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riftfic · 1 year

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17. Epilogue

The end is here.

Thank you, everyone, for staying with me till now. I've made two additional illustrations buried in the text below. :)

Happy Anniversary, Undertale. 💙

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An incandescent future unfolded over the course of that year. Though far too familiar events repeated with frustrating familiarity, they arrived in new packages: some in bright and colorful wrapping, some in grossly damaged bags. Even if confusing and often jarring, most monsters expressed gratitude to have familiar yet unfamiliar lives awaiting. The additional security and a world more accepting allowed them to press on with more comfort than expected.

Not all were as fortunate. Several returned to lives in pieces. Lost relationships. Humans that knew them, loved them, and had aged beyond them. Photographs of small children they might never conceive. Tombstones engraved with names of the living . . . sometimes their own.

At first, Asgore and Toriel tried to shield you from the responsibility. This level of accountability, they said, should not rest on a child’s small shoulders. No one needed to know about your hand in the broken clock.

You didn’t see it that way. Not knowing why their lives had been stolen, left wondering if their relationships could be undone again, only festered the wound. So you explained to them what had happened and why, and swore that it would not and could not happen again. Amazing, how forgiving monsters could be—not that they all were.

For three months, HEART continued its search for monsters left behind. The moment Sans had recovered, he had jumped at the chance to join Papyrus and Undyne among their ranks. His unique teleportation magic served them well once he had a feel for those snaking, unfamiliar shafts and pathways. Places once difficult to reach suddenly became accessible. Dozens of monsters and their families owed him thanks, especially those trapped deep in the Ruins.

None of them were Wingdings.

With this and all else he had set in motion to free them, monsterkind quickly came to love and respect Sans in a way he had never truly experienced. Sure, he had been a recognizable face in the local comic scene, the friendly smile at Grillby’s every other night, the playful hotdog peddler in Hotland, sentry and judge for the royal family, but never . . . this. If the swath of gifts and well wishes in his hospital room hadn’t been enough proof, Asgor went far enough as publicly honoring him. He hadn’t knighted him, thankfully—a fact Sans could not celebrate more—but he did proclaim something more touching than that.

He named a star.

As a human, the first mention of this honor had underwhelmed you. Humans named stars all the time for science, for romance, for shits and giggles. What you hadn’t understood was that, to monsters, this meant far more than looking up and picking a distant flicker.

Their people had evolved from stardust. While humans had a touch of this magic in them, monsters churned with this fire as their lifeblood. The celestial bodies, their very beginnings, were esteemed with enough reverence to be gods.

Their banishment to the Underground had been especially cruel for this fact, and after such a long separation from the sky, marking their reunion with a new light was more than fitting. After all, when someone’s name was thought with enough intent in so many hearts, a star wasn’t only named; it was born.

It was bright and it was beautiful. When viewed through his telescope, it nestled in a pocket of blue and gold fringed in red, much like the Ring Nebula, only light years from a star they had once named after you.

“i don’t get it,” he admitted to you after the fact. “all i did was make up for somethin’ i did wrong. my motivations weren’t exactly heroic either.”

“Not all knights wear armor, Sir Sans the Star.”

“heh . . . and just what’re you gettin’ at, fair frisk the fart?”

You laughed. “It doesn’t matter why you did it,” you said. “You still did it. You brought back the dead, Sans. You deserve to be thanked for that, don’t you?”

You knew Asriel hadn’t been the one he wanted to resurrect. Even after the members of HEART had disbanded, he delved into the dark in search of Wingdings until his phalanges bled and his magic ran dry. All of you had begged him to relent, Asgore more than anyone. Not until every inch of the Underground’s remains had been scoured did he finally lose hope.

At least now, his brother’s name did not wither from memory like a dream in the morning light. For the first time, he could mourn him freely. He could share memories with those who knew him, find understanding in kindred spirits, and heal.

As one year on the surface came to a close, he finally found the courage to destroy the machine.

The spring sun crisped dewdrops from dandelions as you and Sans strode across his overgrown lawn. The skeleton brothers’ house, a cozy little two story chalet, stood half embedded in the steep hillside behind you. Its stilted, elevated porch overlooked miles of green forest and a babbling river inlet at the knoll’s foot, just as he had remembered. A long road wound atop the hill’s peak, passing from driveway to driveway to outline a comfortably spaced neighborhood. In the distance, Mount Ebott reached among smaller peaks for white clouds in a gold and pink sky.

Under your arms, you each carried a folded mesh lawn chair. Matte black aviator sunglasses masked Sans’ eyes, though a cyan glow smoked behind the left lens. A pair of bright purple shields blocked your own. Following behind in a cloud of blue magic, the rusty, tattered block of a machine he called a “temporal flux manipulator” hovered helplessly a meter off the ground.

A safe distance from the coyote bushes dotting the property line, Sans shook out his chair and tossed it down beside a patch of naked buckwheat. You followed suit and plopped into your seat.

“countdown?” Sans requested.

Before you could start, he had flung the machine unceremoniously upward, nearly thirty feet into the air. At its very peak, he voided his magic. It plummeted into a satisfying cacophonous crash of metal and glass, as if a double decker had smashed into a brick wall.

“Three,” you said.

Two Gaster Blasters materialized over his shoulders.

“Two.”

Their unhinged jaws pooled white-hot energy in their gullets.

“One.”

Those wild-eyed dragon skulls unleashed two furious jets of dangerous magic. The light reflected in your sunglasses. Screams of raging power overwhelmed the once peaceful ambiance of nature. You both watched impassively, but perhaps just a little smugly, as what had once been a marvel of science was pummeled down into a flaming mess.

The blasters dissipated, appeased. Both natural and magical fire burned high like a bonfire in front of you. You popped open a bag of marshmallows. Sans, meanwhile, emptied an old yellow envelope into the flames, then shrugged and tossed in the sleeve as well. Blueprint after blueprint shriveled away to embers, never to be crafted again.

“erase that, ya fat gameboy,” he muttered.

Just as he reclined in his chair, a sputter of laughter spooked him out of it again.

“That was five years of our lives and 20 million G in government funding you just blew up.”

Sans whipped around, eye sockets wide and empty. You followed his gaze. The uncooked marshmallow you had been too impatient to wait for fell from your lips.

A lanky skeleton stood somewhat removed behind your chairs, clinging to a small paper bag and his own wrist. An orange laminate wristband hung above his bony palm, rugged from wear, and another rested alongside it in white. The sleeves of his loose, plum colored button-up had been pushed up to his elbows; the buttons down his torso had been fastened incorrectly, off by one. Something like apprehension and hesitation lit the small lights of his eyes, so similar to Sans’ and yet worlds apart.

Sans’ hand shook audibly as he peeled the sunglasses from his face.

Wingdings looked exactly the same as he had nearly a century ago—no longer melted, his body whole—even if those awful cracks still split his skull. They had been mended, only scars now behind a thin but large pair of lopsided circular glasses. Though he had seemed joyful a moment ago, his smile slowly slipped away.

At his heels, a small white dog panted happily. Far behind, at a bend in the road, a black Lincoln idled in park. Asgore stood leaning on the car door, watching from afar.

“I guess,” Wingdings eased past the silence, “it worked. Kind of. In a roundabout way. Basically, I was right; you were wrong. Congrats to me.” A small smile split his face again and his shoulders twitched upward. “Hooray,” he lilted weakly.

Sans had been creeping cautiously nearer, trembling, tracing that silhouette with the star of his left eye. Only inches apart, he touched the wristbands. The white one listed his name, his species, a mental hospital, and an admittance date—almost nine months ago. The orange band simply stated, “SUPERVISION REQUIRED.”

Sans’ face was wet before he realized why. Every thought and feeling had been swept away until now.

