#considering all the world war two nonsense

[beesspacedotorg]

I'm a resident evil enjoyer and I just realized that the guy who created the whole virus that the game is centered around did all of that (human testing. mass murder. bioterrorism.) bc he wanted to live forever. he also kidnapped children at one point (they didn't die). it feeeeelllss vaguely antisemetic (it's a Japanese game. I wouldn't be surprised) BUT ALSO he's old and British and an aristocrat and that's just like a hobby for old rich people so who knows

[alonetimelover]

pairing: Ginger Spice's daughter!reader x Max Verstappen (ex-Harry Styles)

fc: Sabrina Carpenter

summary: After getting over her fear of getting into a relationship, YN started to 'soft launch' her new partner. Of course everybody knew who it was, but she wanted her fun. Harry didn't like it and still was petty. Max had had enough.

warnings: swearing, some suggestive comments, talk about verbal assault and not-so-great fist fight

masterlist part 1

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maxverstappen1 and yourinstagram added to their IG story!

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formula1gossip

liked by formula1fan84 and 200 383 others

formula1gossip With the one week break between Italian and Singapore Grand Prix, the two-time World Champion - Max Verstappen - was seen cozing up with a mysterious woman on his yacht near the Amalfi Coast. Any ideas who could that be?

view all 10 394 comments

maxfan94 my man is gone

maxfan958 making out on a yacht in a bright day? who is this man?

landofan48 not to be bold but i think i know exactly who that is

ynsmymama GUYS GUYS GUYS Ma'x story from yesterday and YN's were definitely one photo!

⤷ maxfan67 how?

⤷ ynsmybestie YN's story was the cropped version of Max's

ynsmybestie this is YN YSN, no thank you, i don't need confirmation - I KNOW

landonorris interesting

⤷ landofan49 WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE ?!

⤷ landonorris I LIKE GOSSIP

⤷ danielricciardo he's gonna kill you! prepare to end up in the wall on sunday, lando! nice knowing you!

⤷ landonorris mclaren i need new insurance

⤷ mclaren Fight your wars, Lando. Fight your own wars.

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yourinstagram

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 3 011 393 others

yourinstagram life lately has been exciting 💛

view all 99 202 comments

landonorris you rehearsing???

⤷ yourinstagram shhh, im making new music

landonorris will you be my photographer forever??

⤷ yourinstagram you only like the photo cause it's a thirst trap

⤷ landonorris shhhh, don't tell people

danielricciardo was the restaurant worth it?

⤷ yourinstagram you know it, dan

maxverstappen1 💛💛

carlossainz55 i like the fourth photo

⤷ yourinstagram I LIKE YOUUUUUUU

ynsmybestie WHAT IS THIS

ynsmybestie lando thirst trap???????

⤷ user84 he's not without a shirt though?

⤷ ynsmybestie HE DOESN'T NEED TO, HE'S STILL HOT

ynsmymama not only showing us that she's making new music but SOFT LAUNCHING ??? like if we didn't know already who that is

⤷ ynshands let's just pretend and see what happens

comment liked by yourinstagram and maxverstappen1

ynxmax no way that my ship has sailed no way

ynupdates new music when???

⤷ yourinstagram sooner than you think 🫣

user92 she already has a new boyfriend?

⤷ ynsmybestie already? it's been 6 months since it was made public that yn and harry broke up. and considering all the interviews and songs, they'd been broken up longer than that

⤷ ynsmymama you can say that or just shut your mouth user92

ynshands i just know that the last photo was taken after Singapore... that man was furious

⤷ maxandyn don't even... i'm blushing

⤷ ynsmybestie they all said that lando would end up in the wall and here he was on the 2nd place

⤷ ynsmymama the way that YN was cheering for Lando, knowing that Max had no chance anymore. this is a true friendship. and her jumping up and down at the podium ceremony????? I LOVE HER

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yourinstagram

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, danielricciardo and 3 383 032 others

yourinstagram got a man and here's the aftermath... NONSENSE EP is all yours to listen right now!

view all 42 394 comments

landonorris no problem yn for contributing to your cover photo! i am very thankful for the credit!

⤷ yourinstagram you know damn well why that credit is not there

⤷ landonorris but he took the photo with MY camera!

⤷ yourinstagram so i guess it's not my album because my pen wrote down the words

⤷ landonorris well, when you put it like that...

maxverstappen1 💛💛

⤷ ynsmybestie love me some man that comments same thing under my posts

danielricciardo STREAMING IT RIGHT NOW - KEEP YOU UPDATED

⤷ danielricciardo call it what you want - fit like a daydream? build a fire? starry eyes? yeah, he has those. you already wear that necklace he got you, don't you?

⤷ danielricciardo slut! - tangerine? what were you doing in the mclaren paddock, hmm?

⤷ danielricciardo bad for business - you've gone crazy, that's right. i've never seen you this crazily happy.

⤷ danielricciardo you are in love - i'll never forget the look in his eyes when he said "you are my best friend". and the photo on the desk is absolutely adorable (i'm going to be sick)

⤷ danielricciardo i think he knows - boyish look??? did you hear his jokes? he IS a boy! 26 yo and still a child. you'll drive? if he trusts you with the car you might as well get married, no kidding.

⤷ danielricciardo nonsense - WHY WOULD YOU RELEASE IT? WHY WHY WHY... I NEED TO BLEACH MY EYES AND DO SOMETHING MY MEMORY AND FORGET THIS SONGS EXIST. I WON'T BE ABLE TO LOOK BOTH OF YOU IN THE EYES NOW.

⤷ yourinstagram have you consider a career in doing yt reaction videos? you'd be gold

ynupdates i can't wait for twitter to react to all of these...

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danielricciardo, landonorris and maxverstappen1 added to their IG story!

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www.dailymail.com/harry_styles_confronted_max_verstappen

Harry Styles confronted Max Verstappen

Just last night after YN YSN's secret concert in Las Vegas, her ex-boyfriend, Mr Treat People With Kindness (Harry Styles) decided to 'bump into' his ex-lover and 'talk'. According to the fans on scene - it was aggressive, blatant and simply sad how Harry supposedly treated YSN.

When the concert ended and the lights went out, fans started to exit the venue and making their way home. Some of them decided to move to the back and patiently wait for the VIP people leaving. VIP list for that concert consisted of two World Champions - Lewis Hamilton and apparent new boyfriend of YN's - Max Verstappen, plus some of other F1 drivers. In the attendance were also YN's mum - Geri Horner and step-dad - Christian Horner.

Finally, YN went out first, but no one could even start asking anything when from thin air appeared Harry Styles - drunk and rocky. The yelling match started, which caught the attention of more people, but especially the said VIPs.

"Max literally flew from the doors and stood between Harry and YN. By that time, YN was crying and shaking from all the insults and swears that were spoken to her. Harry tried to move past Max, but he held him in place, placing a hand on Harry's chest. The singer didn't like it and pushed the driver. Now, the other drivers had also gone out and surrounded the trio. Two of them took care of YN and others were in place to eventually stop the fight. They couldn't. Harry took the first swing, but considering that he was drunk, Max could easily duck and wait for his turn. At the end, Max just went up to Harry and said something - looking him directly in the eyes, knuckles white and all that. Finally, they all left, leaving Harry there, sitting by the door. Max was holding YN so she wouldn't fall from all the shaking," said one of the witnesses.

Do you think that YN or Max will report an assault?

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yourinstagram added to her IG story!

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daniel3.jpg

liked by yourinstagram, maxverstappen1 and 1 004 931 others

daniel3.jpg yn and her nonsense boy whenever they're within half a meter radius

view all 84 493 comments

yourinstagram DANIEL JOSEPH RICCIARDO

yourinstagram what in the hell are you doing??

⤷ danielricciardo i'm soft launching

⤷ yourinstagram my relationship?

⤷ danielricciardo YOU SAID YOURSELF THAT YOU WANTED TO DO IT

⤷ yourinstagram YEAH ME! and there's nothing 'soft' about it

⤷ danielricciardo maybe i chose some risky photos

⤷ yourinstagram too late. he just left to give you a visit :))

⤷ landonorris pray for daniel people! the man may have a boyish look but his a mad man!

⤷ yourinstagram and then he's visiting you, lan

ynupdates that is max verstappen. if i ever saw max verstappen that's him

ynsmymama nonsense making sense know

ynsmybestie I love that they still play the 'soft launching' game when just few days ago she was singing about Max's BDE

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yourinstagram added to her IG story!

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yourinstagram

liked by maxvertsappen1, danielricciardo and 5 003 238 others

yourinstagram win, party, afterparty

SCREW SOFT LAUNCHING - MY BOYFRIEND IS A 3 TIME WORLD CHAMPION, WHAT ABOUT YOURS??

view all 339 492 comments

maxvertsappen1 MY GIRLFRIEND IS A NATIONAL TRESSURE

⤷ maxverstappen1 Did I do it right, yourinstagram?

⤷ yourinstagram YES YOU DID MY LOVE

maxverstappen1 I love you

⤷ yourinstagram I LOVE YOU

danielricciardo who are you and what have you done with yn?

⤷ yourinstagram that's the thing - I'm finally me, unapologetically

⤷ danielricciardo I couldn't be happier for my best friend for finding someone that makes her the best version of herself

⤷ yourinstagram you sap! love you, riccy ric

danielricciardo I thank heavens that Geri or Christian are not looking at you account

⤷ yourinstagram oh she does "dad's rethinking the christmas dinner invitation" was her text

landonorris got (love)sick all over my bed from this content

landonorris congratulations Max, you champ! and congrats yn for making it through the night

⤷ maxverstappen1 Thanks, Lando. And she did really good.

⤷ landonorris keep it in you pants, will you?

⤷ yourinstagram I'm done.

charles_leclerc Congratulations!

ynupdates daddy max??? what in the hell

ynsmymama all those photos scream: I HAD A NIGHT TO REMMEBER

⤷ yourinstagram i did.

maxfan49 i've never seen him happier

maxfan93 rue when was this?

⤷ maxverstappen1 Last night / this morning?

⤷ maxfan98 what. in. the. hell.

ynsfan49 they really said: i'm in love, i have great nights and i'm gonna make that everybody problem

liked by yourinstagram and maxverstappen1

ynsfan95 my boyfriend is graduating tomorrow with an engineer degree!

⤷ yourinstagram SLAYYY

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maxverstappen1

liked by yourinstagram, landonorris, danielricciardo and 2 002 182 others

maxverstappen1 You're my best friend. 💛💛

view all 200 385 comments

landonorris say thank you to the third wheel of the year, max

⤷ maxverstappen1 stop flirting with my girlfriend then

⤷ landonorris i know you're thankful

⤷ danielricciardo leave him, max. it's the only thing that was left for him - hopeless flirting

⤷ landonorris do you know the sentence that starts with f and ends with u and has uck yo in the middle?

danielricciardo mama y papa

⤷ yourinstagram someone take that phone away from you

⤷ maxverstappen1 You're older than us

yourinstagram got my heartbeat skipping down 16th avenue

⤷ danielricciardo are you quoting your own song?

⤷ yourinstagram no, i'm quoting words i said to him last night before falling asleep in his arms

liked by maxverstappen1 and 502 392 others

⤷ danielricciardo damn

charles_leclerc finally! i wouldn't be able to keep it a secret anymore

⤷ yourinstagram you spilled the beans to your engineers twenty minutes after we had told you

⤷ charles_leclerc but i didn't tell anybody else

⤷ pierregasly you told me!

⤷ georgerussell63 me too!

ynupdates SHE IS MY ROMAN EMPIRE TOO. YOU'RE NOT SPECIAL MAXIMUS

⤷ maxverstappen1 That's not my name!

⤷ yourinstagram Maximus??? i love it

ynsmybestie screw soft launching, leave it for Max to HARD launch

⤷ yourinstagram I thought I "hard" launched???

⤷ ynsmymama double meaning queen

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a/n: do we move on from this pair or crave some more drama?

[zepskies]

Lost on You - Part 8

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: Here we go. Diving into Nicaragua, and beyond…

Song Inspo: “Who’s Crying Now” by Journey

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Violence, implied torture, heavy angst (and a twist ending).

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

🎙️ Series Masterlist

Part 8: For Whom the Bell Tolls

March 1984

When you got into Payback, you didn’t sign up to be part of a war. You knew you weren’t a soldier, and frankly, the rest of you had no business being here either. This was a CIA base, being run by a no-nonsense officer, Grace Mallory. You had no intention of getting in her way.

Nicaragua was hot and surrounded by jungle, not exactly conducive to a leather suit. You kept to the shade by yourself and watched Swatto, Ben, and Gunpowder makes fools of themselves after Grace tore them a new one. You respected anyone who could go toe-to-toe with Ben without even flinching, especially as a non-supe.

Then again, he had poured on his usual “charm.”

“You know, with a figure like yours, you are wasted down here,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. Grace didn't even give him the time of day. Stan chimed in, presumably to explain Vought’s apparent “partnership” with the U.S. military for this mission. Ben walked away from her, barely glancing in your direction along the way.

That suited you just fine. Things had been frosty between you two for the past month, but as long as you stayed out of his way, he didn’t butt into yours.

Days later, you wanted nothing more than to go home. Sleeping in a tent was not your bag, and especially not using the restroom outdoors. Would it be considered desertion if you booked a flight home right now?

You escaped your tent with a huff, swatting mosquitos as you went. You’d tried to take an afternoon nap, but who could sleep in this heat?

“Not exactly a luxury suite, is it?” Black Noir said. You jolted, realizing he was standing just a few feet away without his mask on. It was refreshing to see his face, but you were still a bit sour toward him.

“Oh, you’re talking to me now?” you said dryly. You began walking toward the mess tent. Noir joined you.

“Well, it looks like you’re done playing your little game,” he said, raising his brows meaningfully at Soldier Boy. He seemed to be trying to chat up Mallory again.

Good fucking luck there, you thought. She already looked bored.

You turned to Noir with a flat look.

“We’re all playing a game, Irving. Just at different levels,” you said. “For example, what were you talking to Stan about?”

You’d seen them a couple of hours ago, hidden behind a fortified stone wall. Noir stopped walking. You were curious enough to follow suit.

“Something that could change everything for all of us,” he said. “You included.”

Your brows knitted together. “What’re you—”

Shots rang out in the clearing. Noir covered you when a grenade blasted the ground just a few feet away from you.

"You okay?" he asked in concern. You nodded shakily. He steadied you with a reassuring hold on your arms.

“Come on!” he said.

“What’s happening?” you exclaimed over the noise. You were terrified, and you definitely weren’t trained for this.

You let Noir lead you through the camp. When men in faded green uniforms came at you with guns, he took most of them out. You managed to duck under a man’s gun and touch his face, compelling him to sleep.

“There you are!” said Countess. She had the TNT Twins and Mindstorm in tow. For once, you were relieved to see them.

Finally you made it into a clearing where Ben was fighting with his shield at the ready. He punched out another enemy soldier who fell to the ground. He turned to see you, and then the others in your team beginning to surround him. You frowned in confusion and looked at Noir.

“What’re you doing?” you asked in worry. He glanced at you, but didn’t answer.

“What the fuck is this?!” Ben said angrily.

“Something we should’ve done a long time ago, you piece of shit,” Noir said, his tone icy and determined.

The TNT Twins attacked first. It managed to knock Ben to the ground. You were frozen in shock when Countess and Mindstorm joined in, along with Noir.

“Stop!” you said, but no one heard you. What the fuck is happening?!

They had Ben going for a minute, as their triple teaming managed to keep him on the ground…just not for long. With a grunt, he shoved them all away with a show of strength.

“Sirena!” Noir finally called to you, his gaze imploring you to help them. 

“No, stop!” you shouted back. You couldn’t watch this fight happen again. Because this time, Ben would kill him. He’d kill all of them.

You headed for Ben and Noir, but a gloved hand stopped you. It grabbed your wrist and turned you around, right into Countess’s waiting fist. You cried out and stumbled, but you found purchase on one of the stone walls. Before you could recover, she grabbed your shoulders and kneed you hard in the stomach.

Shit… You tasted blood when you went down, heaving for breath. She packed one hell of a punch in those little gloved fists.

“Been waiting for this, bitch,” she hissed from above you.

The second she got close enough, you grabbed her by her long hair and punched her as hard as you could in that fake-ass nose. Then you kicked out with both feet into her stomach. She doubled over and fell back on her ass.

You managed to roll and stumble onto your feet. You glanced over quick and saw that Ben was beating Noir within an inch of his life.

“Ben!” you shouted, wanting to stop him, but that was when Mindstorm stepped in front of you. His eyes met yours, and it became a battle of wills as he tried to shove you deep into the darkness of your inner world.

You could play mind games too though. You fought his hold, with every scrap of your consciousness, and you even managed to take a few steps forward. If you touched him, it would be over. As a man, he wouldn’t be able to withstand your own powers.

And your plan might’ve worked, if Countess hadn’t walloped you hard from behind.

When you woke, the bare room was bright with florescent lighting and cold beyond belief. You shuddered. You were no longer wearing your supe suit. Instead, you’d been dressed in some kind of gray hospital gown and a pair of woolly socks, stripped of even your boots. At least you still had underwear.

You uncurled yourself from the thin cot you were laying on. The room held little more than a prison cot, a toilet, and a sink. You let out a shaky breath.

Where the hell…

You got up slowly, mindful of your aches and pains throughout your body. The back of your head was throbbing too, courtesy of Countess, you slowly remembered.

That fucking bitch.

There was a door with a small glass windowpane. You tried to twist the handle, but of course it wouldn’t budge. You peered out of the window and saw a long hallway. There was a door just like yours on the opposite side with a small window.

“H-Hey!” you shouted. “Is anyone there? Hello?!”

A moment later, you heard Ben say your name, calling out to you. He sounded angry, but you were close enough to sense his relief at hearing your voice. You were relieved to hear him too, at least.

“Ben!” you said, as tears sparked in your eyes. “Where the hell are we?”

“The Russians got us,” he said, though it was heavily muffled through his door and yours.

Oh shit…

“After those cocksuckers fucking betrayed me!” he shouted. You heard a banging sound, like his fist meeting the wall.

“Did you know?” he asked in anger.

“What?” you said incredulously.

“Did you fucking know what they were planning?”

You were shocked, both at his audacity, and at the way he really thought you could do that to him. To anyone.

“How can you ask me that,” you said tremulously, “when I’m the only one who tried to fucking help you?”

It finally hit you then, where you were and why this was happening. You laughed without humor, wiping manic tears from your cheeks in vain.

“Well, look where that got me,” you said. You shook your head. “God, I wish I’d never met you.”

You almost wished you could see his face. He would probably try to be stoic, but even through the walls, you sensed the discordant impact of your words. It affected him, more than he’d probably ever show.  

“You’re saying this is my fucking fault?!” he said sharply.

“Yes! It is your fault. Because you’re too much of a mean, callous, arrogant, entitled, selfish, fucking asshole to see that everybody hates you!” you spat. 

That fell heavily between you. You didn’t regret it. It was high time this man knew the truth, about everything.

No more games.

“Oh, really. You included, huh?” Ben said. “I didn’t do shit to you.”

You gaped. “You shoved me to ground! I had bruises for days. Or did you conveniently forget that part?”

“You got in the fucking way!” he retorted. But then, he simmered down slightly. “Besides, you know you weren’t the one I was aiming for.”

And that just reminded you of Black Noir, with no small measure of guilt, and just how badly Ben had beaten him before you two were captured. You didn’t doubt that Ben had killed him.

“But you still did it, and you couldn’t even look me in the eye and apologize, like a man,” you said. “Instead, you fucked a pack of whores.”

You shook your head and tried to calm your breathing. You wiped under your eyes.

“But I guess I did bring it on myself. I knew what you were the second I met you,” you said coldly. “In fact, the only thing I really wanted from you was what you could do for my career.”

That blow landed as well. You felt his shock, deep inside.

“Is that so?” he said, less angry then. More resigned. “It was all an act, huh?”

New tears burned in your eyes. They slid down your cheeks, one by one.

“Yeah, it was,” you said. “I fucking hope I never have to see your face again.”

With a shaky breath, you turned your back to the door and leaned against it. You ignored the painful lance in your heart that threatened to overtake you, along with your panic.

For a while, there was silence. It gave you a reprieve, but it also forced you to be alone with the tumultuous thoughts circling in your head.

Suddenly, the door opened. You backed up all the way to the far wall. In stepped a man in a gray lab coat, as well as two armed guards. One of them was holding a straitjacket.

“Good morning,” said the lab coat. His English was heavily accented. “Welcome to your new home.”

“Who are you?” You tried to sound firm and unshaken, but there was no mistaking your fear as your eyes darted from man to man.

“Eisenstein Sergei. I am a geneticist, by trade,” he said. He gestured at you with a smile that made your skin crawl. “You, beautiful one. You will be part of evolution.”

“Stay the fuck away from me,” you said, even as your voice trembled.

Eisenstein gestured at the guards, who drew near you. The second you opened your mouth to sing, to scramble their minds, one of them produced an extendable stick with an electric prod on the end. He tased you until you passed out onto the floor.

As you soon discovered, Dr. Sergei Eisenstein was fascinated by supes. He wanted to figure out how they ticked, on a molecular level. So he and his team had made a deal with Vought to acquire Soldier Boy for experimentation. You were an added bonus.

For months, the doctor and his team poked and prodded, cut and burned you, testing the limitations of your advanced healing and pushing your body often far beyond its capabilities.

But they were careful. The straitjacket ensured you couldn’t easily compel any man who drew near to work on you. They all wore gloves, so they didn’t touch your skin. In some ways, their wariness was to your benefit. You were always gagged when they worked on you though, so you couldn’t sing. Eisenstein also once threatened to paralyze your vocal cords if you tried. You were too afraid to tempt him.

As rough as you had it, you were sure it was only scratching the surface of what they did to Ben.

The man was stronger, more durable. The doctor had more leeway to play with him, knowing his toy wouldn’t break.

They now kept him on the other end of the compound, since he’d broken through his first containment unit. They had gassed him with something that made him drop like a stone, putting him to sleep. You weren’t sure what was powerful enough to do it, but you didn’t want to find out.

The first time you heard him screaming, it brought tears stinging in your eyes. Your lips had trembled, and you’d rocked yourself in your cot. You couldn’t help him, let alone yourself. You were surprised to realize that you wanted to help him, even after everything he did to you—after everything you’d seen him do.

It slowly made you realize the truth in your own heart; things you hadn’t wanted to take out and examine, like muddy glass after a storm. Now, with the debris washed away, you could see what you had become, and what all your work, your scraping, your lies and manipulations had gotten you.

Nothing.

It also made you realize that you weren’t as good of a liar as you thought you were. At least, not to yourself. Not when you remembered the quiet moments between you and Ben; the times you wordlessly craved each other’s company, and you laid tucked against his side on the couch with a book while he watched a football game. Or late at night, the times when you gave into sharing a bed with him, and he stared up at the ceiling with a blunt in hand, the two of you lying naked and talking about everything and nothing until you feel asleep.  

Yes, you remembered blood and violence, callousness and cruelty toward Noir and the rest of the team. You knew that was who Soldier Boy was. That was Ben.

It was just hard to reconcile that monster with the man you’d come to know. The man who actually tried to comfort you, even though you hadn’t wanted to be comforted after that accident with a Crimson Countess fan. The man who saved you after you were beaten by a thug, and nearly worse. The man who could be funny, and charming, with hints of gentleness and affection in between.

