#i failed to screenshot that part where mc is like
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Y'all I been doing Dazai route in eng for the collection event and I'm just.
WHAT HAPPENED WITH THE WRITING HERE. DAZAI AND MC ARE OFF THE CHARTS???? I FEEL LIKE I'M IN IKESEN RN HELP
I never want off this tragicomedy this is amazing. Just look at this shit:
There's so much going on here???? I'm in stitches?????
Dazai if you're going to roll with familial obligation PICK ONE ROLE, what is this madness!!!
MC full on out here UNIRONICALLY looking at Charles and going:
MC: I could make him worse twirling hair around her finger
What's even more uproarious to me is Dazai like "I must. Protect MC from his vile eboy clutches." And MC is straight up like "Dazai if you won't tap this then I will have my hot girl summer." Can you tell I love her so much for this I'm sobbing. Girl math queen of "I want what's bad for me"
Charles. Trying to whine his way into a hot night and Dazai's abrupt "Haha, no." Just imagining the delivery of that line straight up made me astral project, Dazai is feeling petty and I'm LIVING
"NotMyName-san." Do I even need to say it. MC dragging his ass and I'm wheeze--
Aight but that last screenshot. I swear to God that's where I lost my veritable shit. I think I've just gotten so used to Comte and Leonardo being so literal of like "oh yeah that f**ker can't keep his hands to himself, give me a second to get rid of him" that I just did not see Dazai's roast coming. And not only how iconic and subtle a jab that is, but the ENDLESS implications????????????
"He seems like someone who can't keep his hands out of the picnic basket." Dazai was COOKING. He said "boy's got no patience, he can't pace a relationship properly." [Note: Dazai can't pace a relationship at all, so uh, pot meet kettle--]. He said "man's going to get to third base on the first date and that is GAUCHE." I love this bit because of how much it gives him away. Dazai out here like "I'm just a silly silly goofy no thoughts guy! Hahaha!" And then the second Charles tries to drag MC around like a rag doll, Dazai comes out like "what is this. menace doing with a nice young woman. I say, young man, cease this horny shitfkery at once!" The man who sat in bed with MC naked after a month's worth of knowing her and does not explain (though in fairness he was trying to be helpful [?]). Can you tell I love him. Osamu "Do As I Say, Not As I Do" Dazai.
Dazai out here like "I just know he's going to ask too much of her, and that could have grievous implications when it comes to being a vampire." As much as it might be a throwaway line, I gotta say I see that amongst his concerns. And tbh I think he means it both in the sense of bloodlust but also in the sense that Charles is a bit wayward with his self-control (not entirely Charles' fault). Dazai out here like "I know this little shit ain't got an ounce of foresight, and I hate this for my best girl." No beef to Charles, but the man lives in the present (in some ways by circumstance) and I can see how he might not be able to have MC's best interests for the future in mind (he's got a lot of healing to do).
Man can you tell I just can't get over the way Dazai flamed him. It's giving:
Also for the record no shade to Charles as an LI, I just think it's hilarious how jealous Dazai is and how that makes him uncharacteristically choose so much violence khafjlsjkshgdfjh
I gotta say if there's one thing that gets my ass so bad when it comes to Comte and Dazai it's how they're so like. "Peace and love on planet earth~"
Charles/Vlad: hi
Comte and Dazai:
Comte and Dazai:
#legitimately its TRAGIC that i started wheezing SO BAD#i failed to screenshot that part where mc is like#'What a tangled web we weave…' when they both start hitting on her nonstop#THE POLYCULE IS IN SHAMBLES /j#listen idk who it was that did the localization for this rt#but i hope they know they're a fking real one damn#i feel like this is the first time in years ive read smth in the eng ver and gone 'who made this tea? delicious'#even funnier bc i rmr reading summaries of dazais rt abt how chaotic it was--its not like i wasnt even aware#but they really put their whole [redacted] into this one LMFAO#ikevamp#ikemen vampire#ikevamp dazai#ikevamp charles#ikevamp mc#ikevamp comte#ikevamp vlad#dazai main story route
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So I finally read Vyn’s Winterwish SR Timeless Wishes and it has NO right to be this funny. I was laughing the whole way through
First, we continue the saga of Vyn unable to handle the cold (like fair enough dude, he’s wearing THREE layers in this card -- vest, shirt, turtleneck). Attached screenshot is from the Blizzardous Threads of Red invitation where we see Vyn trying to imply he is this close to freezing. (It's because he's not wearing gloves...)
And then MC goes ahead and calls him a PATHETIC MEOW MEOW--
Next up, we have Vyn getting unintentionally psychoanalyzed by the handicraft shop owner. Hey. Hey Vyn... how does it feel to have the tables turned on you...
Then Vyn and MC return home and we get THIS BIT that still makes me laugh:
Vyn, what are you using Ogier for??? Is cleaning your room all the SPECIALLY TRAINED BODYGUARD is good for? This is so hilariously baffling to me. Does Ogier literally drop by Vyn's place just to tidy up? Is he going to walk into the room and sigh at the sight of Vyn's bedroom floor covered in a ridiculous amount of yarn? And this begs the question: what else does Vyn call on Ogier for? To deep clean the kitchen?? Ogier, my guy, I genuinely wonder how you feel about this because you are not beating the butler allegations...
Okay, and then we get some wholesome fluff where Vyn and MC exchange gifts, but Vyn looks so perplexed at MC's collection of wishing cards that I had to include this screenshot. MC truly never fails to surprise him.
And then after the card story is done, we get THIS text conversation when MC declares she wants to make... DIY slime. Vyn's reaction is what makes this part for me. Mr Fancy Two Degrees honestly had no clue what slime was and was probably mildly concerned at her suggestion (although she explains what she means by slime after the cutoff).
Vyn, expecting normal activities like crochet or pressing flowers: What shall we try next?
MC, incredibly up-to-date on all the current trends: slime!!! :DD
Vyn: say what now
-
The second text message references the Cooking Card again and I just thought it was hilarious that Vyn purposely misunderstands the point of the card. He uno reversed the situation on her, but I can't really fault him for that. It's definitely a Vyn move.
#also 'if you go back on your word... then I will have to start making some overboard wishes.' hey Vyn. hey. uh. what does that mean#tears of themis#vyn richter
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✨Drabble Masterlist✨
✨ Link to Regular Masterlist ✨
My masterlist got too big so here’s where all the waffley, cutesy stuff goes.
~
🤍 The Bois 🤍
Oh… and keep an eye on the staircases, they like to change. - How the bois would tackle the girl dorms being inaccessible
I’m Bothered by these Boggarts - Headcanon of what our bois Boggarts would be
All aboard the Hug-Warts Express - How our lads comfort MC
Where has my Cardi-gone - How our bois react to pilfered clothing
Proper Proposals - The lads discussing how they proposed to their significant others
And a Happy New Year - The bois celebrating at a New Year’s party
The Serpent Sisters - Anne, Imelda and Evelyn defending the bois
Medusa’s Vipers - Ominis and Sebastian being protective of Evelyn
🔞 Character AI Screenshots 🔞
Ominis, Garreth and Sebastian, Sebastian again
~
🎁 Gift Giving 🎁
In game ideas for a relationship system. Like Dragon Age!! Plus I want give my favs gifts Okay?!
Sebastian, Garreth and Ominis
~
🕯️ Trio Chatter 🕯️
- Based on game files showing we could have had TWO companions. Little conversations between possible combos
Sebastian and Ominis
Ominis and Misc
Garreth and Sebastian
Garreth and Sebastian…again
Sebastian and Imelda
Garreth and Ominis
Poppy and Amit
Trio Chatter for when MC is in a relationship, how each person would behave:
Sebastian and Garreth | Sebastian and Ominis | Garreth and Ominis
Three’s a Crowd - Trio Chatter for a party with all the same house
Trio Chatter for my Ships: Part 1, Part 2
~
🔮 Random Headcanons 🔮
Garreths’ Nicknames for people
Spell Practise - Ominis and Garreth dialogue for in-game
Class of ‘91 - Ideas for classes for all our favs
Leaving Hogwarts Grounds - Dialogue for dragging our babes out of hogwarts. and some more!!
Hallway Antics - Leander trying to bully Ominis and failing feat. Garreth
Hallway Antics - Garreth and Ominis discuss the origins of Hobhouse hatred
Hallway Antics - Sebastian and Ominis contemplate Garreths’ house
House Pride (and Shame) - MC talking about their different Houses
Parseltongue-tied - Ominis teaching MC Parseltongue (suggestive 🔞)
Mother in Laws Tongue - Ominis can talk to plants too apparently…
A Very Ominous Christmas - 🎄Garreth has a surprise for Ominis
A Magical Christmas - 🎄 Gift Giving amongst the gang
A Weasley Good Christmas - 🎄Garreth giving gifts cause he’s baby boi
Crossed Wands Headcanon - Different duelling styles for our favs
A Summary of The Houses - The difference between my MCs
The Adventures of the Sallow Twins - Garreth and Sebastian discovering they look VAGUELY similar
Tis the Season - 🎃 Pumpkin spice Drabble for Ominis, Sebastian and Eve
#hogwarts legacy#hogwarts#hogwarts oc#hogwarts houses#slytherin#gryffindor#ominis gaunt#sebastian sallow#garreth weasley#ominis x mc#sebastian x mc#garreth x mc#ominis x y/n#ominis hc#headcanon#ominis fluff#ominis imagine#incorrect hogwarts quotes#garreth x reader#ominis x garreth#garreth x you#sebastian x reader#sebastian x y/n#sebastian x you#ominis x reader#ominis x you#ominis x oc#sebastian x oc#garreth x oc#hogwarts fanfiction
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What kind of story is it?
A motorsports IF. You're a formula driver. It's romance-focused and deals with drama and angst while going after what's really important to you.
Can I romance more than one RO?
Absolutely. Be as messy as you want or as loyal as you want. There will be a choice to lock in who you want to pursue, but for the start, it's up to you what you do.
Will there be consequences?
Yes! Some ROs will deal with it better than others.
If I choose to be friends with the ROs, can I get on their romance route later?
As of now, no. It would be nice to explore, but it's not a priority yet unless I see a good opening for it in the story.
Is there an enemy to lovers route?
I was thinking of doing one for Ryder's route but I haven't decided yet. It fits the character the best, but it's a WIP and I will just have to see how it presents itself later on. So maybe? Not sure yet. If there's a good opening, I would like to add it but it'll just depend on how much I have on my plate.
Is Lane canon?
I don't think any of the LIs are canon. This story works just fine with trying to improve MC and focus on themselves and their career. Take out all the ROs and it's still simply about MC finding their place. It is a romance story though so if you're simply here for the plot and don't want to deal with romance, it might not be as fun but do with your time what you will. I try not to push any of the ROs onto the player, so I hope Lane doesn't feel canon. The story makes sense with any branch. Lane comes up a lot, yes, but they're a big part of MC's past. You should not have any scenes with Lane nor should your MC think good of them unless you choose such options. If you simply want to be friends - they're friendly interactions. If you don't want anything to do with Lane, they should hardly make an appearance in the story except when needed and it won't be anything romantic. So, if you feel like you have too much of Lane, then maybe reconsider your choices. The most important one is if you say you still have feelings. That's telling the game you want to explore that part more so it'll offer romantic choices and a way to reconcile but you will still get a chance to choose what to do with it all.
Will there be jealousy/break-ups?
I get this one a lot. Not sure if that's a good thing or something you all want or are just afraid to explore, but yes, this game has all of that. It'll depend on the RO because not everyone is jealous, but expect some angst, arguments, breakups, etc.
Why is there no back or save button?
I am working on a save button for future update. Back button will still not be implemented simply because it will be a coding issue for this game.
There's a bigger chance for errors if I let you go back to fix something because some codes use a variable that tracks choices. An example is I sometimes use "history macro" and if you visit the passage more than once, the code won't work so you'll end up with missing information and it will fail to properly connect you to other passages.
When are updates?
I don't have a schedule. It's a WIP, it's a side project, so whenever I have time or energy to write, I do, and update at the end of every chapter.
Why am I not answering you?
I don't purposely avoid comments unless the messages are rude. If I don't answer, but you want an answer, please try again. I could have simply missed it. Send in with a username instead of anon so I can actually get back to you. If I have something to say or add to your comment, I usually do unless it's repetitive. If it's already answered in FAQ's, it's also another reason I might not answer from now on.
Find spelling, errors, or mistakes in general?
I appreciate people letting me know and yes, send them in, but PLEASE let me know WHERE. The sentence or screenshot will work fine just so I know where to look. If you just say there are mistakes, I have no idea where to look and will most likely stay that way until it comes up again. If you want a reply but not make it public, please give a note stating so and I won't post it publicly. Instead, I can just reply to you personally if you don't write as an anon. Thank you to everyone that sends the mistakes in, especially to some anons that take their time to write out every sentence where they saw a spelling mistake. I appreciate it and you make things loads easier.
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Bringing in the MC
Hello again, it's ya boy (god I'm cringy 😣). I have ABSOLUTELY no drawing skills when it comes to faces and people so y'all just gotta bear with me on screenshots I've taken from my own game from Hogwarts Legacy.
I don't have all the screenshots I want because I didn't come up with the idea of having my MC even be a plausible character in my works until recently. Also, part of the reason I don't have as many screenshots as I'd like is because of the update that has been frame rate dropping me and also kicking me out of the game every five seconds so that's fun. 🥲
Anyways, here's the boy and all his info (I'll write fics for him on Ao3 and I'll provide links)
Yes, I know he looks like Harry Potter.
SHUT
I try to make myself and every time, without fail, they end up looking like Harry Potter or Leon Kennedy from the Resident Evil franchise and idk how to not have that happen.
Anyways, here's some of his info that's kinda basic.
Name: Jeremy Carter
Birth Date: December 1st (whatever year this takes place because idk 😭)
Where In Europe Is He From?: England
Blood Status: Half Blood
Height: 5'7 ft
House: Hufflepuff
Wand: Pear wood, 11 three quarter inches, quiet bendy, phoenix feather core
Patronus: Stoat (they're like the ferret's prettier cousin)
Father: Wizard, deceased
Mother: Muggle, alive
Relationship?: Jeremy has eyes for Amit Thakkar
Extra facts
Jeremy has autism (at the time, they probably didn't even know this existed but they all take kindly to Jeremy and give him patience).
Jeremy's father told him about Hogwarts and the wizarding world before his father's passing.
Jeremy's mother thinks the father is lying about everything.
Eleazar Fig becomes the closest thing Jeremy has to a father.
Mirabel Garlick becomes the closest thing Jeremy has to a loving mother.
Jeremy and Ominis become best friends (through traumatization from Sebastian).
Jeremy went out of his way to find all the constellation tables immediately after helping Amit find one (that was Jeremy's way of saying "I like you").
Jeremy's favourite class is potions.
So yeah, I'll post some chapters for Jeremy's story on Ao3 along with a gallery of screenshots (when I decide to end the story) for you all to enjoy! Stay tuned for those updates!
#hogwarts legacy#hogwarts legacy mc#hogwarts legacy male mc#amit thakkar#amit thakkar x m!mc#eleazar fig#professor fig#mirabel garlick#professor garlick#ominis gaunt#sebastian sallow
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hi hello
I'm here to write about my experience while reading the latest writing of wanderer. (it shall contain what I'm doing as I'm reading and my reactions - so if you don't wanna read it - that is a-okay!)
I'M STANDING IN -3°C OR EVEN LESS ON A TRAIN STATION FREEZING. I'm reading this by taking a glove off of my hand to scroll and then switching it to the other (taking the other glove off putting this one on) - pain fr, and then smiling to myself like a love struck idiot at 6 FUCKING AM. ON A FOGGY CROWD FILLED TRAIN STATION.
you did say in the a/n that the first part was "unnecessary" but I enjoyed the potrayal of friendship - it fleshed out the mc fr. also didn't except Heizou to be so touchy bUT THEN I gave it a second more of thought (lol) and I can see it. wanderer wearing all black is fucking canon in my eyes in modern!teyvat/world/somewhere.
the flashback was written really cutely, managing to catch the good vibes and capture, in a quite the short amount of text, the history the two have. (except like why does he think he hurt them-myb he thinks it is cos they left? idk listen I'm still sleepy if I missed something dO NOT HATE ME I WILL REREAD LATER TODAY)
next, I manage to find a spot in the train to sit, now nice and warm, chuckling at the boys & mc interaction in the hotel room
takiNG PAUSES - TURNING MY PHONE OFF AND LOOKING OUT INTO THE DARKNESS OF THE MORNING WHEN THEY KISS???? WHEN HE SAYS ANYTHING? I'm out here yet again smiling to myself and looking out of the window before continuing my reading
little love confessions cute! cute! cute!
thE FUCKING CUDDLES THE CUDDLES THE. CUDDLES. as a deeply touched deprived person with main love language being physical affection (with only selected few I care for, otherwise I hate any physical contact) my reaction is - YES. tysm. bless, thank you for your service.
it warmed my heart, perfect perfect perfect. ALSO THE LINE - I JUST RECALLED, THE LINE "You think I'd settle for less than you" - screenshoted, screamed internally, felt special, felt pain no one in this bitch ass world has me yet like that - no one ever will prob let US BE REAL (I'm mentaly dating all of them fictional mfs) , looked out of the window, paused, thought about stuff, leaned my head back to reimagine the scene as I try to also nap and fAIL cos I'm too hyped to read it - like man! 5k words - a LOT (it indeed was not a lot, I forgot how fast I read even when I reread lines and pause, and that I finish a thick ass book in 2 hours.)
it was slow burn without the slow but you worded it so nicely, paced it out, captured the essence of the thought proccess of a "crush" and stuff. also heizou being mentioned so much DOES make sense in the way - that ofc you'd think to tell your bsf this shit and chat with him DUH.
the detail of Aether texting his sister warmed my heart.
roll back a bit earlier - did I mention my train arrived late to my station - and in the freezing dark cold morning I smile and was like "ehe" cos I get to read this in PEACE for 15 mins longer - cos of the late train.
roll back to the present. after the kiss someone sits next to me so I'm putting my phone away, like I'm reading straight up smut of some shit, yet again rethinking everything you wrote.
then I see "a/n" - cut to me screaming, yelling, crying internally for more - feeling like it just began - I need the two days, I need more of the kissing, I need how they solve the end of vacay, and how they work all of it out - ALSO WHERE IS XIAO AMONGST MY ANEMO BOYS
on the topic of xiao I do understand it would be difficult for me as well to put the two boys I love the most in the same fic and just not have anything with one of them. furthermore, I understand one of your notes on a Xiao writing you did as a Xiao main. Listen me too, I could not write about my beloved. it would be a struggle just like it is for you but I KNOW WHY LET ME TELL YOU WHY - to quote Jane Austen "If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more" I rest my fucking case.
I CAN FURTHER SUPPORT MY CLAIM WITH THIS - I'm talking to my friend the other day about genshin and he's like tell me about you favorite character, I say a bit while also trying to keep it spoiler free but I struggle so much, because my mind just fills with everything about him, every single thing Xiao has been through and dear gods how do I say it all, how to get across everything he is, has been through. yeah. the quote is true.
I beg on my knees for somehow another part of this wanderer writing I'm just gnawing at a train plush soft cushion (not literally).
every timE I READ ONE OF YOUR THINGS ABOUT THE SHORT SNARKY BOY I'M ALWAYS SMILING TO MYSELF ALWAYS PAUSING LOOKING AWAY, WHAT DO YOU PUT IN THIS WHAT IS THIS SORCERY?
I am very aware of how long this is, hope it wasn't boring - but HEY it is an ask, so technically you can ignore me
I probably didn't manage to caputre all my thoughts while reading it cos I'm just still very tired - hope you have a great day
ps. I could very well write an ask about how I started enjoying (read: liking) Wanderer + how the pulls went (it would be more put together than this ask honestly lmk)
pps much love, keep writing stuff x
hi hello! of course id love to read. i love the trend of sending long asks like this!! the only time i dont like long asks is when readers are requesting something---i dont like that at all :/ but youre not doing that!!! youre talking about your experience in reading my works and it really really warms my heart reading through it
OH NO T__T i cant even imagine. my countrys temperature never falls below 25-30°C so i cant even imagine surviving outside when the numbers are NEGATIVE T__T
the first part was absolutely unnecessary HAHA but thank you for justifying it. My hopeless crush wormed in and i wrote too much to just delete it sigh…
now for your question--scara moved out and essentially left the reader. it was more of a reference to scaramouche's canon backstory. he felt hurt that ei left him! and now, he's leaving the person he cares about. of course, in my head, he would assume that you'd feel what he felt. its why i put scaras mommy issues in the tags hahaha
im glad you like their interaction!! i loved writing their banter so much. i love writing scara talking to anyone in general because the way he talks is the way i think irl LOL
im so glad you also like the "you think i'd settle for less than you" line!!! ill tell u a secret. a few minutes before posting the fic it wasn't even there, but after reading through it i thought it would fit perfectly with the way i wrote scaramouche's character :D
and im so glad u pointed out the pacing!!! in all honesty i am far from confident with my pacing. i never know if im doing it right so thank u so much for saying that!!!!!!!! T__T <3 i dont know if i should clap for the late train for letting you read in peace? ??
LMFAOOO IM SO SORRY. this is exactly why i avoid reading fanfiction out in public even if i dont read smut. these strangers cannot know that i read about scaramouche kissing me.
and also fun fact!!!!! in the previous author note, it was not written that way. let me show you proof!! i cant find it rn but ill go into the version history version of my docs :D
AHHH that quote is so real im stealing that sorry. Everytime someone brings up why i dont write xiao enough ill pull that up !!!!! i know exactly what u mean :/
and about a part two… some people are already asking for it but i just don't do part twos T__T unless its stated in the fic that there's another part coming--it means that that's it…… your imagination will probably do better than whatever i can cook anyway !!!
#i rlly rlly do appreciate long asks when u guys talk abt ur thoughts ab my stuff :(#thank u again#606:inbox#606: iamjustaslytherinrose#long post
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Crimes of Passion 2 Thoughts
I'm replaying CoP before the second book comes out and having a lot of thoughts about book 2
Note: these are my speculations (pre release) but I'm gonna put them under cut in case people don't want to see them or have the experience spoiled
Thoughts on plot:
Drakovians are gonna take Trystan back by force, along with Marguerite for "failing to do her duties" by not forcing them
MC will frantically fly over to Drakovia after them, hopefully followed by the rest of the gang
We're gonna have at least a full chapter or two without Trystan's active presence when MC tries to reach Trystan
Then MC will rush in headfirst to Trystan's side, getting themself in a royal mess (literally)
There might be a few empty compliments about catching Sonja's murderer
Thoughts on the emojis in the last newsletter:
(Screenshot credits to @korgbelmont)
So, we have eight royals, five daggers, and two skulls. It's not hard to guess where this is going. Skulls definitely portrait murders, and with what book one set up, one of them most likely belongs to Juliana. The other could either be a new victim or MC's dad. (To be honest I can't see how Jimmy Rose's murder could have anything to do with Drakovian royals. A new murder on the other hand is a good way to raise the stakes even higher.) The royals definitely portrait the Drakovian royal family, but the most interesting part is the daggers. Because according to this, 5 out of 8 members of the royal family are responsible for 2 murders, which also means 3 aren't. Now, depending on whether Marguerite and Trystan are part of the emojis, there are at least 1 and at most 3 new characters we can trust. Who they are is yet to be known. (Personally, I'd like to think Marguerite is and Trystan isn't, but we'll see.)
