#anyway! i wanna do more with this idea if i can

[clini-calia]

It's tough. It is.

I'm a 30-year-old transgender man. From ages 16 to 23-ish, I was stuck in the alt-right pipeline, as well. I watched all that stupid bullshit with "feminists getting owned!!!1!" and what the fuck ever else. I think what pushed me towards it was how people on Tumblr used to be upset over EVERYTHING and would belittle me for my masculinity. I remember seeing a post that had a gif of a scene from some anime, I dunno which one, and it was of a naked girl laying down. People were complaining about her breasts not being realistic - it wasn't the size, it was that they weren't sagging or drooping, and that men need to be portrayed with rock hard dicks that never soften or whatever. But I was just sitting there thinking, "She's laying down... lol. Gravity is literally pushing her breasts against her chest, not pulling them down."

Anyway. Posts like that, but they got worse. I've had a lot of people on the left question my gender. "Why would you want to be a man? Women are the better choice." "I don't know why you'd want to do that, why give up your femininity?" I got into a small argument with a woman once on it, basically saying that it felt like trans men weren't really counted much and were largely ignored in the trans community, along with non binary people, who are usually just treated as "Women Lite." She got so angry that she told me, "You probably just wanna be a guy because you're too ugly to get one for yourself."

That's what tipped me over to the right for a bit. Until I realized they cared even less about me and that if given the chance, well. What happened on November 5th would happen, and they'd look for any excuse to strip me of my rights.

For cis, straight, white men it's not so easy to get out of. They're welcomed with open arms, there's no looming threat of having their rights taken away. So the pull of some "brotherhood" is more enticing. I was groomed and sexually assaulted by a man, but I was also sexually assaulted and groomed by a woman. I'll always believe that, no matter what, humans are just humans. White, black, gay, straight, trans, cis, man, woman - humans. And humans can be good, and they can also fucking suck. So I'll never say "all men are trash" or "all women are garbage" or anything like it ever again.

I see men's issues with mental health. I wish they would understand that it's the patriarchy that ultimately fuels those issues, and I wish some women would see how they also contribute to it. I see a lot of younger women these days placing men's entire values on their income, their careers, their appearances, what they can buy for them... I've seen a tweet of dudes just chilling and playing video games, showing off Pokemon cards or some shit and a woman quote retweeted it and said, "Men used to fight in wars. 🙄" Yeah. That'll stop toxic masculinity - tell men they're not real men unless they go to war and give up what makes them happy. Nice...

The patriarchy hurts women by enforcing the idea that they are to submit to men's wishes, stay at home, clean, cook, have babies. That's all women are allowed to experience.

The patriarchy hurts men by enforcing the idea that they are to overwork themselves, abandon any non traditional masculine interests and basic human emotions in favor of that work, and go to fight and possibly die in wars.

These ideals were put into place as soon as different tribes, races, countries and so on realized that, "Oh. There's OTHER types of people, and I want to be the most powerful and rich so they don't take what I have. Hmm. Better make sure women can only spit out plenty of babies and that plenty of those babies are men to be my soldiers and workforce."

If you're a man that supports any of those ideas, fuck you. If you're a woman that supports any of those ideas, fuck you, too. I'm sick and tired of generalizing people. I'm sick and tired of having to give up pieces of ourselves in order to put more money in billionaire's pockets. I'm sick and tired of men being told they're "too feminine" to be a man over being into stuff like sewing, baking, dolls, fashion, cozy games and I'm tired of seeing women being told they're "too masculine" to be a woman for being into coding, mechanical work, FPS games, science and I'm tired of seeing non binary people being told they're too much of one or the other to be non binary.

I'm tired of seeing men put down other men for having a fucking emotion other than anger or goddamn numbness. I'm tired of seeing women put down other women for being more attractive or not attractive enough. Just... stupid, petty bullshit that should have been over and done with decades ago, why the fuck are we STILL here?

It's tough. Because I love men and care deeply about men. But I also don't think we need to baby them and pat them on the back and say, "It's OK that you joined a fascist group of people that openly and proudly call themselves Nazis." And if a man ever tells me or any woman or AFAB person that it's "your body, my choice," I will grab the nearest blunt object I can get my hands on and beat the snot, shit, and blood out of them.

But I do think we need to work harder at not alienating our CIS, straight, white, male allies. We need to stop generalizing everybody and correct our language when talking about people. And we especially need to make it clear that the alt-right only seeks to divide for their own benefit, not for anyone else's. It's money and power that they want. Men, unless you are wealthy, you are just a vote and a pawn to them, nothing else. We need Democrats in the USA to stop rolling over and blowing kisses to Republicans in the hopes that they'll play nice and cut us some slack. It's not going to happen, not in meaningful numbers. And we NEED to crack down harder on alt-right online spaces. I don't give a fuck no more, get rid of that shit, I don't care if it's seen as too extreme or censorship, if you give these dangerous people a place to commune and feel safe with their harmful ideologies, then it WILL spill over into other spaces. And parents of young children: you need to BE BETTER at monitoring what your kids are seeing and doing online. Take it from someone who no-lifes online games: they are going into these spaces and saying heinous, horrible shit. They are being groomed, they are saying slurs and sexually harassing women, they are even seeking sexual attention and guidance from adults and strangers, and some of those adults are sick enough to take them up on their offers. One little trip into a few public instances of games like VRChat will be all the proof you need. I love the Internet, I really do, but I also see how its anonymity has done harm to us and has severely damaged how young people interact with each other, online and offline.

Anyway, sorry that was so long. I've been pissed the fuck off since I saw that Trump "won" the election and this shit has been on my mind for years, just even more so now.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[sillyuin]

can i request for svt x grovelling??? I REALLY WANNA SEE HOW THE MEMBERS WOULD BEG FOR ANOTHER CHANCE TO THEIR S/O 😭

Hi anon! sorry it take me so long, I've been really busy with work but here it is.

How svt apologizes after breaking up 💔 (ot13)

Yuin's note: this is purely fiction and my p.o.v. Being honest, as a spanish native speaker I never heard of the word "grovelling" before and I thought I didn't handle the concept properly 😭 but I tried. Any advice is really appreciated.

Scoups, Mingyu, Dino. He’s almost whining for it.

You’ve lost the count of the notifications that came to the phone, and blocking him just doesn't feel right at all (at this point it seems like a good option tho lol). After reading some pity messages you decided to call him and... Oh boy. You didn't need to look him in the eyes to realize he was about to cry, he insists a thousand times that everything has been his fault and that he will do whatever is necessary to make things up.

Jeonghan, Joshua, Minghao. Tries to keep it cool but is not.

After some days with zero contact, you received an unexpected call and he’s inviting you go for a walk; it’s a bit awkward because it feels too quiet but you accept anyways. There is definitely something fishy going on. He seemed very stoic and, respectfully, he apologizes if something he did or said offended you, asking for a peace agreement. But you know him very well and you don't give in, until he's flustered enough to open up about his feelings and begs for another chance with you.

Jun, Dokyeom. Wants to say a lot but his head is a mess.

His mind has simply left this astral plane because, the moment you accidentally ran into him during an outing, he completely froze. He tries to be friendly and makes an effort to address you but his voice is so, so shaky he can’t even say a coherent sentence, making this situation even more uncomfortable. When you decided to leave as quick as possible, It was like the ideas in his head finally connect and asks for your forgiveness in the most desperate way possible, then he breaths and starts speaking out while his face blushes with embarrassment.

Seungkwan, Hoshi. Wants to say a lot and says a lot.

The phone has rung several times during the day and after countless missed calls, you decide to answer just bc you’re tired of this situation. However, as soon as you answer, there's no time to say hello properly when he starts talking as if this were a rehearsed speech. He had never said so many things to you in this lifetime. “I’m sorry for the time I didn’t close the toothpaste” “I’m sorry for making a midnight snack and leaving the kitchen a mess” “I’m sorry for the time I…” And so on for a long time.

Wonwoo, Woozi, Vernon. Straight to the point.

Too straightforward for his own being lmao. He just comes to your apartment with an nice gift and apologized in the most direct way possible, willing to listen to you, no matter how long it will take. Literally left everything behind just to see you :(

[phonyroni]

So unlike me to do a long text post but here we are.

Whooooooa boy here comes a rant about why I love Crowe as an asexual player (yes I love him for more than that but this is my brain-)

Obviously spoilers ahead...

So both LIs have NSFW scenes right? And even if I'm ace, I wanna see every possibility so I play them anyway. NOW THE THING ABOUT SOL IS, one of my biggest... I wouldn't say "turn-ons" since it's not applicable, but my biggest relationship YES THINGS is consent. In ever sense of the word, making sure your partner is on board with whatever activity you have planned is the greenest flag imaginable. Sol doesn't care lol. Like dude breaks into your house, stalks you, drugs you, then pretty much SAs you. You could say "oh he doesn't insert anything" but it's all the same to me. It's unconsentual sexual activity, so my brain was screaming that he isn't safe, even aside from the murder stuff. Maybe he wouldn't since he stalks you and knows shit, but tbh I don't think he cares cuz he's delulu as fuck

Now CROWE! Aside from being the loml and the prettiest man in existence, he only does anything AFTER you've consented. You are fully aware and conscious and give him clear confirmation that he can continue. MEANING, as an ace person, he would understand it and not even suggest the idea. The scene would make sense for the NSFW stuff not happening, because it's about not giving that consent. However... The Sol stuff still would. He doesn't care if you consent, so he would still do all the sexy stuff if you're an ace player, it's just that you don't have to see it.

Anyway, Crowe my beloved please marry me I have the ring-

[rueclfer]

acquainted with the drummer // sero hanta

a/n: writing this as im getting ready for a function rn and super indulgent but idgaf i think u guys needed this too!!! we all needed this!! sero nation hi ily!! also maybeeee wanna do more with this idea another day when i have time

the double tequila shot doesn't feel like a good idea anymore now that it's fighting its way back up your throat.

"chaser?" mina offers, holding out a clear glass with a sip's worth of soda sitting at the bottom of the cup. her eyebrows furrowed into a grimace as the alcohol settled in her own stomach.

you wave her off with a cough, bringing the back of your hand up to your mouth, as if that'll hold back your vomit.

it somehow does.

the burning sensation dissipates with a new feeling- euphoria.

it's a loud and rowdy bar, and you're not used to this scene like mina is, but it's a saturday night and she knew you had nothing more to do than waste the weekend away.

mina has her arm slung over you, essentially forcing your shoulders down to headbang in rhythm with her. you two are laughing at each other in a drunken haze- slightly off beat, hair thrown around and getting caught in the corners of your mouth, and your eye meeting the drummer's every now and then.

you don't formally meet him until you're pressed up against the grimy bathroom stall- the door is as cool on your back as he is hot on your front.

"hanta." he says in between whiskey coaxed kisses "sero hanta."

"hi." you mutter against his lips. "it's nice to meet you, hanta. you were incredible up there."

the light praise sends a chill up his spine. he pulls away for a moment, taking in the sight of your swollen kissed lips, tipsy lidded eyes, and knotted hair.

god, you're so pretty.

he's known about you for a while- mina's quiet roommate. he sees you in passing whenever the group goes over to your apartment for band practice or to just lounge around, but you'd always stay hidden in your room.

sero has a habit of wanting to meet and say hello to everyone. jirou says he's easy kidnap bait, but he thinks everyone's worth knowing.

he should actually be out there in the main bar watching the next band's set and hanging out with the rest of his friends who came out to see them perform, but here he was getting acquainted with you.

"it's nice to meet you." he chuckles, bringing his hand up from your waist to the nape of your neck, as he crashes his lips back into yours, simultaneously pulling you deeper into him as he presses you back against the door.

he wants to devour you at this moment. show you how a real drummer does it. not many get to experience it, but there's a secret plus to the endless stamina after all these years of practice and bar shows.

"ow, hanta." you pull your head forward away from his grasp.

"oh fuck." he brings his hands back to your shoulders, lighting rubbing his thumb over the bare skin in silent apology.

you look down and eye the spiked bands snapped onto each wrist before meeting his gaze again.

he awkwardly huffs out a laugh, connecting his forehead to yours.

"i'm so fucking dumb." he cringes at himself. "sorry."

you run your hand up his chest and to the side of his jaw, brushing your fingers against the slight stubble.

"we should get back to the others, anyways." your cheeks grow hot, suddenly aware of the situation you've gotten yourselves into.

"right." the corner of his lips quirk up, leaning into your touch.

sero suddenly grows nervous, his feet shifting under him.

"raincheck?" he eyes darted away from yours. "you know, maybe you can stop by for practice? or a private show?"

"minus the spikes?"

his eyes widened with a wicked grin.

he leans in and presses one last gentle kiss to your lips before reaching for the doorknob, letting yourselves out and reunited with your friends.

"no promises."

[heesimp]

fic/drabble request 🤲🏻 bc ive been thinking abt this (https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSjSGw7Rg/) jake 😣 wanna tie him up and tease him until he cant anymore and js fucks me Hard

hot hot

-

Jake tries his best not to push against the rope you’ve got around his wrists that tie his hands together behind his back on the chair below him. The material is a bit loose around him despite your best efforts but he loves you and will do anything you ask of him. It’s not like he could really break free anyway.

This is the first time you’ve seen Jake like this too. Usually he’s taking command or praising you through your orgasms in ways that makes you feel like you might as well be a princess, but something about watching Jake become constricted by your hand is incredibly arousing and you feel yourself gush the more you look at him sitting before you.

His cock is so hard and so wet from the labor of love your mouth gave him, kissing his warm dick until he’s flexing his thighs in pure need and want. Your mouth waters at the memory of pushing him towards the brink of his orgasm until pulling it away from him completely like he’s done with you a few times. It’s all so erotic and so hot.

You swing your leg over Jake’s lap and hover above his cock, allowing it to slide against your wet folds every now and then. He tries to buck his hips upward to breach your hole but you’re much faster, pulling your body up and away from him.

“You look so good underneath me,” you whisper to his ear before kissing his neck. Jake is warm to the touch and hearing him try to regain a steady breath turns you on even more. The sight of his hands bound behind the chair is enough to make your eyes roll back.

“Wish you’d just let me fuck you,” he mutters beneath his breath. His cock jumps when you brush over the shell of his ear before kissing just underneath it. “I liked seeing you tied up.”

“Yeah, but you always get your fun.” Jake watches you pout as you lean back to get a good look at him.

“Don’t you like it when I fuck you senseless? Don’t you want that from me, baby? Hm?”

You clench at his words but ignore him nonetheless. “Later. I wanna have fun with you.”

Jake’s wet cock provides the kind of stimulation you need. He moans when you put your wet pussy right on top of him and tries to put his arms around you but is bound by the rope, moaning in frustration when your folds envelop his cock. You situate yourself in this position and roll your hips back and forth, pushing your tits up against his hard and toned chest while your hands grip his shoulders for stability.

The sound of filthy. Wet echoes permeate throughout the room along with wanton moans and subtle whimpers coming from your throat. Jake’s hair is pushed back from the sweat building off of the hour he’s been in this chair and his balls are so hard that he feels like he could come like this.

His tip repeatedly pushes against your clit and you try so desperately not to lose your composure. Your hips rock back and forth and his dick keeps breaching your tight hold, which tempts you into sinking right down onto him, but you hold back.

Instead, you lift your lap off of him and ignore Jake’s whining to grip him by the base of his cock and rub his cock head over your swollen lips. He looks up at you with wide eyes and open-mouthed moans the faster you rub his tip against you and your own resolve is crumbling. Your body feels like electricity is running to your toes and jolting right back into your warm hole. He feels so good like this. The precum splashing against your folds tempts you in ways you never knew imaginable.

But that’s the thing. You keep rubbing and rubbing but don’t offer him any real resolution. The rest of his cock remains untouched and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold on like this. Seems like you have the same idea.

“Jake.” His names comes out like a breathless whisper.

“Yeah?”

“Fuck me,” you concede, pushing only his tip inside of you.

“Gotta untie me, baby.”

And you do in a hastily fashion until Jake’s wrists are no longer bound. He flexes his fingers before hoisting you up by the waist to wrap your legs around him as he plunges his thick, wet cock into the place you need him the most.

It’s loud and it’s messy with his precum dripping everywhere while he pushes your back against the edge of the bed, watching the way your breasts bounce underneath him. Jake pushes and pushes against you until you feel his swollen balls clap right up to your ass, and the feeling makes you come immediately.

Jake doesn’t stop his ministrations and grunts louder when he sees your come covering the entirety of his cock. It spurs him to fuck you even faster to the point where your hands grip anything you can find—his arms and the blankets below you—because he rocks your body in such a way that makes you wonder just how horny he really is.

