#i have no idea why predictive text suggested that

[junejasprose-addict]

[scoutofmymind]

Saw that someone said Luigi’s Reddit had a post where he eluded to a pretty heavy drinking habit in college, which then makes me think about drunk ex!luigi. I’m sorry, but you write angst too well

Unlearn Me — { Luigi x Reader}

Content: SFW, angst, yearning, slight pining, mentions of canon back pain, ex’s reminiscing, heartbreak all over again.

Wc: 4,336 (holy shit)

Notes; Two semesters of carefully crafted distance crumbles at 3AM in the computer lab when your final project implodes hours before the deadline, leaving you with no choice but to seek help from the one person you've been avoiding since the breakup.

Before we continue, I cannot ignore that wildfires continue to ravage Los Angeles, countless families have lost their homes and livelihoods. I urge you to consider supporting those affected through any of these donation links, additionally, Roadogs on Instagram is looking for fosters for mass evacuations of shelter dogs in California.

Foster or donate if you can. xo.

Now, let’s go.

"Mother fucker," you curse, attacking your keyboard with increasingly desperate keystrokes.

Each combination might be the one to salvage this disaster, but deep down you know it's hopeless — your software has corrupted itself into oblivion, taking six months of work with it.

"You can ask for an extension," Emma suggests, her voice carrying the weight of exhaustion that matches your own. Your roommate had burst into the media center still wearing her pink silk pajamas, immediately launching into a nervous tirade about after-hours permissions and potential expulsion risks.

Her constant hovering and worrying grates on your last nerve, and you tell her to leave.

Predictably, she refuses.

"Listen, I'm not just gonna leave you here on your own." She leans across your workspace, her body pressing against your laptop screen until it tilts halfway closed. You freeze, fingers suspended above the keys, terrified of losing what little progress you've made in this digital archaeology expedition. "There's - like - a murderer on campus."

"One girl said she was followed home," you gently remind. Under normal circumstances, Emma's mother-hen routine would be endearing — charming, even. But right now, with your project in shambles and deadline looming, her protective hovering feels suffocating. "Not murdered, Em."

"May as well have been." Emma fixes you with that look — the one that screams why am I the only rational person here? While her nails tap nervously against your desk. "Probably hasn't left her room since. And you know what? Smart girl.”

You scrub your hands over your face, your eyes fixed on the projector's word vomit — an endless stream of error messages and unintelligible code painting the drywall from a tired projector like some twisted modern art piece.

Not exactly what you were going for.

Emma stands mesmerized, "How did you even do this?" She watches the cryptic display crawl across the wall, her eyes tracking each line as if she could decode it. "This reminds me of-" she catches herself, the name hanging unspoken between you. She's learned that lesson the hard way. "This is wild.”

You can't help but notice.

Notice how she almost speaks his name, how these meaningless strings of letters and numbers somehow bridge the gap to memories you've tried so hard to bury — promises whispered under star-sprinkled skies, fingers intertwined beneath the cosmic glow.

Moments that felt eternal then, ephemeral now.

Your gaze drifts to your phone, lying face-down like a surrender.

You blink several times, trying to clear the ghosts from your vision before speaking, your voice emerging barely above a whisper, as if the words themselves might shatter something in the air, "Should I text him?" You ask, offering the idea as if it was something too controversial to be spoken aloud.

Emma shifts her weight, both from exhaustion and the sudden weight of responsibility.

Your night's trajectory now rests in her hands — she who has witnessed every shade of you, from triumph to devastation. Her own memories of him surface: the way he'd raid her ice cream stash only to replace it with a premium pint the next day, how he'd tackle the dish mountain without prompting, those small gestures that made him feel like family.

"He was my favorite boyfriend of yours," she'd told you once, in a moment of wine-honest conversation. "He was a good boy."

A good boy who made a couple mistakes.

But those mistakes had compounded like interest on a debt you never agreed to pay, until the rift between you and Luigi widened into an ocean.

Everything good had been pulled out with the tide — your trust, your shared future — swept away to depths where no light could reach.

"I-" Emma's hand finds the back of her neck, her expression cycling through a slideshow of conflicted emotions. You can see her internal struggle; the desire to crawl into her bed warring with her loyalty to you. And she knows you well enough to realize you'd stay here until sunrise if necessary. "I mean — babe, I love you, but you can't fix this." The admission seems to pain her, as if acknowledging your limitations feels like betrayal. "We aren't techies."

You stare helplessly at your gutted gallery, stripped bare by your own accidental digital vandalism. Your artwork, your portfolio, your future — all reduced to incomprehensible strings of code projected onto an indifferent wall.

"Do you think he'd come?" The question escapes before you can stop it, your eyes magnetized to your phone as if your stare alone could resurrect that old text thread, buried beneath months of careful silence.

"Of course he would."

A soft, defeated whine escapes you as you turn back to glare at your corrupted work, as if you could intimidate it into fixing itself through sheer force of will.

Emma's voice softens, "Hey, he's mature enough to understand you've exhausted your options."

A violent shudder runs through you at the thought of Luigi being your last resort.

You'd managed to exile the visceral memories — the heated arguments that left you gasping for air, the promises that turned to vapor in the morning light.

"Which are?"

Emma looks down at her Pokemon-clad self, then back at you. "Me." She gestures vaguely in your direction, "and you."

The campus sleeps around you, everyone else lost to their dreams or late-night calls home. Just the two of you remain, trapped in this dimly-lit purgatory on a Wednesday night, while error messages mock your existence with their endless scroll.

"Slim pickin's," you mutter as your fingers betray you, finding Luigi's contact with muscle memory that refuses to die.

How many times had you pressed these same digits before?

But this is different.

Different because you haven't spoken since that night in your kitchen, when you stood with your back to him, voice steady despite the trembling in your hands, "So, we aren't going to try to figure this out?" You asked, and he’d responded with some pretentious comparison about your relationship being like corrupted code, fundamentally flawed, destined to fail its own quality test.

The irony isn't lost on you — the very metaphor he used to end things is now the thread that might pull you back into his orbit. Your only connection besides the elaborate dance of avoidance across campus, treating each other's paths like holy ground neither dares to tread.

Opening the thread, you're greeted by your last exchange — your final words to him blazing across the screen in angry blue bubbles: "I want my fucking shit back or I'll make your life a living hell." Such poetry. Your new message hovers in the text box, simpler, desperate in its brevity.

Hey need help with somethin. U up??

You thrust your phone at Emma like it's burning your fingers, watching her eyes widen as they catch on those months-old texts — digital artifacts of your rage that should have been scrubbed before tonight's desperate plea. "Jesus," she whispers, amusement dancing in her expression. "I'd still be licking my wounds if I were hi-"

The familiar buzz cuts through the air, a notification chime that once made your heart leap but now makes it sink.

"What'd he say?" You mumble, gaze fixed on the mocking projection that bathes the room in its sickly digital glow, code continuing its relentless march across the wall.

Emma settles into a chair, hunching over your laptop's makeshift altar. "Said he's at Ruddy's." She squints at a fresh message. "He said 'what do you want?'" She deepens her voice into a cartoonish baritone, making him sound like a caveman discovering text messaging for the first time.

You can't blame him for the cold response — you’d scorched that earth thoroughly.

But a selfish part of you wants to delete the whole exchange, pretend this moment of weakness never happened, go back to the careful choreography of avoiding each other's existence.

But you can't.

The corrupted gallery looming on the wall is a stark reminder that pride is a luxury you can't afford right now.

His icy reception is the natural consequence of your scorched-earth campaign, those venom-laced messages sent in the throes of heartbreak and confusion.

You'd played the role of the woman scorned perfectly, even though you'd written your own tragic script.

"Just send him a picture." You wave listlessly at the wall, where your work continues its digital decomposition, folding in on itself like a dying star. The error messages stretch into an endless serpent of nonsense, each iteration making less sense than the last.

The artificial shutter sound of Emma's photo breaks the silence, followed by the soft swoosh of sending. The wait feels eternal until-

Ding

Emma's attention snaps to your phone resting on her thigh, her eyes widening. "He's typing like he-"

Sorry;m,, I’m fucked uo

Up

I am

fucked up

Emma clicks her tongue and rises, crossing the room to lob your phone into your lap, screen up. "Guess some things don't change." You manage a weak half-grin, memories flooding back unbidden — Luigi stumbling into your dorm in the small hours, wrapped in whiskeys warmth, all soft edges and desperate hands.

"Well, make up your mind." Emma's yawn threatens to unhinge her jaw, arms wrapping around herself like armor. "Are we done here, or are you gonna have him come take a look?"

I’n be there son

I’ll be rherw soo

I’ll be there soon

You stand to wrap your arms around Emma’s shoulders who reluctantly curves her arms upward to squeeze your shoulders. “Go home.” She seems reluctant to listen, staring at your phone screen as if it would take her home itself. “I promise, I’ll be just fine.”

The space between you pulses with that unique warmth reserved for someone who shares your roof, your darkest secrets, and the monthly struggle with Con Edison. "Just don't make any brash decisions."

"Oh, Em." You press a kiss to her forehead. "You think I'm so much cooler than I am."

Emma's laugh follows her as she spins toward the door, collecting pieces of herself like breadcrumbs — the scarf draped over a chair, the coat hung forgotten, the backpack abandoned when the day still held promise.

Each item a marker of how long this digital nightmare has stretched, from sunshine to moonlight.

And as if summoned by cosmic irony, the lab door swings open to reveal Luigi. "Oh - hey, E." The surprise flickers across his face before he schools his features back to neutral.

"Hey, Lu." Her greeting carries the easy familiarity of their old routine, like NPCs in a cozy game exchanging preset dialogue, their paths crossing exactly as programmed.

"You g'na help me with this?"

Emma shakes her head, patting his shoulder as she passes — a gentle handoff. "I did my time." You want to protest, but words fail as you absorb the sight of him, eight months of careful avoidance crumbling in an instant.

"Ahh-" Luigi waves, feigning disappointment through the druken haze. "Need a walk back home?"

Ever the shepherd, guardian of late-night wanderers.

It didn't matter who you were — friend, stranger, ex-lover’s best friend and roommate — his self-appointed mission to ensure everyone's safe return never wavered.

You'd once wondered if it stemmed from some deeper anxiety, his mind unable to rest until every sheep was accounted for in its fold.

Tonight though, the alcohol has mercifully dulled that protective instinct. Emma's potential disappearance into the night ranks lower on his list of concerns than usual, although Emma herself had been the one earlier to warn you of the murderer on campus.

"You still got my location," Emma reminds him — a callback to conversations past, to the day she'd granted Luigi permanent access to her whereabouts, a level of trust you'd wisely withheld.

"Right."

She presses a kiss to her fingers, flashing you a peace sign with the same hand before it briefly lands on Luigi's shoulder. Then she's gone, disappearing into the snow-globe world he'd just stumbled in from. He stands before you now, arms hanging like dead weight, his eyes somehow both wide and narrow.

"Hey," you whisper.

"Hey."

You gesture weakly at the wall where your work writhes in digital agony. "So, uh — remember that time you salvaged Professor Wren’s entire thesis when her drive crashed?"

Luigi's eyes follow your hand, professional interest temporarily overriding the awkwardness. He steps closer, squinting at the corrupted display, "Jesus," he mutters, "what did you do to it?"

"Would you believe me if I said nothing?" The laugh that escapes is more nervous than you'd like. "It just. - it started disintegrating during final checks."

He's already pulling out his laptop, muscle memory from countless late-night tech rescues. The familiarity of it hits you in the chest — how many times had you watched him do this same thing, hunched over his keyboard, bottom lip caught between his teeth in concentration?

"I can try," he says finally, not quite meeting your eyes. "But no promises. When's this due?"

"Tomorrow at nine."

"Of course it is." He drops into the chair beside you, close enough that your elbows almost touch, but enough of a distance to still feel far away. “Okay, walk me through what it's supposed to look like when it's not — uh - whatever this is."

For a moment, Luigi stares at the corrupted display where red pixels bleed and stutter across the wall. His fingers hover over his keyboard, then pause. "Wait. This is your circulatory modeling project? The one you were-“ He cuts himself off, remembering this was before the eight months of silence.

"Yeah." You swallow. "It was working perfectly until an hour ago. Real-time hemodynamics, pressure differentials, vessel elasticity. Everything." Your voice cracks slightly on the last word, feeling more helpless when you verbalize it.

He nods, already typing with uncanny precision despite the slight sway in his posture. "Show me the base code. Did you save any backups?"

"Three. All corrupted." You lean forward, careful not to crowd him as you pull up the mangled files. "It's like something got into the core simulation and just - I dunno - started rewriting them."

"Hm." His eyes scan the screen with that laser focus he somehow maintains no matter how much he drinks, that familiar furrow appearing between his brows. "These values are cascading. One corrupted variable triggering a chain reaction through the whole system." He glances at you, slightly overshooting before correcting. "When's the last time it ran correctly?"

You check your phone. "6:43 PM. I have a screen recording from then."

"Good. That's good." He pulls up a second window, his typing still flawless even as he reaches with his free hand to steady himself against the desk. "We can compare the execution logs, maybe isolate where it started going wrong." His fingers fly across the keys with a precision that seems to mock his clearly inebriated state, and for a moment, it feels like those eight months never happened. "I'm going to need coffee for this." He looks up at you from where he sat, “Or more booze.”

You land on coffee, your feet carrying you down the familiar path to the kitchenette.

The fluorescent lights flicker dimly at this hour, casting strange shadows across the linoleum, the lab's overpriced espresso machine hums to life under your touch, its gentle whirring a counterpoint to the distant sound of Luigi's typing.

Suddenly you're back in that first year, both of you hunched over at 3 AM, him teaching you the proper way to pull a shot: “You're murdering it, stop torturing the beans”, your quiet laughter echoing through empty halls.

"Got it.” His voice carries down the corridor, slurred but triumphant, snapping you back to present.

You return to find him illuminated by screen-glow, his tie loosened and dark hair disheveled. The paper cup lands in front of him — double shot, one packet of raw sugar.

He doesn't stir it, never has.

Instead, he tips the cup back, and you hear that familiar crunch of sugar crystals between his teeth, a sound that used to drive you crazy, until somewhere along the way it became endearing.

Still, the jumbled code taunts you from the screen, though its chaos seems less threatening now. Under Luigi's touch — steady despite the alcohol — your final project is slowly remembering its original shape.

"You should have texted sooner," Luigi murmurs, tilting his head back to collect the last sugar crystals from his cup. The movement exposes his throat, his collar wrinkled where he's been tugging at it all night.

"Well," you say, watching the way his fingers dance across the keys, each stroke precise despite his obvious intoxication, "takes a minute to swallow something as big as my pride."

The corners of his mouth twitch upward, eyes never leaving the screen where broken code is knitting itself back together under his attention.

"Oh," he huffs out a laugh, the sound low and dangerous in the quiet lab, "I've seen you swallow far bigger things before."

It strikes like summer lightning — quick, bright, and leaving the air charged in its wake. The innuendo lands with no real bite, yet you find your jaw slack, a startled laugh shaking loose from your chest.

"Kidding," Luigi says, his eyes flicking from screen to you and back again. There’s a ghost of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, softened by the alcohol but still sharp enough to cut. You wave him back to his work, grateful for the blue glow of monitors that hides your flush. "You kinda set that up perfectly, though."

He squints up at the projection where your broken code still bleeds across the wall, letting out a soft grunt of frustration at some digital roadblock. "Just mean — ya know, you could have caught me two beers deep instead of seven."

You shrug a shoulder, watching as the projection slowly crystallizes into something recognizable. "Seems you work better under such conditions."

The lie tastes metallic.

You both know the truth.

Luigi would have come if he was sober as sunrise or drowning in bourbon. Would have come with broken ribs or pneumonia or his heart barely beating. Would have traced these familiar hallways blind, deaf, or dying — because that's what the two of you do.

Have always done.

You've seen him at rock bottom, curled into himself on cold bathroom tiles at midnight, trembling hands pressed against his mouth as if he could physically hold back the pain that wracked his body. Watched him try to explain to puzzled doctors how someone so young could hurt so constantly, the frustration in his voice when they suggested it was all in his head.

You were there through the trials of medications, the nights when existence itself seemed too heavy to bear.

And you've seen him soar; standing tall in that charcoal suit that made him look older, more polished, shaking hands with tech giants who saw in him what you'd always known was there, his future spreading out before him like a golden road, brilliant and boundless.

Now he sits here, seven drinks deep but coding like he's never been clearer, and you realize that maybe both versions are equally true.

Maybe that's what makes him Luigi — the ability to contain multitudes, to be simultaneously broken and brilliant, wounded and wonderful.

He catches you watching him and raises an eyebrow, the gesture slightly delayed, which means you must have been a bit too obvious. "What?"

"Nothing.”

His fingers pause on the keys, and even through the alcoholic haze, his gaze pins you like a butterfly to cork. "No, really. What?" The words have a slight blur around their edges, but his focus is knife-sharp.

You could deflect again, but there's something about 4 AM and code that glows like dying stars that makes honesty feel less dangerous, perhaps you’re finding comfort in the fact that Luigi is drunk, although you’re stone cold sober.

"Just thinking about that time in the Thompson building bathroom." Your voice comes out softer than intended. "When you couldn't stand up, and I had to convince the janitor you had food poisoning."

He doesn't flinch from the memory like he used to.

Instead, his mouth curves into something caught between a smile and a grimace. "You told him it was from the cafeteria." His fingers resume their dance across the keyboard, but slower now. "Got the whole place investigated by health services."

"Yeah, but got us three days off while they checked fucking everything.” you remind him.

"Got me through that week," he corrects quietly, and for a moment, the mask of that brilliant-drunk-techie slips, showing the man underneath who still remembers what it feels like to be held together by nothing but someone else's faith in you.

Then he blinks, and the vulnerability is gone, replaced by that familiar crooked grin. "Though I maintain the cafeteria deserved the inspection anyway."

The projection flickers, another section of code healing itself under his touch, and you wonder if he knows you'd do it all again.

Every bathroom floor, every late-night crisis, every moment of putting him back together - you'd choose it every time.

"Speaking of which," you venture carefully, watching his hands move across the keyboard. "How's the new treatment working?"

His right shoulder shifts in what might be a shrug, but there's a shadow of a real smile playing at his mouth.

Not the sharp, defensive one he wears like armor, but something softer, more genuine. "Six months post-op and I actually slept through the night last week. First time in -“ he pauses, considering, "Fuck, I don't even remember how long."

The admission hangs in the air between you, weighted with the two years of 2 AM phone calls, of nights spent pacing, of pain medications that never quite touched the core of the problem.

Watching him try to code through hands that wouldn't stop shaking.

"Still hurts sometimes," he adds, almost absently. "But it's different now. More like background noise than a scream." His fingers still on the keyboard, and for a moment he looks almost surprised by his own words. "Guess that's what normal people feel like all the time, huh?"

The question carries an edge of wonder, like someone who's lived in darkness suddenly discovering dawn.

You watch him roll his shoulder — a gesture that used to be followed by a wince but now flows smooth and unconscious — and think about how strange it must be, learning to live without constant pain after it's become part of your identity.

"Though I kind of miss having an excuse to drunk-code at 4 AM" he adds, but you both know it's a lie.

The code blurs on the projection as silence settles between you, charged with something that's been building for ages — through bathroom floors and hospital visits, through triumphs and failures, through pain and healing.

The alcohol has stripped away Luigi’s careful boundaries, leaving raw honesty in their place.

"You know," Luigi says slowly, finally turning from the screen to face you fully, "I never thanked you properly. For all of it."

"You don't need to-"

Your diagram pulses back to life, the holographic heart rotating lazily against the wall.

Its red glow bathes the room in a surreal warmth, catching on the sharp angles of Luigi's face, softening them into something almost dreamlike.

The light flickers across his cheekbones, turns his eyes to amber, makes the whole moment feel suspended between reality and imagination.

"I do." His voice is quiet but firm, steadier than someone seven drinks deep should manage. "Because I've been thinking — now that I can actually think clearly without-“he gestures vaguely at his back, at all the years of pain, "I've been thinking about how you're the only constant. The only person who never-“ He trails off.

You lean a little closer, drawn by the vulnerability in his voice. "Never what?"

"Never saw me as broken." He turns himself toward you, and there's something desperate in his eyes, something the alcohol has finally given him the courage to show. "Never treated me like I needed fixing. Just stayed. Through everything."

Your lips part, but the words catch in your throat. He takes your silence as a sign, turning back to the screen with a sharp exhale that might be resignation or relief — you're not sure which would be worse.

"Lu,” you say softly, and something in your voice makes his fingers still on the keyboard. "Look at me."

He does, slowly, like he's afraid of what he might find.

The neon bathes half his face in crimson, leaving the other half in shadow, and you see the moment his carefully constructed walls start to crumble.

"Time hasn’t changed that much about me.” you say, each word deliberate, heavy with meaning.

His breath catches audibly. You watch the impact of your words ripple across his face — surprise, understanding, and something else, something that makes your heart race against your ribs.

"Hasn’t it?” Luigi is focusing on you now, the reason he really came here now practically completed but pushed aside until further notice. “Eight months is a long time to hold onto -“ he gestures vaguely between you, as if he can’t quite say what it was. Hopeless devotion, the right person, wrong time.

“Not long enough to forget.”

“Forget what?”

“You.”

His breath catches again, a sharp inhale that seems to pull all the oxygen from the room. When he speaks, his voice is rough and ragged, “Maybe that’s the problem.” His gaze drifts down to watch as you lick your lips, and back up again. “Maybe you should have.”

[bunny-hwa]

Popular, Boy

☆04: The first surrender.