Final Thought: In book one, it's heavily implied that the queen hates Trystan. Also, in the extra sneak peak at the end, we can see a faceless 'your majesty' seems to know too much. With how circumstantial the implications are, I'm betting my money on the queen being one of the innocent royals and the king being the mastermind. That's just how crime books work.
Feel free to share your own thoughts!
#playchoices#choices stories you play#crimes of passion#crimes of passion choices#choices game#trystan thorne
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Celestial Screenshots Destined for Fame, Part 5:
Marvin Gaye
⚠️⚠️ TW: death, violence, abuse, childhood trauma
All of the information used in this article was taken from Marvin Gaye’s Wiki page/biography. I am a student of astrology and thus all that I have learned in that course deserves the instructor’s credit, along with all the astrologers before him from Vettius Valens to the translators of ancient texts. I thank you for passing on this knowledge and am grateful to receive it. To protect his privacy and name (because what if I’m completely butchering these concepts, lmao) I will keep it to myself. I believe in the importance of giving credit where it is due and thus that is my intention here. I also believe in the right to privacy and thus that is my secondary intention.
🌖 First things first, his chart ruler is the Moon. It falls in his third house (where it has its joy).
🏆 It is being opposed by benefic of the sect in favor which is good despite it being a difficult aspect because at least both planets see each other.
🍀Even better is the fact that Venus is exalted in Pisces, while Jupiter is in its domicile. These are both benefics and in the place of God. I do know he started singing in church as a child and I believe he remained religious. I get the feeling he had a strong faith but it does not say outright.
🎤 I imagine this would give one an extra big voice and the man is a legendary vocalist. He was a pioneer that helped shape the Motown sound.
🎺 His Moon is also in opposition to Venus, although by sign vs degree and I believe this helped make his voice beautiful. Since Venus beautifies and Jupiter expands.
🥇But first of all, he was SO meant to be a star/famous simply looking at the ruler of his chart. Since the moon is not in its own domicile, it must rely on its ruler Mercury. It is up in Aries conjunct the Sun and Saturn, all dangerously close to his MC. {this stellium will be important later}
🏹 Even though the Moon has a 15 degree range, his Sun falls shy just a couple degrees. Or else his chart ruler would be in aspect to that Aries stellium near his MC directly.
🍑 However since the ruler of the house holding his CR is in aspect to the Sun+Saturn near the MC, the effect is basically the same.
💼👔Ruler of the tenth house is under the beams and thus career significations are hidden —> he had no desire to become an R&B singer when first signing to play drums. His first single release failed and he continued to play drums for other bands.
🚔“What’s Going On” was delayed in its release because of its political implications but ended up being a massive hit once released. I believe this is partly the example of Mercury and Saturn being under the rays. Mercury is associated with words and Saturn is associated with long-term rewards, both under the beams of the Sun so hidden. That song was sort of like a hidden slice of fame that eventually got brought to light.
👮🏻♀️It was inspired after witnessing police brutality at an anti-war event.
🎬 Also I found it interesting that he would perform with his eyes closed and was criticized as appearing to be sleeping, being told to open his eyes while performing. He refused to go to the grooming school which is something I would expect of an Aries stellium native {love it}
⚠️⚠️ TW: death, violence, abuse, childhood trauma
🪦Alright so I was trying to see if I could predict how he died using astrology since I did not know when I originally started this post a few weeks ago. I could not have even guessed the crazy sht that actually went down but looking at the astrology afterwards, it makes so much sense.
🙏🏻My honest to God “guess” toward cause of death before reading his Wiki: ➡️ “Lack of communication related to his work as a voice artist, possibly regarding siblings or children.”
👩🦯I completely overlooked both significations of the father though, with his eight house of death being ruled by Saturn (then bc Saturn is not in its own domicile, it must rely on its ruling planet Mars which falls in Capricorn).
💢He intervened an argument between his parents and his father shot him twice.
🟥 A square exists between Mars and Saturn. Saturn is also squaring Chiron+Pluto. Then Mars is opposing Chiron+Pluto. I believe this accounts for his abusive childhood at the hands of his father. He regularly received beatings. He even had a half-brother due to his fathers extra-marital affairs.
🌵Died during a ninth house profection year on the eve of his 45th birthday. The lord of the year was Jupiter, which is the planet in his chart capable of doing most good but it is opposing his Moon, representative of Native’s physical vitality. (The opposition possibly in effect here.)
🎼Passed away during “chapter 3” of his life during a fifteen-year Aries period. With a day chart, Mars is the malefic contrary to sect and ruling this period.
🪗 His peak periods are Libra and Capricorn, with Cancer as a moderate peak and Aries as a minor peak.
☠️ Level 1 Aries —> Level 2 Cancer —> Level 3 Cancer —> Level 4 Aquarius on 1 Apr 1984
🏜️ His eight house of death is Aqua, as is his Lot of Spirit. This is not a concept at all but still interesting bc I believe I came across a similar situation with Chris Farley (I will have to check).
🏈 Did you guys know he almost played football professionally for the Detroit Lions? Then legality regarding his music career stopped it or something. But, yeah, a man of many talents!
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some random thoughts of kamen rider w that i want out of my system. — warnings? ; some spoilers here and there but not a whole lot. — a/n ; i've only made it to episode 14 of kamen rider w and i kinda want to write my thoughts out in a cool monologue like how shotaro does it. absolutely NO spoilers from anyone who has seen it— let me clown in peace over how wrong my predictions are, thanks but anyway; here go my thoughts on kamen rider w up until episode 14. opinions are subject to change after a few episodes or so.
— first thoughts on the three idiots main characters: how shotaro's introduced personally made me laugh a little bit, because of how hard he tries to emulate an 18th-century detective. that's how i knew that i would really like him and every episode so far has me really curious on how his development as a main rider will eventually look like. so far, so good! the rest of the trio (narumi, philip) are also equally as interesting. the hard part to think about is... how will narumi eventually cope with hearing the loss of her dad? ...who, mind you, we met in just the first episode. and he died. so, how will they eventually tell the tale? is this another megumi aso situation for the female lead (narumi) because it's really starting to look like it. i liked megumi though, so hopefully this development makes itself count! i'm personally more interested in how philip will develop most especially since we don't really know much about him other than the fact that he's basically this library that's stock filled with information that he has to research himself and then pass on to shotaro. ...but that also leads to a bane of his in which he's stubborn to the point that if he focuses on ONE thing that he wants to know the answer to, he won't stop until he gets it... which was evidenced in a lot of episodes. again, really solid cast so far, and i'm liking the characters already. which is quite rare.
— first thoughts on the villains: it's really hard for a series to make me hate one antagonist from the get-go, but the sonozaki family somehow made me do that perfectly. although there is one member of the family that i'm neutral on that i somewhat like as a character (for now), as there is light to darkness; so there is like to dislike. and one particular name comes to mind... that name being none other than kirihiko suda. runner up goes to his wife (fiancee?) so much so that if i wish for them to divorce already; you already did something right in terms of your writing. because jesus christ, i hate these two. here are some screenshots from a friend's dms that i took of myself.
...and that already says a lot. but for some reason, kirihiko's name, however, never fails to piss me off. WHY? let's have a quick look at some of my screenshots of me hating him on my twitter. (shameless self-promo, but do note that it is 11pm here and that i'm tired to explain why i hate him so much and my posts there are self explanitory.)
...so yeah. that's all i want to say on kirihiko. moving on. the rest of the family is clearly evil; keeping an eye on the father, though; what kind of power does he hold? it was briefly shown in the episode where w fights against the sweets memory and nazca, so i'm really curious... and... the runner-up; how is saeko related to w? we briefly see her in the first episode as her dopant form, but now that she has an importance into the story as the main villain (for now?) how will her fights against w go and how will she end up developing? as much as i dislike her so far as a character, and in terms of development (there just barely is any...) i just have a feeling that it won't extend to the one that i'm currently neutral on; wakana sonozaki. otherwisely known as wakana-hime. BUT ALSO KNOWN AS THE PERSON WHO WILL MOST LIKELY BREAK PHILIP'S HEART BECAUSE OF WHERE I AM IN THE STORY good god okay, yelling aside— i don't know why but i genuinely like her for now. of course her side gig as being an mc for a radio broadcast station is cute and all, however one specific part really got to me and it was the "heart-to-heart" scene (for lack of a better word) when philip and wakana do this... wall to wall thing where they start opening up a bit which causes philip to research more about her, which leads to her disadvantage due to one specific scene (the one where her younger brother yells at her for not being the big sister he knows...? don't remember the context exactly) and him being the curious soul that he is uses that against her right when she's about to murder someone. until nazca finishes them off in her stead for wanting to spill the details of the sonozaki family. so, that aside— my thoughts on her are, does she even have a good side to her? or is she just nothing but malice like the rest of the family? either way, i can't wait for the rest of her development overtime.
and there you have it! my thoughts on kamen rider w (so far!) i hope you enjoyed reading this despite how sidetracked i got while doing so. anyways, enjoy the rest of your day and don't die out there! (...i guess?) see you in the next entry! o7
#✃ faris says...#✃ farinsanity#first rambles post aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaugh#kamen rider#kamen rider w#kamen rider double#hidari shotaro#philip#this show will potentially be my downfall like how ryuki was for me
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just read the update on your fic and am so deeply shocked by all of the developments. i admit, i don't read through comments on popular stories because i've noticed (and as a long time fanfic reader this seems like a recent development, or at least something that's always happened but gotten particularly bad recently) there has been a general uptick in nasty and rude comments and behavior in fandoms (esp the hotd fandom where people insist on constantly being at each other's throats), and especially for works that actually provide nuanced, complicated, real characters who make real decisions that aren't always rational. and as a reader, seeing those comments even upsets ME and hurts my feelings, so i cannot imagine what that experience is like for a writer. therefore, i didn't realize there was any backlash to your latest chapter, which i thought was one of your best. i cannot overstate how much i love this story, and each of your messy delicious developments (i adored the jace/alyssane moment and all of the drama and complex emotions of it, and i adore alysanne as a MC. at the end of the day i support women's rights but i especially support women's wrongs and your alysanne feels like a real well-rounded flawed human being rather than some self-insert happy go lucky caricature). and then i read the latest announcement, and i admit, i am still not sure how your reply has offensive implications, however perhaps i lack context for the situation and what exactly happened. but either way, i really admire you for your apology and the mature way you've handled everything, and am honestly in awe of your ability to produce such high-quality work in the face of entitled commenters and remain level-headed and mature. i am so so happy to have gone on your tumblr and to see that you have been getting kind supportive comments here, and i would just like to add my voice to that support and the love and gratitude being sent to you. take all the time you need and make whatever decisions you need to make, but i truly hope you never doubt what a brilliant writer you are, and what a brilliant story this is. the past few months of my life have been a mess, and reading your hotd fics has been such a genuine bright spot by being something to help me get through each week and giving me something to look forward to. i am eternally grateful for the time and work you put into each one. sending you so much love and light. thank you!
tbh, I don't really have much energy health wise to rehash the whole situation and how everything went down. someone had been commenting on the story for a while with some entitled undertones, and then their comment on the most recent chapter (after a string of pretty severe hate - the worst of which will never see the light) caused me to lash out. after lashing out, I realized that part of my response crossed the line (bc it can be interpreted differently).
I don't have a screenshot of the OG comment that person made, but I do have a comment of my OG reply, so I guess I could share that? tho that just feels like stirring the pot again, and I don't wish to do that. idk, I've seen a few people debating whether that was offensive or not, and I don't think that's the point, you know, even if I do appreciate the support. people experience/interpret things differently.
anyhow. thanks for the statement of love! it means a lot, and I'm so glad you enjoyed the story. while I will not, and will never, unblock that user, two wrongs don't make a right and all that. I just want to move on, and the readers to move on (while taking this lesson into account). I just feel like I failed in cultivating a fun space for people, tho I suppose that might have been too big of an expectation? I've never experienced stuff like this before, and I feel like with popular(ish) stories in big fandoms it might be better for authors (or at least me) to not engage with comments.
thanks sm for reading again 💜
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A reflection on why the introductory episodes of Alchemy of Souls part 2 are putting me off so much, featuring mild spoilers:
(TLDR if you like AoS’s softer female lead as of part two ep two, I really think you’ll like the show Lighter & Princess even though it’s contemporary. Check it out!!)
To be honest, I think the reason I’m grumpy about the current direction is the exact reason other people are liking it. While both seasons lean into the salt and fat style of making entertainment (always tastes better with More), part one uses breakneck pacing and shenanigans as it’s flavoring (which I prefer) where part 2 is using wildly popular romance tropes.
IMO, part one’s buddy comedy feel suits AoS’s anachronistic hairstyles, fast and tone flopping dialogue (that part where naksu almost gives uk to the soul shifter and instead of going all angsty they have him go “hey!” never fails to crack me up) and balls to the wall world building. It’s a romance, but a romance of two people who are first and foremost partners in chaos and who treat their goals as seriously as they treat each other. While a lot of its elements are common fare for its wuxia roots (ie introducing a new technique, saying it’s impossible, and giving the MC a hack to do it anyways within 10 minutes), AoS part 1 makes itself feel fresh by not lingering on its own self importance but instead on how batshit, amoral and funny its main characters are for using duct tape power ups as they scrabble towards the finish line, all while delivering surprisingly solid character arcs that emotionally anchor the decisions about arbitrary magical problems. It reminds me of the first few episodes of sword snow stride if sword snow stride thought women were people. In other words, it’s an absolute banger.
And now part two has launched, the ostensibly darker finish. After the teasers I personally was hoping “darker” meant the same pedal to the metal feel while it treated itself less lightly. However thus far (although it’s early days), this season’s MSG seems to be “dark” id appeasing romance tropes . They’re leaning into the fairytale elements more, which could be fun, but with this comes a closed off ML/ wide eyed FL romance and resultant overwrought angst (FL in her rapunzel era! she cries defeated until he whisks away the boat!! Marriage of convenience!!! Uwu she’s too insecure to even try with the lantern :(!! “She’s my wife” FL starstruck moment 🤩!!!). Which I’m not against as a concept, by the way!! I mean I just devoured lighter and princess and that’s a whole cheesefest. But thus far naksu’s uncut sweetness makes the simultaneous attempts at chaotic hilarity not land for me, and it doesn’t really jive with the previous emotional knots driving character actions approach as much as it does an angsty arbitrary romantic drama. Case in point is the writing giving the actress very Naksu ACTIONS (entrap a strong husband at all costs!!!) while direction is likely what’s making her give the most calf eyed, spaced out performance as she does it, which barely even makes sense. She doesn’t look frustrated at all with her “mom” for trapping her, even though she plans on escaping (and wrecking the jin reputation and harming her “mom”) in the next scene? She’s desperate enough to say something as vicious as jang uk’s so alone that he should marry anyone willing, but with a soft, spineless tone? Sheltered rich girls can have a spine, just see Lighter & Princess! For me, the screenshot parallels people are posting are the real knife in the gut- why are season one’s expressions so good while season two’s are just slightly confused? The hair is still wacky, the world building’s still like swiss cheese, and everyone else is still trying to banter… and I’m supposed to be swept into this played straight disney princess routine? While people seem to be loving the love affair, I keep waiting for why I watched in the first place.
That said, Uk and the crown prince still have mad beef in a way that feels both emotionally honest and funny (CP’s reaction to the wraiths was exactly what that plot point needed to deflate its self importance), and evil guy fieri remains delightfully schemey. So maybe they’ll bring the magic back!! For now, everyone else seems to be eating up the tropes, so maybe I’ll just stay grumpy alone.
#alchemy of souls#alchemy of souls spoilers#meta#to all yall who like it fair enough!!! I’m just personally not in it
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okay here i am. get ready because i have a shit load of things to say about this beautiful piece of literature. forgive me if i dont make sense because my brain is fried.
ok first of all my fave parts. i had SO MANY that i had to abandon the screenshots so im just going to copy and paste them here because i need to talk about ALL OF THEM
"I love you..." A slam of the door. Where it all began.
the opening is so strong i love it! like i was instantly transported to the feelings of part 1!!!! ugh so good so so good and so engaging!
Harsh reality collapsed on you under impossibly strong gravity, and trapped you with one brutal swipe. Your heart was being eaten away by your acidic mind that kept on replaying, replaying, replaying the moments that had led to your metamorphosis. A catharsis in reverse, an autonomous inflictor of agony festering in every crevice.
absolutely get wrenching! im feeling mc's pain.
Numb. You were numb. Always numb. Cruising through your years, silencing any possibility of truly healing. Because no. You were not damaged - you would spit at anyone who dared to call you that. You were not hurt - no signs of weakness could be found on the surface, and this was how you were surviving. You were above it. Nothing happened. What were you talking about? Nothing. Nothing at all. That was what you kept repeating to yourself until the mantra turned into the truth. Truth be told, you were not sure what you were mourning anymore, except that if you did not, out of habit, it would hurt until you would be twisted limb by limb into submission. And the life you had chosen would begin again - new day, same mistakes.
i love how mc handles the hurt here. it's the nail on the head to me. thats one thing i love about mc in this fic is that she feels real and raw she's a person with flaws and history and such a rich colourful background. and one of her flaws is unhealthy coping mechanism like this: denial. i love this
That was how the three little words, in that haunting sequence, came to be your personal poltergeist; a curse to summon a despicable demon that you vowed to never utter. Bloody Mary, Beetlejuice - sure. Just not those three words. They had lost their significance aside from being the root of your troubles and despair. The words did not mean a person would stay. The words were not a promise that you would not be hurt. The words were not a shield that you could hide behind. So instead, you took to sharpening knives, being a spiteful hedonist in search of the last laugh.
thats excatly what i meant!!!!!!!!!!!!!! mc has a history it's not explicitly developped but as a reader you can easily imagine that she was hurt deeply in her past and she has not overcome the pain yet. so she chose to just shield herself from pain and therefore from love also, because the two are indiscernible.
The last time you had heard him use such a soft tone was when you had come with him to visit a friend’s newborn – and even then, he had to have been reminded to ‘shut it or he would be on nappy changing duties for a week’. It made you want to scream, act out, anything to push away this coddling and belittling that was passed off as sympathy. Oh, how you despised when people seemed to walk on eggshells around you. There always existed a desire within you to prove to others that you never needed help, or at least would never ask for it explicitly. That was why, even now, during your rather turbulent departure from the first night in a while that you knew you would not forget no matter how much you might want to, you did not want to play it cool. You needed to.
i get her!!!!!! thats one of the reason why i think people struggle with being vulnerable. feeling pitied is belittling but i think some times we fail sympathy for pity. thats sad but im like her. mc you have to understand people can also just feel your pain and feel sorry WITH you not FOR you <3. (can i hug mc and heal her please ;~;)
Time to take matters into your own hands, and that meant a new dress, a new pair of heels, a new club and a new accessory for one night.
once again i lvoed that she is returning to her old paterns after the three words incident with mister tall sweetheart because it's the only thing she knows and it feels real.
You needed to escape, find a cure to this turmoil before you succumbed to the idea that anyone could care about you more than for a night.
WHO HURT HER?????? i wanna hug her and repair her! mc you ARE wirthy of love! just open your heart to it i know it's scary but you can do it! there's much to love about you!
"And with what purpose, sweetheart?" Chuckling airily, you pulled him even closer, until he smirked and wrapped his hands around your waist, more determined, more aggressive and expectant of a continuation in this dangerous game. "So that I know what I'll be screaming tonight."
omg she's so smooth!!! fuck if mc came to me and said that i'd fold IMMEDIATLY! she's so hot i think i have a crush on her </3 (also i would pull a mingi and say i love you within 2 minutes of speaking to each other)
“Trying to forget someone?” “I don’t exactly fuck emotional baggage, if you get what I mean.”
omg yunho!!!!!! he picked up on her immediately. im guessing she was very obvious but also props to him for not taking advantage of a person when they are in a bad situation. i respect that (also havent mentioned that before but he's so hot in this fic like please help me lord)
“Alas, you are in too deep I fear.” “Am not.” you hissed out, brows knitting together as you desperately clung onto the present, only to hear and see the same voice, the same words, the same man who you were so adamant to erase. With every sentence uttered by the man, Mingi became more prominent. A laughing stock to the self and to all others - you shook your head. What had gotten into you?
mingi is the solution girl! just let him in!!!!! he's good for you!!!!!! honestly im really feeling this part because i can relate on a molecular level. mingi is the evidence. he's the answer to everything! he's my universe <3
They knew that you were a slave to the escapism, knew that you were a creature of lascivious habit, knew that you were thoughtlessly hurting the people you loved-
CUE ESCAPISM BY RAYE!!!!!! that song is so fitting for mc! except in the song she's trying to get over a break up and mc is trying to prevent a break up she feels is inevitable. they're both essentially fleeing heartache. i love that song and mc <3
This was how it always happened: drawn in by the attention, promised a future and wholehearted adoration, you gave your all, only for the one who dared to utter the words to step away, having fulfilled their needs. ‘I love you’ was an exchange token, and apparently, your local currency. Like a penny out of rotation, those words should not hold any meaning, but they did, and you hated yourself for it. You hated how easily they had rolled off Mingi’s tongue, hated how they replayed in your head more times than you could process, hated how they were the words you wanted to hear again. Out of all the words in every language, these were the ones that introduced pain to the world.
the metaphore is incredible!!!!! for mc love is a currency and it explains so much!!!! to her love is something you exchange for something else. it has a motive and a reason it can't be free! to mc no one loves anyone just because there's always a transaction going on and that is exactly how she interects with love. she buys the intimacy and epheneral affection from stranger in exchange of sexual favors. but she knows thats ot how mingi views it and she's struggling to understand that
Not in the contacts, but in the myriad of messages you had left on read - another pattern characteristic of yours. It was not that you wanted to leave people behind, but your hands never felt strong enough to respond, and your thoughts could never tie together a satisfactory response. So you stayed silent.
okay is mc me??? that was personal :''''''''(((((( (mc might have social anxiety much like yours truly haha)
“Uh… it’s… midnight or something… y/n?” his husky voice, husky, warmer than the summer sun answered you.
the way i felt like a flower bloomed in my chest when i read that. he's so sweet and adorable! picking up the phone in the middle of the night because it's her <3 and also the sleepy husky voice ????????? like *melts into a puddle* like have you heard mingi's regular voice ????? it's already deeper then Nietzsche's scritures!!!! so when he's sleepy!!!!! (that makes me think of that one vlog where he visits his mom and the video starts with him still in bed and omg that voice!!!!!!!!!!)
“Street? Sign? Anything? Cat,” he paused, exhaling, “...talk to me.” “About…?” you asked, not catching onto what he meant. “About the damn location. I am coming to get you.”
my knight in shining armor <333333 im falling in love all over again.
