#i hope u like this :')

[rosiesriiveters]

you must think about john egan. always.

[meow-hito]

that one song human by anavae is very mahito i think

[bingoboingobongo]

omg i am in love with your writing ab ghost... would you ever do a fluff ab clingy drunk ghost where he starts off insisting that he can't get drunk and then he just escalates to being all over you ghejirb

alright so honestly i don't see ghost as being the kind of guy to drink enough to get him drunk when he's by himself, but when he's with soap? yeah, completely different story. it's not that he's more comfortable around soap or anything, it's just that he gets a rise out of beating soap in competitions.

here's how i see it. you guys have just completed a long ass mission, weeks of stress and labor are finally over so of course, you guys get drinks to celebrate. now i see soap as the kind of drunk who only wants to get more drunk, so once he's had a few drinks he starts going around trying to challenge everyone else to drinking competitions. pretty much everyone says no because the thing about soap is that he's so competitive he'll drink until he drops dead. you say no bc u don't feel like blacking out and because it's ur turn to be designated driver (lord knows that even sober ghost drives like he's drunk), so soap goes to the only person who 1. is more competitive than him and 2. has a shot at out drinking him: ghost.

now, years of working with soap have enlightened ghost to his usual idiocy, so ghost is quick to shut him down, telling him that he "would be fighting a losing battle."

but tipsy soap is persistent as hell, so he keeps bugging and bugging and bugging him. and at this point, ghost is pretty tired and is just waiting to go home, so to get soap to shut up he agrees. and of course, drinking ensues.

the first few rounds are easy, ghost doesn't even flinch as he downs the drinks like they're water. at this point, soap is starting to get intimidated, so he demands that ghost have a few extra drinks to get them on even ground, considering soap was already tipsy when they started. you and the rest of the team watch with awe (and horror) as ghost swallows down the drinks like they're nothing, and if you're being honest, you're really excited to see how this turns out. i mean, for one, when ghost drinks he flips up the bottom of his balaclava, exposing his chin and his lips. it's always exciting to watch ghost take off his mask, even if it's just part of his face, and secondly, the way he shoots you a glance as he drinks, his eyes dark and enticing, his adam's apple bobbing with each swallow, the smallest drop of lost alcohol that drips down his chin -- which he's quick to wipe away -- it sends a swarm of butterflies into your stomach. plus, you've never actually seen ghost drink this much, usually the most he'll have is a couple of beers or a few glasses of bourbon, so you're curious to see just how much of a tolerance he has.

the answer? a crazy high one. the two are at it for what feels like hours, and there's no clear effect on ghost. meanwhile, soap can barely walk straight and is on the verge of puking at any given moment. at this point everyone is trying to get soap to give up. price tried telling soap that there was no shame in tapping out, and when that failed, he tried threatening soap with extra chores. of course this does nothing, and soap only tells price to "fuck off" because he's not his dad. at one point, gaz tried physically pulling soap away, to which soap promptly tried (and failed) to hit him in the face. even you tried to get soap to stop, although you'll admit you didn't try very hard, like i said, you're very excited to see how this plays out.

after a certain point, soap's pretty much blackout drunk. he's barely hanging on but his pride won't let him let go, much to the annoyance of ghost and the others. and so, in a final finishing move, ghost asks the bartender for a bottle of whiskey, which -- to soap's despair and the rest of the team's horror -- he finishes in seconds.

for a while, everyone is silent, and then soap just busts into tears. he knows it's over, ghost knows it's over, everyone else knows it's over. i mean, you guys just watched ghost down the equivalent of sixteen shots of whiskey like it was nothing. by now, you're starting to wonder if you need to get 911 on speed dial because there's no way ghost doesn't die from alcohol poisoning.

but to your disbelief, ghost's fine. or so you thought. after his defeat of soap, ghost made his way over to your seat for a chat. not that you were complaining, you were curious to see just how incomprehensible ghost's speech would be, but to your surprise he's speaking great. his speech is clear and you suspect the alcohol's loosened him up a little, because he's talking and cracking jokes a lot more. if you're being honest, you really like this new, laid-back ghost who's not so worried about maintaining his stony exterior; this new ghost that's wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into him, even though he never would have showed that kind of public affection to you in front of the team when he was sober. and it's not that he doesn't like you or he isn't proud of you, it's the complete opposite. he's absolutely bursting with pride that you decided to date him, but he's just always been wary about displaying his love for you in public. after all, you never know what kind of shady people are lurking around in bars, looking for ways to hurt him, or even worse, you.

but when his brain is muddled with alcohol, all that paranoia goes away and ghost is more than happy to be all over you. first it's just one hand around your waist, but then when you get up to order another iced water for soap he's tugging at your shirt and holding your wrists so you can't leave him, and when you tell him that you'll be back in less than a minute, he's standing up and chasing after you and wrapping his arms around you in a hug as you talk to the bartender. he's burying his face in the crook of your neck and telling you it's because all the alcohol is giving him a headache when really he just wants to smell you; he's running his hands up and down your legs when the rest of the team is looking the other direction; he's trying to mouth at your neck through his balaclava and whining when it doesn't work, causing you to grin and roll your eyes at him as you lift his mask just above his lips to help him. he's trying to whisper sweet nothings against your ear but they don't make sense because the way you smell is so intoxicating he feels like he's getting drunk all over again, but this time he's drunk on you.

and after a while, ghost finally passes out. he's essentially laying on top of you, his head resting on your chest as his back rises and falls with every breath. his arms are wrapped around you, essentially caging you into your seat and he's so heavy you need to call price over to help you pull him off so you can drive everyone home. and when you all arrive back at the base, you slowly nudge ghost awake, taking special note at the way his eyes flutter open slowly. and then he immediately closes his eyes again, digging his head into your chest because this time he actually does have a headache, and so it's up to you to bring him to his room. and the entire time he never ever lets go of his bear hug on you, leaving you to have to awkwardly waddle all the way to his room with him essentially draped over you. and then when he falls onto the bed he drags you down with him, and you try to pull away just for a second so you can change and wash your face, but ghost's got an iron grip on you and so you're stuck in his arms, not that you mind.

