#but for this one I have a good idea but I dont think it's as strong as my usual stuff
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loverofpiggies · 3 days ago
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Something Wonderful Volume 1 is now available on my Etsy shop!
The fixed books have finally arrived, so it is now on sale! Only $20 for the first 3 chapters, 120 pages of the story!
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icarusredwings · 21 hours ago
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I dont CARE that it's November 9th and "Halloweens over" ITS MY BIRTHDAY MONTH ILL POST IF I WANT TOO
Anyway.
Thinking about apocolpse au.
Wade getting bitten by a zombie, Logan freaking out, Wade dying, and him coming back (Again)
"Didn't you just die?? I literally fucking burried you!!"
And wades like:
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"Of course. Man, God REALLY hates you dosn't he?"
And he's bassically the same person except just saying, "Rahhah har ran re" (translation: I think the devil doesn't want me either)
"What?? Oh for fucks sake... tell me you're kidding.."
"Rah?" 🤔
"Great so now you stink more and you can't talk. Fucking lovely."
"Mmmmh..." 🥺 (would you still love me if I was a zombie?)
"*sighs, blushes and grumbles how insane this is and how much of a bad idea this is* Fine! Come on...."
"Raah!!" 😄
And sometimes his limbs fall off because I think it would be funny if you just saw him stop, turn around, pick up his arm and shove it back into place like a dislocated shoulder. (Marvel Magic)
But its very obvious that Wade is still consious and so logan leads him around, puts a leash on him, ties him up when he goes to sleep the first few nights so wade dosn't eat him, sometimes luring him with a piece of his thigh or telling him he'll feed him soon to make him behave.
The only thing about this resource wise is that it seems Wade is a bottomless pit, not ever able to get enough. It's like all the nutrients just pass right through him, so he can't get fed meals daily, but Logan will share at least one bite of his food. It makes Wade so happy and way more "wade like" than zombie.
Logan has learned that the hungrier Wade gets the worse it would be, snapping at logan a few times.
"Grr-"
"Aye! That's enough outta ya"
"GggRah!"
"Hey!! I said no! Bad! Bad wade!"
"Mmmh??"
"Bad!!"
"Mmh....rahah.."
"I forgive you. But stop trying to bite me. I feed you, don't I? I hold your hand and tell you that I love you?"
Wade is actually extremely friendly for a zombie (duh) and still yaps at logan except its nonsense. Logan tries hard to understand him and talk back.
He holds his hand sometimes, even lays next to him only to scold him if he gets too bitey. This is hard because wade already had a biting issue and seeing as he practically ate anything or anybody now it was more difficult.
"...aahh-"
"Wade- No."
"Ggr.. raahh"
"Wade! No! Bad."
"Mmmh..."
"Ill feed you tomarrow. Don't bite me mkay? You wanna hurt me?"
He shakes his head like a dog shaking off from a bath, or that ate a bee.
"Then don't bite me."
"Mmh? Mrah?"
"No. No kisses right now. Im still not even sure if thats safe.."
"Mmmh...🥺 ahrrah?"
"No, not even a tiny one."
"Mm...😔"
Until Logan grunts and pecks his hand. "There. Happy?"
"🙂‍↕️mh"
"Good."
Honestly Logan felt bad, pitited him. No matter what food he ate it wasnt enough substance to sustain him and sometimes Logan would wake up to find him eating a different zombie that made the mistake of trying to eat Logan.
You ever wake up in the morning, lose your zombie boyfriend, call for him only to walk outside and see him knawing on some poor chaps arm like a happy puppy who found a chicken leg? Logan has. Many times. And he wishes his phone would charge so he could take a picture of it but unfortunately theres no electricity in the post apocalypse world.
This being said Logan is like- THE perfect guy for apocalypse au because he can smell everything and hear anyone before they even get to you, he has better wilderness survival skills then anyone I know and he'll never NOT have a weapon on him because of his claws. The only downside is that he's tired easily, needs a lot of food, and would lowkey be withdrawing from his tabccao and alchool, therefore very moody.
"Stupid fucking apocalypse having to happen when im fucking alive!! Why can't I just NOT live through ONE major historical event! Is that too fucking much to ask? One damn decade where everything is fine and dandy and- WADE! Get your ass away from that!! It's radioactive!! For fucks sake!"
"Rahahrah?"
"NO!! You can not become Spiderman! That's not how that works!"
"Aawr..😔"
The whole thing is they're on a quest to find Laura and Gabby, because when everything went to shit, they were on a cabin trip and now Logans brain is itching because he dosn't know where his babies are and its driving him insane. Once he finds them, they're gonna shack up somewhere with food and animals to hunt, and hes gonna make a little shed outside for Wade to sleep because he'll kill him if he bites one of the girls.
He dosnt care that much about himself really and he hates himself deep down for not being able to trust wade anymore but even wade dosnt trust wade, sometimes wandering off on purpose, staying about 30 feet away from him at all times, growling and giving Logan that glazed over look of unconsiousness. The only good thing about this, though, is after he removes himself from the idea of hurting Logan (because if logaj were to become infected - HA! Your all fucked. Utterly fucked. The whole humanoid species would go extinct because he'd kill anything that moved) he feels more trusting of him and it's not uncommon for them to hug after either. Afterall Wade- Some how???- is still wade and is very affectionate and sensitive when its not returned.
This whole thing also makes him think worse about himself, kicking reflective objects or staring at himself in a shop window in utter shock and disgust with a face of 'thats me..?' While logans raiding the place for supplies.
Did you know zombies can cry? Well, Wade could. Not a lot, only able to get a bit of liquid from dehydration, but sometimes Logan will catch him just... sitting there.. crying. Upset with himself for being bit. Upset with himself for trying to bite logan all the time. Upset at how ugly he is. Upset that he's starving all the time. Upset that he can't even talk to anyone, and Logan just has to guess what he's saying 90% of the time. Bro is literally
When they DO find Laura and Gabby, the girls are doing great. Laura was going to blow wades head off until Gabby ran in the shot, hugging him instantly, only to be ripped away.
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"Of course my dad is the weirdo married to a zombie." Laura grunts, but is secrelty happy that wade is still 'alive'
Gabby, being as young as she is, thinks it's so SICK that her dad is a zombie now, giggling when he talks to her and holding his hand. She's not allowed near him for long, and not at all by herself, but Gabby bassically becomes Wades number one supporter, defending him when he messes up and snaps at laura.
"He's just hungry!! He's not bad! It's not bad to be hungry!" She'll say. "You wouldn't kill me if I was hungry.." she tells her bigger, more survival oriented sister whos suggested putting wade out of his misery, for his own sake. "I tried that... he found me again 3 days later." Logan tells her with a pang in his chest. It had taken everything in him to kill him the first time, and sobbed himself to sleep the next 2 days. By the third when he noticed Wade following him from a distance he couldn't believe it.
Not even the apocalypse could keep them away from each other..
