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retrieve-the-kraken · 8 months ago

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Okay, so I’ve finished my taxes, and I’m basically out of the woods with some overwhelming work stuff, and everything turned out well with a medical situation with my mum, but I am still very tired, but I also cannot keep going without putting my preliminary thoughts on my very first viewing of season 3 down on a post…

It seems my worst characterization so far is assuming that these two idiots would learn to communicate. They haven’t, they’re stupid teenagers, they’re really bad at it, they get mad at each other for everything, and they don’t listen. And that needs to change soon if we want Wilmon endgame.

Boris, do you do couples therapy? PLEASE HELP THEM.

I think a big reason Wilhelm lashes out, besides getting caught up in his own head, is the fact that he’s also constantly afraid of saying the wrong thing and pissing Simon off. But the stakes for Simon are clearly higher. Wilhelm really needs to learn to communicate, but he’s dragging a whole life of terrible communication and zero support, so HOW is he supposed to learn, if he naturally feels afraid to open up?

It shows in the way he reacts to learning about Erik. Simon might be right, and Erik maybe just gave in to peer pressure, like everyone else in that school (which we see over and over again, like with the strike, and that guy who just repeats ‘yeah hilarious’ when Vincent tells him, and the graduation rituals and basically everything that everyone does at that fucking school), and maybe he wasn’t particularly homophobic. Or maybe he was, but if he had found out about Wilhelm maybe he would have changed his views (after all he was a stupid kid too)… But how would Wilhelm know? Erik is dead, there’s no way of asking him, confronting him about it. And people still call him perfect, and still compare him to his brother.

It must be so traumatizing to have held this person in your head as the one you trusted for everything, the one who would support you most, the one who probably knew you better than anyone else, who would love you and be there for you no matter what, and it turns out that he might not have accepted you at all. And just like that Wille is all alone and angry and afraid again.

(This is why it’s extra cruel that August posted that fucking video, especially how premeditated it was to share it over the whole world, but also then tell Wilhelm that his brother was possibly a homophobe. It doesn’t matter that he went through that horrible hazing, it doesn’t matter that he put a stop to it, and it doesn’t matter that he’s a stupid kid too, the fact that he did THAT to someone, anyone, is awful and he should have known better.)

So that scene in season 1 when Erik teases Wilhelm about his crush potentially changes completely. Maybe he didn’t suspect anything, maybe it was just a coincidence that he never used any pronouns…

And that makes it even more traumatizing that his parents still think of Erik as the figure of perfection, and Wilhelm, who is queer and scandalous and rebellious, is the real thorn on their side. Fucking Ludvig saying that Erik really was perfect, that he didn’t have “that darkness inside of him”, to his surviving son… But for all we know maybe Erik’s death was not accidental, maybe he did have “a darkness” inside of him.

On the other hand, that “darkness” doesn’t excuse Kristina at all. I am convinced that this depression/burnout that she’s going through is absolute bullshit. Sure, she might be depressed, she’s still grieving her “perfect” heir, and she’s going through a lot. But it’s like Wilhelm says, how convenient that she shuts down and breaks down now. She wasn’t like this when the video happened, because she could still cover it up. And she wasn’t like this when Wilhelm called her to scream that he was going to abdicate, because she could still drag him out of Hillerska. It was only when he told the whole world, and there was no covering it up anymore, that she suddenly became fragile with grief.

And even if it were true, even if she’s going through a severe depression or burnout, as a result of everything that’s happened, that doesn’t excuse her previous lies and manipulations. And it makes the fact that she still really wants Wille to become her successor, despite knowing what it could do to him, despite knowing that he’s already extremely anxious and that he does not know how to manage his own emotions, is evil.

(And even if she wants August to be the backup too, knowing how he is, knowing his own family history, and how it could affect him too, is evil too.) MORE on this later.

Kristina uses her breakdowns to emotionally manipulate Wille into trying to do his best to be the perfect crown prince, now indirectly through Farima and Ludvig. And Wille’s so concerned with her and her fragility that it affects his relationship with Simon. Because he’s anxious about the possible imminence of having to take over, of being the new monarch, when he can barely control his own feelings, when he just wants to enjoy his first relationship and just be in love.

Of course he made things worse for himself and Simon when he publicly revealed their relationship, but we can understand where that’s coming from. He didn’t want to hide anymore, he didn’t want to not be able to be himself anymore, not be able to be with the boy he loves. But they’re still forced to hide, because people start hating on Simon, because people won’t stop talking about them (as much as I HATED Wille shushing Simon, I also understood that he didn’t want anyone to hear their argument, because he didn’t want to give people more reason to talk about them, but also there’s probably a lot of ‘keeping up appearances’ embedded in his mind), because they are very different and almost incompatible for many reasons, and because being the crown prince means conforming to a lot of things (no tattoos, no cutting your hair shorter than, no nail polish, no expressing political opinions, etc etc), and so he has to remove the nail polish and he doesn’t want his foundation to be geared toward LGBTQIA+ people or mental health issues… He can’t express himself, he can’t be himself, because what he is or who he is for real is not compatible with his role or what is expected of him… he’s so repressed still.

(The whole nail polish scene, and the scene where Simon suggests that Wille’s foundation could be geared toward LGBTQIA+ youth, reminded me a little of Isak in SKAM saying that he wasn’t just going to start marching in the Pride parade or wearing makeup. Wille is not necessarily about identity expression, or at least he doesn’t think that he should be. He just wants to be himself, and be with the boy he loves, and that’s it).

As for Simon, he can do no wrong, and I absolutely agree with everything he says and does, but he has always been very idealistic, and he does come across as a little more naïve than I expected, especially with the whole social media comments and his song. It wasn’t the first time he experienced it, because things went south for him when he appeared on the video, so for him now to think that people are magically not going to be cruel.

But I understand how much he’s sacrificing for Wille, and Wille not appreciating it at all must sting. Just like he points out that he didn’t have contact with Micke for years, for Sara’s sake, and suddenly she’s living with him… that fucking hurt. Simon has always been very opinionated and outspoken, and he’s very authentically and proudly himself, but he’s also always molded himself to what other people need, like being a parented child and taking on too much in the house to relieve Linda, and taking care of Sara, and worrying about his father, and letting himself be manipulated by Marcus, and now basically giving up a lot of himself to be with Wille. And as a result Linda treats him like he’s a drug addict, and Sara goes to the father she didn’t want to have contact with, and Marcus talks shit about him to the press, and Wille doesn’t listen to him…

Sara saw the light (sort of), so maybe hopefully Wille will too. More on that later too.

Anyway, it would have been nice for someone from the royal court to sit Simon down and explain to him what being the boyfriend of a royal involves, so that Wille doesn’t have to figure out how to tell him all these difficult things himself. Wille is so used to some of these things, they seem so obvious to him, that he might not immediately think of how weird or outlandish it might seem to Simon. (THat scene with the cake, I mean… it was funny in a way, but I wonder how many terrifying thoughts crossed Simon’s mind, the obvious “wait what??? did I just eat poison???” but also “wait what??? someone’s trying to poison my boyfriend????” and “there are kids here, have they also accidentally been poisoned????”).

I really really hope that, since he’s being forced to go to Boris with August, that Wille will think about going with Simon, and trying to work things out. They need to be able to say all these things to each other, get on the same page.

More importantly, I need a callback to what Boris said to him in season 2, about the expectations of his family, about being able to make his own choices. Which Wille internalized beautifully with that speech to Simon outside his house.

Anyway, this is already very long. Moving on to more general thoughts:

- I did think that the fact that they sort of resolved the whole issue with the police report and the drugs felt a little anticlimactic. It was built up and built up and the whole season 2 finale was about that, and we had a cliffhanger and everything, and then… bye. I wonder if it will come back (more on that later).

- And for that matter, Alexander just became a background character. Did he even have any lines? I could barely spot him.

- August telling Wilhelm in front of everyone at the table that he’s sure Wille will fuck up on his own… rich.

- Also Stella and Rosh was sort of hinted at, it happened in a blink, and then Fredrika was… jealous? Confused? Homophobic? All of the above? But then… NOTHING. Stella was even missing in the last episode, because she was “sick”… (scheduling conflicts for Felicia? Actually sick?)

- I think it’s interesting that Sara preached and preached to Simon about giving people a second chance, including their dad, and then she… goes and does it? It wasn’t the first time she did, she was with August despite the awful thing he did. And then she goes and… gives August ANOTHER chance????

- Someone needs to tell Sara that she needs to stop getting wtih August, because every time they get together somehow, Wilmon go south… It seems these two couples cannot exist simultaneously…

- So I still have to rewatch, but… is August then in the middle of selling his father’s estate to pay Simon? Are any of his friends aware of this?

- I have a cultural question: what was the whole deal about travelling to the US? I mean, I thought they were asking if these kids have never travelled abroad, but they mentioned the US specifically, several times… Is that a thing in Sweden, traveling to the US? Not any other part of Europe? Not Asia? Just wondering. Made me curious.

- Still waiting for this season’s Elias song… just one episode left… If we don’t get one, or a callback to Revolution, I might claw my face off…

- Nils repeating that maybe Wille would have been better off with someone from the inner circle. Seriously, Nils, who do you mean? WHO? Who could you be referring to? Hmm?

- Something else about Nils… a part of me really wished that Wille would have asked Nils for confirmation on the Erik thing. Wille obviously doesn’t want to believe it at first, but then he does, and hearing it from August makes it even worse, so maybe hearing it from someone like Nils would be the final confirmation that he would need, that his brother was the worst. On the other hand, for him to ask Nils to confirm something like that, as a gay, and possibly hearing what happened to him as a result of it… that would have probably made it even worse.

- Really hate that Marcus was mentioned, that he came back to haunt Simon in a way, even if it was minimal. But props to Simon for not rising to the bait in that moment.

- Simon, my love, i understand that you’re upset and heartbroken, but… it would have been nice if you tried to get Wille to talk to you one last time, before breaking up with him on his birthday… especially seeing everything he’s going through. Not that your feelings are any less important than his, of course, but… are you trying to get him to jump out the window????

-Eternally saddened by the disappearance of the orange sweater. Eternally saddened by the fact that Wilhelm did not set foot in or around Simon’s house this season. Although who knows, still one episode left…

Things that I liked most:

- Seriously the chemistry between Edvin and Omar is OFF THE CHARTS. The intimacy coordinator this season was very good.

- Especially that sex scene. Not just because it makes me immensely happy when my favorite ship fucks, because holy shit that was hot, but also because there’s a whole theme around all the hate mail and messages and classism and homophobia and toxic masculinity that Simon is a target of, especially being Latino, whilst Wille, being white and privileged and high class and the heir to the throne, is probably seen as the “man” of the relationship (especially since in the video he’s also the one “in control” whilst Simon is the receiver), so it’s very VERY satisfying to see that they are both top and bottom at times, and they both equally enjoy it.

- Also the use of choir music during the sex scene, giving it a very holy feel, much like Elias’s Holy playing when they have sex again in season 2… seriously I NEED my Elias song this season or I WILL START A REVOLUTION.

- At first I was annoyed at the whole “school possibly closing” plotline, because I thought it was unneeded. Or that maybe it would play a bigger role in the whole video-drugs controversy. But the truth is that it was really good, how it highlighted these kids’ privilege and the absurdity of wanting to cover things up and uphold traditions, and it also worked wonderfully to highlight the divide between Simon and Wille. As Simon says to Wille, he only takes a stand when he has nothing to lose.

- Felice. Felice this whole season was magnificent. Her whole breakdown over the end of her friendship with Sara, showing how truly important it was to her. And Madison saying that sometimes breaking up with a friend is worse than getting dumped, and I AGREE SO MUCH. But then I also think she loses her sense of self, because despite being popular and beautiful, she still gets used and treated badly, by August (obviously), but also by Wille (the kiss), and worst of all by Sara (who in a way used her for her horse, but also for the clout). And in the meantime, she’s treated differently than the other students for being one of the few black girls, and she gets singled out for her hair… and yet, the school is using her to make themselves look good. And now she decides to give Sara a second chance, because she really missed her, because it really hurt to lose that friend, and Sara goes and… does that…

- One of my favorite things about Simon is how he is proof that just because you’re gay doesn’t mean that you have flawless fashion sense. And i can’t help but wonder how fashion and style icon/ELLE’s Best Dressed Man/OMR Beauty founder Omar feels about Simon’s fashion choices. Never change, Simon, never change.

- Vincent was every bit of the tremendous asshole that I hoped he’d be this season. Did not disappoint. I wanted to punch him in the face every time he opened his mouth. Marvellous.

- I’m happy that we got more Madison, but still not enough. Still, iconic. Forever one of my favorite characters.

- I don’t know what to say about Sara and Micke. Just maybe that, when he played that song in the car, even before they started singing, i just knew “oh fuck, it’s all going to shit soon…” I guess Sara felt lost enough that she was suddenly willing to give him a second chance. And the whole “is that going to happen to me?” bit really made me sad. That she understands that mental health and mental illness is unfortunately many times hereditary, and worries that she might become just like him… But despite not being entirely like him, with addiction problems and such, she was still unreliable like him, she did bad things to her family like he did… I was rooting for you, Micke, we were all rooting for you.

- I feel that August’s love for status and for the monarchy might be starting to fray at the edges. First with the fact that he was reminded of his own traumatizing initiation, and reminded of how the crown prince, his cousin and friend and idol, himself was part of that. Second with the fact that Simon points out that he might have an eating disorder, how he would probably not fare any better than the queen if he were in such a stressful position as crown prince or king, how difficult it is for him to handle stress and anxiety. And third with seeing how it affects Wille and Simon and realizing that something similar might still happen to him and Sara. And the fact that he reveals to Sara why he is the way he is, that he lets his guard down with her, might point to even more growth (even though I hate that Sara sort of gave him a “second chance” again). Also I feel the reality of how they, the Royal Court, would control his life is finally sinking in. Hopefully he will also soon realize that they also use him as a manipulation tool. So maybe he won’t let himself be manipulated by them much longer.

- I loved Wille’s ultimate outburst at his mother and father, i love that he told them everything they needed to hear, about their emotional abuse, their neglect. Unfortunately they still refused to acknowledge how terrible parents they have been, and walked off, instead of trying to resolve it. So Wille throwing around the gifts, as impulsive and tantrum-ish it might come across, makes perfect sense. He tries to talk and gets nothing in return. If he’s repressed it’s bad, but if he expresses himself then nothing happens either.

- And I love that Simon got to see what Wille is really dealing with. As privileged as he might be, he’s still lacking the most important things: unconditional support and love. No amount of money or status can make it better, and Wille is broken. The only thing is that, Simon saw how broken Wille was over the death of his brother, whom he loved very much, but I don’t think he quite grasps the gravity of Wille learning that maybe that beloved brother wouldn’t have been so cool with him, because he has never had to deal with a parent or sibling rejecting him for his sexuality. It’s something very different to be rejected by society at large than it is to be rejected by your own family, and not everyone has the emotional strength to deal with that. So for Wille’s parents to still like his potentially homophobic dead brother more than him, is heart-wrenching. But I don’t think Simon really gets that because he’s probably not surprised that Erik might have been like that, because in his eyes those privileged kids in that school (except obviously Wille, and Felice and Madison, who is asking about the non-binaries) are probably all massive homophobes.