“did you really come all the way from the void,” he hardly breathed, “just to rub it in my face?”

Wingdings stared down at him a long moment before his eyelights circled up into a cinched brow. He shrugged again. “Yes?”

Sans bubbled with laughter then, and Dings bubbled back. Next thing you knew, they were piled in each other's bones on the ground, happy, relieved, home. The Annoying Dog danced joyful doggy circles around them with a wildly flapping tail.

From his vantage point, Asgore smiled with relief and found the resolve to approach.

“Oh, hey,” Wingdings said brightly when he noticed you nearing. “One sec.”

He opened the paper bag and rustled around inside. The sound of pill bottles jostling like rain sticks only distracted you a moment before he surfaced something both considerate and serendipitous. Chocolate. Your favorite. A big, thick bar of the good stuff, the kind that melted in the mouth and made for soft and perfect s’mores. Your mouth salivated as you took the brick into your hands. The two of you were going to get along fine.

“One square at a time,” Asgore instructed you firmly.

You nodded.

“nine months?” Sans lamented playfully, tugging at the band around his brother’s wrist. “i coulda given birth by now. what happened? where were you? why . . .” Joy siphoned out of him. “why didn’t i know?”

At this, the anxious guilt Wingdings had forgotten sprang to life again.

“I’ll explain.” Asgore’s broad shoulders blocked the sun like a monument. His large though gentle voice stilled them all.

“Your majesty, I can . . .”

“I am no longer ‘your majesty,’” the great boss monster interrupted Wingdings with a smile. “I am your friend.”

Dings relented, then, even if he fidgeted with the tags wrapped around his ulna and radius. Sans took his hand hostage.

Shortly before Sans had joined HEART, a small team had discovered Wingdings deep in the remnants of Waterfall. They had nearly given up their search when an annoying white dog barked after them ceaselessly. It led them to a dark alcove behind watery curtains, where Wingdings lay huddled in a corner, confused and nearly starved.

“I was all bone,” Wingdings interjected shyly, but no one smiled.

When he received the call that yet another skeleton had been unearthed, Asgore had raced to meet them almost as fast as he had run to meet you—but what he found was not the reunion he had hoped for. His smart, clever friend had been whittled down to a frightened creature with an ever fracturing hold on reality. With the breaking of the barrier, more than his grip on the rift had slipped loose. His mind had lost its bearings into a whirlwind of relentless psychosis. Excluding his early years in the void, Wingdings could not remember enduring an episode darker than this.

Though warned of Wingdings’ catatonia and incoherency, the king of the underground immediately requested to visit him. He was glad he did. Something about seeing Asgore snapped Wingdings out of his stupor and into a brief moment of clarity, long enough to ask for help . . . and beg for the news not to escape, not even to Sans.

“I didn’t want to be seen like that, marbles all over the floor,” Dings said. “And if I couldn’t be helped, well . . . I thought it would be better to stay forgotten.”

‘i didn’t forget you.” Sans’ grip on his brother’s hand tightened. “i mourned you. i thought you were dead.”

‘I’m sorry.”

“I should have told you, Sans,” said Asgore. “Right away. I was torn . . . and the longer I put it off, the harder it became.”

Sans took measure of his heartache and decided it wasn’t worthwhile to blame them, not now. He had learned to forgive Asriel; he could absolve his brother and Asgore of this one misstep. He let the warmth of that metal bonfire and the sight of Wingdings’ tired face smooth over his soul.

“you don’t gotta apologize,” he sighed. “it sounds . . . scary.”

Windings nodded meagerly, but did not elaborate.

Asgore had placed him in a special care ward under the brightest human and monster minds he could assemble. Thankfully, humans had already researched three years ahead on this front. With their combined understanding of monster and human anatomy, they found a combination of physical and magical treatment that worked enough to stabilize him. The rest relied on therapy.

“I’ll have sessions twice a week,” said Dings. “Asgore already agreed to take me, so if you have reservations . . .”

“reserva—the hell are you talking about?” Sans said. He had gripped his little brother by the shoulders, then, harsh at first but quickly gentle. Tears beaded in his eyes. “you think a little hot water’s gonna scare me off? you’ll be lucky if you get me off your heels!”

“It’s not over,” Windings said shakily. “I’m not cured. Something like this doesn’t just go away. It . . . sleeps.”

Sans deflated, then softly clutched him to his chest. Dings lowered his eyes, melting touch-starved into arms he had once lost hope in feeling.

“i know,” Sans answered calmly. “and when it wakes up you don’t gotta face it solo. you’re not alone in the dark anymore. you’re home.”

Sans inhaled deeply, mercifully, as if he hadn’t truly breathed since the day he lost him. Saying the words aloud had released something inside him like puncturing a balloon. Everything felt pure and new: the weight of his brother in his arms; the scent of him intermingled with the neighbor’s freshly-cut grass; the warmth of his breath amid the late summer sunlight bleaching his skull; the glow of his eyes against the bonfire flickering strange their shadows. Nothing would let him forget this, not even the stars that began to glimmer out of hiding.

“you’re home,” he said again, and this time his voice rattled with joy.

Wingdings held him very tightly then, desperately, and with it Sans knew he shared the sentiment. He smiled truly, deeply, never more whole, and hid it for himself in folds of wine purple cloth.

“you made it.”

The End

Hear me now, hope you're listening It's been centuries, least what it seems to me I've been on this road, my eyes glistenin' Our past don't matter, I'm much stronger And fly much farther, soar overseas Finally, see, I'll keep on climbing Ridin' the lightning and I am sure

At times, I really didn't show What was wrong with me, wrong with me I told myself I cannot grow Without lovin' me, lovin' me But this is just the hell that lives inside Tell me now, where to? Please be my guide

I've been goin', goin' in circles Reoccurring dreams, talkin' in my sleep Then I'm floatin' up to the surface I can finally breathe, I could do anything And I don't know why it's all right And it's not at the same time Then I look up at a blue sky And I know

At times, I really didn't show What was wrong with me, wrong with me I tell myself I cannot grow Without lovin' me, lovin' me This is just the hell that lives inside Tell me now, where to? Please be my guide

"Lovin' Me" - Kid Cudi feat. Phoebe Bridgers

That's it. That's the end. :')

This has been an amazing journey. Thank you, thank you so much for reading through to the end.

I've been considering starting a new fic, a part two so to speak, that follows Wingdings as he reconnects with family and friends and learns to navigate his new life. Plus healing, as well as his mental health and trauma from the void. Maybe romance??? idk. A wholesome slice-of-life thing, much lighter in tone. I have scenes in my head already.

Thank you again. I have a surprise in store, so please don't unsubscribe just yet. ;)

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#undertale #rift #riftfic #ut #undertale fanfic #undertale fanart #chapter 17 #epilogue #the end #sans #frisk #wingdings gaster #wd gaster #gaster #asgore #thank you #i can't say that enough #8th anniversary #undertale anniversary

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charlotte-of-wales · 2 months

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Happy 4th wedding anniversary to Princess Beatrice of York and Edoardo Mapelli Mozzi!

The couple tied the knot privately on 17 July 2020 at the Royal Chapel of All Saints, Windsor. The couple are believed to have begun dating in September 2018, and their engagement was announced on 26 September 2019.

Beatrice's wedding dress was a remodelled Norman Hartnell dress that was lent by the Queen, and she wore the Queen Mary Fringe Tiara that was also worn by the Queen at her own wedding.

The couple has a daughter Sienna Elizabeth Mapelli Mozzi, born on 18 September 2021. Edoardo has a son - Christopher Woolf - from a previous relationship.

#royal anniversaries #yorks #princess beatrice #edoardo mapelli mozzi

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shakespearefreak · 1 month

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Happy (Belated) “Birthday,” Kaya!

