#also one of those things is like you know how nowadays a lot of popular characters will have like.

[theshadowrealmitself]

Funny thought where I’m clearly the target audience:

Human from the 21st Century trying to adjust to the future and their alien friend wants to help them, so they take stuff that was popular during the Human’s time in the past and put a current century spin on it

And it’s also done with the intent to make the Human happy, so a lot of it is like “joke” gifts, which were really funny at the time they were making the jokes, and had a sweet reason behind them

But it’s now embarrassing and humiliating as hell for the Human to sit there and explain why they had stuff like a pinup actual-to-goodness-paper calendar of different actual alien species done in the style of earth retro pinup aliens in their cabin to their captain

And also the Human is v much not the type you’d expect to have stuff like that, so the captain is just absolutely bewildered by the entire odd collection

[fagoutboy]

sorry hold on. are people valorizing the past so strongly these days that now ppl think old fandoms were BETTER? like im sorry i really think the problem is just that you arent 12 anymore

[ipso-faculty]

Infinity symbols: a guide to their variations

Infinity symbols are popular in graphic design for good reason. In this post, I'm gonna describe ways to vary up the designs of infinity symbols. My goal is to educate fellow neurodivergent people on how to make infinity symbols that don't look like the Métis flag.

The neurodiversity community has been using rainbow infinity symbols since 2005. Here are neurodiversity flags from 2013, 2016, and 2019:

However, there's a problem with some of the new flag designs for a flag that is autism-specific. Here are some of the contenders:

These use a solid white infinity symbol. The solid white infinity curve is a symbol of Métis.

The Métis flag, created in 1815, has a white lemniscate on red background. Nowadays the Métis use the blue version more often. And to the right is the Métis queer pride flag:

For those unfamiliar, the Métis are one of the major Indigenous groups in what is now Canada, with most of their >600,000 population in the western and central parts of the country. The word métis means half-breed in French; lower-case m métis refers to those with mixed Indigenous and European ancestry. Capital-M Métis refers to the specific culture of métis that emerged, distinct from both Indigenous and settler cultures, and speaking hybrid languages such as Michif.

The issue of likeness has been brought up many times. While I can believe the autistic flag makers didn't know about the issue when making their designs, I know at least one of them was promptly informed of the issue and dismissed it.

The autistic community writ large has been pretty dismissive about this issue. I wonder if some of the defensiveness comes from not seeing an alternative - thinking that infinity symbol design is all or nothing.

I have some good news: it's possible to make infinity symbols that don't look Métis!

HOW INFINITY SYMBOLS VARY (PART ONE)

ASPECT A: TOPOLOGY

The first way we can categorize infinity symbols is their topology. These four varieties are most common

Topology 1: Open infinity symbol - this is the oldest style of using a figure-8 shape to represent the mathematical concept of infinity. On the left is the version Euler used.

-

Topology 2: Lemniscate - a closed curve. On the left is the Metis flag. The curve is one solid entity: notice how the rainbow gradient on the right fills the whole thing.

-

Topology 3: Infinity *loop* -  imagine you take a hair tie or rubber band and twist it. One part of the infinity loop is clearly in front, with another part clearly behind it. Loops are well established for neurodiversity and I think we should stick to using these.

Notice in the left example how the pattern flips between left and right. Also compare the rainbow gradient on the right to the lemniscate rainbow gradient above it. -

Topology 4: Infinity *ribbon* -  instead of a hair tie, use a ribbon. Ribbons have sides, producing an infinity loop that shows two sides.

-

ASPECT B: THICKNESS

Line width can vary, which also helps to convey a loop! Again, I think we should be sticking to infinity loops when it comes to autistic/ND designs.

Option 1: Constant Thickness The lemniscate on the Metis flag has a constant line width, as does this neurodiversity rainbow gradient from 2016. I think we should avoid constant thickness.

-

Option 2: Variable Thickness A variable thickness can help to reinforce that an infinity symbol is a loop rather than a solid lemniscate. There are a lot of ways to play with line thickness!

Many neurodiversity infinities are variable thickness and I think we should opt for this to steer clear of Metis territory.

THIS WILL BE CONTINUED IN A SECOND POST (tumblr has a limit of 30 images per post)

But just in case the second post gets lost in reblogs: I think variable thickness, combined with a loop topology, is what we should be using for neurodiversity & autism. E.g.

CONTINUED IN NEXT POST

[doberbutts]

You mentioned in response to another ask that you don't use "transandrophobia" because the trans theory you were taught by trans women told you that "transmisogyny" covered those things and that is a total revelation to me. I've been thinking for a long time that it seemed to me that the idea of transmisogyny *does* cover transandrophobia, it just impacts trans femmes and trans mascs differently a lot of the time. But I had no idea that there has been theory/discussion that says this. I'm more used to the idea of "TMA" with the implication that only trans women are affected by transmisogyny. Is that more of a new thing and transmisogyny used to be considered as a more broad term? And would you trace that change to the same issue you're talking about with a lot of current feminism forgetting how feminism is also a "men's issue"?

Idk if I would call it "new" per say. The word trans-misogyny was coined in 2007 and did not include trans men, but the book in which it was coined did mention that language was likely needed to describe the trans man experience as well. There have been a number of different attempts, but none have really stuck.

I went to college starting in 2010, so roughly 3 years after Serrano coined the word. While in college, my school's GSA wanted LGBT elders to come and talk to all the scared freshly-minted adults who were trying to figure out this being gay thing. The woman who ran my GSA found a Trans woman who was willing to be my mentor and sponsor, she wrote my letters for me back when that was still necessary for medical transition, and we met frequently for her to teach me more or less how to be trans safely. Some things she did not know- how to bind safely, how to attach a semi-permenant packer, etc. But others she knew very well, because she herself dealt with both being seen as a man by society as well as the effects of testosterone on her body for decades before she transitioned.

Anyway. This woman was great, and is a significant portion of the reason I'm still alive to this day. And she is who taught me the word transmisogyny, and that it should really cover all trans people because all trans people experience an intersection of transphobia and misogyny. Whether that was popular theory at the time or not, that is what us young kids learned directly from the mouths of trans women at my college, which to me means that others were also learning this particular version of transfeminist theory.

Unfortunately by the time I dropped out of college in 2013/2014, online trans spaces were having stupid arguments such as "transtrenders are bad" and "neopronouns are bad" and "nonbinary people are cis people who want to feel special" and "trans men should be hunted for sport" and "trans women are incel nazis" and. Well. I went "wow this place is a cesspit and I feel like no one here has actually talked to another transgender person face to face" and then did not engage with the online community. So I don't really know how common or popular the understanding I was taught was at the time, though it certainly seems quite rare now.

(As a caveat I don't really think trans people of any gender have anything that isn't similar with each other when it comes to oppression, outside of certain bodily things that can't be helped because that's literally the thing we're transgender about, and I think we all experience very similar oppression but sometimes with a different hat)

As for what caused this particular defining to fall into obscurity? I really can't say. I don't know how popular the transfeminist theory the trans women who spoke at my GSA meetings taught us actually was in the broader world. Every once in a while I meet someone who lived through that same time who remembers that theory, which tells me it had gained at least some traction if it was being discussed in multiple parts of the country, but... that's really it. And it's pretty unpopular theory nowadays, I get people calling me a scumbag and claiming that I say transmisogyny doesn't exist just for mentioning that the theory I was taught includes trans men in the discussion.

But I don't think it's specifically the whole TMA/TME thing. I think it's a lack of understanding of what oppression and what intersectionality are, how they operate, how they work, how we define things through them. There are many people who believe that men do not experience misogyny. But, they do, that's why it's an insult to a boy to call him a girl during a moment of femininity or vulnerability, as a means of calling him weak because girls are believed to be weak. There are many people who think intersectionality turns oppression into additives, as though stacking marginalizations like dnd buffs. This also falls apart because oppression is not like quick math where you add a +5 to every roll if any part of your identity is privileged and a -7 if any part is oppressed.

I've had people get mad at me for saying that straight people experience homophobia while we also have sitting politicians that make jokes on live TV about how they'd drown their (presumably straight) children if they found out their kids were gay. For saying that GNC cis people experience transphobia when butches are getting kicked out of bathrooms and drag queens are getting jumped in bars. For reminding people that when Sikhs are killed due to being mistaken for Muslim in this country that hates Muslims over a national tragedy our Muslim population did not cause, it's still considered and called Islamophobia, because just because Americans are too stupid to tell a Sikh from a Muslim doesn't mean they weren't spurred into that hate crime by their rampant hatred of Muslims and the sight of a turban and long beard.

[mudisgranapat]

FitnessInfluencer!Reader x GymBro!Ghost

so i’ve recently really gotten into going to the gym and i can’t stop thinking about Ghost working out and reader being an annoying influencer that is always recording at the gym. the last thing he needs is a camera in his face when he is trying to work out and de-compress from his deployment.

After finally finding a 24 hour gym, you get your things ready to film your content. Your youtube channel is one of the most popular nowadays, and it’s the platform where you make most of your videos. Most of them teach people workout series, ranging from stuff they can do at home, hardcore exercises and even a step to step guide on how to use each gym equipment, so newbies don’t get scared of training for the first time by themselves. However, sometimes, you do some vlogging on the side, showing your daily routine and other things, like skincare.

You figure 3 am is a good time to go to the gym and record - no one is at training by then and your schedule is already fucked anyways. Not having an office or regular work hours has its ups and downs, but at least you are in charge of own routine, since you make a surprisingly good amount of money from your videos.

You take your own time, making a protein smoothie (and obvioulsy recording it, as you had a paid partnership with the supplement’s brand) and writing down your ideas for the video you want to do today. You stick to a simple “leg day” vlog, typing on your phone what machines and reps you want to do.

Choosing a simple purple top and matching leggings, you make your way towards the gym on your Range Rover, Stanley cup filled with water on the cup holder. You roll your eyes as you make a turn and can feel the water dripping out of the cup. You make a note to yourself to bring a water bottle the actually works next time and keep it off camera, so the useless cup can just sit on frame for aesthetic purposes while your record.

If you had to point out one thing you hated about your job, it would be having to keep up with all the (in your opinion, useless) trends, so you could reach a bigger audience. At the end of the day, it was about making money, although you loved how your content got to inspire people to be more active. If it meant you had to carry a metal 40oz lead poisoned cup with you for a couple of hours, then so be it.

As soon as you park your car at the gym’s empty parking lot, you pull out your vlog camera, not noticing the single black truck parked in the far corner, under a tree.

Sometimes you wonder if you would hate your “vlog persona” if you met her in real life. Repeating the same phrases over and over again, trying to get the best take, constantly looking for better lighting. What looks good on camera, in real life, just looks painfully awkward sometimes, specially when you are talking to an audience that isn’t even there. You push those thoughts to the back of your head, as you slide your card at the gym’s card reader, opening the doors.

“Anyways, guys. I know it sounds crazy right?” You make your way into the gym, re-recording the introduction at least 3 times so you know you’ll have good material to edit later. “Training at 3 a.m. I don’t even know if it’s technically morning or night right now.” You joke to the camera. “Let me know in the comments if I should start the videos with ‘Good morning’ or ‘Goodni’-“ a hand suddenly grabs the camera from your hand, holding it right above your head. You stare at the man who seemed to materialise out of the shadows.

“How about ‘Goodbye’.” He says, and you barely have time to register his sarcasm as he slams your camera on the floor, breaking it in pieces. You stand there, frozen, while the man swings his duffel bag over his shoulders and heads out of the gym.

When you finally regain your senses, he is long gone, and you’re left wondering to yourself, not only who he is, but also who does he think he is. You barely had time to register what he looked like, simply recalling we was well over 6ft tall and build like a fucking tank. But regardless of his built, if he believes, even for a second, that he can do something like that and just walk away unscathed, he is dead wrong.

You can’t wait to see him again.

A.N: wrote this with my eyes literally closing, but i just couldn’t get it out of my head (sorry for any mistakes, def not proofread). hopefully it’s not complete shit. let me know if you want to see more of this! i could see this becoming either a short series or at least having one more part. Let me know if you want to be tagged if this has a part 2 :)

[hongjoongspoetry]

Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Part 3 – You Know You're On My Mind

⛸️ Summary: Would you rather A) represent Seoul at the Spring Championship, B) find the answer as to why Mingi was ignoring you or C) stay in your shared flat for the winter holidays? How smart of you to go with option D) none of the above.

⛸️ Genres/Tropes: College AU, non-idol AU, rivals to lovers but it's more like one-sided resentment, hockey AU, figure skating AU, angst!!!

⛸️ Warnings/Tags: Female reader, no use of (Y/N), explicit language, brief alcohol consumption, petnames (princess, beans), a lot of tears and crying, probably incorrect use of hockey terms, fist fight, blood, verbal fight, Mingi is really mean but also aware he's being a douche, Dasom is a good friend, more side characters!!!

⛸️ Wordcount: 16.6K

⛸️ Author's note: I freaking love angst 😈 Hence why I've looked forward to the third part of Cold Hands, Warm Hearts! A warning, I have absolutely ZERO knowledge about hockey so the things you'll read concerning the hockey game may or may not be wrong idk. I've tried watching a lot of hockey games on YouTube, but they move so fucking fast I can barely wrap my head around what's happening lmaooo.

I also wanted to write my own comments for the chapter (something I should have done since the first part tbh), but I've been home with a fever for some days now and I honestly can barely sit up, let alone write extra stuff so I'm sadly skipping out on that. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this part and don't be shy to tell me your thoughts 🩷

AO3 Masterpost Moodboard Click on me!

This is all fiction and not meant to represent any idols involved in any way or form. This work is NSFW and not appropriate for minors as it contains explicit scenes, not just sexual content but descriptions of both physical and verbal fights,  as well as adult language. Minors and ageless blogs, please, refrain from reading or interacting with this work or my blog!!!

December 9th, 2024. 

The day was marked in Mingi’s little red calendar he kept away in his backpack — not that he needed the reminder, the day was practically burned into his mind — and the fanciest suit he owned was ironed three nights prior with the help of his best friend and roommate, Jeong Yunho. One would think it was an important day — as to explain why he woke up at a presentable hour with enough time to spare for a few errands and a brunch with his roommate — an exam determining his final grade or something to do with his hockey, but no it was just the day of your competition. 

Currently sitting in a sandwich shop, thumbs twirling and eyes set on the flower shop across the street, Mingi contemplated whether bringing a bouquet  — maybe roses or those tulips, they were quite popular nowadays — would be too much or not at all. The two parts of his brain clashed and before he could make a decision Yunho came back with their orders, a teriyaki chicken sandwich for Mingi while he ordered something nasty looking with a really fancy and long name that Mingi couldn’t bother remembering. 

“There you go.” Yunho settled in the seat across Mingi and dove right into his food, letting out a moan of approval. “Best sandwich in town, no kidding.”

“Do girls like flowers?”

Caught mid bite, cheeks coated with crumbs and mayonnaise, Yunho looked up at Mingi who already had his eyes set on him with a seriousness that rarely outshone his happy and goofy exterior. 

“Uhm, I suppose. I mean the girls I’ve given flowers to liked the gesture. Why? You looking to impress someone, Mings?” A teasing smile quirked at the edge of his lips. “Is it a quick fuck?”

“Dude?!” Mingi hissed and quickly threw a glance around the room making sure no one overheard their convo and labeled them as creeps.

“Oh, come on, we’ve talked about worse things than some sex deets.”

“It was a simple question, Yunho-ya. Do flowers equal happy girls? Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, cool.”

Sensing this wasn’t a topic Mingi was all too keen to talk about, Yunho gave him some space and took another bite of his sandwich. Then he remembered their conversation three days ago and how Mingi begged him to help him iron his suit and teach him how to properly handle a tie, and if that wasn’t enough of a reason then he could always use the we’ve-been-friends-since-diapers card and pry whatever information he wanted out of him.

“Is this about that figure skating girl?”

“Absolutely not… Do you think she’d like roses or tulips?”

Mouth full of bacon, tomato, lettuce and bread, Yunho mumbled out a barely audible answer. “Roses. Definitely roses.”

“I’m just saying if Hyunjin brings you roses I’ll jump in front of the ice resurfacer!” 

Keeho laid flat on your bed, legs dangling in the air and chin propped on both palms as his eyes burned holes on your back. While rummaging through your closet you threw a random shirt over your shoulder, purposely aiming it at him and you knew it was a success as he let out a surprised ‘ack’.

“That’s what you get for being noisy,” Dasom chirped and rolled over him, her feet hitting your pillow and arms reaching the end of your bed.

“You guys promised to help me pack! I’m so going to be late.” 

An empty duffel bag sat on your bed beside the entanglement of limbs that were your friends. Despite waking up a whole twelve hours before your planned departure, you were running late or would be if you didn’t leave in the next fifteen minutes.

“Fine, but I’m just helping because I know you’ll make it big one day and I can use it to be a multimillionaire influencer. Yoon Keeho, best friend of the South Korean Olympic figure skater. It has a nice ring to it, no?”

Another shirt hit him in the face, this one coming straight out of the dirtied piles of clothes in the corner.

“No more throwing shirts!”

“Up we go, Kyo.” 

Dasom repositioned to sit criss-crossed in front of your bag and began neatly placing necessary things inside; towel, spare change of clothes, bobby pins, hairspray, your skates. 

“Where’s your suit?” She asked while zipping the bag.

“My coach still has it. Something about seeing it before the comp would bring bad luck or whatever. Like it’s a competition not a wedding and Keeho, get out I need to change.”

“I bet a round of lamb skewers Hyunjin is proposing after the comp– I’m leaving, I’m leaving, put that down!”

As the door closed you quickly stripped and threw on a sweatsuit bearing the logo of Tiny University printed on the front and back. Knowing you were practically working on autopilot while your nerves skyrocketed, Dasom didn’t want to step out of bounds and send you into a potential spiral of panic and stress but she was also very curious, and her greed won over her morals. With a soft call of your name she asked the million dollar question. 

“Did you only invite Hyunjin?”

You froze with your hands in your hair, a bobby pin between your fingers and an extra in your mouth as your gaze fell on her. Flashing you a derpy yet reassuring smile that warmed you up like the sun on a summer afternoon filled with sugary strawberries and pink lemonade. 

“No… Not just Hyunjin, I actually invited Mingi too, but I… don’t know why.” 

You plopped down beside her and played with your fingers. It all felt so silly and you didn’t even have the time to think about him or Hyunjin or anything boy related overall. Not that it was a bad thing, in fact it was great, but that meant your mind was completely occupied of nailing your choreo, imaging everything that could go wrong and to not let anything go fucking wrong. 

“Maybe it just felt right,” she whispered, as if the words were made of steel and you were of twigs that would break at the slightest contact.

Sighing, you nodded and fell back on your bed with Dasom in tow. There wasn’t much left to say. You couldn’t remember what drunk-you thought when inviting Mingi nor did you want to know. All you knew was that your heart did that little leap thing before violently kicking at your rib cage when he said he’d be there and that was concerning but not more so than your competition taking place in a few hours. 

If Mingi showed up, great.

If he didn’t then that was great too, is what you forced yourself into believing.

Mingi stood before a body-length mirror and kept running his hand through his neatly made hair. Yunho placed a palm over Mingi’s shoulder and the shifting motion immediately subdued only to proceed as the hand withdrew. 

“Stop moving around dude, you’re making me nervous!” 

Taking a step back, Yunho quietly assessed Mingi, searching for creases in his black suit or stray hairs standing up funny. There were no faults, his tall friend — that was still slightly shorter than himself — looked perfect appearance wise. It was the slight twitch of his finger and sweat collecting at the nape of his neck that gave him away.

“Why are you so nervous, Mingi-ya? It’s just a figure skating competition, nothing more nothing less.”

Taking a hold of the perfectly wrapped bouquet of heart-colored roses he paid a good penny for, Mingi pouted and shrugged his shoulders as if a toddler being put on the spot for doing something bad.

 “I don’t know.”

“You want me to come with?”

Yunho, dressed in an old tattered shirt and bright red basketball shorts with his naturally dark hair growing at the roots and taking on the look of pudding, was ready to drop everything and jump in his brand new suit planned for their graduation if that’s what Mingi needed.

“No, no. I’ll be fine, it’s just… Don’t you think it’s too much? Flowers, a suit? It’s a figure skating competition not a wedding.”

“Does it matter? Personally, if it were me, I’d rather see the girl I invited put in the effort even if it means wearing nice clothes over something raggedy. This shows you care.”