[literaphobe]

i want to know the horse line from ur fic so bad

HELLO… here it is with a tiny bit of extra so there’s low key some context maybe

[orangejamm]

It’s been a while. Thought I’d actually go back to posting art instead of reblogging everything I see.

Mine is on the left, the OG is on the right!

Doctor Who Spoilers !!!

Do you all remember that incredibly depressing episode about Van Gogh on Doctor Who? And do you remember the painting he made about the TARDIS exploding??

I thought I’d recreate it, a while ago.

so …here :3

[alpacacare-archive]

Hi. I have an exam next week. Here you go <3

[tarsyu]

“We’re all pretty bizarre. Some of us are just better at hiding it, that’s all.”

MOVIE SENTENCE STARTERS — accepting!

Skorakstxey nodded slowly, his seafoam green eyes reflecting the depth of his understanding. Gwen's words resonated within him, striking a chord of recognition for the inherent truth they carried. In her unwavering commitment to shielding planets like Pandora from the insidious grasp of the RDA, he found not only a kindred spirit but a source of inspiration—a reminder of the resilience that lay within the hearts of those who dared to stand against injustice.

Turning to face Gwen, the Tsakarem's expression softened with genuine appreciation. "Your dedication to safeguarding the integrity of worlds is truly commendable," he remarked, his voice tinged with respect. "In a universe often besieged by the forces of greed and destruction, your unwavering resolve serves as a guiding light.

As Gwen's ship lingered on the horizon, a silent testament to her unwavering commitment, Skorakstxey's appreciation deepened. The sight of her vessel, poised against the backdrop of Pandora's vibrant landscape, spoke volumes of her dedication to the protection of worlds like theirs. It was a reminder of the sacrifices she made and the challenges she faced in her mission to defend the sanctity of life.

"I am grateful for your presence here on Pandora," Skorakstxey continued, his voice carrying a note of sincerity. His gaze met hers, a silent exchange of understanding passing between them. In that shared moment, they acknowledged the weight of their responsibilities and the importance of their alliance.

[nicklangfordmuse]

“i’m yours. you know i’m yours.”

2019 - Jacksonville, Florida

"Two months of sleeping together and I'm only noticing you have this cute little tattoo on your ankle." The girl spoke with a giggle, running her finger gently on the mark.

"I have a couple of tattoos. Can't tell how many they are exactly because..." Nick paused, letting out a chuckle. "Well, I think half of these were inked when I was drunk." He said honestly.

"209...Southampton St." She read, trying to decipher the semi-faded writing on his skin. "Is that an old address? Childhood home?" She asked.

Nick scrunched his face as he sat up, checking the tattoo she was talking about as he looked confused. "I was definitely drunk when I got that. I don't remember that at all." Nick confessed with a laugh, unsure what that meant. "And no, it's not an old address. My childhood home was an orphanage."

"Oh." She said in surprised, realizing they've both been hooking up for so long without getting to know each other enough. She didn't even know he was an orphan. "Well, we should check it out. This could lead to America's greatest treasure, you know?" She suggested but Nick just laughed it off.

"Please. If I had the greatest treasure in the world, I would've remembered. I would know." Nick said, grabbing his phone as the alarm started going off. "Alright, come on. It's 10:30. Your husband lands in an hour. You should get to the airport."

The girl groaned, clearly annoyed that their fun has to end soon. "Ex-husband. My lawyer promised the divorce papers will be finalized next month. And I'm just meeting him at the airport because he promised to take our son out for his birthday." She clarified, finally getting off the bed to pick up her clothes from the ground. "After this week, I'll be free again so...I'll meet you at the bar next week?" She asked as she started getting dressed.

"We'll see. If another girl catches my eye then...maybe you should think about finalizing those divorce papers." Nick added jokingly, laying back down on the bed as he started scrolling through his phone.

"I'll take my chances. Either way, Mr. Bartender, I'll see you at the bar next week." The girl finished getting dressed before giving Nick one last kiss on the lips and waving him goodbye. Nick was left in bed, stretching a bit more, glad to have his bed all to himself again. Sitting up, he now couldn't ignore the tattoo on his ankle.

Opening his search box, he had to put the address and figure out where that is. When the results came up, he saw that it was a storage facility. "Boston? When have I been in Boston?" He asked himself, unsure what that meant. Getting up, Nick went to the mirror to check whatever tattoo he still has that he doesn't remember. Finding another one on his rib, it was inked the same way with the address on his ankle. "345B." He read, feeling his curiosity bending hard. Now, this must mean something.

The rest of the week, he couldn't stop thinking about these tattoos. They were so random but he couldn't help but feel like they meant something. When he couldn't take it anymore, he decided to book a flight to Boston to find out himself what these could mean.