You supposed you would never know what part of him was real.

But most of all, you remembered the things you’d said to him. You surprised yourself by feeling pinprick needles of guilt up and down your spine.

“I hope I never have to see your face again.”

 You had a feeling that you’d get your wish.

It was six months in before Eisenstein experimented with the first serum. You vomited blood.

It took his team three more years to revise. 

You started to hear voices in your head, snippets of thought instead of just sensing energies. You lied to the scientists, keeping the knowledge to yourself. They had no way to know, so why give them more ammunition against you?

The thoughts you heard were always male, whoever was in close proximity. Your powers seemed to translate them into English, but you almost preferred it to be gibberish. Mostly the thoughts were bland, disgusting, or cold and frightening in their scientific detachment, and even their entertainment…mostly when they worked on Ben. 

It made you sick. You wished you could reach out to him, if just for someone familiar to talk to. You hadn’t learned how to do that just yet. You didn’t even know if you could. You were still figuring out how to just tune it all out when you were sick of the chatter.

Regardless, they kept him too far away, so you rarely heard his thoughts. When you did, they were mostly angry and murderous. You couldn’t blame him. 

Sometimes, just being able to feel his presence, hearing the scraps of his thoughts was enough.

You were left entirely alone with your own.

April 3, 1994

You read the date on the magazine they’d brought for you with bland porridge for breakfast. The publication was in Russian, but you’d begun to pick up on certain words they said, and on the structure of numbers you saw them scribble in their notes. 

Ten years. You really couldn’t fathom it. It didn’t feel real…

Well, actually, it did today. You were almost done with the porridge when the doctor and three guards came in, one with your usual straitjacket.

“Finished then?” Eisenstein asked, nodding at your near empty bowl. “Good. Get her up.”

The command was in Russian, but by now you understood it. You still struggled. You always did. It was no use though. Soon they had you fitted in the jacket and a gag tight around your mouth, with just a couple of cattle prod stings to your side.

They dragged you down the hall farther than usual. You were confused when they passed the usual lab they so often took you to. Instead, Eisenstein opened a metal door.

Inside the room was Ben, strapped to a metal slab against the wall. He was bound in every way, and fully naked. He also had a long, unkempt beard, but you’d recognize that face even in your sleep. Your eyes widened when you met his, your breath caught in your throat. His face slackened in surprise as well.

You hadn’t seen him since before the beginning of the nightmare.

He’d barely aged at all.

The spell of it broke when you were slammed down onto a cold, shiny table. It felt hard as titanium, and you cried out at the impact.

You managed to raise your head. “Ben!”

It was muffled through the gag, but you knew he understood you. His brows furrowed. He looked up at Eisenstein in a glare.

“What the fuck is this?”

The doctor held a glass syringe in his gloved hand. He drew closer to you with slow, measured steps.

“You have impenetrable skin, yes? Hard, like a diamond,” he said to Ben. “Even inside your holes, it is…perhaps more sensitive, but still strong enough to stop further experimentation.”

Ben’s lip curled with a sneer.

“But there must be a way to get inside you,” Eisenstein said. He grabbed the back of your neck tightly, making you whimper. He held up the syringe. “Tell me now, or I will give her the serum we had prepared for you. There is good chance it may…let’s say, liquify her insides, but we will have to see. Won’t we?”

He gestured at one of the guards, who tore open the back of your gray gown to expose your back and shoulders. You screamed around the gag and struggled, even with the men holding you down. You fought Eisenstein’s grip to look up at Ben. His jaw was clenched, his eyes hard and angry.

You had tears in your eyes; they already began to slip down your cheeks. You implored him wordlessly. Ben stared back at you through furrowed brows.

Getting nothing but silence, Eisenstein sighed through his nose, and he turned to you with the syringe.

“Hold her steady.”

You struggled and thrashed in vain.

“Wait!” Ben said, through clenched teeth.

Everyone in the room paused.

Ben lifted his gaze from you and directed it at the doctor.

“My eye,” he said lowly. “Inject it in the corner of my eye.”

Eisenstein’s weathered face broke into a smile. “Ah, clever. Thank you, Soldier Boy.”

Then he pressed the needle into your shoulder, emptying its contents into your bloodstream. You uttered a pained sound at the needle going in. Again, you looked up at Ben in panic.

He tensed in an incredulous anger. “What—”

“Do not worry. It’s just a sedative,” Eisenstein shrugged.

Within seconds, you breathed out a whimper as your eyes closed on you. You went limp. The guards peeled you off the table and dragged you out of the room. It left the doctor with his favorite patient.

Ben wanted to rip the man’s arm from his socket and beat him to death with it. And that was just the latest fantasy on how he’d take the good doctor apart.

“What’ve you been doing to her?” Ben asked, in a tone that demanded. It was the first time he had spoken of you, the first time he had the courage to ask the question that so often plagued his mind.

Eisenstein sighed. “She is not as strong or durable as you, but! She has been able to withstand a good many experiments that have borne fruit.”

Ben’s glare darkened. “You’re a sick fucking bastard.”

“I am a visionary,” the doctor countered. “Can you imagine what your mutations could unlock for science? In biomedicine? Her healing abilities, though limited, could provide the cure to any number of diseases and ailments. Your longevity of life could do the same… Or if not, you will make for Russia’s greatest weapon.”

He stepped back and ushered in his assistants. One of them came with the true serum. Its contents had a light red hue. It looked like poison. Ben struggled in his constraints, grunting and resisting the hand that reached for his face.

“If you do not stay still, we will go to her next,” Eisenstein warned.

Ben panted through his nose. His hardened gaze flicked between the doctor, and the needle coming for his eye.

You heard Ben screaming before you could even open your eyes. You felt it in your chest. In your spirit.

He saved me, you realized, as tears once again stung behind your eyelids.

You also tasted cotton in your mouth. You realized it was because they had thrown you face-first onto your cot. You managed to turn your head so you at least could breathe, but you couldn’t move any of your limbs. Your enhanced healing was the only reason why you were even awake.

Ben…

He broke free.

The pain was too much. Adrenaline was surging through him, and he was able to grab one of the assistants and crush his throat. His furious gaze was set on Eisenstein next, but the fucker ducked out of the room quick.

Ben padded forward on slightly unsteady feet, ripping away the rest of his restraints from the cold metal. He stalked toward the door. Before he could reach it, a hissing plume of Novichok gas flooded the entire cell. 

His eyes rolled up into his head, and he fell to the ground. All the while, the serum was working inside him, bubbling and brewing red hot in his chest.

You were lying unmoving in your cot when Eisenstein came in to check on you.

“How is the little bird, doing?” he asked in his native tongue.

He ventured over to you carefully. In one of his hands was a cattle prod, just in case.

“They were careless,” he remarked. He set down the cattle prod to grasp your shoulders, and he rearranged you until you were lying on your back. You were still unresponsive, when the doctor knew for a fact that you should be awake by now. He had your reaction times to certain chemicals perfected to the minute.

He frowned and reached out to hold a gloved finger to your neck, measuring your pulse.

That was when you opened your eyes.

You raised up and headbutted him as hard as you could. Eisenstein cried out and fell to the ground. You followed him there and straddled him. Your hands were still bound by the straitjacket, so you had no choice.

You bent down and distracted him with a disdainful kiss to his lips.

When you next open your eyes, they were glowing violet.

You took control of his mind.

AN: 😬😬😬

Also, get ready for a whopper of a chapter in Part 9. (My favorite one of the series!)

Next Time:

Free me, you compelled Eisenstein’s mind.

He obeyed you with a vacant look in his eyes. He unhooked your straitjacket and opened the door. After you grabbed up his cattle prod, you still didn’t release your psychic hold. You ordered him forward, and for the first time you walked freely out of your cell without restraint.

Take me to Soldier Boy.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 9

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[spacedace]

Reluctant War AU Part 2

Part One

...I ended up writing more for that Reluctant War AU...Like. Wrote this before work and started on part 3 with plans for part 4 more.

this was supposed to just be a brain worm what happened (also thank you @catastrophic-crow for the AU name <3 <3 <3 Also, also: welcome to the cult of Ancient of the Speedforce Elle! Membership includes nonsense, shenanigans and chaos haha)

-

Gotham had always been a place for ghosts.

Every corner haunted by death and tragedy.

Every street stained red at least once in its many years.

Every dark shadow holding the faint shadows and shades of the dead.

Gotham was, before all else, a grave yard.

Jason had known that his entire life. Every kid born and raised in the Alley did. Death came fast to Gotham’s streets. Especially for those the rest of the city turned its back on. He did his best to lighten the reaper’s load when it came to the people that called Crime Alley home. Well, mostly. He’d certainly added names to old Death’s list before, when the occasion called.

When the armies of the dead descended upon Gotham, the only surprise Jason could feel was that those white wearing pieces of shit had dared to try and hunker down in his city.

It was a sentiment shared by most of Gotham’s fine citizens. By the city itself - herself? Something to ask later, if there was a later - even if the impossible, living shadow that rose up out of Gotham’s many dark corners was anything to go by. He knew, almost instinctively, that the entity - skin of cracked pavement, mouth a bridge suspended too wide across the face, eyes of CCTV camera lenses and body built brick by grimy, bloody brick of the sharp skyline - was Gotham. Not a ghost but something bigger, greater. Something awfully, terribly alive in all its horrible, noble glory. His city, manifest in the shape almost human beneath the green glow of the torn apart sky above.

Phantom’s armies arrived without warning as they had everywhere else, and their enemies poured out in unforgivably unmarred white suits to meet them. Horrible and garish against the Gotham streets. How they’d ever managed to slink by unnoticed while being so blatantly, clearly not of Gotham Jason wasn’t sure he’d ever know.

If either side thought this would be like the battles they fought before, they were mistaken.

Gotham was a place for Ghosts.

A place the dead piled up, lingered well beyond their deaths. A place where the rules were different from everywhere else in the world. Where crime was rampant and chaos reigned but at the end of the day people said their thanks that they were born to this hellhole and not so cursed to call anywhere else in the world home.

The dead came to fight

And Gotham, a thing so alive it was sickening to look upon, rose up to fight right along side them all.

The agents were ready and prepared for the incursion of the dead. It’d been two weeks since the first volley of attacks. Two weeks spent shoring up defenses and ramping up weapons and strategizing ways to kill what was already dead. They were, as best as they were able to be considering how endless the armies that came for them, prepared.

They weren’t prepared for Gotham.

Weren’t prepared for the city itself to rise up and take spectral, eldritch shape. Jagged building spire and shattered glass teeth bared in a snarl that spanned miles. Screaming rage in a voice made of gunfire and the concussive boom of explosions and the shrieks of a furious crowd.

Weren’t prepared for its people to ignore the gentle ushering of the dead trying to push them away to safety and instead press forward to fight shoulder to shoulder with the ghostly armies.

Weren’t prepared to have brick and bottles and trash and debris rain down upon them from the jeering living. Weren’t prepared for dirty faced children with hard eyes to light up rags stuffed into chipped beer bottles filled with gas and kerosene and throw them with more speed an accuracy than any professional baseball player. Weren’t ready for Gotham’s motley crew of terrifying Rogues to band together with the citizens they so often accosted and worried and bring down wave after wave of chaos and Goons.

Weren’t prepared for Red Hood to swap out his rubber bullets for the real deal and start mowing the fuckers in white down, his own crew at his back, the rest of the Outlaws on their way.

The Justice League was trying to find a peaceful resolution. Trying to play go between to the US Government and the infinite dead. Too wound up in US politics to side with the dead outright, too disgusted by what the American government had done to ever want to stand with them. All it had gotten them was spun wheels and confusion and the slow creeping realization that the time to try and play negotiators had well passed.

Red Hood wasn’t a member of the Justice League.

He had no obligation to try and find a way to talk things out.

What he had was a grave he’d dug his way out of, enough ammunition to arm a sizable country, and a burning need to make things right.

Gotham had always been a place for ghosts, and Jason had long accepted that he was one of them.

Haunting the streets he’d survived as a child, the city he protected as Robin, the family he’d loved and lost a thousand and one times before and after his death.

The sky cracked open above his home, and it was not an invading army that came rushing out but a native one. Friends, neighbors, strangers on the street you caught from the corner of your eye. The people of Gotham knew their own and fought for them. Only Gotham was allowed to fucked with Gotham and they’d been screwed over enough by the government themselves to know what side they were on.

He lifted his guns and fired, teeth bared in vicious satisfaction beneath his helmet as white was splattered bright red.

A hissing electric whine of a weapon, a flash of green from the edge of his vision.

“Down!”

He was thrown bodily to the cracked and ruined street beneath him, the body shielding him warm and living as one of the agent’s weapon fired a blast of energy right where he’d been a second before. He’d seen that same weapon reduce one of the raging dead to dripping green and screams of agony the dead should not be capable of making.

Before he could shove himself up and respond in kind, the body above him was in motion and the air above him cracking with the snapping-popping-roar of a gun of a much higher power than even what he had. The fucker in white that had shot at him dissolved into a mist of red viscera, body seizing and shuttering in the briefest moment it had before it was obliterated completely.

“Watch yourself.” He looked up - and up - and wondered at the lovely, fierce face he found staring down at him. “Even without shooting at them you’re Liminal enough to trip their sensors.”

She was tall enough to be an amazon, six inches in height on him at least. Body strong beneath the pitch black armor she work - as deep and dark as the depths of space, etched with starlight, a familiar crest upon her chest in the dizzying burst of a supernova - she held herself with confidence. Strands of hair the color of a warning sunrise escaped out from beneath the helm she wore, bright against her pale skin, warming the glass-sharp teal eyes that had pinned him in place.

The hand not holding the gun she’d just used to delete the asshole that had just tried to shoot him - a strange, impossible thing that made him taste lightning at the back of his throat to look at it - stretched out to help him up.

He accepted it.

Something pulsed to life in his chest. A piece forgotten where it’d been left behind, half buried in grave dirt and broken pieces of a casket he’d clawed his way out of. It burned like a hot coal in his chest, froze him with the same aching cold of a blizzard, crackled his nerves to life with lightning even as his brain popped and fried with the same sizzling energy.

On his feet, hair on end and body and Core pulsing with the need to fight, to rend and tear and scream for all done to him, his people, his home, he met the eyes of the woman before him. Her cool gaze softened, just a moment, just a second as she seemed to realize what had happened. Her hand, lighter than the armor she wore should allow it to be, tightened on his just a moment, mouth tilting from determined frown to soft understanding.

Gotham had always been a place for ghosts.

Jason had long accepted that he was one of them.

---

Part Three

[dalliancekay]

"There is no 'our side', Crowley!"

I was looking for this gif and every post I came across was some variation on how poorly was Crowley treated here. Poor boy. How utterly cruel of Aziraphale. How heartless. How he just dropped Crowley like a hot potato. Cos Heaven was coming. And Aziraphale decided that they were over. And he was going back to them. Or something. If you know any that look into how Aziraphale is feeling, please tag me. What do I think Aziraphale is feeling?

Well. Was he happy to have Armageddon coming? No. But he did think it was inevitable.* However. They tried to influence the Antichrist. But had the wrong boy. Then they tried to think of how to find the real one and in that short time - what? Kill him? Talk to him? They had no idea what the kid is like. What powers he has. None.

The Great Plan. It is coming to its fulfilment. It is written. The War is about to begin. Heaven and Hell. The big one. They both know this. And this is not something Aziraphale or Crowley can avoid. It's not something they can just stop believing in. They had their Arrangement, their side (sort of), and they managed not to get caught. But now? Now Aziraphale is right. There is no OUR SIDE. There never really was. There might have been a moment in their existence on Earth (about 12 hundred years?) when they could feel like/pretend they are having their own side. But now the full reality of their existence is back. There are Heaven and Hell and they are preparing for War. They have no interest in Earth. Aziraphale and Crowley are tiny pawns in a very big picture. They both belong to their respective sides. They always have. Even when they found ways to work together. (Mostly cos their sides are conceited idiots both.)

And so Aziraphale decided for one more desperate attempt to get God to see how the whole thing can be avoided. Does he think She might understand? We don't know. Does he look full of hope as he walks back to his shop? He doesn't. He gets broken up with again by Crowley who nonsensically (and yes, romantically, sure) wants to go to another star - to do what? Wait till the end of universe reaches them? (Why is everybody always defending Crowley? And act like he's being reasonable there?) And then Aziraphale gets punched in the stomach. By a fellow angel. And told by Metatron to not be a bloody fool and report for service as the good angel he surely is.

And he gets discorporated. Which looks like it really sucks.

And then he DESERTS the War AND Heaven (that he apparently still has faith in...) and goes on a limb to find the boy and just see if he can come up with something. Anything. Thinking Crowley is gone. Packed his stuff and left. Possibly with the friend he was talking to when he tried to call his flat earlier.

Because Aziraphale feels the War and ending of the world is such injustice. Written or not. Great Plan or not. Maybe he didn't think at first he could make any difference but Crowley showed him it's worth considering it. *Crowley is always showing Aziraphale that things can be questioned. It didn't take Aziraphale long at all to reconsider letting things just play out and instead fight to the last breath he doesn't need, for Earth instead. The conditioning he needs to fight isn't that Heaven is good and right. The conditioning he needs to fight is that things can't be changed. That it is all written out. That he is a nobody and can't influence anything. Aziraphale's biggest fight and learning curve is in having faith in himself. So. Much like he felt it was unfair to leave the first humans unprotected and how he felt killing Job's kids was cruel, he disobeys and does his own thing again. He learns he can. But all this comes at a cost. To himself (thinking he will Fall for these things) but also to his beloved - and THAT is much harder for him. He would never want to put Crowley in danger. And he does. Every time they meet. The guilt he must feel for this.

Aziraphale lives between two sides. And they are both awful. And he is often misunderstood for just acknowledging this as reality he and everything else exists in.

I think his view of his reality is pretty accurate. There is no our side. They wanted one. But they can't leave their sides. Even after S1 they couldn't. Not really. And they both knew it. And no, he is not in clutches of Heaven or sometimes reverts to their indoctrination or anything like that. He goes along with Heaven as far as he MUST. And his life alongside his demon, however tentative, was always precious to him. But.

Crowley who showed him how to keep questioning things, try to make them better, didn't see it his way and left.

Aziraphale has to do the best he can and just do something. Anything. He can not just do nothing. He can not try and run. Or hide. Or wait some more. Crowley showed him that things can be different and Aziraphale had to do all to try and make it better. And he will. And Crowley will help. He always does.

Is Aziraphale always right? No. Does he make mistakes? Yes. I am never saying Aziraphale is faultless - but I think many things he is blamed for are not right. And I also think Crowley is often seen as can do no wrong. Everything he says is right. 100% correct. The right things to do. He knows more. Understands more. If he disagrees with Aziraphale than it follows that Aziraphale is wrong. That's not true. They are both beautifully rounded, full, flawed characters I love. They complement each other in ways I bet I have not even noticed yet. And they are their own beings too. They don't only exist for one another.

[missmarveledsblog]

Odd one out ( logan howlett x reader)

summary : logan's adjusting to new life , new friends only thing he can't put his finger on is wade's friend Y/n , he knows she hiding something and he right but he is so wrong too

warnings : fluffy , goofy , no major deadpool and wolverine spoilers , violence , wade wilson , grumpy logan , grammatical errors (sorry in advance )

Adjusting  to a whole new world , universe where everything was the same but different .  Knowing someone and yet learning to know them all over again , like he was re familiarizing himself with ghosts from his past in one place and creating a new future in another. Adjusting to the one fucker who had him here in the first place was hard too , wade wilson was a strange one , hard to tell where the smart sarcastic ball of undiagnosed ADHD  started and ended . yet he had this wonderful and strange group of people around him , they all stuck out and fit in somehow , not that he would admit it out loud ever . (“ i knew it he loves me!” wade wink to the reader) .  but the dickward (“ harsh” the merc gasped.)  well he grew on him.  He wasn’t too bad not all the time those few seconds of silence truly when logan howlett  actually would consider him a friend then his mouth started it usually nonsensical rambles and well he changed his mind again . 

The friends he didn’t mind being around the lot they all had their own quirks , their own little nicknames or insults for wade and they all took logan in no matter what even when wade explain their whole adventure even the dark past that followed logan around even to this day . one friend he couldn’t get a read on , one for some reason stood out more than the others was Y/N  or as wade tended to call her princess sparkle maybe it had to do with the midnight black glitter case she had her laptop in . the other made sense in a way all either mutants or coming from some sort of background, but well Y/N was different . apparently, when she was a kid she used to drink her apple juice while sitting in the corner of the notorious sister margarets helping mercs of all kinds find their targets for a fee of course . Her bond with wade was helping him locate some chick or atleast logan was sure it was giving francis was the name but in that whole thing she was the one that helped wade find them all using that laptop ln the black sparkle case . Giving she was youngster of the group and just well ordinary no powers the others we’re protective but something about her well logan couldn’t put his finger on it and it was driving him nuts what was her secret .  

“ you know if you keep staring at her peanut well your going to give off a certain i got candy and white van sort of vibe” logan could feel wade once again too close giving the asshole breathe was in his ear . 

“ it’s not like that , she hiding something i mean she not so social , closed off a little and well she barely talks about herself” logan scoffed yet his eyes never once left her form . 

“ ok baby girl you probably know this phrase given you're so old you were there when they invented it but pot meet kettle”  the merc gestured between the two . “ he is butt nuts into her it’s so obvious right?” he looked to the reader . 

“ who are tal… nevermind i am not into her i don’t trust here plus she too young for me” he rationalized . 

“ she’s an old soul i mean not american civil war old but get what i’m throwing down” wade winked .

 “ hey i’m heading out i wanna grab books and coffee before the shop closes” she called rushing out before anyone could offer to walk with her. Logan didn’t even say anything just followed after.

“ he totally wants her right” wades looking at you reader. 

“ wade who you taking to?” 

“ the… nevermind hey did i ever tell you  about my future prince , king god of thunder buddy thor” he asked heading toward his friend . 

………

She hated it , lying to her friends not telling them she wasn’t as smart as they thought she was or how the sight of wades new roommate topless made her brain not function therefore caused her life to be now in danger. She been looking into her past , more so the men who had left her with no childhood nor a family resulting her sneaking into a seedy bar and helping hitmen and vigilantes find their targets .  she wanted to make sure they weren’t still doing it and when she began to see multiple account of money she could use to well give back to the world well she got herself caught. She wanted to tell wade but she didn’t want to bother him too much it wasn’t even a year after his whole TVA  incident and well saving the world so she decided she could handle it alone which that wasn’t the lie , she totally could it was just dealing with it in silence. Plus giving the said hot roommate hatred for her , she didn’t want to give that man any more ammo against her. It was a mystery to why he hated her so much , at first she thought maybe he knew a version of her in his universe that done him dirty but he was quite easily able to tell her she wasn’t anything thing to him , he didn’t know her there which was only good part of that place. Thankfully she grew up the way she did or else it would of hurt a lot more than it did , ok it still stung but she got used to it . she love their group like a family so instead of being interrogated or scared away by logan she avoided him kept her space from the man , ignore how he looked like he was going to rip her apart and not in the 50 shades of gray more like national geographic lions and a giselle sort of way . 

She was so lost in her thought she didn’t notice logan following her or the group of agent sprawled out ready to pounce. Scanning the shelves for the next read she felt the metal barrel pushing at her side . 