- Despite this, I love that Simon sets boundaries nonetheless. I mean, it hurt like fucking hell for him to tell Wille, on his fucking birthday, that maybe they shouldn’t be together. But just because Wille is hurting doesn’t mean that Simon has not also been hurting too. And if they can’t comfort each other, and try to support each other when they both obviously most need it, then maybe they’re just not going to work. And it took a lot of guts for Simon to bring it up in that moment, in Wille’s bed, in the palace, where he’s basically trapped, with nowhere to go, no way to get away (I doubt he called Linda in the middle of the night to come pick him up more than two hours away in Stockholm).

My hopes for the final episode (I don’t think I have any predictions other than, open ending or not, Wilmon will be endgame and there will be a revolution, I just don’t know how):

- Wilmon talk. An actual, healthy, heartfelt talk. A reconciliation for the ages.

- That the fucking school will close and August won’t be able to graduate, and he’ll realize that maybe he shouldn’t have “lived for that school”, as Erik once put it.

- That Wille will realize that, if Erik was not the person he thought he was, then maybe he no longer has to live up to his legacy anymore. @foreverunraveling pointed out how, now that the big Erik revelation is confirmed, then maybe the queen’s trump card to manipulate Wille into being the ideal crown prince is gone. Wille doesn’t care about the monarchy really, but he did care about not disappointing his brother, the “perfect crown prince”, and now we know that he was far from perfect. Erik lived a double life, as Wille points out, there was “public Erik” or crown prince Erik, and there was “private Erik”, or the real Erik (or so Wille thought, now we know there was a “secret Erik” which was the real Erik) and Wille struggles so much with the idea of having to split himself in two, . Wille cannot live a double life, he withers away when he has to hide himself, and now he gets the opportunity to leave that stifling life behind, and blossom.

- That Simon will get a fucking break. I hate that his whole life was turned upside down from the moment the video was leaked, and it’s just never going to be the same, whether he stays with Wille or not, he’ll always be the boy from the crown prince sex tape, he’ll always be the crown prince’s ex, or the crown prince’s boyfriend. But I want some positive feedback for him, someone bigger than the woman and the little boy wanting a selfie. I want him to have his own fanclub or something. Maybe that’s too idealistic…? (I may be imagining something like that scene in Red White and Royal Blue, when they realize that there’s a whole crowd outside the palace all excited to the the Prince and his First son boyfriend… one can dream).

- I want whatever Felice said during the interview to be taken seriously, and for her to stop doubting herself.

- I want a genuine apology from August.

- Also one from Kristina.

- I get the feeling that the fact that August leaked the video might still come out publicly, what with the whole school issue. And in that case, I would like for it to be Simon might to do it, tossing the money from the settlement in his face. It looks like Simon still feels guilty about accepting it, especially when he chided Wille about his privilege and Wille (figuratively) threw the money back in his face. What if Simon does it literally?

- I really wanna know what’s going to happen between Felice and Sara now. The outlook is not good.

- Is it too much to ask to know what’s going on between Stella and Fredrika?

- Most importantly, is the whole thing with Erik going to come out eventually? And how will people react? With support for the monarchy, or with support for Wille?

I have so many more thoughts, but I’m slightly burnt out, and I really should take a break. Also this is way too long. Might have more thoughts once I’ve rewatched the first five episodes, calmly over the weekend…

Also this is very long and I’m sorry.

#young royals #young royals season 3 #yr season 3 #yr s3 spoilers #young royals season 3 spoilers #young royals thoughts #young royals analysis

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hanibalistic · 1 year ago

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WHO YOU ARE, WHO I AM | LEE MINHO.

genre | fluff, angst, (semi) slow burn / arranged marriage au / strangers to lovers / 4th wall break

synopsis | when you wake up to a good-looking man who claims to be your husband, there isn’t much to do aside from assuming you got stuck in a drama.

word count | 12.0k+

warning | car crash / not edited since the first time i posted this story

note | bye-bye baby, i love you baby. more than that body pillow drabble at least.

parts | one, two, three

After the doctor bandaged your hands and did some checkup on you to make sure you had sustained no more damage from the fall, you were glad to hear that they would take up the responsibility to call Minho’s parents instead.

You could not find the energy to talk to anyone about anything—perhaps you would give Yuna an earful about what happened, but she was gone by the time you got picked up by others around the scene. Tears kept falling down your face when you were getting treated, and the doctor in charge stopped asking you if she was hurting you anymore. It was obvious that your concern lay on someone else.

How did this happen? You always thought you would be so agile and smart during emergencies. The cold water of truth once again splashed down on you, reminding you that just because you think you’d be cool doesn’t mean you would be when your thoughts turn into reality. This isn’t the law of attraction, you can’t manifest the car away and you sure as well can’t manifest peace.

You sighed, your lashes wet and your under-eye pained from all the rubbing. It had to happen this way, didn’t it? The car crash was, unfortunately, essential in your drama. If it wasn’t the kidnapping, it if wasn’t the psychotic mother, if it wasn’t even the love triangle, then it would be the goddamn car crash. And as usual, it was infuriating and you wished it hadn’t happened.

It wasn’t that you minded the car crash (you would like to not see it as a plot device so often, though). You just hoped it hadn’t been Minho who got hit because he cared enough to save you from it. And now you were left here, sitting in the hospital lobby and being haunted by all the gut-wrenching components of a drama car crash.

Broken hands, broken legs, brain dead, blindness, mute, deaf, paralyzed, coma, a sudden discovery of cancer, a sudden discovery of related bloodlines, a sudden discovery of a terminal illness. You squealed under your breath as you went down the list, approaching the most common trait of them all—amnesia.

Sure, dramas usually have this rule where all you needed to endure was one to two months of hardships where Minho would revert to hating your guts, and then he would either fall in love with you again or you would give him the magical kiss of memory revival and he would suddenly remember your past together.

But those are often so unpredictable! You have watched hundreds of dramas that spin down several different lanes, and all of them have left you heartbroken one way or another. And by now you have learned how much different it would be for you to have to experience such events by yourself! If you could cry so hard because of what those pixelated people are going through, how would you begin to cope with experiencing it yourself?

A sob forced itself up to your throat, your chest sustained the pain of holding it in for too long it felt like you swallowed too many things at once, it felt like you were suffocating. You were afraid. So far, you have skated through every event with a very humorous coping mechanism, one that never does any long-term help. But this was different, this could last forever.

No, this wasn’t supposed to be the forever you experience. You two have just begun, you two were just starting to love each other loudly and happily. You haven’t had enough yet, you wanted more time! The gate to Heaven shouldn’t be allowed to close itself at people’s faces!

“Hello? Excuse me?”

You looked up at the doctor standing in front of you and immediately stood up, wiping your eyes on cue even though you had passed the point of crying and ceasing the chaos in your head. “Yes! How–how is Minho?”

“Good. He only got a few fractured ribs, a bad concussion, and a badly scraped forehead. He didn’t suffer any damage to his internal organs and there are no signs of internal bleeding,” the doctor explained. “He just needs to rest for now, but I estimate that he will wake up sooner than expected. You can wait in his room if you want to.”

You heard everything she said crystal clear. You even went so far as to repeat it in your head. Fractured ribs and concussion, ouchie but at least there wasn’t any internal damage that always sounded so life-threatening. This should be great news, but why did it sound so suspicious to you?

“Really? You are sure, doctor?” you asked, “He didn’t like…lost his eyesight or paralyzed or… I don’t know, cancer? Amnesia?”

“This is a car crash, I don’t think it will cause him cancer,” she replied calmly. If she was annoyed at your stupid questions, she was trained well not to show it on her face. “And no, we did all the scans. There is nothing else, I assure you.”

“But I swear I saw blood back then, what does that mean?”

“He scraped his forehead when he fell. We did sutures on the wound, which is going to leave him a scar but we can try to minimize it as best as we can,” she said.

Huh, bummer. Maybe I should order another car crash.

Yeah, now wasn’t the time. My apologies.

You thanked the doctor quickly then, wanting to do nothing more than to see him. But before you could leave, she held you back and shifted through her pocket for something she intended to give you.

"The paramedic stopped me and told me to give this back to Mr.Lee when you guys went in, but I assume it is yours?” she said as she pulled out a dark blue velvet box and handed it to you.

It was a ring box, with your ring stored securely in it. You felt a rush of tears piling at your eyes again but you held them down and nodded. “Yeah, well, let’s hope it’s still for me.”

“Pretty sure it will. He wouldn’t buy you a ring if he didn’t care enough to jump in front of a car for you.” She shrugged. “His room is right around the corner, you can ask the nurses around.”

You bid her goodbye then, watching her rush away as her pager beeped. Then you returned your attention to the ring. You took it out of the box and slipped it on, admiring the way it still fits perfectly around your finger. You became his and you would always be from now on; wearing the ring is an act of taking a physical vow. Clasping the box shut, you put it in your pocket carefully before heading to where the doctor pointed you.

This was painstakingly familiar, Minho thought as he opened his eyes once again to welcome the flood of nausea and ugly ceiling lights. He hasn’t been in the hospital for a long time but he could tell he was in one from the saturated smell of alcohol and the overall sickly atmosphere. Shutting his eyes immediately after waking up, he groaned hoarsely as he recalled what events led up to this moment and realized he would have to be bedridden once more.

What a shame, you would have to take care of him again—hey, hold on a second! Where were you?

Minho snapped his eyes open, panic overwhelming the revolting weight laid atop of his body and brain. He did push you out of the way, right? He remembered he did, but he couldn’t be sure if you both were lucky enough to not have a second careless driver grace the crossroad. Or what if you bumped your head too hard on the ground and got a bad concussion? Or what if he didn’t push you far away enough for the car not to hit you?

He turned his head over to the door, wanting to call for a nurse and ask them millions of unprepared questions, but he stopped in his tracks abruptly when his gaze shivered downwards and he found you sleeping with your head on the edge of the bed. He hadn’t even registered the feeling of his hand being held by yours, the pulse oximeter and the IV on his left arm had taken away most of his sense of touch.

Calming down, Minho relaxed against the pillows and exhaled in relief. He would much rather have you here and sleeping in an uncomfortable position than laying on a bed with a heart monitor beeping next to your bed. Lowering his head so he could look at you, he softened at the way your cheek was squeezed against your forearm and the fading redness visible under your once tearful eyes. Oh, how he longed to reach out and touch you right now, the desire was immeasurable.

His mellow eyes trailed over to your hand, the one laying on the side of his legs, and he frowned slightly at the heavy white gauze wrapped around your lower palm. Getting a scrape when he pushed you away like that is likely inevitable; it got the job done, thankfully, he hoped it didn’t hurt you too much. He was promoted to move his hand when he saw yours, the one you had your own pinned down on the bed softly, and it was then when he felt the roughness of the gauze rubbing against his skin as well.

With a grimace, he looked over to where your hands were stacked on top of each other, and he held his breath when he finally noticed the shining diamond sitting prettily on your finger.

You put the ring back on.

The box must have flown out of his pocket when he got hit. He had been taking it with him everywhere recently just in case the perfect timing to give it back to you turns out to be a place where he couldn’t have access to it immediately. Besides, holding the box in his hand had always reminded him of you, and he liked being reminded of you from time to time throughout the day.

It made him feel less jittery, less annoyed at the general things, and it got him excited to return home at the end of the day.

Minho couldn’t think about anything else at the moment; all that flooded his mind was how much more fulfilling it was to see the ring on your finger rather than in the box, how things should have been this way all along, and what it all meant now that you’ve worn it back.

Forgiveness for his aloofness in the past, a firm acceptance of this marriage, and that he has become someone who can be loved by you.

His shaky eyes were filled with droplets, creating a glassy sight in his already glittery eyes. Feeling you stir on your spot, he slowly moved his head up so he could watch you wake from your slumber. Your grogginess went away as soon as you met eyes with him, and instead of an excited squeal or a surprised gasp, the only thing that glossed over you was an immense relief.

Looking at you, Minho breathed out a quiet laugh, one that even you couldn’t hear. He felt your hand around him still, but your grip more secure now. In an attempt to chase the tears away from your eyes, he joked, “Stop frowning. Your face is gonna get stuck.”

“I’m glad you still remember that,” you laughed, lightly shoving his leg as your voice echoed the room. He gave you a knowing hum as if telling you it would be impossible for him to ever forget the unfunny jokes you liked to tell around the house so much, they were practically engraved in his mind.

Sitting up straighter now, your entire demeanor became gentler. Your senses less alert, your mouth quirked into a permanent smirk, and your fluffy gaze paying a constant focus on Minho.

“You haven’t forgotten me, have you?” you asked slowly, propping yourself up on your intertwined hands and smiling brightly up at him.

“No,” he replied.

“Who am I?”

“You are [Name]. You have bad humor, you forced pizza down my throat once, and you made me like soap opera,” he said, finding his voice back as more words gradually left his lips. And then he paused for a moment, a dramatic moment where he eyed you lovingly, watching as your brows raised in anticipation. “And I think I might be your husband.”

A joyous sob came in the form of giggle and Minho whined at the strands of tears that danced down your cheeks. He reached out to you, wanting to wipe your tears away for you, but you stopped him and told him not to move. Instead, you got up from the chair and scooted closer to the edge of the bed so you two could be closer at face level.

You slipped your arm under this head and the other reached to cup his jaw. You kissed his forehead, once and twice, then you pulled away just enough for you to look at him fully. Ah, you were so filled to the brim with affection for him; it was so new to you but so real the same time that you were not afraid of diving headfirst into it.

“I think you are my husband,” you whispered with a small nod.

He smiled. “Thank you for having me again.”

You gave him a smile before leaning down to kiss him again. This time you didn’t stop at his forehead. Your soft lips trailed down his eyes, his nose, his cupid’s bow, and before you could kiss him on the lips as you had always wished, you pulled away with a puff of nervous breath. You stared into his eyes, feeling the same longing in the way his hand found your wrist and he held onto you.

What are you waiting for? For permission? For him to get better? Go on, kiss him.

You two will be fine, you won’t hurt each other.

Pressing your lips against his tentatively, you felt a rush of adrenaline racing around your lungs. It made you feel hypersensitive, like a supernatural who could hear and see and feel beyond the human spectrum—the forced nudge of your noses, the beating in your ears, the softness of his lips, your quickened breathes, his soft locks flowing between your fingers, his grip on your wrists tightening to keep you with him.

It was all so overwhelming, the intimacy and the desperation. The emotions came in tiny waves, similar to the way the ocean feels when you stepped your feet on the shore. It drowns you out, it lets you breathe, it drowns you out again. You kiss, you breathe, and you kiss him again. No matter how many times the cycle continues, no matter how many times the seawater brushes past your skin, you get surprised by it and you keep yearning for more.

Your heart was hanging by a thread, any minute now it would leave your chest and land itself straight into Minho’s palms.