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sparklingsora · 3 days ago
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the draw 4 ships meme but it's Oops! All Manosouta!
I love how pretty much every manosouta shipper has their own au so i wanted to draw some of em... so many flavours of horse and monkey.......
1 - my spies are forever au! look uhhh i dont rly have anything for this one aside from a short animatic and a half finished google doc so just go watch spies are forever (it is free to watch on youtube) and you shall see my vision ok
2 - @attorneytrash's assassin au! this one is what got me into manosouta in the first place! i think about it so much......... carousel is still one of my favourite, if not THE favourite fic of all time. argh. so good. tumblr user attorneytrash how does it feel to be the most correct person in the ace attorney fandom. literally my favourite creator in the fandom for years now i really love your work and your ideas!!!!!!!!!!!!!
3 - @sannam's prosecutor au....... yet another one from a creator whose work i really adore!!! da sillies........... i think about their goofy little office sitcom romance often........ it was between this and the mafia au but you've drawn more stuff for the prosecutor au so i figured i'd go with this one HEHE
4 - @fizzysgayassposting's knightley lives au, aka check[mate]! man i've already sung this one's praises. i've written a fic for it. i've made an animatic. it's awesome! the golden ending! they happy.........
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atlabeth · 2 days ago
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i crumble completely (when you cry)
pairing: sebastian sallow x fem ravenclaw reader
summary: there's only one way to get into salazar slytherin's scriptorium.
a/n: hogwarts legacy was 70% off, i bought it and it's good but not good enough in all the ways that matter so im fixing it for myself. no i dont know why this is where my inspo is when i have so much unfinished stuff but just go with it
wc: 2.1k
warning(s): angst but hurt/comfort angst! a more in depth scriptorium scene so crucio is used but this is from seb's pov so lighter descriptions of all that fun stuff
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“Ominis, you have to.”
“I’m not doing it!” he exclaimed. “What do you not get?”
“Would you rather die here?” Sebastian spat. “Because if you don’t, that’s what will happen. And I’ve become rather fond of my life over these past few minutes.” 
“I refuse to use dark magic,” Ominis seethed. “You of all people should understand, Sebastian!” 
“I don’t understand why you’d let us die instead of casting one spell!”
He barked an incredulous laugh. “It is not just one spell! God, you—”
“Can you do it?” 
Sebastian’s anger faltered for a moment when you spoke up, and he frowned when he saw you were looking at him. “What?” 
“Can you do it?” you repeated. “Can you cast the curse?” 
“I—” His mouth fell open and shut as he looked between you and Ominis, before they finally settled on you. “—I think so. Not well, but—”
“Then you can do it,” you said. “Cast it on me, and we’ll be out of this mess.”
Sebastian’s eyes widened as he said your name in disbelief. “You can’t be serious!”
You stared at him. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
“You’re being ridiculous,” Ominis cut in. “I know what it feels like—you’re not putting yourself through that. We’ll find another way.”
“There is no other way.” You gestured at the letters on the ground, his aunt’s last mark on the world. “You’ve got the answer right here, and a willing victim. What are you waiting for?”
Sebastian grimaced. “Calling yourself a victim isn’t helping.”
“The only reason you’re willing is because you don’t know what you’re signing up for.” Ominis’s blank gaze pointed at the ground, but his sharp words hit you all the same. “It’s unimaginable, excruciating pain. Every one of your nerves exploding, your bones being crushed to dust, your blood turning to fire. You will never forget what it feels like.”
You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the chill settling over you. “Well, it’s either that or we sit around here until we die.”
“Even if he wanted to—”
“Which I don’t!” Sebastian cut in. 
“He would have to really mean it,” Ominis finished. 
“Again, which I don’t!” he exclaimed. 
“That just means it won’t hurt as much,” you said. “Should take away some of your reservations.”
Sebastian huffed. “There is something wrong with you.”
“And you were all for this when it would be Ominis casting it on me?” you asked, tilting your head.
“I— I figured he would cast it on me!” His eyes widened. “I— I could teach it to you, and you could cast it on me!”
“Will the two of you stop bickering?” Ominis asked. “It’s not making this any better.” 
“Of course,” you nodded. “Sebastian will cast the Cruciatus Curse on me, and we’ll be out of here. Okay?” 
Sebastian stared at you, your steely gaze having already met his. You’d always been stubborn, unyielding—he’d known it since you bested him in a duel in your first ever meeting. 
Ravenclaw hardheadedness, he figured. Always assuming you knew best (you usually did), that you were right (you usually were), that you could handle whatever ended up in your path (you usually could). 
And here you were, standing right in front of him, those determined eyes unwavering as you practically begged him to cast an Unforgivable Curse on you. 
Did you know that he wasn’t even sure he could cast it on you? Not just because it was near unthinkable, but because he had no idea if he could scrounge up enough ill will towards you to even partially want to hurt you. 
Did you know that you were the reason he’d started doing better in classes? That, no matter how much he complained about your study sessions together, that he could have been doing something much more productive, he treasured every moment with you? 
Did you even know that the mere thought of causing you pain made him want to retch? That, yes, he may very well choose death over imparting the torture curse on you? 
Did you even know how he felt about you? 
Sebastian pulled his wand out his robes, his grip tightening in an effort to stop his hand from shaking. “You’re sure about this.” 
You nodded. “It won’t leave any physical wounds. It’ll be over sooner than you know it.” 
He huffed as he glanced away. “You shouldn’t be the one reassuring me.” 
“I don’t mind,” you shrugged. “Just… buy me a pint of butterbeer when we get out of here. Then we’ll be square.” 
“You’re not exactly aiming high,” Sebastian said wryly. 
You smiled. “My mum always told me it was the simple things. Now, do it before I lose my nerve.” 
He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, once, twice, three times as he adjusted his hold on his wand. He closed his eyes as he tried to remember the wand movement, but instead, he saw your face. 
The first time he met you, when you embarrassed him in front of the whole class by beating him ina duel. When you asked him to take you to Hogsmeade for the first time, and you ended up taking down a troll—how beautiful you looked with the glow of exertion beneath your skin, when you turned to him with the widest (and maybe first) smile he’d ever seen from you in the wake of your efforts. 
How could he do something like this to you?
He pushed the doubt down. There was no other way. You wanted him to do it—wanted him to save them all from a very boring, very preventable death. 
Something in the scriptorium could save Anne. That was worth anything. 
Sebastian took in a deep breath. He brought forth every negative thought—the goblin that cursed his sister, his housemates that believed in nothing but blood purity, his uncle that refused to believe in him, refused to even try to save Anne. 
None of it to do with you, who had done nothing but support him since you helped him up from the ground after pummeling him into it, but he tried to project it onto you anyways. 
He raised his wand. 
He opened his eyes—your gaze hadn’t moved. They showed no fear, no anger, no emotion at all but steely determination. 
“Crucio!” 