When he got to Boston, Nick didn't know why this was driving him crazy but he needed to know what's inside. Should he mention his name? They'll just think he's trying to get in to steal something so he had to be creative in getting inside the storage facility. Seeing someone go inside, he had to sneak in quickly, acting like he had access in there. Finding 345B, he got lost a little but when he got there, he saw it was locked. It must be someone else's. Still, he couldn't shake off the feeling that he needed to see what's inside the storage room.

Checking the lock, it was number coded. He decided, if this would match on his first guess, whatever's inside here is for him. Nick had to go for something that was easy but this would be a miracle if he guessed the code and the treasure inside isn't his. Entering his birth month and date, he let out a breath before clicking the lock. Miraculously, it opened. Instantly, he got chills and scared for a minute. As he removed the lock, Nick lifted the roll up door and was surprised to see that it was just a table and a cardboard box on top. The place was filled with cobwebs like the storage room hasn't been opened in decades.

Nick was getting chills with every step he took, walking closer to the box. When he opened it, he saw old papers and diaries. Some were separated by folders. 1999, one folder read. 1958 was another folder. There was even one from 1926 and one was labeled 1944 which had an old photo peeking by the corner. When he opened it, he saw that it was a photo of himself and a woman. The moment he saw her face, his heart raced. She looked so familiar but he's sure he's never met her before. Flipping the photo, there was a note written on the back.

"My greatest treasure. 1944. Katrina Maher." His eyes instantly welled up, unsure why there was a hard sting in his heart as he read it. The face in the photo is him but how is it possible that it's still the same face that he has now if the photo was taken in 1944? Browsing the folders more, he found several love letters that were written in different decades. Nick spent the entire day there, reading through the letters, trying to figure out what kind of mystery this is and why it felt like his entire life was a lie.

Finally, he found a note that was written on a newspaper from 1999. Find Katrina again. He's quite certain that he wrote it back then but as he read through the newspaper clip, his heart shattered into pieces, feeling like his memories were coming back all at once, from every decade he's lived.

2021 - Brooklyn, New York

"Cheers! To Katrina Maher. The last one in our group to finally get engaged." Rowena said as the girls raised their glasses to her. The girls let out a giggle as they clinked their glasses together. "I was starting to get nervous Josh wouldn't propose. It's been like...what, 5 years since he became your boyfriend?"

"3 years. Well, 2. I couldn't count the first year because he was too busy being a lawyer to even make it official." Katrina answered as the girls chuckled along.

"5, 3, 2...whatever it is, we're just happy he finally proposed. He'd be the stupidest lawyer in New York if he let you go." Rachel added as they cheered more.

"Ladies, shall we refill your wines?" The sommelier offered and they all nodded. "I'd like to try the rosé next, please." Katrina asked. "Oh, uhm...to celebrate your special occasion, our head bartender sent you a special drink. It's a personal mix, on the house." The sommelier called one of the servers to give Katrina the special cocktail.

"That's sweet. But...tell your head bartender this girl's off the market. She just got engaged last week so if he's trying to charm her...well, he's a week late." Rowena spoke up teasingly.

"Shh. Ro, come on. A free drink is always welcome." Katrina insisted, taking a sip of the drink and her face instantly glowed, looking the most satisfied from everything they got from the menu. "This is...wow. Fantastic is an understatement."

"It's made from a 1944 whiskey so it has decades worth of flavor, for sure."

Katrina continued to sip more, really loving the special drink she got. "Well, remind me to meet your head bartender by the end of the night. I'd love to thank him personally and tip accordingly." Katrina added and the sommelier nodded at them before letting the ladies enjoy the rest of their night.

The girls had a great dinner to celebrate Katrina's engagement but as they headed out, she just remembered her promise. "Get in the car, girls. I'll be back. I forgot something inside." Katrina said, walking back inside the restaurant.

Looking for the sommelier, she had to ask for this head bartender because that drink was to die for. "Hey. I was the one from that table over there." Katrina started.

"Right, the newly engaged." The sommelier said with a chuckle.

Katrina nodded with a grin. "I'd like to...thank the head bartender for the drink. Is he still around?"

The sommelier looked over at the staff from behind the bar but didn't see the guy she was looking for. "I think he's...somewhere else but I'll look for him. Give me a minute."

"Oh, okay. I'll just use the restroom real quick but I'll be back." Katrina said, excusing herself and heading for the hall where the restrooms are. Going through her purse, she stopped in her tracks when she heard a guy speak up.

"It's you." Nick said, his face filled with surprise and bliss, relieved even. "It's really you."

Katrina was confused, looking behind as he might be talking to someone else. "I'm sorry? Do I know you?" She asked since it was just the two of them there.

"I think so." Nick said, his eyes watering a bit. "I...I thought I was just hallucinating but...it's really you, Katrina."

Hearing her name come out of his mouth sent shivers down her spine and she felt every hair in her body rise. How did he know her name? "Uhm...how do you know my name? Did we...work together in the past?"

Nick shook his head as he took slow steps closer to her. "It's...a long story but...I've been looking for you for years. I moved to New York last year, with little to no hope but...here you are, like fate finally came around."

Katrina was starting to get nervous since the guy said he's been looking for her for years. Slowly, she subtly tried to find her pepper spray in her purse but Nick stopped her.

"Wait, wait. No. I'm not...a stalker or anything but...you know me, Katrina. It's me, Nick. You may not remember yet but...you know me, from a different number of decades." Nick reached for his wallet and pulled out the photo from 1944, showing it to her. "This was us. 70 years ago. It's...it's hard to explain and...this is the only photo I have of us to prove it but...in every lifetime, we always found our way to each other."

