#but anyway I had to try to convey how crazy fucked up it was

[softwaluigi]

god. still fucking thinking about last chucky ep

[ripplestitchskein]

This is one of my favorite moments from the episode. Like from an art point of view the expression and body language is so on point. If you watch this sequence without sound it tells the story just as effectively as the dialogue, so kudos to them. A+ animation.

However, I’ve seen a few people say it doesn’t make sense for Stolas to react like this because he overheard Stella plotting to kill him. Which, I think that scene was more to highlight Stolas’s obliviousness in general more than him knowing she was trying to kill him? But that’s a separate post. This moment though has very little to do with Stolas’s worry over his personal safety or even the assassination attempt itself. He is not reacting to the reveal that Blitz didn’t warn him about an assassin from a place of “I could have prepared myself better with a warning and known what Stella was plotting earlier”.

He’s reacting to it from a place of “Someone tried to kill me and you didn’t care enough about me to even mention it”. The episode is about how Stolas is interpreting and “learning” that Blitz was showing him all along he didn’t care about him, that Blitz just does this to people, that Stolas is NOT special he’s just another in a crowd of people Blitz fucked and fucked off.

That they conveyed so well how crushing this must have been, to learn the person you love and care for not only knew months ahead of that someone was trying to kill you but you factored so little into their thoughts they just FORGOT to tell you? How he realized that he meant so little in the scheme of Blitz’s life that Blitz couldn’t even be bothered to mention it?

So yeah this isn’t a mistake, this isn’t the writers forgetting Stolas already knew, the issue here is not about the assassination at all, it’s about how Stolas is now interpreting this as “Someone tried to end my life and I meant so little to you I didn’t even warrant a heads up about it”. Like, not to be dramatic but Blitz just basically confessed that he didn’t care about Stolas’s existence at all.

We know it’s because of how Blitz sees Stolas as this untouchable immortal figure on high, but Stolas doesn’t see himself that way. He’s very clear he doesn’t recognize his own power and position.

It goes even deeper than that devastating line of thought though. It casts the whole “Am I in danger?” aspect of Western Energy into a whole different light. We interpret it as him not really believing he is in trouble, just mildly inconvenienced and wanting Blitz to play hero for his romantic fantasies. He is kidnapped by someone he recognizes as being a friend of Blitz’s, he calls him to clarify it, Blitz is then “I can’t save you today, my daughter has a thing”. During this point in the conversation Stolas has no idea Striker is sent to assassinate him persay, he thinks he’s just been kidnapped by a friend of Blitz’s. But Blitz DOES know Striker tried to kill Stolas in the past and is a credible threat. In this scene in Apology Tour Stolas finds out that Blitz knew that from the beginning, that he knew that and still couldn’t be bothered to come and was dismissive of it. That’s what Stolas saw anyway. He didn’t see Blitz driving crazy and turning around. He didn’t see his face of worry or regret. So the only information Stolas has now is “I called you telling you I was kidnapped by a man you knew tried to kill me and you said you were too busy. You knew how dangerous he was and you didn’t even care about me enough to help me.”

I’m sure it was a lot easier to deal with and excuse Blitz not being there and being busy when he assumed Blitzø didn’t know he was in real danger, now Stolas knows the truth. Blitz knew the person he identified as having kidnapped him had tried to murder him in the past and it still wasn’t enough to stir Blitz to save him.

Like that’s so fucking crushing? And important. Like critical really.

Like do the Stolas math of “Let me add up the evidence to interpret his feelings” and in addition to all the times he sneered or turned away add in “He knew a person who kidnapped me had already attempted murder and still didn’t give a shit”.

We know that’s not the whole story, that Blitz was worried and did turn around but Stolas doesn’t. This is the whole pattern of their entire relationship. He never sees when Blitz turns around in any context. He looks at Blitz and SEES him, is rebuffed by Blitz turning away and so Stolas looks away and just as he does Blitz turns back to him. It makes me want to claw my face off. This isn’t about the assassination at all, this is about them missing each other yet again.

In my head I think of it like a trapeze act. They each take the swing, they are flying through the air but they aren’t paying attention, they look away and miss the grab and both are plummeting to the ground.

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

This is my first time ever requesting SMTH OML IM SWEATIN 😟 BUT I WANTED TO HAVE MY FIRST REQUEST BE TOWARDS YOU CAUSE UR WRITING IS SO GOOD AND BEAUTIFULLY WRITTEN LIKE THE EMOTION UR ABLE TO CONVEY JUST THROUGH WORDS IS CRAZY N ADDICTIVELY DELICIOUS NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES IT HURTS MY SOUL ANYWAY MOVING ON (i love ur writing sm its so artistic)

this is so akward but like a reader who grew up around family members who'd get RLLY drunk n made her home super uncomfortable for her so like it's like a sensitive thing when she's around intoxicated people yk like n one day bill shows up late from a party pretty messed up n is kinda acting like an asshole lowkey aggressive LIKE ANGSTY YK UR AMAZING AT THAT n then the next morning bill wakes up hung over without reader in bed next to him confused n finally remembers n how royally fucked he is n hes like super apologetic

THATS ALL I GOT BUT UM IF U DONT FEEL COMFY WRITING IT I TOTALLY GET IT LIKE IGNORE THIS DELETE THIS DW, BUT IF YOU DO THANK YOU IN ADVANCE IYLSM

(this Lowkey sucks ass and I'm so sorry for making you wait this long for this piece of shit writing I wrote, jut I still hope you enjoy it and I'm so glad you like my works and my writing!)

Drunk & Sober Mistakes

Bill woke up with a pounding in his head, groaning as he flipped over onto his stomach. He reached for the nightstand, grabbing a bottle of water.

He drank from it like he was dehydrated for ten years, feeling like he was as he savored the feeling of it pouring down his throat.

"(Name)...?" Bill called out, his voice raspy and scratchy as he woke up, trying to see you.

Bill looked up confused when he got no response, looking around from the bed as best he could.

Bill groaned as he got up, almost stumbling as he made it to his feet and to the bathroom, desperately trying to get the taste out his mouth.

He brushed his teeth, almost gagging at the taste of the toothpaste with throw up in his mouth.

Bill finally has time to mull over everything, everything in small blurs except that he knew that he got drunk.

He came home, and for some reason felt in a bad mood, and unfortunately you were there as well, so you got some backlash.

Bill felt like hitting himself, especially as it came back in an almost tidal wave that he remembered everything.

Your family has problems with drinking, getting so drunk to the point of making you uncomfortable.

Bill promised to never do that to you, but now?

Bill felt the throw up coming back up as he realized he had broken that promise, and your trust.

Something Bill vowed to never do to you

As he did so, he heard the front door open and shut as soon as he heard it. Bill sighed, knowing it was you just from the sound of your footsteps.

Knowing he has to face you, and full of shame, he walks out of the bathroom to see you collecting stuff off the floor he had either knocked down, or dropped.

Watching you do so as he leaned against the doorframe only made him even more guilty.

You knew he was there from the burning and the feeling all over your body, but you chose to ignore him, feeling as he deserves it for what he has done last night.

At your silence and watching you trying to fix the bed, Bill sighed.

"I'm sorry, babe." Bill finally spoke up, looking as you stopped your movement, listening as he stepped closer, staying a little ways away as he didn't want to make you even more uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry for getting drunk. I…I didn't think I would get that bad." Bill sighed once more, walking closer to you as he heard you sigh as well, about to shrug him off.

"It's fine-"

"No, it's not. I fucked up. I'm sorry." Bill apologized once more, looking as you shook your head as he stood right behind you. Bill wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning down to put his chin on your shoulders.

"I'm sorry…" Bill repeated, kissing your cheek in light kisses as he heard you sigh, moving the hands to softly sit on his, so soft and quiet it was like you wouldn't notice your hands unless you spoke up about them.

"Just- just don't do it again…" you mumbled, looking over your shoulder slightly to see his face close to yours, a frown almost permanent on his.

"I promise you, I won't ever do it again." Bill reassured, pecking your lips softly once as he rubbed his thumb over your waist.

"...You were being a real asshole." You said, actually meaning it and thinking he deserves to hear it. Bill sighed, nodding softly as he knew he was.

Bill thought about something for a moment, to at least try and make it a little more better before he finally found it.

"...wanna smack me?" Bill offered quickly, getting a pause from you as you finally turned around to look at him.

"What?" You couldn't help but laugh at the suggestion, Bill smiling as he finally got a smile out of you.

"To make it better!" Bill laughed along, smiling as he put his hands on your hips.

"No!" You shook your head, objecting like he was crazy but he was smiling at the sound of your laughter.

"Come on, just one smack." Bill tried once more, tickling your sides softly as you playfully scoffed and moved his hands.

"Is this a new kink you're trying out?" You joked, Bill falling silent as he gave you a funny look.

You both gave each other little smirks, amused before you both bursted out laughing.

