The store hums with its usual white noise—lights buzzing above, soft music humming overhead, the low whirr of the coolers. 

And Heeseung? 

Heeseung is across the counter, perched on a barstool he dragged from across the store, doing absolutely nothing to help. 

For the nth time tonight, he flips a soda bottle into the air. 

And for the nth time tonight, he fails to land it upright, the bottle clattering onto the counter.

“You’re supposed to be helping me restock,” you remind him, tossing a pack of chips at him. 

“I am helping,” he argues, dodging the bag in time and letting it fall flat onto the ground. Great. 

You cross your arms, scoffing, “Oh yeah? What category does sitting there and flipping Diet Coke fall under?” 

Heeseung finally puts the bottle down on the counter and hums, tapping his fingers against the counter like he’s deep in thought. Then, he flashes you a meek smile, “Moral support?” 

You roll your eyes playfully, turning back to unbox another package from the pile stacked in front of you. 

Another silence falls between you and Heeseung watches as you go back to your job before he breaks it—

“How do you do this every night? Does it not get…I don’t know, tedious? Boring?” 

You freeze in your spot, caught by surprise at the question.

“Hm,” you turn to him, head tilted as you think.

Heeseung glances up at you, intrigued. The way your lips purse slightly, how your fingers fidget absentmindedly with the torn edge of a cardboard box. 

You exhale, leaning back against the counter, “Yeah, the hours suck, pay is…alright. And—” 

You hesitate. Your gaze drifts toward the floor, fixating on a dent near the register, “—and I think, at some point, I thought I felt stuck.” 

Something in Heeseung’s expression shifts. 

“I mean, I’m a college student, for god’s sake,” you continue, a small, humorless laugh escaping you. “And I spend my nights serving cigarettes to barely legal teens and cleaning up after ramen spills. It kind of felt like I was just…watching life pass me by, you know?”

Your voice quiets and it’s just the soft hum of the store again. You pick at the box without thinking, fingers grazing over the worn edges, and Heeseung watches you.

Because he gets it. 

He gets it in a way that makes his chest ache a little.

Because despite the differences in your lives—despite how he’s constantly moving while you feel stuck—you both know the feeling of watching life slip between your fingers, of wondering if you’re ever going to feel like you belong in it.

Heeseung holds the soda bottle between his hands, rolling it back and forth, murmuring, “Yeah, I get that.” 

You glance up at him, making eye contact, but you don’t push. 

“But then,” you say quietly, “I started seeing this place differently. Instead of somewhere I was stuck, it became more of a…break. An escape from everything. A breath of fresh air from expectations and routine.” 

And that—that makes Heeseung look up. 

Because deep down, that’s exactly what all of this has become for him too. 

He doesn’t know when it happened—if maybe it was the first night he found the store, maybe whenever you showed up, maybe all the sarcastic exchanges, or somewhere in between all of that—but these late-night visits, these stolen moments in a world that demands from him, have become something steady. Something his. 

And he wonders if maybe…maybe you’re the reason for that. 

Maybe you’ve been keeping him grounded in a life that never stops moving. 

And maybe he’s been keeping you from feeling stuck. 

Just maybe.

It’s late. Way later than usual. And Heeseung is still here. 

And you don’t know how, but you’ve both abandoned your usual spots—his self-proclaimed window seat and your stool behind the register.

Instead, you’re both sitting cross-legged on the floor behind the register counter, backs pressed against the shelf of over-the-counter medications that you just re-organized, with a laptop and plenty of empty snack wrappers sitting between the two of you.

“See this is exactly my problem with this movie,” you point at your laptop screen, your voice slightly muffled by the gummy bears in your mouth. “One idiot makes one bad decision, and suddenly everyone’s dead! Like, be so for real.”

Heeseung scoffs, leaning back on his hands, “It’s a movie, Y/N. It doesn’t have to be realistic.”

“And I don’t have to pretend this isn’t garbage,” you shoot back as the credits roll, unimpressed. “This is objectively the worst thing I’ve seen.”

“I think I just have an acquired superior taste,” Heeseung quips, his eyes teasing. “Just like with my food choices.” 

“Right,” your voice drags out. “Superior delusion, maybe.”

Heeseung shoves your shoulder with his own, and you laugh, the sound natural, unfiltered, and totally at his expense.

As you shut your laptop and start gathering the remains of your late-night snack feast, the conversation quiets for a moment into an easy, warm silence. It’s the kind of quiet that feels good, the kind that’s been happening more lately—something you never would’ve expected that first night you ever saw him enter the store. 

Then, Heeseung exhales, stretching his legs out in front of him as he leans back against the shelf, “You know, this might be the longest I’ve sat and relaxed in months.” 

You glance up at him, brows raised, “What, you don’t get to laze around on the floor surrounded by junk food with your favorite convenience store worker on a regular basis?”

“Unfortunately, no,” he huffs a laugh. “But I thought a lot about what you said the other night. And sometimes it’s like…”

He pauses and tilts his head back, his eyes following the way the light fixture above him flickers in and out, “Like I’m moving so fast I forget what it’s like to just…be.”

Something in his voice makes you pause in your actions, your hands putting down the miscellaneous wrappers between you.

“Is it hard?” you ask quietly.

He lets out a breathy chuckle from beside you, “It’s…a lot. You’re always being watched, always expected to be on. And even during breaks I’m already thinking about the next thing. The next schedule, next performance, next practice.”

You watch him for a moment, watch the way his fingers tap absentmindedly against his knee, something you’ve started to notice over time whenever he’s lost in thought. 

“But there are moments that make it worth it,” he continues, a small smile playing on his lips. “The music, how fun it is to be on stage, the fans. The feeling of performing and knowing people are there because they love what you do. It’s unreal.”

Your own smile unconsciously appears as you listen to him reflect, taking in his words. You never stopped to really think about his life in-depth before—and it does sound like a lot. Like something people dream of but don’t realize the weight of until they’re carrying it themselves. 

You nudge his knee lightly with yours, “For what it’s worth, I think you deserve to just exist sometimes, too.” 

Heeseung turns to look at you, and for a moment, his expression is unreadable.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, reaching into the closest bag of gummy bears to you and tossing one to him. He catches it easily, popping it into his mouth with a grin.

“See, this is why I keep coming back,” he says, chewing. “Gourmet snacks and free therapy.”

You roll your eyes. “Unbelievable. I take it back. Suffer.”

Heeseung laughs, popping another gummy bear into his mouth, before his fingers start tapping his knee again. Then, after a beat—

“You know, I’ve been thinking.”

When you look up at him, he’s already looking at you with a new…something. A newfound sincerity, maybe. Or uncertainty. Or both.

Your eyes meet, and suddenly, he visibly hesitates—shifting almost awkwardly in his spot, as if he both rehearsed what he’s about to say and yet has absolutely no idea what he’s doing. He clears his throat, breaking eye contact.

“I—um,” he swallows hard. “I’m sorry? For, y’know, being kind of a jerk when we first met. I think I was pretty…” He trails off awkwardly. “Jerk-ish.” 

You don’t move for a second. Slowly, one brow arches.

Heeseung thinks he regrets everything.

Then, a smile—slow and sweet—curls at your lips.

And suddenly, Heeseung realizes he doesn’t regret a damn thing.

“Oh, absolutely,” you say, nodding along dramatically. “You were a menace. Like, an insufferable, grumpy, little menace.”

Heeseung lets out a noise that lands somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “Okay, I get it.”

“But,” you continue, locking eyes with him again, “I guess I should apologize too.”

Heeseung perks up, now his brow lifting, “For what? Finally admitting I was right about—”

“For judging you and your still…very questionable choices.”

“Ah, there it is.”

You giggle, nudging him with your elbow before pausing. 

“But seriously…you’re, like…” you dramatically draw out the moment as if the words physically pain you to say.

Heeseung smirks, leaning in slightly, waiting for you.

“…pretty cool, I guess.”

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face, “I’ll take it.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you scoff. “You’re still a ramen-addicted jerk.”

Heeseung hums, still smiling, “Might be too late.”

Then, he tacks on, without thinking twice, “You’re pretty cool, too, I guess.”

You laugh at the hesitancy in his voice, “Okay, that sounded almost sincere.”

He rolls his eyes, but his smile softens, “No, but seriously, it’s…nice. Having someone I could talk to outside of…you know, my whole chaotic life.”

The sudden shift in the air quiets you for a moment as you look at Heeseung, noticing the slight drop in his shoulders, the way his fingers continue to drum against his leg. When you don’t say anything, he continues.

“I don’t…really talk to people like this,” he quietly says, as if admitting something to himself more so to you. Then, after a pause, he glances back up, eyes searching your own. “Now like how I do with you. Like…I could tell you anything and everything, really.”

Your breath catches, but you keep your expression neutral, “Oh?”

Heeseung shifts, looking down at his hands before exhaling a quiet laugh, “Sorry. Too serious?”

You find yourself quickly shaking your head. Because although, yes, most of your interactions with Heeseung are filled with jokes and teasing, the serious conversations or shared warm silences in between recently—have started to mean something more. They’ve become an outlet, a quiet escape from reality. It’s like the moment he steps through the store’s doors, the door rings, the outside world fades, and for a few hours, it’s just the two of you in this shared space.

A space that feels safe, untouched by expectations, where both of you can just be.

“No,” you say, softer this time. “Not at all.”

You hesitate for a beat before adding, “I…really like talking to you too. It’s—” you let out a small laugh, “almost unnaturally easy, actually.”

Heeseung doesn’t respond right away. He just nods, and then looks up at you from the ground and his eyes are serious—no teasing, no usual smugness, just something…real. Vulnerable.

Something that makes your heart beat a little too fast.

You should say something. Something light, or something sarcastic, or something normal.

But you don’t.

Because you’re too busy looking at his face.

Then, without thinking, his lips.

And he’s looking at yours.

You don’t know who leans in first, but suddenly, you’re close. He’s close. Too close. Close enough to hear his quiet inhale. To see the way his lashes flutter. To feel the space between you two thinning into something dangerously nonexistent.

You should move. You should break the moment before it turns into something neither of you can take back.

But you don’t.

And he doesn’t.

And then—

Ding.

The sound of the automatic doors sliding open shatters the moment.

You both jolt apart like a pair of teenagers caught guilty, and your heart is practically breaking out of your ribcage as you scramble to your feet, wiping your sweaty palms on your pants, your face burning as you appear from behind the counter to greet the customer that was blissfully unaware of whatever was definitely not about to happen behind the counter. 

You clear your throat as you look down at Heeseung, who’s still frozen in his spot and trying his very best not to lose his mind, “I should—um. Go back to work.”

Then, suddenly, Heeseung stands too, nodding quickly as he runs a hand through his hair, his face slightly pink, very much not looking at you, “Right. Yeah. Work.”

Right when you turn back to the counter, the customer is there, waiting for you to ring them up. You plaster the most normal smile you can muster, scan their snack, take their cash, and hand them their change—all while pretending you don’t feel Heeseung’s presence still lingering behind you.

You don’t turn around, and he doesn’t move.

And despite the complete lack of physical contact, you still feel his warmth. The same amount of warmth as when he was only mere inches away from your own face.

The door chimes as the customer leaves.

Then, finally—Heeseung clears his throat.

Hesitantly, you turn around, bracing yourself.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, avoiding your gaze before forcing out, in the most casual voice he can manage—

“So, uh—same time tomorrow?”

You blink.

Then, finally, you let out a small laugh, “You’re so weird.”

The tension in the air cracks just enough, and Heeseung exhales a quiet laugh, “And yet, you’d miss me if I didn’t show up, wouldn’t you?”

You open your mouth, ready to argue, except—nothing comes out.

Because, unfortunately, you know he’s right.

And he knows he’s right.

So, naturally, instead of admitting defeat, you suddenly grab a rag from behind the counter and start aggressively scrubbing at a perfectly clean surface.

“Go home, Ramen Guy.”

Heeseung just grins, shoving his hands into his pockets as steps out from behind the counter and backs away. “Night, Graveyard Shift Girl.”

When he’s finally gone, you’re left standing there, staring at where he just was before you.

And finally, when the reality of what just happened fully settles in—

You groan, dropping your head against the counter.

Because now he's in your head.

Great.

The clock above you ticks, a sound that usually fades into the background and becomes a part of the store’s white noise. But tonight? 

Tonight, it’s your biggest freaking nuisance. 

You think if you have to hear it tick one more time, you’re taking the ladder from the backroom, climbing up there, yanking that thing off the wall, and tossing it right into the dumpster. 

Why? 

Because, it’s 2:21AM. 

2:21AM, and you’re alone. Stuck in this sad, empty convenience store with nothing but your own annoying thoughts and the snacks laid out in front of you with no one to share them with. 

Same time tomorrow, my ass, you think bitterly, aggressively straightening a stack of receipts near the register that don’t even need straightening. 

Heeseung’s voice from a few days ago still rings in your head—completely, and unfortunately, uninvited.

You don’t even know why they’re stuck in there, his words looping around, constantly taunting you.

The worst part?

His words had been entirely untrue.

Because it’s been three days.

Three full days since Heeseung has walked through those automatic doors, plopped down in his usual seat, and proceeded to either a) annoy you, b) argue with you over his food-related crimes, or c) make you laugh against your will.

And you don’t know why it’s bothering you so much.

Frustrated? Yeah, you’re frustrated. But the real question is—at what, exactly?

Frustrated that he just disappeared without so much as a heads-up? No warning?

Or maybe you’re frustrated at the very fact that you’re even thinking about this at all.

It’s not like he owes you an explanation. It’s not like he belongs to this store…or to you.

So why does it feel like something’s missing every time you glance at the entrance, half-expecting to hear the ding of the doors and see him stroll in with his stupid hoodie and even stupider smirk?

You shake your head, trying your best to snap yourself out of it.

It’s fine. You’re fine.

You don’t care.

You don’t care so much that, for some reason unbeknownst to you, your brain—your traitorous, overthinking, hardworking brain—itches with a thought.

A stupid, ridiculous, subconscious thought.

And before you can fully even process what you’re doing, your fingers are already unlocking your phone, your thumbs moving on autopilot as you do something you swore you wouldn’t.