"I don't know what you're talking about but you're starting to scare me." Katrina told him and while that was true, a part of her wasn't so scared because his presence felt all too familiar to her. She couldn't exactly explain it. Reading the nameplate on his chest, she realized that he was the bartender that sent her the drink. "The drink, that was from you. Did you put anything in there? Drugs?" She started questioning him but Nick shook his head.

"It was from the whiskey we bought in 1944...when we ran away to get married. You said we'd open it when we celebrate our 10th anniversary. Clearly...that didn't happen because..."

"Wait, what?" She asked, scoffing and chuckling sarcastically. "You're clearly out of your mind right now. I'm just...I'm gonna go." She was about to leave but Nick stopped her by gently holding onto her elbow.

"No, please. Please, don't leave. You have to hear me out." Nick begged, refusing to lose her before she could remember their lifetimes together. "It's...it's all so crazy to me too and...I don't know how all this happened but you're the only person who's lived all those lives with me. I don't have much proof right now but...I just know it. I feel it and I'm sure you feel it too. There's something that's connecting us...that's leading us back to each other because...I know, in any life, I would've found you. I'm yours. You know I'm yours."

Katrina froze in place, feeling like her head's gonna explode anytime soon. None of anything he was saying was making sense but she could feel an invisible string that's stopping her from walking away right now. "I'm engaged to be married. I don't know you so...whatever this is, I don't plan on being part of it. Whoever it is you're looking for, it's not me."

"You just need to remember, okay? I have a box full of letters that refreshed my memories. I found a way to remember when I wrote a note to myself to find you, from the last lifetime we were together...on a newspaper clip of...when you died in a car crash in 1999." Nick explained, slowly reaching to the back of her right ear where he found a scar that he read about in the newspaper. Katrina closed her eyes, realizing she never knew where that scar came from. Why does it seem to be making sense now?

Suddenly, her phone started ringing which made her jump a little. Taking her phone out, she saw that it was Rowena calling, probably looking for her already.

Nick pressed his lips together, taking a small step back as he didn't want to push her boundaries. This is all new and shocking to her as it was to him three years ago so he understood her shock and frustration. "I'm...I'm not gonna push it but...at least, hear me out." He asked of her. "Whenever you're ready, Katrina. You know where to find me. And...if not in this lifetime, I'll just spend the next one looking for you again. Always. I'll always find my way back to you." He told her, hoping she would at least think about it.

"I..." She spoke, her voice cracking a bit as her eyes were starting to water a bit. "I have to go." Katrina said before walking away and out to the car.

[hansomeskz]

I’d Bleed Myself Dry Chapter 1

Jisung is used to living in monochrome. Since the day he was born, he’d felt like the world consisted of shades of grey, and as he grew older the alcohol blurred the lines so the world consisted of nothing at all. That’s how he ended up here.

Read on Ao3 | Read On Wattpad | Talk to me on Twitter | Chat on retrospring

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3

CW: Swearing, Alcohol consumption, insecurities, anxiety

Jisung is used to living in monochrome. Since the day he was born, he’d felt like the world consisted of shades of grey, and as he grew older the alcohol blurred the lines so the world consisted of nothing at all. That’s how he ended up here.

The sounds of the world were drowned out by the pulsing of the music. All he knew was there was a figure pressed up against him, fingers curled into his hip. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Let go of him,” Changbin says from somewhere to Jisung’s right. “I think he wants to come home with me” the man sneers, tightening his grip on his waist. Jisung weakly pushes against the guy’s chest but he’s not sure what it is he wants. He thought maybe it had been this man right up until he heard Changbin’s voice. When he looks in his friend’s direction he can vaguely make out his shape stepping closer. “Does this look like somebody who’s into you?” Changbin rests a hand on Jisung’s arm, carefully pulling him from the man’s grasp. The stranger doesn’t push it, huffing and puffing out some insults that Jisung doesn’t even recognize. “Fuck, Hannie… How much have you had to drink?” Changbin frowns, looking him up and down. “Let’s get you home, hm?” Jisung just nods weakly and leans against his friend’s sturdy frame.

Changbin calls them an Uber, manhandling Jisung into the back seat. He tangles his fingers into the younger boy’s hair and watches him. “You’ve been doing this a lot lately, Hannie.” Changbin’s voice is tender and full of so much concern that it makes Jisung’s stomach churn. He turns to look out the window to avoid seeing the worry on his friend’s face. “I just want you to know I’m here for you, okay? Whatever you’re going through… you’re not doing this alone.” Jisung doesn’t reply.

When the Uber stops, Changbin takes him upstairs. He gets him water and helps him into bed before raking his fingers across Jisung’s scalp. “I’m just a call away, okay Hannie?” Jisung nods, already pulling the blankets over his head to chase him away. Changbin sighs, lingering by the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says after a few minutes, and then Jisung hears the door click behind him.

It’s not like it’s ever been Jisung’s intention to get this bad. He’s lived his whole life in blacks and greys. It isn’t his fault that the alcohol emptied his mind, and it isn’t his fault that it’s easier to fill the empty spaces with strangers. It’s Changbin’s fault, he thinks, that this is the first time he’s noticed what Jisung will do to escape reality. His heart feels heavy in his chest, making it much harder for him to breathe. Jisung sits up in his bed, gasping for air as he pushes himself out of bed and onto his balcony. His breathless gasps turn to wracking sobs. He’s so tired of this. He’s tired of blaming other people for his pain. He’s tired of feeling grey.