Pairing: Nerd!Hongjoong x Popular!reader

Genre: +18, slow burn, angst, smut, drama, dark academic, love triangle.

wc: 8,5k

Summary: Alliances and secrets simmer beneath the surface as relationships are tested. Whispers of a returning precense cast shadow over your carefully controlled world.

Amid growing tension, nothing is as it seems, and trust becomes a dangerous gamble.

Warnings: Cursing, emotional manipulation, power dynamics, fluff, SMUT (MDN!!) Virgin! Hongjoong, oral (f receiving) fingering, hair pulling, cum eating, use of pet names (good boy, baby, babe, pretty) suggestive.

Series masterlist

☆03 ☆05

YN♡: I hope you enjoy your return to the losers’ club, ungrateful pet.

Those words feel like a slap in the face, but there's a part of him that can't deny the sting of guilt. Hongjoong had stood up to you, and now, he was being pushed away.

He feels conflicted, like he's torn between two sides of himself.

On one hand, you have everything he’s always wanted, popularity, control, power. On the other hand, he can’t help but feel a flicker of empathy for Dann, even if it’s not enough to overpower his desire to keep his place in your world.

The past three days have been agonizing for Hongjoong. Your cold text still lingered in his mind, your words cutting deeper than he expected.

He wasn’t sure what stung more: being labeled an 'ungrateful pet' or the realization that you had the power to decide his social fate.

In the hallways, the change was immediate and brutal. Your circle avoided him entirely, with Mindy, Wooyoung and the others offering smug smirks or outright ignoring his greetings.

The glances from the rest of the school stung even more, whispers of, 'Guess YN dumped her charity case,' followed him everywhere.

Hongjoong tried to go back to his old routine, hanging out with Yunho, Yeosang, Jongho and Dann in the library, but it wasn’t the same. The nerdy jokes and shared interests felt hollow, overshadowed by his embarrassment.

He couldn’t stop feeling like he’d failed… failed you, failed himself, and maybe even failed Dann.

“Joong, are you okay?” Dann’s voice pulls him from his thoughts during lunch.

Her gaze is soft but cautious. He knows she is trying to reconnect with him, but guilt twists in his stomach.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” He mumbles, shoving a forkful of food into his mouth to avoid saying more.

But Dann isn’t convinced. She has noticed how his shoulders slump when your table erupts into laughter or how his eyes flicker toward you every time you walk by, as if waiting for something.

Was he regretting standing up for her? She wondered, unsure whether to feel gratitude or guilt herself.

✮ ⋆

Brat woo: Party at my place tonight, babydoll!! We’re gonna get lit!!

You smirk as you read Wooyoung's text. Typical of Woo, his personality is always bright and comfy.

You bit your lip, twirling a strand of your perfectly styled hair as an idea formed in your mind.

YN: Invite Hongjoong, too.

The three dots appear almost immediately, followed by Woo’s response.

Brat woo: Babydoll, why would I invite him?

Brat woo: Isn’t he banned from your bad bitches club?

You laugh at his last message as you lean back against your plush chair, crossing one leg over the other. Your perfectly manicured nails taps the edge of your phone as you craft a reply.

YN: Yeah, but invite him.

YN: It would be fun, babe.

Brat woo: Fine. But you owe me a blowjob, doll.

You scoff rolling your eyes, and you prefer not to bother replying. You knew Wooyoung well enough to predict he’d follow through.

You lock your phone and you get up to head to your closet, it's time to look for something cute to wear tonight.

✮ ⋆

His first instinct was to assume it was a mistake. Jung Wooyoung wasn’t his friend. The last party held at his house was amazing and he treated him like they were friends for years, but it was only because he was with you... but not anymore.

Hongjoong read the message again, searching for some hidden sarcasm or trap.

J Wooyoung: Party at my place tonight, you must come.

Why would Wooyoung invite him?

Was this a chance to prove himself again? To get back into your orbit? The thought makes his chest tighten with both excitement and dread.

His phone buzzes with another text, this time from Dann.

Dann: Hey, wanna hang out tonight? We could watch that weird series you’ve been talking about.”

He hesitates, guilt creeping in. Spending time with Dann sounded comfortable, easy, even, but the allure of Jung’s party looms large in his mind. And then, an idea struck him.

He quickly types a reply.

Joong: Actually, wanna come with me to a party tonight?

Dann: What? A party? With whom?

Joong: Jung Wooyoung invited me.

Joong: It’s at his place. You should come.

His reply is almost casually, as if it weren’t a big deal. There is a pause before Dann’s next message comes through.

Dann: Joong, that sounds… weird. Why would Wooyoung invite you? And why are YOU inviting me?

Dann: I remind you that the last time I went to a party, everything went wrong!

Hongjoong frowns, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard. He didn't think that far ahead, but now that Dann brought it up, the invite does seem odd. Still, he can't let her skepticism damp his resolve.

Joong: Does it matter? It’s a party, Dann. It could be fun. We haven’t done anything like this in forever.”

Dann: I don’t know…

Joong: Come on!! It’ll be fine.

Joong: You’ll be with me the whole time.

Joong: If it sucks, we can leave.

Another pause, longer this time. Finally, her reply comes through.

Dann: Okay… I’ll go.

Dann: But if this turns into some kind of disaster, you owe me, Joong.

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He tosses his phone into the bed and starts rifling through his closet, searching for something that looks remotely party-appropriate.

This is it, he thought, half to reassure himself. This is my chance to prove I’m not just a nobody anymore.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The party is already in full swing when you step through the door, your entrance commanding attention as always.

Wooyoung is the first to greet you, slinging an arm over your shoulder in a casual, brotherly way.

“About time, babydoll.” He teases, steering you further into the house “You’ve got people asking for you already.”

You smirk, brushing a perfectly styled strand of hair from your face.

“Good. Let them wait. it builds anticipation.”

Your eyes scan the room, taking in the crowd of familiar faces. The thrum of music, the faint haze of smoke, and the sharp scent of expensive cologne feel like home. But tonight, it’s not the crowd you’re interested in.

“Did you do it?”

He glances at your sideways, catching the subtle edge in your voice “Yeah, I invited him. He is coming, right?” Woo asks casually, though there’s a glint of mischief in his tone.

You nod, lips curving into a sly smile “Of course he will. Thanks for the invite.”

“Anything for you, Queen Bee.” Woo chuckles, patting your shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

You barely take two steps before Seonghwa appears in your path, leaning casually against the doorframe of the kitchen as if he’s been waiting.

“You really showed up.” He says, his tone teetering between disbelief and sarcasm.

“Obviously, miss out on this? Never.”

His sharp eyes rake over you, the casual air he projects cracking just slightly.

“So, you brought him here?”

You lift your chin, feigning innocence “Who?”

“You know who,” Hwa says, his voice dropping “The nerd.”

“Oh, him. He’s just part of the fun, but he is not coming with me today.”

“Fun,” Hwa repeats bitterly, stepping closer “That’s what you’re calling it?”

You don't back down “You’re awfully concerned for someone who’s supposed to be done with me.”

The jab hits, and Hwa’s jaw tightens “We’ve been through a lot, Clarke. I know how you operate, and this is reckless—even for you.”

“Reckless?” You scoff, taking a deliberate step toward him “Spare me the lecture, Seonghwa. If you’re so worried, maybe you should focus on your own vices. Or do you need me to remind you how much recklessness you’ve been indulging in lately?”

His eyes narrow, his jaw clenched “You always twist things around, don’t you?”

You tilt your head, a flicker of amusement dancing in your gaze “Only when necessary.”

The tension between them hums like a live wire, but before either can escalate further, you sigh and soften your tone.

“Look, Hwa, I get it. You’re mad because I’ve been spending time with Hongjoong. But you and I both know this—whatever this is—doesn’t have to be like this.”

Seonghwa’s perfect brows knit together, his posture relaxing just slightly “And what’s ‘this,’ YN? Because it feels like we’re always walking the same damn line.”

“Friends,” You say firmly, though your voice carries a hint of warmth “We’ve been friends forever, haven’t we? Almost more than friends, at times. I’m not throwing that away just because we’ve hit a rough patch.”

He studies you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he exhales and runs a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, well, you’ve always been good at getting under my skin. Guess I should be used to it by now.”

You smile, a real one this time “You should. And for what it’s worth, I didn’t mean for things to get so tense between us. Truce?”

Hwa hesitates but eventually extends a hand, his lips quivering into a faint smirk-

“Truce. But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook completely.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” You say, shaking his hand briefly before pulling him into a quick hug.

As they pull apart, Wooyoung reappears, his grin as wide as ever “See? Told you it’s a party, not a courtroom.”

Both of you laugh, the tension finally dissipating. After all, you've been friends since you were kids, fighting over who got the best gifts or who got the most toys during Christmas.

Yes, maybe fights always were and will always be frequent, but the bond you created will always be there, whether as friends or as lovers. And no one can deny it.

✮ ⋆

The laughter still bubbles around you and friends as you relax on the plush couch in the middle of the buzzing party. The low hum of music blends with the chatter of your friends, creating the perfect backdrop for your carefree moment.

You perched elegantly with your cocktail in hand, tossing your hair back with a playful smirk.

“Remember when you told everyone I cried about losing that silly bet when we went to Meeru Island in the Maldives?” Mingi says, aiming a mock glare at Wooyoung.

He chuckles, shrugging. “You did cry, Mingi. Like, full-on wailing. I saved you from complete humiliation by telling everyone you were faking it.”

“You’re insufferable, Woo.” You lean forward to swat at him, but your grin betrays your amusement.

San joins you, plopping down on the armrest beside Seonghwa, his beer in hand.

“God, you two never change. Should we get you a reality show or something?”

Mingi rolls his eyes but laughs along, the tension from you and Hwa's little fight seemingly evaporating. It’s like old times again, your rhythm unshaken.

Then Woo’s gaze shifts toward the entrance, and his playful expression stiffens slightly.

“Uh… you told me to invite him, but I didn’t think he’d actually show up.”

You follow Wooyoung’s line of sight, your smile freezing as you spot Hongjoong stepping into the house. His attempts at looking casual—down to his carefully chosen shirt and forced grin—betray the nerves he’s clearly trying to hide.

But it’s not just him. Dann is with him, hovering awkwardly at his side.

Seonghwa notices too, his smirk turning razor-sharp “Well, if it isn’t the exile. You sure know how to pick your projects, Clarke.”

Your grip on the empty glass tightens ever so slightly before you recover, placing it calmly on the coffee table. You rise with an air of detachment, smoothing your short silk black dress.

“Don’t start, Hwa.”

Hwa leans back, watching you with an amused glint “I don’t need to. This show writes itself.”

Ignoring him, you stride toward the entrance, movements deliberate, your heels clicking against the polished floor.

Hongjoong’s face lights up with hope when he sees you approach, but you don't acknowledge it.

“Enjoying the party?” You ask coolly, your gaze sweeping over both Hongjoong and Dann.

“Uh, yeah,” He says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly “Thanks for—”

“Wooyoung invited you,” You interrupt, your eyes flick to Dann, your lips curving into a smile that’s anything but friendly “Didn’t realize you’d be bringing… extras.”

Dann stiffens under your gaze “I just came because Joong—”

“I didn’t ask,” You cut her off smoothly. your focus shifts back to Hongjoong “Enjoy the party, and stay out of my way.”

Before Hongjoong can respond, you turn on your heel, heading back to the couch where all your friends are waiting, barely containing their laughter.

“That was subtle.” Mingi teases as you sit back down.

You pick up another drink and take a long sip, your face calm but your mind racing. You had ordered Jung to invite him, but seeing him here, with Dann of all people, scratches at your carefully curated control.

Seonghwa leans closer, his voice low “Trying to make him mad, huh? Gotta admit, it’s fun to watch.”

You don't reply, your gaze lingering on Kim as he and Dann hover near the edge of the room. The party continues to swirl around you, but the game you’re playing tonight is only just beginning.

“Let's go dance.”

And without waiting for an answer, you drag Seonghwa to the center of the dance floor.

✮ ⋆

The party pulses around Hongjoong, but all he can see is you. You were radiant, laughing as you danced with Seonghwa, your hand grazing his chest as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Weren't you supposed to be on bad terms? He threatened you a few days ago and now you act as if none of that has happened.

Every glance, every touch, feels like a slap to Hongjoong’s face, and when your eyes meet his for a brief moment across the room, he knows it wasn’t accidental.

Dann stands beside him, trying to engage him in conversation or distract him with sarcastic comments about the crowd, but he barely responds.

His guilt over snapping at her earlier only adds to the storm brewing inside him.

As the night goes on, you and Seonghwa grow bolder. You dance closer, bodies pressing together in a way that feels almost taunting. Your hand trails lazily over Hwa’s chest as you throw a sly glance over your shoulder, directly at Hongjoong.

He can't take it anymore.

“I need a minute.” He mutters to Dann before walking away.

He finds you in the corner of the room, laughing at something Seonghwa had said. Your head tilts back, the sparkle in your eyes brighter than ever. You look utterly in control, utterly untouchable.

“YN.” Hongjoong says, his voice tight.

You turn to him, your expression cool and unimpressed “Hongjoong, enjoying the party?”

“I…” He hesitates, glancing at the tallest, who stands smirking at him like he knows exactly how pathetic he feels.

“Spit it out.” You cross your arms waiting for his next words.

Hongjoong swallows hard, his pride crumbling under the weight of your icy stare.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You ask, feigning ignorance as you raise an eyebrow.

“For… for defending Dann.” He admits, the words tasting bitter on his tongue “I shouldn’t have done it. I wasn’t thinking. Please, YN. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You tilt your head, a small smile playing on your lips “Is that so?”

“Please, YN. I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever you want to make it up to you.”

You raise an eyebrow. That phrase sounds kinda familiar. Your gaze sweeps over him with an air of detached amusement.

“Anything?”

“Yes.” He said, desperation dripping from every syllable.

“Prove it.”

He looks at you confused, unsure what you mean. But when you point at the floor with a slight nod, his heart sinks.

Here? Now?

The party is still bustling around them, and though the music is loud, he knows there are enough eyes on them to make this moment humiliating.

But the thought of losing your favor, of being cast back into obscurity, is unbearable.

Slowly, he sinks to his knees in front of you like the first time he did it. The weight of the action crushed the little pride he had left.

“I’m sorry,” His voice trembling as he looks up at you “Please, YN. Forgive me.”

Your lips curve into a slow smile, and you reach down, brushing your fingers along his jaw.

“Good boy.”

Without another word, you grab his hand and pull him to his feet. Ignoring the stares of the partygoers—and the way Seonghwa’s amuse chuckle follows them—You lead him through the crowd and up the stairs.

Hongjoong’s pulse races as you push open the door to an empty room, shutting it firmly behind you.

“YN, I—” He starts, but you silence him with a finger to his lips.

You step closer, a hand sliding up his chest before tangling in the collar of his shirt. Your lips hover just above his, teasing him, your breath warm against his skin.

“You want me to forgive you, don’t you?” You whisper against his lips.

“Yes…” He breathes, his voice shaking.

“Then show me how sorry you are.” You say as your lips finally crash into his.

The kiss is rough, demanding, leaving Hongjoong breathless as your hands roam over him.

You push him into the edge of the bed, your confidence unwavering as you climb into his lap.

“Make it up to me.” You murmur against his ear, your tone lace with both seduction and dominance.

The room remains shrouded in heavy silence, broken only by the sound of your ragged breathing and the soft rustling of fabric as your hands continue their work.

Hongjoong sits before you, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his eyes glazed with a mix of guilt, desire, and submission. He’s completely under your control, each deliberate movement you make reinforcing your hold over him.

You trail your nails lightly down his chest, exposed now as his shirt hangs loose from his shoulders.

“See, Joongie,” You purr, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to his neck “When you beg like that, it reminds me how much you want to be here… how much you need me.”

He shivers under your touch, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words come out. His mind is a haze, lost in you—your voice, your touch, the overwhelming weight of your presence.

He feels as if he’s drowning, yet he doesn’t want to come up for air.

Your lips return to his, capturing him in a kiss so intense it steals his breath. His hands caressing from your waist to your bare legs as you tug him closer, your hands tangling in his hair, ensuring there’s no escape.

Not that he wants one.

Your smirk deepens as you lean closer, your fingers curling under his chin to tilt his face up. Your dominance is unshakable, your presence commanding every ounce of his attention.

“On your knees.”

You order, carrying a weight that leaves no room for protest as you get off his lap to sit next to him on the bed.

Hongjoong’s breath hitches. His mind scrambles for a response, but the intensity of your gaze renders him silent. Swallowing hard, he glances around the empty room, then back at you, his cheeks already red when he sees you spread your legs.

He thinks he knows what you want him to do, and that makes him more nervous.

“YN, I don’t know—”

“Do you trust me or not?” You interrupt, fingers trailing down to his collar, tugging him forward “You said you’d do anything for me, didn’t you?”

Caught in your words and unwavering stare, Hongjoong nods hesitantly.

“I do.” He whispered.

“Then show me.”

Slowly, he slides down to his knees, the fabric of his jeans scraping lightly against the floor. His hands hover awkwardly at his sides, unsure of where they should go, as he looks up at you, his wide eyes fill with a mixture of anticipation and nerves.

He's never done this before. He's seen it in porn videos but still doesn't know exactly what to do.

Your fingers slip into his hair, touch firm but not rough, and you guide him closer with a slow, deliberate motion.

“I always tell you this. Relax, Hongjoong, I’ll take care of you.”

Your other hand moves to the hem of your dress, slipping it up just enough to expose the soft fabric of your black panties.

Hongjoong’s gaze drops instinctively, his breath catching in his throat as his pulse races.

“Focus, Joongie.” You tease, tugging lightly on his hair to draw his attention back to your face “Start slow. I want to feel how much you want my forgiveness.”

With shaky hands, he rests his palms on your soft thighs, his touch hesitant and careful, the cold of his rings making you shiver.

You guide him lower, your smirk never wavering as his lips brush against your thighs.

The warmth of your skin, the faint scent of your perfume, the weight of your hand in his hair—all of it consumes him.

His inexperience is obvious, but you don't mind. You encourage him with soft sighs and subtle movements, your hips tilting forward slightly as he grows bolder, leaving little bites on your inner thighs as his fingers play with the edge of your panties, sliding them down slowly.

He starts taking his time dishing out kisses and biting on both thighs, making you impatient.

You let out a whimper pulling his hair slightly “Hongjoong… hurry up and eat me out.”

For the first time in his life, Hongjoong feels confident enough to smile mockingly against your delicate skin.

You, begging him to touch you? He never imagined it.

Still holding his smile, he slides your panties all the way down to your ankles, and removes them eagerly, leaving on your pretty high heels.

When he returns to his starting position between your thighs, he can't avoid looking to your bare core, all glossy with slick. He bites his lip at the sight.

Did he provoke that?

“Joong...” You reproach again with a whine.

You really need him to do something on his own or you'll force him to sink into your folds right now. You've never felt so desperate before, so eager for someone to touch you.

Hongjoong smiles again, your whiney voice turning him on.

The dry humping in your car, the blowjob in the empty classroom, and all the little make outs can not compare to this. Your pussy inches from his face, your hand tugging his hair and your desperate form waiting for him to touch you.

Fuck, he can’t believe this is happening.

With the highest confidence ever, even though he keeps in mind that he does not know what he is doing, he leans towards your pussy, giving a long lick that makes both of you moan in pleasure.

His warm tongue explores every millimeter of your womanhood, you whine as Hongjoong swipe his tongue up and down your wet slit, taking all your slick on his mouth.

“Shit, you taste so good, baby.” He says without realizing his words, his mind already cloudy.

You open your mouth in surprise at his daring words, you swear you feel more arousal coming out of your cunt.

“Fuck, Hongjoong…” You tighten your grip on his hair, forcing him to sink his head further and he lets you do it gladly, smiling against you “Ah… f-fuck me with your tongue, babe.”

And he does, he leaves your swollen clit to play with his tongue rubbing around your entrance, making you whine desperately.

He snorts with fun when you pull his hair harder, he is loving the way you’re acting, all whiny and desperate for him.

Without making you wait any longer, he slowly introduces his long tongue in your core.

He moans when he hears you do it and starts moving his tongue in and out, your walls clenching on it, his nose rubbing your clit, and his hands squeezing your thighs, bringing you closer to his mouth.

You arch your back, squirming and moaning under his exquisite touch. You never imagined that a virgin nerd like him could eat pussy so well.

Fuck, you never imagined he'd ever do this to you.

“That’s it,” You whisper, voice breathy but firm “Just… just like that, Joong.”

Each sound you make spur him on, his nervousness slowly giving way to determination. He wants to please you, to prove that he is worthy of your forgiveness, even if he doesn't fully know what he is doing.

Your breathing quickening as you tilt your head back “Good boy…” You murmur, your words sending a shiver down his spine.

The tension in the air is electric, every movement charged with a mix of control and surrender.

As your soft moans grow louder, Hongjoong can't help but feel a sense of pride, his confidence building with each passing moment.

✮ ⋆

The music blared through the speakers, the heavy bass vibrating the walls of Wooyoung’s mansion. Dann squeezed through groups of laughing, dancing people, her eyes scanning the crowd.

She’d been looking for Hongjoong for what felt like forever.

She finally spots Jung Wooyoung leaning casually against the bar, a drink in hand, and his signature easygoing grin in place.

Relief washes over her as she approaches him. She has never interacted with him, but she must find Joong.

“Wooyoung,” She calls out, raising her voice above the music “Have you seen Hongjoong?”

Jung tilts his head, his expression is a grimace when he sees her. He's drunk but he doesn't remember inviting this loser to his party, much less knowing the grudge you have against her.

“Little Hongjoong?” He echoes, taking a slow sip from his drink “Yeah, he went upstairs. With babydoll.” At Dann's confused expression, he rolls his eyes “He is upstairs with YN.”

