#but no one was going to look cool a few years ago

[cjlouwho]

“The team is off this year, and you are too, so I’m going to show you what a real Thanksgiving looks like.”

That’s what Buck had told him a month ago, a late night discussion in bed at the loft, Buck’s shoulder healed enough to lie down but Tommy making no effort to leave him.

Being off for Thanksgiving was rare, both of them being off was practically a miracle. Buck was determined not to waste it.

He’d asked Tommy about what his Thanksgivings were like growing up. Tommy had told him, the first few he could remember were his dad yelling about something not being done right and his mom ending up in the bedroom crying.

After she died, there was no more Thanksgiving at all. The only thing Tommy would do, more for his mom than anything else, is make her “special homemade dressing” (a box of Stovetop), and cranberry sauce. He’d eat it alone in the kitchen while his dad downed one beer after another in his chair in the living room, watching whatever game was on.

And once he was an adult, he worked pretty much every Thanksgiving, so he didn’t think much of it.

Buck had kissed him hard after that, promised this year would be different. They’d all be at Maddie and Chimney’s place, but everyone was going to pitch in with the cooking. There would be kids running around, and games, and way too much food, and maybe once everyone else left they’d watch a Christmas movie.

Tommy played it cool, but he felt like a kid on the inside. He was so excited. He’d get to be with his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s family, which were his friends too. There would be laughter and embarrassing stories told. The kids would be getting excited for Christmas and he’d ask Jee what she was wanting so he could get her present sorted out. It would be perfect.

Tommy cleared his throat as he turned off the stove, blinking away the tears in his eyes. He set the stuffing on the back burner, letting it sit while he scooped two spoonfuls of cranberry sauce on his plate. From the fridge he grabbed a beer and set it at the table. Then he went back to the stuffing and stirred it, satisfied with the thickness. He added a bit more than a regular serving size to his plate, then walked back to the table.

From his seat he could hear the game on in the living room. If he pretended enough, he could imagine his dad in there. At least then he wouldn’t be alone.

[kingdomaddiction]

I've been thinking in a Cumplane friendship idea.--

You see, everyone seems to believe SQQ and SQH can't stand each other. Quite the opposite, really. When it's only the two of them they don't feel the need to keep up the pretence. It's so easy to relax, to put the mask aside.

They aren't peak lords nor cultivators. They're just two dudes in their mid tweenties trying to survive in this forsaken world.

SY knows he might not be the kindest nor the most loving of friends, (he spent so many years alone in a cold, hospital room, he's not good at socializing) but he does care for Airplane. A lot. He will never say it out loud because it's embarrasing but that stupid author is his best friend.

So, that's why when the news of Qinghua's disappearance finally reach him (two weeks, it took two full weeks before someone decided to tell him--- )they absolutely destroys him.

He seems calm at fisrt. Not truly procesing the news. LBG makes a few comments about something Mobei told him (you fucking knew and didn't tell me, how dare you, husband?! )

Gone, SQH? No, that's dumb. He couldn't be gone. He's a peak lord, he has responsabilities, a bunch of little ones to teach. He even takes care of the north. And most importantly why would he leave Mobei? It makes no sense, not fucking sense.

SQH wouldn't leave like that. He... he wouldn't leave SY behind.

He can feel sob building up in his throat. That... stupid, idiot--HACK AUTHOR!

His crying fit is so strong and sudden that sends LBG and his whole demon staff into a panic.

"Shizun?!" He says looking for visible injuries-

"Don't touch me!" He screams and LBG looks at him with hurt.

"Husband? Have... have this disciple done something wrong?"

SQQ just turns and walks to his chambers ordering LBG not to follow him. His husband is left feeling distressed and cries for very different reasons.

Later that night they talk. SQQ feeling tired and sad finally calls for his husband to comfort him. He explains to him why he is angry at him and LBG apologizes.

"This one thought you hated Shang-shibo and that Shizun wouldn't care about his dissapereance." He says in a small, careful voice. "Mobei jun came to the palace days ago to beg for help in his search... "

"You turned him away... " SY says, sounding very tired.

"Yes. But this husband will make it right, Shizun. I will find your friend for you, promise."

SY sighs and hugs his husband, hiding his face in his chest.

..

Idk 'm all over the place but the idea is that the system is glitching and took SQH and is kind of keeping him hostage? Like, in between worlds. Not the mordern universe, not PIDW.

I imagine LBG having a very hard time accepting his shizun worries and loves others and not just him (??? why??? I'm more than enough you need NO ONE else shizun). He's too possesive and would like very much just to lock his shizun away, but that would break him and he never wants to see him cry like that ever again. Even if that means he has to share his attention.

MBJ is very broken in this one fiding himself lost without SQH. they had just finally stablished their relationship so he's between angry and scared. Also his trust and loyalty to LBG has taken a blown since he refused to help him find his lover. Didn't he help LBG when everyone turned his back on him as he clinged to his dead shizun's body?

While they work together (before they can even figure out where sqh is) LBG slowly realizes he might have fucked up a bit and ??? misses Mobei ??? are they friends???!!

SY tries his fucking best to keep it together. Really, he loves Binghe but that man can be so dense.

They find where SQH is being kept. The place is like a limbo. Cold, and vast where no time passes. In order to get him back LBG, MBJ and SQQ work together to reforge Xin Mo and travel there. There's a cool fighting montage, tears, hugs and everyone is happy at the end

Yeah that's all i got so far. I'll be going back to work now--

[k4marina]

— Prologue: Who is She? || The Night We Met

synopsis: While investigating some suspicious movement by Flacone and the Penguin, Batman encounters a mysterious female vigilante.

warnings: drugs & implied drug overdoses, brief mention of death, brief mention of rapists, cannon typical violence and themes, gotham (cuz why not ig?)

bruce wayne x fem!vigilante!reader

2.6k word count

Gotham city at night is always a sight to behold. The tall skyscrapers reached up into the cool night sky. The blend of different types of architecture in the city was oddly appealing, an aesthetic that only Gotham could pull off. Despite it being so late, the city was still awake, but not for any good reason. 

Criminals freely roamed the streets, terrorizing any poor individual that may be out. Over the decades Gotham had been slowly being eaten away by criminal scum on all levels. The streets where children should be playing and growing up were now littered with drug dealers, murderers, and rapists. 

The GCPD, sworn protectors of the city and the law, reeked of dirty cops openly taking bribes from criminals and other corrupt individuals. They swept things under the rug, turned a blind eye, and threatened the other officers to do the same if they knew what was good for them.

Elected officials who were chosen by the people to better their city were no better. Bribes were exchanged, cases were either dismissed or the guilty were given slaps on the wrist for their crimes. The city's politicians were in the pockets of either mobsters or other crimelords and the ones who suffered were the people. 

But things were slowly changing. 

The Batman: a crime fighting vigilante that had appeared one night two years ago. He dawned a black cowl, obscuring the top half of his face, tactical armor and an assortment of gadgets, and a long black cape. 

Despite his sudden appearance he was a force to be reckoned with. He had a clear mission that everyone was able to pick up very quickly; protect Gotham and its people from criminal scum. His first year was the hardest, butting heads with both criminals and the police, especially one James Gordon, but the Bat learned quickly and grew stronger day  by day, or rather night by night. 

For the past few weeks Batman had been investigating the Falcone crime family and Oswald Cobblepot and their suspicious movements. The two criminal organizations were quite the opposites of each other. While the Falcone were both wealthy and feared in all of Gotham, the Cobblepots were looked down upon for falling from grace as one of Gotham's founding families.

Originally, Gordon was the first to get the tip on their movements. At first it was just a rumor that Falone’s men and Cobblepot’s men were seen meeting together until an undercover officer who’d been stationed at the city docks spotted a group of Falcone and Cobblepot  muscle together unloading a mysterious shipment. 

After that Gordon informed Batman of his suspicions and the weeks-long investigation began on the two. They did their best at hiding any connection with each other and truth be told if it weren’t for the undercover cop spotting the groups working together no one in the GCPD or even the Bats would know what was going on. 

But now he's done it. Batman had finally found someone linked to the two who knew about their operations. All he had to do was interrogate him. 

The man, George Kosavo, lived not too far from the infamous Crime Alley. He worked closely with Falcone and Cobblepot acting as some sort of middle man. He worked mostly at the docks and kept records of where the goods came from and where they went. If anyone knew what the two mobsters were up to, it would be him. 