By the time Jisung drags himself into the studio the next day, Changbin and Chan are a significant way through the song they’d started producing yesterday morning. The two smile warmly as he shuffles in, face mostly obscured by his beanie and mask. “Good morning, sunshine” Chan beams at him, pulling up Jisung’s usual chair next to him. Jisung hates the way they look at him; Big smiles to mask the worry hidden behind their eyes. He sits, leaning back in his chair. When they play what they have of the song so far to catch him up, Jisung’s first thought is that they don’t need him. A storm starts brewing in the back of his mind.

When the three finally break for lunch, Jisung excuses himself to eat in the company’s café. Changbin and Chan suggest sushi and even though his mouth waters at the idea, all he wants is a second alone.

So here he is, head down as he walks into the café, eyes glued to his phone. “Sorry,” a voice beside him starts. He keeps his eyes glued firmly to his phone. “Excuse me, uh-“ He finally looks up but before he’s able to lock eyes with the stranger, he’s blinded by the yellow sweater the man is wearing. He squints and averts his eyes. “Can I help you?” Jisung asks, scowling. “You just.. dropped this on your way in.” The man holds out Jisung’s wallet and he feels vaguely bad about being so cold to him. When Jisung finally meets the stranger’s eyes, he’s briefly stunned.

The man is gorgeous. there’s no other way to say it, really. The slope of his nose, the sculpt of his cheekbones, his shy smile, this man looks like he was carved from stone. His dark brown hair frames his face perfectly, leaving Jisung breathless. “Oh, uh… thanks.” He takes his wallet from the man’s hand, pausing briefly before doing something he considers stupid. “I haven’t seen you around before,” he says. It’s true, Jisung knows almost everyone at the company at this point with five years of writing and producing here in his pocket. He’s been involved with almost every department and has never once seen this man. “Oh! I just started. I’m one of the new choreographers.” If the nervous excitement buzzing through the stranger endears Jisung, nobody has to know. “Hm. Nice to meet you, then. I’m Han Jisung-“

“Part of 3RACHA, I know.” The man shyly tucks a piece of hair behind his ear. “You guys are one of my favourite teams here. I’ve been following you- ah- your music for a while.” Jisung cocks his head to the side, amused, then holds out his hand. “Well, I’m looking forward to seeing your work…”

“Ah-“ the man grabs Jisung’s hand, shaking it. “Lee Minho.”

“Nice to meet you, Minho.” Jisung pulls his hand back, warmth radiating from his palm, spreading through his body. “You too, Jisung. I’ll let you go, hopefully I’ll see you around, though?” Minho smiles warmly before heading over to a table full of other choreographers. A couple of them wave in Jisung’s direction but he just turns to the cooler, pulling a nauseatingly soggy sandwich and lukewarm water out.

When Jisung is back in his studio, picking apart the salvageable pieces of the wet bread, his mind is drowning in the colour yellow. He can still feel the warmth radiating from his palm. Lee Minho.

Much later, when Jisung is left on his own in their studio, hunched over his laptop, the clouds in his brain whirl. They grow darker and thicker and his thoughts start to drown him. When his chest tightens he pushes himself out of the chair, stumbling into the hallway, desperate for air. He desperately claws at his hoodie until he’s able to push it off, dropping it by the door. It’s not until he’s halfway down the hall, chest heaving, that he hears somebody behind him. “Jisung?”

When he turns to face them, his mind is filled with yellow. “Are you alright?” Minho looks worried but makes no moves to approach him. Jisung nods, tongue-tied, but Minho doesn’t seem convinced. Jisung is willing himself to say something, but nothing comes out. Minho picks up the discarded hoodie, approaching him carefully. “Do you wanna come to the convenience store with me? I was going to grab a snack.” He smiles at Jisung, holding the hoodie out to him. Jisung curls his fingers into the fabric and takes a deep breath. “That sounds nice.”

They walk in a comfortable quiet, the kind that drowns out the ringing in Jisung’s ears. Minho has his hands shoved in his pockets, gazing up at the stars, and Jisung takes the opportunity to get a good look at Minho. The words dancing on the tip of Jisung’s tongue threaten to spill, but Minho speaks up before he can embarrass himself. “You’re working pretty late. Is it just you?”

“Yeah, I sent the other two home early. I showed up late so I thought..”

“Are you going home after this?” Minho asks, looking over at him. Jisung shakes his head “I just needed a breather. What about you?” Jisung pulls his sleeves down over his hands nervously. Minho shakes his head “I still have a lot to learn… there’s a lot to catch up on since I’m so new.” Jisung sighs and looks at Minho, offering a smile as friendly s as he can muster. “That feeling doesn’t really go away. You should rest.” Jisung tries to offer an earnest smile and Minho shrugs lightly, red creeping up his neck. “Maybe.”

Minho pushes the door open, leading him inside. As Minho carefully selects his snacks Jisung wanders the aisles, not really looking for anything in particular. His mind goes back to his feelings from this morning, hearing how well Chan and Changbin were doing without him. Jisung’s always held them back, he’s never been able to keep up with the way they work. The clouds in his head start to swarm. A hand curls around Jisung’s arm, and yellow rays of sun peek through the storm raging in his mind. “Hey, is there anything you want?” Minho asks him, a warm smile on his face, and Jisung shrinks a little, shaking his head. “I’m okay, just glad I got to get some air.”