“Location, for fuck’s sake. Check the street name or something. Can you walk?” he shot back, louder than before, speaking right into the microphone, the last bits of sleep evaporating from his tone, leaving behind the deep vocal ocean that you wanted to drown in.
ok first of all mingi frustrated and swearing??? yes please i want more. and also bai!!!!!! again with the voice description!!!!! i cantttttttttt!!! at this point it's a murder atempt!!!
After two weeks of nothing, for him to jump at the first call - he was clearly making the same mistakes, every turn a wrong one. If scouting clubs for the next pleasure hit was your addiction, burning himself on your flames was his. In the icy silence his days had been serene, and he hated it.
mc isnt the only juming into her old paterns! also the parallele you did with him driving and also making the wring decisions!!! it's abosuletly perfect!! (the way you write baiiiiii!!!!!!! i cant)
Running a hand through his hair, short and strawberry blonde, hints of pink across the strands giving way to darker roots, he tried to calm his nerves
THIS IS IT! THIS IS THE MOMENT I QUIT!!!!!!! strawberry blond mingi is my weakness!!!!!! what i would give to be able to ruffle his hair *screams of endless suffering*!!!! he's so handsome and perfect and i love him!!!!
The only thing on your mind was the comfort that was Mingi himself. How he had pulled you closer, and your hands landed on his broad chest. Hands snaking under the varsity jacket he put over a cotton tee, you felt your fingers warming up, the toned, sculpted beauty underneath turning into an alluring stability. There was nothing stopping you from closing the space, was there? Squinting, you took in his face, gasping as he turned away from you, revealing his side profile. Glasses, perfectly perched on the bridge of his nose, ever so slightly parted lips, a determined scrutiny of whatever it was that was in front of him. You could almost taste it.
the way i visualized EVERY SINGLE DETAIL (mingi of the moodboard popped off immediatly) the varsity jacket!!! the blond heir!!! the damn glasses!!!! the side profil that i love so much because he has such sharp features with the long noe and the strong brow bone ughhhhhhh (it's the end for me bai i cant go on) HES EVERYTHING HES PERFECTION!!!!!! and he is my comfort!!!
He had not been fully asleep, simply spent and trustful, but everything stopped him from following you. As if a spear had mounted him to the bed - he was nothing more than a feeble bug on display, rotting. There was nothing he could have done, he was sure, except maybe not saying what he had said. In retrospect it was easy to see that those three words had been the final shot in the torn up heart. So, for the better, he was not going to say them, and pretend he never did, if that was what was going to let you sleep better and recover.
the actual POETRY IN THIS IRONY!!!! the fact the three words were necessary for him and dreaded by her! Mingi needed to say them to be saved. he loved her for so long from the shadows and he just needed to! and mc well those words just shattered her walls and they touched her in the soul and it hurt her! and mingi knows that so he chooses to go back to the shadow..... the selflessness...... he's an angel
He was definitely mad. The anxiety that had been resting on your shoulders like a foul beast stirred awake, digging its nails into your skin until the question you asked far too often slipped away from you, throwing you back into your antique patterns, ones you thought you had buried for good. “Are you mad at me?” you sounded timid, and a hand instantly flew to your mouth, clumsily covering it. Mingi’s eyes shot open, him giving you a once over from his leaned back position. Sitting up, he raised an eyebrow.
oooh i can definately feel the burried trauma here. i love how you never made it obvious what made her like that but you still managed to make her so coherent in her responses it's amazing. YOURE an amazing story teller
You were speeding up, forgetting air, forgetting that you were safe. You imagined yourself to be in the middle of the ocean, clambering for anything to hold on to. But the more you struggled, the less you could see, and yet you could only continue speaking. Faster, faster, filling the emptiness with your every thought as if there was no space neither in your heart nor your mind to keep them close and safe.
she's so scared :'(((( i wanna hold her.
“I… brush my teeth, fix my hair and clothes… make breakfast… call you," you stopped, staring into his dark eyes, shining with bittersweet tenderness. For the first time, he wanted to believe that you indeed were drunk. “Call me?” “...I was planning to…” “Even if you found someone?”
the fact that he doesn't let himself be happy. he really should be happy mc was planning to call him but he's been so hurt he doesn't want to be disapointed
“What’s got you so into it now?” “My choice,” you echoed his words, earning an amused smirk.
she's such a smartass even now haha i love her.
“Kiss me now?” The question sounded more like an offer. Like you were placing your attention for sale, thinking that this was enough to establish a connection. “Nope.” “Why not?” Mingi wanted to collapse. Your eyes, the tremble in your voice, how you looked with his jacket still draped over your shoulders had him wrapped around your finger. He did want to kiss you, a little too much, if he were to be honest. And that was exactly why he backed away. If you had meant what you confessed, you would be able to say the same thing in the morning, and to his face. If you had been meaning to call him, you would be able to call out his name and be honest in wishing to see him, to be with him. “I’ll kiss you when you’re fully sober, okay?”
mingi is so much stronger than me omg!!!! hoenstly i would have folded ages ago because im weak as shit!!!! he's a hero he's a legend.
Mingi was a man of logic, preferring to set things up onto metaphorical shelves, and in his work he was known to be a brilliant theorist, consulted on matters of analysis and diagnostics. The idea of a situationship, no strings attached and any other synonyms irked him, and the more he looked at you, and how you gazed at him so serenely, the more he wanted to put his foot down and ask you to decide. But if you had set your mind on tomorrow - or as the clocks were saying later today, he had to do what he did best - wait. It had been two weeks. What would a few more hours do except give you time to sober up and figure out what it was that you wanted from him and yourself?
ughhh this >>>>>>>> i love that you described mingi is a logical man because i really think he is (i mean he's enTp). and then the fact that he's best at waiting IM HURTINGGGG!!!! like he's been waiting for so long and he's ready to do it again :(((((
The man who kept on giving to a person who kept on taking.
thisssss idk what to say. i think it says a lot about how mc sees herself she feels like she's the selfish one and i think in a sence she is but i think it's because she's so so scared of giving. she's scared of letting anyone in. and on the other hand he cant help but give her his all :(((((((
“I want to fall in love with you.” A laugh involuntarily flew from his chest, like a slap across your face.
ughhhhh my heartttttt </3333
“Some things you should face yourself, I can only point you in the right direction. I can see that this goes beyond anything that either of us could mention or explore right now, and I hate to say it but there is no magic cure or something. It takes time and effort,” Mingi wrapped his arms tighter, one hand starting to pat the back of your head absent-mindedly, focusing on the sensation of each strand against his palm, “but what I can do is be here. For you. And if you want to, for us. How does that sound?” “Like it’s too good to be true. I don’t deserve you.” “No one deserves anyone. We just fit together, and we will make things work. Step by step,” Mingi made it sound easy. You wanted to believe him.
THAT IS EVERYTHINGGGG!!!!!! i am a firm beliver that soulmate like you see in fiction do not exist!!! your soulmate is someone thats willing to work with you and that you think is worthy working with. any relationship is work and it's from both sides!!! it's not always about meeting halfway. it's about somedays your partner cant do anyof the way so you go all the way and some days it's the other way around!!!! mingi here's has been goign all the way for so long! but he gets ittttt!!!!!! i love him even more.
“Maybe a change of…” you glanced at the couch, “location would do you some good?” detangling yourself, the suggestion was made with a simple turn of the head, which Mingi agreed to with a curt nod, and a removal of his glasses.
not me nearly throwing my laptop through the window thinking of that one KISS SCENE FROM BUSINESS PROPOSAL arghhhhhhh this scene is everything
Mingi resisted. As much as he was seeking the same contact, the tinge of regret for giving his heart up so easily was prominent, a scalding hot iron. It was too much - lying under the blanket of agitated stillness, pressure coiling at an astonishing speed as your eyes turned into the one universe he could care to exist in. Without realising it, he had turned towards you for a better angle, placing himself on your altar. Fingers ghosted over the sensitive skin under his ear, gently running through his blonde locks. Every brush of your hand against him was an unbearable fire, melting him into submission; nothing more than a servant in the sultry fog. It was impossible to answer how you were able to do this, and why Mingi was allowing you to, but just like everything else, it felt right, regardless of how dark the future could be. In what you had proclaimed to be a ‘mess’, he felt alive, human. For some, addiction was measured in degrees and in there being less and less memories as time went by - for him, it was in the syllables of your name, in the taste of your lips when he could not hold back any longer and closed the gap between you, sighing as the he could finally relive the sensation that had been haunting him every minute, be he asleep or awake.
I ASCENDEDDDDD!!!! this whole paragraph was distilled perfection!!!!! you're a poet bai!!!! you're an artist!!!! that is the literal definition of art! art is supposed to make you feel things and righ there I FELT ALL OF THE THINGS!!!!!
“Take me on a date first,” Mingi teased with a wink. Caressing his cheek, you kissed the tip of his nose, making him scrunch it. “What a precious princess,
omg they are too cute im gonna cryyyyy fr fr!!!!! like bro letirally begged her to use him and now he's all cocky and her???? calling him princess again??????? im meltingggggg!!!!! they were made for each other argue with the wall
“Can you… keep the shirt on?”
when i tell you i LOST MY FREAKING MIND when i read this?????? OMGGGGGGGG mc is so much stronger then me because i would have finished on the spot hahahah
“Is this how you want me, doll?” the pet name sent a jolt through you and you let out a shaky breath, leaving yourself to be supported by an equally taken Mingi, whose growing bulge was now poking against your knee. “Doll?”
BROKEN LIGHT PANIC 묶여 닫힌 체인 YOU COULD BE MY DOLL
The light tang was suddenly your favourite flavour, and you resumed your pumping, milking Mingi of all his nectar with a greedy forcefulness. He tasted like he was completely yours.
im O_O thats so hot im just dsksdlflsdfldsfkldmfkmsfks “How? Are you asking how people go on dates?” “I guess…” “Well then I’ll have to show you.” As you lost yourself in another kiss, a thought, or more accurately, a small yet persistent wish buried itself in your mind. With all your being, you hoped that on this date, in every step towards new tomorrows, it would be only you and Mingi, and the metaphorical doors would remain shut, isolating and erasing your past. After all, you did not want to use him.
im crying for all of eternity and im very grateful.
and for the overall review :
honestly ive said countless times but you know exactly how to make the characters alive and real!!! and here????? my god the characte development is absolutely divine!!!!!! both of them they came such a long way!!!!!! mc has a lot of healing to do but she has taken the first steps and mingi i loved how he leraned about his own boundaries in this part it was absolutely perfect!!! i lvoe how they both acknowledged each other as a imperfect human beong and they are both willing to put in the work to make this relationship a real thing where they both nurture love and and they prioritize healing an healthy boundaries...... thats so beautiful!!
also throught out the whole piece they were parts were your phrasing, wording was so poetic! it was arttttt!!!!! you used beautiful imagery and metaphores to make very untangible concepts very real!!! raw even!!!! i felt their pain their trauma their LOVE!!!!!! I FELT IT ALLLL
the conclusion was so good!!!!! it felt natural! nothign felt rushed! the pacing was prefect!!! i was sooo hooked to it from the beggining to the end!!!!
so THANK YOU FOR WRITING THIS MASTERPIECE!!!!! I CAN NEVER THANK YOU ENOUGHT FOR BLESSING US WITH THIS MASTERPIECE!!!!!! YOU TRULY ARE AN ANGEL!!!!
love you bai <3
Use me (part 2)
THIS IS 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI FOR LEO KING'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut)
(part 1) (masterlist) (perma-taglist)
🥂 pairing: non-idol!mingi x fem!reader (implied yun... x reader - i wonder who...) 🥂 genre: smut, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers-ish 🥂 summary: you try to forget and return to what you know best, but what is on a sober mind quickly turns into a drunk phone call and a life-changing confession. 🥂 wordcount: 22.5k 🥂 warnings/tags: language, alcohol/drinking, over-drinking/being drunk, toxic behaviour, risky behaviour, unhealthy coping, trauma, implied past abuse/assault, flashbacks, numbing, one night stands, learning to love, learning to feel, mingi driving through the night, implied psychologist!mingi as job, fools in love and lust 🥂 taglist: at the bottom of the fic~ 🥂 a/n: this has been long in the works, first as a haunting thought, then as what you may see here. i'd love to dedicate this fic to @byuntrash101 <3 thank you for your continued support, for our love and friendship <3 to everyone, i appreciate you all, any and all reblogs, notes, thoughts appreciated, much love!
🥂 nsfw tags: dom-leaning switch!reaader, sub-leaning switch!mingi, protected sex, thigh riding, fingering, handjob, blowjob, facial, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, implied squirting, dirty talk, pet names (darling, doll, gorgeous... others...), loving talk/pillow talk, mentioned aftercare and general gentleness, reader is sober atp, explicit asking for consent, wearing mingi's t-shirt, a lot of kissing because they are all over each other, a whole lot of doting, sex that is like a hug
"I love you..."
A slam of the door.
Where it all began.
You. Left in a loud solitude. Ceasing to stifle your sobs with your tee and letting out an animalistic cry. An innocent creature who trusted unconditionally, only to be shot at point blank and abandoned once the fun chase was over. There was no one out there except yourself to mourn your loss. Trapped in a dark room for what you believed to be the rest of your years.
Harsh reality collapsed on you under impossibly strong gravity, and trapped you with one brutal swipe. Your heart was being eaten away by your acidic mind that kept on replaying, replaying, replaying the moments that had led to your metamorphosis. A catharsis in reverse, an autonomous inflictor of agony festering in every crevice.
It was funny how one's thoughts could be so lucid, come the worst. You could clearly recollect just how grateful you had been that your mother, as always, was out of town, and upon her return would be in oblivious bliss, and how ‘wonderful’ it was that there was nothing to look forward to for the next day. Or perhaps ever. You did not want to lift your hopes again and again only for them to descend faster than light to the pits of hell signed with your name. No need. There was enough time to prepare your space, invite and get to know your unrelenting demons before the alarms reminding you of basic social functioning would ring, and your body would be torn from your whirlpool of torment to enter the hustle and bustle of crowds. Not one person was aware of who they were walking with. Who they were walking past. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder, and you tore yours out in an effort to distort and move on.
The luxury of time before the ringing of the digital bells. You could cleanse yourself until your skin was no longer yours, until what remained of your willingness to perceive could spot the etchings of a body. You could cut out every part of you that served as a reminder. Subject each one to the savage ritual, until you were pure. The perfect angel once more, no longer decorated in shades of blue and maroon inside and out. You could remove each lobe, each cortex of your brain and douse it in the strongest agents, and to the rhythm of the rippling waters from the sink submerge them in the illusion of bliss.
And yet, you had not moved an inch, choosing to remain as a stranger in your own flesh.
You could fight back. You could rise above and spit the venom of the scorned and those isolated by societal hellfire, raise the flag and tell the story of those who could not. Be larger than yourself, a self-starting role model, redefine yourself as someone who used their past as motivation, as a foundation for unshakeable morals that would lead you to a humanity-changing greatness.
But what good was it when you stopped feeling? What happened? Who were you?
It was a wave that took you in, providing you the satisfaction of prolonged sensory suffocation, suspending you in senseless attitude, order, and disposition. The self-hating rebellion that had reared its head and manifested itself within you, turned you into something out of a nightmare. But you had never realised just how intricate and terrifying was the persona you had materialised within yourself. The cavities and taboos that had now become intricacies and embellishments of the scarred soul would have been repulsive to you before. To the one who existed before that damned day, hour, minute, second.
Numb. You were numb. Always numb. Cruising through your years, silencing any possibility of truly healing. Because no. You were not damaged - you would spit at anyone who dared to call you that. You were not hurt - no signs of weakness could be found on the surface, and this was how you were surviving. You were above it. Nothing happened. What were you talking about? Nothing. Nothing at all. That was what you kept repeating to yourself until the mantra turned into the truth. Truth be told, you were not sure what you were mourning anymore, except that if you did not, out of habit, it would hurt until you would be twisted limb by limb into submission. And the life you had chosen would begin again - new day, same mistakes.
In the process of your radical renaissance into a fatal night-time goddess, you did try to find love. Those had been the last cries of a helpless bird plummeting from the sky. But it all cycled back to the same old thing. Besides, if nobody around you knew what love was, how could you be expected to comprehend, let alone give it? You could not be bothered to believe that there were outliers, nor delve into the reasons why things like ‘friends’ ever stuck around. You lived, you breathed, and that was good enough. You wanted to purge yourself of love.
That was how the three little words, in that haunting sequence, came to be your personal poltergeist; a curse to summon a despicable demon that you vowed to never utter. Bloody Mary, Beetlejuice - sure. Just not those three words. They had lost their significance aside from being the root of your troubles and despair. The words did not mean a person would stay. The words were not a promise that you would not be hurt. The words were not a shield that you could hide behind. So instead, you took to sharpening knives, being a spiteful hedonist in search of the last laugh.
Little did you know, love was a creative sadistic monster, and had been by your side all this time. It chose to attack you during the most pleasurable high – one that you had crafted and followed in perfunctory resistance.
"I love you, Y/N..."
It was almost the same. Only this time, it was you shutting the door. Running from yourself.
Your getup appeared almost comical now, as you sat, doubled over on the sofa in Wooyoung’s and San’s apartment. What had been a stunning pair of pumps was now a miserable member of the abandoned shoe society, piled in a corner right by the entrance and masked by an ancient collection of plastic bags, courtesy of San’s resourcefulness. The black dress that was threatening to ride further and further up your thighs at any moment was nothing more than shame vehemently clinging onto your skin.
While you were combating the whirring tornado of short- and long-term memories with a bouncing leg and a zoned-out stare into the carpet, your friends remained equally silent, knowing better than to disturb. Over the years they had never asked why you did things the way you did. They merely learned the patterns and accepted you as you were – an action for which you could never repay them, so you simply hoped that, at least sometimes, you were doing the same if they needed it.
Your cryptic sequence was broken only when you felt a warm fabric being draped over your shoulders, making you instantly stiffen, alert. The rush of foreign sensations made you gasp as your eyes darted up, to be met by San’s, who was sitting across from you on a faux leather ottoman. You had no recollection of when he had moved it from its original position by the wall, between the TV stand and an indoor palm tree, and it made you strangely guilty. You really had a knack for not paying attention to those close to you.
When San noticed your unfocused gaze, he slowly raised both of his hands, palms up, inhaling at the same time, and then lowering them, along with an audible, level exhale. You chuckled, making him break into a small grin – you were coming back. Not quite ready to touch what appeared to be a jacket or cardigan that was now embracing you, you put your own hands between your thighs, feeling their miniscule tremors as the adrenaline high subsided.
“You’re literally shivering, Y/N. Do you want me to, uh, bring you a blanket? We have a nice wool throw; a gift from San’s… mom… so you know it’s going to be cosy.” Wooyoung cautiously explained to you in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. He was standing off to your right, arms crossed.
The last time you had heard him use such a soft tone was when you had come with him to visit a friend’s newborn – and even then, he had to have been reminded to ‘shut it or he would be on nappy changing duties for a week’. It made you want to scream, act out, anything to push away this coddling and belittling that was passed off as sympathy. Oh, how you despised when people seemed to walk on eggshells around you. There always existed a desire within you to prove to others that you never needed help, or at least would never ask for it explicitly. That was why, even now, during your rather turbulent departure from the first night in a while that you knew you would not forget no matter how much you might want to, you did not want to play it cool. You needed to.
“That’s because you guys appear to be saving on your electricity bills. I told you: an apartment with heated floors is a bad idea.” you attempted to keep your voice level, but it remained airy and weak, wholly ignoring your efforts. It was as if somehow, your body was physically worn from the marathons you ran in your mind.
“But it keeps my feet nice and toasty.” Wooyoung whined and wiggled his toes demonstratively
“Which is why you… ah nevermind. Cool apartment, either way. I knew you guys were secretly interior designers.”
The topic change helped you get more comfortable in your skin. You finally managed to find the energy and courage to grab onto the edges of the jacket, which had turned out to be Wooyoung’s beloved grey fleece zip up hoodie and pull it tighter around you. It wasn’t so hard to recognise the relief that had washed over your friends’ features as they saw you carry out the simple motion. It really was cold. Though you had no way to distinguish between the internal and external.
As you transitioned from reliving the past to inching through the present, step by step until you found yourself leaning against a kitchen counter with a mug of hot coffee cradled in your hands, your habitual mindset returned. The lines, turned stark and agonising after hearing those forbidden words had regained their hazy infusion, reinvigorating you with a pleasant buzz of numbness, reminiscent of the prickly sensation when muscles just began to wake up, albeit more lulling, something only a person who was alive in the soul was capable of experiencing. It was not long until your friends’ suggestions and extensive monologues began to fall flat on your ears, drifting through your body and expelling themselves to never be remembered. You watched their lips move, their hands paint pictures of a future for you in the air, and yet it all turned to darkness. You swiftly turned the lights off to their reprimands, their comfort, just like you had done before. It was clear that they did not expect much from you either, otherwise why would they sound so well-practised? A sense of deja vu washed over you; as if you had been in the same place before, with the same heavy weight in your chest, cradling the same mug and drinking the same beverage. Were you ever going to change?
Wouldn't it be funny if you knew how to follow advice? Technically you did. For an entire two weeks thanks to Wooyoung and San forcing you into a movie night with them on the Friday in the middle of the madness - you do not remember a single one of the movies watched, all of them having turned into a blur, and you: a jittery mess. You needed your weekly diversion, your sensual fix that you had ingrained into your routine as if it was yoga or pilates. Tom-ay-to, tom-ah-to. Your version was just a lot more exciting than the average physical exertion in the name of wellbeing. So as you had sat between your two friends, with San having his hand lazily thrown over your shoulders, serving as your head rest, and Wooyoung having made your lap into his pillow, you envisioned a different comfort for yourself. All this cosiness was making you choke, suffocating you as an anaconda would at an astonishingly fast pace, and you could feel that another second more and you would prefer to call your closest friends - strangers. You needed out; at least one day of the week, like you three had done previously. You had tried to hint to San that maybe returning into the swing of things would let his heartbreak pass more quickly, but he only patted your head and gave you a melancholy smile. Though you had returned it, just to soften the blow and reassure him through his romantic solitude, behind your cheek was a bitten tongue, acting as the last straw between your molars and preventing you from making matters worse - at least for San and Wooyoung. You had nothing to say for yourself; actually, you never did. You were never one for self-descriptions or elaborations, preferring to show and not tell. Another reason why in this platonic silence, you were being driven into craving your favourite meal of depravity, where the only language spoken was that of action and seduction. If you were to succeed in moving on from the mistake that still lingered on your skin - kisses trailing the mazes of your body and ghosting over your lips, you needed to erase them by the same method. Time to take matters into your own hands, and that meant a new dress, a new pair of heels, a new club and a new accessory for one night.