Bill chuckled, grabbing your arm and bringing you into a hug as you kept on giggling.

He rubbed your back, your arms and kissed your head.

"I'm sorry, again."

"It's fine…just promise to not do it again?" You mumbled out, smiling up at him from his chest as he chuckled, immediately nodding.

"I promise I won't ever do it again. Sticking to soda from now on, huh?" Bill asked, his hands on your waist now with yours around his.

"You most definitely are." You smiled back, scrunching up your nose as he leaned down and almost touched his nose with yours, still smiling.

"Well, got a soda cop here now, huh?"

"Yup, ass."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[curlyhairedsimp]

Okay. Okay. I love Stanford as much as the next girl but honestly I’m a Stanley girl at heart. And I feel like he was done a little too dirty in this area. Like I feel like it’s more swept under the rug cause of how their lives are framed. Ford on the verge of a life changing break through in science and almost caused the world destruction. While Stanley was barely scrapping by. So somehow Ford’s allowed to send a post card to his brother no explanations.

Now said brother shows up at door to manic crazy brother who hasn’t slept in days. So Stanford being as vague and mysterious as he believes is necessary basically is this quote “You wouldn’t understand. Even if I explained it to you”. Now even if that is true. Say Stanley gets the whole story and still ignores Ford. It simply isn’t for the reasons for thinks they are.

Ford at this point in his life views Stan as selfish and apathetic to his life’s work at best. So Ford couldn’t see why Stan was so mad cause once again Stan was selfishly putting himself first over everyone else. Yet Stan just wanted his brother back and Ford just wasn’t in the mind set to have that talk. Now when Ford fell into the portal it was both their faults. Ford didn’t actually trust Stan around his things as he implied by brining him down and chose to have an emotional conversation in a dangerous area.

I acknowledge that Ford wasn’t in the right state of mind and was also trying to convey the severity of the situation. But Ford has been practicing for years and it’s almost second nature to prevent dangers like that in their line of work. I’m not overly judging him for this considering the oddity of the situation. It’s also not even the point I feel like people should focus on.

It’s the fact that yeah while it was beneficial for Stan to take over Ford at the time. It wasn’t something beneficial long term and I feel like the only reason nobody thinks about it is because Stan was running from the law anyways. Which yes is true nobody looked for him based on his identity from 30 years ago. It was cause of what he was doing with the machine.

So yeah sure while in the short term Stan could get away with a couple things. He always planned for Stanford to come back and resume his identity. So it was most important to maintain Stanford’s identity and not Stanley’s. If Stan actually had more of a life waiting for him people would feel bad he’d have to give up his identity. But that’s not a cake walk and you stop being able to do a lot of basic things. Thankfully he’s saved by having the same face as his brother so he could just theoretically get by. But he really fucked himself by fucking acting as an existing person.

I’m not like resentful that Stanford isn’t being punished or something I just wish he was more empathetic. Or I wish he just got more perspective on that end of things at some point.

[bruhhhh-huhhhhh]

i need some… junkerqueen x (T)male reader where she just kind of comforts him with his eating disorder.

TW

i sometimes literally can’t bring myself to eat, not cause anything is wrong i just… can’t? food is icky.

thank you adrien, truly. you are everything.

anything for you pookie (I'd like to formally apologize for that)

Y'all see that trigger warning in the ask? Yep, that carries over into this piece. Crazy, right? Anyway, this'll have themes of eating disorders and unhealthy relationships with food. If that isn't the thing for you, then please don't read this. I don't want people getting triggered by this. I love y'all too much for that.

Odessa pushes the bowl towards you once again, trying to get you to eat the food that she had made. "Love, you really gotta to eat something."

You pushed the bowl back, just the thought of picking up the spoon and putting the soup into your mouth made you want to vomit. "I can't, Dez," you respond quietly.

Your girlfriend sighs, frustrated, and you could feel tears welling in your eyes. The two of you had been at this for almost an hour. Something wasn't right today. You couldn't understand why she couldn't get that you just couldn't eat. If you did, you'd just throw it right back up.

"Love, I'm really trying here. You haven't eaten all day. You really, really need to get something in you before the day is over."

Biting your bottom lip, you tried really hard not to let the tears spill.

You failed.

The warm tears glided across your cheeks and Odessa's face softened. She scooted her chair so that she was sitting next to you instead of across from you and wraps on arm around you, pulling your face into her chest. "Oh, y/n," she said, rubbing a hand up and down your back.

"I'm sorry," you cried.

"Nah, don't be sorry. It ain't your fault. I know you don't want things to be like this."

You gripped onto your girlfriend's shirt for dear life, trying to convey how you were feeling without saying anything. Before you could try and stop her, Dez picked you up and held you bridal style. "We're gonna lay down, m'kay? Maybe you need some time to chill before trying to eat again."

You nodded weakly and let her take you to your bed, the bowl of soup forgotten on the table.

Dez laid you down before climbing in herself, letting you rest your head on her chest. She ran a hand through your hair, and another wrapped around you protectively.

"I don't do it on purpose," you said.

"I know you don't."

"It's just that sometimes I look at food and just feel sick. Doesn't matter if it's my favorite food ever, I still feel like I'm going to hurl if I eat it. And I hate it. I hate it so much because I just want to eat like a normal person."

"I know."

"Why can't I be a normal person? Why can't I just eat food like most people do? Why do I have to be so fucked up that-"

Odessa cuts you off. "You're not fucked up. It ain't your fault. Yeah, sometimes you feel sick when you try to eat. That don't mean that you're fucked up. You just need some help. Every good warrior needs help sometimes. I need help sometimes. Don't mean I'm weak. You think that makes me weak and fucked up?"

"No."

"Then there's your answer. Just cause you need some help don't mean nothing. Now, shut up and take a nap. We'll try again later, and if you still can't eat then we'll figure something out."

You nodded and stayed silent for a little while. "I love you, Dez."

"I love you too. y/n."

[ivyial]

Okay, I just saw your other ask about leshley/eagleone and felt like I had to get in on this because ever since RE4Make came out, I've been going crazy over this ship. I have always found it cute in RE4 OG, but now it's driving me crazy. I cannot understand how many people miss the many implications that Leon is trying to flirt during certain parts of the game. Like seriously, come on, pals, he's being so awkward, trying to sound cool and give compliments that end up sounding weirder than he intended. And I don't know if it's just me that noticed this, but I find it funny how Leon talks to Ashley in certain moments like it's the easiest thing to do; then, in other parts, he really has no clue how to speak to her. Does that not scream attraction to anyone?

i'm with you on this one. i don't know how people miss EVERYTHING about them. like they don't even go "oh?" at times when they're playing. it probably depends on the mindset you have when you're playing. if you're hyperfocused on the action, maybe you'll miss it. idk. on social media, there are two broad types of people who have negative reactions when it comes to leon/ashley:

1. aeon shippers (mostly, can be other shippers as well, but they're mostly chill because they themselves get forced into a corner by aeon stans) who think it threatens their ship

2. people who are fiercely anti-romance when it comes to whatever media they consume and consider it to be dumb and actively making a good piece of media worse (because in their eyes, romance is a lowly preoccupation to have)

and both groups are super bitter for no reason lmaoooo. you might have noticed a tendency in media discourse recently on social media that is very anti-romance - a few weeks ago, it became a whole thing on twitter because of the bear (the tv show) and the ship between sydney and carmy, to the point where even official media outlets started talking about it. romance is considered dumb. everything that contains romance is essentially a bad soap opera. blah blah blah we're all too smart for that. there's a very strong, almost puritanical anti-sex sentiment going around at the moment as well, and i wish it was just some isolated issue within fandoms overpopulated by young teens, but people lost their minds over two sex scenes in oppenheimer for god's sake. and if i had the time and willpower and knowledge, i'd turn this into a discussion about how that ties into humans being obsessed with moving away from every single instinct that they have, but well.

i also agree with the second part of your ask, about leon's attitude towards ashley. tbh, leon can't flirt for shit: most of the time, he's awkward (RE2R, the fence scene with claire: i can never tell if he's attempting to flirt, or if he's just awkward because there's a cute girl right in front of him) or even downright unfunny (was he trying to flirt with jill in death island? was he trying to lighten the mood? idk man leon is a bit of a whore so). he tries to flirt all the time: we got shen may in infinite darkness, ada, etc. we know he isn't smooth.

so one thing that really sticks out in RE4R is his tone with ashley, in two specific instances (maybe more): the one i mentioned in my previous ask, when he says "i can catch you", and when he sees ashley asleep on the bed in chapter 13 (and calls out to her). these are two very intense and high-stress situations where he kind of reverts back to RE2R leon (nick does a great job at conveying the difference in maturity in leon's voice in both games). he's very distressed. why does that matter? because fucking shouting ashley's name when there are two enemies 10 meters away (we know that, he doesn't, but the island is riddled with ganados, so why would he even try?) is the stupidest decision a special agent could make. and yet he does it anyway. there are other instances of leon being in a similar situation, yet he still retains that deeper tone of his - see his first encounter with krauser in chapter 11.