You search up his name.

It’s pathetic. It’s sad. Even you’re disappointed in yourself. 

You told yourself you wouldn’t associate Heeseung with his job, with the persona that everyone else sees. Because to you, Heeseung is just…Heeseung—the insomniac who bickers with you every night, who somehow turns every conversation into an argument he has to win, who sits cross-legged with you behind the register eating spicy noodles and giving objectively bad movie recommendations.

And to him? 

Well. You thought that to him, you were just you. Just some convenience store worker he happened to befriend. Someone outside of his world, outside of the blinding lights. Someone he didn’t have to be anyone around. 

His words echo in your mind as you think—just a person he could tell anything and everything to. 

You push the thought along with their feelings down as you continue scrolling—quick, desperate, your fingers flying over your screen, swiping through posts, comments, anything that could explain his sudden absence—

And then. 

You see it.

A tweet. 

Tagging his group, followed by a message. It’s short. Sweet. Simple. 

Yet entirely soul-crushing. 

“Can’t believe they’re leaving for tour already tomorrow! So excited to see them in a few days!!” 

Your breath catches. 

Your eyes flicker over the words again.

And again.

Leaving. For tour.

Tomorrow.

Your stomach twists violently as you scan for more confirmation, your hands gripping your phone with a newfound frustration as you tap through articles, fan accounts—anything to tell you this isn’t real. That there’s some mistake. That you didn’t just foolishly spend three days waiting for someone who was never going to show up.

But there it is. Everywhere. Right in front of you.

Confirmed dates. Cities. Posters.

Heeseung is leaving. Tomorrow.

And he didn’t say a word.

You don’t know how long you sit there, staring at your screen. The words all blur together, but the sinking feeling in your chest is sharp, clear, and undeniable.

And you hate it.

You hate that you feel like this. You hate that your first instinct wasn’t to be happy for him, or proud, or even remotely understanding.

Instead, you’re angry. Upset. Hurt.

And what you hate the most?

You know exactly why you feel this way.

And just as that realization settles in—just as the blur of your feelings finally sharpens into something unmistakable, something you can no longer ignore—the familiar ding of the automatic doors cuts through the quiet store and the screaming thoughts in your head.

You almost don’t look up.

Almost.

But then you do, and your stomach drops.

Because there he is.

You blink, because at first you think maybe you’ve been drowning in your thoughts for so long that you’ve started hallucinating him—manifesting his presence out of sheer frustration towards him.

But, no.

Heeseung stands there, at the entrance, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets, looking at you like nothing’s changed.

Like he hasn’t been gone for days, like he hasn’t left you suffering with your own emotions—like he hasn’t been the only thing on your mind even when you really, really, didn’t want him to be.

“Hey,” Heeseung nods at you casually, walking over to his usual stupid aisle, grabbing his usual stupid Extra Spicy Hellfire, then reaching for his usual stupid coffee milk—all like clockwork, all like he never left.

You don’t respond.

Instead, you busy yourself—wiping the spotless corner of your counter, smoothing out a crumpled receipt, pretending you’re looking for something in the shelves beneath you.

Anything to keep yourself from looking at him.

And you might actually lose it.

Because if you have to stand here and pretend like you’re fine, that these past few days haven’t felt like an eternity for you—you might actually lose it.

Heeseung finally walks up to the counter, places his things between you, then pauses before repeating, tilting his head, “Hey?” 

He shifts slightly, waiting for you to acknowledge him.

You don’t.

A beat passes. Then another.

“You mad at me or something?” he asks, his head still tilted, his voice light, hesitant.

You inhale, your fingers subconsciously tightening around the edge of the counter.

Then, you let out a quiet laugh—an empty, humorless scoff.

“Should I be?”

Heeseung frowns, clearly confused, “What?”

You finally look at him. And you think it was a mistake. Because the second you meet his gaze—uncertain, searching, so annoyingly familiar—you feel your throat close up.

He looks the same. Same stupid hoodie. Same messy hair. Same tired eyes that you’ve somehow come to find comfort in.

And that makes you hate this even more.

“Is this because I haven’t been showing up?” Heeseung tries again, a small, teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Damn, I didn’t realize you’d miss me that much. Sorry, Graveyard Shift Gi—”

“When were you going to tell me?”

Your voice is quiet, but he doesn’t miss it.

And he stills.

There it is.

He shifts in his spot again, his eyes now darting down to where his fingers are tapping against the counter.

“What?” he says again, but this time, it’s different. Careful.

You swallow, forcing down the lump forming in your throat, forcing yourself to look at him.

“When were you going to tell me you were leaving?”

It’s soft. Barely above a whisper. But lined with something raw, something vulnerable, something hurting.

And Heeseung hears all of it. He feels all of it.

He doesn’t answer. He just stares at you, lips pressing into a thin line.

Somewhere in the background, the clock continues ticking, the lights overhead buzzing, a song from the speakers humming.

And Heeseung stays silent.

“You weren’t,” you murmur, the words caught in your throat. “Were you?”

Heeseung exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair, “I—” 

He stops. Starts again. 

“It’s not—it wasn’t—”

You cross your arms tightly, more so to ground yourself more than anything.

He lets out a quiet, frustrated laugh, shaking his head.

“Look,” he gestures vaguely, between you, at the store, at the shelves, at the space you’ve unknowingly carved out for him here. “This—this is the only thing that’s felt normal for me in a long time.”

Your stomach twists.

“Everything else—my whole life, it’s all…chaos. But this?” He swallows, his eyes finally looking up to meet your gaze, his voice quieter now. “You?”

His eyes flash with something new, something softer, something that lingers in the way he looks at you. The same way he has over late-night snack feasts, whispered movie nights, conversations that blended into the early mornings. 

“You’re the closest thing to normal I’ve had.”

And somehow, that makes it worse.

Because you get it. You know him, so you understand.

But it doesn’t change the fact that he was going to leave without telling you.

You inhale slowly, your heavy gaze holding his.

“So what?” your voice is still quiet, but now edged with a new sharpness. “You thought if you didn’t say anything, it wouldn’t have to be real?”

Heeseung presses his lips together. “I thought maybe if I didn’t say it, I wouldn’t have to lose this yet.”

Your breath catches.

You want to laugh. You want to cry.

Heeseung didn’t tell you because he didn’t want to ruin this.

Whatever this is.

Whatever the two of you had built over the weeks between instant noodles and snacks, between arguments over food choices, between all the unspoken moments that made you feel like maybe, maybe, this was something more.

You let out a wavering breath, shaking your head, “That’s not fair, Heeseung.”

“I know,” his voice is rough now, like he’s tired of saying it. Like he’s already told himself a million times and accepted it. Like he wants you to just accept it and move on.

But you can’t.

“Then why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because I didn’t know how!” His voice rises in frustration, an exasperated sigh slipping out. “Because you—this—whatever this is, it started feeling real. Too real. And I just didn’t want to fuck it up, alright?”

The words knock the air out of your lungs.

Because suddenly, everything you’ve been trying so hard to ignore, every feeling you’ve been trying to convince yourself wasn’t there, is suddenly painfully undeniable.

And worse than realizing how real this is?

Knowing that Heeseung knows it, feels it, too. 

But heavier than that realization is the anger.

Not just at the situation.

Now, at Heeseung.

“So you thought it’d be better to just disappear instead?” Your voice shakes, biting down on the thick emotion rising in your throat. “You didn’t even think to tell me.”

Heeseung steps closer, and for the first time tonight, you see it—his own frustration bubbling beneath his surface, the barely restrained emotion.

“What does it matter, Y/N?” his sharp voice cuts through the heavy air lingering between you. “What difference would it—would you—have made? It’s not like this was ever going to change anything.”

Your heart stops.

At that, you falter, and Heeseung sees it.

He sees the way your eyes move away from his. He sees the way your posture suddenly deflates, as if his words physically hurt you.

Because they do.

Because you know what he’s saying.

He’s leaving. And you’re staying.

And no matter what, no matter the amount of realness, no matter what either of you feel—that was always going to be the reality.

“Right,” you finally say, your voice dangerously close to giving out. “Because it’s not like any of this really meant anything, right? At least not enough for you to acknowledge.”

Now your words hurt.

Heeseung winces. His jaw tightens. His fists clench.

Then finally—

“…I don’t know,” he mutters.

The final crack.

You let in a sharp inhale, nodding once, your lips pressed into a straight line. “Got it.”

Heeseung clenches his jaw, like he wants to take the words back, like he wants to fix whatever just broke between you.

Instead, he exhales, stepping back from the counter, “I should go.”

This time, you don’t stop him.

You don’t say anything at all.

Heeseung hesitates for a half second, like maybe—just maybe—he’s waiting for you to say something.

But you don’t. 

Not when you feel so utterly lost in everything you’re feeling that you can’t even begin to put into words. 

So he nods once, shoving his hands back into his pockets, turning away.

The automatic doors slide open.

The ding rings, taunting you.

Cold air rushes in.

And then—he’s gone.

And you?

You’re left at the counter, staring at his abandoned cup of ramen, untouched coffee milk, and the ghost of something that never got the chance to be.

Heeseung doesn’t think. 

He wasn’t thinking four days ago, when the space between you two had grown impossibly small—when he was this close to you, when the air felt thick with something unspoken, yet undeniable, something that made his pulse race and his breath hitch. 

He wasn’t thinking when he let fear creep in, when the weight of him realizing his own feelings sent him running, keeping him from stepping foot into the store at all. For three days. 

He wasn’t thinking when he looked you in the eye last night and told you this didn’t matter. That none of it ever did. 

He wasn’t thinking when he walked out of the store, leaving you to think that you didn’t matter to him. That you never did. 

And he definitely isn’t thinking now, when he’s supposed to be leaving for the airport in an hour, but instead—his feet pound against the pavement, tearing through the empty, quiet streets like a man possessed, like maybe if he runs fast enough, he can outrun the regret clawing in his chest. 

The cold air stings against his face, streetlights flicker overhead, and the city hums all around him—but none of it matters. None of it even registers. 

Because all Heeseung knows, all he cares about, is getting to you.

Because Heeseung?

He can go months on tour without his Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen.

He can go months on tour without his coffee milk.

He can go months on tour without those, even if it means braving his insomnia.

But what he can’t go without?

Heeseung can’t—he won’t—go months on tour knowing you think you meant nothing to him. That you didn’t bring him relief after the longest days, laughter when he forgot how to find it, comfort in a world that never slowed down for him.

That you weren’t the one thing that felt real in a life that so often didn’t.

And if there’s even the smallest chance to fix this—to make sure you know—then nothing else matters.

The neon glow of the convenience store sign comes into view, and Heeseung’s heart lurches in his chest as he approaches, his staggered breathing visible in the cold air in front of him, his hands clammy.

He stumbles through the sliding doors, the familiar ding barely registering in his mind as his eyes dart around—only for his stomach to drop.

The counter is empty. The soft sound of your absentminded humming, the teasing lilt of your voice, the annoyed glare in your eyes—it’s all missing.

And all wrong. Too quiet, too empty, too…not you.

Instead, some guy he’s never seen before glances up from behind the register, staring at the way Heeseung just lingers frozen near the entrance.

“Uh,” Heeseung swallows thickly, his voice strained from his sprint. “The girl who usually works nights. Is she here?”

“Oh, Y/N?” the worker raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, she called off tonight.”

Heeseung stills.

You’re not here.

You’re not here.

And it’s his fault.

Because last night, you were here—waiting, hoping, and he walked out on you.

“Oh,” is all Heeseung can manage before he feels the words getting caught in his throat.

His jaw clenches, his stomach twists. The weight of regret settles deep, heavy and unrelenting.

“Right. Okay. Thanks,” he mutters, nodding absently, then turns towards the door.

The automatic doors slide open.

The ding rings, taunting him.

Cold air rushes in.

And just as Heeseung steps out—

He sees you.

You.

Right there, walking towards the store, hands shoved into the pockets of your coat, face buried into your scarf.

You stop.

He stops.

For a moment, neither of you move. Neither of you breathe.

The neon glow of the store’s sign reflects off your face, casting a shadow over your widened eyes. A car honks in the distance. A gust of wind blows past.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Heeseung says without thinking, almost breathless.

A small laugh escapes your lips, airy and uncertain, “Yeah, well…neither are you.”

You’re right.

He should be on his way to the airport. Bags packed, schedule set, moving on.

But instead? Instead, he’s here, standing in front of the only person who has ever made him hesitate.

Heeseung takes one step forward, “I was looking for you.”

You tilt your head, your lips pressed together like you’re weighing something in your mind.

Then you take a small step forward.

“And now you’ve found me.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry.”

It comes out all at once and rushed, but utterly honest. Honest and heavy, the way it’s been aching in his chest—and he can’t hold it in anymore.

You blink, unmoving.

“I’m so sorry,” Heeseung says again, stepping closer. His voice is steady, gentle, but nervous, scared you won’t believe him. “For everything. For not telling you. For leaving like that. For being a completely fucking idiot about—”

He stops. The look in his eyes is vulnerable, genuine. Longing.

“About this. Us.”

You don’t say anything right away, just watching him carefully.

Heeseung runs a hand through his hair, letting out a dry laugh as he realizes he’s about to lay everything out bare.

“I think I was scared,” he admits. “Of what it all meant. Of what you meant to me. I kept telling myself none of it was real, that it didn’t matter. But then I walked out yesterday and, I realized—”

He swallows hard, looking at you and the way your eyes soften with something unreadable.

“It does. You do. So, so much, Y/N.”

Another pause.

Then, you let out a soft exhale, shaking your head, as if something’s finally clicking into place, “I’m sorry too.”

Heeseung’s eyebrows burrow in confusion.

“For not—,” you sigh, your hands now fidgeting with the ends of your scarf. “For not saying something sooner. Because the truth is, I’ve been denying it too. I didn’t even realize how much I—how much you meant to me until I saw you last night and…”

You trail off, your cheeks warming. Then, with a deep inhale, you take another step closer, meeting his gaze from an arm’s length away.

“I was just so angry and upset, but I think…I realized it’s only because I like you, Heeseung. So much.”