You could not hear anyone nor anything. Most importantly, you could not hear your erratic heartbeat, nor the thoughts that were looming over you and speeding around your mind palace. No - if anything was going to take your breath away, it would be the lips of another stranger. Anything to erase the ones that were too laden with emotion, too laden with affection and infatuation for you. A toxic poison that had transferred right into your bloodstream and was beginning to eat you alive. You needed to escape, find a cure to this turmoil before you succumbed to the idea that anyone could care about you more than for a night. There was satisfaction in routine, in a fluorescent madness that was systematically established in your life as a way to let go, thereby gain control. You needed a hit, badly, and one so strong that the weekend would not exist for you, and Mingi's lingering touches would be fully wiped from your body. How dare he spill his darkest secrets to you, mixing nightmare with the ultimate fantasy? He was going to pay for thinking that he could control you in this way and spin threads out of your soul, not by confrontation, but by your sheer indifference. He was just a man, you had repeated to yourself like a mantra as you stepped into a club in a completely different part of town, looking ever so stunning in a deep burgundy dress; he had no influence over your actions and you owed him nothing, not even an explanation. Obviously, he was the one who had overstepped boundaries that he was supposed to sense were there, so why should you consider his melancholic eyes, the sunny smile that had set as soon as he would wake up to see you gone, the-
No. No more Mingi. Only the beautiful stranger who was devouring you with his alluring orbs, looking past his friends and making you feel as though you were the sole being in that hall. This was the man who could help you forget, at least you hoped he would. Sauntering straight to the bar, you did not spare him as much as a glance when his figure drifted past you. You could sense more gazes following you, just how you always liked it, burning away those adoring caresses that made your skin crawl; you needed a sensory and sensual apocalypse, a purgatory for the damned, reducing your life back to that familiar sin that tasted so sweet and was a stone cold bitch in the morning. You were not some frail creature waiting for a proclamation of love for the sake of validation, nor were you a seeker of such types of closeness - if anyone, it was you who knew it was more fleeting than a good fuck. At least there was satisfaction and sport to gain from the later, and the heart remained caged and untouched. It was not hard to be animalistic, all you needed to do was to give up ruminating those classic "do they like me do they not", and slam the door to social niceties shut. There was no room for feelings when you needed to fly from the tormenting earth, for they were too heavy - a ballast that you needed to rid yourself of as soon as you could. The haze, you needed to give into the tipsy haze; one drink, another, and the world was beautiful. Stunning, even. The blur was an acute desire, accentuating sensuality and letting you transform into the killer queen of the night.
In this wondrous dissociation, you could not care less about who you were nor who the people around you paraded themselves as. It was all a play-pretend, and may the most talented actors win. No one came to the club to fall in love, and if they did, they were sure to have their heart broken and stomped on, over and over, and over again. Finishing the last of your old fashioned - a drink which you had been introduced to by none other than your friend Wooyoung, you decided that it was time to let yourself go on the dance floor, only to be followed suit by the tall man whom you had subconsciously beckoned. Clearly, he was interested in the same exact thing, and took no time in approaching you, disregarding all other people, and laying a hand on your hip to lead you in a sultry, rhythmic dance further igniting your hope and anticipating desire. You chuckled to yourself as you felt that familiar buzz once more, and studied the way in which your temporary partner's muscles moved in an unbelievably enticing manner under his shirt - material for your lustful imagination. The heat from his body was addictive, and the adrenaline and dopamine-fuelled pace at which you moved to the intense beat left you even more determined than usual. You needed him. You needed this stranger, depended on him and trusted him more than any of your friends, and definitely more than a certain someone who thought he could be something more. As you took your so-called saviour by the collar and tugged so he would be only an inch away, you finally asked his name. His eyes revealed a flash of lasciviousness, just how you wanted, and he sent a shiver down your spine as he whispered back:
"And with what purpose, sweetheart?" Chuckling airily, you pulled him even closer, until he smirked and wrapped his hands around your waist, more determined, more aggressive and expectant of a continuation in this dangerous game.
"So that I know what I'll be screaming tonight."
For a second, you felt him falter, breath hitching as he took in your words, causing fear to rise in your chest as a flash of the timid lovesick angel ran across your vision, and you could almost picture Mingi instead of the canvas for a good night who you were seducing. But this did not last nearly long enough for you to back down, and a line of kisses along the jawline, intimate yet loveless, purely carnal and revering your determination confirmed your selection. This man was on your wavelength, and this man was:
"Bold of you to assume that you’ll be able to, sweetheart. I dare say it won’t be usef-."
Use me.
The phrase flashed in your mind just as the attractive man closed the space between you, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. Without as much as a pause, he tilted your head slightly, giving himself a better angle to lightly nibble on your lower lip, sending a shudder down your back. Fingers digging into your skin as he swallowed another sigh - a fragment of your tainted soul for him to keep, he was the embodiment of addiction. The luminance from the neon hallucinations that surrounded you were decorating your and his skin in vibrant greens and purples. He was confident, self-assured, leading despite possessing the hints of an otherwise reserved man. Your thoughts involuntarily drifted to a certain bashful someone who had ended up with you at the wrong place, at the wrong time, and you - in the wrong mindset. Tonight, you wanted to be used. This much you deserved and required in order to purge yourself of this newfound tendency to reminisce and compare everything against Mingi. Who were you? The one you chose to entertain yourself with tonight had his teasing tongue against your lips, not exactly asking for access - demanding it, and it reeled you back into the whirlpool of a daze that came with the deafening drumming of desire, growing louder and louder until nothing else would exist.
His touch - you were caught ablaze as you let him guide your footing off the dance floor and into the dimming lights towards the edges of the club’s main hall. His torso pressed against you, strong arm hooked around your upper body as he kissed the side of your neck. One blink, another and your back was pressed against a cool wall in the corridor that ran around the establishment’s perimeter, rarely traversed, often used by the likes of you and evidently, him. You could not bear to open your eyes out of fear of finding someone you did not want to see - the intensity of your recollections growing stronger with every arousing movement. The same high that you normally would be building up towards was nowhere to be sensed while your nameless lover reached for your breast, cupping and kneading it with an open, salacious wanting. There was little left to the imagination, just as you had initially wanted, and yet something was missing from the series of events that the universe offered to you; the storyline that you had crafted was beginning to get dreary. Squinting down to force yourself into this darling’s passionate kisses, you still struggled to rid yourself of the monologues, the fears and most importantly, the terror-inducing phrase that had pierced through your heart and left shrapnel in every organ, turning into butterflies in your stomach and flowers in your lungs. It hurt to discover yourself in the same situation as before, always looking for something and someone better. Clearly, your stalling and rapid cooldown had not gone unnoticed as the man pulled away, hands back on your hips, one lifting to readjust your dress a little. What had been the glare of a predator was replaced with an almost friendly concern, and the danger which you had craved a mere few minutes ago evaporated, leaving behind an approachable gentleman, the swiftness of the change nearly giving you whiplash.
“Trying to forget someone?”
The question was jarring, somehow more jarring than how he was now presenting himself. With a glance to either side, he took you by the hand, leading you away from what was about to be your scene for a one night stand and back to the main hall. Stumbling over your feet you barely kept up with his pace, his taste, his scent still consuming you and rendering you to move and think slower, the combination with the ringing of alcohol in your bloodstream proving to be reckless, nearly deadly. As the thrum of a hip hop track reset the heart’s pace, jolting you awake and clambering for any kind of reassurance, your eyes met the tall beau’s gaze once again. He had smoothed the locks that you had ruffled, his slightly swollen lips, curled into a lopsided grin being the only sign of what had just unfolded. You could not help but raise an eyebrow, only now registering his question and deeming the gesture to be an appropriate response.
“I don’t exactly fuck emotional baggage, if you get what I mean.”
“Ouch, but fair.” breathless, you squeezed the answer out of your throat, unsteady.
“Glad we understand each other, uh…” he trailed off, attempting to recall the name you did not give. You tilted your head, trying to do the same for him, but failing to find an answer. Did it slip your mind? The recent past turned to centuries, accelerating into emptiness.
“Hm?”
“Yeah. Just, glad we’re on the same page, I guess.” he cleared his throat, looking back at the vibrancy of dance and sensuality unfolding before you. The music changed once more - once again, another song about a body count and about substances that you would never mention in the daytime. At least not yet. Your head began to hurt, perhaps only a little more than your heart.
“Y/N.”
“Mm…ha. Nice to meet you. You can call me… Yun.” he deliberated for a while before giving you what you assumed to be either a nickname, or a parting gift of a syllable just for you.
“Nice to meet you, Yun.”
Rubbing the back of his neck, it was clear that he was looking for the right words to let you down slowly and make a swift escape back to his own life, his own friends, his own respective path that was far from yours. Very likely, as it should be. With a sharp exhale, you smiled, making it your turn to induce perplexion. With every vice came sacrifice and risk, and this type was far too common. Be it from starting on the wrong foot or losing the rhythm and steam in the process, two people under the cover of night with nothing tying them together were bound to drift away, it was simply a matter of when. Evidently this was happening sooner rather than later for you and what you had been hoping would be a solution to your anguish. It had to have been your fault, you told yourself while an unreadable gleam settled on your features and you gave the man a single wave to suggest that he need not bother with excessive politeness - after all you had gotten to know each other well enough for that, at least in your books.
“Guess I am right then.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Your reaction.”
“Meet quote unquote emotional women often?”
“They seem to be my type.” you chuckled as he shifted his stance and took a step closer to you, only to turn his body to observe the dance floor while standing by your side. As friends would. An involuntary memory stabbed at your side one again as you mumbled back:
“Maybe you’re a magnet.”
“I don’t mind when they look so good,” with a look to the side, Yun regarded your pose - leaning against the wall, arms crossed, previous aims for allure forgotten as your eased into a more comfortable back and forth, the rush ebbing away to be replaced with an anxious dissatisfaction, “Alas, you are in too deep I fear.”
“Am not.” you hissed out, brows knitting together as you desperately clung onto the present, only to hear and see the same voice, the same words, the same man who you were so adamant to erase. With every sentence uttered by the man, Mingi became more prominent. A laughing stock to the self and to all others - you shook your head. What had gotten into you?
“I don’t like to be called other people’s names during sex, sorry, not my kink.”
The out of pocket line, completed by a realisation at his own choice of words coaxed a chuckle out of your otherwise progressively crumbling state. Even though you had tried to remain below your limit, the alcohol in your system was hitting you with an inexplicable force, the pounding of your chest travelling to your temples, getting stronger until you could barely focus on Y- was it Yun? Yang? Yeong? You needed something to dull this. Remove this. Cut it out of your system so that you did not have to think.
“Fair.” you forced out, the neutral smile remaining on the lips, lingering traces of a falsified passion becoming your new tint, a colour you liked to wear so often it could be your favourite.
“Have a good night, yeah? Sorry things couldn’t be more fun, darling.”
There it was, you could read it on his face. Embarrassment, pity, the hope to never encounter you again. The reason why you always left first, turned around and strode away into the darkness from whoever it was you were to pick for the night. Including the one man who had revealed his soul to you; his innermost thoughts. And just like an automaton, a faulty machine, you blended his heartfelt words with the filth made for a landfill of lies and dread. The back of the failed thrill, whose name was just out of reach, growing smaller and blending into the scenery was a slap across the face, even though you had told yourself time and time again that you had seen enough of the same to not be affected. It had to be the lights, you told yourself. Definitely the lights. And how they reminded you of Mingi, how his eyes reflected the hues as he stared into yours so tenderly, like he was seeing an angel. How he gently held you, your fragility becoming his eternity as he whispered the words that acted like the flutter of the butterfly’s wings that caused the storm. Logic was struggling to keep up with your rumination - this was a different club and a different man, nothing about this could ever amount to the night you had felt like a goddess. If anything, the abandonment was gnawing at your flesh like a foul, feral beast, exposing you more than your dresses ever could.
An airy laugh accompanied your amble towards the bar. You should have known - after all, if you were told to not think of the pink elephant, you would only think of the pink elephant. Same with the ‘no Mingi’ rule. It was an endless cycle that you were trapped in, and as days stretched out into two weeks, the avoidance was becoming unbearable. Your hand moved on its own as you called the bartender over, mouth and throat working together, far removed from your mind as they ordered champagne. Why? What was there to celebrate? There was no way of knowing, but the bubbles were your closest friends tonight, and you wanted to forget what just happened and whatever was supposed to happen until Saturday were to roll around - tomorrow could be the day you took care of the dirty laundry.
It did not take long for the beverage to transform you, and in a matter of a quarter of an hour with two or so glasses down you were back on the dance floor. But the vigour, the style and the soaring supremacy were nowhere to be found. As you tried to find your place among the sweaty bodies, nudged around by sharp elbows and tugged away by grubby hands, the sensation of belonging was but a mirage. Slow, you wanted to be anywhere in this cesspool of limbs, move along with the rest of the masses and get lost in the action so you did not have to consider your own movements, giving yourself up to the inertia of a wild crowd. One push, another, you were crammed between one figure and another, another push and a snag at your hair and you were flinging yourself wildly to an illusion of freedom in a different section of the floor. A phone flying beside you, barely an inch away from your cheek, flicking your earring and momentarily blinding you with a flashlight that had been left on. What were they looking for, you wondered. Perhaps the same thing as you. As you spun your head around, the pounding getting louder once again, the shoving had become more aggressive and two rough hands landed on your waist, supported by a lewd greeting. Jolted awake from chaotic musings, you grabbed a fistful of someone’s shirt, screaming out until the bubbly was rendering your speech incomprehensible - someone had to help you. Commotion unclear, breathing unsteady, the hands, the legs the torsos and heads all morphed into one creature who you were battling in your last fit of rage. Another pull, earning a yelp, and you were encountered with a familiar face. Y, or was it A, or I? Something or other, his name was a mystery to you. Tall. Handsome - you thought. In the blur it was impossible to detect. You remembered that he tasted sweet. Or maybe not - the champagne had taken over your system, your miniature party for one. Pushing yourself off the man you stumbled towards what you remembered to be the emergency exit. At least you were careful enough to avoid dragging yourself out of a club in shame from the front entrance; you were not that inexperienced to allow yourself to do that.
Cursing under your breath you put one hand on the black wall of the corridor that would lead you to your freedom. Passing by a place your instinct was telling you was significant, you paused, only to shake your head and step forwards. One, two, three, four - congratulations, you could count. The coolness of the metal on the door was a relief as you leaned over unceremoniously to press your forehead against it, not caring if someone were to see you. You sighed into the sensation as the metal absorbed some of the heated rush, a portion of clarity returning to you and reminding you of your initial mission. That was right, you needed to get out. And ‘needed out’ in general.
With one quick shove the door swung open, spitting you out onto the sidewalk of, much to your fortune, a less crowded street, occupied for the most part by equally inebriated party-goers, celebrating the miracle that was a Friday night - a time that was slowly turning into your nightmare. A cacophony of beats and melodies from one club, another, all accumulating in a sonorous hellscape to render your senses almost fully numb. Feeling the air in front of you, you swore you could touch every particle, tendrils of wind brushing past you like a busy stranger. While there were not that many people, some yelling, others laughing wholeheartedly from the belly to the heavens, others simply enjoying the drinks that they carried out from their venues of choice, they most certainly had enough of a presence to leave you pitifully shattered. All eyes, of all hues and intensities, rolling and glaring and focusing on you. Poring over your miserable form and minimising you into a vermin under observation, a bacterium trapped on a petri dish under a microscope. They knew, they had to know about what had happened - about everything. They could read you from one year to another and were ready to tear you apart. They knew that you were a slave to the escapism, knew that you were a creature of lascivious habit, knew that you were thoughtlessly hurting the people you loved-
Loved. Nausea caught up to you as the word crawled into the forefront of your dazed mind, settling like a viscous tar over every subject matter and memory, over consciousness itself. Though it was nearly impossible to finetune your movements, you managed to locate the pole of a streetlight without having to slam a swinging hand into it for guidance, and slide down onto the edge of the cold pavement. Narrowly avoiding a discarded bottle, caked with unrecognisable substance and pulp from the wet and tarnished label, you felt your weight press into the stone, hoping that you would dissolve into the painfully rigid material. Elbows on your legs and hands on your face, you desperately tried to wipe the word away - you did not mean it, did you? You never had to say it, why say it now? Your familiar monster reared its head, drinking every last droplet of your sobriety to combat what you had admitted. Who did you love? Two legs drifted past you, stopping for a second to let a voice call out to you before you waved them off. Click-clack, click-clack away and away, leaving you alone with your thoughts once again. Who did you love? The pounding of your heart was overwhelming you, and you could barely hear yourself over its chaotic drumming. Who did you love? While it was easy to imagine your closest friends, the same ones who had tried to protect you from yourself and who, undoubtedly, were now cursing your name and the ground you walked on, your brain decided that there was another, less welcome character that should join the scene. With a groan, you clenched your hands into white-knuckled fists and hit your temples, once, twice as though that would help in getting rid of the precious image.
This had to be happening because Mingi said it first. The reason why Mingi was the one to persistently sway you, haunt you even when you were purposefully trying to drown in yourself and others, had to be because he planted those words in your mind when you least expected it - forced them upon you, an unwelcome gift. This was how it always happened: drawn in by the attention, promised a future and wholehearted adoration, you gave your all, only for the one who dared to utter the words to step away, having fulfilled their needs. ‘I love you’ was an exchange token, and apparently, your local currency. Like a penny out of rotation, those words should not hold any meaning, but they did, and you hated yourself for it. You hated how easily they had rolled off Mingi’s tongue, hated how they replayed in your head more times than you could process, hated how they were the words you wanted to hear again. Out of all the words in every language, these were the ones that introduced pain to the world.
He needed to answer for himself, your mind decided. Your rationality would consider the consequences later. Now, you needed answers. To what questions? That, too, could be decided at a later time. Clumsy hands searching in your purse, roughly pushing aside a slim card wallet and keys to take out the device which was now illuminating your fatigued features, the glare of the screen making you squint, every number and letter barely legible due to an intense blur that dominated your vision. If only you could wipe it away - a hand reaching to rub at the eyes, not caring for the eyeshadow nor the mascara, more darkness, friction, light again. As you moved the phone closer and further away from you in an attempt to find a golden distance that would give you better focus, as if you were operating with a broken camera, the thumb kept on searching for the right number. Contact after contact names flew by, turning into one continuous line, with the surnames and nicknames twisting and turning like snakes, colliding trains in your brain until finally, you found him. Not in the contacts, but in the myriad of messages you had left on read - another pattern characteristic of yours. It was not that you wanted to leave people behind, but your hands never felt strong enough to respond, and your thoughts could never tie together a satisfactory response. So you stayed silent.
He had checked on you, apparently. Asked if you were okay. The first time was two weeks ago. Then ten days. Then, radio silence. Probably was mad at you. You could not blame him. There had been no explanation, nor any wish to contact from your end - while it was what you usually did to strangers, not catching their name beyond the bedroom, nor ever seeking them out after you used their bodies, Mingi had been a friend. Not anymore, at least that was certain. But still, habit could not cut it here. This was why you needed answers - why could he not act like everyone else and fall in line, into the clear cut moulds? Finger hovering over the call button, now burning into your skin, you could not stop yourself from shaking. Biting your lip, all hints of colour replaced by a rekindling fire, you took the step over the edge, repeating his name in your head like a mantra as the call connected, and you imagined his phone starting to ring, somewhere out there in the city. Suddenly, your thoughts could not be more lucid, and you could almost see how the device would be vibrating on his bedside table. Right, he had to be asleep by now, surely. Just as you were about to end the call, however, the screen changed, and the time began to climb from zero.
“Uh… it’s… midnight or something… Y/N?” his husky voice, husky, warmer than the summer sun answered you. You remained quiet, afraid of letting this moment go, “Y/N? Are you okay?” he was asking if you were okay-
“Where are you?” a new harshness snapped you out of your temporary stupor.
“I- uh… I- am…” you tried, but could not find the right answer, however much you tried.
“Are you at… a club?” The pause was nearly lethal. You focused on the rustling in the background - it seemed that you were right and he indeed was in bed. Not anymore. A sigh and a thump, more movement. He was disappointed, wasn’t he? But he was listening. He had to listen to you.
“Not… not anymore.”
“Did someone hurt you?” The question felt foreign, unexpected. You raised your head, hugging your knees to your body, a terrible frailness seeping to your very bones.
“N-no…”
“Where are you?”
You could not believe that you were talking to Mingi. After all this time he was still talking to you, answered your late night call and was asking how you were. An angel in human form, so precious, so cute. A giggle escaped you as you found a slightly less dirty spot on the concrete to lean back and rest your hand on. Feeling some tension in your back unwind, your muscles were given freedom to turn restless. You wanted to scream, but that was bound to make Mingi end the call, and you did not quite want to stop listening to that voice of his - your strange addiction. Eyes closing, you let him repeat the question again, accompanied by jingle that could only be his keys.
“I…”
“Street? Sign? Anything? Y/N,” he paused, exhaling, “...talk to me.”
“About…?” you asked, not catching onto what he meant.
“About the damn location. I am coming to get you.”
“Wait… really?” you slurred, fighting the desire to pass out, weighed down by another wave of tiredness.
“Yes. You are drunk. It is the least I can do.”
“What’s the most?”
“Location, for fuck’s sake. Check the street name or something. Can you walk?” he shot back, louder than before, speaking right into the microphone, the last bits of sleep evaporating from his tone, leaving behind the deep vocal ocean that you wanted to drown in.
“Uh huh,” whether you were lying or not, you were about to find out. Clambering for the street light once again, you heaved yourself up, barely catching yourself before tumbling back down, unstable on your heels. Clearly, your heavy breathing was caught by the phone as you heard Mingi asking if you were okay, again, “...just peachy, darling.”
The pet name never sounded more natural and comforting than now, flying to and through Mingi like lightning. The silence over the line was a terrifying suspense, making you wonder about what you said. You could not find anything particularly wrong. Wasn’t this how people who cared about one another spoke? Blinking away the stars in your eyes that were ceaselessly twirling in flashes of white and black, you wobbled towards a rectangle on the corner of the small street, which had to be the sign that Mingi was asking for. Mumbling the words on the board, half to yourself, half to him, you commended the otherwise laughable victory of being able to pick out the characters and interpret them.
“Okay… not too terribly far. I’ll come pick you up. Do not wander. Did you hear me?”
“Mhm…”
“What did I say?”
“...uh something about wandering, right?” An exhale. More footsteps.
“Stay where you are. Stay. Heard me?”
“Yes Mingi darling, I did.”
“Good I- yeah. Just. I’ll be right there.”
Beep. Silence. A car in the distance darting past. Laughter. A flicker of the streetlight. The breeze caressing your legs. People walked past as you hugged your form, aware that it would not do anything to help you. You were counting the threads, the pieces of cloth sewn together to form what you had considered armour with the tips of your fingers, every groove accentuated as you swayed in your solitude, convinced that what had just happened was a dream. It had to have been. Who would listen to you in this state? It had to be your mind playing tricks on you, feeding you more and more visions until you would snap under them.
Fine. You were going to call him tomorrow, yes, that was right. When you were feeling better, you would call Mingi, apologise. Maybe over a coffee - yes that was better. Did he drink coffee? Was he even in town? Questions climbed up the walls of your consciousness while you, frustrated with the way in which the straps of your high heels were digging into your skin, crouched to take the culprits of your physical pain off. One shoe, another, and you were freed from the localised dolor. Stillness transforming into an amble, you made it a mission to walk to the larger street. There, you could get a taxi - there were always many of them around night time in neighbourhoods like this, kind drivers with kind metres if you gave them a pretty enough smile.