and it's not just because he's doing his job, which is what one of my friends argued, because you don't go around flirting with the person you're tasked to rescue for shits and giggles. not to mention, that's the president's daughter. if he was just doing his job, he'd stick to the plan, be stoic and get her home and that's it. that's what's required of him. implying that the first daughter is hot as fuck and that he doesn't usually enjoy his regular missions nearly as much as he does when he's with her isn't part of his job description. there's a difference between being a decent guy and not treating her like cargo, and overtly flirting with her.

i think he's also very awkward with her at first because he's toeing the line between what's acceptable and what isn't, so he can figure out if there is grounds for flirting and it's not wholly unwanted on ashley's part. then you get that pep talk in the castle, which is when they really start to get comfortable with each other and when he attempts some physical contact that isn't just 100% necessary. she reacts well, which explains why he takes it further in chapter 9. he spends the rest of the game painfully distressed and by chapter 16, they're all over each other (jetski + taking her hand to run to the elevator - leon, the girl is smart, she knows how to run and follow you).

leon has a crush. plain and simple. he doesn't know how to deal with it, except for the few times when he does and the flirting is technically reciprocated. idk how people can't notice the plain signs of attraction, even in a generation that is as recluse and introverted as mine tends to be, but they're very obvious once you start paying attention.

[compacflt]

okay so something I love in what you've written is the running thematic element of how the "lack" of a character is treated as its own entity/character, not only with Goose--how he’s the “center of the universe” as you say--but also with Sarah. Idk if I just focused hard on Ice’s childhood/adolescence the entire time reading because I’m obsessed with how you wrote him, but the way there were bits and pieces thrown in about her as the story unfolded (Tom's pot-smoking era, the way they grew up so different but had a similar childhood, the unreturned letters and phone calls--also, Ice seeing Chorus Line on Broadway alone was so silly I loved it. Iceman Kazansky: pilot by day, musical theater fan by night. why was he so interested in fucking Chorus Line of all musicals.) but she never actually made an in-the-flesh appearance makes the entire fic, and Ice’s characterization, so dynamic and moving. Like Ice didn’t grow up as a sad little kid with no siblings and some evil overbearing Admiral father that turned him into a Navy-regulated cog in the machine; he had a sister (and grandmother?? A hipster Woodstock grandma?) who loved or at least cared for him a long long time ago, and her presence left a very visible mark (both emotionally and career-wise) on him no matter how “ice cold” he made himself. And in the very very beginning of WWGATTAI, he and Mav were bro-talking about their families and Ice was all like “grr I might as well not have a sister” because he’s secretly Popeye he was grouchy and young and Sarah had stopped talking to him, but then 9/11 happened and he kept trying to get in touch with her just to make sure she’s okay, and then they finally get to talk at the end of Debriefing and it's like...he's reached the top and he's become the person he's always wanted to become, but he's still the exact same. He wants his sister. He's “The Iceman" and can probably run the Navy on his own, but he’s also just someone’s little brother that used to smoke pot with all the other California hippies. He misses her but he can't talk about it.

Also, you didn't just shoehorn her into the story as a character that would be the Tom Kazansky Version of Carole-and-Goose (or as Ice's wife LMAO) and I loved how you gave her personal depth and a purpose/life outside the story while still adding to Ice's characterization through giving him another person to (a) care too much about and (b) shove into his closet of skeletons because the relationship he has with them is breaking some sort of federal regulation. I hope this all makes sense hahaha, but anyway I loved Sarah and how you treated her. It was so entertaining/heartbreaking to watch Ice wrestle with how the main three people he loves are his communist sister, a male romantic partner who is also a subordinate he bails out of sticky situations constantly, and the son of the man he was involved in the death of. crazy stuff.

ok this is so funny & I love this so much because… it wasn't really how I was thinking about it at the time & I'm so glad it comes across as much warmer than how I originally wrote it... okay like i could explain everything but muh “death of the author”…… eh fuck it okay. I’ll put it under a cut so you can choose not to watch me auto-fellate. another long post, sorry. 

so, on Sarah. 

I should start this post by saying straight off the bat that she’s literally just a self-insert for me, the author, as a leftist who lives in New York and would not give someone like Tom the time of day, so I could feel better morally/ethically about writing Top Gun fanfiction. So, there’s that. But she (just like everyone else in this fic) is just a tool to get across information about Ice and the story as a whole, and there’s a reason she was introduced in chapter one (two if you’re reading on AO3 i guess. no prologue, wtf is up with that AO3 you guys need to fix that). I wanted to convey a shitload of information at the start, especially because I was posting semi-weekly and wanted people to know what they were getting into because it’s a slow burn.

To summarize what happens in chapter one:

Goose is dead. 

Ice and Maverick kill some MiGskyites in addition to killing Goose and it cements some weird fucked-up hyperinterdependent relationship between them. 

No, this does not make them instantly friends. They are still fundamentally different people who dislike each other’s outlook on life.

Ice kills some more Soviets and becomes Maverick’s equal, though still not in rank/honor. 

Ice writes to his sister Sarah, who doesn’t answer. 

Ice hooks up with a girl, but finds that he can’t relate to her as much as he did before the experience of TOPGUN. Also, he can’t relate to women at all.

Ice tries to visit Sarah, and is rejected.

Ice sees A Chorus Line on Broadway by himself.

Ice and Maverick talk to each other as semi-equals, and Ice explains that his sister is a Commie who will never talk to him again. He also explains that he wants to get to the top because he thinks it will make him a good man, or that he can make the Navy better because he himself is a good man. Maverick says, yeah right bozo.

So we’re 5,000 words into a 90,000-word fic and already you know the following:

This entire story and everyone in it revolves around Goose’s death and who gets the blame for Goose’s death. 

Ice and Mav are brought together not because they like each other, but because the experience of killing both their friend and their enemies has made it impossible for anyone else on Earth to understand them to that same extent. From the first word, they're already both so fucked-up it really is each other or nobody.

This is gonna be a sloooow burn.

Ice and Mav might end up as superior and subordinate, but they are fundamentally equal ("you can be my wingman anytime/bullshit you can be mine"), and start out as equals. They are now directly responsible for the same amount of death.

Sarah is Ice’s sister, so Ice is definitely not getting married to a woman in this fic. Good news for everyone scared by the slow burn.

Ice had previously had fun with women, and still wants to marry a woman because it "follows all the rules," but after meeting Maverick/the whole TOPGUN experience he finds them annoying/unrelatable. He can’t relate to women at all and doesn't believe this woman when she tells him she loves him because he himself has never been in love with a woman. He is gay.

Ice sees A Chorus Line on Broadway by himself. He is gay. 

Sarah will not be in this fic, and Ice is a categorically lonely man who is isolated from anyone who could possibly help him talk about how he feels. 

Sarah is a Communist who rejected her military brother, not the other way around, so this is a leftist fic from a leftist perspective, but about conservative men whose conservative personal and political opinions will be repeatedly challenged by the end. This is not a pro-Navy story. 

As a corollary to that, the ship for Ice to “be a good man” has already sailed. He’s gonna try his best to be a good man—emphasis on man—throughout the story, but he’s already failed from the very first line. 

And Ice steadfastly and stubbornly refuses to be honest with us or himself about how he feels about any of the above.

So you basically have everything you need to understand the rest of the story. Now you (reader) and I (author) can meet each other in the middle on equal terms, and the real story can actually finally get started in the next chapter. It’s a lot of information. Which is why it’s not written very well and the pacing is fucked. 

But yeah I just used “Sarah” as an expository tool to help first-time readers understand the political lens of this fic from the get-go, so we don’t have to have a lot of hand-wringing when Ice becomes a war hero of the Persian Gulf War or anything like that (though in my a/n for chapter 5 i did admittedly do some hand-wringing. i gotta delete those a/ns). So, Sarah becomes kind of a weak stand-in for Ice’s political guilt. She’s only mentioned four times besides chapter one, i think—once when Ice is with “Laura” (he is still incredibly guilty about all the people he killed & feels like he let “Sarah” down); once with 9/11 (he still thinks about “Sarah” often enough that she’s the first thing he thinks of when the country has been attacked [still haven't decided if this is the real Sarah though]); once when he’s getting high with Maverick (he is constantly reminded by the brass of the ways in which he is not a good man); and once at the end of “Debriefing,” where they actually get to talk to each other—because he has finally “snapped out of it” and left the Navy.

This fic wasn’t meant to be my sorta-kinda-but-not-really-anti-military soapbox preaching, though, which is why Sarah’s hardly in it at all. It’s a D-plot. Maybe even an E-plot. All in service of the Icemav A-plot. That end scene has a couple different purposes, actually. The second is that Sarah, who at this point is pretty much just a stranger, becomes a receptacle for Ice to prove that he can finally be honest with himself and others about his relationship with Maverick. And…that’s pretty much it. I did do more with her in my Slider one-shot but i honestly dk if that’s getting posted at this point (ITS ROUGH) so im not gonna talk about it now. 