Heeseung swears his heart stops. It feels like his whole world has just shifted, and all his thoughts are tangled up in the way you’re looking up at him now.

“And…I should’ve been more understanding,” you add softly. “I shouldn’t have held it against you like you owed me something. I was just hurt, and I didn’t know how to handle it, honestly.”

Heeseung doesn’t say anything right away, not when his thoughts are running wild and his heart is beating like it’s about to fully grow legs and escape.

Then, he exhales a breath of relief.

And lets out a quiet laugh to himself.

You blink at him.

“We’re both idiots,” he says finally, shaking his head softly. 

A small, knowing smile dances on your lips, your eyes locking onto his, “Yeah. Looks like it.”

The tension eases. Just a little.

Heeseung takes a small step closer, close enough that he can feel the warmth radiating off of you, despite the cold air surrounding you both. 

“So now what?”

You tilt your head as you look up at him, eyes searching his, “Aren’t you supposed to be catching a flight soon?”

Heeseung’s breath hitches.

Because he knows he should say yes.

That’s what’s been planned all along. That’s the reality.

But, for the first time—

He hesitates.

“Maybe."

Your eyes narrow slightly, a playful glare sparking in them, "Maybe?"

Heeseung exhales a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair, his fingers lingering at the nape of his neck. "Yeah. Maybe."

The warmth in his chest spreads when he sees the way you bite back a smile, the way your weight shifts just the tiniest bit closer—like you're testing the space between you.

Then, you reach into the tote bag slung around your shoulder and pull something out. 

“Here.”

You press a small bottle of coffee milk into his hands.

Heeseung stares at it in his hands.

Then at you.

And you’re looking at him with something gentle—something that makes his chest tighten in the best way possible, something that makes the world feel just a tiny bit warmer.

“Just in case you need a reminder,” you say, your voice light and grounding. “Of what’s normal.”

Heeseung stares at you for a moment, and suddenly—everything makes sense. 

The missing piece clicks into place as the static in his mind all fades away, leaving only this—only you. 

You, standing here in front of him, looking at him with that small, steady smile, and Heeseung knows. 

He's never been more sure of anything in his life.

A laugh escapes him before he even realizes it, soft and breathless, bubbling up from somewhere deep in his chest, where warmth curls all around it, wrapping around his own heart like a quiet, undeniable truth. His heart races and his fingers tighten around the bottle in his hands—slightly trembling, not from nerves, but from the realization of something so much bigger. Something so much realer. 

And then, without even thinking, he steps forward like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and closes the small space between you before wrapping his arms around you. He pulls you in, slow but certain, with a gentleness that catches you by surprise. 

You freeze, breath catching, but only for a second. Because then—like a reflex, you melt into him, your own arms tightening around him.

Holding onto him just as much as he’s holding onto you.

Neither of you say anything.

There’s a quiet calm between you two—no need for words, just the rhythm of your heart beating against his own. Steady, calming, like it’s syncing with his, like they’ve always known each other’s pace.

Like they’ve been moving in tandem all along, even when neither of you realized it. 

And in a way, maybe that’s just how it’s always been with you two—balancing on the fine line between pushing and pulling, between sharp words and lingering glances, between pretending you didn’t care, yet feeling everything all at once. 

So easy to cross, so easy to blur, so easy to mistake for something else. 

Maybe you spent all this time thinking you were standing on opposite sides, only to realize you were always moving toward the same place.

And now, as one of his arms moves across your back, the other threading gently through your hair, holding the back of your head against his chest like he never wants to let you go, his heartbeat still steady against yours, you know for certain—

You were never meant to stay on one side. 

You were always meant to cross it. 

Life is unpredictable, uncontrollable, and chaotic.

Lee Heeseung’s life? Heeseung’s life is that times ten, with an extra sprinkle of what-is-even-happening-anymore?

However—

There are three things—three sacred constants—that keep Heeseung from spiraling into total madness.

The first?

Insomnia.

Not by choice, of course.

The second?

Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen and coffee milk.

Yes, it’s a weird combo. And no, he still doesn’t care.

And the third?

You.

And honestly?

You’re the only one he really needs.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

the end! if you made it to the end, i'll ship u some extra spicy hellfire ramen & coffee milk rn ! <3 luv u mwahmwahmwah !

<3, addie

m.list here!

tag list pt.1 (luv u all):

@xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaaah @heejamas @jiyeons-closet @sagegreenhairclip @betda @ineedsomezzz @motherscrustytoenailclippings @bussolares @soobnuuy @deluluscenarios @chrrific @vvenusoncasual @rairaiblog @mwahvvis @lveegsoi @desssss-0 @hoonkishoe @sunhyeswife @ilovbeshotaro @dearestdreamies @starry-eyed-bimbo @planetmarlowe @lovialy @ambi01 @elairah @therealmrsbahng @lov4hoon @hollxe1 @lovenha7 @ilovhoonie @coqhee @i03jae @letwiiparkjay @manuosorioh @mintysunoo @amiraazzz @renaishun @enhadd @ikeulove @starniras @heartheejake @zaycie

(bolded didn't let me tag, sorry :( )

[deadpoolsmom]

anime twunk slade in my adventures with superman is so funny to me and I think people who definitely do not read or think about deathstroke getting mad at it made me like it more lmao cause it made me realize a very silly detail

it’s a story about Clark starting out as Superman so everyone is younger than their comic counterparts. That means that this young, but still clearly Adult Man’s actual arch-nemesises are currently kindergarteners, still with their parents at the circus or a few years from turning green. Which. just very funny in general.

It also means, I realized, that he still has both eyes. This is Slade early in his mercenary career, seemingly post experimentation but pre eyeloss. Which is a very specific time period in his backstory that means he has a very funny trait for an edgy floppy-banged white-haired anime man:

He is currently married but (not by his choice) absolutely not going to stay that way.

it turns out about to be divorced is literally the funniest possible characteristic for a shonen villain to Me. I literally can’t stop calling him pre-divorce era Slade.

Oooo he’s edgy he’s dangerous he’s about to get shot in the face by his (absolutely justified) wife.

This man has at least one possibly two very young sons at home. He’s currently fighting Superman to avoid parenting. He is not going to get visitation rights and he Will be dodging child support payments.

Will they change it and make his eye related to Superman for narrative reasons, not covering his family stuff? I hope not but possibly. Until that happens though Schrödinger’s pathetic loser here having two eyes means his wife divorcing him is literally always impending.

[cripplecharacters]

How would I handle writing this like missing limbs, wheelchair users, conjoined twins, serious burns, and hearing issues in a fictional/ medieval-fantasy setting were surgeries, prosthetics and other modern technologies are not available? I want my stories to have a lot of disabled and disfigured characters while also not falling into harmful tropes and stereotypes(motivations being solely about being disabled or the villain is evil because their disfigured etc.) but I’m not sure what my limits are when it comes to a specific time period we’re technology is extremely limited.

Hi asker,

In advance: this is a very long post.

The thing about disabilities is that they exist whether you have the technology for them or not. And the thing about surgeries and prosthetics is that they are very, very, very old.

Pretty much all the information in this ask is from Wikipedia, by the way. When it's not, I'll give you a link.

The oldest known amputation is 31,000 years old, and the next oldest known one is 7,000 years ago. 7,000 years ago is like 6000 BC, well before the medieval era, even if we're using medieval to mean the very very start of it in 500 CE. 6000 BC is, well, 6500 years before 500 CE. People were doing surgeries in Ancient Greece and Ancient India and Ancient Egypt and Ancient China. Were they less successful, on average, than modern surgeries? Yeah, definitely, considering infection risks and germ theory if nothing else at all. But surgery existed, and "surgeon" was an established title and job by the medieval era. A lot of technology is older than you think.

And in the same way, people with serious burns, missing limbs, and hearing loss have existed for a very long time.

I'll start with hearing loss because its inclusion in this ask surprised me the most. This doesn't affect someone's lifespan, and it doesn't require any technology to live with. Sign languages develop wherever deaf people are, because people want and need to communicate with each other, and if not that then things like pen and paper or drawing symbols. Some people today with different degrees of hearing loss & deafness exist without ever putting on a hearing aid or cochlear implant.

As to conjoined twins, they are very rare. Half are stillborn, a third of non-stillborn twins die shortly after birth. They have better survival rates today than in the past. And even then, there are reports of conjoined twins who are either older children or even adults, for a very long time. Here is a link to a paper called "The 3,000-year history of conjoined twins."

Chang and Eng Bunker (1811-1874) would likely have been successfully separated today, but they existed as conjoined twins in their time died at age 63. Earlier still, Lazarus and Joannes Baptista Collaredo (1617- at least 1646) were a case of conjoined heterophagus twins; Joannes Baptista was a parasitic twin and much smaller than Lazarus, and reportedly could not speak or move his body parts independently. But they still both lived until at least age 29. Older still, the oldest mention we have I think, Augustine of Hippo in 415 CE mentions what was likely conjoined twins. So they can exist.

When it comes to missing limbs, they don't have to affect lifespan. They can, but they don't have to. Missing limbs can be congenital, and congenital amputees don't necessarily need a prosthetic. Today, most upper limb amputees, congenital or not, straight up don't use a prosthetic. And limb differences exist regardless of if prosthetics do.

Even then, prosthetics are very, very old. The first one that we know of for a limb is around 1000 BC in Ancient Egypt. Pliny the Elder, born in 23 or 24 CE, talks about a prosthetic hand. The Capua Leg is from around 300 BC, and for a time was the oldest known limb prosthetic. For a non-directly-real example, how many pirates in movies have you seen with peg legs and hook hands? That's because people using both of those things have existed for a long time. François Le Clerc (died in 1563) was a privateer who had a peg leg. François de la Noue (1531-1591) was a captain who had his arm amputated and then had an arm prosthetic with a hook. (Big century for guys named François and prosthetics I guess lol.) Götz von Berlichingen (1480-1562) had two different prosthetics for the hand he got traumatically amputated.

Which goes into the point: survivable amputations are very old. Some are like von Berlichingen, and are lost in an accident, which the person survives. But some are surgical, like de La Noue above; his arm was injured by bullets and amputated later. Celsus described one as far back as in the 1st century. I mean, I'm sure they were miserable, what with no anesthesia, but they existed, and people lived. (Maybe your fantasy world has magical anesthesia?) Here is a paper called "On some paleopathological examples of amputation and the implications for healthcare in 13th-17th century Lithuania," which in the abstract alone mentions specifically that one skeleton showed signs of healing.

Wheelchairs are also very old, by the way. They aren't exactly like our wheelchairs today, but the first ones we know of are around 525 CE. Other things, wheelchair-adjacent but not quite, were used before that. I mean, as long as people who cannot walk have existed, they have needed to move to other places for whatever reason. Wheels getting involved is the easiest way to get that done.

Last but not least, burns. These are related to amputations, because a severe enough burn – 3rd degree or 4th degree – needs surgery as treatment so you don't die, and amputation is surgery. And, like mentioned above, surgeries, specifically amputations, have existed for a very long time.

If your world has magic, why can't this extend to burn care and amputation as well? I don't mean completely healing a 4th degree burn that goes right to the bone, especially because 4th degree burns just don't heal, there's not enough left, but perhaps magic helps prevent infection to nearby sites, or, again, works as painkiller when it comes to an amputation or promotes faster healing of the amputation itself.

But either way, if you survive a burn, even with significant functional impairment afterwards, then you are already alive, and you might make use of things we've mentioned above like prosthetics or wheelchairs.

Sure, if a technology isn't there then it isn't there. We don't have Leg Regrowing Technology, meaning some people who used to have legs and lost them don't still have legs. But that doesn't mean we don't have any way at all whatsoever to support said people, and the same can be said of any era.

Hope this helps,

mod sparrow

[rlimagi]

No Diggity [ Part I ]

Pairings: Paige Bueckers x actress!reader

Genre: one sided enemies to lovers, force proximity, romcom…

Synopsis: in which you are forced to work with the person who’d made it her life mission to get under your skin every single day of the week since you were in Middle School.

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

A laugh rolls of your tongue effortlessly as the host, Jimmy Fallon cracks another one of his jokes, the audience laughed along.

“Okay, okay, enough of that!” Jimmy lets out a chuckle. “Let’s move back to you, oh what a great comeback you had. Coming back after so many years behind the scenes, if I’m correct- you took a huge break after entering High School?”

You nod, leaning against the sofa comfortably. “Yeah, I had a deal with my parents. They didn’t really want me to throw my education away, not to mention that they didn’t even want me acting in the first place…but uh, yeah. I spent all four years getting straight A’s, top of the class, valedictorian, you know just to get my parents to let me go back out.”

Jimmy claps along with the crowd. “That’s only very inspirational, education is definitely important, and valedictorian woah!”

“Yeah, I had to work hard for that one.” You chuckle, reminiscing about your no sleep days when you were cramping for exams.

“Speaking of working hard, your new movie!” Jimmy exclaims, bending down to pick a framed poster. “Earnestly has just grossed over 350 Millions dollars in the box office with a budget of only 15 million, now that is absolutely insane!

How does it feel to have your first movie- since entering adulthood, become such a big deal in the box office, and just a big deal overall?”

You shake your head, a grin spreading. “It’s surreal for sure! Honestly, my manager didn’t even want me to take this role. It was from a small and fairly new production company, the team hadn’t worked on any big names yet, but they sent me in the script and I was hooked.”

You pause to take it all in before continuing. “And I’m so glad I took the risk. I had fun like never before, my coworkers are all so talented and good people, it was just overall a positive environment. I ended up having so much fun filming it, and uh people seemed to really love it as much as I do too. No regrets, definitely.”

Jimmy nods, before leaning against his table. “And what do you think plays in the success of the film? Any specific reason?”

You think for a moment. “I think the world is just deprived of romcoms, I mean sure we’ve had a few romcoms here and there but nothing comparable to the 2000s. I think we’re all now in the reminiscing about the past sort of era, Earnestly definitely fills that void.”

“I agree wholeheartedly and I’m not just saying because you’re here, but no new romcoms have filled that place in my heart but then you came in and did your job. Watching you with your scene parter- Jenna Ortega, was insane, you guys had so much chemistry!”