He comes deep inside of you but he doesn’t stop either. Jake pushes his hot load deeper into your pussy the louder you moan and swears he could go another round or two.

[luv-beam]

i am so fucking upset I AM SO FUCKING UPSET . i cannot convey how absolutely devastated i am like im sitting here in the dark unable to fully convey KANFKDNFKFJFJFNFN AHHHSHFJRJGKKGKGKFKFKFKFKGKFK

okok im sorry i do have some things to say as general statements abt my experience and ur skills before we get into some of the nitty gritty 😭 but first off, moni, i am ashamed to say i somehow missed that u dedicated this to me. i am so so sorry for not seeing it for some awful reason, but pls know that i am so honored—like beyond honored and appreciative. u r crazy good at ur craft and i am so happy ur posting ur fiction for us to read :'))

also, i def mentioned it in my notes below, but i loooove the film quality of your writing. like the i could see the color shifts. OH MY GOD I ALSO DIDNT TALK ABT THE RELATION OF WINTER TO THE SENEFNKRNFJT TO THE END IM UPSET AGAIN i literally cannot. u have a talent for coaxing me to hand over my heart and then watching u squeeze it :')))) im upset :')))) ur really too good and i... im biting my knuckles and struggling to type bc i wanna cry

thank u for this. i know u say this fic is something ur most proud of, and that is incredibly well merited. like oh my god. i can't right now i kind of just want to cry

also, before i put my notes below, i wanted to include the songs i listened to during this and i think i def picked an appropriate playlist skfnekfn: they see me dream (tbz), future me (hailey knox), dream launch (wayv), wings (tbz), smiling thru. (slchld), square one (tbz), someday faraway (labit), empty box (atz), same dream, same mind, same night (svt), 111 (thuy), the race (chris james), heaven - acoustic (onerepublic), raise y_our glass (huh yunjin)

omg i do have to comment on the presence of two of my like,, "older brother" figure idols uji and namjoon ekfnkrnf i always imagine them in that kind of way so the vibe just feels all the more warm haha (despite the hazy sleep-deprived solidarity going on dkgnjrnf)

WAIT.... THE CONVENIENCE STORE FROM THE TEASER... OH NO.

IT RESEMBLES UR BED AFTER A LONG DAY OF WORK BUT IT DOESNT LIVE UP TO HIM?? im devastated in two sentences

the picking your fingers until blood spills is such a great humanizing detail

still, the lilacs have yet to bloom.

omg im such a sucker for flower symbolism,, this feels like a low-key reference to feelings between u and changmin? OH I SEE THEY DINT EVEN KNOW EACH OTHER YET SKFNDKFN THIS CHANGES THINGS

PLS THE "im sure they wouldn't mind working w u" ASSIGNED PAIRINGS IS SOOOOOO im getting ptsd from middle school 😭😭 that feeling of everyone knowing someone and ur just kind of alone, knowing no one will likely come to u themselves,,, but changmin... tsk tsk i have a feeling abt you....... IM ONTO U SIR

you look back at changmin; he’s still looking at you. ; (you’re still thinking about the dips in his cheeks.)

IM ONTO U JI CHANGMIN (also so real tho... his dimples are like... meant to be the centerpiece of an art gallery)

KUMON. (i mercifully never had to face that, but maybe that's why i fkn suck at math today 💀)

oh no....

i swear this is related, but im listening to wayv's dream launch and reading this part in particular w the song is so... i feel so emo rn like its okay yn-bear... you'll be okay i swear, i know it sucks now but one day ur dreams will come true even if its hard to detach ourselves from our parents' expectations and influences

also the imagery here is so visceral and vivid... like i can see it in my mind, the way you're so used to the feeling, but u still shake them off anyway bc u dont want them to linger; u can't breathe w them there, so /present/

don’t you think that some of the stories that we read hold fragments of someone?

i love this line and totally agree w this

also wanted to add that changmin trying to coax this info out of them is so :(( i love him

AWH WAIT PAPERCUT ART AND FORMING IMAGES OUT OF THEM SUCH A COOL IDEA its like the deletion(?) poetry where u take a piece of text and blot out all words except for certain ones to form poetry?

the idol comment,,, the fourth wall is shaking

OMG THE PIC???? SO GOOD WHAT I LOVE THIS AND AS A VISUAL AID/SUPPLEMENT TOO?? omg and ending this section w the single lilac having bloomed TT ugh i love callbacks to symbols

your tastebuds long for cheongju.

baaaaaanger line

jongseobs characterization >>> I LOOOVE IMPISH YOUNGER SIBLING CODED CHARACTERS

still, you stand in the middle of the mart and your heart longs for home.

and this one too ^ i feel this. the exhaustion and yearning that settles in your bones until ur convinced emotion really does carry tangible weight i love longing-for-homeisms

you and changmin were once painted with the hues of the sun. this reunion is tainted with blue.

I CHOKED. also i would like to comment on the delicious pacing of this past scene from when u realize who's standing right next to u and how the world seems to rush back toward the present from the past and ur frantic and slapping money into jongseobs palms and then—"yn?"—world stop. IIIIINHALES .. SCREAMS SO GOOD

love the blue stain over my view btw

idk how to feel abt the grape flavor being yns favorite 🧍🏻‍♀️ u do u tho

THIS???????? THIS!!!!!!! what did u deserve to know just feels so right in this situation,, when you've fallen out of touch who used to be ur world—when u r no longer their world or in their world, how much should you reveal? do they still care? where is the line drawn now?

if you miss home, why is your first instinct to run away from it?

im tearing at the walls. i am unfortunately devastated by this question. home is such a... its a complicated thing for so many people.

the black limbs slowly ate away at your heart; the void was born.

THEYRE BACK but now, instead of simply curling arounf ur heart, they're digging their nails into it and ripping chunks of it away

the lingering feelings of envy and resentment of changmins home life versus yns is so... like i think it adds such an important layer of nuance to their relationship

because you still wanted more for him than you did for yourself.

OH MY GOD

oh my god

AND THE DISTANCE FEELS GREATER NOW.. oh my god... the silence and the negative space r so loud... oh my god.....

the contrast to the next segment in summer is so staggering dkgndjnfnf also congrats to them for levelling up in friendship to calling each other fuckers!! LMFAO i adore their little back n forth here haha their arguing over the phone, to arguing over popsicle flavors

LOVEBIRDS SKCNDKFNKFNXKDKKDKD

astrophysics is cool when someone on yt is explaining it in layman's terms or ur in the space.com website, but not when ur looking at all those nightmarish equations... *shudders violently*

from that day on, you’ve learned to keep his name out of conversations. you’ll enjoy what you have with changmin, even if it has to be kept under the wraps.

in a way, this is like a form of protection, not only protecting ur own freedom and agency but akso protecting the person who has wormed his way into ur life and is determined to stay,, someone who seems to be the one good thing happening to u at that moment

im so... i wish i could sit yn down and give them a hug and a pep talk. they do know how to persevere. they're literally pushing thru right now

FINGER TRAP FINGER TRAP TITLE MENTIONED THIS IS NOT A DRILL

omg THE PROFILES SJCBDJFN THEYRE GONNA BE INTERVIEWING OUR BOYZ DJFBKDNCKDNF i am Howling at the moon

THIS??? IS FUCKING EVERYTHING???????? the different colors of cheongju seep thru gaaaaaaawd the careful wall you've built to rpetend ur past is behind u has now returned to remind u that it does, in fact, still exist. it will not hesitate to break ur bubble of present reality

i have a violent urge to throttle a couple who are poor excuses for parents

also just bringing in the murky waters rising and drowning u and filling ur lungs is just as compelling and visceral through this section. like u described it perfectly well, how when ur starting to lose oxygen, your chest burns and its slow but throbbing

are you nothing but an array of achievements and failures?

aren't we all though? :(

NOW UR HOME IS CHANGMIN.

i love just imagining ur writing like a movie, like this part in particular u can just kind of envision these things flicking across the screen chuchuchuchu—back to the present. finger traps.... clinging onto those fragments of the past... when u try to rip your fingers out of a finger trap, it grips onto u tighter; a slow withdrawal is the only way to escape... oh god

WHY DOES IT FEEL LIKE ONE OF DESTINY x2 I SEE U MONI I SEE YOU.

HE WAS THE ONE OUTSIDE THE BATHROOM IM GONNA GNAW MY FINGERS OFF

im very slow today but the incorporation of all four szns into the sections of this fic is like mwah MWAHMWAHMWAH and hE CANT WAIT TO SHARE THIS SZN W U?? IM YELLING??? ugh i think im too single.

dude my heart dropped into my ass . what r these fuckass parents doing

WHAT NINONOENFOFNFJFJ NO WHAT MONI STOP NO U CANT JUST LET THE CAR GO NO HE'S RIGHT THERE NO NONONOSNFJDNFJFJ im having a crisis no WHAT

. oh my god

Oh my god that hurts. Oh my god i cant im so

im

oh im so upset they never got closure they never got to say goodbye ur right the only way to get out of a finger trap is thru a slow withdrawal—unless the connections is severed so forcefully, it just breaks .

oh my god

i dont wanna read this interview im so upset

im so fucking upset.

finger trapped (ripped to its seams) ➵ ji changmin

ji changmin x reader

with an unexpected reunion, you and changmin relive the memories of cheongju—and confront what could’ve been between you two.

general genre/warnings ➵ friends to almost lovers, angst, fluff, gender neutral reader, some depressive and insecure thoughts, hurt/comfort, the last five years story-telling method (aka present will be told going backwards while past will be told moving forward... i hope that makes sense), brief mention of blood from picking on your skin, tiger parents so... parental issues, unexpected reunion, keeping secrets & lying, jealousy remains but love triumphs, journalist reader (u kno i had to do it), reader is a nerd and changmin is a student-athlete, kms jokes from jongseob (all /lh), finger traps aren’t efficient after all

word count ➵ 15.7k words

playlist ➵ end of beginning by djo // high school in jakarta by niki // i know it won't work by gracie abrams // no big deal (i love you) by dodie // keeping tabs by niki // no one knows by stephen sanchez & laufey // so what now by reneé rapp // i wish i hated you by ariana grande // the 1 by taylor swift // seasons by wave to earth

a/n ➵ it's finally out! this is my submission for @deoboyznet's the love letter collective event! this work is so so personal to me on so many levels so i hope you all love and treat this fic with care :')) for the bitches who struggle with parents and dreams.... this one's for you (i am in the same boat) i appreciate everyone who's been so patient and looking forward to this fic's release. i'd like to thank @hcuyk for being a betareader for this fic! i also want to dedicate this one to @sungbeam and @wavesmp3 <3 your works inspire me so much and i think this fic is a product of how much they've influence me. hanbin's version is now available! please don't forget to reblog and leave feedback!!

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present -> three weeks after the interview, 2024

the newsroom never sleeps. the rings of landlines and clacks of keyboards bounce off the four walls. through light bulbs or sunshine, light continues to remain. and at every corner, a journalist stands—ready to enter the depths of slumber but remain on their toes as they await for an update on their unraveling story.

but the newsroom is rarely busy unless there’s a major nationwide event, election season or the super bowl to name a few, for most journalists are out to discover what the world has to offer.

knowledge doesn’t only come from the chitchat of your coworkers. it’s only on the field that you’ll hear of hearsay and testimonies. after all, the choice to probe rests on your shoulders.

“there’s a typo over there.”

“huh? where?”

“over here,” you mumble as your finger darts to point at a section on the screen. “it’s supposed to say “in their climactic performance on road to kingdom,” not climatic.”

“ah, i see it now. sorry about that,” lee jihoon of digital development says as he corrects the error. his hair is disheveled from the hood that once perched on his head during the night he spent in the newsroom. you would’ve scolded the guy—go home and take a shower before you stink up the place—but you are no better, grouped with the other journalists who stayed up in the office.

“there we go. should be all good. now, are you ready to go through the profiles?”

an exhausted chuckle departs from your lips. “yeah, let’s go—”

“what’s the update?” life and arts editor kim namjoon—your editor—comes to you with a smile.

the grey hoodie he wears paired with comfortable jeans shows that he’s a little relaxed. for once, you don’t see him on his phone, battling the deadlines or getting pitched stories by the other editors. it’s a nice sight but one that won’t last for long.  

“we just finished going through the article about the group, so we still have yet to go through the profiles.” jihoon then looks at you. “i can’t believe you basically wrote 12 articles. like, 11 profiles and one main article is a lot. you didn’t want to work on it with anyone else?”

once namjoon stands beside you, you bump your shoulder against his figure. “i didn’t have a choice, did i?” it’s a rhetorical question but one your editor still chooses to answer.

“unfortunately, we’re understaffed, but it seemed like you got the hang of it. i wouldn’t have trusted anyone else to do it.” namjoon shoots you a smile before redirecting his attention back to jihoon. “and as much as i’d love to tell y/n more, we have to pick up the pace.” without any further questions, the three of you resume with work. 

there’s no time to waste in the journalism industry. still, his praise doesn’t go unnoticed. 

one article turned into eight done in a matter of 30 minutes, all with the help of three pairs of eyes to go through them. (namjoon seemed to carry the heavy lifting. after all, the guy was trained to be quick in reading and spotting errors.)

it should’ve been easy to keep up with your editor for all the other articles; you know each profile like the back of your hand.

then, the face of a boy who you once knew sits on the screen.

his gaze seems to pierce through your soul, almost in the same way you last talked to him. the loose ends of composure slip through your fingers; your breath’s stuck in your throat as the hammering of your heart fills your ears. yet, he stands still on the monitor.

as your eyes drift through the passages you’ve written, every sound is drowned out. the voice of your editor fades like the everchanging seasons and the clicks of the keyboard resemble the sobs you let out in the comfort of your childhood room.

and suddenly, the hands of the clock have turned all the way back to 2014. the cubicles transformed into aisles of chips and instant ramen, and you hear mr. kim’s voice in the distance—i have some hotteok! fresh from the pan! but amidst it all, you hear the giggles of the boy, your best friend, as he rushes towards you—i’ll go audition and make you proud. as your arm is wrapped with the heat of his fingers, you almost believe that your life as a journalist is nothing but a dream—

“i knew him.” the illusion disappears within a blink of an eye. namjoon’s eyes snap towards you and jihoon stops scrolling through the website. “we went to the same high school.”

you aren’t sure why you revealed that to your coworkers, let alone your boss. it’s an old memory—your weight to carry. before you can apologize for disrupting their work, namjoon’s hand rests on your shoulder, his thumb drawing shapes into it. when you look over at him, you’re greeted by his smile. it resembles your bed after a long day of work or a slow day at the newsroom.

but it never lives up to him, whose giggles resemble nature’s symphonies. the two shots of espresso you need at the start of the day once came in the form of his warm embrace. most of all, his smile is enough to illuminate the world even through the strongest storms and times when power went out.

for the remaining articles, not a single word leaves you. before you know it, all 12 articles were ready to go up on the web.

“that’s all of it. should i still schedule them to go up around 12 p.m.?” jihoon notes as he saves the drafts.

“yeah, 12 p.m. still sounds good. thanks a lot.” namjoon nudges his shoulder before looking over to you. “let’s talk in my office.”

you don’t question his orders. once namjoon takes off, you follow him all the way to his office. as he swings the door open, you are met with the familiar sight of his workspace. hues of green and brown mix, where nature and art meet within the space of corporate.

once namjoon takes a seat on his chair, you find your spot across from him. his eyes stare off to the window. for a moment, you’re not sure what to expect from this impromptu meeting.

seconds pass and not a single word has been said—

“this place’s always alive,” your editor breaks the silence. “don’t you think so?”

you follow his line of sight. busy seoul never changes; the skyscrapers pollute the sky and the people never sleep, off to work or off to party.

“where’d you grow up again?”

you look back at namjoon whose eyes still remain locked on the city. “cheongju.”

he hums. “i haven’t been there. nice place?”

“yeah, but i haven’t gone back in a while.”

“when was the last time?” his eyes finally meet yours.

your teeth grasp the inside of your cheek. “2014, since i first left,” you admit. 

“do you miss it?”

you’re not sure how to answer. the pavements you’ve scraped your knees against and the walls your laughs bounced off of—do you miss them all? or is the reason behind your laughter and scabs the one you long for?

“is that why you were hesitant about interviewing them?” namjoon’s thumbs fiddle with each other. “because of your history with him?”

now, you stare at your linked hands. maybe the silence from you is enough to answer his question but you know namjoon would never settle for a soundless answer.