Dann’s stomach drops at his words, her brows knitting together.

“With YN?” She repeats, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Wooyoung nods, smirking “Yep. Upstairs. Why? You jealous or something?” His tone is teasing, but Dann doesn’t have the energy to respond.

She turns on her heel and heads for the stairs, her heart pounding with every step. As she climbs, the noise of the party grows muffled, replaced by the quieter sounds of her own breathing and the creak of the steps.

Her mind races with thoughts she doesn’t want to entertain.

Why would Hongjoong be with you? After everything, after all the tension between you?

She reaches the top of the stairs and pauses before she approaches the only door that is closed in the hallway. Something tells her that they are both in there.

Her hand hesitates on the doorknob, her heart hammering against her ribs. Slowly, she pushes it open, the hinges creaking softly.

Her breath catches in her throat at the sight before her.

There you are—You and Hongjoong. You’re laying on the big bed, moaning as your hands grip Hongjoong’s hair while he is between your legs.

Hongjoong’s shirt is half-unbuttoned, hanging loosely off his shoulders, and his hands grip your thighs tightly, pulling you closer.

Dann’s chest tightens as a sharp pang of betrayal and hurt courses through her. She stands frozen in the doorway, her fingers gripping the frame as she struggles to make sense of what she’s seeing.

Neither you nor Hongjoong notice her. You’re too consumed by each other. The intensity of Hongjoong’s movements speaks volumes, and he is clearly enjoying being there.

Your dominance is evident too, your control absolute, while Hongjoong seems lost, entirely under your spell.

Dann bites her lip, willing herself not to cry as she takes a shaky step back. The scene before her is a confirmation of every fear she’s tried to suppress.

She retreats into the hallway, her heart aching with every step.

Downstairs, the party rages on, oblivious to the turmoil in Dann’s chest.

✮ ⋆

“Joong… I’m close.” You announce closing your eyes shut and your whines get louder, the pleasure is too much to handle.

At your words, Hongjoong places his lips around your sensitive clit, sucking and pulling at it, and without you expecting it, he thrust two of his fingers into your narrow entrance, making you open your eyes and groan in surprise.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

You quickly lift yourself up on your elbow to get a better view of him eating you like a starved man, It is certainly a spectacular sight.

His eyes closed in concentration, his warm mouth on your pussy and his fingers caressing the right places in your tight cunt.

Shit…. Is he really a virgin? Because this is the best oral sex you have ever received.

“L-look at me… look at me, baby.” You order him and he immediately obeys, looking at you with those doe eyes, those pretty doe eyes make a wave of pleasure run through your body “F-fuck… gonna cum, baby. K-keep going.” You moan again tilting your head back, your eyes rolling back “J-just like that…”

Damn, Hongjoong swears that this is the best view in the world, your mouth agape, eyes rolling back, you saying his name like a fucking mantra, this will undoubtedly be an image that will stay in his mind forever.

“Cum for me, pretty… cum on my mouth.”

He doesn't know where that sentence came from but he can't help it, the adrenaline of the moment has his mind clouded.

With those words, you lose it. Your strength leaves your body when the well-known pressure on your abdomen appears, your grip on his hair becomes stronger and your legs begin to tremble from immense pleasure, your orgasm explodes like never before, leaving you breathless.

He moans in satisfaction, the taste of your slick driving him crazy, he moves his tongue everywhere collecting every drop of your orgasm, just like you did that day with him.

“Ah… fuck, Joong!” You squirm under his movements, feeling the beginning of overstimulation “Hongjoong… ‘s too much, baby.”

With a last lick and a wet kiss on your clit, Hongjoong lifts his head with a light smile.

He’s pussy drunk right now and you smile, taking him by the cheeks and bringing him closer to you to kiss him.

His lips are swollen and his chin is soaked with your fluids, he looks messy, but you don't care. The kiss is full of something special this time, you don't know if it's gratitude, warmth or love. But you're definitely enjoying it too much.

“Did I do it right?” He murmurs against your lips and he smiles when you nod.

“That was amazing.” You pull him back, your breathing uneven, your eyes meet his with a satisfied gleam “Not bad for your first time.”

Hongjoong remain above you, his chest heaving as he tries to process what had just happened.

You run a hand through his messy hair, glancing down at him with a mix of amusement and approval.

“Let’s go back to the party.” You add, leaning down to press a quick, teasing kiss to his lips before pulling back.

And Hongjoong smiles satisfied, satisfied to have your forgiveness

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The hallway outside Wooyoung’s upstairs den is dimly lit, the faint bassline of the party vibrating through the walls.

Dann leans against the banister, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if to shield her from the storm raging in her chest. Her mind replays the image of you with Hongjoong in that compromising position.

She blinks back the sting of tears, her breath hitching.

“Pathetic,” She whispers to herself, trying to steal her resolve.

But the pain lingers, twisting deeper with each passing second.

“You look like hell.” A voice cuts through her thoughts, sharp yet strangely casual.

Dann startles, her wide eyes locking onto Seonghwa as he saunters out of the shadows. His shirt is half-buttoned, his tie hanging loose around his neck.

He takes a slow drag from a cigarette, the embers glowing faintly in the dim light.

“What do you want?” Dann’s voice wavers, a mix of anger and embarrassment as she hastily wipes at her cheeks.

Seonghwa tilts his head, smirking “Relax, I just happened to notice you running out of there like the world’s ending.” He exhales a thin trail of smoke, his eyes narrowing with mock “Saw something you didn’t like?”

Dann glares at him but says nothing. The silence between them grows heavy, thick with unspoken truths.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Hwa finally says, leaning casually against the banister “Let me guess… Hongjoong and YN, all over each other like she hadn't kicked him out a week ago because of your little show in the cafeteria?”

His tone drips with derision, his smirk deepening when Dann flinches.

“Why are you telling me this?” She snaps, her voice cracking slightly “You’re supposed to be her friend, aren’t you?”

Hwa chuckles, low and mirthless “Friendship’s a funny thing, don’t you think? Especially when it comes to someone like YN.” He flicks the cigarette away, watching the faint glow disappear into the darkness “You think she really cares about anyone but herself?”

Dann’s gaze falters, the weight of his words settling over her.

“Look,” Hwa says, his voice softening just enough to sound sincere, “I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of YN’s little games. She’s been pulling this crap since we were kids, using people, discarding them when they’re no longer useful.”

Dann clenches her fists, her voice barely above a whisper.

“But Hongjoong isn’t like that.”

Hwa raises an eyebrow, his smirk returning “You sure about that? He dropped you pretty fast for her, didn’t he?”

Her breath catches, the truth of his words cutting deeper than she wants to admit.

“But here’s the thing,” Hwa continues, stepping closer, his voice lowering conspiratorially “YN’s not untouchable. She’s got secrets, vulnerabilities… things she wouldn’t want getting out.”

Dann looks up at him, confusion and hesitation warring in her eyes.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying… if you really want to hit her where it hurts, I can help.”

The air between them crackles with tension. Dann hesitates, her instincts screaming at her to walk away.

But the memory of Hongjoong doing such a thing with you flashes through her mind again, the sting of betrayal fueling the embers of something darker.

“Why?” She asks cautiously, her voice steadier now.

Seonghwa’s grin widens, his eyes glinting with calculated charm

“Let’s just say I have my reasons. And besides…” He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper “Don’t you want to see her fall?”

Dann swallows hard, the weight of his proposition pressing down on her. Her mind races, torn between doubt and the growing need to fight back.

Finally, she nods, her voice quiet but firm.

“Okay. I’m in.”

Hwa straightens, satisfaction flashing across his face “Good. Stick with me, and we’ll make sure YN regrets every move she’s made.”

As he walks away, Dann stands frozen, the faint echo of his footsteps fading into the music downstairs.

For the first time that night, she feels something other than pain—something sharp and dangerous, simmering just beneath the surface.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The soft glow of the afternoon sun filters through the expansive windows of your house, casting a warm, golden hue over the sprawling living room.

You and Hongjoong sit cross-legged on the expensive carpet, a mess of images, glue sticks, and markers spread out between you. The project you’re working on is for the literature class—a visual timeline of key events in European history.

For once, you aren't delegating the work entirely to Hongjoong. Instead, you’re snipping pieces of paper with surprising focus, handing them over to him to paste onto the board.

“Here,” You say, holding up a carefully cut-out image of the Berlin Wall “Paste this next to the 1989 marker. And make it straight this time.”

Hongjoong smirks, taking the picture “Yes, pretty. Anything else you’d like me to do, Your Majesty?”

You roll your eyes but hide a smile “Just don’t mess it up. My grade’s on the line, too.”

You share a laugh, the recent nickname he loves to call you since that night at Wooyoung’s party makes you feel butterflies in your stomach.

Since that day, Hongjoong feels the ease between both of you—something he never thought possible just a few weeks ago. He doesn’t feel nervous or out of place anymore.

Being with you feels natural now, like he belongs here.

You lean back, brushing your hair over your shoulder, and look at him with a curious expression.

“You’re actually not bad at this. Who knew?”

He grins “Wow, high praise coming from you. Should I write this down?”

You smirk, tossing a crumpled piece of paper at him “Don’t push your luck, Kim.”

The banter continues, light and comfortable, until the sound of heels clicking on the marble floor interrupts them.

Your mother appears in the doorway, dressed immaculately as always, her gaze sweeping over the room.

“Oh! Hi, Hongjoong. Didn't know you were here.” Your mother greets him with a lovely smile

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Clarke.” He bows his head politely.

“How are you doing with that guys?” She says while looking curiously at your project.

“Great, we’re having fun.” Hongjoong answers with a sweet smile and your mother giggles gracefully.

From the first time your mother met him, she was delighted with the boy, saying how handsome and polite he was.

“Incredible. Sweetie?” Now she addresses you and you hum in response “I wanted to let you know your brother will be returning from Germany next week. He finished his program early.”

You freeze, your hands stilling on the paper you're cutting. For a moment, a flicker of something—fear?—crosses your face.

“Oh…” You say, voice strained despite her attempt at nonchalance “That’s… great.”

Your mother narrows her eyes slightly, as if detecting the unease.

“Yes. He’s looking forward to seeing you. I hope you’ll make him proud of how you’ve been handling things here.”

“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.” You reply with a forced smile.

“Well, I'll let you continue with your work.” Your mother gives a curt nod before leaving the room.

Hongjoong glances at you, sensing the sudden shift in your mood.

“Mike?”

You exhale sharply, tossing the scissors aside “Yeah. My amazing brother. If he finds out I’ve been… well, less than perfect, he won’t hesitate to tell my parents.”

Hongjoong frowns “He sounds… intense.”

“You don’t know half of it.” You mutter, running a hand through your hair. For a moment, your confident exterior falters, revealing a hint of vulnerability.

Hongjoong reaches out, hesitating before placing a hand on yours.

“Hey, it’s okay. Whatever happens, you’ll handle it. You’re YN, remember? You always do.”

You look at him, your expression softening “You’re sweet, you know that?”

He shrugs, a blush creeping up his neck “Just for you, pretty.”

You lean in, your lips brushing his in a soft kiss.

“Let’s finish this project before my mother comes back and give you compliments just for existing”

Hongjooong chuckles, but he can’t shake the lingering thought of your brother. Whoever this guy is, he clearly has a hold over you—and that’s saying something.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Dann quietly tidies up remnants of her lunch, her movements mechanical. She hasn’t spoken to Hongjoong in days. He doesn’t even look at her anymore.

But she notices the change in you—the way you smile more, laugh more, when Hongjoong is around you.

And Dann can’t help but feel the ache in her chest grow sharper with each passing moment.

How much she wishes she was in your place, to be so close to Hongjoong.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The house buzzes with quiet anticipation, the staff moving about with heightened energy. Your mother, dressed in her usual pristine elegance, stands in the center of the room, her voice carrying an air of authority but still kind.

“I want everything perfect for my son’s return,” She announces, her tone leaving no room for error “The table arrangements, the food, the decor—everything must reflect our family’s standards. He’ll be here in three days, and this dinner must welcome him properly. The whole family will come, so the banquet should be for twenty-five people.”

Dann crouches in the corner of the hallway, hidden behind a large vase. She had come to deliver your paperwork but froze when she overheard the conversation.

Her heart pounds as she listens, her mind racing. YN’s brother… She wouldn't know that the Clarkes have two children if it weren't for some pictures hanging on the walls, in all this time she never heard anyone mention it, not even your parents.

She knows almost nothing about him, but the little mention that Seonghwa made one day left her intrigued.

Why does no one in the family talk about that guy?

The moment your mother leaves the room, Dann slips out and makes her way to the backyard, her hands clutching the papers tightly.

She unlocks her phone in hand and calls Seonghwa.

He’s been a constant presence in her life these past two weeks—not as a friend, but as a partner in their silent pact.

In these weeks, Hwa has treated Dann with a mix of indifference and amusement. He never misses an opportunity to remind her of their deal, yet he’s never outright cruel.

For him, she’s a tool—a means to an end. But for Dann, every interaction feels like walking a tightrope, unsure when his charm might twist into something sharper.

“Seonghwa,” she calls softly when he picks up.

“Hi, what’s the news?”

Dann hesitates before speaking “YN’s brother… He’s coming back in three days. Her mom is planning this big welcome dinner for him.”

“The golden boy, huh? Interesting.”

“Interesting?” Dann blurts out before she can stop herself.

“Of course, it is. Daddy’s favorite, perfect older brother who can do no wrong? He’s probably the only one who can knock YN off her pedestal.”

Dann frowns, clutching her hands nervously “Are you sure about this?”

“Don't be scared, Seo, I’ll take care of everything.”

Dann isn’t comforted by his nonchalance, but she knows better than to push. Seonghwa isn’t someone who worries; he plans, manipulates, and waits for the perfect moment to strike.

“Okay… bye.

Dann bites her lip, hanging up before walking back inside the house. But as she retreats, she can’t shake the feeling that she’s stepping deeper into a game she barely understands.

✮ ⋆

You lounge on the oversized velvet sofa in the living room, your legs tuck beneath you as you flip through the book Hongjoong recommended to you.

You’re not reading it—your eyes skim over the pages without absorbing a single word.

Around you, the house is abuzz with activity. Maids dust every surface, fluffing pillows to perfection.

A team of florists meticulously arranges extravagant bouquets in the foyer, filling the air with the overpowering scent of lilies and roses.

Your mother strides into the room, clipboard in hand, rattling off instructions.

“The table settings must be silver, not gold. And make sure the wine glasses are spotless—he deserves only the best.” Her voice drips with excitement.

You glance at the dining room, now transformed into a stage for the grand dinner. Crystal chandeliers gleam above the polished mahogany table, which is already set with fine china and embroidered napkins.

Everything is immaculate, screaming perfection—just like your brother.

Your father joins his wife, a rare smile softening his otherwise stern face “Finally, our son is coming back. Three years is far too long.” He places a hand on the woman's shoulder, his tone filled with pride “He’s the best of us.”

Your stomach twists. Their words sting in a way you don’t expect. It’s not that you hate Mike—not really. But the shadow he casts is suffocating, the impossibly high bar he sets that you’ll never reach.

The perfect son, the golden child who’s never made a misstep—or so everyone thinks.

Because you know better. You know the cracks hidden behind his flawless exterior. The things he’s done, the lines he’s crossed.

The way he’s used you to cover his tracks, forcing you to dirty your hands so his reputation could remain unscathed. The memory of his voice, cold and commanding, still echoes in your mind.

'You’ll do it, YN. You owe me.' And you always did because saying no was never an option.

Your parents know about his anger issues. They’ve seen his temper, the way his anger can spiral into violence.

They’ve heard the arguments, felt the weight of his wrath. But they ignore it, choosing instead to uphold the illusion of their perfect son.

You know they love you and love to spoil you, but you also know their disappointment runs deep.

To them, you’re the little child who always gets her way, who causes trouble without considering the consequences.

A loud clatter from the kitchen breaks her thoughts, and your mother whirls around.

“What was that? We can’t afford any mistakes!”

You watch your mother hurry away, and your heart sinks further. Mistakes.

That’s all you feel you are lately and a series of disappointments waiting to be uncovered. Your eyes drift to the grand staircase, and you imagine Mike descending it, his presence commanding the room, and your parents beaming with pride.

Your phone buzzes, pulling you from bad thoughts. It’s a text from Hongjoong, something sweet and simple about your project.

Joongie: We’re getting a 10, pretty.

Joongie: Promise!!

For a moment, you smile, but it quickly fades. Hongjoong is your escape, your distraction, but even he can’t erase the weight of your family’s expectations.

Sighing, you set the book down and lean back, closing your eyes. The house feels suffocating, filled with reminders of who you are supposed to be.

But this time, you won’t be caught off guard. If your brother’s return is inevitable, you’ll face him on your terms—even if it means confronting the secrets they both carry.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

The school backyard is too quiet to be the last class, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the trees as students chatter in the distance.

You and Hongjoong sit on a bench, the space between them comfortable but heavy with unspoken thoughts.

You swing your legs lazily, your eyes looking at the horizon. Your usually confident demeanor seems a little more distant today, like your mind is elsewhere.

Hongjoong notices it instantly, and though he’s not the type to pry, he can’t help but ask.

"Hey, what's going on? You seem… off today."

You glance over at him, lips curling into a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“It’s nothing. Just stuff with my family.”

He raises an eyebrow, sensing that it’s more than just ‘stuff.’ He leans a little closer, his voice softer now.

“Your brother, right?”

You freeze at the mention of him, gaze flickering to the side, as though trying to avoid the thought altogether. Your fingers fidget with the hem of your jacket, and you sigh deeply.

"Yeah, he’s coming back today." You try to mask the vulnerability in your tone, but Hongjoong catches it anyway "After three years, my parents are so excited. You should see the house, Joong... everything has to be perfect."

Hongjoong watches you carefully, his expression thoughtful. He remembers when your mother told you about Mike’s return.

You had been visibly upset, though you masked it quickly, eager to avoid the conversation. He knows that you have spent your whole life living in your brother’s shadow, constantly compared to his perfection.

"I get it," He says softly, his voice steady "You’ve always felt like he’s the ‘golden child,’ right? The one your parents adore."

Your lips tighten, but you don't argue, just nod, glancing at him with a half-smile.

"It’s exhausting. He’s everything they ever wanted in a son. Business master. Perfect grades. Perfect manners. Perfect everything." You pause, a bitter edge creeping into your voice "It doesn’t matter how many times I get a perfect score or do everything right. It’s never enough."

Hongjoong nods, his hand resting on the back of the bench, his gaze still on you. He knows you hide a lot behind that confident exterior, but the cracks are starting to show now, and it makes him feel both protective and… uncertain.

"It sounds like a lot to deal with. But your parents love you. They just have high expectations, don’t they?"

Your gaze flickers briefly to him, but you don't meet his eyes. You bite your lip, as if debating whether to continue.

"They do, but sometimes it feels like it’s not enough." You shrug, trying to brush it off, but the weight of the words lingers in the air between them "Anyway, enough about that."

You shift in your seat, a new thought clearly forming.

“Hongjoong,” You say, voice softer now, almost vulnerable "I know I’ve been, uh… caught up with my family stuff lately. But would you… would you ever invite me to your place one day? Just, you know, to get away from all of this?"

He blinks in surprise, but the warmth of your request is clear. It’s not about the drama or the pressures you face at home. It’s just you wanting a break, wanting something simple.

A break from being the ‘perfect’ daughter, the one always judged against the golden child.

"Of course, pretty." He replies without hesitation "Whenever you want. You can always come over."

You look at him, eyes softer now, a real smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Thanks, that means more than you know."

You sit in silence for a moment, the weight of your words settling between you. Hongjoong’s heart races, unsure of what this means for their relationship but knowing one thing:

Being around you, seeing you like this—vulnerable, honest—it pulls him in deeper.

Finally, you break the silence again “Well, if I have to put up with my perfect brother for a while, at least I’ll have something to look forward to, right?”

He chuckles, the sound filling the quiet space between you “Exactly. And you know, I think the ‘perfect’ brother might need a little dose of reality. No one can be perfect all the time.”

You grin at that, your usual self-assuredness flickering back to life.

"Maybe.”

"Well, you’ve got me for anything. Always."

As you sit there, the rest of the world seems to fade away. Just for a moment, everything is okay.

And for now, that’s enough.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

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☆○☆○☆

All rights reserved ♡bunny-hwa. Do not copy or translate my work.

[billdenbrough]

did a flash fic challenge today & the character i received from the spin2win was kevin. @merceyca prompted “plexiglass” & immediately after that, @vykio prompted “haunted house”, because they love to make life easy for me LMFAO. predictably with this setup, this is kevaaron. so.

kevaaron + haunted house, plexiglass

“This was a terrible idea,” Kevin mutters.

Andrew obviously hears him, but predictably ignores him, instead choosing to poke experimentally at the cleaver hanging from the ceiling. Renee, at his side, gently lowers his arm.

Matt is sandwiched between Dan and Neil, a bit ahead of Andrew. Allison and Nicky seem to be competing to find the ‘hottest corpse’.

Aaron, bringing up the rear with Kevin, slants him a sidelong glance. “Because those two are three seconds from being sent to a sexual harassment seminar or because you’re worried Andrew will try steal a machete from one of the actors?” he asks dryly.

“They’re not sharp enough,” Andrew says blandly. Renee shoots Kevin an apologetic look over her shoulder—he’s not really sure why; or rather, the only answer that comes to mind is at risk of making him flush, so he beats it back with a stick—and loops her arm with Andrew’s, leading him further out of earshot. Andrew allows it.

When Kevin looks back at Aaron, he’s tilting his head.

“Or something else?” Aaron asks.

Kevin weighs up his options. Discovering no good ones, he grumbles, “I think I saw a clown chasing a toddler with a flamethrower.”