Unlike other American Girl dolls, Kaya doesn’t have a confirmed canonical birthday, but it’s usually celebrated on the 15th of August, which was when the series was presented to the Nez Perce people according to the AG Wiki. I wasn’t sure if it would be faithful to her character to celebrate her “birthday” or not, but I still wrapped a gift and made plans; when the official AG Facebook account made a “Happy Birthday” post for her on the 15th, I decided to go through with it. However, I wasn’t feeling great that day, so I put it off until the 16th, when I gave her her gift. I planned to take her to the local Arboretum so she could ride Steps High that same day, but then life got in the way, so the second part of her celebration had to wait until the 17th, when my friend drove us to the Arboretum (which was especially nice of him because he’s the one who isn’t fond of dolls). It was beautiful there, and we had a good time, but by the time we got back home I was sweaty, aching from walking, bug-bitten 🦟 despite my insect repellent (one of them got my eyelid! 😧), and generally too exhausted to type this up, or in fact do much of anything except collapse into bed for the night. 💤 So… I’m a few days late posting, but I figure that’s okay since technically we don’t even know when her real birthday is. 😅

NOTE: I’m again using the Nez Perce spelling for words/phrases in Nimipuutímt, rather than the anglicized phonetic spelling American Girl uses in the books. This time I also decided to include translations after Nez Perce words/phrases in parentheses. I do not speak Nimipuutímt myself, so please forgive (and more importantly, correct!) any errors.

Kaya was surprised to see the deerskin-wrapped package waiting for her on the chair. “Is this for me?”

“Yeah,” Marley confirmed. “I don’t know if your people celebrate birth anniversaries, but we do in my culture, so I wanted to get you something.”

As Kaya sat down with her gift, Tatlo sniffed eagerly at the hide wrapping, almost as if saying, “Hurry up and open it!”

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” Kaya said softly, running her hand gently down the white deerskin. “Qe’ciyéw’yew’! (Thank you!)”

The next day, Kaya donned her new outfit, smoothing out the fringe on the lovely white fabric, and saddled Steps High in preparation for their ride. At the Arboretum, Marley took a photo as the mare, true to her name, made her way across a large fallen tree, placing her hooves carefully but with confidence.

After a while, they stopped and rested by a tangled cluster of trees. Kaya unpacked her lunch (a bunch of sweet huckleberries, dried salmon, and finger cakes made from ground camas roots) and laid it on a tule mat beside her. Tatlo (who had come along and run alongside the horse) came up, eying the salmon and wagging his tail hopefully. “Qó’c wéeye! (Wait!)” Kaya commanded firmly, holding up her hand, then relented and offered him a strip of the fragrant, savory fish. “Oh, alright, alright!” she laughed. “Kée pe hips! (Let’s eat!)” Tatlo didn’t need to be told twice; he gobbled up the salmon in two bites.

After they ate, Kaya stood up and conscientiously brushed the leaves off her new dress. “Wáaqo’ kíiye kusíix (Let’s go now),” she said, a bit reluctantly; this place was beautiful, but she was aware of Marley’s sweaty, flushed face and tired expression (as well as Marley’s friend’s eagerness to get moving). Besides, the sun was already beginning to droop slowly but steadily towards the horizon, and she was glad she would soon be snuggled into her furs for the night. It had been a good day, but it was time to go home.

THE END

NOTE: I am White. If you are Indigenous and find anything in this post offensive, please let me know and I’ll edit it or take it down!

#american girl #american girl doll #kaya #kaya'aton'my #tatlo #steps high #nez perce #nimiipuu #nimíipuu #nimipuutímt #indigenous #nature #doll photography #doll photoshoot #dollblr #happy birthday kaya!

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raplinesmoon · 2 years

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Taking Chances (KSJ X F!Reader)

pairing: lawyer!Seokjin x journalist!reader

genres/aus/rating: exes to roommates to lovers, fluff, angst, pg

summary: Eight years apart and now you and Seokjin are in the same city again. When a beautiful apartment presents too good of an opportunity to pass up for both of you, you decide to take the plunge, and embark on a new relationship - this time as roommates.

warnings: talks of breakups, regret, pining, sassy bro!Namjoon, reader gets sick and Seokjin takes care of her, bed sharing (not like that!), kissing, alcohol mentions, swearing, a cute mischevious cat, angsty with a happy ending!

word count: 5.8k

a/n: This gift was created through @bangtansecretsanta and is for @jinsquishes. Surprise! I’m your Bangtan Secret Santa! Nixie, I’m so sorry for being such a snowflake (get it?) and sending this too you so late djkskskdks. I know you like roommate fics, so I put a little twist on it! It was lovely chatting with you and I hope you like it and feel all the warm fuzzies! This was inspired by a book I recently read called House Rules by Ruby Lang and the premise was too cute to pass up! Also, the dress OC wears is inspired by this one, which is currently hanging in my closet and I’m looking for a holiday party to wear it to lmao

Seokjin had finally had enough. His ears felt like they were about to bust open any second now, not that it meant anything to his abhorrent neighbours. The drilling noises continued, the young, newlywed couple completely oblivious to the fact that it was nearing 12am and now might not have been the best time to put together their new Ikea furniture.

He could maybe have forgiven them if it was their first week in the next-door apartment, the two of them lost in scramble of moving boxes and building a desk, chair, or whatever they decided they were missing. But it’d been like this for six months. Six months that had shattered his peace in the apartment that Jin had previously lived in for eight years, both with you, and by himself. In all that time, he’d never considered leaving. Until now.

It’d been a stupid decision, one made on a whim when he decided to go tour the old, weathered brownstone that had just popped up on the market in his neighbourhood. He’d been sick of the noise, and the idea of a bright, new apartment seemed like a dream, one where hopefully there weren’t any annoying neighbours. The walls were full of exposed brick, the sunlight filtered in even on a bright, snowy day, and it was big. Bigger than he needed as a single, unmarried, thirty something to be honest, but more space never hurt.

But then he heard the broker, Jimin, usher someone new in to the viewing, and just as quickly as his dream sprung up, it was shattered. Because he’d only caught the faintest glimpse of the threadbare brown coat you’d loved so much, and the tell-tale fringe of your scarf that he’d gifted you for your very first anniversary, but Jin knew it was you.

His ex-fiancée. Or was that even the right term when it’d been eight years since you broke up? When Seokjin had spent almost nearly as much time apart from you as he had with you?

He ducks into one of the bedrooms, out of Jimin’s sight, and sucks in a sharp breath, blinking and shaking his head. Who was he kidding? That coat could belong to anyone, anyone could own that scarf. Not just the former love of his life who as far as he knew, had faded into obscurity after dropping out of law school. Who probably moved halfway across the world just to avoid the sight of him. The person who he’d once shared an entire life with, and now they had nothing left in common.

Seokjin shivers as he stares outside the window, watching the snow fall down, a colourless shroud, and he grits his teeth. The journey home would not be fun.

Hearing shuffling behind him, he turns, thinking it’s Jimin coming to ask him what he thinks, but he’s met with a small gasp.

“Jin,” you whisper softly. “I knew it was you.”

And before Seokjin can react, you’re pulling him into you, tucking your head into his shoulder, and he’s breathing in your faint soapy smell, reminded of the shampoo you used to love so much. The wool of your scarf doesn’t feel as scratchy as he remembers, and he’s comforted by its familiar presence, by your familiar presence in his arms. It’s been too long.

“You moved back,” he mutters into your hair, and immediately you freeze, pulling back, eyes on the floor.

“I found a new job,” you tell him, and as much as Seokjin wants to press, he doesn’t. He doesn’t feel like he has a right to ask, to know about your life not that you’re not together anymore. So instead, he remains silent, taking you in.