Hesitantly pulling away, you kept your mouths close enough for him to still feel you against his lips. He leaned in a little, breathing out a whine that made you realize your heart was already in his hands long ago. Swallowing down a breath, you whispered, “Do you remember, that I love you?”

He nodded, his lashes fluttering as he glanced down at your lips again and back up at your eyes, “I will now.”

Minho’s heart was yours too, long ago, and you’ve learned that.

You jolted awake in the middle of the night. Heavy breaths left your lips as you sat up against the arm of the couch. Your heart was beating quickly like you had just run a mile around the track field.

It was nothing like the way you used to be yanked out of sleep. It wasn’t like your head hitting against your desk in a boring lecture, or when you brutally died in a bad dream. This one was different. You were not falling asleep and you weren’t dreaming. It was different in a way that all you saw during your ‘consciousness’ was blackness, paired with a familiar voice you never thought you would hear again.

“Mom?” you whispered as you quickly scanned your surroundings, looking for the sight of your mother.

But you were still in the hospital room. You were sitting on the couch located at the corner of the room, with your phone and leftover takeaway food resting on top of the small table before you. The moon has gone up and the sky has turned darker than night, you glanced over and found Minho sleeping on the bed as he should.

You were back in where you were supposed to be, but your mother’s voice felt genuinely real during your supposed dream. Sitting up straighter and putting your feet down on the ground, you ran your hands through your hair to force yourself into concentration. Why did you jolt awake at your mother’s voice? There should be no reason for you to find her a threat unless you felt like you were being pulled out of this world.

Like you were falling, like you were falling out of this place, like you were leaving this world and back to reality.

“Oh god,” you gasped as you snapped your head up, your eyes wide.

Great, you were finally piecing the puzzle together, [Name]. I’m glad.

You have exhausted your one near-death experience when you almost got hit by a car yesterday. If Minho hadn’t pushed you to the side and you got hit then things would have been different; you’d be hit by the car, got sent to a hospital to get fixed, and nothing would have happened. Alas, Minho did push you out of the way, and now you have reached the limit, which was only one. If you remember clearly, the way you arrived to this world was by waking, so when you return home, you would find yourself waking up as well.

Except this time, you would be alone, and Minho never existed.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you repeated under your breath, biting your nails in an attempt to ease out the spiraling anxiety permanent in your head. It was all hitting you too quickly—the near-death theory, the memories you have of your real life, or the lack thereof, feeling like you were being pulled out of your own body, going back to reality, leaving Minho here.

I reckon this would be better for you, actually. The anxiety keeps you awake, and the pacing around keeps you active and forces your eyes open. It would be sooner or later, though, when you find yourself dozing off due to the inability to stay awake any longer. That’s when things get bad for you because as soon as you fall asleep, you will wake up in a whole different place. A familiar place, but different, nonetheless.

Oh, but how could this be? You have just worn the ring, you two have just kissed for the first time. You couldn’t fathom the idea of being separated from Minho and you didn’t want to leave him yet! You never want to leave him ever! There was still so much for you two to do! You needed more time. You both needed more time!

“[Name]?”

“Huh–oh, hey, Minho.” You moved over to him with a smile. “Did I wake you?”

He could see the panic in your eyes and he frowned. “Are you okay? You look tired. Maybe you should get some sleep–”

“Oh, I–” Your bottom lips quivered.

How long would you be able to hide it before he finds out? How long could you stay awake and act normal for? How would you be able to explain why you always look so exhausted? Minho should know the truth, he deserved to know that you have been hiding something important from him the whole time. Besides, it would be such a shame if you leave him unprepared for your departure. He’s the one who has to remember, after all.

“I’m not leaving!”

Oh, yell at me, why don’t you?

“Hey,” Minho grabbed a hold of your hand, his brows furrowed up at you, “what is going on?”

You stayed still to pull yourself together for a few seconds, breathing slowly, and then you looked back at him. “I have something to tell you.”

He could sense the solemnity in your voice and it terrified him. You had shown him a large range of your emotions before, from playful to angry to loving, but he has never seen you look so helpless. Tugging at your hand, he kissed your knuckles softly and nodded. “What is it?”

And you told him everything, struggling to make your story coherent despite only having the absolute truth escaping your lips. You told him from the very moment when you found yourself waking up next to him, and then when you were still figuring out what to do with ‘your’ past broken relationship, to adapting quickly and blending into this world. Everything up until this point, when you were so close to forgetting where you came from only to have reality force itself back into your head again.

It was taking Minho a long time to comprehend all the information thrown at him. When it seemed like he was finally done, he moved his eyes over to you and he tilted his head with a sigh. “That is a very deliberate joke.”

Right, you should have anticipated a reaction like that. It would be too easy if he brought it immediately. You pulled a face. “It’s not a joke, Minho.”

“Oh, so you are trying to tell me you aren’t from this universe and you aren’t even who you are before you came here?” he said, confusion evident on his tired face and his voice rising as he went on. “You are basically suggesting parallel universes exist?”

“No–I mean, yeah? It could be true?” You shrugged, and then you shook your head. “The point is–I can feel myself leaving this place and I am pretty sure as soon as I fall asleep, my time will be up. I just felt like I should tell you because you deserve to know.”

Despite how serious you sounded throughout your entire explanation, he just couldn’t bring himself to take you seriously. It was too absurd, the whole concept of waking up in another place. Sure, you did suddenly change overnight and you did feel much different than you did before, and there had been certain very subtle hints that could back your point up, but it was not enough for Minho to believe in what you just told him.

“You should go to sleep, [Name]. You’ve been really tired,” he said again, trying to persuade you into going back to bed.

Disappointment flashed before your eyes. Your shoulders slumped in defeat as you looked away, unsure what else you could do to convince him. The only thing you were sure about was that you absolutely could not fall asleep, no matter how tired you were. You planned to hang on for as long as you could, and hopefully, Minho would come around and believe you by then.

“I am just gonna go take a walk and come back,” you said, smiling faintly. “You should go back to sleep though.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “You can sleep with me on the bed if you want. I wouldn’t mind.”

“You know I can’t,“ you said. Leaning down to kiss his forehead, you moved away from the bed slowly. “Go to bed. I’ll wake you up with breakfast tomorrow morning.”

You closed the door, leaving him alone in the darkroom. Minho pouted, he was thinking too much to be able to just fall asleep now. The fact that he couldn’t just sleep sort of gave him a sense that he was leaning towards believing it and he was just in the stage of denial. If he really thought it was a joke then he should have no problem brushing it off, right?

He leaned back against the pillow, his fingers grasping at the air and his head filled.

Would you really leave? Just like that? More importantly, would he be able to tell if you left?

"Did you sleep?”

“They did not,” Changbin replied casually as he slammed a plastic bag on top of the table. Leaning down and proceeding to take out the takeaway food, he handed you a small box of food and looked up at Minho again. “They were up the whole night.”

“Did you seriously stay up the whole night?” Minho asked, brows furrowed at the unexpected visit by Changbin. He wanted to ask why he decided to tag along with you, but he figured it was much more important to know what happened with you last night.

“I did,” you sighed, shoving the chicken into your mouth and moaning at its delicious taste.

After realizing it would be almost impossible for you to stay awake on your own, which was such bullshit because you swore you used to have the ability to pull all-nighters like it was nothing, you ended up calling your last resort—Seo Changbin. Feeling bad that you had to wake him up in the middle of the night, you gave him the same explanation you gave Minho, and like your husband, he was extremely reluctant to accept it.

But you weren’t sleeping at all. And while Changbin had the suspicion that you were just taking this 'joke’ a little too far, he decided to humor you for the night and stayed up with you. And you spent the night over at his home, doing anything and everything to keep yourselves from falling asleep.

“Didn’t they tell you about the story?” Changbin asked, popping open a can of soda and looking at Minho as he drank. “I still don’t believe it but they were so hell-bent on not sleeping, I might just let them have it.”

“What–Changbin, I thought you believed me!” you whined, punching his behind and shoving him to the side.

“If I come over and tell you I’m not actually me and I came from another dimension, would you have believed me?” Changbin retorted, rubbing the spilled drink off his chin.

“I don’t have to because first of all, I met you for the first time at the shopping mall and I know nothing about you,” you pointed out. “Second of all, I am going through it right now. I am telling you, if I fall asleep, you will never see me again.”

“You don’t have proof that you aren’t you, [Name],” Minho chimed in, sighing in defeat as he slumped back against the bed.

Changbin pointed at you with wide eyes then, nodding in agreement. Sitting up from the couch, you turned your head to find Minho grimacing at you, and you heave a sigh. Proof. Where the hell would you find the proof to explain that you are who you are? Identity isn’t a tangible thing, no amount of paperwork can shape it for you.

“Look, I am telling the truth, alright? Or at least I am saying what I know,” you said as you grabbed a box and headed over to the bed. You handed the food to Minho, who refrained from throwing a mini tantrum the way he did before due to Changbin’s presence. Sitting down on the chair you had also pulled over, you sighed. “Who knows? Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t want to take the risk and sleep.”

You looked at Minho, your brows raising slowly to display a vulnerably honest expression. No malice was hidden behind your eyes, your gaze only directed at him. “I don’t want to leave you, Minho.”

His munching halted. He could feel a hint of unease at the bottom of his stomach, possibly due to what you said and the soft way you said it. As if you were afraid, cautious. Lowering his hand, he inhaled, kind of wishing his inner voice would kick him in the head and give him a little nudge to the right path.

But really, what more was there left to say, Minho? [Name] has said all they could.

“You are not going leave me,” he muttered.

You shook your head. “Not consciously, no.”

Minho pursed his lips. Think carefully; for him to convince himself of what you said, he has to nitpick the past and the present, like separating different colored peas with chopsticks.

Starting from the day you met him, you said you have no idea what his name is and you woke up in his bed even though he had this terrible rule of not sleeping together. That was one. Then you forgot about the marriage; you were surprised by the ring on your hand so much that you even asked him for the price. That was two. You went into his closet, even when you were banned from touching certain things that were his. That was three. These were all rules to be broken, but the old you never had the guts to do that. It didn’t make sense for the courage to suddenly appear.

Asking for a divorce and acting like you didn’t know it was arranged, forgetting that your parents were dead, completely unbothered by Yuna’s presence, suddenly knowing how to cook up a whole meal, eating lots of greasy food, profoundly cursing, being playful enough to give him nicknames and make bad jokes.

Aside from that, he could physically tell, now that he thought about it with a clearer head. You were less timid and much louder. Sure, you have your moments of tenderness, but overall you felt much more energized and much happier than before. It was a difference in your presence—you didn’t use to light up the room when you walk into one, but now all Minho could see was you whenever you come into his line of sight. And that was before he fell so in love with you.

The pieces were adding up to an unbelievable story.

Minho looked up at Changbin, his gaze hardened. “Can you leave us alone for a moment?”

You widened your eyes at his troubled look, then you turned around and urged your best friend away as well, promising to find him later when your private talk ends. Changbin rolled his eyes and unwillingly left, and then it was finally just you and him.

Minho started without waiting. “Let me recap everything. You came here not knowing who I am or what this place is?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “does this mean you believe me now?”

“Wait–why didn’t you tell me before then?” he asked.

“I thought I would leave soon and return to where I came from. I didn’t expect to stay so long,” you said. “Also, drama taught me it is better to keep my identity hidden.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “So, you suspect that the way for you to go back is through a near-death experience?”

“And falling asleep later,” you hummed. “This one I learned out of instinct, but I’m sure it’s happened before on some show.”

Minho scoffed, “You can’t trust dramas all the time. They’re made up.”

“Yeah, but this feels too much like one for me to ignore it! I mean, look at this!” You pointed at him, smiling bitterly. “Look at you! I would have never been able to snatch a guy like you if I was back in my world. I was a huge loner. All I did was work and have fleeting crushes.”

He watched as you lowered your arm, your smile dimming significantly. “Honestly, I don’t even know if you love me or who used to be me.” You shrugged, not looking at him. “I am a new person to you now, right?”

Minho licked his lower lip. That problem has never crossed his mind before since it was so obvious that he loved you. His affection was never there, it wasn’t affection for you before. But then he started developing feelings of his own for you, steaming from a threatening turn where he might lose the care and obedience he was used to receiving. He just used to like being loved by 'you’, now he liked loving you; he liked the mutual feelings you two shared.

If all were true, then there was a whole world behind you he’s never known. You previous life, your friends, your fleeting crushes.

“Come here,” he said, patting the spot next to him.

You stood up from the chair and carefully climbed onto the spot next to him. You back hit against the side rail, preventing you from falling off, while Minho pushed his hand against your waist to keep you close to him. You leaned your head against his shoulder, a sigh leaving your lips quietly.

“You know, I thought you were funny, back when you first came here,” he said. “A little infuriating, yes, but amusing nonetheless.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” you commented, giggling when he cleared his throat and nudged the top of your head with his jaw.

“You could have totally snatched me up even if we are not in this setting,” he said. “You aren’t like other people. You treat me differently.”

Ah, and the iconic line finally decided to make its appearance. I was hoping it’d at least happen once for you to hear it because you would only be able to hear it from Minho’s mouth.

“What do you mean different? I treat you the same way everyone treats you!” you said, suppressing a chuckle. You weren’t sure if that line had boosted your ego but it sure did make you feel quite special, as cliché as it was, but honestly? As a society, we should all establish that clichés don’t matter.

“No, you were so casual and honest. I think you are the only person who has given me nicknames aside from my old friends back in high school.” He nodded with a shaky laugh. He patted your waist in a beckoning motion, seeming excited. “And you’re even more different than others now because you are the only person I love, in that special kind of way.”

“What are you, five? Special kind of way–that’s lame!” you exclaimed, laughter escaping in between. When you quieted down, you pressed yourself closer to him and looked up.

He only glanced down when he felt your lips at the side of his jaw. And he kissed you then, leaning his head down eagerly to capture your lips. You were careful with moving around, your hand going up to stop at the nape of his neck, rubbing comfortingly as your mouths danced with each other sensually.

This could never be enough. Minho wanted more than this, he thought as he tugged you closer to him, feeling your chest against his side. This could never be enough. He wanted to do more than kissing you in a hospital bed. He wanted to kiss you under the moon, to kiss you at home, to kiss you during a spontaneous snack run at midnight. He wanted to eat junk food and get emotional about fictional characters with you; he wanted to see you read books while he worked on the side.

Minho wants you with him, always.

You pulled away, gasping a little at how teary his eyes had suddenly become. You didn’t need to ask why. You could already tell. “Do you believe me now?”

“I can’t. I don’t want to.” Minho let out a shaky breath. “If I do then I will have to accept the fact that you might leave me soon.”

A sobbing noise spiked from the back of your throat as you reached up to peck his lips. “I will try my best to stay awake for as long as I can, Minho.”

He nodded, even though the fact alone broke him, the fact that you two have to settle for 'as long as you can.’

You jolted awake again, this time in Minho’s workroom with a new book held loose in your hands.

You kept the lights on for the sake of having an awake atmosphere even though you knew very well that would do nothing to help your exhaustion. Looking up from the couch, you found it hard to just squint at the clock hanging above your head, but you saw that it was long past midnight already.