“i—i’m not a good person. and even if i didn’t make the choice to leave, i—” you hold yourself back. your fingers start to pick on the skin around your thumbs, peeling it so blood can spill. 

“it’s okay, i understand. you don’t have to share it with me.” your eyes drift back to namjoon, spotting a small smile that rests on his face. “it must’ve been hard to relive it all.”

the bond you have with namjoon is one that you hold close to your heart. through his mentorship, you got to learn about what it means to be a writer. the fears of being a journalist would loom over you, where questions of salary and demanding work hours would occupy your mind, but namjoon became someone who would absolve them all. he became a pillar in your life, one that provides you hope and comfort within the industry.

“so, don’t feel pressured to talk about it. but if you ever want to open up about it, then i’ll be here.”

namjoon’s giving you an exit. are you willing to take it?

you cross your arms as you lean back into the chair. “you know how i was a science major then?”

“yeah, i remember looking over your resume. and then i saw that you were part of your university’s publication.”

your tongue pushes against the inside of your cheek. “i would’ve gotten some job in that field, like, i had it lined up for me.”

“really? like lab coat and all?”

as namjoon attempts to hold back his laugh over the image, you chuckle along. “yeah, lab coat and all! it’s crazy how my life was all set for that field, but i’m here now.” you look down at your arms. “i think just facing him in a completely different field that i once used to imagine with him was just strange. but i think hearing his answers really did it for me.”

namjoon nods at your words. “care to have lunch with me?” your eyes snap back to your editor. “i’m guessing you want to talk about it, after all.”

all you do is smile before getting off your seat.

spring of 2014

the season of spring has graced cheongju; the sun gleams in the expanse of blue and birds perched on tree branches sing their songs. it’s the perfect season to embrace the wonders of the town.

while it would be a delight to bask under the returning warmth, you’re stuck within the walls of the classroom, head resting on crossed arms. 

still, the lilacs have yet to bloom.

“y/n.” you quickly sit up before your eyes settle on your adviser, ms. jeon, who stands in front of the classroom. “let’s take attendance.”

with that, you’re beside her as you call out each name on the class list. it’s a quick process of saying your classmates’ names for them to respond in variations of “present,” until you reach the section of last names that start with a ‘j’.

“ji changmin.” no response.

you rip your eyes off the piece of paper, only met with your classmates who either look at each other in confusion or spaced out in their own worlds.

“ji changmin?” when you’re met with the same reaction, you’re ready to mark the student absent—

“sorry!” the doors slam open. a boy clad in a white polo and jogging pants is panting by the entrance, covered in sweat as he rests on the edge of it. “sorry, i’m late.”

“oh, it’s okay! you arrived just in time.” ms. jeon smiles at the tardy student. as you watch him take a seat, his eyes lock with yours, but your adviser nudges you before saying, “y/n, proceed.”  

ji changmin made his name a few years back at a competition. the applause and roars from the crowd marked his spot in the school. others describe his movement as of cranes, standing in the middle of a pond as they do their best to minimize forming any ripples, or of elephants, swaying their trunks with control like no other.

but he’s a versatile dancer; nothing can truly capture him.

once you’ve finished marking the attendance, you go back to your seat. you’re ready to start the day with no bother but you can’t shake the feeling of being watched.

“now, you can see in these,” your art teacher, ms. park, points to the screen showcasing works from her favorite contemporary artists like kwon yongju and félix gonzález-torres, “that there are no borders to what constitutes art. and that’s not wrong because we have to recognize that art comes in different forms as we progress, from traditional painting and sculptures to digital ones.”

this field isn't your strong suit. with a greater understanding of the sciences, you struggle to create anything that could be on par with the works of any artist. yet, you enjoyed learning about every piece that your teacher shared, like unfolding and admiring something you know you can never replicate or create. still, the universe decides that they have other plans for you.

“as i mentioned before, i’ll be giving you time to work on your final assessment, which is to create an artwork for the class exhibit. for this deliverable, i’m asking that your work will be a collaborative one, meaning you aren’t working alone.” in a sea of chatter, some groans exit your classmates. “remember, inspiration doesn’t come from your own bubble! take this as your opportunity to create something that you’ve never imagined.”

within a split second, students are off their seats as they attempt to find a partner to work with. you, however, were struggling to think of who you could team up with. admittedly, you have a very different work style compared to others—even cheng xiao, aspiring valedictorian, didn’t enjoy working with you. she turned every activity into a competition against you. (you didn’t enjoy her, either.) while you’re considering shamefully going up to your classmates like a stray dog looking for anyone willing to care for them—

“hi!” in front of you stands the tardy student of today, all smiles as his hands find comfort in the pockets of his jogging pants. “do you have a partner already?”

with furrowed eyebrows, you can’t help but look him up and down. “no, why?”

“well,” changmin looks around the classroom, “everyone seems to have paired up except for us.” as his eyes drift back to you, he flashes you a smile, one that shows the dips engraved into his cheeks. “which leaves me to ask if you would like to work with me for this.”

you don’t have a choice. ms. park would never bend the rules for you. if anything, she would find a way to pair you with another student who would dread the idea of working with you. (“i’m sure they won’t mind being partners with you, right?” is what she would ask the poor student, only to be met with their retreat.)

“unless we accept a failing mark, which i’m sure we both don’t want.” it’s not like changmin had a choice as well.

“okay.” with one word, light fills his eyes, enough to resemble the starlight that grazes your skin every night. “we can meet and discuss our schedules, especially because i’ve got ap stat, and you have, uhm,” a cough leaves you, “training, i’m assuming, or rehearsals. i don’t really know what you call them.”

his eyebrows shoot up as his mouth parts open. “o—oh, yeah. i usually have training after class until 8 p.m. on tuesdays, thursdays, and saturdays.”

“same. my classes are until 7 p.m. on tuesdays and thursdays, so maybe we can use the other days to work together?”

with one nod from him, his dimples reappear. “great! i’ll see you tomorrow.”

before you know it, everyone finds their way back to their seats for ms. park’s final reminders. you do your best to pay attention to every announcement, jotting down every word on your planner and planning out your agenda for the upcoming weeks. yet, your eyes seem to have a mind of their own as they drift back to the boy who discreetly passes notes to kim donghan, another dancer on the team, all while listening to the teacher.

you don’t notice how long you spend staring at changmin until he turns to meet your gaze. in that split second, you look at each other—then, embarrassment washes over you. you shift your attention back to ms. park. as you drum your fingers against the desk, mentally kicking yourself over the interaction, you still can’t shake the feeling of being watched.

you look back at changmin; he’s still looking at you.

his dimples make their reappearance before he looks back at ms. park. you do the same as you attempt to listen to her ramble about banksy’s works. 

(you’re still thinking about the dips in his cheeks.)

the first time you get to meet with changmin for the project happens the following week. you two had different commitments to attend to, whether it be other projects or training. and while you would usually settle to meet in the school library or a cafe nearby, you find yourself inside the empty gymnasium, sitting on bleachers while your partner stands in front of mirrors.

“don’t you think it would be nice to combine our hobbies together?”

your pencil taps against the notebook. “like, your dancing? with what?”

“whatever you like to do!” once he makes his way to you, he leans on the row in front of you with crossed arms. “i mean, do you have anything you like to do during your free time?”

a scoff leaves you. “funny of you to assume that i have free time.”

“what’s your schedule like?”

“well, i have our classes and ap ones, then kumon at night.”

changmin reels at the thought of your schedule. “that’s brutal. the last time i had kumon was back in grade 4.”

“yeah, but i’m sure yours is busy as well. the amount of time that you put into training is…” his eyes are wide, hanging on your words. it’s the hope they hold that has you say, “admirable.”

a shy smile takes over his features. “yeah, but it’s only because my family is supportive of what i do.”

then, limbs whose color resembles the void slither their way to your heart, wrapping around it while the organ struggles to beat; it’s a slow process but an unending hole that will birth from it. yet, you do your best to fight off these limbs, unraveling them one by one in hopes it will give up—until you settle for shaking them off.

you only muster out a hum.

“do you have anything you like to do during those short breaks?”

your lips trill. “i don’t know. watch something on youtube?”

his cheeks puff up, stuck in his thoughts as he tries to navigate this project—and you—until his eyes glint. “what do you do when you want to vent?”

“you sure have a lot of questions,” you comment, trying to hold back a chuckle at his curiosity. “i can just adjust to you. maybe attempt to draw, picture, or even film you.”

his eyebrows furrow. “but that wouldn’t make it collaborative. i want us to work on something that aligns with what we do.”

a beat passes.

he holds your gaze. “i want us to create something that shows us.”

inside you, a gong is struck; its sound reverberates throughout your body, from the crown of your forehead to the tips of your toes. then, silence seeps in—a moment only for you and him.

“i, uh, write,” you whisper as your eyes shift to the notebook resting on your lap.

“really? like, stories and poetry?”

you nod. “i like writing people’s stories more, but i do like making ones.” when you look back at changmin, his eyes are still filled with curiosity. “i would, like, find interviews online and try to make my own, sort of, uhm—god this is embarrassing. forget about it.”

“huh? no, it isn’t!” he attempts to reassure your shrunken figure. “i mean, you don’t have to share more if you really don’t want to, but i’d like to hear more about it.” and when his dimples appear, you almost can’t help but feel your face warm up.

“i’d make articles, i guess?” he nods along with your words. “i don’t know, it’s just interesting to hear about people’s lives and kind of create something out of it, and i like thinking about all the possibilities of who would love to hear them. like, don’t you think that some of the stories that we read hold fragments of someone?”

“that’s an interesting way to look at it.”

as you doodle on your notebook, you say, “yeah, it’s just fun to hear these stories and maybe create something out of it. or even think of stories that i could never live out, you know?” you expect yourself to be met with the bored face of changmin but his eyes remain on you.

“what if you interview me?”

your eyebrows shoot up. “you?”

“yeah,” he stands up before walking up to your row, finding a spot beside you. “think of me as your first interviewee if you want.”

the sudden suggestion has you stumbling over your words. “huh? b—but, i don’t have questions prepared. and how does this help our project?” 

when his arms brush against yours, you start to become aware of the distance between your shoulders—and his face from yours. warmth spreads throughout your body, almost like you’re about to have a fever. once his open hand rests near yours, you don’t know what he’s asking.

“let me draw it out for you.” you hand him your pencil and notebook, allowing him to see your doodles. (you don’t miss his grin.) “you know, with that article you make, we can cut it up and create something out of it.” a roughly drawn sketch of a boy posed in the middle of a dance move now rests on the page. “i don’t know if a collage would be okay.”

as you think about what can be done, you perch your chin on your palm. “we can do papercut art? basically, it’s cutting up the article in a way to form an image.”

“oh, that sounds cool!”

“yeah, but the only challenge is that we can only use one piece of paper.” a sigh leaves you. “it would be impossible for me to even do that.”

“that’s why you have me.” his small smile causes wind chimes to ring. (you’re positive you heard them, even if there were no such things in the gymnasium.)

he continues to sketch out the layout of your joint artwork. “how do we feel about this?” on the paper, there are two boxes beside the figure, where one is labeled as “photo of me” while the other is labeled “an article by y/n.” your head tilts. “it’ll be a three-set piece. so, it’ll be a photo of me and your article, and in between is the papercut art that we’ll make.”

you hum. “you know, you’re very creative.” you look at him only to see that he’s been staring at you. “like, you’re inclined to the arts. i wouldn’t have been able to think of something like this.”

“you’re just as creative,” he argues back as he writes down something.

you shake your head before retorting, “changmin, you’re very talented. i’ve seen the way you dance,” his movements halt, “and you’re like no other dancer i’ve seen. if you ever try out to be an idol, i’m sure you’d do great, maybe end up on the list of the best dancers in the industry.”

but he shakes his head, going back to writing on your notebook and shutting down your compliments. you decide to not push.

“i can get the photo sometime during my training,” he says as he hands you your notebook.

“then i can have the questions sometime this week. for the article, i can have it done maybe four days after the interview. how does wednesday, after school, sound for the interview?”

he shoots you a smile before standing up from his seat. “that’s perfect! i’m looking forward to meeting journalist y/n.” you can’t help but scoff at what he calls you. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you shake your head. “it’s just a silly name.” because the reality is that you had your future planned out—and it definitely didn’t involve that field.

he shrugs. “i don’t know, i think it would fit you.”

“but you haven’t read any of my works.”

“but i want to root for you in the same way you do for me. i don’t want you to feel ashamed of your works.” a fire ignites in your heart; it’s a fireplace.

you’re baffled that changmin, out of all people, now holds your secret, but you’re even astounded over the idea of him supporting you. you almost can’t remember the last time you heard such words of support. is it genuine or nothing but a facade?

“anyway, i’ve got to go. i need to catch up on some homework.” while you shoot him a nod, his dimples make their appearance once more. “i’ll see you tomorrow!” as he takes off, you’re left in the gymnasium with your opened notebook and unlocked heart. you look back down at his sketch surrounded by your doodles, but you don’t miss his little note—cute doodles btw <3

the season of spring has unfolded in cheongju; a single lilac has bloomed.

present -> a day before the interview, 2024

it’s a late night on a tuesday, about to be a midnight wednesday, and you’re in a convenience store as you scout for your dinner. all hauled up in the newsroom, the idea of ordering food during a time where restaurants would still be open slipped your mind. now, you’re left to scan through the same options you’ve eaten for the past years since you started living in seoul.

the convenience clerks are familiar with you, both kim jongseob and kim jiwoo. with your constant late-night meals at the store, you’d talk to whichever one had a shift. jongseob is saving up to upgrade his setup at home to record more music. with all the stories he shares about his time in underground rap battles along with the short verses he’s performed for you, you’re positive that he’ll get signed to a label soon. as for jiwoo, this is one of the many jobs she has in order to save enough money for fashion school. you’ve seen her sketches and outfits she’s put together and you’re hoping that she’ll get accepted.

a sigh leaves you. you didn’t have a problem with eating the food here but you were craving for something new in your life in seoul. the perpetual cycle of eating takeout food and unconsciously skipping meals for work needed to be disrupted just for a moment. but you weren’t seeking michelin-star food—all you wanted was something home cooked. something from home.

the spice of tteokbokki, the burn of freshly fried hotteok, and the sweetness of homemade peach iced tea—mr. kim’s convenience store had it all.

your tastebuds long for cheongju.

“planning to beat your record of spending 23 minutes on deciding what to get?”

you roll your eyes before looking to your right, seeing jongseob stock up the drinks in the fridge. “i hate you.”

“what? i’m just saying, you’re taking a lot longer to decide today.” he chuckles before placing the last bottle of sweetened probiotic milk in the fridge. “none of the options look good to you?”

“sort of,” you hum before you scan through the aisle of packaged meals. “i think i’m craving for something different.”

“i get it. the food here can get boring, which is why i’m planning to order pizza if you want to split the costs.”

your eyebrows shoot up at jongseob’s suggestion. “really? you’d share pizza with me?”

“yeah, as long as you pay for your share.” he shoots you a smile before grabbing on a trolley carrying empty boxes. “unless… you want to pay for the whole thing.”

you bite back a smile as you shake your head. you should’ve known the guy would ask you to buy him food, but you knew that he needed the money and you at least had a stable income to keep you comfortable. “fine,” jongseob’s smile grows as you fish out your wallet from your pocket and pull out a couple of bills. “just order enough for us two.” 

“of course,” he says as soon as you hand him some money. “i’ll make sure to order the most expensive thing on the menu.”

you scoff at his joke. “just make sure to treat me to something.”

the bell by the door chimes. “sorry, can’t hear you over that! need to attend to a customer!” jongseob dashes away from you while dragging the trolley. that little shit just knew how to press your buttons, but you love the kid, anyway.

still, you stand in the middle of the mart and your heart longs for home.

then, you shut your eyes, and you’re transported back in front of the familiar aisle filled with bags of potato chips and sweet corn. the noisy fan along with the soft sounds of mr. kim’s korean drama fills your ears. a mix of yellow and orange hues paint every corner of the mart, including you—and you’re not alone.

your best friend stands on your right, wearing the unbuttoned school uniform polo over a tank top along with jogging pants. he’s lost in thought as he scans through the options of snacks you two can have for today’s afternoon. he starts to giggle to himself, probably from a silly thought he’ll share with you in the next second or a memory involving you, and the dips in his cheeks appear—your heart thumps in your ears.

and just like how quickly you were transported back to cheongju, your surroundings transformed into the cool-lit convenience store found in seoul. all you have left is the image of him bathed in the sunlight.

but he fades away like the ink on old receipts, never gone, because the glowing image of him warps into a different version who stands next to you in the cold mart. he’s grown a few inches taller and his hair doesn’t get in the way of his line of sight. while he wears a green sweater, you notice that he’s gained some muscles. his eyes scan through the aisle behind you filled with different brands of instant ramen.

but he bites the inside of his cheek and his dimples appear.

it’s a tornado that brews within you, enough to uproot trees and displace buildings, all because of an unexpected reunion with changmin. why did the universe decide to bring two ex-best friends on a random tuesday night? what brings him to the convenience store at the same time you’re there? and why did it have to happen a day before the interview?

you weren’t going to commit the same mistake; keep your eyes off of him and make your way out of the store. it didn’t matter if you had an empty, growling stomach, or gave free money to jongseob. you need to leave without the distant, familiar face noticing.

your feet act fast, and you're almost certain that might’ve caught his attention, but it didn’t matter as you see jongseob standing behind the cashier with his phone out. “i just ordered the pizza. it should arrive in about… 20 to 30 minutes.”