You hadn’t changed much. You looked older, maybe a few more lines on your face, but your eyes were still the same. That smile was still the same, and he knew he had to be careful around it.

“How are we doing in here, oh—”

Jimin takes that moment to walk in, his eyes glinting with questions as he takes in the two of you, so close yet standing apart, and he raises an eyebrow.

“We knew each other,” Seokjin steps in, immediately wanting to diffuse the awkward tension. “She’s my ex-w–”

You look at him, eyes glassy and in shock. He’d been about to say wife. Because you had been, almost. There had only been a few months to the wedding when you’d decided to go, sending Seokjin off over a cup of coffee on a chilly autumn day in the park.

“Well, it sounds like you have a lot to think about,” Jimin chuckles before retreating, and Seokjin knows he’s not just talking about the apartment.

It’s only natural for him to chase you down after you’ve both left, following you into a nearby cafe.

Turning on your heel, you look at the sight of your ex, still as handsome as ever with his wool coat and snow in his hair, and you let out a big sigh. You weren’t going to hate him. You didn’t hate him.

“What do you want?” you blurt out, and Seokjin recoils briefly, in shock at your question before straightening.

“An espresso,” he responds, and you grin.

“You used to be more of a latte man, what happened?” you ask.

“I don’t know, I guess I just got a lot more bitter,” he grunts, and you let out another heavy sigh.

“I know you have questions Jin, and I want to answer them, I really do, but can we just sit here for a bit? And drink our coffee first?”

And so you do, the two of you sipping on the hot drinks, taking each other in for the first time in many years. You know Seokjin isn’t actually upset with you, that it was more the shock speaking for him. He’d barely raised his voice at you when you left, nodding along quietly and watching you go without a word. You made no promises to him, and he didn’t make any to you.

You tried your hardest to keep up with him back then, but law school had sucked the life out of you. While Seokjin had been everyone’s favourite, the star pupil and class president, you were just… there, right next to him. It had been your own guilt and unhappiness that had driven you away, never anything to do with him. But Seokjin was stubborn, persistent that you could stay, that things would work out on their own.

“There was no other option,” you tell him quietly, and he nods over the cup of coffee, looking out the window, and you so desperately want him to look at you instead.

“Don’t you get it?” you want to scream at him, but keep your voice level. “I had to drop out, I had to go find my own way, to travel, to figure out what really made me happy?”

“And are you?” Seokjin interrupts. “Happy, I mean?”

You pause, not knowing how to answer him.

“What about you?” you fire back. “You’ve lived in the apartment for years, even before me. What makes you want to move now?”

“I’ve stayed there for too long. It used to feel like home… now it just feels like a rut. One that I can’t get out of, no matter how hard I try. But you wouldn’t understand, would you? You never wanted to stay.”

You square your shoulders, sitting up straight. You couldn’t keep up this conversation. You hadn’t been able to have it eight years ago, and it was far too late for it now. Instead, you needed a place to live, to turn over a new leaf, and it seemed like Seokjin did too. Which brought you to why the two of you were even here together in the first place.

“I want that apartment, Seokjin. I know you want it too, I saw it in your eyes. We both need this. But I can’t afford it. Not on my own.”

“What are you asking?” Seokjin says, his eyes turning dark.

“Kim Seokjin, I’m asking you to be my roommate.”

This was insane, Seokjin thinks as he packs up the last of his kitchen supplies, surrounded by boxes. This has to be the most insane thing he’d ever done.

He’d called Namjoon over a dozen times the past week since he’d met you in the coffee shop, ranting to his brother about the odd proposal you’d given him.

“Is she still the same?” Namjoon echoed over the phone, disdain lacing his voice. He hadn’t been the biggest fan of you leaving his older brother broken hearted.

“That doesn’t matter, what matters is what I’m supposed to do about this!” Seokjin spits into the line, feeling his face grow hot.

“Easy, just say no,” Namjoon responds. “Exes are bad news, hyung. It’s not worth getting caught up with any of them, no matter how good the relationship used to be.”

Seokjin pauses for a second. Namjoon had made it sound so easy. Just saying no. But what complicated things was the fact that it was you he was saying no to.

Seokjin knew you left on your own accord. He knew you needed to find a sense of purpose, one that didn’t revolve around just him and law school, and getting married. But that didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt.

When he’d seen you again, he’d imagined, for a brief moment, the years that had been lost between you. The ones you could have spent living together, waking up to each other every day. Burning toast on Sunday morning, putting up Christmas trees every winter, dancing as the snow fell outside. And here you were, offering him a chance to maybe, just maybe get those lost years back. Or whatever shreds of them he could recover.

“You can’t say no, can you?” Namjoon says over the phone, defeat in his voice, and Seokjin realizes he’s been silent for too long.

“I didn’t fight for her when I should have, Namjoon-ah, I can’t miss that opportunity again.”

The words come back to him as he sits in the kitchen alone. Looking around, he realizes how few boxes he actually had. He thought most of his life had been in this apartment, but the more he thought about it, he realized he was never really attached to the things here. It was more the memories, or lack of them that he had, living here by himself, trying too hard to get over you.

He’d never brought a date home here. Namjoon refused to visit, and Seokjin had just stopped asking, fitting seamlessly into the fabric of the lives of those around him, while never pausing to think about his own.

A knock at the door breaks him out of his thoughts, and he opens it to find the movers. As he watches them lift up the things, he’s surprised by how light he feels. Maybe letting go wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“You have a big, strong, handsome ex fiancé moving in with you, and you still choose to bring up your own things why?” Nixie, your best friend, groans as she carries up another box, plopping it into your room.

You’d chosen the smaller of the two, while Seokjin got the bigger one, knowing he put more money towards the rent from his job.

“Because he’s not my anything, he’s my roommate, and we don’t owe each other anything,” you tell her.

“Not to burst your bubble ___, but most people don’t exactly end up shacking up with their former fiancé and expect to be just roommates.”

“Well we are,” you brush her off, and she turns to start unloading stuff into the closet. “We have completely different lifestyles. He works at an office, I work from cafes and libraries or at home. He works during the day, I’m most productive at night. We’ll barely run into each other.”

And you hadn’t, so far. Seokjin had moved in quietly when you weren’t there, his stuff magically appearing in the living room one day. You hadn’t seen him around since, but you figured he was probably living with his brother until your contract officially started.

The two of you had decided to give it six weeks, right until the New Year. Six weeks of living together, seeing if you could tolerate each other. If it didn’t work out, Seokjin had graciously agreed to move out, and help you find a new roommate.

It sounded so foolproof when you thought of it in your head.

“Okay, I trust that you know what you’re doing,” Nixie says. “After all, we’re not the same as we were eight years ago.”

The two of you chat for a little longer before she has to leave to her own place, and you’re left on your own. A few hours pass, and you’re finally done unpacking most of your room when you hear the jangling of keys, and the door creak open.

The sound of boots echoes in the hallway, and you know it’s Seokjin. You hide underneath the covers on your mattress, not wanting him to know you’re awake.

He shuffles around in the kitchen for a little bit, and then it falls silent. Thinking the coast is clear, you tiptoe outside your room, searching for a drink of water, when you see him slumped on the living room floor, his head in his hands.

Your face softens at his serious figure, and you walk over to him, plopping down next to him. He shifts slightly, his eyes widening in surprise at your presence, and you look down to see that you’d never changed out of your bunny printed pyjama shorts.

Clearing your throat, you speak softly, afraid to put him even more on edge.

“I realize that this was maybe unfair of me to ask you for, but you were the only person I could think of that wouldn’t try to accidentally hit on me and then poach the lease right out of my hands.”

Seokjin chuckles at that, turning to look at you.