Batman watched below, peering down at the entrance of the old apartment building. He silently surveyed the area, planning his line of attack. So far only George was in the apartment, that he knew, which lowered the level or risk of an ambush. 

Batman grappled down, landing onto the sixth floor balcony. He reached into one of the many pockets of his utility belt and pulled out a jackknife folding locksmith set. He crouched and unfolds it, revealing the different kinds of picks. Carefully he selects the right pick and slots it into the keyhole of the sliding door and shimmy-ins the tension wand. He works diligently and with the right movements the door unlocks with a soft click. 

He shoves everything back into his belt and opens the door, stepping into the grubby apartment. The place was as you’d expect; rundown and poorly maintained. The living room was bland, a small couch on the back left wall, a small table in front of it with an unloaded gun and two magazines on top of it, and a TV perched up on a small rectangular stand. The kitchen was behind the right wall, the top half left open and replaced with a counterspace. It gave the apartment a somewhat open planned space, allowing him to see through the two different areas. 

He makes his way left and down the hallway, opening a door to the right that led to the bathroom. There was another door to the right that opened into a small closet space that held the washer and dryer and a small shelf that held the laundry detergent. He turned his attention to the last door, at the end of the hall, slightly ajar. Light poured into the dim hallway from the room and an eerie feeling started to creep up Batman's spine. He readied himself for an attack as he silently crept up to the door. 

He swings it open, anticipating an attack, but is only met with a body laying face up on the half made bed. The top of the night stand on the left side of the bed had three lines of cocaine, a rolled up fifty dollar bill, and a half empty dime bag. Batman carefully assessed the area, quickly deducing that the man, George Kosavo, died of an overdose. 

He sighed inwards, this was going to be harder.

The room looked as clean as it could get for a mobster lackey who was almost always stung out on drugs. The small table and shelf to the left were mostly bare safe for some porn magazines that were most definitely used. Batman didn’t bother touching them and turned to the closed doors near the right side of the room. He pulls the doors open and finds the clothes rummaged through, exposing a hidden safe that was left open.

Gone, he thought. 

“Looking for this?” 

Batman’s head snapped back to the doorway, setting his eyes on you. You leaned on the door frame, a manila file in hand. Batman frowned, assessing you fully. You wore a domino mask and a full armored bodysuit with subtle metallic accents and paneling and black gloves with reinforced armor around the knuckles. Everything seemed to be meticulously handmade and thought out. 

“Don’t worry, he was like this before I got here.” You motioned towards George's lifeless body.

“Who are you?” 

“Anapófefktos¹” You replied. Batman's frown deepened, was that Greek?

“Don’t frown, you’ll get wrinkles.” You joked. 

“You work for Falcone.” He accused. 

You scoffed. “Ew, no. Do you really think I’d work for him? No no, I’m more like you than him.” 

“Why do you need that,” he glanced over to the file in your hand. 

“Because I’m working a case, which I’m guessing you are too. But don’t worry, I’ll return it to you once I’m done with it.”

“And you really think I’ll let you walk out with the file?” He crossed his arms over his chest. Even in his tactical armor his muscles were still bulging out. You couldn’t help but run your eyes down his form, admiring his physique

"Well, it's not up to you really." You give a mischievous smile. "You see, our friend there was supposed to make a phone call to his criminal friends, some sort of business talk. But now, because of his untimely death, they're on their way here. And I am going to leave."

Just as you finished you said, the sound of a car engine could be heard outside. The sound of doors opening and closing could be heard as well as a few hushed voices. Batman looks out the window facing the alleyway. There were two cars, black four door sedans. A group of men could be seen walking up to the apartment building. 

Batman looks back at you only to find you gone along within the folder.

––

When Bruce finally pulls into the Batcave it was just reaching four in the morning, the sun barely ascending the horizon. Like always, Alfred was there waiting with a cup of tea and his med kit ready for any possible injuries.

The doors to the sleek batmobile open and Bruce steps out, removing his cowl with ease. He sets it down somewhere as he steps deeper into the cave. 

“Long night, Master Wayne?” Alfred asks. He hands the cup of tea to Bruce and removes his cape from his shoulders. 

“Something like that,” Bruce replied, rolling his shoulders. He took a sip of his tea, a specific blend made for his sore muscles. He lets out a groan and slumps down into his high back chair in front of the huge batcomputer. 

After you left Bruce to deal with the armed thugs he’d called Gordon over to deal with the rest. He’d asked about you, hoping to find some answers only to be left with more questions. He pulls up the search feature on the computer and types in "Anapófefktos" and looks for any vigilante activities in the country. 

“Inescapable?” Alfred translate, standing behind Bruce. “Is this some sort of clue?” 

“Seems that way, but it’s not related to the case.” Bruce takes another sip of his tea, setting the cup aside onto the matching china plate. “There was a vigilante, a woman, there. Said she was investigating Falcone and Cobblepot, but left before I could question her further.” 

“If she is another vigilante, as yourself, then surely we’d have known.” 

Bruce shakes his head, “I’m not sure, Alfred. It’s like she appeared in Gotham out of nowhere.” 

Right on time, the computer chimes, having finished its search. Multiple articles and images popped up. Bruce clicks on one of the articles, his eyes quickly reading over the words. 

< Adrasteia takes down the Infamous Odessa Mafia >

→ As of late last night the infamous Odessa Mob has been dismantled all thanks to the vigilante, Adrasteia. After a month-long operation between the New York Police Department and Adrasteia the Odessa Mafia have finally been apprehended. The powerful Ukrainian mafia dealt in human trafficking, weapons dealing, drug smuggling, and a dozen other crimes. 

“She sounds impressive.” Alfred comments. Bruce clicks off to another article, this time explaining the origins of your name. 

< Adrastiea >

→ In Greek Mythology is a minor goddess whose name means “Inescapable” or “Unavoidable.” Her attributes and roles vary depending on the source, but she is often associated with justice, retribution, and fate. 

“Seems this goddess not only nursed the young Zeus as a child, butshe’s also attributed with divine retribution.” Said Alfred. “She seems like an interesting Goddess.” 

“That still doesn’t explain why she’s here.” Bruce muttered. 

The pair read through a few more articles, creating a small file about you. You were a vigilante from New York, appearing not that long ago and seemed to have gotten to work fast. It started off small, handling petty crime before moving up to taking down rapists and murders until you took down one of New York's biggest mafia. After that, it seems that you vanished and reappeared in Gotham.

Another thing about you, that rubbed him the wrong way, was that you weren't afraid to kill if necessary. You went after everyone, and like your namesake, you were inescapable. You delivered divine punishment on those who you saw fit, which left a bitter taste in Bruce's mouth.

Alfred glances down at his wrist watch, “it looks like it’s time for you to sleep, Master Wayne. I hope you remember we’re hosting a charity gala tonight.” 

Knowing that he had no room to argue, Bruce gives in and gets up from the computer and makes his way to his room. He strips himself of the Batman suit and takes a quick hot shower and collapses onto his bed. Exhaustion takes over Bruce’s body and he soon falls asleep.

––

The Grand Hall of the manor was the embodiment of elegance and refinement. The curved vaulted ceiling adorned with cascading strings of warm fairy lights that shimmered like the starry sky. Crystal chandeliers refracting the light into soft rainbows. They hung proudly above a gleaming dark wood floor polished to mirror perfection. Rich velvet drapes framed tall arched windows that looked into the open courtyard of Wayne Manor.

Rectangular tables, draped in white linen table cloth, were adorned with tall floral arrangements of lilies and roses. An assortment of appetizing finger foods were laid out in front of them. Round tables draped in the same white linen were scattered around for a way for people to gather around in small groups and enjoy themselves. 

Along one wall, an ornate bar made of dark mahogany held a selection of fine wines and cocktails. A line had already formed with men and women waiting for their drinks. A small string quartet was placed by the staircase, their beautiful sound filling up the room and perfectly setting up the tone for the rest of the night. 

They played Felix Mendelssohn's String Quartet in A Minor, Op. 3. The music began softly, the first violin’s bow gliding softly across the strings. The others joined, their sounds harmonizing together into a sweet melodic sound.

There was a back and forth in the music, like a conversation between them. It passed from the Viola then the Violins and then the Cello before the four joined in together as the music quickened in tempo. 

The music soon faded into the background as Bruce Wayne entered the hall, dressed in one of his many finely tailored suits. Conversations hushed into whispers as he descended the stairs and was handed a glass of champagne by a server. He takes a sip, readying himself for what tonight had to offer and begins making rounds. 