Stay where you are. I love you. Stay where you are. I love you. Stay where you are.
Who said that? You froze mid stride, losing balance onto to have your back hit the brick wall of the building to your side, just under the sign you had read out to -
So it did happen after all. You had talked to Mingi. Moaning out in frustration, you slid down the rough structure and onto the ground beneath you, throwing an empty water bottle and a fast food wrapper away from you in anger. Unable to recall what you had said to him, you settled for piecing together his voice, hands emulating the linking of a jigsaw puzzle in front of you. Purse having long become a bracelet, and phone clenched in one of your hands as if it was permanently linked to your body, the only thing that existed was every phrase that he had uttered into your ear, like he was standing by you. So much for not thinking of Song Mingi. Way to go. What a treacherous night this was. Head feeling heavy, you began to give into the signs of oncoming slumber, nodding off, cheek approaching shoulder, earring brushing over bare skin.
Mingi was not one for breaking the law, but his accelerator most certainly was. Rushing past every traffic light as though each one was a checkpoint, he sped through the city’s sleepless streets, only the final destination being his priority. Heart pounding, he barely looked at the navigator on his phone as he slammed on the gas. Ridiculous. Radical. If he were to ever tell his friends about this, they would call him a fool. After two weeks of nothing, for him to jump at the first call - he was clearly making the same mistakes, every turn a wrong one. If scouting clubs for the next pleasure hit was your addiction, burning himself on your flames was his. In the icy silence his days had been serene, and he hated it. There was no expectation, nor any hope for him to cling to. In the morning after you had left, even though Mingi had anticipated this and promised himself that he would not be upset, his preference was clear: it was better to live in an illusion rather than face the fact of not being wanted, and never standing a chance. You had turned your attention to him when he had asked for you to use him - that was the place he should have known and stayed if he wished for you to ever look in his direction again.
That was why when his phone lit up with your name, and a photo filled the screen, one that he had taken of you when you, him, Wooyoung and San had all gone to a nature reserve for a spontaneous weekend getaway which you probably did not remember but it was precious to him, he threw sleep out of the window. It was easy enough, considering his recent pre-sleep routine of rationalising the events of that night. His mind was already trained on you when he finally got you to speak. You were floating, not quite like yourself, but your feelings were clear - not a hint of malice towards him, dreamy, rendering him breathless.
Mingi blamed himself for not being persistent enough, instead choosing to take a step back and give you whatever space you wanted or needed. He had done that in university when you were still friends, he had done it right up until that night, it was nothing new. Let you forget him until you suddenly craved his company, or felt it necessary to invite him to whatever function you had scheduled. Running a hand through his hair, short and strawberry blonde, hints of pink across the strands giving way to darker roots, he tried to calm his nerves. It was torturous to picture you in a vulnerable state, on a night when you normally felt and looked invincible. But since you called him, it was his duty to ensure that this held true.
Only a couple of minutes later, Mingi found the required street and, upon making a turn he slowed down and halted beside a figure curled up by the side wall. He cursed himself for not being faster. Panic shot up his spine and across every limb. He made a beeline towards you, shutting the door to the driver’s seat particularly hard in his distress. Assuming the worst, Mingi was in front of you in the matter of seconds, crouching down to peer at your face, noticing the smudged mascara, lipstick traces trailing onto your skin, flushed cheeks, sickly, glazed over and half-lidded eyes. Scowling, he regarded you in your Friday night glory, wondering why you thought you deserved this self-treatment in the first place.
“Y/N.”
No response. You remained stationary, with only your head occasionally threatening to fall to the side, hair snagging on the rough, eroded bricks behind you. Carefully, Mingi reached out, balancing himself on his bent knees, and pushed back a lock that was obscuring your face, convincing himself that you looked better already. Heart aching, he tried calling out to you another time, and then another, naively hoping that you could ascend from your state in an instant. As he put his hands on your delicate shoulders, gingerly tilting you forwards and away from the freezing, disgusting wall, he bit back his logic and chose to listen to the senses that you had so easily manipulated.
Was this really the same person who had him wrapped around her finger? Malleable, putty in his hands you sank into his hold as he wiggled back to try and get you to find your own footing. Rising into a standing position, he lifted you up, sighing in relief when, even if only automatically, you followed the movement. He wanted to be mad at you - his brain was yelling for him to leave, return to the comfort of his home, alone, and let you figure things out for yourself. That was easy - just forget about you and have no morals. Sure. You were in a dangerous situation. But did you not have any friends who could take care of you? Where were they? Head turning side to side as if that would give him an answer, Mingi checked his surroundings. Only a collection of strangers, some of whom were enjoying the free entertainment, at least until they felt his glare settling on them. Quick feet on the pavement, dissipating into the midnight darkness.
“Oh… oh…” you groaned, as though waking up from a restless slumber. In his surprise Mingi nearly slipped, only just managing to support you again by hooking his arms around your torso instead of under your arms.
“Y/N, you are like, drunk drunk.”
“Just a lit-tle tipsy… is all, Mingi darling,” you answered slowly, lifting a hand to pinch your thumb and index finger together to show just how sober you were apparently - if only the move was coordinated, then maybe at least it could have given a good laugh.
The affectionate pet name was ringing in his head, and no matter how much, and with what strength he was trying to brush it off, the buzzing persisted. Clinging onto him, a vexatious beast, echoing the weeks that had gone by after he had so willingly given himself up to you. If he were to be honest with himself, he would not be able to forget you even if by some futuristic miracle, he would be able to reset his consciousness. You were his nightmare and his dream, a haze in which he was lost for as long as he was alive. Cursing himself over and over, he opened the rear door closest to the two of you, whispering his sequence of moves out loud, knowing full well that you were probably not observing, nor listening.
The only thing on your mind was the comfort that was Mingi himself. How he had pulled you closer, and your hands landed on his broad chest. Hands snaking under the varsity jacket he put over a cotton tee, you felt your fingers warming up, the toned, sculpted beauty underneath turning into an alluring stability. There was nothing stopping you from closing the space, was there? Squinting, you took in his face, gasping as he turned away from you, revealing his side profile. Glasses, perfectly perched on the bridge of his nose, ever so slightly parted lips, a determined scrutiny of whatever it was that was in front of him. You could almost taste it. Apparently, it was easy to forget prior losses when the one you had been searching for in other bodies appeared before you.
Certainly, it had to have been him at the club however long ago. It had to have been, you were only looking for him and got lost, right? Fully convinced that you were right, despite Mingi being dressed more for a late night walk along a river bank rather than for a night of clubbing and hedonistic debauchery, you mumbled, cowering while he was trying to turn you and get you to take a seat:
“I missed you… Mingi.”
Eyes still half closed, you tilted your head to look in the approximate direction of your saviour, or companion… friend? It could not be. There ceased to be any lines that you could cross, and you were, for the first time in a long time, okay with it. You did not need nor want the barriers, not when his perfume was your salvation, not when his strong hands were rubbing your upper arms, not when you watched him take off his jacket and wrap it around you in slow motion. It was warm. He was warm. But he was not responding. The quiet was deafening as he nudged your legs, motioning for you to hop further into the vehicle - so you were in a car, huh? A couple of thuds somewhere below you, and a pair of heels manifested themselves on the floor of the salon. Obliging, you fell back inside and saw the light shutting itself away from you. A click, and you were alone. Trapped. There was no Mingi.
Wrapping your hands around the edges of the thick material, you pulled it tighter around you, emulating an embrace. Why were you left alone? Was this a prank? Was Mingi tricking you? Question after question, there were too many to answer in the midst of an oncoming headache, but you knew that you needed to leave this instant - Mingi was outside and he had to be waiting for you. After all, you needed to give him back his jacket. You were done running backwards. Just as you ran a hand over the door, looking for the right handle or button or whatever the car could possibly have, another door opened, revealing the same man, your same Mingi, still dressed in the same outfit as you had just seen, still in those glasses that suited him so well.
Through the gap between the headrest and the main seat, you gleamed at him, reassured that you were no longer abandoned in the metal box. The corner of Mingi’s mouth twitched upwards, though the majority of his response was evidently suppressed. He had to be hiding something. He must be mad at you. This was because you had been gone for too long, and then reappeared drunk out of your mind - he had said so himself. His voice boomed in your ears, blooming into a deafening echo that muted the car’s engine. Only once the car started did the realisation hit you - you had no idea that he even drove. The last night you had been together, you had taken a taxi, and he was sitting right next to you - you could recall every touch on your skin, over your dress, his ragged, shallow breaths. You needed to sleep, this was a dream… a dream… it had to be a nightmare… you were planning on talking to Mingi tomorrow… you would call him as soon as you woke up from this discord…
Crawling through the metropolis, the car stormed farther and farther from the district which you had decided to mark as your place of shipwreck. It was not the same location as before, he noted, now having more of an opportunity to piece together what had unfolded. If he was any more cynical and any less in love with you, he would have made it a case to point out that probably you intentionally had selected a spot that was a considerable distance away from your usuals because hell or heaven forbid your friends would stop you. Mingi had no clue as to what occurred in the time you were non-existent in his daily life, but evidently it had taken a considerably negative toll. Passed out on the back seats, you were exhausted by the world in which you lived, the world which was mercilessly testing you and draining you for all you were worth.
Stopped at a lonely red light, the hue crept through the windshield, settling over the salon and the two lost souls contained within. Quickly taking out his phone to check the time - no longer needing it for navigation after having the route imprint itself in his memory, he pinched the bridge of his nose, careful not to let the glasses slip. It was almost one in the morning - the commotion and additional steps because of your inebriated state had accumulated, long leaving the last day of the so-called work week behind. Happy weekend - with a bitter aftertaste, he uttered the words under his breath, shoving the phone back in the pocket of his jeans and shifting to turn around to take a quick look at you. You were peaceful, your features fully relaxed. Your purse had turned into something of a pillow, and while your legs could not exactly rest comfortably on the seats, you appeared to be blissful how you were, nuzzled into his jacket. Drifting in his musings, studying your every detail Mingi almost did not notice the lights change, relying solely on instinct to switch gears and move forward. With one last glance, he continued his journey, realising that he was not sure where your home was. Driving you to your closest friends was not an option either, considering that you did not mention nor call them - and if you did not want to see them, he should not be the one to orchestrate a falling out. There was always time for drama, but he did not want to extend it for himself.
Making one final, decisive turn that would take him to his neighbourhood, Mingi gripped the steering wheel to curb an accumulating nervousness. It was a sudden pang, a memory lifting itself up from the chaos he had brushed under the carpet after you had spontaneously left. He had not been fully asleep, simply spent and trustful, but everything stopped him from following you. As if a spear had mounted him to the bed - he was nothing more than a feeble bug on display, rotting. There was nothing he could have done, he was sure, except maybe not saying what he had said. In retrospect it was easy to see that those three words had been the final shot in the torn up heart. So, for the better, he was not going to say them, and pretend he never did, if that was what was going to let you sleep better and recover. That night was long in the past, and should be treated as a spectre. As weeks would go by perhaps you could look at him again, and be genuine in your feelings towards him. And he would not have to put himself up for sacrifice to gain your attention.
Soon enough, his apartment building was in sight, and the wheels rolled him closer and closer to his next dilemmas. Letting out a trembling breath, Mingi clicked a button on his keys once he approached the gates to the underground parking. You were as still as ever, consumed by your slumber. Coming to a halt at his designated spot, he killed the engine and fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. The noises that had crawled out from the club turned into wisps of risk and melancholia, clinging onto your otherwise gorgeous dress and filling the vehicle until that was all he could sense. Hands on the steering wheel, Mingi attempted to plan his next moves, thinking of the trip to the elevator, the ride up, and just how he could convince you to be lucid enough to help him in getting you cleaned up. Love and confusion aside, you were a person who needed help and support, and he was the one you had trusted in your last moments before losing sobriety.
It was a long trip. From you not quite being able to make it out of the car, to you nearly tumbling into the elevator and dragging Mingi down with you, the young man was sure that he had never had to be on such high alert ever in his life. Not even when he had to act in the role of a sleuth to figure out where your lectures had been back in university, and whether there was any way in which your paths could cross. It seemed that now he did not have to force fate’s hand quite as much. With one final stumble over the door frame that marked the entrance to his apartment, you were in, safe and secure from the outdoors, and Mingi could begin thinking more comfortably. Kicking off his own shoes, he ignored the feeling that arose when you intertwined your fingers with his as you waited. Rubbing sleep from your eyes, there was something endearing about you, pleasantly childish qualities protruding through the hardened exterior of an experienced seductress. Like there was still some vulnerability left, and Mingi was the only one to see it. Adjusting his glasses out of habit, or perhaps to mask his growing concern due to your spontaneously peppy disposition, he tugged on your arm, making you follow him past the living room and towards a breakfast bar that served as a divider to the kitchen. Stopping mid-stride, he turned and pointed for you to take a seat on the sofa.
You had vague recollections of the interior, but the lighting, which remained dim, prevented you from making out any details. After Mingi left your side, you curled your legs under your body and flopped onto the decorative pillows that occupied the right corner. Huddling as if it was your nest, you made yourself comfortable. Without him being right next to you, the sensation of being embraced remained. He was in every thread and every space; you could finally inhale and exhale tranquillity. Clinking of glasses and the sound of pouring piqued your inquisitiveness, albeit fuzzy in the half-consciousness, and you called out to Mingi’s approaching figure, a loopy grin plastered on your face.
“He-hey, let’s get the party started… is that champagne?”
“Oh, so that’s what’s got you… like this?” with the hand that was holding the full glass, Mingi gestured over your body.
“Like how? How am I now?”
“Like a bar after a football match.” he deadpanned, carefully taking a seat next to you and grabbing your hands. Upon ensuring the cup was secure in your grasp, he fell backwards to rest his head on the back of the couch, momentarily shutting his eyes. He was curious if you would be able to figure out that what you were about to drink was water.
“Huh? You’re mean…” mumbling to yourself, you lifted the beverage, taking a tentative sip. The cool liquid soothed you, eliminating the burning that occupied your mouth and throat for however long you had been in and out of the handmade turmoil. Greedily you took a gulp, another, until nearly all the water travelled to nourish your dehydrated, fatigued self. The cup, too, possessed a welcome coldness, refreshing, a change to the static that was rolling like thunder in your cranium. You could not resist the temptation to put the glass against your temple, sensing another wave of the dull ache returning to you.
“How much did you drink?”
“Interesting question. Just drank a whole glass,” you teased, aware that Mingi was likely after a different response, but you were all for omitting the truth as much as you could.
“I mean out there.”
“Where?”
“The club.”
“Oh… uh… a… a couple here and there.”
“Knowing you, that is like a whole bottle.”
“What can I say? I have a high tolerance.”
“If only you had a better tolerance for other shit,” his comment caught you off guard. Said to no one in particular, but staying suspended in the air, the phrase was less supportive than what you would have hoped for. He was definitely mad. The anxiety that had been resting on your shoulders like a foul beast stirred awake, digging its nails into your skin until the question you asked far too often slipped away from you, throwing you back into your antique patterns, ones you thought you had buried for good.
“Are you mad at me?” you sounded timid, and a hand instantly flew to your mouth, clumsily covering it. Mingi’s eyes shot open, him giving you a once over from his leaned back position. Sitting up, he raised an eyebrow.
“Say what now?”
“I… are you mad at me?”
“Wh-... why would I be?” he cleared his throat, curious as to what you had conjured and were proposing as an interpretation of his actions.
“I… well I… I am too much aren’t I… I am here, you are - wait what time is it? It should be so late, or early… ha, ha, I don’t even… wait so are you not mad at me? But I am just so all over the place and now I am… wait - what time? Is it? Are you supposed to be sleeping, oh my goodness yes you are I am intruding aren’t I, I should be home, wait how did you find me? Were you there with me? Was I doing anything weird oh why did I go tonight I was not supposed to go but no I had to go and forget you know I wanted to forget everything but you kept on coming back are you ma-”
“Y/N-”
You were speeding up, forgetting air, forgetting that you were safe. You imagined yourself to be in the middle of the ocean, clambering for anything to hold on to. But the more you struggled, the less you could see, and yet you could only continue speaking. Faster, faster, filling the emptiness with your every thought as if there was no space neither in your heart nor your mind to keep them close and safe. As if this was a bargaining token or a confession, and Mingi was the one to deliver a final judgement, or to pardon your every sin. You were afraid of what he could do, or maybe not do. The only thing that was vivid enough for you to grasp was the idea that you did not want him to go, and so you were desperately trying to catch every word you had uttered in your past that could possibly deter him. Oxygen was not an option when Mingi, your 'not quite a friend anymore', was on the line.
“Mad at me and I am not even sure why this is happening actually I know exactly why and I am sure this is a dream right now I mean you definitely hate me now maybe not before but surely now I did everything to make you hate me and I am just a mess I probably look the part I am sorry I am sorry I am so-”
“Y/N BREATHE.” with a raised voice, he cut you off. You had not noticed him lift himself off the sofa and move in front of you. He pushed the coffee table further back to give himself more space, and kneeled on one leg while prying the glass from your shaking hands. Though you had ceased to barrage him with sentences of raw dread, your breathing was still shallow, barely spaced out, lungs roaring for more, praying for relief.
Glass left on the table, Mingi’s hands clasped over yours, his gaze unwavering, searching. You could not read him. Everything you possibly wanted to say was bouncing around your skull in a painful flurry, inducing a lump that started to grow in your throat, accumulating mistakes and emotion. You did not deserve to face the man who was in front of you, but even when you tried to break away from his touch, he held on, shaking his head in disapproval.
“Breathe. Let’s count, shall we? Focus on my voice, okay?” Now, inhale, two, three, four-”
Switching approaches, Mingi distracted you. After a couple of rounds of counting, noting your darting glances he asked for you to point out three colours you could see. Three pieces of furniture. Slowing you down, gradually, grounding you until you were only the slightest bit unsteady.
“I am sorry.” you mumbled, doubling over, forehead against his hands. In shock, Mingi did not retract them, instead staring at how your hair cascaded over your shoulders and down, down like a waterfall, glimmering softly in the night lights that crawled into the room through every window.
“For what?” barely a whisper, only a hint of curiosity in anticipation of hearing something less than pleasant.
“For leaving,” he replayed the words in his head in utter disbelief. Never had he heard you apologise for disappearing, abandoning, making decisions that put you first. He had gotten used to it, considering it to be a trait that was normal to you, one that those close to you simply had to deal with. The two little words shed a new light, making him wonder just how you felt two weeks ago. You were not done, however, feeling the need to spill the secrets you had been holding, in the intimacy of night, of not having to look at him, “for going out and for thinking strangers could… could-”
“It’s okay… I-”
“How is it okay?” lifting your head, a portrait of misery was revealed. The makeup that had already travelled across to other parts of your face was now starting to etch streams down your cheeks, the tears being the only ones to confidently make their way. Mingi was at a loss, never having been able to predict that this night would end, or begin, like this.
“Well…”
“How? Please… I am… disgusting… Why do I always do this I-”
“Hey. Hey, listen to me,” hands on your cheeks, thumbs wiping away the rolling droplets, Mingi was reaching out for you, calling you back from the abyss into which you wished to fall, “first of all, no behaviour is quote unquote disgusting, you hear me?”
“Uh huh… but… but I hurt people- I… I hurt you…”
“Look, I know we have never had any deep one on ones before, but I know you are hurting. I think that answers quite a few things, doesn’t it?” trying his best to remain rational and calm, Mingi recalled phrases that he had been told many times, had said before, only now they held colossal meaning, weighed down by what had happened.
“But why are you…”
“What I do is my choice, just like what you do is yours, yeah?”
“But I choose badly… like today at the club I-... I-” you tripped over your words, the recollection forcing you to shudder. Sensing the buildup, Mingi diverted your attention by holding your hands once more.
“So how can you choose better? I mean, let’s think about tomorrow. What were you thinking of doing? Take me through the day. Say, you wake up, you…” he gestured for you to continue after him.
“I… brush my teeth, fix my hair and clothes… make breakfast… call you," you stopped, staring into his dark eyes, shining with bittersweet tenderness. For the first time, he wanted to believe that you indeed were drunk.
“Call me?”
“...I was planning to…”
“Even if you found someone?” The comment stung, but was not unfounded. Mingi knew you far too well for you to deny that you would at least attempt to fill the weekly void.
“I only kissed him… I promise…”
“I,” tightening his jaw repeatedly, Mingi resisted the urge to snap, or to make any accusations. It was obvious to any fool that you had lived through enough without him adding fuel to the hellish fire, “like I said, your choice.”
“I don’t want to make it anymore.”
“Then make another. And keep trying until you find the one that’s right for you.”
Dumbfounded, you could only look, and wonder if the man in front of you was real and was not figuring out ways to throw you out of his apartment. The idea could not be further from the truth. While he had to admit that the circumstances were not particularly romantic, nor was Mingi about to take every word and action as gospel, but this had to be the most candid he had ever seen you be, and the most open with him. Behind the gloss of a night fuelled by percentages, shots and bubbly, garnished with regretful actions and hopes for a restart, you were easy to read, your intentions and actions honest and benevolent.
“I was going to call you,” you reiterated with conviction.
“Tomorrow,” Mingi responded, switching his positioning to sit down on the floor, one hand still holding onto you while the other flew to find purchase on the carpet, offering balance. His thumb traced patterns on your skin absent-mindedly while he waited for you to continue.
“Yeah.”
“And what were you going to do?” there was no way to know whether the answer he would hear was one he wanted to, or was ready to hear. Of course, he liked to believe he was used to you, but not to your new feelings.
Had it hurt when he realised that he had been discarded, just like he had anticipated? Of course. Had his closest friend given him an earful after finding him wholly zoned out during their scheduled mid-week lunch? Definitely - the words still stung him. But was Mingi in any way angry with you? He could not be even if he tried. You had stayed true to yourself, and he should be happy that you did. And yet, the hope he had been living with remained persistent, and your present actions were not helping him in getting over it.
“Apologise…” you leaned closer to him, drowsy, freed from inhibition.
“And?” his voice dropped into a whisper as he could not bear to take his gaze off your and his hands.
The usual you, the alluring, domineering you who had one mission and one mission only on this night: to have a good time at any cost, was starting to resurface. You were grappling with your inner conscious, hoping to resurrect what you had previously labelled as confidence.
“Kiss you,” your act dropped quickly enough as you read the sadness in Mingi’s form, from the droop of the shoulders to the loosening of his hold on you, to the half-hearted joke that made you flush an embarrassing shade of pink. Awful, inducing the desire for the ground to disappear beneath you, but you could not stop.
“Through the phone?”
“No… on… like… a date?” shy, you proposed the idea to him.
“What’s with the questioning tone?” leaning back on both hands, Mingi regarded you. His black-rimmed glasses had slid down allowing him to look over the frame and into your soul, making you shiver. There was a seriousness in the gesture, a cold air of professionalism that you knew Mingi was capable of, but never experienced being directed at yourself.
“I don’t know… I haven’t dated in a while I guess…” finding interest in the hem of your dress, you fiddled with the thick fabric.