“Act natural or else” the voice smiled so she did she couldn’t cause a scene or react too many civilians and a lot of them were children.

She shrugged and let the man follow at her side as she stood at the counter pulling out the metal reusable cup . 

“ the regular you know three pumps of caramel” she winked . “ oh this is my cousin franny” she smiled as the man looked at her before smiling to the barista . 

“ oh free book today with each coffee so enjoy”  the barista smiled handing her the scalding cup but she bit her tongue and kept walking “ somebody call wade” she whispered back at the staff. 

Logan stood grinning , he  had his moment of being right seeing her all smiles with a clearly shady prick , he was about to confront her for his big gotcha moment only he stalled when he heard them as if they were saying it to him . 

“ in position we got her , subject will be brought back to containment “ that threw him off well that was til she walked out with the man throwing the coffee she had  in his face and a gun he didn’t notice before falling to the ground as she told the civilians to get somewhere safe. First time in his life or a decade he stood shocked at scene before him . agent clearly not the good guys with this octopus looking things on their tactical gear rushing towards her.  One man went to grab her only for him to fall to the ground convulsing and yet  logan couldn’t see the taser she clearly had to off used .  his jaw dropped as her skin began to glow almost a whitish blue all over her body and what looked like sparks floating around her. Not once did she looked scared or even phased  at the situation , she took them on one by one almost like a dance in her movement as she sent them to the ground . when they did get a hit on her like the mere touch sent them to the ground convulsing . he honestly stood conflicted he knew he was way off but also who the hell was this girl really . he wanted to help but she didn’t need it even when they ganged up on her she  held her own . when last man  fell she returned back to normal  skin back to color , the sparks disappeared like a mist and she leaned over slightly panting . 

“ call the authorities tell them to get shield here or fbi” she stood only for one to sneak out and hit her head hard sending her to the ground unconscious . thats when he snapped into action how dare that man touch her like that , what a cheap shot too  logan knocked man out ignoring the lady who yelled she called the cops and he brought her back to wades. 

The moment he walked into the apartment with her in his arms out cold the room went silent .  he growled at  shatterstar and colossus making them instantly move from the couch as he placed her gently on it.  Vanessa ran to check her over as logan explained what  happened . 

“ she was fucking glowing like a night light or some shit …. You don’t look surprised so you already knew , why did no one tell me ” he looked to see not one of them looked shocked to know she was a mutant. they all nodded giving him a sympathetic smile.

“ why do you think i call her princess sparkles , the coffee place rang” wade called heading to his room before returning . “ you saving her ass like a knight in tight yellow spandex , i knew you liked her kitten” he winked as he placed the adventure time comforter over her sleeping form .

[martialartslover7]

Why I think Kishimoto isn't sexist, but just VERY tonedeaf and an idiot

Boy, will I have some venting to do today. I mean, at this point, it's not a secret, that Kishimoto has consistently stated that "he can't write women", to save his life. And to this day, for as long as I was a fan of the series, I am going to be absolutely real: This statement is so full of shit. Why? Simple. And allow me to express it in very big capital letters, so that even the last giant mental invalid can understand:

WOMEN ARE HUMAN-BEINGS WITH BREASTS AND A V BETWEEN THEIR LEGS. WHAT TYPE OF "NUANCES" IS THIS GUY TALKING ABOUT? THERE IS NOTHING "COMPLICATED" ABOUT THEM. WHAT NONSENSE IS THIS?

Like, this entire statement is bullshit for a completely reason altogether: Why even reduce his own point to the fact that the shinobi just so happen to be female? This just sounds like excuses on top of excuses, especially considering the competition like One Piece and Bleach, who all have badass, memorable and sometimes, quite well-written characters, that just so happen to be female.

Let's count up a few IPs that I am aware of, written or directed by males, that has some of the most badass, and most memorable females in all of media:

One Piece

Bleach

Soul Eater

Kill la Kill

Jujutsu Kaisen

Code Geass

Persona

Tekken

Street Fighter

SoulCalibur

Fire Emblem (not all of them, some of them, from what I have seen, can be insane jokes)

And so on, and so forth, the list goes on. And you know what all these IPs have in common, that make them stand out, compared to what Naruto does to its females?

THE FEMALES AREN'T GETTING BOGGED DOWN BY IRRITATING, REDUNDANT AND DOWNRIGHT OFFENSIVE TROPES, THAT FLAT-OUT RUIN THEIR POTENTIAL AND APPEAL AS STANDALONE CHARACTERS!

Like, allow me to list up all the tropes, that Kishimoto made use of, while writing the manga, or being involved in the process of writing / directing the anime, along with the movies.

1. Making the women overtly dependant on the male characters

This one, is not as egregious, but it's a good kickstarter. In the context of the world these characters operate in, to me, it does make sense to show that, like in the Edo period of Japan, women were always seen as second-class citizens, always needing to be tied to men somehow, otherwise they are "worthless". Considering the corrupt, militarized system that most of the girls work in, mostly operated by wrinkly, old farts, who enjoy playing god too much, it does remain understandable to me, that they would be hesistant to be 100% committed to the job, and just ask for normal lives...

...BUT...

...it does leave you asking: Why did they choose to be ninjas in the first place, then? To get smitten with the boys (not counting Hinata, by the way, because she was literally forced into this role)? Just applying as literal child soldiers in a war, that they didn't even start to begin with? And yes, I get it, kunoichis excel in areas that male shinobi struggle with, like silent reconnaisance, charming other men, or sometimes women, to tickle information out of them, being healers, but here is the thing: As the Naruto progressed as a story, this pattern kept repeating, every time a female character got introduced, it would fall back on the following checklist:

Is this woman a healer?

Is she obsessed with looking for a boyfriend / a husband?

Is she lacking in combat-based strength, to the point where she needs protection from either of the male characters?

Because, except for the healer bit, which is more of a specialized field, I just brought it up, because I felt it to be awfully noticeable how often the girls requested to be healers, as if they have to fit into such a mold, or they aren't capable as shinobi, the other two questions get repeatedly answered, for pretty much 98% of all female characters, especially by the end of Shippuden.

And don't get me wrong: This is NOT a negative, per se, that they desire a boyfriend, or someone to spend the rest of their days with, this is not what I am complaining about. In fact, a good chunk of ships in the series are hella cute, and I don't want them to go away. Because to an extent, the romance aspect feels genuine, especially between Naruto and Hinata, or Sasuke and Sakura (yeah, fight me on that, I will defend these two as a ship, until I die), or hell, especially Shikamaru and Temari, which are the GOLD standard, of what a good ship needs.

What I am complaining about though, is that, the series kind of uses this romance aspect as a shield, or excuse, to undermine the female characters, in the long run. Think about it, when was the last time when Sakura, in spite of all the grueling training she had to suffer through to become this strong in the first place, not wanting to be a hindrance to anyone, legitimately kicked ass, after killing Sasori? Not counting the war arc, because this arc is frankly, an inexcuseable mess, and Kishimoto should be ashamed of himself for making it suck this hard for how many asspulls this arc had. Nope, the moment Naruto goes berserk, and Sasuke just... appears... she is reduced to a whimpering mess, who can't stand on her own two feet, and has to be saved by someone. And this happens. ALL. THE. TIME. That's all that happens with her, sure, she heals countless ninjas during the war, but again, healing isn't the only specialty she got:

SHE IS A SHINOBI! SHINOBIS FIGHT! THEY DON'T JUST STAND AROUND LIKE IDIOTS, AND EXPOSING THEMSELVES TO ENEMY FIRE! GET! ON! WITH IT!

I swear, man, this just frustrates me beyond any reason, and the worst part, even someone as awesome as Hinata, who kicked so much ass in Part 1 (especially the filler arcs, don't get smart with me, I watched the anime, suck a small one on that), who had a whole, potential story arc hinted at with Neji, and the issues regarding their entire clan, was reduced to a simple Naruto #1 fangirl for the entire duration of Shippuden, not even the filler could salvage her in any way, and for someone like me, who relates to Hinata on a spiritual level, I find this just so damned pathetic. And whenever I watch The Last, all I could think about was this one coherent thought: You. Had. ONE JOB. Kishimoto. And you failed her. As a standalone character. Causing the entire movie to come off as if you were just shoehorning everything together, as if we only liked Hinata, because of the NaruHina ship. Well, newsflash, it couldn't be further from the truth. So, screw you, and the entire The Last movie.

Plus, I am sure I am speaking on everyone's behalf here: Anko Mitarashi and Tenten were done the MOST dirty by Kishimoto. Nuff' said.

On that note, that brings me to my next point:

2. The angry Karen housewife stereotype

I swear, this meme right here...

And Kushina's entire existence truly proves my point that, Kishimoto is really not doing himself any favors, whenever he says "I don't know how to write women". Oh, but then THIS is your answer? Is this how you see them all, the very second they get married and have kids?

So let me get this straight, the moment a woman, in the Naruto universe, gets married, has kids, and takes care of them, they become:

Aggressive, to the point of physically assaulting their own kids (Kushina definitely would have done so, let's not lie to ourselves, I love her, but this behavior of hers, combined with Sakura's general attitude towards Naruto, would have definitely made him suicidal after a while, if it weren't for the fact, he accepts it in his mom's case, because she doesn't know any better, considering her childhood)

Unpleasant to be around for their husbands (as if, we get guilt-tripped into thinking, the wives are the ones being selfish, wanting their lovers to be home with them, which, by the way, is a serious piece of shit way of thinking, because, they are married for a REASON, and not to stay apart all the time, THEY ARE FAMILY, at least, from how it gets painted as, in Boruto, from what I have seen so far)

Becoming total sociopaths, as if their genuine worries and concerns get painted as something so abnormal and "creepy"

...and this is how you see them all? THIS is your answer? Again, I know, we have ZERO evidence to prove that Kishimoto himself, is sexist in real life, it would be irresponsible of me to put that out there, because I just don't know the guy. I am just saying that, with how the housewives were all written thus far, and how, from Naruto's POV, he began having a fear of angry moms, calling them "scary", and how the females got seriously underrepresented in the course of the story...

...IT DOESN'T DO HIM ANY FAVORS.

I can't even believe I have to say this, because, newsflash, Kishimoto, and I will say it in caps: NOT ALL MOMS IN THE WORLD, ACT LIKE THIS!

They can get mad with us, they are fully in the right to whenever we do something stupid, no matter how old we get, because they will always view us as their babies that they cradled in their arms. But the problem here is: In Boruto, it gets painted as if the moms are the ones in the wrong here, just for being a tiny bit more concerned than others, because again, the world that they live in, is dangerous. And leaving the Otsu*redacted* aside, I can fully sympathize with them, so seeing someone like Boruto himself taking so many liberties being a spoiled, rotten brat, who never suffers serious repurcussions for his behavior (I know, he lost his headband for cheating, but for someone like him, who wished literal DEATH on his own father, just for him not being around enough, needed a way harsher punishment, you just don't say that your parents, dude, this doesn't take a genius to understand, especially since this is Naruto and Hinata we are talking about her), once again, it undermines the females, as if the kids ALWAYS "know better", and they "just suck, because moms are scary". Fuck off. Seriously. This is just disrespectful. No excuses. It shouldn't be written this way. Even more so, because the POV of the mothers gets never tackled, making this seem one-sided.

3. A few romances fall back on tropes, that disrespect not only the girls, but also the guys

OK, I will probably get some flack for saying this, but, regardless of the explainations in one of the Retsuden mangas, the InoSai ship, is perfectly encapsulating to me, how the romance in Naruto isn't without its flaws, and it mostly stems from how some of the characters just never get the privilege of gaining their own story sections about their own individual struggles as standalone characters.

I AM LOOKING RIGHT AT YOU, CHOJI AND KARUI! THEIR ROMANCE IS SO OUT OF LEFT FIELD, IT'S NOT EVEN WORTH JOKING ABOUT, EXCEPT, IT'S LITERALLY A JOKE, DUE TO THEIR NAMES BEING POLAR OPPOSITES TO ONE ANOTHER. HA. HA. HA.

Personally, to me, Sai is not that interesting of a character to me, I was never able to connect with him in any way, despite the importance he had in the story, alluding to the ROOT Anbu under Danzo's leadership.

But his "romance" with Ino, was seriously pushing it to me, not only because, it just regresses Ino's entire character, pushing her back into this mold that she is only interested in brooding, mentally ill edgelords like Sasuke, which paints her a shallow person, but it just paints Sai himself, as a stand-in for Sasuke, too, which undermines his own character, unintentionally. There are so many things wrong with their overall dynamic, I can't even put it properly into words.

And don't think, InoSai are the only exception to this rule. As much as it pains me to say this, NaruHina and SasuSaku are also affected by this, not as severe, but it's still pretty noticeable.

NaruHina

The fact that, with NaruHina, we needed an entire freaking movie, which, frankly, should have never happened, had they done a better job at utilizing Hinata as her own character, with Naruto present to help her out with her clan, and it all hinged on Naruto himself regressing as a character too, needing to be put in a fucking Genjutsu, just to see how he "truly felt" about Hinata... I am sorry, what is this? I mean, from a writing standpoint, this is just straight-up BAD. It's clichéd, it's painting Hinata as a damsel in distress, needing to be saved by Naruto, and Naruto himself being pardoned with "he is just dense", and overall, you can really tell, this is all just hamfisted into a single movie, because they needed to desperately convince us: Look, this is a thing. They are together now. Now play the emotional music, because that's all it needs.

Listen, I know Naruto never had a clear grasp on his own emotions, but the overall pay-off, to me, is just not there, no matter how hard I try. It just feels hollow, I don't feel happy with this. Because, for this to ship to work, they had to go through all these extra lengths to regress them both first, as individual characters, just so they can shut the lid on the whole thing. Made even worse by how this confession of Hinata during the Pain Invasion arc, was never brought up again to Naruto, until the freaking movie, and I still don't understand why. I know he didn't "ignore" her, but why does he fail to recognize Hinata's love confession, but the moment Sakura drops by to confess to him, too, he immediately calls it BS? Please. Make it make sense.

SasuSaku

Listen, nothing will stop me from loving these two as one, they deserve the peace amongst themselves, but the problem is, like InoSai, it falls back on the trope of, the girl bearing this mindset of "I can fix him", and while Sakura certainly did succeed... hear me out:

This is a purely universal thing now, this isn't just applying to SasuSaku. Otherwise, both ships have a solid foundation, ruined by shit writing. Nothing else to say.

That moment of Ino crying for Sasuke, really made me realize: Kishimoto really is clueless, not just about women, but men, too.

Because, again, for how often some of the girls bore this mindset of "I need me some brooding hunk of meat", essentially, desiring a man that knowingly treats them like crap, just so they can bear the delusion of "I can fix him", while downplaying and belittling the "uncool" guys like Choji, Rock Lee, or hell, even Naruto or Kiba, guys who, for the most part, have a solid grasp on their moral compass and their self-worth, denouncing their advances with "ew, no", is honestly disgusting to me. Like, come on, man, they aren't as cool as the edgelord teammates, but why downplay them so hard in the presence of the girls? Don't they deserve love too? Why belittle them for their eccentricities, it not only paints the girls in a bad light, but it straight up mocks the male "goofball" teammates for being the way they are. In short: NO ONE IS THE WINNER HERE.

Phew, OK, I hope, I made my point, loud and clear now. Because these points have been bothering me for a VERY long time now, and look, correct me if I am wrong. I am never 100% foolproof, so if I left out anything, feel free to correct me.

I needed to vent about this, because I felt so genuinely pissed off for how underpowered and underepresented the girls are, and how unkind and unforgiving the writing was to them, overall.

Peace.

[milunalupin]

— seven swans a-swimming

draco malfoy x reader 1.1k words

twelve days of nico-mas masterlist

It was a bitterly cold December night at Hogwarts, snow falling in thick, swirling patterns outside the windows of the Slytherin common room. The crackling of the fire in the hearth was the only sound that could be heard, a small comfort against the deafening silence of the nearly empty castle. Most students had gone home for the holidays, their laughter and chatter replaced by the occasional echo of a ghost passing by.

You sat near the fire, your dark green Slytherin robes curling around you like a second skin as you absentmindedly turned the pages of Swan Lake. The ballet was your escape, your solace—especially now, when every corner of the wizarding world seemed to be on the brink of chaos. The tragedy of Odette, spoke to you in ways you didn’t know how to express. Her longing for freedom, for something beyond her curse, felt all too familiar.

The pages had started to yellow with age, the edges worn from years of use. You loved the elegance, the haunting music that seemed to echo in your mind long after the book was closed. In a way, the story felt like your own—trapped in the world you had been born into, longing for a way out.

You weren't the only one who had stayed behind for the holiday break. Across the room, Draco Malfoy lounged on one of the leather armchairs by the fire, his usual air of arrogance softened slightly. His blonde hair was slightly tousled, and his grey eyes were distant, as if his mind were elsewhere. Perhaps it was because of his father—he had been left behind, too. His mother was likely in hiding, as she often did these days, and the Malfoy family had little choice but to remain out of sight, far from the prying eyes of the Ministry.

You had never been close to Draco, though you'd known him for years. Both of your families were purebloods, both of you raised with certain expectations, but you had never shared more than the occasional glance or passing comment in the halls. But now, with the war encroaching and the holidays dragging on, something had changed between the two of you.

"Still reading that nonsense?" Draco’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you glanced up to find him watching you from his chair. His lips were curled in that half-smirk of his, but there was no malice in his tone—only curiosity.

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the question. "It’s not ‘nonsense,’ Draco," you said, closing the book slowly and holding it up. "It’s Swan Lake—a ballet." You gave him a wry smile. "You wouldn’t understand."

He snorted lightly, but his eyes lingered on the cover of the book, curious. "And what’s so special about it?"

You shrugged, not sure how to explain. "I don’t know... it’s beautiful in its sadness. The betrayal, desire, good versus evil."

Draco shifted in his seat, clearly not used to such open vulnerability from anyone, let alone from someone he had always considered an acquaintance at best. "Sounds a bit... melodramatic," he said, though there was no real judgment in his voice. "But, I guess everyone needs their distractions these days."

You could tell he wasn’t looking for a deep conversation, but something about the way he spoke made you feel the need to offer him a little more. "I suppose it’s a bit like us, isn’t it? Cursed to live out these roles we’ve been given, hoping for something more, something... free."

His eyes flickered toward you then, his sharp gaze softening for the briefest of moments. For once, there was no biting remark, no sneer—just a kind of understanding.

"Maybe," he murmured. Then, as if to break the tension, he added with a sigh, "I’m bored out of my mind. Do you want to do something ridiculous?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"

He stood up. "Come on, I’ve got an idea."

Without waiting for your response, Draco strode out of the common room. You followed him, intrigued despite yourself.

The moonlight bathed the Hogwarts grounds in a soft, silver glow, making everything seem ethereal and unreal. The world was silent—only the sound of your footsteps crunching in the snow and the occasional rustle of the trees could be heard.

Draco led you to the frozen lake behind the castle, the thick blanket of snow covering its surface. There, he stopped and turned to face you, a grin creeping onto his lips.

"Ever enchanted snow before?" he asked, his tone full of that familiar challenge.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smile. "No. I don’t think that’s in my usual repertoire. Why?"

"Well, you're about to." Draco’s voice held a strange kind of confidence, and before you could ask any more questions, he flicked his wand with a flourish.

The snow on the lake began to stir, moving as though it had a life of its own. Slowly, the snow gathered into shapes, forming seven beautiful swans with long, graceful necks, their wings delicate as they glistened under the moon. You could hardly believe your eyes.

"Impressive," you muttered, your breath catching in your throat.

Draco’s grin widened. "It’s all in the charm. Watch this." He raised his wand again, and with a few muttered words, the snow swans began to flap their wings, lifting off the ground with a soft, almost musical sound. They circled the lake in a graceful, soaring dance, moving as though they were real.

You stared in awe. The swans flew over the ice, their delicate, snow-covered wings shimmering like the finest glass. They moved as though they had a purpose, gliding effortlessly through the night air.

Draco stood beside you, watching with satisfaction as the swans danced in the night sky, their wings catching the pale light of the moon. The whole scene felt like something out of a dream, something impossibly beautiful and tragic all at once.

"They’re like the swans in Swan Lake," you whispered, lost in the moment. "Bound to this world, yet able to break free for just a moment."

Draco looked over at you, his expression unreadable, and for a brief second, you saw something in his eyes that you hadn’t expected. Maybe it was the same longing you had felt all these months—a desire for freedom, for escape, for a life beyond what had been laid out before you.

"Maybe," he said quietly. "Maybe they are."

You stood there together, side by side, watching the snow swans twirl in the moonlight, circling the lake in a display of freedom. The war still loomed over the horizon, the darkness waiting to consume everything in its path. But for that brief, magical moment, you and Draco were caught in something beautiful and untouched by the outside world. You both were allowed to be free.

— taglist ♥︎

@willowlovestheweasleys

[interastical]

Another Phighting writing account??YAYYAYYAYAYAY

can you do yan!Subspace x former assassin!reader (reader is gender neutral!). The reader was from Blackrock but ran away and uhh Subspace kinda found them again.. oneshot please!

(I stole this request from someone because the other writer hasnt update for a while and I am in desperate need of fanfics.. thank youu!)

sorry for taking so long on requests! i've got a good handful in my inbox now and since i got a lot of my assignments out of the way, i can start working on these ahaha

requests are also still open! please feel free to send some my way in my inbox :)

aanyways, thank u for being so patient!!! here we go

tw - yandere themes, kidnapping, drugging, semi-realistic violence

˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖

♡ YAN ! SUBSPACE X READER ♡

˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖

Your life at BLACKROCK was -- to put it bluntly, a living hell.

Your entire life, all you ever knew from the moment you entered this world and were shipped off to that horrid faction, was violence, war, weaponry, and murder.

You were trained to hurt people. Hurt demons who dared try to question Blackrock. Those who tried to flee, to escape the freezing confines of the place.

Rules were strictly abided to at Blackrock. Make one mistake -- consider yourself a goner. The best outcome was you being thrown in prison, the worst outcome was being slaughtered publicly.

You were made to abide by the rules and silence those who made the smallest of mistakes.

Nobody ever thought you'd break the rules one day yourself.

So when you one day disappeared, having vanished off the face of the Inpherno, Blackrock believed you were a goner.

That was far from the truth.

You knew the ins and outs of the faction, making your escape was relatively easy -- a cakewalk.

As an assassin, you specialized in stealth, speed, and agility. Maneuvering past guards and treading through freezing cold blizzards did not falter your escape in the slightest.

And when you were finally out, taking a deep breath of the fresher, evenly temperature air, you believed to be in the clear, as long as you managed to keep a life of anonymity, what could go wrong?

And you were right -- everything was fine.

Until one day, when mindlessly watching a PHIGHT, you noticed a familiar face participating in the round.

Subspace T. Mine.

You felt your heart stop in the moment.

Back in Blackrock, the two of you hardly had any form of connection. Rarely spoke to one another, as the two of you were on completely different fields of work.

His rambles about discovery and science nonsense made no sense to you. His work partner - Medkit, seemed constantly annoyed by the guy's presence as well.

You always talked to Hyperlaser more often. You still occasionally met up with him and Katana to go out for drinks in Crossroads -- as Hyperlaser was your only friend from Blackrock who swore to keep your existence a secret to that awful, awful faction.

But you did always take note of how Subspace.. stared at you often, whenever the two of you did manage to encounter one another back in Blackrock.