“Thank you, that means a lot.” You smile, shifting in your seat. “And yeah, Jenna she’s great and is literally best friends with everyone on the set. She definitely made my job a lot more easier.”

 “Now, I’m sure roles are rushing to your feet- may we get an idea of what kind of role would you take on next? Another romcom? Or maybe horror, we know you’re a diverse actor.”

“Thank you, but honestly I can’t say anything right now- not because I’m prohibited or anything but uh…I just want it to be a mystery. It’ll be surprising for sure.”

“Awe don’t be such a tease, can’t we get a least a small tiny info on it? I’m sure everyone is dying to know.” Jimmy says and the audience bursts into shouts of agreement with the host.

“Oh wow, the energy.” You laugh before shaking your head. “Alright, I guess I can give you small little hints…umm think, desire, heat, game on.”

“Oh, wow okay. That’s a strong concept, this could go many ways. Romance, thriller, maybe even something like fast and furious- car racing!?”

“Umm, sure…” You give out an unsure smile.

“You don’t look too sure.” Jimmy eyes you suspiciously.

The interview goes on normally and by the end of it, you’re exhausted from all the energy you put into it. You head a great time, but working way too early in the morning makes your body drain out faster than any other time could.

“Please, please, tell me I have nothing left for the day.” You lay your head against the neck rest of the car seat, spreading your legs and arms out like a starfish.

Your manager, also honorary big sister shakes her head. “Nope, you’ve got an WNBA game to attend. Sponsored by the big dog, Nike themselves. Plus, it would benefit you to learn from actual professionals.”

“Please never, ever, say that word ever again.” You groan, cringing at the word she used. Alexandria was such a millennial, it hurts your soul every time she uses phrases cringy phrases unironically.

“You’re such a hater, or should I say an opp?” Alex continues, you are sure she’s just doing it to get a reaction out of you now.

“Oh, so you’re converting to the new gen now? Please, stop. I beg.”

Alex laughs directly at your face before she raises your hands up in surrender. The car ride goes on silently, usually it would be filled with music blasting and you guys would be singing, but whenever you had an early schedule, silent rides is preferred.

You sit on the court side, scanning through the faces of the players as they’re ready to start the match. To be honest, you don’t watch basketball. Not because you don’t respect the game, but more like someone in your past had made you totally avoid it.

So, here you are cluelessly sitting as everyone around you is busying themselves, chattering about the game and what not. Even Alexandrea had left you to talk with the group of girls sitting beside you guys.

“Uh, excuse me?” One of the girls from the group that Alex had been talking to, left her friends and approaches you.

���Hello.” You chuckle, finding the flushing on her face amusing.

“Sorry, to bother you but I’m such a huge fan. You’re literally one of my crushes and gosh, you are so much more beautiful in real life- I’m sorry for rambling on like this but Alex told me to come and say hi.” The teenager rambles on, her face growing more red by the second.

“Awe, thank you! And you’re not bothering me, don’t worry I was getting lonely here. Also, what’s your name?” You grin, gesturing her to sit down with you and the girl almost screeched.

“I’m Angelina, but my friends call me Angie!”

“Well then Angie- can I call you Angie?” You pause, before continuing when the teenager nods her head. “Okay Angie, care to explain how the game works? I don’t really watch basketball.”

"Okay, so this will be a match between the Dallas Wings and the Las Vegas Aces, it's only a preseason game but still is fun to watch.” Angelina pauses to make sure you’re following along, you nod. “Each team starts with five players, but as the game goes on you'll see that some will get benched, so that other players get a chance to play.”

When the game starts, Angelina is still explaining the basics to you and you are grateful. To be frank, you only know they make shots and when it goes in, they score but your knowledge ends there.

You are actively paying attention to the players up until you notices someone familiar, a face that you can’t quite pinpoint to. But then your eyes meet with her, number 5, Bueckers.

Paige fucking Bueckers.

She is blonde now which made it uneasy for you to remember your middle school arch nemesis at first, but she still hold that stupid smug little smirk on her lips that you can recognize anywhere.

Angelina notices your staring and a bigger grin grows on her face. “Ooh, that’s Paige Bueckers you’re looking at- also my wife, but you’re my first wife don’t worry.”

You tear your eyes away from the athlete, your face morphing into a look of disbelief as you look at the younger girl. “You’re like- what 16? How many wives do you have?”

“I’m 17, and too many.” Angelina smiles sheepishly, wavering her hands to brush it off. “Anyways, Paige is from UConn which is literally my dream school-“

“Do you actually want to go there or you just want to because she went there?” You tease, causing the girl to slap your arm.

Angelina glares at you before replying. “I do actually want to, UConn has the best basketball programs and the coaches have been coming to my games. It’s all good.”

“Don’t forget me when you become famous.” You add with a cheeky smile.

Angelina shakes her head, a smile spreading. “Of course not, I’d even make sure to dedicate every single one of my wins to you!”

“You’re too sweet.”

“Thanks! My mother tells me that everyday. Anyway- back to Paige, she’s the most sought after college player in her draft class which is how she got into her team, Dallas got the first pick and Paige was the number one recruit so there’s that.” Angelina rambles on before taking a sip of her drink. “Honestly, I wanted her in the Valkyries but we digress.”

“She sounds like a big deal.” You say, but you are slowly dying inside. You are trying to keep your words to yourself with all the things you have to say about Paige Bueckers.

The same girl who made an enemy out of you in the 6th grade when she threw a basketball at your face and never apologized, the girl who targeted you during dodgeball and made it her life mission to taunt you all through middle school to high school.

Yeah, that Paige Bueckers who you swore you’ll never get to see again after graduation but here you are, five years later sitting in one of her games.

The girl sitting beside you nod in agreement. “She is a big deal, honestly if it weren't for her injury back in college she would've been even bigger. But it's all good because she's going to make history, I'm sure of it."

You watch as the said player gain possession of the ball and dribbles it over to the line, tailed by two other players before she jumps and make the point against the defending of three players.

It was pure art and you can’t even deny it as much as it pains you to.

“That’s my wife!” Angelina jumps out and shouts while you hide your face from the people who looked over.

Fortunately, the Wings lost and the light inside you brightened up a little as you happily sip the last of your drink, getting ready to get home to enjoy the embrace of your bed and your puppy, Jam.

“Awe, I guess this is the end. I’m so glad you allowed me to spend time with you!” Angelina smiles solemnly as she hugs you.

You return the hug and a smile with it. “I had so much fun sitting next to you too and your rambles. Hey, how about we keep contact? I want to make sure you’ll keep your promises.”

“Oh em gee! Yes! Of course, here’s my instagram.” Angelina hands over her phone and after you exchanged contacts, you both went your separate ways.

You are about to leave the court when Alexandrea comes back and pulls you by your shoulder. “Not so fast, kid.”

“You’re like only six years older.” You scoff, crossing your arms. “And why exactly am I not allowed to go and enjoy the comfort of my bed and newborn?”

“Y/n, your dog is not a human child and he is not a newborn. Plus, six years is a lot of years which makes it acceptable for me to call you kid since you act like one, and there’s just someone I’d like you to meet.” Alexandrea snarks back and taps on your shoulder.

“Remember when I told you I arranged for a player to be sort of your mentor since you’ve gotta start learning how to play?”

You eye her suspiciously as you guys start to walk dangerously to close to the players, or more specifically Jersey number 5. “Yeah…?”

“Well, my good friend is on the team- well actually my little sister’s friend but we’re connected so who cares about the details.” Alexandrea waves it off and you start to grow a little on edge as you start to get closer to the player. “You’ll see.”

"Hey, Paige! It's so nice to see you again.” Your manager grins as she and the tall woman dab each other up.

You are completely stone cold, you’re pretty sure your blood had stopped circulating by then. Of course it had to be fucking Paige Bueckers.

"Aye, you too Alex.” Paige grin, before her eyes averted to yours. Instantly there is a spark, a spark of heat igniting that had been lost over the years, a spark of hatred.

You glare at Paige while her lips forms a smirk, a stupid smug smirk that you wish you can punch off.

“Paige, this is Y/n. Y/n, this is Paige. You guys will be working together so I thought it’s better to introduce you guys early on.” Alex informs and you almost want to bang your head on the floor.

No way in hell would you agree if you had known before hand. “What?!?”

Alex’s brows raises at your reaction. “Is there a problem?”

You glare at Alex with a look that says ‘I’ll tell you later.’ And she nods in understanding before looking back at Paige.

“Okay, moving back. Arrangements will be made for you guys to work in the Wing’s court, schedules will be sent to you both in a few days when I and Paige’s manager sort out your free times.”

“Hold on, I just have a question. Why can’t I just work with a coach instead? Wouldn’t it be less of a hassle this way.” You suggest, eyes gleaming in hope that is to be shut down the second your manager slash number one hater opens her mouth.

“Nope, using a coach is not a bad idea but Paige is a good teacher and the whole team is on board with this. Plus, according to the few TikToks I’ve seen, apparently you guys went to the same High School?”

“Yeah, that’s right we shared almost all of our classes together.” Paige says casually as you are trying to ignore her existence.

“Oh, so you guys are friends then. That makes my job much easier.”

“Yeah.”

“Nope.”

You and Paige answers at the same time, causing you both to look at each other but with exact opposite reactions. You glared while she grinned.

Paige waves her hands and sneakingly places her arm on your shoulder, not budging when you try to push her off. “She’s playing, we’re actually the best of friends. Actually, Y/n used to be wild at parties. She was a huge deal in high school, I couldn’t go on a second without hearing her name.”

You roll your eyes, fucking liar. Actually the last bit isn’t a lie, you were popular and threw a bunch of wild parties in High school, but you and Paige were and are not definitely besties. “At least I got straight A’s and became Valedictorian unlike somebody. Paige, have you turned in that assignment from Ms. Bailey from the 6th grade yet?”

Paige scoff, taking her arms off of your shoulder as she places her hand on her chest and faux offense. “Hey, that was years ago and at l passed my classes okay?”

“Yeah, barely.” You say snarkily.

Alex, sensing the animosity gets in between you two. “Okay, ladies I’m sensing some tension here. You both are tired and drained out, how about we call it a day?”

“Hmm, sure.” Paige mumbles, avoiding your eye.

“Finally!” You exclaim, practically flying as you walk away in glee.

Your week went on normally, a few interviews here and there, commercial and magazine shoots, it was all great. Your schedule was packed and you felt happier than ever, well until Friday evening that is.

The day you had to meet up with Paige Bueckers again. You were sick of her face and name already.

“We’re going to work together all month so let’s make a truce, you don’t bother me, I don’t bother you. Deal?”

Paige pretends to think for a moment before shrugging. “Nah, I love watching you getting all worked up over me.”

Your jaw drops. “Wow, somebody’s cocky. I don’t get worked up over you, Bueckers.” You grind your teeth as you walk over the taller woman, placing your finger right into her chest.

Your eye flickers to her lips for a second- since when did she put on lip gloss, and your frown falters for a bit before getting replaced with a softer one. “Your face is just annoying.”

Paige smirks, shaking her head as she dribbles a ball around before shooting it into the net, it goes right through. “Yet, you keep looking at it.”

You hold your tongue back, knowing if not then the words you wanted to say would get you an immediate invite to the cancelled party. “Whatever, let’s just get this over with.”

You reluctantly accept the ball Paige handed over, tapping it up and down before trying to make a shot. It doesn’t go in, in fact it hit the rims and flies straight over to Paige’s head.

“Shit!” You exclaim, running over Paige who is stumbling her steps trying to keep her balance. “I’m so sorry.”

You keep apologizing even as Paige waves her hands around saying that it’s fine, but it really isn’t because blood is flowing from both of her nose and she looks like she’s about to go into a deep, deep slumber any second now.

You walk her over to a seat, stumbling a few times in the process. She is much taller and stronger than you are so it was definitely a struggle to carry a 6’0 athlete anywhere.

“Hey, Paige? Stay awake for me, okay?” You say softly, using your handkerchief to stop the blood from dripping down. It was your favorite thing from since when you’re a baby, but there are more important things right now. “I have to call for the nurse now.”

“No, no- stay…I’m fine.” Paige grips your wrist tight, trying to look normal.

Your eyes softens and it is filled up with guilt. “No, you’re not and it’s my fault. Just don’t be stubborn and let me help you, okay.”

Paige nods obediently, finding no more energy to argue.

You left Paige to call for medical aid, luckily it wasn’t all too bad and Paige would be fine after a few days of rest but you still felt extremely guilty. She’d gotten hurt and had to miss a game because of you.

[phillietemple]

analyzing the TIT preshow playlist

I don't remember when, but in a preshow dan said something about how he carefully curated the terrible influence playlist to reflect the exact themes of the show, and that like, you could listen to every song and analyze how it connects to the content of the tour. so I decided to do exactly that! yapping under the cut

also here's a link to the playlist if you haven't seen it!

now i'll be honest, at first i didn't entirely believe dan because he has a tendency to exaggerate things like that lmao. and i saw some of the selections on this playlist and was like "wdym that's about something completely different how is that connected to tit." but then i listened to it with phannie goggles on and like.. he was not kidding! a few of them are a stretch, but all of these songs could be read in a way that is thematically connected to the show.

we know that the tour's main theme is dan and phil healing their relationship with their audience. this is a parasocial relationship that has at times been incredibly toxic for both parties involved (that's what their own song was about). it got to be too much and they had to step away for a bit, but now they are SO BACK and better than ever in a new era where they're older and gayer and everyone's just having fun.

Idolize - Dorian Electra

parasocial moment! yeah this is 100% what’s going on. “i don’t play nice, I scratch, I bite / and I just might have to idolize your life” this is like, the whole problem, isn’t it? great choice for the first song

2. JOYRIDE - Kesha

this one’s so fun. as part of this playlist it’s kind of saying “get ready, this show is about to change your life.” there’s also the line “don’t even try to g-give me shit, i’ve earned the right to be-be like this” which kind of makes sense for this new era.

