#i will still post it tho bc now i am curious and would like to read them also
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hi im so sorry to bother you but im searching for this fic on tumblr where reader is like reborn or somehow appears into the marauders universe with prev knowledge of the situation so they befriend all the marauders & lily too, and watch over them from afar going as far as to also become an animagus . random things i remember : reader has a brief fling with lily . reader is friends with lots of the paintings so i think the author left it on a cliffhanger where the paintings tell the reader that someone had been following them around while they were snooping . sorry if this is rlly vague i just rlly want to find this fic again T_T ________________________ im also looking for this one draco ao3 fic that takes place in their 6th/7th years in hogwarts where reader is a hufflepuff and not pureblood so draco has to fake date pansy while they try to continue their relationship. & its rlly hard on them bc its while the death eaters have control of hogwarts so bc draco is head boy and reader is a prefect they try to protect some of the younger mudblood children at hogwarts . i also think reader showed draco her "secret spot" which was like an alcove in the halls / or library im not sure.
this was from a while ago and i forgot to reply, sorry anon. i also don’t know what fic this is :(((
#lost fic#harry potter fic#hp fic#draco malloy x reader#??? maybe#marauders x reader#i have no idea what to tag these cs i haven’t read hp fic in a MINUTE#i don’t follow many hp accounts anymore but i really feel like#this is one of those copy paste asks looking for a fic#i will still post it tho bc now i am curious and would like to read them also#draco malfoy x reader
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HER | part five.
✧✎ synopsis: wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo can’t see this going well. at all.
pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader word count: 23.8k genres/tropes: writer!wonwoo, university!au, plug!vernon + boyfriend!mingyu as prominent side characters, SLOWBURN (i am not fucking around this is my slowest burn yet), relationship drama, soul searching, strong angst/hurt (i’m coming for the jugular), comfort, romance, smut, a smoothie of every emotion on earth.
(!) warnings: drug use (weed, cocaine, ecstasy), wonwoo has anxiety + anxiety attacks + fairly dark thoughts, prescribed medication, gambling, intense language, infidelity, throwing up.
✧✎ a/n: just some quick things i want to make apparent!
the fic is told from wonwoo’s pov, not the reader’s!
all major timeline events are organized through chronological dates
any smut or potentially triggering scenes are NOT MARKED bc the content is already quite mature, so just plz be aware of that!
bolded and italicized text implies the characters are conversing in korean, tho it doesn’t happen often!
the fic in its entirety is 140k, so it has been split into 6 parts.
posting a bit earlier tn since i've got work tmo morning! i can't believe there is only one part left after this one!! :o
last chapter was angst up to the eyeballs so hopefully this one mends some of that heartache <3 still, much has yet to happen! this chapter contains one of my fave scenes teehee.
⇢ part one | part two | part three | part four | part six ⇢ soundtrack for those curious! ⇢ read at ur own pace! :)
—AUGUST 3RD.
The last time Wonwoo had been at your apartment to help you write, it was around the evening, into supper. He remembered the scent from the three-wick candles lit up in the kitchen—bonfire and vanilla—which you insisted was a necessity because it was the perfect way to relax your tense mind. Deciding not to cook, you had ordered Chinese takeout instead, and the entirety of the evening was spent sitting criss-cross on the comfortable rug splayed across the living room floor, indulging in warm food, writing, and letting the TV flick through a random season of your favourite drama show.
It was perfect.
Even now, as he sat on the bench across the street from your apartment complex, Wonwoo could still recall all the infinitesimal details—the fried crunch to every vegetable-filled spring roll, how the candles softly crackled when you blew them out at the end of the night, your small and very sleepy voice bidding him goodbye as you walked Wonwoo downstairs into the lobby—each memory sprung alive with such vividness. Wonwoo wished he could be poised outside your apartment knowing everything was the same; undamaged and intact. But that was an outcome too blissful for reality to maintain.
You had a specific nightly routine, particularly on Thursdays, after work: showering, followed by having a quickly thrown together dinner, applying a face mask, and then a movie before bed. He found himself memorizing a lot of your patterns over the months.
Wonwoo hadn’t texted you—he was doing this completely unprompted, without an inkling of his arrival. Maybe that was a terrible idea which should be discarded for something gentler and less likely to explode in his face, but that would only lead to more ruminating and more ruminating meant less doing.