The facade of Bruce Wayne, billionaire, play-boy, philanthropist, who was an occasional airhead, easily slips on with ease. He shakes the hands of investors, businessmen, and local politicians and kisses the back of the hand of a dozen different women, giving them his signature charming smile that would make any woman on earth swoon. 

He’s finally pulled away by one of his close confidants, Doctor Leslie Thompkins, one of the very few people who knew about his nighttime activities and Godmother. 

“Slow down Leslie, I’m not going anywhere.” Bruce chuckles. The older woman barely pays him any mind as she pulls him to the other side of the room.

“There’s someone I want you to meet.” She explains. “I’m sure you two would get along real nicely.” 

Bruce pushes down the urge to say "That's what you said the last time,” but decides against it and lets the older women, who’d been a mother figure to him, ramble on about the person she wanted him to meet. 

His eyes land onto a woman wearing a sleek floor-length satin gown in a soft metallic blue color. He could only see the back of her, as she was busy talking to another person. Leslie called out her name, exited, and the women turned back to her and Bruce. She gave the older woman a warm smile and shifted her eyes to Bruce. Bruce, for the first time in a long time, felt as if the air had been knocked out of his lungs. His blue eyes locked on with the woman’s eyes and he could only think of one thing. 

Have I met her before?

(1) Anapófefktos - Greek for Inescapable.

real ones know that this is a rewrite

TAGLIST:

@nyxthedeity @wackyaussiegiraffes @llynx7 @multifandomgirl2018 @radiantdanvers

[hkthatgffan]

I found out recently that you're the author of "Dipper and Mabel and the case of the missing cookies!" That's like the first gf fanfic I ever read!

lmao, that's so cool to hear. That's actually really incredible to think that a fanfic I wrote over a half a decade ago was someone's first read GF fic.

I was partly inspired to write that fic cause at the time I was in my last year of high school and I had taken a Canadian Law course. The end of the semester had us act out a mock trial case where we played different roles in the court (I think I was part of the jury or something, lol).

Of course, given my Gravity Falls obsession, I naturally thought of a way to make a GF story out of it. My little sister would often eat my cookies and I'd go to get some and find the pack almost empty. Given that, I thought Dipper and Mabel probably had similar stuff happen with them. And so, the idea for the fic was born.

It was a really fun project to write and IMO, it's still one of my favourite GF fanfics to have written cause I feel I nailed the characters' personalities with the roles in it as best as I could. I have a lot of fanfics I look back on that I feel I didn't write that well but that is one of the few ones where I don't feel like I would ever wanna rewrite it even if given the chance.

Plus, it gave the world JUDGE STANFORD!!!!

Can't beat that😂

[gothamite-rambler]

Damian meets Swamp Thing

Context: This is based on one of the canon's but I do like this one the most. Absorbing the memories of the dead person you think you are has always been a fascinating trope. Plus Damian wanting to help out villains he finds interesting is just heroic and sweet thing for him to do.

Alec (Swamp Thing): Hey, little dude. Awesome to meet a new Robin! I really love the representation. We need more diversity in the Bat League.

Batman: I have heroes of other races—wait, I’m going to stop there before I say something inappropriate.

Damian, dressed in his Robin suit, chuckled at his father's embarrassment.

Alec: It’s cool, Batman. I get you. You’re a cool hero, and you seem to take care of these kids. Ivy really likes one of them a lot.

Batman: I’m painfully aware of that.

Alec: I was thrown off by it too. Back to the little dude—Robin, I love this suit. Rock on, little dude!

Damian smiled, his head down. Batman cleared his throat to remind the young Robin to focus on why they were there. Robin nodded, preparing to speak.

Damian: Mr. Swamp Thing—

Alec (in a chill tone): You can call me Alec. Swamp Thing is what my enemies call me.

Damian (slightly surprised): Oh, so we're not enemies?

Alec: Nah, you’re friends with Ivy's girlfriend, and she’s pretty chill. Ivy seriously needed that kind of positive vibe.

Damian nodded with a prideful smile, then glanced at his father, subtly rubbing in that another villain liked him. Batman rolled his eyes and waved a hand for his son to hurry up.

Damian (to Alec): I agree, sir. This conversation is going well, and I hope not to offend you, but I was curious about one thing: Are you a former human turned into a swamp creature, or a sentient plant that has absorbed all of Alec's memories?

Damian placed his hands behind his back, waiting for an answer, while Batman heaved a heavy sigh, too embarrassed to speak.

Batman (to himself): I would've gotten to the point already.

Alec (surprised): Oh… wow. I haven’t been asked that in a long, long time.

Damian: Is it okay if I ask? Batman said it was wildly inappropriate and you'd "go berserk" if I asked that, and then I wouldn’t be able to ask any further questions. Right, Batman?!

Damian looked up at his father, who remained silent, covering his eyes in frustration and holding his head down.

Damian: I think that means yes. My apologies, Alec, I’m a curious child. I love to learn about criminals or former criminals such as yourself. I'm not going to judge you or anything.

Alec: You're okay, little Robin. I accepted what I am a long time ago. I couldn’t deal with humans, though; that’s why I live here, surrounded by the swampy foliage—meditating and stuff like that. My 'birth' is odd, to say the least. I’m a hundred percent plant, but I absorbed most of the original Alec's memories. The poor guy died in the explosion that created me, and his body sank deep into a swampy marsh. After going through an existential crisis, I searched for him and buried his body in a better spot.

Damian: Oh... that's quite the bittersweet origin story. It’s reassuring to see you’ve had good personal growth since then.

Batman (chiming in, exasperated tone): Robin, he killed so many people and almost created plant zombies.

Damian: And you invite Red Hood over for Thanksgiving; you have no room to talk.

Alec laughed, then sighed with a smile.

Alec: Yeah, don’t worry; I’m not doing anything evil anymore. I did some goon work for a few years and worked with Ivy, but I’m retired now. I enjoy spending my days chillaxing here, keeping my zen in check. Gotta make sure to avoid toxic outlets, you know?

Damian: I do. I'm not giving up my iPhone, but I get it. I'm glad you've reached that level of enlightenment; you can reject my offer. Thing is, I helped out Mr. Freeze and was wondering if you needed any assistance?

Alec smiled and shook his head.

Alec: While I appreciate you wanting to help, I'm good.

Damian: Hm, are you sure? I can do a lot, especially with my dad's money. Batman knows my dad; he can help, right, Batman?!

Batman (deadpan): Trust me, when I talk to your father, you’re going to be so grounded.

Damian (chuckling): Worth it.

Alec (crossing his arms): How about this? If I do need something from you guys, you'll be the first I contact.

Damian: That works. Here’s a phone to make it easier to reach me. It’s solar-powered, so there’s no need to charge it like a regular cell phone. It’s waterproof and gets reception in this bayou. My number is on there, along with Ivy's, Harley's, and Batman's.

Batman (angry): I told you not to involve me in this!

Damian (gritting his teeth): You know my rich father, so you're helping!

Batman: Okay, fine. I’m going to the car, and we’re having a talk when we drive home.

Batman walked off as Damian handed the phone to Alec. Alec took it with a genuine smile, surprised.

Alec: I have to say, I’m not too into these cell phones. They’re bad for the environment and the mind. But this seems like a pretty simple touchscreen. Thanks, kid.

Damian gave a thumbs up.

Damian: It’s what heroes do. All right, Batman is ready to go. See you around, Alec.

Damian put up the hood on his suit and walked off as Alec opened a music app on the phone.

Alec (smiling): Huh, the kid's not that bad.

[estellan0vella]

Sunshine's Guide To Murder│Lee Minho

Chapter Twenty Nine: Narnia: The Bullshit Chronicles SS: 17 (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 3.3 K & 3.1K (it's a long one) Content Warnings: mentions of cravings and relapse, chan being a good friend (this was meant to be a filler but i got carried away) Previous Next Masterlist

The house is unusually quiet, and the absence of Minho, Hyunjin, Changbin, and Seungmin leaves a strange void that Hayun and Chan are doing their best to fill. Earlier, Chan had picked Hayun up after she’d texted him about cravings, not even hesitating.

Now, she’s perched on the edge of the bathroom counter, dumping out bags of supplies from the drugstore as Chan sits on a stool.

“You think I’ll look good with blue hair?” Chan asks, tilting his head as he examines his reflection in the mirror.