3. New Woman - LISA, ROSALÍA

i mean this song is about rebirth/ rediscovering yourself and gaining confidence so it definitely applies to this new era of dan and phil. i like the line “pain has come and gone again"

4. Otaku Hot Girl - Megan Thee Stallion

this is dnp recognizing the anime nerds in the audience lol. this song is funny, it’s also very confident which is becoming a theme

5. Drama - aespa

“i bring all the drama” i mean yeah that’s us. that’s this show

6. Talk To Me - Two Shell, FKA twigs

oooh this one’s good. “called you just to check you never wanna see me again / i fly high with the hope that you’ll look up / with one chance, i just wanna be the one that you love” this is like, during the hiatus. we just wanted to talk to them! and i think that goes for both sides!

7. Busy Girl - Tove Lo

another confidence song! this one specifically being more about hustling and being good at your job. dan and phil ARE busy girls. and they are the center of our world

8. Death and Romance - Magdalena Bay

i love this song! and it’s definitely about a toxic/ slightly codependent relationship. “my hands, your hands, I’ll hold forever / no way I’ll break hold, no, not ever / yeah i give and you give til it’s all that we have / you know nothing is fair in death and romance” and interestingly, at the end it changes to “you give and you give til it’s all that you have” which kind of signifies burnout on one side. dude!!

9. Starburned and Unkissed - Caroline Polachek

i had trouble with this one at first since the lyrics are so abstract, but the chorus starts with “come home,” and like. yeah. it’s about missing someone/ something. we’re literally coming home guys

10. So Long London - Taylor Swift

haha funny because they’re leaving london to go on tour. except wait a minute. “how much sad did you think I had / did you think I had in me? how much tragedy? just how low did you think I’d go before I’d self-implode / before I’d have to go be free?” ughh it’s hiatus!! we got a happy reunion eventually but this is the sad “breakup” before that. oof

11. Please Please Please - Sabrina Carpenter

ok the phannie interpretation of this is really funny. the song is about being ashamed of a partner who may not be the best person and how it reflects back on you. “I beg you, don’t embarrass me motherfucker” could definitely apply to both sides here. they’re saying “you guys are crazy but we love you anyway”

12. Lithonia - Childish Gambino

they’re in their era of not giving a fuck! wait this is crazy. “Cody LaRae / he had a break / he’s finding out that nobody gives a fuck” dan and phil had a break and then came back and found out their fans are chill and awesome!!

13. Heartbreak Feels So Good - Fall Out Boy

i haven’t listened to FOB in a long time but this song is really good. it’s kind of about going through a lot but having fun and dancing anyway. like it’s a very emotional song and we don’t even know what those emotions are anymore it’s just A Lot. “we could dance our tears away, emancipate ourselves” yeah!!

14. DiE4u - Bring Me The Horizon

another toxic relationship song! i like the bridge. “this isn’t love, this is a car crash / this isn’t love, this is a bloodbath / this isn’t love, this is a sentence” guys we’re stuck with each other.

15. This Is Why - Paramore

“this is why I don’t leave the house” i mean….. yeah lmao

16. LUNCH - Billie Eilish

this is kind of just a song about being lesbian. i mean it’s queer joy! that’s relevant! i think it’s here for the girl kissers in the audience and also because this album was the best of the year argue with the wall

17. Rush - Troye Sivan

and this one’s for the gays! this is a really obvious choice i mean it’s troye sivan. dnp sing this all the time too

18. Von dutch - Charli xcx

this one is SO good. the confidence song to end them all. “cult classic but i still pop” they’re literally number one you bitches could NEVER. dnp don’t really have haters or people pretending not to like them the way charli is singing about, but the song still fits so well and is just such a banger. fantastic choice

19. HOT TO GO - Chappell Roan

this is also just queer joy! it’s on here so that everyone can sing along and do the dance in the audience which was a 10/10 experience let’s go lesbians

20. Toxic - Britney Spears

the perfect one to end it on. the adrenaline that came with hearing this song start right before the show was insane, and like, the whole time i’ve been saying this is the story of a toxic relationship! so what better song to illustrate that, not to mention dnp’s history with it like it’s just beautiful.

ok that's the end hope you enjoyed reading my barely coherent rambling! lmao i figured at least a few of you give a shit about stuff like this so there you go. have a lovely day

[harmoonix]

🦚 Honest Astrology Observations 🦚

🦚 - Malefic Planets such as Mars and Saturn can act differently in the sign of Cancer, usually because they don't feel as comfortable in this sign as much as in the others, although they're very karmic placements

🦚 - 8H placements/stelliums prefer to keep things private, you won't see them sharing much of their lives

🦚 - Moon conjuct/trine/sextile Jupiter natives have a kind aura, they tend to be optimistic and open-minded and that helps them being better with themselves

🦚 - 6H placements don't like to complain, they rather like to get the hard work in their hands than complain about how hard it is

🦚 - Sagittarius in the 12H is such a beautiful sign for the 12H!! It shows a mix of cultural background, definitely check your ancestryyyy

🦚 - Neptune can make you addicted. The house and sign can tell you things you're addicted to ex: 6H to a job, 7H to relationship etc

🦚 - Pluto Dominant & Saturn Dominant natives usually have a difficult childhood in order to evolve into better people when they're older

🦚 - I think you guys got tired of me writing soooo many times about Pisces Venus, but I literally can't help it. It's such a beautiful place for Venus

🦚 - Gemini's and Virgo's beauty is so underrated since their ruler Mercury rules over the youth, also their skinnnnnn

🦚 - Aries Moons and Moons in the 1H are the ones to raise the energy up in a room, I love their energy so much! Just keep it up

🦚 - Sagittarius Moons and Mercuries are brutal honest, if you want someone to tell you the hard truth go to them

🦚 - Libra Placements have a good sense of dressing up, you can always see them getting good clothes on them

🦚 - 2H Venus/Mercury/Moon has a soft voice, they can also not talk as loud as other, more shy voices

🦚 - Playing with Aries Placements feelings is like you play with the devil because they won't accept such treatment

🦚 - Since 9H represents school/learning what's your 9H sign and what was/is your favorite subject in school/high-school/etc.??

🦚 - Water Placements especially water Moons can heal when they're in a water place, for example my sis is a Cancer Moon and she loves to go at the sea to heal/meditate

🦚 - Where Capricorn sits in your chart. That's the house you'll work the most in this life for ex:4H family, 10H career, 7H relationships

🦚 - Leo Moon/Moon in the 5H can make you discover what you're talented at since your childhood/young age

🦚 - Cancer/Libra/Pisces/Taurus Placements can have a sweet tooth, meaning they like to eat lots of sweats/candy type

🦚 - Leo Placements like to be in the spotlight which is not bad at all because afterall they deserve the recognition!

🦚 - Mercury is a fairy planet (fairycore) in Aquarius/11th can indicate you are good at socializing/even in online

🦚 - You'll never know what someone with Lilith in the 6H/12H thinks at, Lilith has such a shadow energy in those houses

🦚 - Lilith and Pluto both in the 7h can attract toxic people in a relationship or people that will change them forever

🦚 - Pluto in the 10H or 11H gives you the power to influence others, you can just have an impact in the world

🦚 - Venus/Mars in the 5H are such hotties, we love them and we appreciate them. They just have a specific type of lure

🦚 - Mercury aspecting Pluto can indicate you can tell when people lie to you, in the same time can also make you a good liar

🦚 - If someone has their Neptune in the same house as your Mercury they can manipulate you through talking/manipulation ex: Your ex has Neptune in the 8H and you have Mercury in the 8H

🦚 - Saturn aspecting your North Node especially in harsh aspects, can make you stronger with the time I can confirm that as someone with Saturn square NN

🦚 - Air Placements especially Risings will always remind me about the 90's somehow, it was their era, I think the 20's are more of a Fire Risings era

🦚 - Mars/Sun/Venus/Uranus in the 1H can make you an athlete, like a good body for the gym, and they have that good motivation

🦚 - Mars in Sagittarius/9H can have foreign names, same for Mars in Pisces/12H

🦚 - Are there ppl with Moon - Pluto aspects attracted to paranormal things? Like seeing entities, hearing whispers etc...

🦚 - Jupiter aspecting Venus are really meant to be a charming prince/princess, is the energy they have, such a powerful energy

🦚 - 2H placements/stelliums can also be talented at cooking. It can be their love language

🦚 - 9H/12H Lilith can come from a religious background with trauma, like religious trauma. Trust me Lilith got enough give her a peace

🦚 - 2H/Taurus Lilith can be a bit insecure about their bodies. They have attracted bodies, but they can also be insecure about it. At the same time, if it makes sense

🦚 - Mercury in harsh aspects can have some troubles with understanding,maybe even with writing, maybe even dyslexia at some point (Not for everybody)

🦚 - Gemini and Sagittarius Placements like to write a lot. Their secret diaries have more than 200 pages for sure and I love that

🦚 - Sagittarius Venus ppl have that humor combined with flirt, I adore their energy, they're usually flirting 24/7

🦚 - Virgo Placements can be vegetarian, and I mean not everyone, but since they love to eat healthy, I have a sidereal Virgo Moon, and I love vegetables much more than meat, ofc this is just a preference

🦚 - Jupiter in Scoprio are able to attract wealth in their lives if they manifest that! Is a powerful placement for manifestation

🦚 - Taurus Moons/Suns/Venus and Rising have the mosttttt peaceful energy!! They're like a breeze of fresh air in someone's life

🦚 - Moon in Scoprio/Moon in the 8H can be very secretive people. It can be because of their private life and they give that vibe of people wanting to know more about them

🦚 - Moon aspecting Sun can indicate the native has more personalities/behaviors/moods, and it really depends on how behave

🦚 - Venus aspecting Saturn can sometimes indicate being rejected in love relationships, like you keep falling in love but with the wrong ppl

🦚 - Moon in Gemini/Moon in the 3H ppl radiate such a good vibe, I love their social skills but for real they communicate with everyone in the room

🦚 - Virgo Venus/Mars/Moons are the best supporters in a relationship, they'll support you with everything they can

🦚 - Mars aspected Jupiter ppl tend to be more sexual, this is such an unholy energy but so attractive in the same time

🦚 - Pluto aspecting Venus natives have such crazy love stories, the drama, the popcorn, the obsessive energy everything is on point

💚 Hope you enjoyed the post!! Have a blessed week!!💚💚💚

H a r m o o n i x 💚

[jaehaeryshater]

“Near the end, [King Jaehaerys] grew certain [Alicent] was his daughter Saera, returned to him from beyond the narrow sea.”

artist: @riotarttherite

I had the great pleasure of commissioning, in my opinion, one of ASOIAF fandom’s greatest artists on this gorgeous piece. I had never commissioned any artwork before and didn’t know what to expect, and this far exceeded my expectations. The attention to detail is beautiful and the overall piece conveys exactly what I was envisioning in my head, so I wanted to start off with a big thank you.

The idea for this art piece was originally a “what if” or AU where Saera either didn’t get caught at the brothel or was brought back from the Silent Sisters as was allegedly Jaehaerys’s plan (or if she had bonded with Balerion and gotten to stay! Would have loved that for her) so she stays in King’s Landing and becomes his caretaker in his old age instead of Alicent Hightower. As his daughter, she would have significantly more influence in being able to “speak for him” instead of a caretaker for another House, so although I do not take Saera as someone particularly obsessed with power, I do find it very interesting to imagine her deciding to cause chaos as the Old King’s mouthpiece. The streets of King’s Landing are burning as we speak! Even before Jaehaerys seemed to succumb to dementia, Saera did appear to have a strange influence over him, so once Alysanne passed away, it only makes sense that Saera would become the person in his ear. Not all that great for the smallfolk or even Lords of the realm, but great for drama and storylines. And Saera, of course! I’m sure she would have paraded everywhere, weighed down by jewelry and the finest wines. Perhaps she would have had a full menagerie, as she appeared to love animals. Definitely an elephant there somewhere.

As this piece was being worked on, however, I did think of a second meaning to the art that I also think is really neat. You could also view this as what Jaehaerys is seeing as Alicent is caring for him. He did believe her to be Saera in the end, as his mind was being lost. His Saera had come back to him, and although I do not like Jaehaerys and think he probably deserved worse, he most likely died happy at that thought, believing Saera was reading to him. So if you prefer to interpret this as viewing things through Jaehaerys’s mind, I welcome you because I love it at least equally to the first idea.

Lastly, the detailings are beautiful so I wanted to touch on them and give them the attention they deserve for the moment. I asked Riot to have a caring but sinister vibe, that she is caring for him for a plethora of reasons but certainly that includes self-serving reasons. I believe this was captured really well! I wanted it to be illustrated that Jaehaerys had lost his wits a while beforehand, so he has a vacant look, and Saera has the keys, showing that she is the real power behind the Crown. She has several expensive jewelry pieces (she has many from her lovers, but she doesn’t bother with them, leaving them to collect dust, only thinking gifts from the King are worthy to wear), but my favorite was one I specifically requested. Her jeweled bodice, which contains replicas of the King’s jewels that are present on his crown. Dare I say, she had her mother’s crown repurposed for herself? The intention is clear, Saera is effectively the Queen now, not in name, but Queen nonetheless. As for the general fashion, I told Riot that my favorite era of fashion was the Tudor era, more broadly 1300s- 1550s. As you can see, this was more than delivered and extremely beautifully inspired by historical fashion. GRRM doesn’t always describe his character’s outfits, and the GOT and HOTD outfits were often lackluster. This was exactly the type of beauty I was looking for. The dragon embroidery on Saera’s sleeves? Mwah!