You remember constantly asking him if he needed something, and he'd whip out some awful excuse, saying how he was just "focusing on something next to you" or "staring off into space".

Yet, he always did it often. It got on your nerves.

The guy was .. a little weird. It's no wonder you constantly avoided him.

But Subspace... knew everything about you. Unbeknownst to you.

He'd often send a Biograft to just .. watch as you worked in Blackrock. He was so utterly captivated by the way you'd wipe out any filthy traitors with a single swipe of your blade.

You were so.. powerful -- flawless, perfect.

Subspace wanted everything you had.

Subspace wanted you.

The way their blood would hit your face, your stoic expression unchanged at their screams and cries -- as you silenced them with ease.

He so badly wanted to talk to you. But he could never find the courage to do so, despite his greatness, talking to you was his only flaw.

Medkit was often forced to listen to his constant rambles about you, often tuning it out and focusing on crystal studies.

But oh -- did Subspace just want to bring you in, set you down and tear you open, digging around at your inner workings, watching as your blood would stain his skin.

He needed you.

So when you disappeared, Subspace was devastated.

His work became sloppy, slower, and his emotions became violent.

Medkit suffered the consequences of his outbursts.

Nothing was never enough. Not without you. He needed to see you again -- even if you were some lifeless, rotting corpse in the midst of a blizzard, or if you were out there somewhere, he needed to find you.

So when he felt eyes on him during a PHIGHT match that he'd found himself participating in, he turned his head.

And he saw you.

You looked different. Your appearance was different, but it did not change the fact that your face was the same.

He found you.

The match? Subspace didn't care about some stupid bux anymore. You instantly clouded his mind. Thoughts of you, your face, your skills, your expression -- everything.

He could hardly hold back the manic laughter bubbling in his chest, rising to his throat.

Subspace had found you.

And he wasn't going to lose you again.

Walking home to your apartment in Crossroads late that night was no unusual activity for you. After saying your goodbyes to Hyperlaser and Katana, you strolled down the empty sidewalk, your apartment building only a few blocks away.

The sounds of crickets in the distance, the soft breeze of the night and the lack of any demons around was rather peaceful for you.

Thoughts of seeing Subspace again had almost completely left your mind, the soft buzz of alcohol from drinking earlier had you a little more careless.

But the sudden rustle of a bush from not far behind you shattered the relaxation you were undergoing, as you froze.

As a trained assassin in the past, you had high reflexes. Any slight noise off in the distance; you were trained to take note of, and prepare to defend yourself.

The night grew still.

You swore you heard quick footsteps.

Multiple footsteps. Two people, max.

One sounded.. normal. The other sounded heavier.

Something wasn't right here.

You quickly took a few steps back, not taking your eyes off of the bushes behind you, your dominant hand moving to reach for your gear so that you could summon it--

You were suddenly yanked backwards by cold, rough, metallic hands wrapping around your waist, locking your arms to your sides.

It wasn't a demon's skin that you felt from your assailant.

" TARGET ACQIRED. "

You knew those voices.

Biografts.

A Biograft was holding you still.

" PLEASE DO NOT ATTEMPT TO RESIST. "

You ignored the bucket of bolts, slamming your head back onto the robot's in hopes to damage it enough for it to loosen its grip, allowing you to escape.

As you felt the arms around you begin to loosen, a figure suddenly ran in front of you.

You felt a sharp pinch in your neck.

You screamed.

Not out of pain, you were trained to have a high pain tolerance.

But you weren't an idiot. You were clearly getting kidnapped -- and you'd most likely just got some kind of injection.

A cold hand covered your mouth.

"..shh, shh." a familiar voice -- slightly muffled underneath a mask, spoke. "Don't scream, beloved. I only gave you a small pinch!"

The demon in front of you -- you recognized him instantly with horror.

Subspace.

You -- how -- he actually noticed you earlier?!

You noticed your vision growing foggier and foggier - your brain turning into mush as comprehending thoughts became harder and harder.

no no no no noononono

You felt Subspace move his hand away from your mouth and over towards your cheek, softly caressing it with his thumb.

"Don't panic." Subspace reassured -- his voice becoming quieter and quieter, sounding farther off into the distance as your consciousness was quickly deteriorating. "I'll take good care of you."

The last thing you felt was being slowly lifted up by the Biograft - and your world faded to darkness.

[welcometothejianghu]

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 重啟之極海聽雷/Reunion: The Sound of the Providence/The Lost Tomb Reboot/this thing has too many names

Reunion (I'm just going to call it that) is a 2020 action drama about the most specialest little babygirl in the tomb-raiding world, his two husbands, and the cadre of assorted weirdos they pick up as they try to follow a set of directions left by a dead (?) man in the thunder.

Imagine if someone showed you the Mandalorian, and you were like, gee, that was a neat little sci-fi one-shot! because you'd never heard of Star Wars. That was basically my experience watching this show, having no idea that the Lost Tomb franchise (DMBJ) was even a thing. Turns out that not only is there a whole big continuity out there with these characters, but that Reunion takes place a few years after the main story's resolution. Don't worry, though -- Reunion doesn't spoil you for that resolution. It doesn't spoil you for much, period. Look, DMBJ has a weird relationship to endings, okay?

I have written a more thorough where-to-start guide for DMBJ as a whole, so if you want to consider other entry points, well, that information is there for your consideration. Yet it is my opinion that this is the best entry into the overall franchise, and a fun thing to watch just in general, and I'm here to make my case for both of those.

The rest of this rec will assume that you have no familiarity with the DMBJ series. That's okay; you don't need any. All you need is to trust my five reasons you should watch this.

1. Old Man Yaoi

As you begin this show, you are introduced to the Iron Triangle. That's them in the picture up there. Left to right, you have: Xiao Ge, magically tattooed immortal hottie who just got back from ten years in [scene missing]; Wu Xie, our protagonist, who's just a little guy and it's his birthday; and Wang Pangzi, the literal best.

(And yes, Wu Xie is in his 30s and Pangzi is in his 40s, which is not technically old man anything, but ... look, if you watch, you'll see why I think I'm justified in calling it that.)

They are extremely married. They are a disaster trio of disasters so disastrous that no one else should ever be subjected to their chaos. They're going to make sure lots of people are, though, don't you worry about it. Sometimes those people even deserve it.

However, because the show (tragically!!) decides that Xiao Ge has somewhere else to be like 95% of the runtime, most of the relationship you get to see is between Wu Xie and Pangzi.

I'm saying this now as an old gay nerd who just this year celebrated her 15th wedding anniversary: I have never, never felt so represented in media as I have watching Wu Xie and Pangzi interact. There's a little wake-up song they sing together near the end of the show, and it just ... it packs so much character development into thirty seconds. These boys have been living adjacent lives for so long that they've made up their own little shared songs about the mundanities of daily living. That is just what happens when you marry your best friend and then decide to get old and weird together. Ask me how I know.

Look, if you want to know whether this show is for you or not, watch to the end of the first episode, to the part where Pangzi flips over the table. If your heart is filled with joy (as it should be), keep going.

Love makes a tomb-raiding syndicate family.

2. A fun-filled action-packed romp of nonsense!

If you're familiar with Hellblazer canon, this will make sense to you: Reunion is Dangerous Habits. If you're not familiar with Hellblazer canon, try it like this: Reunion is a terrible place to start because it plays on your extant affection for a character who gains a terrible status effect almost immediately. It's a also great place to start because it throws you right in the action with measurably high stakes and gives you a reason to build that affection very quickly.

I'm also going to warn you right off the bat: The plot of this show got cut to ribbons by censors.

See, the DMBJ books, being books, are allowed to get away with supernatural shit! So you've got zombies and ghosts and curses and monsters and immortality and all your other standard ooky spooky semi-urban fantasy trappings. But the DMBJ adaptations, being live-action, are heavily regulated in their content. This is why, in the early Reunion episodes, our heroes are menaced by human-looking creatures that are actually ancient mannequins made of leather that are piloted, mecha-style, by evil clams. Because evil clams are more scientific than zombies. I guess.

So yeah, the plot of this book already had to get mangled into a more "science"-compliant shape even before it made it to filming. The real problem is that a whole lot more of it got cut after it was all filmed and put together. I have read an explanation of what the actual storyline was supposed to be, and yeah, if you know what you’re looking at, you can see (and hear) the scars where major elements got hacked out with a weed whacker.

Therefore: You cannot expect this plot to make sense.

But that's okay! You're not here for the plot to make sense! You're here to watch some characters you love run around through ridiculous and sometimes beautiful labyrinths, trying to solve puzzles you're never given enough information to understand, all in search of the resolution to a mystery that had half its guts torn out before you got to see it -- and you are here to love it. If you have ever laughed and cheered your way through a Mission: Impossible film without pausing to care too much about the plot holes it’s dodging left and right, you are in the correct frame of mind to appreciate this. Just believe that whatever engaging nonsense the show tells you is correct for the time being and go with it.

You cannot watch DMBJ and care about the laws of physics. You simply cannot.

Do not, however, let me give you the impression that the shoddy plotting is accompanied by equally shoddy performances. A major part of this show’s incredible watchability comes from how the cast is shockingly good. There are some serious heavy hitters among the actors. A major part of why this Wu Xie and Pangzi are my favorite together is the incredible chops both Zhu Yilong and Chen Minghao have, to say nothing of their real-life affection for one another. (See that scar on Wu Xie's neck? That scar is there because Zhu Yilong commits to the bit.) Effortlessly charming Mao Xiaotong turns potentially irritating wunderkind Bai Haotian into a perfect precious weirdo baby. Wu Erbai's entire second-season character arc could have been unintentionally comedic, but veteran of queer cinema Hu Jun sells even the undignified moments as relentlessly tragic. And of course Baron Chen absolutely kills it with...

3. This giant fucking loser

This is Hei Xiazi. That's not his name, but it's close enough. Allow me to do a dramatic reenactment of my watching his first scene:

[camera pans over to him]

me: Ugh, I recognize this kind of wannabe badass character design. I hate his type. He's self-important, hyper-masculine, and just a big jerk, and the show thinks he's soooo cool. Barf.

[thirty seconds later]

me: Oh no. I was so wrong. I love him forever now.

This is because he is (as indicated above) a giant fucking loser. Yes, he's a good fighter who knows lots of things. He's also a wet potato chip of a man. Sure, he can get you into a headlock, but he can also annoy you into submission, and that's honestly more fun for him. My wife has used the phrase “Vash the Stampede-coded” to describe him. My wife is not wrong.

And the kind of ridiculous thing is, being such a loser is what wraps back around to making him cool again. He's a loser because he just doesn't fucking care. His masculinity is the opposite of fragile. You tell him to wear a dress and makeup, he'll do it -- and sure, he'll complain, but only because he enjoys complaining. He has no dignity. He’s tits-out. He's gender. He's the worst and also the best.

Hei Xiazi is a major character in the other installations, to the point where he and his boyfriend (more on him later) even have their own movie. But of course, I did not know this on my first watch, so I kept expecting the show to explain his whole deal. It does not, but you don't really need it to. He sees better in the dark. He doesn't age. He's a thug for hire. There, that's all the bio you need.

One of the things that makes him great is that he is the least sexually threatening person ever. Across all the properties he's in, he spends a fair amount of time with women -- sometimes in very close quarters -- and they are perfectly safe around him. I actually wrote a whole post about it once upon a time (warning for tiny spoilers for a series that isn't this one) wherein I claim that not only Xiazi but Reunion in general is the television equivalent of the shirt that says I RESPECT WOMEN SO MUCH I DON'T HAVE SEX WITH THEM.

That said, this loser does get a sort-of romance plot here -- and honestly, I find it very cute! It's not even the only instance in this series of a bisexual guy in a long-term same-sex relationship getting a girlfriend, and I like that other one too! Look, the handle of my DMBJ sideblog is @katamaricule because I joked that Wu Xie treats polyamory like a katamari, and if you don't move fast enough, you're going to be rolled right up into his gay little cuddle puddle.

This is not a show for exclusive ships; this is a show for inclusive ships. The Jiumen Association is a polycule. You don't even have to know what the Jiumen Association is to know it's true.

4. The power of friendship

This show has a lot of characters.

I'd say the supporting cast is divided into three categories: characters who have been in previous installments, characters who have not been in previous installments, and characters who probably should have been in previous installments (or at least mentioned) but who were only created for Reunion so we have to pretend like we've known about them all along.

There is no way to tell which is which -- which is part of my argument that this series makes a good entry point to the franchise.

Take Huo Daofu. Huo Daofu is a brilliant doctor masquerading as a donut stand operator who treats Wu Xie with all the cold disdain of a man confronting the person who left him at the altar years ago. On the one hand, yes! We do know Huo Daofu from a previous series, and we've known he's both a doctor and a bitch. On the other hand, oh, we have no idea why he's like this about Wu Xie, and we probably never will. The show just treats it like it's for an excellent reason, and you know what, from what you know about Wu Xie, it probably is.

Consider also Jiang Zisuan. One of the show's principal antagonists, Jiang Zisuan turns out to be the brother of ... well, let's just say it's someone whose having a brother really should have come up before this. It has not come up. (And that's even before we get into the issue of his surname.) His stated identity as that person's brother is so bizarre that my favorite interpretation is that he isn't actually that person's brother -- all the flashbacks we see are just his delusions about a relationship he's completely invented. But there's no way you'd know how fucking weird this is on your first run.

Then there's our friendly little support himbo, Kanjian, who shows up to all occasions with two tickets to the gun show and not a thought in that beautiful head. (His name just means "vest," which is par for the course when it comes to the author's naming conventions.) He was a lot more menacing in the last series (where they kept putting sleeves on him, geez), where most of what we learned about him is that you can loan him out to other tomb-raiding families. Now he's a golden retriever with great aim and a slingshot. It's an upgrade.

The trick is, you cannot be surprised when someone shows up and the show treats them like you should know who they are, even when there's no possible way you could know who they are. I mean, for heaven's sake, Liu Sang arrives in the middle of an obvious beef with Pangzi, the origins of which are never satisfactorily explained, while also having a giant do-I-want-to-fuck-him-or-do-I-want-to-be-him crush on Xiao Ge, which is also never satisfactorily explained. Whatever, you just roll with it. He's got good hearing, a bad attitude, and questionable taste in idols. Now you're good to go.

(I should throw in a special note here that Liu Sang is many, many people's little meow meow, and not undeservedly. For a fuller explanation of why that is, please consult this other post I made.)

Part of the fun of this big cast is the adorable interactions you get. All the characters have appropriately big personalities, and the show loves letting people you wouldn’t expect bounce off one another. It’s not your typical action-hero show where nothing happens without the protagonist in the room. There are lots of exciting combinations and tons of charming dynamics! Unlikely friendships form all over the place! Enemies become allies! Allies become friends! Friends become friends with other friends! Some friends become enemies again! You'll need a scoreboard to keep up!

This is not to say the show treats all its characters perfectly or equally -- one of the precious few main female characters doesn't even get a real name, for heaven's sake, and the less said about the brownface racism, the better. It is, at its heart, a dude show for dudes made in China, with all the troubling decision-making that implies. Where it does deserve credit, though, is in understanding that its supporting characters are actual people with personalities apart from their function in Wu Xie's narrative. Sometimes the show just asks "what if [random character A] and [random character B] had to interact?" and has fun considering the answer! Which is almost always a delight to watch, and sometimes even breaks your heart.

5. Amazing rewatch value!

And by this I mean the experience of watching this show is remarkably different once you have any understanding of the rest of the DMBJ universe.

For instance, there's a point where two characters are scuba-diving past some submerged coffins, and one character tells the other whose coffins they are. Working only on information Reunion has given you, you're like, oh, that's where they buried the guy who built this creepy place, that's a little weird. Once you recognize that name from other series, though, your reaction is far more, excuse me, they did WHAT to WHOSE corpses?

Or another point where a character you've already met is on a train, and there's a handsome gentleman who just happens to be riding with her. He hands her his business card! Aw, that's sweet, he seems like a nice guy! Well, no, Xie Yuchen is not nice, but he is one of our allies, and he's Hei Xiazi's boyfriend, and a lot of what he's doing hits real different when you have a fuller grasp on why he's doing it and for whom. (Honestly, a major reason to watch Reunion first is so you're not fully and appropriately upset by how your black/pink gays merely have one teeny tiny scene together.)

From the way the series treats the persistent absence of Wu Sanxing, Wu Xie's third uncle, I absolutely, 100% assumed that he was a completely new character to this installment of the series, an extremely long-lost relative that we've somehow conveniently managed to never talk about before now. So imagine my gobsmacked surprise when I went to watch a different series, set much earlier in the timeline, where the opening scene prominently features Wu Sanxing as an actual character in the present-day narrative! ...Well, sorta. Look, there's a lot of fuckery with his identity in earlier parts of the story, and fortunately you need to know none of it to understand Reunion. But when you do, it suddenly makes a lot more sense why Wu Xie talks about someone who was a major part of Wu Xie's adult life like he died when Wu Xie was nine.

AND THE FLASHBACK SCENE WHERE A-NING GETS KILLED BY THE SNAKE, AND YOU'RE LIKE, OKAY, AND THEN YOU WATCH ULTIMATE NOTE AND IT WASN'T LIKE THAT AT ALL look, I know there are kinda reasons for this, different production companies and all, but seriously, what the fuck

All of which to say is that the experience of watching Reunion the first time is, hey, this self-contained romp is a lot of fun! The experience of rewatching it after watching any of the other DMBJ installments is a transcendently wonderful head-clutching avalanche of one moment of recognition right after another.

And here's the thing: You will watch more. Reunion is a gateway drug. If you are interested enough to make it through all 62 episodes, you're going to be interested in watching more. Which is great. The English-speaking fandom needs more people. Come down into the tombs. It's great down here. We've got snakes and arguably unintentional homoeroticism. Join us. Join usssssssss

Are you ready for an aventure?

There are a couple different ways to watch the first half, but there's (weirdly) only one way to watch the second, so for both of them, I'm going to send you straight to iQiyi: Season 1 (32 episodes) and Season 2 (30 episodes).

And just so you’re ready when Reunion is done, here’s how you find the rest of the DMBJ series, in the absolutely non-chronological order in which I, personally, think you should watch them:

The Lost Tomb 2 (AsianCrush, YouTube)

Ultimate Note (iQiyi)

The Mystic Nine (iQiyi, Viki)

Sand Sea/Tomb of the Sea (Viki, WeTV, YouTube, also YouTube)

Also, there's a lot of movies and side series and other pieces that are worth seeing, and even a couple of full series I've left off the list, and you can just slot them in wherever. And maybe we'll get Tibetan Sea Flo-- IT'S HERE! IT'S HERE! And someday maybe I'll actually have time to watch it! What a concept.

They're so perfect. Perfect triangle. Perfect boys.

[nazrigar]

Transformers All-sparks: Cybertronian Military

Introducing Cybertronian Military folk, from Triple Changers to the Chief Justiciary. Triple Changers were Senator Shockwave's greatest achievement prior to his fall from grace. Recruits were picked from candidates of the military with T-cogs that (hopefully) could withstand the modifications required to have TWO alt modes instead of one. Triple Changers are rare. VERY rare, as the process was dangerous.

But the results were considered worth it, because they ended up creating some VERY formidable warriors.

Meanwhile, in terms of special forces, we introduce the Cybertronian Wreckers, warriors meant to be the spearhead of dangerous operations of extreme risk. Those who live long are considered some of the most dangerous warriors of Cybertron.

All the while, all members of the Military, when they do wrong or unlawful acts, become under the purview of one the most powerful judicial institutions in Cybertron, the Cybertronian Military Tribune, headed by "The Great Magnus".

Springer: Brimming with confidence and sarcasm galore, Springer is essentially the perfect Wrecker, with the skills to back it up. He's the Cybertronian Man of Action, and don't you forget it!

Strika: A heavy weapons Transformers and one of the meanest and no-nonsense warriors out there. If she thinks you are sup bar she WILL say it outright and in your face about it. Meanwhile, as a living artillery platform, she's good at her job and knows it.

Kup: Ancient. Kup is OLD. He's rough around the edgest and a tad bit ornery, but he has a lot of wisdom beneath the facade. Technically not active duty, but not retired either, he's officially "in reserver", ready to be called up whenever Cybertron needs him.

Ultra Magnus: The current Magnus, weilder of the Magnus hammer, and highest member of the military's justice system, it is through him that makes sure justice is given fairly and firmly. A powerful man with a personal hobby of designing and researching various armors. He can belt out a speech about laws, but otherwise quite stiff in casual conversation.

The Hounds: "Big Dog" Hound is an old war veteran who's seen the best of the best Cybertron has to offer, and some of the worst. Has a big Engex belly, and a plethora of weapons on his station, and knows how to use each and everyone of 'em. Used to be crass and rough around the edges, but mellowed down considerable after the creation of his son. "Little Dog" Hound is someone, whom at first glance, shouldn't be part of the Cybertronian military, for he much prefers sightseeing the natural world and tinkering with Holograms than fighting. He joined because, deep down, he feels like it's his duty, as with every Hound before him, but he's glad he could serve his OWN way. After all, hologram study are relatively non violent.

Blitzwing: The first successful triple changer, and a beast on the battlefield. Also an unbelievably unpleasant person on a personal level, likely to mock a bot's suffering and struggles when they're not "military material" enough.

Octane: Another triple changer, and by all means doesn't actually want to be there, but he was caught for theft and it was either serving the military or time in prison. Despite his might as a triple changer, he's VERY reluctant to get into dangerous situations.

Impactor: The legendary leader of the Wreckers, no mission too bold, no mission too dangerous, and if you give him a mission, his tenacity and resolve means he WILL get it done, no matter the cost. Springer's boss.

[the-colourful-witch]

There's no Parvati without Lavender :) When I was a kid first reading the books, I didn't like Lavender and Parvati much. They were written in a negative way. They would giggle about everything and say 'oooh' and 'aaah' about stuff and shriek and squeal. And of course, they liked pink and were very emotional... yuk, right? (Note the sarcasm here.) Now, I realize the misogyny that backs all that up. Lavender and Parvati are young women who possess big hearts and know what they like. They are in tune with their emotions and their feminity. And there is absolutely NOTHING WRONG with liking girly things. I have a pair of fluffy pens on my desk that I write letters with to my friends. I own a drawer full of stickers that I stick on my planner. I like the colour pink more and more as I grow older and fuck everyone who makes young women believe they are not allowed to like those things. Because god forbid, you're considered 'girly', which in this case sounds like 'weak'. Weak? Are you kidding? Lavender and Parvati fought in the war. They risked their lives to save others. Lavender ran after Blast-Ended Screwts to help Hagrid with his class! I would rather eat my socks. NoT To MEntiON, the two of them were the only students who bothered to comfort Professor Trelawney when her bloody career was on the line! I will no longer accept any criticism about Lavender. She is a good person. I'm going to continue because there's a lot to say.

Oohing and aahing when you see a unicorn is not annoying, Harry. You pubescent little shit. If I saw a unicorn, I would bawl my eyes out. Don't judge people.

Crying when your pet rabbit dies is also NOT ANNOYING. Have some sympathy. Hermione, just because YOU don't believe in Divination doesn't mean it's nonsense. Don't make fun of people and their perception of the world. RIP Binky <3

Am I done? NO! Lavender was a 16-year-old girl when she got her first boyfriend. Was she clingy? Yes. Did she use silly nicknames? Yes. Does that mean she deserved to be led on for weeks? No. So, Ron Weasley, apologize. For the love of GOD.