“What’s got you so into it now?”
“My choice,” you echoed his words, earning an amused smirk. After a meek pause, you pushed out the inquiry, barely audible, “Would you kiss me back?”
“Depends on what you’re feeling when you kiss me.”
“But you said you loved me, didn’t you? Mingi?” you straightened yourself up, feigning nonchalance, pretending to not be hurt by the passivity that rested on Mingi’s face as he studied you.
He wished he could make this easy and lead the conversation to a happy end, but that would only end in turmoil. Whatever you remembered, and whatever was so fresh in your mind could change in the blink of an eye, and later, in the morning, sober you could begin to despise yourself, and him in one go. The last thing he needed was for you to disappear from his life. So, it was better to restart. He bit his tongue for a couple of moments, swallowing every phrase that he had ceaselessly been repeating like mantras meant only for his walls to hear and hold no judgement towards, and selected denial, for your own benefit.
“...No such thing.”
“But I swear I-”
“I think it’s time to clean up and sleep, yeah?” he cut you off with searing neutrality. Rising from the floor, he flicked his hands for you to follow his actions. Though you had recovered enough to balance on your own, at least if you were to take everything slow, you were stuck in place, wanting to hear what you had been secretly longing for to spill from his lips.
“But, wait I-”
“Sleep time,” adamant to move past the painful hurdle, Mingi reiterated the implied command. Moving to grab your hand, he lifted you from the sofa, only to let go once you were on your feet. Taking the opportunity, you took small fistfuls of his t-shirt, pulling the stunning man towards you. If he could not speak the words, surely he would want to express them?
“Kiss me now?” The question sounded more like an offer. Like you were placing your attention for sale, thinking that this was enough to establish a connection.
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
Mingi wanted to collapse. Your eyes, the tremble in your voice, how you looked with his jacket still draped over your shoulders had him wrapped around your finger. He did want to kiss you, a little too much, if he were to be honest. And that was exactly why he backed away. If you had meant what you confessed, you would be able to say the same thing in the morning, and to his face. If you had been meaning to call him, you would be able to call out his name and be honest in wishing to see him, to be with him.
“I’ll kiss you when you’re fully sober, okay?” The negotiation seemed to work as you visibly relaxed and let him guide you to the bathroom, where he began to point out the makeup wipes, the towels, ignoring the fact that you had figured out the layout on your own some time ago and probably had some rough recollection.
“What a gentleman,” you uttered while roughly smudging your makeup with remover, not caring for the audience of one who was leaning against the doorframe to the bathroom, watching you to make sure that you did not hurt yourself nor ruin anything too badly.
“It’s the bare minimum.”
“I suppose… I… uh… shower? Yeah?”
“Oh yeah… wait I’ll bring you some clothes or something. Do you mind what?”
“Whatever you are okay with giving me, darling.”
Hissing to himself, Mingi adjusted his glasses and clutched the jacket you returned in his right hand. He ambled to his bedroom in search of something that would inevitably end up smelling like you and serve as another reminder of just how easily he could give himself up for this kind of closeness. If he were to let his eyelids fall like a protective blanket, he could pretend for a split second that this was how it had always been - domestic, sweet, uncomplicated. Head turned away, Mingi returned, only to see your clothes not so neatly strewn about on the heated tiles. His eyes moved on their own accord, to settle on your silhouette, moving slowly behind the shower curtain. Despising the fact that he knew your body and craved it like water or air, he left the t-shirt and sweatpants that he had picked out lying in a folded pile by the sink.
Mingi was restless, storming from bedroom to living room and back again, his instinctive decision-making finally catching up to him and crashing down on his consciousness with full force. He had acted rashly, listening only to his heart, and in every point along the turbulent path back home when he could have let go of what was inevitably going to be more pain for you and for him, he selfishly refused to. While moving a pillow and throw to the sofa, he was in awe of his own dedication, and how, for you, he could thoughtlessly abandon everything that his studies had attempted to instil in him over the years, from university to clinical practice.
With a tired hand he took off his glasses, giving the lenses a half-hearted wipe with the edge of his tee, more out of habit than out of need. According to the lazy clock on his wall, it was nearing two o’clock in the morning. He shuddered, and heat rushed to his face. What was he doing two weeks ago at this time? It was best to ignore that and start anew. You were just a friend who by some twist of fate he ended up getting to know a little too intimately. But if exes could become friends, surely you two could work out, even if in your drunk state you were exposing feelings that were potentially resonant with his - obviously far from platonic. Mingi shook his head, ultimately failing to banish his optimism. He needed coffee, anything to get his mind off things, maybe his work emails.
In the middle of his preparations, also known as remaining idle while the coffee machine worked its magic, you reappeared from the bathroom, freshened up, cheeks pink, and dressed in his clothes, which, he hated to say, looked too good on you. The t-shirt he had picked out, originally oversized even for him, perfectly draped over your curves; hinted at everything, revealed nothing. A couple of dark spots where water from your hair had dripped onto the soft cotton made the scene all the more homely, comfortable, and the only thing holding him back from sweeping you into an impossibly tight hug was the grey that befell your unlabelled relationship with him. Mingi was a man of logic, preferring to set things up onto metaphorical shelves, and in his work he was known to be a brilliant theorist, consulted on matters of analysis and diagnostics. The idea of a situationship, no strings attached and any other synonyms irked him, and the more he looked at you, and how you gazed at him so serenely, the more he wanted to put his foot down and ask you to decide. But if you had set your mind on tomorrow - or as the clocks were saying later today, he had to do what he did best - wait. It had been two weeks. What would a few more hours do except give you time to sober up and figure out what it was that you wanted from him and yourself?
“All better?” Who was he asking? Thankfully, you interpreted it as a question directed at you.
“Much better… sorry I am so out of it. Probably saying shit.”
“Don’t worry. I am just glad you are safe.”
“Mingi,” his name on your lips, the sweetest poison for his heart, “...thank you darling, really. I… hm, just thinking about what could have happened…”
“No need to think. About that, I mean.”
“And what should I think about?” raising an eyebrow, you captured the accidental slip of his musings in your delicate hands, subjecting it to scrutiny.
“Sleep.”
“You said that before. Besides, coffee? Really?”
“For me. I sleep better with coffee.”
Sure.”
“You can uh… I moved my stuff so you can sleep in the bedroom.”
“What about-”
“I’ll be right here.”
“I mean… we… didn’t we…” you wanted to allude to the bed having been shared before.
“I am here. You are there. Cool?” With the last of the americano having dripped into his cup, Mingi raised the hot beverage to take a careful sip, wincing as the liquid nearly burned his mouth. At least it served as a good distraction, just as he wanted.
“Mm… sorry. ‘Night.”
Spinning on your heels, you made a beeline for the bedroom, not waiting for Mingi’s response. Rejection after rejection; you smiled to yourself as you regarded the white sheets, decorated with a silvery sheen from the lights outside, washed over by a warm glow of the reading lamp positioned on the bedside table farthest from you. Welcoming, kind. Like the man who was now drinking coffee at hell o’clock in the morning, all because of you. The man who gave you his own clothes without a second thought. The man who kept on giving to a person who kept on taking. As you collapsed onto the sheets, crawling underneath the covers with an unprecedented exhaustion, you fell into a dreamless slumber with the thoughts of yourself being like a certain character from a famous animated film that you had watched with your friends, only to rewatch it on your own that same night once you got home. A spirit with no face, only an insatiable appetite, a rage that could not be extinguished - always more, taking from everyone, taking everything. Cloaked in black, a creature of darkness, without a place in society and meant sink into its own misery. You were alone in this world, wishing for the skies to clear, praying you would find the strength to fight for it.
He could not sleep. With the coffee finished but not the slightest hint of drowsiness approaching, Mingi stretched to grab the laptop that had been lying on the coffee table, choosing to go over his work emails that had accumulated from the time he had logged off just a night ago. Chain mail, Friday newsletters, reminders, rescheduling, appointment bookings, cancellations, conferences, journal updates, editor reviews… so much noise that settled like ash on his eyes, amounting to what appeared to be nothing. Segments of an imaginary success that drained him of any desire to show up on Monday. After answering what he could, Mingi pinched the bridge of his nose, and lied down on the couch, balancing the laptop on his stomach. He had foregone the throw, finding it to be more of a hindrance to his constant movement. What was it that he had told quite a few of his patients? Sleep was essential for a sound mind? Comical. Perhaps it was time to consult someone for his own troubles. He was good enough at solving things for others, but unfortunately that did not seem to apply when the ‘others’ was himself. If only he could stop concentrating on your presence in the room right next to him, on whether you were sleeping soundly and if you needed anything.
It was a quiet rustling that had woken Mingi up from a quick nap that he had fallen into. After a moment of disorientation, he registered the sound as being your footsteps, inching around the sofa in the approximate direction of the kitchen.
“Escaping?” recoiling as though you had been struck, you halted. After having been buried under a cosy duvet, the apartment felt cold, and you could barely hold back the shiver that was threatening to run over you.
“Water… sorry did I wake you up?”
“Nah, wasn’t sleeping anyways. Here let me get it for you.”
Without another word uttered, nor any glances which could plant seeds of doubt in your head about his intentions, Mingi was right there with you, leading you to your target and pouring a glass. You did not mind how he watched you handle the item, nor how he took it out of your grasp as soon as you were done. He was gentle, even though each move did appear to be pre-calculated and strictly bound by a larger, all-encompassing decision. You tried to reach out for him, and when he stepped away after noticing you in the peripherals, the point was proven. Mingi was seeking distance. Biting your lower lip, the echoes of an earlier anxiety bubbled, manifesting itself in your classic black and white thinking.
“I am a mess,” like a coin dropped in a well, the phrase bounced from every wall, right back to you.
“Break that down for me,” crossing his arms, Mingi turned around and leaned against the counter.
“Are you going therapy mode on me?” you tried to joke, but the words came across more as an accusation. You felt weak, exposed. The shiver escaped, goosebumps now decorating your flesh, causing what you interpreted as pity to flash in Mingi’s eyes.
“I’m assuming that is what you’re seeking now, no?”
“...no.”
“Okay.”
As if the conversation had never begun, Mingi returned to drying his hands, leaving you alone with an unpleasant sobriety. With the early morning returned fragments of memories - a highlight reel of things you probably should not have said, but now that you had to own up to and either confirm or keep running away from. Inhale, exhale, and the words poured by themselves.
“Can we… talk about something?”
“Something?”
“I think… I… you know how I… wait I did say I was planning to call you right?”
“Mhm,” Mingi turned back, regarding you with an unreadable expression.
“So I have said a lot of things,”
“Yeah, and, what do you want to say to me?”
“I’m… sorry.”
“You already said it.”
“I mean it.”
“I know. What else?”
“Help me.”
“With… what?”
“I am afraid.”
“Of?”
“How I feel.”
“And how is that?”
“Well…”
You paused, throat drying. Your body recoiled from what you had settled on admitting. But it had to happen, even if the result would be you never seeing Mingi again, because at least you would have done something to try and defeat yourself. After hearing the three little words, and having them repeat over and over again, the light in which you saw your own life and saw Mingi had shifted. He could not be that same happy, naive, angel-like friend from university who had somehow ended up in your company of misfits and comrades in melancholy to you anymore. For the first time, you wanted to place a significance on a relationship that was beyond one night in a stranger’s bed.
“I am afraid… that I- I-”
“What you are about to say, did you weigh it up? Did you consider it? Evaluate it? Are you sure that what you are about to share, and will be unable to reverse, is done with a clear mind?”
“Yes.”
“And you want to say it to me.”
“Yes, Mingi.”
You reached for his hands, worry making you play with his slightly cold fingertips. Intertwined, swinging side to side the tiniest bit, like a swaying of a sleepy willow; either the beginning, or the end. Mingi took a deep breath, as though preparing himself to be brutally smited.
“Then, um, as you were saying?”
“I want to fall in love with you.”
A laugh involuntarily flew from his chest, like a slap across your face. When you tried to slide past him, however, his arm wrapped around your upper body, pulling you close.
“Want to? What does that mean?” With prior seriousness being replaced by a more playful tone, the calm evaded you, “hey, take your time, it’s fine. You are already doing really, really well.”
“May I hug you?”
“Sure, c’mere,” he was the sun in late summer, the rays lulling, soothing. A glistening gold palette illuminated by a well-paired cologne that you were already wearing after resting in his bed, a masterpiece that you wanted to sink into and never escape. The horrors of the night that never stopped repeating were crawling away into their putrid caverns, providing at least a temporary relief and returning you to the waking, beautiful world. Mingi was comfortable in the best sense of the description, a stability that you had never dared to dream of. You pressed your head against him, shutting yourself away from cacophonous intrusions that had been leading you every Friday.
“You said you loved me.”
“Don’t remember,” the vibrations across his torso as he spoke soothed some of the pain inflicted by his answer. You could not blame him. Perhaps you two were much more similar than you had initially thought.
“I like you.”
“I like you too.”
“A lot.”
“A lot.”
“Can you help me?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Some things you should face yourself, I can only point you in the right direction. I can see that this goes beyond anything that either of us could mention or explore right now, and I hate to say it but there is no magic cure or something. It takes time and effort,” Mingi wrapped his arms tighter, one hand starting to pat the back of your head absent-mindedly, focusing on the sensation of each strand against his palm, “but what I can do is be here. For you. And if you want to, for us. How does that sound?”
“Like it’s too good to be true. I don’t deserve you.”
“No one deserves anyone. We just fit together, and we will make things work. Step by step,” Mingi made it sound easy. You wanted to believe him.
“We?”
“You just said you want to fall in love with me, Y/N. We kind of… need to be together for that to happen, methinks.”
“Good point.” you mumbled, snuggling closer, hiding your face.
“May I be honest for a second?”
“Mhm.”
“I am not saying it so that we say it together when you’re ready, cool?”
“Say what?”
“You know, the L word,” you looked up to see him wiggling his eyebrows dramatically, making you chuckle.
“Oh… thank you, Mingi. I appreciate it. Yeah. Makes sense.”
In the tranquillity of the early dawn, you were not alone. Not curled up on the floor, a stranger to yourself, but in the arms of someone who cared and his feelings remained unchanged through times you thought anyone could, and would abandon you. You could finally hear your own thoughts becoming clear and level. Nothing could be better than the hope for such a bright tomorrow.
“Hmm… I think I liked when you were calling me darling in every sentence,” with a flick of your wrist you lightly hit Mingi’s broad chest, without pulling away.
“I did not-”
“Are you not sober, darling?” he made you pause your denials, a sunny smile on his face.
“Okay fine yes I did…”
“Care to say it again?” taken by surprise by the request, you were left open-mouthed, with a raised brow.
“Darling?”
“Music to my ears,” he answered while barely being able to stifle a yawn.
This was the closest Mingi could get to a fairy tale moment with you, and he could not be happier. A grin fought its way to the surface, until it practically hurt his cheeks, and he pressed you to his chest, just so that you would not see it. But it did not take someone to be especially hyper-observant to sense his glee, capable of melting the snow in the harshest winter. Perhaps it was foolish of him to admit this, but nothing felt more right. How your body melded into his, perfectly unified. How your heart beat at a gentle pace, in time with his, and how your steady breathing tickled his skin - a constant reminder of your electrifying proximity.
“Sleepy?”
“Mmm… a bit.”
“Maybe a change of…” you glanced at the couch, “location would do you some good?” detangling yourself, the suggestion was made with a simple turn of the head, which Mingi agreed to with a curt nod, and a removal of his glasses.
Though it was his apartment and technically you were the guest, he was the one following you, like always. Shying away from your gaze as he rapidly changed into sweatpants and a tee that were other than those he had worn during his midnight expedition to retrieve you from the club, making you giggle and cover your eyes with a dramatic swoop of the hand, he was back at your mercy in these four walls. Playing with fire, he lied down on the bed next to you, counting to steady himself. Glasses left on the bedside table, he stared at the soft blur of the ceiling, admiring how soft the light of the earliest dawn looked without the myriad of details that otherwise occupied the material it fell upon. Mingi debated with himself whether what he was allowing was appropriate, and whether it would inevitably lead to what he had been secretly hoping for. He could not lie, not to himself at least - he still wanted you, and now, with the avenue towards the prospects of a relationship having been opened, the wishes were becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore. Not when you were right there beside him, obviously studying the contours of his face, tracing the gorgeous lines that its silhouette formed and thanking the heavens for having the ability to take in and memorise Mingi.
Oddly enough, in the semi-darkness of the bedroom - a place that was supposed to be the most intimate and exposing, you felt confidence return to you like the gust of a reviving spring wind. With every inhale and exhale, the familiar strength regained its capability, and led you to place a hand on Mingi’s chest, and while still keeping up a coy act, to run a lone finger down its middle, stopping right at the abdomen. Muscles tensing under your touch, Mingi sighed. Clearly, sleeping was not on your agenda whether you wanted it or not. Your habits, perfected over years, were advising you to act, and do so now. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately for him, he shared the same desire.
“What’s up?” he mumbled, head rolling to the side to find you already looking right at him.
“You’re far.”
“We are literally on the same bed.”
“No, but you are far. You get me?” a tentative leg over his, hooking around and serving as a lever to pull you closer to him. It was too natural, how Mingi’s arm stretched out and let you cuddle into him, acting as a pillow.
“I suppose. What do you want to do about it?”
“This,” tracing along his jawline, you prompted him to turn. You were close, way too close for him to not hold his breath as you came into focus - the one person he could always see, even when you were not physically with him.
Mingi resisted. As much as he was seeking the same contact, the tinge of regret for giving his heart up so easily was prominent, a scalding hot iron. It was too much - lying under the blanket of agitated stillness, pressure coiling at an astonishing speed as your eyes turned into the one universe he could care to exist in. Without realising it, he had turned towards you for a better angle, placing himself on your altar. Fingers ghosted over the sensitive skin under his ear, gently running through his blonde locks. Every brush of your hand against him was an unbearable fire, melting him into submission; nothing more than a servant in the sultry fog. It was impossible to answer how you were able to do this, and why Mingi was allowing you to, but just like everything else, it felt right, regardless of how dark the future could be. In what you had proclaimed to be a ‘mess’, he felt alive, human. For some, addiction was measured in degrees and in there being less and less memories as time went by - for him, it was in the syllables of your name, in the taste of your lips when he could not hold back any longer and closed the gap between you, sighing as the he could finally relive the sensation that had been haunting him every minute, be he asleep or awake.
The kiss was slow, deliberate, a bouquet of recollection and reminiscence as if you had been two souls torn apart for centuries. Mingi’s nose lightly brushed against your skin as he tilted his head to deepen the intimacy, his hands moving to hold you closer. The last time, each sense was charged with an undercurrent of carnal desire, and lust had revealed a palette of dark hues, while now, even with the rising intensity and Mingi’s hold drifting to find purchase on your hips, the scene was light. Instead of sacrificing yourselves to the night, you were defeating it, greeting your own dawn. It was an awe-inspiring hallucination, leaving you dazed and desiring more. Hooking your leg more tightly over Mingi’s thigh, you shuddered, the breathiest moan escaping you as an unexpected friction revealed your unwinding state, consumed by the man from whom you were done running. Breaking away to press your forehead against his and indulge in the shared oxygen, a hint of dizziness made you chuckle. Peppering a couple of kisses on his cheek, only to return to the same position, eyelashes almost touching, the lack of space proving to be the ultimate comfort, you whispered:
“I want this forever,” meaning every word, at least when ‘forever’ meant ‘for now’. You did not know yourself, or the new self you wanted to craft, so you could not make any promises just yet. But this was good enough. It was honest and raw.
“Take me on a date first,” Mingi teased with a wink. Caressing his cheek, you kissed the tip of his nose, making him scrunch it.
“What a precious princess,” you chuckled, leaning over to close the space once again, ignited by the beautiful sounds that were muted by you, a most delectable fruit.
Desire on the tongue, truth on the teeth, love staining the lips a deeper pink as you fell into Mingi, giving into his tug at your waist to hover above him. This, however, did not last long as he grew more impatient, pressing you against his body, wriggling upwards until he was half-seated on the bed, and you, on his thigh. Your initial instincts were telling you to move, but as he adjusted his seating once more, muscle brushing against your growing excitement, you quickly decided against it, instead settling on his leg, grinding into it to check for Mingi’s reaction. Judging by the way his hand snaked to the nape of your neck, fingers lost in your tresses as he could not get enough of you, this was a welcome change. He was responsive, in tune with you, allowing you to take the lead. Momentarily standing up on your knees, you backed up to take off the sweatpants you had been wearing, feeling the heat in your core rising to embrace you in a seductive haze.
With glazed over, darkened orbs Mingi watched you, each breath an adrenaline-filled shudder. Freed from the cotton confines, with only the fine material of your panties left to contain the building arousal, you cupped Mingi’s face to give him a deep kiss until you lost all air, whispering instructions only once you had your fill. Promptly, he was in the same state of undress, more so when you cautiously hooked the base of his t-shirt, longing to see the body that was so perfect with yours. When you wanted to mirror the action, his expression changed to that of a miniscule panic, almost instantly replaced by an endearing shyness and a bitten lower lip.
“Can you… keep the shirt on?”
“You like to see me in your clothes, Mingi?” You were comfortable saying his name in other settings, sure, but in the semi-darkness of his bedroom, it occurred to you just how vulnerable the act was, capturing another’s attention with the simple collection of characters, echoing from wall to wall and resonating in the listener’s ears. But if you were to be an improved version of yourself, someone who had real control as opposed to the farce you had been parading around with, you needed to at least make a little bit of an effort to be aware of Mingi, find him in your pleasure and make him your focus. You were too used to taking centre stage and pushing others away for it.
“More than I’d like to admit,” voice husky, he groaned as your lips found his neck, retracing, not needing pointers to find the places that drove your newly established lover wild, “Ah… if you are o-okay with it-”
His hands, now back on your hips, gave you a timid squeeze, reaffirming the rapture which your present outfit threw him into. Mingi had assumed that you were at your most beautiful when those dresses designed to seduce adorned your curves, highlighting and accentuating what he swore was divinity, but nothing could have prepared him for this sight, and the effect that it had on him. Whether it was on purpose or not, but his name being uttered so teasingly as you seeked an outlet for your sensual frustration, while you were in his shirt, in his room, having slept in his bed, it all sent him into a frenzy. He wanted to mark you, make you his, hear you say everything you never could to him while he would bring you heaven and make you see stars.
“More than okay, darling, I love it,” nibbling at the soft skin, you smirked as Mingi emitted a groan, hands squeezing your ass. This prompted you to continue, and you sat back down, desperate for stimulation that your covered clit against his thigh could offer.
“Is this how you want me, doll?” the pet name sent a jolt through you and you let out a shaky breath, leaving yourself to be supported by an equally taken Mingi, whose growing bulge was now poking against your knee.
“Doll?”
“Only fair I call you something pretty, hm? Unless you want to…” he trailed off, recalling the roles that you had taken previously.
“I want to take it slow with you right now,” you kissed him, lazily moving your hips, the material getting more soaked with each glide, “will you let me?” when he did not immediately give an answer, you palmed at the prominent hardness, asking again just as Mingi let out an airy moan, chasing the contact, “will you let me take care of you?”