Hayun raises an eyebrow, sorting through bottles of bleach and toner. “I have it in writing from Jeongin a few months ago that if you ever dyed your hair blue, you’d get a blowjob every day.”

Chan’s eyes widen before he grins, settling himself more comfortably on the stool. “Fully sold. Even if it looks bad, I’m getting my dick sucked, so I win either way.”

Hayun snorts, shaking her head as she grabs a pair of gloves and pulls them on. “You’re the worst,” she mutters, but her lips twitch into a small smile.

Chan leans back, grinning. “Nah, I’m a fucking genius. Now, work your magic.”

Hayun grabs a comb, running it through his hair as she examines the strands. “Bleach, then tone, then dye. Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” Chan says, spinning the stool slightly before stopping when Hayun glares at him. “Alright, alright, I’ll sit still.”

She mixes the bleach in a small bowl, and her movements are practised and smooth. “Where did you learn to dye hair?” Chan asks, watching her curiously.

Hayun glances at him as she finishes mixing. “The foster home I was placed in when I was sixteen. Etta, sixty-five, covered in tattoos, and bright blue hair. She could’ve probably fought you if she wanted to.”

“Sounds badass,” Chan says, grinning. “Sixty-five and blue hair?”

“She had stories that could make a nun faint and a priest cry,” Hayun replies, her voice warm with fondness. “She taught me how to dye hair, though I go to a salon now. My entire career is in front of a camera, so it has to look good.”

“She sounds cool,” Chan says as Hayun begins to apply the bleach to his hair, sectioning it off methodically. “What happened to her?”

“She passed away a couple of years ago,” Hayun says softly, her focus on the strands of hair she’s coating. “Left me her house on Jeju Island. She didn’t have any kids, so I got everything.”

Chan hums thoughtfully. “Jeju, huh? Nice.”

“Felix, Jisung, Jeongin, and I talked about moving there after university,” Hayun says, stepping back to check her progress. “It was the plan for a while.”

��Still the plan?” Chan asks, tilting his head to look at her.

Hayun shrugs. “Now it’s complicated. You and Innie, Jisung and Hyunjin, me and Minho, Felix and Changbin.”

Chan blinks, his jaw dropping slightly. “Felix and Changbin?!”

Hayun laughs, setting the bowl down. “Well, Felix at least has a little crush on him.”

Chan leans back, crossing his arms. “Huh. Did not see that coming.”

“Really?” Hayun asks, raising an eyebrow. “Pretty Felix and big muscly Changbin? It’s a trope as old as time. Beauty and the Gym Beast.”

Chan snorts, shaking his head as he rests his hands on his thighs. “When you put it like that, I guess it makes sense.”

“Exactly,” Hayun says, smirking as she grabs another section of hair and begins applying the bleach. “It’s practically fate.”

Chan watches her in the mirror, his grin softening slightly. “You’re good at this, you know.”

“Yeah, well,” Hayun says, her voice quieter now, “Etta made sure I had skills to take care of myself.”

Chan doesn’t press further, sensing the shift in her mood. Instead, he changes the subject. “Alright, so how long am I sitting here looking like a science experiment?”

“About thirty minutes, maybe just a bit over because your hair is so dark,” Hayun replies, checking her phone for the timer she’s set. “We’ll tone it after. Then comes the blue.”

Chan leans back on the stool, stretching his legs out. “Thanks for this, Yunnie.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Hayun says, shooting him a playful smirk. “You might end up looking like a Smurf.”

“Jeongin better keep his promise,” Chan mutters, earning a laugh from Hayun.

"Alright all done and the timer is set," Hayun says. 

"Let's go downstairs," Chan says. "Order some food or something"

The pair of them head downstairs to the living room and Chan settles onto the couch, pulling out his phone to order takeout while Hayun flops beside him, tucking her legs under herself.

The late afternoon light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the cosy chaos of their surroundings. Empty cups, random books, and an assortment of charging cables litter the coffee table, but neither of them seems to mind.

“Non-spicy ramen for us delicate souls,” Chan mutters as he scrolls through the menu. “And spicy ramen for the laughs.”

“You’re gonna regret that,” Hayun says, grinning as she grabs one of the wine bottles Chan grabbed and twists off the cap. She pours a generous amount into two mismatched mugs and hands one to Chan.

“Probably,” Chan agrees, clicking on his choices and finalizing the order. “But it’ll be worth it for the chaos.”

As Chan leans back, sipping his wine, Hayun studies him. “So, big-time producer and music artist, huh? One album with JYPE already, and you haven’t even graduated yet. What’s the plan for you and Changbin once you finish uni? You’re 2RACHA, right?”

Chan raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Yeah, that’s us. We’re working on another album right now. One of the terms of signing with JYPE was that we get to finish university like normal students. After that? National tour.”

Hayun perks up, her grin widening. “You could promote Felix, Jisung, and my podcast on the tour.”

Chan snorts, leaning his head back against the couch. “Done.”

“I was kidding,” Hayun says, laughing.

“I’m not,” Chan counters, sitting up straighter. His eyes light up like he’s piecing together a genius plan. “Wait! Big brain moment! JYPE could sponsor a few episodes of your podcast, right? Then Changbin and I can promote it on our socials.”

Hayun tilts her head, considering the idea. “I mean, it would be good publicity. We’d reach more listeners.”

“Exactly!” Chan exclaims, clearly excited by the idea. “You get a bigger audience, we get to look cool for supporting our friends, it’s a win-win.”

The doorbell rings, cutting off their brainstorming. “Food!” Chan announces, springing up and heading to the door. He returns moments later with bags of steaming takeout, the savoury aroma filling the room as he sets everything down on the coffee table.

They dig into their non-spicy ramen first, the warmth of the broth and noodles a comfort as they chat. Hayun hums happily as she eats, her face relaxed for the first time in what feels like days.

“Alright,” Chan says, pointing at the untouched bowls of spicy ramen. “This was supposed to be funny, but honestly? I’m terrified.”

Hayun nods solemnly, setting down her empty bowl. “Same. But we’ve come this far.”

With exaggerated bravery, they pick up their chopsticks, clinking them together like a toast. “Cheers to bad decisions,” Hayun declares, and they both dive in.

The first bite hits Hayun like a freight train. “Nope,” she gasps, immediately reaching for her wine. “Nope, nope, nope. I’m done.”

Chan, however, stubbornly keeps eating, his face turning red as tears prick at the corners of his eyes. “It’s fine,” he croaks, shovelling another bite into his mouth.

“Just stop eating!” Hayun exclaims, watching him in horror. “You’re going to die!”

“It’s a matter of pride,” Chan wheezes. “I can’t back down now.”

Hayun watches, half amused and half concerned, as Chan struggles through a few more bites before finally throwing down his chopsticks in defeat. He slumps back against the couch, fanning his face. “Holy shit.”

“Was it worth it?” Hayun asks, smirking.

Chan grins through his tears. “Absolutely not.”

“You’re insane,” Hayun says, shaking her head as she sips her wine.

Chan wipes his face with a napkin, grinning at her. “Takes one to know one.”

The shrill beep of the bleach timer pierces the air, cutting through the relaxed chatter in the living room. “Alright,” Hayun says, grabbing her half-empty wine bottle, “back upstairs. Let’s rinse this shit out before your scalp starts a rebellion.”

Chan groans theatrically but follows her, his own bottle of wine in hand. “If I lose all my hair, I’m suing you for emotional distress,” he teases as they ascend the stairs, Hayun rolling her eyes but grinning.

“Please. You’d look good bald,” she fires back, pushing open the bathroom door. “You’ve got the symmetrical bone structure for it.”

“Flattery won’t save you if this goes wrong,” Chan retorts, leaning his head over the edge of the bathtub as Hayun dons a pair of gloves.

She adjusts the showerhead, making sure the water is the perfect lukewarm temperature, and then starts rinsing out the bleach  The water runs milky white, swirling down the drain, and Chan winces as it drips into his ear.

“Could you be less aggressive?” he grumbles.

“You’re such a baby,” Hayun laughs, using a towel to dab his face. “This is nothing compared to the spicy ramen.”

“Okay, fair,” Chan admits, though he winces as she massages his scalp. “But my pride is intact.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she mutters, finishing the rinse. “Alright, bleach out. Now, toner. Don’t move"

“Yes, ma’am,” Chan says, sitting as still as a statue while she applies the toner evenly. Once finished, she sets a timer, plopping down onto the bathroom floor beside him with her wine bottle in hand.