Anyway, thank you so much for geeking out with me! The Saera/Jaehaerys dynamic is one of the most interesting dynamics to me. There’s simultaneously so little and so much there. It’s complex and layered, I can’t stop thinking about it. If you have been on my tiktok, you may have heard about my extensive theory regarding that dynamic, iykyk. If you ever want to talk about them, absolutely feel free to inbox me. More commission ideas coming this year definitely, at least a couple more of this dynamic, but I don’t know how a piece could be any more perfect <3

[pseudophan]

im sooo interested in what they could possibly be wanting to upload so bad after the rebrand like i was off podcast hill but now im back on and all i can wonder is what the hell will be the official dan and phil content like wtf are they cooking up what do they want to start posting that they felt like they couldn't until the rebrand AHHHHH like i need to know and I cant believe me from like 3 months from now will know

I KNOWWWW it's always so difficult to tell with those two because with the exception of the comeback in general, which they keep saying was very unplanned and casual, they're allergic to just doing something. they have to plan it out and make it a THING. to be fair i get it because i feel like 90% of the things they've started on a whim or just said they might do they end up dropping, and so now they're very careful not to tell us shit until they're 100% sure, but oh my god my blood pressure...

i've always thought a podcast would make a lot of sense for them, and there are definitely been plenty of hints that that's a possibility, but idek if that would tell us that much because that's just a slightly different format, the actual content could be anything. they could also do something that's podcast-esque in that it's longer and has some more casual bants/less editing but that's still heavily video focused, so instead of 2-3 shorter videos a week it's one long one that incorporates different segments. basically still a podcast but just enough to the left that dan doesn't have to call himself a podcaster lol

another option is they do different series of sorts, if they want to try out different types of videos without committing exclusively to one (likely thing for them to do lmao). kind of similar to the podcast idea but different videos, either one thing at a time (10 episodes of one thing then 10 episodes of another, a limited series but it's youtube videos if you get what i mean) or more of a like an 'on tuesday we post this and on fridays we post this' kind of vibe, except again i don't necessarily trust their ability to stick to a schedule

i feel like this is all over the place, i keep rambling for several hundred words and deleting it all because it's entirely nonsensical MAN I JUST DON'T KNOW. I NEED TO KNOW. i guess i just have very few guesses as to what specifically the content could be, but i keep wondering about exactly what you just said like, why does it have to be a New Era. they already post non-gaming on the gaming channel so it really does say format change more than anything, but what's the format!!!! and most of all what the fuck are they going to do with it!!!!!!! i'm going insane

[iwillbringyouruin]

Visions Magazine with Tobias Forge on the idea behind Rite Here Rite Now, the importance of soundtracks in general and how he distinguishes between himself and his characters (Visions Magazine issue nr. 377, 08/2024)

Full translation of the included interview by me below the cut - buckle up, this is a long post! There are no spoilers for RHRN in this.

Markus Hockenbrink: Tobias, have you ever watched the movie Metallica: Though The Never?

Tobias Forge: Yes, once, when it had just come out. The topic Metallica came up when we were taking care of the funding for [RHRN]. Every larger production company – and I have to emphasise here that this was before Taylor Swift’s The Eras Tour and her extremely successful movie about it – voiced a lot of concern back then whether anybody would still be interested in concert movies. I had to explain time and again that my movie wouldn’t be a typical concert movie, to which I was asked several times: “Oh, so something like Through The Never?” I had to deny that again. We tell a story in our movie most of our fans are already familiar with. So it’s not an entirely new concept, which is already the first distinction from Through The Never. If you only consider that there is a concert part and a feature film part, then those two movies are probably similar. But that also applies to La La Land.

M. Hockenbrink: You describe your movie as a combination of Kiss’ Alive II, Ralph Bakshi cartoons and silent film horror. Is that a kind of childhood dream that comes true there?

T. Forge: Definitely. For as long as I’ve been interested in music, I’ve also been interested in film and television. Working in film could have also been a career option for me, but I always got the rather annoying impression that one would have to go to film school to really find a place in that field. School was never my strong suit, I see myself more as a autodidact in that regard. That I had the opportunity to work on/contribute to my own movie as a sorcerer’s apprentice of sorts is a real privilege. That is a dream come true but it is also something I can picture more of in the future. Next time maybe without the band.

M. Hockenbrink: Can you remember a specific moment in your life when you realised that you were especially drawn to topics that are slightly morbid and unsettling?

T. Forge: I think that due to my family I came in contact with vastly different kinds of pop culture from a very young age. In more traditional families with more conservative parents and siblings of similar ages, you only really start with your respective journey to find yourself in your teens. Then there are often restrictions that are meant to distract from those darker influences. My parents on the other hand are very liberal and my brother was 13 years older than me. There were never limits or censorship for me. My childhood didn’t go by without rules entirely, but I was always allowed to watch or listen to what my brother was also watching or listening to. That way I was exposed to all kinds of teenage culture from the beginning. Sure, I also liked Pippi Longstocking and He-Man. But that was always combined with the French arthouse films my mother liked to watch or the horror flicks my brother was into. I can’t recall a particularly striking horror film experience, but I still remember the first time it dawned on me that movies don’t just exist, they’re made.

M. Hockenbrink: How do you mean?

T. Forge: My father worked as a documentary maker in television. His job was to connect the video track and the sound track in a fitting way for different film production. I saw Jaws on television with him as a small child. It’s important to note that my father is not somebody who can just quietly enjoy films but somebody who likes to butt in. Thanks to him I already had a kind of epiphany during the introduction. He said: “Look closely! There is nothing to see in this underwater scenery except the algae. Technically completely harmless. But it only takes the ominous music to turn the whole scene into pure horror already!” And I thought: Wow! That’s true! Later in the movie you only have to hear that music and it immediately puts you on edge, even when there’s nobody in the water right now. They don’t even have to show the shark anymore. I found it fascinating that the [viewer’s] senses/perception could be manipulated like that. Ever since, I’ve been viewing films with different eyes. I can still allow myself to dive into the story but at the same time I see the practical aspect to film-making.

M. Hockenbrink: I had a similar feeling during the introduction of Shining: technically a cozy road trip in the mountains, but a pure nightmare with the music.

T. Forge: I’m with you on that. Shining is one of the best movies of all time. And funnily enough, only the intro sequence was actually shot in nature. All the other scenes, even if they were outside, were filmed in the studio. Exactly that kind of craftsmanship is what I find inspiring.

M. Hockenbrink: With that in mind, what makes a good soundtrack in your opinion?

T. Forge: We already talked about Jaws, but I can think of Eyes Wide Shut as another example. There is that short piano theme that comes up again and again, incredibly effective. A good soundtrack needs to deliver something that you don’t have to be able to see to perceive its existence. Sure, there are no monsters in Eyes Wide Shut, aside from the main character’s jealousy as an internal monster maybe. But just like the music in Jaws, the theme from Eyes Wide Shut symbolises something that doesn’t have to be shown. The sound is enough. That is also a commonly used effect in adventure and love movies. You just put in a short vignette to describe the love between two characters. In Star Wars, Luke Skywalker also has his own theme, that is used every time when things get emotional and you’re supposed to feel that hope. You’ve got to pay attention to that. Jason Voorhees from Friday the 13th also has a personal theme to recognise him by. Every time you hear it you immediately know “Oh shit, he’s nearby!”

M. Hockenbrink: What about soundtracks that are made up of songs?

T. Forge: With that, I’m especially thinking of Silence of the Lambs. In the scene where Buffalo Bill dresses up as a woman and dances around his basement, a song called Goodbye Horses by Q Lazzarus is playing. I have no idea how the artist felt about that since the song is now so irrevocably connected to that awful scene, that you can’t listen to it anymore without thinking of it.

M. Hockenbrink: Do you feel like soundtrack work is more appreciated now than it used to be?

T. Forge: I think that it’s definitely gained importance over the last 40 years. The right song on the right soundtrack can be incredibly powerful. Just think of Stranger Things. Obviously, Metallica and Kate Bush already had successful careers before, but what happened with Master of Puppets and Running Up That Hill following the series was something else entirely. The songs were associated so strongly with the narrative, that way more people listened to them than before. Of course I’m a strong advocate for live music but I also realised that nothing is as strong as the connection of visuals and music. That is still the most powerful way to appeal to a deeper emotion through the association.

M. Hockenbrink: More or less a shortcut to the subconscious.

T. Forge: Exactly. But you can’t be cynical about that either. If I was an A&R person at a big label, I would probably also say: “You just have to find a spot for one of your songs on a popular soundtrack, then you’ll have made it!” That’s really how it is. But when you view it from an artistic perspective, when you want to reach people a certain way or bring across a certain message or a certain feeling, the combination of visuals and sound can’t be topped.

M. Hockenbrink: It especially lends itself to an immersive experience, as seems to be in the foreground of [RHRN]. An album by Black Sabbath or Iron Maiden ends at some point, then you’re gone from that metal world again. With Ghost, however, you get the feeling that the illusion just keeps on going, across several media. Did you plan the Ghost mythology like this from the start?

T. Forge: In part. When I started with the band, I only wanted to make a standalone album. The concept was supposed to be interesting and practical, but I wasn’t planning for Ghost to be a huge thing. The style I pictured has its own limits in my opinion. The band was supposed to function a certain way and appeal to a certain target audience. The concert was supposed to be a theatrical performance in the literal sense. Ghost were never supposed to perform in a normal rock club nor go on tour. I wanted more of a kind of Vaudeville show in a proper plushy theatre. The band was supposed to be as anonymous as the actors that stand on stage and play, say, Faust. The idea behind this was: Those who don’t know who the people are on stage are more ready to follow the story. Then we would perform three days back-to-back in select cities. Berlin, Amsterdam, London. Just like Diamanda Galás who can more likely be found at a culture festival than in a rock shack. But things turned out differently in the end, and I had to kiss my original ideas goodbye again, so to speak.

M. Hockenbrink: Why?

T. Forge: After the success of our debut album, it became clear to me that more conventional concerts were going to be demanded of us and that I could only really say yes or no. This problem became worse after our shift to a bigger label. It became clear that my vision of telling stories clashed with the live sector and requirements for success more and more. At a certain point anonymity doesn’t work anymore and I had to make peace with that in the end.  I originally didn’t even want to do interviews but that’s obviously tricky when you want to sell records. The question that I constantly ask myself since is how I can do those things best in the Ghost way without denying the original Vaudeville spirit.

M. Hockenbrink: In his autobiography Golf Monster, Alice Cooper talks about himself in third person a lot when he is talking about his character. Are you feeling similarly at this point?

T. Forge: At least I can definitely see where he’s coming from. There is a difference between the person Vincent Furnier and the character Alice Cooper. I believe that he was on the verge of completely transforming into Alice Cooper at one point – to the point where one has to decide where they want to live or die. In the end he decided to remain Vincent Furnier and only become Alice Cooper for work, on stage. So far I’ve been fortunate to combine the two pretty well, but had I started Ghost ten years earlier in my life, it would have probably affected me similarly to how Alice Cooper did with Vincent Furnier in his time. But with my humble experience as an actor I have to say: every character you play becomes a part of you to a certain extent. You have to find certain qualities – good or bad – within yourself to bring such a character to life. I think that most actors only play one or two roles throughout their life that they then end up being known for. The different characters that I’ve portrayed on stage are not only very similar but actually also a part of me. Fortunately a part of me that I don’t want to deal with all day long.

M. Hockenbrink: Too cynical and antisocial?

T. Forge: Cardinal Copia or Cardi, as I like to call him, is not an all-around cool person, but that makes him so fun to play for me. He is half Freddie Mercury and half Jacques Clouseau. Kind of clumsy, kind of silly, kind of stupid. The kind of guy who trips over his own feet but catches himself elegantly. That’s also me in a way, but not just. And I think that’s easier to embody than a daredevil hero character who can rival anyone and gets all the ladies. When somebody plays only those characters their whole life, it will probably really go to their head. Especially when there are drugs involved on top of that.

M. Hockenbrink: With all that fondness of doom that can be found with Ghost, that universe also has something humorous about it, benign even. It that an intentionally included contradiction?

T. Forge: Yes, and it is also very important to me that it comes across like that. For me that also has something to do with the evolution of metal. Originally it was mostly a phenomenon connected to the youth, nowadays the musicians and their fans are close to retiring. That brings a certain maturity. Even the Norwegian black metal musicians who were super pissed and extreme 30 years ago and were only made of hate and aggression are well-adjusted people now. Bearded fathers and grandfathers with a pleasant view on life that make others laugh. I see a certain duality there. Everything that has something to do with goth, with metal, with horror, appears dark, dismal and hostile at first. But in reality, that can all be extremely life-affirming and a source of great joy for many people. So pretty much the opposite.

M. Hockenbrink: Speaking of horror: could you imagine making a real feature film some day?

T. Forge: Yes, I would love that. I’m well aware that it’s not going to be easy to make what I’m picturing a reality, just because I’ve done directing once with [RHRN] now. The creative liberty I got to enjoy there also was due to the fact that I funded the movie myself. So nobody was meddling with it. That is likely completely different when you work on behalf of a big studio, because we are talking about different sums here. If I only go off my dreams, I would name two points of reference. One is Shining, the other Bram Stoker’s Dracula by Francis Ford Coppola. I would like to make a movie that’s only shot in a studio, with elaborate sets, matte painting and all that. No outside shots, no special effects, no green screen. And no actors who only gets to see what they were actually doing after the fact. Proper old-school. The way movies are actually meant to look.

[howtonerdoutovereverything]

An Analysis of the Black Parade - ALIVE! Promo Video + Analysis of the Long Live The Black Parade Promotional Material So Far

OK Y'ALL THE SCHOOL YEAR IS DONE AND MCR ARE AT IT AGAIN SO LET'S STRAP IN AND DO SOME THEORIZING

So, if you haven't seen it, MCR announced a show in Mexico City called Black Parade - ALIVE!, an obvious homage to their iconic The Black Parade Is Dead show in the city in 2007 that ended the Black Parade era and marked the last time they played the full album live. The video instantly caught my attention, as it seems to only further solidify that MCR's 2025 tour cycle is hinting at something much greater, perhaps a new story to tell interwoven with the established lore and legend of The Black Parade.

I also realized that I've yet to actually sit down and analyze the rest of the promo material surrounding the 2025 tour (in my defense, the first post was made on the same day my dad had brain surgery). I've been theorizing about MCR5 and all of the tour imagery since 2022 (I have a whole theory doc which I will share here and reference throughout this post), and a lot of this stuff seems to be confirming ideas I had even during the SWARM tour, including this new video.

So without any further ado, let's get into it. We'll go in chronological order, starting with the very first post made.