“Fu-ck, yes…”
“So good for me- ah!” with a yelp, you shuddered when Mingi’s hand dragged your panties to the side to get a better view of the slick, not caring for the glistening fluid staining his leg. With a few tentative rolls of his thumb over your clit, he decided that he should help you reach your high first, attracted to how you lost yourself in his touch.
“Want to use my thigh to get yourself off that badly?”
“N-no I am going to take c- fuck,” head lolling back, you could only focus on the accelerating fingers over your sensitive nub, teasing its very tip and coated in your precum, stopping spontaneously. You whined, earning yourself a furrowing of the brows and a glint of surprise in Mingi’s gaze.
“Thought you said no?”
It clicked in your head, and the tinge of anger rapidly dispelled, instead being replaced by a warm endearment. You ran a hand through his beautiful hair, planting a kiss on his cheek before answering:
“I don’t want to make you work too hard today.”
“I like to see you like this though…” he mumbled, chasing after another taste of your plush lips.
“How? Unwinding because of your hand? Your thigh? Do you like to make me feel good?” with a few nods, you let him continue by tapping his upper arm. As soon as he resumed the action, in time with your rocking, you let yourself go fully, thinking only of the man who was below you. Nothing, nor anyone else came to mind.
Mingi was observing you carefully, your moans turning to sweet music, "Yes, Mingi, just like that-"
"You look so beautiful, doll, fucking yourself on me. Could you be," he paused his ministrations - a light tremble of muscle a telltale sign of your approaching climax, "...any more perfect?"
Praise shot into your heart and your core, an overwhelming electric shock. You perceived yourself guilty and undeserving of this worship, and yet could not bear to hear anything else from Mingi's lips - you were sure that it would be your demise. Arms thrown over his shoulders, you attempted to speed up your movements, the action proving a challenge due to the accumulating tension. Your head fell forwards, forehead against Mingi’s collarbone as he took to guiding you, hand carefully positioned on the small of your back while the other rolled up and down your aching clit, each touch closer and closer to sending you over the edge.
“Dar-ling I-”
“Are you close, Y/N?” Why did your name have to sound so sweet when he said it?
“Ah- y-yeah…” Mingi was craving for relief to the point of dizziness, grasping at you for the most minimal support. Precum coated the inner side of his underwear, member at full mast as he toyed with your sopping pussy.
“Come over me, doll, please, beautiful, show me what I can do to you,” the request was a fire, deliciously weak and exposing. You looked up at Mingi, disarmed by the kindness of his expression, and peppered a couple of kisses around his lips, too disoriented to find the original target.
With one final rock of the hips, and Mingi’s fingers curling into you and gliding between your folds, you collapsed into unfathomable bliss, a lewd moan resonating from you while the orgasm left you shaking in Mingi’s strong arms. He let you ride out your high by keeping your hips from fully bucking, instead setting a steadily decreasing pace and soothing you through the overstimulation from your continued contact with his leg. He nuzzled against your cheek, following the action with a reassuring:
“I got you,” pulled you into embracing the angel of your life.
The hints of a rising sun began to trickle into the room, just barely leaving a pattern on the carpet and transforming the light in the room into a pale lavender and pink. This was the earliest, and the latest, that you had ever been with anyone after your ritualistic ‘night out’, and courteously reminded you of the occurrences that brought you back to Mingi. Upon your descent from the decadent oblivion, embarrassment struck and you pressed yourself against his body, sighing in relief when he hugged you tight. His hardness was impossible to ignore, and a part of you felt terrible for not repaying the pleasure he had given you just yet, but judging by the way in which you could feel his fingers trace abstract shapes on your back, and after one glance to one side, and then to the other, how he kept himself immersed in his senses, concentrating on you, he could hold out for a little longer.
“Mingi?”
“Mm?”
“You did make me feel good. Really, really good,” uncharacteristically meek, the sentence sounded almost like an announcement, making him chuckle, but the smile that melted across his features was genuine and pure. Loving.
“Happy to hear it. And I am happy that you are feeling like this, Y/N.”
“May I…?” a ghostly caress of his erection, a shaky breath, a playful, lop-sided grin with glossed over eyes.
“And here I was thinking that you like bossing people around, hm?”
“Would you rather I did?” touch turned grasp, a finger playing with the waistband of his boxers while your voice dropped into a dangerous tone, serpent-like, sultry.
“I like new things, I want to get to know you better, gorgeous.”
“Let’s do just that then, though… I’ll need a little,” having regained full function of your legs, you slipped from the position over his thigh to be on your knees between his legs, centred, “assistance. Talk to me, darling, what do you like?”
“I-” with a swift motion, you snaked your hand into his boxers, taking out his erect member and giving it a tentative stroke.
There were no thoughts which he could vocalise aside from hoping that you would never stop. Your thumb circled over his reddened tip, coating itself in the fluid. You barely moved your hand, continuing to give special attention only to the head of his stiffened cock, making Mingi try to wriggle to get more friction. With a push on his pubic bone, you freeze him.
“Now, don’t get too impatient, first I need these boxers off, okay? I’ll help,” you let go of his member, tugging at the material and following Mingi’s quick lift of his lower half, pulled them down and off, leaving the stunning man bare and ready to respond to your every move and command.
You truly wanted to fall in love with him. Those glistening eyes that rolled back slightly just before he closed them, unfathomable bliss revealed only to you, were a paradise that you would not mind floating in forever. He had full trust in you, breathy moans freely falling from his lips as you started to stroke his cock, having added some of your own spit to his pre-cum for lubrication. His every detail was a heavenly design that you could not believe nature had crafted, from body to mind, and here he was, giving it up to you. You regarded the telltale sheen of sweat that began to form on his smooth skin, giving him an angelic appearance in the haze of the early morning. His hands were gripping the bed sheets, knuckles gradually turning paler as you sped up with each pump of his leaking cock. In a moment where you noticed him looking upwards at the ceiling, not registering you, you stopped to give the base a soft squeeze, having an even better idea in mind.
“Mingi?” The call instantly made him dart back to you unfocused but endearingly determined.
“How would you feel about me sucking your dick, hm?”
“H-huh?”
“Only if you want to, darling,” resuming the strokes, albeit at a lazier, dangerously slow speed and making sure to give attention to every vein, you had to practically had to hold yourself back from grinning due to the perplexion decorating Mingi’s face, blended seamlessly with a blazing lust.
“Are you sure?”
“I can show you, and you decide, deal?”
“Fu-uck yes, deal ye-” answer forgotten in the garbled, divine mess of carnal satisfaction, Mingi watched as you lowered yourself to hover above his member, and gave it a few kitten licks before taking in his tip.
You rolled your tongue over the heat, relishing in Mingi’s taste, and pushed down further until you were midway, and hollowed out your cheeks in time to sense how he twitched at the dizzying warmth. While you were more familiar with a dominant role, particularly one where you prioritised your own pleasure and used others as a form of self-relief - not exactly the most responsible approach but no one had complained yet, but even then you were no stranger to this sensual act. You dragged your tongue against his large erection, spurred on by his groan when you bobbed your head a couple of times before slipping off to give Mingi an inquisitive glance.
“So, what do you say?”
“You are… amazing,”
“I take that as a, ‘yes please, Y/N, continue’?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Then say it, darling, so I know,” you grazed a lone finger up his length, admiring just how sensitive it was, “and you can touch me, by the way, you were doing so well before what’s got you so shy now?” you chuckled when a hand that had previously been hovering in your vicinity finally found its place on the side of your face, timidly moving a few strands of hair that you had not noticed threatening to cover your vision.
“Yes… please, Y/N, continue.”
“So precious.”
It did not take long for you to build him back up and higher again. You were addicted to how he writhed under you but was still careful to not grab onto your locks, instead choosing to repeatedly run his digits through and rest them while you masterfully took him in your mouth. A wanton symphony filled the room, blending every sigh and the sloppy collision of his tip against the back of your throat into a direct stimulation. Your core was growing needy, so much so that with one finger you began to roll over your sensitive clit, echoes of the explosive orgasm still shooting through your nerves but not nearly enough to satiate your evolved hunger.
“I’m going to-”
He pawed at you, while an oncoming wave was about to capture him whole. Mingi’s breathing was ragged and irregular and his head fell back while he struggled to distinguish reality from dreaming in the wake of his crumbling state. Just like he had done in your last encounter, the second before he came stirred in him a final aggression, a desire to prove to himself that he retained some form of power, even though all the signs pointed to the opposite. At least now, you were fully prepared. Throat relaxed and eyes fluttering shut, you let yourself be pushed down onto the throbbing cock with a rough hand, and welcomed the ropes of hot, white cum when they spurted out to coat your mouth, rivulets dripping down your throat and prompting you to swallow. The light tang was suddenly your favourite flavour, and you resumed your pumping, milking Mingi of all his nectar with a greedy forcefulness. He tasted like he was completely yours.
He hit the headboard as he collapsed from the exertion, astonished at how you licked your lips, showing off the emptiness of your mouth as you had swallowed his load. Your cunt ached for more, and you drifted towards Mingi until your chest was pressed against his, ensuring he recalled the fact that you were still wearing his shirt. Not caring for the remnants of his cum on the corners of your mouth, he searched for your lips, sealing them with a long kiss. You used this as an opportunity to lower yourself just enough to have your folds glide over his only just softening member, and deepened the kiss to drown out his gasp. You needed him, and needed him now. Not caring for recovery times, you began to fist his dick roughly, making him tremble underneath you and bite down on his lip.
“Come on, precious, won’t you give me another?”
“A-ah I- please I-”
“What was that?” you separated yourself from him, a smirk dancing on your lips when you sensed a familiar rush racing under skin from the stimulation, and leaned to the side to open the bedside drawer, successfully fishing out a condom.
“I-”
“Speak up, sweetheart, I am not sure what you’re saying,” it was so easy to tease him, play with his mind, and you liked it too much. Reduced to babble, he shut himself off from further attempts to communicate, submitting to your determination to work him until he was hard again.
When you ceased to pump him and let go, his cock slapped against his skin, leaving behind traces of prior climax and clear promise of another. You removed the condom from the packaging and carefully unrolled it, suddenly struck by how practised this felt with Mingi, as if you knew each other’s bodies better than your own. You would be lying if you were to say you did not have him memorised.
Positioning his tip at your entrance, you sighed and slid him between your folds. One rock of the hips, another, and the condom was coated in your slick, and you began to take the member in, inch by inch into your fluttering heat, mouth ajar as you felt him grazing against your begging walls, the ribbed detail of the protection only adding to the sensation. Soon enough, he was fully sheathed inside your fluttering hole, and was struggling to hold himself back from bucking his hips upwards. One leg on either side of him, you were straddling his lap, the position reminiscent of a longing embrace, intimate, personal. The centre of your attention were the contortions of his face and the arms that loosely wrapped around your torso.
If it was possible to be any closer, then most certainly Mingi achieved it when he pulled you into him, holding you tight. The movement dragged your pussy over his cock, almost making it slip out until he settled you back down again, hissing when skin slapped against skin. Not surprised by, but still not expecting the enticing demonstration of strength, you nudged Mingi’s cheek with your own, whispering words of praise in his ear:
“Do you want to guide me?”
“Sorry Y/N, I couldn’t help it… your pussy feels so good…”
“I said I want to take care of you, Mingi, tell me what you want.”
“I… I do want to guide you, if you let me.”
“Show me what you can do, darling.”
You did not need to say it twice as he grabbed your hips to adjust your seating, and took to finding a steady and breath-taking rhythm, with the two of you moving as one. Mingi left one peck, another on your shoulder when you yelped from a particularly deep pound of his cock into you, grazing your g-spot and knocking you off kilter.
“Yes, yes, Mingi-”
“So pretty, for me?” he cut you off while he quickened his pace, starting to move up with more vigour when you found balance by gripping onto the headboard.
“For-” you stopped, reassessing the sentence. Even in the comfort of his show of power, you were hesitant to give up. Nothing forced you to continue however, as Mingi angled his thrusts to hit your sweet spot repeatedly, making your legs tremble and pussy clench around him. The heat was becoming unbearable, and the knot in your stomach was driving you mad, “Fuck, Mingi, faster!”
Your words were followed by a few violent thrusts, before Mingi tapped your thigh and growled for you to shift your leg so that you could turn and lie down on your side. You read his wishes, cautiously shifting until your back was flush against his chest. Remaining close so that his length remained in your sopping cunt, you shifted to sink into the crumpled sheets, fixated on Mingi, who was entirely in his own world, concentrated on performance and pleasure. He lifted your other leg by hooking it with his arm and, once settled, began to thrust with a totally new vigour.
His grunts mixed with your high-pitched whines, and his pistoning caused your fluids to spill relentlessly around his cock, soaking the sheets. Mingi was in overdrive; he wanted more, needed more and despite already having already come one for you, he was ready to do it again. The pain of having his cock abused and overstimulated had subsided, instead transforming into a delightful sensitivity to the warmth of your walls, and how they started to pulsate. You unleashed a broken moan as your high accumulated and destroyed you, giving you up to Mingi entirely. Sensing the shift, he persisted, letting out his own guttural groan when the pounding into your hole had turned into pure ecstasy and brought him to his own orgasm. Cock twitching as it spilled out more of his release into the condom, the heat leaving you dizzy, you followed his change of position back into sitting, jaw slackened, vision unfocused.
Mingi kept you against him, encouraged you to say his name again while you warmed him, to which you instantly obliged - it felt too natural, meant to be. He scissored your folds with his fingers, after which he moved up to tease your pulsing and erect clit, middle finger moving over it at an astonishingly fast pace. You practically clawed at Mingi, sure that you were about to break, gasps stuck in your throat but he would not budge, holding you down until a tidal wave crashed into you, and you mewled through another climax, this time a clear liquid spilling from you and further ruining the cotton below. A wreck, you leaned back on him, unable to keep yourself up any longer from the shaking of your legs to the blankness of your mind.
He kissed you back to full consciousness, having tilted your head so he could capture your lips again and again, each contact more gentle than the one prior. After pulling out his cock and discarding the condom, his full attention was on you. Mingi caressed your face, snaked his hands under the t-shirt to feel your skin, lowered you onto the bed and slid another pillow so that you remained in a more or less upright position.
“You okay?” he tried, worry showing itself on his features when you did not respond instantly.
“I love,” he stilled, eyes widening, “...this. I love this, Mingi,” nevertheless, he beamed, lips interlocking for what had to be the thousandth time. Not sure how to respond, he simply lied down next to you, watching as your inhales and exhales grew more level, deeper, and awareness of surroundings returned.
“We… we really should clean up, yeah?”
“Definitely changing the bedsheets later,” Mingi pointed at what was running the risk of being a stain of your release. Blush rose on your cheeks as you turned away, mumbling:
“Good point.”
“Hey, hey, it was worth it. You looked beautiful,” he tried to move you back, but you only crossed your arms, joking.
“You were literally behind me, Mingi.”
“Beautiful from all angles, doll,” you sharply turned, giving him a glare before suppressing the widest grin.
“So cheesy,”
“Do you like it?”
“Unfortunately, a little too much.” you flicked his nose with your own, the safety and adoration oozing from Mingi lulling you. The room glowed a stunning shade of pink, with hints of orange as you swam in his stunning dark irises.
“Well I have a lot more where that came from.”
“Can’t wait to hear it. Now, uh… shower?”
It was Saturday. And most definitely, it was not the dead of night. Late morning light washed over your skin as you sat upright on Mingi’s bed, the same one you had run from not too long ago. Only this time, the arm lazily thrown over your stomach was impossible to move, and the gaze of the man with his head perched on his other hand was impossible to ignore. It was evident that he was waiting for your next move, purposefully silent. Aware. Even though you had made your own version of a confession, you knew that you had a long way to go if you wanted Mingi to wholeheartedly trust you, and thus you would be able to hold and protect his love in your own slowly healing heart.
For the first time, you were looking beyond the character you had created for yourself, feeling for the essence of who you had once been far too long ago, thawing the self-protective frost you had accumulated as your last resort. Attempting to stay still, you focused on how your breathing repeatedly lifted and lowered his arm that was still on your body. Too heavy, too intimate, too real for you to handle. According to the logic that you were trying to shed for a full reawakening, you had gotten what you wanted, right? Then why was it that you could not stand up and leave, having used him again, mercilessly and coldly? Why were you stuck? Resistance was futile. Questions turning into a barrage of artillery against your clouded mind were agonising, and amidst the colossal pause a shudder passed over your body. Mingi’s t-shirt that he had let you borrow, hanging loosely over you was suddenly not enough. Feeling bare, you grasped at the bedsheets, anything, the cold settling on your skin like fresh snow, coating you and leaving you gasping. A trembling of the lips, a breath suspended in the lungs, blooming into an ache until tears welled up in your eyes, glistening raindrops. Patterns felt like strangers as you thought of the many days that you had tried to not live through, instead succumbing to impulse and carnality, and the foreign bliss of being in the now was so acute it sent shocks through your system. A white light, a white lily, a white dove cradled in your hands. You felt Mingi’s hand pressing into your side as he moved a little closer. You could hear him, his breath, his heartbeat, feel the heat emanating from his body, and every touch imprinted on your skin once again. Celestial blessings that soothed you like no one ever could. Biting on your lower lip, you lowered your head to fight the last of yourself. Shedding your beliefs and desires, you were left bare, and you were terrified. A white chasm into which you kept on falling, and the only thing you could hear was Mingi’s voice as he sat up to pull you into an embrace, his strong arms lifting you from your position and into his lap. Heart to heart, you melted into the feeling, inhaling him, his affection that was seeking you out in the panic. A hand lulling you, slowly patting your back as your body shook with every suppressed sob. As he mumbled your name against your ear, calling out for you, the previously contained tears sprung out, travelling down your cheeks, but Mingi could not care less, only hugging you tighter until even in your loss, you could feel that he was there, and he was not planning to leave.
Once you calmed down, he continued to hold you, mumbling abstract thoughts that occurred to him, unrelated to anything that had you rolling up the walls like a penny. You knew it was on purpose - a delightful distraction crafted by psychological mastery, getting you to nod along to his plans for ‘the latest breakfast of all time’, listening to his mention of some park or square nearby, switching you off from the ghosts of a turbulent circuit that you were too used to existing in. You did not mind the chatter, the vibrations emanating across and from his chest as he spoke having turned into the most soothing sensation.
“...a date.”
“Huh?” only having registered the last part of the sentence, you jolted out of your empty musings.
“Since we are now dating, we will go on a date.”
“Makes sense.. But… how?” he chuckled breathlessly, detangling himself a little, just to look at you.
“How? Are you asking how people go on dates?”
“I guess…”
“Well then I’ll have to show you.”
As you lost yourself in another kiss, a thought, or more accurately, a small yet persistent wish buried itself in your mind. With all your being, you hoped that on this date, in every step towards new tomorrows, it would be only you and Mingi, and the metaphorical doors would remain shut, isolating and erasing your past. After all, you did not want to use him.
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I keep my streams about Wolf Bride light-hearted. It’s been a hell of a year, and I think we all need a space where we can laugh together. But part of responsibly consuming problematic media is being aware of where it fails. And that’s why I think it’s important to talk about Morgan, and Wolf Bride’s troubling depiction of blindness.
Morgan is one of the first Love Interests in Choices to have a canon disability. She is representation many players with disabilities, like myself, are eager for. But like any form of representation, writing a blind character requires research. A quick google search will lead you to numerous visually impaired voices who outline the tropes and stereotypes that harm their community. Wolf Bride has included nearly all of them.
signal boosts are appreciated
Not All Blind People Wear Sunglasses
Morgan is shown wearing dark sunglasses from the moment she appears on screen. And there are certainly blind people who wear sunglasses — particularly those who (unlike Morgan) can still perceive some degree of light and dark, and experience painful light sensitivity. But no context is ever giving for Morgan’s use of sunglasses. In fact, they aren’t even addressed for four chapters.
[ID: Two screenshots from Chapter Four of Wolf Bride. The first features a text box over a forest background, and reads “You glance at Morgan, and are surprised to see the dark glasses still covering her eyes.” The second features a labeled image of her sunglasses, placed over a black background, with a selectable button that reads “What does Morgan look like without these?”] What follows is a scene Pixelberry could have used to provide insight into an assistive device the sighted community may not be entirely familiar with. They could have touched on degrees of visual impairment, or why some blind individuals need dark lenses while others don’t. They could even have explained that for some individuals with visual impairments, dark lenses make tasks like reading or navigating dimly lit spaces harder. Instead, and far more troublingly, MC is given the option to ask Morgan not to wear them anymore. And depending on your choice, the book is coded to remove the sunglasses from her sprite in future scenes. This reduces an assistive device to a fashion choice, something our MC can wish away if they don’t find it attractive. And that isn’t okay.
Unusual Eyes
[ID: Two side-by-side screenshots from Chapter Four of Wolf Bride. The first features a text box placed over a forest background that reads “With a start, you realize her pale eyes aren’t looking at you, aren’t seeing you, aren’t seeing anything.” The second features Morgan’s sad sprite in the same forest setting, and a text box that reads “...I’ve been blind since birth.”] Morgan has a customizable sprite. But regardless of the ethnicity you select for her, she is depicted with pale blue eyes. And that troubles me. Because the stereotype that all blind individuals have cloudy, distorted, or unusual eyes is pervasive and harmful.
Even when it isn’t tied to another harmful trope — the blind character as mystical seer or psychic — this stereotype create an expectation that blindness is something that always manifests in a visible way. And for millions of blind individuals, that isn’t the case.
And while cataracts, trauma to the eye, and corneal infections can all cause the clouded effect most of us recognize from media, none turn your brown eyes into blue. Heightened Senses
Another common stereotype in media is the blind character who’s remaining senses have become heightened as a compensatory mechanism, often to a supernatural degree.
[ID: Two side-by-side screenshots from Chapter Four of Wolf Bride. The first features Morgan’s surprised sprite in a forest setting and a text box that reads “I guess I sort of...feel things. Like the place on my cheek where the branch blocked the wind.” The second features Morgan’s neutral sprite in the same forest setting, and a text box that reads “I can smell the dew on the leaves, and the moss on the bark. Can’t you?] Individuals with visual impairment may learn to rely on their other senses to navigate the world around them. But they do not suddenly gain the ability to sense the location of a branch based on wind patterns, or to accurately throw a dart at a carnival game ballon based on its smell.
[ID: Two side-by-side screenshots from Chapter Eight of Wolf Bride. The first features a text box placed over a carnival background that reads “Pop! Pop! Pop! Three darts fly through the air, striking their targets.” The second features the white MC with straight blonde hair. Her sprite is surprised, and beneath it is a text box that reads “So you did that by smell, too?]
This trope may seem harmless — after all, it gave us Daredevil, a beloved blind superhero — but it contributes to the unachievable expectations we often place on real-world individuals with visually impairments. And that isn’t fair.
Of course, we all suspected Morgan’s abilities were due to something other than heightened senses. And that in and of itself is a problem.