Alright, I think I'm done.

[bloopitynoot]

Reading SVSSS: Chapter 20

For those who don't know, I am reading SVSSS for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag bloopitynoot reads SVSSS. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read.

hello hello! As promised the tattoo reveal.

I survived getting half my sleeve lined but boy am I sore. Tattoos on your hand are the absolute pits. Like no joke, hand tattoos are rough my guys. 10/10 do not recommend, but I'm doing it because it looks cute LOL.

This tattoo will be a tea themed sleeve. Featured on this half: hibiscus, chamomile, green tea leaves, raspberries + raspberry leaf, and lemons. I have another appointment in December and January to get the shading done but for now just lines!

I did not have tea with this chapter but that is okay- let's get into the notes!

I was so hung up on Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu's relationship that I totally forgot an entire war is brewing. Well. Here we go LOL

unrelated but important question- what is their ship name???

Okay we are starting the chapter strong with SQQ's gay panic LOL Re: SQQ lying to himself, the reader, and the gods about him actually meaning that he missed the light of his life LBH p241

These two!!!!! "Then why didn't you come look for this master inside the dream realm" p242

"Whenever Shizun is at Cang Qiong Mountain" Luo Binghe said quietly, "When Shizun is with other people, he always smiles so happily. So I thought you wouldn't miss me". p243 This guy is the absolute master manipulator or he just requires unlimited amounts of reassurance. Either way My HEART!

The cat and mouse game at this point is wild. Really Shen Qingqiu needs to figure his shit out because the "accidental" flirting is horse shit. p245

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀 "Why does it sound like i've become your father" p246. NO THANKS. But also no wonder it feels weird as fuck- SQQ does not want to be LBH's daddy (in that way).

OOP! FINALLY. Luo Binghe is totally sus about SQQ's knowledge about the future and other things he really shouldn't know. I really hope it's revealed that he is from another world and Luo Binghe is chill with it. p248

Liu Qingge walks into any room in which SQQ was seemingly alone: p250

This is a side note but I really like Qi Qingqi, this woman is fierce as fuck. Like no nonsense I would 100% trust her with my life, death, and rebirth. I do suspect that she doesnt play a large role in the story but I wish she was present more. I do totally want to eventually read some fics with her in them because she is such a badass. p254

Dang! So the realm merging begins! I am sad though that they don't want SQQ to go, but I get it; he keeps running away or getting grievously injured. Also it's so weird that no one is really questioning how he has this much knowledge of future events, they just kind of accept it and run with it LOL (except Luo Binghe who has done the most questioning). pp256-257

Xuan Su is so fucking cool!!!!! p257

Well I am sure that LBH reputation points will increase now that he's saved Zhao Hua Monastery! p260 Thank fuck too, because I really wasn't seeing a positive end game for him and SQQ if he wasn't able to turn his reputation around.

This cheeky guy LOL "Shizun I have missed you, it's been so long" like the fool wasn't sitting in his lap the night before LOL pp261-262

SO AWKWARD LOL. LBH telling everyone who is important that he only cares for SQQ and will only do what SQQ wants him to do and will do absolutely anything for him. Meanwhile SQQ: . I DIED: "Peak Lord Shen has truly raised a good disciple. He's become our cultivation world's tremendous fortune." Though he said "raised a good disciple" the tone was no different from the way he might say "married a good husband." pp262-263

Well. I thought it was embarrassing before, but then we get hit with the "Luo Binghe nodded solemnly. "Yes." His face spread into a smile. "And Shizun is mine.". p265

I really love every conversation between SQH and SQQ. The understanding they have and the banter is so good pp266-267

LOL LBH : I am sooooo tired, let me fly with you? p268

LBH really is shameless! The public hand holding!!! Now it makes me want to read fics from LBH POV- we get SQQ this entire time, but I want to see what LBH has going on in there LOL. p269

He really was yeeted

RIP SQH. May you not die in that hole. pp270-271

[thepixelelf]

Bluff and Nonsense - she/her ver.

genres: romance, angst, some fluff, university au, not a fake dating au pairing: female reader x hoshi words: 17.0k (01:08) warnings: cursing, alcohol notes (orig, 2020): "so the title is fluffy and this was a title fic, but then it ran away on me. I really like this one so... yeah. Enjoy!” update, 2023: this is the she/her version of Bluff and Nonsense. other than the pronouns, nothing else has been changed. you can find the original they/them version here, and the he/him version here

“Soonyoung? Yeah I know him, you should too. He’s on the uni’s dance crew, and ever since he joined them, their popularity’s skyrocketed. I’ve met him a few times, great guy — got a tendency to run his mouth but hey, no one’s perfect. He’s smart anyways, probably knows how to deal with the consequences, right?”

or

Soonyoung never thought one bluff could lead to so much nonsense.

Kwon Soonyoung is a man of many talents. He’s the guy who could fit a whole orange in his mouth in fourth grade, the guy who always knew how to make the social studies teacher talk about his divorce instead of the world wars, and the guy who brought a live pigeon to school with no one questioning him whatsoever. He’s also the head choreographer of the university’s dance crew — you barely knew there was a dance crew until he showed up with his hand-drawn posters — as well as a totally well-rounded fine arts major. C’mon, who takes a chemistry course in the fine arts? Kwon Soonyoung, apparently.

Of his many talents though, lying is not one of them.

Which is why, when asked if he likes anyone, Soonyoung says your name instead of simply saying “no” (a much better option in hindsight). He actually likes a girl on his dance crew. Cute, funny, has those eyes you can just get lost in — lord knows Soonyoung has. But, at this relatively quiet party, with half the guests crowded on Seungcheol’s couch and the other half on the disgusting carpeted floor of his apartment, Soonyoung can’t admit his real crush because she’s sitting just a few feet away.

It wouldn’t be such a bad lie if you weren’t also sitting a few feet away.

You’re on your phone when he says your name in his heartbeat-induced panic, but you look up at the sound of it, as does Seungkwan, who was reading something on your phone from the beanbag chair you’re both sitting in.

A chorus of low, teasing ‘ooh’s rises throughout the room, almost like it’s eighth grade again and Soonyoung just got called down to the office. Except now, he might actually be in trouble. He gets a few claps on the back from his friends close enough to reach, commending him on his bravado even though he doesn’t deserve it. Really, the whole situation only dawns on Soonyoung after 6.8 seconds, which is a bit too long considering he made the situation in the first place. Blood rushes to his cheeks, not because of the alcohol in his red cup he’s yet to drink, but because you’re looking right at him, and he has no idea what to do.

Soonyoung doesn’t know you very well. In fact, he’d almost say he doesn’t know you at all.

You’re Seungkwan’s friend from one of his classes — computing science, if Soonyoung remembers correctly, but he’s not totally confident. The only reason you came tonight is because of Seungkwan. You don’t know anyone else.

With a tilt of your head, your face scrunches with question, and you look to Seungkwan for help. You know Soonyoung said your name, but you missed hearing the context. It looks like Seungkwan missed it too, seeing as the conversation you two have only makes your brow furrow more as the room chatter picks back up. Everyone else is already over Soonyoung’s sudden confession when Jeonghan starts talking about something else.

Except Soonyoung’s friends, of course. That would be too easy.

Mingyu turns to him with a stupid smile, his cheeks red from both the free opportunity to tease his upperclassman and the light beer he’s been sipping and pretending to get buzzed on all night. He nudges Soonyoung with his shoulder where they sit on the floor, leaning in to speak under the conversations surrounding them. “You didn’t tell me you like her,” he says, the jesting tone in his voice clearer than water.

“Yeah...” Soonyoung doesn’t know why he doesn’t just retract his confession, it’s not like Mingyu is close to you or anything, he’d understand. But then again, he’s bad at lying, and the girl he likes is still sitting on the couch. He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s sort of a recent thing.”

Mingyu’s smile only widens at Soonyoung’s response, his eyes turning to slits with the rise of his cheeks. “Soonie’s in looove~!”

And Soonyoung doesn’t know what to say. Nothing like this has ever happened to him before, not exactly like this, anyways. So he just looks down, scratches the back of his neck again, looks at one of his dance crew friends when she calls his name.

He doesn’t dare glance your way for the rest of the night.

Turns out you do know someone else other than Seungkwan, because once most of the guests have cleared out, leaving only half the boys to clean up, Seokmin approaches Soonyoung as he scrubs the sink of whatever that weird green stuff is.

He asks how Soonyoung knows you and says off-handedly that he’s never even seen the two of you talk. (Which is right.) He says these things shouldn’t be joked about, that you’re a person with feelings, and Soonyoung should leave you alone if he’s just doing this for comedy’s sake.

Soonyoung thinks he’s never seen Seokmin so serious.

It’s probably fine. You haven’t said anything good or bad, and other than the occasional tease from his friends, no one has taken anything too far. Maybe you’ll forget about it tomorrow. Maybe he’ll forget about it tomorrow, and it will all be okay.

Besides, it’s not like he actually likes you. And his real secret is still safe and sound.

•

Of Soonyoung’s many talents, making people sad is also not one of them.

It’s not that he actively tries to cause misery only to fail, it’s that he can’t stand upsetting anyone. He’s a people-pleaser by nature, that’s just how it is.

So he doesn’t say no when you ask him out for coffee.

And he smiles at you when you try to make conversation, even though it’s awkward and hesitant despite having a mutual friend like Seungkwan. It’s not so bad, he thinks. You’re trying, at least, and when you ask him about his interests, you actually listen, which isn’t common when he tends to over-explain his love for dance and performance. He has a coffee in his hand too, so that’s a plus.

You ask him if what he said at the party was true, and something in your eyes makes him say yes.

•

There are a few more coffee dates after that. It’s nothing official, and Soonyoung is hesitant to call the meetups “dates” because he’s not interested in dating you. But it’s a little late for that.

You seem brighter, though, every time he sees you again; he can’t bring himself to take that away, to cut the cord, to clean this mess he made.

Something about the way you two talk is nice, at least. Soonyoung can’t quite put his finger on it, and he tells himself that’s what’s drawing him back every time, not the guilt he feels sunken in his ribcage whenever you smile his way. It’s not that deep, he repeats to himself whenever you wave to him on campus, making him feel obligated to walk you to class. It’s not that deep.

He’s in the library one day when he spots you at one of the tables, books open and spread out as you scribble down notes, a pair of earbuds dangling from your ears. You haven’t seen him, so he doesn’t try to approach, just ducks back behind the bookshelf he’s been exploring. His hand is on a book he might like when a voice stops him.

“You know you’re an idiot, right?”

Minghao leans against the opposite bookshelf, his arms crossed, locked and loaded for judgement. Soonyoung looks around, but of course he’s talking to him. They’re the only ones in the row.

“Um, how do you want me to answer that?” he asks, unsure of exactly what Minghao’s talking about. Yeah, he knows he’s a bit dense sometimes, but not all the time.

Minghao rolls his eyes. “I know you like Sehee. You haven't stopped laughing like an idiot at her bad jokes." He nods his chin outwards, gesturing over Soonyoung's shoulder and through the bookshelves towards where you're sitting. "What are you doing messing with Seungkwan's friend?"

It’s not too surprising that Minghao knows — he’s an intuitive guy, but Soonyoung is still caught off guard. He asks first, under his breath, “Does anyone else know?”

“If you mean dumb and dumber, then no.” Minghao jerks his head to swing his dark bangs out of his eyes. Everyone keeps telling him to just cut his hair shorter, but he refuses for the aesthetic, or something. “Chan is way too focused on dancing to notice your dumbassery, and Jun is about as observant as a fishcake when it comes to feelings.”

Soonyoung’s shoulders fall in relief, though he didn’t even realize they’d tensed up. 

“But that’s not the problem here. Why are you playing around with her if you’re into Sehee?”

“I’m not—” Soonyoung pauses, thoughts deliberate, “—I’m not playing around, okay? I just... I don’t know. You were all looking at me, and I couldn’t just say Sehee's name, she was right there!”

Minghao cocks an eyebrow at that. “But you could say hers?”

“It was a moment of weakness.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m aware.”

Soonyoung groans quietly — he’s still in a library after all. He covers his face with both hands, not wanting to look at Minghao nor have Minghao look at him. For a second, it’s blissful, awkward silence, which Soonyoung would take over Minghao’s scolding any day. But of course, no haven lasts forever.

“You’re gonna have to tell her,” Minghao says, and he’s probably right. No, he is right, Soonyoung just doesn’t want him to be.

“I can’t do that! I said I like her— twice!”

“Twice?”

“Twice!”

Minghao only drops his head for a second, scoffing at the whole situation. Soonyoung wishes he could do that too, just laugh it off because it’s someone else’s problem.

“Well, you’re going to have to say something sooner or later.” Meeting his eyes, Soonyoung realizes Minghao might actually be worried. About you, or him, or something else, he’s not sure, but the subtle fold of Minghao’s eyelids tells Soonyoung this is about more than just calling out idiocy. “And I think sooner will hurt less.”

Soonyoung knows he’s right. But he doesn’t like it.

Before he can come up with a rebuttal, though, Minghao’s hands are on Soonyoung’s shoulders, and he’s pushing him out of the row of bookshelves and straight towards your table.

“You can do it, Soonyoung, just rip the band-aid while you still can,” he whispers in Soonyoung’s ear right before one last push at his back.

Soonyoung stumbles a bit, but once he regains his footing, Minghao’s already gone and you’ve already noticed the ruckus. You pull one earbud out with a bright smile. It’s so jovial that Soonyoung almost forgets why he’s here.

“Hi Soonyoung, I didn’t see you come in,” you say, and there’s no way you’re this energized just from studying in a library.

“Uh... hi.”

“You’ve actually got the perfect timing.” Waving to him, you gesture for him to sit next to you, and he does. You pull out some sort of planner, opening it to a few months from now. “I wanted to ask when exactly your showcase is? Seungkwan’s no help at all because he only cares about his concerts and stuff. Honestly, there aren’t that many...”

You’re going to have to say something sooner or later.

Soonyoung picks later.

•

“So when are you gonna ask her out?”

Jihoon stands in front of the stove, watching his hot water simmer, a bag of dry ramen in one hand and long cooking chopsticks in the other. It’s Soonyoung’s turn to make dinner tonight, but since he says he isn’t hungry, Jihoon’s scrounging it out himself.

Soonyoung, on the other hand, sits at their tiny dinner table, his forehead pressed to the cool surface, arms hanging limp at his sides. He mumbles something of a response, but it’s nothing more than a questioning grunt, if anything.

“Oh, you know.” Even when Jihoon says your name, Soonyoung stays still. “Only the girl you’ve been on several “dates” with ever since you confessed to her at Seungcheol’s party. When are you gonna ask her on a real date?”

Tired, Soonyoung groans. “When the time is right, I guess.”

•

You work on campus. It’s some part-time job you don’t care about enough to even complain over, despite the fact that you have to deal with annoying university kids every day. Soonyoung finds this out when he has coffee with Minghao in one of the buildings he doesn’t normally frequent, and only goes to today since Minghao has a class nearby in the next hour.

The coffee isn’t great, and it’s too expensive, but Soonyoung drinks it anyways. He much prefers the coffee from the cafe he goes to with you. Because the coffee is better. Obviously.

He hears your voice first, words indiscernible with distance and overshadowed by a much louder, angrier one, but still. Minghao sees you first, though, and he points past Soonyoung to the student printing center, where you’re standing behind the counter and arguing with some guy. You don’t seem too riled, but Soonyoung can tell you want to be anywhere but there, especially when the angry guy’s voice keeps getting louder and louder.

Soonyoung’s feet bring him over before his brain can register what to do. You haven’t seen him yet, he could just walk away, but he doesn’t. Your voice becomes clearer as he approaches.

“Listen, the printing center is for education, art, or business. I can’t print this for you.”

The guy goes off about personal freedoms or whatever, Soonyoung isn’t really listening.

“No, I get that this is a student printing center, but I really don’t think your big tiddie anime gf poster has anything to do with education, art, or business.”

And that’s when the guy grabs your arm. Which results in Soonyoung grabbing his arm. Which results in the accusatory question, “What are you, her boyfriend or something?”

Now, in a perfect story, this would be the first time Soonyoung meets you. Or maybe you’ve been close friends for a while. And this would be when Soonyoung says that, yes, he is your boyfriend, and he would save the day. Except you’d be all “why would you do that?” which would result in you both having to fake date to keep that guy off your back. In this perfect story, there would be no Sehee to like and no Minghao to judge, just you and Soonyoung fake dating. Eventually, you’d both catch real feelings instead of fake ones, and then boom, happily ever after.

But this isn’t a perfect story.

Soonyoung still says yes, and the guy still backs off. In reality though, because Soonyoung never thinks before he lies, you momentarily duck behind the counter and bring a hand up to your face to cover your ever-brightening smile. In reality, Sehee still exists at the forefront of his mind every dance practice, even though you’re the one he just promptly claimed to be the boyfriend of. In reality, Minghao watches from a little ways away, sipping his coffee and shaking his head in what can only be called disappointment.

Soonyoung’s never been good at lying. One would think he’d stop by now.

•

So, it’s official.

You’ve put a heart next to his contact name. He’s put one next to yours — red, because he doesn’t know your favourite colour. Seungkwan’s done the whole if you break my friend’s heart I break you spiel and Soonyoung finally realizes he’s in too deep.

It's almost too natural, how easily you bring him into your life and how easily he finds himself fitting. It's all so wrong.

Soonyoung feels like an imposter, like there's someone meant to be by your side, but it's not him.

You pluck up the courage one day to hold his hand, and he can't pull away because the lies tying him to you are too strong. The small bluffs he's spun have weaved themselves into a net he's tangled himself in.

His dance crew congratulates him when Jun spills the news. It's all mundane, really — dating in university isn't all that uncommon. Mostly, Soonyoung gets casual "you go, dude" comments or the like, but then Sehee says nothing. She smiles, and it has to be one of the most tragically beautiful things Soonyoung's ever seen. His heart fractures, just a little, and he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to fix it.

He smiles it off. Tries to, anyways.

Chan complains that Soonyoung's too harsh that day.

•

Jihoon likes you.

Not in a "Mister Steal Yo' Girl" way, but he laughed at one of your jokes the first time you came over to Soonyoung's apartment, and ever since then, he's been convinced.

"You must feel like the luckiest guy on earth with her around," Jihoon says once you leave for the night.

Soonyoung has no idea how to tell him he's felt nothing but unlucky these past few weeks, so he doesn't.

•

He polishes up on his acting. As awful as it is to think, Soonyoung has gotten really, really good.

His smile looks genuine. It has to — he shows it to Minghao, who says it's "adequate," which basically means perfect to the lowly humans beneath him.

He's gotten good at responding to you too, copying how the male leads do it in dramas and movies. It's sort of easy.

He hates how easy it is.

Soon enough, you try befriending the whole group. Being Seungkwan's friend, you've always wanted to, but apparently this is the push you needed. The boys are quick to warm up to you because, as Soonyoung's new girlfriend, you're now a new teasing target besides Chan. The youngest was always the brunt until you came along.

You say you don't mind — that his friends are amazing despite all the jokes and chaos. He believes you.

Minghao keeps his distance, saying he doesn't want to get himself involved. He's still the only one to know the truth, and his judging stare only grows worse as the days pass. Soonyoung wants so badly to make it go away, but he knows the only way to do that would be to tell you the truth, and he's just not ready.

Soonyoung's never broken a heart before. He's never planned on it.

Sometimes life makes its own plans.

"My shift got moved to tomorrow," you tell him when he picks you up from class, one hand in his and the other in your pocket. He knows it means something, but he doesn't know what. Your lips purse into a line as you stare at your shoes. “I was thinking... could I come watch your dance practice? If that’s okay?”

Now, Soonyoung loves dancing. He loves dance. He loves to dance. Performing sends an unparalleled thrill rushing through his veins like the solar system hurtling through the universe, and it’s something he’s never felt doing anything else. Dancing with others is a beautiful connection, an emission of silent truths communicated through the body. Practice, however, is the dirty version of dance. It has to be built up first — polished. Which is why Soonyoung says what he says. He doesn’t even think it over.

“No.”

It’s what he says every time someone asks. He doesn’t invite people to practices — never has. Even after his prompt refusal, he doesn’t register his mistake until the light in your eyes wavers. It doesn't disappear — just ripples. Comes back weaker than before.

"Oh," you say. The word should sound dejected but it doesn't. There's a smile at your lips, and Soonyoung can't help but think it looks kind of like his. "That's— that's okay! I was just — I don't know, I guess I just thought... I wanted to..."

Meeting his gaze, you look at him with shaking eyes, almost as if it takes great strength to keep them on his. He tries to backpedal, but you continue.

"I'll be going home then. I've got an assignment due soon anyways, so..." You pull your hand from his grip and, from where you two were walking toward the fine arts building, turn the opposite way. Your dorm is on the other side of campus. "See you tomorrow, Soonyoung. Have fun at practice."

Something about your smile haunts him.

It's hollow; feels empty when you flash it at him before going. He thinks fake smiles all look like that — insincere. His smiles at you must be the same way.

For an awful moment, he's hopeful. Maybe this will be the trigger. Maybe you'll end this tonight — whatever "this" is that Soonyoung has with you. Maybe he won't have to tell any harsh truths at all.

He turns and walks to practice.

The routine feels lighter tonight, though Soonyoung can’t pinpoint why. His body almost floats, and while that sounds good, it’s not. The rhythm is off. He’s not landing when he should be.

His crew notices, especially Chan, who complains that Soonyoung’s too much of a cocksure choreographer to be making repeated mistakes like this. They tell him maybe everyone should take a break. He agrees, but only because he’s frustrated — and he shouldn’t channel his anger into dance. Not this one, at least. 

Everyone spreads throughout the studios to the edges, where they lean their body weight on the walls and slide down, water bottles in hand. The room reeks of sweat and feet, but Soonyoung’s used to it by now. He guzzles down half of his water in one go and pulls out his phone.

[❤] Sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to react all... cold? Seungkwan told me you never invite anyone to practice, so it makes total sense why you said no

[❤] If I’m ever crossing any boundaries, let me know, okay?

Of course you’d be understanding. Soonyoung wouldn’t be that lucky.

He tosses his phone haphazardly in his bag, groaning and throwing his head back so it hits the wall with a dampened thud. The pain is dull compared to the thoughts top-spinning in his mind.

Across the studio, Minghao clears his throat, raising an eyebrow at Soonyoung when he opens his eyes to look at him. It only takes two reluctant nods for Minghao to understand the source of Soonyoung’s groans, and he does nothing to react but look away. Soonyoung thinks that’s almost worse than the judging eyes. At least at that point Minghao thought he was something other than a lost cause.

He doesn’t text you back. By the time he thinks of something a boyfriend would say, the time to say it has passed.

•

How much longer is he going to let this go on?

Soonyoung wonders that to himself as he sits, returned to Seungcheol's apartment for another one of his "getties" as people are so apt to call them. He's never understood the difference between a getty and a party, and he's always been too stubborn to ask, knowing he'd be mercilessly made fun of for not knowing something apparently all university students knew.

This one isn't so different from the last. More or less the same crowd, the same atmosphere as the night goes on. Only this time, when everyone's settled down in what can hardly be called a circle, Soonyoung's on the couch, sunken into the too-old cushions with an arm wrapped around your shoulders. You're far from your last claimed spot with Seungkwan on that ratty old beanbag chair, sitting comfortably under Soonyoung's arm with a plastic cup of whatever Jeonghan concocted for you — which you've yet to drink much of.