But—that was all Sarah as a symbol, which is very un-fun. Sarah as a character is kind of a blank slate, but how Ice thinks about her/misses her is not, as you said :) I’m wary of posting headcanons that are dependent on my fic, though I do have many, because I feel like that’s not really the point of headcanons… “compacflt!Ice-specific headcanons…” idk that seems a little self-aggrandizing even for me. But, yeah, I guess I would characterize my Ice’s childhood as not greeeaaat, because his dad apparently died in Vietnam when he was like eight and his mom apparently died in a car crash when he was twelve (which is why he’s such a good driver [ch 8 notwithstanding DO NOT DRIVE 120 ON I-5]), but also not, like, abusive or anything. Raised by his grandmother (in the Slider one-shot, which I might as well spoil for you since I’m feeling quite hopeless about it, Slider kinda helps Ice deal with her death in the second year they’re at the Academy together, and it’s how their friendship really starts) who might have been hippy-ish and encouraged him breaking the rules, but also he & his sister were very very impacted by the death of their father at war. This is getting kind of deep into it, and I’m just kinda making it up, but I think there was probably a lot of strife between him and Sarah when he was gearing up to go to the Academy/getting his recommendations etc., like actual arguments and screaming matches—yes, she’s disappointed in him, but more than anything she wants to keep him safe so he doesn’t die like their dad (relevant for ice/rooster later)—and he ended up losing her, so it made a deep, deep impression on how he handles (avoids) confrontation about serious stuff like this when he knows he's gonna lose… my ice has a confrontation issue, obviously. but so does canon. see him "apologizing" to maverick for goose's death in the movie for another example of this. bro is struggling.

But thats just me makin shit up so whatever.

But that’s me just makin shit up so whatever.

[sy3ra]

catch feelings? 🌸

Part 1?

"Am I crazy maybe we could happen?"

"One more please!" I shouted at the bartender. "You drank like 15 and..counting, shots of whiskey already.. aren't you getting drunk by now?" Amiina told me. "Course not, I'm used to drinking this heavily Amy. Plus we should celebrate your engagement!"

Amiina chuckled at me. "I know, I know..." She paused. "Me, Jamie and Claire are already engaged or married Zukiyo... Aren't you atleast planning on finding YOUR one and only? We're worried for you"

I scoffed at her words "I don't need one Amy" I said as I chugged down on my 16th shot. "You're just saying that Zukiyo, you'll find yourself starved....of love. I know you might be wary that he'll hurt you again like that dogshit of an ex of yours back then..but maybe this time it'll be different." She smiled softly at me. "It's not that, I don't care about that dipshit anyways. It's just that, I still have to take care of my siblings. I can't just leave them be." I said.

She sighed. "Zuri is 17 and Dean is 19, they're old enough to take care of themselves, they even have lovers already Zukiyo..you aren't getting younger and you're passing the dating stage too...You should atleast try again.." I stayed quiet and she continued. "Zuri sometimes tells me to atleast help you at this. She's worried because you've been taking care of them your whole life, you act like a single mother."

I shrugged "I don't really know Amy, I don't trust this lovey-dovey shit. Plus I have a hard time conveying my 'feelings' anyway."

"Well you should atleast try" She patted my back and smiled at me. I sighed in defeat. "Okay, fine." She clapped in delight when she heard my words.

💫🎸💫

I was at our condo, cooking dinner while waiting for my siblings to come home. They told me they had a project to work on and had to stay late.

I thought about Amy's words for a bit. Maybe she was right..Well fuck it, I still need time to think about it anyway.

I snapped out of my thoughts when I heard the door open. My siblings where home.

"Nee-chan, were home!" My little sister shouted. "How was the project thing-y?" I said. "It was alright we're close to finishing just in time for the deadline" Zuri said as Dean went to the bathroom to shower.

[AN HOUR LATER]

"Listen you two" I said, swallowing my food as they tilted their head at me. "I.. probably won't be coming home tomorrow? Well not really coming home as in I'm coming home really late" I said to them. "Why sis?" Dean asked me. Just before I answered Zuri snooped in "Are you perhaps going on a date Nee-san?" I choked on my food and said "What? No? I have a ton of things to do thats it" Zuri breathed a sigh of disappointment and I heard Dean sigh too.

'What the hell, is this what Amy says when Zuri was worried about me not having a lover?'

Dean washed the dishes and Zuri got ready for bed, it was a weird night. My boss said I'm getting a new manager since my old one retired. I sighed I kind of liked my old manager more even though she was quiet most of the time.

[....12:00:23AM]

I could not sleep at all. I was tumbling and turning over and over again on my bed. Since my siblings are asleep anyway I decided to go to the bar for a drink.

I wore a casual yet formal clothing since it is a bar after all, wouldn't be caught dead wearing pajamas. And so, I tiptoed my way to the door so my siblings won't wake up. I got on my motorcycle and drove off.

I got to the bar, it was bustling with people licking each other to the core, the scene almost made me puke.

"A glass of whiskey please!" I shouted to the bartender. "I'll take the same order Mr. Bartender" A deep voice said beside me, I tilted my head to 'his' direction.

"So, what's a pretty girl like you doing here?" He said. Not gonna lie, he was handsome. The type to get girls rushing over to him in a jiffy. But I wasn't falling for the bad boy fuck boy type. "I came here for a drink of course" I said. "Oh I see, mind if I join you then?" He said. I hummed, honestly I didn't care he could make out with a girl beside me and I would be unfazed.

[Sometime later]

"Wow, you drink like ten men Miss" He said with his usual flirty tone. "I'm used to it" I said nonchalantly. "You know, I haven't gotten your name yet, I'm Alistair, how about you?"

"You don't need to know who I am" I said

"Oh but I do, isn't that how people get to know each other?"

I sighed, he was persistent. "I'm..." I paused. 'Should I give him a fake alias?'

"I'm Kiera" I said, thankfully I didn't wear my glasses and I had my hair up so my identity wouldn't be known.

He smirked "Nice to meet you Kiera" That smirk isn't a good one, well I could tell.

I couldn't read his dark hazel eyes at all, I couldn't tell if those words were true or not.

But I knew he was up to no good.

"You know, you interest me Miss Kiera, I would like to see you again someday"

'smooth but no'

I scoffed lightly "You don't need to, Mister Alistair."

He just smirked and turned away before saying "I do need to Miss" then he disappeared in the crowd.

'real smooth but no'

The following weeks later, I met him again ang again at the same bar. He kept pestering me until I gave up and started to talk to him too. We started to get close after sometime, he was a good person to have a conversation with. Our topics would go on for hours and hours. I learned that he had a passion ,or liking, for music too.

"You know Mr. Alistair, I can never read your thoughts, sometimes I don't know if you speak of the truth or not." I told him frankly.

He laughed. For some reason it felt like music to my ears for a moment. "Likewise Miss Kiera, I took interest in you because you were hard to read and I knew you weren't like other women I've met."

"Really how so?"

"Well for one you drink like ten men" I let out a light chuckle at his words. "You didn't flirt with me, and you're...a really good listener too" He said.

"If you weren't so stern and a bit scary I would date you, you know" He winked at me. "Oh please, even if you did date me you wouldn't last long. I'm too much to handle" I said. "I like you, well I like your 'too much to handle', 'bad girl', and 'hard to get' attitude." He confessed. "You suck at conveying your 'feelings' Alistair" I chuckled. "You shouldn't go for me, there's tons of other girls waiting for you" I said. He stood up and whispered to my ear, I could feel his hot, ashy breath fanning over my skin.

"You're the only one I want Miss Zukiyo" He said in a low voice. After that he distanced himself from me and said "I'll see you tomorrow Miss Kiera~" He waved goodbye.

I returned home and for some reason my legs felt weak, I felt 'butterflies' fluttering around in my stomach, and my face was redder than my guitar. Then it clicked.

I groaned 'Fuck. This is bad, really bad.'

-Mayven.

[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!!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

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

[rarepairnation]

3, 23, 24, 25, 27 and 30? 💕

hi hi ria!! blessings of rain be upon ye...