Red light arced from his wand to your body. You crumpled to your knees the instant the spell reached you, skull-splintering screams echoing throughout the small room as the curse wrapped its way around you. 
Your scarf fell from your neck, your robes pooled around you, your knees and palms scraped the stone as you tried to support yourself in any way. Your agonized wails were deafening, and Sebastian nearly lost it right then and there, nausea rising in his throat. Ominis’s blank, widened gaze fell on the wall, his hands clenched into fists as he fought to keep his expression even. 
You were one of the strongest people Sebastian knew. Always infallible, always so smart, so level headed in the face of his impulsivity. Naturally gifted at magic, and somehow willing to tolerate him. And he’d been forced to reduce you to this. 
But it worked. Your screams of pure torment unlocked something in Salazar Slytherin’s sick design, and the door of tortured faces pulsed with red energy before sliding into the stone. 
Sebastian rushed over the moment the door started to open, his wand falling from his grasp in his haste and his eyes wide with fear and concern. He went to touch you, but stopped just before he could—he didn’t want to hurt you more. Your entire body rose and fell with your beleaguered breaths as you rolled on your side, your every movement labored. 
“I’m so sorry,” he breathed. “I— I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
You couldn’t respond, the pain still arcing its way through your body despite the curse being done. You inhaled sharply as your eyes screwed shut, and you nodded. 
“You’re clearly not okay.” The slight waver in Ominis’s voice betrayed his unaffected stature. “That was remarkably stupid.”
“Ominis—” Sebastian started, but you shook your head. 
“It worked,” you interrupted as you lifted a shaky hand to point at the now revealed scriptorium. “Couldn’t… couldn’t be too stupid… could it?”
“There is something wrong with you,” he whispered. You could only manage a pained laugh at his words. 
Sebastian stayed there with you as you fought through the last few convulsions—he said nothing when you grabbed his hand, bit back his wince when you squeezed tighter than a vice. After what you just went through, he could bear something so small. 
Your breathing was still labored when he finally helped you up. Your legs nearly collapsed beneath you, but he kept you upright. 
“You’re okay,” he whispered, desperate to reassure you. “You— you’re okay.”
“I told you I would be,” you said. 
“You did,” he conceded. “I keep forgetting you’re always right.” 
He got the slightest smile from you at that. Sebastian glanced over when he heard footsteps, and he saw Ominis approaching. His whole body still held a tenseness, but he was sure it was for a different reason this time. 
“…You took that well,” he finally said, and he held out your scarf. 
Again, another laugh and another wince. “I really didn’t. But thank you.” 
You reached for the scarf, but Sebastian got to it first. He gently draped it around your neck, taking special care to keep the Ravenclaw emblem in the front. You had a lot of pride in your house. 
“How’s that?” he asked softly. 
“Perfect,” you nodded. “Thank you.” 
He nodded too, and Ominis cleared his throat. Sebastian turned back to him, his cheeks tinted slightly pink. Ominis held his wand, and he took it back before shoving it back into his robes. Casting any sort of spell felt dirtied right now. 
“Thank you,” he said. “I… I’m sorry about all this.” 
“…Thank you,” Ominis echoed. “Let’s just get out of here before any more of Slytherin’s tricks find us.” 
“No arguments here,” you mumbled. 
Ominis walked in, and though your eyes followed him, you lingered back with Sebastian. He still supported you, one of his arms interlocked with yours. A part of him was worried that you would collapse again the second he stepped away. He could feel your chilled skin even through your robes—no wonder you always wore your scarf. You ran colder than a mermaid. 
“I’m so sorry,” Sebastian said quietly. 
“You already said that.” 
“Because it’s true,” he said. “These curses are unforgivable for a reason. You never should have had to go through this.” 
“Well, I forgive you,” you said. “We had no choice, and I asked you to do it. And,” you gave him a wry look, “it didn’t hurt that much, so you clearly didn’t mean it.” 
He couldn’t even laugh at that—he kept hearing your piercing screams, agony beyond all reason. He would surely hear them for weeks to come in his sleep, see your prone form every time he closed his eyes. 
He felt you nudge him in the side. “Hey. Perk up. I’m okay. Besides,” you gave him a sideways smile, “Rowena would be proud. Anything in the name of knowledge, eh?” 
That got the slightest of smiles out of him, and he shook his head. “There’s—” 
“Something wrong with me, I know. That’s the third time today.” You tilted your head towards the scriptorium. “Now, shall we get what we suffered for?” 
Sebastian nodded, and the two of you walked in, him still supporting you. Ominis had already made his way up the stairs—he really did want to get out as soon as possible. You had your wand in your free hand and had already murmured a quick Revelio, eyes darting around in an effort to unearth any secrets. 
“That brain of yours never stops, does it?” 
Your lips quirked. “Never.” 
Another beat of silence as you searched the alcoves together. He couldn’t help but watch you—you were a Ravenclaw in her natural habitat. Your brow creased just so, your pretty features honed to a single point of focus, cycling through all your thoughts at breakneck speed despite what you just went through. It made his heart swell with something he couldn’t quite name, right beside a gnawing hole filled with guilt.  
“I really do owe you a pint,” Sebastian murmured.  
You laughed. Lighter, this time, and with only the slightest grimace. “Make that two.” 
A smile crossed his lips without him even thinking. Sebastian was so glad he had you in his life—he was only sorry he had to wait until fifth year. 
“Deal.”
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luv-beam · 1 day ago
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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)
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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.
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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 💀)
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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
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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
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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.
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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.
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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
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im so fucking upset.
finger trapped (ripped to its seams) ➵ ji changmin
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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
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present -> three weeks after the interview, 2024
the newsroom never sleeps. the rings of landlines and clacks of keyboards bounce off the four walls. through light bulbs or sunshine, light continues to remain. and at every corner, a journalist stands—ready to enter the depths of slumber but remain on their toes as they await for an update on their unraveling story.
but the newsroom is rarely busy unless there’s a major nationwide event, election season or the super bowl to name a few, for most journalists are out to discover what the world has to offer.
knowledge doesn’t only come from the chitchat of your coworkers. it’s only on the field that you’ll hear of hearsay and testimonies. after all, the choice to probe rests on your shoulders.
“there’s a typo over there.”
“huh? where?”
“over here,” you mumble as your finger darts to point at a section on the screen. “it’s supposed to say “in their climactic performance on road to kingdom,” not climatic.”
“ah, i see it now. sorry about that,” lee jihoon of digital development says as he corrects the error. his hair is disheveled from the hood that once perched on his head during the night he spent in the newsroom. you would’ve scolded the guy—go home and take a shower before you stink up the place—but you are no better, grouped with the other journalists who stayed up in the office.
“there we go. should be all good. now, are you ready to go through the profiles?”
an exhausted chuckle departs from your lips. “yeah, let’s go—”
“what’s the update?” life and arts editor kim namjoon—your editor—comes to you with a smile.
the grey hoodie he wears paired with comfortable jeans shows that he’s a little relaxed. for once, you don’t see him on his phone, battling the deadlines or getting pitched stories by the other editors. it’s a nice sight but one that won’t last for long.  