“Timer’s set. Now we wait,” Hayun says, taking a sip.

The door creaks open, and Minho leans against the frame, his sharp eyes scanning the scene. He’s holding a takeout container, chopsticks in one hand. “Hey, princess. What’re you doing here?”

“Avoiding a relapse. I had cravings, so I decided to dye Chan’s hair blue instead.”

Minho raises an eyebrow, glancing at Chan’s hair. “It’s not blue.”

“It’s a process, Min,” Hayun explains, gesturing with her wine bottle. “He had black hair. I had to bleach it, now we’re toning, and then we’ll do the blue. But honestly, Chan? You look good blonde.”

“Thank you,” Chan replies with mock solemnity, though his grin betrays him. “But Jeongin’s terms in that text to you were apparently very specific.”

Hayun snorts. “Oh, yes. Blue hair equals daily blowjobs. I didn’t make the rules.”

Minho smirks but doesn’t comment. Instead, he strides over to the closed toilet lid and sits down, digging into the spicy noodles in his container like it’s nothing. Both Hayun and Chan stare at him in disbelief.

“Wait,” Hayun says, pointing at the container. “Are those the spicy noodles from earlier? The ones that made Chan cry and nearly killed me?”

“Yeah,” Minho replies, completely unbothered as he shovels another bite into his mouth.

Chan stares at him like he’s witnessing a mythical creature. “How are you eating that without dying?”

“Because I’m not a coward,” Minho deadpans, smirking as he takes another bite.

Hayun rolls her eyes, muttering, “Show-off.”

They sit in companionable silence, the quiet hum of the timer and the faint smell of toner filling the bathroom. Minho sets the container aside, watching Chan and Hayun with mild amusement.

“How long will the dye be on once you apply it?” Chan asks, breaking the silence.

“Usually about thirty minutes,” Hayun replies. “But I’ll probably do it for twenty since we’ve already bleached and toned your hair. Don’t want to fry it completely.”

Chan nods, looking at himself in the mirror. “Cool. I trust you.”

“You better,” Hayun says, smirking as she leans back against the tub. She catches Minho watching her, his expression unreadable but soft, and a small smile tugs at her lips.

The timer finally goes off, and Hayun springs into action, rinsing out the toner. “Alright, Chan,” she says, “get ready to be a Jeongin-approved blue-haired hunk.”

Hayun hums quietly as she mixes the vibrant blue dye, her gloved hands precise. Chan leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as Hayun starts applying the dye. He glances at Minho, who is still sitting on the toilet lid, casually devouring what they’ve now dubbed Satan’s Balls Ramen.

The sight is surreal, considering both Hayun and Chan were crying over the same dish earlier.

“This bitch,” Hayun mutters under her breath, dabbing dye onto Chan’s hair.

“Right?” Chan hums in agreement, side-eyeing Minho. They share a conspiratorial look, then both shake their heads dramatically.

Minho smirks at their antics, not even breaking stride as he takes another bite. “What? Jealous?” he teases, his tone dripping with amusement.

“Nah,” Chan deadpans, “it’s just because you don’t have a soul.”

Hayun snorts, nearly dropping the dye brush as she laughs. “Facts,” she agrees, turning to give Minho a pointed look.

Minho flips Chan off without hesitation, his other hand still holding the chopsticks. “Keep talking shit, just because you're a bitch with the spice tolerance of an infant.”

Chan gasps, clutching his chest theatrically. “Low blow, man. Low blow.”

As Hayun works, she pulls up a playlist and starts playing music on her phone. A soulful voice fills the bathroom, and Chan cocks his head, listening intently. “Who sings this?”

“Ben Barnes,” Hayun replies, focusing on getting the dye evenly distributed.

“Wait,” Chan says, his eyes narrowing as he processes the name. “Like, Prince Caspian Ben Barnes?”

Hayun grins, meeting his gaze. “Yep. My childhood love”

“Same!” Chan says, holding up his hand for a fist bump. Hayun obliges with a laugh.

Minho, however, looks completely lost. “Who the fuck is Prince Caspian?”

The room falls silent except for the music. Both Hayun and Chan turn to stare at Minho, their expressions a mix of shock and horror.

“Excuse me?” Hayun gasps, placing the dye bowl on the counter.

Chan points at Minho like he’s just declared war. “Narnia. Only one of the best movie trilogies of all time.”

Minho shrugs nonchalantly. “Never watched it.”

Chan whirls on Hayun. “Hayun, do not make him your boyfriend until he’s watched those movies.”

“Believe me,” Hayun says, crossing her arms dramatically, “I’m questioning even considering it after this.”

Minho blinks, completely taken aback. “What?!”

“How the fuck have you not watched Narnia?” Hayun demands, waving a hand for emphasis. “It’s a classic.”

Minho leans back, clearly exasperated. “It’s not a big thing in Korea! Chan was raised in Australia. Wait-” He turns to Hayun, his brows furrowing. “How did you watch it?”

“Etta,” Hayun explains, her voice softening slightly. “She was my last foster parent, and she was American-British. She made me watch all her favourite movies. Narnia was one of them.”

Minho rolls his eyes, gesturing at her as if to prove his point. “See? That’s why. It’s not cultural for us!”

Chan shakes his head, muttering, “Unacceptable.”

Hayun takes a sip of her wine, but before she can say anything, Chan drops another bombshell. “Oh, by the way, Minho, Hayun owns a house on Jeju Island.”

Minho’s jaw drops. “What?!”

Hayun shrugs casually, trying to downplay it. “Etta didn’t have kids. I was the closest thing, so when she passed, she left everything to me. Including the house.”

Minho stares at her, stunned. “You’re telling me you just casually have a house on Jeju Island, and I’m only finding this out now?”

Hayun raises an eyebrow. “I mean, we're always busy solving murders and now dealing with your spicy noodle supremacy complex. It didn’t come up.”

Minho shakes his head, muttering something under his breath about “outrageous,” while Chan sips his wine, watching the chaos with a satisfied smirk.

After a moment, Chan sets his bottle down and asks, “So, did you also have a crush on Aslan?”

Hayun pauses mid-sip, narrowing her eyes at him. “Yeah. Why?”

Minho looks utterly baffled. “Who the fuck is Aslan?”

Chan answers first, his tone completely deadpan. “The Jesus allegory lion.”

Minho looks between them, horrified. “You both had a crush on a lion?”

Hayun raises her glass. “First Gil the fish, now Aslan. My tastes are consistent.”

Chan laughs, holding up his hand for another fist bump. “Same. Oh, and animated Robin Hood.”

Hayun nearly chokes on her wine. “Yes! Me and Jisung were obsessed with him.”

Minho looks like he’s questioning every life decision he’s ever made. “The fox? You had a crush on the fox?”

“Obviously,” Chan says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Hayun nods in agreement. “It’s like a rite of passage.”

Minho sighs, shaking his head. “You two are fucking weird,” he mutters, though the fondness in his tone is unmistakable.

As Chan leans back against the tub, sipping his wine, he says with a dramatic sigh, “You know who else was hot? Kovu from The Lion King 2.”

Hayun’s eyes light up as she points at him. “Oh my God, yes! Finally, someone else admits it.”

Chan grins and raises his bottle in a mock toast. “Kovu walked so all the bad boys in fiction could run.”

Hayun laughs and says, “You know who my one was? Thomas O'Malley from The Aristocats.”

Chan gasps, his expression pure delight. “Yes! Yes! The original cool cat.”

Minho, sitting on the toilet lid and polishing off the last of the spicy ramen, blinks at them. “Aristocats? What the fuck is Aristocats?”

Hayun freezes mid-sip, turning to him with wide eyes. “I cannot believe you of all people haven’t seen The Aristocats. Minho, it’s literally a movie about cats.”

Minho raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “A movie about cats? Alright, we’re watching it.”

“Oh, we’re not just watching it,” Hayun says, wagging a finger at him. “We’re having a movie marathon, starting with that and all the other cinematic masterpieces you’ve missed.”

Chan smirks, swirling the wine in his bottle. “Honestly, Hayun, you need better potential boyfriends. Minho’s taste is trash.”

Minho immediately sits up, offended. “Yah! The disrespect is unbelievable. I’m a romantic! I’ve taken her on dates! I’ve cooked for her! I even risked my life trying to teach her how to drive.”