3. how you feel about your current wip

i am RATTLING the bars of the cage in my brain!!! by that i mean the faramir goes to rivendell au is possibly my favourite best thing ive ever written i am just stuck in the mudpit of the current conversation and i would like to. not be there. but i really do love working on it it feels like gradually assembling a structure around a framework and when i step back and really look at it its just. jrr tolkien and i are having A Conversation. you know? like yes!! i AM transforming the work!! i AM deciding whether he would fucking say that and i do think i am right at least 92% of the time!! ive had the concept of the au in my head for probably 3-4 years at least and i feel like. well i was never really going to feel Ready to write it. and yet i am grabbing it in my hands and doing it anyway and it IS making me a much better writer and i can Feel it. yeah i love it.

and umbar fic/situationship au is just me pushing the bounds of do it weird/do it horny/do it self-indulgent and it is. SO MUCH FUN. i think there has always been a little block in my head stopping me from doing that i mean like everything i write is kind of like. this is specifically created to cater to me. but the panopticon in my head is a crazy thing. but step by step we are defeating it. this is like the next step up from just so long as this thing's loaded which was kind of my first time pushing those bounds and. i mean there are a lot of things about that one that i think i could improve now (this is my REAL answer to that "would you rewrite anything" question from the other ask meme) but it definitely got me here. never underestimate the power of a rarepair to make you WEIRD. (<- abby rarepairnationcore sentences...)

23. pick three keywords that describe your writing

what is this a job application? LOL just kidding but i do suck at these. um. atmospheric. character-driven (yes this is two words but it is true). interrogative (i am IN THERE with. either the original text. or the minds of the characters. shakes u like a snow globe WHAT is going on in your head).

24. how do you recharge when you're not feeling creative?

im really bad at this. like actually spectacularly abysmal. i mostly sit around feeling sorry for myself for three to nine months. until i eventually buck up the motivation and executive function to actually (re)consume a piece of media and more often than not it will seize me by the throat and lead me out of the pit. yeah this does usually work best with things ive seen before that will awaken a dormant fixation.

25. besides writing, what are your other hobbies?

going to the grocery store. doing my dishes. LOL ok when i am Not Writing A Novel-Length Fic i knit. one day i will start doing it again i want to make. the extensive sweater vest collection of my dreams. but i already have this repetitive stress injury because i type for eight hours at work and then come home and type for four more and i think if i started knitting again on top of that i would immediately crumble to dust. and um. is that it? that can't be it. i do calligraphy sometimes. WAIT LOL I BIND BOOKS. -> @hexagonspress

27. your favourite part of the writing process

omg ok i'm not sure if this is like my Top Number One Favourite but ive recently started really enjoying drafting out ao3 tags and start/end notes it's really fun to work out what things i want people to notice that i might wanna talk about in the end notes and compressing everything down into tags (to varying extents) is also just a neat way to think about like. what was i trying to capture/convey with the fic. e.g. whether i wanna be really wordy with it and get it all out in there or just have the reader go in pretty much blind.

30. share a fic you're especially proud of

maybe i'll never shut up about TO THE VERY DEAR MEMORY OF [ ] but like...you guys. i love it so much. it's so so experimental because the place in my mind that is wrapped around yancy becket is so....complicated and full of grief and fundamentally altering to my brain chemistry and i can only capture it through the world's craziest extended metaphors but i kind of feel like i pulled it off. it is like truly the tip of the iceberg of a LOT of stuff that is really fundamental to honestly a lot of my? lotr work? i mean the way i think about water metaphors...the fundamental dead brother complex baked into my writer's brain...it's all pacific rim in there. this fic marinated in my head for THREE YEARS. that is the longest from inception to completion that any of my (published) work has existed (unpublished is a whole different story. there's a longfic that i created at the beginning of my freshman year of college and has stuck around into postgrad. i mean. girl). i wrote the poem that each first line of every section is extracted from in my parents' house during covid lockdown. and then it just had to sit and develop and develop until the yancy becket death anniversary this year yanked it forcibly out of my head and into a fully-formed format.

fic writer's asks

[softwaluigi]

god. still fucking thinking about last chucky ep

[raphexim]

Literally the only Gosling film I'd ever seen before Barbie was Remember the Titans like 25 years ago.

Jesus that makes me feel old. I am. Christ.

(it's only 23 years? That's... not better)

Working my way through belatedly so imma just use this post to keep track of thoughts and feelings

The Gray Man: fucking loved it so much??? Murder weapon turned unwilling father figure??? Sad grumpy dads are my one trope to rule them all, particularly when bound with found family. I'd wanna play checkers with Six. Like the characters were super compelling to me, the way they showed development and how everything felt character driven to me? And there were such good unspoken implications that also expanded on these characters without burdening the storytelling. AND the lack of gore!!!! This was a super violent movie and it only got a PG-13 because you literally don't need to show that shit on a screen. Bless

The Nice Guys: I expected to be aced out by the whole porno thing, but it was more nudity with implications than *the do* and I guess that didn't cross the line for me. And honestly pretty mild at that. The plot has holes. So many holes. Russell Crowe's accent was distracting. And crazily, I didn't really care about any of that, because the characters and their dynamics and chemistry were just chef's kiss. I love Holland? And I love that he is a disaster. I would not like him in person. There is a little gore at the end, but if you consider physics, it's not realistic at all (crazy how you can convey a visual without having to emotionally scar your audience, who knew???). This is the only one I have re-watched so far, and now have the book so that I can consume my comfort in multiple forms.

La La Land: idk. The music was good. Ryan walks some kind of way. I was VERY impressed with his piano skills. (I was raised by a pianist, so I have to notice that stuff, which makes me sound pretentious I'm so sorry). Idk what happened. I have no idea what the message was, or if there even was one. It seemed like it was trying to have one?? But like "you can either fall in love, follow your dreams, or be successful, but only two out of three. And if you get rid of one, you're guaranteed to get the others." Idk. Very meh, probably won't watch again except for specifically the piano playing.

Lars and the Real Girl: tbh my only context for this movie was an episode of Pushing Daisies where a delusional guy used his doll to murder someone, so. I did not have high expectations. Also had no idea RG had anything to do with it. *And* my tolerance level for secondhand embarrassment is on the fucking floor so I expected to have to turn it off. I didn't. Fuck. This movie was so wholesome???? The treatment of a mental illness was so supportive and positive??? (Except for the touch thing, that was... Let people not want to be touched!)

The Notebook: hi, I hated the Notebook. I don't get the hype, I don't know why people treat it like the ultimate romance. Man coerces a girl into a date by threatening to kill himself, she retaliates by publicly humiliating him. They scream at each other a lot. Poor communication. Obsessive behavior?? Literally so creepy??? Anyway they're terrible for each other and it's an unhealthy relationship. Ryan with brown eyes. Only rewatching if it's to roast and drink.

Half Nelson: made me uncomfy, but that was the point, right? It's a white savior movie but it's about being a white savior movie. The racial subtext of a white guy stepping in inappropriately and what the fallout of that is; stack on the nuance of addiction, male entitlement. How powerful of a moment for Drey to ask "will I end up like my brother" and Dan being the one to make her so. (Also the performance by Shareeka Epps? Spellbinding.) The writer who became a teacher and then never got around to writing? Real. So was the fact that nothing happened professionally after he did what he did to his coworker. Very pre-Me Too. Anthony Mackey was both the most charismatic and, somehow, most responsible character in the entire thing. My only actual beef is the camera work. This last bit is petty - they finally gave me a RG character with a cat, and the cat dies (but, very single white bachelor to name him Dave omg.)

Crazy, Stupid Love: uhhhhh the children involved in this were... this wasn't good. There could have been good lessons for them (the son with consent maybe??) (*not* depicting a teenage girl giving suggestive photos to a child???) but there weren't. There were good aspects in the story, don't get me wrong: exploring relationships, trying to find your identity outside of just 'who you're married to'. I get it. Everything that wasn't actively trying to teach a lesson was funny. The parts that were meant to be heartfelt, did not age well and also probably weren't great to begin with. Maybe that's the male gaze idk. I wanted more of Jacob and Cal's actual relationship, because what was being suggested between the lines was way more interesting to me than the actual plot. Jacob with the family/bonding with Cal's kids completely off-screen, are you kidding me? Cal being a really weird, awkward stand-in for Jacob's father? Jacob accidentally being written demi-romantic and having a crisis about it? I'd love someone to remake this movie. Preferably women-directed. [But I am obsessed with the second Jacob heard David's name and had zero hesitation, just ring off 'we doin this'. He's a real one.]

Can you tell I have feelings about overuse of sex and gore? Esp how it's been the last few years? Ugh. Like I want to watch Drive bc it sounds like it's supposed to be an ✨iconic✨ role for him but I get squicked out by chunks/organs and stuff and I have no idea how graphic it is. Can we go back to shit being implied, off screen, or at least artistic again???