You groaned, throwing your head back against the couch as you kicked your legs in frustration. You were officially three days in, all three days you went without a lick of sleep. And you put in lots and lots of effort to accomplish that, such as eating, doing yoga, shopping, scrolling the internet, and indulging yourself in many new shows filled with more than seven seasons of emotions.

It was painful. Your body felt heavy and your eye bags were probably getting bigger as you went on. Your mind was slow, you zone out too much and you kept dozing off. The only thing keeping you from falling into slumber was the sickening feeling of you astral projecting out of this place.

You didn’t want to cry though. Not only would it make you feel even more exhausted, but it would also make you feel weak, and you didn’t want to feel pathetic that way if you were doing this so you could stay with the love of your life.

Huffing out a groan, you got off the couch and left the room. You were much more familiar with the house by now, you could practically walk anywhere with your eyes closed as long as you knew where you started. You walked down the hallway and stopped abruptly before a pair of doors.

Minho’s closet was as you remembered it was. Black and white, very minimalistic, with clothing racks lining up against the wall. One thing has changed, though, he has opened up a space for clothes you got him from time to time. The ones you thought he would look good in and he occasionally wears around in the house when he didn’t need to be in formal attire.

You flipped through the clothes, remembering where each one of them came from with a smile. It was quite funny as well, to see how the clothes gradually grew to be more accurate in his size with the more you brought.

Pulling a sweater off the rack, you admired the soft material by kneading it between your fingers, then you hugged it close to your chest. You brought the fabric close to your face, inhaling the warm scent you’ve gotten used to smelling on your own clothes as well.

You never tried to look into what detergent the housekeeper used to wash your clothes, but you always thought it had an artificial smell of some type of flower you have never smelt the actual scent of before. It stopped mattering now that you have gotten so accustomed to the smell. It just has the scent of a home, and home is Minho for you.

You inhaled deeply and exhaled out to control your quickened breathing. A sob threatened to break out but you muffled it with his sweater, clinging onto it like it was your life-line.

It has been so difficult for you. Staying awake beyond your limit and trying to smile with everyone else; you couldn’t even tell Minho how you felt when he asked if you were okay because a part of you dreaded that he’d let you go. You felt alone, worrying and fearing for the day you would leave this place.

Standing in his closet and having his scent so close to you pushed you past the breaking point. All you knew was that you wanted to stay with Minho, and knowing how sleep would be inevitable made you cry.

The past three days have only been about that. You couldn’t afford to think about anything else.

You stood there alone and sobbed for as long as your body allowed. When you were done, you dropped the sweater on the rack and took off your own just so you would wear it.

It felt warm, big and warm, just like Minho.

You felt another sob bubbling up.

Minho could tell you have been crying when you arrived to visit him for the night.

It has become increasingly difficult for him not to notice how worn out you were, not to mention having to neglect it and pretend as if nothing was happening. Although you were the one who was so determined to keep yourself in this place, and of course, he too wanted you to stay here, he couldn’t help the gruesome guilt that rips through his veins whenever he sees that defeated state of yours.

You were dozing off on the couch again. He could somehow feel it whenever you’ve got your eyes closed, it was like a tingly sense that shoots down his spine. Even then, he always looks over to check if you are, and you were this time, your chin squished against the base of your palm with your elbow propped up against the armrest of the couch. You were dozing and waking, an indefinite cycle that would only stop until you reach the point of insanity, he supposed.

When this first happened, when he first saw you with your eyes closed and unresponsive, he used to have this knot in his stomach that would tighten harshly in a way that makes him hallucinate pain. The fear used to make him want to throw up, it used to make his face go red and his fist curl until the nails dig deep into his skin. It feigns an anxiety attack for him, and God knows how to properly handle those.

“[Name]!” he repeatedly called for you, feeling the knot inside of him release its chokehold slowly the longer he has to call for you. But you woke up eventually, your body falling to the side and the sudden impact yanking you out to sleepiness.

You looked around and heaved a sigh, whether it was a relieved one was uncertain to everyone, including you. Turning over to look at Minho, you tilted your head and asked, “Hey, what’s up?”

Your posture was terrible, like usual but much worse now that your shoulders were hunched all over and your neck cranked in longing to take a decent break. Your body was fidgety, a habit you picked up to keep yourself active in movement so you wouldn’t fall asleep. The dark circles under your eyes were starting to get more visible than the smile Minho had always paid more attention, and there was no light in your eyes, just a pit of shadowy doom.

Maybe you were trying your best, but you couldn’t look at him like you love him anymore; your eyes physically could not manifest the affection you felt.

This was his fault. Maybe it wasn’t, you certainly would never blame him for this, but Minho still felt like he was the one putting you through all of this. And he hated seeing you so out of place because you haven’t slept in days, and for what? To get a few more days with him? Honest to God, your mind was barely with him these days anyway.

Minho pursed his lips into a thin line, watching as you struggled to keep your eyes open. And he shook his head. “You should go to sleep. This is killing you.”

You were quick to turn down his suggestion. “No.”

“Go to sleep.”

“I don’t want to,” you said. “I don’t want to go.”

“Well, you are going to have to go either way so why not make that earlier?” he asked, raising his voice, causing your defenses to build up quickly.

You stood up from your seat, your eyes wide in a glare for the first time in days. “What is your problem, Minho? Do you want me to leave so bad?”

“I don’t–“ he breathed out a sigh, closing his eyes to keep his temper low now that yours have been shorter than usual. “I don’t want you to leave. If I get to choose, I will always choose to have you stay here with me, but look at yourself!”

You raised a brow. “What?”

“You’re tired, you are so tired. You have been crying, you eat slow, your temper is short, you barely react to anything anybody says. Even the nurse who came in to check up on me this afternoon asked if you are okay because you don’t look okay!” he exclaimed. Then, sucking in a breath as if gargling his words, he exhaled through a soft huff before he whispered, “I love you, [Name], so much. But not like this. Not when you are so miserable because of me.”

If his existence is causing you pain then he’d rather not have it. As selfish as he wanted to be, he would choose to let you go.

Your arms dropped to your side and you rolled your eyes up. You have told him the same thing before. God, you felt like one of those female leads who cry every single episode, it was so enraging. Everything you have sought to not become, you’ve become it.

Minho moved to the side on his bed, leaving you a spot, and he called out, “Come here.”

You looked back down at him, your sight blurred at the thought of what he meant to do. You were going to walk over, he would wrap you in his arms, and you would fall asleep to his warmth. He would still be here but you would be somewhere else. It would be quick, it would happen before you even know it.

“Come here, please?” he asked again, softly. “Let me hold you.”

You rubbed your eyes and moved over slowly. He helped you as you climbed onto the bed, snuggling up next to his side with your head laid on his shoulder and his arms securely around your torso. He squeezed your arm and breathed out a joking giggle, mentioning something about you getting chubbier and earning a hit on the chest in return.

His fingers shifted through your hair when you looked up at him, and he smiled down at you like nothing was going wrong. Eyeing his lips once, you didn’t hesitate to reach up for a long, loving kiss, one where your tears were mixed with the taste of his mouth.

When you pulled away, you said, “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” he said, shaking his head. “This is actually pretty funny. I am the one who got injured but here we are, crying over you leaving instead.”

You laughed silently, bringing him closer to you. Minho has steady breathing but his heart beat quickly. It rattled against your ears, reminding you that he was as nervous as you were about losing each other. Your senses were shutting down slowly, ready to go into rest when you finally gain the sleep your body has been screaming at you to get.

“I’m sleepy, Minho,” you muttered, adjusting your head.

“I know. You can sleep, it’s okay,” Minho hummed. “You can go. I’m gonna be fine.”

You licked your lower lip, the dryness giving you a sticky sensation. “Love them as much as you love me, alright?”

He couldn’t do that. But he wouldn’t tell you, he wanted you to go without any troubles lingering in your head. He wanted you to leave happily, or as happy as you could be.

Kissing your forehead, he felt your breathing ease up. His hand rubbed your back soothingly as he asked, “Will you remember that I love you?”

You didn’t answer.

Minho stirred uncomfortably in the single hospital bed. As his sense slowly returned to him, he tightened his grip on you, keeping you from falling off. It was nighttime outside, and he supposed a nurse dropped by and turned the lights off when he saw you both sleeping. He could barely remember what happened before he was knocked out.

You shifted slightly by him, head nuzzling against his chest before looking up to find the owner of the body you were cuddling.

“[Name]?” Minho called.

The person jolted from their place. Feet landing coldly on the floor, they fixed their hair and took a wide step away from the bed. “Minho! I’m sorry!”

His heart dropped. There was his answer: he could tell.

Same face. Same body. Same voice.

Not you.

Your eyes snapped open and you groaned at the pain oozing at your side. What the hell happened? You could see that you were back in your room, which was weird because the last time you checked, you were on your way to work. You remembered waking up late and rushing out of your apartment, and then everything simply went blank from there.

“Oh, you’re awake! I thought you died or something!”

You sat up on your bed and furrowed your brows at your brown-haired friend. Rubbing your eyes, you yawned and scanned your room, taking in its unfamiliarity with intense suspicion before you turned back to your smiley friend and asked, “Did you move my shit?”

“I just got here like five minutes ago after your mom called me,” he deadpanned. “I was cooking you chicken porridge! She said you blacked out and slept for three days straight, you sleepyhead!”

“Three days–Chan what?” You got off your bed and headed over to your desk where your phone was. You weren’t sure why you needed to check the time, it held no significance to how you were in deep trouble with your boss for ditching work for three days. “Why did no one wake me?”

He handed you a glass of water first, seeing how frantic you appeared right after waking up in the middle of the day. You received it—snatched it—and quickly gulped down the liquid, feeling a sense of relief rush through you when the water hit your throat.

“We tried but you were knocked out cold.” He shrugged. “If you are worried about work, don’t. I talked to our manager for you already. I even exaggerated the part where you almost got in a car crash and died so you needed time to recover from it.”

The water spilled from the glass when you choked in shock. Your brows furrowed harshly as you pulled the glass away, causing more water to flow out of the cup, and you yelled at Chan, “What? I almost got in a car crash?”

He gave you a slow laugh, more concerned than annoyed that you’ve made a mess and yelled at him in the past five seconds. “You almost got hit by a car the other day when you left for work. You were looking at your phone and not paying attention. I had to pull you away from the road! Did you forget all of that?”

You placed the glass of water down on your desk, rubbing your mouth with your forearm harshly. As you brought your hand closer to your mouth, a painful scratch eliciting a yelp from you. Moving your hand away from your face, your eyes trailed up your arm and they widened when you saw the diamond ring located on your fourth finger. You cursed out loud, gaining Chan’s attention, and when his eyes moved towards what you were looking, he too mirrored your confused look.

“What is this!” you asked, looking at him.

“What is what–woah! Did you drunk buy this?” he asked, moving closer to examine the ring on your hand. “You need to return it. You’re crazy. You can’t afford this!”

“I know I can’t afford this,” you exclaimed, glaring at him in defeat. “But I swear I don’t remember ever buying this! Did you see me wearing this when I almost got hit by a car?”

Chan paused for a moment to think. He hadn’t really noticed back then, he was too busy trying to keep your phone-obsessed ass from dying. But if you didn’t have it back then, there should be no way for you to have it now. You have been bedridden, you could not have possibly gotten drunk within the last couple of days, and you would never buy a ring like that when you were sober.

“Did you steal it from someone?” he suggested, feeling the wrath of your impatience as he stepped away from you in precaution. “Oh but you couldn’t–“

“No! I don’t know where this ring came from, Chan,” you exclaimed, showing him your hands and grimacing at how perfectly it fit around your finger. “Also, can’t you humor the idea that maybe someone proposed to me?”

“Someone with the money to buy that ring? Uh, no,” he said honestly, putting his hands on his hips in a comical way.

Brushing him off, you slumped back onto your bed with your arm covering your eye. “Whatever. I’ll find out where I got it from somehow.”

“Or you can sell it,” Chan suggested.

You chuckled at the thought. Imagine the amount of money you could get from selling that ring. You did not know about diamonds but you could tell when one looks expensive. Bringing your hand up above your face, you shifted your hand to observe the ring more carefully. A weird sense of comfort rushed through you, making you relax further into your mattress. Coming after the comfort was a very bad sense of nostalgia, one that makes your heart ache for something you couldn’t remember.

“Actually, maybe I’ll keep it,” you muttered, eyes hazy the more you stared at the ring. “I think I want to keep it.”

“Okay.” Chan shrugged at the side. Moving over to your desk, he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Are you gonna be okay? I need to go back to work. Lunch is over for me already.”

“Thank you,” you hummed from the bed, nodding. “I’ll come back to work as soon as I can.”

“Before you get fired, at least.” He eyed you carefully. You laid motionless on your bed, completely out of it. He nudged your feet with his own to catch your attention. “Are you sure you’re fine?”

“I am fine, Chan.” You rolled your eyes. “Stop nagging.”

He scoffed, but ultimately his voice was soft when he spoke, “I just want to make sure you are okay, alright?”

The nostalgia hit like a rush this time and you held down a flinch. For some reason, Chan didn’t sound so much like him when he said that, but you couldn’t tell whose voice that was. When you turned your head to look at him, your gaze shifted in rapid sequences, like frames changing on a television screen. Chan’s silhouette shifted in blurry motion into a man of slightly smaller but more visibly muscular stature. You felt your body jolt in recognition.

Recognition? Pause. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Let me rewind it.

Chan scoffed, but ultimately his voice was soft when he spoke, “I just want to make sure you are okay.”

You sniffed away a potential sneeze, hearing Chan’s giggle from your ridiculous expression. Throwing your head back against your bed, you waved your hand at him. “Just go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he said. “Call me if you need anything.”

You hummed loudly in response, not bothering to look up at him. When you heard the front door lock, you groaned out a frustrated sigh and turned to your side. It has been a weird couple of minutes; you almost got in a car crash but you forgot, you slept for three days and you had no idea, you got a diamond ring on your hand which you have no recollection of ever getting.

You brought your hand up and frowned. The ring was heavy on your hand and it would most likely disrupt your sleep. But there was something else—the nostalgia that was lapping at your chest one wave after another. A feeling beyond your imagination, resting against your heart carefully yet it rattles you like nothing ever has.

“Where did you come from?” you whispered to the diamond ring sitting perfectly on your finger.

You decided not to take it off.

Never in a million years did Minho think he’d end up relying on Changbin, but he has no other option due to knowing a shared secret.

“How are you feeling?” Changbin asked after he plopped down on the study room couch.

Scatters of paperwork piled on the table were deliberately placed messily to distract Minho from his worries. If his eyes were occupied, his mind may be too. Turning the chair, he eyed Changbin nonchalantly by the desk. “My spouse left me.”

“Not good. Noted!” Changbin exclaimed with a single clap of his hands. He ended up awkwardly rubbing them as they laid themselves on his thighs.