“we just finished going through the article about the group, so we still have yet to go through the profiles.” jihoon then looks at you. “i can’t believe you basically wrote 12 articles. like, 11 profiles and one main article is a lot. you didn’t want to work on it with anyone else?”
once namjoon stands beside you, you bump your shoulder against his figure. “i didn’t have a choice, did i?” it’s a rhetorical question but one your editor still chooses to answer.
“unfortunately, we’re understaffed, but it seemed like you got the hang of it. i wouldn’t have trusted anyone else to do it.” namjoon shoots you a smile before redirecting his attention back to jihoon. “and as much as i’d love to tell y/n more, we have to pick up the pace.” without any further questions, the three of you resume with work. 
there’s no time to waste in the journalism industry. still, his praise doesn’t go unnoticed. 
one article turned into eight done in a matter of 30 minutes, all with the help of three pairs of eyes to go through them. (namjoon seemed to carry the heavy lifting. after all, the guy was trained to be quick in reading and spotting errors.)
it should’ve been easy to keep up with your editor for all the other articles; you know each profile like the back of your hand.
then, the face of a boy who you once knew sits on the screen.
his gaze seems to pierce through your soul, almost in the same way you last talked to him. the loose ends of composure slip through your fingers; your breath’s stuck in your throat as the hammering of your heart fills your ears. yet, he stands still on the monitor.
as your eyes drift through the passages you’ve written, every sound is drowned out. the voice of your editor fades like the everchanging seasons and the clicks of the keyboard resemble the sobs you let out in the comfort of your childhood room.
and suddenly, the hands of the clock have turned all the way back to 2014. the cubicles transformed into aisles of chips and instant ramen, and you hear mr. kim’s voice in the distance—i have some hotteok! fresh from the pan! but amidst it all, you hear the giggles of the boy, your best friend, as he rushes towards you—i’ll go audition and make you proud. as your arm is wrapped with the heat of his fingers, you almost believe that your life as a journalist is nothing but a dream—
“i knew him.” the illusion disappears within a blink of an eye. namjoon’s eyes snap towards you and jihoon stops scrolling through the website. “we went to the same high school.”
you aren’t sure why you revealed that to your coworkers, let alone your boss. it’s an old memory—your weight to carry. before you can apologize for disrupting their work, namjoon’s hand rests on your shoulder, his thumb drawing shapes into it. when you look over at him, you’re greeted by his smile. it resembles your bed after a long day of work or a slow day at the newsroom.
but it never lives up to him, whose giggles resemble nature’s symphonies. the two shots of espresso you need at the start of the day once came in the form of his warm embrace. most of all, his smile is enough to illuminate the world even through the strongest storms and times when power went out.
for the remaining articles, not a single word leaves you. before you know it, all 12 articles were ready to go up on the web.
“that’s all of it. should i still schedule them to go up around 12 p.m.?” jihoon notes as he saves the drafts.
“yeah, 12 p.m. still sounds good. thanks a lot.” namjoon nudges his shoulder before looking over to you. “let’s talk in my office.”
you don’t question his orders. once namjoon takes off, you follow him all the way to his office. as he swings the door open, you are met with the familiar sight of his workspace. hues of green and brown mix, where nature and art meet within the space of corporate.
once namjoon takes a seat on his chair, you find your spot across from him. his eyes stare off to the window. for a moment, you’re not sure what to expect from this impromptu meeting.
seconds pass and not a single word has been said—
“this place’s always alive,” your editor breaks the silence. “don’t you think so?”
you follow his line of sight. busy seoul never changes; the skyscrapers pollute the sky and the people never sleep, off to work or off to party.
“where’d you grow up again?”
you look back at namjoon whose eyes still remain locked on the city. “cheongju.”
he hums. “i haven’t been there. nice place?”
“yeah, but i haven’t gone back in a while.”
“when was the last time?” his eyes finally meet yours.
your teeth grasp the inside of your cheek. “2014, since i first left,” you admit. 
“do you miss it?”
you’re not sure how to answer. the pavements you’ve scraped your knees against and the walls your laughs bounced off of—do you miss them all? or is the reason behind your laughter and scabs the one you long for?
“is that why you were hesitant about interviewing them?” namjoon’s thumbs fiddle with each other. “because of your history with him?”
now, you stare at your linked hands. maybe the silence from you is enough to answer his question but you know namjoon would never settle for a soundless answer.
“i—i’m not a good person. and even if i didn’t make the choice to leave, i—” you hold yourself back. your fingers start to pick on the skin around your thumbs, peeling it so blood can spill. 
“it’s okay, i understand. you don’t have to share it with me.” your eyes drift back to namjoon, spotting a small smile that rests on his face. “it must’ve been hard to relive it all.”
the bond you have with namjoon is one that you hold close to your heart. through his mentorship, you got to learn about what it means to be a writer. the fears of being a journalist would loom over you, where questions of salary and demanding work hours would occupy your mind, but namjoon became someone who would absolve them all. he became a pillar in your life, one that provides you hope and comfort within the industry.
“so, don’t feel pressured to talk about it. but if you ever want to open up about it, then i’ll be here.”
namjoon’s giving you an exit. are you willing to take it?
you cross your arms as you lean back into the chair. “you know how i was a science major then?”
“yeah, i remember looking over your resume. and then i saw that you were part of your university’s publication.”
your tongue pushes against the inside of your cheek. “i would’ve gotten some job in that field, like, i had it lined up for me.”
“really? like lab coat and all?”
as namjoon attempts to hold back his laugh over the image, you chuckle along. “yeah, lab coat and all! it’s crazy how my life was all set for that field, but i’m here now.” you look down at your arms. “i think just facing him in a completely different field that i once used to imagine with him was just strange. but i think hearing his answers really did it for me.”
namjoon nods at your words. “care to have lunch with me?” your eyes snap back to your editor. “i’m guessing you want to talk about it, after all.”
all you do is smile before getting off your seat.
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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.
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“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.)
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.)
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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“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.
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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.
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tag list: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @mosviqu @vernyangel @stealanity @deobi0412 @blue-rainydays @maessseongs @dearly-somber
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blucactus112 · 2 days ago
Text
May never come to reality but im planning out a Animatic to AJR's 'Maybe Man' (sue me) and need some help filling in some of the parts.
(Its probably going to be about all the life series in general not specifically Wild life. but feel free to try it fit it all in one series)
!!!long post incoming!!!
General plan so far:
First Half(ish) will be calmly looking at hermits in their peaceful habitats talking about their insecurities.
Finishing the first half when we get to the god part it will be Grian before life series started pleading to watchers and becoming one himself then cutting to him and all the other lifers standing around in a circle (like the start of each series) (much wow)
ONE. TWO. PANDEMONIUM.
murder, just all of the scenes of people dying biggest polt twist, betrayals, and Amount of kills.