Sehee sits across from you both while she laughs at something Wonwoo says. You laugh too, but Soonyoung barely notices, eyes glued to the girl they've been stuck on since she joined his dance crew over a year ago. He wants to tell her how beautiful she is when she smiles, even under the light of Seungcheol's dingy apartment, but he can't. He wants to tell her how he's felt for months, but you're next to him. He wants to have a fucking drink but all he has in his cup is fucking iced green tea because he knows if he drinks he'll fuck up again.

Just like last time.

"You okay?" you whisper in his ear at one point.

He turns to see your concerned expression, and it only makes Soonyoung hate this even more. He doesn't deserve your concern.

"I'm fine."

But he's not fine.

He doesn't participate in much conversation — only speaks when spoken to, and even then with few words. You seem to become tense next to him, but he does nothing to try and fix it. Just tonight, he's going to let himself be tired.

Three times, you offer to leave, and all three he refuses. You give up eventually, though he can tell you know something's off. God, if he were drunk, he wouldn't even have to think about you for a whole night.

Somehow the topic of discussion turns to couples, and suddenly, an entire room of eyes is on you and Soonyoung. He barely catches the question before you're already pondering your answer.

What do the two lovebirds love most about each other?

You look at him. At him, at him. He feels your stare in the dip of his throat because he can't seem to swallow anymore. It's like his soul is being scanned for viruses.

"Hmm..." You let your chin fall into your palm with a smile. It's real. Too real. "I like his resolve," you finally say. "If he wants to do something, he does it." With a loud exhale through your nose, you tilt your head, still meeting his eyes with your own. Soonyoung's mouth slightly parts, slack with something he can't name. "I could learn a thing or two from him."

The room bristles with your answer, various response piping up around. Soonyoung sort of registers Chan saying, "That's cute. I wanna vomit," but he's too busy thinking about you, about how you've come to like something about him as deep as that when all he's done is pretend to even like you at all.

And even when his mind swims with that, Sehee asks again.

"Then Soonyoung, what do you like about her?"

It sort of hurts. Soonyoung's not afraid to admit to himself that hearing Sehee ask what he likes about you sends pain straight through his ears to his heart. There's an awkward pause and everyone's looking at him expectantly and, god, he wishes he stole your drink when he had the chance.

"I..." His throat goes dry. His lips part, but there aren't any words to slip past them. "I, um..." He looks to you, and your eyes speak volumes. Everyone else in this room has a sort of... hungry look. They want to know Soonyoung's answer for one reason or another, maybe to tease with or to ridicule or even wish for themselves. But you, your eyes meet his and he knows you're not expecting anything. That hurts too. He doesn't know why. But even then, he can't think of the words. Any words. He steals a glance at Sehee, whose expression is curious, doe eyes slightly giddy from alcohol. She's pretty.

"I like her laugh," he says. It's not about you. "Whenever she laughs, I think to myself, 'What I wouldn't give to see her laugh again'."

Your eyes move to the plastic cup you've got gripped between two hands in your lap, and Seungkwan points out your flustered state to the entire room despite the fact everyone can see it as long as they've got working eyes. You purse your lips together to contain a smile, but it doesn't work. Even Soonyoung can see that.

He needs a drink. 

Having to go to the bathroom is a lousy excuse, and Soonyoung knows it, but he whispers that in your ear anyways and retracts his arm from your shoulder before escaping. He does go to the bathroom, a small thing with a shower and no bath, but all he does in there is stare at himself in the mirror. And when that becomes too much, his feet.

Someone else eventually has to use the bathroom for its actual purpose, so he opens it to the banging fist outside and slides past the person back into the hallway. He pauses before walking all the way back. You're caught up in some other conversation now, laughing and dramatically waving your hands as you deny some crazy embarrassing story Seungkwan's trying to spill about you. Seems you've already integrated yourself with his friends more than he thought.

Since your attention is occupied, Soonyoung instead ducks into the half-kitchen — not necessarily out of sight, but no one's really paying attention anyways. He knows he shouldn't take any chances, but he really, really wants to let go. He's been wearing a facade ever since he said your name that night.

"I wouldn't, if I were you."

Minghao's voice has Soonyoung jerking up and banging his head on the door of the open fridge he was rummaging through. He winces in pain, kneading his fingers into his scalp as if that will do anything.

"Wouldn't what?" he snaps.

"I dunno." Minghao shrugs, and it's almost infuriating how nonchalant he is. "Do something you might regret, I guess."

He takes the yet unopened bottle from Soonyoung's hands, reaching beyond him to put it back in place. There's no point in fighting against him since he's undeniably right, but Soonyoung grumbles anyways. His eyes glance every few seconds to you on the couch. If you happen to hear anything...

Well, he doesn't know exactly. But he doesn't want to find out.

"You have to end it."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just—" Soonyoung takes in a breath, too loud for his liking. He lowers his voice. "I can't, okay? I don't want to hurt her."

"So you're just going to date her based on false pretenses because you're too much of a coward to admit your mistakes?" Voice laced with sharpness, Minghao places his palms flat on the counter.

Soonyoung takes a deep breath through his nose, lips twisting in frustration. "Yeah, okay? Yeah," he whispers. "That's exactly what I'm gonna do."

A second passes. Minghao's brow furrows.

"And quite frankly," Soonyoung continues, "I'd rather you keep your nosy ass out of my business from now on."

He nearly storms off right then with the last word, but Minghao's fingers around his elbow stop him.

"You're going to get yourself hurt," Minghao warns through his teeth. He nods towards you. "And her in the process."

"We'll see about that."

Soonyoung has acted on impulse before. It happened with the pigeon, it happened with your name, and it's happening right now. Nothing is compelling him other than the absolute need to prove Minghao wrong, and even then, he doesn't know why.

He sits back down next to you, his spot saved by some miracle considering the surrounding company. The look on your face is happy, jovial. You must be having a right old time. His nerves strike with a feeling he's never quite experienced before.

When you study his face, no doubt not nearly as cheerful as yours, the expression you held falters to worry.

"You okay?" is once again the question on your lips, quiet, meant for his ears only.

Impulse is a scary thing. Soonyoung hates it almost as much as lying.

He leans in, crashing his lips on yours with his eyes half closed. His lips move and yours don't. Soonyoung can't even be sure you've closed your eyes, but at this very moment, he doesn't care. All he knows is he's angry and Minghao is watching.

This isn’t your first kiss — he knows because you’ve talked to him about this very topic. This is, however, to your understanding, the first “real” relationship you’ve ever been in. You told him yourself that you don’t really count that past kiss as your first, that you felt a bit... violated when it happened.

Soonyoung thinks this isn’t all too different.

He steals your second first kiss, and later, staring at the water-stained stucco ceiling of his bedroom, he kicks himself so hard it hurts.

•

You show up to movie night. Apparently Jihoon invited you — explained it like this:

“You won’t have to be so clingy with me if she’s here.”

At first, Soonyoung thinks Jihoon just wants to drop their roommate movie nights because he’s always complained about them, but Jihoon sticks around during Anastasia; sings along with you during Once Upon a December despite the fact that neither of you really know the words. He sits right in front of you two on the couch, cross-legged on the floor with a bowl of popcorn in his lap, that of which he only offers to you twice and Soonyoung once.

Whatever. You’re a better cuddler than Jihoon anyway.

Somehow it doesn’t feel forced when you lean your head on Soonyoung’s shoulder, or when he wraps his arm around your waist to get comfortable. He blames it on how tired he is, how he always gets on movie night after a week of classes and practices and too much work for one person to handle. Jihoon complains all the time that he’s too touchy when tired.

You absentmindedly play with his fingers for most of the movie. He doesn’t mind.

It’s been about a month now.

Soonyoung doesn’t kiss you again after the first time. Doesn’t stop you, either, but you’re more of an on-the-cheek kind of person. He thinks you think he wants to take this slow, even though he initiated the first big step (as convoluted as it was). He lets you think what you want.

Nasty business, it is.

Cleaning a bowl that once held popcorn. All the grease that sticks to the side because Jihoon likes to use too much butter. All the grains of salt that get underneath Soonyoung’s fingernails. He’s washing, Jihoon’s drying. It’s an arrangement of sorts.

You’ve already left for the night, gone back to your dorm since it’s only a five minute walk or so through campus. Jihoon insisted on Soonyoung escorting you, but you only smiled sweetly and refused. Maybe Soonyoung should’ve argued harder against you. He didn’t though. That’s why he’s scrubbing a bit too harshly now — he doesn’t like messing up.

Seems that’s all he’s good for lately.

“You’re unhappy.”

Soonyoung stops scrubbing. The only noise in the whole apartment is the slow gurgle of the sink because even with a plug, such an old thing just lets the hot water seep away as the seconds go by. Jihoon’s gaze is on the pan he’s drying, but Soonyoung knows his heart is in the question. It always is.

“I’m not,” he tries to deny, but it’s difficult to fool a person like Jihoon. (Especially since Soonyoung can’t even convince himself.)

The non-stick pan from yesterday’s dinner clangs against an older one when Jihoon puts it away. He looks at Soonyoung, but by then he’s turned back to washing the popcorn bowl, so their eyes don’t end up meeting.

“I’ve known you since tenth grade. You think I can’t tell when you’re upset?”

Soonyoung finds it hard to read Jihoon’s feelings most of the time. He didn’t realize he was such an open book the other way around.

Sighing, he continues to scrub the bowl, which has probably been clean for a minute already. “I’m just... stressed.”

“About?”

Minghao already knows; already thinks lowly of Soonyoung for it. If Jihoon knew... Soonyoung doesn’t know if he can take that.

So he lies. Again.

“Just the dance showcase.”

It isn’t a whole lie, not really, but he can’t call it the truth either.

Jihoon takes the bowl from Soonyoung’s grasp and rinses it under the tap. Since that’s the last dish, Soonyoung is stuck with nothing for his hands to do. They rest on the edge of the sink, but his fingers ache for a task.

Jihoon, the friend that he is, says, “That’s not for three months, though. I’m sure you’ll be perfect by then.”

“I don’t know...”

“Well I do.” Eyes meet eyes, a pair determined, a pair apprehensive. “Everything will work out.”

“...Okay.”

•

Soonyoung measures time in terms of you now.

When he last texted you. When he last saw you. When he last spoke to you.

It’s all a very elaborate calculation — how much time he’s spent on you versus how much time he should spend on you. No relationship is quite like this one, he thinks, and it’s quite the romantic notion out of context. The fact remains, every interaction he has with you only pulls him further and deeper into his lie.

Soonyoung’s time moves a bit slower now.

Faster, sometimes, but only when he doesn’t want it to.

•

You tell him you might be in love with him.

He says he might be in love with you.

He’s never hated lying more.

•

Jihoon is cleaning out the fridge when the buzzer goes off, so since he’s close by, he picks up the old corded phone attached to the wall. From his spot on the couch, Soonyoung looks up from his phone to see Jihoon cover the receiver and mouth your name. Jihoon makes some sort of gesture with his hands, and somehow Soonyoung understands that as, were you expecting her?

His eyes widen as it settles in that no, he’s not expecting you. The apartment is a mess.

Jihoon buzzes you in, hangs up, and immediately moves from the fridge to the coffee table, throwing the laundry he was planning on folding back in the plastic hamper and shoving the pile in Soonyoung’s lap.

“Take care of this,” he says. “I’ll clear up the kitchen.”

Right. Can’t have you thinking your boyfriend and his roommate are slobs.

Soonyoung reacts quickly, standing from his spot on the couch with the laundry basket in hand. He dashes to his room, where he plans to stuff the laundry in his closet and save that problem for later, but once he gets there, he realizes his room is even worse. There are dirty clothes dispersed all over his bed and old coffee cups littering his desk. Scrambling to shove the new laundry in his closet, the dirty clothes in the now empty hamper, and gather all the paper cups in his arms, Soonyoung’s breath starts to catch.

When he emerges from his room with two armfuls of garbage, he finds you at the door with Jihoon, your face hidden in his shoulder and your arms wrapped tight around his waist. Jihoon’s arms are up, almost like he’s being held at gunpoint, and his eyes widen even further when he catches sight of Soonyoung.

“Uhh... it’s for you.”

Soonyoung can hear your quiet hiccups even though they’re muffled in Jihoon’s shirt. He can’t bear it when people cry.

Yeah, maybe he’s been pretending to like you for a long time now, but he’s not a monster.

Right?

He likes you as a person. As a friend. And there’s no way he’s letting his friend go through pain like this.

Soonyoung swiftly discards his trash into the garbage bin and approaches you and Jihoon. At the commotion, you lift your head from Jihoon’s shoulder, eyes all red and puffy. Your lips press together, emotions nearly bursting at the seams, but they finally break out when Soonyoung opens his arms wide.

“C’mere.”

You practically flail into his embrace, arms wrapping around his torso in a vice grip as you hide your face again. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay — he knows you’re not.

Jihoon stands in the doorway for a few seconds, just looking at you and Soonyoung clutching at each other in the middle of the apartment before he shuts the front door and clears his throat.

“I’ll just, uh, I’ll be — um. Mhm. Yup.”

He escapes to his room.

Soonyoung squishes his cheek to your temple as you both stay there. You’re shaking, and his arms squeeze tighter. If only he could make it stop. He doesn’t know what to say or do to make you feel better.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, though quiet and hesitant.

You shake your head, mumbling something he can’t quite make out. He pulls back a bit, just enough to see your face and gently cup your cheeks in his palms. His thumbs rub at your cheeks, smoothing any stray tears across your skin.

“What’s that?”

“Just...” Your eyes glisten. His heart beats. “Could you please just hold me?”

And he does.

Decidedly, his bed is much more comfortable than standing in the living room, so he sways, rocking side to side with small steps that force you to walk backwards. His smile, though, is reassuring, and you follow his guidance without much complaint. He sits you down on his bed, thankful that he cleaned up beforehand, and slowly leans you down so you’re both on your sides, facing each other. Pulling you closer, he lets you rest your head on his chest. Your hand lies flat on top of him, but eventually your fingers curl, clutching a bit of Soonyoung’s shirt between them. Silent tears fall from your eyes to his chest, but he doesn’t care.

His arm underneath you wraps around, hand landing on your back so his thumb can rub soothing circles.

It’s quiet.

Funny. Soonyoung used to dislike silence with you — always felt the need to fill it with conversation or jokes or laughter. He wonders when it was last since he felt that way.

Soonyoung doesn’t know how much time passes. His eyes stick to his bedroom ceiling as he holds you close, thoughts on everything and nothing all at once. Are you asleep? Your tears stopped some time ago.

His question is answered when your voice, small and unsure, breaks the long-standing silence.

“Soonyoung?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I tell you about it?”

He cranes his neck to look at you, but it doesn’t really work. “Of course,” he says. “Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

You sigh. “I don’t know. I just... I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not.”

“I know, but—”

“You’re not.”

You look up at him finally, and seeing your smile sends warmth through his blood. Your face is still looks wrecked from tears gone by, but your smile pushes all that out of the way.

“Thank you,” comes past your lips in a whisper. Then, after a moment of waiting, you say, “It’s just that... I... this — ugh.” You hide your face in his shirt again. “This is so embarrassing. I don’t even know why I got so worked up.”

Soonyoung doesn’t respond to that, just pats your back a few times and encourages you to keep going. You toy with the fabric of his shirt.

“This guy I used to know — I thought I’d never see him again, but he showed up today. Ran into him when I was walking back from the convenience store.” You bite the inside of your lip. “I haven’t thought about him in a long time, but, I don’t know, I guess seeing him just brought all these memories back all at once.”

“Bad ones?”

A breathy laugh escapes you. “Sure, you could say that.”

The silence comes back, and your brows furrow, almost like you’re trying to solve the problem all on your own. But you don’t have to. Soonyoung is here.

“Do you remember when I told you about my first kiss? Like, my real first kiss?”

Soonyoung hums. Of course he remembers.

“Back in high school, I used to have this friend. Sammy. She was — god, she was beautiful. And kind, and smart, and just... amazing. I miss her a lot. She’s abroad now, travelling the world with her sister. I think she’s in Peru now.” You chuckle at the mention of your old friend, but soon your smile twists into a frown. “This guy... I don’t like saying his name, but he liked Sammy. Everyone did, I don’t blame him for that, honestly. He was pretty popular back then — one of those sports boys, you know? Thinking about it now, he could’ve easily gotten with Sammy if he hadn’t been so conniving.”

“Conniving?”

“Yeah, he was... I don’t know how he got the idea in his head, but he came to me first. He kept hanging out with me, taking me on these... dates? But they weren’t really dates, all we did was talk about Sammy — what she liked, what she didn’t like. I knew he was using me, but I just... let him, I guess. Maybe back then I was just so caught up in being needed that I didn’t really mind being used.”

Soonyoung hugs you tighter.

“I guess he felt sorry, maybe? Right before he went to go ask Sammy out, he just... laid one on me. It was stupid. Like a pity kiss for my service or whatever. I wasn’t in love with the guy or anything, but it felt so... degrading. Like all I deserved was some action from a conventionally good-looking guy."

Your tears come back, brimming at the edge of your eyelids.

“I don’t know, it just — it just made me feel so...”

You take a breath. Exhale.

“...worthless.”

Soonyoung doesn’t fail to see the irony here, at least, but he feels slightly lifted. Whoever this guy is, Soonyoung’s a million times better.

“You’re not worthless,” he says — because he knows it’s true.

“I know.” You readjust yourself curled around him, wiping away the tears which haven’t fallen. “I mean, I know now.” Sighing, you wrap your arm around his waist, somehow pulling him closer than he already was. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being here. For being you. For letting me be me.”

“It is my absolute pleasure to serve you, your majesty.”

You wack him with the sleeve of your sweater. “You’re such a dork!”

Your laugh is nice. Soonyoung hopes to hear it again soon.

“You know,” you say, eyes closed as you lie there with him on his bed. “Normally I would’ve gone to Seungkwan with my problems, but tonight...”

“Tonight?”

“You make me feel safe, Soonyoung. Thank you.”

His eyes close. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “That, and if I told Seungkwan, he would’ve found the guy and beat him to a pulp.”

“Why can I see that?”

“Because it’s true.”

You stay the night.

•

With a group of friends as big as Soonyoung’s, it’s about once every blue moon that the boys find a time that works for everyone, especially coming up on finals season. They all have their own worries around this time: the dance showcase, the big play, last-minute assessments, and — of course — finals.

So when they’re all free for barbecue one night, everyone’s ecstatic. Reservations are made, gratuities are calculated, and the group chat blows up every few hours with various changes to plans. (Mostly from Mingyu, who’s eager to show off his grilling skills.)

But of course, university is university, and it’s inevitable that someone has to bail out. That someone being Soonyoung.

The dance showcase creeps up a bit faster than anyone likes, and now Soonyoung’s professor is forcing him to choreograph an entire song for some freshmen only a month before the whole thing goes onstage.

First of all, who signs up for a showcase only four weeks before the performance? Who lets them sign up?

And second of all, doesn’t his professor realize Soonyoung has a life? He’s got other dances to work on, other classes to study for, friends to have barbecue with. How is he supposed to cram an entire choreography — not the mention the time it’ll take to teach the freshmen — into his already hectic lifestyle?

But Soonyoung is a people-pleaser. He doesn’t say no.

Instead, he regretfully messages the group chat, saying he can’t hang out tonight in favour of attempting to choreograph at least a quarter of the song in one sitting. He gets the usual whining, but they all know they can’t change his mind, so it fades out fast.

What he doesn’t expect is for them to invite you instead.

“It’s a thirteen person reservation,” Seungcheol reasons. “Besides, she’s basically one of us by now.”

Soonyoung can’t exactly argue with that.

So, you go to the restaurant with them while Soonyoung heads to the studio. Minghao picks you up along with Vernon and Chan, which sends an anxious bit of worry down Soonyoung’s spine, but he does nothing about it. If Minghao wanted to tell you, he would’ve by now.

You send him a good luck text.

[🍥] Don’t let those kids work you into the ground!

He stares at your words for a bit, distracted from finding the song he’s supposed to use. Your contact name is different now — one of those naruto fishcakes because of that time you took him out for ramen. That night had been full of laughter and loud, borderline obnoxious slurping, ending with the beautiful finale of Soonyoung throwing a fishcake straight into your open mouth.

You were the one that sweet-talked you both out of getting banned.

Soonyoung finally opens his music app and finds the song the freshmen requested (a rather boring one, if you ask him) which he sets to max volume. He doesn’t bother plugging his phone into the speaker system, not when he’s the only one in the studio.

Maybe he can do this.

•

“The trick is to add eggs and use less water,” you say as you scoop more batter onto the waffle iron.

Jihoon snorts from where he sits at the table, still shoveling more whipped cream and strawberry-smothered waffle in his mouth. “Are you sure the trick isn’t to just not be Soonyoung?”

“Hey!” Soonyoung pauses his own eating just to pout. “My waffles are good!”

“Sure, you keep telling yourself that.”

Both you and Jihoon laugh at Soonyoung’s expense, only further accentuating the pout on his face. You and Jihoon are too alike in that aspect. Well, actually, Soonyoung knows you’d never laugh at him, but he still can’t be sure about Jihoon. One time, back in high school, Soonyoung tripped over (what he thought was) a dead bird, and Jihoon laughed for hours — though Soonyoung always exaggerates the story into him laughing for days.

You sit down next to him with your own plate of waffles. There’s flour dusted on your arms, but you don’t seem to mind.

“You’ve got a little...” You point a finger at the corner of your mouth.

He knows. Soonyoung can feel the cool whipped cream right where you say it is.

He smiles wide. “I’m saving it for later.”

“Hmm...”

You say nothing, just smile as you lean in, kissing the corner of his lips. It’s quick, chaste, and barely a real kiss, but Soonyoung’s heart bounces in his chest. He’s never been kissed like that before.

He wonders if this is what it’s like to be loved.

That thought, though, he pushes back for another time.

“Gross. You guys made me lose my appetite,” Jihoon says. He keeps eating.

•

With eyes drooping shut every few seconds, Soonyoung decides it’s time to call it quits on the chemistry homework. It’s nearly one in the morning, anyways. He flips his textbooks shut and gathers up all his notes, putting them all in a haphazard pile that he’ll worry about in the morning. Swivelling in his chair, his eyes land on you.

Oh. He forgot you’re here.

You’re snuggled up on top of his covers, one arm wrapped around the pillow your head should be on, eyes closed as even, slow breaths come past your slightly parted lips. One of his hoodies is draped over your legs like a blanket. He wonders why you didn’t just get under the covers.

Well, he has been walking you home ever since he hadn’t some time ago. Maybe you were waiting.

He feels a bit guilty as he brushes his teeth and washes his face, but not too bad since you only have afternoon classes tomorrow. Maybe he can treat you to something in the morning to make up for it.

After he tucks you under a fluffy throw blanket, he crawls into bed and lies on his side, facing you.

Your other hand is lax, palm up and fingers curled, almost like you’re holding something invisible.

His hand would fit perfectly.

The tips of his fingers graze over the lines on your palm. Slow. Trepidatious.

You shift, fingers unconsciously curling around Soonyoung’s hand.

He closes his eyes.

•

The moves aren’t working.

The moves aren’t working and the music isn’t working and the dance isn’t working and nothing is working.