“I guess…”

Mingi jumped as Yunho reassuringly landed his hands on his shoulders, giving him an encouraging squeeze and smiling so his cheeks puffed up. “Come on, let’s get that tie fixed and then I’ll give you a lift.”

“Ah, the privileges of not having a driver’s license.”

“You mean the privileges of being a passenger princess?”

“Yah, Yunho-ya!” Came the whine as Mingi followed his friend like a kicked puppy on a rainy Monday morning. 

The arena was packed and while it wasn’t an unusual sight for Mingi — always being a witness of how the bleachers slowly filled up during his warm ups —  it was weird seeing it from an outside perspective. Everything seemed so much smaller and compact compared to when he was on the ice squinting past the blinding headlights to barely even catch a glimpse of the audience. Other than practice and hockey game, Mingi had no reason to visit the arena. There was no other sport that piqued his interest enough to stand in line, pay an overpriced entry fee and freeze his ass off on a plastic chair. He’d usually just enter through the changing rooms and skip all that yet there he was, all glammed up and standing behind a family wearing shirts with the name of some random chick printed in big bold letters. 

Thinking about it, Mingi couldn’t actually give less of a fuck about figure skating and months ago he didn’t care who represented Seoul or if they were even capabale to compete with the other cities. 

“All my friends are going to be there.”

“Nice friends you have.”

“We are friends,” you said matter-of-factly, your ‘S’ coming out with a lisp. “Alllll my friends are going.”

“You want me to come to your competition princess?”

“You’ll come?!”

You slinked your arm through his and squished it against your chest, cheek pressed to his bicep as you looked at him. One would believe Mingi hung up each and every single star individually in your name for you to look at him that way.

“Yeah,” he whispered, “I’ll be there.”

It was your stupid yet endearing eyes that did it all. The little shining glint that completely vexed him and before he knew it, the promise slipped off his tongue and was spoken into existence. Mingi didn’t get to indulge more in the memory of the beauty that was your face as the lights dimmed and an enthusiastic voice boomed through the speakers, welcoming everyone and announcing the start of the preliminary that would determine the female representative of Seoul at the annual Spring Championship. 

Honestly, Mingi didn’t know what to expect. He didn’t know a lot of things; how long this would be, what time your performance would start, was he supposed to find you after or before they announced the winner? It also didn’t help that he was sweating through his dress shirt despite the freezing temperature inside. 

Performance after performance passed and he was yet to catch sight of you. Honestly speaking, Mingi was growing impatient. The numbers weren’t anything extraordinary — he had seen you do much better even when ending on your rear — and he wasn’t here to watch some mediocre ladies flip around to classical music. The weight of his phone burned in his suit pocket and he was itching to reach for it. He was three taps away from dialing Yunho and making the taller man pick him up again. Oblivious to the curious and soft eyes peering at the bouquet in his lap, Mingi stared at the ice rink with a far away look on his face and bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

“Those are beautiful,” a voice came from his left. It was comforting and full of kindness. 

Snapping his head towards the person, Mingi faced a woman looking old enough to be his mom. The compliment pulled at the corners of his lips and soon a full blown boxy smile took over his face as his eyes creased into crescent moons. 

“Thank you.”

Mingi contemplated whether to hand her the darned flowers and leave while you still hadn’t caught sight of him, that way his money wouldn’t go to waste and the flowers wouldn’t end up in the bin outside the venue.

“I’m Chaeryeong’s mom.”

“Song Mingi,” he curtly answered with a little bow of his head.

“Are those for your girlfriend?”

As kind as this woman looked she sure was twice the amount noisy.

“No, they are for a… friend. She’s competing today.”

“Oh, when is she up?”

At the sight of his uncertainty, she handed Mingi a pamphlet with several numbers followed by first- and last names of the competitors. Quickly scanning the sheet of paper he landed on your name in last place and with the twenty-ninth performer taking her starting pose right as Mingi looked back up again. The urge to squish his face against the pamphlet was immense. 

“She’s last.”

“Oh! That’s Hoseok’s kid. She’s amazing and if it weren’t for my Chaeryeongie I’d root for her.”

Pride swelled in his chest and heat nipped at his cheeks. He tried suppressing the fond smile forcing its way out but failed.

“It’s actually my first time watching her perform but yeah, she’s pretty… p-pretty cool!”

“Really? Well, it’s better late than never.”

Why Mingi was getting flustered was beyond him. Not wanting to think about it and eventually fall down a rabbit hole he always did when thinking of you, he nodded and took the praise with the lady leaving a pat on his shoulder.

“Mmm, you’re smiling! Are you sure she’s just a friend?”

Mingi lowered his chin and avoided the teasing eyes of Chaeryeong’s mom. No way was he talking about girl problems with a random lady at a figure skating competition. 

“Would you spare my seat? I just need to go to the restroom.”

“Of course, son.”

With one last bow he ran up the stairs leading to the main hall and straight for the male restroom which  — to his delight  — was empty. Mingi released a breath of unease and stopped by the sink hoping to wash away the sweat collected on his hands. Looking at his reflection in the oblong mirror, he pursed his lips and splashed cold water on his face before lightly slapping his cheeks.

“It’s easy. We hand her the flowers, tell her she did great and then we leave.”

Mingi couldn’t remember the last time he was this nervous over talking to a girl. Thinking about it, he talked to you all the time. Yes, most of it was hidden behind jokes and teasing remarks, but it still counted as talking.

“Welcoming our last performer of the night…”

The booming voice of the announcer echoed through the whole building and with a quick ‘shit’ falling from his lips, Mingi dried his hands off his expensive pants and ran back into the arena receiving weird stares from other people, but he wasn’t about to miss the start of your performance after waiting for over two hours. In sync with you gliding out on the ice he flew past the double doored entrance and caught himself on the metal railing. Mingi realized there was no need to go back to his previous spot, not when he had a great view of the whole ice rink from where he stood and a great look of you posing in the middle, one arm elegantly thrown over your head and the other following the length of your figure and stopping midthigh.

Stunning, gorgeous, beautiful, angelic, breathtaking, enchanting, marvelous and other adjectives wouldn’t do the justice to describe how truly captivating you looked. 

The first thing that caught his attention was your costume. It was a long sleeved dress transitioning from dark to light blue with sparkly beads going down your chest, across your abdomen and arms in a tilted motion as if the foam of multiple waves. Your costume had a tiny skirt which Mingi was sure would swirl prettily when pirouetting and twirling in the air. The upper part of your dress took on the shape of a heart and went down your back in a v-form leaving your collars, shoulders and back completely exposed. Your hair was styled in a sturdy updo matching the elegance of your suit and while Mingi couldn’t see your make-up, he assumed it would reflect the colors of your dress and accentuate your facial features in just the right way.

The starting notes of your chosen song erupted from the speakers and Mingi’s breath got caught in his throat as you glided across the ice, his heart beating in rhythm to your every landed jump. You moved with grace and for once the teasing nickname he reserved just for you had no malice objective behind it. You surrendered yourself to the music and allowed it to guide you, your body resembled the elements of nature and became an entity that was no longer your own. Moving like the ripples of a wind, flowing and rising as though you were water yet curving fiercely as a controlled fire and flourishing like a sunflower yearning for light.

It was beautiful. You were beautiful. 

Mingi would rather have spent two hours watching you skate than those other amateurs and he was slightly bitter your number only lasted for four minutes. 240 seconds of no breathing or thinking, just existing to admire you as if you were a painting exhibited in the most famous art museum in the world.

As you were entering the last moments of your performance, the music picked up and you mentally prepared yourself to do the main stunt. There was no turning back now and with confidence pumping in your veins, you inhaled and propelled yourself off the ice. Time slowed down and magically you could somehow hear the amazed gasps of the audience. Your body spun, and spun and spun and you felt the start of gravity doing its work. As if caught in a sense of Déjà Vu, the sharp point of your skates chipped the ice and threw your landing off course, and before you knew it, you landed on the outer side of your thigh. The crowd gasped again, the tone much more horrible than a few seconds ago, and all you wanted to do was continue to lay on the cold surface, but the show was yet to be over. In hopes of saving your score, you recovered with a double-axel which wasn’t nearly as appealing as the one you failed, but at least you landed it.

The performance ended with you posing in the middle — much like you practiced — and waiting for the last piano notes to run out. Despite your big fail the arena erupted in chaos of applause and whistles. Thanking the spectators with three respectful bows — each facing a different side — you skated off the ice with shaky legs and a heart hammering in your ears falling right in the arms of your coach. Mingi didn’t move until you rounded the corner towards the locker rooms and disappeared from his sight. 

A short static echoed in the hall as the AUX was rather harshly unplugged from your phone, making you lose your footing and fall on your ass.

The ice beneath was hard and cold, and it numbed your whole left leg except for the burning pain that flared up in your backside. You had to physically hold back tears as you stood back up on shaky legs.

“Majestic as always, princess, but I’ll have to deduct ten points for that eye captivating fall.” 

A chorus of laughter and gloves pounding against the plexiglas averted your attention for a split second, and the picture of an audience watching wasn’t much of an imagination as the whole hockey team stood by the entrance of the rink. 

Mingi sighed at the memory and stalked back to his seat where the kind family and bouquet of roses waited on him. 

“You missed her performance!” Chaeryeong’s mom exclaimed and handed him the flowers.

Mingi smiled shyly, then scratched the back of his neck. “Ah no, I watched from up there.” He turned and pointed at the spot he was standing in not even thirty seconds ago. “It was a better view so yeah…”

Chaeryeong’s mom smiled tenderly with a knowing gleam in her eyes. “What a relief! You got me worried for a minute but I should’ve known you wouldn’t miss it.”

“She was amazing,” Mingi stated and received a smug look from the woman.

“Mmm, I told you so. It’s a shame she fell. Well, we’re going out for a breather but we’ll be back so please save our seats for us.”

You sat in one of the locker rooms, head in your hands and feet tapping on the floor. The performance couldn’t have been more perfect, all for it to go to shit in the end.

All the hours, sweat and energy put into practice was a waste and you didn’t have to wait for the winner to be announced to know whether it was true or not. It was ironic really, despite being in a competitive sport, you hated the concept of competitions. The idea that there could only be one winner always got to your head like a parasite planting eggs of anxiety. Your number was great, but your fall made the other girls as good if not better and that really got you spiraling. 

Not to mention neither of your parents could make it, the timing clashing with their working schedules besides driving back and forth from your hometown was too exhausting for one day. Keeho and Dasom weren’t there either, occupied with work or school projects making it unreasonable for you to be angry with them. You also didn’t spot Hyunjin or Mingi in the audience which wasn’t that much of a surprise as you could barely make out the people in the front row, but nonetheless, the lack of support was weighing on you. That’s why in these situations, you were so grateful for Mr. Jung. Not only being your coach, but for stepping up as a ten man army of supporters.

A series of knocks snapped you out of your thoughts followed by Mr. Jung’s voice on the other side.

“You ready, star? They are announcing the winner.”

“Oh, look! I think they are announcing the winner!” Chaeryeong’s mom exclaimed as she sat back down in her seat.

The competing figure skaters went back out on the ice in a neat row, all dressed in various shimmering suits creating a palette of multiple colors. The whole crowd quieted down as the announcer asked for silence and simultaneously caught everyone’s attention. Not Mingi’s though, no his eyes were set on you who — together with the other girls — lined up behind the host. 

Hands trembling and breath caught in your throat, you didn’t allow yourself to think of anything. You felt like your head was underwater. It wasn’t scary or suffocating, but not a great feeling either as you couldn’t hear anything clearly thanks to the blood pumping in your ears. Somehow you could make out the distant voice of the man holding the mic, but no words were being registered. Focusing on the white translucent puffs of your short inhales and exhales, you didn’t hear the thick voice announcing the winner. It all happened incredibly fast. One second everyone was at the edge of their seats — you imagined them to be nibbling their nails like in the cartoons — and the next thing you know, the whole arena exploded in cheers. You were so out of it you hadn’t even heard the announcement of the winner. Although it didn’t matter, because a second later the call for a girl who wasn’t you sounded through the speakers as she was welcomed up on the podium. 

“Everyone! A round of applause for Seoul's representative of the Spring Championship 2025!”

You felt yourself sink deeper and deeper into the ocean as a booming wave of applause and whistles scattered around, shaking you to the core. Tears sprung to your eyes and you silently thanked the makeup artist for using waterproof cosmetics, the last thing you needed was for everyone to notice your emotional breakdown. The winner skated up to the host and he rewarded her with a bouquet of various flowers and a sash reading ‘Seoul Representative 2025’ in gold letters. You imagined him to be wishing her good luck and words of encouragement before letting her shine in the light of attention and praise.

After bowing to the girls, judges and audience you skated out of the rink and threw yourself in Mr. Jung’s embrace who patiently waited by the open board door. His heart smile didn’t hold quite reach its natural form and came out more pained than what he’d like to and his creased eyes mirrored your own sad expression. The flashes of a dozen cameras quickly annoyed you as well as the sound of the gadgets going off and you tried your best ignoring them, but each flicker was like a stab to your heart.

You were supposed to be the winner. The camera was supposed to be on you, not on that girl.

“It’s alright, starshine. Winning is not always guaranteed,” he whispered and hugged you tighter as you started crying harder, hot tears soaking his shirt. 

He stayed with you a while inside the locker room. The silence and your occasional sniffles were the only sources of sound, besides the light chattering noise outside. 

“I’m still proud of you.”

The simple sentence brought another fresh set of tears to your eyes and you hung your head in defeat, and slight embarrassment. 

“I know you think it’s not fair and that you should be the winner of tonight's event, but that would have been too easy and that’s just not something life is… We’ll break down and start again.”

Mr. Jung had always been exceptional at shifting between being a serious and humorous coach, but the current words spoken came from someone who had experienced failure before. From one loser to another, his little words of wisdom helped you get on your feet even if you felt like you were at the lowest point of your adult life. It would still take days to get over your disappointing performance, but you’d be alright. With a pat to your head, he ushered you to wash the blue feelings off. 

While you did that, Mingi found himself once again in the bathroom, wet hands combing through strands of hair in an attempt to look less disheveled and more like he had his shit together (he did in fact not have his shit together). He sniffed the collar of his suit jacket and then his armpits, and as he didn’t detect the smell of sweat, but the aroma of his favorite cologne — that smelled of bergamot and lavender — he straightened the jacket and went out to accomplish his mission or rather plan B. 

Instead of congratulating you, like he initially planned to, he’d do something else — and what that was, he had yet to figure out — but from his own experience, he’d known better than to give you praise, especially after losing by a few points. 

Skipping two steps down the stairs, he stopped by the see-through doors instead of continuing down the hallway with several changing rooms. Mingi didn’t know what room you were assigned to and even if he did, he wasn’t planning on barging in while you were possibly getting dressed or showering. The vision of a soapy you sent heat rushing to his head, both of them, but were quickly discarded as you came out. 

You looked different from the girl twirling on the ice minutes ago. Wet hair and dressed in comfy clothes, no fancy make up or extravagant details, but a solemn expression and puffy eyes. It didn’t matter though because you were still beautiful, he thought and fixed his tie out of sheer anxiety, and opened the door. Your name swayed at the tip of his tongue and was just in need of a small push to reach your ears. Eyes entirely focused on you, Mingi missed the boy walking towards him and slinking through the opening created by the taller man.

“Thanks, bud.” Hyunjin didn’t spare Mingi another glance as he headed straight for you. 

At a loss for words and frozen in place, Mingi just watched you fall comfortably in Hyunjin’s arms and as if a masochist he stood rooted and felt his heart squeeze painfully as you melted in his hold, your sobs filling the bleak silence taking residue in Mingi’s head. 

One, two, three and four seconds later, Mingi headed home, hands stuffed in his pockets and roses left in the trashcan by the smoking area outside. Thinking back to it, he should’ve given them to Chaeyeon’s mom — or whatever her name was — at least then they’d be rotting away on someone’s kitchen table and not in a random bin on the streets of Seoul.

Entering the shared apartment with Yunho nowhere in sight — something Mingi was grateful for — he stripped out of the expensive clothes and pushed them to the back of his closet, saving his future-self from a painful reminder of what did and didn’t happen. Somewhere in the rational part of his mind, he knew not to be angry with you, but the other part, the selfish and angry one, put the entire blame on you. If there was one thing hated more than losing, it was to be made into a fool.

“I can’t believe I lost,” you said and downed a shot of soju. 

Hyunjin quickly snatched the soju bottle from beside you before you could pour yourself another shot, your sixth one to be exact.

You frowned and placed your palms against your heated cheeks. “I’m never figure skating again.”

After the little meet up with Hyunjin, he requested (more like demanded) on treating you to food, and while you insisted he admitted he’d do it either way if you lost or won. That was how you ended up in a meat house, sitting around a table for two as Hyunjin grilled the food. 

“Don’t be silly. If you give up now you’ll never win.”

You rolled your eyes and the frown turned even deeper. Gazing down at the sizzling meat, your mouth watered and stomach rumbled impatiently. You could already taste the savory flavors just by looking at it. 

“I can’t believe you dragged me here looking like this.” 

Hyunjin raised a brow, genuinely not understanding what you meant. To him you looked just fine in a pair of leggings and hoodie, and it didn’t matter that your hair was still wet or your face bare of makeup because you were perfect.

“What’s wrong with the way you look? I think you’re cute.”

A fire lightened in your core and rose up to your cheeks, ears and neck, and the air in the restaurant changed too, suddenly feeling as if you were a chicken sitting in an oven. As your heart didn’t do its usual badum-badum-badum, you realized the effect Hyunjin had on you didn’t appear. You were surprisingly calm. Unbothered even and instead of buzzing with joy you were counting down the seconds until it was time to leave. 

Not to get you wrong, you loved his company. You’d been dreaming of days like these since the first time you laid eyes on him and now that you had it, all you wanted was nothing more than to jump in bed and just go into hibernation, and forget about the world.

Something was telling you though, that even if you were eating meat and celebrating your win, you still wouldn’t feel the spirit of a winner. Deep inside, you knew the root of it. The reason as to why a gray cloud hovered over you — besides losing — and it all led back to the absence of a certain hockey player.

“Here, try this.” Hyunjin gently hand fed you a piece of beef and other fillings wrapped in lettuce. “It’s good, huh?”

“You good there, princess?”

You reeled back, momentarily stunned by the unexpected presence. Mingi grinned at your reaction and sat back. Very satisfied with his work. As he readied his own computer, you took in his appearance and found yourself growing more irritated. There was no denying that he was attractive. Thick pink lips, a straight and sharp nose and a very prominent jaw. His brown eyes were surprisingly relaxed and didn’t resemble those of a fox. The boy was even blessed with not one, but two moles. His knitted sweater was an ugly shade of moss green but it looked good on him, much to your dismay. 

You sighed and sucked through your teeth, “Why are you here?”

Why wasn’t he there?

It was as if the universe was out to get you. 

First, you lost a spot at the Spring Championship. Then you failed an assignment that took a month of your life to get done, and if that wasn’t enough, the representative face of Seoul at next year’s championship was plastered all over town. She was even on the newspaper thrown in your mailbox, which you hadn’t subscribed to! If it weren’t for your personal duo of Chip and Dale, you’d skip school just to avoid it all. 

To say, you were feeling down right shit would be an understatement, and everyone around you could feel it. That was probably why Mr. Jung canceled a whole week’s worth of practice and you couldn’t have been more relieved.

Figure skating was the last thing you needed right now.

Besides your friends and coach giving you space or peppering you with love, there was another person to be added in that equation. Hyunjin made sure to spend more time with you, always asking to go out for lunch or a stroll in the park that usually ended up with window shopping and eating ice cream. 

“Felix and Changbin have been dying to meet you, you know,” Hyunjin stated as he scooped a spoon of chocolate ice cream.

“Really?” 

You remembered Changbin solely by his Halloween party and you pushed aside the other memories that came along with that night. The other boy, Felix, you knew a little next to nothing about. 

“Yeah, they haven’t stopped pestering me about it, especially Changbin.”

“Mmm, have you been talking about me, Hyunjin-ah?” 

The black haired boy grew red at the teasing and nearly choked on the plastic spoon. 

“Wh-what!” 

It was the first time you’d ever seen him flustered and it sure was a different sight from his usual composed self. Your chuckle filtered between the giggles and chatter of multiple friend groups. It was a surprise to see so many people outside in the snow. Hyunjin eventually calmed down and returned to his natural skin color, and he proceeded with caution at his next question, slightly afraid to walk straight into another teasing trap.