Magical / Supernatural Abilities
To the surprise of no one, Morgan exhibits these unusual abilities because she is a werewolf. But choosing to give a blind character magical abilities should only be done after asking yourself some challenging questions. As visually-impaired Tumblr user @mimzy-writing-online explains:
Your blind characters don’t need a magical ability that negates their blindness. [Ask yourself why it’s so important to you to give them one]. If it’s because they can’t do all the things you want them to do without it, then should you really have written them as blind in the first place?
And that’s the thing. Morgan isn’t actually written as a blind character, not when it counts. Morgan shoots bullets with accuracy, runs through unfamiliar terrain, and navigates moving objects with ease. She doesn’t use common assistive devices like canes or screen readers. Her sunglasses are discarded at MC’s request. The scientific papers that fill her research facility are not digitized for accessibility or written in braille.
Even her dreams, which should be reflections of how she perceives reality, look identical to Bastien's — which makes no sense for someone who has been canonically blind since birth.
[ID: Two side-by-side screenshots from Chapters Five and Eight of Wolf Bride. The first features a scene from Morgan’s lucid dream. Set in a glamorous hotel, it includes visual details like twinkling lights, and patterned carpets. The color is tinted a grey-blue and the exposure on the image has been increased to an unnatural level. The second features a scene from Bastien’s lucid dream. Set in a forest, it shares the same tinted and over-exposed qualities as the first.]
Her blindness isn’t an integral part of her character. Instead, it’s a narrative device, paraded in front of the reader when it can further a central — and deeply disturbing — plot point. [content warning: discussion of discrimination and child abuse / abandonment ahead] Morgan Was Left to Die Because She Was Blind
And Jesus, what a plot point it is. In Chapter 11, we learn that Morgan was left to die in the woods because she was born “wrong, sickly, blind.” But the only canonical disability or illness she is ever shown to have is her blindness.
[ID: Three side-by-side screenshots from Chapter Eleven of Wolf Bride. The first two feature the white MC with straight blonde hair’s shocked sprite in front of a forest background. The first text box reads “I don’t understand...” followed by two dialogue options “Why was Morgan abandoned?” and “Is that what you do to full moon babies? Kill them?” The second panel’s read box reads “Just because she was blind?” The third panel features the old woman Noemi’s sad sprite, placed over a forest background. Her text box reads “If we know an infant will not survive, it is best to let it die quickly.”]
I...am frankly having a hard time thinking through the screenshot-induced fury to make a coherent argument here. To imply that blindness is an impairment so limiting that death is the only foreseeable outcome? That being born blind somehow makes a child “wrong”? The ignorance and prejudice shown in this scene is staggering.
But equally troubling is the response of the main characters to this revelation. Yes, in fiction, bad people sometimes do bad things. But Noemi isn’t shown to be a bad person. Neither is Bastien, who knew what his pack had been guilty of in the past, and even seeks to justify it to a limited degree.
Most shockingly, Morgan herself, who in the second screenshot below has just overheard that she was left to die as an infant because she is blind, isn’t angry or upset. She’s almost apologetic, still seeking a place within the pack.
[ID: Two side-by-side screenshots from Chapter Eleven of Wolf Bride. The first features Hispanic Bastien’s sad sprite in front of a forest background. The text box beneath him reads “It doesn’t happen often, Clara, but...” The second features white Morgan’s sad sprite in front of the same forest background. The text box beneath her reads “I didn’t mean any harm. Especially after...what I just overheard.”]
By introducing the idea that a child born blind cannot survive, let alone thrive, without superhuman abilities, and then failing to soundly and thoroughly refute that idea through the characters we identify with, Pixelberry is unintentionally perpetuating the same false beliefs that have led to real-world instances of infanticide for centuries. And that isn’t okay.
I don’t know where Pixelberry will go with the story from here. Perhaps in today’s chapter some of these concerns have been addressed...but I doubt it. In the meantime, I’ve also written to their support staff to express my deep concern and disappointment in the treatment of Morgan’s character. And I’d encourage you to do the same.
Will I continue to keep streaming Wolf Bride? For now, yes. My VIP subscription is already paid for, and frankly, I want to see Morgan’s arc through. I guess the small part of me that was excited for the representation is still hopeful the narrative can be corrected.
But I’ll be adding a content warning at the start of each stream for ablism, and that’s something I never thought I’d have to do. Screenshots courtesy of CrimsonFeatherGames on Youtube
#playchoices#pixelberry#choices vip#wolf bride#choices wolf bride#cw: child abuse#cw: ableism#anti-wolf bride
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What do you think was JC's purpose in adding this in the Weird Sisters SQ? I suppose the note says different things depending on the year the person does this on? You think it means something or was it just them being quirky?
This actually might be one of the biggest mysteries of the whole game.
All right, let’s start with a brief history of this quest. “The Weird Sisters” TLSQ was one of the first time-limited side quests ever released for HPHM. I believe it was like… the fourth one? We were in early Y5 at the time. Then, after a while, it was pulled out, along with some other quests (some regular ones, some time-limited). Jam City claimed that they did it for adjustments, whatever it means. Still, the quests were gone for a very long time. Interestingly, in the case of the regular ones, they often are still referenced in the main story – even if you didn’t complete it! For example, in Y2, there was a regular SQ where you learn Episkey. Currently, it’s gone, but MC still claims in Y4 that Madam Pomfrey taught them the spell in the past.
Anyway, only recently some of the quests started returning, and “The Weird Sisters” is obviously one of them. I don’t really know if any adjustments were actually made, but… this very scene is surprisingly exactly the same as it was. This is my own screenshots made in November 2018:
As far as I know, it wasn’t different for different years. Although I admit that I don’t know of anyone completing this quest in Y7… But because Jam City didn’t remove it in general, and it was originally written so early on, I personally believe that it is in fact important – or at least it was supposed to be. Moreover, I suppose it refers to the Gillyweed/Coral key which appeared in the main story twice – and both cases are pretty interesting on their own.
First, Rakepick manipulated MC into finding the key in Filch’s Office (Y4Ch9):
And I’m sorry, but this is such a bullshit explanation. Dumbledore basically hired her to deal with the Cursed Vaults. There’s no fucking way he wouldn’t simply give her permission to search the Office. She wanted MC to know that she can trick them. But if she was always a bad guy, why the hell would she do that?
And then, we found the key with Sicklewoth in Y5Ch32:
Again, if Rakepick was looking for that key for that long, why she didn’t take it with her? Like, she knew she’s about to betray MC in the Portrait Vault, right? What? She was planning to kill everyone in the Vault and then return for her things to Hogwarts? It doesn’t make any sense. Now, I’m not saying that she wanted Sickleworth to deliver the key to MC, but…
Seriously though, all those situations feel too similar for it to be a coincidence, so I guess that it all has to be about the same key.
Now, I have to mention in this place the events from the end of Y6 (the Sunken Vault) to discuss it further, but as always, I’ll try not to spoil too much.
Basically, the note is never mentioned in the main story, at least as for the current point (Y7Ch18). In fact, we totally forgot about the Coral Key Sickleworth gave us, too. However, while the game wants us to believe that we’re done with the Cursed Vaults, I really doubt it’s the case. And it’s not just about that damn key. The Sunken Vault was simply… off. Yes, I’m sure that for a big part, it’s the fault of bad writing, but still. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if we’re gonna return to the Sunken Vault yet, and then, it might turn out that the key was super important all that time. And perhaps, we could talk about that letter again as well.
In other words, I assume that Jam City simply wanted to use this opportunity to build the ground for future events. They just failed with execution, as usual. Although I have to say that they also fucked up with it a bit from the beginning by putting it in a time-limited side quest. I mean, no important information like that should be placed in a TLSQs, simply because not every player is gonna complete it.
So yeah, I don’t think it was just about being quirky. I do believe it was supposed to be important, and I hope it still will be. I also hope it answers your question! If I wasn’t clear about something, feel free to ask for clarification.
#long post#hogwarts mystery#hphm#hphm mc#patricia rakepick#hphm r#sunken vault#the weird sisters tlsq#analysis post#ask#indigobackfire
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The Monoma Meta Nobody Asked For
I don’t remember who it was on Reddit that said it makes sense for Monoma to be one of the most empathetic characters in BNHA cuz of his Quirk, (his quirk allows him to walk in the shoes of other people in ways most will never be able to even if for 5 minutes at a time), but let’s talk about it for a minute.
Monoma is a character full of contradictions but there’s a method to the madness.
Let’s take a real deep look at the manga shall we?
It’s pretty much canon that Monoma trash talks 1-A so much in-part b/c he cares that much... too much... about his own classmates. It’s implicitly obvious based on the way he interacts with his classmates and phrases his rants at class 1-A.
The fact that he’s obviously influenced by Vlad is just the cherry on top.
He’s prideful of not just himself but also his friends. Let’s break down the nuances there.
Ch196 above, Ch207 below.
Empathy
The kid has a way with words.
The kid has a weirdly poetic way with words.
He goes out of his way to encourage or reassure his classmates in a deeply thoughtful manner at every given opportunity.
He hyped up Setsuna Tokage before her battle with Bakugo and we saw him grin in pride when Komori took down Tokoyami.
Whenever Monoma does criticize his classmates, it’s always frank, honest, but constructive, with the intention to help them improve. He’s even contrasted with his own teacher for being relatively more kind in the delivery of his criticism (see the next screenshot). Given that Monoma’s shown to be strongly influenced by Vlad, this particular difference stands out.
You never see an anime/manga character get fancifully philosophical & genuinely helpful like this unless they are an adult, usually the MC’s mentor. Monoma’s legit acting more like an anime mentor than any of Deku’s multiple mentors. lmfaooo.
Realistically speaking, all of this, the philosophical speeches & level-headed advice, takes an incredible amount of emotional & mental labor. The kid’s practically doing half of Vlad’s job for him.
It’s during the joint training arc we begin to see why his classmates put up with him and are on friendly terms despite how obnoxious & cheesy he can be & how often they need to keep him in check.
It’s clear even as far back as the sports festival that his classmates don’t actually hate him, despite the smacks & tough love they also just shake their heads with a smile on their face as they say “sorry about him,” cuz that’s just the way he is. They love him anyways.
He’s an annoying little sh*t but he’s their annoying little sh*t. Perhaps they even realize why he acts the way he does towards class 1-A, it’s because he cares too much.
Sketch translated by @aitaikimochi
Putting Up An Act
I think there’s actually even more to it when it comes to his rowdy & brash behaviors.
Monoma is empathetic because of how his Quirk works. He needs to learn to use the Quirks of others in order to become a hero. In doing so he logically needs to become privy to all the Quirk’s weaknesses, not just their strengths. Not only does he need to become privy to these often deeply personal details of one’s lived life, he needs to experience them, even if for just five minutes at a time. It’s natural, even necessary, for Monoma to become exceptionally close to his classmates.
But he’s only like that because of how his Quirk works. It’s his naturally nurtured self. His conscious self, though, is notably different.
What we see when Monoma says he and Shinsou need to do unheroic things to get by is not his naturally nurtured self, but is a conscious decision.
At some point in his life, Monoma came to the conclusion that being too kindhearted all the time will be weakness. This is clearly implied, almost outright stated when we heard Monoma’s thoughts when faced with Deku’s Black Whip, “All of the hopes and dreams in my mind from when I was younger are gradually becoming these heavy burdens... like some sort of curse.” I am 99.999% sure it’s Monoma’s thoughts being shown there because the speech pattern & context don’t match up to Shinsou or Midoriya at all.
Basically, Monoma is a little sh*t because he saw his own empathy as a weakness, and overcompensates for it. He’s trained himself to be brash & mischievous, likely from a very young age given how consistently brash he is. We can see a little bit of this when interacting with his class-B classmates as well.
It was @thyandrawrites who first noticed this in this post, but here we see Monoma scolding Kendou after losing the beauty contest, giving perhaps too much tough love & TetsuTetsu steps in to Kendou’s defense.
Given how Monoma during the Joint Training arc clearly said everything he did to motivate his friends to do better, this is likely not an isolated occurrence. The dude cares way too goddamn much for anyone’s good.
Yet there’s something else up with the guy too, something else that contributes even more to his unhealthy obsession with the rivalry vs class-A. The dude has some serious self-esteem issues but is too prideful to seek real help.
Self-doubt
The fact that he’s the only member of class-B who failed the midterm despite having an intelligence stat of 5/5 speaks for itself.
Him failing the academic exam would be a sign of serious issues going on under the surface in itself, him failing the practical means he probably failed b/c he couldn’t hold his own and his teammate had to pick up the slack.
Him failing b/c he held back his teammate would have hit very close to home since we now know he was told “You can’t be a hero if you can’t do anything yourself” since he was a kid.
Basically, yet another reason he continues to antagonize class-A is a textbook example of someone pushing their insecurities onto someone or something else.
For something often played off as comedic relief there’s a lot of layers as to why Monoma does what he does.
But wait, there’s f*cking more. There’s actually a particular reason Monoma expresses his insecurities in this unhealthy manner, and that reason ties into what I’ve already begun to address about his empathy.
Another Act
I don’t think it’s accident that the first time we see him have a real heart-to-heart with someone is when he’s attempting to do it for the sake of someone else. Even if it is in a clumsy manner that ends up annoying Shinsou, it’s the intent I’m interested in here.
We almost never see Monoma receive or accept praise or reassurance, he’s always the one giving it. He always makes it a point to put himself in the position where he’s being the emotionally strong one.
He got over class 1-A securing their victory exceptionally fast, ready to put on a strong face for Tokage and the rest of his class.
The few times we do see him genuinely depressed, he’s distancing himself from others.
He’s afraid of holding others back not just as a hero, but emotionally as well. His instinct to be emotionally strong for the people he cares about stems not just from his strong empathy and caring nature nature itself, but also from his pride, insecurities and conscious decision to do everything he can do.
This is why he’s too prideful to seek or accept real emotional help & ends up venting his emotions in unhealthy & destructive ways.
His many depictions as an actor of sorts was intentional. He juggles many acts, he puts on an act of emotional strength for his classmates, and he puts on an act of cruelty to get by as a hero. To antagonize people in an attempt to throw them off their game. Sometimes... oftentimes even, he misapplies these charades & gets carried away. Oftentimes he fails entirely, he’s trying to do some hella complex things for a kid.
Finally, His Pride
Let’s not kid ourselves here, the dude has a major superiority/inferiority complex. He fails to see how needlessly cruel he’s being when saying class-A asked to be attacked by villains etc.
I’m willing to bet he’ll be in a phase denial for a while now that Class-B and Class-A have gotten more openly friendly in recent chapters. But because he cares so much about his classmates he’ll likely eventually come around to adjusting to a new frenemy relationship with 1-A... with much difficulty when we take his pride, insecurities & self-righteous envy into account.
He’ll probably end up being Tsundere about everything to protect his ego and so Horikoshi can keep using him for comedic relief lol. Even if he does realize a lot of what he’s done was f*ked up, he’s too brash of a prankster to ever go fully soft on them either.
TL;DR... Monoma is a piece of mf work. Not surprising really.
#I overanalyze the comedic relief character#Someone stop me#TJ overanalysis#bnha meta#neito monoma#monoma neito#monoma#bnha spoilers#bnha manga#bnha#My Hero Academia#boku no hero academia#class 1b#bnha class b#bnha class 1b#vlad king
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Interview with Eve Golden Woods!
Many of you know who is Eve is. She's a writer and artist, a part of Dreamfeel studios whose beautiful game If Found won Best LGBTQ Narrative and Best LGBTQ Indie game at the first ever Gayming Awards presented by EA games. I am really excited I had the chance to ask Eve some questions about herself, her time at Lovestruck and her creative process.
Congratulations on the two Gayming Awards (Best LGBTQ Narrative, Best LGBTQ Indie Game) for "If Found" from your game studio, Dreamfeel. What was the inspiration behind making the game?
If Found... was a game that emerged out of a collaboration between Llaura McGee, the founder of Dreamfeel, and artist Liadh Young. Liadh's background is as a comic artist, and so when they started working together Llaura had the idea of showing off Liadh's art by making a diary game, and using an erasing mechanic she had previously developed to let the player move through the diary in a fun way. By the time I came on board at the start of 2019, the game had already been in development for a while, so in some ways my work on that game was similar to the work I did for Voltage, because it was taking existing characters and concepts and writing a lot of scripts for them. Unlike Voltage, though, my work for Dreamfeel was a lot more collaborative and I had a lot more creative input. I really enjoy taking something and helping to make it the best version of itself that it can possibly be, but I was also really happy that I got to reflect a lot of my own experiences in If Found. Llaura and I both grew up on the west coast of Ireland, and although If Found... isn't autobiographical for either of us, it was definitely really meaningful to be able to tell a story that reflected our own experiences of growing up as queer teens in a similar kind of environment. Since the game came out we've had fans reach out to us and tell us that they also connected to the experiences of the main characters, and as far as I'm concerned, that makes me feel like I achieved everything I wanted to.
You are a writer and a visual artist. Does one come easier to you than the other?
I used to think of art and writing as talents, and I always felt like my art was at a very mediocre level (that's probably still true, lol). So when I was younger I focused a lot more on writing. It was only later that I started genuinely trying to improve as an artist, but when I did, I think I had a much healthier mindset, and approached it as a skill I could learn with patience and effort. Because of that, even though I still have a lot more confidence in my writing, I find art more fun and relaxing, and I don't stress about it as much.
Did you always know you would follow a creative path?
Kind of? Both my parents are artists, and I grew up surrounded by artists and writers, so it was something that was always very familiar and accessible to me. On the other hand, I didn't exactly have a clear idea of how to make it into a career, or what kind of work would be involved. But there's never been a point in my life where I wasn't doing something creative, even if it was only writing fanfiction.
What did your path to working professionally as a writer/artist look like?
I did a creative writing masters in college, but after that I spent years teaching English as a second language. That was really fun and I got to live abroad, but it was so busy and tiring that I didn't have time to do any writing outside of the occasional fanfic. I only started to take art seriously again when I became interested in games and comics as ways of telling stories. I did some critical writing, which led me to speak at a few local events and get involved in zine fairs. That was how I met Llaura, the director and lead of the Dreamfeel studio, and it's also what gave me the confidence to start applying for actual writing jobs.
Is there any work of art, visual or written, that you look to for inspiration?
So many! I try to read and watch as widely as I can, although there are touchstones I always return to, like the works of Ursula Le Guin and Terry Pratchett. Right now I feel very passionate about the actual play podcast Friends at the Table, which manages to combine really thoughtful worldbuilding and storytelling with cool, fun characters and great action scenes. I'm also reading a book called The Memory Police by Youko Ogawa, which has extremely beautiful prose.
Do you have a favorite piece of your own art, whether it is something you’ve drawn, a screenshot of something you’ve written or something else?
My favourite piece of art is usually whatever I finished most recently (I think that's true for a lot of people). Especially with visual art, once a bit of time has gone by you look back on it and start to notice all your mistakes, which is very annoying. But actually I do still really like the first piece of Fiona fanart I did last year. I managed to use some effects to give it a kind of nineties anime quality that I find really fun, and I think it conveys an emotion pretty effectively. That's always one of the hardest things to predict with visual art, whether the different parts will come together to create the exact mood you're looking for.
I also really like the compass I did for Bycatch. Krissy (@xekstrin) was the one who suggested filling it with fingernails, which was such a good, gross idea! As soon as I heard that I knew it was perfect and that I had to try and draw it.
Many people who read this blog know you as a writer for Lovestruck. When you look back on your time there, what stands out in your mind?
Lovestruck was very important to me when I first started because it was my first ongoing, regular, paid writing work. It gave me a lot of confidence and helped me to get into the habit of writing consistently and rapidly, which is a really useful skill to have. I know I was right to leave when I did, though, because I am just brimming with energy to work on my own projects, and channeling that power into something that you can't control will always end up disappointing you. Also, I made a ton of incredible friends, through Lovestruck itself but then even more so through VOW (@vowtogether), and that is more than worth all the difficult parts.
Is there any character that you would have liked a crack at writing?
Oh gosh, what a fun question! There are so many, but one I do sometimes think about is Axia, just because I know there are a bunch of fans who want her route, and because I had fun writing her as a villain in Zain's route. I can see in my head the shadow of a storyline that takes place after Zain's route is over, where she's in prison and trying to understand how she lost the battle with Zain and MC. I think there's, like, a gap there, where you could see her downfall forcing her to reconsider her assumptions about power, and that could build into a very interesting redemption story. But maybe it's for the best I never got to do that, because I would have wanted full creative control over it, and also I think the story in my head is very different to the sexy, in control, menacing version of Axia that her fans enjoy.
Do you have any upcoming projects you can talk about?
Most of my current work is under NDA, but I will say that I'm doing something very exciting with other VOW members that we should be able to talk about soon(ish). Maybe I can even give a little teaser... It's not a game, but it is something you can read, and my part involves cakes, swamps, and a museum.
Do you have a favorite quote or song lyric?
It's a big long, but there's a section from The Dispossessed by Ursula le Guin that has stayed with me ever since I read it:
"For we each of us deserve everything, every luxury that was ever piled in the tombs of the dead kings, and we each of us deserve nothing, not a mouthful of bread in hunger. Have we not eaten while another starved? Will you punish us for that? Will you reward us for the virtue of starving while others ate? No man earns punishment, no man earns reward. Free your mind of the idea of deserving, the idea of earning, and you will begin to be able to think."
It's such a profoundly radical way of imagining the world, so different to everything I was raised with, but whenever I think about it I feel like I can see something very beautiful and powerful that I hope to come closer to understanding some day.
And of course, "Solidarity forever, the union makes us strong."
I was a big fan of the show Inside the Actor’s Studio. Host James Lipton asked every single guest the same 10 concluding questions. I’ve picked 3 of them:
-What is your favorite word?
My favourite word: for sound, I like words you can really roll around on your tongue. Chthonic, alabaster, insinuation. For meaning, I think simple words that encapsulate big concepts have a kind of power to them. We use them so often we forget how big they are, how much weight they really have, but they give us the space to imagine new possibilities. Love. Freedom. Revolution.
-What is your least favorite word?
I've heard that "moist" is a lot of people's least favourite word but it doesn't actually bother me. My least favourite word is probably one where I feel like the sound doesn't match the meaning. One of the Irish words for rain is báisteach, which I feel has a much weightier and more onomatopoeic sound than rain. Rain is just very flat and uninteresting.
-What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
Oh, so many! I love history, and I think being a historian/archaeologist would be fascinating. Or something that had a physical component to it, like being a potter or a carpenter. I don't think I'd be any good, but I'd love to take the time to learn.
What would be your advice to anyone who wants to pursue a creative career?
All the work you do matters. Even the failed experiments, the things you hate when they're finished. It all helps to make you better. Also, creative career paths are often really unexpected, so chase any opportunity that seems remotely interesting. Don't work for free for anyone who can afford to pay, but work for yourself and put it somewhere. On a blog, twitter, whatever. You'd be amazed how many people get noticed and get offered opportunities because of something they made in their spare time. You'll probably have to work another job for a long time, so don't be hard on yourself if you're too tired to devote much energy to creative work. Try to make art consistently, but don't feel like that has to mean every day. Don't chase after celebrities. Make friends with your peers.
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