Soonyoung groans in frustration, almost screaming with his fingers threaded through his damp hair as he messes up yet another landing. He’s drenched in sweat, and it’s only been so many hours since the rest of the crew left for the night, not that he’s kept track.

It’s less than a week until the showcase. Six days, as Chan is apt to remind everyone with his stupid holiday countdown app.

That freshmen choreography is already over and done with — Soonyoung’s made it, he’s taught it to those over-eager nuisances, and if they need anything more, that’s on them. They’re no longer his responsibility.

That’s not what has him in such a state right now.

His solo — the one he’s been planning for the entire semester — it just doesn’t... feel right. He’s been slaving over it for days now, reworking the steps, figuring out what to take out and what to replace. But the more he fixes it, the more it feels wrong.

He can’t get the steps right. He can’t get anything right.

What is wrong with him?

He starts the music again at exactly one minute, thirty-eight seconds. The moves are clear in his mind. One step. Two steps. Sweep. Spin. Jump—

He falls.

The music goes on.

Soonyoung slams his fist onto the softwood floor, cursing at his ineptitude. He stays like that for a moment, eyes screwed shut and fists clenched so tight his nails dig into his palms. The song ends, only to restart again, but Soonyoung barely notices.

Screw the music. He stands; positions himself; tries again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

He falls.

He yells out at the floor, at his feet, at whatever is holding him back.

His reflection in the mirror stares back at him.

Mind blank, he sits there, legs stretched out in front of him as he hunches over, eyes closed to the world around. His breaths come out shaky and uneven, but even though every moment sitting still feels like eternity, his lungs fail to calm.

Someone knocks on the door, and for a second, Soonyoung thinks it’s Jun coming to tell him to go home for the night. He doesn’t want to, so he doesn’t look up.

The door opens, he can hear the quiet shuffling of hesitant feet that have removed their shoes just because the sign on the door told them to.

“Soonyoung?”

Your voice is clear — like a single drop of water coalescing into a whole — and it cuts through the sound of blood rushing past Soonyoung’s ears.

He looks up to see you standing a good length away, almost like you’re scared to approach. You’re wearing pyjamas, a thick sweater pulled over your shoulders and fuzzy socks donning your feet. Something bulges from the pocket of your sweater.

“What are you...”

“Minghao called me.”

In the back of his mind, a small part of Soonyoung wonders exactly when you and Minghao have gotten close enough to call each other, but the thought doesn’t stay for long. It can’t, really, not when you’re in front of him.

When Soonyoung says nothing more, you take another step forward. “What’s wrong?”

To anyone else, he might say nothing. Absolutely nothing is wrong.

His voice breaks when he tries to laugh.

“Everything.”

Your eyes soften, a small smile tugging at your lips. It’s not one of those pitiful smiles, he can tell, but it’s not fake, either. You bring your hands together in front of you, fiddling with the tips of your fingers as your eyes move from them to his gaze again. “I’m coming over. Is that okay?”

He nods.

First, you find his phone and turn down the music until it’s gone. You sit right behind him, legs spread on either side of his body, and you wrap your arms around his waist, pressing flush to his back and resting your cheek between his shoulder blades. He squirms a bit.

“I’m all sweaty,” he tries to argue, but you only squeeze him tighter.

“Yeah, you are.”

He stops resisting. It’s much too hot, what with his hours of constant exercise and your thick layers, but he can’t complain.

“Do you want to talk about it?” This time it’s your turn to ask.

“...Just hold me?”

And you do.

You press a kiss to the back of his neck. Slow, soft, and when your lips leave his searing skin, your forehead replaces them.

That’s when the dam breaks.

Hot, fat tears roll from Soonyoung’s eyes down his cheeks as sobs rack through his chest. The vibrations shake him and you all at once, but your hold never falters. He can’t see anything, only a blur of what should be his legs and your arms wrapped around his stomach. His hands go to clutch at your arms, desperate to hold onto something; to not let him sink.

It’s ugly, the way he cries, but you let it happen. You hold him.

This is what it’s like.

Eventually, his desperate hands find yours, his arms crossed so his right is over your right, his left over your left. His fingers roam over the smooth backs of your hands until they reach your fingers and interlock. The palms of your hands are warm compared to his fingertips.

You’ve locked onto his body language by now — you’re fluent, so you know to continue pressing reassuring, slow kisses into his skin. You know to whisper little words that should mean nothing, but coming from your lips, mean everything.

He’s going to be okay.

For some reason, coming from you, he believes it.

You hold him until the hiccuping stops, until the tears are just dry streaks on his face, until his breath comes out in long streams instead of bursts.

His eyes stay shut as he feels you shift. One of your hands slips out of his grasp, your arm reaching back, and Soonyoung almost whines until he feels its return.

“Look,” you whisper.

It itches to open his eyes, but when he does, he sees what’s in your hand, right in front of him. A small stuffed tiger sits in your palm, positioned anatomically incorrect like a teddy bear, a velvet heart between its paws. Stitched white letters read:

Go get ‘em, tiger!

You chuckle lightly, repositioning yourself so your chin hooks over his shoulder. “Cheesy, I know. I was going to give this to you the day of the showcase, but I think you could use it right about now.”

Gingerly, Soonyoung lifts his hands together, and you place the plush in his awaiting palms.

His voice is slow to restart, but he manages to say, “Thank you.”

Hands now free, you wrap yourself around his waist again. “Anything for you.”

Such a simple sentence, that, and yet the confession sends blood to Soonyoung’s ears in the form of an awfully embarrassing blush. He runs his thumbs over the fuzzy fabric of the tiger plush.

“Soonyoung?”

“Hm?”

You press your lips to the crook of his shoulder, voice muffled in the fabric of his shirt. “I won’t force you to stop practicing. I know this is important to you.” Soonyoung feels your breath fan over his skin. “But I also want you to rest — you shouldn’t overwork yourself.”

One of your hands rises to his chin, guiding it up so he looks forward at the studio mirror and meets your gaze in the reflection.

“Whaddya say we do, hm?” You tilt your head, and Soonyoung thinks his pupils may be heart-shaped. “Do you want to practice more? Or can I take you home?”

“Just...” He swallows what’s left in his dry mouth. “Just once more.”

You smile. “Okay.”

As you get up, you run your hands up to Soonyoung’s shoulder and down to his hand, where you playfully pretend to pull him up with you. He laughs, hiding his face behind the tiger plush for a second before he stands, tugging your hands as he does so you fall into him when he rights himself. Both your hands are squeezed between him and you, while his unoccupied arm finds its way to your side.

Another smile tugs at your lips at the proximity. You shift your hands up so they wrap over his shoulders, linking behind his head. Leaning closer, your eyes gleam under the fluorescent lights. To the sound of silence, you sway together, waltzing in the dead of night.

“I’ll be outside, okay?”

Soonyoung’s expression tightens, eyebrows shifting in confusion. “Why?”

“Well,” you say. “I know how you feel about audiences during practice.”

Something about your smile right now makes Soonyoung feel so undeniably safe. You understand him. Never once have you questioned him over why he doesn’t invite you to practices, never once did you pressure him to change that.

“Do you know how I feel about you?”

“Hmm, do I?”

Do you?

“Stay.”

And you do.

•

Here’s the thing about dance showcases:

They’re big, they’re flashy, they take the entire year to plan, and they’re over in one night.

Soonyoung stands in the wings, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, hopefully not loud enough for anyone to hear. He watches as the group performing before his solo finishes up their dance, though he knows there is at least a minute before he’ll have to go on.

A tap on his shoulder makes him turn his head, and he sees Sehee’s smiling face.

“Nervous?” she asks, her voice hidden beneath the music.

She’s all dolled up, dressed in her costume with a sleek leather jacket to bring everything together. Her eyes glimmer just as much as her eyelids.

“You have no idea,” Soonyoung jokes, but his heart isn’t really in it.

Sehee tilts her head; blinks a few times. “You’ll do amazing. You always do.”

For what it’s worth, Soonyoung hasn’t forgotten his attraction. Sehee’s words soothe him to some extent, pump him up, even. It’s slightly terrifying — how much she still affects him even now.

You’re in the audience tonight, third row from the front, somewhere in the middle. Your seat is between Seungkwan’s and Jihoon’s, whereas all the other boys came (almost) too late and had to find seats elsewhere.

The music ends, applause erupts, and Soonyoung knows it’s his turn. He waits for the group to exit on the opposite side, and when the resounding claps quiet down, he takes the first step onstage.

Something Soonyoung has almost always known: stage lights are blinding. If they’re set up right, anyone onstage will have a damn hard time seeing anyone in the audience. He can’t see you — couldn’t during his previous performance with the crew, either. The only reason he knows you’re there is the million assuring texts you sent him before you had to turn off your phone for the show.

But he knows you’re there. He knows you’re watching.

Soonyoung stands with his left foot on the spike mark, right where he’s practiced time and time again ever since they transitioned into the space. Music floods his veins, and the world is gone.

He wouldn’t call it an escape. Soonyoung doesn’t use dance to get away, it’s not like that. This world he creates with dance — this other space where nothing exists except him and the music and the floor and the feeling — he chooses to go there. Euphoria, he thinks it might be called. Euphoric.

The space takes him. He lets it.

And then it’s over.

Soonyoung’s breath leaves him in bursts, his shoulders heaving despite how hard he fights to keep them still in his final pose. His back faces the audience, his right arm stretched out and up, fingers curling around nothing. Stars dance before his eyes — which he fails to catch with his outstretched hand.

He thinks he can faintly hear applause, but it’s nothing compared to the heart beating in his chest. Your voice plays in his ears, yet he knows it’s simply his imagination — his recollection.

I like your dance, you’d said that night. I’m no expert, no judge, but I like it. I love it, honestly. Your dancing... I don’t know. I wish I had the words. It’s like... a little box.

A little box?

You’ve got a little box in your hand. Brown, maybe the size of your palm. You open it and there’s no bottom, no sides, no shape, just an expanse of universe in blues and pinks and purples and whatever colours we don’t know exist. You look inside and reach your hand in, somehow fitting in the tiny yet infinite space. Your fingers brush through starlight like strands of silk, like the rays are minnows you’ve met during a summer dip. Like that. A little box.

I thought you said you didn’t have the words?

I don’t. Not enough.

Soonyoung vaguely registers the lights going black, the way his feet drift him offstage, the music of the seniors’ finale.

At some point, the lights are back on. Not the stage lights, but the harsh fluorescents once the audience has fully filtered out into the lobby. Most of them will leave, but the family and friends of performers are sure to stay, waiting there to congratulate and fawn over the dancers as soon as they’re let go for the night. Somewhere in his mind, Soonyoung knows his friends are outside waiting for him — him, Jun, Minghao, and Chan.

Roses are passed around. He’s never seen a blue rose before, but some dancers walk around with them as they change out of costume and gather their things. He points out a yellow rose from the bunch presented to him, but it turns out to be a bouquet for him specifically, and he takes the whole thing with his jaw slightly hanging. Everything’s a bit... slow. Soonyoung feels like he’s wading through water.

He hasn’t changed yet, simply standing in his costume as he watches people go back and forth. Other performers move from dressing room to dressing room, cleaning up what they have to while simultaneously patting each other’s backs. Techs go around making sure everything’s in order, nothing lost or forgotten. They put away the MC’s microphones and bother the dancers for not taking proper care of props even though it’s only been one night.

Another tap on his shoulder; it’s Sehee again.

“Can I talk to you?” she asks.

He follows her to a corner of the stage, where the curtains hang and hide the two — for the most part.

She turns almost too abruptly, causing Soonyoung to stumble over his own two feet to avoid bumping into her.

“This is really hard for me to say,” she starts. “But I have to get it out.”

Soonyoung nods, maybe saying something close to a confirmation, but he can’t really tell. He’s a little lightheaded. Sehee has changed out of her leather, instead now in a pair of grey sweatpants and a simple t-shirt. That’s the thing about Sehee, though, she has that unnamed sort of... effortless beauty. Even with her stage makeup wiped off, she glows.

“This might be one of the last times I ever work with you, you know? Next year, my parents are making me quit dancing so I can focus on my major. It sucks, yeah, but they’re right. I need to focus if I want to succeed. You know that too, don’t you? The need to succeed?” She takes a breath; laughs bitterly. “Sorry, I’m getting off track... I just — I wanted to tell you this because if I don’t tonight, I might never get the chance again.”

Maybe Soonyoung has dreamed of this moment. He can’t be sure, not yet, so he lets her continue.

“I like you, Soonyoung. I have for a while. But things happened, and you got together with...” her voice trails off. “And you seemed happy, after a while. I thought maybe I could just keep it hidden but, I don’t know, I think I need to tell you, to get closure because I'm not sure if I can go on without at least—”

Choices. Soonyoung — and everyone else in the world — has only made it through life with decisions. He’s made good ones. Bad ones. He’s had regrets and he’s had none. This, though, this choice is intensely apparent.

Apparent in the way he knows it will affect much more than he wishes.

He kisses her.

God, this is what he wanted, right? What he’s wanted for so long. He used to toss and turn at night over the thought of Sehee’s eyes; her smile; her lips.

And on his, they were heaven. Plump and soft just like the romance novels say, moving at the exact pace of his heartbeat.

The hand holding his bouquet drops to his side as the other goes to cup Sehee’s cheek. Faintly, the sound of paper fluttering to the ground reaches his ears, but nothing can distract him from this moment.

Until, of course, it ends.

Sehee pulls away. “We can’t— I don’t—”

Someone clears their throat.

Soonyoung turns, finding Minghao standing just off from the curtains, arms crossed and face contorted in thinly-veiled anger.

And you.

You’re standing next to Minghao, obviously shocked — over being seen or what you’ve seen, Soonyoung doesn’t know. Hands fisted and held close to your chest, your eyes widen as they meet Soonyoung’s.

It’s not so dramatic as the movies.

Soonyoung stares at you, tongue unmoving with nothing to say. You stare back, almost frozen, until Minghao gently takes you by your shoulders, forcing you to turn and leave the way you must’ve come. Nothing happens in the time it takes. Soonyoung simply watches.

He’s never been good at reading lips, but he thinks he knows exactly what Minghao whispers in your ear.

There’s something you should know.

Sehee mutters, “Sorry,” and leaves. She looks guilt-ridden as she does, but even in his half-frozen state, Soonyoung knows all of this is on him.

He stands alone in that corner of the stage, the only noise being the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant sound of the last stragglers in the dressing rooms. His hands clench, and the brown paper of the bouquet crumples. He looks at it then, at the yellow roses and baby’s breath, at the beige note that’s fallen to the floor.

Slowly, he crouches, picking up the note with his thumb and forefinger.

Congratulations Soonyoung!! I know how hard you’ve worked for this night, which is why I ordered these to be delivered. Joshua told me yellow roses represent happiness, or something. Pretty, right? You deserve every happiness, so I decided to start with flowers. Tonight may be over, but who knows, maybe we’ll find happiness in tomorrow, too.

It’s stupid. It’s not a love letter. It’s laced with love, though, and he hates that he recognizes your handwriting.

Time moves heavily as Soonyoung turns to the backstage door. He’s the only one left now, his station in the second boy’s dressing room is messy, unlike everyone else’s. His reflection stares back at him while he sits in front of the mirror, motions halved in speed as he wipes off his eye makeup.

It’s over.

When was the last time he thought about how it would end?

He changes out of costume, arms growing stiff, and stuffs everything in his bag without much care for how. His regular clothes itch; he longs to scratch at his skin, but he doesn’t.

He leaves your bouquet on the counter.

His friends stand in a circle in the lobby, brows furrowed and voices hushed as they discuss... something. Soonyoung has a bad feeling he knows exactly the topic. Minghao isn’t there. Nor are you.

Jihoon isn’t around, either, but Soonyoung remembers he had to leave immediately after the performance. Something about an essay. It doesn’t really matter now, not compared to this.

When he approaches his friends, they quiet down further. Half of them look his way with a frown, while the other half choose to avert their eyes. What do they know?

Seungkwan stands out the most. His arms are crossed, his lips are pressed together in a thin line, and anger radiates from his very being. Of course he’s mad. You’re his friend.

The silence consumes Soonyoung as he nearly shrivels under his friends’ gazes. He must have taken his time, the lobby is empty except for them.

“Where’s Minghao?” he asks.

Seungkwan lurches forward, but both Seungcheol and Wonwoo bring up their arms to hold him back. 

“Where’s Minghao? Where’s Minghao?” he seethes. He jabs an accusatory finger in Soonyoung’s face. “You just kissed some girl and broke my best friend’s heart and you’re asking about Minghao?!”

So they don’t know. Not really.

Soonyoung endures the scolding. The looks. The questions. The noise.

No answers are really given.

The great thing about having best friends is that they know not to pamper you when you’ve done wrong. That’s also the worst thing about having best friends.

Seungkwan would go on and on, surely, but soon enough the boys notice how little Soonyoung is reacting — how his face and expression is slack and dull.

Joshua holds up a finger to quiet down the ones still complaining, then gestures towards the front entrance.

“Minghao left with her a while ago.” The look on his face is one of pity. Soonyoung hates it.

He nods; stuffs his hands in his pockets as he turns to the door.

“Wait! I’m not done—!” Seungkwan struggles against Wonwoo and Seungcheol, but he’s no match.

Soonyoung doesn’t stick around long enough to hear what happens next.

He has no sense of what to do when he walks out that door. Go home, maybe.

The night breeze hits him with more force than it should, making his eyes go dry and his lips tremble. Outside, everything is almost too loud. There’s traffic on all sides, surrounding the lot of the theatre; the sound of humming engines and honking horns assaults his senses.

He walks — though it feels like wandering — to the parking lot, where he plans to look around for a bus stop.

You’re there.

A mirage, he thinks at first, but you’re really there, sitting on one of those concrete barriers, legs outstretched and ankles crossed. You have your head lowered as you sit, hands braced on the cold concrete.

His held breath escapes him, and you look up.

“You’re here,” you say. The smile on your lips, ever so slight and ever so bitter, causes a ringing in his ears. “I almost thought you forgot about me.”

“I...”

“It’s a lie, right?” Your eyes glisten, but no tears fall. “You wouldn’t— I’m not— I’m not that naive, am I?”

Soonyoung’s lips part, but nothing moves past them. His hands itch to leave his pockets, but with nothing to reach for, they stay still.

“...I see.”

You drop your head again, bringing your hands together to fiddle with your fingernails. He hears your breath, shaky as it is, and his lungs constrict.

“God, it felt so real. I thought— I guess I don’t know what I thought, huh?” A shiver runs through you. “Was any of it real?” you ask the ground.

Soonyoung longs to answer. That’s the thing, though.

He doesn’t know.

Can any of it be real?

You laugh. Before, your laugh was spring strawberries; summer warblers; winter snowdrops. Now, your dry laughter echoes in Soonyoung’s mind like a pebble in a failed attempt of skipping stones.

“Guess not.”

You hop off the concrete barrier, wiping off your pants of dust and dirt. Still, you don’t meet his eyes.

Soonyoung’s heart beats in a way he knows isn’t natural. Guilt seeps through every orifice. “You’re not... you’re not yelling at me. You’re not crying — you’re not angry,” he stumbles through. “Why?”

It’s then that when you meet his eyes, he notices the dried tracks lining your cheeks. You have been crying, just in the time it took for him to come across you.

“I’m just disappointed in myself, Soonyoung,” you say. “I’m the one who fell for it so easily. I’m the one that was tricked. I’m the one who—” a breath “—who loved someone that didn’t love me back.” You step closer, arms limp at your side. “Once I get home, sure, I’ll cry my eyes out. Is that what you want to hear? I’ll curse myself for being so... so stupid.”

“It’s not your fault—”

“No, it’s not. This is not my fault. All I did was believe the words you said to me. All I did was hand myself to you on a silver platter.” Unshed tears brim at your eyelids, but it seems you refuse to let them fall. “But you know the worst part, Soonyoung?”

Everything?

“The worst part is I can’t yell at you. I’m not angry because I fell in love with someone who doesn’t love me back and it hurts and I can’t bring myself to hate you despite being told you’ve never thought about me the way I think about you.”

A breathy gasp escapes you, and you turn on a dime, the sight of your back an icy reminder to Soonyoung of what he’s yet to learn. You take a deep breath to gather yourself, shoulders rising and falling.

“I’ll be going now. I’ve got a lot to think about.”

Soonyoung doesn’t move from his spot when you walk away, or when you get into Minghao’s car, which pulls away after a moment of sitting there in its parking spot. His feet are stuck in stiff mud, unable to shift, even.

Perhaps he stands there for too long. It’s not until he’s staring down the front of his apartment that he realizes one of his friends must have dropped him off.

•

He hasn’t heard from you in a few days. He hasn’t heard from anyone in just as long.

Jihoon already knew (not everything, but enough) by the time Soonyoung rolled out of bed the day after. He hasn’t said anything about it, but Soonyoung can tell this silence isn’t the same as usual. They rarely eat meals together anymore. Last movie night, Jihoon didn’t even pretend to be busy, instead saying he simply wasn’t in the mood.

Seungkwan hasn’t left your side ever since... that happened. If Soonyoung happens to see you on campus, which is almost never, he backs out of approaching you because of the sheer force that is Seungkwan’s glare. Besides, he wouldn’t know what to say even if he did find the courage to face you.

Classes go by in blurs. Not quickly, like scenery past a car window, but so slow that once Soonyoung leaves, he remembers nothing but hours upon hours of staring at his empty notebook, even if the lecture was only fifty minutes long. Days are kind of like that too.

•

Sehee apologizes. She shouldn’t, but she does.

Soonyoung didn’t really hate what he did at first. He liked her, after all.

But when Sehee chokes on her own words, pleading to whoever will listen that she’s not that kind of girl, Soonyoung regrets kissing her more than he ever wanted to kiss her in the first place.

•

please let me explain

I’m sorry

it’s been a while, but still

I’m sorry

[🍥] Explain what?

[🍥] ...

[🍥] Soonyoung?

sorry I just

I wasn’t expecting you to answer

[🍥] Maybe I shouldn’t have

no

wait

I’m sorry

[🍥] So I’ve heard

I just want you to know why what happened, happened

[🍥] But I already know why

it’s not that simple

[🍥] You lied because you suck at lying. Because you knew Sehee was there that night and panicked. I was just collateral damage

[🍥] ...

[🍥] No answer, huh?

[🍥] So it really is that simple

please wait

I’m just trying to figure myself out

[🍥] Let me help you

[🍥] You want my forgiveness because you feel guilty. Maybe you don’t know it yet, but you want me to say I forgive you just so you won’t have to carry this around for the rest of your life

[🍥] I know this isn’t some romcom. I know you’re not here to get me back

[🍥] So just let it go

[🍥] Let’s just forget about this. About what happened

what if I can’t

[🍥] I don’t know

[🍥] Figure it out, I guess

[🍥] But do it on your own

•

Soonyoung doesn’t measure his time anymore.

He wakes up. He eats. He goes to class. He skips lunch. He goes home. He eats. He falls asleep.

When was the last time he went out with someone? When was the last time he had a real conversation?

He doesn’t know.

•

[Minghao] You should tell everyone else

why

[Minghao] Would you rather they think you’re a cheater or just an idiot?

I don’t know

[Minghao] I think they deserve an explanation

[Minghao] Want me to do it for you?

does it even matter anymore

[Minghao] It’s your choice

[Minghao] You just have to make it

then tell them

I don’t care

[Minghao] Are you sure?

tell them

•

These days, Soonyoung stays late at the studio. No one really practices there anymore, not since the showcase finished and finals have rolled around. Actually, Soonyoung should be studying too, but he can’t find the motivation. He thinks it might be the guilt.