“yeah, about that��”

“don’t tell me you’re taking your money back.”

at the sight of jongseob’s pout, you roll your eyes. “no, keep it. i just—i need to go.”

“what? why?”

you peek behind you. it seems like he didn’t recognize you, after all. “i’ve got… work!”

“but don’t you only have your interview with the bo—”

“hey!” your fingers snap at him. “you cannot—i mean, you just… just take the goddamn money.”

“but we’re supposed to share the pizza. you haven’t eaten.”

an exasperated sigh leaves you. “jongseob, just treat me next time. i can eat at home.”

and you’re ready to leave the convenience store, bid farewell to jongseob and a delicious pizza made for two, and never greet or say goodbye to the living fragment of what you last know of cheongju—

“y/n?”

and the plan failed.

when you meet his gaze, you’re able to take in the different version of him. he’s grown so much—it’s such a pain that you weren’t there to witness it. his eyes are a pool of emotions; you can’t identify them.

all it takes is one breath from you. “changmin.”

a beat passes.

“i’m just gonna… go through the storage,” jongseob points his thumb at the back of the mart, “and maybe kill myself afterwards. i don’t know.” before you can protest, he’s already gone. (and he still has your money. that fucker.)

you and changmin were once painted with the hues of the sun. this reunion is tainted with blue.

changmin’s fingers tense up, almost as if he was hesitating—debating—on how to approach you. his body would waver, but he never took a step towards you. “i… i wasn’t expecting to meet you here.” 

“same here.” you lean your back against the checkout counter. “d—do you stay around this part of the city?”

he shakes his head. “i live around 15, maybe 20, minutes away from here. i’m only here because…” your breath gets caught in your throat. “i don’t know.”

fate. that’s what brought us here.

“do you live here?”

you nod. “yeah, ever since—” the sentence never gets completed; you and him already know.

for a moment, sorrow flashes in his eyes, but a smile shows up. the dimples don’t appear. “i, uh, i was going to get something from here but it seems like your friend is busy.”

“sorry about jongseob.” you whip out your phone and scold him through text. “he should be with us in a bit.”

changmin hums before walking to the freezer filled with different ice cream. as he looks through the selection, he asks, “do you still like twin bar?”

“y—yeah.”

“still the grape flavor?” you don’t know what to say, but when his gaze meets yours, you settle for a nod. with your favorite ice cream in one hand and a sandwich in the other, he finally walks towards you. you don’t miss the slight stagger in his steps.

changmin finds his spot beside you. there’s still distance between you two—two tiles worth, enough space for one person—but it’s enough for your muscles to freeze. thankfully, jongseob comes just in time to manage the cashier (with an awkward smile plastered on).

he scans changmin’s item first before grabbing onto your ice cream.

“oh, i’m paying—”

“no, let me,” changmin insists. “you can always treat me another time.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, thinking over the second half of his sentence. jongseob holds back from scanning the item, until you shoot him a nod. changmin pays for the food before jongseob hands them to you.

“i’ll just let you know when the pizza gets here.” his small smile is enough for your shoulders to ease and a quiet exhale to leave. a small nod is all you give him.

you follow changmin outside to the tables in front of the mart. once he’s settled on a spot, you sit across from him. he tears away the plastic wrapping of his food while you play with the ends of yours. 

while he swallows what you assume to be his dinner of the day, you’re left to swallow your own pride.

“i’ve seen your performances.” his chews halt. “you’re—” captivating. “you’ve improved a lot.”  

with one gulp, a shy smile takes over his face. “i still have a long way to go.”

“you always say that, even back then.” a half bitten sandwich now rests on the wrapper. “but i admire your drive.” always have.

while a different version of changmin sits across you, the one you knew back in cheongju still lives. in the busy, unfamiliar expanse of seoul, meeting 10 years later, he’ll never be stranger. you could never treat him as such, even if you wanted to.

“there’s always room for improvement,” he says.

you hum along with his sentiment. “did you stick with early childhood education?” you’re met with his orbs that hold a thousand of emotions, some you can name as shock, confusion. a question hangs in the air—what did you deserve to know?

“sorry, i’m assuming you still went to college, which is totally fine if you did or didn’t, by the way. and it’s also okay if you didn’t stick to your major. i mean, you always talked about pursuing a performing arts degree before—”

“y/n,” he giggles, “you’re okay. i still went to college but i took media & communication.” your eyebrows shoot up at the revelation. “i thought it made sense to study something related to what i do, just the more technical and theoretical side of it, i guess. and the online classes were easy to squeeze into my schedule.” he lifts up the sandwich. “what about you?”

“uh, i ended up in the same course as well.” a hum of shock leaves changmin. “yeah,” you chuckle, “i managed to shift courses.”

“that’s amazing! i’m happy for you.”

you smile at him. “thanks. now, i’m just—” you should tell him what you do. what would be a better time to reveal that you ended up in the path he dreamed for you to be than now? “—figuring things out.”

with your vagueness, changmin only nods before munching away. if there’s anything about you that still remains, it’s that you shouldn’t be pushed to share something you didn’t want to talk about. he still knew that.

as he finishes his sandwich, you tear off the plastic wrapping of your ice cream. with the twin bar in your hands, you snap it into two before you hand him a piece. confusion paints his features, wide eyes glossing over the popsicle in your hand, but he takes it before you can say anything.

“thanks.”

you shake your head. “don’t even worry about it. it’s only tradition.”

silence settles between you two. as you eat away on your share of the twin bar, you look up to the sky. from where you sit, you can’t see a single star; the lights of seoul seemed to outshine them. and during those moments, you almost can’t help but miss the view of the starry night from your childhood room.

you glance at changmin who looks up to the sky as well. yet, one hand remains in his pocket, almost as if he’s fiddling with something. 

as if he feels your eyes on him, he asks, “did you ever think about coming back?”

you halt your movements. if there’s one thing you were expecting your old friend to ask, it would be related to your sudden departure. but you’re hit with an entirely different question, one you didn’t get to rehearse the answer to in case you ever cross paths with him. 

because after all this talk about your yearning for cheongju, why didn’t you choose to visit? despite how much you long mr. kim’s home cooked meals, skies filled with stars, or the presence of your best friend, why didn’t you ever come back?

if you miss home, why is your first instinct to run away from it?

and the reality is that you do think about it all the time. since you left cheongju, you drafted out how many plans to go back. you were homesick, missing the familiar landscape you spent your entire childhood growing up in. but most of all, you missed changmin. as long as you had him, you would survive anywhere, whether in seoul or cheongju.

despite how much you yearned for him during your years away, you learned that your relationship wasn’t always filled with the warmth that would grace you two every afternoon. for so long, you’ve sat with jealousy. while his family was his pillar of strength, you were met with a home that offered nothing but criticism.

the black limbs slowly ate away at your heart; the void was born.

it became easier to remain resentful. with the distance, you weren’t faced with changmin’s genuineness. yet, with time, you discovered that you still cared for him—regardless of your jealousy—because you still wanted more for him than you did for yourself.

for a long time, you resented. now, it’s only guilt that held you back from going back to him.

so when you remain silent, changmin takes it as your answer.

and for the first time, the distance feels greater since you first left cheongju.

summer of 2014

it’s the peak of summer. amidst the expanse of verdant fields, bees seek solace in the fully-bloomed sunflowers and kaleidoscope wings illuminate as they soar.

but summer is where mouths go dry and clothes cling to skin. as days blend with each other, the comfort of your bed is all you have until the season passes.

the fan rumbles against the wooden floor, doing its best to cool you, but the heat prickles against the back of your neck. the wind has turned into nothing but hot waves. with your elbows perched on the desk, a sigh leaves you as you attempt to make sense of the worksheet filled with math equations.

your room is your favorite place in cheongju. within these four walls are scattered fragments of you, from your favorite books and mangas that rest on the bookshelf to the stuffed toys that rest on your bed. book tabs stick out of your workbooks lined up on your desk and your cork board is filled with crossed out to-do lists.

and every once in a while, you would look out through your window, admiring the neighboring houses and all their greenery. as people walk on pavements, you cannot help but think about where they’re off to—are they on their way to work? did they leave an important document back home? or are they coming back to a meal and home filled with warmth?

despite the halo soundtrack filling your ears, the cogs in your brain seem to drown them out. the numbers on your paper have jumbled up. it should’ve been easy. after all, you’ve become friends with the letters who’ve squeezed their way into math. once you’ve wrapped up on this assignment, you know you’ll wake up to another set of work to do. it didn’t help that you’re stuck watching kids your age enjoy their break.

with a tired mind, you consider making yourself another cup of iced coffee. maybe another dose of caffeine will make sense of the numbers—

your phone buzzes against your table. as your eyes rip from the unfinished worksheet, you spot the familiar name flashing on the screen. with one glance at your door, you bring your headphones to rest around your neck. it takes three rings for you to answer.

“what do you want?”

“the fuck? what’s wrong with you?”

you roll your eyes as you fiddle with your pen. “i’m studying, you fucker.”

“on a sunday?” changmin’s question has you only groan. “what happened to resting?”

“i wish,” you murmur as you scratch the back of your head. “i’ve been stuck on this stupid worksheet for the past hours. it’s annoying too. i mean, i already know this topic, so i don’t know why it’s so hard.”

“awe, is my best friend suffering over kumon?”

your forehead rests on crossed arms. “yes. i think i’m going to die.”

“okay, then. i’ll take that as my sign.”

“sign to what?”

he chuckles as if it were obvious. “to save you! let’s go to mr. kim’s.”

a groan leaves you as your back meets the chair. “no, i can’t. do you know what would happen if i don’t finish my kumon?”

“uh… no?”

“me, neither. i’m not taking my chances.”

“but, you’re not even doing anything!” changmin pointing out the obvious has you rolling your eyes. “wouldn’t it be better to take a break with your best friend? i can even help out.”

as you bite the inside of your cheek, you glance once more at your closed door. you weigh it out; would you rather take a break with your best friend or would you save yourself from the consequences brought by home?

but the answer was already clear. “give me 10 minutes.”

changmin laughs before you drop the call.

it’s the smell of fresh hotteok that greets you. the quiet buzzing of the fan accompanied by mr. kim’s favorite trot music fills your ears. while the owner seems to be away from the cashier, a white, stray cat takes over, body flopped on the counter as it snores away the heat. as the sun pours through windows, coating every corner of the mart with a glow of fireflies, you know this will be a place of its own.

“y/n, over here!” a familiar voice calls out. as you whip your head to the source, you see your best friend by the chest freezer, eyes crinkled and all dimples.

now, you’re certain that nothing could ever replicate this.

you walk towards changmin, finding your spot beside him as you two look through the collection of frozen treats. “so, what do you want from here?” you ask.

“uh… i’ll be honest, i just realized i’m short on money.”

you glance through the price tags, only for a groan to leave you. “i’m short too. when did mr. kim raise the prices?”

“no clue. i thought i’d have enough to get a summer crush,” changmin complains as his eyes are glued to the coffee sorbet. “i hate inflation.”

“come on.” you fish out for the coins in your pocket. “let’s see how much we have together.” changmin does the same. with palms out, you two count through your shared funds.

“we can get a summer crush!”

“you can get one. i’ll be left with barely anything.” you look through the selection once more. “man, i really want samanco. the red bean sounds so good right now.”

defeat casts over changmin’s features. for a moment, you almost consider giving up on having a frozen treat and settling for a glass bottle of orange soda, until you spot a familiar popsicle brand.

“holy shit, it’s right there.”

“what?”

“there!” your finger points at the stack of twin bars. “we can probably get that and split it.”

changmin’s expression morphs into realization. “okay, let’s get—”

“dibs on grape.”

“dibs?” he furrows his eyebrows at you. “you can’t just call dibs. you’re doing it wrong. clearly, we should discuss—”

“nope,” you retort. a chuckle laced with disbelief leaves your best friend. to him, it seemed like you were joking around. “i made the suggestion and contributed a lot more to our shared funds.”

“okay, but—”

“don’t tell me you want the peach flavor more than the grape.” as you continue to shut him down, he knows there’s no way around you.

(plus, he wasn’t a fan of peach-flavored things, anyway. how unfortunate that mr. kim only has those two flavors right now.)

“next time, we’re choosing a flavor that i want,” he gives in. you let out a cheer before grabbing the frozen treat.

you two make your way back to the cashier and spot mr. kim slouched in front of the television, hand stroking the sleepy feline. he’s still wearing an old, red plaid apron on top of a pair of basketball shorts and a loose graphic tee which had the name of a band you’re unfamiliar with. with how he sits, you’re afraid that his back problems will get even worse. (still, you don’t say anything. he’ll only play it off and say he’s still one of the “youngins”... whatever that means.)

once his eyes land on you two, a grin takes over. “ah, my favorite kids! it’s nice to see you both.”

“yeah, it’s been a while,” changmin starts off. “y/n’s always busy with kumon.”

you narrow your eyes at the boy. “hey! you’re busy, too! you’ve been practicing at the studio almost every day!” the wrapped popsicle now rests on the counter. “every time i’m free, you’re not.”

“hey! whenever you’re free, i’m tired from training!”

“okay, let’s settle down,” mr. kim breaks up the banter. he then takes note of the ice cream on the cashier, the price showing up on the cashier. “isn’t the heat hard enough for you two to be studying or practicing?”

“yes, very much.” you count the coins once more before dropping the exact amount on the counter. “but,” you glance at changmin and his disheartened expression is enough for mountains to move, “i don’t think we have a choice.”

in reality, these were the circumstances you two had to work and live with. during the days changmin ended practice early, you were drowning in summer school assessments. whenever you managed to finish your homework, it would be during the hours your best friend was off at the studio or passed out at home from exhaustion.

“choice, no choice, people always say that.” mr. kim counts your payment before putting it into the cashier. as he takes note of what you’ve bought, he says, “everyone has a choice. i’m sure you two can figure it out.”

the only difference is that one chose this path; the other had to suffer from the decision forced onto them.

“don’t worry, mr. kim,” changmin nudges your shoulder. “i’m sure we’ll figure it out.” and when the dips in his cheeks appear, you find yourself smiling back.

maybe you were okay with the life you had to live, just maybe.

“anyway, we’ll go ahead,” changmin bids farewell to mr. kim.

you giggle. “he means we’re just going to eat our ice cream at the front.”

as you two slowly make your way out of the mart, mr. kim shakes his head. “you lovebirds go ahead. i’ll see you next time!”

“mr. kim!” you and changmin shout in unison before glancing at each other.

“what?!”

your best friend groans. “you know we aren’t together.”

“yeah! like, i can’t imagine it,” you join in.

still, the owner laughs at your reactions. “you two are so funny. just go and enjoy your ice cream.”

you roll your eyes at his words. “bye, mr. kim!”

with that, you and changmin were out of the mart and took a seat on the benches. you hand your best friend the wrapped frozen treat before letting out a sigh. “i still can’t believe this is one of the few times we got to meet up during the break.”

“i know.” he tears the plastic wrapping off. “you would think that summer break would mean we get to hang out nonstop, but i’m starting to think we saw each other more whenever we had school.”

you hum. “i know. and i had ap stat while you had training.” your eyes dart at changmin who grips onto the popsicle sticks, struggling to split it into two. “oh my god, don’t tell me you can’t split it.”

“hey! it’s hard.”

as you giggle, you reach your hand out. “let me do it.” once changmin hands you the twin bar, you attempt to split the two. for a moment, you almost think about agreeing with him. yet, the frozen treat splits into two perfectly, and a satisfied smile rests on your lips.

you hand him one popsicle, only to be met with his glare. “i know, i’m just better.”