“You don’t have to worry about me hitting on you, I’m too old for that.”

“We’re the same age.”

“Is this really a good idea, ___? Us?” He asks softly.

You freeze. There was no “us” between the two of you. There hadn’t been for a long time. But maybe there could be. A new version of normal, one where you and Seokjin lived happily together yet apart, content with your lives.

“I don’t know,” you tell him. “All I know is that being here, in this space, I feel happy for the first time in a long time. Like my life is finally falling into place. And I don’t want that feeling to stop, even after the six weeks are over.”

Seokjin freezes next to you, and he knows you’re not talking about him, but he imagines you could be.

“It’s going to take some time for me to adjust to this,” he says.

“Me too. We’ll try our best. That’s all we can do, right?”

I tried my best, the words ring in Seokjin’s ears. The same ones you told him when you said you were leaving.

“Right.”

As December settles in, Seokjin thinks he could get used to the idea of living here. The home is so inviting, the crown bricks covered in snow making him think of Santa’s house in all those Christmas movies he’d watched as a kid. Every evening when he’d get inside after work, he would smell coffee, knowing you’d probably just left to the library to continue your work.

It was quiet, and he was content. Until you stopped him one day in the kitchen, up before he was, shoving a plate full of cheese and crackers towards him.

“I want to get a cat.”

“You don’t have to ask me to get a cat,” he grumbled. “We’re adults.”

“I know, but you’re my roommate and it’s common courtesy. I saw one I’d like to adopt near the end of this week. He’s older, and they said he was super quiet. I’ll keep the litter box in my room.”

And that was how Seokjin also became roommates with Cheese. As much as he tried to ignore the little rascal, Cheese would always curl up next to him at the most random times, purring when Seokjin gave him scratches on the head.

He adjusted to you and Cheese better than he thought. The two of you were friendly, pausing to chat briefly at random points when you’d bump into each other during the day, oftentimes when one of you was leaving and the other was returning.

Seokjin even shared his wine collection with you, telling you that you could help yourself to any of the expensive bottles. Maybe it was the giving holiday spirit. Maybe it was just you making him soft.

You’d started waking up earlier, leaving him a little pile of cut up fruit on the counter every morning, the oranges peeled just the way he liked them, which only you’d ever been able to do.

But it never went beyond that. Seokjin still didn’t know who you were, what you did. And you kept your distance. Sometimes when he’d see you coming back from a trip outside, he resisted the urge to smooth down your frazzled hair after you’d taken your hat and scarf off, but he stopped himself. He also stopped himself from staring for too long when you’d wear those forsaken bunny printed pyjama shorts, trying not to focus on how good your butt looked.

It was a silly little crush on his roommate, he brushed it off in his mind. He’d get over it.

It was the week before Christmas, and you were in hustle mode. Your editor wanted you to get the latest piece to him in time for Christmas Day, so you’d been holed up in the library, writing away on your laptop and downing copious amounts of cofffee.

You’d managed to get through about four pages of writing before the pain in your stomach set in. Grimacing, you brace an arm around your middle, hobbling to the bathroom before the cramps take over, and you stumble, crashing to the floor. You dial Nixie, but it’s late and she doesn’t pick up. Scrolling through your phone, you resign yourself to putting in Seokjin’s number, relieved when he picks up on the first ring even though he should be at work.

“Can you come and get me please?”

Seokjin’s face was as pale as a ghost when he found you lying on the library bathroom’s floor, passed out. You stir as reaches around you, supporting you with one arm as the two of you rise.

“I’m so sorry,” you croak out. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

“Please stop apologizing,” he says softly. “It’s not your fault.”

You don’t know if he’s talking about you getting sick or something else. His warm arms come around you as he walks the two of you to his car, placing you gently in the passenger seat and turning on the heating so you wouldn’t freeze. The entire ride, his hand remains on your thigh, the burn of his hand on the fabric of your jeans almost as prominent as the nauseating sensations you were experiencing in your stomach. He doesn’t ask, just glances over occasionally when the car stops to see your eyes flutter shut, and the rest of the ride is quiet.

You wake up enough for him to drag you up the stairs, before turning and closing yourself into the bathroom, sobbing under the heat of the shower. Everything ached. From the cramps to your own heart, it all hurt. And the only thing that made it better was Seokjin. But you’d lost him, and now you couldn’t go back to the way things were before. You begin to question why you’d even wanted him to live with you in the first place, knowing that you’d inevitably desire his comforting touch again. He made you feel safe. He made you feel loved, and despite being happy, you hadn’t felt that way in so long.

When you slip out of the shower in fresh pyjamas, he’s there, sitting on your bed. You don’t get angry with him for letting himself into your room, instead sitting next to him on the bed. He doesn’t ask questions, just drawing your hand into his own.

“You know if you ever need anything, I’m here,” he says into the darkness.

“Can you stay with me?” you ask, pulling him into you until his chest is resting against your back, feeling the rough scratch of his crisp white dress shirt, and in seconds, you’re asleep.

You sleep better than you’ve slept the entire time you’ve been in the apartment. But it makes no difference when you wake up alone, Cheese eyeing you curiously. Seokjin was gone.

“I can’t do this,” Seokjin rubs in between his eyebrows, staring at Namjoon with bloodshot eyes over his brunch. He’d left early, before you could even wake up, his heart turning over and over in his chest at the sight of you seeming so small, so vulnerable, doubled over in pain. He knew it was probably nothing to be worried about, but when it came to you, Seokjin couldn’t help but worry.

“You still love her,” Namjoon says, and he doesn’t sound disappointed. His voice is even, flat with acceptance.

“Is it crazy of me to think that it just wasn’t the right time? That we both needed to grow up and figure out our lives? I mean, we were barely about to graduate. Of course we didn’t know what the fuck we were doing. No one does at that age.”

“But she left,” Namjoon interjects, his eyes full of concern. “She left, and maybe she did change, hyung. Maybe she’s better for it. But you, you just let her hurt you. You stayed the same, for so many years, going to work every day, making money, never letting anyone else in. And now, all of a sudden, she’s back, and you’re acting all different, being friends with her. My question is why.”

Seokjin wonders the same thing, why he’s able to be so attached to you after so many years apart.. You needed time, you needed space, you needed to feel like your own person. And Seokjin could accept all that. But he always thought he’d done something to drive you away. And then he remembers it’s because never once, in the four hour long conversation where the two of you had said goodbye, had you said it was because you didn’t love him. In fact, you’d said it three times exactly - once at the very beginning, one time in the middle, and right at the end.

He straightens up, and a warm, fizzy feeling runs through his veins. The last thing you had said was “I love you.” And now here you were, eight years later, by his side again. Was it crazy to think it was because you still loved him too?

The dress was green, with glittering sequins in the shape of stars. It was breathtaking. And now it was lying on your bed.

“Come with me to my work holiday party?” Seokjin had asked earlier in the week, and you don’t know what had possessed you to say yes. You’d softened towards him considerably ever since he’d taken care of you while you were sick, not saying anything when he slipped into your bed in the middle of the night, but not pushing him away either.

You still were afraid to talk about it. Afraid that he wouldn’t forgive you for running away, for putting yourself over the relationship. Even though you knew you weren’t selfish, the mere though of Seokjin ever seeing you as such pained you.

And now here you were, his date to a swanky holiday party. When you’d asked why, he’d laughed it off, saying last minute dates were a hot commodity, and he didn’t want to have to resort to Tinder. A pang of jealousy bubbled up in your chest at the thought of Seokjin with a younger, prettier girl on his arm, and you’d sulkily made up your mind that going with him was best. However, putting on the stunning dress and having the experience of Seokjin nearly stumbling while lacing his dress shoes made you feel a tiny bit better.