“They are going to watch that hockey game… if you want, it would be a great time to meet them.”

Truth to be told, you had completely forgotten about that sport and it had everything to do with Mingi, the only connection you had to the hockey team of your university. The last time you saw him was a few days before your performance and you hadn’t seen him since, at one moment you thought he disappeared to another country, but Keeho’s confirmation of seeing him on campus debunked that theory. It wasn’t that weird though, considering you hadn’t stepped foot in the ice rink and didn’t share any classes with him, courtesy of majoring in two completely different studies.

You wouldn’t say it to anyone, not even Dasom, but the less you saw of him, the more bored you got. Obviously, you didn’t miss his irksome comments or that stupid pet name he’d use at any given moment, yet the days seemed to go slower without the pain in the ass of a man. Going to that hockey game would maybe change that, and what better excuse than to go with Hyunjin?

“Of course! I mean,” you cleared your throat. “Of course, I’ll check if I’m free and then I’ll let ya know.”

“Great. It’s next Friday and, unluckily, I pulled the short straw so I’ll be driving… So if you can and want, there's space in my car.”

Parting your mouth to answer, the left side of your brain suddenly halted all your speech function as you caught sight of a familiar figure. 

In the many places of Seoul, he just had to be in the same park as you. Wearing a blue tracksuit with the slogan of a wolf on the front and running sneakers adorning his feet, told you he was out on a late night run. It was quite unfair how even with his hair sticking to his nape and sweat trickling down the sides of his face, Mingi still looked great.

You and Mingi had never been friends — that much you knew — but for him to just run past you without as much as a nod of acknowledgement had you questioning if something was wrong. His exhausted eyes morphed into a nasty glare as they landed on you, which served as a nail in the coffin to your theories.

“Was that Song Mingi?” Hyunjin asked from beside you.

“Yeah. Yeah, it was.”

“What’s wrong, bean?”

Laying upside down on your bed with feet tucked beneath your pillow and your head a few inches from the edge apparently wasn’t a normal thing to do if Dasom assumed something was going on.

“Nothing, everything is perfectly fine.” 

Everything was perfectly fine if you ignored the fact that Mingi was angry with you and was intentionally avoiding you like the plague.

“Mmmm.” 

Dasom fell back and mimicked your position, arms thrown out and eyes locked on the ceiling. Some days were like that, spent doing absolutely nothing. Wrapped in big fuzzy blankets laying in either her or your bed, getting lost in space or scrolling endlessly through tiktok until the clock struck the early hours of the morning.

“You still going to that game?”

You huffed, “Yeah. I promised Hyunjin I’d go and he wants to introduce me to some of his friends in return. Is Hongjoong still coming over?”

“He hasn’t rain checked on me yet, so I think so.” She drummed her fingers against her shorts-clad thighs. “Isn’t the game at eight?”

“Yup.”

“Cool. Cool.”

You slid down to the floor, brows furrowed and lips titled. “What time is it?”

“Now?”

“Yes, Dasom. Now.”

“Hmmm, it’s currently seven-thirty.”

“It’s seven-thirty!?”

The blood rushed up to your head at your abrupt movement and the whole room spun as black spots clouded your vision. Left with no choice you laid back down and clutched your skull as you tried taking control of your own body again, all while assessing the situation. The game started at eight and you had approximately thirty minutes to get changed and figure out a way to get there before then. The messages Hyunjin sent you earlier today flashed in your mind and you were starting to regret turning down his offer to pick you up, at least then you wouldn’t risk being late and embarrassing yourself in front of his friends.

“Okay, I’m jumping in the shower real quick while you put together an outfit for me that doesn’t scream ‘I spent five minutes on this’ as I walk through the doors.”

Jumping to her feet with an imaginary tail wagging left and right, she saluted. A determined yet excited look on her face. Besides writing poetry in the dim light of your fridge at three AM, Dasom had a big passion for fashion and would always play dress up with you during your childhood days. 

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am!”

A trail of water followed from the bathroom to the bedroom and stopped below your feet. You stood with a towel wrapped around your bare body as you watched Dasom finalizing your outfit. The clothes on your bed were a baggy gray sweatshirt with bold letters spelling out ‘TORONTO’ — borrowed from Keeho and never returned — and a pair of blue jeans. It didn’t give too much, but was still appropriate for where you were going.

“Okay, go put it on. Have you figured out a way to get there?”

Shimmying on the clothes you heaved out a breath. “Nope.”

“Want me to call Kyo?”

“It’s a Friday so I’m sure he’s pre-gaming with Jiung and the others.”

“That’s true… I mean I could always give you a ride on my bike?”

You laughed at that. The bike in question was bright purple, almost lilac-ish with shimmering tinsel handels and star shaped wheel clips. It was cute, but embarrassing at the same time. Plus it would be a shit-show, you sitting on the carrier holding on for dear life while Dasom would do her best not to run people over. She was not the most trusted driver, hence the lack of a driver’s license (that she’s tried for five times and failed every single one).

“As much as I love you, I’d rather be late than arrive on that oddity and risk a broken arm or leg.”

“Hmpf, well if you don’t appreciate Melody then you can walk there!” She crossed her arms and pouted, her lower lip jutting in a show of feigned hurt.

“I don’t really mean it, Dae-Dae, I love youuuuu! I’ll come back with something nice to make up for it.”

The sour golden retriever-looking girl immediately brightened at the mention of a treat and wrapped her arms around you, her chin digging above your sternum. 

“Can you buy those shrimp chips that I like?” 

“Deal! I seriously gotta go now, I’ll text you when I get there. Kisses and hugs and all that bullshit!”

For once you were grateful not having a car as the parking lot was packed with them and other vehicles. It must have been a big deal if some people just blatantly abandoned their cars on the sidewalk, yellow tickets flapping on their windshields. The match was in full swing and it was everything you could expect of a hockey game. Red and blue blurs of jerseys zoomed past you, the sound of blades against ice, the livid roar of the crowd, cutting blows of a whistle, sticks cracking against the puck sounding like thunder and the thump as an opponent was checked against the boards. Seeing the bleachers full of people wasn’t something you expected when you crossed the entrance. The sides were divided into two parts — red and blue — and while you weren’t about to backstab your own university by sitting with the ‘enemy’ you found no empty seats between the Blue Wolf supporters. The other side wasn’t anything better except for the few vacant seats here and there, and more nude chests and faces covered in paint. 

This was everything but your scenery. 

Staring through the plexiglas you tried spotting the familiar mop of black and white hair you hadn’t seen since God knows when. You gave up as you quickly realized the gear covered almost the entirety of their faces and body proportions, making everyone look identical to one another, the only thing differentiating them being the numbers and colors of their jerseys that did little to help as you didn’t even know his. A pair of hands suddenly grabbed your shoulders and you jumped at the unexpected touch, hastily turning to see who the culprit was and coming face to face with a grinning Hyunjin.

“Boo!”

“Don’t do that!”

His beautiful laugh reached your ears and emitted a chuckle of your own. He coaxed you into his body and enfolded you in a warm embrace that you reciprocated, chin on his shoulder and arms going around his waist. It was first when the hug broke that you could finally take in his full appearance. His whole attire — suit pants, a tucked in turtleneck and leather boots — were completely black except for the long and expensive-looking jean coat and red beanie showing support for the opposing team.

“Let’s go, I have to introduce you to some of my friends.”

Without missing a beat he took your hand in his and intertwined your fingers as he gently maneuvered you through the crowd. Every few seconds you flinched as the people jumped up from their seats, cheering or groaning at what was happening down below.

From across the rink in the bench area adjacent to the ice, the red and blue players filled the booths closest to their goalkeepers. The game was in full swing with both teams scoring a point each and neither willing to let up on their explosive paces. The substitute players were all buzzing from excitement or nerves — probably a combination of both — as they shouted encouraging words to the starting lineup. Like the remaining defencemen of the blue team, Mingi sat in the middle with his hockey stick high up in the air and shoulders squishing against his fellow position players, but his eyes weren’t trained on the puck flying from one player to another. No, they were set on the pair of figure skaters on the other side of the rink. More precisely, he was focused on their interlocked hands and the subtle exchange of smiles.

A red light and the loud blaring of the goal horn went off in the arena as the opposing team managed to hurl the puck behind the blue goalkeeper and Mingi could argue it was how he felt on the inside seeing you together. The big crowd jumped from their seats, waving their red merch and screaming words Mingi couldn’t hear over the angry voice of his coach.

“Matthew, what the hell are you doing?!”

“Wow… This is really annoying. We’re only ten minutes into the first period and we’ve already received two points,” Jungkook fumed.

It was weird that neither Mingi or Jungkook were a part of the starting lineup, considering they were up against one of the better teams of the season. Trusting that their coach was making the right decision of keeping them off the ice, Mingi didn’t try persuading him to be put in. There were still two and a half periods left of the game, leaving plenty of time for Mingi to change the course of the match if needed to. It also gave him more time to keep an eye on you and simmer in his own rage, if he just hadn’t lost you in the three seconds he looked away. Frantically searching the bleachers for a girl with a blue scarf wrapped around her neck, you were nowhere to be seen.

“Song!”

The abrupt call of his name snapped him out of his search and he was met with the beetroot red face of his coach. 

“Are you deaf?!”

“Nu-uh. No, sir!”

“Then get off your ass, you’re going in.” As Mingi stood up, his coach threw an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in closer. “Remember what we talked about. There are scouts watching and they’ve heard great things about this Song Mingi, so show them you’re not all talk, yeah?”

Mingi pushed in his mouth guard and nodded determinedly.

Coach patted him encouragingly and gave one last pat on his helmet for luck.

“Good, get in there and put a stop to their number three.”  

Everything turned to background noise as Mingi leaped over the board and his blades slashed against the cool surface. There was only him and his defending zone, and the fact that you were somewhere in the crowd, probably watching him or getting cozy with that stupid figure skater. The grip around his hockey stick tightened at the image and he hated the effect you still had on him. He should’ve been worrying about being on top of his game and impressing the scouts, and not what you were up to.

Mingi and Matthew held the blue line and passed the puck between each other as the remaining blue players skated around in the offensive zone, searching for an opening to get the puck handed to them. As Mingi slid the puck to Matthew, the bigger defender quickly hurled it to the next player only for the pass to be cut off. 

Going backwards, Mingi immediately retreated home while putting pressure on the puck carrier and simultaneously keeping him from having a clear view of the net. He skillfully managed to push the opposing player (without physical contact) to the side in the defensive zone. He quickly realized that he was closed off and sent the puck diagonally backwards to another red player who moved with such speed, Mingi knew he wouldn't be able to stop the additional player in time. Protests erupted from the bench as all fourteen substitute players had a hunch of what was going to happen.

To his aid came Matthew and the two defensemen managed to shut down a possible counterattack. As the remaining players entered the defending zone, the puck was still in the possession of the red team. It landed in the hold of their number three, who was a few diagonal meters from Mingi. The winger locked gazes with the blue defender and sent him a smug smirk, tauntingly saying ‘watch this’ as he winded his hockey stick up to his shoulder and readied himself for a slapshot.

Losing all control of his body, Mingi changed the trajectory of his movements and skated almost backwards while getting in number three’s sight of line. Mingi waited for the perfect timing and when the red player rushed forward to skate past him, Mingi jutted out his hip, flipping the opponent over him and stealing the puck in the process. Cheers erupted in the arena and Mingi soared at the jumbled praises and roars of encouragement.

“This is Felix and that’s Changbin, they attend TOP University. Lix-ie, Bin-ie, this is the friend I’ve been telling you about,” Hyunjin introduced you as the crowd calmed down.

The two guys weren’t dressed in anything over the top, basic hoodies and joggers or a pair of jeans with small accessories showing their support for the Red Tigers which made you feel out of place with Keeho’s blue scarf wrapped around your neck. You recognized one of them as the guy who hosted that halloween party; buffy build, a triangle shaped head, but kind features.  

“Hey.” 

The deep voice that greeted you didn’t match the sunshine-face of the other boy beside Changbin. A sprinkle of freckles covered his nose and cheeks, his eyes crinkling as he offered you a sun-like smile that matched the color of his hair.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” you gently said and sat in the spot beside the sunshine-boy.

“It’s great to finally see the girl this one’s been obsessing about,” Changbin butted in with a teasing grin and earned himself a slap on the thigh by Felix.

“Just ignore him, he loves to tease.”

“Ah, that’s okay. I know banter when I hear it,” you smiled reassuringly and looked at the game below. 

One would think that because ice was your dome, you’d easily understand other winter sports, but you were truly having trouble keeping up with whatever was going on in the newly polished rink. The puck was traveling a hundred miles an hour and the skaters were freakishly fast, you could barely keep up with who was attacking and who was defending. It seemed like the moment one team scored, the other was immediately taking back a point. On top of all, you had zero knowledge about the rules. To say you were surprised when a — what looked to be dangerous and illegal — tackle occurred, would be an understatement. You expected at least someone to jump out of sheer anger, but no one batted an eye. They just kept watching and the players resumed as if it were the most normal thing of the day.

“Do you want to die?” Chan growled as he bumped shoulders with Mingi, getting all up in the defenseman’s face.

The chants of the Blue Wolves’ fans sent another surge of adrenaline through Mingi’s veins, not that he needed it, but gave him an ego boost to return the cockiness to the max.

“I should be asking you that. Don’t think you can get past us just like that. I’ll shut you down, Chan-hyung.”

In any other circumstance and in a conversation with quite literally anyone else, the use of honorific wouldn’t have been out of place, but hearing it come from Mingi wasn’t an indication of respect. It was a ploy to humiliate him and a way to set the tone of the game. In other words, telling him not to expect an easy win. Chan didn’t think anything less.

“I’d like to see you try.”

Mingi scoffed, a smirk of triumph playing across his lips. “I already did and guess what, hyung. I’ll do it again and again, and again. You will not get past me. I’ll knock you down until your ass makes a dent on the ice.”

Returning the ever-so-kind favor of butting shoulders, Mingi pushed past him and stopped right behind his center, ready to receive the puck or defend if the odds played out in the red team’s favor.

“I’m sorry about what happened at the preliminaries,” Felix smiled empathically and placed a hand on your shoulder for support. “If it makes you feel better, I thought you were perfect and deserved to win.” 

You forced a smile at the reminder of the event. The wound was still fresh and even though Felix didn’t have any ill intentions with bringing it up, it still didn’t spare you from the bitter taste of winning — if it could even be considered a victory — second place.

“Thank you, but the jury is rarely ever wrong.”

“Tell me about it,” he started and focused momentarily on the game again. “It still doesn’t change my opinion on who should’ve won though.”

Before you could thank him again and express your gratitude to his kindness, Hyunjin joined the conversation. “Oh, I see you’ve found yourself a new figure skating partner.” 

Glancing from Felix to Hyunjin and back to Felix again, you pointed at the freckled boy. “You’re a figure skater too?”

“Yup, I've been training with Jin-ie since elementary school. A tick would be easier to shake off than him.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, everyone practically begged you to sit beside them but no, little Lixie the new student decided it would be best to annoy Hyunjin-ie in the back.” 

With a witty remark waiting on the tip of his tongue, Felix parted his lips, but was interrupted by Changbin abruptly standing up, hands clasped around his mouth and shouting, “Come on Chan! Don’t let him get away with that!”

Glancing down at the rink, you noticed number three in the red team was pushed against the border with a blue guy towering over him. Both guys seemed to be communicating through their eyes and if it weren’t for their teammates getting in between, you were sure a full on fist fight would’ve taken place in front of everyone.

“You’d think Chan was his boyfriend and not mine,” Felix said to you — more so screamed over the loud cheers and hollers of distress — and watched an agitated Changbin slump back down in his seat, eyes following the flying puck kissing the net of the red goalkeeper.

“Boyfriend?” 

“Ah, right, of course Hyunjin wouldn’t talk about his friends. Anyways I’m dating number three in the red team, maybe you’ve heard of him. Bang Chan or Christopher, whatever seems fitting.”

Your mouth turned into an ‘o’ as the puzzle pieces clasped together. Felix never stopped smiling and even chuckled at your reaction. He found you endearing and understood why Hyunjin wouldn’t stop talking about you during their study sessions. 

“I take it, you know him?”

“Mmmm, I wouldn’t say I know him but we had a brief encounter at a halloween party.”

“Ah, that’s cool. The world is really small, isn’t it?”

The buzzer beat you to an answer, indicating that the twenty minutes of the second period were out. 

“Oh, and that’s halftime,” Felix said and stood up to stretch. 

Changbin shot him a deadly stare, as if the figure skater cursed out his entire family. “You know it’s not called that. It’s an intermission!”

“Eh, we don’t keep up with all that in Australia. Halftime is halftime in whatever sport you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were Australian,” you admitted.

“What, really?” He said in English and then switched back to Korean. “All the people I meet point out I speak with an accent so I’m surprised you didn’t notice.”

“Yeah, now that you’ve said it I can actually hear like the faintest accent. Oh, that’s embarrassing of me.” You sheepishly smiled and scratched the back of your head.

“Nah, not really. Anyway, Bin-ie and I are gonna get some snacks, you guys want anything?”

“I’m alright, thank you though.”

Felix threw you a thumbs up and looked at Hyunjin for his reply.

“Yeah, surprise me with something good.”

“Gotcha! We’ll be back like a lil’ before they start if we don’t get held up by the bathrooms. Changbin sure does love to take his time there.”

As the duo followed the crowd out, you and Hyunjin fell into a comfortable silence and listened to the chatter of the people around you. For being your first time at a hockey game, you weren’t bored at all, despite being oblivious to the set of rules. Keeho did say something about fights being legal and you sincerely hoped to avoid that. The sport on ice you were aware of was so less violent, flashy and fast paced. It was so different from your figure skating which was more or less art or a story being conveyed by body language. 

Nonetheless, you were still having a good time, even though much of it was spent getting acquainted with Hyunjin’s friends.

“So… what do you think of the game so far?”

Snapping from the ice taken over by a bunch of kids chasing each other and falling on their rears, you hummed and looked back at Hyunjin who already had his eyes on you.

“It’s interesting. I mean, it’s nothing like figure skating, obviously, but it’s cool… Do you guys always do this? Watch hockey?”

“Mmm, not always, but whenever Chan has a game we try to show our support just like he does whenever Lix or I have anything going on with our figure skating.”

“That’s sweet of you. That’s actually really cute,” you gushed and the thought reminded you of your own friend group. How Keeho and Dasom showed up at your competitions or the many times you and Keeho attended Dasom’s poetry slam.

Hyunjin leaned closer to you, a playful smile across his features. “I don’t like being called cute, but considering it’s coming from you I’ll let it slide.”

Taken back by the almost flirtatious side of Hyunjin, you bashfully looked away and cheekily covered your mouth, hiding the way your smile expanded at his comment. Hyunjin, attentive as always, took notice of the action and chuckled.

“How, uhm…” 

You leaned back in your seat and braided your fingers together as the change of topic went from cheerful to sullen.

“I didn’t want to ask in front of those two, but yeah… How you holding up?”

Still trying to hold up your happy expression, you faced him and tilted your head, and Hyunjin had to physically hold back from planting a kiss on your cute nose. 

“I’ve been alright. There’s not much I can do to be honest and I don’t want to dwell on it more than necessary, you know?”

“That’s understandable. Why think about the things that make you feel bad?”

“Exactly. I’ve decided to focus on the more happier things in life.” You grimaced as a hockey player tripped and smacked head first into the plastic glass. “Even if that is watching people get concussions for just 13.000 won.”

Hyunjin burst out laughing, elegantly covering his mouth with the back of his hand and tipping his head backwards. A laugh of your own lingered with his and the multiple cheers in the air. 

“Three for three, Jeon Jungkook does it again! The nimble winger of the Blue Wolves can’t be stopped!” 

The announcement sounded through the arena a few seconds after the red lights flashed behind the Tiger’s goal and buzzer erupted, nearly rupturing your eardrums. Jungkook was really on a blast tonight, you thought as you followed his retreating figure, making a mental note of remembering his jersey number. Although you had yet to find Mingi, you felt proud for at least figuring out Jungkook and Chan, completely dismissing the fact that you barely knew a handful of players on the ice.

“You’re doing great out there, Kookie.” Mingi dunked him on the back as they retreated to the neutral zone. “Make that into five out of five and I’ll treat you to some lamb skewers.”

The smirk stretched across Jungkook’s face could only be described as menacingly and with  him in his element, Mingi knew they weren’t going to go down without a fight. 