The thing was, it was nearing eight o’clock. Wonwoo had been sitting on the bench for almost a half hour while the sun gradually sank, watching the occasional green leaf flutter down from the chestnut oaks adorning and shading the parkway behind him. The longer he waited, the further the shadows of the trees stretched, until he was completely engulfed and framed alone underneath their dark, cool silhouettes. Light still spilled across the street, igniting the space where everyone else was strolling, each person steadfast in their pace to be somewhere that wasn’t a sunset orange city street.
Breathing out slowly, Wonwoo glanced down at his hands.
It was like the first time he met you.
Just suck it up. Go do it.
He walked between the trimmed hedges that led to the complex door. The lobby area was exactly as he remembered it, though Wonwoo had come to learn those little complimentary desserts and cucumber waters set out the first day he visited you were no longer a thing, which you had vehemently complained to him about during a brief promenade through the park—another one of your palate cleansing ideas.
“Oh! Those pastries, by the way—they stopped doing them! I heard about it from my neighbour when I went down to get the mail. I was pissed, pissed, pissed! Apparently, there’s a lady who made them specifically for our complex because her grandson lived there. Well, he’s moved out now, so we all got fucked! If I don’t get my cute little lemon square with the raspberry on top and the powdered confectionary sugar all placed in a decorative doily, I will legit kill myself. Something has to be done… hey—can you bake, at all?”
Hence your immeasurable disappointment when Wonwoo revealed to you that he wasn’t notably talented at baking. Still, the incident provoked him to spend at least an hour a night researching different recipes for lemon squares that he could manage to pull off if given enough time and a handful of supplemental trial and error.
Wonwoo pushed the button to the elevator.
The heartbeat heavied in his chest while waiting for the doors to pull apart, the anticipation and nervousness coming down hard like thick snow flurries. A commercial ding at last echoed throughout the vacant lobby. Wonwoo immediately stepped into the small, confined space, feeling his breaths begin to drag, becoming almost audible in his desire for more oxygen.
Without a doubt, this was probably the hardest thing Wonwoo had ever done in his life. Even moving away from the comfortability and closeness of his family in Changwon—no matter their disagreements or quarrels—couldn’t compare to the emotion so palpably tugging within him akin to an ocean tide under a full moon.
He felt every twinge, but he was still doing well to maintain his composure, though Wonwoo couldn’t help himself from fearing that the control might leave him in the cold wind of seeing you again.
To look into your eyes could feel quite dissecting and Wonwoo didn’t know if he was yet strong enough to stomach the scrutinization despite how warranted it was. The best he could do was to expect nothing—this wasn’t about gaining closure, or basking in the liberation from righting a wrong—it was about the effort of accepting a profoundly hurtful problem he caused. You were hit front and centre by the shrapnel and you deserved to hear acknowledgement.
At the moment of reaching your floor, he didn't knock straight away.
Wonwoo stood outside the unit for a moment, removing his glasses and pulling at the sleeve to his large black hoodie, massaging away a smudge from the lens. After fitting the frames back to his face, he knocked. Each breath was fluttery. He tried so damn hard to soothe himself because life was unfortunately not a loop of constant aid and permanent reassurance and sometimes there was no other option but to be discomforted. At least he had his own company.
There was no movement from behind the door.
Swallowing very dryly, Wonwoo knocked again.
Nerves twisted in his stomach and turned his complexion pallid, though it was just on the edge of manageable and Wonwoo would have otherwise been quite proud if not for the lock suddenly clicking and the gentle, slow twisting of the doorknob. His fist clenched, the blunt nail on his index finger picking at his scarred cuticle.
Even when he saw you—Her—for the first time in over a month, accompanying the liminal doorway, staring back at him with an expression that he could use an entire pencil detailing, Wonwoo was able to sustain his control. Still, his heart was fucking racing.
Your eyes were wide, glassy, though somewhat veiled by the dip in your brows that began to gradually furl deeper in their recognition of his presence. He felt his stomach drop faster than lightspeed when a frown twitched into your lips, distorting the surprise in your face to anger, while the fingers at your leg curled into a rigid fist. There was a dewiness to your bare cheeks and a sweetened aroma from your skin that suggested you had gotten out from the shower not too long ago.
Wonwoo relaxed his hands.
“Hey.”
Expectantly, you said nothing.
There was a rolling, emotional sea unabashed to your face, continuously morphing between every shade of wrath within the sticky silence. Wonwoo worried you might slam the door shut.
He needed to say something fast.
“I know what you want to do—you want to close me out. I get that. I can see it all over your body. And, believe me, I understand.”