Silence emerged, much like every other time they’ve hung out together. If he could call it anything different, Changbin would consider these moments more mandatory emotional check-ups than hanging out with good friends. Not only was Minho not a good friend, not even with such a golden opportunity, but Minho was never in the mood for anything anymore. In some ways, he has reverted to his grumpy personality, only this time he knew how to be nice about it. He learned it from you.

“Do you think they’ll ever come back?”

Changbin looked up from his fiddling thumbs. Minho’s thousand-yard stare burnt holes through the ceiling, but Changbin wasn’t sure if he was thinking about the particular question he voiced. He’s done his fair share of deep-diving about parallel universes and whatnot. Understanding the theories was one thing; accepting that it has been carried out was another.

It still felt impossible. Changbin was holding onto the fact that you have never jumped anywhere, and it was a figment of your imagination that you somehow could portray excellently.

A character change only takes a good performer or someone fully convinced they’re somebody else.

The light glimmered as if to add glamour to the rigid atmosphere. Changbin let his neck rest on the back of the couch, and he shrugged. “If they do, you’ll be the first person they look for.”

Light returned to Minho’s eyes. He dreamt about that day. He wondered how it would go. Perhaps seamlessly as the day you first arrived. There won’t be chances of him missing your presence; not only would you make yourself seen, but he was more than sure he would know. A radar within himself would begin blaring sirens—he would just know if you were around again. And it would be a typical day. You would be at home, and he would return home. You would have dinner, you would go to bed together.

It would finally be a normal day when you come back.

For now, the glimmer in his eyes fades.

Weeks have passed with the same weight on your shoulders. You have come around to learn how to ignore it. You have learned to distract yourself from it. You work, hang out with people, and entertain yourself with the media. But even then, the grave mistake you made to not take that promise ring off your finger kept reminding you of the shaking sentiment that often shines at the end of the day.

You have looked through different online shops to find out where you could have gotten the ring from. It was a long stretch. You knew it would take ages to find the actual shop, but the promise of long-term confusion somehow assured you that you would have an excuse to keep it with you longer.

It has been weeks, though, and your hope was thinning. You could not find any matches, even after you personally headed over to the shops and asked the staff to take a closer look. You even went so far as to search for the lesser-known brands that would still make rings with diamonds as sparkly and extravagant as the one you got. Nothing, it was like the ring was custom-made, and that made you feel worse about having it.

It must have been really important to the owner, you reckon. It should not be in your hands.

“I feel bad for keeping it,” you spoke to the phone, where Chan sighed on the other side, most likely from irritation. The ring was all you talked about these weeks, aside from occasional work problems and drunken confessions you weren’t afraid to make to him.

“Then sell it.”

“But I don’t want to sell it.”

“Then what do you want to do? I keep giving you suggestions, and you keep shooting me down,” he complained with a helpless whine.

“I want you to tell me what to do!” you exclaimed.

“I say sell it,” he said.

“I don’t want to sell it.”

“I’m hanging up. I can’t take this abuse anymore,” Chan threatened with a yell of frustration. You could imagine him leaning against his chair and pushing it away from his desk, his eyes squinted into moon-shaped smiles, and his nose scrunched up in defeat.

“It’s just… this stupid ring is giving me weird vibes!” You stopped before the road and glanced down at the ring. “I feel sad but also happy when I look at it! Like some sort of deja vu!”

“It’s deja vu. Everyone feels like once in a while,” he said. “Maybe it’s not as serious as you think it is.”

You frowned. Chan was no help at all. From your peripheral vision, you could see that people had started to cross the street, so you followed suit quickly, intending to not block the road and be yelled at by some caffeine-deprived stranger who hadn’t gotten a lick of sleep yet.

“Woah! Hey! Watch the road!”

You snapped your head up. Your eyes first caught the red traffic light, and you gasped. You swore you saw someone move next to you; you should have looked before crossing the road. Turning around and planning to head back to the pedestrian street as it was a shorter distance than moving across the road thoroughly, you could only take one step before honks blared at your ears.

A stranger reached their hand out to grab a fistful of your shirt so they could yank you back to safety. The pull was strong and panicky, like back when you were younger, how your mother would smack you after you did something wrong, but much harder than that. Your gaze wobbled when your head hit a slight whiplash at the force, the sky welcoming your view. Tears unnaturally welled in your eyes as your hands waited for the impact of the ground.

“No,” you whispered, the blur of a car crash disappearing from your memories. “Minho–“

I will be scratching that off. Let me rewind.

“Woah! Hey! Watch the road!”

You snapped your head up. Your eyes first caught the red traffic light, and you gasped. You swore you saw someone move next to you; you should have looked before crossing the road. Turning around and planning to head back to the pedestrian street, as it was a shorter distance than moving across the road thoroughly, you could only take one step before the sight of incoming cars made you freeze.

A stranger reached their hand out to—

Uh, I'm also scratching that off. This is wrong. Nothing happens to you.

How did you manage to get yourself stuck in a near-death situation twice in a row? What is this? Is it some kind of manifestation theory? It's made up.

Let me rewind.

“Woah! Hey! Watch the road!”

You jumped out of the way with a scream, missing the car by a few inches. It scraped past you, causing your body to fall back. Instead of catching yourself in the slow fall, you let your body flail about in the air as more cars slowly closed the distance between themselves and you. Pedestrians standing on the road couldn’t do anything out of sheer intimidation, born from the cars speeding toward you. You looked toward where the honking came from.

Alright, clearly, you are unknowingly in a disagreement with me. I have seen this in prior experiments. Something that involves the biological lack of freedom when your body moves toward what you truly desire? I have seen that before.

You will not hinder this experiment because of it. I am rewinding further.

“It’s deja vu. Everyone feels like once in a while. Maybe it’s not as serious as you think it is,” Chan said. “Look, you’ve been thinking about this too much. How about we go get a drink tonight?

“I don’t know, Chan,” you muttered with a sigh. “I’ve been feeling really depressed lately.”

“I’m surprised you don’t think I can tell,” he said. “How about this–I’ll buy some drinks, and we’ll hang out at yours. Beats heading outside, right?”

You closed your eyes. That could work. One of the biggest reasons the outside was so unappealing was that you had to step into it. Even now, with the sun shining on your head, you’re quickening your pace to go home.

If Chan was willing to go through the trouble of paying for drinks and hauling them to your apartment, you’ve got no complaints. It might also be an excellent way to forget about this whole deja vu situation.

“Deal,” you confirmed with a soft smile. “I’ll see you tonight, then?”

Chan giggled from the other side, but he didn’t say anything.

“Woah! Hey! Watch the road!”

The sequence repeats itself. I swore I scratched that off the document.

You snapped your head up from looking at the ground. Your eyes first caught the red traffic light, and you gasped. You swore you saw someone move next to you—stop! I

can’t keep doing this. It’s your muscle memory, isn’t it? That damn biological manifestation theory is real.

Turning around and planning to head back to the pedestrian street as it was a shorter distance than moving across the road entirely, you could only take one step before honks blared at your ears—you are suicidal. You are suicidal over a man your mind cannot begin to make out the silhouette of.

It's pathetic. Stop wasting my time.

You could see the cars coming, but your feet wouldn’t move. Your eyes stared through the danger into a beacon laid far away, the illusion of a man’s face you should have forgotten, and I know for a fact that you weren't supposed to acknowledge you have forgotten someone.

His name echoed silently through your mind, but his warmth remained on your body, in the shape of your arms and the weight on your finger.

I insult you. I say you cannot remember his silhouette, and the next second, your spite draws a fraction of him in your mind. Or perhaps it wasn't spite but rather love? Is this the lesson you are teaching me? That love and spite are identical? That love stands beyond the mind and the body as its own concept?

You didn't choose to remember, yet you do. Returning to your true home was instinctive, and I’m afraid it is time for me to admit that I have no power to stop you.

Love goes beyond even me. Suppose that's a good lesson to learn.

“Woah! Hey! Watch the road!”

You snapped your head up. Your eyes first caught the red traffic light, and you gasped. You swore you saw someone move next to you; you should have looked before crossing the road. Turning around and planning to head back to the pedestrian street, as it was a shorter distance than moving across the road, you could only take one step before honks blared at your ears. Scared, your knees gave away, and you fell backward.

The screams of others and the urgent car honks were blocked out from your ears. You turned your head to the side and saw a truck running down the road towards you. This one would kill you, you would close your eyes, and you would leave this place. Your lips quirked uncontrollably.

You would go back to him.

The mesh curtains stayed the same, useless against the sun but pretty with it. The bedsheet was as you felt it the first time, soft and silky yet thick and warm, the ones that make you sleep like you were in a goddamn coma. And Minho was the same as you last remembered seeing him—fluttery lashes, soft brown locks, and naturally pouty lips.

You remembered.

You pursed your lips into a tight smile to keep a laughing sob from bubbling up your throat. Staring at him, you realize he made you feel the same as you last remembered, and immeasurable affection pulled at your fingertips, longing for a touch of his gentle skin and to feel him close to you. And you did, unapologetically, caressed his face with the back of your fingers.

Perhaps it was a deliberate plan to wake him up, but you wouldn’t admit that to yourself.

Minho stirred in his sleep at the touch. His brows furrowed before he opened his eyes, and when he saw you, his frown only deepened. You (or, well, ‘you’) have never tried to attempt this before, nor has he ever asked for love from them. His mind was occupied by somebody else, someone he thought would never come back to him ever again. Feeling this, having his cheek tenderly stroked in the morning, was surprising and weird.

“Hey, Minho,” you whispered, pinching his cheek slightly.

A shiver so strong it felt like a lightning zap ran down his body. His eyes widened slowly in recognition. He would know. He would just know. Through looking at you, through the feeling of your skin, through the way you space out your words, through the way you control your tone, through the way his ears react to your voice, through everything. He would know. He would be the first to know.

His eyes moved across your features. You looked the same as he had always seen you, before and after you left. But there was one defining difference he could make: the ring on your hand wasn’t there before. You had taken it with you after you left this place, and now it’s back.

“[Name],” he croaked out, his hand reaching out to touch your shoulder, gripping it gently.

“I’m home.” You nodded with a smile. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you I’ll be late.”

The tears flow freely down his cheeks. It has been extremely difficult for him to revert to his usual lifestyle and pretend to be in love again. He had tried to bring himself to like ‘you,’ but it was useless. They simply felt different despite looking the same as you.

He had missed your stupid jokes, the way you could come back home with bags of clothes he rarely has the chance to wear, and the food you cook. The little recurring moments he loved with you, he replayed them every night in the room and didn’t dare to allow himself to forget you.

You took the initiative and moved closer to him. Your palm was flat against his cheek now, and after you lovingly nudged the tip of your noses together, you leaned in to give him a long-awaited kiss. He melted against you, against your lips and your hand, with desperation in each curve of his mouth. He felt like he couldn’t let go. He knew he couldn’t let you go this time, never again.

Reluctantly pulling away, your dazed eyes stared right back into his. You touched his face again, smiling. Minho cupped your hand in his, pressing his forehead against yours with a light whisper, “Do you remember who I am?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

��Who am I?”

The sun shone from outside, casting a ray of warmth at an empty ring box located at the corner of the desk.

“You are Lee Minho,” you said, giving his lips a peck. “You are my husband.”

And you remembered that he told you he loves you, just as you love him.

148 notes · View notes

nestastits · 4 months ago

Text

Nothing makes me more upset than going into the Nesta Archeron tag and all the post being antis USING Nesta to shit on all the other characters😭

Nesta was abused by her mother and grandmother. Not Cassian. Not Feyre. Not the ic. Yet all I see are post about them and not the people who were actually abusive to my girl.

Nesta has also said some mean things. Sometimes provoked. Trauma does not give an excuse to be mean 😭😭. If that is the case for your argument of “Nesta is a saint and only did these things bc of her trauma and being pushed to do them” then Rhys should also be excused for what he’s done. Right? But no this argument only works to further your hatred for Rhys or any other character and bring up Nesta. Hypocrisy at its finest.

All of the characters have done bad things. Nesta included. We know what was going on in Nesta’s head now but that doesn’t make everything she did right. Nesta has acknowledged this. And you can block me for this all you want but what the ic did (put her in an environment AWAY from what she was using to cope with her trauma and a safe place for her to heal) was right. Did they handle it correctly? No. But it was the best decision regarding Nesta’s health and happiness. She would not have girlbossed and got better in that apartment. She would of killed herself.

And Nesta would hate anyone who said some stupid made up shit about her family, found family, and her mate. 😭

I am a pro Nesta and part of that comes with the ability to realize and acknowledge her wrongs too without bringing down another character to make her look better. Because most of these post I have seen on TikTok and on here in HER tag are about how the ic are shit and Nesta is a queen (she is) and needs to leave night court (a place she calls her home after not having one her entire life. A place she is truly happy at) and go be with Eris (a man she said she would use as her punishment and openly can’t stand to be around.🫤)

Leave my girl alone, please!!!! Stop using her to fuel your hatred for other characters.

It is especially hard for me because I am a Nesta Stan and Rhysand Stan. Those two are literally the same person different circumstances and yall are too afraid to admit it😭😭. In the wise words of Katherine Pierce “It’s okay to love them both. I did.” 👏👏

#acotar #acosf #nesta archeron #sjm

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lia404 · 1 month ago

Note

I'll give you Yusaku for "Send me a Yugioh character" owo

AH. Ahaha. Oh my god, okay. So for context, your ask landed in my inbox exactly when I was struggling with formatting my "Yusaku birthday post." Which means it caught me at a point when I had even MORE feelings than I usually do for this boy. I apologise in advance: the answer about Kaiba may have been a wall of text, but I'm afraid this one will become a full skyscraper of text. So go grab some tea, coffee, biscuits, whatever makes you feel good for a break, then sit back and relax while I scream at you about how much I CARE for Yusaku Fujiki.

(Whatever happens remember that you asked for it.) (Thank you so much for this, too, even if I've spent a good part of my afternoon and all my evening and part of my night on it.) (By the way at this point I really won't feel insulted if no one reads it to the end, I think I mostly need to get it all out of my system.)

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD, in the form of headcanons and personal analyses of Yusaku's character and his relationships, along with multiple screenshots, gif, videos, all hidden behind the excuse of an ask meme (so it's still superficial in many parts, but I feel like it's a good overview.) I'm putting it all behind a cut since I know how to use them now. (Or do I? It's the 4th time I edit to put the cut back to the place it's meant to be at.)

----------- Also, keeping track so I stop getting lost in my own blog: The original Ask meme Seto Kaiba Spectre Aoi Zaizen I still answer for other characters so long as they're from DM or Vrains!

Why I like him/why I don’t

I think it's Yusaku's resilience that I like the most. He can be no-nonsense and harsh, but he's always honest, and he always stands up. It's striking, actually, how he always manages to keep standing.

He's thrown to the ground by life, by his enemies (interestingly, many declare they are his enemies when he's not even TRYING to alienate them, and just doesn't really care.) Even his allies are the reason why he ends up beaten up sometimes. And yet, he always get back up. It's very rare to see him fully crash, which makes it even more impactful when he does.