Minho buys two cups of ramen and pulls Jisung to the hot water. It’s not until Minho opens them both that Jisung realizes that one’s for him, and he smiles shyly. “You.. you didn’t have to do that.”

“You’ve been at the studio all day, you must be hungry.” Minho looks unaffected aside from the pink tint to the tips of his ears. Jisung’s chest tightens but he just leans against the counter and smiles lightly at Minho, whose expression brightens. The comfortable silence that follows settles over them for a long time, through sharing ramen and through their walk back to the company building. It’s only broken when they approach Jisung’s studio, Minho reaching out to squeeze the younger boy’s arm gently. “See you around, Jisung.”

“Yeah- see you.”

The next time Jisung sees Minho, he’s standing with his other two parts at an album release party. Minho was hard to miss, even standing amongst dozens of other people. He sported a pale yellow button-down, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. When they lock eyes, Jisung offers him a small smile that has Minho’s cheeks flushed pink across the room and Changbin nudging him gently. “Who are you smiling at, huh?” Jisung sputters briefly before turning his wide eyes onto him. “I was just saying hi to my friend.” He can’t help but notice the look Changbin and Chan exchange. “What was that look?” He asks, frowning. “You have other friends?” Chan is teasing, but Jisung can hear the genuine surprise in his voice. “One of the choreographers, I don’t know.” He sounds snappier than he intended and polishes off the drink in his hand. Changbin raises his hands, chuckling. “Hey, we’re just happy to see you making new friends. That’s all, Hannie.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Minho leave the group he was standing in, heading in Jisung’s direction. Jisung runs his fingers through his hair and straightens up, sending him a smile. The smile Minho sends back could light up the whole room, he thinks. “Sorry to interrupt, do you need another drink?” Minho’s eyes flicker down to Jisung’s empty glass before returning to his face, a coy smile playing on his lips. “Let me treat you, I owe you anyway, '' Jisung offers, quickly abandoning his friends to take Minho to the bar. Minho laughs lightly, shaking his head. “You don’t owe me anything, you know.”

“I’d like to return the favour. Besides- I’d take any excuse to avoid those two.” Jisung’s tone is light, but his words are more accurate than he’d like to admit. Lately, their worried gazes have been burning through him and eating away at his mind. When he glances back at them to confirm his suspicions, he’s surprised to find them smiling and chatting with each other, not paying him any mind. Minho laughs lightly at Jisung’s joke regardless, shrugging. “If you say so” he smiles, leaning against the bar.

Once they both have a drink in hand, Jisung doesn’t quite want to part ways. He stands patiently beside Minho when somebody comes to congratulate him on his contribution to a group’s choreography for their newest comeback. Minho is all bright smiles and pink cheeks, bowing slightly with each genuine thank you he slips out. Jisung can’t help but think he looks beautiful like this. “Do you wanna step outside with me for a second?” He asks once they’re alone and Minho nods, smiling at him. “There’s a balcony over this way,” he says, curling his fingers around Jisung’s wrist and guiding him outside.

The air is cool, feeling refreshing against his flushed face. “This party is really nice, '' Minho says, leaning against the railing and looking out over Seoul. They’re high up, in some penthouse downtown. Jisung feels like he can see everything from here, the twinkling yellow lights from every window in the city. Minho, he thinks, reminds him of yellow. “Are you having a good time?” The older man turns to him, smiling. Jisung shrugs lightly “I guess so. These parties are a little too stuffy for me, I think.” Jisung loosens his tie as Minho hums in acknowledgement. They fall back into a comfortable silence, sipping on their drinks. Jisung admires the way the moonlight shines on Minho and the way the lights reflect in his eyes. Jisung’s mind goes quiet, he’s drowning in yellow. He watches the red creep up Minho’s neck when he catches Jisung staring. “What are you looking at?” He asks shyly, looking away. A smile tugs at the corners of Jisung’s lips and he looks back out at the city, opting to stay quiet.

They’re torn out of their thoughts by the sound of the balcony door opening. Minho keeps his eyes fixed on the view but Jisung has a feeling he knows who’s interrupting. He looks over, eyes meeting Chan’s smiling face. “So sorry to interrupt,” he starts. “Changbin and I are heading out. Are you coming, Hannie?” Jisung sucks his teeth at the nickname, glancing at Minho. Minho has turned to look at him, smiling lightly. He nods slightly as if giving Jisung permission to leave if he wants to. He really finds himself wanting to stay. Jisung looks back to Chan before shaking his head “I think I’m gonna stay.” Jisung unbuttons his top button and leans back against the railing. Chan just nods and gives him a thumbs-up. “Right. Well, text me if you need anything. Be safe. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Chan waves his hand vaguely before smiling at Minho and heading back inside.

“They seem to care about you a lot,” Minho says quietly. Jisung shrugs lightly, thinking for a second before sighing. “They can be a lot, but they’re good to me. They’ve been with me through everything.”

“Five years, right?” Minho watches him, eyes sparkling. “Longer than that. We met in college… Chan and Changbin took a chance on me. It was my first year when we met and…”

“And here you are.” Jisung huffs out a laugh at that, nodding. “Here we are.” He goes to take a sip of his drink only to realize his glass is empty. A quick glance at the glass in Minho’s hand tells him they’re both due for a refill and Jisung offers to take the glass from his hand. “Actually,” Minho smiles shyly, pushing himself off the railing. “I was thinking maybe we could go back to mine? There’s a movie I’ve been dying to watch. I really think you’d like it. I’ve got some expensive wine we can crack open.” Minho looks embarrassed to ask, which makes Jisung smile. “That sounds really nice.”