I'm not tagging this, it's for me lmao

[autisticandroids]

gonna put my director's commentary under a cut because it's crazy long

first of all. i would like to thank @restlesshush for jack stuff, @davidfosterwallaceandgromit for pointing out the concept and coining the phrase "angel conflict resolution skills", @an-android-in-a-tutu, @pregstiel, and @hauntedpearl for being relentless cheerleaders, and @hauntedpearl and @restlesshush also for getting on my ass to add subtitles.

so. this video. lots of things. the first thing i want to say is that this video really... exists in relation to, or in the context of, four other videos.

the first is my pretty little head video. this is actually the most direct link because like... a few weeks after i made that video i decided i just fucking hated it. like i was not satisfied with what i had managed to convey. it was too unfocused, it wasn't doing what i wanted it to. which is a tall order, because what i wanted it to do was... convey my entire cas thesis. also, frankly, i got better video editing software after i made it and am now kind of embarrassed at how out of rhythm it is due to the vicissitudes of my old software.

but anyway, as a result of this dissatisfaction, i actually came up with this (love club) video concept and started outlining it, in september of 2021. if you're counting that's literally more than a year and a half ago. it's been sitting in my brain and my google docs ever since. i essentially invested so much emotional energy in this one video that i was both too intimidated technically to make it and also worried it wouldn't come out right, which is why i didn't make it for a year and a half. but i'm pretty happy with how it came out! part of the problem was that i was simply trying to put too much into one video, which leads me to...

this video to your love is a drug, which is like. a kind of spiritual companion to the love club video. i made it essentially out of plans i had for the love club video that weren't working out? like, it's crucial to show the hypnotically pleasurable nature of cas' experience in order to make a discussion on cas' tendency towards falling into cults and authoritarian and abusive situations work. and while the second verse of the love club video does kind of do that? there's not enough focus on it. so i did a whole separate video on the topic. ideally they should be watched together i think. and i guess i should actually commentate that video a little before going further.

#spn#vid#i may come back and reblog with some meta but for now. director's commentary in the tags#this one is pretty straightforward. it's even MORE straight forward if you've seen my pretty little head amv#since this is basically 'pretty little head amv [cheerful version]'#anyway. this is MOSTLY about cas being in love with dean. but there's some stuff in there about like cas accepting dean as his god#and like why that happened. obviously cas is kind of an unreliable narrator here he's not exactly thinking straight#so there's a lot of stuff here that's about the narrative cas tells himself. which isn't necessarily or even likely to be true#so like for example the reason he accepted dean as his god was bc of like. godstiel trauma basically. and he really hasn't unpacked that#anyway the other slightly more complex theme in here is that cas looooves that dean is a serial killer &lt;3#cas voice you hurt people? you hurt people for me? you hurt other people and then you treat me so tender? [tongue emoji]#of course cas is wrong in assuming that dean is only interested in hurting OTHER people. but cas' secret weapon is of course#that he doesn't care. he'll get off on that too. cas can get off on anything#anyway the last three hours of me editing this were basically just like.#god this show is so ugly *turns saturation sliders all the way up* he's in love bitch let's get you some COLORS#also there's a secret prank hidden in this video which is of course that the song (your love is a drug by puffy) has the same guitar riff#as that one direction song. the famous one. but your love is a drug came first so.#oh and special thanks to pallas leo elisabeth cy and the cas whump chat. all of whom consulted on this video#also did you guys enjoy the sam live slug reaction moment. i enjoyed it.

^those are the original tags. the your love is a drug video is fairly straightforward in that it's mostly, essentially, dean touching cas and cas enjoying it in various ways, or just dean behaving in ways that spin cas' head (mostly either affectionately or violently; sometimes both). but there's a few moments i want to draw attention to.

first of all there's a throughline about cas' season five/six crisis of faith; it goes from on the head of a pin "i still serve god" to his theologically mediated hangover in 99 problems to his self-destructiveness in point of no return. i used to see the world as dark is him calling god a son of a bitch in dark side of the moon intercut with the eventual distant result of that development, the carnage of meet the new boss. now everyday the sunshine's in my heart over honey cas, when cas' response to trauma was to drown himself in false happiness (and this is also the start of his habit of desperately flinging himself into following any order or higher power he can; more on i saw the route of flowers later). you lift me up as dean literally supporting his weight at the end of meet the new boss, standing in as a symbol of how post-godstiel cas eschews agency and allows dean (and others as well, but this video is about his relationship with dean) to make his decisions for him because he no longer trusts himself, or at least, he no longer trusts himself to set wider goals.

and then there's a few other moments that i feel like need pointing out. make my worries obsolete over cas' initial rebellion is absolutely about the fact that cas is willingly sacrificing himself there, he's willingly dying (and the fact that the reason he's willing isn't really rational, he was knock[ed] off his feet) which matters because that's also like. a theme in this love club amv.

then of course there's the way in your love is a drug cas recontextualizes cruelty through the pleasure he gains from it. dean is awful to cas in holy terror (and immediately before it), but also dean smiled at him in that bar and that's all that sticks. we've talked to death the shitty nature of dean's apology in the trap, but that's another one in here, all is forgiven in the end because dean hugged him. (there's also all of the violence but that's more complex; while that is cas being harmed and forgiving dean the harm, there is something appealing about the violence as itself) this is also the purpose of i know i'll never shake the stuff over dean showing up in heaven can't wait: this is the point where cas realizes it's just... impossible to hold anything against dean. dean will always come back and sweep him off his feet and put cas back on the whirlygig no matter what. and he really stops trying. in order to maintain his relationship with dean he just starts forgiving him everything. and this is a post season nine development. dean can hurt cas as much as he wants and cas chooses not to hold it against him or really integrate it at all because it would mean losing this his most important relationship. and because he will reap the dubious rewards. and because, well, dean will sweep him off his feet anyway so why try?

anyway. all of that is important because it's all stuff that's theoretically relevant to the love club amv but not the focus of it, which is why these two videos are kind of a pair. like, if you look at my intro to the love club amv it's a list of times dean hurt cas and then a list of times dean touched him; cas also experiences the pleasures of affection in the cult in the second verse and experiences being expected to sacrifice himself in the first chorus and being betrayed in the second. but that's not really what the video is about. while those are inevitable results of invitation into the winchester family cult, the tragedy of the love club video is about other stuff. so the your love is a drug video is kind of a necessary supplement. like, it is necessary to understand that cas' experience here is both ecstatic and hypnotic, you know?

anyway. the third video that this video is deeply interrelated with isn't mine. it's spn angels | runs in the family by snooglyshnork on youtube. obviously. like, this and the pretty little head video and the your love is a drug one are all... in a way they're my attempt to put my own spin on that video, you know? like obviously i'm saying different stuff or there would be no point in not just... rewatching the runs in the family amv. but there is a meaningful sense where all these videos, taken together, really are just my spin on that video more than anything else.

the fourth video is, well. this one. i feel like the connection is obvious. but like one of the most striking things @restlesshush has ever said to me is that that video inserts subtext into that scene that is not present in the original text. in the original scene cas is horrified but there is no implication of his guilt. he asks naomi for an apology for trying to lobotomize him, and like. yeah she shouldn't have done that but it's insane that the first thing cas thinks of is that and not his own complicity in the extinction of his species, you know? like honestly, i'm not inclined to blame cas. most of that was done either not-as-himself really, or in genuine self-defense because the first reaction of angels to any kind of disagreement is murder (because due to living absolutely authoritarian lives and having any experience of making actual choices (i.e. disobedience) wiped from their brains so they can't learn from it, they have no framework for dissent). but like. that's not how cas sees it. he should blame himself. he doesn't really have a solid framework of why things are his fault (...which is one of the reasons for a lot of his problems), he just does stuff and then it goes bad and he blames himself, even though it's frequently a result of factors outside his control. (hell, honestly i think cas would willingly submit to lobotomy, might even be absolutely ecstatic about it, if it wasn't for the fact that naomi made him kill other angels and tried to make him kill dean. like. cas WANTS to have his self and individuality obliterated and his choices taken away. that's his dream. he craves brainwashing. the problem is that he could not get with naomi's goals). and it's dumb and ooc that he didn't do it in funeralia. so this video kind of adds that back in.

anyway, now that that introduction is over with we can finally like... actually talk. about this video i just made.

so i've talked to death the subject of cas and angels and cults. and so have other people. but i wanna talk about specifics.

first i kinda wanna talk about naomi? or, you know. gush. gush about naomi. because i'm obsessed with her. because the thing about naomi is she is, to me, very genuinely tragic.

like, i used her in this video as a synecdoche for heaven's control. which is, you know, it's an obvious choice. but i do think it fits, and most crucially i think naomi and her relationship to heaven is a really solid parallel for dean and his relationship to the winchester family. which is relevant given that dean is the emblem for the winchester family cult i'm using.