“just shut up.” to that, another laugh leaves you.

under the sun, you enjoy the coolness of the twin bar. while you would’ve stared off to nowhere, you and changmin were here at the right time to catch civilians bustling away. some were on dates, where one would go on about their interest while the other would smile at their rambling. there were kids whose chatter could be heard all the way from the end of the block, and blue-collar men who were off to enjoy their break.

you can’t help but imagine what people saw—thought—of you and changmin. did they think of you as unexpected friends? has it ever crossed their minds that you two were only classmates who seemed to always be paired together? or did they ever think the same as mr. kim?

“you know,” changmin starts off, causing you to look at him, “i was going through college courses the other day.”

your eyebrows shoot up. “oh?”

with your reaction, changmin giggles. “i was just curious, you know? not that i’m giving up on dance or anything, but,” he licks the popsicle, “early childhood education sounds cool.”

you hum. “i wasn’t expecting that.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“no, it’s not a bad thing!” you reassure the boy. “it’s just,” you rip your gaze off of changmin and look at the playground, “i always thought of you as a dancer, you know? kind of like you were meant for the stage.” the laughter of the kids who passed by you two bounces all over the block and you can’t help but smile. “but i don’t doubt it.”

the breeze graces your sweat-covered skin. “what about you?” you look back at him. “would you ever consider journalism? maybe communication as your major?”

you’re quick to laugh at his suggestion, but when confusion paints his features, you realize it’s a serious question from him.

“no.” it’s a straightforward answer from you, but changmin could never settle with that

“why not?”

a sigh leaves you. “i just don’t consider it. i mean, i think about it,” all the time, “but not enough to consider it. plus, astrophysics is cool.”

“but is it your dream?”

changmin’s question is an easy one to answer—not at all. you’ve had enough learning about theories and making sense of the numbers. if your future is going to only complicate that further, then maybe astrophysics isn’t made for you. 

but who’s to say that you’ll even enjoy journalism?

“we’ll see.” you leave it at that and changmin didn’t push for more.

because the reality is that if you ever did consider it, transform those dreams into action plans, you were terrified to be met with your parents’ disappointment—it wouldn’t only be from your lousy desires but from changmin’s role in your life.

the first time you mentioned changmin to your parents happened over dinner, letting them know you would be staying later at school to work on the final project for art class with him. they didn’t bat an eye at his name as they continued to talk about what happened during work and pester you about your progress in other classes. (art class didn’t matter to them, only the sciences and math were ones they seemed to track. still, they would criticize you if you didn’t place first honors.)

with your parents’ oversight, something blossomed between you and changmin. from there, there were more days you would get home later than usual. while you were still on top of your work, they took your late arrivals as a form of negligence.

all it took was one night for them to demand an explanation. the reappearance of him in the conversation had only caused them to reprimand you—changmin’s not like you. he’ll only hold you back. 

from that day on, you’ve learned to keep his name out of conversations. you’ll enjoy what you have with changmin, even if it has to be kept under the wraps.

“how’s training?” you change the subject, trying to keep the attention off of your failed dreams to changmin’s flourishing ones.

“well, it’s a lot,” he chuckles as he munches a piece. “you already know that it takes how many hours to get to the company, and the hours i spend in the practice room are unlike the trainings i have at school.”

as his eyes meet yours, you only shoot him an apologetic smile. it was never going to be easy; you two knew that before changmin entered the doors of the company. yet, he still held on.

“you know, i never considered it before, but i like where i’m going,” he admits. “even if i’ve always had dreams to pursue dance, i want to make my family proud if i ever get to debut.” 

changmin knows how to persevere. regardless of all the bruises he gets from performing complex dance routines or the hours of sleep he longs for, he knows how to hold on. you wish you could say the same for yourself.

“and you will,” you reassure the boy, wrapping your arm around his shoulders. “who wouldn’t be proud of you?”

he holds your stare and your smile falters. for a moment, you don’t know if you touched on a sensitive topic. would he shrug your arm off? do you think he’ll shut you off, maybe cut your time together short? will changmin get mad at you for something you didn’t know was wrong? would he be just like them?

“i want to make you proud.”

that’s enough to answer it all.

you shake your head. “don’t even doubt that for a second.” your arm finds it spot back to your side, and changmin’s loops his with yours.

although he knows how to persevere, he never knows when to shut his ears from the shadows. 

“i am proud of you,” you tell him. “always have, always will.” he can’t help but smile. all you can hope is that he’ll listen closely to your voice.

“i almost forgot,” he says out of nowhere.

“forgot what?”

as he tugs his arm away, his hand fishes for something in his pocket. “close your eyes.” you furrow your eyebrows. “just do it!” you follow his orders. “and keep them closed, okay?” you let out a hum.

before you know it, something wraps around your index finger. you would’ve opened your eyes, confused over the foreign yet familiar material, but they remain shut. 

“okay, open.”

your gaze rests on your finger wrapped in yellow and blue. it’s a finger trap—and the other end is connected to changmin. despite your tug, it still holds you two together.

it’s the warmth that fills your cheeks, the heartbeat in your ears, and your starstruck eyes that has him smile. “no matter what happens, we’ll stick together, okay? regardless of what paths we end up pursuing. all that matters is that we have each other.”

he’s filled with hope. hope for his dreams. hope for your relationship. hope for what the future holds for you two. you can’t help but hope as well.

all it takes is a nod from you to solidify the promise to the universe.

you two sit in silence, finishing up the popsicles as people continue to pass by. at one point, you heard mr. kim let out a curse over the drama he’s watching. the sun is about to set, wrapping you two in a golden blanket, and all that matters is the finger trap.

present  -> two weeks before the interview, 2024

it’s no surprise to you that the newsroom is quiet. while your peers are off to gather more information, you’re with lee chaeyeon of news as she tries to meet the deadline for her article’s first close.

“do you think dokyeom will be late?” you ask as you watch her rephrase sentences.

she laughs. “when is he never? minho’s always assigning him coverages.”

“that’s true.” your eyes drift to the hallway. “i’m just hungry. he still owes me food, you know?”

“over another bet? or you saving his ass?”

“over helping him with an article,” you reveal, earning a shocked look from her. “for some odd reason, he needed another writer to help out with a live coverage, and all the sports writers and sports editor were busy handling the other events.”

“holy shit.” chaeyeon continues with her work. “i didn’t expect you to work on anything sports-related.”

“yeah, but it helped that it was a dance competition. at least i know something about dance.” you only know who to thank. “i’m going to make sure i get compensated for that. i’m planning to raise it to minho and namjoon, anyway. that’s if dokyeom would fucking come and help in explaining the situation.”

with the mention of the tardy writer’s name, he’s scrambling through the halls with his backpack in one hand and a paper bag in the other. the moment he sees you, he shoots you an apologetic smile.

“speak of the devil,” you say as you stand up straight. “why do you always show up late? i helped you with the article.”

dokyeom finds his spot beside you as he sets down the bag on your desk. “i’ll have you know that wasn’t the only article i had yesterday. i was catching up on other ones that minho assigned me.” before he can plop down on his seat, he spots chaeyeon working. “damn, tough life at news.”

“no need to point out the obvious, doofus.”

“wow, harsh,” he replies to her insult. “just so you know, i bought food for us.”

“thank god,” you exclaim as you open the paper bag filled with takeout containers and sealed cups. as you pull them out one by one, you spot your usual order from the vietnamese restaurant around the corner. “oh my god, thank you for getting me this.” you take a seat before you pass dokyeom his food and utensils.

“yeah, i know. i’m just the best.” his shower of compliments for himself only has you rolling your eyes. “but thank you, by the way, for helping me out with the article. i needed an extra pair of hands and my own editor couldn’t stand in to help out.”

“it’s fine. just make sure you help me get compensated for that article,” you say before you open the container. as the smell of bun bo nam bo fills your nose, you can’t help but let out a quiet moan. “holy fuck, i’ve been craving this.”

“i made sure to get you some vietnamese coffee also.”

“yeah, i saw. thank you.” you split the chopsticks with one hand. you’re about to mix the bowl of your favorite food—

“is y/n here?” your editor calls out, causing you to let out a sigh before you stand up from your seat.

“yes?”

namjoon’s gaze lands on you. “can i talk to you for a bit?”

despite your grumbling stomach, you give him a nod and set your food down. as he retreats to his office, you glare at dokyeom who munches away on goi cuon. “i hate you.”

“hey, what did i do?!” you ignore his attempts to defend himself as you make your way to your editor’s office.

once you swing the door open, you spot namjoon whose eyes are stuck to the screen. “you can take a seat,” he says with no attempt to look at you. you sit across from him, hands folded on your lap, while he types away on his keyboard.

the moment he hits the ‘enter’ key is when he finally looks at you. “sorry about that. i was just replying to minho regarding your compensation for the article you worked with dokyeom. we both appreciate what you did. next time though, make sure to loop in minho or me before you two start working on beats not within your staffs.”

“sorry about that,” you start off. “dokyeom only asked for my help and i thought it would be fine since i’m familiar with dance, anyway.”

namjoon shakes his head with a small smile plastered on his face. “it is fine, just make sure to inform us.” you only nod.

“anyway, i’m sorry to have this meeting with you right now but i have to leave work early today, and i thought that you’d appreciate that i tell this to you now instead of tomorrow,” he says. you hum, curious about what he has to say. “i have a coverage for you, a very, very, long one.”

over the sight of your wide eyes, he can’t help but chuckle. “it’s 12 articles,” he says and your mouth gapes over the number. “well, one main article and 11 profiles with very brief introductory paragraphs.” his attempt to ease your shocked state does nothing.

“namjoon, that’s… a lot.”

“yes, i know. i would love to split the workload but everyone else is handling other articles, and i trust you. i know i’m asking for a lot but i’ll make sure to help you out with them. it’s just that we’re working on a time crunch and i don’t know anyone else i can ask but you.”

the faith that your editor seems to have in you is like no other.

“profiles, like, those q&a transcripts?” you ask.

he nods before saying, “yes, and just a brief introductory paragraph for each profile. i’m just expecting you to put more work into the article about the group. i’ll make sure to help out with the profiles.”

namjoon’s trust should be anxiety inducing, enough to send you complaining, but you find yourself relieved. your mentor became your second-in-command; the mountain of workload transformed into a hill.

“okay.”

a relaxed smile appears on his face at your acceptance. “thank god! i was going to stress about this the whole day if you refused. i’ll make sure to send you the details about this once i’m done with my appointments, and then we can see how we’ll divide the work later on.” he types something. “we’re covering a k-pop group which is why there’s one main article about the whole group and then 11 profiles.”

“yeah, i figured that out.” this isn’t anything out of your usual articles. “can i ask who we’re interviewing? maybe i can do some research on them while you attend your meetings.” you pull out your phone, ready to search up whoever your editor says.

“don’t know if you’re familiar with them but they’re called the boyz?” you still in your seat. “wait, let me check. yes, that’s their name.”

“the boyz?”

namjoon looks at you, now met with your features that have transformed from wide eyes to scrunched eyebrows.  “yeah. do you know them?” 

you shake your head without a second thought. “no, i don’t think i do,” you whisper the last sentence to yourself. his narrow eyes look over you, almost dissecting you.

the walls surrounding you are painted in solid colors of pearl, almost untouched. yet, under the paint are cracks that spread like cobwebs. every burst is a testament to the earthquakes they’ve faced; no one should be able to see a single line of black amid the white sea. now, they’re filled with paste, and it should be enough to cover them all.

but for the first time, the paint has chipped and the paste has deteriorated; the different colors of cheongju seep through the cracks.

you clear your throat as you straighten your back. “i’ll be sure to research them.” you wave your phone at him, hoping to divert his attention, but his gaze remains on you.

a sigh leaves him. “okay. expect to receive the documents later in the afternoon.”

he doesn’t push any further. for now, the walls remain intact. (or appear as so.)

it was never going to be easy.

“honestly, i gave up expecting to win as we practiced,” the youngest says through tears. as they huddle, they let out silent wishes for the upcoming years. before they blow the candle, they don’t forget to express their gratitude to the fandom who stuck with them through thick and thin.

a time of celebration turned into a moment to remember their struggles. these were pockets of their time that marked their spot in history.

“oh, everyone behind us is crying!” another member points out as the camera captures the team’s bittersweet cries.

and when you catch sight of the orange-haired boy who hides his tears behind his friend, the ache in your chest starts to spread through your veins. the video cuts to his low-hanging head as his members comfort him. they knew all of his hardships—you only know a fraction.

such a tender moment happened five years ago; it’s the same amount of time between this achievement and your departure. within those years, what did changmin undergo? did his trainings waver his passion or did the fire burn just as bright as it did since he first auditioned? was he confident in his skills or was he still critical about every performance he had?

but most of all, what did he face? what did he learn? to hate? to love?

what did he go through without you?

you don’t forget to take note of their first win on your document filled with bullet points of information. while you were going to continue watching, a recommended video caught your attention. it’s a changmin focus. you don’t hesitate to click it.

the video starts off with him checking up on the fans before the performance starts. as he mimes out eating, they answer his question with reassurance.

and there they come—his dimples appear.

it transitions to their group in their opening formation. as they await for the song to play out, changmin’s familiar smile shifts into a dominant gaze.

in the same way the first notes draw people to listen, your eyes never leave the boy. his movements are fluid, like water droplets sliding off leaves. he commands the stage regardless of where he’s positioned.

changmin is meant to be on the stage—no, every stage is made for him. every crowd is meant to cheer his name and remain captive to his talents, and every spotlight is meant to shine on him.

you rest your chin on crossed arms. long gone was the bowl cut and loose school uniform. he’s grown. matured, even. yet, the moments where his smile appears makes you realize one thing: the 16-year-old boy you knew still lives within him.

as their performance comes to an end, you don’t bother to move your cursor, letting the next recommended video play. and when his vlog plays out, you realize that a fragment of his identity is a whole of what you know.

what an honor it is to have known him for even a fraction of your lifetime.

his voice is a lullaby, the same one you used to fall asleep to, so you allow yourself to close your eyes. you let go of the responsibilities for just this moment, and allow yourself to be transported back into the warmth of his arms.

fall of 2014

out of all the seasons, autumn took its spot in being your favorite. clusters of green slowly morph  into shades of oranges and browns. it’s a symphony of chirps that fills the silence. while the breeze brings you comfort after the heat of summer, it also reminds you of the looming winter.

it’s a shame that autumn does live up to its other name: a season of fall.

“you’re always like this,” your mother comments. you stand in front of your parents, slumped shoulders and downcast eyes, as they hold a sheet of paper they believe dictates your future. “always so sensitive. we’re just asking you what went different. why did your grades drop?” to them, a shift from a to b+ is a threat to your future. 

while your feet stand on wooden floors, a flood starts to form. murky waves crash against your legs, but you do your best to keep your balance.

“answer us when you’re being talked to.” your father snaps you out of your thoughts. “what have you been doing for your grades to drop?” you want to answer but a single sound that leaves you may only lead to blubbers that your parents will scold you for. 

with your silence, your mother sneers. “i knew we shouldn’t have let you do your own things. i told you so.” she shifts her gaze to him. “what did i tell you about y/n? you know they’ll only slack off!”

“i thought we could trust them. clearly, i was wrong.” your father’s glare raises the water levels, reaching your chest. you don’t know how to swim in the foggy ocean.

“i know why.” she crosses her arms. “it’s because of that changmin boy, isn’t it?” she says his name laced with disgust.

you don’t think twice to defend him. “no, it isn’t!”

“don’t you dare talk back at me!”

“but i’m not! he’s done nothing.”

your father begins to raise his voice. “and that’s what’s wrong! that lazy boy does nothing for his studies. he clearly doesn’t care about his future.”

you always knew it would be a losing battle, but you’ll put up the fight to protect your best friend’s name. “that’s not true! he does care. he’s planning to do early childhood education for college, maybe become a teacher.”

“that job has no money. see, i can already see that you’re being influenced by him,” he argues back.

and as the murky waters rise, filling your lungs, your first instinct is to close your eyes and scream. “stop saying that about him!”

a beat passes.

“i don’t want you hanging out with him.”