Also specifically a close up of grain seeing the server burning in the reflection of his eyes.
ending with another shot of the beginning of a server but we see grains eyes which are weathered and worn out and maybe has some watcher purple
Specific Lines:
Wish I was a stone, so I couldn't feel You'd yell in my face, it'd be no big deal But I'd miss the way we make up and smile Don't want to be stone, I changed my mind
Im thinking scar and Grian Desert Duo? also could be
I wish I had eyes in the back of my head Then I could see the places I've been But then I would know that you're talkin' shit I don't wanna know what my friends think
This im Deff thinking cleo bigb scott and lizzie from the Boogeyman series (i forgor wich one that is)
but open to other ideas
Wish I were my dog out on the lawn I'd be so glad when I hear you come home But if I were my dog, I wouldn't live long I'm sure gonna miss her when she's gone
This is pearl playing with a dog, you cannot fucking make me change my mind
I wish I could act in a show on TV 'Cause then I could practice not bein' me I'll practice my cry, put it into my reel But you won't believe me when I cry for real
im either thinking like Ren or Martyn because of the acting thing or one of the scenes usually portrayed as lots of crying (ie Scott at the end of double life)
I wish that my brain would triple in size I'd nail every joke, I'd win every fight But I'd get too deep with that kind of mind I don't wanna know the point of life
ive been thinking of this as jimmy in general but also i dont want to be mean so other ideas would be great
In some other life I would be rich I'd travel in style, I'd cover the bill But couldn't complain 'bout anything small Nobody'd feel bad for me at all
havent given much thought for ones after this but im thinking Scar on Magic mountain trying to scam everyone?
If I was cocaine or a bottle of Jack I'd get invited to every frat But when you get old and your good days have passed You'll only want me when you're sad
have there been any people that bounce between alliances during one series?
Wish I was a song, your favorite one You'd follow the dance to me at your prom I would be there when your baby is born For two or three minutes, then I'm gone
there was at least one dande floor that was a trap, right??
I wish I was big, as big as my house I'd sleep on the trees, I'd skip every crowd But I wouldn't fit on my therapist's couch God, I could really use him now
probably ep1 of WildLife
I wish I was God, I'd never trip up And if I did, well, so fuckin' what? I could be cruel and break all your stuff Yeah, I'd be loved no matter what
pov grain angst
grain is on super windy mountain top surrounded by watchers crying, pleading to them
But if I was God, it'd get kinda weird 'Cause you would only say what I wanna hear And then you would die, you'd love me to death I never know who the hell I am
grian is surrounded by purple light wings and eyes becoming at least in part, a watcher
I wish I was me, whoever that is I could just be and not give a shit Hey, I'll be whatever makes you a fan 'Cause I don't know who the hell I am
cut to peaceful tranquil plains, all of them jn a circle at beginning of life series laughing joking shaking hands hugging (set em up for emotional damage)
One, two, pandemonium
black, black, PAN DE MONIUM
cut to destruction of server only using reds browns and blacks showing carnage this series has brought (and yes ofc player has died messages will appear in the corner as if in chat)
One, two, pandemonium
im thinking each line will be each of the series in chronological order
Here I go again
One, two, pandemonium
Here I go again
One, two, pandemonium
One, two-
Here I go again
cut to beginning of ?wild life? they all have scars when their final kills have been, some look tired some look determined
if you end up making this animatic if you want to put me in the credits as like 'inspired by' :3 but honestly idc that much. but you HAVE to tell me if you post one bc i will watch the hell out of that
#god i need more tags
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wastemanjohn · 3 days ago
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TW misogyny emotional abuse sexual assault
i am not going to use the term 4b movement for this post because I have recently become aware it has problematic/transphobic associations. however the idea of decentering men - not dating men, not marrying men, not having sex with men, not having children with men - is gaining traction for a reason. it was gaining traction before the US election, and after yesterday - well. i don't need to explain do i?
it's terrifying. the hatred of women. the enjoyment of the hatred of women, the revelling in the hatred. the women who join in with the hatred, maybe thinking they're different. maybe thinking they'll be spared from it. that they can camouflage, hide somehow.
it won't work.
on a more individual level, so many of us have fucking had enough. we are tired. we are sick of the podcast bros demeaning us for our "body counts." we are done with the constant policing and control of what we do with our bodies, and in america's case the very real and terrifying threat to life and health that has arisen from that. we are done with the daily objectification, humiliation and harassment. we are done with weaponised incompetence, we are done with having our careers and areas of knowledge mansplained to us, we are done with being sluts and prudes and always being wrong no matter what.
can you blame us? can you really fucking blame us?
men are conditioned to hate us. some recognise that and work on it. unfortunately, many, many more do not.
the first time i heard labour by paris paloma i bawled my eyes out and couldn't entirely understand why.
the first time i read the husband stitch by carmen maria machado i bawled my eyes out and couldn't entirely understand why.
i understand now.
i think many of us have quietly stopped dating men before we even knew there was a movement around it. at least it seems that way to me. but just speaking on my own experience - i haven't really been dating men since early 2023. i briefly dated men again a few months back; i abruptly stopped because it sucked. because, hand on my heart, since i stopped dating men - i have never been happier, freer, and more secure in myself. i have never been more fucking content.
my life is beautiful now. i have my wonderful friendships. i have my loving bonkers family. i have my career, i have my aspirations, i have my wealth of interests and hobbies, i have my beautiful (four legged) sons. all of these things are so much sweeter when i can enjoy them in peace.
peace; when i'm not picking up after him because he can't be bothered to walk two feet to put his dirty underwear in the laundry basket. when i'm not heartbroken for months because i thought i was going to marry him but he had another long term girlfriend and a whole other life that he kept secret from me for so embarrassingly long. when i'm not doing mental gymnastics to excuse that time he made jokes about my sexual abuse, when he was the first person i really told, or the time he didn't comfort me and didn't understand why i was so upset when another ex of mine was in court for viewing CSAM. when i'm not spending another weekend alone due to him cancelling at the last minute yet again for his mates. when i'm not feeling vulnerable and confused because we've negotiated a scene and he purposely crosses my limits because it's hot to him (so many times). when i dont have to listen to everyone say what a nice guy he is but he's been pressuring me for nudes for the last two weeks.
when he can't handle my proportionate emotions and suggests i'm just being mentally ill when i'm trying to communicate that he's hurt me. when he tells me it's a good thing i've taken up dance because i'll get more toned and be able to open my legs wider. when he drives really fast and erratic because he's pissed off with me and wants to scare me. when he lies to me about having huntington's disease so i won't break up with him.
every one of these is a different guy BTW. and this is just off the top of my head.
how many stories do you have?
anyway 100/10 highly recommend being a spinster with cats. society hates strong, self assured women who can make it alone. i have never wanted to be that woman more.
and no - before anyone comes at me I am not saying all men are monsters or that only men are abusive. i do not hate men just for being men. i have some great men in my life as friends and family. i am merely making the right choice for me based on my experiences, based on how hostile the current climate is towards women, and i support the fuck out of anyone who is doing or wants to do the same. sorrows and fucking prayers to anyone who has a problem with that.
i don't see why i should keep my experiences to myself. why any of us should.
my DMs are open for anyone who needs someone to talk to about this stuff.