Your hand grabbed the edge of the door. That initial glassiness in your eyes only grew glimmerier; the frown tacked onto your mouth somehow threaded with even more fulgurant rage. He could see that you were going to snuff him into nothing, like grabbing onto a candle wick with your fingers despite the hot wax and flame.
But it couldn’t end so abruptly.
Wonwoo held up his hands, baring his palms in defense.
“Just—okay. Her, I hurt you. Hurt is even too weak of a word to use. I know that. I promise I do. I know what I did… and… and I know that I must have some fucking gal to come here unannounced after everything I said, but I've got an explanation. I swear.”
There was notable uplift in his chest, watching your grip loosen on the door, fall down to the handle, losing the hostility. Wonwoo paused to catch his breath, ensuring his eyes never wavered.
“And… if you decide to listen to me… and you still really don’t want me in your life… I-I can respect that. If all you want is for me to disappear and never bother you again… I can respect that…” he felt sick just voicing it, like he could faint at the prospect. “It might be such a stupid fucking thing for me to say, considering how I treated you, but I genuinely want to do whatever will make you happiest.”
Was it good enough? Feasible, even marginally?
Wonwoo didn’t know. He could only stand in place and study the metamorphosis of your face—from deep-seeded anger, to something pained and unintelligible, and now, contemplation. The inner monologue in your head was probably running on overdrive.
Your fingernails carved into the door.
He kept quiet, waiting, until you quickly wiped something from your cheek and swallowed the lump in your throat.
“… Fine,” you uttered in a raspy, weak tone.
Relief struck him like a breeze during a heatwave.
“Thank yo—”
“But if I say I want you to leave, then you will leave, and you will not say one word on your way out my door or spare me one glance, even if it’s from the corner of your fucking eye.”
Wonwoo was staring straight into your gaze, then shifting to the pointed finger sticking in his face. You were deadly serious.
He nodded.
Finally, however, you stepped aside to let him in.
Wonwoo didn’t know if he should sit or stand. If he should grab a stool at the marbled kitchen island or come to fit himself at the edge of the cream sofa. The interior was pretty much identical to his previous visit, though he realized that a few potted plants you once kept by the elegant floor-length windows were missing—he’d assumed they’d died—it was probably somehow his fault.
“Um, where should we—where do you want to—”
“Kitchen.”
With your arms folded stiff, you walked behind the island.
He stood on the opposite side, knowing it was likely not a coincidence that you opted to put a barrier between yourselves.
It was a foolish idea and he would certainly not extrapolate, but Wonwoo wanted to ask about you. He wanted to know how your work was going at the beauty salon, if you had any more obnoxious dinner parties with your parents—were you still writing? To even look at you from across the hard countertop, captured in the quiet dimness of your kitchen, with your soft and bare face and those cute silk pyjamas, was enough to stop his heart if he allowed it.
Wonwoo pushed up his glasses, sighing.
“Before I explain anything… I just want to say—”
“I don’t care about that,” you interrupted without hesitation, eyes scalding and sharp, “I know you’re sorry. It’s the least you could feel after everything you said to me. I don’t care.”
“R-Right…” he trailed off, sensing the heat from the overhead lights as though they were shining directly into his face. Wonwoo pulled at the sleeves of his hoodie, gulping, “I guess you want to know—"
“Why. I want to know why you did what you did.”
“Why?” He echoed dumbly.
“Yes, why. Pull out an entire script and apologize—I don’t want that. Acknowledge what you did—good for you. I’m glad you can see how fucked up it was, all while I had to cope with your analysis on why I’m such a god-awful person. People say sorry all the time. I know it can be genuine. I just don’t care. Sorry doesn’t help me understand. Sorry doesn’t take away the weeks I lost, tearing myself apart. Sorry doesn’t mean fucking anything to me if all you’re apologizing for is something I already lived and breathed.”
“No, that—yeah, it makes sense...”
His fingers suddenly gripped the edge of the island, knuckles ivory white. Your intensity was more disorienting than a drug, but Wonwoo knew he needed to stay calm. Breathe. Listen.
“Okay, so?” You shrugged. “Tell me, then.”
“Why I did what I did…” Wonwoo exhaled, staring at his reflection in the marble while his mind twitched into complete blankness. “Well... I-I guess I was feeling… there was a lot I was feeling and... fuck.”
At the last second, he scraped everything he was going to say.
Wonwoo then looked up at you, who was so cold and reluctant.