I'm just fascinated at how even at his lowest, at the biggest blows he receives, he stands up. His strive for life is remarkable, so much so that it sometimes almost feels like a curse. Just the same way he keeps winning and winning, because he's good, of course, but also because losing is not an option. He has to stand up and he keeps doing it for himself, for others, and still manages to feel guilty for not doing enough.

(I'm afraid you'll have to do with my French subtitles, I am NOT trying to find other streams just to make screencaps, these ones were hard enough to find.)

"Sorry, Kusanagi, your brother Jin has been taken and Lightning is menacing humanity and all of this is because I'm not strong enough."

Yusaku, FFS.

This is all heavily linked to the other aspect of his character I love most: Yusaku is so human. He's filled with hope. In one of the episodes of season 3, Revolver tells him to "stop thinking with his naive optimism".

And Playmaker clearly doesn't like it, look at this face.

But he still holds onto it until the end. He's not giving up until he's forced to (and even when it's done, he takes off and tries to find solutions.)

And Yusaku cares, he cares so much. He may seem heinous and gratuitously savage with the way he shuns Shima or Ai, but you have to go beyond the words. When Shima is captured, he literally runs to his rescue, barely waiting for the van to stop before he jumps out of it to check on his classmate. Shima and other people around, no matter how annoying, will also give occasional encouragements (often hidden behind a layer of backhanded compliments, because that's how Yusaku rolls.)

Yusaku makes sure that people around him are feeling alright. He comforts them. He may not use the nicest words, he has the sensitivity of an elephant let loose in a fine china shop, but his words usually strike right where they should. He helps. He gives a lot of himself for this, apparently not caring what other people think of it.

Goddamnit, Yusaku. Why are you trying to make me cry.

And this, actually, paradoxically, might be the only thing I dislike for him. It's not even about HIM per se (he may not be perfect but I am able to admit I'm too biased to not have a hard time finding him any flaws.) It's the way he gives so much of himself for everyone leads not only to people relying on him a lot, they also tend to take him for granted. And it pisses me off. Yusaku doesn't really fight against it, which, understandable considering his character, his backstory, everything. But sometimes I wish he could stop being the hero of Link VRAINS, because he's spreading himself too thin, and he had to break at some point. Or multiple times.

What I like about his appearance

I am trying SO hard to stop myself from waxing all kinds of poetics on him, so for this once I'll go with the most obvious: his EYES.

(Yes this was all a shameless excuse to flood you with close-ups of Yusaku and Playmaker's beautiful, vibrant eyes.)

The colour is striking, of course, especially in contrast with his or Playmaker's hair. But also, for someone meant to be aloof and stoic, Yusaku's eyes are hella expressive. His eyebrows only emphasise it, and actually, this is another trait I really like: Playmaker's eyebrows are orange. Playmaker is a real red-head! It makes me irrationally happy. It's the little details, folks, and Yusaku definitely pays more attention to them than most would expect.

And the second aspect of his appearance I just can't omiss...

...Well, that's his smile, of course! If only he had reasons to smile more often. Look at him; no matter how terrible the situation, he manages to smile.

This one is from when he says goodbye to Kusanagi before the final duel agains Ai. It's honestly quite tragic, but here he is. Smiling. Why is no one in this series protecting this smile. What are they all DOING.

Anyway, I've been writing for way too long already and I still have TOO MUCH to say so that's it for the appearance. He's adorable, he's beautiful, he's gorgeous.

Do I prefer his dub names or original names?

You'd think the question is not relevant since his name is the same in both, BUT. There's actually a massive difference. I can't take the dub version's stressed Yu'SAku seriously when in Japanese it's very clearly 'YUUsaku. Also, watching parts of the dub has been very amusing once I accepted that it was a parody, but there's not much to keep. Not even the pronunciation of a name. So I'm going with original, no hesitation.

OTP

Okay, another obvious one. If you've been following me you have noticed the ridiculous amount of Datastormshipping I put in your feed.

Evil smile besties ftw.

And YET.

It's so hard to ship them seriously. There's so much to repair. I can't see them all lovey-dovey, they have to work for it, and work HARD. Because Playmaker is just... so completely defanged when he's in front of Revolver. And Revolver, while actually acting in the shadow to support Playmaker so many times in the course of 120 episodes, never spares him a kind word, a nice face, except when he thinks he's dying.

I suspect he's not doing it consciously, but the way Revolver behaves makes me feel like he takes Playmaker for granted. It makes sense, considering their backstory: Revolver has obsessed over Playmaker and endangered people he cared about because of it. He has also proved multiple times that he is very intent to shoulder the full blame for an incident he had not much to do about, so he'd rather keep Playmaker and his "stupid faith in him" at a distance. But Revolver is also Playmaker's saviour, which makes it so Playmaker trusts him and can follow him blindly no matter what.

Eloquent: everyone is wary to follow, but Playmaker is first in line, not a hint of hesitation in spite of having no idea of what lies behind the portal.

For this reason, I'm actually happy with the Revolver event in Duel Links, in spite of all its writing flaws.

In the event, Playmaker feels Revolver with his Link Sense even before he arrives, which shows that he's still VERY attuned to Revolver. And in spite of this clear bond, Playmaker really stands against Revolver and asserts his beliefs with no room for negociation, something he hasn't done since the Tower of Hanoi (...and even then, arguably, he was trying to negociate.) He is not yielding no matter how important Revolver might be for him. And, at the end of the event, Revolver seems to be relieved to have met such resistance. He even sounds sort of supportive? It's open to interpretation, but my feeling was that he actually approved of Playmaker's doing and encouraged him. The Ghost Gal and Spectre events that followed emphasised it for me. They're clearly not fighting anymore, but they also don't have this weird blind spot for each other anymore.

With this approach, I feel like they'd have better roots for a relationship that would not lean towards codependence or other unhealthy bases.

Don't get me wrong, I adore the fluff, and Datastormshipping really is the obvious end goal for me, but for this ship what I love most is them having to work for it. Because even if they clearly trust each other, Yusaku will have to learn to NOT give all of himself blindly, and Ryoken will need to learn to actively LISTEN to Yusaku, and even make him speak.

(As a quick parenthesis, because I'll get back to this topic later and I'd rather not leave any ambiguity: as much as I resent him for his treatment of Yusaku, I absolutely adore Revolver, in this terrible love/hate dynamic that makes me hate to love him and love to hate him. In spite of everything, or maybe DUE to all of this, I really like his character. I'm not sure I'll ever write deep meta about him, though, because he's already had a lot written about him and I doubt I have much more to bring to discussions that happened years ago. But who know what time will bring? Anyway, Datastormshipping FTW.)

NOTP

BEWARE: unpopular opinion ahead. I actually can't see Aiballshipping.

Again, don't get me wrong: I see where the shippers come from, and I really don't hate the ship! I've read multiple doujin and fanfictions, I enjoy the content, I enjoy the art, I love the analyses of the ship... But I can't see it, because for me, it goes beyond a romantic relationship. Ai is literally a part of Yusaku. Him and Yusaku are a package, in a way: if someone wants to be with Yusaku, they'll also have to be with Ai. If someone says Yusaku "It's Ai or me", they'd better not expect to be chosen. I understand Aiballshipping. I like reading takes on it, I like reading stories about it. But to me, what Ai and Yusaku have is not romantic. It's something obvious, a given, almost fusional. They don't kiss; they can communicate without saying a word. (Even if they spend their time throwing jabs at each other out loud.) Any other romantic relationship will come in addition to it, without being replaced by it. So I don't "ship" it. It's very much not an OTP. I have no idea which verb I could use for it, though, because I'm not really sure it can be considered queerplatonic either.

OT3

Di-sas-ter-ship-ping! It's actually my main ship, even if there's not a lot of content. Sure, if we want to make it work in a nice healthy way, it's going to be quite the challenge. BUT not everything has to be serious and reasonable or even believable (I have datastormshipping for this) and seriously, the dynamic between these three has so much potential for wholesomeness, stupid arguments and general chaos. It's called disastershipping for a reason. (Not only this, I know, but still.)

Look at them, their smug poses and their stupidly form-fitting costumes. What could go wrong, right? <3

Favourite card he uses

Contrary to my answer re: Kaiba's deck, this time I am familiar with Playmaker's deck, because I play it AND I actually watched his duels multiple times to understand how he uses it. The fact is that even if there's the usual "I magically draw the exact card I need and use if without even looking at it" effect that is characteristic to Yu-Gi-Oh animes, his deck is solid and it really allows different kind of combos to always find workaround. (Doesn't mean I don't brick often, but not everyone can be Playmaker.)

So I actually have TWO favourite cards. The first one is my little love, usually one of the first to join the field: Backup Secretary.

She's beauty, she's grace, she's always here to help me link summon my ace. She's easy to use. She may not be the best one, but I'm so happy to have her in my deck—three times. I have multiple other cards that allow me to bring her in my hand. She never stays long on the field, since her specialty is to help summoning various types of Code Talkers, but she's a life saver. And seriously her design is awesome.

And the second one is, in my amateur point of view (I need to write the disclaimer that while I'm not BAD at duelling, I'm not exactly GOOD either and I miss a lot, lot, lot of subtleties) one of the best cards in Playmaker's deck: Recoded Alive.

This card is a lifesaver. It has multiple effects for different situations. It helps me avoid having an empty field when my opponent's field is filled with monsters. It's a trap, and allows me to switch monsters when attacked if I use it during the opponent's turn. It allows me to bring another monster to the field and have another attacking monster if I play it during my own battle phase.

And even if we want to remain focused on Playmaker's storyline, it's one of the most important ones Yusaku plays in the anime. It's always here for him since the beginning, and it has allowed him to bring back so many monsters. I mean, it basically wins him a duel against Revolver. It saves him against Ai. It's just... I love this card. It took me forever to understand how it works, but now it's hard to imagine a Playmaker deck without it.

Favourite moment(s) he was in

And here I thought I had already written enough. Well, we're here for a few more hours. I hope your tea has not gone cold.

I dare hope that you KNEW you shouldn't expect me to choose only ONE moment. There are so many. I can't satisfy myself with only one, I must bring up a few more, but not too many because this post is overwhelming enough as it is.

1. Season 1, when Playmaker goes against Akira to recover files in SOL's massive datbase. I can't begin to express how angry I was with the way Akira treats Yusaku. I know it was done in good faith, but having Akira tell Yusaku "go have a normal life, go out with your friends, enjoy your life as a teenager and prepare for your future, it's important" is just horribly condescending. It's SO satisfying to see Playmaker put the Zaizen, who always seem to think they know what he feels, or what is best for him, in their place. There's something incredibly satisfying in having Yusaku say "It is MY story and it is MINE to tell".

"I don't want the story of my past to be told by someone else."

Having Playmaker defend his story like this, and not let others take it or misinterpret it (especially when they feel like they "understand"), is, to me, a very powerful moment. And as if this wasn't enough, Yusaku adds a power move to it, adding a step in his final turn that he didn't have to do to win the duel: returning the two Tindangle cards representing Akira and Aoi to the hand rather than winning by leaving them both in the graveyard. When confronted about it, he answers that he doesn't want the siblings to be in the darkness of the graveyard, that his revenge should not implicate them and that they should walk towards the light. It is incredibly heartful, AND an amazing way to show Zaizen that he will never manage to "understand" Yusaku considering the mindset he keeps displaying. That was so badass, seriously. I wish the Zaizen had learnt more from it.

2. Season 2, after the duel against Kusanagi. Playmaker won and collapsed, not waking up. The second moment I like most is there, in Yusaku's head. It's intimidating... and slightly tragic.

"I have done enough. I'm tired."

Oh. It's been building up for so many episodes, they've been straining him so much, and finally, it happens. The quietest mental breakdown, the hint of depression. It makes him so human, so relatable suddenly, and yet it's so painful. I love this moment because it really brought me back to who he is: a 16 year old kid with a trauma bigger than himself and the expectations of a whole city (world?) on his shoulders. I'm glad he gets up again, but I'm also really glad that we get to see this part of him, so tragically realistic. Now let's wrap him in a blanket and hug him, okay?

3. Season 3: The "last nice moments in the real world". I wish we had had more of those in the whole course of the series, there was SO MUCH potential for it! Look at them being teenagers. Yusaku, so happy, confident and carefree as he is working for Kusanagi (and this apron makes him look so cute.) Yusaku, being pestered by Shima who wants to know where Playmaker is (WHY would Yusaku know? Shima has weird leaps of logic.) And Aoi and Yusaku having the most AWKWARD handshake, that instantly relieved me from the fear that Aoi might be a love interest.

"This is what high schoolers do I guess. Okay, we tried, we're done, completely uninteresting, let's move on now. When's our next trauma-session already?"

That's three moments I love, but I can't resist adding a last Painful Bonus: another moment of "let's make Playmaker suffer". I'm so sorry, Yusaku.

4. Season 3: Roboppi's death; the flashback to a younger Yusaku who has just built his cleaning robot and is SO proud, so happy and welcoming, and then Playmaker, broken, begging Soulburner to strike one last time and finish Roboppi.

I feel like his eyes, at that moment, are another reminder of his age. It's one of the most terrible scenes of the whole anime (I'd say ex-aequo with Ai's final words), it's masterfully executed, the pacing is amazing, the work on the expressions is amazing, the voice acting is incredible. But really, these eyes.

Least favourite moment

Two moments come to mind, and both are in the third season. You'll see there's a recurring theme, and more importantly, the fact that I really don't like these moments barely comes from Yusaku's role in them. Even if his personality encourages it.

1. The scene at the pier. It's REALLY, REALLY not Yusaku's fault, but he's still one of the two major protagonists so it counts as a "least favourite moment." Yusaku is going for the final fight, and Ryoken catches him, sends him and almost kills him with the card that will help him win the duel against Ai. I know this scene is considered one of the cornerstones of Datastormshipping, but all I can see is... Yusaku getting rejected, again, after saying goodbye to Kusanagi with a brave and grateful smile on his face, and just before having to destroy someone that is essentially a part of him. He calls Ryoken's name, and Ryoken keeps the most distance possible. I think it may have been one of the worst things Ryoken could have done, and even the fact that the Borrel dragon is actually a symbol of how much Ryoken believes in Yusaku,.. well, it would still be not enough to recover from the blatant, cold rejection Yusaku received at that moment. Ryoken, I know you couldn't find it in you to encourage him, but you only had to say his first name. Acknowledge him more than by coldly stating his complete name. And maybe NOT use the word "farewell" this time, because twice in the few first minutes of an episode is way too much. GOD FORBID Yusaku has any sort of support from Ryoken, that would encourage him to feel like they have a bond, the horreur. (Ugh.) With Playmaker knowing that Takeru would leave, Aoi would have Miyu, Kusanagi would have his brother, having Ryoken just... coldly ignoring all tentative of closeness, and leaving without looking back, WELL. It's no wonder Yusaku disappeared solo at the end. From his perspective, he had no one left.

2. Mission begin: everyone is ready to try and stop Ai, the plan is set and Playmaker is not part of any team since he's not even here. Except...

"We can't begin without Playmaker."

It annoys me so much, because the thing is, yes, yes you really can begin without Playmaker. And you should, Heaven's sake!