A short Uber ride later, Minho is pushing open his front door. “Ah- I hope you’re not allergic to cats, ” Minho says, turning quickly to look at Jisung. He shakes his head, smiling. “I love cats, actually. How many do you have?”

“Three. Soonie, Doongie, and Dori.” Minho leads Jisung inside. Not one of the cats is in his line of sight, but the evidence of them is everywhere he turns. Hung by the door, beside where Minho hangs his keys, is a harness for one of the cats. Small toys and treats are littered around the apartment. Cute, Jisung thinks. Minho starts to unbutton his shirt, leaving a small portion of his chest bare. Jisung pulls off his tie, leaving it by the front door before he ventures further into Minho’s apartment. “I should’ve cleaned a little bit... I didn’t expect to have a guest, honestly.”

Minho sounds apologetic but Jisung can’t find any traces of clutter or mess anywhere around the apartment. Each new corner he lays his eyes on is clean and organized. “You have a really nice place, Minho.” Jisung smiles at him before finding a spot on his sofa and stretching out a little. Minho waves his hand dismissively, disappearing into the kitchen. He emerges with two mugs and a bottle of wine, looking vaguely embarrassed. “I could’ve sworn I had wine glasses somewhere” he laughed, sitting close to Jisung so he could pour their glasses. Even when the movie is on and they’ve both settled, Minho never moves away.

The two chatter mindlessly through the movie, some commentary on the movie mixed in with discussions of their favourite shows and their favourite foods. Warmth is flowing through Jisung, cheeks and chest rosy from the wine. He tugs lightly on his collar. “Do you want to borrow a T-shirt? You look uncomfortable.” Minho is standing before Jisung can even answer, disappearing into a room down the hall. When he emerges a few minutes later, he’s changed into a loose-fitting t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. He holds out some clothes for Jisung, who takes them and excuses himself. The clothes are so sickeningly Minho, a pair of joggers and a yellow T-shirt. Jisung is swimming in the smell of Minho’s cologne when he comes out, finding his corner on the sofa again. Minho eyes him carefully before opening his mouth. He considers his words for a few seconds before closing his mouth again.

“What?” Jisung asks, stretching. “Nothing. You just… you look nice in yellow. That’s all.” Minho’s ears are turning a light pink, and Jisung smiles at him. “Thanks. You wear a lot of yellow, don’t you?”

“It’s just my favourite colour. I never understood why people hate the colour yellow, you know? It’s so bright. So eye-catching. The whole colour just makes me… happy, you know?” Jisung hums in acknowledgement, tugging gently on one of the sleeves of his shirt. “I used to hate yellow, but I think I’m starting to get it,” he says, smiling. Minho ducks his head a bit, topping up both of their glasses before gently knocking their mugs together. “Cheers to that.”

Jisung is once again late arriving at the studio. The dozens of late nights at Minho’s have been throwing off his schedule, though Chan and Changbin never seem to mind. When he rolls in, the collar of the yellow t-shirt he ‘accidentally’ took from Minho poking out from under his black hoodie, Chan and Changbin eye him curiously. Changbin opens his mouth to speak, but Chan beats him to it. “We missed you at the party yesterday, Hannie. Have you at least been feeling a bit better?” Jisung nods mindlessly, plopping into his seat next to Chan. Changbin slides an iced americano his way and he takes it quickly. He racks his brain for a way to change the subject before sighing. “Hopefully I haven’t missed too much today.”

“Nah, mate. We’re just getting started.”

The trio spend the afternoon bouncing ideas and working harmoniously. Something familiar and comforting bubbles in Jisung’s chest, a feeling he hasn’t felt since the three of them were younger. It’s similar to the feeling he got when they were crouched around Chan’s laptop in their apartment back in college. He feels pride in what they’re working on. He feels like he could really do something more with their songs than phone it in for a paycheck. With a quick glance at his friends, he knows they feel the same. By the time Chan and Changbin leave for the night, something warmer than his usual storm is swirling inside of him. He ends up engrossed in making edits to a song that already feels perfect, finding each edit only lifts the song to a new level, never hurting the quality.

He only manages to peel his eyes away when he hears the knob on the door twist. When he looks in the direction of the disturbance, he locks eyes with Minho. “Oh, you’re still here?” Jisung stands, eyes falling on Minho's hands full of bags. “I figured you’d be working late. Are you hungry?” The older boy asks, crossing the room before Jisung can take even a single step towards him. “I’m not…” Jisung trails off, realizing he would be lying if he said he wasn’t hungry. Minho just smiles and puts the bags down before crouching by them. Jisung makes a move to close his laptop but changes his mind when he realizes that Minho hasn’t even glanced in the direction of his writing. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be in the mood for something sweet or salty, so I got a bit of both,” Minho says as he digs through his haul. Jisung watches as Minho places a bag of chips and a small slice of cheesecake in front of him. His chest tightens and he turns to look at Minho, smiling lightly. “Thanks, Min.”

“I won’t stick around and distract you,” Minho starts, already headed for the door. “I just wanted to make sure you ate something.”