“Add steamed dumplings into the mix and I’ll double it.”

As the referee held the puck in the air between the red and blue centers, the rest of the players prepared themselves for another brawl over who put the puck behind the opposing net. Mingi was warm all over, and the extra weight of pads and equipment was taking a toll on his body, as well as defending his home base, but each time a player was stopped, the pride was enough to resurrect his energy. Glancing slightly to the side, everything moved in slow motion as he briefly made eye contact with the supporters of both teams. Some were screaming at him out of happiness and others with harmless distaste, angry at his ability to shut down the reds’ plays and advances. Moving further up the rows, it was like a headlight lit up a spot in the crowd, and suddenly, amongst the hundreds of people, he could make you out like a tulip in the middle of a meadow.

The hold around his stick tightened seeing you squished between pretty boy and an unrecognizable face, and Mingi promised he didn’t care. He didn’t care as pretty boy whispered something in your ear and he definitely didn’t care as you flung your head backward, and let out what probably was the most angelic laughter known to heaven. Smoke erupted from his nostrils and the moment the puck was in possession of the red team, the vibrant colored jerseys irked him like a matador irritatnig a bull. As the puck was in play, all sound ceased to exist and Mingi zeroed in on the players advancing forward. 

Mingi would describe it as being underwater with all the noise distant and his movement sluggish no matter how hard he tried to lift his limbs, and if  he wasn’t so aware of his surroundings, Mingi would certainly think he was losing one of his five senses. 

See, although ice hockey was a sport all about seeing and physical contact, hearing was an important part too and if Mingi wasn’t revolted by your presence, he wouldn’t have missed the referee signaling an offside, and he wouldn’t have skated into the first player daring to cross the blue line that separated the defending and neutral zone.

The referee immediately blew his whistle and fully extended his right arm, fist clenched and eyes set on the defenseman, and time turned back to normal as a pop-like sound burst in Mingi’s ears. He barely managed to realize what happened when another body collided against his, pushing him straight into the boards. Chaos ensued as multiple players got involved trying to ease the situation, but the damage was already done and Mingi was sent to the penalty box — purposely avoiding the heavy gazes of the blue bench — along with whichever guy flew into him.

He cursed out loud as he slumped down on the bench. This was embarrassing on so many levels. It was one thing to ram into someone as payback, but lashing out for no apparent reason and after the whistle was (almost) unacceptable. He wanted to laugh at his stupidity; so much for not caring. 

“What happened?” You asked no one in particular, surprised at the sudden turn of events.

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Ah, that Song Mingi, always up to no good,” Changbin grumbled, more so to himself than you. 

You snapped your eyes to the plastic enclosure the blue player was sent off to and sunk your teeth into your bottom lip. Through the year you had known Mingi, you’d never guess he could really use his size and strength to quite literally floor another person. Hockey was a rough sport, that wasn’t news to you, and considering Mingi could use his strength to his advantage, it was probably why he was so sought after. You couldn’t shake away this feeling of awareness. Just now realizing how… big Mingi actually was and you didn't know whether it was relief or pride, knowing that of all the times you pushed him over the edge, never once did he raise a finger at you out of anger or spite. 

Mingi may have been an asshole with 70% height and muscle, but he wasn’t a bad guy. 

“That’s called roughing,” Felix started explaining. “It’s like… I wouldn’t say it’s an illegal move, but if done out of motive or in a way to really hurt the other player, it could lead to a minor penalty — a timeout — or game misconduct. But it all depends on how bad the situation is.”

“So he won’t play until the end of the game?”

“Nah, he’ll probably be out in like a few minutes,” Hyunjin answered for you and clapped as the red team scored, evening out the score board to five-five.

“Then the blue team will be a player short up until then?.”

“Pretty much,” Felix confirmed and popped a chip in his mouth.

You didn’t see how that could be fair, but then again, ice hockey wasn’t your forthe and as no one in the crowd was making a fuss over Mingi’s penalty — except for pointing out his poor judgment — you didn’t say much else, but hum in agreement. For twelve minutes, you didn’t pay attention to what was happening on the ice, only applauding when the crowd did and slumped back in your seat as the supporters groaned in disappointment. Your full attention was set on the lone player in the plastic box. 

Worry, confusion and pity circled your mind and you wondered if this was how everyone felt seeing the placement of your figure skating competition. As soon as the thought made home in your head, you shooed it away, reminding yourself to focus on the happy things and not everything that was blue. 

Forcing your eyes from Mingi, the most blue thing in the arena (both clothing and emotion wise) you zoned out and the players blurred into small vivid spots twirling on the ice like flies above a bowl of fruit. You didn’t understand where the worry came from or why it decided to take shelter in your stomach. It probably wasn’t Mingi’s first rodeo in the penalty box and wouldn’t be the last on either, and you recognized his sudden outburst as the one you saw a glimpse of at the party, right before you left him with that blonde police officer. 

Mingi never lashed out in anger and if he did, you were never on the receiving end of it despite giving him back a tenfold of insults he greeted you with. Seeing him quite literally floor a guy his size, made your guts twist in discomfort. It was an emotion that didn’t look good on him at all. 

The game was growing more intense with each minute passing and the atmosphere amongst the audience was also getting rowdier as the teams were practically neck and neck, neither willing to let up. The second Mingi stepped foot on the ice again, the whole arena blew up with cheers. It was like the almost extinguished torch of hope re-awakened into a bright and lively fire, and you too held onto the light of hope that the Blue Wolves would take it home, definitely because of your loyalty to Tiny University and not the growing affection for a certain defender in said school. 

The puck was flying from one side of the rink to the other in just a matter of seconds with all players, excluding the goalkeepers, circling around and cashing the rubber like stone. 

“Here, wanna help me hold this up?”

You didn’t know how you missed the big sign leaning against Felix’s legs, but you did. With a nod of agreement, you both took hold of each side of the white cardboard cutout and quickly looked at the glittery blue writing on it. 

I am Chan’s #1 fan. 

“Don’t judge, I made it like last second.” A blush kissed his cheeks and his eyes squeezed into crescent moons as you read the corny line.

“No, no! I think it’s cute.”

With ten seconds left of the game everyone in the arena stood up which made you and Felix raise the sign even higher. When everyone thought the game would end in a tie, a player from the defending line of the blue team somehow managed to steal the puck from two red players and sent it hurling across the rink, right in the sanctuary of his teammate’s stick who calculatedly launched it towards the red goal and past its keeper. The buzzer went off and chaos ensued. From what you could see all the Blue Wolves players crowded the scorer and dunked the defender who sent the winning assist, while the fans raised the volume through the roof. Whistling, cheers, laughter, even some old fashion booing circulated the arena.

Not all that upset with the outcome of the game, Felix applauded and turned to his friend who seemed to be quite butthurt. “Song really is crazy good, isn’t he Bin-ie?”

“Whatever, he’s lucky Jake sprained his ankle and couldn’t play today or he’d have them all eating ice. Ha! Get it, cause they’re playing on i–”

The rest of the conversation was tuned out as you focused on the celebrating team, trying to catch sight of eighty-nine. Your eyes traveled from one bulky player to another and then, as if your prayers were answered, the player came right into view. 

Mingi walked beside a shorter guy clad in blue and you assumed it was Chan by the sole way he pointed up at you and the other guys. Your suspicion was confirmed as the helmet was removed and Chan’s face was illuminated by the strong lights. You could just make out the faint movement of his mouth, saying something to the giant beside him. 

“Good to know your girl is cheering for the right team, Mings.”

Mingi followed the invisible line leading to where you stood and scanned the group of friends. He immediately recognized Hyunjin and the buff one, and he didn’t even manage to take a proper look at the third boy as his eyes found yours. Beautiful as ever, he thought and admired as much of you as possible. Your face, clothes, make-up and everything about you was perfect, and the passive aggressive comment was almost brushed to the side until he zeroed in on the paper in your hands. It was in that moment that the rose-tinted glasses slipped down his nose, jealousy quick to seep into every corner of his existence and he remembered why he’d been avoiding you for weeks.

Before he could send you a sharp (and unjustified) glare, he redirected his anger to the guy beside him. 

“Oh, don’t be like that. She was the one to look at me first.

Mingi wasn’t a violent person, he really wasn’t, but there was no acceptable excuse for why he did what he did. 

As if born ready for this day, Mingi used his teeth to tear off his gloves and pounced on Chan. One hand grabbed around the collar of his red jersey as the other was colliding with his cheek. He managed to get in two more punches — the first successfully collided with Chan’s jaw and the second just barely missed the bone of his nose — before Chan used his own limbs to defend himself. The red winger grabbed hold of Mingi’s helmet and snatched it off his head, and seized the chance to send a fist flying in his face, returning the punches he received from the blue defender. Red bruises quickly littered across their knuckles and warm blood covered their skin, the thick liquid pouring from both Chan’s nose and Mingi’s lip.

The crowd was going wild, the whistles of the referees were being ignored and it didn’t take long before the remaining players of each team were trying to separate the two brutes. 

“Oh my God!” 

Felix and Changbin flinched at your gasp. 

“He’s fucking crazy. Hey! What the hell?!” Changbin jumped between the seats and rocketed down towards the ice with the rest of you hot on his heels.

The silence was deafening. Everyone was curious as to what was going on and why a fight ensued now that the game was over, usually the nose breaking happened on ice and not off. Whispers and rumors spread like a wildfire, some claimed it was the aftermath of adrenaline while others thought of something more extreme like hard drugs taking over. Nonetheless, the crowd riled them on, clearly finding joy in the brawl. You weren’t anywhere near when the referees and teammates broke them up, Mingi being forcefully sent towards the locker room as Chan stayed laying on the ground, crimson face and teeth no longer pearly white.

“What the hell, Mingi,” you muttered under your breath and slipped through the mass of people, running to where you assumed he’d be. 

Your head was working a hundred miles an hour with the images of Mingi hunched over Chan, fists violently beating the blonde and a lot of blood covering his face. You were sure you’d never get them out of your head and you shuddered at the amount of red that ran down Chan’s nose. For the sake of the giant asshole you grew attached to, you hoped it wouldn’t put a stop to his career, both school- and sportwise. It would by far be his dumbest decision yet. For what even?

A group of reporters stood outside a door you assumed was reserved for the Blue Wolves and if that wasn’t enough of a give away then it was the loud cheers and victory singing echoing out to the hallway. In reality you wanted nothing more than to barge inside and interrupt their celebration — how they could celebrate after that bloodbath was still something you couldn’t wrap your head around — but you did no such thing. The moment the door opened you pushed the reporters aside and flew in with your head first, paying no mind to the perverse wolf whistles and cheers of the adrenaline drunken boys. You didn’t even bother with them as your eyes scanned the room that smelled of sweat and axe deodorant for him. Jungkook, seemingly the most normal one there (which spoke volumes), quickly understood why you were there and approached you with no teasing glint or malice in his gaze.

“Try looking by the abandoned gym on the ground floor. There’s a vending machine there we usually go to so I assume if he’s taken off somewhere it should be there.” 

You wasted no time in turning on your heel and practically sprinting down the route you repeated like a mantra. First floor. Abandoned gym. Vending machine. First floor. Abandoned gym. Vending machine.

Lo and behold, he was right there and if it weren’t for the worry growing in your belly you’d go back upstairs and reward the playboy with a big smooch to his rosy lips. 

Mingi sat down on the floor, legs up to his chest and forearms folded on his knees. His sweaty forehead was leaning against the skin of his arm and an anxious rhythm of his heart beat in his chest. It was hard to miss the red on his knuckles. Inhaling a shaky breath as if it would steady your own heart, your feet stopped before him falling right in his line of sight. Surprised at the unexpected company, Mingi looked up and got a first row ticket of the concern swimming in your eyes. You didn’t know what to expect going after him, but the annoyed — almost disgusted — scoff he let out cut through you like a knife and twisted as he looked back down. Despite the act of annoyance aimed at you, Mingi wasn’t actually that annoyed with you but rather with himself because after everything he still had the urge to reach for your touch and he hated it. His jaw clenched at the circumstance and his nails dug in the palms of his hands. You weren’t even supposed to be here, it made everything ten times harder than it should’ve been.

Having had enough of his pity party Mingi and the weight of your gaze judging him, he pushed up from his position and walked right past you. No hello, no second glances, just walking as if you were a ghost he couldn’t see let alone feel. His movements halted when you latched onto one of his wrists, knowing that if he truly wanted to get away he’d shake you off like a ragdoll and be on his merry way. Although he was with his back facing you, the fact that he stood  rooted to the ground was the approval you seeked to continue with your winged attempt at getting him to speak.

“Mingi, what the hell was that?” 

The two of you weren’t heavy on the use of honorifics, but hearing you spit his name out like that surely sent a shiver down his spine. You weren’t pissed off, he noticed, you were actually worried and it was quite amusing. The nerve you had of showing up after that fiasco to interrogate him about his actions. Who the hell did you think you were?

“Huh? Why did you do that?” Shaking his arm, you tried again. “Can you please say something? I’m worried for you and your silence isn’t helping, please just say something.”

Mingi didn’t budge and you were starting to lose it. The avoidance wasn't enough, now he was blatantly ignoring your attempt at helping too.

“What is your problem?! I’m trying to help you, something’s obviously happened so why won’t you tell me!”

Ripping his wrist out of your hold, he turned around and it took every particle in you not to cower at his sharp eyes staring you down. 

“You want to know what my problem is?” His loud voice bounced off the walls and punched you right in the gut. 

There was so much anger in his gaze, his tone and his body. Everything screamed of anger and you didn’t even know why you were on the receiving end of his emotions. You were just trying to help.

“You! You are my fucking problem!”

“What?”

“As if you don’t know what you’re doing. Acting all nice and cutesy like we are friends, like you’re interested in ever befriending me which now that I think about is so stupid because you and I? What a joke. We’re a fucking joke!”

“What are you even talking about?!”

Mingi scoffed again. He looked to the side, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. There were so many thoughts going through his head and all he could think about was what words to use to hurt you the most. To make you feel the hurt he did.

“First, you invite me to your stupid competition and then you come to my game sitting with him! Was this all a game, huh? To get back at me for all the dumb shit I did to you because if it is then wow, you’ve really proven yourself to be more shallow and boneless than I ever thought. I mean, you’re really going out of your way to get under my skin and act like a fucking–”

Mingi closed his eyes and clamped his mouth shut, the veins on his neck were more prominent than ever and his face was almost identical to the red color of Dasom’s hair. He really needed to calm down before he said something he’d regret. Not that it mattered, the damage was already done and he knew the aftermath was already biting him in the ass. Shit, the look of your glossy eyes was quick to make his inside burn with remorse.

Each insult was a poisoned arrow aimed at your heart. The words physically hurt you more than ever before and you weren’t aware just how mean Mingi could be. Your previous bickering never stooped on a level this low before and it brought tears to your eyes but even that wasn't enough to stop his rant. Not wanting to be caught vulnerable in front of the guy who was practically stepping on you with his shoes, you quickly wiped away the tears that managed to escape.

Mingi knew he was taking his frustration out on you and he knew it wasn’t fair because you hadn’t done anything wrong. It all kept piling on his shoulders. All the instances he saw you two together; the joint practices, your embarrassed giggles any time Hyunjin breathed, watching him console you in the hallways like a poor reenactment of a romcom, sitting so close together at his game, shoulders touching a little too close for Mingi’s liking… If that stupid piece of cardboard was a bomb waiting to be activated, then Chan was the flame that set everything off. 

“Oh, great. This is really great now you’re fucking crying too. You think some tears are going to make me feel bad? They won’t, I don’t care anymore okay? I’m done with you and your fucking shit. So go back to your prince fucking charming and don’t even bother looking for me, you hear? I’m fucking done!” 

You shrunk back at his unwavering and stern voice. Having nothing more to say Mingi stormed away, blood boiling and hands shaking as the final words set in. The last you saw of him before gut-wrenching sobs wrecked your body was the door slamming up against the wall and back the doorframe so hard the walls vibrated. And later that same night when Mingi got home, he wouldn’t even be surprised if you decided to never look at him again, let alone speak with him. 

Different emotions tore you apart and it was hard to make sense of anything that happened in the past ten minutes. The questions — what, why, how — were endless and you wanted to go home, preferably dig a hole in your bed and not come out until better days, whenever that would be you didn’t know. Tears burned your cheeks like lava and snot tickled your nose, dropping off your chin and onto your shirt. With the already wet sleeve of your sweater you wiped everything off your face, not in the right mind to care about what Keeho would say about his precious shirt. Like a baby cub seeking its momma bear for comfort, you retreated home yearning for the closest touch of a mother you could find.

“You have reached the voicemail of Choi Dasom. Please leave a message after the beep.”

After the fifth attempted call, you gave up and continued trudging home. Dark clouds hovered over Seoul and the light pelts of rain quickly became a downpour. Being picked up on Dasom’s bike didn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore.

Unlocking the front door of your shared apartment you were greeted with Hongjoong and Dasom sitting awfully close on the couch. They jumped apart as you harshly dropped the keys in the fruit bowl and froze at the sight of you; bawling, wet and shivering. Skipping the formalities you wasted no time diving in the shower and by the time you ventured back out, Hongjoong was nowhere to be seen as if the boy was never there to begin with and you couldn’t have been more relieved. You’ve had enough boys for the next ten years of your life.

“Beans?” 

It was probably the dumbest thing to cry about, but your lips still quivered and the tears you just managed to stop surfaced at the nickname. The girl caught you in her arms and you buried your head in her shoulder as your cries got louder. Dasom offered you solace with gentle rubs to your back and patiently waited until your labored breathing became even. 

“Let’s get you to bed,” she whispered and slowly guided you to your bedroom. 

Attentive as always she helped you get under the covers and shuffled in beside you to which you immediately buried your face in her bosom, her hand slank under your neck and connected with the other at the back of your head. You lay there in each other’s presence and listened to the coexisting beat of your hearts. Dasom didn’t try coaxing the troubles out of you and you heaved out a big breath. A wave of exhaustion washed over you at the constant tears and after waking up from passing out of exhaustion, you knew you’d be a victim of an unbearable headache and heavy feet. The whisper of your name was loud in the silent room and you hummed in reply, letting the other girl know you were in fact awake.

“You wanna talk about it?”

The most obvious thing would be to talk about it; talk about why you burst through the door, face wet and not entirely because of the rain. Your mom always told you to never sleep with an empty stomach, a busy mind or a heavy heart and while you didn’t appreciate the advice at the minute, future-you would (hopefully) think back to this moment and thank you for your courage. Dasom followed in tow as you sat up criss-crossed, taking your hands in hers and giving them comforting squeezes every once in a while. By the time she was pulled through the story of your evening — meeting Changbin and Felix, having a good time with Hyunjin, to seeing Mingi beat the living shit out of Chan and then him lashing out on you — the clock struck somewhere between two and three in the morning, courtesy of a few short crying breaks in between. Glancing up at your friend who was still digesting the events, you felt lighter at the thought of having your very own sun sharing warmth and hope wherever she went.

“He likes you,” she eventually said, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You sniffled and wiped at your nose again, hands falling to play with the bedsheet. 

“He doesn’t.”

“How do you know who I’m talking about?”

You thought you ran out of tears hours ago but were proven wrong as a new batch stung your eyes and eventually trickled down your sore cheeks. Dasom pulled you in another soul crushing hug and held the back of your head, nails gently massaging your scalp.

“Why are you crying, bean?”

Through tears and her thick cardigan you replied. “Because we aren’t talking about Hyunjin, are we? He’s the one we should be talking about.”

“But we aren’t and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

It felt wrong crying over someone who held no significance in your life just a few months ago. The same guy who riled you up like it was his daily dose of sunshine and who set it as his life mission to have you curse him out. The guy who called you stupidly cute nicknames and walked you home at night, offering up his jacket to keep you warm and safe from colds. The guy who didn't turn up to your competition and then lived in your head like an annoying song playing on repeat refusing to disappear. The same guy who shook you to your core with his angry words and fiery gaze.

“Why am I like this?”

“Like what?” 

Dasom wasn’t foolish. She knew what you were going through and could only hope you’d come to terms with the unknown feelings rather than to be the one revealing the reason behind your heartbreak. 

“Drawn to a guy who’s mean and an asshole when I have the perfect one right there, waiting and catering to my every need.”