Aaron snorts. “The great Kevin Day,” he says. His tone is mocking, but like – in that Aaron way. Kevin doesn’t really know how to explain it. There’s mocking when Aaron means it, how he used to talk to Neil and the scathing tone he turns on the especially annoying freshmen on the line-up, and then there’s like this: that natural tilt to his voice, something blunt and sarcastic, but no force behind it.

Kevin’s seen what it looks like, after all, when Aaron puts his strength into it.

He’s about to huff—something waspish about haunted houses and horror films and the Foxes’ inexplicable idea of what constitutes ‘fun’—when Aaron shifts closer, the sudden flush of body heat emanating off him stealing the words from Kevin’s mouth.

Aaron doesn’t seem concerned with saying anything, so Kevin doesn’t either, just shifts his weight on his next step to move closer to Aaron, now that he’s allowed. Their shoulders brush. Kevin thinks again about Renee’s apologetic expression, and almost bites off his own tongue.

It’s two rooms later—after Matt had to pull Nicky back from peering into a coffin before a guillotine descended on him, and Dan swore loudly at a fortune-teller who appeared suddenly at her side and kept ominously intoning her name while Allison told Neil, yeah, so that’s why you never say anyone’s name in one of these things—that Kevin finally says, “It’s dark.”

Aaron opens his mouth. Pauses. Shuts it. Hums.

Kevin thinks he’s going to have to say more. Explain himself. Talk about claustrophobic spaces, stuck in the dark, threats of violence.

Then Aaron takes his hand, holding it tight, and it’s like the air goes out of Kevin’s lungs.

He thinks about the car ride over, when Aaron and Nicky debated which horror movie to watch later that night. Nicky had been texting the other car at the time, chiming in with suggestions from the upperclassmen, most of which Aaron had shot down. His knee had kept bouncing, the way it did when he was animated, or irritated, or annoyed, or over-tired, or restless, or a thousand other things that Aaron sometimes was, that Kevin sometimes noticed. He’d wanted to reach out and still Aaron’s leg. He hadn’t.

He thinks about a week ago at Eden’s, downing seven shots as he sat at the table, ignoring whatever the fuck Neil and Andrew were doing as he watched Aaron—fucking wasted—tilt his head back on the dance floor, the lights illuminating the line of his throat. He thinks about an hour before they left for Eden’s that same night, arguing with Aaron about something that didn’t really matter, until it did, and he was pressing Aaron against the plexiglass of the court walls, snapping at him, and then kissing him, and kissing him, and kissing him. He thinks about Aaron—pinned halfway up the wall, Kevin raising him up for a better angle, Aaron’s hand leaving an imprint on the plexiglass—kissing him back.

He thinks about a month before that, on the bus on their way back from a game against Belmonte, Aaron sitting beside him and—with a long-suffering sigh—offering one of his earbuds to Kevin. It hadn’t been music Kevin knew, which Kevin had said, to which Aaron had scoffed, and said, You don’t know anything that came out after the 1800s, which was rude, but possibly fair. Still, Kevin had argued the point, and Aaron had objected to each of his statements, and somehow they’d ended up spending the entire journey going through Aaron’s playlists while they tried to—in Aaron’s words—find ‘an actual music taste’ for Kevin.

Kevin thinks about all of these things, and about Renee’s apology, and about Aaron’s hand in his, and about Aaron shifting closer, and Aaron’s sidelong glance, and he swallows.

A clown could try murder him right now, he thinks, and he might not even notice.

Slowly, he squeezes Aaron’s hand: smaller than his, but firm, unwavering.

After a moment, Aaron squeezes back.

[galadrieljones]

A demon among angels, huh? 👀

Let it be known that I don't think Daryl is a demon lol. Obviously, he's a good man and a moral character. I do, however, think he's a fallen angel. With his tattered, black leather wings, his fall from grace and journey through hell has reminded me of the literary Lucifer. Lucifer means "light bringer" and also "morning star," which is the name of the weapon that Daryl has wielded since season 10, the eponymous episode, in which he leads his people into rebellion against Alpha, a psychopath who certainly regards herself as a god.

In Christian texts, Lucifer, an angel, was cast out of heaven for questioning God and even believing that he could become God, as well as for recruiting a third of God's angels to join him in his rebellion against God. In Dante's Inferno, Lucifer is portayed as a cold and grotesque being in the Underworld, lonely and chewing the heads of betrayers such as Judas Iscariot. He's not a villain, per se. He's just lost, and in the old literature, he was never found again.

Re: the dialogue with Genet:

Speculation time. I believe Daryl is being used by Losang, and I think that Genet knows this, and I think that's what she's referring to in this scene, and why she's laughing maniacally. I think that possibly, Genet is not the "true" villain of the story. She is a villain, but that's just our current point of view. We don't know what Losang wants, but we do know that he wants something that has to do with Laurent. We know that Genet is his enemy. We also know that Genet's faction the Power of the Living has persecuted the Wildfire scientists, hunting, jailing, and killing them since the Fall. Since persecution is bad, we all assume that what Genet did was bad, and that she's the bad guy. But what if it's not really that simple? And what if she truly believed she had a good reason to do what she did? Everybody views her as the devil, but what if the "angels" that she fights are not as angelic as they seem?

For example, what if the scientists were abducting and experimenting on innocent people? On children? Would the fact that they are working on a cure for mankind excuse this? We have proven precedent for this kind of thing happening before, in both World Beyond and The Ones Who Live. The CRM has been used as a major proxy for the magical science of unethical thinking. This exact same conflict (sacrificing the few for the greater good) is also explored in "Coda," when Dawn tries to convince Beth to stay, because her sacrifice is important, because what she's doing there could be "the most important thing she does in her life."

Of course, we have no idea what Dawn is talking about.

We know now, too, that Laurent will be taken from Daryl and Isabelle, as TD predicted some time back, and I'm guessing it will be Losang who takes him, whether by force, or because he somehow gaslights Laurent into going with him willingly. Where is Losang taking him, and why? What is the "ceremony?" What is Losang's relationship to the scientists that Genet hates so much? Why is he Genet's enemy?

Realize that this is all pretty much hypothetical speculation at this point, so just consider it food for thought.

Re: Losang's motivations at the Nest:

Remember that Daryl was outside with Laurent when somebody came and told him that Losang wanted him at that meeting, where they discussed what to do about Fallou and Emile. Losang dismisses Daryl's suggestions, obviously, because he's a *pacifist,* but if Losang truly didn't want to hear it, or if he truly didn't want others to hear it, then he wouldn't have told Daryl to come inside. He wanted Daryl there. Because, ultimately, he needs him. He just doesn't want the others to know this, or to know why.

Later, Losang tells Daryl that a team is being assembled to intercept Genet. Daryl tells him he is going to go. Losang doesn't say no. He simply *discourages* the use of violence. He is *unhappy* with how Daryl conducts himself, and yet...

He knows that Daryl will do whatever it takes to get Fallou and Emile back. If he fails, or people die, then Losang can simply blame Daryl for being too aggressive, overly violent, for rushing in too soon. It makes Losang look good. If he succeeds fully, and he even manages to kill Genet, well, then, that's great. It makes Losang look good, too. Losang is using Daryl as a means to an end with Genet, but he also fears that Daryl's influence on Laurent will be too strong. Daryl is an A, remember. He may not relish the fact, but he is very good at leading people, particularly the disenfranchised and the meek.

Like Dawn, Losang needs his "wards" to be as weak as possible. They need to be Bs. If they begin to fight back, then they might accidentally find out what the hell is really going on here, and that's bad. (I have really longwinded, detailed theories about what the hell could be going on here, but it's not time yet for those lol). Anyway, commence the comparison between Daryl at the Nest and Beth at Grady. More on that soon. But first.

Re: Lucifer Archetypes:

This is a slight digression. I have begun to think of the literary Lucifer archetype, the trope of the renegade, fallen angel, because it's indicative often of a character who is struggling with their faith, and struggling with how to proceed in a derelict world. This is very relevant to Daryl right now.

This trope is not relegated to Daryl in TWDU. Though he's the one with the wings, there are many Lucifer archetypes in the series, including major characters like Rick, Shane, Madison Clark, and Father Gabriel. These are essentially rebellious thinkers, revolutionaries, a lot like Daryl, who, at one point or another, get a little too ahead of their skis and go tumbling off the mountain, face first. They lose their pious nature, their goodness, their faith in God and in people, but the key to being the hero in a sick and dying world is that, despite the odds, they find their faith again. This is where the Lucifer trope becomes, essentially, a Christ allegory.

I know that @frangipanilove has written brilliantly about the Lucifer/Christ dichotomy, and while this is mostly unrelated to that, I think there is some similarity at work. Lucifer and Christ are two sides to one coin. Often times, in a story, a character must fall from grace before they can rise again and lead their people to salvation. Of course, not all characters make it past their descent. Some of them are too far gone (Shane, I'm looking at you) and for some, the jury is, essentially still out (like Father Gabriel or Madison Clark).

Beth, by the way, also struggles with her faith while she's at Grady. It's quiet, but she risks losing who she used to be. One of the reasons her "death" is so frustrating, in fact, is that she sort of dies at a low point. She is framed as a hero, and yet, we never really get to see her "rise again." Not truly. Her death is senseless, the point of view confusing. We don't know what she's thinking, or why she does the things she does. Her journey is incomplete.

Re: Dirty Work

Now, more on Beth at Grady. Beth, while in the process of trying to figure out what she believes, is, like Daryl, used by some sort of manipulative "superior" to do the "dirty work." In searching for who to believe, she finds herself caught in the crossfire, a puppet in a war that doesn't even involve her. This is what spurs her renegade spirit, and her desire to rebel. This is SO MUCH like Daryl in France, right down to the part where Dawn is trying to convince Beth to stay, against her own instincts, I don't even know where to begin.

The phrase dirty work is interesting because it shows up several times in relationship to Daryl. Pope mentions "dirty work," too, in "Rendition." He tells Daryl about his mercenary company, who were once hired by "politicians" to do their "dirty work."

The role of a mercenary is related to the cardinal sin of indifference, more popularly known as sloth. Indifference is used to describe sinners who cannot make difficult choices, who will not choose sides in the great big war of our lives. Yes, this is a sin. Perpetrators of indifference only make choices that are most beneficial to them in the moment, or which constitute the path of least resistance. Biblically, it's often associated with one turning away from God, because making choices to live a life dedicated to Christ have become too demanding. In the episode "Indifference" (4.4), Carol essentially accuses Rick of such, re: "You can be a farmer, Rick, but you can't only be a farmer." Maybe Carol acted rashly in killing Karen and David, but at the same time, in growing too comfortable with his situation at the prison, Rick has essentially lost his moral compass. He's missing the war.

Indifferent characters often end up doing a LOT of the dirty work in a war, and they make many deadly mistakes, because their code is compromised. Wolves on either side of the war can sense this and have figured out how to use them to their benefit. They pay them, they threaten them, they manipulate them, etc. etc. etc. To win the war, you have to choose a side. That's the message. Otherwise, you get used, as a mercenary.

This keeps coming up. The concept of having to make difficult choices, of having to choose sides in a war you never asked to be a part of. Somewhere along the line, you find yourself doing things that will haunt you for the rest of your life, and then later, you realize that these choices came at the behest of some fancy "politician," be it a police officer, the President of the United States, or some other "diplomatic" wolf who used you. While Beth was busy trying to save her friend Carol and trying to figure out how to escape from Grady, Dawn was busy using her, to kill not one but TWO of her officers, in a bid to further her own agenda. It is, in fact, this very indiscretion that finally turns Beth against Dawn for good, empowering her to finally choose a side.

Remember, too, that while *we* and Team Family referred to Pope's group as the Reapers, which are, in and of themselves, like "angels" of death, Pope never once refers to them as such. Pope calls his people "The Chosen Ones."

He calls them this because, at the end of the world, while doing their dirty work, they were in a city that, like so many others, was napalmed during Operation Cobalt, and they walked out of the fire, not only alive, but completely untouched, "without a scratch." Pope seems to believe that his people are chosen and protected by God, and he anoints Daryl as such. They are a religious organization. They may appear to be misguided, but they chose God. So while they're angels of death, sure, they're also apparently immortal, Christ-like figures out to cleanse the land of evil. They accept Daryl into their home. They feed him, defend him. We like Daryl, so this is good, right? In a lot of ways, in TWDU, whether someone is an Angel of Death or a Chosen One, a villain or a hero, is simply a matter of perspective, which can change dramatically depending on where we are in the story, at any given time. That's part of what I think is going on this season of DD, with Genet and Losang. I think it's also a really important theme to remember when dealing with a character like Daryl, who has many sides and is capable of many things.

I really don't know what any of this means yet, by the way. And I'm kind of tired and so I know I'm rambling on and on about angels and Jesus and Lucifer, etc. etc. But there has to be a reason that Losang, like Dawn did to Beth, is using Daryl to do his "dirty work." I think it says something about Daryl, and about Beth, that they are living in limbo. I think that Pope and the Reapers are likely meant to function as a sort of allegory here. They're what happens when this sort of thing plays out to its most demonic conclusion. You get somebody like Leah, who has become so twisted that she can no longer function in any sort of cooperative society. She ends up trying to kill the same man she once loved, because she's been manipulated by Lance Hornby, a wolf. Leah dies a mercenary, but she wasn't always one. At one point, she helped Daryl, offered him comfort, etc.

Similar to Shane, she's like the cautionary tale, what could happen to somebody like Daryl OR Beth if they become "too far gone," and they can no longer get on the right path toward redemption. That's what I'm trying to get at with all the Lucifer/Christ/Indifference stuff. Daryl must choose a side, and he must rise again (or, he could descend forever, though I think that's unlikely lol). The side he chooses may not even be Genet or Losang. In fact, it probably won't. It will likely be rebellious, but this, in and of itself, IS a side for a character like Daryl. This stuff also informs what we never saw with Beth, despite narrative promises that were made in season 5. Beth certainly led her own rebellion in the halls of Grady Memorial, even though we saw just a snag.

Anyway. Whatever happens with Daryl and Losang, I essentially think it could really inform our understanding of what happened back at Grady, too. We'll just have to wait and see.

[autisticlalna]

An Analysis of Loft Theory, or "Leo Briefly Loses His Mind About 'Dark Oak Death Laser' Before Remembering He's Writing An Analysis"

Skyblock Kingdoms. bottom text. it's a series where like a third of the players have some sort of storyline going that's revolving around the void below. as things progress, it's getting more clear that the void is alive and can grant some sort of power to those that feed it (if Trog's void magic is any indication), and a major conflict is between those that appease the void and those that stand against it.

obviously this is going to spark theories. i've been tossing things around with solar and the dnerds, and some of it has been shared on here, but we're far from the only ones taking a guess at where the story might go. someone in Avid's youtube comments has written several paragraphs of ideas, and it's something i keep coming back to for various reasons.

let's talk about Loft Theory.

The Theory:

Avid's Episode 5:

The Void vs Avid’s Patron. Hmmm… I think I know who that is, and why they want him to run OSSHA. I think it’s another entity, like the void, which I’m filling The Loft. Essentially, the sky vs the Void. I think it’s like a Yin-Yang type balance, and they both want control of the new realm. The Terra, or ground in between them. It’s a battle for No-Man’s land, and they’ll each choose Avatars among the poor mortals caught in their struggle. Being so close to these entities is also why they can bend the rules of reality, such as respawning. Little do either the Void or the Loft know, there’s a third entity. The Terra itself. Every single block is imbued with the power of the third entity, the Terra. And it’s none-too happy with these entities fighting over it. So it is choosing its own Avatars. Viking and Fix for some. They’re even building a massive wall that spans Loft and Void. It’s still unknown if they have servants who don’t know they’re being influenced by these entities. Ruby or Viking could be some of those, where they don’t even know they are working with these entities, but that remains to be seen.

Avid's Episode 6:

Alright, new prediction. Seeing its weak state through Avid’s eyes, the Loft is going to try to rally its servants, and kill the Void, likely using the satellite. Mangrove will try to fight back, and I think Avid will be caught in the middle, as he now has sympathy for the void. Then, it splits two way. Theory 1) They fail, but the server is divided. The Void is angry, starts to lash out, and more seemingly random void deaths start to happen. Meanwhile, The Terra continues its rise to power, as the more blocks that exist, the stronger it gets. And with Moss farms and tree farms, it starts to grow. Theory 2: They kill the void. Right as Avid seems able to Deescalate the situation, stressing the need for balance, the Terra reveals itself. Viking and Fix suddenly jump in, blasting a beam downwards from their kingdom, maybe even blowing up OSSHA, as the Terra Laughs. The void, (bottom half of the sky.) turns blood red, and Mangrove is broken. Then, Avid slowly starts losing it. The Loft rejects him, and his best friends helped kill the Void, who he now believes was innocent. The episode ends with a really touching scene between Doovid and Avid.

Avid's Episode 7:

New lore! 5:04 shows a white and black skyline, with the camera (presumably Avid) starting mostly white (sky), and transitioning down to black (void). This seems to suggest Avid is turning away from the Loft, towards the Void. Of course, the Terra is represented by the trees. Doovid transforming into a monkey person is interesting, as it seems to indicate the influence of the Terra. But the Loft also used the Phantoms to try to strike down Doovid and wipe his elytra, perhaps realizing with his fascination with structures like the Trail ruins, as well as his dominance over the sky with his flying machines, that he’s influencing Avid away from the Lofts control. Now, with Avid aligning with Mangrove, the void’s servants, as well as gaining power to fly, not given by the Loft, it’s on its back foot. Interesting.

that's a lot of words! let's break it down into the bare essentials.

The Summary:

the entity behind OSSHA that Avid is working for is the sky, aka the Loft

the Loft and the Void are supposed to be balanced, but are fighting for control

they are choosing specific players as avatars, which lets them respawn

there's also a third entity, the Terra, which is the actual islands themselves

the Terra is in the middle of the power struggle and is choosing avatars as well (Viking and Fix)

Loft, Void, and Terra might have players working for them unknowingly (Ruby and Viking)

the Loft is going to kill the Void with the OSSHA research satellite

either it fails and the Void is going to retaliate by killing more players, or...

...the Terra interrupts Avid's peace talk between Loft and Void to blow up OSSHA and kill the Void with a death laser

the Loft rejects Avid for trying to bring balance and the Void is dead, so Avid starts going insane

monkeyification is caused by the Terra

the Loft is sabotaging Doovid to stop him from bringing Avid closer to the Terra (?)

these were posted on Avid's videos, and i'm not sure who else they watch besides Avid, so i can't expect them to know everything that everyone is doing on SBK-- there's 20 people now and over 50 episodes between them, it's a lot to catch up on. however, as the person that is watching every POV and episode for some godforsaken reason, i know Way Too Much and can try to address this theory point-by-point to figure out what's cool or plausible, what's unlikely, and what's just... bizarre, to me.

(there will likely be gaps in my own analysis, though. again, over 50 episodes. im planning to jot down notes on every story-related thing that happens, but that project hasnt been started yet so this is going off of memory. ill keep "information from after the theories were posted" to a minimum, though, because obviously that info wasnt even there at the time.)

Entry 1:

the concept of the Loft itself is interesting. Avid is clearly working for someone-- he's told Marmalade as much, and he's also described his role in OSSHA as an enforcer, rather than the head of it.

there's also a bit more about Avid and his role as a pawn to forces greater than him, but i'll tackle that in another section because it's more relevant there. but, for now, we can say with confidence that Avid has a history with being used to carry out a deity's will.

however, it's that history that makes me unsure about the Loft being Avid's patron. again, i'll go into it a bit more later, but it's likely that Avid is working for somebody we have seen, just... not yet in SBK.

the Terra is.. a bit shakier. again, cool in concept, but the likeliness of being an actual element feels low. the closest we might get so far is the Birch Kingdom being Cursed Lands and a cause of that being "the Terra just really hates these guys", but Fool also made a joke about his pre-established god Atium not liking birch, so.

however, the entire rest of the theory is built on these foundations, so let's follow the premise of there being two other entities and go from there. why are Viking and Fix Terra? sure, they have the Ant Farm, but you could argue that as being more of a bridge between Void and Loft considering it goes from buildheight to the bottom of the world. Entry 2 mentions that the Terra's power comes from the blocks placed, and Fix definitely places a lot of blocks (as well as Dark Oak having the cobble/basalt/deepslate mega-generator), but you could argue that Spruce would be a better fit because they're the kingdom able to mass-produce dirt, and were also the original source of moss. i love Dark Oak, but this feels out of place.

namechecking Ruby and Viking as potential unknowing servants is fun, though. again, i don't know what POVs besides Avid they watch, but Ruby and the status of the timeline are under observation by something (R.C.) and are, as far as we know, oblivious. this also normally applies to Viking and his mysterious observer V.P., but we haven't actually had any V.P. sightings in SBK and instead have been dealing with someone else.

(there's also a lot more going on with Ruby and Viking below the surface, but most of it is from series outside of SBK and has been somewhat acknowledged, but not enough for me to confidently go on a tangent. TL;DR they're the incarnations of time and space respectively and some versions of them know about it and have power over their domains. although if Viking is space incarnate, then maybe that would be a point to him being a Terra avatar?)