Many characters at this point have told him that they would understand if he didn't want to take part in this fight, that they would shoulder some of his burden and that he could rest and stay away for his health and sanity.

The thing is, Yusaku is not this kind of person. He will take responsbility and let no one else do the job in his stead. And he comes back, in a rather flashy way, EXACTLY when they're all expecting him. And barely anyone is surprised, they all look so relieved. They were waiting for this.

This moment leaves such a bitter taste in my mouth, because here is the problem with Playmaker: he's so good and reliable that people just... lean on him and wait for him to do the hard work. No matter how traumatising. I took screenshots of the many, many times people said "I leave it into your hands, Playmaker". "I know you"ll complete the job well, Playmaker." "I'm counting on you, Playmaker." I am not putting all of them here, but I have an album of these.

In doing so, they only enable his rather destructive hero-complex.

Destructive because, consider: he had a huge trauma when he was a kid and never fully recovered. When he finally learns and fights the truth behind this trauma, he feels like his revenge is over, but the person he'd spent years and years looking for is gone after treating him quite awfully. Additionally, he releases his new "hostage/friend" and goes back to being alone. He's been a hero, and all he got was: being alone again. Come Takeru, and somehow he acquires a sort of social circle. He's not really good at it, but it exists, and he even looks quite comfortable with it, if a bit awkward. Then he's forced to watch, powerless, as all his newfound friends/trusted persons get erased one after another, all of them with parting words expressing how much they trusted him to fix this. Way to make him feel like it's great to have friends and allies, uh. Then the humans come back, but the Ignis are dead, and he feels like he has failed his self-imposed mission to find a way to coexist. Ai is gone, Ryoken sort of gloats (I understand it's probably not what he intended, but it still feels awfully like it.) He's been a hero, and all he got was: more trauma about losing people, more responsibilities he shouldn't have to shoulder, and likely no one who understands the pain he's in because the world is safe now.

And then Ai comes back and everything goes upside down, and Yusaku lives in denial all beginning of season 3.

That's what makes it a self-destructive complex, for me. Every time he plays hero, Yusaku exposes himself to the things that hurt him most. He's never rewarded. And yet, he keeps doing it, and giving people what they want from him/taking responsibility for things that should NEVER be considered his responsibility. It drives me crazy.

Note: I have a similar beef with the "epilogue", in which they all have something nice to say about Playmaker, and they're all so certain that he's amazing, that he'll be back... And yet. No one is looking. Not even Revolver, who should have it easy since he's working from the inside. Arguably, Kusanagi keeps the foodtruck parked in the same place so he has a home to go back to if he wishes

"He would be sad if he didn't have a place to come back to sometimes": I am convinced that Kusanagi is aware of how fragile the notion of "home" is for Yusaku.

So there's this at least. Arguably #2, I guess we could say they all know he doesn't want to communicate and they respect it. But the way they talk about him, it doesn't feel like its the case.

And this is why I keep saying that they don't deserve him; are they friends, or are they fans? Is any of them even really trying to do something for him, beyond "understanding his feelings" (Aoi, sigh), or rooting for him in the typical "Good old Playmaker, always knows what to do!" way (Takeru, sigh.)

Oh, Yusaku. The way they treat you upsets me so much. It's absolutely not what they're aiming for, but it's like they're encouraging you to develop new traumas instead of really helping you, and it makes me so angry.

So, yeah. I hate these moments, and these dynamics.

Would I fuck, marry or kill him

WHY IS THERE NO "ADOPT" OPTION. Well, the choice is quite easy by elimination. I would NOT kill him (in case you had not gathered already) I would very much NOT fuck him (I really doubt he'd be interested in it either, so that works well for both of us.) Soooo... marry, I guess? That would be hella awkward, but eh, if I can't adopt him, might as well use the option that would vaguely allow to, you know, protect and cherish. Even so, it's hard imagining Yusaku settling like this.

Aaaaand I'm done and off to bed, three hours later than planned. Honestly, kudos if you've read until here. Before I sign off, please receive the cutest gif of Yusaku to thank you for bearing with me for the past 2k+ words of crying over this incredible boy who deserves better.

You know, maybe my OTP is actually Yusaku/hotdog. They do deserve each other.

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bandofchimeras · 1 year ago

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I have to say this: the education on fascism in American education is largely limited to "Germans in 1940s." And the settler hatred and right wing extremism we are surrounded by, growing up in my privilege felt invisible as water to a fish. The first cracks in the limited America centric blinders however into international awareness came from relationship: learning about Chiapas and the Zapatistas from my ex, from my friend's education on Armenia and refugees.

It started to click in my brain because researching the situation on Instagram, even on pictures of natural landscapes or other posts not even about the genocide, you would see these accounts with the most hateful vile dehumanizing language - Azeri. And out of the American context and programming it was easier to see that for what it is, baseless aggression towards Indigenous people based on insecurity. And how insane, how strange and baseless it was. I had to block and report and argue with a few of the trolls just from commenting something harmless on an Armenian's post.

Then a few months later - that aggression erupted into white phosphorus bombs. I did not respond in the way that Palestine has been responded to, or much at all. There was less on the ground reporting but that's not really an excuse for how little the waves of pain hit me, how invisibilized Artsakh occupation and land grab was and emotionally unattended to. I was still in my own bubble of settled misery.

It's easier to share content about Palestine because there is so much content made. And the visibility is so high that propaganda can't counter it. In contrast my friend had to put in a lot of work to educate me and most people around them about Armenian history. I regret that. And the resistance and ignorance I exhibited. And I regret coming so late to awareness of colonialism's tangled roots and the history and work of resistance and persistence of indigenous peoples. However it was that particular encounter with the Azeri hatred which laid the tracks for understanding my friend, and also for this further and intense assault on Palestine. Which was already in my proximal awareness but I am ashamed to say, never fully awakened by relationships with real people here.

And meanwhile, happening, and now, people are speaking up about the Congo. About Sudan. About Tigray. About extraction and assault and bombing and execution and horrors and violence which can scarcely be out to words. About the freedom they want for their people and the immense load of pain they have been carrying for far too long as refugees, as colonized people fleeing their own lands.

About these I know even less.

And I do not think it is wise to pretend to know more. I have been called in for posturing or getting ahead of my self in ignorance, of the heart of the movement which is care for and being in community with the people who are caretakers of the land and/or doing the work of survival and fighting colonial oppression and repression.

So what I have to say from where I stand is: the future is coming. If you do not know the survivors of this generation you do not know how strong they are, and their vision of the future. Beyond all the trauma and the need for care and support, this strength is not arguable. The ancestors are with people now.

There will be a future and Armenians, Palestinians, all of these nations will be in it. I choose to believe that, believe in them but not to hope for it because there is an absolute chasm of work to be done, reconciliation and listening and conceding and fighting. And hope can let us get off easy. No, but the work is joyous if you surrender to it.

Do not lose heart, do not be afraid to sacrifice and do not lose yourself in fear, guilt and doubt. They are a maze I've been lost in for years. And only finding my way out through the hands of these friends, having done harm and been corrected in it, witnessing the meaning of pain but also spirit, of God, of joy of true undying Love. This is what revolution is and requires is a total eclipse and regeneration of the heart, the ego, the mind.

I have only taken the first baby step but already despite the horrors laid out before us, the future is glimmering. The evils of settler colonial rabid fury are stains on the world that cannot be washed out. Every second they are allowed to persist kills the collective soul of humanity. Especially the souls of those of us complicit in settler states. We must release our fears, and fall in line with the call for reparation and return.

And our time is running thin but i do believe it is here. The road ahead is very dark, very brutal and very long. But we have the strength to walk it side by side because we must. Or stand aside.

#free palestine #congo #sudan #decolonization #land back #free artsakh #armenia #nagornokarabakh

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ghostfrog28 · 5 months ago

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My Greasefire Life as TikTok Sounds

This isn’t going to be like my DennysVerse posts where there are multiple Denny’s, it’s just the Denny’s character in general. Also, not all of these will be exactly like they are online, some or most will be edited.

Lexi: The PH in the soil is too high, I’m afraid I may die!

Denny’s: Fuck yeah, concrete!

Denny’s, who may or may not be drunk: How the hell you spell shofur?

Ashley: Chauffeur

Denny’s: Ooo fancy pants rich mcgee over here! Fuck you 🖕!

Ashley: …

Denny’s: Spelling-bee ass

Thad, also drunk: He gonna give me the definition next

Thad: Honestly, whatever I’m down for whatever

Denny’s: We could go see a movie

Thad: We could get lunch

Denny’s: We could kill someone…

Ashley: …

Thad: Or, the apple orchard!

Denny’s: Let’s fucking go, baby!

Thad: (Elegant music starts) Let’s go~

~~ Denny’s calling Ash after a graveyard shift: Excuse me, I need your help. You need to kill me.

Denny’s and Ash after finding out Thad is Bi: Hope everyone is having a great Pride Month! Shout out to…The Gays🏳️‍🌈✨

Denny’s before she did Ash’s hair: Who the fuck did your hair?!

Ash: (Turns around) what??

Denny’s: No, I’m on the phone, I’m on the phone

Denny’s: On a scale of one to ten, my friend, you’re Fucked✨!

(When they saw the mob of angry hippies) Ash: We cannot escape!

Denny’s: We cannot come out!

Both of them: MAMA?! (Thad)

Denny’s, drunk as hell: It’S wIzArD TiME, MoThEr FuCkEr! (Throws Molotov cocktail at Lexi) FiRe BaLl!

~~ Ash: Denny’s, when was the last time you got any sleep?

Denny’s: I don’t know, two-three days? Not important! I don’t need sleep, I need answers! I need to determine where in this Swamp of unbalanced formulas squat is the toad of truth?!

Duke, extremely high: You ever seen a ghost?!

Ash, trying to plead his case to the police: I was over on the bench. I was over on the bench. I was over on the bench. I was sitting over on the bench. I Was Over On The Bench!

Brady: I made a salad with Craisins!

Thad, trying to bail Ash or Denny’s out of jail: Hello, I’m Chip Mulaney, I’m your father!

Duke: But sometimes, he would be gay~

Denny’s, drunk: Ever been to the goddamn zoo?!

DJ Cookie: I used to smoke crack!

Denny’s, either sleep deprived or hungover or both: What’s yesterday??

Denny’s: Shut up! You’re all gonna die! Street smarts!

Denny’s with the thermos: (Something loudly being set down! Boom! Orange juice! That’s life!

Lexi: Now I’ve thrown him off his rhythm!

Denny’s, Ash, and Thad: Give us some money!

Denny’s beating up Lexi: Stay down on the ground! Stay down on the ground, you motherfucker!

Denny’s or Ash: Do my friends hate me, or do I just need to go to sleep?!

Ash, finding a cover story: But why don’t we just tell our relatives, that I’m a four year old boy?

Denny’s: Hey, do you want me to kill that guy for you?!

Ash after his Mitski meltdown in episode 4: I am now gross!

Brady: But what’s this! PEPPA!

~~ That is all for now! I have a lot more and I’ll probably make another soon!

#escaped audios #my greasefire life #grease fire life

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waitingandwishing · 1 month ago

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(Cross posted on tumblr and AO3)

Prev - Next Chapter

After that fiasco of a family reunion, both Five and Y/N stayed at the bar in silence. Five’s eyes flickered to hers, then away again, like he couldn’t bear to look for too long. Her breath caught every time he did.

“Are you worried about the apocalypse?” Y/N asked, breaking the silence.

“I always am.” Five said, his eyes were glazed over as he seemed to be thinking about something. But it definitely wasn’t the apocalypse.

“We’ll be alright, Five.” She said quietly as she reached out slightly for his hand and he flinched.

“Don’t,” he warned, though the strain in his voice betrayed him.

Y/N didn’t move, didn’t pull away. “Don't what?” Her voice was soft, but there was a challenge behind it. “What are you so afraid of?”

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. His hand didn’t fall away, allowing for Y/N to hold his hand. The space between them felt impossibly small now, the heat of his body almost brushing against hers, but still not quite.

His hands came up, framing her face, his fingers trembling just slightly as they brushed against her skin. He stared at her, and in that moment, everything else fell away.

Her breath hitched, her lips parting in anticipation, and for a second, neither of them moved. Y/N stayed silent as they remained in eye contact. She swallowed before Five asked, "Can I kiss you, Y/N?"

Y/N's eyes flickered to his lips, "I'd like that." She smiled as their lips met in a gentle collision. It felt as if the world had momentarily paused to witness their shared intimacy.

Y/N felt as if her body was on fire as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Time seemed to stretch and contract around them, each second extending into infinity filled with the subtle, electric crackle of shared breath and unspoken words.

Five sighed as he placed his hands hesitantly on her waist, he liked this. Forgetting about the apocalypse and just being with her. He hadn't kissed anyone, except for Delores. But he liked knowing that he kissed the girl he liked- no, loved- the most.

The warmth of the kiss radiated outward, an echo of heartbeats that quickened and then slowed, like waves lapping gently at the shore.

When they finally parted, it was with a lingering sense of something precious, leaving behind an imprint of longing that lingered between them.

Y/N and Five were both breathing heavily as they stared at each other in shock before Five smiled slightly, “You taste sweet.” He said.

“I find that sweeter things taste good with a little bite.” Y/N smiled and Five scoffed with a flushed face. She giggled and Five pulled her in for another kiss.

_____________________________________________________

"Just in time for a nightcap." The Handler smiled at the two as she opened the large green doors for the both of them.

Five paused before closing the door as The Handler handed the two of them two drinks. They both didn't reach their hands out to have the drink so The Handler simply put the glasses down on the coffee table.

"To be clear, we take out the board..." Five sighed, he really didn't want to do this. "You get me and my family home. No more doomsday, no more apocalypse. Is that correct?" The Handler set down her glass on one of the side tables and lied on the bed with a smile, "That's the deal."

"Then we're in." Five said and The Handler held up a sheet of paper. Y/N walked forward and grabbed the piece of paper.

The two of them opened it to reveal a location. The Lonely Lodge Inn, Oshkosh, Wisconsin, 1982.

_____________________________________________________

Y/N and Five both entered the lively Lonely Lodge Inn in Oshkosh. They both turned to each other before they went up to a woman fiddling with the welcome table. "Excuse me." Five said.

The woman looked up and smiled at them, "Uff da. You snuck up on me there. If you're looking for the cookies, we don't put 'em out till 3:00."

"We can hardly wait." Y/N smiled, "Do you happen to know where the Midwest Soybean Society is meeting?"

"Sure do. Muskellunge Banquet Room." The woman pointed to the back, "You looking for your mom? She in for the convention?"

Y/N noticed the vending machine in the hallway and nudged Five. He nodded before turning back to the lady. "Hey, could we get some change?" Five asked as he handed her a five dollar bill, not answering the lady's question.

"Oh, sure, I'll just look in my purse." The woman exhaled softly as she dug through her fanny pack, "Only a nickel and a couple of dimes. Oh! You... Are... In... luck, you two." She said and handed Five some coins.

Five chuckled softly, getting lost in his thoughts, "You know, some say the best luck is to die at the right time." Five said.