“but—”

“shut up.” your mother’s words cause you to look up, meeting your parents’ faces filled with anger.  “go to your room. now.” you’re nothing but a puppet for them.

was it even a battle if you always knew you were going to lose?

despite the safety of your room, you don’t let the tears flow down. you do anything to distract yourself; maybe a book will convince you that your life is only a figment of your imagination.

waves continue to crash against your body. if you let them take your body, would they send you far away from cheongju? from your parents? from the weight you were entrusted to carry since birth?

but would you allow the waves to send you away from changmin?

your phone buzzes against the mattress. with tear-filled eyes, you see your best friend trying to reach you. you don’t think twice about declining his call and shutting off your phone.

as you curl in your bed, you hope the sea will swallow you whole—the slow, burning pain that comes with drowning won’t compare to the burns that haven’t healed. but you know that the blame rests on your shoulders. if only you had studied harder, cut off hours of rest for your work, then maybe you would be the perfect child your parents wanted.

were you wrong for allowing yourself to enjoy the small breaks between classes? was the time spent in the mart supposed to be for schoolwork? should you have found yourself a tutor? were you in the wrong for not working yourself to the bone? did you not work enough?

are you not enough?

then, a knock. your eyes snap open. like a stroke of light in the middle of the dark, changmin is by your window.

you get off your bed to open the window. as the glass barrier disappears, he enters your room. “are you okay?” he spots your glassy eyes and his hands find their spot on your shoulders. “what happened?”

you break eye contact. “what do you want, changmin?”

“you didn’t pick up your phone. and when i tried calling again, i couldn’t reach you,” he starts to explain.

you shrug off his grip on you before you take a seat on your bed. “i’m fine. my phone died.” as you feel the spot beside you dip, you look at your best friend. at the sight of his furrowed eyebrows, you know he doesn’t believe you. “i said i’m fine.”

“i didn’t say anything.” for you are an open book to him.

he opens his arms towards you—it’s your move to make. then, a tight-lipped smile shows on his face, his dimples appear, and you allow yourself to fall. with his arms wrapped around you, you shut your eyes as you nestle your face into his neck.

breathe in. breathe out.

his hand finds its spot on your back, rubbing it in circles.

breathe in. breathe out.

“it’s okay, i’m here,” he says, and you allow yourself to crumble in front of him for the first time.

the tears hit changmin’s neck like a light drizzle. your wails bring earthquakes into his world.

yet, his warmth is enough to dry up droplets, and his embrace protects you as you fall into the cracks of the earth and into the depths of the world. the flood starts to subside.

in your time knowing changmin, how much did he know about you after all? had he always known of your strained relationship with your parents? did he hear about it from others or was he able to connect the dots?

because you didn’t know yourself outside of your parents anymore. did you like science because of your kumon classes? was your interest in writing birthed from a desire for validation from your parents?

are you nothing but an array of achievements and failures?

but your parents will never be satisfied; a standard too high is practically nonexistent.

changmin moves so that you two can lie down. his arms remain wrapped around you as you hide in his neck. “i’m sorry if i wasn’t there for you when you needed it then.” his whispered apology causes you to shake your head.

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” you blubber out to his neck.

“and you didn’t, as well.” his hand finds its spot behind your head. with every stroke, a tear streams down. “and i want you to know that i’ll be here for you.”

in your house, your room was the only space you called home. solace built by you. 

now, your home is changmin.

present -> two weeks before the interview, 2024

something about the newsroom feels odd to you. there’s nothing out of the ordinary aside from it bustling with journalists. the familiar sounds of printers and chatter from your workmates fill your ears. it’s a typical occurrence for your peers to meet their deadlines on the day itself. the tug in your gut doesn’t resemble ones formed out of your anxiety. why does it feel like one of destiny?

“where is dokyeom? i swear, this guy never shows up to the office.”

you snap out of your thoughts, looking over at chaeyeon who browses through her phone. as you shove a bill into the vending machine, a chuckle leaves you. “when is he never?”

“maybe if he finishes his coverages on time then he’d be getting enough sleep. then, he won’t be late.”

you side-eye your friend before you click on a button. “you know that’s not true.”

she sighs at the same time your bottle of iced tea drops. “yeah. apparently, if you have free time, you’re not a good journalist or some shit which i find stupid.” you grab your drink before facing her. “am i not allowed to do something else that’s not related to my job? i swear, this is why i’m single.”

“then date another journalist.” your joke earns a scowl from her.

“i’m never dating anyone in my field. a journalist dating another journalist is like,” she looks up to the ceiling as she thinks, “a long distance relationship with how much they’ll never see or have time for each other.”

a laugh erupts from you, one that may be too loud for your liking. “true.”

as you walk out of the breakroom with chaeyeon, you notice something in the corner of your eye: a brunette by the restroom. while you can’t see his face, you spot what’s in his hand and you halt in your tracks—a finger trap.

“hey, is there someone there?” your eyes snap back to your friend who looks at you in confusion. when your eyes drift back to where the brunette once was, he’s already gone. you shake your head before walking back to your desk.

the same gut feeling lingers. with a frown, you open up your article only to be met with a few comments that namjoon left last night. maybe your gut knew that you weren’t done with your work. thankfully, it’s nothing too major, and you can have them done within the next few minutes.

“there you are!” chaeyeon exclaims, causing you to look up from your screen to a panting dokyeom. “were you working on your articles again?”

“actually, i went out last night.” while you shake your head at dokyeom’s reveal, chaeyeon gasps. “yeah, i did! i actually had fun for once!”

as he nods proudly at last night’s events, she complains, “are you serious?! how come you have time to go out? i was just talking to y/n that we never have time to ourselves.”

“i’m in sports,” he points out as he shrugs his shoulders. “you’re in news.” at this point, you’re expecting the two to spiral into an argument, so you redirect your focus back to your article.

“hey, did you hear though? there’s a k-pop group in the building.” you glance at chaeyeon.

your other friend leans on the cubicle. “really? who?”

“no clue.”

dokyeom lets out a groan. “what type of journalist are you if you can’t find out?”

“yah!” chaeyeon smacks his arm, causing him to wince in pain. “says you who can never submit on time.”

“hey, i’ll have you know that minho has been understanding!”

“whatever.” she rolls her eyes before looking at you. “that means you’ll probably be handling them. i hope they’re cute so that you can finally have something going on with your life outside of work.”

a chuckle leaves you as you get back to work. “i’m never dating an idol. i’d get hunted down by their fans.” 

“yeah, but can’t you dream a little? do you ever imagine what it would be like?”

the past plays in your mind. after school performances and interviews. broken-up popsicles. finger traps. a life you shared with changmin then—one you still cling onto.

yet, you shake your head as you edit your article. “not even.”

it’s a life you’ll keep to yourself.

“what’s the update?”

the three of you look away from each other, spotting namjoon who comes to you with a smile. long gone were the sweaters that failed to drown out his figure and the boxy glasses that would rest on the bridge of his nose. now, he wears a dress shirt and trousers with hair slicked to the side. there were no frames for him to hide behind.

“ah, namjoon! you’re dressed so nice today.”

with dokyeom’s compliment, he can’t hold back on his smile. “thank you. are you guys done with your articles?”

as your friends nod, you add the finishing touches to the document. “and done! i just finished addressing your comments.”

“great. thanks, y/n.”

“do you have something?” chaeyeon asks your editor, causing you to roll your eyes. one thing about journalists is that they love to know everything.

namjoon nods before saying, “i just had a meeting with some possible interviewees.”

“is this the one with the k-pop group?” as dokyeom asks the question, you can’t help but laugh as chaeyeon looks at him in disbelief for spilling confidential information.

your editor chuckles. “yes.”

“can we know—”

“no, you can’t know.”

chaeyeon pouts at namjoon. “not even a hint?”

namjoon ignores her question and begins to walk off. “good work, y/n!” he calls out before leaving you three alone.

“man, namjoon never tells us shit,” chaeyeon complains as she leans on the table.

“to you guys, at least,” you argue with a small shrug.

still, the gut feeling remains.

something about the newsroom feels odd to changmin. while he’s had his fair share of paranormal experiences, his gut tells him that there’s something in the office. yet, the tug isn’t one that speaks of danger. why does it feel like one of destiny?

“should we have a short break before we discuss the schedules for the photoshoots and interviews?” changmin is snapped out of his thoughts by namjoon’s suggestion.

his manager looks at the group. “do you guys need a break?”

sangyeon shoots namjoon a smile before looking at his members. “you guys can use the washroom if you need to.”

although everyone seemed fine with proceeding, changmin couldn’t shake off the feeling. maybe the leftover curry he had this morning went bad. “i’ll go,” he says as he gets off his seat.

namjoon slowly stands up. “okay, i can bring you there—”

“it’s okay! i saw the washroom on the way here,” changmin says before walking to the door. “you can discuss the details without me. i’m sure you guys will manage.”

with sangyeon’s and his manager’s nods, namjoon settles back into his seat. “okay then, here are some of the dates i have in mind...”

changmin exits the room. he bites on the inside of the cheek as he thinks of what his gut could be telling him. is it the nerves for the upcoming tour? is he worried about the next comeback they’ve been preparing? or is he scared about what the future has in store for his group?

with his mind on these questions, he doesn’t realize that he arrives in front of the bathroom door. a sigh of frustration leaves him. the worst thing about gut feelings is never knowing what they’re trying to say.

he grips the handle, ready to swing the door open, until a familiar laugh hits his ears. one of the past. one he hasn’t heard in years. his muscles freeze.

when was the last time he heard that chortle? when was the last time he became the cause of it?

his eyes dart around the area for the source but no one else is here. he can’t help but shake his head in disbelief.

it should be stupid for him to think you two would ever reunite. in what world would you be in the same place as he is? it’s been 10 years. you could be anywhere around the world. yet, he fishes for something out of his pocket; the same finger trap he linked you to him rests on the palm of his hand.

he sighs before entering the washroom and shoving it back into his pocket.

maybe he’ll hold out a little longer.

winter of 2014

out of all the seasons, changmin’s favorite is winter. snowflakes fall, filling the sky with stars that people can touch, and snow piles on sidewalks, letting him throw snowballs at his friends. despite the freezing temperatures, changmin prefers this over nearly-boiling ones.

he can’t wait to share this season with you.

yet, the familiar, chilly breeze of the season transforms into whispers, and word gets around like thrown snowballs. 

“is y/n really not going to school anymore?” changmin looks up from his desk to see cheng xiao standing in front of him. he tilts his head in confusion, causing her to roll her eyes. “are they not going here anymore?”

he frowns. “huh? what kind of rumor is that?”

“i don’t know. it’s what people have been saying,” she says as she crosses her arms. “i asked because i wanted to know if my competition’s gone, you know? and you’re the only one here who has an idea about their whereabouts.”

changmin laughs in disbelief. “no, i was with them last week.”

when changmin last saw you, you asked for space. with what’s been happening with your family, you needed time to process and cope with your issues, and he respected that. after all, he only knew a fraction of your relationship with your parents, and he didn’t want to intrude in anything you didn’t want him to be a part of. still, changmin reminded you that he’ll be there if you need him.

“damn, that sucks,” cheng xiao groans as her shoulders slump. “these stupid rumors.” as soon as she leaves changmin alone, he shakes his head.

the bell rings. students start rushing into classrooms and teachers scold those who aren’t on their seats. ms. jeon enters the room, walking to the desk in front and setting her things down. “cheng xiao, you’ll be in charge of attendance today.”

as changmin’s classmate gets off her seat, he can’t help but look at your desk that still remains empty.

“you have to message us when you land,” your mother says as she fixes the collar of your coat. despite your nod, she clicks her tongue. “answer me properly.”

“yes, i will.”

once your father finishes placing the last luggage in the trunk of the taxi, he stands beside your mother. “don’t forget why we’re sending you there. we expect you to do better with no distractions.”

your phone buzzes in your hand. as you look down, you see a message from changmin. as he asks about your whereabouts, the weight gets heavier—will you stand or crumble under it?

“who’s that?”

you stash your phone away as you look back at your parents. “nothing. it’s just an email from the school. they sent over the date for the orientation.” at the sight of their satisfied smile, you let out a small sigh of relief.

“well, go on.” your nod at your mother before getting in the car. with the windows still down, she adds, “don’t forget to get endorsement letters from the professors i sent over to you or else you won’t get to study abroad like we planned.” her choice of pronouns is funny; a plan that they crafted which never considered your input.

“okay.”

as your father commands the driver to go, your gaze remains on the two. it should be okay with you to leave cheongju; you’d be far away from your parents and experience an entirely different landscape to explore. it’s time you break away from the chains of this town. learn a life outside of what your parents forced you into.

yet, as the car takes its leave, the figure of your parents slowly shrinks. the distance from them should’ve given you the space to breathe, a relief you’ve longed for, but it only reminds you of your strained relationship. to them, it would be better that you’re out of their sight—and with your farewell, you never heard the three-word phrase.

the window rolls up. you try to hold back the tears, but the scenery of cheongju that you pass by births a storm within you. you didn’t want to say goodbye to home, regardless of how much you say you didn’t have a home in this town. every corner holds a piece of you in the same way you hold a piece of them.

the car approaches a safe haven you share. despite the snow that piles at the front, mr. kim’s convenience store is still open. you’ll never get to have his hotteok again or hear his favorite dramas play in the background. worst of all, you never got to say goodbye.

then, the familiar figure of your best friend exits the mart, and the storm transforms into a typhoon. the plastic bag he holds is filled with your favorite snacks, from the grape-flavored twin bar to a bottle of mr. kim’s homemade peach iced tea.

and in that moment that your car passes him, he pulls out his phone from his pocket, and you spot the familiar trap wrapped around his finger—the other end holds no one.

as quickly as you came into changmin’s life, he disappears from your view.

finger traps were fascinating. if you tug hard, the contraption won’t let your fingers go. yet, if you allow the two fingers to meet, allowing the toy to loosen, it’ll let you go with no harm.

but your finger trap with changmin was different. maybe it was already ripped to its seams.

interview

q: what made you decide on becoming an idol?

a: i’ve always loved dancing. growing up in cheongju, i always made time [for dance] whether it be [for] school competitions, talent shows, or even [choreographies] i wanted to try out. but i never considered becoming [an idol] until high school. a lot of my friends and family thought i was capable, and i’m glad they trusted me. it feels good to give back to them with every performance.

q: as the first trainee meant to debut in the boyz, you’ve spent more time training compared to your other members. what kept you going throughout your years of training?

a: my family’s support was one big thing that helped me [during my training.] every trip from my house to the company would last hours, and it drained me physically. so as the years went by, i started to question if all the time, money, [and] effort i was putting into an unpromised debut would be worth it, but my parents and sisters were always there to support and [take] care of me. but i’d also like to think my best friend was a major support in training years. i think they were the first one to [tell me that they saw me as an idol,] and at the time i brushed off the idea. but, look where i am now? so i think i owe a lot to them.

q: is there anything you’d like to say to those who’ve supported you as the boyz’s q?

a: mom and dad, thank you for believing in me. i know it wasn’t easy to wait until midnight for me to come home or take care of me whenever i got sick from training. thank you for always supporting me in every performance. to my sisters, thank you for helping mom and dad out at home. every day, i remind myself that you gave up so much just so i can pursue my dreams, and i want you know that i’m forever grateful for your sacrifices. to the rest of [the boyz], thank you for always allowing me to rely on you. i’m glad i can say i have brothers who i get to achieve my dreams with. deobi, thank you for your love and support over the years. i wouldn’t be the boyz’s q or ji changmin if it weren’t for you. and lastly, thank you to my best friend. i hope you’ll always be proud of me the same way i’ll forever be proud of you.

tag list: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @mosviqu @vernyangel @stealanity @deobi0412 @blue-rainydays @maessseongs @dearly-somber

[ar-cadez]

Negaverse Megavolt concept!

Design notes and personality rant stuff under the cut. Warning. It's long and unreadable.

The purse thing is a generator (Ill probably design it as a prop at some point considering It does NOT look like one but portable generators are hard for me to draw for some reason)

I swapped which eye has the white in it (even though I usually draw it on the wrong side anyway bc idk my lefts from rights..)

I wanted to make the darks very prominent bc the yellows are very prominent in the original

I went with blues bc it's the only other colour usually associated with lightning and electricity.

The teal parts of his outfit are lights! They glow when he's fully charged and fade out when he's out of power.

You can't see it in this pose but his hands have outlets on the back that work the same as megavolt's chest outlet. He can power weapons with them and charge himself without the pain of straight up shocking himself

I wanted to make his hair look like it's thinning out bc of age and repeated electrical damage but I wasn't sure how to do that so it's not really present. Did give him some white hair though.

His glasses are prescription! Can't see nothin without em..

Okay now some personality stuff!

Megavolt is the hardest villain to swap bc his personality is "insane guy with memory issues but is smart" and it's kinda hard to flip that around without just making him boring? Removing his intelligence when it comes to electricity would also negate his whole gimmick which makes things worse. but I do have a few ideas. It's ironic I struggle with him so much considering he's literally my favourite character...