Entry 2:

i'm going to be very blunt, this comment is the one i take the most issue with. this entry is the reason im making this post. this entry is the reason why Loft Theory haunts me. but im going to skip over the "did you just write a whole-ass alternate universe fanfic in avid's comments and package it as a theory????" thing and focus on actually addressing the theory.

killing the Void with the satellite is... um, ridiculous. sorry. Avid has been very clear that it's a research satellite meant to listen to the Void, which is what happens in that episode. and, speaking of that episode, does Avid have sympathy for the Void? he hears a voice pleading for help, but he's more shocked than anything else after being skeptical of Marmalade hearing the Void. (we do find out later that the satellite is capable of doing more than just listen, but that was after this episode and definitely not something Avid was aware it could do.)

what does sound likely is the idea of more random void deaths as the Void gets more uppity. even if it's not in response to an OSSHA-powered murder attempt, the fact that OSSHA are continuing to stand in the way of feeding the void means that the Void is going to have to get what it needs some other way. we've seen this already with the Void destroying the bridge to Mangrove. plus, as mentioned, the server is now at a state where island expansions are happening fast (just look at Elffe!), so the Terra gaining a foothold would make sense to start around here. out of the two forks in this entry, this is the one that makes the most sense of me.

okay. we now need to talk about the Dark Oak Death Laser.

Right as Avid seems able to Deescalate the situation, stressing the need for balance, the Terra reveals itself. Viking and Fix suddenly jump in, blasting a beam downwards from their kingdom, maybe even blowing up OSSHA, as the Terra Laughs.

where do i start

okay. as a reminder, this is a theory. it's presented in story format at this point, but this is a theory of what will happen next. they call it a theory. so i am going to do my best to address this as a theory and not completely lose my mind. mission failed, mind lost

so the idea here is that Avid is going to change from being OSSHA's enforcer to instead mediating between OSSHA/the Loft and the Void. (why? i dunno.) he's gonna rally the Loft and Void avatars (so, Mangrove and... uh. whoever else would side with the Loft besides Avid, i guess. not specified. Cherry, maybe, because OSSHA?) and get them to realize that they need to restore balance (...isn't that what Mangrove is trying to do with the Void in the first place?)

...and then Viking and Fix are going to blow up OSSHA with a laser beam and kill the Void in the name of the Terra.

how

why

What?

are they going to... build a laser beam? for the purpose of Void annihilation?

why is it a death laser

have they just been kicking it watching everybody slapfight before going "alright, hit the big red button"

why Fix? i can kinda see Viking deciding to do something this level of reckless, but Fix is a chill dude (ignoring the part where Fix isn't actually involved in any storylines so far besides having a Birch Box subscription)

how do you kill the Void? the avatars, maybe (RIP Mangrove), but the Void is literally the bottom half of the world. it's the nothingness below the islands. it's the infinite abyss. how is a laserbeam going to kill the void

why is it a death laser

it's Skyblock, i'm pretty sure somebody would notice Viking and Fix building a death laser pointed at the void in their kingdom

is this supposed to be a season finale kinda thing? the whole comment is phrased like it's supposed to be Next Time On Skyblock Kingdoms. im so confused

...how would it even hit OSSHA? isn't OSSHA HQ between Jungle and Cherry? are they gonna do a sick laser trickshot? i'd love to see that, actually, that would own.

please understand. every time i talk about Loft Theory with solar it devolves into me going "dark oak death laser?????" over and over. this freaking thing is haunting me. i cannot take loft theory seriously because of dark oak kingdom killing the void by firing a beam from their kingdom and blowing up OSSHA. although im sure doak wouldnt be too opposed to blowing up OSSHA, actually. lmao

OKAY. MOVING ON. Mangrove is broken. kinda weird how Mangrove, despite being namedropped frequently, doesn't do anything in this theory. youd think Marmalade at minimum would have things to say about Avid starting to be swayed over to the Void, or the potential of the research station as an anti-void weapon, or the dark oak death laser. void turns blood-red, cool visual (especially if this happens at nightfall).

if solar was writing this post with me (they arent), they would probably point out around now that saying Avid slowly starts losing it implies he hasn't already been losing it this entire time. which is very funny but im going to meet this where it is and go, yeah, Avid accidentally having a hand in the murdering of an entity (especially after his past-- we're nearly there) would probably mess him up real bad. maybe even cause him to revert back to the "Low sanity will set us free." state he was in pre-SBK.

sure, okay, the entity that does not yet canonically exist is actually a petty jerk that dumps Avid at the side of the road. (okay, that's a bit harsh, but another thing that rubs me the wrong way is that how further installments of the Loft Theory treat it like the Loft already 100% exists to the point of having a personality that can develop and have surprise twists. we're speculating that the Void has a personality and goals because we have actually seen evidence to that in the series. the Loft, at this point in time, is purely theoretical.)

wait what is Doovid going to be doing through all this. he has a touching scene with Avid, i guess, at the end of the episode (because this theory is framed like an actual episode plot going beat-by-beat this bothers me SO BAD.)

okay. uh. obviously that's been mostly-debunked by the episode right after, even without me poking at it. so let's put the Dark Oak Death Laser behind us and pretend my sanity levels are a little bit better than sbk!Avid's.

Entry 3:

okay, now we talk about who i think Avid's patron is.

a white and black skyline, with the camera (presumably Avid) starting mostly white (sky), and transitioning down to black (void). This seems to suggest Avid is turning away from the Loft, towards the Void. Of course, the Terra is represented by the trees.

what they are describing here is a brief flicker of another place in Avid's episode. Ruby tells Avid that he's an open book and everyone knows everything about him, and then there's a jarring noise and we see this.

this is not Skyblock Kingdoms. this is from 100 Days in a Minecraft Nightmare.

to recap: that's a three-part series where Avid plays with a bunch of horror datapacks and has just, like, the absolutely worst time. "the absolutely worst time" includes him spiraling into selling his soul to the Dark Lord and doing sacrifices in his name and spending a lot of time at low sanity. this escalates until he's stuck in Incendium, with a new voice telling him to find a sanctum if he wants to survive. once he's reached that goal, the new entity is revealed as the Nameless King of Incendium and task Avid with killing the Dark Lord. however, following that order has the regretful consequence of Avid falling into Limbo.

that... looks familiar, doesn't it?

Avid himself has confirmed in both his own discord and the SBK Community discord that these are the same character, but it wasn't until now that we got that connection in an episode. even then, you'd have to have seen Nightmare to recognize it, which is probably where that idea of it being another Void/Loft/Terra reference came from.

the theory that i myself am gravitating towards (until we get more information) is that Avid's patron is still the Nameless King. they seem to have the same relationship, and it's possible that the NK fished Avid back up out of Limbo and into the kingdoms in return for him continuing to do his bidding. we dont know! but this is the one part of Loft Theory i can say with 100% confidence is not true.

anyway. the Terra being responsible for Doovid's monkeyification is... also somewhat strange, because obviously that happened to Avid after he fell into the Void. we still dont know why that happened, but Avid has hinted that it's another "you don't really leave superhell" moment. also at this point i think the universe just hates Doovid in particular

plus, i'm not sure you could describe Avid as "aligned with the Void's servants" just yet. he's starting to come around on Mangrove, sure, but it sounds like it's an attempt in spite of their Void worship. especially because it wasn't the Void calling for help, it was Leon.

...speaking of Leon, kinda weird that this doesn't even acknowledge End Kingdom at all? it was Leon's voice that Avid picked up with the research station, the fact that there's been another kingdom out there this entire time is a whole thing, you'd think that would come into play. instead they're not referenced whatsoever. i dunno, it just bugs me.

uh. anyway. so that's what i think of Loft Theory! why did i do this

[homestuckreplay]

forum adventures 1/10/10

SO while researching Order of the Stick, I thought, ‘hey I wonder if this high traffic webcomic forum also talks about other webcomics’ and wouldn’t you know it they are totally talking about homestuck

Giant in the Playground MSPA thread – visible without account + free and easy registration

The thread starts during Problem Sleuth but quickly moves to Homestuck, and the community here do a lot more theorizing than on other forums (they’re used to a webcomic with a long/complex story and a fair sized cast, and are more likely to be reading HS for a similar story – one poster actually mentions this). They’ve made some super interesting predictions, so I’ve collected a few of my favorites:

this theory on who is heir of breath, seer of light, etc – most people think Jade the Seer, it’s rare to see alternative ideas, and I think associating the sunglasses character with light kicks ass

this theory that teamwork is Sburb critical which I am 100% adopting, thanks banthesun

this theory that the graffiti on John’s wall is done by the imps, as the incipisphere is outside time – quite a few posters here have mentioned this and I haven’t seen it anywhere else

chumhandles foreshadowing sprites theory – already debunked unless that rambunctious crow is mechanical, but very cool idea

idea that Jade can communicate with the dead and that’s why she still talks to Grandpa (still possible as she could be seeing him through Skaia)

‘Jaspers didn’t technically exist for two weeks, because he was appearified into the future’ (this is almost certainly true) and suggestion that Jaspers is a Schrodinger’s Cat reference

‘Jade’s grandfather is Problem Sleuth’ debunked and they were probably joking, but I did laugh

In a more general forums roundup, everyone everywhere cares a lot about the kids’ elemental associations. Most people agree that Rose is water and Dave is fire, but there’s debate about who is Air and Earth between John and Jade. This definitely ties into how their shirt and text colors are swapped (air is blue, earth is green). So I’m wondering if they’re combined elements instead of classical elements? Air + earth could be dust, sand, chalk, glass, pressure, gravity, sound, or something similar? Air and earth are usually opposites, just like John and Jade are first and last introduced, and most average and strangest lives, but somehow they combine in a way that works.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Martyrs and Kings AND ZOMBIES!!!

A/N: I'm so excited to share this spooky, sexy one-shot sequel to Martyrs and Kings! I've been planning this fic for months, and I hope y'all love it. Quick note: obviously, this fic contains spoilers for M&K; however, it was beta-read by my partner who has not (yet) read the original fic, and they said it worked as a stand-alone story, so if you haven't read M&K yet and don't mind spoilers, read on!

This fic is dedicated to the amazing @clonemedickix in gratitude for all the love and support that you've shown me and so many others in the fandom. Thank you so much for everything you do, and particularly thank you for your feedback on the field medicine. You are a rock star!

One final caveat: I am a horror wimp, but I did my best. Please don't expect Stephen King 💜

Pairing: Post-stasis Kix x OFC Dr. Maree Finnall

Rating: M (minors DNI)

Wordcount: 5k (this just made M&K 10% longer lol)

Warnings and tags: peril; suspense; violence; blood and injury; gore; medical procedures; adult language; SMUT; oral sex; face-sitting; Kix activating my competence kink like no other. IMPORTANT: an additional content warning is listed at the end of the fic due to spoilers. If you have triggers, please check the end of the fic for the BOLD PINK TEXT before reading.

Summary: The crew of the Meson Martinet goes after the score of a lifetime and discover that they may have bitten off more than they can chew.

Suggested listening:

Martyrs and Kings chapter 1 | Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

“B1.5-series battle droids are a myth,” Kix said firmly. “You’re wasting your time.”

“The good doctor doesn’t share your opinion,” Quiggold argued.

Sidon Ithano, as usual, said nothing, his crimson helmet swiveling slowly toward Maree. Kix turned to her as well, his jaw set, his eyes full of confidence that she would back him up. Kriff it. She absolutely hated being caught in the middle of this argument.

She cleared her throat. “There’s… some debate in the academic community about their existence, actually. If they ever were created, they were never deployed at any recorded battle—and it’s a good thing, too.”

“Why is that, exactly?” Reeg Brosna asked.

He was sprawled on the bench of the dinette, his arm draped around Orys Brenko as the research assistant perked up immediately.

“Is it true that they used nanodroids to retrofit original B1-series droids?” Brenko asked, his face flushing dark green with excitement.

“That is one theory,” Maree said circumspectly, keenly aware of Kix’s scrutiny. “According to contemporary sources—and noting that those sources are unreliable at best—the B1.5s had significantly upgraded blaster resistance. There was another rumor as well, even less credible.”

“What rumor?” Reveth interrupted, leaning forward over the table, drawing Ithano’s attention subtly.

“They said the B1.5s could keep going even if you blasted their processors,” Kix cut in before Maree could reply. “It was a stupid story the commandos made up to scare the shinies.”

“But what if it wasn’t?” Brosna asked. “Indestructible battle droids? They’d be worth a fortune.”

“Even if they don’t exist, the haul from a Techno Union stronghold could set us up for life,” Reveth pointed out. “I say we go after it.”

Squeaky grunted his agreement, predictably. The Gamorrean was always guaranteed to follow the pretty Twi’lek’s lead. Reveth could have suggested a nude spacewalk, and Squeaky would have thought it was a grand idea. Brosna and Brenko voted in favor as well. Kix voted against, and Maree did as well, purely out of solidarity. Privately, she was consumed with curiosity about the B1.5s, and she couldn’t deny that the possibility of such a groundbreaking discovery was alluring in the extreme.

Quiggold voted in favor, and Ithano abstained, and so it was decided: the crew would send a team to scout the Techno Union stronghold, and if they found anything worthwhile, the rest of Ithano’s small fleet would join them.

“We’re gonna need your expertise, Doc,” Reveth said to Maree. 

“Absolutely not,” Kix snapped.

Maree glanced at him in surprise. It was unlike him to try to overrule her choice, and she didn’t care for it. “Reveth is right, Kix. I’ll be able to identify the highest-value items, and I have a good idea of what’s in demand.”

Kix looked away, clearly unhappy, but recognizing that he’d overstepped. “Fine. But if you’re going, I’m going, too.”

“We’ll need you to stay and command the fleet from the Scorpion while the captain is away,” Quiggold interjected.

“Fuck that,” Kix growled. “Brosna is my first mate—he can take command from the Scorpion. When it comes to Maree’s safety, I outrank everyone on this ship.”

“Brosna doesn’t have the experience—” Quiggold began.

“Agreed,” Ithano said, his deep voice cutting through the buzz of conversation and debate in the Martinet’s galley. “Quiggold, command the fleet from the Martinet. Brosna, take the Scorpion. Reveth, Squeaky, you’re with us.”

The captain’s decision was final, and within a few hours, Kix, Maree, Reveth, Squeaky, and Ithano had boarded the Scorpion’s shuttle Stinger and departed for the desolate moon where the Techno Union base had sat untouched for over fifty years.

“Fifty credits says we find nothing,” Kix said.

“I’ll take that bet,” Reveth replied.

Squeaky grunted his agreement. Ithano said nothing.

“Maree, you want in on this action?” Reveth asked.

“Kix and I have a private bet on the side,” Maree said with a mischievous twinkle as Kix shot her an inscrutable look.

Reveth smirked. “Sounds like fun.”

“Oh, it will be,” Maree replied. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of crimson as Ithano moved through the shuttle. On impulse, she leaned in and whispered in Reveth’s ear cone.

Reveth’s eyes widened as her mechanical hand instinctively settled on Maree’s waist. “Damn. You and Kix want a third for that?”

Ithano’s helmet whipped to the side as he suddenly became very interested in the conversation. Maree suppressed a laugh.

“What do you think, Kix?” Maree asked with faux innocence. “Can Reveth play with us?”

Kix eyed her with a perfectly neutral expression that warned Maree he knew exactly what she was up to. “You gotta win that bet if you want to call the shots.”

“You’re on,” Maree replied immediately.

Ithano’s helmet swiveled from Maree, to Reveth, to Kix, and back to Reveth, but he said nothing. Kix merely turned back to the navigation controls and continued to pilot the shuttle toward their destination.

The old Techno Union stronghold was on a remote, swampy moon, and the dense vegetation had grown thickly over the past five decades. Kix was forced to set the shuttle down several klicks from the decrepit base. He didn’t like it. He didn’t kriffing like any of this. It was too far; they’d be too exposed; their progress would be too slow in the mud. He glanced at Maree and felt his anxiety spike.

How the kark am I supposed to protect her out there?

He double-checked her gear as she suited up, adjusting the fit of her holster for a quicker draw. He quickly inspected her blaster before handing it to her.

“What’s going on?” she asked quietly. “You’re on edge.”

He shook his head. “I don’t have a good feeling about this mission.”

“It’s not the first time we’ve gone into one of these old strongholds,” she pointed out. “We’ll be okay.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. You’re right. Just… Keep your eyes open.”

“I will,” she promised. “And I know you’ll watch my back. Just like I’ll watch yours.”

He traced his fingertips along her jaw as he pulled her closer to himself. He couldn’t feel her soft warmth through his armor, but her nearness felt comforting regardless. He kissed her gently, threading his fingers through the hair that she wore in loose braids. 

She looked so different now than she had the first time he’d met her two years earlier; her elegant wardrobe replaced with sturdy, practical clothing meant to withstand rough field work and the occasional blaster fight. But underneath, she still smelled like tea and honey and home. She was still the same—still his Maree.

“If you’re finished sucking the lips off her face, can we get going?” Reveth teased. “Droids aren’t gonna find themselves.”

Despite Kix’s misgivings, the trek to the derelict base was uneventful. Squeaky stayed with the shuttle in case they needed a quick extraction, while Ithano, Reveth, and Maree hacked their way through the underbrush along with Kix. It was slow going, and the swamp was creepy as hell, but eventually they made it to the plastcrete and durasteel structure.

There was no power to the base, so they cut their way through the sealed exterior blast doors. Once inside, the group fell silent as they made their way through the dusty, cobwebbed hallways. The base was pitch black inside, illuminated only by their own torches, and once again, Kix felt the simmering anxiety in his gut begin to roil.

“Something’s been living in here,” Reveth muttered, training the beam of her flashlight on a tangle of debris that was unmistakably a nest for something… large.

Kix didn’t respond, but he reached out and pulled Maree closer to himself, then drew one of his DC-17s. Ithano brought up the rear, his blaster rifle ready.

“Control center should be just ahead,” Maree whispered. “Reveth might be able to restore power from there.”

“We’ll be karked if she can’t,” Kix replied quietly.

“Happy thoughts, Kix,” Maree murmured.

Right. Happy thoughts. Spiced biscuits. Unlimited bacta. Maree’s tits. More credits than I’ve ever seen in my life. The Scorpion. Weapons caches. Maree’s thighs. Maree’s thighs on my shoulders. Maree’s thighs framing my face while she rides—uh, weapons caches.

“Control center,” Reveth called under her breath as she reached a sealed doorway.

They pried it open enough to squeeze through. Kix went first, sweeping his light across the room as he scanned for threats. Reveth followed, then Maree and Ithano. Reveth headed straight for the control console and plugged in her small power unit and began to fiddle with the controls.

“Happy thoughts,” Kix mumbled, returning to the doorway to keep watch over the pitch-dark corridor.

Within a few moments, Reveth let out a quiet, triumphant huff as the control console flickered to life, dimly illuminating the room. She went to work immediately, interfacing her datapad with the ancient console.

“Damn. Main power cells are depleted,” she said. “I’ll try to at least get emergency lighting turned on.”

“Why would the power be depleted if the base has been abandoned for decades?” Maree asked. “The Techno Union had extraordinarily advanced power cells that were capable of storing energy far longer.”

“Unless something used it,” Reveth said.

Kix swiveled his head to stare at the Twi’lek.

“Like what?” he bit out.

She shrugged. “Dunno. But we might find out as soon as I get the data decrypted.”

A distant, deep hum sounded, and red light flickered on throughout the base.

“Nicely done,” Maree told Reveth.

“Let’s get the data and get the kriff out of here,” Kix growled, hating every minute of their time in the farking spooky base.

“Working on it,” Reveth snapped. “Think you can do it faster?”

Ithano glanced between Kix and Reveth, then moved to join Kix at the doorway, blaster rifle raised. “What is it?”

“Not sure,” Kix replied quietly. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

Ever reticent, Ithano merely nodded and took up position across from him. Kix nodded in silent gratitude that the pirate captain didn’t question his instincts. Then again, the Crimson Corsair hadn’t survived this long by ignoring his gut. 

Kix’s eyes darted to Maree again. She leaned over the console, scrolling rapidly through the data files, searching for any hint of the information they sought. He turned back toward the hallway, his eyes scanning it watchfully.

“No kriffin’ way,” Maree gasped.

“What?” Kix and Reveth demanded in unison.

“You just lost a bet, my love,” Maree told Kix.

“Wait, really?” Reveth asked. “It’s real?”

“‘Project Ophio,’” Maree read, her voice low and hurried. “Principal investigator Vamb Tebrem. Project number T327H1138X99. Primary focus of study is to develop experimental NM-K reconstitutors with the purpose of enhancing the durability and combat acumen of extant B-1 series assets…” Her voice trailed off as she leaned closer to the console, flicking through the data hurriedly. “Project director reported a 62% success rate in the initial efficacy trial; however the experimental reconstitutors were prohibitively expensive to manufacture, and the unpredictability observed in field tests was not adequately resolved—what field tests?”

“You catch any of that?” Reveth asked Kix.

He shrugged. Maree’s voice had dropped to an inaudible murmur as she scrolled through the data, then opened another data file. A quiet chime sounded from the console, drawing Reveth’s attention.

A glowing hologram appeared over the console: wave after wave of battle droids locked in combat a group of clone commandos who should have been able to easily defeat the B-1s. But the droids just kept going. Nothing could stop their advance as they overwhelmed the commandos’ positions and tore them to pieces. Kix swallowed hard, hearing the screams of the dying commandos, unable to take his eyes off the hologram. Maree slapped a button on the console and the sound paused abruptly as the holo froze.

“Holy kark,” she breathed.

“What?” Reveth asked. “Is that not normal?”

“No,” Kix said grimly. “We need to get out of here.”

“Uh, about that…” Reveth said.

Ithano swiveled his head toward the Twi’lek. “What?”

“Opening that holofile triggered an alert in the system,” Reveth said. “Hopefully it’s nothing?”

“Time to go,” Kix growled.

“Yeah,” Maree said, her voice shaky. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

“At least let me download the records,” Reveth argued, jamming a data spike into the console.

They all froze as a distant but unmistakable crash echoed through the base, followed by a rhythmic thumping.

“What is that?” Maree whispered.

“Clankers,” Kix said grimly, drawing his second blaster. “Seal the blast doors.”

“We’ll be trapped in here!” Reveth objected.