“You know, um… before I met you, I had a girlfriend. I know I've never mentioned it. But her name was Jeanie. I met her at the university, actually. She worked in the Morrison library—like, the big stone building that looks like a castle, almost. Anyway. I met her because I needed to sign out a textbook for this elective I was taking and she helped me find it… Jeanie. Yeah. I don’t know if you ever saw her or—she was really shy. But I felt like she listened well, no matter what you were saying, or what you were talking about. She would give you her full attention. And… I just remember thinking… I could tell you anything, Jeanie. I could tell you I fucking pushed someone in front of a bus and you would wait and listen and hear me out until the end. She would make you feel… normal… human.
But—the thing is—I’m sort of laughing because I’m saying all this now, but… at the time, even despite my love for her, and how much I trusted her… I just… I kept her out. I didn’t think it was a bad thing. She knew I had anxiety, but never knew how bad. I never told her I stopped taking my pills. I never told her my actual feelings about anything… like, despite having this perfect person in my life, I still couldn’t open up. I didn’t think there was much harm to it, either. It would cause tension. Things would get… uncomfortable… but as long as she was there, I was like—I can get away with this. I don’t need to really discuss anything. She will always be here.
And then… one day… she just… wasn’t… uh—ahem—sorry, just—something in my throat, b-but, uh… yeah. She was gone. All her clothes, all her belongings: toothbrush, makeup, clothes, stuffed toys, notebooks, mugs, house decorations. It was all gone. I remember coming home to an apartment that was stripped bare. Like a skeleton. She took every part of herself from it. And all I could do was dumbly stand there and look at the bones.
Her number was disconnected, too. There was no one I could get a hold of that would tell me anything until I got this weird, vague email from her mom. ‘My daughter won’t be seeing you anymore. She’s safe. No need to worry.’ Those words picked themselves into my brain. I would go to sleep seeing them. I would repeat them in my head all night, and wake up with them still chiming. And I thought to myself, with all the weight in my heart… how could she do this? How could she leave and take everything and erase me without a word? It had to be her and it had to be the world just proving my point: being vulnerable, trusting, expressive—it isn’t worth it.
I really, truly believed it. I mean, I held onto it. I always looked at her as the one with the issue, but—fuck—it was me. I was the fucking issue. I… I must have made her feel so unimportant. I probably confused her, destroyed our trust, fucked up her concept of love. Like… I made her feel so trapped… that she felt the best thing to do was disappear, because there was no other way out… I made her feel that way. Me. It was me the entire time. And… I never really processed that until you were six feet away, screaming at me, cursing me up and down in the same living room I came home to that day, all emptied out. I had it out with you, the way I never had with Jeanie…
And the truth is, Her… I kind of… I always sort of knew I had that problem. I lived without ever wanting to acknowledge it. But I never really… I-I basically… I didn’t care about fixing it until I met you.”
Wonwoo tilted his head and stared at your quivering bottom lip, the shininess to your razor-sharp eyes, the manner in which your fingernails were sinching indents upon the skin of your biceps.
He paused, chuckling.
“I know I already told you… but you used to terrify me. I didn’t think we would ever mesh. Whenever I looked at you, I saw someone who knew herself, and I was so severely the opposite. But miraculously, I guess, you ended up being the person I feel the most comfortable with… when I see someone strong like you unravel, it makes me want to unravel, too. The trust I had for you was infinite.”
From across the island, Wonwoo noted how your eyes momentarily drifted down. A lump was sitting square at the base of your throat and it took a very dense swallow for you to even speak.
“… Had?” You whispered with a sniffle, hugging yourself.
Rolling out his shoulders, Wonwoo frowned.
“It was the party, Her. If you remember us talking in the guest bedroom… I told you that story about my brother and I, about my decision to move from Changwon… you’d nearly grappled Bells down to the ground an hour before. You apologized to me because you thought it ruined my night, but I promised you that it was fine, that I would always be here for you. And then we split ways. And you… you were… well, there’s really no clean way to say it but—”
“I had sex with Mingyu.”
“Uh, well… yeah.”
You shook your head. “He’s my boyfriend, Wonwoo.”
“I know, I know. It makes it sound stupid but—”
“No—wait. You’re pissed at me because I chose to have sex with my boyfriend? Are you—are you hearing yourself?”
“Her, please, listen—”
“I went through all of your bullshit because of that!”
“Can I just—”
“Are you fucking kidding me?!”
“It was because I liked you!”
Wonwoo’s heart was thumping almost audibly against his chest while his veins soared with adrenaline. Your fists were sitting, balled, on the kitchen island, though they began to unfurl as the weight cupping his confession—which was a mild version of what he truly meant to say—hung in the air like the plumes from a wildfire.