Chan doesn’t even flinch. “Yeah, but you haven’t seen The Aristocats or the Narnia movies, so-”

Hayun hums in agreement, raising her wine bottle. “He makes a valid point.”

Minho groans, throwing his head back against the wall. “The slander I endure in this house.”

“Honestly,” Hayun says, leaning forward as if sharing a secret, “it’s your fault. Have better taste in movies. Have you at least seen Harry Potter?”

Minho stares at her blankly. “No.”

The bathroom goes so silent, it feels like time itself pauses. Hayun’s jaw drops as Chan looks genuinely concerned. “You… what?”

Minho looks between them, defensive. “What?!”

Chan waves his hand dramatically, as if trying to process this revelation. “You cannot blame that on being raised in Korea. Harry Potter is a global phenomenon. Global!”

Hayun slams her wine bottle on the counter, gesturing wildly. “I don’t think I can make you my boyfriend after this.”

Minho glares, crossing his arms. “You know what? I’m tired of this slander. We’re watching all the shitty Disney movies, the movies with the sexy lion, and Harry Potter.”

“Duchess,” Chan says with a smirk, leaning toward Hayun. “He’ll 100% find Duchess hot.”

“Didn’t we all?” Hayun replies with a grin.

Chan nods solemnly. “Some things transcend species.”

Minho throws up his hands. “What the fuck is wrong with the two of you? You’re really out here having crushes on animated animals.”

“Oh, don’t act so high and mighty,” Chan says, pointing his bottle at Minho. “By the end of The Aristocats, you’re gonna be head over heels for Duchess.”

Minho shakes his head, clearly exasperated. “Whatever. Who the fuck is Duchess?”

Hayun just giggles, taking another sip of her wine and Chan suddenly changes gears, looking at Hayun thoughtfully. “Hey, what house are you? Like, Hogwarts?”

“Oh!” Hayun sets her wine down, thinking. “I got Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff when I took the quizzes.”

Chan nods. “Yeah, that tracks. What about me? What do you reckon I am?”

“Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Easy,” Hayun says, and Chan grins.

“What about Minho?” Chan asks, glancing at him.

“Slytherin,” Hayun says immediately.

Minho furrows his brows. “What the fuck is a Slytherin?”

Both Chan and Hayun whip their heads toward him, their expressions full of shock and horror.

Chan clutches his chest as if he’s been stabbed. “You don’t know what Slytherin is?”

“Or Hufflepuff? Gryffindor? Ravenclaw?” Hayun asks, her voice climbing an octave.

Minho shrugs. “Nope.”

Hayun looks at Chan, genuinely distressed. “We’re raising him from the ground up. He doesn’t even know the basics.”

Chan nods seriously. “He needs a full cultural education. Starting immediately.”

Minho groans, leaning back against the wall. “I regret asking.”

Hayun grabs her wine and raises it in a toast. “To fixing Minho.”

Chan joins in, clinking his bottle against hers. “To fixing Minho.”

Minho just shakes his head, muttering, “You’re both insane,” but the fond smile tugging at his lips betrays him.

Once Chan’s hair is dyed, dried, and styled into its new vibrant blue glory, the trio descends to the living room. Chan walks in first, a hand theatrically ruffling his hair as he announces, “Tonight, we’re doing The Aristocats and Narnia. Minho is not ready for Harry Potter yet.”

Hayun follows, snorting into her wine bottle as she flops onto the couch. “Agreed. Muggles need slow introductions.”

Minho groans, falling onto the couch beside her. “What the fuck is a muggle?”

Both Hayun and Chan groan loudly, in unison.

Chan points at him accusingly. “This is why you’re not ready. You need to ease into the magical world before we bombard you with Hogwarts lore.”

Hayun hums in agreement, taking a long sip of her wine. “Baby steps, Min. Baby steps.”

Minho glares between them. “I feel attacked.”

Chan tosses Minho a wine bottle and then settles on the other side of Hayun. Minho, without thinking, pulls Hayun into his side, his arm casually draped around her shoulders. Hayun leans into him, her cheek resting against his chest.

Chan pulls up Disney+ and searches for The Aristocats. “Let’s start with the basics. This is culture.”

As the opening credits roll, Minho leans forward slightly, watching the screen with uncharacteristic focus. “Why has no one shown me this movie before? What the fuck?”

Chan looks affronted. “Honestly? Me, Changbin, Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jeongin assumed you watched it all the time. You’re literally a cat person.”

Minho rolls his eyes. “And none of you thought to check? Great friends.”

Chan raises his wine. “Cheers to our mediocrity.”

The film starts, and Minho immediately begins commenting. “Why do these cats have a butler? Are they royalty or some shit?”

“They’re rich,” Hayun explains. “French, fancy, and filthy rich.”

Minho watches in silence for another moment before blurting out, “Wait. Edgar wants to kidnap them because they’re in the will? How does a cat get a will? What court accepted that shit?”

Hayun shrugs. “Rich people nonsense. Suspend disbelief.”

“I am trying, but this is wild,” Minho says, taking a long gulp from his wine.

The movie continues, and when the geese and their drunk uncle make their appearance, Minho leans forward, pointing at the screen. “These geese are fucking hilarious. Why is that one drunk? What are they even doing?”

“They’re just living their best lives,” Chan says, nodding in approval. “Be the goose, Minho.”

Minho grins. “Be the goose. Noted.”

As the plot unfolds, Minho’s running commentary only gets worse. “Okay, wait. Why did they make Duchess a sexy cat? This is ridiculous. She has no business being that elegant.”

Chan throws his head back, laughing so hard he almost spills his wine. “I knew you’d find her hot! Welcome to the crushes on Animated Animals club.”

“Do I get a badge?” Minho deadpans.

“Absolutely,” Hayun says, patting his chest mock-seriously. “You’re one of us now.”

The iconic “Everybody Wants to Be a Cat” number begins, and Minho sits up straighter. “This... this is a masterpiece.”

Hayun grins at his enthusiasm. “Told you.”

Minho turns to Chan with mock outrage. “Bang Christopher Chan, you failed me as a friend by not showing me this movie earlier.”

Chan throws his hands up. “Don’t blame me! Hayun didn’t show it to you either.”

Minho waves him off dismissively. “She’s pretty. She’s in the clear. You’ve known me for three years, Chan. Three fucking years.”

As the movie concludes, Minho leans back with a satisfied sigh. “Alright. Aristocats was a masterpiece. Duchess is hot. The geese are iconic. I can’t believe I missed out on this for 20 years.”

Chan claps him on the shoulder. “You’re welcome for introducing you to culture.”

Hayun just leans into Minho’s side, her voice a playful murmur. “One down. Now we just have to get you through Narnia, Harry Potter, and literally every other childhood staple you’ve somehow missed.”

Minho smirks, planting a light kiss on the top of her head. “You’re really committed to this, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Hayun says. “We’re fixing you, Lee Minho, one masterpiece at a time.”

As the opening credits of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe roll, Minho leans forward, wine bottle balanced precariously between his fingers. “So this is Narnia, huh? Why’s the title so long? Feels like I’m about to read a Victorian novel.”

Chan waves him off without looking. “It’s a fucking classic, Minho. Show some respect.”

Hayun smirks, snuggling further into Minho’s side. “Oh, you’re not ready. Lions, witches, wardrobes. Your brain’s about to implode from the sheer whimsy.”

Minho raises an eyebrow, taking a sip of wine. “Sounds like a weird acid trip. Fine, let’s see where this goes.”

The movie begins, and within five minutes, Minho is already ranting. “Wait, hold the fuck up. Who just sends their kids off to live with some random ass professor in the middle of nowhere? I get it’s wartime, but this is peak bad parenting.”

Chan, already invested in the film, sighs. “Historical context, Minho. Bombings. Air raids. You ever heard of those?”

Minho waves the bottle in Chan’s direction. “Yeah, I get it, but what if this professor’s a serial killer? Or worse, like, one of those dudes who collects dolls?”

Hayun laughs, patting Minho’s thigh. “Relax. It’s a children’s movie. No murderous doll collectors here.”

Minho points at the screen as Lucy discovers the wardrobe and steps inside. “Oh, so we’re just walking into random closets now? No hesitation? What if it’s cursed? What if it’s a demon portal?”

Hayun grins, taking a sip of wine. “It’s magic. Suspension of disbelief.”

Minho scoffs, his gaze fixed on the TV. “I can suspend disbelief, but I can’t suspend common sense.”