Maree stared at Kix. “Can’t we make it out before—”

A light flashed, and her body jerked as a blaster bolt smashed into her. She went down hard, and Kix barely had time to register what was happening before a firestorm of blaster bolts exploded into the room. He whirled back to the entrance and returned fire at the wave of battle droids that was advancing at high speed toward his position. Ithano was firing as fast as he could, but the droids weren’t dropping.

“Get those kriffing doors sealed!” Ithano bellowed.

Reveth had ducked down behind the console for cover as Maree scrambled to join her out of the line of fire. Reveth frantically worked the controls from her position on the floor, but she wasn’t fast enough. A single droid made it through before the doors slammed shut. The clanking and pounding of the army of droids battering against the blast doors was deafening. The lone battle droid charged across the command center.

“Kill it!” Kix shouted. “Fuckin’ kill it!”

Reveth, Ithano, and Kix unleashed a torrent of blaster bolts, but the karking thing wouldn’t go down, even as its components began to fail and fly off its body. It was headed for the console. It was headed toward Maree. Desperately, Kix launched himself at its mangled, skeletal form, tackling it as he locked his arms around and tore its head off with a sickening screech of twisting metal.

But the fucking thing kept moving, shambling toward the console. Kix growled and yanked out his vibroblade, slashing through the droid’s joints until nothing remained but a pile of scrap, and then he sprinted toward Maree, launching himself over the control console. 

“Maree!” Kix yelled hoarsely.

Her face was sweaty and contorted with pain as she clutched her hand around her upper arm, but she gave him a tight smile. “I’m all right.”

The blaster hole in her jacket sleeve was still smoking, and Kix felt sick as he saw blood covering her hand, oozing from a wound that should have been cauterized by the plasma bolt. 

“Let me see,” he ordered. 

She moved her hand, and he cut the sleeve away quickly, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Oh, fuck, it’s bad. It’s bad, and I don’t have my kit.

“We have to get out of here,” Reveth rasped.

Kix dug frantically through his pouches, finding only a few small bacta patches and a vial of spray bandage. He didn’t have a choice. It would have to do, at least until they could make it back to the Stinger. 

He shoved the jacket sleeve and vibroblade toward Reveth. “Cut that into strips. Wide ones.”

He drenched the blaster wound with spray bandage, then grabbed the first strip Reveth cut from the jacket sleeve and quickly tied it around Maree’s arm near her shoulder. “Do you have a stylus on you?”

“Always,” Maree said, her voice tense with pain. She pulled the stylus out of her pocket and handed it to him, carefully avoiding looking at the charred, bloody wound. “Why is it bleeding so much?”

Kix tied the ends of the cloth strip around the stylus and twisted to tighten the makeshift tourniquet, securing it as he replied in an artificially calm tone. “Sometimes it happens. Move just wrong—the cauterized scab opens—blood.”

He ripped open the bacta patches and arranged them carefully over the injury, covering it as well as he could before wrapping the rest of the fabric strips around them to secure them in place. Finally, he looked up into her eyes, inadvertently smearing her own blood on her cheek as he cupped her face.

“I’m not losing you today.” His words were firm, but tremor in his hands was undeniable, and his pulse thundered in his ears.

She smiled at him through dry, ashen lips, and he kissed her forehead, then helped her carefully to her feet. Reveth had pulled up a schematic of the base, and Ithano joined them at the console, pausing to squeeze Kix’s shoulder briefly.

“We don’t die so easily,” the captain said in his deep, rasping voice.

“Not today, anyway,” Reveth cut in. “I found an escape route.”

“Please tell me it’s not the ventilation shaft,” Maree said unsteadily.

“It’s always the ventilation shaft,” Reveth replied.

Maree’s shoulder screamed with agony as she crawled through the ventilation shaft. She gritted her teeth to hold back the whimper of pain that hovered at the base of her throat. The ventilation shaft was filthy and cramped, and their progress was torturously slow as they navigated as silently as possible to their destination. The conduit wouldn’t take them all the way out of the base, so they would have to make a run for the main entrance when they got close. The only way they stood a chance of escaping was to not draw the attention of the battle droids.

She followed Kix through the labyrinthine ductwork, crawling laboriously on her knees and one hand. Her injured arm had burned like fire when Kix first applied the tourniquet, but now her arm was completely numb—and equally useless. At last, they found the access hatch to the main corridor. Kix dropped down first, and then Maree realized exactly how difficult this was going to be with only one functional arm. 

“Just drop,” he whispered. “I’ll catch you.”

She took a deep breath and slid out of the maintenance hatch, feet first. Panic flashed in her mind briefly as she plummeted through the air, but Kix was true to his word, catching her before she could hit the ground. He set her down quickly and checked to make sure her bandage was still in place as first Reveth and then Ithano dropped down into the corridor.

They sprinted for the exit. Maree’s lungs burned and her vision blurred around the edges as she gasped for breath. Kix looked back at her sharply and reached for her hand, dragging her along behind him. By some miracle, the droids hadn’t detected them yet, and she could see the main entrance of the base. She forced herself to keep running, even as she stumbled and nearly went down, kept upright only by Kix’s strong grasp.

He tugged her arm over his shoulder and wrapped his arm around her waist to support her, but he didn’t slow his pace. “We have to keep going, love. We can’t stop now.”

“I know,” she wheezed. “So close…”

She could hear the clanking of droids behind them, and she pushed herself as hard as she ever had in her life to keep running. They cleared the entrance, and Reveth tossed a few magnetized thermal detonators onto the ceiling of the base. 

Keep running, don’t stop, keep going.

The explosion knocked them off their feet, but the rubble of the collapsed ceiling blocked the main entrance. It wouldn’t hold back the droids for long, but it bought them time—so long as they kept moving. Kix was up first, pulling Maree with him as Reveth and Ithano scrambled to their feet.

They ran for the trees as Reveth commed Squeaky. “We need a pickup, now!”

“He can’t get to us in the jungle!” Kix said. “We have to find a clearing where the shuttle can land.”

They dodged through the trees, trying to avoid the worst of the swampy ground, but the dense underbrush slowed their progress and steered them on a circuitous route. Out of the corner of her eye, Maree saw movement in the earth. The ground shifted and began to swell.

“What the kriff is that?” she demanded.

“Keep running, don’t look back,” Kix urged.

“No, what is that?” she repeated.

She saw a flash of pale, bonelike metal alloy, and then a battle droid erupted from the earth.

“Fuck!” she screamed.

All around them, the skeletal forms of B1.5 droids began to emerge from the swampy ground, punching their way to the surface and dragging themselves up from the mud. Kix released Maree and drew both of his blasters, opening fire without hesitation. Maree, Reveth, and Ithano followed suit, for all the good it did them. The droids simply wouldn’t go down; even if they took so many hits that they started to fall apart, they still somehow shambled on in a grotesque parody of their normal precise movement.

They had no choice but to keep running and hope that they could at least slow some of the droids down. She could hear the roar of the shuttle overhead, but the vegetation was too dense for Squeaky to pick them up. The Gamorrean’s indistinct, frantic squealing sounded from Reveth’s comlink.

“He said there’s a clearing about a klick southwest!” Reveth yelled.

It might as well be on the other side of the planet, Maree thought hopelessly. There were simply too many droids; they were advancing relentlessly, and the terrain was too hostile to cross it with any speed. Holy shit, we’re all going to die here.

Her mind darted to the holorecord of the field test—a kriffing gruesome euphemism for such carnage. It had been a complete massacre. The terrified screams of the commandos as the droids tore them to pieces; the spray of blood and viscera: the images were branded irrevocably in her memory. It was a horrific way to die, and they were about to find out firsthand. 

Panic clawed at her, closing her throat and making her shots go wild. Her legs felt sluggish, and her feet became unsteady, but Kix never let her fall, even as he fired ceaselessly at the pursuing droids.

“We’re almost there,” he grunted. “Keep running, sweetheart, you can do it.”

“Kix, go,” Ithano ordered. “Get her to the Stinger.”

“No!” Maree exclaimed. “We’re not leaving you!”

Kix ignored her protests, bending over and tossing her over his shoulder as he ran. His plastoid armor cut into her thighs and belly, and she squirmed to try to get away.

“Put me down! Go back!”

Kix ignored her and raced for the clearing where the shuttle hovered just above the ground, ready to take off as soon as the crew were safely aboard. He dropped Maree in the copilot seat and turned to Squeaky.

“Don’t let her follow me.”

He sprinted to the back of the shuttle and jumped out, making for the treeline.

“Kix!” she screamed, lurching out of her seat.

Squeaky didn’t hesitate. He thrust her back into the chair with a stern grunt, then secured the safety harness to make sure she didn’t try to run again. She could hear blaster fire and shouting outside the ship, and she tugged desperately at the harness. Squeaky grunted again to order her to take control of the ship, and he lumbered toward the rear hatch, blaster ready.

Her heart hammered as she took the controls. Please, please, please. The distraught prayer echoed in her mind, silently beseeching the Force. I can’t lose him. Not like this. She felt utterly helpless as the deafening roar of Squeaky’s blaster fire pounded through the ship. Mercifully, she soon heard the pounding of boots on durasteel, and then Ithano launched into the pilot’s seat and punched the controls, hurtling the shuttle away from the planet.

“Kix?” she asked frantically.

“I’m here,” he said, dropping to his knees next to Maree’s chair and wrapping his arms around her. “I’m here.”

“I’m here, too, thanks for askin’,” Reveth said as she flopped into her seat.

Kix stood and quickly released the safety harness, tugging Maree out of the chair and burying his face against her neck.

“Holy kark, I can’t believe we all made it out,” Reveth said. “I was sure Maree was toast.”

Maree laughed, and Kix glared at the Twi’lek. “Not kriffin’ funny.”

“It’s kinda funny,” Reveth insisted.

Kix shook his head and drew Maree out of the cockpit and back to the tiny med bay at the rear of the shuttle. “Med bay” was putting it generously; it was really just a bunk and a large emergency medkit, but it had everything he needed to treat her shoulder. He administered a stim shot, cleaned and redressed her wound, and removed the tourniquet. He worked efficiently, and she didn’t see any of the distress that had clouded his eyes back at the base—of course, they weren’t fending off a horde of unkillable zombie droids this time, either.

“What’s the verdict, doctor?” she asked with a tiny smile.

He stroked his fingers over her forearm gently. “You’ll live. Gonna have a kickass scar, too.”

“Will you kiss it better?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

He smiled wryly as he leaned in and pressed his lips softly against hers. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

“I’ll do my best. At least I’m finally going to have an exciting story to tell Baba and Eema.”

His eyes widened. “Oh, kriff, your mothers are going to kill me!”

The Stinger docked with the Meson Martinet first, and Squeaky, Reveth, and Ithano disembarked, then Kix piloted the shuttle to his own ship, the Scorpion. Brenko and Brosna were waiting next to the airlock when Kix and Maree emerged from the shuttle.

“Well, did you find the B1.5s?” Brosna asked.

“Yeah,” Kix replied grimly.

“Ha!” Brosna laughed triumphantly. “Pay up, Captain!”

“You’re still acting captain,” Kix retorted. “Now get your ass back up to the bridge until I relieve you.”

“Wait, you’re not taking command right now?” Brosna asked.

“Nope,” Kix replied, dragging Maree to their quarters.

The door hissed shut behind them, and Kix slapped the control panel to lock it. He was on Maree instantly, devouring her in a searing kiss as he unzipped and pulled off her jacket, carefully avoiding the large bandage on her shoulder. Once he had her top removed, he dropped his mouth to her throat and kissed a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down her body as he knelt in front of her. 

His hands roved over her urgently, clutching her body close to him. She tangled her fingers in his hair as he tugged down her trousers, and then he plunged his tongue into her ravenously. Her body jerked, and she cried out, losing her balance. He caught her with ease, then pulled her toward the bed.

“Kix,” she panted. “Don’t you at least want to get naked?”

“I can’t wait,” he groaned. “Sit on my face.”

“Oh, fuck,” she gasped.

“I’m planning to,” he said, lying on his back. “On my face. Now.”

She knelt, hovering over his mouth, staring down into his eyes. He gazed back up at her, sliding his hands up her waist to cup her breasts, before dropping them to her thighs and yanking her body downward.

“Kriff!” she exclaimed as his tongue slid deeply into her cunt, then his lips closed around her clit.

He held her in place as he feasted on her, his groans vibrating against her sensitive flesh. The sensation was overwhelming. She writhed, nearly toppling over, then leaned back to brace her hands on his ribcage. He ate her like he was starving, like she was the last thing he would ever taste, and he fully intended to savor every drop.

“Kix—fuck—gods—” she moaned, her hips finding a subtle rhythm even as his strong hands gripped her, preventing her from moving more than a few centimeters.

He murmured quietly against her in between the kisses and licks and nibbles—soft, nearly inaudible whispers of fear and adoration and lust. “... taste so fucking good… love you so much… thought I was going to lose you… never letting go… so kriffin’ scared… want you so bad…”

He released her thigh and reached his hand around to massage her clit. All the muscles in her core began to tense as pleasure spooled tightly in her body, but her orgasm remained tantalizingly just out of reach. She leaned back, groping blindly for his cock. She fumbled with his belt and eventually just slid her hand beneath the waistband until she wrapped her fingers around his rigid shaft.

He grunted at the contact, his hips thrusting up off the mattress. His hand strayed away from her clit to press his palm flat against her lower belly, and pressure was exactly what she needed. She convulsed with a sob, and he redoubled his efforts, tongue-fucking her through her orgasm. Distantly, she felt the thrusting of his cock against her hand, and then a rush of hot, sticky cum on her fingers.

She crumpled to the bed, and he pulled her tightly against him, kissing the backs of her thighs as she slowly came back to herself. After a few moments, he shifted, curling up behind her, tucking his thighs behind her legs as he drew her body close to his and buried his face in her hair.

“I love you,” she murmured.

He kissed the side of her neck, just behind her ear, dragging his tongue slowly across her skin as he slid his hand up to play with her breast. “Love you. Never scare me like that again.”

She laughed quietly. “Aye, aye, Cap’n. What’s gotten into you, anyway? You were acting protective before we even left the Martinet.”

He lay silently for a moment, breathing in the scent of her hair, before he replied. “You’re late.”

She blinked. “What?”

“You’re… your cycle, it’s like clockwork. And—you’re late,” he said hoarsely.

She swallowed. “Oh.”

The original comic panel that inspired this story! This was from Star Wars Adventures Ashcan. Alas, this comic was never published, so I am once again filling in the gaps in canon.

ADDITIONAL CONTENT WARNING: mention of possible pregnancy.

[blue-disco-lights]

Tag Game Wednesday 💫

Thank you @michellemisfit @creepkinginc @mybrainismelted @energievie @jrooc

@suzy-queued for tagging me in this 🩵 it was fun and very eye opening about google in general.

======

name: julia age: Nosho are you tired of our math games yet? location (globally): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wq-S8CIU7VA

location (physically): at a table, on a Zoom and failing at multitasking

favourite Food to Eat: sushi 💗

favourite food to cook: cook you say?

will you be attending @too-schoolforcool’s ☀️ Kitchen Shenanigans🍴with Cherry on the 6th july? Yes!

what’s your zodiac: Taurus ♉️

will you be attending @heymacy’s ☀️ Astrology 101: More Than Just Your Sun Sign ☀️ lecture on the 13th july? Oh yes indeed 🌟

(check @gallavich-fic-club’s lesson plan for details here)

now let predictive text complete each sentence for you after the 💭

my age is 💭 in spanish (handy to know)

my favourite animal is 💭 a cat  

i love to cook 💭 and I love to back (a song by Dolly Parton apparently!) 

i love to eat 💭 chocolate (truth)

i have a lot of ideas about 💭 ‘i got a lot of bad ideas in my head’  (ha!)

i have no clue 💭 what to do with my life (loll well why not)

my dream career is 💭 to be a doctor (oh no not at all, but respect)

my favourite character on shameless 💭 Ian Frank’s son (he’s definitely second favorite)

debbie gallagher is 💭 no suggestions at all whyyy?

carl gallagher is 💭 gay but then the next one is hot

mandy milkovich is 💭 the same actress (much sought after info on google i see)

mickey milkovich is 💭 is the best (correct!)

ian gallagher is 💭 gay, and then second is “so hot”

to me ian and mickey are 💭 the same (no, they are not google)

gallavich means 💭 gallavich scenes 🤝

i wish anyone who reads this to 💭 me (i dont know what that means but it’s romantic-sounding)

Tagging in @heymacy @sickness-health-all-that-shit @stocious @wehangout @starcrossedsoulmates84

@mmmichyyy @deedala @sgtmickeyslaughter @francesrose3 @palepinkgoat

[theidiotartistt]

Math without numbers — By Milo Beckman & illustrated by M Erazo

A book blog by me~

Review:

Math isn’t my thing—it might not be your thing either. So, you might be wondering why a random Tumblr user with not an inkling of prior math knowledge is about to recommend a math book to you.  

This isn’t just any math book. As the title suggests, it’s a math book with no numbers! Through simpler, easier-to-grasp concepts, the book introduces what might have once seemed like intangible areas of knowledge to people like me—someone who struggles to understand even the basics of high school math. It’s an introduction to the philosophy of math and the theory that math governs our world.  

With its kick-ass visuals, you’ll learn about the connections between basic math concepts and broader areas of science, as well as the idea that you and I might be the product of an undiscovered mathematical formula. Wouldn’t it be cool if everything in existence could one day be predicted through one perfect—or perhaps several perfect—math formulas?  

As I read, I found myself increasingly engaged, even testing out some of the problems and rules presented in the text. It was a surprisingly hard-to-put-down read, full of "scratch-your-head" moments that made it all the more rewarding. By the end, I found myself making connections between math and life in ways I never thought possible.  

Personal Connection:

Unlike other books where people are the main focus, it’s harder to draw a direct connection between this book and my personal experiences. Instead, the book offered me valuable lessons, like the idea that something can be true even if you can’t prove it—or that some things might simultaneously be neither true nor false.  

That concept resonated with me and likely with many others. The book also helped me better understand how to craft a sound proof, which I think translates well into forming stronger, more widely accepted arguments in areas outside of math.  

——————————————————————————————————

Next I am thinking of reading ; Out of the blue by Sophia Cameron or Far From You by Tess Sharpe. We will see!

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hello! I'm an ESTJ (22F) and have had 4-5 incidents in my life where I've upset people badly because of my insensitivity. For example, when I was a teen, a friend wanted to go somewhere for a group outing, but I dismissed their idea and suggested going somewhere else which everyone agreed to, making that friend feel angry and unheard. Things like that. In the moment, I don't realise my actions can hurt people badly because personally, I wouldn't be hurt by that. But after going through several similar incidents, I realised the problem was indeed myself. So I’ve been working hard on being more tactful and considerate of other people’s feelings. Globally, my efforts seem to have paid off and my friends confirmed that I seem to have softened.

However, I’ve recently hurt a new friend (she’s an INTJ, 22F) because of this same lack of consideration. I damaged her trust in me when I told her that I’ve shared a personal experience of hers to friends of mine. At the time, I didn’t think that it was a secret and thought it’d be good to share her experience as to spread awareness. But she told me she was upset, and I could understand why, so I offered a sincere apology, which she accepted.

We started texting again, but only a few weeks later, I joke and say we don’t want to date frail guys because they wouldn’t be able to princess-carry us without getting crushed. I formulated the joke badly, and it could’ve sounded like I was saying that guys would get crushed under HER weight. She tells me that she’s insecure about her weight and even though she said she knew it was not my intention to say “You’re so heavy that guys would get crushed under your weight if they tried to carry you”, I am still told off quite sternly for the joke. I apologise immediately and feel very bad. It’s only been a moment after I’ve hurt once and here I am, hurting her once again.

However, this time, I also feel upset that she chose to interpret my words in the worst way possible. Badly formulating the joke was my fault, but she knew it was not my intention to say something mean. I feel like, in consideration of the previous incident, she still silently holds a grudge against me, so that the moment I slip up, she decides to have the most intense reaction to prove that I have done her wrong once again.

I have two interrogations concerning this:

- How should I deal with this friend? She still quietly holds onto my past mistake and I might have to continue walking on eggshells around her because it feels like she’s a lot less tolerant of any of my slip-ups. However, we don’t have the same type of sensibility from the get-go which highly increases the chance of me saying something that upsets her even if it’s far from my intention to do so. Should I graciously let our friendship go?

- It’s disheartening to see that even after making great efforts to avoid hurting others, I still manage to hurt them in the same way I did in the past. Of course, these kinds of incidents are a lot rarer now, but they still happen and it’s enough to cause damage in my newer relationships and it makes me feel I haven’t changed much… I don't want to upset any more people. Do you have any thoughts or advice concerning this?

Thank you for reading me and for your time dedicated to this blog, I really appreciate it!

---------------------

When a problem recurs like this, it's a sign that there's a lot more to it than you first thought. Are you ready to get into the complexities of what it means to be "insensitive"?

There is no way to speak such that you never offend anyone. The fact of the matter is that you'll never know everything about a person, so you can't always predict what will upset them. The older someone is when you meet them, the more hidden baggage there is to contend with. When you're getting to know someone, you have to accept the fact that toes will get stepped on. IMO, you actually have to welcome and embrace those painful moments as opportunities to learn about each other's preferences. Can you shift your attitude to one of acceptance rather than blame (requires Si)? Whether it's blaming yourself or others, it is always counterproductive because of its narrow focus on shaming and punishing. Blame doesn't help and usually leaves everyone feeling worse off.