“I know I’m supposed to hate him for the things he’s said to you and I do, I really do bean…. so if you think I won’t at least glare him down in the hallways then I’m revoking your position as my best friend… But I’m going to be completely honest with you, bean because that’s what you deserve. I think something else must have triggered him to lash out, it couldn’t just have been because you were simply sitting beside Hyunjin.”

She gently played with your hair as the words sank in.

“He really hurt me.”

“I know, bubs and I’m so sorry. Know that nothing excuses that behavior.”

“Then why do I still think of him even when he’s shit. Why won’t my brain let me be happy with Hyunjin?” You broke from the huge and fell back on the bed, hands gripping the sheets as if they held all the answers to your questions. 

“Hyunjin is safe. We all like the safe and predictable, right?” 

Your nod of agreement spurred her on. 

“But Mingi, oh Mingi, is exciting. He drives you crazy, keeps you on your toes and throws you off course yet you can’t ever really get enough of him no matter how much it annoys you. I see it and I’ve been seeing it for months now and I promise this is the most objective version of me speaking right now.”

“But I like Hyunjin,” you whined, refusing to accept your own feelings.

“And you like me and Kyo too,” Dasom whispered softly, like a breeze passing through a field. “But we don’t fall in Mingi’s category.”

The days leading up to the holidays were spent within the four walls of your room waiting for the time to pass until you’d take your suitcase and haul ass across the country, definitely not because you were afraid to stumble across the very person you were avoiding. After the not so pleasant discovery you didn’t know what to make of yourself or your feelings. You couldn’t just phone him and proclaim your undying love because last time you checked, he explicitly made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you. You from a few months ago would throw a party big enough to think it was for a quinceañera or a sweet sixteen celebration with this information, but the present-you acted like Bella Swan during the disappearance of Edward Cullen just a tad bit less depressing.

Dasom was the first to leave. Her parents surprised her with a vacation to Jeju-island and her flight left the first morning of winter break. Keeho was still in the city but with college out of the way, he took on more working hours than usual. His immediate family lived in Canada and the plane ticket would be more expensive than the salary he’d get over the next two weeks. With your two friends unavailable you passed time thinking about the one who shall not be named and realized how unfortunate the whole situation was. You also realized you probably wouldn’t act upon your feelings as you didn’t with Hyunjin and would just let them flow until evaporating into thin air. 

Speaking of Hyunjin, you and him still texted back and forth albeit the conversations were slow and not nearly as exciting as you once found them to be. Your sudden disappearance at the hockey game was covered with a quick lie of ‘not feeling well’, which he immediately believed because, why wouldn’t he? Christmas wasn't anything special. It started with an early message of Hyunjin wishing you a Merry Christmas attached with a selfie of him in a Santa hat and fake beard, and the rest of the day was spent inside with your family watching movies and drinking hot cocoa. 

The new year was welcomed on the couch where a bump would sooner or later be formed and that alone was enough to explain the excitement level in the household. You all went to sleep a little after midnight and as you laid in your childhood bedroom, feet almost sticking out of the small bed, you mindlessly scrolled down the explore section of Instagram. A pang of sadness struck you at the picture staring back at you through the screen. It was a post of Mingi and his friend — the golden retriever looking one — posing on a snowy mountain both clad in skiing gear. The taller of the two had an arm slung over Mingi’s shoulder who, in return, sported a boyish grin and held up a peace sign. The split lip had healed perfectly and the only indicator of him being in a fight was the slight plum colored mark under his eye (courtesy of a nice punch delivered to his nose). At least someone was happy with you out of their lives. 

Angry, sad and just tired, you exited the app and shoved your phone under the pillow drowning out your scream. You didn’t even know why his post landed on your feed. Wasn’t the explore page supposed to show videos of millennials doing cringy trends and not the most recent activity of the dude that shit all over you.

This continued on for days. While you were decomposing in your room he was updating his Instagram account as if a celebrity. Pictures and videos of him clubbing until the early hours of the morning, pretty girls and tables full of alcohol captured in short stories and then a complete 180; sharing clips of him flying down snowy mountains, doing stunts and whatnot.

If he was so upset with you, why were you the one wasting days self wallowing? It wasn’t like you could party away the worry. Your hometown was the size of a nut meaning A) you knew everyone and their mother, and B) every person in a ten mile radius was well-over the age of forty and the closest thing that came as a party would be the retirement home down the street. Then again, playing bingo with the grannies was better than binge watching gut-wrenching dramas. At least you’d be clearing your ‘to watch-list’.

The weeks passed in a blur and, before you knew it, you were back in the comfort of your apartment with two days to spare until classes started rolling again. Dasom would be home the day after and Keeho was either passed out in his apartment or working his second shift of the day, leaving you to unpack the chaos sealed inside your suitcase. Swirls of snow beat violently against the windows, turning the outside world into a winter wonderland. The heavy weather picked up on your journey home and as you traveled halfway back to Seoul, the ground was slowly being covered in white flakes. You only got so far with your unpacking when a series of knocks rattled against the front door. 

“What’s uuuuup?!” Keeho screeched as you opened the door and an equally excited Dasom rolled in with her red large suitcase. 

“What are you doing here?!” 

They pulled you into a hug. Keeho’s loudness and Dasom’s giggles warmed up the place in no time and you immediately felt better.

“Surprise!”

“I hate you guys!” You exclaimed and squeezed their waists, head resting on Keeho’s shoulder with Dasom’s nose buried against your chest.

“Don’t lie, we know you love us. Now let’s get this bitch started!”

Scurrying to the kitchen Keeho brought back three animated cups; one with Naruto, Totoro and–

“You’re not drinking beer from the cup plastered with a picture of my dead cat!”

“Of course not, that one’s yours. Mine’s the Naruto one and Dasom gets Totoro, for obvious reasons.”

Said girl skipped quickly to the pantry and pulled out multiple bags of snacks. The huge smile on her face got you all curious.

“What’s got you all happy?”

“Nothing, I've just missed you guys! Jeju was fun but it would’ve been better with you there,” she pouted and poured the snacks into separate bowls.

“Pfft, don’t listen to her. She’s been texting that Cruella de Vil boy all winter break.”

Her smile grew and grew until it was a full blown grin and you squealed in delight, genuinely happy for your friend despite the green monster gnawing at the back of your head. 

“Tell me everything, c’mon!”

“Ah, ah, ah!” The fun and what would be the start of a girls’ night was interrupted by Keeho. “I should be the one asking you that, little miss I’m in love with my greatest enemy.”

Gasping, you turned to Dasom. “You told him?!”

“So it’s true?!” 

He leaned towards you and nearly snickered as your hands covered your mouth — if it weren’t for the serious circumstance — and stared at him with wide eyes. You walked right into his trap and as you told him everything that happened — the good and the bad — Dasom threw her hand out, palm facing upward..

“Pay up, pretty boy!”

“They aren’t even together!”

Dasom, a feral little chihuahua, jumped on him and a wrestling match took place in the middle of the living room. You couldn’t find it in you to be mad or upset. Leaning back against your arms, you watched them with a smile tugging at your lips. This is what you missed back in your childhood home. As much as you loved your family, the one you built in the heart of Seoul was very dear to you.

The ding of your phone snapped you out of your love-struck daze.

Hyunjin [07:16 PM] you back home yet?

You [07:16 PM] yeah, arrived a few hours ago

Hyunjin  [07:16 PM] im glad

Hyunjin  [07:16 PM] how was it?

You [07:17 PM] Good to see the family again but God did I miss my bed

You [07:17 PM] What were you up to?

Hyunjin [07:17 PM] yeah no kiddin ik exactly what u mean

Hyunjin [07:17 PM] Nothing much, did a lot of practice on the choreo w Iseul

You [07:17 PM] Ohhhh how’s that coming along?

Hyunjin [07:17 PM] it’s good but nowhere near perfect

You scoffed at the reply.

You [07:17 PM] I’m sure you’ll get it down in no time

Keeho harshly grabbed your shoulders, peering down at the screen but not comprehending any of the words.

“And who are you texting?” 

“Hyunjin.”

“Hyunjin!” Dasom sang, already tipsy from the soju she downed while you were busy typing away.

“And what does Mr. Popular want?"

Hyunjin [07:19 PM] wanna help me practice? 

Author's note pt.2: There's one thing I'd like to say regarding this chapter. When it comes to significant others, situation ships, partners, etc do not ever let anyone speak to you in a condescending matter. It doesn't matter how upset they are or what you've done for them to explode, you should never, and I really mean NEVER let anyone talk down to you. The only reason I didn't make MC obliterate Mingi is for the sake of the story, otherwise I'd have her drag him along the streets of Seoul like a dog, lmao. Anyway, if anyone speaks to you like Mingi did to MC in their fighting scene, please either leave/break up or put them in their place. You deserve to be treated with respect and love as much as anyone else.

© HONGJOONGSPOETRY 2024 - All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting or translating my work is not allowed.

[kallie-den]

Rescue Hound Chapter One

Kione Monax, a mercenary pilot, is hired to rescue the captured, brainwashed Sartha Thrace. But getting her home and healing her mind prove to be very different things - and Kione's feelings for the hero threaten to pull her into the darkness when she discovers just how malleable Sartha can be

A new Warhound story!! The preceding stories can be found at this tag

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Nothing makes Kione Monax feel good the way being saddled up in the cockpit of a huge mech suit does.

Cause it pays really, really well. Duh.

Provided you’re the best, of course. Kione doubts any of those fifth-rate Imperial grunt pilots they never seem to run out of get paid more than a pittance—not that they’ll ever live long enough to spend it, if she’s the one they’re up against. But Kione? She’s the best. Nowadays, at least. And that means she can name her damn price and the rebels will pay it, no matter how sour the looks on their faces when she comes to collect.

It’s not all about the money, obviously. Kione would be the first to admit that there is a very clear and distinct pleasure in being the very best. To ruling the battlefield like a queen. To tapping into the merciless rhythm of combat, and feeling the beat change when she decides it’s the moment - the moment to kick her Theaboros’s reactor into the red and soar, allowing herself just a single moment to drink in the stupefied, upturned, defeated faces of her prey before she puts them out of their misery.

Fuck, it’s good. It really gets her hot.

But it’s not better than money, because money was what had bought her the Theaboros and its wings, and its state-of-the-art systems, and its fresh coats of paint—for vanity, although sometimes she lies and calls it ‘branding’—and all the fancy drinks she buys for the very best hookers before she buys them too. That’s what life is all about. Not principles. Lots of people get big, stupid ideas in their heads once they’re sitting behind the controls of a sixty-foot mechanical god. If your ideas are big enough and stupid enough they start calling you a hero, and Kione is very, very determined not to end up as one of those. They always die bad.

That’s how scumbag mercenaries like Kione wind up as the best.

Hey, merc, comes a terse voice over a shitty, crackling radio, just as Kione finishes planting the charges, you better be in position.

Kione sighs quietly to herself before she answers: “I am. Plan B is in place.”

Good, says the girl on the radio. Get ready. And remember: no work, no pay.

Kione rolls her eyes. Why do people always feel the need to remind her? Contrary to popular slander, mercenaries aren’t cowards or turncoats. Any mech-for-hire who pulls that kind of shit just saw their very last payday. And besides, Kione refuses to help out the imperials. Just out of self-interest, of course—there’s no place for free spirits like her in the kind of world they’d like to build. She’s bloodied their noses more times than she can count, and you’d think that would win her some actual gratitude from the rebels she fights alongside.

Hell no. Kione had fought with unit after unit, recruit after recruit, and each one proves to be just as naively idealistic as the last. They all think they’re put here to save the world, and they hate that Kione knows she’s only here to make some hard cash. The girl barking orders at Kione over the radio is one of those. An idealist. A firebrand. She’d flashed Kione a nice, mean look before they’d shipped out. Stars in her eyes, hell on her lips.

Kione knew then and there she’d have to fuck her, once they made it back. It wouldn’t be hard. Girls like that always went for her once they saw first-hand how good she was. She went for them, too. She just loved to make them choke on her.

She’s here. Cut the chatter. Everybody focus.

At once, Kione lets go of her sleazy fantasies and gets herself back in the zone. Not for the first time, she wonders about the targets. How many? How well-equipped are they? Guess she’ll find out soon enough. Not that she can see shit right now, hanging from the underside of this colossal bridge.

It’s a good place for an ambush and a great place to get yourself killed if a thousand tons of reinforced concrete come down on your head before you know what’s happening. That’s why Kione’s there. That’s the truth of mercenary work: you get the real shit jobs. The ones they don’t expect you to walk away from.

Suits Kione just fine. She’ll groan and grumble until they pay her double, then prove she’s worth every penny.

For now, though, there’s only waiting. That gets to Kione the same way it does to every soldier. Eventually, her mech’s sensors pick up vibrations. Footsteps on the bridge above. Another machine. A pretty big one, too—but only the one, which prompts some serious fucking questions. Who the hell are they ambushing here? A high-value target, clearly. Maybe an imperial higher-up. But those don’t fly solo. A pilot, then? Some ace? It’d have to be. Kione can’t think of any other reason they’d pay her fees for a gig like this.

It has to be someone good. Someone only she can beat.

Kione finds herself grinning.

More waiting. The target is moving slow. A nice, steady march. It gets closer, and closer, and closer, until Kione can hear each step; can feel them reverberating through her body. Until the enemy is directly above her. The enemy mech’s footfalls are heavy and almost familiar. Despite everything, Kione is all but bursting with anticipation. She loves getting to put a rival ace in the dirt. Nothing better. But she knows she needs to be patient. She’s not the first wave. She’s the coup de grâce.

The radio crackles again. Now! Open fire!

An instant later, the air trembles with the report of a dozen guns. The rebels scattered themselves across the bridge, each pilot picking their ambush spot to secure kill zones and neutralize cover. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The rebels don’t have a lot of advantages over the imperials, but this is one of them: they’re good at this kind of guerrilla shit. As the barrage wears on, Kione’s grin starts to slip. She’s beginning to think they won’t need her after all.

Then, one by one, the guns go silent.

Kione can pick out each machine as it goes dark, just from the sound. No two rebel mechs are alike; consistent supply and production lines are a fleeting fantasy so each machine is somebody’s pet project, customized according to parts and needs. That makes it all too easy for Kione to count.

One down. Two down. Three down.

What the fuck?

It’s hard to believe, but Kione can hear it happening. Up above, the enemy mech pounds the bridge with its footfalls. That thing must be moving like a hound out of hell, dodging beams and missiles, throwing itself at one rebel after another. Its engine is deafening; an insane scream of tortured metal and unholy combustion that fuels the carnage. Screaming is just about all Kione can hear over the radio, too. The rebels’ comms discipline has broken down. They can’t make sense of how fast it's gone wrong.

Merc! Where the fuck are you?

That’s her cue. It’s the moment—and with a worthy foe, too. Kione can’t stop herself laughing nastily into the radio as she retracts the anchors keeping her attached to the bridge and slips into freefall.

And again, when she punches ‘startup’ on Theaboros’s flight system.

Mechs can’t fly, yeah? Everyone knows that. It just doesn’t make a lot of sense. You want to fly, you get in a plane. You’d need a stupid amount of thrust to get something as big as a mech suit in the air. A big engine won’t help. The tyranny of the rocket equation will murder you. Weight means fuel, fuel means more weight. The aerodynamics would probably be shit too. And that’s not even getting into the economics problem. Nobody can spare that much reactor fuel for just one machine. The best way to square the circle would be to build the entire thing out of some kind of crazy cutting-edge superalloy, but those are hell to get and worse to maintain. No; a flying mech would be a ridiculous vanity project. The imperials would never sanction it, and the rebels could never afford it.

Good thing Kione Monax has never worked for free a day in her life.

It helps that she built Theaboros smart—or at least, paid other people to. It’s a slender beast; tall, upright, almost human-like in its posture. It weighs a fraction of most of its rivals, and so when it spreads the six sleek, silver pinions mounted on its back, Kione can actually feel them catch the air. Every little helps when you’re fighting gravity.

But what really, really helps is the state-of-the-art antimatter reactor surging to life and pumping out a steady stream of anti-Fermion particles that singe the air around her mech a deep, unearthly red as they annihilate and, for just a fraction of a second each, keep the fundamental forces of the universe at bay.

With that on her side? Fuck yeah, Theaboros can fly. And Kione falls a little more in love with it every time.

It flies now, with her gripping the joysticks, gliding the unnaturally nimble machine between cables and tresses as she boosts clear of the bridge’s superstructure and tilts up, pulling a tight loop that brings her down onto the deck, ready to give her target the surprise of a lifetime.

Except, no.

Kione is the one left with her jaw on the floor when she sees who she’s up against. All at once, she realizes she was wrong before. It’s not someone only she can beat, because it’s the one person she never ever managed to beat, in all the long evenings they spent sparring together.

It’s Sartha.

It’s Ancyor, anyway. Or most of it. Actually, it’s more like Ancyor died and came back wrong. The base frame is still there; Kione can tell as much from that dragging, lupine gait as it lurches across the bridge. The exoskeletal armor is the same too. If anything, it looks even more beat to hell than usual. But beneath that, it’s all wrong. The reactor. The weapon systems. The raised, pneumatic hackles that augment those deadly claws. They’ve all been replaced. Upgraded. Imperial tech. It gives Kione the creeps. It’s like someone’s wearing her dead friend’s skin.

Whatever they’ve done to it, it’s clear Ancyor has lost none of its effectiveness. In its terrible, wake, Kione counts four of the mechs she shipped out here with lying in shattered, ugly heaps. They went down bad. Catastrophic kills. If anything, it looks like Ancyor’s pilot took special pleasure in plucking out and crushing each cockpit. That really gives Kione the creeps. Even Imperial pilots usually don’t sink that low.

At least she knows it’s not Sartha in there.

Unsurprisingly, the remaining three rebels have gone to pieces. They’re backing away, giving up the only tactical advantages they have—prepped positions and unit cohesion—and the radio channel is full of little more than panicked screeching. The squad leader, the girl who was barking at Kione earlier, is trying to instill some kind of discipline. It’s not working. She’s too young. They all are.

Take her down, damn it! she yells, when she sees Theaboros land. This is what we’re paying you for.

“You got it,” Kione mutters.

In all honesty, she’s weighing up the pros and cons of simply hitting the bricks and running. But she reminds herself: this isn’t Sartha. Just a pale imitation.

And besides, there’s money on the line. Duh.

In any case, the choice gets taken away from her when Ancyor turns its awful snout in her direction and starts barreling toward her.

“Shit!”

At once, Kione kicks her mech’s flight system into high gear. She manages to get enough thrust to pull up and clear—but only just. Ancyor is even faster than the last time they fought. Kione wheels around in the air to find her target, extending and clasping her long spear in Theoboros’s right hand. Once the weapon is deployed, its tip starts glowing red-hot as her systems reroute surplus reactor heat. Kione would prefer to keep Sartha’s hellhound at a comfortable distance, but CQC is the only good way to finish a fight sure and quick.

As soon as Kione sets her sights, she realizes that Ancyor has already turned to look up at her. Silently, four openings appear in its torso. An instant later, four wire-guided harpoons are coming right at her.

That’s new. Fuck.

Two of them, she manages to dodge. One, she bats aside with the flat of her spear blade. But the fourth, kept on target by tiny thrusters, buries itself in one of Theaboros’s long, slender legs. That’s not good. The damage itself is fairly negligible. What’s not negligible is Ancyor’s massive weight as it pulls the wire taut and starts reeling her in.

And, at the same moment, launches itself into the air with enough force to crack the concrete under its feet.

Kione’s display is filled with warnings she’s pretty sure she’s never seen before. She dismisses them with a furious gesture, but all she sees on the viewscreen afterward is the ruin of Ancyor’s face coming at her at an insane speed. No time to cut herself free, and no aerial maneuver Kione can think of is going to make a damn bit of difference with another mech weighing her down like an anchor.

So, stupidly, she does the only thing she can think of: she points her jets in the opposite direction and blasts herself straight down toward Ancyor.

Fifty feet in the air above the bridge deck, two meteors collide.

Ancyor has sheer mass on its side, but Theaboros has gravity and thrust. Kione is no rookie; getting her head knocked around in the cockpit isn’t going to ruffle her. She’s focused on what counts: getting this damn dog off of her.

It’s not easy. Ancyor is scrambling all over her, its wickedly sharp chain-claws working to find purchase. It’s clear whoever’s behind the controls knows Sartha’s style. They want to keep the two mechs bound together, grappling, where Ancyor’s sheer savagery makes it invincible.