Then Mr. Tumnus appears, and Minho visibly tenses. “What the fuck is that? A goat man? She’s just chilling with a fucking goat man? No ‘stranger danger’ alarm bells ringing?”

Chan laughs, shaking his head. “He’s harmless. He’s a faun.”

“Harmless? He’s got hooves and horns. That’s demon vibes,” Minho retorts, gesturing emphatically with the wine bottle. “Lucy’s about to get sacrificed.”

By the time Edmund enters Narnia and meets the White Witch, Minho is clutching a throw pillow, his expression incredulous. “Oh, here we go. This little shit. Look at him, following the first lady he meets. And for what? Fucking candy? He betrays his siblings for Turkish Delight? If you’re going to sell out your family, at least do it for power or cash. Not powdered sugar. Turkish Delight isn't even that good, the fuck?”

The chaos ramps up when Aslan makes his grand entrance. Chan sighs dreamily, his head resting against the couch. “Look at him. Absolute king shit.”

Hayun nods in agreement, her eyes fixed on the screen. “Majestic. So noble.”

Minho stares at them, horrified. “You’re both drooling over a fucking CGI lion. What’s wrong with you?”

Hayun shrugs, unbothered. “He’s got a commanding presence. It’s attractive.”

Chan grins. “Big dick energy, for real.”

Minho groans, running a hand down his face. “This is why aliens don’t visit Earth. People like you two would try to fuck them”

As the battle begins, Minho sits up straighter, his attention caught by the mythical creatures charging across the battlefield. His focus narrows on a minotaur wielding a massive axe. “Holy shit. That’s a minotaur. That’s kind of cool.”

Chan tilts his head thoughtfully. “You know, I think I’d fuck a minotaur.”

Hayun hums in agreement, swirling her wine. “Yeah, they’re hot in a primal, dangerous way.”

Minho nearly chokes on his wine, coughing as he gapes at them. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

“Have you seen their muscles?” Chan argues, grinning. “Pure strength. It’s appealing.”

Hayun smirks, leaning into Minho’s side. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

Minho shakes his head, staring at her. “If you ever try it, I’m throwing you into a wardrobe and locking it.”

By the end of the movie, Minho looks equal parts emotionally drained and begrudgingly entertained. He leans back against the couch, finishing off his wine. “Alright, Narnia was interesting. But Edmund still deserves more hate.”

Chan clinks his bottle against Hayun’s with a smirk. “Cheers to exposing Minho to culture.”

Hayun laughs, raising her glass. “Cheers to Turkish Delight and bad decisions.”

Minho groans, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe you two lusted after a lion and a minotaur. I’m reevaluating this entire friend group.”

Hayun leans her head on his shoulder, smirking. “Admit it. You had fun.”

Minho lets out a long-suffering sigh, but the small smile on his lips betrays him. “Fine. But if anyone asks, I’m telling them I was forced to watch this under duress.”

The living room is a chaotic symphony of wine bottles clinking, popcorn flying, and heated banter as Prince Caspian begins. Minho lounges back on the couch, legs sprawled out like he owns the place, a half-empty wine bottle in hand. The moment Ben Barnes’ face graces the screen as Caspian, chaos erupts.

Hayun and Chan lean forward in unison, their eyes glued to the TV, reverent awe practically radiating off them.

“Oh, hell no,” Minho mutters, grabbing Hayun’s hoodie and gently tugging her back. “Sit your ass down, princess.”

Hayun swats at his hand like an annoyed cat. “Let me live, Minho! It’s Ben Barnes. He’s glowing. Look at that jawline!”

“Unbelievable,” Minho mutters, narrowing his eyes at the screen. “He’s not that impressive.”

Chan smirks, leaning back with his wine glass. “Let her have this, man. It’s Prince Caspian. A once-in-a-generation crush.”

Minho points his wine bottle at Chan. “Once in a generation, my ass. Every generation has a pretty boy with floppy hair. You’re all just easily distracted.”

Hayun gasps dramatically, clutching her chest. “You’re jealous.”

Minho raises an eyebrow, his tone dripping with mock offence. “Jealous? Of him? A dude with an accent so inconsistent it’s a linguistic mystery? Sure. Totally.”

Hayun smirks, leaning closer to him. “You’d kill for his hair.”

Minho scoffs, flipping his own hair with exaggerated flair. “Please. My hair’s better. Caspian wishes.”

On screen, the Pevensies are pulled back into Narnia. As they wander through the ruins of Cair Paravel, Minho sits up slightly, already forming an opinion. “Hold the fuck on. They’ve been gone for what, a year? And the whole place is trashed? Narnia’s got the lifespan of a fruit fly.”

Hayun laughs, curling her legs under her. “Time moves differently there. That’s the whole point.”

Minho gestures wildly at the TV. “Differently how? If I go take a piss and come back, is Narnia gonna be a post-apocalyptic wasteland? What’s the conversion rate?”

“Depends on who’s running it,” Chan says, sipping his wine. “Clearly, these kids weren’t exactly stellar rulers.”

“Edmund’s fault,” Minho says immediately, crossing his arms. “Always Edmund.”

When Edmund actually makes a smart decision for once, Minho groans. “Fine. He didn’t fuck up this time. But I’m not apologizing for doubting him.”

As Prince Caspian speaks, Minho squints at the screen. “What the fuck is this accent? I've been trying to figure it out. Is he supposed to be Spanish? Italian? What is this supposed to be?”

“Exotic and dreamy,” Hayun replies without hesitation, her eyes fixed on the screen.

Minho tugs her back again by her hoodie. “Stop drooling. You’re embarrassing me.”

“And you’re jealous,” Hayun shoots back, grinning.

Minho rolls his eyes. “Of a guy who sounds like he learned European languages on Duolingo? Absolutely not.”

The battle sequences begin, and Minho’s commentary only escalates. When the centaurs charge, his tone shifts. “Okay, this is fucking cool. The centaurs are badass. And the minotaurs? Fucking terrifying. They better win this.”

“You’ve changed your tune,” Hayun teases. “Didn’t you hate them last movie?”

Minho shrugs, his eyes glued to the screen. “Last movie, they were just standing around being noble. Now they’re stabbing shit. Huge improvement.”

The group bursts into laughter, the wine making everything seem twice as funny. When Susan and Caspian share a charged moment, Minho groans audibly.

“Oh, here we fucking go. The doomed love story,” he says, flopping dramatically back into the couch.

“Let them have this!” Hayun protests, throwing a handful of popcorn at him.

“Nope,” Minho says, catching a piece midair and popping it into his mouth. “It’s illegal. She’s from Earth. He’s from wherever the fuck this place is. Interdimensional dating doesn’t work.”

As the climax nears and Aslan finally shows up again, Minho lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Of course. Lion Jesus comes to save the day. What a shocker.”

Hayun gasps, throwing another handful of popcorn. “Show some respect! He’s majestic.”

Chan nods solemnly. “He’s a literal god, Minho.”

Minho groans. “God? He’s just a lion with good PR.”

When the movie ends and Susan and Peter say their goodbyes, Minho sits up, frowning. “Wait. They’re just banned? Kicked out? What the fuck? Why?”

“They’ve outgrown Narnia,” Chan says, his tone almost wistful.

“Outgrown it?” Minho scoffs, setting his wine bottle down. “Sounds like Aslan’s just petty. What’s next? A loyalty test? Is there a Narnian HR department?”

Hayun laughs so hard she nearly spills her wine. “Minho, you’re ridiculous.”

Chan grins, already pulling up The Voyage of the Dawn Treader on the TV. “I can’t fucking wait to see how you react to the next one.”

Minho groans but doesn’t look away from the screen. “If Edmund’s still in it, I’m gonna need more wine to deal with Narnia: The Bullshit Chronicles"

As the opening credits of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader roll, the familiar orchestral swell of music fills the room.

The moment Eustace appears, Minho grimaces, setting his bottle down with a thud. “Who the fuck is this little shit?”

“That,” Hayun says, a grin spreading across her face, “is Eustace. You’re gonna hate him.”

“Gonna hate him?” Minho scoffs, leaning forward to point at the screen. “Look at his face. I already do. He’s got that I-remind-the-teacher-about-homework energy. And that name? Eustace? What the fuck kind of name is that?”

Chan chuckles from his spot on the couch, swirling his wine lazily. “It's a 1940s England name. Just wait. He’s unbearable at first, but he has a solid redemption arc.”