You watch the people around you swarm and flock to each other, exchanging hugs and holiday wishes, and painfully miss Seokjin’s presence next to yours, keeping your beating heart calm. As if he sensed your discomfort, he’s there in the next minute, holding out a drink for you. You accept, hoping the alcohol will calm your nerves.

You feel out of place here. This was Seokjin’s wheelhouse, Seokjin’s territory. He’d always been the people pleaser, while you preferred to hang back.

An older couple comes up to you, and Seokjin straightens up, putting his drink down and greeting the man with a handshake.

“This is my boss, Mr. Nam,” he says, faltering when he turns to introduce you. “And this is ___, she’s my, uh—, we’re, she’s my—”

“Roommate,” you interject quickly.

“Ahhhh so you’re together then?” The woman you assume is Mrs. Nam claps her hands together in delight.

“No no no!” Seokjin tries to manage the messy misunderstanding. “We live together. As in just one together. Together-ish.”

A smile slips onto your lips when you see his ears redden in frustration, and you give his hand a squeeze. Mr. and Mrs. Nam catch sight of your clasped hands and smilen again, before saying how wonderful it was to meet you and excusing themselves to get some food.

“No need to be nervous,” you tell Seokjin after they’ve left. “It’s just me.”

“Yeah, it’s just you,” Seokjin echoes, and there’s a far away look in his eyes, one you can’t place. “Should we go out to the balcony?”

He leads you along, his hand tucked into the curve of your waist, and you bump into more people, Seokjin recovering and introducing you without the roommate title. It all feels surreal, like a dream you never dared yourself to have, and you reflect on how this could have been the life you had together, if things hadn’t come apart.

When you’re outside, you begin to shiver, and Seokjin eases his coat off, and you dodge it, telling him you’re fine, the two of you dancing awkwardly around each other. After a few moments, you begrudgingly accept the coat, sinking into its warmth and breathing in Seokjin’s clean smell.

“You’ve changed a lot, ___,” he says. “You seem calmer. Happier. You really like writing, don’t you?”

You want to act shocked that he finally figured out what your mystery job was, but you knew he would. Seokjin knew you too well, and there was a point where he’d known you better than you’d know yourself.

“What about you?” you respond. “Big hotshot lawyer, finally fulfilling all those ambitions you had for yourself–”

“For us,” he cuts you off. “I had them for us.”

“And I ruined them, right? By leaving,” you voice shrinks, and you feel tears perk up at the back of your throat.

“Maybe it was good for me,” he says, looking out onto the city. “Maybe I had to learn how to be myself without you too.”

“Not everything has to be a lesson, Jin,” you tell him. “Not everything has to mean something grand and philosophical. You’re allowed to miss it. To miss us. I miss it too. Sometimes I wake up in my bed, with Cheese, and it doesn’t even feel real that you’re here with me again, right down the hall. How we’re both the same, yet different in so many ways. And it scares me because even though living with you again is like nothing I could have expected, I still love you. More than I should.”

You pause on the last words, your breath coming out in frozen puffs, and watch Seokjin’s eyes flicker with longing. He pauses, before drawing you into him, his finger tips entwining with yours.

“It’s not like it was before because it’s better,” he whispers against your lips, before he closes the distance in between you two.

Sparks explode across your skin when he kisses you, your hands swinging around his neck, and you feel like a teenager in love again, discovering how good it felt to be held for the first time. You sway from the wash of emotions that come over you, and Seokjin’s hands are there, steadying you as you break apart, rubbing his cheek against yours and pressing tiny kisses all the way from your temple to your hair.

“___, there’s something I have to tell you,” he whispers into your hair, when suddenly, your quiet moment of peace is interrupted by a loud yell. The two of you break apart, cheeks flaming with heat, and you look away, not wanting to seem suspicious after basically lying to everyone the whole evening.

“Seokjin!! Congratulations on the promotion,” one of his coworkers you’d met earlier, Hoseok, runs up to him. “Singapore won’t be ready for you after the New Year hits!”

More and more people join the swarm, clapping Seokjin on the back, and his eyes look to you in panic.

“This wasn’t how I wanted you to find out,” he mouths to you, but you barely acknowledge it, your eyes filling up with tears.

He never had any plans to stay on as your roommate. He’d wanted to leave the entire time.

You rush away from the crowd, Seokjin’s coat still wrapped around you as you cry quietly. Just when you thought that things could finally be okay, that you two could move on from the past together, it had to rear its ugly head once more, reminding you that you didn’t belong together for a reason.

A week passed, and Christmas with it. Seokjin had left quietly to spend the holiday with his own family, and your heart ached with hurt because he hadn’t spoken to you since the night of the party. Or more like you hadn’t spoken to him, holing yourself up in your room and cuddling with Cheese underneath the blankets.

Across from you, the present he’d left outside your door lay unwrapped, and you had half a mind to just throw it out the window and be done with him, once and for all.

Sighing, you open up your laptop, deciding that you should put in an application for a new roommate. You type out a general profile of what you’re looking for, before shutting the computer with a sigh and deciding you weren’t mentally ready to handle the thought of moving on yet. Maybe it’d be easier once Seokjin finally left.

Rising from your bed, you make your way to the kitchen, opening to fridge to find Cheese’s cat food. Grabbing a spoon to scoop it out, you pause when you realize the bowl is full, and that Cheese hadn’t touched anything yet. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen Cheese all day, sleeping for the better part of the day.

The door was locked, so he had to be here somewhere. You walk around everywhere, even peeking into Seokjin’s room and calling his name, but to no avail. Standing in the hallway, you feel a cold breeze and gasp. The window had been open. What if Cheese had escaped?

Panicking, you throw on your coat, tears burning in your eyes as you slip on your scarf and shoes. You’d already lost Seokjin, you couldn’t lose the one other person who was holding you together right now.

You stumble out into the night, shivering when you realiize that there’s a thick blanket of snow outside, deep enough to cover a tiny cat. You slip and slide down the steps, calling out Cheese’s name and running up and down the city streets, the snow coming down heavier.

After half an hour, you decide to give up, voice hoarse from screaming. You make up your mind to put up a missing pet flyer for Cheese immediately. Now that was a task you could focus on.

Trudging up back your street, you come to a pause outside your building, gasping in shock when you see that the front steps’ light is on, and Seokjin is sitting there, a shivering Cheese in his hands.

You immediately run up to him, grabbing Cheese and clutching him to your chest while tears run down your face.

“I found him wandering outside,” Seokjin says, reminding you that he’s still there, and you take a step back from him.

“Thanks for finding him,” you tell him. “I mean it.”

And you turn, cuddling Cheese in your arms, ready to escape to your bedroom once more, when Seokjin’s arm shoots out, grabbing onto yours and spinning you around.

“Please can we talk?” his eyes are desparate as they bore into yours.

“We have nothing to talk about,” you tell him coolly. “I’ve already made arrangements to find another roommate.”

“I rejected the promotion,” he says hastily, and you freeze. “It shouldn’t have taken me this long. I accepted it before we moved in together, and I just thought I could put it off until…”

“Until what? You broke my heart just as bad as I broke yours?” you hiss, feeling guilty at the way his face falls.

“Until I realized how much I don’t want to move out.”

He reaches out, scratching Cheese in between his ears, and the image is so domestic it makes your heart hurt.

“What if we aren’t meant to be together?” you tell him meekly. “What if there was a reason we didn’t work out the first time? What makes now any different?”

“It’s different because even after all this time, I still want to stay here,” Seokjin says, cupping your cold cheeks in his palms. “I still want to be here with you, even after all this time.”

“Are you saying this as my roomate?” you try to lighten the mood, but your heart is doing backflips in your chest.

“I’m saying this as someone who loves you, and who hopes that you believe in taking chances,” he ghosts his thumb over your cheek.