All Kione can do is wield her long, elegant spear like a brawler’s stick, keeping it between them, leveraging them to try and force Ancyor away. Unfortunately, Theaboros isn’t great at this kind of contest of strength. It’s just not built for it. Desperately, Kione uses the flight system’s jets to throw the two of them into a series of loops, heads over feet, hoping the g-forces will destabilize the beast.

Of course, it’s just as likely that what happens is that Theaboros goes down face-first into the bridge.

Splat.

But maybe it’s working. Ancyor is starting to peel off. The harpoon comes loose and one of its arms slips, windmilling through the air. Kione presses the advantage, wrenching her spear around to make Ancyor’s grip untenable. After one last lunge that goes clean past her shoulder, Sartha’s mech is sent tumbling back down to earth where it belongs.

Wiping sweat from her brow, Kione grins. Get down, dog. The sky is all hers.

Then she notices the warning lights. She stops grinning as she realizes that last lunge didn’t go clean past her shoulder at all. It hit exactly where it was meant to. It ripped off one of her goddamn wings.

Ah. Well, that’s really not good.

Theaboros isn’t dead in the air. At least, not quite. But the thing about wings is: however many you’ve got, you probably don’t wanna be on less than that. Lest she choke her reactor to death, Kione is forced to ease off and touch down on the bridge. Once her baby has cooled off, she should still be able to pull off a trick or two.

Merc? You still breathing?

Kione’s glad radio girl is still here. Judging from the guns Kione hears, her surviving squadmates are too. Maybe they can still do this.

“I have a name, you know,” she grunts.

Yeah? Get us back to base in one piece, maybe I’ll think about learning it.

Kione cackles at that. She likes a girl who can keep her head.

“You can buy me a drink instead,” she tells her. “You already know my name. If you’re not careful, I’ll make you say ‘please’ when you use-“

She cuts herself off when she sees what’s about to happen.

Kione never takes her eye off the ball, but it’s taken her a moment to stop seeing white. Now that she has her sights on Ancyor again, she’s realizing it’s not nearly as debilitated by its fall as she’d hoped. It always was freakishly tough. And it’s doing the worst thing it possibly could. Worse even than coming at Kione again while her flight system’s cooling down.

It’s going after the easy prey.

In a single bounding leap, Ancyor hurls itself at the rebel currently spray-and-praying it with ineffective beam fire. The poor bastard freezes up, and Ancyor lands squarely on their shoulders.

It doesn’t need weapons. Its weight does the work. Even Kione flinches from the crunching sound.

No!

It’s radio girl. So much for keeping her head. Maybe she knew them well. Maybe it’s just one loss too many. Either way, because she’s one of those rebel idealists, she’s doing the brave thing. The stupid thing.

Breaking cover. Trying to save her comrade.

Idiot. That’s exactly what a predator like Ancyor wants

There’s some distance between the two of them, but nothing Ancyor can’t cross in the blink of an eye. It’s happening half the bridge’s length away. Theaboros has a rifle, but the stopping power is nowhere near enough. Kione can already see exactly what’s going to happen. Radio girl is going down. No chance her last squadmate sticks around after that happens, which leaves Kione trapped in a one-on-one. Not good odds.

So, the right move is obvious: ditch. Now. The mission’s a bust. Losing Kione’s pay is better than losing her life. As long as she takes off right this second, she should be able to make it out clean.

All she’s gotta do is outrun the other rebel, right?

Kione sighs. It’s an easy choice. But here’s the rub: she really was looking forward to that drink with radio girl.

So much for letting the reactor cool.

As Theaboros throws itself forward at her command, Kione punches the reactor straight back into the red. The thrust alone has her in the air; Kione works the flight system with a master’s touch, pitching her machine slightly off-axis to compensate for the wing she lost. It’s a rough ride. Her baby’s running too hot. The wingtips are starting to disintegrate. Antimatter annihilation’s a bitch. Kione doesn’t want to think about how much the repair bill’s gonna come to this time.

Instead, she just grins.

You thought your ride was fast, Sartha? Think again.

Ancyor lunges. Radio girl is right under its outstretched claw. Theaboros is hurtling toward them at a truly unwise speed. In the cockpit, Kione is rattling around like crazy—but she doesn’t let up. She only has a fraction of a second. No time to shoot, no time to strike, no time to parry. Only time to do something dumb.

Theaboros rams into radio girl shoulder first, shoving her out of the way. She raises her left arm in a feeble bid to fend off their attacker. The impact with the rebel mech wreaks havoc on Theaboros’s frame.

And then Ancyor’s claws rip her arm off.

Shit.

No time to take stock of the damage. No room to get her balance. No heat overhead to spend on a boost. Ancyor just keeps coming. It switches targets to Theaboros without missing a beat. Kione stumbles back just barely out of reach, wheeling her spear in a furious series of parries and ripostes.

Not furious enough. Nothing’s as furious as Ancyor. It matches Kione step for step, blow for blow. Only a matter of time until one of them lands home. Kione grimaces. At least radio girl is free and clear—not that that’s worth much. Can’t get paid if you’re dead, and she’s sure starting to feel dead. Theaboros has taken up too much damage to put up an even fight.

Kione snorts, despite everything. What, is she making excuses for herself?

That’ll look great on her tombstone. Kione Monax: it wasn’t fair.

It stings that it’s not even true. Now that she’s at the right distance to get a good look at Ancyor, it’s plain enough that it took a fierce beating in the rebel ambush. Radio girl’s crew wasn’t so bad after all. They took some mean chunks out of its armor. All over Ancyor, clouds of leaking coolant hiss and exposed electricals crackle. At least one or two major servos are missing. It must be handling like a pig right about now, but it’s moving like nothing’s happened. Whoever’s behind the controls is just that good.

Which begs the question, doesn’t it?

Who the fuck is piloting that thing?

Sartha Thrace is dead. Kione made her peace with that a long time ago, and she has no time for stupid rumors. But now she can’t help but wonder. Who else could handle Ancyor like this? From their sparring sessions, Kione recognizes all the little trademark moves. Hell, the only reason she’s lasted this long is because she has a sense of Sartha’s cadence. It’s like she’s fighting her friend’s ghost.

No, not her ghost. Something worse. Sartha was never quite like this. Never quite so heedless of herself. Never so proud she wouldn’t simply retreat from this kind of ambush. This animal ferocity—Kione has seen it before, but it was always a rare thing. It came over Sartha only when something drove her to her very limit. This pilot? It’s like she’s got all of that side of Sartha, and nothing but. Her rage and violence, distilled. Purified.

A shiver runs down Kione’s spine. It’s so wrong.

Merc?

That’s her radio girl. Kione rolls her eyes. She’d been hoping the rebel pilot would just run. If both of them die trying to save each other, she’s gonna throw up. That’s just too much.

“You clear of the bridge?”

Yeah.

Thank the gods.

Her distraction almost spells her end. Theaboros is driven yet another step backward and almost trips off the side of the bridge. Kione glances behind. She’s out of space. Shit. Shit! There has to be something left. Kione knows it. She feels it. This can’t be the end. Not of her. Not yet. She’s too good. There has to be something.

A plan B.

Oh, right.

Kione checks her reactor. Flight still isn’t on the menu. It’s gonna be ugly.

“Radio girl?” Kione calls out, as Ancyor brings its claws up for an overhead blow. She raises her spear to meet it. Sparks fly as the weapons meet.

Who- yeah?

“Plan B. Blow it.”

To her infinite credit, radio girl doesn’t hesitate, which means Kione only knows it’s happening when the ten thousand-ton reinforced concrete bridge under her feet suddenly isn’t.

In desperation, Kione throws herself over the edge. A drop is one thing. But getting crushed? That’s what’ll kill you. Unfortunately for her, the bridge is already falling. She can’t kick off cleanly. Best she can do is scramble at asphalt and rebar that’s quickly turning into little more than dust while she overboosts her flight system as far as it’ll go.

It’s good enough—almost. For just a moment, Kione thinks she’s threaded the needle. She’s going to glide clear.

Then Ancyor comes flying at her one last time.

How it managed a leap like that, Kione will never know. The way it screams as it comes at her almost stops her heart. It gets close. Way too fucking close. But Kione manages to wheel her machine around, kicking its legs up and out of Ancyor’s reach.

Not the wings, though. It gets another one of those.

That’s bad. Extremely bad. Kione suddenly realizes she ought to have been more appreciative of only being down the one wing.

Mercifully, Ancyor falls away and disappears into the bridge’s wreckage at the base of the valley. That’s a mercy. But Theaboros isn’t much better off. Spitting smoke and almost completely out of control, the best Kione can do with it is a crash landing.

But hey, any landing you can walk away from. Right? And Theaboros can still walk. It just can’t do anything else.

Kione lets herself throw up in the cockpit. That’s a first.

A minute or two later, while she’s slowly picking herself up, radio girl comes skating down the wall of the valley. Her mech is a bit shit—common enough, for rebels—but it looks a damn sight better than Theaboros right now.

Holy shit, radio girl calls out. You’re alive! You… you saved me.

She’s got that naive awe in her voice, like she’s talking to some hero. Kione frowns. Can’t have that.

“Don’t get used to it,” Kione retorts gruffly. “You die, who’s gonna make sure I get paid? Duh.”

She senses radio girl bristle a little, but it’s not quite enough to penetrate that thick coat of rebel sincerity. Thank you, Kione, she replies earnestly.

Even though it almost makes her throw up again, Kione laughs thickly.

“Told you. You already know my name.”

Now she senses the other pilot blushing.

Well, shit, radio girl says after a moment, as her mech’s head turns toward the ruins of the bridge. We really fucked this up. I don’t know how I’m gonna explain this to command.

Kione happens to disagree with the ‘really fucked this up’ part of that assessment. She happens to think she pulled off a goddamn miracle, actually. But then, she still doesn’t know what they were really after. Who they were really after.

Wait, radio girl says slowly. Is that… oh gods, I think that’s her.

Before Kione can ask, she’s dashing for something she’s spotted in the wreckage. Kione makes Theaboros limp after her. When she spots it too, her eyes go wide.

It’s Ancyor.

It’s almost in one piece. Almost. Tough son of a bitch. Kione half-expects it to come roaring at them again, but once radio girl shifts the bridge pylon that landed on it, she sees that Ancyor has finally given up the ghost. It’s not beyond repairs but the torso is cracked open like an egg, leaking oil and worse in a steady stream. Looks like the protection systems deployed OK, at least.

Which means the pilot might actually be alive.

Sure enough, as radio girl peels away one half of Ancyor’s ruined cockpit, Kione sees her—and for the first time, she’s completely and utterly lost for words.

Lying there, battered and bleeding and unconscious but very definitely alive, dressed just like usual except for what looks freakishly like a fucking muzzle strapped to her head—is Sartha.

Sartha Thrace. The hero. Kione’s friend.

“She…” Kione splutters eventually, overcome. “But… how did… all this, just for…”

Yeah, radio girl answers. All this was for her.

There’s something in the rebel’s voice. Something at once sorrowful and unbearably hopeful. Kione has never heard anything quite like it. But, uncomfortably, she realizes it was in her voice too.

She’s the objective. We’re bringing Sartha Thrace home.

---

I would like to express my gratitude for the generosity of all those who  support me on Patreon, and to give a special thanks to the following  patrons in particular for their exceptional support:

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[uboat53]

Well, as expected, Trump can't keep his focus on policy attacks against the Harris-Walz ticket and keeps wandering off into racist/sexist/bizarre personal attacks. Many say that this is a Trump problem, but I think it's a lot bigger than him in a way that's going to keep hurting Republicans long after he's gone. LONG RANT (TM) time?

INTRODUCTION

I'm sure you've noticed the Very Serious (TM) Republicans like Lindsay Graham and Marco Rubio and Very Serious (TM) conservative media outlets like the Wall Street Journal that keep talking about how Donald Trump would absolutely destroy Kamala Harris in November if only he could keep focused on policy instead of pursuing personal attacks and angry vendettas. Of course, all of them are missing the main reason Trump isn't talking about policy; Republican policy is overwhelmingly unpopular.

Look, I don't give Trump a lot of credit. I don't think he's very intelligent or insightful and I doubt his ability to focus on anything but his own personal vendettas for more than a few minutes, but the man knows popular. You can see him at work at his rallies, he'll start spitballing on something and play with it back and forth with the crowd until he finds something that resonates, it's what he does.

If Trump isn't running on policy, there's a good reason for it. Of course, we should look at specifics to illustrate the issue.

ECONOMICS

To put it bluntly, the Republicans don't have much of an economic policy anymore. Maybe the used to, but that's all gone. There are only two policies they have left, two things you can guarantee will happen under any Republican administration with a minimally compliant Congress: (1) they'll cut taxes for rich people and corporations and (2) they'll try to undo regulations.

That's it, that's all they've got. Now go around and ask people if they think cutting taxes for rich people and corporations is a good idea. I'll bet you don't get many positive responses and you'll get more than few profanities. Even cutting regulations doesn't do so well when you actually get specific about which regulations. People dislike the idea of regulations in general, but they like those regulations that keep the air and water clean.

Now, there was a point where Republican policy had some grounding. Back in the 70s when the Laffer Curve was first proposed, no one knew where the point at the top of the curve was.

(For those who are unaware, the Laffer Curve is the idea that there is some optimal tax rate. Taxing below that rate raises less money for the government, but taxing above that rate also raises less money because it overtaxes the economy. You should look it up, it's a very interesting concept.)

Nowadays, of course, we've got 40+ years of research on it and we have a pretty good idea that the optimum top marginal tax rate is about 70%. In other words, there is, at current tax rates, no way to grow the economy by cutting taxes, but Republicans keep doing it anyways. It's like a zombie policy that's immune to evidence and reason and just keeps on going from sheer inertia.

Of course, that's just the evidence about the economy as a whole. We also know that, starting in the 1980s with a wave of tax cuts and deregulation, worker pay stopped increasing with productivity. In fact, we've seen decades of stagnating wages and increasing income inequality under Republican economic policy to the point where you can actually look at graphs of economic data and point to where Ronald Reagan was elected based on where things started getting bad for average people.

Yet, still, Republicans hold to this economic policy. Despite all of the evidence and the very real consequences it has had for our economy, Republicans cling to the economic policy of Reagan circa 1980 with no interest in creating something new that they could hang their hats on. It really does speak to the state of ideas in the party.

FOREIGN POLICY

And foreign policy? Yeah, Trump can't talk about that either. Dictators like Kim Jong Un and Vladimir Putin aren't very popular and NATO and democratic countries are. Heck, support for Ukraine has fallen since its peak, but it's still more popular than Trump himself.

Maybe there's a case to be made that the views of Cold War-style Republicans like Rubio and Graham who are pro-NATO, pro-Ukraine, and anti-Russia, are popular, but that's not Trump's policy. His foreign policy runs pretty hard against what most Americans think our foreign policy should be.

The one thing in his foreign policy that has even a little bit of positive approval is his plan for tariffs, but even that would fall apart in the details. Most people who support it do so with the vague idea that it would protect US jobs, but how many of them would still support it if they knew how likely it is to turbo-charge inflation? Yeah, I'm pretty sure it'd sink like a lead balloon if he talked about it enough that it actually started getting coverage.

DOMESTIC POLICY

Okay, so there's economic policy, there's foreign policy, and there's domestic policy which basically comes down to "everything else". I'm going to take his domestic policy ideas from Agenda 47, Trump's official campaign site, instead of Project 2025 because Trump is pretending not to know anything about the latter (despite cheerleading it behind the scenes for years), but they're really not all that different.

Trump wants to "certify teachers by their patriotism", abolish teacher tenure, cut funding to any school that doesn't teach subjects the way he wants them to, re-introduce prayer in schools, and close the Department of Education. He wants to establish a commission stocked with conspiracy theorists to investigate autism, he's both approved of and opposed plans to negotiate drug prices, and he's planning to deport tens of millions of undocumented immigrants. He wants to dramatically expand the death penalty, end any government involvement in civil rights, and try to use federal health care money to prevent people from getting transgender surgery even if they pay for it themselves.

None of these things are popular and all of them would be even less so if he actually went around promoting them or worse, tried to actually follow through on them. And Project 2025, which he has disavowed even while maintaining close ties with those who wrote it, is even worse. If you think targeting transgender people polls badly, wait until they come for abortion, birth control, IVF, and pornography.

MESSAGING

You can see all of that in the way that people who only live in a conservative world try to attack liberals. The Wall Street Journal, for example, recently tried to attack Gov. Walz, now Kamala Harris' VP pick, for creating a state system of family and medical leave, providing free college for kids under a certain income threshold, making it easier to vote, and providing school lunches.

These only sound like bad things if you live in a bubble of conservative media that separates you from the real world. Real people love feeding hungry children and letting caretakers take time off to care for loved ones!

POPULARITY

We need to pause for a moment here and address one thing. You see, Trump and Republican's economic policies are unpopular, yet more Americans say they trust Trump to keep the economy strong than trust Harris. How can that be?

Well, there's an old saying (and I'm paraphrasing here) that people are Republicans in theory, Democrats in practice. In other words, they like the vibe of Republicans and they like the sound bites but, once you actually start to talk about the details of any given policy, they don't like Republican ideas at all.

I'm pretty sure that's what's going on here and it's one more big reason Trump doesn't want to talk policy.

CONCLUSION

Look, I get the instinct from Republicans that they'd like their presidential candidate to be more serious, but if they ever want that to happen they're going to have to grapple with the fact that the policies they want are not anything that would ever win an election. Trump is running on personal attacks and vendettas because he knows that these are all way more popular than the actual policies that he and Republicans actually want to put in place if they were to win and the only way to keep any sort of advantage on any policy is to keep it vague.

Until that changes, don't expect any Republican candidate to make a serious policy based argument for their election, even after the age of Trump.

[spacebunniezzz]

I've been into scene and emo music and fashion since I was very young and I'm currently 22 years old and let me just say that me and my friend who was scene growing up would have been listening to 6arelyhuman's music.

(While scene music is made up of crunkcore, electronicore, metalcore and pop punk specifically neon pop punk lots of people just call it scene music to keep things short and simple so thats what I'm doing :3)

People have considered s3rl's music has been popular in the scene while being considered to be scene music and Nevershoutnever's music is also popular in the scene and considered scene music and Brokencyde's music is scene yet all of those artists are so different from each other so why isn't 6arelyhuman's music scene music? Because it definitely is. Scene music isn't just made up of one genre.

(Even Kesha's music was super popular in the scene community! :3)

Its okay to say you don't like 6arelyhuman's music but it definitely is scene and I feel like one of the issues we have is how we really like to box things in nowadays and we just end up gatekeeping more than we really should and in the end things become more complicated and lots of fighting and we see people arguing over stuff that is very silly.

I am personally tired of constantly putting things and creativity in restraining boxes when it doesn't make any sense or i know that it feels wrong. That's not because I'm trying to be better than anyone but because I have lots of experience because this has been something I have been into for a long time and experienced growing up.

I also feel that we don't talk enough about how the scene intersects a lot. Pop punk bands have made emo songs, pop punk bands have been considered scene, both scene and emo kids listen to post hardcore and metalcore etc. Like it intersects A LOT and a lot of these bands in the scene have also toured together and have been in festivals together like Warped Tour.

(6arelyhuman definitely would have been playing on Warped Tour if they made music back when Warped Tour was alive and active :3)

I'm just tired of seeing the gatekeeping and the arguing, I've seen this so many times in the past especially in the emo community and I'm tired of seeing it everywhere and it's sad seeing it still happen. It reminds me of when I see metalheads gatekeep on Facebook lolz! I want to add that I'm not trying to shame those who say these types of things because I know that they are most likely minors who are still new to the scene and are just trying to find their way around and are still learning and looking for advice, I used to be exactly like that but as someone who has been into this stuff for a long time I just felt like I needed to speak up. This has been a huge part of my life and has been my special interest for so long and the urge to want to say something has been craaaaazzzzyyyy lolz!

Another thing I want to add is that there is nothing bad about growth and change either even if it can be scary at times, sometimes it's not always a bad thing and is needed for a community to continue to thrive. Artists like 6arelyhuman help people get into the scene and get into other scene and emo artists.

And that's a good thing :3

So let's encourage growth, change and inclusion. That's what the scene should be about <3

[cherrysmokesaconha]

Dear Eddsworld fandom. Just because a headcanon is very popular, DOESN'T mean it's canon.

"You can't ship Paul x Tord or Tord x Patryck cuz they are father and son!" NO. DO A FUCKING RESEARCH.