He was popular in high school. He was friends with negaduck and they were both pretty well liked jock types before negaduck started doing major crimes (though I imagine he was always a delinquent of sorts. Just didn't start destroying the city till he graduated) clash reunion is a whole beast on it's own bc megavolt has the most in depth backstory which means a lot of reworking for a personality swap au.

His interests, like dw's megavolt, lie in magnesium, electronics, and engineering. The difference is, despite being Intruiged by these subjects, he didn't go out of his way to learn about the. He was more focused on his peers approval back then. Not to mention the fact that negaduck was an extremely toxic friend and would absolutely make fun of him constantly for it. (He doesn't even actually care, he's just an asshole.)

Eventually after gaining his abilities he began to study electricity and start inventing things. Only.. He's pretty bad at it. Things tend to backfire on him. Quackerjack has a lot more experience than him when it comes to engineering and he tries to help him out but the guy's kinda cursed. I haven't really decided if it's more dt17 gyro where everything he makes ends up turning against him or guy am I from the Netflix green eggs and ham show where everything he makes just kinda explodes. Maybe a bit of both. Either way it's very over the top and is more trouble than it's worth, but that doesn't stop him! (Oh God someone stop him)

I didn't wanna just take away his mental issues completely because the opposite of that is literally nothing. It adds.. Nothing. It just gives him less to work with. And it's already hard enough to do this guy. (Plus it kinda implies mentally ill people can't be heroes and that's.. Mm....) So instead I decided to change how he reacts to it.

He still has memory issues along with other physical and mental symptoms of electrical injury, he just really likes to pretend he doesn't. He completely ignores his deteriorating mental, physical, and emotional health <33

I wanna flesh him out more but I'd only be able to do that if I write with him and I'm fantastic at procrastinating my writing projects <33

[m-jelly]

Hello again jelly👋!! I saw you said you have watch x-men and deadpool and Wolverine. so I have an idea for Levi x reader one-shot. So the reader is like wolverine sha has adamantium claws and healing ability basically heal herself, maybe a little Savage attitude, but she is caring to the younger Cadets, so anyway in the story, Levi, hange and erwin they heard criminal Underground but they also heard this person is a mutant so they went to the Underground to convince the reader to join...

Pain and claws.

Levi x fem reader

Canon world, x-men inspired, mutants,

The scouts aim to recruit you for your abilities and remove you from the underground city.

"Focus." Erwin fixed his uniform. "This one is a bit different from Levi."

Levi frowned. "Tch, how?"

Hange adjusted her goggles. "She has claws."

"Claws?"

Erwin walked to the top of the stairs and looked out at the underground. "She can heal rather fast, " he said, adjusting his gear. "Let's move out."

The three of them flew across the city. As they flew Levi couldn't stop thinking about the past. The city still stank like it did before and the people looked rotten and wicked. It brought him no joy to be back and the sooner he found you, the better. He didn't know who you were, he'd never heard of you before and never saw you around the city.

After flying for a bit they saw you in a courtyard with a few thugs around you. The three of them landed on a roof and watched for a bit, they wanted to see what you could do. Erwin was interested in your skills and Hanges was fascinated by you.

Levi panicked when he saw you get punched then another man stabbed you. "Shit!" He flew down to the rescue. "Tch, damn fuckers!"

You spat out blood and smirked. "I'm gonna make this hurt real bad" You punched up and rammed your claws up and through the bottom of your attacker's jaw. "Was that as good for you as it was for me, sweetheart?" You yanked the claws out before twisting and cutting another attacker's hand off. "I warned you all!"

"H-How is she not dead?" one gulped with fear. "You stabbed her!"

"Why don't you stab me some more and we can work things out together, huh?"

Levi stood between you and the men. "Tch, save it for later."

You pouted a little. "Oh look, it's the fucking scouts here to save the day. I don't need you."

He glanced back at you. "You wanna get out of this shithole, then work with me."

You growled. "Fine. Let's work together pretty boy."

Levi's cheeks burned. "Pretty boy?"

While Levi was in a daze, you raced ahead and slashed your way through the surrounding gang. It wasn't long after you fought them that Levi started cutting through them like they were nothing. Both of you worked seamlessly together like you were connected on a special level. It was clear that the two of you and unique abilities as a result of experiments on your families.

When the battle was over, you quickly moved through the city with your new friend until you were at the exit. Seeing the three of them leave filled you with anxiety. Your life had always been this city underground, but now you were being led outside it was confusing and scary.

Levi turned to you. "It's okay."

Your shoulders dropped. "How do you know?"

"I'm from the underground city. I was pulled out and now I live and work above."

You stared at him, your eyes searching for a trace of a lie but found only the truth. "I'll go, but..."

Levi liked to be clean and he knew your hands were covered in blood from the men you hurt, but he knew you needed support. As he gazed at you, this strong woman, he saw the cracks that revealed the pain and the hurt. To Levi, you were a beautiful and strong woman, but you were pained. For a moment, he felt his heart flutter in a way that it had never done before. He knew that in time something could blossom between the two of you and the way you were shying away a little, he could tell you felt something for him.

He offered his hand and pushed down his need to clean. "Take my hand. I'll be with you every step of the way."

"I..."

"It's Levi and I won't let anyone hurt you."

You gave your name and paused in thought. "You can't promise that you know? About not letting anyone hurt me. Humans hurt other humans because it's fun for them. They're the most cruel being there is."

Levi stepped down towards you. "They're shits, all of them are shits, but there are some good ones. Let me help you." He tilted his head. "Don't let others know, but I know what it's like to be scared and have everyone think you're this unstoppable monster. It's a lonely place, but now we have each other."

You reached over and grabbed his hand. "Okay, I'm with you."

He gave you a rare smile before pulling you up and out of the underground city. "Careful of your eyes."

It was painful at first, the light was just so blinding and your skin tingled, but with time your body started to adjust a little to the sun. A soft fabric caressed your skin and something was plopped on your head. You lifted your head a little as Levi stood before you adjusting his green scout cloak on you.

Levi wiggled the hood a little. "It's a lot."

You hummed. "I'll get it dirty and I got your hand dirty."

"I can wash. I like cleaning, so this is fine." He pulled back and sighed. "Better?"

You nodded. "You're doing too much for someone like me."

"I want to do more."

"Thank you."

Levi took your hand again and moved you towards his colleagues. "I'll care for her. She's strong like I am. I'll guide her."

Hange smirked. "Plus, you get a pretty view."

Levi went bright red. "Shut it four eyes!"

Erwin chuckled. "Welcome to the scouts." He softly smiled. "Levi seems rather taken with you." The two of you watched Hange and Levi fight a little. "He's a good man." He looked back at you when you offered your name. "Erwin and that's Hange. We'll take care of you, but I think Levi wants that as his full-time job. You two look good together."

You hugged yourself a little. "Mm."

"I look forward to seeing you in training. I think you'll be an exceptional member of the scouts and a good friend."

You smiled softly. "I hope that too."

Levi stormed over. "Hey, she's mine."

Erwin smiled. "That so?"

A blush returned to Levi's cheeks. "Y-Yes. Oi, brat? Or should I call you cat or kitten? You're like one."

You hummed a laugh. "Guess I am."

"Focus on me, not him. Now, let's get you home because you need a wash."

You smiled as Levi grabbed your hand again. "Yes, Levi."

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08 @levistealeaf @pelicanpizza @hideandgopeep @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird @searriously @anti-cupid @abiatackerman

[tales-of-wocdes]

Heya! Never written an ask before but I love this story and the snippets so much that I decided to give it a go! Genuinely, this is the only blog where I read every ask. So! I actually have two burning questions, but it seems like it's better to send them as separate asks so I'll probably do that. Hope that's alright! Anyway, the first question is:

Say MC somehow gains a vague understanding of what Mama and Papa mean- how would Lexia and Havard react to being called Mama and Papa respectively?

Hi! Glad to be your first ask! And thank you for all the kind words!

So this is a hard one... kudos for not pulling any punches on your first ask :D Going straight for the big stuff, I like it and dread it in equal measure.

Since this seems like something that could easily happen in game, I will put the snippets below the line. I suppose I am calling spoilers, though I don't think I reveal anything that was not in the demo though people might have missed it.

And I reserve the right to change anything I want later, as always :D But let's call this a thank you for 10 k browser plays :D

------------HAVARD-----------

"Papa?" You asked one evening as Havard was tucking you into bed. It was phrased a bit like a question but you think you understand what it means. You saw children out in the city use the word.

There was only one person you knew that the word fit, and that was Havard.

Havard froze in place, and paled.

Why? What did you do?

He was staring at you with wide eyes, and a range of expressions passed across his face.

Joy, sorrow, anger, pain...

So many expressions.

So much pain.

Then you saw the tears falling down his cheeks.

You sat up in bed, alarmed and panicked. This was not like the Havard you knew... Havard was the one who helped you not hurt! This was all wrong. He smiled at you, and helped you eat, and took care of you. This wasn't what you wanted.

What did you do? Why is he hurting?

Havard did not give you the chance to ask. He knelt by your bed and wrapped you up in a hug. It was warm and snug. Yet, he held onto you for dear life with a desperation, as if afraid you would disappear... and you had no idea why.

"I... I never thought... Thank you." He whispered. You could feel the wetness against your cheek.

You think you misheard him at first. Why is he thanking you? You made him hurt?

Then he repeats it. Twice, thrice. He keeps repeating it, and hugging you tighter, and tighter. Yet, never too hard. He would never hurt you. You know this.

You are confused... but you hug him back as hard as you can.

"Thank you, papa." You whispered back to him. You did not need to specify what you were thankful for.

It was for everything.

------------LEXIA-----------

"Mama?" You said, phrasing it as a question. You think you understand what it means. You saw children out in the city use the word.

Lexia froze, face going very blank. She stared at you with wide eyes, uncertain about what to do.

Then she knelt down in front of you.

"You sure kid? That you wanna use such a big and important word on me?" She asked, voice oddly soft... and a little choked up? It didn't suit her usual style... but you thought this was Lexia too. Uncertain behind all her smiles, but usually hiding it well. That slightly awkward person who was afraid of being scolded by Alessa as much as the twins were. Lexia who loved teasing Havard, and testing his patience.

Lexia who sometimes used bad words, and let you get away with eating cookies before dinner. Lexia who was always there, Protecting you. From others and yourself.

"Mama." You repeated, a bit more certainly. It felt right.

Lexia inspected your face for a long time. Then she hugged you. Much more gently than usual, yet just as firmly. She was wearing her armor, but somehow the hug was warm. She even trapped your hands by accident.

"Ok... if you are sure..." She whispered to your ear. "I... I don't know if I am worthy of it, but I will try to be."

You could not see her face... You wondered what kind of a face she was making right now. You however could nuzzle her cheek.

It made her laugh.

That was all you wanted.

[wynnibee]

A Walk in the Park

Hi @starriegalaxy I was your secret skeleton!! I apologize for it being so late, thank you for your patience ❤️ I hope you enjoy a little walk through the park with Eclipse!

Lovingly proofread and edited by @voidedtea

Word Count: ~2700

Oh, how you loved the fall.

The shorter days, the chilly nights — and of course, the beauty of the changing leaves. The bright reds and yellows contrasting sharp against the brilliant blue sky, the leaves dancing against the open air like the flames of a fire. You so loved to listen to their rustling in the autumn breeze, their falling to the ground of a soft whirlwind of color.

You listen to them crunch under your feet – a delightful sound accompanying your stroll through the park. Towering oaks and maples, lining the park’s path like silent guardians, had just begun to show their bare branches in the mid-autumn day. Their trunks' bases were blanketed in once-verdant leaves, all the more swirling down to join them. A few stray ones tumble and crinkle past your feet in the light breeze.

The park is lit by the sun overhead, its creeping across the sky slow as the day nears its end. That sun shines through what leaves still cling to their trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground. You relish in the warmth as you walk out from under them.

Passing into the shadow of that canopy again, a small chill runs up your arms despite your sweater’s warmth. You hold your arms closer to yourself in a hug, hoping to trap the last of what the sun's kiss could provide.

The park was so beautiful this time of year, you were surprised that it was practically empty. Most people didn't bother coming out when later afternoon slipped into evening. You couldn't complain though – you preferred to have a little alone time with your companion anyways.

Turning around, you smile at Eclipse, watching as he glances around the whole park. His gaze flits between the sky as a couple of crows pass overhead, to the rustle of leaves in their trees, to the ground where a squirrel scurries about before darting up a one such tree. He glances at all the leaves piled up on the ground, his head flicking towards every bit of movement or sound. Eclipse's normally wide smile looks unsteady, and his eyes are large as he takes in his surroundings.

You frown a little. You can't help but think that he looks nervous – or at least unsure. Maybe inviting him out was a bad idea? He mentioned a while ago that he'd never been outside before…

“Clippy?” you ask, tentative. Slowly, you make your way back towards him, having put a fair amount of distance between you both where he'd gotten distracted and fell behind you.

It takes Eclipse a few seconds to notice your approach. He seems reluctant to look down at you, struggling to tear his gaze away from the trees above. When his eyes do meet yours, though, he smiles in that soft, gentle way that always makes your heart melt.

“Yes, sweetness?” the large bot says in an even tone. His eyes are full of affection and you can't help the flush of your cheeks despite your concern. You take his long hands in your own, rubbing your thumbs along his palms.

“Are you okay? Is this too much?“ You begin to ramble, “I'm sorry for overwhelming you, I should've thought about that before I brought you out here- oh, if you want to go home we can, it's okay! I'm sure we can figure something else to do there, maybe watch a movie? Whatever you wanna do, it's fine with me, I just don't want you to be uncomfortable- what?”

You cut yourself off as Eclipse chuckles at you, his eyes alight with nothing but mirthful fondness. His hands had shifted to hold yours more securely during your ramble, and as you tilt your head back to look at him, his smile widens.

“I'm not uncomfortable at all, Angel-eyes. It's just a lot to take in all at once– there's so much movement and sound and color.” He pauses to look up at the trees again, before glancing back down at you. “You'd think after all that time in the daycare I would be used to all of...this.”

Eclipse gestures to your surroundings with one hand. You glance around again, suddenly aware of the richness to it all that had faded into the back of your mind.

“Is that a bad thing?“ you say carefully. You watch as Eclipse reaches up to snatch a leaf out of the air – a lovely bright red maple – before gently twisting and turning it in his hand. The Daycare Attendant admires the leaf, poring over every detail hidden in its red surface.

“Not at all, mousecake. In fact, I've never been so...awestruck by something like this before – with one exception.” His eyes lock with yours and you flush. “The colors are so beautiful. The reds and oranges and yellows and browns. It's a constant, never-ending rush of warmth. It's fascinating that the leaves used to be so green, but now they've changed with the autumn season. I don't think I've ever actually seen the changing of the seasons in anything but pictures.”

Eclipse gently tucks the maple behind your ear and into your hair, fussing with it slightly to keep it there. He lifts your hand that he's still holding in the air, slowly twirling you so that your back is pressed against his chassis. The puffy sleeves of his outfit crinkle against your sweater as his arms wrap around you. You feel his smile press into the top of your head.

“Just take a moment to close your eyes and listen,” he whispers against your hair. Sighing, you oblige and lean back into him. “What do you hear, love?”

You turn your focus to your surroundings once more, furrowing your brow slightly as you do. 

You can hear the trees rustling overhead. You hear crows cawing off to your left, leaves blowing across the ground to your right. The particular leaf tucked into your hair rattles slightly. Underneath it all, you can even hear the quiet tick, tick, tick of Eclipse's inner workings.

“I can hear...the crows, and the wind, and the leaves. I see what you mean about it all moving,” you smile. “I can hear you, too. I think that's my favorite sound of all.”

Eclipse laughs, the noise full of affection. His arms tighten around you, and you lean back further into them. “You can hear me, huh?”

“I can hear the ticking in your chassis, the whirring of your joints as you move,“ you whisper to him, “It's a steady rhythm, a tick tick tick, over and over. It sounds like a heartbeat. It's...comforting.“

The large robot hums behind you, the sound rumbling against your back. You respond in kind – as best you can, at least. You really could get lost in the ensuing harmony, a song only you and Eclipse can hear.

“You promise you're not uncomfortable, amor? We can leave if you want,” you say with what you hope is reassurance. The last thing you want is for Eclipse to think you're upset or disappointed. Your eyes are still closed while your head rests against his chassis.

“I promise,” he says, “I enjoy being out here and spending my time with you.“

”Alright, if you change your mind, just let me know.”

A chilly breeze whispers through the leaves with the promise of a cold night. You shiver, shifting in Eclipse's arms to rub your hands up and down your sweater sleeves, trying to chase away the goosebumps rising on your skin.