This post shows us a foggy cityscape with what looks like confetti in the air, with giant red letters that resemble MCR, but don't look quite like English. They seem to resemble Russian, but it has since been confirmed that this language was created by the band itself, although the Russian influence is definitely there.

As for the city, it also seems to resemble Europe or at least somewhere in Eastern Europe, perhaps more specifically in the 20th century. Notice the spires.

We can't ascertain much from just this image, so let's move on to the first video that announced the tour.

Immediately, that Russian/Eastern European vibe returns, with an ornate room and soldiers guarding a door. I tried looking for buildings that this could be and struggled, but then again, I don't think this is supposed to be an actual country. It's meant to just LOOK like a 20th-century Eastern European country run by a dictator.

Speaking of, we see that dictator walking down a hall with two other men.

I assume these men are advisors to the dictator, but am unsure if they are meant to be alluding to anyone in particular. I WILL say that the dude with the mustache sort of makes me think of the guy of the cover of Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge (he's wearing a red flower on his suit, and red flowers were a big part of the Revenge imagery). The flowers can even be seen a few shots later.

To me, the flowers look like red carnations, which symbolize romance, love, and passion. They also stand out amidst the mostly black, white, and brown surroundings. Perhaps this is intentional.

We see this woman with sunglasses and a coat sitting with a dog. Her outfit resembles an outfit Gerard wore on tour in 2023.

In my mind, this woman has a lot of power, perhaps related to war. Her dog seems tough and intimidating, like a guard dog. She also stands out pretty starkly from the others. But she is just sitting there, not involved in what the other men are doing. Perhaps she is pulling strings behind the scenes.

Finally, the dictator steps onto the balcony to address a cheering crowd within the same cityspace we saw in the first post. I know I mentioned buildings before, but this makes me think of the Palazzo Venezia in Italy, where Mussolini famously delivered his speeches from a similar balcony. I imagine this is an intentional homage to emphasize the dictatorship energy.

We see the name of the tour, "Long Live" The Black Parade. Why are the words "Long Live" in quotation marks? I have two answers. One: this could be a potential future song title. Two: It is a lie.

What do I mean? Remember that The Black Parade is a fictional band that supposedly filled in for MCR during the Black Parade tour, until they played their last show in 2007 and apparently died (hence The Black Parade Is Dead). So how could they be alive? Keep this thought in the back of your head; it will be important later.

Let's analyze the video caption.

"It has been seventeen years since The Black Parade was sent to the MOAT. In that time, a great Dictator has risen to power, bringing about "THE CONCRETE AGE"; a glorious time of stability and abundance in the history of DRAAG. His Grand Immortal Dictator wishes to celebrate our rich and storied culture, fine foods, and musical entertainments by welcoming you to these great demonstrations of power and resolve. And lending voice and song for the first time in six thousand two hundred and forty six days, their work privilege ceremoniously reinstated, will be His Grand Immortal Dictator's National Band...The Black Parade,"

There are several things of note here. First of all, the reference to seventeen years connects us back to The Black Parade Is Dead, as there is a seventeen-year gap between The Black Parade Is Dead and this tour being announced. Let's also pay attention to the specific number of days we are given: 6,246. Taking the day this video was posted, November 12th, 2024, and subtracting that number of days gives us October 7, 2007, AKA the day of The Black Parade Is Dead.

Second, what is the MOAT? It seems like an acronym for something, but the only thing I could find that was even tangentially related was "Missile on Aircraft Test". So I think this might be a fictional creation, and given the context, it sounds like a prison, perhaps a concentration camp, given the European dictator vibes. The Black Parade was supposedly sent there, probably because the music they were performing contradicted the growing dictatorship's goals. We then hear about a supposed "concrete age", which explains the barren buildings we see. All color and joy seems sucked out of the city. We get another acronym: DRAAG. I think this is a reference to a lyric in The End: "Here's my resignation, I'll serve it in drag". Perhaps DRAAG is a nation similar to the USSR, and is what The Black Parade was referring to.

The real question here is if The Black Parade were supposedly exiled for not aligning with the dictatorship's goals, then why are they being brought back? Perhaps as propaganda?

The next post shows us a clearer view of the dog we saw before, with the caption saying "Good Boy". It is once again in quotes, making me think that this could be another song title. This also reminds me of one of the drumheads from the reunion tour, which said "Sit. Stay. Beg." That, combined with the way its eyes are shining directly into the camera, makes me think this dog represents a couple of different things.

First, it represents war and violence against the people. Think police dogs being unleashed on protestors. This dog enacts the dictatorship's goals using sheer force, much like an army or large weapons could. This explains the almost evil eyes. However, it could also represent the common people themselves. "Good Boy" and "Sit. Stay. Beg." imply treating people like they are animals and forcing them to comply. This dog is just doing what it's told so it won't get hurt or punished, like any person in that situation would. We've yet to see this dog do anything really bad.

Then we have this post, "Long Live". Four men in different outfits. They could represent several things. Are they stand-ins for the four members of MCR? Are they simply the four currently in power within the dictatorship? Or are they representative of the four horsemen of the apocalypse? In the video that follows this post, "Opera", we see more of the men. One looks nervous, one coughs, one laughs, and one is silent. I could see the one who coughs representing Pestilence (sickness) and the silent one representing death (figures that embody death are typically silent). The woman with the sunglasses is also sitting behind them, further hinting that she's somehow involved (literally "behind this").

We then see an opera singer in an opulent dress walk in front of the men to perform. A piece that sounds a bit like an orchestral arrangement of Welcome To The Black Parade plays on a record player. But when she opens her mouth to sing, all that comes out is horrible screeching and industrial noise. I think I also hear screaming in there.

I think this could represent the dictatorship looking towards entertainment to distract them from the horrors they're enabling, only to have it spat back in their face. It could also represent how they view music: chaotic and uncontrollable. We also heard opera pieces during the reunion tour, particularly Casta Diva, a piece that tends to allude to impending doom and ruin. This could be a way of playing on that notion.

Next is "Feast", where we see a lavish meal being enjoyed by those in power. One crucial detail is that we see the dog being fed by one of the soldiers. If the dog is truly representative of war, this could represent how all of the dictatorship's assets are being invested in war and violence. In general, the feast seems to be highlighting the disparity between those in power and those not in power.

Finally, we have the thing I want to talk about that shook this whole thing up: The Black Parade - ALIVE!

We see what looks like an old news program broadcast from DRAAG, showing a statue of the dictator, a shot of the city, and a field, presumably to mislead the populace into thinking there is no famine or shortage of food, something real dictatorships commonly do. We see what looks like the logo of the news station before a news anchor starts speaking.

A couple of things. First, this footage looks like it comes from quite a few decades ago, when supposedly this is supposed to all be happening in modern times, given the dates (they're even referenced again in the report). Perhaps technology in DRAAG is severely outdated? Second, the news anchor calls the viewers "dragoshkas", confirming that the country is called DRAAG and thus its citizens are known as dragoshkas. Third, the footage is subtitled in Spanish, meaning this is being broadcast internationally and is not exclusive to DRAAG.

The news anchor references the Palace of Sport, a generic term used to refer to indoor sports venues built during the Soviet Union, like the Kyiv Palace of Sports in Ukraine. However, this term is also used in other countries, and in Spanish-speaking countries, the term is translated as Palacio de los Deportes. This is seen in the Spanish subtitles.

He tells us that The Black Parade "never returned" from their concert in Mexico City, as they perished in a fire during what was supposed to be their final performance.

This fire imagery is reminiscent of fire imagery shown during the reunion tour, specifically the "burning man" image on their merch truck, which looked very similar to this image. One of the drumheads also read "muy fuego" (a lot of fire), connecting to the concert being in Mexico. And during a noise jam, Gerard said, "I’m gonna set myself on fire, never mind, I want you to set me on fire".

As you might be realizing, this whole news report directly contradicts what we were told happened to The Black Parade. Weren't they sent to a prison by DRAAG? But obviously, they wouldn't want the public to know that, particularly those who saw them live in Mexico, as they'd be furious. So they made up this tragic story to take the heat off them (no pun intended). Not to mention, they can look like heroes by "discovering" that they're not dead at all.

This is also why I said that “Long Live” could be a lie. Maybe they really DID die and a fake band is being sent to perform. This makes me think that perhaps we’ll be seeing something reminiscent of this on this tour.

We then hear once again that it was the dictator's idea to bring back the band, along with the Cabinet of Operatic Retaliations. Could this be what those old men were a part of? Could "Opera" be a play on "Operatic"?

Finally, we see what looks like the national seal of DRAAG. The text is hard to make out, but we can see a deer holding an arrow while also being pierced by arrows. Deer represent grace, elegance, greatness, and innocence. In other words, everything DRAAG is not, but everything they want people to think they are. This deer clearly also represents prey, with it being hunted, but with the arrow in its mouth, it could also subtly represent how the hunted can become hunters (the people rising up), or conversely, how the hunters can become hunted (the dictatorship being overthrown).

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOK, that was a lot, but I know I still missed stuff. If you have any ideas or theories or details, or if you want to ask me questions, feel free to send me an ask! I'd love to talk more about this!

[mythicmanuscripts]

Hiii! I read your post-Rook’s Rest Aegon angst story and omg it was so perfect!! I loved it so much! I have a weakness for angst and you write it so well!!

If your requests are still open, could I ask for some more Aegon angst or hurt/comfort? I would love your take on his struggles during season 1/pre-coronation!

Thank you so much for all the wonderful little stories and headcanons you’re putting out there, I’m reading and enjoying each and every one ❤️

Oooo great question!! Honestly I somehow didn’t even consider the angsty side of this so I’m so glad you brought it up! And thank you so much for the kind words, they mean so much and help me stay motivated. So without further ado, here’s the angsty season one aegon thoughts :))

(While there’s nothing sexual in these thoughts, there are definitely dom/sub undertones, specially sub!Aegon so bare that in mind before you continue reading.)

So firstly, I think you’d be introduced to Aegon a few weeks before he actually became king. Everyone knew that his father’s health was declining, and that Aegon would soon be king. And, everyone knew how ill equipped Aegon was to be king.

Originally, Aegon was supposed to marry Helena. That plan was cancelled pretty soon when Allicent realised that Helena was not at all up to the task of managing and controlling Aegon. Because that’s exactly why she needed to marry him. She was as fast losing her influence over him and he has not at all ready to be a ruler, so she had to find him a wife who would be harsh and strict with him and who would be able to control him.

Even worse, Allicent doesn’t hide this desire from Aegon at all. She openly tells him that she’s arranged a wedding with the daughter of another house specifically because this daughter has a reputation of being firm and unwavering and not taking nonsense. Allicent spells out to him that she doesn’t think he can rule so she has had to find a bride for him that will be able to control him and stop him from making a fool of himself.

Aegon doesn’t think he’s ever felt as humiliated as he did that dinner when Allicent announced this to him. He always knew that his mother and father both didn’t think he was fit to rule, and his brother was certainly counting down the days until the weight of crown becomes too much and he has to drop it.

But this… hearing his mother openly planning on the best way to control him? And of all the relationships for her to exploit, she wants to use his future wife? As much as Aegon tries to act all cool and nonchalant and like he doesn’t care about anything, the truth is that he has a soft soul and is a romantic at heart. He always dreamed of meeting his wife and slowly building up a good, strong relationship.

His dreams of that are crushed before he even meets you.

Because of all of this, Aegon doesn’t even get to see you before the wedding, nevermind speak to you. He asks to see you, multiple times, but Allicent won’t budge. She says him seeing you won’t make a difference, he’s marrying you either way.

He’s so dejected on his wedding day. When you look into his eyes for the first time, you just see such a deep sadness that it makes your chest ache. You try to be kind to him that night, try to compliment him and listen to him. It does very little and he remains cold the whole evening.

When it’s time to consummate the marriage, Aegon shows you to your new quarters with him and slowly begins to undress like he’s a robot. You stop him immediately. You tell him that it’s just the two of you here now, no one else. He doesn’t have to pretend or follow his mother’s orders, she’s not here.

He’s confused then.

“You don’t want to have sex?” Asks, confused, “Didn’t my mother tell you to get pregnant immediately?”

You chuckle and say that she did, but you don’t care what she said, she’s not in this marriage.

Allicent made one crucial era when she chose you, she assumed your courage and knowledge and independence would mean you agreed with her. But no, no it didn’t. It meant you thought for yourself, and it meant you realised just how sad and hurt the soon to be king is.

You stick your head out the door and tell the guards find you a stack of cards. The guards are, of course, very confused but you are now officially the future queen so they can’t exactly say no.

Once you have the cards, you put them down on the bed and sit on the other side. Aegon smiles when he sees that. A real smile, not the fake one he kept during the wedding.

You realise pretty quickly that the absolute best way to help Aegon at first is actually to be more of his friend than his wife? You listen to him and offer him occasional advice but you also play card games and trade family stories and discuss your dreams. Aegon has never had a friend before. At least, he’s never had a friend not somehow influenced by his status as future heir.

When he’s alone with you, he doesn’t feel the future disappointment everyone else seems to see. He just feels like himself.

It takes him a very long time to admit that he’s not fit for all the requirements of being ruler. He’s not ready for it and he doesn’t even want to be ready for it.

You listen to him, of course, and then you remind him that even though the two of you have mainly just played cards, you are still his wife. You swore an oath to love and protect him and you have no intention of breaking it.

That gets a smile out of him, and ends in him kissing you, giggling against your mouth every now and then because he’s finally accepted that he’s not alone in this expectation anymore.

Pretty soon the two of you work out what your dynamic is, and Aegon is genuinely so thankful to have you in his life. Because while yes, you most certainly help him and offer him advice and even tell him when he’s outright wrong, you never make him feel stupid. That’s the difference. He can ask you things and voice his frustrations because he knows you won’t belittle him for it. He’s happy to follow your advice because you don’t make him feel bad for needing advice.

You always treat him with love and care, always open your arms when he needs.

Once he’s crowned, he removes Allicent from the small council and adds you.

[hivemuthur]

Maybe this is gonna be a strange ask, but how do you think Viktor would be like, if he existed in the real world? Do you have any headcanons for real world Viktor, some adaptations of canon Arcane lore…? I’m new here, and I know you have stories set in modern times, but I kinda want to know your understanding of him first (so I get everything when I check those out).