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hayw1res · 4 hours ago
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stubborn princess and the silent knight.. !
a/n: ive been writing this for a month like guys life has been… life okay. ill do the kinktober list….. maybe soon . this isnt proofread and its kinda fast paced? idk guyys
warnings: drinking , kissing , “secret identity” , nothing 18+ yet folks
pairing: knight! megumi x princess! reader
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you hated it, oh how you hated your father - the king, your mother - the queen, you even hated the maids and various servants who called upon you to serve your every beck and call. you hated it all, but you loved looking from your terrance down to the knights in training, the boy with jet black hair and a scowl on his perfect face.. oh how you loved to think of him while you swooned over the side of the balcony, clutching your chest in hopes he didnt see you staring so intently. the way he sparred with almost little effort put into the fight, the way his sword always glistened from his upkeep, the way hed wipe the sweat from his brow, but constantly ask to continue fighting.
oh everything about him was just so dreamy.. you'd write in your diary about him. about your fantasies.. about how you wished to be together one day - for him to teach you the way of the sword and for you to tend to his wounds when he ever gotten hurt.. you ached for just a sentence to fall from his pretty lips, just for one day call you his own.. to call you his princess.
your fantasy cut short when your father called you down for supper, he wasn't a bad man, he was no tyrant.. but you fell victim to his expectations. you were nearing 20 , unmarried and still unwilling to court- your parents started to grow impatient..almost everyday a new prince from a "far away kingdom" would trot his was to your throne to ask your hand in marriage, each answer stayed the same... a big fat no.
"my dear.. the prince of homsworth would make a fine husband would he not?
your father spoke, it broke you from your daydream.
"father, i dont need to wed yet.. besides wouldn't you rather i fall in love? have a man swoop me off my feet rather than settle for the next prince up.." you muttered the last part to yourself, your mother clearing her throat after you
"me and your father courted young- we didnt know it then but we were in love.. how shall you know love if you never experience it-" she went on and on, during about responsibility and what a good princess should act like... this talk again, always on and on about how a princess shall act - how a princess shall talk - how she shall dress.. all of it went through one ear and out the other.
supper always went this way, they argue and dispute about your unwillingness to marry, you tell them no and finish dinner, then you run away to your room and rest the night away.. you were used to this song and dance already- you lived the same day over and over again without fail.. it was tiresome. just as you were about to place your napkin on the table and push your chair away to excuse yourself, your father stopped you.
"ive arranged something, darling.. an escort. we are worried about you" he says kindly as he motions for one if the knights to step forward, dawned in nothing but chainmail and metallic clothing, the knight bows to you.
"he. is your personal knight. for your safety and for my own concern of you... sneaking out at night." the king adds on, your mother nodding in agreement. sneaking out? how dare they assume you of such low standard.. you may hate the constant reminder but - you still were a princess.. the future ruler of this kingdom.
"id never. you say with a scoff, standing up to excuse yourself, forgetting you now be followed by silent footsteps. they followed you from the grand hall, to the corridor, to the entrance of your bedroom. you huff and turn around, the idea of the knight following you everywhere both annoyed and excited you.. yes you hated the idea of not being able to sneak out anymore— but a knight? Your knight, that did anything you’d ask him to..
You sat and pondered at the door, awkwardly asking him if he were to follow you to your bedroom or stay out here- and much to your surprise the silent man turned to stand guard at your large double doors. You couldn’t help but think..when did he rest? when did he eat? when did he have time to do.. anything? so many questions remained unanswered as your infatuation grew- mixed with the curiosity of who was under that mask.. you hoped it was the boy with the jet black hair.
“well.. goodnight” you spoke quietly , receiving only a nod in return.
that started you nightly routine for months.
each and everyday he would follow you around, do small tasks you asked of him, and everynight he would stand guard outside your doors. you wondered if he enjoyed this or secretly hated you.. you wondered if you were even kind enough to him for him to enjoy his job.
“oh well..” you whisper to yourself at night as you covered your body with the thick blankets given to you from the maidens.. winter was coming fast.
the next morning you received notice that your knight would be gone for the day, apparently he was leading some other younger recruits in training, so you had a replacement ! he was much more.. talkative than what youre used to. you thought it was fun, speaking to him almost all day.
his name was yuji , he apparently been training here for years and is on the same rank as your knight which you learn is named megumi.
“megumi has always been like that, quiet i mean.. its not because he hates you he just takes a while opening up!” yuji heard all about it, he wanted you guys to be buddies. especially because he wanted to secretly also be buddies with the princess, but that was besides the point.
“im sure if you keep being kind to him, eventually he will start talking —maybe talk about his interests ! i think its just fighting though.. occasionally ill see him writing in a little journal too!” yuji exclaimed excitedly , you nod.. maybe that’s exactly what you’ll do.
the next few days went by quickly, you and yuji became a bit closer and your father started to slowly stop asking you about marriage since every single time you just ignore him or say “no” . today was the day megumi came back from training , unfortunately that meant yuji went back to his usual schedule but that didnt mean you couldn’t visit him!
megumi was stoic as always, standing beside you as you walked down the halls of your castle.. you sigh as you turn to look at him.. he still had that damn helmet on.
“I heard from Yuji that your name is Megumi.. is that true?” You ask , a basket in your arm as you prepared to go to the garden
megumi could only hum, at least you got that out of him..
“right.. you know my name of course. i didnt take yuji to be such a talker, i thought all you knights were strong silent types”
before you could reach for the door he already opened it for you, leading out to the large greenhouse you kept.. you smile and walk ahead of him.
the sun was bright today, though it was approaching winter it seemed the winds were lower .. a moderate temperature. you walked into the greenhouse and started to tend to your plants, picking off a few you wanted to add to the pots around the castle
“so.. do you do anything other than this?” you ask, trying to get the silent man to open up. he stays silent for a while.
“.. i enjoy sparring” he says finally, the deep rumble in his voice almost makes you crumble. you giggle at the answer.. of course he would enjoy something like that.
“right.. i see you guys usually from my balcony. it seems a bit harsh.. but i get it for practice” you continue picking flowers until the basket is full, turning back to the knight
“its a wonderful day outside.. shame we have to stay indoors and miss the festival.” you catch him off guard, a princess such as yourself being interested in the commoners dance? he and yuji participated often, mainly because yuji enjoyed them most of all.. megumi only went to make sure yuji didnt do anything stupid. the knight let out a hum, a noise that almost startled you.