“I took a chance on you, right?” you whisper back, smiling at his gentle touch. “And look where that ended up.”

“Where did it end up?” he teases you in his low voice, and you shiver.

“With you kissing me on New Year’s Eve,” you tell him, and Seokjin pulls you towards him, his fingers running through your hair and tugging at your scarf before he’s kissing you again.

You remain like that for an infinite number of moments, savoring each other, accepting each other after so long, that you don’t hear the fireworks go off, Cheese shifting uncomfortably in your arms.

“Let’s head inside,” Seokjin presses a kiss to your cheek. “The little guy must be getting cold.”

You step aside, beckoning Seokjin in before you, and he grabs your arm with a grin.

“Lead the way, roomie.”

A/N pt. 2: I hope you enjoyed! As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

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002yb · 1 year

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I absolutely adore your DickJay fics, scenarios, and thoughts! They're so fun. I am curious, though. What are your headcanons on the other Bats reaction/opinions on their relationship? What members are supportive? Do any of them disapprove?

Oh, anon. The way my thoughts scattered every which way with this hahaha. We've got a little bit of everything here; vibes separated by bullet points. ٩(๑ơలơ)۶♡

Bruce

Simultaneously overprotective and aggressively supportive; wars with himself over how his dear boy is defiling his darling baby boy and like, he doesn't know how he feels about it. On the one hand, fuck Dick. On the other, there's no one that Bruce trusts more with Jason. So. Both earnest and begrudging acceptance.

'Don't get weird about it,' Jason says. Only Bruce gets weird about it anyway. Just so intense that it's embarrassing. Fuck forbid Bruce remembers his own anniversaries, but he'll send reminder texts to them both and send them congratulatory flowers or champagne the day of. Just weirdly involved despite keeping to the fringes.

Forever oblivious. Doesn't matter what precarious situation he catches dickjay in, it never registers. 'World's greatest detective' title revoked.

Pragmatic. Uncaring so long as it doesn't impact work. Seemingly indifferent, but would capitalize on what relationship can mean for his mission. Would probably try to use Dick to manipulate Jason.

Not supportive. No blessings given. Unfortunately this sort of situation feels more like Bruce holding onto grievances with Jason and not trusting him to not corrupt Dick's morals (though like, lbr; Dick doing a lot of corruption/defilement in his own right lol).

Tim

Accepting, supportive, but also very done with these two morons because dickjay harass him with their shenanigans (intentional and not); so tired.

The above, but Tim is sort of into it (freaky freaky (*°∀°)=3)

Pragmatic. Would play their feelings for each other to his favor. Not usually in a negative way, but not above it. Generally indifferent to the feels, just sees the utility in it.

Damian

Protective of Dick (but supportive)

Protective of Jason (begrudgingly supportive after a period of failed attempts to sabotage Dick hahaha; just a whole jealousy thing because Jason is Damian's and Dick is infringing on what isn't his and Damian's patience is short and his tolerance at the end of its rope so help him Grayson, Damian will fuck him up if he fucks Jason - sorry, fucks up Jason in any way).

Protective of both and at a standstill because of it (still supportive, but too many shovel talks too little time).

Oblivious. Just oblivious.

The above would be fun in a fic where father dearest, world's greatest detective, is also oblivious lol. It runs in the family.

Devastated, but bears the heartache well (unrequited crush on Jason)

Have I made it apparent that I really like Damian crushing on Jason? Because I do. Weird place to ask but if anyone has a fic rec with this premise (bottom!Jason if anything veers that way lol) then like, yes please??

Adamant supporter because it's like his second dad/mom are hooking up. Dick and Jason are the only people worthy of each other in Damian's eye, so it works. This Damian is having a good time, given Bruce won't make an honest woman out of Talia (alternatively, Talia isn't making an honest man out of Bruce either so lol)

Cass

Supportive, no doubt or question to it

Teasing (specifically of Jason hahahah she can fluster him so easy; she sees why Dick enjoys it).

Alfred

Supportive. Content. Pleased.

Concerned, given both boys are dear to him and both are moderate disasters. He doesn't want any heartbreaks. ):

Exasperation because he finds them all over the manor, without fail.

=======

Thank you so much, by the way!! It makes me all sorts of happy that you enjoy my stories and the little informal things I put out there. (´⌣`ʃƪ)♥ Thank you for the engagement, too! This was a lot of fun. Have a lovely weekend, anon~ ♥♥♥

#dickjay

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fourseasonsfigs · 2 months

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Your Name - 7/18 Bench

Since I posted a fig set yesterday in honor of the 4th anniversary of the Hengdian Fanmeet, I'll keep the celebration going with yet another fig set!

I posted about the first fig set titled Your Name way back in September of 2022. That set celebrated this wonderful picture:

This picture is so beloved by the fandom that a different fig maker decided to render it again. This time, the 7/18 Bench has been crafted in the very popular style known as 胖胖, pàngpàng.

This is the newer fig style that has been all the rage - we've been lucky to have a lot of classic Junzhe and Wenzhou sets re-imagined in this style.

These two came with their signs pre-installed on their hands, thank goodness. The less to fiddle with, the better!

They were not, of course, pre-installed on their bench, just like the other set. And just like the other set, they balance pretty well by themselves on the grooves that had been carved out for them on the bench. However, I've learned a lot since September of 2022, and I have learned that I can't trust anything but professional grade cyanoacrylate glue to keep my figs in place.

Since I started gluing figs in place, I haven't had anymore incidents where I walk into my room and see a fig avalanche fallen down my display shelves, thank goodness. My heart can't stand the strain!

They are quite firmly fastened down, believe you me. The figs have proved pretty resilient, but my nerves are less so.

You can see here that Junjun's hair is a bit darker than Zhehan's, which is quite accurate to the time and the picture.

Junjun is also a little bit taller here, which is also quite accurate.

Their hairstyles are fairly similar, but Zhehan's bottom fringe is just a bit longer than Junjun's, which reflects his shaggy-haired style. Like yesterday's figs, the fig maker unfortunately opted to leave out his little ponytail, which continues to be a bummer. His long hair with the ponytail is my favorite look on him!

I like that they were wearing black and white for this shoot - the different but complementary colors look great.

I really love the original picture that this fig set is based off of, so I'm very happy to have another fig rendition of it. Them holding each other's name sign is extremely unusual for C-entertainment, which is usually characterized by intense competition. Yet another reason why I love these two so much.

Of course, as I mentioned yesterday, them holding each other's name and Zhehan posting pics with Junjun was so out of the ordinary it was a step too far for many of Zhehan's fans, who hammered his Weibo post with objections. This resulted in him deleting his original post:

...and re-posting another without the pictures with Gong Jun to make his fans happy:

But, the pictures live on. I think it says a lot about the beauty of Zhang Zhehan's character that he posted them to begin with, and it also says quite a bit about the state of C-ent.

Their little smiles are quite captivating - Junjun's is very sweet, and of course you know the wiggly little mouth that Zhehan has is one of my fig favorites!

These glued down pretty easily - some of them don't, but these ended up pretty solid.

I wanted to push them a little closer together on the bench so they looked a little more like the original pic, but their heads are so large that it's not really feasible. That's alright, they're still super sweet.

We haven't seen a big maker emphasize Zhehan's silhouette in a while, but here you can see a little more care given to his little fig tush. The man worked very hard for that figure, the fig makers are gonna show it off!

No box cards for this set, unfortunately. Not uncommon but it is super nice when I get them.