Hi Anon! This is a very fun ask, thank you! And if you are new here, welcome! Got very long, so under the cut:

So, since in Arcane we see Viktor in around his 30s mostly and he is said to have an eastern-European accent (specifically Czech per Harry), first and foremost I HC him as a Czech millennial. And those facts matter to me in terms of his character building, because here the generations of millennials and gen-X overlap due to the existence of Soviet Block. What it means culturally: most of the western trends and technology were introduced to Eastern Europe throughout the 90s and 00s. The way his situation is presented in Arcane makes me believe that a character such as him wouldn't be coming from an imperial country. If we put him in his 30s now, he also wouldn't remember communism, but would be the last generation affected by it through his elders and the slow shift in the general system.

It's perfectly valid that he would still be disabled. As I favour femoral rotation for his disability, it's very likely that when he was born it wasn't spotted and treated properly, leading to him using a mobility aid throughout his life. I do believe that with medicine advancement in 00s, it would be possible for him to avoid wearing the back brace OR fully reverse the need for it due to the last few years rise in awareness about physiotherapy. When it comes to his lung disease: it wasn't very common in Europe to have areas so heavily polluted for him to have definitely developed it, but! If I were to give him one, it would be squamous cell lung cancer, which can affect anyone with proper genetic predisposal or weak immunity only after a short exposure to for example asbestos. I admit, I tend not to, because I really don't want him to die :c So, for me, he grew up in some small city in Czechia :x

As for what he is like: definitely a nerd. I can see him finishing biochem or maths/physics profile in highschool and then following it through to university (unis here are state, so education is free, you just have to pass the exams). Throughout school I can imagine him attending after-hours extracurriculars such as chemistry classes or programming classes where kids could play computer games on ZX-Spectrum in the last 30 minutes (and given how long those games would load it's not a lot of game time okay). I can see him programming his own games and being able to make an early radio receiver using a crystal detector. He would construct toys too. And maybe break toys to make new ones.

I think he would follow through with STEM/engineering but with an idealistic purpose. Oddly, I don't think he would become a physician (I'm a med person, so I'm allowed to say this) - I believe a lot of physicians are ego-driven (this is not necessarily a bad thing). There is no ego in anything Viktor is doing throughout the show: he doesn't attempt to steal Jayce's research, he wants to see it through, because it could change the world for the better. So he doesn't let Jayce drown. He's not interested in being the face of it. The ambition lies within the goal, not within the recognition.

Moreover, I think he would act from within deep philosophical understanding of life, which would lead to him reading a lot of books on different subjects. I can see him reading fantasy, sci-fi as well as people like Deleuze and Jorge Luis Borges and connecting all those dots. When it comes to relationships, I think he would be more open to those in modern era, especially when we erase the seizing fear of death coming from his health deteriorating. Still, hard to get through to or to be found by his person, but entirely more possible than in Arcane universe.

From smaller things, I think he would still be a workaholic. I think he would love animals, because it's impossible for someone so kind to not love them. I think he would feel alienated by the world and have difficulty taking pleasure from spending time with large groups of people simply because of his intelligence and the ability to think systemically. Which is why once someone who he gets on with appears, he would keep this person very close, no matter if it's friendship or romantic relationship.

In general, I think Viktor would grow up to be a very well-read, intelligent, kind and ambitious man that would struggle against the system his whole life. I think he feels a lot and deeply but doesn't show it so often, it would be visible in his work.

Okie, I think these are the most important aspects of his character in modern era for me. I hope I passed the test and now you can enjoy my modern Viktor blabber in fics!

[angelsdean]

Also, since I'm thinking about it now I shall share my headcanon that nobody asked for of how Dean and Lisa originally meet. This is how it goes down every time in my mind.

Dean in 3x02 tells Sam:

DEAN Remember that road trip I took, uh... gosh, about eight years ago now? You were in Orlando with Dad wrapping up that banshee thing. SAM Yeah. Yeah, the five states, five-day – DEAN (laughs) Yeah. Well, kind of. Although I spent most of my time in Lisa Braeden's loft.

Dean was about 19 at the time....same age he was when he discovered his panty kink with Rhonda.

Personally I think him and Rhonda happened earlier (spring / summer 1998) while he meets Lisa on the later end of his 19th year (like early january 1999).

And Dean tells Sam here that he was on a road trip while John and Sam were wrapping up a hunt. But Sam is like, what, 15? Dean would've been better backup, no? Definitely more experienced. But for some reason John just...let him go on a road trip.....hmmm.

See TO ME, I just can't help but think of what Dean says in 14x12:

DEAN I know things got dicey… you know, with dad… the way he was. And I just… I didn’t always look out for you the way that I should’ve. I mean, I had my own stuff, you know. In order to keep the peace, it probably looked like I took his side quite a bit. Sometimes when I was… when I was away, you know it wasn’t ‘cause I just ran out, right? Dad would… he would send me away when I really pissed him off. I think you knew that.

SO, I think when Dean meets Lisa it's actually during one of these stints where John sends Dean away. So Dean is essentially homeless, pissed off, and aimless. "Road-tripping" until John cools off and decides Dean can re-join them. This is when Dean meets Lisa.

And sure, it's a fun little fling. But this is Dean we're talking about. He remembers her. He is fond of her, enough to seek her out again all these years later. And it's not just because the sex was so good. To me, I think she was a touch-stone and a good memory in the midst of a pretty shit time. She showed him affection. She basically put a roof over his head ("I spent most of my time in Lisa Braeden's loft.") And Dean-y baby forms attachments fast and loves hard. And while EYE personally do not think he was IN LOVE with Lisa at age 19, not the way he falls for Cassie during Stanford Era, I think he was surely fond of her. Had good memories of her.

As for the sex..."best night of her life" "crazy, semi-illegal" sex....WELL. That's where the "this is post-Rhonda" part comes in.

[and sorry to my staunch gay Dean truthers, I love you and support your beliefs, but this is gonna be very bisexual]

Now I don't think Dean was ever prudish about sex. And if you know me you know I don't buy into "sexually repressed" Dean fanon / headcanons. I think he's been aware of his sexuality since he was a young teen. I think he's always been a "I'll try anything once" kind of guy. But I think, before Rhonda, he wasn't really having very adventurous or kinky sex with women. I think he was still keeping his bisexuality on the down-low with women and playing up a specific Role in these relationships. But then, Rhonda shows him another way and shatters his preconceived notions of what sex with women is like. Rhonda (my bi queen<3) shows Dean the wonderful world of m/f QUEER SEX. And Dean is like "oh. Oh, I can be the submissive one. I can be penetrated, if I want."

Anyways, so, Lisa. Miss "Guess I was a little wild back then." Yeah, she definitely pegged him. Like, best-sex-of-her-life? YEAH GIRL. She finally got to peg a guy!

And Dean's whole "she was a yoga teacher. It was the bendiest weekend of my life" thing? YEAH that's because our girl Lisa helped him bend into alllllll sorts of new positions. Yoga TEACHER. Bendiest weekend of HIS life. She was turning him into a pretzel and drilling his holes.

Anyways. This is my truth.

[thedeafprophet]

Prophet's Tip For Historical Fashion Reference Finding

Say you're into a Brand New Historical Fandom, or researching something for a project, or even just endlessly curious about what is worn in the past. You set out to look for reference images, type in victorian fashion into a search bar on google and you get...

this.

A wide range of various different fashions, unpinpointed to specific eras, intermingled with AI garbage. Not exactly the most useful, now is it?

Fret not, for I have some advice for how I, Prophet, go about searching for historical references, that may or may not be useful to you. Keep in mind, this is simply some ways i go about it and not a definitive how to, and also that it will be primarily focusing on western fashion for this guide in specific....

Shall we? Tips under the cut if you're so inclined. I will warn you, it is fairly long.

1.Know What You're Looking For

By this I mean, try to know what you want to find from the beginning. There's so much out there in historical fashion, that trying to go into it all at once is like looking for a specific drop of water in the ocean.

Have a specific subject in mind, even if its just "evening dress worn to an 1860s ball" or "green dress from the 1890s" or 'fashion plates from this specific location and era", or even just "evening gowns". Knowing what you want to find before you start looking is imperitive

If you're brand new to historical fashion, you may not know what any of these terms mean. Here, id suggest looking for a basic overview of clothing. Often information can be found by searching "time period" + "location" + "fashion terms". This is where im really gonna suggest starting small - stick to a specific era and place, or its gonna get overwhelming very quickly.

To get you started, Here is a good tumblr post on different types of 1890s dresses, here is victorian fashion terms A ~ M, and this youtube video on "Victorian Fashion Is Not What You Think" + "1920s Fashion Is Not What You Think"

Its also important to keep in mind, as a general rule, the further back you go, the harder it will be to find information. Theres much more retained contents from say, the 1910s then there is for say, the 1700s, simply because of a) what information was put out and b) the difference in the amount of time passing. That isnt to say there isn't an equal amount of information of both, its simply a matter of what records survived and where.

2. Be Specific - Pick A Year, A Style, A Place, etc.

Its all well and good to say you want an evening gown, for example, but just searching 'victorian evening gown' can still lead to a mix of results and costumes

Lets refine our search. Lets look for an evening gown from 1901.

Thats a little more direct now isn't it? How about if we add green.

And there we go! Obviously, we still got that one clearly not what we're looking for at the and there, but as it stands, theres some very lovely looking dress references avaiable for our needs. Adding the term 'fashion plate' can specify us further to fashion plates at the time

These searches also bring us to further websites, which leads me to my next comment

3. Know Where To Look

Using google is all well and good, but quite evidently, still wont always give us the best look through. Especially these days with the rise of unfiltered AI content heavily messing up searches. There are ways to cirumcvent that, but its never been ideal.

There's a most obvious place of where to look: Museums. Obviously going directly to whats on show in places isnt accessible to many, but a lot of museums have online archives of their records availible for purusing. For example, the Victoria and Albert Museum has a very a searchable online catalog.

Here i can search for fashion plates, and then specify a time period. The advice i gave earlier still applies, but searching will be different depending on the site you're using.

I highly recommend looking through what various museums have avaiable online, especially since many will also have written up information on the items you are looking at.

In terms of other places to get you started, heres a link to the page with all of The Mets fashion plates by year.

And while I would normally never recommend Pinterest as a main source for images, here is actually a rare occasion that I would. For one, objects that are this old are generally all public domain anyways, and two, some images are from auctions and private collections, things that were uploaded once and never seen again. Some images on pinterest may only exist there now, with how easy it is for things to be lost. Many people have also taken the time already to comb through old magazines and uploaded images onto there too in collections/pinterest boards.

speaking of magazines...

4. Learn The Names of Historical Brands and Fashion Magazines

Capatalism was not invented yesterday, and those in the past were well on their way to starting things. Magazines and catalogs contained so many various advertisments, especially for that of clothing. Many of those magazines have been uploaded and can be found online to this day! Combing through and being able to find images directly from their sources is incredibly useful!

Examples of titles include The Delineator [American, some catalogs online can be found here and here] , La Mode Illustrée [ French, can be found here tho i do warn the site is in french lol] , La Moda Elegante [Spanish, can be found here and here]

This is just a few, there were many magazines around all with various years and styles. Many also have articles in them which can be a fascinating insight into what was being promoted at the time. [though of course, a warning for period related bigotries and questionable knowledge is always applicable when looking at old texts]

5. Take Your Time

There are a lot of different sources, a lot of different time periods, a lot of different locations and styles. It can be a lot.

Don't go into this expecting to know and have every single thing right away, and don't put pressure on yourself to get it all 100% accurate right away. Take your time, learn what you want to learn, and find what you want to find. Even I, with all my interest in it, am still constantly finding and learning new things.

A collection of references wont be built in one day. Take your time to find the images you like, to comb through sources and approach it in how you want to, and build it up step by step.

6. Don't Be Afraid To Look And Ask Around

I'm sure if you've been around, you'll notice a lot of blogs and pages dedicated to historical fashion. Many people are engaged and interested, and share and catalog their research online.

Look to historical costumers online, from youtube to tumblr and anywhere inbetween! Look at the historical costume blogs and comb through tags and what you want to find! So many people are interested in things, and theres community just in the images.

And if you have questions and want to learn more, don't be afraid to ask! From my experience, people love sharing their interests and sources and everything they've gathered. If you're looking for something specific, chances are, someone else might already know! I know i'm more than happy to share and help when asked ^^

Seriously. I have. a lot of images saved

If you read through this whole thing, I applaud you, and hope some of this information can be of some help! Feel free to ask any questions, and happy fashion hunting!!!

[imstillalexcomic]

Hello! I’d like to tell you a story.

My wife and I were driving back from our HRT appointment which is like a 2 hour drive for us and she said to me out of the blue if I knew who you are. She loves your art style for a variety of reasons but most importantly she really appreciated how you and her transitioned at the same point in life. That kind of similar story meant a lot to her. Additionally I’ve used your metaphor of the first and second dancers to explain why people gendering me correctly meant so much to me. We both love your comics, I wanted you to know this story.

In conclusion I hypothesize your art style may have been influenced by shows from the era of Dexter’s Laboratory seeing as your drawings bear a striking bodily resemblance to the mother figure in that show.

Hope you’re well!

I read this ask earlier while I was still groggy in the middle of the night.

It made me tear up.

I don't know how to put into words what it means to hear stories like this; the very concept that anything I'm doing is connecting with people in a meaningful way floods me with emotion.

I'm happy, I'm proud, I'm scared all at the same time.

It's both terrifying and wonderful.

I am so so so happy that it sounds like you two are living your best lives. Thank you for letting me be a tiny part of it, even if it's just reading my comics.

Regarding Dexter's Laboratory, I definitely watched that from time to time as a kid! I was born in the late 80s, so I was fully immersed in 90s kid culture.

I wouldn't say I based anything on DL specifically, but I'm sure the influences of the cartoons I've watched are present in how I draw!

...that or I just really would love those hips Dexter's mom has.

Thank you for your message, it really means a lot to me.