“sounds like you don’t believe me.. didnt father tell you why you are hired in the first place..?” You chuckle, picking up the basket of flowers .. he knew of the mischief you got up to at night.. he knew you would sneak out your bedroom window in a gown to fit in while you danced and drank with the common folk. he knew this all because you intrigued him.. from the moment he seen you watching his training on the balcony.
“.. yes” he said simply, following behind you back to your room as the sun began to set. you were surprised he said anything.. his deep but smooth voice almost made you melt
“i know you leave the castle often.. you come back smelling of booze but you look- happy almost..” he continued until you both reached the doors to your room.
“then..?” you turn to him, expecting him to just shut you down and make you go to bed.. but something about his demeanor today.
“then.. i hope you dont get hurt” he says under his breath, almost a silent way of telling you to enjoy yourself, of course he would be watching you all night anyways. he always did when you went out.. always.
the night progressed as usual, you went to your room and he guarded your door..except tonight was the night of the festival. at a shivering 2 am you dressed in a black gown and climbed out your bedroom window to join in on the festival! there was dancing and singing, chanting of prayers, drinks being passed about every which way, this is what you were missing being stuck in that godawful castle all your life, and now that you were older you were able to enjoy them to the fullest in secret.
you danced, you sang and you drank until you felt your body lighten and you never felt better. you couldn’t help but feel a pair of eyes lingering on you that night.. more than usual at least. you stumble and make your way to the path that lead to a hidden entrance to the castle, one close to your room. you heave as small breaths leave your body.
footsteps trail behind you and you freeze, usually you never had an issue with people following you home or drunkards stumbling on the path, almost always finding a way to slip away undetected. you start to speed up as much as your heels would allow on the rough terrain. you almost fall until a pair of arms catch you, fear washes over you for a second before you hear him.
“Are you alright..” His soft voice hit your ears and you sigh .. that voice again
“Fine…Fine now.” The adrenaline washed over you knowing it was just megumi, his hands felt soft.. you turned to look at him finally, but he wore a mask. go figure i guess.
“I guess.. we go home now?” You say , almost as if you were inviting him- like you don’t live together practically. You begin your walk he was silent for a while, just following you while you make your way to the castle.. going on and on about the festival as if you hadn’t experienced the same things. He didnt care though, he didnt care that you talked so much about your day because he wanted to hear it from your perspective.
The night was young , once you two made it back to the castle and your room..it was like your conversation made time go by faster.. talking to- or rather at him was refreshing. Even if he was just behind a mask.
“Want to just.. come sit inside?”
“..Okay..”
How did those few words end up with the two of you in a dark room, making out like a couple of teenagers? You couldnt tell.. you complimented his mask, almost got him to take it off.. he convinced you maybe its better to turn the lights off and you.. believed him.
Now the two of you sit on your bed, hands roaming eachothers bodies in a hot , steamy , messy makeout session.. tongues clashing in a battle for dominance you were slowly losing. You didnt even care that he were your knight.. you didnt care about anything other than how he felt right about now.
that feeling didnt last forever.. soon the gasping of air filled the area , you wanted more, needed it..
but your eyes shut gently .. you feel sleep taking you away and by the time you wake hes gone..
“ugh.. my head hurts..”
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notahorseindisguise · 2 days ago
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this feels like a really really cool idea to me! to those who dont understand, what this politician is suggesting is state owned servos. like he said in the caption, these would increase competition, hopefully getting rid of some of the price gouging on petrol, and also since theyre state owned, they would probably like . have a government body deciding what the max prices would be. meaning they cant inflate too high. also in the description those proposed changes sound SO GOOD!!! publishing fuel prices a day in advance ??? so you can know if itll be cheaper or more expensive tomorrow ???????? no more than one price change a day????????????? ONLY INCREASE BY 5 CENTS A DAY ???!?!?!?!??!?????? this shit is making me cream just thinking about it. and then guess what the comments are like
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because of course they are . people throwing around words they dont understand for some fucking reason . first off this is more socialism than communism afaik but i bet nobody in that comment section has any clue what the difference is. secondly having some competition owned by the government is NOT communism in any sense of the word !!! because there are still privately owned service stations !!!! theyre just competing with publicly owned ones now !!!!! its still fucking capitalism you dumb ass fucking cunts. making us look like fucking yanks when you throw around that word like a slur for anything you feel is too helpful. anyway. this seems like a really good idea on paper and i dont know much about qld politics but i hope it goes into action
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tales-of-wocdes · 2 days ago
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i hope im not asking for spoilers but what this game is actually about like living with trauma in the orpanage or something more? Because tbh im really curious about the story but im not really sure what else it can be about (please dont take it as hate😭😭) i was thinking like - learning magic and defeating the bad guy at the end of ch2 but i dont really think this game will be focused that much on revange/fighting.
Anyways im sure whatever youll create ill amd many more people will be happy because its so well written that i feel like you could just write a 1000 word story about a rock and id be so invested ill cry (youre an amazing writter and im glad im able to see your art)
Thank you! It is surreal to hear people say things like that. I'll see about the rock story at some point....
No worries, I am not so easy to offend :D It is a good question. And the answer is scary. Because it makes me doubt if we ever get there. Because the answer is that it is both about living with the trauma, and something more.
You can read the pinned post for some idea about the "overall" direction that is planned.
The rest will talk about what I would imagine the structure to be like and what I have divided it into in my notes. Read at your own peril. And also know that this is a very long term plan.
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So the basic idea is that we have these "acts"
Where MC is at this age. The current act. The start of the journey so to speak. Getting used to life outside the "void". Everything is odd and new. Possibly a short time skip (weeks, months) during this act; or just make it into a new act.
2. MC is still a child but a couple of years into living at the orphanage. Basically the "living with trauma in the orphanage". This would be the phase where say MC is used to living at the orphanage, might get to venture out into the city. Is getting lessons about normal stuff.
3. MC is a teen/young adult in training. MC is actively in training and learning to fight.
4. MC is an adult. (The name of the IF and the pinned post do state what MC is supposed to become). MC goes out into the world with some companions to fulfill their duty.
Now does this make sense? There is a bigger background story but you can't really tell too much about it from this outline :D That bad guy at the end of C2 is supposed to start setting up some of the bigger background. Though I will freely admit, that it might be a tad too early for that interlude... but I can just move it a bit later if needed. I had it written so I included it :D I do things like that.
And this is not at all locked into stone. It is massively ambitious, meant to span a long time. I have already been quite honest that my outlines suck so who knows what will happen :D
I am taking it one day at a time, and refusing to worry about it too much :D Chipping away at it one tiny piece at a time.