Material: Resin

Fig Count: (+2) 529

Scene Count: 38

Rating: Your name is as beautiful as a rose

[link to the Master Post Index]

#junzhe #zhang zhehan #gong jun #word of honor cast #figthusiast #718 #happy 4th anniversary

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thefringespod · 10 months

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And we're back with another #AudioDramaSunday! Starting off with @eelerschoice which had a new release this week and it was marvelous . Every bit of magic weaved into this world is a work of art and each performance is always stellar. You gotta listen to Eeler's Choice <3

This week's @thesiltverses ripped my heart out it was absolutely gorgeous! Just a brilliant little one off that developed characters wonderfully in the short time they were there and then made me sob at the end

There was new @kingmakerpod that came out this week which I haven't had a chance to get to but I'm so excited for each episode of The Kingmaker Histories they're always such a lovely time

After a month of listening I'm finally caught up on @woebegonepod which is a masterful podcast that makes me feel every emotion under the sun. Dylan wrote a phenomenal story that he and the other VAs brought to life wonderfully. Happy 3rd anniversary, WBG! Its an honor to listen

Here on the Fringes, we've released the trailer for season 2!! The season will start on Wednesday, December 6

Missed the trailer? Check it out here!

And over on @forgedbondspod the casting call is officially out! There are 8 open roles and you have until December 15th to submit your audition. You can learn more in the post here:

I'm also delighted to announce that I've started a patreon to support both of my shows (and any shows that come after!) Patrons will get early access to all episodes of the Fringes and Forged Bonds as well as BTS content. Visit patreon.com/PineTreePods to learn more!

That's all for this week! Not quite sure what's on the docket now that I've completed Woe.Begone

A month of my life has passed by so fast and all I wanna do is start WBG again 😅 but the to listen list beckons so there will definitely be something new next week!

#tales from the fringes of reality #pines notes #update post #recommendation post #audiodrama sunday #audio drama sunday

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toomanybandstocare · 1 year

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Hi!! Omg, happy birthday!! Happy one year anniversary!! Congrats on almost 300 follwers!! So many reasons to celebrate <3

Could I please get a romantic ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ - Summer of Fun?

I'm a straight female and my pronouns are she/her. I'm fairly introverted and it takes me a while to warm up to people. I love reading, my room is filled with stacks of books. I adore adventures, witty and playful banter, pulling harmless pranks, joking around and having indepth discussions on anything and everything. I love helping out and people come to me to vent or for advice and comfort. I'd consider myself really smart and I'm very ambitious; I love being the best at everything I do. I daydream a lot and I'm a hopeless romantic. I adore big and small romantic gestures and I love domesticity sm!! My love languages are acts of service and quality time.

Thank you very much! I hope you have a lovely day ❤️

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ - Summer of Fun

Who I would ship you with plus a little drabble. Anon requested a romantic pairing, but feel free to ask for another one if you'd like a different fandom! Thank you for celebrating with me <3

Pairing: Argyle x GN! Reader

Genre: Hurt / Comfort

Length: 861w + 158w

Counselor Notes: Feel free to grab an emoji if you'd like to keep chatting! I hope you enjoy :) I imagine this to be during college so timeskip.

-> Celebration Announcement Post <- -> Celebration Masterlist <- -> Camp Upside Down Masterlist <-

Summer heat sizzles when it hits the asphalt. Not a single car can be heard rolling down the street, and no one dares to go out for a late afternoon stroll. In a record heatwave, the city of Indianapolis has unofficially shut down for the day.

Your chest rises and falls with each strained breath, and you throw your arm over your eyes. Faint noises of insects humming and the thrum of ACs compose a melody with the heat’s fizz in the distance. The rickety fan from inside Argyle and Jonathan’s apartment can be heard alongside your boyfriend’s singing with the radio. Even though it would be much cooler inside, you lay on the pile of throw pillows and blankets on the screen-in porch and turn the page to your latest reading endeavor.

Immersed in the story’s world, everything else melts away from you. Summer’s heat hugs your skin like a faint memory. Your body no longer aches from the warped, wooden floorboards that seem to always make it uncomfortable to lounge on the pillow pile. The faint smell of Argyle’s scent comforts you from the oversized, stolen shirt you currently wear.

Coldness shoots down your spine from the metal can that caresses the back of your neck, and you flinch away. Argyle chuckles lightly as he offers you the Cola can before sitting next to you with his own. Glaring at him from the corner of your eye, you drop your book to rub the frozen patch warm again and take a sip of soda.

“Sorry, sunshine,” Argyle chuckles. He leans against one arm and lays on his side to face you.

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s true,” you mutter under your breath. Turning your focus back to the book, only a few seconds pass before Argyle fingers tap the edge of the cover.

“Can we talk?” Argyle softly requests. His usual confident tone barely comes through over the sudden tiredness that overcomes his voice.

Shutting the book without a second thought, you focus all your attention on your fidgeting boyfriend. Your heart hammers against your chest as all the possibilities whirl around your head. His hand rests on your thigh, and he taps his fingertips in an unbalanced cadence. “I’m here,” you softly encourage him. With one hand, you carefully card your fingers through his hair pulling a grateful hum from Argyle as his eyes flutter closed. “What do you want to talk about?”

“This is going to sound loaded coming from me, alright? So bare with me,” he warily explains. Argyle peers up at you with apprehension before he refocuses his gaze to the fringed blanket below him. Darting his tongue across his bottom lip, he continues: “Lately, I feel like you’re slipping away from me. It’s like you’re off in your own world, and I can’t follow you there. I love hearing about the adventures and ideas you come up with when you travel there, but you’re so far away from me. I feel like I’m being left behind even when we’re sitting next to each other”.

Your heart sinks. The soda can plunks onto the floor with a dull thunk when you move it out of the way to lay down as close to Argyle as you can. “I didn’t realize you felt that way, Argyle. I’m so sorry, pretty boy. When I’m with you, just being around you and relaxing in your apartment makes me feel at home. I didn’t realize that I wasn’t always present in the moment with you - well, that…that would be the issue isn’t it?”. A weak laugh escapes past your lips, and your shoulders relax as Argyle’s laughter mixes with your own.

“I’m glad you feel like this is your home,” Argyle softly replies. His fingers smooth over your thigh and lazily drag across you. “And I don’t mind at all if you slip into a daydream or a world of your own. I just miss you sometimes. Don’t leave me for too long, alright?” Argyle looks up with the most gentle expression. His tired gaze holds such adoration.

“I’ll always come home, Argyle,” you reassure him. One of your hands comes to gently cup his jaw, and you rub your thumb across his cheek bone. “And I’ll do better about being more present when we’re together,” you promise.

“Thank you. And I just want to be clear, I don’t want you to completely leave your daydreams. That’s not it at all. Just, sometimes, include me in it or meet me back in our shared reality, ya know?” Argyle moves his hand to gesture vaguely before it wraps around your waist to pull you into his chest. “I love you, and I love who you are. Don’t change a thing about yourself unless you want to, alright sunshine?”

“Promise,” you mumble into his chest.

Relaxing into his embrace, you listen to his calming heartbeat. The two of you quietly chat about the end of summer plans as your hands wander and gently caress each other. Evening creeps across the sky and paints the sky in a beautiful sunset as the two of you get lost in your own world. Together.

You walk a very thin line between being grounded and keeping your head in the clouds. Which is an extremely beautiful mix of characteristics! It allows you to feel empathetic towards others while staying optimistic.

Argyle matches you perfectly. To the point where everyone would think you’re too similar. However, the two of you slowly fall into sync and move together as if you had known each for your whole lives.

Argyle is capable of balancing you out when you fall into your ambition and letting it get to you, but he all pulls you back to reality when you seem to be drifting away. He never makes you feel insecure or bad about it though.

If you ever feel like Argyle’s too distant, he will always be open to sit down and talk. He may seem like he’s only there for a laugh or quick to melt into relaxation, but not when it comes to your connection.

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