Opening your eyes at last, you look around the park once more from where you stand. The sun has drooped towards the horizon, reaching for its edge with flared coronal strands. The few clouds drifting above remind you of an artist's canvas, all the different textures and colors flowing away from the sinking sun like paint off a brush.

Golden rays of light stretch through the branches of the trees, illuminating the dull concrete of the path with stepping stones of liquid gold. The day was nearing its close, leaving you with only a couple hours before the night took over. You'd have to head home soon.

But — you didn’t want to leave just yet.

Turning round, you press your chest against Eclipse, tilt your head back to look him in the face. Your arms come to wrap around his waist, and his own arms adjust to settle around you from where they'd shifted when you turned.

Your cheeks flush when his eyes soften at you, adding to the redness on your face where the cold had begun to nip at your nose. Your eyes light up as an idea strikes. Your arms tighten around Eclipse as you begin to sway slow. He watches you curiously; you can feel his eyes dart around your face, a non-existent weight smoothing over your skin. You bat your lashes at your partner as you continue to sway, slowly pulling him into the movement with you.

It only takes a minute more before he catches on, an almost overjoyed smile stretching across his faceplate as he shifts his body to take one of your hands in his and places the other gently on your side. You attempt to put your arm on his shoulder, though your fingertips just barely reach below his ruffles. A giggle escapes you at the sheer height of him.

Gently, he pulls you into the more steady rhythm of an easy two-step dance.

You swing and sway across the path, crunching and rustling leaves underfoot with every step. The animatronic's eyes never leave yours, something lovestruck adorning his face. You can only look back, admiring the way his rays catch the slowly fading afternoon light, framing his crescent face in a brilliant halo of gold fire. The bell at the end of his hat chimes with every motion.

Suddenly, he sends you out in a quick spin, holding your hand above your head as you twirl. You laugh, happily leaning into the gesture before Eclipse pulls you back to him. His laughter joins yours as you're lifted to meet his eyes, holds you secure as he spins aimlessly, bouncing and swinging you around with exaggerated steps.

Your laughter only grows, the sound almost giddy to your ears. You hold tight onto the animatronic, his eyes crinkled with delight and shoulders shaking with the force of his own laughter.

“Eclipse!” you barely get his name out through your giggles, the Daycare Attendant coming to a stop. You both stand there, under trees that seem to share your mirth, the leaves trembling in their own raucous applause.

Eclipse holds you while your laughter dies down. You take a few deep breaths, the crisp air filling your lungs. As you steady yourself, you look over to the grassy area in the middle of the park. The leaves from the path have been raked around that spot, and right in the center of the grass is a massive pile of them.

You feel your whole body swell with excitement. A grin splits your face, "Set me down, set me down! I wanna show you something."

Eclipse acquiesces without hesitation, and you reach to grab his hand.

Lacing your fingers together, you move to pull the large robot with you, but pause when you feel resistance. You look back to see Eclipse watching you with suspicion.

“What?” you say with what you hope is innocence. 

Eclipse's eyes narrow further.

“You're plotting something, sweetness. I can see it in your eyes.”

You let go of his hands to clasp your own together, holding them down by your hip as you bat your eyes at him with a smile. A picture of perfectly innocuous intent if you’ve ever seen one.

“Whaaaat? Me? Plot something? Cariño, I would never,” you say with mock, exaggerated offense, mischief blooming across your face. “You'll like this. I promise.”

Extending your hand towards the Daycare Attendant, your expression shifts into a smile more genuine. He seems to consider it, and for a brief moment you worry he might refuse. Then, Eclipse extends his hand, lacing his long fingers with yours, and returns your smile with his own.

Giggling, you begin to tug him towards the leaf pile, more of them crunching underfoot. As you go, your pace grows until Eclipse's footsteps are thudding behind to match your own. You let go of Eclipse's hand, a surprised noise leaving the Attendant as you run ahead.

You sprint right towards that leaf pile — before diving in. The leaves scatter with a rush, tumbling away in a cascading ripple-wave. After a moment to catch your breath, you heft yourself from the pile, hair and sweater soaked in crumpled leaves like autumnal confetti. 

It's a miracle the leaf Eclipse gave you is still in your hair.

The approaching intermingle of heavy footsteps and jingle of bells is barely any warning for Eclipse's ensuing leap into the pile to join you – a motion that drowns you in leaves once more. Scattered as it is, the remaining pile does little to cushion Eclipse's landing, your partner hitting the ground with a resounding thud. The air around you both fills with your collective laughter, yours doubling as he digs you out of the leaves.

Eclipse does manage to uncover you, both of you absolutely beside yourselves with mirth. You clutch at your sides as you continue to giggle, heaving yourself up to grab a handful of those leaves. Tossing them in the air, you look down at Eclipse to where he sits on the ground, the poor Attendant half-buried in leaves himself. They’re mostly caught on his rays, one leaf awkwardly impaled on the point of his left topmost one.

As the leaves you threw begin to rain down, Eclipse grabs your hand and pulls you back to the ground, holding you close. You’re gently pulled into his lap and as you wrap your arms around his neck, he falls backwards into the leaves, taking you with. You can’t help but giggle as you smile down at him from where you lay on his chassis, reaching up to pull the leaf off of his ray.

By now, the sun has finally dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in a brilliant array of golds, pinks, and deep purples. Even the trees are soon set alight with that same flurry of colors. The shadows on the ground grow harsh, meanwhile, slicing through what warmth remains.

The golden hour had begun, bathing you and your beloved robot in the last hurrah of light before the sun bid its farewells.

You watch as Eclipse drinks in the view – his eyes dart and skip across the edges of forming shadows, linger in and upon that golden light.

At last, however, they drift back to settle on you.

A flush crosses your face in spite of you as his gaze lingers. You realize, perhaps somewhat belatedly, that the light was wreathing you too. You realize that, perhaps, he's admiring you.

“You really are something else, you know that, love?” Eclipse whispers, as though raising his voice any further would scare away this settling peace.

Your eyes soften. You reach a hand up to hold the side of his faceplate, your thumb stroking over the swirl of his cheek. “Am I now? I could say the same about you, amor.”

He sighs underneath you, his chassis heaving in mimicry of the motion. You rest your head on your hand, simply watching him as he lays under you. His eyes meet yours again, crinkle with a soft smile. Eclipse raises slightly, lifting his hand to cradle the back of your head. His long fingers thread through your hair, soon pulling you gentle towards his face. You give no resistance, leaning down to bunt your forehead against his, both of you basking in the warmth of each other's affection.

“So,” you eventually begin, breaking the silence between you, “how do you feel about fall, Clippy? Did it measure up to the pictures in your books?”

The robot chuckles at you, a blush covering his own face as he responds, “I think it might just be my favorite season, sweetness.”

Oh, how you loved the fall.

[sadalmostlesbian]

Just curious abt ur opinion on this! So, im half Native and have always read Katniss as Indigenous, because of her physical features and where she comes from, the Seam. The Seam reminds me of reservations in the US and Canada, which often have very poor conditions and were created with the intent of extermination. Plus, I love the idea of an Indigenous girl being the one that ignited the take down of the fascist regime of Panem. But yeah! Just wanna hear ur thoughts if u have any :)

I always read Katniss as indigenous too! Of course, with Prim being blonde haired/blue eyed like most of the merchant class in 12, she is definitely mixed. I think that it adds a lot to the story for Katniss to be non-white, as non-white people have historically been change makers. Also yes, I think the Seam definitely reminds me of a reservation, and also has some aspects of an Appalachian holler. I live in the Western US and am more familiar with the style of Reservations in New Mexico and Utah (especially the Navajo reservation) so I have never particularly seen the Seam as a reservation (mostly because it’s forested and I tend to think reservation=desert, but that is definitely I bias based on my geographic location) but I really like the idea! Especially because of the quote “District 12, where you can starve to death in safety” because that is very reminiscent of the US government promising those on reservations “protection” while denying them adequate access to healthcare and education, and creating food deserts for an already vulnerable population in areas with often no arable land. Anyway, I see Katniss as indigenous and I’m so glad you do too!

[redrandomposts]

LMAO YES ACTUALLY bc i literally CANNOT stop thinking abt the alnst x orv crossover it's insane

till wants to sponsor ivan so he can help protect the bastard but ivan's been advised by dokja to not take this mysterious constellation that they know nothing about of, so ivan remains sponsorless for most of the scenarios until dokja convinces him to take on hades (technically ivan's adoptive grandfather lmao) as a sponsor

and till's in his lil pocket dimension wondering if he should laugh or cry. the ONE time he wants ivan to pick him and ivan just... DOESNT 😭

— 🌦️

hi 🌦️!!

have u ever considered that ivan will actually exploit his sponsor??

kim dokja is like... nahhhhh its too much for me this is a much better approach *jumps off bridge*

but ivan and his alien... he basically was just there and garnered info

and i think we need a new constellation name for till. secretive plotter is good and all... except till's not really secretive... nor a plotter. i cannot imagine till plotting anything other than his love life, and that's more of a fantasy than anything. rebellious musician or something?

here's what i'm thinking: ivan 100% knows his father(s) are unreliable. he will watch them and follow them to a certain extent, then completely deviate from whatever plots they've got going on. ivan is fine with dying, but does not want to be naked on star stream due to clothes burned off; that sorta deal. (kdj's little dragon lmaooooo)

guys am i changing up my mind i have no idea im not looking at my previous posts cause im scared

anyways y'know... kdj passed up the sponsors because he didn't want to be bound, but he did encourage his companions to choose one actually! guys i haven't touched orv in so long and i'm not touching it anytime soon it's angst paradise.

hades sponsor does sound fun though... hmmmm

idk man i think you would not want your grandparents to watch you stream. the money they give every year is more than welcomed, but watching you streaming..? i think ivan does not have the mental power for that

ANYWAYS guys let there be sponsor x person kdj and yjh narrowly missed that one and i wanna see it. i just wanna see till spending all his probability on ivan, coin after coin, while other constellations are confused. because, well, till has lived many lifetimes and probably gathered coins and probability and whatnot. and it'd be funny.

ivan: my clothes are torn (small rip on sleeve)

till (1): alright buddies, i think ivan would look stunning in this cyberpunk outfit

till (2): are you kidding? this skin-tight motorcycle suit is much better!

till (3): i think the best thing to do is give him one of our shirts!

till (2): !!! will that fit him?

till (4): just give him all of it, guys!

ivan: ???

constellations: ??????? who the fuck buys clothing? just give him an artifact??

guys i think im delusional

[ruairimacarthy]

Ruairi was certainly no stranger to sex— he’d craved connection with people so desperately for so much of his life that it had seemed a logical step to turn to sex to connect on a deeper level with the people he already knew loved him in some way. More often than not that had meant that he often joined his friends in their beds but that had never bothered him— had only made him love them that much more but this was different— Jasper was different. In the best possible way, of course; in a way Ruairi hadn’t been expecting but wouldn’t dream of changing. He wanted Jasper in his life as long as they wanted the same and he grew more and more comfortable with that fact with every passing day. Hearing them moan beneath him made Ruairi’s stomach tighten pleasantly and he pressed a groan of his own against Jasper’s skin as he pressed several languid kisses to their neck, dragging his tongue along their skin until he settled on a spot along their throat and bit down— not hard enough to break skin by any means but certainly hard enough to leave a mark— something Ruairi was determined to do as he proceeded to leave several marks along Jasper’s throat, their collarbones, their neck until he pulled away and grinned, so obviously pleased with himself it might’ve been funny if he hadn’t been so lost in the moment. 

The marks seemed to bloom easily against Jasper’s pale skin and there was a ferocious sort of pride settling in Ruairi’s chest as he studied them, reaching up to hold his thumb against one of the darker marks along Jasper’s throat and press gently— wondering if the throb of it was as pleasant for them as the leaving had been. He smiled broadly in return at the sound of Jasper’s laughter and ducked his head to kiss them slowly, half drunk on the feeling of their lips against his, on just how right it felt to be with them like this— as if things had always been leading to the moment they were sharing. He rarely believed in things like that but being with Jasper certainly made the believing easier in a way Ruairi was more than willing to take advantage of. He made a low noise in the back of his throat— something between a whine and an outright moan and nodded, kissing Jasper again, much harder now, “You’re perfect right where you are,” he rumbled, finding it difficult to speak when his thoughts were careening towards every idea he had to methodically drive Jasper over the edge, as many times as they could handle it. When their legs wrapped around his waist, Ruairi moaned outright— his hips jerking as he all but rutted against them. 

His head swam in time with the rolling of his hips until he tightened his grip on the blankets beneath his fingers and seemed to gather himself all at once, finally registering Jasper’s question as he fumbled with the button on his jeans and reached for Jasper’s trousers to do the same. “You can do anything you want, baby— I’m yours.” And god, wasn’t that true? Wasn’t he convinced of that already? He hardly questioned it now— not when he had them beneath him and was dying to make something of it, not when he was ready to commit the sound of their pleasure to memory and keep it forever. He reached out and leaned into Jasper until he could hold one arm solidly against their back, using whatever leverage he had to shift the pair of them until Ruairi was sat back on his heels in a kneeling position and Jasper was settled firmly in his lap. “You wanna tell me what you’d like right now? I can start, if you’d like— if you wanna hear how bad I’d like to suck you off, anyway. Or how much I want you to do the same to me,” he said, his voice rough and all but dripping with desire.

jasper was so used to being treated as though he was breakable, as if he was a child or somebody that needed to be protected. for the first time, he felt as though he was properly seen; kept safe from their fears but being afforded the roughness they craved. the room around them melted away into nothingness. all they cared about was the taste of ruairi’s lips, the feel of their soft waves between his fingers, the arch of their spine as they towered over him. a noise broke from jasper’s mouth — somewhere between a moan, a grunt, a growl — and their cheeks flushed once again. he brought his socked feet up onto the mattress and watched quietly as ruairi peeled off his shirt. almost instinctively, the librarian did the same; he shed his shirt, careful not to smudge the light blues and greens on their eyelids, revealing the pale expanse of skin underneath. he was blemishless, bony, as though his bones were hollow, a light layer of glitter catching on the beam of the streetlight shining from outside. ruairi was welcomed between jasper’s legs; he looped them around the other’s waist, stealing a quick kiss before his head rolled back and allowed the skin of his long neck to be exposed to kisses, bites — whatever his partner wanted. “absolutely,” jasper moaned, “you can do whatever you like. i want to see where you’ve been.” he was ruairi’s baby, he was sure of it. the name felt right, as though it had always been in the mouth of the other. a bright smile took over jasper’s face, and the trimmed crescents of their fingernails dug into his partner’s bicep in retaliation. four little pink half-moons. they were more than comfortable with anxiety, and although the fluttering wings of butterflies still took up space in jasper’s stomach he knew this was a comforting anticipation. they weren’t scared, they weren’t wracking their mind for things that could go wrong. instead, his focus was fully on the body above him (and the hard inches that were teasingly pressed to the inside of his thigh, waiting for him). “this is good for me,” he assured, hands moving to stroke over ruairi’s chest. there was still an innocence to the way they spoke, but jasper was far from innocent. their fingers walked over ruairi’s pectoral muscles, and the pink of their tongue jutted between their teeth in a soft giggle. “well, i love being under you, looking pretty. so i’m hoping i could stay…” their fingers moved downwards and played with the waistband of ruairi’s jeans, “i like things a little bit rough. i’m not breakable. you can do whatever you like, make the most of the room. i want you to make me yours…” the reading desk, the wall, the window that overlooked the weaver ridge streets. jasper wasn’t against a little walkabout. there was still a warmth to his cheeks — he was sure it would never leave. “what can i do for you?”

[devilishdelights]

Happy mermaaayyy I was able to make it just in time :]]

thank u @vivid-bun for brainstorming abt these guys with me!!!

[bacchuschucklefuck]

dreaming abt sophomore year class swap bard!riz

[turtleblogatlast]

Shockingly underrated thing about Leo is that he’s legitimately charming when he wants to be?

He’s the Faceman! He’s persuasive! That’s not just some random title he gave himself with no backing to it. People will listen to him. Even if they think he’s being annoying or if they’re upset at him, people listen to him anyway! There’s a reason his bros push him out front to talk to people, and when this happens, that talking nearly always works.

Moreover, Leo knows people. He looks at them and takes into account how they act and what they’re like as he makes his way through the conversations. It’s easy to forget this aspect of Leo’s character because he only brings it out when he really needs (read: wants) to, but it really is a notable part of him that always love to see.

And I say charm in particular because he has a knack for not only getting people to pay attention, but for getting people to stay and listen to what he has to say.