If the relationship is meant to progress and thrive, both parties have to be willing and mature enough to work through misunderstandings in order to come out more knowledgeable and better prepared to treat each other well in the future. When someone isn't willing to give you the benefit of the doubt or is absolutely intent on seeing the worst in you even after you've tried to make amends, you can speak up for yourself, make your intentions/desires about the relationship crystal clear, and make a reasonable request of them to be more patient and forgiving. However, you don't have control over people. If they just can't trust you because of their own personal reasons, then they just can't, and then you have to make a thoughtful decision about how much emotion to keep investing in the relationship.

I understand your frustration with this insensitivity issue because I've actually witnessed many ESTJs around me struggle with it throughout my life. At the end of the day, I'm about the furthest you can get from being ESTJ myself, so there's only so far I can get in breaking down the problem for you. The rest is for you to reflect on and put into practice. There are several points to chew on and digest:

I. Lack of Restraint

Te+Ne often produces the trait of being overeager to act, for example: leaping before looking, speaking before thinking, judging before knowing, deciding before deliberating, etc. This can easily be taken too far into social recklessness. Extraverts tend to be rapidly stimulated by socializing and it's easy for them to get caught up in the moment and just blurt out whatever is on their mind.

Unless you've been abnormally sheltered, years of socializing experience should've already taught you that there are certain topics of conversation that are risky to broach due to their potential for inducing conflict, hurt, or suffering. If you need concrete examples, anything related to:

age; ageism; bodily functions; health issues; death; dying

spirituality; religion; religious beliefs and values

politics; hot button political issues/debates

workplace gossip, relationships, or politics

money; income; personal finances; class; classism

physical appearance; height; weight; lookism; disability; ableism

mental health; mental disorders; psychological issues

private sensitivities, vulnerabilities, shames, or traumas

troubling, problematic, or painful intimate relationship experiences

sex; gender identity; sexism; sexuality; sexual orientation; homo/bi/trans erasure or phobia

ethnicity; ethnocentrism; cultural beliefs and values; cultural insensitivity; cultural appropriation; race; racism; xenophobia

social constructs like etiquette; norms; language; intelligence; justice; love

There are a variety of approaches people choose for handling these topics. E.g.: Some people avoid them altogether in hopes of staying out of trouble. Some prefer obliviousness because they have no interest or can't personally relate. Some resist reflection on them and don't want to care about social consequences. Some purposely bring them up to provoke or push their beliefs.

I don't like to dictate how people behave. The most I can say is: Anyone who hopes to have great social skills and increase their odds of experiencing meaningful relationships ought to:

take time to properly understand why these topics are fraught and difficult for some people to talk about

carefully consider what their own beliefs/values are in relation to these topics and whether they are well-reasoned

approach the topics thoughtfully and respectfully in conversation

be willing to listen and adjust their attitude/approach upon receiving negative feedback

have an effective communication strategy for working through misunderstandings, disagreements, and conflicts

For ESTJs, the remedy to lack of restraint is Si development. There are two aspects: (1) Si awareness leads people to be more attentive, conscientious, methodical, and circumspect - all of which are generally important when it comes to successful risk-taking. When you make yourself more aware of risk and danger, you'll naturally proceed more cautiously. (2) Si encourages you to develop and follow reliable rules of propriety for navigating difficult situations. You get to choose your method of approach. When you don't have a method, you're flying blind, and chaos is not far behind.

II. Lack of Boundary Awareness

Common manifestations of boundary issues include: freely offering up opinions and advice; trying to solve people's problems for them; telling people what to do ("for their own good"); being judgmental and critical of people's shortcomings or vulnerabilities. ESTJs often believe that they are showing care through these behaviors, but that's only true if the behavior was invited and wanted by the receiver. When it is uninvited and unwanted, these behaviors are all forms of trespassing onto the other person's personal space or violating their rights to privacy and self-determination.

When Si and Fi are underdeveloped, ESTJs have a primitive understanding of the concept of "privacy". This can manifest in two common ways:

(1) Generally speaking, they don't think much about private things, let alone talk about them. This means they tend to assume that if someone talks about something openly, it's not considered private.

E.g. What does the word "share" mean to you? If someone shares an experience with you, does it mean that it's now yours to do with as you please? Nope. That experience still doesn't belong to you.

(2) Generally speaking, they don't understand that different people have different privacy preferences and boundaries.

One reason people learn about type is that they want to learn about individual differences and how to reduce conflict when navigating them in a relationship. One of the basic lessons type theory imparts is that applying your own type preferences to someone of another type can lead to conflict if you end up disrespecting their type.

For example, did you know that Ni doms tend to be intensely private people? There are many reasons behind it. One being that they are statistically the least populated types in society. Simply by virtue of being the smallest minority, they are the most likely to feel unseen, unappreciated, or misunderstood by people and society at large. Many Ni doms are wary of opening up because they have a special way of looking at the world that is repeatedly met with some form of invalidation by others. This makes it understandable that they can be slow to trust people and even actively look out for proof of untrustworthiness. Regardless of your intention, acts of insensitivity serve as evidence to them that you don't really understand them and thus can't really be there for them. Knowing this, is there something you can do to reassure them of your trustworthiness?

In other words, some people have a wider privacy boundary than others for reasons that you may not be aware of. ESTJs tend to keep fewer things private than INTJs. Before you talk about someone in their absence, you ought to think twice about whether the information you're about to disclose about them is considered private to them. If you're uncertain, that's all the more reason to be cautious, because it means you don't know them very well and haven't been granted license to talk about them as though you do.

When in doubt, it is best to clarify a person's privacy preferences through good communication and obtain consent before you offer up information about them to others. If you want to show people that you care about them and can be trusted, you ought to take time to understand their personal concept of privacy so that you can guard and protect it as well as they do.

III. Lack of Discretion

ESTJs often don't realize how gossipy they can be. In the heat of conversation, they bring up whatever points they believe are relevant or helpful, without considering the social consequences.

Remember that privacy is necessary because information about people can serve as a kind of currency. It can be traded for personal gain. It can be exploited to hurt someone on purpose. It can be used to treat someone unfairly. Just as you wouldn't walk down the street waving hundred dollar bills around, you shouldn't be careless with releasing information about people.

A simple example: Imagine you suffer from depression but you manage it well and live your life smoothly, perhaps even capable of doing your job better than your colleagues. Would you disclose your depression in a job interview? You shouldn't, because, due to societal stigmas surrounding mental illness, the interviewer might unfairly judge you as an inferior candidate compared to someone without depression, regardless of your actual work performance. Now imagine a friend of yours had talked about your experience of depression to help out someone also suffering, and then that very someone turned out to be one of your rivals for a job position. They could exploit information about your depression to sabotage your chances without you ever knowing.

The word "discretion" is related to the word "discernment", which means "to exhibit good judgment". How is this related to relationships? Due to inferior Fi, ESTJs often have very primitive notions of fairness and equality. They tend to make the logical error of believing that being fair/equal means treating everyone the same or seeing everyone as being the same.

The relationships in your life are not all the same. Some people should mean more to you than others because they are closer to you. Some people should be categorized differently because they serve different purposes in your life. Some people should be treated differently because of the specific relationship dynamic they have with you that others don't have with you.

To exercise good judgment in relationships, you have to understand that 1) each relationship is unique because the individual you're dealing with is unique, and thusly 2) every relationship requires a somewhat different strategy for maintenance and development. Successful relationships require thoughtfulness, which is why they're hard work.

On the surface, it may seem like a noble idea to treat everyone the same, but, in reality, it ends up looking as though people are basically interchangeable to you, to be used or replaced at whim. Why? You don't recognize all the things that make each person an individual. Most importantly, by not properly acknowledging individuality, it doesn't occur to you that it's necessary to learn about and accommodate each person's unique set of needs, desires, preferences, sensitivities, identities, and personality traits.

To know how to honor people's individuality is related to your introverted development. Through developing Si and Fi, you'll better understand the importance of your own individuality, and why it's necessary to nurture and protect it. This then gradually allows you to see, respect, and fully appreciate other people's individuality as well.

IV. Weak or Inconsistent Values

Oftentimes, there isn't productive discussion about "what really happened" when feelings get hurt, people are emotionally reactive, and fingers are being pointed. In the end, the easiest way through the conflict is for someone to apologize and the other to forgive. Or else break up. Are these really the only two options?

Ts tend to understand insensitivity simply as "accidentally saying the wrong thing". However, this is a very superficial way of looking at it. While I understand that T insensitivity is usually not a result of maliciousness, others might not be capable of such insight when they're feeling hurt and emotional. Regardless of what you originally intended, what do others think when you behave insensitively?

Firstly, it shows them a kind of carelessness, thoughtlessness, or even callousness, depending on the severity of the infraction. When you are too loose and casual with something that is of great importance to someone, they will see you as not really caring about it and, by extension, not really caring about them.

Secondly, it shows them that there is something lacking in your moral values. When people observe that you don't value the same things as them, it brings into very sharp focus the differences between you, which makes it easier to lose sight of the commonalities. Without a strong sense of commonality or "being in it together", the foundation of the relationship starts to crack, the feeling of emotional connection erodes, and then the willingness to keep the relationship going weakens. The more that differences of values appear to build up between you, the faster the relationship deteriorates. This is true for friendship and romance.

These two points are meant to explain to you the process of how exactly insensitivity damages a relationship. It's not meant to trigger self-reproach, but to allow you more insight into how you are seen by others, so that you have an opportunity to change how you come across to them.

When Si and Fi are underdeveloped, the fact is that ESTJs don't hold much sacred. While this is a personal choice, it can come across to others as a negative trait if it leads you to unwittingly trample all over what they hold sacred. Developing Si and Fi should help you improve on this aspect of the problem. There are two prongs of attack:

(1) Preventative Measures: As I outlined earlier, be more thoughtful about topics that are controversial but of great importance to the people you're interacting with. Start by clarifying your beliefs and values and what you hold sacred. Then, learn more about what the other person believes, values, and holds sacred.

For relationship development: Appreciate and regularly reinforce the common ground between you. Also work to alleviate the differences between you, either by reconsidering your beliefs/values in light of the new information they provided, or finding a way to agree to disagree about the points that you haven't yet been able to reconcile together.

(2) Healing Measures: There's no use crying over spilled milk, throwing around blame, or punishing yourself with unending guilt. When something has already happened, accept the reality of it, and figure out how best to mend what was damaged or broken.

Healing is usually best achieved through open and honest communication, to properly process the event so that both parties can achieve a sense of closure and move on from any hard feelings. However, remember that you can't control how others feel, and strong emotions take time to fade away. Never expect immediate results. You can only try your best to put hard feelings to bed, and then allow the other person time and space to heal.

The first time you offended your friend, it was over a matter of privacy. As explained earlier, you could show your commitment to doing better by actively learning more about her privacy preferences, understanding the reasons behind those preferences, and making a vow to honor and protect them in the future.

The second time you offended her, it was because you did not give enough thought to or place enough value on something that has a great impact on her life. While it was unintentional, you still have to confront the hurt, otherwise, there's no moving forward. Perhaps you can explain how you didn't see it that way because your personal experience has been different, but, since you've had a chance to hear about how important it is to her, it is now important to you. If you want a close relationship with someone, what's important to them should be important to you as well, as a way to show care, consideration, and solidarity in helping to shoulder their hardships. When people have a strong belief and value system, one important way to show you care about them is to consistently step up and stand up for those beliefs and values as an ally.

To heal a conflict, you must reinstill confidence in the relationship. By taking time to properly understand her point of view and taking steps to show her that her beliefs and values are also important to you, she is more likely to feel reassured and regain confidence that the friendship is worth salvaging and nurturing.

[kusukixcrystal]

Zen is a Prince From Grass

First, we will start with comparisons.

Younger Zen/Hyun (Age 18?):

Younger Jieun/Etinos (Age 16):

Older Jieun/Etinos (Age 19?):

Older Zen/Hyun (Age 23):

... I wanted to get that out of the way first. Zen and Jieun obviously have physical similarities (especially when they were both younger and drawn with thick eyelashes), but let’s go beyond this. After all, Cheritz has a habit of making the love interests in their games have similarities to each other. In every game, you always have 5 love interests and 1 MC pursuing them because of reasons (V and Ray's routes broke this pattern, but the original MM only had 5 routes so...). There are more specific similarities like 707 and Red, Yeonho, and Yoosung, arguably Lance and Jumin, etc. Now, I think this goes deeper in the case of Zen and Jieun.

In another post, I talk about how there is a pattern with Cheritz boys who have red eyes, and it's that they all have powers. It is explicitly stated/heavily hinted they have this power, and I pointed out that Jieun and Zen’s power is basically the same. (There’s gonna be a lot of screenshots as points of evidence/to get my points across).

I don’t have the exact screenshot of Zen saying that his dreams predict the future, but I’m sure he explicitly mentions this at some point in the game. If he didn’t, in my other post I mention 2 examples of him predicting the future. What am I suggesting exactly? Well, I think that Zen is not only royalty but also related to Jieun somehow.

Let’s start with what we know about Jieun’s power:

This is Jieun’s explanation from his route when confronted by Heejung. I have no idea where it is mentioned, but having red eyes is also another sign that you have these powers. (If someone knows where in the game this comes up let me know!). When he sees the future, wind flies everywhere and he uses it on purpose to see Heejung’s future specifically.

This is different from Zen, who only sees the future in dreams, and they come to him randomly. Though, I think Jieun does mention that he had to train his power in order to use it at will. If Zen was gifted this power by the gods, then doesn’t that mean that he is from Grass? And not only that, he has the potential to become king? If that is the case, why is he not there, and living a normal life? 

To answer that question, we have to talk about Jihae/Eddison:

He is key to this theory. He is Jieun’s knight and his duty is to protect him. In Jieun’s route, he talks briefly about their past:

Jieun is talking about his own mother, and how she was a maid, while his father was presumably the king because Jieun still retains his prince status, despite his parents being from different classes.

He was separated from her after he was born, and the only way she can hear about Jieun is through Jihae (Jieun calls him ‘Eddie’ as a nickname).

Dark blue text is Jihae. Light blue is Jieun:

A lot to unpack here. This dialogue shows how Grass has a strict hierarchy. Aristocrats and commoners shouldn’t have relations. If they do, the child of such an affair is treated badly. Even though one of Jieun’s parents was of low birth, because he can see the future and has white hair, he is left alone. In fact, he’s still eligible to become king despite everything. Jihae was in the same boat, but because his hair was gray he was judged, called ugly, and a bad omen. In the dialogue above we see Jihae call himself filthy, a testament to how people treat him on the daily. Jieun recognizes how beautiful Jihae truly is, and that isn’t an exaggeration! When they come to Earth, Jihae is offered modeling jobs when he’s in Busan and starts a career out of it.

The 2nd screenshot shows him in one of his modeling gigs (Let’s take a second to appreciate him). It’s not that the rabbits in Grass do not see that he is beautiful, but that his social status as a child of a commoner/outsider derides everything else. In fact, his good looks probably garner even more disgust. Heejung also considers Jieun to be beautiful, so it might also be a facet of being noble/royal to be beautiful by Earth's standards.

What does that have to do with Zen? Well: 

1. Has gray hair.

2. Is considered extremely handsome, and is so popular that even Jumin has offered him to model for his company.

3. Has red eyes and can see the future in his dreams. 

4. His healing ability! Magic is a thing in Grass so maybe that has something to do with it?

5. His own ‘family’ have voiced how much Zen doesn’t look like them:

“Why do we look so different?” I wonder why too Zen’s bro.

Poor Zen still gets bothered by people because of his looks. At least it's not as hostile as Jihae’s experience, but it’s upsetting nonetheless.

All of this added up, and you can see where I’m going with this. Zen could be a prince, one parent royal, and the other a commoner/outsider. This gives him gray hair, but he is still born with the power of precognition, making him eligible to become king. Who knows if his power would outweigh his status? It might not, if he ended up on Earth in the end.

Jieun stated that once every 3 generations, a divine child like himself is born. Zen and Jieun are clearly not the same people since their hair color is different.

I believe Zen is either a prince:

1. 3 generations after Jieun.

2. At some point in Grass’ history was a prince, whether in the past or the future.

The reason I say this is because of the timeline. Dandelion and Nameless have very explicit dates for when and where it takes place. Most of the time both take place on Earth in South Korea between the years 2012-2013. But Mystic Messenger is a big question mark. D & N’s years correspond with the year the games were released in. If we follow that pattern, then Mystic Messenger would have happened in 2016. The thing is, that is not confirmed in-game, and is just speculation. So, we can give the timeline some leeway. 

There are 3 possibilities for how Zen got sent to Earth:

1. Zen made a desperate wish to leave Grass: This is the sad option. Based on how we see Jihae be treated, especially if you get deeper into his backstory, Zen could have been neglected/verbally abused/etc. for his hair. The Wizard in Dandelion can grant any wish you desire, as long as that wish is desperate. If Zen arrived on Earth as a child, then the implications of that are even worse. In exchange for a wish, your memories relating to that wish are taken away. Perhaps his memories of Grass was the price and that’s why he doesn’t remember anything. The earliest memory we see in-game was from when he was studying with his older brother as a child when he was 7 years old.

2. Sorcerers from the royal family: They sent him to Earth as a child. I bring this up because, in Dandelion, travel between the planets was seen as impossible. Of course, with the exception of The Wizard and making a desperate wish. He was the one who brought the rabbit and cat boys to Earth, after all. BUT THEN, Jieun came in.

At the end of Jieun’s route, he gets separated from Heejung and has to go back to Grass. 3 years after, Heejung is summoned to Grass by a group of sorcerers Jieun got together (Whether they are actually other wizards is up for debate). Jieun overcame the odds. This is why I suggested that Zen is a prince 3 generations after Jieun. Perhaps this spell was tweaked to send Zen to Earth instead of the other way around. Going back to what I said before, if Zen is a prince 3 generations after Jieun, and got sent to Earth in South Korea specifically, then it can make sense why it happened. 3 generations down the line I think records would remain of a former king (Jieun) summoning a woman (Heejung) from another planet, and maybe Jieun documented his stay in South Korea. A portal dropping Zen in South Korea of all places on the planet could make sense from this angle. Maybe he had some protection spells cast on him (his random fast healing?) and maybe even his human family has been bewitched to believe he is their birth son? Maybe some member of the royal family orchestrated all of this for Zen’s sake, so that he can live a life free of judgment (didn’t quite work out but still). This is mostly conjecture though.

The details of how all of that would happen are up in the air.

3. Zen was unwillingly sent to Earth/MM universe(?) and is now trapped: I think this one needs an entire post by itself. This has to do with Saeyoung being a wizard and April Fool’s DLC stuff. This one is the one I believe in the most.

Nonetheless, I have brought up all the points why I believe Zen could be a prince from Grass. (Also lol Zen hated Jumin for being a trust-fund kid, but he could be a divine child blessed by god and is a bunny prince lmaoooo).

[goombasa]

I Read Scott McCloud's Comics Trilogy Recenlty

So yeah, for anyone who doesn't know, Scott McCloud is a pretty big deal in the comics scene, one of the guys who helped to draft up the Creator's Bill of Rights, and has done a lot of major work independently and at major publishers, and near as I can tell, one of the first pretty big creators to actively campaign for the creativity of things like Webcomics. But he's probably most well known nowadays for his non-fiction educational work mostly centered around comic books.

And I finally bought and read all three of them. The ‘Comics Trilogy’ as I've taken to calling cosists of:

Understanding Comics (1993)

Reinventing Comics (2000)

Making Comics (2006)

And this trilogy is incredibly dense with information about the medium, where it was at, and where it was going. In fact, while there are several degrees of separation between each book (about 6-7 years or so), it is very impressive just how fresh and relevant almost all of the information in this trilogy manages to be. Yes, they do show their age in some ways; both Reinventing Comics and Making Comics refer to both the internet and things like drawing tablets as though they were still pretty new and unexplored technology. However, all three of them contain some very astute observations about where Comics as a medium is going and it's really fascinating to see how close to the bull's eye Mr. McCloud was on so many counts.

Discounting that though, these are just interesting to read because all three of them ask you to really examine WHY comic books as a medium work. Understanding Comics for example, serves as a very concise history of comics as a whole and tries to put a decent definition on what qualifies as being a comic (a task that it doesn't entirely succeed at, by Scott's own examination, but it very much gets you thinking on words and pictures, what separates them and how they can be intertwined into a story.

Reinventing comics is more about the potential of the medium and I'll admit, its more philosophical tone on the potential of comics was a bit much for me. I had trouble processing and digesting everything in this book compared to Understanding or Making. I certainly understood what it was going for, and again, this book, out of all three, is fascinating to read with about twenty years of hindsight, as Scott manages to bang-on predicted most of the trends that would come into the medium down the line. Just probably not in the ways he was expecting them to. It's still a very interesting read, but I'll admit, I had a lot more trouble following it than I did the other two books and I had to go back and reread a few sections to full feel like I was grasping the full meaning on a lot of what was said, but it was still a very interesting read.

The third in the series, Making Comics is probably the most straightforward, but this isn't like an online tutorial. Instead it's more like a lengthy instruction manual presenting you with the tools and ideas that can be used to build a comic beyond your skill as an artist. How to letter, how to frame a shot, when you should use captions or sound effects or word balloons. It gives a very detailed overview of everything you'd need to know in order to make your own comics from a practical standpoint. It makes some suggestions on the tools or software to use, but for the most part, it's more about giving you a proper overview of the craft rather than a tutorial for specific tools or software. That's easy enough to find elsewhere on the internet.

I think the reason these books work so well is the way they are presented; They are comic books. They aren't just books that talk about comics, they are COMICS that talk about comics. This isn't even the first time that I've seen this done. Back when I was in middle and high school, I did have a couple of classes that dabbled in using comics instead of traditional text books to introduce their subject matter. In particular, I was introduced to Larry Gonick's books like “The Cartoon History of the Universe” and “The Cartoon Guide to Genetics.” These books are a bit different than that, as yes, they are specifically educational, but they focus specifically on the medium that they are a part of, and I think that does a lot to convey Scott's arguments about just how far the medium can go, and helps to highlight everything that he's talking about with actual real time examples. That's not to downplay Mr. Gonick's contributions to cartooning and comic books as a potential tool for learning and education of course, he's written a LOT of these books over a multitude of different subjects, but one does have to admit, he is very much an exception rather than the standard.