like, supernatural is in many ways a show about headless bodies. and i think heaven and the angels are maybe the best example of this. because like... the thing is, they're just doing what they think god would want them to do. but he is gone. like, the archangels' relationship to god is to either do what they think he would want (michael; raphael, but there's another layer with him which is that he is also doing what michael would want/would do in michael's absence; lucifer is just doing the opposite of what god would want), or flop around like headless chickens (what lucifer does post-s11 without god's disapproval to guide him; gabriel's total disengagement and hedonistic passivity). and the power structure of heaven basically all just exists to facilitate that. like, all the other angels exist to follow michael and raphael's orders. but then of course in season eight there are no archangels left and heaven is tearing itself apart. and it was always going to, because of the kind of absolute authoritarianism that naomi helps prop up. and naomi's goal is really just... to hold things together. to keep things normal. she, too, is not really working towards her own goals and interests. she isn't the queen, she's the high priestess, just like michael and raphael. she isn't working towards her own goals, she's working towards the goals of a mysterious leader who isn't even present. like, she may be one of the highest authorities left in heaven post-s7, but that's not how she wants it. she doesn't want power, she wants the machine to keep running the way it's supposed to. she's a technician. and she's trying to keep angel society as it was functioning. in many ways, she is right! theoretically if naomi could keep things running indefinitely, she could save a lot of angel lives, and keep them happy and well-adjusted, too, if your definition of happy and well-adjusted includes having no doubts or individuality and being well-lobotomized. but the thing is, she can't keep things running indefinitely because that kind of absolute authoritarianism is inherently unstable. the level of control and violence it requires is not indefinitely maintainable. it's bound to collapse sooner or later, and then in the aftermath the angels will have none of those wonderful useful skills like conflict resolution or making choices that you get from being allowed a certain amount of conditional training-wheels freedom before just being released onto the world free to do what you will. and it will be a blood bath.

and i think that's a solid parallel to dean. because in many ways, dean is a headless body. he doesn't maintain authoritarian control of his family because he wants something from it, he does it because that's how things are supposed to be. he's not trying to get anything out of it except maintaining a kind of stability and order in which he is as much a subject as everyone else. he is not the king, he's the high priest of the cult of john winchester. just because john is dead and gone doesn't mean that dean can stop maintaining it. like naomi, he maintains the cult for its own sake. the purpose of the cult is self-reproduction, nothing else. dean has no goals except maintenance of the status quo. he too is a technician.

which is why i used naomi as the face of the angel cult in this video, and why i placed her dialogue against dean's dialogue/dialogue about dean ("i fixed you" vs. "you used to be human" and "i'll find some way to redeem myself to you"). because they serve similar roles.

this is also, by the by, why i had naomi mouth the word "love" in my mother's love is choking me (while in the show she's saying "hold still"). because she does love them. the angels. in her way.

next point. "i saw the route of flowers. it's all right there, the whole plan, there's nothing to add." honey cas is like. that whole situation is one of the reasons cas is so very vulnerable to being in a cult. he rejects agency, because as an agent he has ruined everything. he lives under the weight of absolute, crushing guilt. and so being nothing more than a cog in a machine is soothing to him. at his lowest, at the end of season seven and the beginning of season eleven, cas leans towards absolute passivity. when he collapses, this is how he falls: into total nonfunction. making choices becomes an impossible horror, both because it's just not something he's used to, and because he can never trust himself to make correct ones (because his choices always just seem to turn out poorly). so in season seven, he removes his ability to choose to dole out violence entirely, and in season eleven, he simply fully collapses in on himself and stops being able to do anything. and this leads to him desperately seeking out an authority figure, any authority figure, to make his choices for him. which is one of the reasons he's in cults. and of course, the cults are part of the reason why he doesn't trust himself in the first place; cas, i know you try to be a good guy, okay, i do, you try says dean. after everything you did, to us, to heaven. i fixed you, castiel. i fixed you! says naomi. but this is a vulnerability that exists in cas outside of intentional attempts to play on it. and it is in the end a result of his experiences as part of the heaven cult - the reason he relates to choice in this way is partly a result of the unspeakable guilt of godstiel arc, but that in itself is kind of the result of the inevitable collapse of heaven, which is a result of heaven's authoritarian nature. and the way cas processes it happens because he has spent his life as a drone without choice up until he had a glut of it. like he doesn't really have the skill at making choices and regulating his emotions that would allow him to look at the situation rationally, because he just doesn't have the experience. he has, functionally, four or five years of existing as an individual under his belt at that point (because any other experience has been lobotomized out of him). it's not much to go on.

(i also quite enjoyed the double meaning of the line. get out your maps and papers find out your hiding places again. the route of flowers and all it stands for: the will of god, external deterministic control, non-agency, all of those are a kind of map. but they are also, for honey cas, primarily a hiding place. he hides in them from his guilt and anguish.)

i also want to talk about cas and the hive. obviously i always want to talk about cas and the hive it's my favorite topic. but it really is relevant. a crucial element of cas' vulnerability to being in a cult is his desire to be reabsorbed into the hive. like, this is why i included the dragonfly eye of group mind line from 5x04. endverse cas is in many ways replacing the communion of heaven. he wants an absolute communion, no self, no boundaries, he will eat the whole world to make it a part of him. and that's what he gets out of being involved in the kinds of intense relation that dean gives him: absolute communion. of course, it's also sexual; part of my argument in this video in fact is that the appeal of the winchester family cult over the heaven cult is that it's got individual, hedonistic, embodied pleasures. people are nice to him, they're affectionate with him, they touch him. at the same time there is also explicitly sexual pleasures: he kisses meg, has homoerotic experiences with dean, watches crowley seal a deal with a kiss. (this is why take the pill, make it too real is over cas' grace vampirism and also him examining his body in meet the new boss and lazarus rising: these are the horrors and consequences of embodiment, wrapped up with the horrors and consequences of guilt). but yeah. like, when endverse cas is talking about the dragonfly eye of group mind, he has lost the communion of heaven. he is also about to have an orgy. they are intertwined. they are the same.

i also want to talk about my specific choice to use anna and uriel a lot in the first verse. with anna, that's partly because she was kind of... the first authority figure cas tries to get to be his leader. there's a reason i used the scene where cas says "i don't know what to do. please tell me what to do." and anna says "like the old days? no, i'm sorry. it's time to think for yourself" over what about the kid? / it's time the kid got free. and of course there's the dean/anna kiss and its relation to cas' sexual awakening. but anna and uriel both also serve a different role, which is that they're examples of other rebellious angels. like, the most interesting thing about the angel stuff in season four is that we see three rank and file angels. and all three of them turn against heaven in different ways. it's like rebellion is inevitable. every angel is a potential cas. in fact, cas is the least rebellious of the three! season four is about cas teetering on the edge of disobedience, while anna and uriel have both already toppled over. and uriel is actually also a great example to put cas against because cas is more similar to uriel than anna. anna falls for her own freedom; cas changes his allegience like uriel. this is one of the reasons why i included uriel's our father! in the dialogue mashup. like, i just want to put some dialogue from on the head of a pin in here:

CASTIEL: The murders. Maybe they aren't demonic. Sam Winchester said the demons had nothing to do with it.

URIEL: If not the demons, what could it be?

CASTIEL: The will of heaven. We are failing, Uriel. We are losing the war. Perhaps the garrison is being punished.

URIEL: You think our father would—

CASTIEL: I think maybe our father isn't giving the orders anymore. Maybe there is something wrong.

and then later:

URIEL: Not murders, Castiel. No. My work is conversion. How long have we waited here? How long have we played this game by rules that make no sense?

CASTIEL: It is our father's world, Uriel.

URIEL: Our father? He stopped being that, if he ever was, the moment he created them. Humanity, his favorites. This whining, puking larva.

CASTIEL: Are you trying to convert me?

URIEL: I wanted you to join me. And I still do.

like this goes crazy right? in terms of themes? you agree. like, uriel asks cas to join him, in the same way cas asks anna to guide him. they're much more similar than they are different.

so i've just learned that tumblr has link limits. click here to read the rest.

SAM: Well, you know, sometimes families do better after a little time apart. DEAN: Yeah, who? The Mansons?

[youtube with subtitles] [youtube without subtitles]

a meditation on cas and cults. the starting point and the ending point. angels and winchesters. love and affection and family and the twisting of it. the invitation to destroy yourself, and the appeal of being absolutely subsumed.

(x)

[6gumi]

mating season.

synopsis ﹒the title gives it away!

pairings ﹒neuvillette x f!reader x il dan heng (separate)

cw ﹒MDNI. unprotected s3x 、 use of pet names 、 monsterfucking (they r described 2 have two cocks here so goodluck!) 、 double penetration 、 mentions of squ!rting 、dan heng yapping abt hot shit but it’s okay cuz it’s dan heng !

note ﹒wowow other fandom works! anyways i love how i jus dipped for like two weeks to try n survive my last year of hs jus to come back w 900+ <3 here’s a gift for that! i love you all sm, mwah!