"Couldn't have said it better myself, now, let's find the meeting room." Y/N said, "Wouldn't want to be late, hm?"

Five smiled as Y/N held his hand and they both went over to the vending machine down the hallway. Five stopped in front of the vending machine and entered a few coins but the Fudge Nutter got stuck in the machine. "I would kill for a candy bar right now. Or chips..." Y/N muttered as Five shook the vending machine.

"Stupid mother fudge nutter!" He yelled, still continuing to shake the machine. "Fucking fudge nutter!" He continued. He kicked the vending machine. He broke the fucking vending machine. He grabbed 2 fudge nutters out of the machine, giving one to Y/N and putting the other in his pocket. "Don't tell anyone about this." He mumbled.

"I would never." Y/N said sarcastically as she opened it and started to take a bite.

They continued walking down the hallway as Y/N pointed to the ax, "Get the ax, I'll get the knife." She said and picked up a knife by the cake table. Five nodded and picked up the ax from the wall.

"No powers?" Five asked.

"I haven't used a knife in a while." Y/N said as she spun the knife in her hand, "I'm a bit rusty."

"You could shank them with a pen." Five suggested with a smirk as he held the ax. Y/N shook her head with a smile.

"You know I'd never shank anyone." Y/N said. Five shrugged.

"That's... Debatable." He said as they both entered the room and walked through the enormously long hallways before getting to the meeting room.

"You!" A man with a fish tank for a head exclaimed, "Call security!" Y/N looked to Five and he shrugged before the girl sliced the woman's hand off just as she was about to call security.

Y/N directed the cake knife towards another woman, hitting her and running over before stabbing the two other people next to her with a chuckle. "For some powerful board, you're pretty weak." She taunted.

After Five had finished off with the rest of the board they both went quiet so the Fish businessman thought we had left. The fish peered over the table as Five teleported above the table, ax in hand. "She sent you, didn't she?"

"Does it really matter now?" Five asked.

"Whatever she offered you, I will double it, triple it." The fish man pleaded desperately.

"I'm not doing this for money." Five spoke.

From behind Y/N, she heard a lady screaming before getting tackled to the ground. "Get off me!" She yelled.

"You're gonna pay for that vending machine, little misses." She spoke, holding her down while she tried to fight back.

Y/N groaned before stabbing her with the cake knife in the side and bashing her head onto the table. As Five watched her in confusion (maybe shock), he let the fish man get away.

"Don't get distracted now, Five." Y/N said as she took the cake knife from the woman's side and ran after him.

Five teleported in front of the Fish man as he backed away. The fish man turned around only to see Y/N with her knife, crossing her arms. "Surely we can come to some form of agreement that benefits both parties. Quid pro quo? What do you say?"

"Why not?" Five shrugged before hitting him in the side, "Here's your quid."

Y/N ran up and kicked the man down to his knees with a smile, "And you're pro."

"No! No! Please don't!" The fish man whimpered as he was on his knees.

"Here's your quo." Five said and bashed the fish tank head, water and glass spewing onto the floor as the fish flopped on the floor.

Y/N went up next to Five as she bent down and waved at the orange fish, "How's it going Nemo? Hope we didn't give you too much of a rough time." She mocked before taking out a water bag from her pocket (That surprisingly didn't pop during the chaos) and plopped the fish in.

Y/N turned to Five before pulling him in by his tie and kissing him before pulling back. Five froze, shocked. "You taste like blood." She gagged before wiping her face and walking away, fish in hand. "Well, let's take Nemo back with us and get our family out of the sixties."

Five didn't say anything before snapping his head towards her, "You can't just- Wait-" Five sputtered, running after Y/N as she laughed.

_____________________________________________________

Five was digging blood out of his nails as Y/N helped him wipe blood off of his face. "You're like a mother."

"I'm your girlfriend." Y/N said, "There's a difference." She said as she flung the rag onto the ground, "We'll wash off later, right now we need to..." Approaching footsteps interrupted Circe and she scoffed softly.

"Well?" The Handler asked and Five handed her the water bag as she gasped, "AJ!" She cackled before looking down, "You know, you're really starting to fill out those tight little shorts of yours."

Y/N almost choked at the comment The Handler made and covered it with a cough.

"Why so quiet?" The Handler giggled, "Thought you'd be buzzing after this morning's slaughter. Especially you, Y/N. Must be nice to... Kill people. I think we'd be very good friends."

"All this killing... I'm done with it." Five suddenly said.

"What? Am I supposed to take that seriously?" The Handler scoffed as she pulled out a tissue from her tits and licked it before wiping his face. Y/N gritted her teeth.

"What I did today, I did for my family. I did it to save the world." Five said.

"Please. Spare me your little assassin with the heart of gold routine, will you?" The Handler smiled before handing Five a briefcase, "Here. Per our agreement, this will get you, your siblings, and your... Girlfriend back to 2019. You have 90 minutes."

"You said nothing about a time limit." Y/N frowned.

"Actually, you have 89 minutes and 30 seconds. Better hurry." The Handler smirked as she looked at her watch.

"This is impossible, okay? Our siblings are scattered across the city." Five said angrily.

"Nothing's impossible. You proved that this morning when you killed the board." The Handler said.

"Yeah, because they were pussies." Y/N said, crossing her arms, "We need more time."

"Any more time and people will start asking questions. The sooner you get home and out of this time period, the better off we'll both be, so, tiktok, tiktok." The Handler mocked before Five sighed and grabbed Y/N's hand, teleporting them away.

_____________________________________________________

Y/N locked herself in the bathroom and pulled off her shirt before changing into a blue turtleneck and black pants. She fluffed out her hair and exited the bathroom.

"Luther, you get Allison." She heard Five's voice say, "Diego, Klaus. Me and Cici will get Vanya. We meet back in the Arrival alley in 77 minutes."

Y/N nodded as Luther and Diego both jumped, "How did you get into the bathroom?"

"I was here before you guys." She pointed before catching one of the watches that Five threw at her.

"I've synchronized these watches." Five said as he started to leave, Diego suddenly interrupted.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on. You both show up drenched in blood and expect us to believe everything's gonna go back to normal if we go home now?" Diego asked.

Y/N wiped blood off of her cheek, "You wanna see Mom again, Diego? Just work with us, alright?" She said and Diego paused.

"What about Dad? What about JFK?" Diego asked.

"Dad can fuck himself and so can JFK." Y/N rolled her eyes as she fastened the watch onto her wrist.

"Diego, we have a chance to go home and make things right. We are taking it." Five walked up to him aggressively as Diego stayed silent.

"I have to say goodbye to Lila." He finally said.

"Lila doesn't give a shit about you, Diego! She never did. She's one of them. She's a member of the Commission." Five said.

"No way. Not possible."

"She was just using you to get to me. You're the Oswald of this story, my friend. The goddamned patsy." Five walked away.

"You don't know what you're talk..."

Five teleported in front of him, "If you don't do this, I'll kill you myself. Got it?" Five whooshes away.

Y/N looked at Diego, "Diego, why do you even like her anyways?" She asked.

Diego swallowed, "I love her."

Y/N walked up to Diego with a deadpan stare, "You have five minutes. Five minutes then get Klaus and meet us back at the alleyway, alright?"

Diego breathed out shakily before hugging her tightly, "You're a good sister, Y/N."

Y/N nodded before Five teleported back, grabbing her hand and teleporting the both of them into a blue car. "I just don't get it, what about her is so important? They've known each other for only a fraction of their lives!" Five exclaimed as he made a turn down the road.

"I talked to Diego." Y/N said, "You have to sympathize with others, especially our family. I asked him why he wanted to say goodbye to her, and he said that..."

The road turned shaky as the road changed from concrete to gravel and dirt. "He said he loves her." Y/N said, "And you know that Diego was never good at hiding his feelings away."

Five was about to say something before another blue car rolled past. Vanya was looking out the window and Y/N looked at her with a face of confusion before both cars jerked forward to stop.

"What are you doing here?" Vanya asked as the three of them both got out of their cars to speak.

"Looking for you. We're going back to 2019." Five said.

"What are you talking about?" Vanya asked.

"Look, I don't really have time to explain right now, but I found a way home. All right? We have 30 minutes to leave." Five said as he headed back to the car.

"What about my friends? I can't just leave them here." Vanya said and Five turned back.

"Vanya, you don't have a choice in this, all right? Doomsday will happen if you don't come with me." Five explained and Y/N crossed her arms, pursing her lips.

"Okay, then I'm bringing them with me." Vanya said.

"They belong in this timeline."

"Says who? Sissy deserves a life where she doesn't have to pretend to be someone she's not. And Harlan? There's a name for what he has. We can get him the help he needs." Vanya said desperately.

"Vanya..." Y/N said.

"Look, a mom and her eight-year-old son are not gonna screw up the timeline, Five! They're insignificant!" Vanya yelled angrily.

"No one is insignificant. I'm sorry, all right? But we can't take that risk. They have to stay. Come on." Five said, turning back.

"Why do you get to decide? You're the reason we're stuck here in the first place." Vanya argued back.

"If I did nothing, we would all be dead right now, thanks to you." Five said back.

"They're coming with me." Vanya said, putting her foot down.

"Vanya, do not test me right now." Five scoffed.

"That's funny. 'Cause I was just about to say the same thing." She said and Y/N heard a high-pitched tone echoing through the air and Five's power whooshing around as well.

Y/N snapped her fingers and both of them were separated by an invisible force. "You two are acting like children. Vanya, you have to say goodbye to Sissy and Harlan or else they'll die. Five, we're going to go check on everyone to see if they have their people."

Five grunted and Vanya nodded before both of them separated, Y/N following Five to the car. The two cars drove off into different directions.

"You're too soft, Y/N" Five said, "We don't have time to be soft."

"I care for them. They make me stronger knowing I have something to fight for." Y/N snapped back.

_____________________________________________________

Of course they didn't come, all of them didn't come except for Klaus and Luther. Y/N sighed as Five kicked a cardboard box in the alleyway in frustration.

"I could try bringing them here." Y/N suggested.

"It's too late for that! It's every sibling for themselves now." Five said angrily before going back inside.

"Did Five just get meaner?" Klaus moaned as he rubbed his head.

"Klaus, go check on Allison, okay? Make sure she's okay. Find the others and we'll meet back here. I'll- We'll handle Five." Luther said to Klaus.

Klaus grunted and sighed, "Thank you, Y/N." He exhaled as Y/N helped him up.

"What happened there?" Y/N asked and Klaus sighed.

"Ben possessed my body. I feel so... Violated." Klaus groaned. Y/N pursed her lips before nodding.

"Well, tell Ben I said Hi and that if he should stop possessing you without your consent." Y/N said as Klaus nodded.

"You hear that Ben?! OUR SISTER IS FORGIVING YOU SO YOU BETTER BE GRATEFUL!" Klaus shouted and stumbled away to go find Allison.

Y/N sighed before entering the apartment complex and going to Elliots. As she entered she saw Five and Luther arguing loudly. "No, that's not correct! I won't be able to do anything!" Five exclaimed loudly.

"We've never given up before-"

"We?! I've been carrying all of you on my back throughout this whole thing!"

Y/N sighed as she flicked her hand and Luther was pulled away from Five, "You all act like children, god! We'll figure this out, for now. We sleep on it."

"We don't have time to sleep-"

"Sleep on it! Vanya is missing, Allison is missing, Klaus left, Ben is dead. We're getting over it and moving on." Y/N said as she raised her hand and sat Luther onto the couch, "We'll figure it out, we always do."

Five huffed and Luther nodded before Y/N let go of the both of them, dropping her arms. "I want something to drink." She muttered.

Five sat down at the table, his head in his hands as Luther lay down on the couch to try and go to sleep. The girl opened the cabinet to find a bottle of wine, which was weird because why would Elliot of all places put wine in a random upper cabinet?

She shrugged it off and poured the wine into a coffee mug, too lazy to find a wine glass anyways before sitting down next to Five.

They both stayed silent as Five sighed, "I've got a plan." Y/N turned to Five and he took it as a chance to elaborate more, "My future self, well... My old self... Is going to be here soon. I'll have to talk to him."

Y/N nodded and Five pointed to the drink in her hand, "Can you pour me some?" Five asked. She nodded and got up to pour a mug of wine for him as he continued to talk, "The problem is that I might go crazy and this isn't exactly the best time to go insane."

"You're already insane, Five." Y/N chuckled as she handed him the mug. He took a sip before speaking once again.

"Right, but still. Old me will be guaranteed to have a briefcase that brings us all back." Five explained and Y/N nodded.

"This reminds me of when you used to ramble to me about quantum physics and time travel." Y/N muttered and took a sip of her wine, "Is that the plan?"

"Yes." Five nodded, "That's the plan." Five smiled.

Y/N smiled slightly, "Sounds great. Looks like we have a plan, Mr. Five." She teased.

"Well, Miss Y/N, if you do, be so kind..." Five handed her the mug, "Just get me the whole bottle."

"Oh, so you're being a wine hog, hm? I thought you didn't like wine." Y/N said and grabbed the bottle of wine from the counter, throwing it to Five which he managed to catch, "You seem like a whiskey sort of guy."

"Well, what can I say? People have layers." Five smiled and took a longgg swig of the wine bottle.

"I still want some by the way." The girl pointed to the bottle before taking a drink of her wine once again.

"Come and get it, love." Five teased and Y/N widened her eyes, cocking her head to the side.

"Love? That's new. What should I call you then, Five?" She asked and Five chuckled. He set down the bottle onto the table and leaned in close with a smirk.

"Whatever you want."

"Well- I... I don't really- Um-" She sputtered as she turned red and looked away. Five chuckled.

"That's payback for what happened in Oshkosh." Five smirked. She rolled her eyes.

"That's... Not fair." She huffed and took the wine bottle, pouring more wine into her mug before setting the bottle back down, "But seriously? Love?"

"What? You're my girlfriend, I can't say that I... Love you?" Five asked and took another longgg swig of the wine bottle. His face was starting to get slightly red.

Y/N paused before smiling, "Fine. I'll take it. It's better than any other nicknames anyways." She smiled, "It's cute."

"Hm, thanks. Thought of it myself." Five said.

"You sure The Handler didn't call you that when you were still in the commission?" Y/N teased and Five groaned.

"Not right now, Y/N." Five sighed and she giggled.

"Alright, alright. I'll stop." She smiled as she brushed a strand of hair away from her face. "'M so tired... Running around Texas isn't exactly relaxing..."

"Well, my retirement bucket list is still open for you to join." Five said and Y/N smiled.

"I never said I'd never join." She said and laid her head on the table with a sigh.

"You should go to sleep in the bed." Five said.

"I'll be fine." She smiled and buried her head into her arms, choosing to sleep on the small wooden table instead.

After a while of silence, Five could hear Y/N's breath had slowed meaning she had fallen asleep. He set the empty bottle of wine onto the table as he saw her sleeping. He brushed her hair out of her face and stood up, kissing her head before going to sleep.

(I suck at romantic shit pls forgive me)

#allison hargreeves #the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #luther hargreeves #ben hargreeves #umbrella academy x reader #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #tua #diego hargreeves #umbrella academy

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