(for an added recommendation, I'd recommend Larry Gonick's “Hypercapitalism” as well, really worth a read on its own)

These books manage to feel timeless in their subject matter and the way that they talk about the medium. Sadly, Comics as a whole today are still struggling to reach a sort of mainstream acceptance as a respectable medium, and yes, we do have big blockbusters for comic characters nowadays, but really, how many people who watch those movies read the comics those stories are based on? And for those that do read the comics, how many books outside of superhero books published by the Big Two do they read? The comics trilogy lays down the ideas of how the medium could potentially be elevated, and while that hasn't happened yet, I am hopeful for the future. If you have never read these before, and you have any interest in comics as a medium, especially what you can find beyond the standard of a super hero comic, I would really recommend this trilogy. Last I checked, I cannot find them being sold as a set anywhere, but all three of them can be found used for pretty cheap. Heck, even brand new, they don't typically go over $15, and I'd say they're worth every penny. Note that this is referring to paperback copies of the books. There are some hardcover versions floating around out there, but those are much harder to find, and consequently are a lot more expensive, at least for Understanding Comics.

[bluegekk0]

I'm making an AU but it is difficult to attract attention to it. Which type of content related to fpk au got attention? Was it the art, the texts, or something else? Did what you tag make a difference?

I honestly have no idea what first got people into it, but if I had to guess, it was the original mini comic getting attention. As to why, I have no clue. Maybe people just liked the premise? That is definitely a big part of it. People actually liking the idea. Though looking at it through that lens could lead you to creating stuff just to appeal to others, and that's a slippery slope I'd try to avoid personally. Being true to yourself is very important.

What definitely helped in my case was that I posted A LOT of art with FPK. There were times where I posted something almost daily, and I still draw AU related ideas very frequently. The asks came after that, I responded to some of them with art which I imagine got more people sending their own questions of ideas, and then eventually they would start asking about the AU itself.

But I can't pinpoint one thing that did all the work here, it was a combination of factors spread throughout the whole year. If I had to suggest anything, have a separate tag for the AU so that it's easier to browse your blog, and most importantly of all, be passionate about it. Doing it for attention is the first step to lose motivation, so just do it for yourself. Eventually people will get interested, but it might take time. Sometimes luck is involved, it's hard to predict it. So just draw stuff for your AU, make posts about it, all that stuff.

I can't think of any other advice since, as I already said, I don't really know what exactly got people so interested in my case. Maybe it's FPK's big wet eyes? Though to be fair, he didn't have those at the start. So I don't know.

Perhaps, if anyone comments under this post, they could share what drove them to my blog? Maybe that would help.

[raayllum]

hey I have some thoughts and theories on season six that I want to post but I feel like they’re kind of in cohesive and all over the place and rambly and I’m not really sure the best way to get them across especially when I’m more of a brainstorm type of personof like 10 different ways something could go I’m not really sure how to organize it or make it comprehensible to the average Tumblr scroller do you have any tips for this? because I want them to get reach cause I do feel like I’m contributing something but sometimes I think what I’m saying makes no sense at all or no one’s going to read all that you know. or, TLDR: Do you have any tips on making meta in general since you seem to be the main producer of it in the fandom ha ha, your input would be invaluable

So I actually did start writing a post a while ago about well, a kind of how to guide for writing meta, but it felt very self-gratuitous so it got semi-banished to the drafts although I still might finish / clean it up and post it someday

That being said your ask does make me realize that your query is not something I had considered going over, approaching it from more of a "here's how to train your brain to notice things that can be fun to write meta about" > organizing said thoughts, so thank you for bringing it to my attention! I hope some of this advice will be useful, and it may even have some overlap with other thoughts I had planned

The most useful way I've found when it comes to meta is treating it like an essay, with an introduction, body paragraphs / sections (and sometimes headers), and a conclusion of some kind when warranted. This means looking for similarities or main ideas with possible consistent threads (i.e. avenues Aaravos' evil plans could go might be split off into branches, each one detailing a different avenue). So that would be my best advice when it comes to organization.

However, most concerns about "not making sense" comes down to thinking through what context you have to provide for your audience to understand what you're discussing, depending on the length and depth of the leap / analysis. Are there any symbols being drawn upon we will want to explain in more detail before theorizing how they relate to the show? Are there any smaller details or scene summaries to include when putting these things together?

For example, when I wrote a meta about Rayla being the metaphorical light to Callum's darkness (pre-S5), I first had to establish why I associated her with light, drawing from visual examples from S1, S2, and S4, as well as the "Dear Callum" letter. Callum's side of things was more straightforward with dialogue in the text. Then I could take it one step further and talk about why this light-dark duality indicates that she will likely save him from possession after possibly leading to the fall in the first place. But I had to go from a bottom-top approach in steadily building the layers rather than starting from the top and working my way down, as for more symbolic matters in particular, that can often be confusing.

Although sometimes more simplistic, consulting the 5 Ws (who, what, where, when, and why) can likewise be useful in meta in terms of 1) tracing where certain ideas are coming from in the text, 2) what is being posited/suggested, and 3) why these things might be conflated, and 4) who might be involved. Obviously meta tends to be more "what" heavy, particularly when its predictive, but it's kinda like explaining why one character might be more involved in one plot line than another, etc. There's going to be a Why to that Who, and those things both combine to form the What (otherwise known as theory or just plain analysis).

And don't be concerned about if people are gonna wanna read it. I find most people in TDP fandom are pretty down to theorize even if they may not necessarily write a lot of it down themselves (and often have cool ideas/contributions too!) and I am the king of making things overly long, yet people muscle through anyway!

That's about it for me without more specifics (a character study vs foil vs theme vs prediction are all kinda different in their own way) but I would love to hear more if you'd like to message me off anon or if you have more thoughts/questions you'd like to leave in my inbox once that's opened back up! Have fun theorizing, have fun writing, always feel free to break longer metas up into smaller bite sized ones as you go, and I look forward to seeing them int the tags!

[todayisafridaynight]

Firstly, thanks so much for your patience with my ramblings haha, it's always an absolute pleasure to read your responses even if I get more unhinged with each one of mine! Of course, I'll continue to do my best with the wiki! (Actually, I think it's because of you that I noticed Daigo's age(s) were a year off haha, so thank you for that as well.)

I think you hit the nail on the head, and I adore how his relationships were executed in Y7 as well! I was initially a little bit apprehensive when trailers for 7 were coming out since RGGJo (and Mine, of course) were my favorite antagonists, and Jo is by far the character who's changed the most between games, but I can safely say both… Joes… are right up there for me.

I think a strong early subversion/conversion/something is that RGGJo really does just go and shoot up a rival office for attacking Arakawa (even though Arakawa was fine?). With Y7Jo, even though he's covering for Masato, the fact that's still the story Ichi gets told and he doesn't question it sort of speaks to Y7Jo having a similarly "protective" streak even if it's not actually what happened in that instance. That's also demonstrated in The Eye Scene as you mention later.

Like, I think that story is fairly clearly something he and Arakawa discussed. Masato got in contact with Jo first, and the mess Ichi tries to clear up when he comes in the morning after is indicative of a very long, stressful conversation between two people. Given Masato absolutely should not be smoking, process of elimination would suggest it's Jo. And it's a story they would've aimed to make as believable as possible, so the fact it is believable (Ichi being a bit gullible notwithstanding) says something to me.

For two characters who hardly even speak to each other onscreen (criminal btw), there's a lot to dig into when it comes to Arakawa and Sawashiro's relationship. That aside, I'm super excited to see you analyse Jo's psyche, and I can't wait to read it! I've been reading Japanese psychology texts myself and noticing a number of concepts that apply to Mine, but may apply to the Arakawas as well. There's a great deal I want to share once I get my thoughts in order.

I totally agree Mine's influence on RGGJo was the strongest of the three! I mean, y'know, that's why I acquired brainworms for RGGJo/Mine specifically. (Still 1000% going to commission you by the way when I've got my refs together + am not in danger of being unable to afford Gaiden and 8 lol). Sort of like with Masato and Daigo, I think characters who are clearly based on each other work quite well together even if it's seen as crack. You can come up with pretty compelling ideas trying to rationalize those similarities from a Watsonian perspective.

The devotion is absolutely the strongest point (having the exact same relationship tag for Arakawa and Daigo respectively + similar wording for it in the 15th anniversary book is a nice touch), but for me it's also what's done with it in terms of presentation. For both Mine and RGGJo you're supposed to believe they're actively working against Daigo and Arakawa's interests for most of the story.

And they probably kind of are, but they're convinced the pros outweigh the cons (as with the resort gambit, which you're remembering correctly!) Though it may not have the same effect nowadays for various reasons (spoilers, plot points becoming predictable on account of other games, etc), the devotion was originally supposed to be a twist.

There are other things, of course; they're both the "treasurers" of their respective organizations, they're both third-in-command of the Tojo and Omi, they're both talented people who possess overwhelming strength and influence and are regarded as geniuses (despite scenes to the contrary). If I wanted to reach design-wise, they've got mirrored ahoges, and Mine's "Legend" costume is probably based on characters like RGGJo and Nishiki. Their first cards were even officially stated to have synergy on account of their very similar skillset.

You end up noticing a lot of things like that if you're clinically insane like I am, but the one thing that's really stuck with me is that the render used for RGGJo's office is specifically a new render the Hakuho Clan office. It's missing the stuff that's supposed to be missing, the stuff Kanda broke, but only that. Mine's art collection, which is very personal to him as is also revealed in RGGO, is preserved in full.

There are a number of newly-rendered locations in RGGO and they could've just done that, or they could've picked any location that's not (imo) one of the most iconic, but I don't know why they didn't. And I don't know whether it was just convenience, whether it's simply meant to be reflective of them having similar tastes without being the same office, or whether it's just honest to God the same office. I mean, it's not like there's any reason to acknowledge it in-game.

But I think, in a weird way, that this is one of the things that carried over to Y7Jo alongside the devotion and The Eye Scene. A lot of people don't notice because there's so much going on in Y7's finale, but the Arakawa Family office the finale takes place in is specifically Y7Jo's office. And if you examine the Hakuho Clan office and the Arakawa Family office as spaces Mine and Y7Jo have created for themselves, there are very few aesthetic similarities other than being pretty tasteful two-storey offices, but both are, in their own ways, designed for companionship.

There is the obvious fully-stocked bar and main seating area in both, but that's sort of whatever, that's entertainment and hospitality. What really catches my eye, at least on the first floor, is that every piece of gym equipment in Mine's office comes in pairs; similarly, there's the pair of armchairs that are just by themselves behind Y7Jo's desk.

The second floor of Mine's office basically consists of only a TV, a table, and a set of couches, but I think the second floor of of 7Jo's is the more telling of the two. You walk upstairs from this very snazzy, richly decorated first floor (btw, like Mine's gym equipment and art, I would like to think the fact it's decked from top to bottom with books isn't just for show) to a second floor that consists of… absolutely nothing.

Nothing except another pair of armchairs, echoing those on the first floor, facing out into this gorgeous (RGGJou would--and has--said "romantic") view of Kamurocho. Maybe it's just to have this dramatic, spacious arena for the very last fight, but I just think that visual is potentially such a strong bit of storytelling via set dressing.

I also think with RGGJo being split into Y7Jo and Masato, some of the Mine influence kind of ended up with Masato too, specifically as Aoki. At least insofar as all the catastrophizing about not truly being cared-for despite evidence to the contrary, and I kind of felt like the moment where he shoots at and narrowly misses Ichi's head, then throws his gun away for a good ol' fistfight was Something.

Completely agree on your assessment of the link to Nishiki as well! There's the surface level design similarities with young RGGJo back when he had long hair and accessorized less, but yeah, no notes. I definitely think Y7Arakawa's line applies perfectly to the dynamic they were going for, too.

I thought the implication was that Masato wouldn't have survived at all in RGGO on account of Arakawa being unable to open the locker, but it's super interesting to think about how things might've turned out otherwise! A Masato who's Just A Guy and treated sort of like RGGO Mitsu's offscreen wife and kid is such a concept.

I really do hope there's a continuation to the story; as it stands, it literally ends with Jo in a coma lol. But I'm grateful RGGO is still accessible and actively updated, in comparison to the previous mobile titles, which also had original stories that are all gone now.

Jo was actually in a very recent event, even. The event spent its whole runtime talking about how cats are sensitive to smell, and evidently, according to the ending, Jo is incredibly sensitive to smell himself. I'm not sure which Jo it was even supposed to be since he was offscreen, but uh, catboy confirmed? Nyawashiro…? It's fun trivia.

Mentioning Arakawa's "sons" line in such close proximity to talking about Tsutsumi reminds me! There was this Y7 interview with all three actors (that has since been privated and that I kick myself every day for archiving) where Nakai and Tsutsumi were talking about how they usually play father and son.

So there's this very, very long history of them co-starring (as I'm sure you're aware lol), like from way back when Tsutsumi's voice was actually higher. And I think the casting choices absolutely are informed by the history and context there, both as individuals and as co-stars, both in terms of filmography as you say and not.

One particular anecdote that just Gets Me is that this was Tsutsumi's first time voice-acting, and he honestly wasn't even sure he'd take the role, but he accepted once he heard Nakai was on board. And he went on to actually enjoy it so much he read the rest of the (gargantuan) script, far beyond his own dialogue, and ended up forgetting the lines to the play he was doing at the time.

He also went on to voice-act a second time in The Deer King, where he plays… another iintimidating man with a violent reputation and a "soft"/deeper side (who is of course a reluctant father), actually. I actually have seen most of his other roles, and Jo really is almost one-of-a-kind. Though it's hard to find any one character he's "like," I can absolutely see what you mean with regard to Oda Nobunaga and Kanda.

I think that actually really works with regard to audiences having an idea of what to expect from his character and to an extent from Y7 if you look Jo as more of a culmination of Tsutsumi's career up to that point. In addition to what you've mentioned already, I also detect a lot of Koda (Good Luck!!) and Ogata (SP)'s themes with regret and making amends and vengeance in particular.

There's a little bit of Appare (Kagerou Touge) and Shibata (Keiho) too, I think, in terms of presenting yourself as worse than you actually are. And I think Tsutsumi's own struggles with mental health lend a lot of gravitas to characters like Ishigami (Suspect X) and Jo, who you can't really argue Isn't Depressed, especially at present.

And of course, y'know, he's played yakuza (to great effect), he's played dads (to great effect; btw, I would say the worst fathers/father figures he's played are probably in Fable II and My Blood & Bones in a Flowing Galaxy, Jo somehow doesn't even compare lol). Also, pretty much every Tsutsumi character either ends up dead or in jail, being a villain in an RGG game notwithstanding. There are often very strong critiques of police and politics present in his work as well, Y7 being no exception.

It's similar with Nakai, maybe to an even greater extent than with Tsutsumi, since Y7 borrows more heavily from his works and his personal life aligns surprisingly well with Arakawa's. They're both actors who are sons of actors, lost their fathers at a young age, were raised by abusive mothers, and ended up with a sort of unlikely father figure in adulthood. So I think it's sweet that Nakai ended up enjoying Arakawa as much as Tsutsumi did Jo. It's kind of funny being more or less typecast as a dad without actually having any children (unlike Tsutsumi), though.

I touched on it a tiny bit before but that's a really insightful take on RGGJo's splintering, as well! And you're most welcome. I've always found it fascinating just how closely their backgrounds tie in to who they end up being. I completely agree having his dad around did a lot for Arakawa in terms of having the confidence to stick to his guns.

But yeah, you know, it's just tragic. I think it's also one of the less talked-about ways abuse can perpetuate itself. Because Jo treating Ichi the way his father may have treated him is sort of the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the topic, but Jo's learned avoidance also goes on to make Arakawa a scapegoat for Aoki's abuse.

I'm always a fan of your takes and insights, so I don't mind the wait: thank you so much for writing as much as you have, it's really wonderful being able to discuss Jo and RGGO v. Y7 as a whole! (I have to be embarrassed about the Daigo's-Age bit though: I'm glad I was able to help point it out, but I remember being so sassy and rude in the post where I mentioned it 😭)

It's great that despite their differences, both Jo's are still incredibly enjoyable; the roles each Jo fulfills, although different, are still executed in ways that keep the character in a close beat with each other, but of course effectively fill out their new purposes in new interesting ways!

As a bit of an aside, I've always been curious and nosy about the full details about New Years Day, 2001 and what happened after that. Anything I can say about the night tiptoes more into theory territory than anything solid, but if we're to go off the notion Masato really did head straight home afterwards, then it is fair to assume Jo had to have met with Arakawa that same night not long after the call in order for Arakawa to be ready to talk to Ichi the same morning (it must have been the biggest shock afterwards for Masato to hear he's gotta run to America if the three of them didn't talk about it together- which I'm assuming is what happened since, as you said, Masato shouldn't be anywhere near cigarettes, and the ash tray is definitely indicative of a stressful discussion). BUT Jo's preexisting devotion to Arakawa (plus the nod to/rework of RGGJo actually attacking a rival gang) nonetheless definitely helped in making their story digestible to the people they had to tell.

The fact Jo and Arakawa interact so little on screen really is unfortunate, even if it's understandable as to why. At the very least, I'm grateful there's so many bits of context clues through the game/s that can at least offer a peak into their dynamic! Segwaying away from that though, I can't lie I was already thinking of some bullet points regarding Jo's brain as I was falling asleep, so it's definitely something I want to put to paper when I get to: I'm glad to hear I have your interest on it when I write it! In that same vein, I'd be more than happy as well to hear about these notes you've seen that can apply not only to Mine, but to the Arakawa family. As you note later on, Mine and Aoki share similar philosophies, so I'd love to see your full take on that if you get to it!

About Mine though, it was really hard for me not to joke about the two being similar whenever the chance arose: I mean, two men who lose their fathers (admittedly, Jo chose to leave his dad but Dad Lost is still a bullet point on the venn diagram... that now I actually feel like taking the time to make later...) turn out to become their respective clan's most trusted asset (and handler of assets) who are volatile when it comes to the ones they care about (I don't have to clarify Mine, but as for Jo, aside from The Eye Scene and even the book wording, he definitely overreacts to Ichi having Masato's money. Of course, part of his anger could be due to his belief in the honor of being a yakuza, but I wouldn't say it's a reach to also assume that the idea of Ichi pestering Masato- if not assuming the worst for whatever reason from Ichiban of all people- might have irked him) and ironically act out in ways that would go against what the ones they care about want (more so strictly about RGGJo, of course)- it's hard not to see the notes borrowed from Mine to make Jo. In that, I do really enjoy their devotions being twists; even if that twist might not work nowadays as efficiently, I'll still enjoy it for what it's able to provide and how it can deepen a character.

To continue on to visual similarities, I actually did notice RGGJo's office being the same as Mine's (I stopped reading for a bit just to make a mini thread about it on my private Twitter)! Whether it was intentional or a simple reuse of assets, it's a great nod to Mine's influence on his character.

As for Y7Jo's office in comparison to Mine's- if I may accidentally go on a bit of an analytical rant- it's a little funny how different they are despite being tangential in wanting a space for companionship (like you mentioned for Jo's case, it might have been for dramatic purposes, but it wouldn't hurt to try and examine the room at face value for a second).

Mine's office is comparatively brighter and more apparently inviting, and it's not just due to the nighttime setting of Jo's office as his office's walls are painted black- but at the same time, the contrast almost feels intentional. Mine's apartment, even if spacious, has the social pieces close to each other, especially in relation to his personal desk. On the flip side, Jo's desk is considerably isolated away from the grand table in the side of the room. In these differences, I think it does lead to a great representation of their relationships with people and what they wanted out of life: with Mine, despite wanting people to be close to him and in his proximity, he's ultimately alone and by himself. On the contrary, Jo appears satisfied with- at least- only having Masato in his life, the second chair undoubtedly being honorary to Arakawa in a similar vein. He isn't too concerned with getting close to anyone else, thus no need for his table set to be so nearby. I could just be talking about nothing though- yet I think these differences is a great way to show how despite inspiration from Mine, they divide off into different characters still (honestly I might steal from this ask and make a separate post about this because now I've gotten myself invested in set design- it can go in the same post as my venn diagram I guess lmao).

Nevertheless, RGGJo and Mine borrowing from each other design wise is also another fun bit- it's as if Yokoyama's grabbing people by the shoulders and practically begging us to realize Jo's influenced by him (don't worry Mr. Yokoyama, I see you). Ergo, Y7Jo and Masato being split from RGGJo is such an interesting take of the two characters: it not only helps highlight Jo's traits it really also heightens Mine's extended influence on Masato (their inability to shoot people standing still is probably going to be a new favorite comparison I hadn't noticed before LMAO).

Moving on though, that lost interview with Nakai and Tsutsumi's going to haunt me now: I'd love to be able to see it, I love actor interviews, especially when the actors featured are already so familiar with each other! It's so sweet how connected the two are- it's what makes it a little more unfortunate that we didn't get to see Jo and Arakawa on screen together more. On that note though, I actually had a similar conclusion that Jo was a solid representation of Tsutsumi's career thus far: his ability to play deep and sentimental characters that have a rough exterior while also possessing some action to the role that he initially sought after in his career really encapsulates his ability as an actor! All in all, I'm glad that Nakai and Tsutsumi were able to have strong connections to their characters in Y7- and I can't really argue against Nakai's dad-typecast: there's just something about him that screams 'father' to me even if, ironically as you said, he isn't a father to any kids.