“Do you want to stay?” Jisung asks quickly, gesturing to the chair next to him. “We can eat together before we both get back to work.” Red creeps up Minho’s neck, but he settles into the chair next to Jisung. They eat in comfortable silence, Jisung watching Minho stare at the ceiling. “You look tired, “ Jisung says, eyes lingering over the bags under Minho's eyes before moving down, noticing the slump in his shoulders. “It turns out this job is harder than I’d thought. I love it, I really do. I just… I don’t feel like I’m accomplishing anything that the team wouldn’t have been able to do if I wasn’t here, you know?” Jisung hums in acknowledgement, but his chest aches for Minho. He knows this feeling well, all too familiar with the storm that rages in his brain each time a song falls into place without him. “I know what you mean. Some days you just feel useless. I bet you’re good at what you do, though. Your help, whether you think it’s substantial or not, makes somebody’s job a bit easier. Sometimes that just has to be enough.” The silence that follows says words Minho is too afraid to. It’s not enough. Jisung knows this, and he wishes he could offer advice that would comfort him, or offer specific compliments. The fact is, though, Jisung has never seen Minho dance. All he knows is Minho’s existence has made his own life a bit less lonely. He takes a moment to contemplate if that would ease Minho’s mind at all, but ultimately keeps it to himself. They finish their meals in silence.

Something feels wrong tonight. Usually, the blaring music buries his thoughts and the hands on his skin keep him warm, but tonight Jisung is drowning. The hands are too much, and the music is flooding too many of his senses. He tries to recall how many shots he’s had as he scrolls through his contacts to find Changbin, clicking a contact that looks like it’s the right one. His heart is threatening to beat out of his chest and his ears are starting to ring. A groggy voice greets him on the other end, full of confusion. Jisung knows in the depths of his mind that this is not Changbin’s voice but his mind is too clouded, both by the booze and by his own thoughts, to care. “I need to get out of here, can you come get me?” He asks, a hand pressed against his other ear to try and drown out the noise. He hears some form of agreement on the other end and sends them his location.

Jisung almost forgets he’s called for help when Minho walks into the club. Jisung’s tangled around a stranger on the dance floor. Panic thumps in his chest in time with the sway of the man’s body. It isn’t until Jisung hears somebody calling his name that he realizes what he’s doing and starts to pull away. When the man tries to pull him back in, a new hand grabs Jisung’s shoulder. He spins around, coming face to face with Minho, clad in a yellow hoodie. He looks tired and dishevelled, not even having changed out of his baggy shorts in his rush to reach Jisung. “Are you ready to go?” He asks softly, hand sliding from Jisung’s shoulder to squeeze his tricep. Jisung nods dumbly, stumbling behind Minho when he takes his hand and leads him into the street.

The sky above him feels like it’s spinning, so he holds onto Minho’s arm tightly to try to keep the ground from doing the same. Something close to guilt swims in his chest. “M’sorry. I tried to call Changbin” Jisung slurs, eyes on the ground in a mixture of embarrassment and focus on keeping his footing. Minho moves to curl an arm around Jisung’s waist. “I’m glad you called, Ji. Are you doing okay?” His concern is clear in his voice, making Jisung’s skin crawl. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Jisung asks. He tries to say it with venom, but he sounds as defeated as he feels. “Why does everybody keep asking what’s wrong with me?” He tries to blink away the tears pricking at his eyes but he knows Minho spots them when he stops them in the middle of the sidewalk. Minho opens his mouth to speak, floundering for a moment. He decides that words aren’t quite enough and pulls Jisung into a tight hug instead. “I just don’t want you to have to do this on your own, Ji.” Jisung pushes Minho back gently, jaw clenched to try and hold back the waterworks. “I want to go home,” he says, pulling his hood over his head. Minho sighs and nods before leading him to his apartment.

Just the way Changbin so many weeks ago, the day before Jisung and Minho met, Minho helps Jisung inside. He helps him get changed, brings him water, and gets him to bed. But when Minho lingers by his bedside a second longer than he should, Jisung asks what he’d wanted to ask of Changbin back then. “Minho, do you think you can stay with me tonight?” Minho’s worried expression morphs into warm affection. “Of course, Jisung.”

Jisung thinks that maybe his heavy heart feels a bit lighter with Minho there to help him hold it.

[isjasz]

Stellar death

[ruporas]

dragon meat, you, and me

[thethoriumreactor]

Have a meme because I have no self control

Lucifer just seems like the kinda guy who’d lose his mind over ppl being too hot (our bi short king)

I spent way too much effort on this pls like it ily 🙏

Bonus (radioapple) doodles as always (edit: I. I just realised I forgot Al’s monocle in both doodles. I am dying inside. Why did no one tell me.):

[hinamie]

to moving forward

[berrysquared]

I just think LDShadowLady’s husband joel sHOULD PUT HER ON THAT BILLBOARD IN HIS BASE I KNOW UR LURKING JOEL I KNOW UR SEEING THIS, PUT QUEEN ON THE BILLBOARD

[everchased]

can someone please get these hoes under control i'm BUSY

[beldaroot]

there has been more moments than i can count in the past seven months where i felt destroyed by all the death and carnage i've seen due to the colonialism and imperialism of the world. but there was something in particular about hind's death that made me think the world would stop turning bc how could anything continue given how gruesome and inhumane her death was? and yet, the world did not stop. and i thought we were once again left to remember her story only in our minds as she became another number, as her murderers went on killing unpunished, and as her mother grieved with rage when all she wanted was to keep her daughter warm and as safe as she could manage in this man-made hell on earth.

however, hind, a girl who only got to experience her kindergarten graduation, is now being immortalized in universities across the nation. her story did resonate to the masses and we will not let her be forgotten nor forgive those complicit in her death. real justice would be having hind alive, but these students are showing that they will stop the world and burn the status quo it upholds to the ground if it means her people can truly be liberated.