You were right. He doesn’t want to carry this around.

The thing is, despite spending entire evenings in the studio, he can’t remember anything as he walks home. It must be hours spent in there, and yet, when he walks out, he can’t recall a thing. Like he was never there at all.

Where does the time go?

With his luck, the elevator is broken when he returns to the apartment building, so he has to take the stairs. Normally that wouldn’t be a big deal, but after hours of mindless, sloppy dancing, he’s much too tired. He fumbles with his keys when he tries to open the door, and he rests his forehead on the cool wood for a moment, sighing before he tries again.

The door creaks open. Though it’s late, the lights are still on, which Soonyoung frowns at when he realizes. Lately, Jihoon is never up when Soonyoung comes home. But there he is, sitting at the table right next to the kitchen with his eyes on his hands and his feet tucked under the chair.

Soonyoung freezes after shutting the door behind him, not wholly sure what to make of the scene before him.

After a moment of silence, Jihoon looks up from his fingers and meets Soonyoung’s gaze.

“Minghao called me today,” he says.

Soonyoung gulps, but doesn’t respond — doesn’t know how to.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first, you know.” His voice is slow, croaky; tired. “But it sort of makes sense, doesn’t it. I don’t know how I didn’t see it from the start.”

Slowly, Soonyoung slips off his shoes and steps further into the apartment. “So now you know. I’m really not in the mood for a lecture right now.”

“I just have a question.”

Soonyoung pauses, halfway through the apartment and only a few meters from his bedroom door. He turns to face Jihoon, sighing through his nose and digging his palm into his eye sockets. “Fine,” he concedes. “What?”

“If you never loved — never liked her, why are you acting like this now?”

“Acting like what?”

“Like a dead man walking.”

Soonyoung scoffs, a dry, empty sound as he looks away for a moment before meeting Jihoon’s gaze again. “You’re kidding, right?” he asks. “I lied to someone for months. I pretended to love someone I didn’t. I used her because of my own stupidity and pride, and then I used Sehee, too—” Pausing, he closes his eyes; takes a breath. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s guilt. I feel guilty for... for everything.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“Excuse me?”

Jihoon rhythmically taps the pads of his fingers on the table. It’s not loud enough to be heard, but Soonyoung’s eyes train to the sight. “It’s only the guilt?”

“What else would it be?”

This time, it’s Jihoon who sighs. He looks at his hands again for a second. “Do me a favour,” he says without looking up.

“Look, I already—”

“Just do what I say.”

Soonyoung groans, but he knows he can’t argue with Jihoon and win — not now at least. He rubs his eyes, shoulders rising and falling as he takes in a deep breath. Mumbling under his breath, he says, “Fine.”

Jihoon stands from his chair, and in such stagnant silence, the sound of the legs squeaking on the floor is profound. He points to the middle of the apartment, the large bit of floor-space that’s too big to be considered part of the kitchen but too small to house any furniture.

“Stand right there.”

“...What?”

Without answering, Jihoon simply points at the floor again, and Soonyoung can only groan in defiance as he moves to stand in that spot. Grabbing a throw pillow from the couch, Jihoon steps a few feet away, facing Soonyoung with the pillow held in one hand at his side. He seems to consider something for a moment.

Soonyoung has never been unable to read Jihoon this much, so he asks, “What is this all about—”

Jihoon screams. Not a high-pitched screech, but a guttural battle cry, and Soonyoung’s eyes widen. Faster than he can comprehend, Jihoon runs towards him and tackles him to the ground. Soonyoung’s legs crumble as he falls, and he feels the throw pillow pressing onto his face.

This is it, he thinks. This is how he dies.

“Jihoon!” he cries, but his protest is muffled by the pillow. “What the fuck are you—!”

“You fucking idiot! You don’t know shit!”

“I know that!” Soonyoung thrashes to get the pillow off, but Jihoon is way stronger than he looks.

“You miss her you fucking buffoon! You’re all in your doom and gloom because you had a good thing going and had to go fuck it up!”

“I don’t!”

“Don’t try to argue with me, fucker, I know you better than anyone. Now scream!”

The pillows squishes further down, and while Soonyoung can still breathe, it’s far from comfortable. He continues to struggle even though he knows it’s useless.

“What?!”

“Scream into the pillow! You’re mad at yourself and you should be! Let it all out!”

“I—”

“Scream!”

And he does. He lets out a loud bellow that’s nothing but sound roaring from his lungs. He does it mostly to appease Jihoon — so that maybe he’ll finally get off.

But it feels good.

No, not good, really. It feels awful. Everything feels awful. Yet, something about screaming makes him want to do it again. He yells once more into the pillow, the sound muffled in the fabric and yet intensely remarkable. He screams and he screams and he screams until he can’t scream anymore and his voice is raw and there’s no more sound aside from the fractured gasps of his sobs. Tears soak into rough fabric, and he doesn’t even notice that Jihoon isn’t holding the pillow anymore — he’s pressing it to his face himself. His body shakes under Jihoon. Soonyoung feels pathetic, but he can’t stop.

He tries again to scream into the pillow, but his voice cracks and all he knows is to cry.

This is what it’s like.

Quietly, Jihoon maneuvers himself so he sits by Soonyoung’s head. He slowly lifts a corner of the pillow and peeks at Soonyoung’s red face. “So,” he whispers, voice soft and full of care. “What are you going to do now?”

Soonyoung wraps his arms around the pillow, hiding his face again.

“I don’t know,” he says. He’s never felt less sure of anything. “I don’t know.”

•

That night, Soonyoung cleans his room. He doesn’t reorganize or anything, just picks discarded clothes up off the ground and throws them in a hamper, spreads his blankets so his bed actually looks bed-like, and takes his overflowing garbage bin out to the door, where he’ll take it out tomorrow morning. As he stretches his arm between his bed and the wall, his fingers close around the sweater he’s trying to reach and... something else. When he brings his hand back up, a small tiger plush stares back at him.

Go get ‘em, tiger!

He stares at the words for a moment, sitting up on his bed and leaning his back against the wall. The plush feels frail in his hands, almost like the velvet heart held in the tiger’s paws could crumble at any moment. Maybe it will.

Soonyoung settles down above the covers that night, and the tiger sits on his other pillow.

The one that still smells like you.

•

He cries. (For the second time since you left.)

•

After everything that’s happened, one would think it would take a miracle to fix what’s been broken. Soonyoung thinks it will take more than that, but still; he’s no miracle worker. He thinks it will take magic to just see you again.

Turns out, it takes a coffee.

Jihoon forces Soonyoung to join him in visiting one of the campus cafes. He doesn’t think about it too much, just believes Jihoon’s trying to keep him alive with a little kick of caffeine. That thought is pushed away when Jihoon blocks him from sitting at the little table, pointing instead across the space to the student printing center.

You’re talking to a customer at the front counter, forearms rested on the white faux marble. A smile is on your lips as you say whatever it is you’re saying to the girl, and Soonyoung finds it almost impossible to tear his eyes away. But he does. He scans the rest of the building for a second. Seungkwan is nowhere to be seen, and neither is Minghao.

He turns to Jihoon, a question on the tip of his tongue.

“She told the bodyguards to back off,” Jihoon explains without needing to be asked. “It’s been a few days.” He nods his chin towards you. “Go on. Talk to her.”

Soonyoung shakes his head, gulping down the words he can’t yet think of. “I don’t... I’m not... ready.”

“If you back out now, you’re going to keep backing out until it’s too late.”

Jihoon’s eyes blaze with an unfitting determination for such a setting. He looks stupid, like some self-made, all-knowing relationship guru who likes the coke he’s gripping too much. Still, he’s right.

Soonyoung licks his dry lips and looks at you again. You’ve sat down, relaxed after having helped that customer and now conversing with one of the other students working there. He misses the way you looked when you were happy — when you were happy with him.

What will it take to see that again?

What will it take to hold you again?

His feet move before his doubts can stop him, and the scene feels awfully familiar. This time though, Soonyoung can’t help but feel like the bad guy.

You don’t notice him until he’s right in front of you, and he doesn’t know what hurts more: the immediate frown, or the fake smile you use to cover it up.

“Hi, what can I do for you today?”

If Soonyoung had to define heartache, he might use this moment. Feigning to forget rather than acknowledging the past... it’s effective, but it hurts.

“Can...” He hesitates and curses himself for it. “Can we talk?”

“About printing, yes. About anything else? I really would rather we didn’t,” you say under your breath. It’s hushed, and you don’t shy away when Soonyoung leans closer to hear. That has to mean something, doesn’t it?

“But there’s something I need to say.”

“I don’t think I want to hear anymore apologies, Soonyoung.”

“It’s not that,” he argues.

Your eyebrows scrunch together. “It’s not an apology?”

“No— I mean, well, yes I want to apologize. I don’t think I’ll ever stop apologizing, but— but that’s not what I—”

“Soonyoung.”

He stops at your word, knowing that speaking will only get him further into trouble. Around you, his words keep failing. Instead, he meets your eyes, which under more inspection, seem hardened.

Have eyes ever looked so hardened when brimmed with tears?

“I don’t know if you know this, but seeing you makes me hate myself.” By now, your coworker has walked to the back, probably to respect your privacy. Your voice almost cracks. “I’ve felt worthless before, but Soonyoung, do you even realize what that — what you did to me?”

He barely breathes before saying, “What if I... what if I said I fell in love with you? Somewhere along the way?” A pause. Your eyes waver, but steady themselves. “What if I said I love you?”

“Soonyoung,” you say after a second.

“Yes?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

•

[🍥] Give me a reason to give you a chance

this is real right?

[🍥] It’s not a dream if that’s what you’re asking

all of a sudden??

[🍥] Minghao and Jihoon said I should

[🍥] And I think I should too

[🍥] But it’s hard

[🍥] What you said yesterday... I don’t know if I can believe it just yet

will you meet me?

I want to see you

[🍥] Can you give me some time?

yes

all the time you need

but will you?

will you meet me?

[🍥] I don’t want to

[🍥] But then again, I do

[🍥] Just give me some time

•

A strange thing, time. It passes by much too quickly when you want it to last, and it drags on when all you want is to be there. There; right then; right now.

Soonyoung stays up late turning on and off his phone, waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting.

It’s only been two days.

Jihoon thinks he’s crazy, though he hasn’t said it out loud — Soonyoung can tell.

He also thinks he might be a little crazy, but that’s okay. If it means he’ll get the chance to make it up to you... maybe he’s fine with being crazy.

At some point, Jihoon barges into his room and takes away Soonyoung’s phone, snatching it straight out of his hands like the little thief he is. He keeps it out of reach despite being shorter, preaching bullshit like, “You need to calm down and act like a normal person!”

Fine, whatever.

Soonyoung goes out for some air. And instant ramen.

There’s a twenty-four hour convenience store right on the edge of campus, manned by a single tired university student that everyone is aware of, yet no one really seems to know his name. It’s one of those spots where time doesn’t exist; maybe names don’t, either.

Compared to the blackness of night, the blanch white convenience store sticks out like a sore thumb, especially with all the bright posters and fluorescent tube-lights. Soonyoung feels just as out of place with no people around just outside the store, but really, it’s to be expected at a time like two in the morning.

He’s right at the door when it chimes and slides open. And so are you.

Both of you freeze where you are, you in the doorway and he just in front. His jaw slacks slightly as he takes you in.

You’re in casual clothes again, a thick sweater and presumably pyjama pants. This version of you comes with good memories — for some reason he likes it more than he cares to admit. Maybe he liked that you could share a more vulnerable side to him, and he to you in return. Although, you’ve shown this side to even the unnamed convenience store guy.

It’s your voice that breaks him from his reverie.

“Soonyoung,” you say, and it’s softer than before. Maybe your voice is lighter from the fact that it’s two in the morning, maybe just because you’re tired, but a small part of Soonyoung wishes that it’s something else — that you sound softer because you’ve missed him too.

He hopes it isn’t just hope.

He says your name, the sound beautiful and battered on his tongue. A small smile passes your lips, so fast that he almost misses it, but he doesn’t. That’s one thing he knows about you: how much you care. Even if someone hurts you, you always take the time to hear them out. You give them chances. Soonyoung should thank his lucky stars that you’ve done the same for him.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

You smile again, and it reaches your eyes, however sad.

“Is it time?” he asks.

“It can be.” The plastic bag in your hand crinkles as you sway it back and forth. “Do you want it to be?”

“Yeah.” His voice comes out like a breath. “Please.”

“Then that’s what we’ll make it.”

You gesture to the ground, where the curb meets the asphalt, but Soonyoung is still a little shocked that he’s even met you here in the first place, so he watches, dazed, as you sit down on the curb before joining in. He stays silent as you pull out an ice cream cup and hand it to him. He stays silent as you procure a second one and peel open the plastic lid, digging into it with the wooden stick spoon-wannabe that comes with the package. He stays silent as you look at him, the wooden stick hanging from your mouth.

“So,” you say, scraping the side of the paper cup. Meeting his eyes, you sport a sly smile. “I hear you’re in love with me.”

The ice cream stays unopened in his hands. He finds it so easy to smile back.

“Yeah. I think I am.”

“You think you are?”

“I’ve never loved someone like this before,” he tries to explain, though the words are slow to his tongue. “I can only think.”

“I guess so.”

“But—” he looks at his fingers, fiddling with the plastic lid of the cup, and a small laugh escapes “—I’m thinking really, really hard.”

You laugh too; his heart blooms.

“Is that so?” you tease, smiling around the wooden spoon. “It’s gonna take more than that.”

“I think I can do it.”

“You think?”

“I think really hard.”

Soonyoung might be in love with every part of you, even if he never realized. Your laugh, your smile, your tells, your habits. He wishes he knew sooner, that this laugh could’ve been his forever long before now.

You scrape the last drops of ice cream out of the paper cup and leave the stick in your mouth, a bit chewed up. Your shoes tap against the asphalt, the rhythm something that draws both his and your eyes.

“You know...” you say, turning your head to meet his gaze once more. “You know you hurt me, right? You know this won’t be easy?”

“None of what we had was easy.”

A scoff runs past your lips. You bump your shoulder against his. “Speak for yourself. I fell hard and fast for you, asshole.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I know.” You take the still unopened ice cream from his hands and stuff it right back in the bag it came from. “Say it again, though.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hmmm... maybe it’ll take a few more times.”

“I’m—”

“But not tonight,” you say. “Tonight...”

Your hand beside him closes the distance, grazing over his and pulling it over to your lap.

“...just hold me?”

And he does.

Bonus (gn) epilogue: Fluff and Context Bonus (gn) blurbs: [a fate of my choosing][pick a struggle]

[therapybard]

Athena Sibling Headcanons

Note: I'm far from an expert on Greek mythology, so most of this is vibes based. I am also going off the headcanon that Athena is the oldest

Apollo: They both have a lot of respect for each other, but they don't talk much. Apollo looked up to Athena when he was younger. That faded as he grew up and got tired of her no-nonsense attitude. He's all about finding a healthy work-life balance and Athena... isn't. He loves her handicrafts but the way she talks about it puts a bad taste in his mouth. She acts like it's inherently less worthy than her other domains and only engages in it as a favor to others. As if art has no worth besides utility. He also doesn't like how Athena talks about wounds and punishments, mostly when Zeus punishes one of the gods. Athena thinks some pain should remain as a lesson, while Apollo can't resist the urge to heal everything, no matter what caused the injury.

Artemis: Artemis is one of the two Olympians that would call Athena a friend, even if Athena's pride wouldn't let her say the same. They've had a lot to bond over. You'd think it'd mostly be female warrior stuff, but most of their talks are like "Everyone else in this stupid family is so obsessed with sex what's wrong with them get me out of here". As Artemis started drifting away from the family, she tried to encourage Athena to do the same. She knew how dissatisfied she was under Zeus's thumb. Athena refused, reminding Artemis not to neglect her duties. This drove a wedge between them that has yet to fully heal. Even so, they speak to each other often and always seek the other out at social gatherings.

Aphrodite: Athena, contrary to popular opinion, respects and appreciates Aphrodite's domains. Love is a very important force in the world and is clearly very powerful. It just isn't for her. No just romantic love, but attachments in general have never worked out for her. She prefers clear, transactional relationships. It's safer. Aphrodite resents Athena for this. No matter how much Athena insists she respects Aphrodite, words have never meant anything to her. Aphrodite values actions, provable passion. Athena, in her eyes, has no passion whatsoever. She's just their father's living weapon, ready to do his bidding at a moment's notice. Aphrodite can't understand her and has given up trying.

Ares: WAR SIBLINGS!!!! Okay, I know I know, most depictions put them at odds. That's all well and good, and I like that to an extent, but they certainly don't hate each other. They bicker and complain and put each other down, but they know they're both necessary. I've always interpreted Athena as representing generals while Ares represents the soldiers. Athena thinks Ares is too small-minded and bloodthirsty. Ares thinks Athena is dishonorable and passionless. He hates trickery and fully believes in a "might makes right" approach to warfare. Athena just sees war as a means to an end, hopefully a peaceful one.

Dionysus: Athena mostly ignores Dionysus. He's got his own thing going on and it's... fine, but it has nothing to do with her. Whatever. Dionysus, on the other hand, hates Athena. In an arch enemy sort of way. He doesn't actively want to harm Athena, but he hates everything she stands for. She's always serious, says wine 'distorts the mind' too much for her liking, considers dancing a waste of time, and NEVER goes to his parties. The audacity...

Hephaestus: (note: I like the version of his story where he's just Hera's child so maybe he should be here, but come on. He should be here.) Athena's other friend! He's probably the god Athena talks to most often, even more than Zeus. They're both the introverts of a family. Everyone else is just so loud and chaotic. When things are overwhelming, they'll often go to each other and craft/forge in silence. Despite her obsession with utility and efficiency, she's the only Olympian besides Hestia that never pushed Hephaestus to 'fix' his disability. She accepted him as he was, and helped him a lot when he finally decided to work on a metal leg. While their other siblings consider Athena cold and emotionless, Hephaestus knows appearances aren't everything. So what if she doesn't show her love the way everyone else does? He knows she's a good person at her core.

Hermes: Hermes is the only Olympian that works as hard as Athena does, granting him her infinite respect. They share a love of speed and efficiency. Though they have almost nothing else in common, it's enough for them both. While she isn't a huge fan of mischief, she can admire the thought that goes into his pranks. He's intelligent and Athena knows it. She just wishes he always put his energy to better use. Hermes, similarly, likes Athena. They aren't friends, and he's more than willing to smack talk her with their siblings, but he knows how hard she works and respects that. He helps keep people away when Athena's busy, and she lets him hide in her palace when he takes a prank too far.

[avelera]

Oh GOD you, too, are an online lectures geek pls consider this your invitation to talk about favs--ones that stuck with you, current obsessions--the more the better! In trade, I'll tell you the two things I'm currently adoring: Yale's Open Course podcast on The Civil War to Reconstruction done by David Blight (man forgot more than ten other civil war historians know even if he mumbles *constantly*) and A History of Christianity by Diarmaid MacCulloch (so! worth the Prime BBC free trial <3)

Hiya! Don't mind if I do!

So 99% of the lectures I've watched lately are on the Great Courses Plus which was recently and stupidly renamed "Wondrium", which I find profoundly stupid because instead of just saying, "Hey, check out the Great Courses, yeah you can kinda guess what the streaming service offers," I have to instead explain what this nonsense term "Wondrium" means, ANYWAY, they've got lectures about basically everything.

Essentially, it's Netflix but for college lectures. YouTube has become so unreliable as far as what's actual information and what's completely made up or even racist conspiracy theory BS that I find it completely untrustworthy. Also, most documentaries are trying to prove something new, or offer a new angle on something, OR they're SO rudimentary and 101 that even for topics I know less about in history I tend to already know everything they're going to say.

So I pivoted to college lectures because 1) it's a whole series so like, dozens of hours I can just throw on in the background while doing something mindless and 2) I know it's going to be trustworthy, reliable, and provide me a baseline on a topic instead of some "new controversial spin" on it. Like, goddammit, sometimes I just want to better understand the history of Ancient Egypt, not your stupid theory about how they were secretly all space aliens or that we've got the carbon dating all wrong or whatever made up nonsense.

So, here's a list of some of my favorites!

Hannibal: The Military Genius Who Almost Conquered Rome - I consider myself about as near an expert as a non-academic can get on Rome and this lecture actually taught me some things, which is rare, so I recommend it as a fantastic deep dive!

How the Crusades Changed History is a pretty good short version that I recommend to anyone who enjoyed The Old Guard's Nicky and Joe BUT, for the best Crusades lecture, I'd recommend this History of the Crusades podcast. Sharyn Eastaugh is not just insanely informative, but her dry wit made me laugh out loud at least once an episode at the sheer hapless ineptitude of the Crusaders.

In the Wake of the Plague is a fantastic new lecture by Wondrium, the lecturer is amazing and it provides a lot of objective insights into how humans react to plagues that is VERY relevant to current events, BUT their lecture on **The Black Death in general is the one that got me obsessed with their lecture series. I watched it in the first week of Covid lockdown and let me tell you, having this super in-depth, objective look into how people behaved during the Black Death was incredibly valuable (and chilling) going into those years because it all played out with astonishing similarity. Also, anything by that lecturer, Dorsey Armstrong, is awesome. She's a Medievalist of the highest order. I also recommend her lecture on King Arthur.

**The Birth of the Modern Mind: The Intellectual History of the 17th and 18th Centuries - this one wins the award for "Lecture I thought most likely to bore me to tears that ended up being the single most fascinating I've heard in YEARS." Seriously, the way it explores the evolution of how we think in the modern era, through the philosophers who first conceived of these ideas, was jaw-droppingly fascinating. I also recommend it to writers of historical fiction and fantasy for a crash course, by proxy, of how to write people who think differently than you.

The Other Side of History: Daily Life in the Ancient World - I once had beef with a post here on Tumblr that claimed that academic Classicists don't care about slaves or normal people during the Roman Empire, which is just profoundly absurd. I pointed out this lecture to them if they actually wanted to learn more about the subject instead of complaining that an art history professor may not have been prepped for a lecture about the lives of enslaved people in Ancient Rome. If that is a subject of interest, this lecture is great.

The Real History of Pirates - a must-listen for OFMD fans who want to get an introduction to historical pirates and the history of pirates in literature, which "Our Flag Means Death" owes as much if not more to than the historical figures.

**Turning Points in Middle Eastern History - One of the first lectures I listened to and still one of my enduring favorites. It's the first one I picked up for writing my Old Guard fic, Lights Out, when I wanted to write Joe from a more informed angle and I learned so much.

Understanding Japan: A Cultural History - One of my favorite lectures based on format, the lecturer picks a literary work or cultural concept as the entry point to explore the timeline of Japanese history. It's a fantastic way to give a wider and more holistic look at each era, pairing it with a cultural touchstone.

Shout-out to "The Mysterious Etruscans" because I just think they're neat. The lecturer is also very good and I highly recommend his lecture on ancient cities as well which taught me a lot that I didn't know.

Also a shout out to, "Warriors, Queens, and Intellectuals: 36 Great Women before 1400" for its subject and the lecturer who is great and she also has a really fascinating talk about the history of Spain.

Ok, I THINK that's some of the top ones! ;D