This can be debunked in the PowerEdd episode, where Tord and Paul appear together as CHILDREN, implying that they are ALMOST THE SAME AGE.

Are you sure they are "father and son" even though they appear as CHILDREN in the SAME FUCKING CLASSROOM? No they are not.

SAME THING GOES FOR THE "2004 Eddsworld are teenagers!!" THING.

DO. A. FUCKING. RESEARCH.

In the Christmas Special 2004 and in Zombeh Attack 2005, there's no mentions of their parents or even their school.

Also, do you see this?

This is the Eddsworld STUDIOS.

This is NOT A SCHOOL. THIS IS NOT A HIGHSCHOOL. THIS IS A STUDIO. A JOB. A COMPANY.

And also, did you know that the real people ages AREN'T the same to the characters? THAT'S RIGHT!

The real people are in their 30s, cool. But what about the characters?

This was confirmed by Oblivian Downing (one of the Eddsworld illustrators) in his Twitter.

Do you see birth year here? Do you see anything to prove their age here? Of course not? ME EITHER.

This just prove that the characters have vague age. THEY DON'T HAVE A CANON AGE. AND THIS GOES FOR ALL. THE. ERAS.

Do you think it makes sense for them to be an unknown age in one era, but their age in another?? I do not think.

Just because someone made ship art of 2004 Eddsworld, DOESN'T MEAN THEY ARE DRAWING P3DO. Just because someone drew Paul x Tord, DOESN'T MEAN THEY ARE DRAWING 1NCEST.

Edit cuz i forgot this

Another reason that makes people think that the teenager hc is ""canon"" it's because of Tord's tombstone in Zombeh Attack 2, where it appears that he was supposedly born in 1989.

BUT that DOESN'T MAKE IT CANON cuz: Tord had not yet left Eddsworld at that time. Tord left in 2008 while Zombeh Attack 2 was posted in 2007, one year earlier.

The characters weren't separated from the real people at that time because Tord hadn't left EW yet due to the hate he was getting (it was Tord who said that fans should separate the real people from the characters, and then the crew themselves said this later).

And nowadays this is no longer canon, because the characters are separated from the real people and nowadays they don't have a canon birth year or even a canon age (confirmed by Oblivian in this same post).

THOSE ARE JUST >>H E A D C A N O N S<<. If you really want to shove this shit down people's throats like it's "canon", how about you PROVE it's canon? How about you send screenshots of the EW crew confirming this? How about you send prints that confirm that Paul and Patryck are Tord's parents or that they are minors in 2004? You won't get it as it IS NOT CANON IN ANY WAY.

Before you attack someone because they allegedly drew something illegal, DO YOUR RESEARCH. Ask Kasafraz, ask Oblivian, but don't believe other people's words. I did ask Kasafraz about the 2004 Eddsworld and she said that "they don't think there anything that proves that they're minors", and Kas also said that the best for me to do was confirming that I don't headcanon then as teenagers.

And that's what I'm going to do. I DON'T HEADCANON 2004 EW AS TEENAGERS AND THAT SHOULD BE RESPECTED.

It's totally fine if u headcanon 2004 Ew as teenagers or Paul and Pat to be Tord's parents, but please, DON'T FORCE THAT HEADCANON INTO PEOPLE WHO DON'T HAVE THAT HC FOR THEMSELVES. This will just make you look like an ASSHOLE.

Don't be a coward. Do some research. It may take a while, but it will bring you a lot of knowledge.

[musicalmoritz]

TikTok shipping discourse is giving me a headache

So I’ve been super excited abt the recent revival of the Gravity Falls fandom because that show was a large part of my childhood. My sister and I watched it as it was coming out, I still vividly remember watching the first episode with her when it aired. It was one of my first big fandoms so I have a lot of fond memories with it (and some not-so-fond, my sister and I would always joke abt how we were just like the Pines twins so certain areas of the internet were…well, awkward to say the least)

Anyways super happy that the fandom is back but why am I seeing so much beef between Dipcifica and Mabcifica shippers??? I don’t remember there being this much discourse before, most people shipped Bill//Dip so that was the biggest rival to Dipcifica I recall seeing at the time, besides Wen//Dip. Oh and also. The other one. But usually ppl were pretty chill abt Mabcifica bcuz it went along well with the mega popular mlm pairing so like,,,even if ppl didn’t care abt them, they were content with that as a way to keep Pacifica out of the picture. There were the typical homophobes ofc but I don’t remember ppl going out of their way to hate on Mabcifica back when I was really into the fandom

This might come as a shock, but I was always Team Dipcifica. It was one of those ships I absolutely fell in love with, I read fics of them on FanFiction.Net and watched all the amvs and cosplays. I liked the idea of Dipper being the guy Pacifica could sort of run away with after escaping her toxic family because I loved her character sm and wanted good things for her. And, well, I related to Dipper a lot so there might have been some subconscious projecting going on there

So yeah, big time Dipcifica girlie but as we all know I’m also a massive multishipper and Femslash Enthusiast™️. It took me awhile to come around to Mabcifica bcuz as I was watching the show I was working through a lot of internalized homophobia, but nowadays I ship them nearly equally to Dipcifica. They are both interesting ships in their own rights with their own appeals. Pacifica was always a character in Mabel’s storylines so people shipping them romantically makes sense to me. I actually look at Mabcifica content more frequently than Dipcifica content now bcuz my main thing is sapphic ships. But if you were to ask me to pick one, I would still probably say Dipcifica

Alright now onto the current discourse. I keep seeing posts on TikTok of Dipcifica shippers explaining why they hate Mabcifica, or bashing the ship in their own edits. I also see a constant flood of comments on Mabcifica posts of ppl hating on the ship and saying Dipcifica is better. My dudes, what happened to “ship and let ship”?? Seeing all of this at the same time I’m seeing a flood of posts saying that ships don’t have to be canon or even make sense, and that ppl should let fandoms have fun, is crazy. And yes I’m gonna pull this card, it’s a little odd for people to specifically be targeting the most popular wlw ship in the fandom. “It’s toxic” mf you ship BILL//FORD

Hate whatever ships you want!! No one is forcing you to like Mabcifica. If they are then block them. But omg I thought we were trying to leave needless ship hate in the past. The ships can coexist, believe me I’m overjoyed that Dipcifica has so many canon implications but ppl are still well within their right to ship Mabcifica

I don’t even care that much abt Bill//Ford (love it and fully support it, have supported it since middle school, but I’m more of a Fidd//author girlie) but I’m glad that’s the fandom’s main focus rn, I couldn’t take it if the ONLY thing the shippers were yapping abt was which Pines sibling Pacifica should hold hands with. Another life saved by toxic yaoi

Mabcifica shippers get behind me

[marengogo]

Are You Sure ?! - #4: I Hate that YOU Love Hate You but, I Love YOU, so ...

I’m listening to a Mellow/Angsty Love playlist - (yes) it has BTS/ solos BTS songs as well

[Music is a very big part of my life and I’m MOSTLY INCAPABLE of writing without music, so I just thought I'd share what I am listening to while writing this]

–🐺–🐺–🐺–

Hello My Sentimental Girls, Bois and Enbys,

Please be kindly warned that I am going to be overpoweringly sensitive as I write this. Not necessarily because Are You Sure?! has unfortunately come to an end, but because, as I try to write this post, as always, “through” my TwinFlame’s JK emotional lens, the last two episodes really were so full of so many feelings that I am trying my best to order my thoughts and do them justice. Like, let me tell you, this boy really felt plenty, or better yet he allowed himself to truly feel a lot hence, as always, through respectful speculation and educated guessing I’ll try my best to convey my related observations. 

Towards the end of the post I’ll also have a little confession to make about something that I have been so determinedly ignoring, because the mere thought always makes me so uncomfortable, sad, and a tiny bit scared, so there’s also that.

All that being said, here I am, concluding this physical/sentimental journey, with my unrequested thoughts but with a hopeful sense that perhaps writing this down will somehow lessen my emotional weight, because let’s be for real, I am going to have AYS withdrawals on Thursday. So, is this post going to be long?  … 🤡 I mean, you should know me by now. For those who don’t know me, yes, it will be a long post 🙏🏾.

Truly free things are hard to come by nowadays. Undoubtedly, money has effectively found its way into our everything. Yet, there is one thing that hasn’t changed in its acquired value as in, how you get by it, and how you get it, etc. This one thing is still available free and you can find it anywhere, LITERALLY. However, whether or not you’ll be able to acquire it, and eventually keep it, is, to this day, one of the most debated, discussed, joyed over, cried over, mused over, etc, topic. 

Yes, you’ve guessed; it’s Love. 

I don’t believe I was actually ever taught about just Love in all its forms. Not at home, not at school school talked about famous people in love, sexual education, popular love … basically they beat around the bushes 🙄, or amongst friends, and if I had, I do not recall it, at all and y’all, I have one heck of a good memory, I will not be humble about that. I think that my first notions and ideas I formed about the concept of Love came through books and films, and let me tell you, there is an infinite related archive out there, which can be as exciting, as much as dangerous. Regardless, even though it was never really explained to me same for everyone most likely, as I grew up, EVERYONE loooved to talk about it, ALL THE TIME, so somehow, I made my own understanding of it. 

One of the things I understood was that some day, when I would become a woman, I would find an adult man, have a family, children, and live happily ever after because I would fall in love and some man would fall in love with me. I understood it as a given; Everyone, of a certain gender, falls in love with someone, of the opposite gender, because there is someone out there, of a certain gender, for everyone, of the opposite gender, just waiting to find you or to be found. Basically, Everyone will eventually find, and forever keep, mutual heterosexual romantic Love.

Spoiler alert: It wasn’t not true.

In fact, the true state of things is actually the very opposite. The minority of people on this planet, heterosexual or not, will experience, and live with true mutual romantic love, and will be able to keep it for a very long time, and even fewer others will be able to take it all the way to the day they die, those are at the Legendary Level ones. And I am not saying this because I am jaded or bitter or any other hurt and/or hater-inclined-behaviour, you can really miss me with alla dat. This is just that one very helpful, and hard, to accept and you don’t have to accept it by the way! reality that should hit everyone at some point, but not always does. When it doesn’t hit, people may end up tormenting themselves sometimes to death when and/or if they can’t “find love”, wondering if they are unloveable, what is wrong with them, etc etc etc.  

Reason why, it is paramount to love yourself first and foremost. 

Because it might be true that someone is “unlovable” or that there is “something wrong with them” but, if true, this is principally hindering one’s well-being because, finding and trying to fix whatever might be amiss with one's self, may not guarantee a successful mutual romantic love, but it does guarantee a happier life in general. I mean, listen, if in the scope of things, you might end up having to spend the rest of your life without a mutual romance, meaning, you have to spend infinite time with you, yourself & YOU, how is that going to work, if you don’t love yourself …? And, just in case it wasn’t common knowledge, Loving Yourself is not easy, like any other relationship, it takes work. The reason why therapy ain’t cheap ✌🏾💰💋but needed, honestly.

So, let’s make no mistake; alas Love, in any of its forms btw, if it is harmful, it is not Love is needed. In fact, as it turns out, human beings were “programmed” in such a way that having it in one's life would make their existence progress less painfully, or even painlessly. In addition, self-love is one of the purest, satisfying, and incredibly useful types of love out there.

ALL OF THAT BEING SAID, for those lucky enough to find & keep romantic love regrettably, thus far, I am not one of those, trust me when I tell you, it is not at all smooth sailing. There are just so many factors to be factored in and the bear thought of it all can honestly be enough to make anyone not want to be bothered by it.

Yet, my beloved and most precious, TwinFlame seems to have found it. Now, I can’t guarantee it to be romantic as always, despite me believing it to be so but he sure as hell is fighting his darn life to keep it. So, yes, hm, I think

JK is in Love.

If it wasn’t clear enough in episode 1 all the way to this finale, JM is a person whose presence JK particularly wants in his life, and whose absence kinda makes him feel sort of … unsettled? … but I’ll dive deep into this, later on in this post. For now, it is important to point out that my TwinFlame not only actively looks after JM, but he actively seeks JM’s attention, he actively wants to be sought by JM, he actively tries to make JM happy, he actively wants to level with JM, he actively wants JM to be comfortable around himself JK and for JM to be comfortable with himself JM. Basically, JK cares, in his own way, quite loudly for JM. And I say “his own way” because I believe JK’s emotional intelligence (EI) to be somewhat different from the common ones. I actually received an ask about his EI, which I plan to answer very soon 🙏🏾, so for now, I will not dive into that in this, cos I really ain’t trying to compete with the length of dictionaries with this post 😬. 

Japanese people, traditionally, have a fascination for sad love stories, and ever since I got into 875, I’ve been wondering if Koreans feel the same way but in their case, it is likely to be just Sadness period. You see, in the West, we “all” love a heartbreaking and passionate love story, the reason why Romeo and Juliet will probably be eternally famous. Yet, we don’t believe that true love is love, because it is brought about by unbearable suffering, so it must be real. We are more of the true love, is love, because it leads to immeasurable happiness kinda style. Basically we Westerners love Romeo and Juliet because of what they could have been, but Japanese and maybe Koreans would love Romeo of Juliet because of what they were to each other. So when a person like me watches a movie like 5 Centimetres per Second and swears to never watch it EVER AGAIN which I haven’t and refuse to, a Japanese person might think that is probably one of those movies they’ll find themselves watching over and over again and let me tell you, it was great, I just don’t think I can handle a second viewing, no thanks.

So if I am correct in thinking that Koreans feel similarly as Japanese in this matter, JK, like many other Korean folk, loves to sing sad/angsty/melancholic songs. Either by himself, or in company, like he used to with Tae probably they still do as well as watching sad movies, like JM’s favourite being The Notebook and JK’s being Titanic. Yet, here is where the glitch in the matrix happens; JK was most likely not that serious but wasn’t he? 😬 when he brought this up however, he seemed to be a little bothered by the fact that JM really liked “Hate You” out of all the song in his album. JM sang Seven, 3D and Standing Next to You this particular one he kept bringing up like there was no tomorrow, throughout all 3 trips, yet, when he played Hate You in the car, for the second time because he had as well in episode 6 JK was like; “Why?”. 

Let me tell you something.You know how I usually skip Spring Day, cause I can’t really handle it? Before AYS Ep. 8 I used to skip Hate You as well for the same reasons as Spring Day; it was too sad for me to bear as it felt closely related him singing it alone makes me relate it to him in my flowed brain, even though he didn’t write it 🙃 to people I love, people being the Tannies. Lovely by Khalid and Billie Eilish in comparison is MUCH SADDER but because I am in no way emotionally connected to either Khalid or Billie I don’t mind listening to the song at all I love that song. 

Anyways, Long story short, it looked like it bothered him a tiny bit. It felt almost as if “Sure, we are Koreans and we like sad love songs, this being an excellent one, but I don’t want MY love story to be sad” kind of bothered “also this better have NOTHING to do with the fact that Shawn Mendes wrote this song!” - perhaps nervously thought JK 🤡🤣😂. In fact, there are a few situations that came up, involving him and JM, which “bothered” him and he had no qualms in bringing up with JM right away, which by the way is healthy AF. JK seems to be the type of partner that wants to confront you right away and will not let it be until he hears the words that make him know that the “conflict” is cleared to his own satisfaction, or until he senses you don’t want to talk about it any further in that particular moment.

Those are all examples, during AYS, where JK was satisfied with the answer that JM gave him to the legit concerns/silly questions he brought up. JK’s reaction right after all of those answers was him being content/happy, by laughing, singing along, or something else, hence moving on. Below is an example where he wasn’t satisfied with the answer:

Did he just drop it? Did they talk it out? As always, we will never know, as this part cuts into another scene. Only JK, JM and the editors will know and this is a fact we should never forget. Never forget about editing limitations, and this is a very good moment to add that even though whoever translated this show did a shitty ass job, the crew that went with them, to film in Sapporo specifically, seemed to be quite familiar with them, their dynamics almost like friends, which I think contributed with JK and JM feeling as comfy as they did in Japan.

Japan.

By the looks of it, this is the country that holds special meaning to both myself and my TwinFlame and, NGL, this kinda makes me happy and feel special LOL 😜. BUT, I DIGRESS! Didn’t JK seem a bit more … relaxed? Besides the very romantic fact that he wanted to go back to Tokyo because it was their first trip, didn’t JK seem a tad flirtier, a tad cuter, a tad more annoying, a tad comfier and just so fucking happy? He, and I���d dare say JM as well, truly let their guards down, even if just a tad. The fact that JK & JM wondered how the crew would have edited the content tells me that they were fully aware about the fact that they were being filmed, but didn’t want to think too much about it, because they wanted to also have a sense of freedom. Because of that, perhaps, they tried to give us as much realness as they could, restraining themselves in some instances, while also saying Fuck it! in few other cases during which they perhaps forgot about the fact that they were being filmed, confidently relying on their trusted crew to properly edit the footage in the best way possible. But back to the main point,

JK is in Love.

JK is probably the type of person who wishes he could have an answer, and/or remedy, to any problem his significant other may have. Yeah, he is probably the type of man that wishes he could take away all their pain, or feel it for them instead, and it is exactly because he seems to be willing to do anything for his loved one’s well-being that I think that sometimes he does struggle with some of their societal boundaries, such as; age hierarchy. Without getting too much into his EI, the part in episode 7 where he brings up how things would have been if he and JM would have been born the same year really stood out and stayed with me.

In this particular instance, for the first time I finally got to see him kinda mind about their age difference, almost troubled and not because he might think it to be a lot which it isn't at all, but because according to their societal practices, he theoretically should constantly be mindful about it, limiting greatly the actions he can do, not that he’s ever heed to them, but the fact is that he should, and in certain situations, he must. If we think about it properly, right from their debut years, JK has struggled a lot with referring, and treating, JM as a hyung, which is actually quite weird considering that the person he treated more like a “chingu” friend of the same age in this context was is Tae, even though, to my knowledge, he’s never dropped honorifics with him and had no desire in doing so, as explained during the first In The Soop which in hindsight, I’m sure must have confused Tae a lot who has been trying to be his cool hyung for as long as I can remember  (the following pictures are not from In The Soop, but Festa 2021). 

Like, it is honestly so peculiar how, back in the day, JK had never really treated JM as your typical “chingu”, nor a hyung, yet found himself sticking by JM’s side a lot, off cameras, filming him a lot, acting stand-offish just to apologise right after, staring at him a lot, learning all his likes and dislikes, studying his body and habits, doing questionable things such as focusing rather often on his lips and butt through a camera lens, which eventually evolved into JM being the first member he’s ever bought a gift for, as well as being the first member he’s ever travelled alone with… basically, as I’ve stated, JK has really never seen JM as his hyung or friend though he does try to remind himself of it. 

So if JM is not a hyung, or a “chingu”; then what is he? 🙄… 

Wanna know what’s even funnier? JM clearly cares about JK enormously and though he likes most of all of his sides cos JK can be annoying when he wants to 🤡✌🏾 the side he likes the most is his cute side; but here comes the catch. It would seem that from their debut days, JM truly became fond of that cutesy, happily skipping, side that JK shows with his hyungs in particular and the fact that they are ALL his hyung, including JM, just made writing this sentence so weird NGL …, that cuddly, super-maknae aura he has many a time, with literally everyone but the 95s, because Tae, as speculated, he seems to see as a chingu and JM as a … charming person?? Whatever that means.

Now JK does give JM “cute”, sometimes, but it is not the little brother kind of cute. It’s that “don’t go without me…” kind of cute, “let’s buy the same one” kinda cute, “you didn’t show me first, so I am hurt” kinda cute, “how do I look?” kind of cute “I can film you, but don’t film me” kind cute, “... spend time with ME!” kinda cute … you get the jist, don’t you? Cause, repeat after me; He a simp, he a simp, he a simp! And there is nothing wrong with being a simp tbh, as long as you own up to it, and JK does own up to it marvellously 💋.

And remember when I mentioned about him feeling sort of unsettled when JM isn’t around? I’ve been thinking about this for a couple of days but doesn’t it almost feel like a sort of … separation anxiety? Through the whole episodes it sometimes felt like he tried to do as much as possible, of anything, with JM as if he would just take off and leave at some point. This could also explain him always popping up on WEVERSE whenever JM took a flight, or trying his darn best to get him to come around even though they had just spent so much time together in the US. But who knows right? Perhaps he just really loves to spend every hour, every minute, every second with JM because, like crazy,  

JK is in Love.