୨୧ 𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄

a look of worry crossed neuvillette’s face as tears ran down your puffy cheeks, filling your eyes with a flood of emotion, he tenderly brushed away your tears and pulled you closer, his cocks penetrating your holes just right. your cunt sucking in his hardened dick, emitting small grunts and groans from him here and there. “fuck.. hush my love, do not cry,” he whispered in a gentle comforting voice. “i . . i apologize.”

as your warm tears flowed down from the side of your face to the pillow beneath your head, you grabbed onto neuvillette’s horns for stability as your legs twitched in overstimulation. neuvillette cupped your chin and tilted your head upwards, giving you a soft smile. “is it okay if i’m not gentle tonight, love?” neuvillette coos in your ear, his voice soft and filled with need as his lips trailed small yet soft kisses along your cheek and neck. neuvillette’s lust grew the moment he saw a nod of approval from you, his eyes sparkled with admiration, conveying the depth of his affection for you. his fingers caressed your face lovingly, careful with his nails as if he’s trying to memorize every curve and angle of your features.

neuvillette pressed his finger gently against your lips, trying to silence you as he looked deeply into your eyes. his thrust's gradually grew more and more intense as his nails dig deep into the flesh of your hips, keeping you in place as his cocks bullied themselves inside your walls.. your previous orgasms forming a sticky mess in between your inner thighs and one of his cocks.. coating them just right. he held you close, wanting to provide you with comfort and reassurance in this situation. a small whimper left your lips as the tip of his cock brushed against your deepest areas, just like he wanted.. his pace was rough, his large hands could even leave a mark from how tight he was holding you.. desperately trying to keep you in place while he slams his hips against your own.

"look at me, love. look at me while i fuck you." his voice was tinged with desire, your face filled with pure ecstasy. you nodded shyly, your fingers fading into white as they tightened their grip against his horns. neuvillette's eyes gazed deep into yours with affection. "just look at how crazy you make me. the way you're clenching around me.. fuck your body's too perfect. perfect for me to claim and fuck, right? such a beautiful expression, mh.. so small, so cute." oh right.. you had almost forgotten. it was mating season.

୨୧ 𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆

dan heng's thrusts were enough to tell you one thing. it was mating season alright! dan heng's teeth dug deep into your shoulder, not enough to hurt you.. but enough to apply pressure. his breathing grew heavy as his cock was desperate to feel more or you, each thrust.. each kiss, was laced with nothing but need and desire for you. he couldn't help but whisper sweet nothings in your ear, his voice deep and full of lust, you could feel that lust within his body, waiting to devour you as a whole. "oh, you're going to give me the best dragons. all of them will be mine." he lets one of his fingers trail down your chest, ending up by your breast. "if you think you're full of milk now... just wait 'til they're all suckling on you." his tail swished to his other side, pushing one of your thighs down to your chest to keep your breasts from bouncing further.

"look at my angel, so beautiful like always.. so cute taking my cocks.. sucking me in so easily, huh?" his arms wrapped around you as he stares at the shape of your body, his dick twitching at the mere thought of filling you up tonight unlike any other. "like a goddess. the goddess of maternity." dan heng kissed your neck, running his fingers over her stomach.. biting his lip when you squirt and release all over his pelvis once more, making a mess beneath the sheets, yet he couldn't care less! tonight, he wanted to take you, he needed to take you, he needed to claim you as his and his alone, just with his seed and his dick.

"your breasts will be so full.. your body.. your body will change.. i can't wait." your face reddened at the mere thought, you had almost forgotten about his cock pounding into you. "i got you filled up.. i got this pretty pussy filled up, filled up with my dragons.. just how i want it.? your body was shaking against his, your face filled with pure ecstasy. his words, his thrusts, his touch, his everything. dan heng knew he was driving you crazy, thrusting deeper and deeper against your pussy. you found yourself craving more of him, more of his cock.. more of his touch. tonight is gonna be a looong night.

[thebreakfastgenie]

🌈🕯️💌🤲

🌈is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with?

A lot of my fics put me through the fucking wringer. safe travels was one. I rewrote the final conversation between BJ and Hawkeye a couple of times and I rewrote the BJ-Charles scene even more times. It languished at like 80% done for months. I had such a vivid image in my head of that Hawkeye-BJ conversation and I'm still not sure the final version totally conveyed it, but it got enough.

But the best answer here is The Emergency Room. I wrote a long, in-depth, self-indulgent post about writing this fic once and I'm glad I did because I forget what a hell writing it was. One of my anchor scenes was the one between Josh and Dr. Williams. It was one of those scenes I was so looking forward to writing! And when I got there I just couldn't. It took weeks. Maybe months. And then there was the ending. I had no idea how to end it. I mean, I really, really struggled with this. It was horrible. And then I just... hit upon it. And I've gotten comments about how much people loved the last line so I don't think anyone would guess that felt like a lucky break after days of torture. It's now one of my favorite last lines I've ever written, too.

🕯️was there a fic that was really hard on you to write, or took you to a place you didn't think it would take you?

I sort of answered this above, but The Emergency Room. I knew the general beats of it. I started writing it impulsively on Christmas 2020, when I'd recently gotten back into The West Wing and was trying to write a different Christmas fic I've tried unsuccessfully to write for seven or eight Christmases now. So I kind of thought it would be easy. It was not. I don't think the story went any place unexpected, but not one single step of the journey was expected.

I should also mention Campfire! The first half of Campfire was supposed to be about Josh's camp counselor being an asshole and Josh was supposed to stay a social outcast for the entire summer. And then some part of my brain was like, what if he had friends? And it ended up being a lot more about that. The loneliness is still there, because he doesn't share his grief and doesn't expect them to understand, but he has friends. It made the story a lot better, because it added a sort of parallel to CJ, Toby, and Sam.

Like I said above, safe travels gave me hell, but it didn't surprise me. It's always the fics where I know where they're going that give me trouble. The ones that surprise me are the ones that come easy.

One fic that took me somewhere I didn't expect was the play's the thing. Gloria's role ended up being much bigger than I originally imagined! She was just supposed to be the cute girl he used as an excuse for auditioning for the play. But I really love how she turned out!

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

I don't know when you're going to see it but I am so excited about everyone seeing chapter 2 of Ghost AU. This isn't a spoiler because it's the premise of the fic; chapter 1 sets up the conditions for Hawkeye's death and he dies at the very end of the chapter. So chapter 2 is everyone's immediate reactions. I'll share that it happens in the O.R. If you want more details you can ask... I may or may not answer (I'll totally answer if you DM me I'm shit at keeping secrets).

🤲what do YOU get out of writing?

Writing is a hobby and I love it! I don't know how not to do it. In terms of fic, it's really a way for me to process how I feel about events and characters. It's not that different from meta, really. When a concept is driving me crazy I write a fic about it and then it usually keeps driving me crazy forever anyway. It's an expression of passions.

[candidapple]

I’ve been listening to a certain movie’s soundtrack because the new trailer has me HYPE and I can’t help but see a certain eel merman trying to entice you into the water with him (or otherwise just doing his best to make your face turn as red as Riddle’s hair) by sing-songing “♪ Darlin’ it’s better down where it’s *wetter*, take it from me~~ ♪ ♪ ♡”

cue aggressive eyebrow waggling from said merman and very definitely not innocent smirk. He would also absolutely just like. Do this during swim class or something when other people are definitely around. Shameless little shit (affectionate).

cw monsterfucking, adult content. minors dni 🔞

floyd leech x afab!reader

moray. my fellow eel enthusiast. my sweet googly eyed noodle. i dearly need to convey to you just how gratified i am in this moment. i was always sure that i couldn't be the only one in this fandom to see the sordid potential in that particular lyric. and i wasn't! great minds think alike, especially when they're both firmly entrenched in the same subaquatic gutter!!

floyd ABSOLUTELY pulls this shit during swimming lessons, in front of coach vargas and everybody. speaking of vargas, your classmates are always complaining to him about the tweels taking their true forms during class because octavinelle students already have an unfair advantage when it comes to swimming and that's gotta be CHEATING, right? also, floyd won't stop ""pretending" to drown people in the pool. vargas, probably not even looking up from whatever reflective surface he's currently admiring himself in and of the firm belief that it only makes sense to use whatever natural advantages you have to get a (metaphorical) leg up on the competition, is unsympathetic.

ANYWAY, THE POINT IS. bad enough that floyd is so blatantly, unashamedly, and loudly hitting on you like this in a room that fucking echoes while jade is, i dunno, probably fucking chortling in the background. but to do it when he's all slick and alien and sinuous, somehow even sharper than usual, long muscular tail cutting through the water while he presses his tongue (and did his tongue not just get bluer, but longer?) to the points of his teeth? you never had a chance, really.

and, look. let's not be coy here. he's gonna get you down there, down where it (and you) are wetter. it might take a lot of persistent pestering on his part (though maybe not as much as even he was expecting; you're already at the end of your fraying rope as it is) but the endgame's inevitable. you're gonna gulp down that potion that gives you magical gills, and you're going to sink yourself down on that slippery, slimy eel dick while floyd wraps his crazy-strong and crazy-flexible tail around your waist to use you like the world's most well-loved and well-treasured fleshlight.

(while jade continues to chortle in the background, probably, because of the leech twins we all know who the real freak is and it ain't floyd!)