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vavoom-sorted-art · 3 days ago
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i just randomly remembered a fic i thought youd reblogged, but i scrolled pretty far down your good omens and fic recs tags, but i couldnt find it! i was hoping either you remembered what it was, or if someone following you does
there was an art piece to go alongside it (i dont remember much of it - i think crowley was on the floor but im not sure? perhaps there were ropes? my memory is so bad), and the fic itself was basically crowley and aziraphale roleplaying as aziraphale being a holy angel and crowley being a temptress demon, with aziraphale having defeated him - in sort of a consensual dubcon situation? im probably explaining this so poorly but i just remembered how good the fic was and it's not in my ao3 history 💔
Ohh I'm afraid I have no idea which one you mean 🥲 it doesn't sound like something I would read... The only one remotely close (which I don't think I rb'ed either) is show me how ruin makes a home out of hip bones by NaroMoreau which includes some pretty epic Aziraphale True Form fuckery, but I don't think it's the one you're looking for.
Can anyone here help?
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the-ghost-rat · 3 days ago
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Hey maybe @ me next time you decide to screenshot my post n take it out of context to defend your precious white sad boy(tm) thanks 😁
I never said valetine wasnt a bad boyfriend-he was but to use him specifically to act lik ppl legitmently think his a good boyfriend to dunk on ppl who dont like gill n dont think his a good boyfriend is stupid & says more about gill then it ever will valetine-out of ALL the men you could think. You SPECIFICALLY choose the character written to be a toxic boyfriend whos a closested gay to show that gill is actually a good boyfriend-listen to yourself , you cannot use a character who is blatently written to be an abusive boyfriend to compare him to a character whos supposed to be a good boyfriend n act like their definitely comparable , this entire argument relies on the idea that ppl love draculaura n valetines relationship when no one damn does your not supposed to love it, ppl love valetine bcus of his redemption arc- thats not the same as gill who your supposed to love him n lagoonas relationship
Dont pull a “but think about his situation-“ cus i been w ppl in his situation n they were still bad ppl themselves , they were litreal racists who would make me feel like utter ahit for just calling them out , you all constantly excuse gill cus he happened to have a racist family yet litrealy treat lagoona like shes “the aggressor” WHEN SHES THE FUCKING VICTIM OF IT. SHES THE ONE MOST FUCKING EFFECTED BY THIS. NOT GILL
I'm not gonna engage but like
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what??? Valentine still convinced girls he was pursuing them romantically just to steal their hearts??? which made him a bad boyfriend???what does the gay part that came later have to do with that????
anyways Gil is the most widely misunderstood and misrepresented character in g1 and yall can stay mad
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archiepelago · 16 days ago
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alternate surface au inspired by a few ive seen around on tumblr :3
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xxplastic-cubexx · 2 months ago
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more charles doodles because im still figuring out his face
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starry-bi-sky · 1 month ago
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Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)
TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.
(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)
This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.
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Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.
....
The kid is a surprise though.
Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.
There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.
The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.
The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.
He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.
A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.
At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.
Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.
Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"
The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."
Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.
"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."
He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.
The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.
"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.
The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.
Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.
The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.
Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."
#I have never seen Batman (2022) so really I'm just using battinson and crew as templates for my fic. but hey what else is new lol#dpxdc#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dp x dc#dpxdc crossover#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc fic#dpxdc au#dp x dc au#dpxdc fanfic#i dont know shit about detective work or true crime so forgive me for any bad terminology or incorrect procedure for how these things work#just a fun rough idea for how i imagined gordon's first meeting with nightingale goes LMAO. im sticking to the idea that danny doesn't#officially join the field for a *while* due to more than just health reasons. so his first appearances are brief and usually to give B smth#danny: im only here as express delivery for vader's little brother over there. yall stay safe tho.#bruce: *kill bill sirens bass-boosted* ohmygodwhatishedoinghere#batman: how did you get here... | danny: you have so many spare grappling hooks it was pr easy to just grab one and go#also danny is whispering on purpose because he doesn't have his ghost form to fall back on as a secret identity. so he *is* actually taking#extra steps to keep his identity safe. and people usually sound different when they're whispering. he also has personal beef with#office martinez despite the fact that they've never met. Danny's HEARD of his ass. he hATES his ass.#Martinez: *to batman* freak | danny: im going to Bite Him. | batman (reluctantly): hmr. please don't. | danny: im going for his shins#Martinez and Nightingale have this whole thing going on between the two of them. danny WILL slap a sticky note on Martinez's back that says#'asshole' on it and its the one spot square on his spine that martinez can't reach.#someone: why are you beefing with like. an actual 12 year old | martinez: HE'S A LITTLE RAT. THAT'S WHY. he's here to torment me#battinson: *did you grapple the whole way here* | danny: yah. it was kinda fun. i would've gotten here faster but i kept having to stop#battinson: *hnnn* im driving you back | danny:.. are you sure? | battinson already pulling him out of the room: y e s#i've been thinking about this for literally WEEKS. what did bruce forget? good question! i'll figure that out if or when i get to this#danny has Issues behind the word freak so its like a mini beserker button for him regardless of who the word is aimed at lol. lmao#martinez calls batman a freak once while nightingale is within range and its just the doom ost as danny simply Disappears from sight#like oops. you are now. In Danger. rip couldn't be me.#blood blossom au
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specshroom · 5 months ago
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Here me out for mer stuff
Maybe human is shipwrecked and a mer (perhaps one that keeps treasures like an octopus) saving you and keeping you in a little underground cave with an airbubble until you get better but you both start getting closer... maybe they become obsessed with you
You're stuck in the cold and a seal person or penguin person offers their body heat to you since it's very insulating... and theres otherways for them to make you even warmer
Getting passed around a pod of dolphins and otters cause they're very sexual and otters hold onto you as you rest between round since they hold hands with partners
Electric eels/lungfish giving you little shocks as it coils around you.
A deep sea angler lady with a hynotizing glow that wants you to be a part of her with all the other men she's absorbed.
A jellyfish who's tentacles secrete aphrodisiacs instead
Urchins with a super soft underbelly!!
A clam trapping you in their shell or an anemone keeping you within it
Betta fish wrapping you in their fins
Also imagine perhaps a parasite or amoeba from the water entering and forming a symbiosis with you... you have a bf in your head that speaks with you and though he can't touch you he can make you feel things by messing with your brain and bodily functions
Tha k u for entertaining me
ANON YOU'RE A MIND READER! I WAS JUST THINKING OF DOING A MARINE HYBRID POST!
It was gonna be like an addition to the bird hybrid post but I was having major writers block and I couldn't think of fuckall.
BUT YOU! UR SO BIG BRAINED OMG.
My faves were the:
• Octopus hoarding reader like treasure 🥺
• The electric eel shocks! Yesss
• I fucking hate dolphins cus they scare me but Otters on the other hand are soooo cute. Passing you around and just snuggling you into their soft fur when u need a quick nap. Have you seen the videos of otters massaging each other? Yes exactly like that.
• ooooh I just know the angler fish and the jellyfish hybrids would be so scary and intimidating in such a sexy way, uknow? Like "Oooo am I gonna eat you or fuck you? Oooo let's find out"
• The amoeba boyfriend is very interesting 🤔 especially since u can't really break up lmao. How would u even have disagreements? Because he's basically you? I definitely want to revisit this idea.
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