So in love that he thought it important for himself to drive them to the airport, hence he didn’t drink that last beer I know he was dying inside, as well as taking a flight to Korea with JM, when he really could have just flown to the US from Japan. So in love that out of all the trips he's been to in his life, Are You Sure?! is the best trip he’s ever been on and he wishes to reboot when they come out of the military, where, by the way, they presently are together 🤡 . So in love that he wasn’t going to have JM get sad and lost in his own thoughts while in his presence, no, reason why, like a knight in shining armour, he “went and saved” him from his slump and not because JM was a princess in distress, but because prince charming also needs saving every once in a while If you ask me, the main “princess” in this relationship is my TwinFlame, no doubt, cause I also fo happen to think that they do take turns, for sure. Hence, the main “prince charming” is most definitely JM, and btw, frequency of a certain behaviour is not a factor that determines who is “main” 💋. 

Marengo Confession-Time!  😬- here it goes: I love watching people react to ANY 875 content, but I haven’t been able to watch anybody react to Are You Sure?! Because to put it plainly I am scared. I’m scared that people will question their relationship, or have homophobic reactions, or feel uncomfortable watching them when they do what they do. I just don’t want them to be hated for something they can’t help and are comfortable with. For the most part I am sure they would maybe nt comment, or chalk it up as “brotherly behavior", but what if they don’t? In fact, I am also so apprehensive of the reaction the world would have if they are a couple if they ever came out, it genuinely terrifies me.

I don’t want them to be looked at like freaks, or worse, so I am not able to bring myself to watch people react to them, in the same way I turn off when people have unwarranted shit to say when reacting to 875’s music. If they are a couple, I truly want them to be happy, safe, and become part of the Legendary Level ones. So, even though the world may not be fully ready to want their chapter in their history books, I hope it will someday,  because theirs would be such a motivating and enthralling chapter at that. 

I don’t know what will await them when they come out of ME. It is interesting though that JK made all these memories during the trip to take with himself and think about while serving. The snow he watched with JM, the restaurants they ate at, the time they tried skiing for the first time, the antics in the sauna and the “scuzzi”, the tuna-mayo gimbap he knew JM would love, the good afternoon and good night whiskey, and more. Now that I think about it, in some way, JK has a similar Love background to mine, he most likely wasn’t taught that romantic Love can come from someone of the same gender and he wasn’t exactly taught that not having children or a traditional family can be okay. 

Yet, I have a feeling that just like me, through movies perhaps, songs, or other means he’s figured out a thing or two. I have a feeling that he will decide for himself what Love is to himself, all the forms of Love he will need, who embodies Love for him, and what role Love will take in his life, and whether or not JM turns out to be that person MAKE NO MISTAKE: JM is an incredibly important person in his life. So, it is a strong feeling I have, but then again when has JK ever not taken control of his own life? When has he ever not followed his instincts and/or succumbed to what people want him to do? Same for JM really. 

These are two boys who found themselves in Seoul even though they were born in Busan, like, the universe wanted them to meet. They are two boys, who, along with the other five, made the phrase impossible Is Nothing feel real. After all, these are indeed two boys who really can’t be told to do anything. There is a very famous quote, which kinda makes me think of them:

I am the Master of my Fate, I am the Captain of my Soul.

So yeah, the future is uncertain but one thing is for sure, no relationship that took so long, so much care, and so many trails to build, can be so easily destroyed. So, fighting TwinFlame, whatever it is you want, you got this! 👊🏾.

Always respectfully yours 🫰🏾💜,

Marengo.

PS - Dammit! I miss them so much 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[what-even-is-thiss]

Someday when I have a more consistent schedule I really do wanna have a YouTube channel. And I’ve wondered about sponsorships. I’ve gotten offers on this very blog before to participate in one of those stupid ads for drop shipping crystals that project your birth sign or whatever that I’ve turned down.

I’ve wondered though. Because on one hand sponsors pay good money and money is a thing that is required to live in this day and age. But also I feel like if I ever took a sponsor nobody could ever fully and completely trust my opinion on anything again.

There’s this YouTuber I love whose channel is called Swell Entertainment. And she comes across as being very honest but also she takes sponsorships. And a big part of her channel is review content. So sometimes I wonder if she’s pulling her punches slightly because she still wants to be marketable. But I don’t hold that against her because she’s living in LA for god’s sake and sponsorships provide much more reliable income than other methods.

It’s kinda sad that advertisement is almost required to make a living creating internet content.

I pay for YouTube premium not just because I wanted to get rid of ads on my smart tv, but because creators get more money per view from YouTube premium subscribers. I can’t afford to subscribe to a dozen patreons but I can afford one cheap subscription.

I hope if I ever have a channel big enough to have sponsorships I either take them extremely rarely for stuff I actually care about or don’t take them at all. Because I want to be able to just have opinions about stuff openly. But the sad truth is that money can be an issue. So. Who knows? I certainly don’t hold it against people who take sponsorships. That’s just how the industry works nowadays. They need money to live. And if you have adhd which many creative types do contractual deadlines can really help you get stuff done. And sponsors can get you experiences like vacations and luxury hotel stays and free reviewer copies of books and video games. Who can blame them? There’s so much stuff available to you from sponsors that can improve your quality of life and help you make your business better. Money to hire editors and voice actors and writers and animators, buy better equipment, rent out a sound stage.

But. Idk. A lot of those sponsored products aren’t that good. And a lot of people are susceptible to advertising. It works on a lot of people. Especially when it comes from a face they trust.

The tradeoff to take sponsors or not is a difficult one. Honestly and truly. And it’s very probable that I’ll never be popular enough to actually have to make a decision on these things. But I still think about it every time I see a sponsored segment. What levels of calculation have gone into that? None? A lot? I’ll never be allowed to know because that would be bad for business.

[bsydelver]

-MHA (1-A) as nowadays teenagers- social media mostly (stereotypes).

PT. 2- THE GIRLS

—>part 1 (the boys)

Apologies for how rushed this was.

Ochako:

She’s on the aesthetic girls’ girl side of tiktok: with the shopping finds and codes.

She has a spam account on instagram and an account on tiktok where she posts hauls: she may be “poor” but she isn’t on the streets and she loves those hauls whenever she gets to do them.

She follows back anyone who follows her, she doesn’t care who but she just does it.

She always sets up her double click reactions as any form of pink heart.

She’s the hairstylist of the group.

She’s a Roblox girl 100%.

Her profile pictures are always aesthetic pictures or flat colour square pictures she grabbed from pinterest.

Her highlights on instagram are color coded and perfectly organized.

She buys dupes and sometimes they even perform better than the originals: she’s an expert on them.

Although “fast shopping” companies that are cheap attract her, she can never get anything from them due to her morals.

She makes handmade jewellery and accessories: it’s basically her thing.

She LOVES blogging and thinks it’s cute and her blogging page is really famous.

She knows the best lash serums: this is random but I believe it 100%.

She runs her own accessory online store and makes money from it.

She lives on instant noodles and ramen (especially buldak) and honestly can’t blame her.

She loves crocheting and a lot of her clothes are made by her.

Her clothing style is simple but cute!

She’s an average student but still really good.

Kyouka:

That type of person to get mad after gatekeeping a song for so long only for it to get popular on Tiktok in a day.

She loves Ochako’s handmade accessories and asks her for custom requests sometimes.

Denki begs her to use tiktok more so she can check the random stuff he sends but she uses instagram reels 24/7 instead.

Her humor is broken: she laughs at the weirdest things and only Denki gets it to be honest.

She does song covers and is really popular in that community.

She only uses tiktok to post her song covers.

Gets a haircut once her hair touches her shoulders, it’s a known fact around her school.

She’s the one that makes bullying the band club preventable since she’s in it and also she’s cool with everyone.

Head teachers HATE her because she mocks them sometimes.

She talks about “underground” artists and people just stare at her in disbelief because almost every creature on the planet knows that artist.

She isn’t friends with boys (except Denki for the most part) but none of them have a problem with her at all and love talking to her when they get the opportunity.

She doesn’t do makeup but Momo told her to try eye makeup since Jirou wanted to do something and she fell in love.

She can do edits but only does them like once a year.

LOVES the idea of signature scents.

takes political problems very seriously.

Her style suits her perfectly and is her personality’s exact representation.

She’s naturally smart but she “studies” with her friends- they laugh the whole time and joke around so it just makes her your average student.

Tsuyu:

She runs one of those messy anonymous school accounts and just exposes everyone there.

She gets irritated by so many people and she’s a professional gossiper.

She loves simulator video games.

She has an addiction to posting videos of her eyes with the back camera and flash to tiktok with “peaceful” sounds and gets thousands of likes for it.

She wears hand warmers and leg warmers for the style and it looks cute on her.

Her natural hair is curly but she has one of those blow dryer round brushes which she uses every-time she goes out of the shower.

She loves watching movies.

Her sassiness is over the top and everyone knows that and loves that.

She’s the girl you go to for comebacks.

She loves having long nails.

Her phone cases are always plain but she has a collection.

Best lip products collection.

She loves sticking her tongue out in selfies.

She can actually do physical fights but she gets dragged at the end.

She’s mostly bark, no bite.

She LIVES for the drama.

Her wardrobe is full of tight tops and baggy jeans or jorts.

Exactly like Jirou in terms of academics.

Momo:

She does those get ready with me short montages on tiktok and they’re always so organized.

She does “clean girl makeup” all the time and it’s absolutely beautiful on her.

She will always buy expensive gifts for her friends and say it’s not that much.

She always gets matching accessories with Jirou from Ochako.

Her and Ochako do “collaborations” together in their pages and their views skyrocket.

She has screen time setup on her phone in certain apps due to her bad habits.

She seems really quite in class but talks to whoever is sitting next to her- as long as its a girl.

Always brings the best lunch and the girls beg her to share which she does.

She’s the host of most of the hangouts with the girls.

She loves sending snaps of her airplane view and she has skills when it comes to it.

Brings tourism gifts for her friends whenever she goes somewhere.

She hates gossip.

She loves love songs for no reason other than their vibes.

Her clothing style is classy and fur compliments her.

Straight A star student and has scholarships already flooding into her mail.

Mina:

She’s like Denki exactly in terms of social media usage.

The ultimate girls’ girl.

She does grwm(s) on her page and they’re always wild.

She’s the one who spreads the gossip to Tsuyu.

She has really bad tiktok humor and sometimes says she has a 3rd leg and the whole room goes silent.

She loves saying “girl wtf” and doing side eyes.

She has fortnite and has all of the quote-on-quote girly skins.

Plays fortnite 24/7 with Kiri.

She will give you her honest opinion and everyone admires that.

SPAMS streaks.

Smells like caramel.

She sings randomly for no reason and nobody even questions it: they either go silent or go along.

She turns the mood of the room around immediately.

She does dance videos on tiktok and tries to invite the rest of the girls to join.

Doing the “🤨” face is her favorite thing to do in the world.

She loves accidentally saying the same thing as someone else at the same exact time and place.

She has one of those ugly laughs that is even funnier than the joke itself.

Hair care is a staple and her hair always smells like roses (along with her caramel perfume).

Y2K Mcbling style.

Always eats out from restaurants.

She loves saving recipe videos even though she would never step into the kitchen.

Skin is flawless and clear and she has the best skin care products.

When her mouth opens, it doesn’t close for the next hour or so.

The teachers just gave up on her and she always gets kicked out in the middle of class.

She disobeys the dress code everyday.

She’s a friend to all.

Her and Denki send the weirdest stuff to each other.

She can’t hide secrets unless you’re her best friend.

She begs Momo to borrow makeup then forgets to bring it back.

She’s the host of the “study” sessions and her marks are always horrible.

Toru:

She has too many accounts on social media.

She has an art account and writing account that nobody knows about.

She adores booktok.

She loves those sappy romance books.

She can’t decide her hair’s length so she just messes around with it.

She’s basically the group’s makeup artist.

Her hair is never brushed and she just likes it messy.

She joins Mina in all of her dance videos.

She cries over movies ending then rewatches them.

She has millions of celebrity crushes.

Insanely good at nutrition balancing for no reason at all.

She loves Conan Gray.

She says she hates gossip but hears everything Tsuyu has to say without missing a single detail.

Vanilla is her scent and nobody will take that away from her.

Platform shoes.

She has a collection of converse shoes which are days-of-the-week-coordinated.

When she actually feels like making her hair look good, she asks Ochako to do it for her.

Wears mask whenever there’s a slight risk of a flu.

She used to be one of a vsco save the turtles girl.

She always carries purses.

She loves fancy themed phone cases unlike Tsuyu.

Her clothing style is Acubi.

Her academics are average but when there’s an actual risk, she makes an amazing comeback and they are perfect.

[lilyvalerieorchard]

As much as I hate Lily Orchard, white favoritism is a thing in pretty much every fandom. One example I can think off the top of my head in the toh fandom, was back when Thanks to Them aired, and many people mocked Luz's scene in the classroom (despite being literally a display of suicidal ideation) while writing thinkpieces about Hunter's mental health and abuse, basically ignoring the Black main character's mental health issues to focus on the white boy (hopefully this doesn't come off as me hating Hunter, I like him a lot, it's just an example)

Speaking of season 3, there was quite a group of people who hated on Luz due to her mental health issues, calling her selfish and ungrateful while she was struggling with self-destructive behavior while, once again, Hunter didn't get as much backlash for his ""selfish"" behavior in For the Future, as people mostly understood he was struggling with his mental health and grief. It's a sadly common thing in fandoms to narrow Black characters down as one dimensional and "bad", while white characters get a pass and sympathy from fans

Another example of racism in the fandom, is whitewashed art of Black and brown-skinned characters, mainly Luz, and how many artists don't take this topic seriously - that was more common in the early fandom, though, thankfully becoming less frequent as time went one

There's some other examples: in 2021, there was a Skara/Edric comic that spiraled huge controversy on Twitter due to Odalia objectifying Skara and referring to her as an "it", which has very clear racist undertones. Also, art on Twitter of Luz saying she's gonna "ruin" Amity's bloodline by joining her family, also having clear racist undertones (There's likely more, but these two are the first ones to come to my mind, as they received tons of deserved backlash)

So yeah, once again, I dislike Lily Orchard, but denying racism in the fandom is just... wrong. It may be a minority of fans, especially nowadays, but it's there and it harms people of color in the fandom, who tend to get mass harassment for calling it out. I also hope this doesn't come off as rude, the post just brought back some memories of my personal experiences in the fandom, and I thought I should share

Oh my...I never knew it was that bad. The large majority of the fandom loves Luz but to hear some truly nasty people treat her and the other BIPOC characters like this is just wrong. Speaking as comic and video game fan: I know how most of the Batfam fandom will erase Cass, Duke and Steph all while propping up white/white-passing male characters like Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian (nothing against either of them); how Marvel comic fans will downplay characters like Kamala and Miles or slut-shame MJ; how lead female characters of color in games like Forspoken, Dustborn and Mirror's Edge are lambasted as "too angry", "too vulgar", "too snarky", "too unlikeable" by gamers AND critics alike while angsty white male leads in certain popular games are given free passes. I feel you, There is rampant cishet white male favouritism in ALL of nerd culture and I absolutely hate it. For the record, I have nothing against cishet white male characters in general, I just cannot stand double standards that force female and minority characters to jump through multiple flaming hoops to prove their "authenticity". I looked up the whitewashing "fanart" people were drawing of Luz, Gus, Willow, and-

Disgusting.

*To those so-called "fans"*

If you think Luz, Guz, Willow, Darius, Camilia and others would be better if they were white, if you so happen to be inbred, racist piece of crap.

Get the Hell out and NEVER set foot in this fandom (or any fandoms) EVER AGAIN. Dana didn't create a beautiful whimsical masterwork of animation just so you could hijack it for portraying your own twisted Hapsburg utopia. In fact, she hates everything filth like you stand for. So once again, get out and get drenched by acid rain.

*sighs* That felt good.

Just remember: Plasma Lily stands with marginalized voices.

[worldclueless]

Much to discuss after the weekend it seems. Buckle up cause this is a long one.

After the Brazil GP, a lot of swirling thoughts I’ve been feeling for the past few months made themselves apparent. 

First things first: Formula 1 and by extensions some of its fans, are incredibly tolerant to concerning behavior. 

The concerning behavior of bigotry (specifically racism) continues to permeate the sport like a moldy sock. Putting up some hashtags and PR statements do very little to address the issue. 

Through press conferences that have grown to become a soapbox that he could speak unchallenged through (cause for some reason journalists prefer not to really do their job nowadays), Max has positioned himself to be some sort of persecuted figure (???). 

The latest boogeyman is the British bias that Max and RedBull harp on about and how they favour most (a very important distinction as POCs receive no such grace) British drivers. 

He’s able to go on and on and on about how persecuted he is by the British media without an ounce of irony or perspective. What’s worse, he’s enabled by RB and its fans, again, without an ounce of irony or perspective. 

The way in which he is treated with kids gloves at times is truly stunning. His comments about ‘having the wrong passport in the paddock’ were distasteful. Point blank. Just utterly distasteful to have those words uttered by a white Dutch man with a Belgian passport. And for some reason, his fans do their very best to be extremely dense as to why it was so distasteful. 

And then he throws a hissy fit for his right to say swear words. I think it’s personally dumb to police drivers over silly things like this, but the way in which Max is more passionate about swear words than, let’s say, kneeling with a fellow driver over police brutality…I don’t know, the reaction is different. 

In contrast, the head of the FIA was willing to ban Lewis for 6 races after a joke about being black. I have to emphasize (because it’s so fucking insane) the head of the FIA, Jean Todt, considered banning Lewis for SIX (!!!!) races because he joked about being black (and it was a popular Ali G joke mind you). 

Like, do you seriously think being able to say a swear word is the sword to die by and make yourself a martyr over? Do you think me, with my black, melanated self gives a fuck if you can say ‘fuck’? 

Furthermore, when I think of the way some fans speak about Lewis, it’s also the specific wording that is always used when they speak about Lewis. Lewis has grown so much (as if you were talking about a wayward child and not a 39 year old man) or Lewis is such a class act (always setting him to a higher standard and expecting him to take the high road) or Never liked Lewis before but I really am starting to now (strangely is always said after he is charitable to others who spew venom in his face).  

RB and its fans, have absolutely no leg to stand on about being persecuted when their environment can tolerate racism. Additionally, they continue to host and tolerate the presence of Nelson Piquet who was blatantly racist to Lewis. Max was able to fix his mouth after his Brazil win to make himself the victim of discrimination by the British press again, and then go celebrate with his Bolsonaro-supporter girlfriend and her racist father without an ounce of pushback from any of the journalists. Like, do I need to spell out the dynamics at play here? 

When teams are hosts to figures like Trump and Rogan, are we really surprised that racist and discriminatory actions amongst fans is able to happen when the messaging is clear: we can tolerate this. 

And unfortunately, it’s true. Fans can tolerate it cause to put it bluntly: y’all do not give a fuck. 

The journalists continuously fail to critique the ways in which this racist sentiment is able to insidiously thrive within the F1 environment. 

That’s why I’m just so skeptical of messaging that is pushed by new fans that ‘F1 is for the girlies.’ Which girlies exactly? Certainly not for me. 

This makes me think of Kenzo Craigie. I was delighted to see him and Lewis interacting and going for a hot lap. I loved seeing Kenzo so excited about meeting someone that looked like him and was so successful in his field. It was such a powerful moment. But it left me with a pit of anxiety in my stomach. That’s because Kenzo seemed like such a bright-eyed and eager boy.

When I saw the BBC interviews of Lewis as a child, I never actually saw a happy young boy. There was always deep sadness I detected in his voice when he spoke of his experiences as a young black racer. Recently, after Lewis spoke about suffering from depression that stemmed from the racist abuse he suffered as well as the high expectations placed on him, this confirmed my suspicions. 

Kenzo, in contrast, through my limited viewings of his interviews, seems relatively happier in his demeanor. And this is what I fear. I fear the way in which F1, its fans and the FIA will stomp out the light in his eyes. I don’t want to see this happy young black boy have his joyful spirit stomped on by an unrelenting organization. What’s worse, his Britishness will not shield him from any of the British bias (lol) that fans screech about. 

Bigotry will always thrive if there isn’t continuous action to address the problem, and I have zero faith in the FIA stepping up to meaningfully take action. 

Anyway, I think I’ll only stick around so long as Lewis is around cause I don’t think there’s much for me here as a young black woman. This sport would never love me back.