Minho doesn’t look convinced. “Redemption? If by redemption you mean he annoys me slightly less by the end, sure. But right now? Someone throw him overboard. Please.”

The movie progresses, and Eustace’s constant whining tests Minho’s patience to its limits. “I swear to God,” he growls, slumping back into the couch, “if this little shit doesn’t fall off the ship at least once, I’m asking for a refund.”

Hayun laughs, snuggling deeper into Minho’s side. “Keep watching. You’ll see.”

As Edmund exists on the screen, Minho groans loudly. “Oh, here we go. Fucking Edmund. What’s he gonna screw up this time?”

“Hey!” Hayun defends. “He’s grown. He’s not the same Edmund anymore.”

Minho side-eyes her, unimpressed. “Grown? Sure. But the bar for that kid was so low it was buried under Narnia itself.”

Chan nearly chokes on his wine, coughing out a laugh. “That’s harsh.”

“It’s honest,” Minho counters, taking a sip. “Let’s see if he proves me wrong. Spoiler: he won’t.”

Each time, Caspian appears, the room collectively sighs, but for different reasons. Hayun and Chan lean forward, eyes glued to the screen, dreamy smiles plastered across their faces.

“Oh, hell no,” Minho says, grabbing the back of Hayun’s hoodie and gently tugging her back. “None of that. Sit the fuck down, princess.”

“But it’s Ben Barnes!” Hayun protests, pouting. “Look at him. He’s majestic.”

Minho narrows his eyes. “Majestic? He looks like he’s been locked in a dungeon all winter. Wasn’t he bronzed and glowing last movie? What happened? Did Narnia run out of sun?”

Chan bursts out laughing. “Dude, you’re not wrong. He does look a bit... pale.”

“Continuity, people. Fucking continuity,” Minho mutters, shaking his head.

As the ship sets sail, Minho finally shuts up, momentarily entranced by the visuals. But the peace is short-lived. When Reepicheep makes his grand entrance, Minho’s eyes light up.

“Finally!” he exclaims, sitting up straighter. “A character who doesn’t piss me off. Reepicheep is fucking cool. Look at him go.”

“Everyone loves Reepicheep,” Hayun agrees, smiling.

“Well, they should,” Minho says. “He’s the only one who consistently has his shit together.”

Things take a turn for the absurd when Lucy encounters the magical house and the invisible monopod creatures. Minho stares at the screen, baffled. “What the actual fuck is this? Why are there tiny, one-legged men kidnapping her? Who wrote this shit?”

“It’s in the book,” Hayun explains.

Minho points his wine bottle at her. “Just because it’s in the book doesn’t make it any less fucking weird. This whole house situation? Makes no sense. The people? No sense. The plot? Absolutely no fucking sense.”

Hayun just laughs, letting Minho spiral.

When the final climactic scenes roll around, Minho is surprisingly silent, leaning forward as the tension builds. But when the film concludes with Lucy and Edmund saying goodbye to Aslan, he frowns deeply, his expression darkening.

“Hold the fuck up,” he says, leaning forward. “So now Lucy and Edmund are banned too? What is this, a Narnian eviction notice? Do they just kick you out for growing up?”

“It’s bittersweet,” Chan says, his tone soft and nostalgic. “They’re moving on.”

“Moving on?!” Minho explodes, gesturing wildly. “They’re fucking kids! You don’t just banish them because they hit puberty. What’s next? A loyalty test? Does Aslan send them a fucking survey asking how much they love him before he decides who stays?”

Hayun laughs so hard she almost spills her wine. “It’s symbolic, Min. Let it go.”

“I will not let it go,” Minho declares, crossing his arms. “Is there another movie?”

Chan shakes his head, looking amused. “Nope. This was the last one.”

Minho’s jaw drops. “What?! Why? There’s so much more they could do! They could—” He stops mid-rant, turning to Hayun. “Wait. What happens in the books?”

Hayun hesitates. “You really wanna know?”

“Yes,” Minho says, exasperated. “Spill.”

Hayun sighs, setting her wine down. “Okay, so... Susan stops believing in Narnia.”

“Of course she does,” 

“Let me finish,” Hayun says, taking a deep dramatic breath as Minho looks at her with wide, expectant eyes. “And then Edmund, Lucy, and Peter all die in a train crash.”

The room falls silent. Minho stares at her, his face a perfect picture of disbelief. “I’m sorry, what?”

“They die,” Hayun repeats. “And they go to Narnia, but it’s, like, heaven or something.”

Minho sets his wine bottle down carefully, as though afraid he might break it in his rage. “Are you fucking kidding me? This is a kid’s book series! They end it with a train crash and eternal limbo? What the actual fuck?”

Chan nods solemnly. “C.S. Lewis was something else.”

Minho throws his hands in the air. “That’s the darkest shit I’ve ever heard. And this was marketed to children? No wonder the world’s so fucked up.”

Hayun pats his arm, trying to suppress her laughter. “Congrats, Min. You survived three Narnia movies. You’re one of us now.”

Minho leans back into the couch, shaking his head in disbelief. “I don’t know if I should be proud or start booking therapy.”

Hayun grins, resting her head on his shoulder. “You’re gonna be fine, drama queen.”

“Fine?” Minho mutters, glaring at the now-blank screen. “I’ll never be fine again. Fucking Narnia, man.”

Taglist: @hityoulikebahng @drewsandsebastianswife @fackeraccount @lily-loves-kpop @stilldontknowhoiam

@ziggy1221 @justaspoonofjam @tr-mha-fan @candycurshidkwhatthehell

@heeseungspookie @smigcrazy @skzstannie @nightmarenyxx @beaann

[iwatcheditbegin]

I miss when liking Taylor meant you were a loser with no friends. That was our brand

[theygender]

I've got too many games I want to play and not enough free time 😭 I still need to finish my BG3 playthrough but since Endless Ocean: Luminous came out I've been playing a lot of that instead. Also just got back into Wizard101 last night. Started playing House Flipper again last weekend. Still need to finish BOTW so I can start a TOTK playthrough and finish Pokemon Shield so I can start on Pokemon Violet. I've been fighting off the urge to start up a new Skyrim playthrough for weeks. My brother just told me that Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door is getting ported to the Switch. And now I'm suddenly feeling inspired to replay DAI... And throughout all of this I'm also playing the hell out of DragonVale on my phone. Someone just pay me to play video games all day please

[icewindandboringhorror]

Misc. photos from the past year or so ~

[gobstoppr]

and btw im in my hater arc rn. as time goes on the more i find a lot of 'fandom' stuff insufferable (i like art n stuff. just the way that fandom refits every media to fit a single mold and set of boring archetypes is exhausting.)

i just get really easily annoyed lately. and have been unfollowing people on a whim a lot. its not personal i promise

[averlym]

hi, i see you are on hiatus, but thought at some point you might like to hear that january 28th is henry’s deathday ~ holiday anon

another one bites the dust (haha because you hoover dust)

[butch-himbo-king]

genuine question how do you make friends in a new place since we’ve moved i have literally no one to talk to or hang out with here other than my gf

[graff-aganda]

I'm all for my fellow merch makers making whatever decisions they want with what they produce. But I wish it were more widely known that a clear epoxy coat over acrylic pins and charms will yellow over time. ;;

[hooved]

every single day i experience symptoms of ocd and every single day i'm somehow surprised by it

[chainsawworld]

Ohhhhh you know what would be fun for pokemon xy? If we got a legends game like a legends zygarde or something that'd fucking rock

[teddytoroa]

i can't find it but ages ago (like several days) i saw a post that was about how fanfic turned into romance novels is like the tiktok of books bc they dont have any breathing space and just jump between the main plot points and it makes the book unsatisfying and im like yeah actually thats absolutely true. And imo it feels in line with the antiintellectualualism problem we have where people just wanna be spoonfed the "interesting" bits.

But also the flip side of that is when theres entire books of like,,character interaction that doesnt go anywhere and its marketed as slice of life or light romance or whatever and yall know me i LOVE some chill slow paced low stakes character exploration but even slice of life stuff needs like actual plot to hold it together or it just feels a bit like mush. some of my most favourite stories are slice of life with characters who dont do very much at all but theres enough actual development of relationships and an underlying thread of a plot (not always a conflict even) to tie it all together so its not just a loose collection of characters in a bag rattling around like marbles and going nowhere. does any of this make sense