“I liked you, a lot," he admitted, watching your eyes slim with confusion, "and I’m sorry if that ruins us even more… but it’s true.”
“Wha—what—no. What do you mean you liked me? You liked me as in what? You liked me in a crushy silly way that’s just for fun, o-or you liked me in a serious way, that’s like, you want to… you want…”
Your mouth hung open, shoulders hunching.
His teeth gritted. “I thought I could… I wanted to…”
“Please just spit it out.”
“I wanted to be with you. I wanted to be your boyfriend.”
Flares of heat melted slow across his face. Wonwoo could feel his temperature climatically rising. Still, it wasn’t the entire truth. His likeness wasn’t just that—it was a fully blossomed and unshakeable love. Though, he figured it might be too much, too suddenly.
“O-Oh…” you stuttered, “… and, you thought that…”
“Maybe you felt the way I did. Not that I’m going to ask if you did or didn’t. I mean, this was over a month ago. I’ve had lots of time to myself. I’ve been thinking plenty… the point is, I let those feelings affect my clarity and that’s why I felt so hurt. I felt like I was so open and candour just to kinda have it… thrown back in my face. But it just seems like every relationship I have, I sabotage it somehow… I didn’t go about us in the right way—not at all. It blew up into something terrible. I wish every day that I would have handled it differently. But I didn’t. I kept my mouth shut when I should have just talked to you.”
“Oh… god, Wonwoo.”
“I-I don’t know. It was late, and I was high—you were off a line of coke for fuck’s sake—I just—in that moment, didn’t it feel… like we were something? More than friends? Maybe you don’t remember everything. Some of it’s a blur, even to me. Like some fever dream.”
“No… I do remember some of it. I remember the spare bedroom. I remember how fucking comfortable that bed was. You were there… you were… helping me… and we... I know at some point we were lying down together but I don’t remember what I was thinking or everything I said… it’s just—it’s a lot… too much, almost.”
A groan reverberated from within your deepest cavity and he could only watch through the warm kitchen light as you leaned forward into your hands, your body slumped against the countertop and radiating with agony. Wonwoo didn’t know what to make of the spectacle, though he chose to let you swim in whatever sentiment was swallowing you whole, your head beginning to shake back and forth.
“Wonwoo… listen… I get that—I get what you’re saying, okay? I get that you have this fucking problem with vulnerability, and trust, and the—the, um—the self-sabotaging. I know. I have that, too. And I can understand that it was possible to misinterpret us…”
That word was like a decommissioning punch to his gut—misinterpret—as though it was merely wishful, ditzy thinking and it was him and him alone living inside the delusion despite the fact you were snuggling up against him. However, Wonwoo bit his tongue and simply listened. He didn’t need his bruised heart getting in the way.
“But that night was just—it was irresponsible, okay? On both our parts. I have a boyfriend who I very much l-like, and… and we’re just—you and I, I mean—we’re good at being friends. And you said it yourself that you’ve had time to think and get past it, so…”
“… Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
Wonwoo didn’t need his love to be reciprocated nor did he want to know if you actually harboured any feelings toward him back then. All he desired was for you to get what you had plainly wanted—the why. Perhaps it was unsatisfactory, lacklustre, or maybe it was beyond ridiculous and too inconceivable for words.
He was grateful that he’d even made it this far.
With a heavy, laboured sigh, you managed to push yourself from the marbled counter. A hand then propped onto your hip.
Your nails clicked once against the island.
“So… that’s it, huh?” There was a nasally tone to your voice.
Biting his lip, Wonwoo adjusted his glasses, nodding. “Mmhm.”
Your head tilted straight back, like you were attempting to stop a runny trail of tears from escaping down your cheeks. You suckled in a breath, pressed your lips together firmly.
And then, abruptly, you laughed, pinching at your nose while your eyes squeezed shut. It was an exhausted, humourless laugh.
“Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck.”
He didn’t exactly know what it was you were cursing, whether it be the realization of what the fight actually meant, or a reaction to his timid, but expired, confession. It could be that the information was too daunting and you were left with no instinct of how to manage it. Wonwoo chewed down on his tongue, keeping silent.
When your eyes opened again, they fell toward the fridge.
“Um… wasn’t it your birthday? Back in July?” You asked with a wet sniffle, brushing a wrist underneath your nose.
“Yeah… July seventeenth.”
Not bothering to speak, you walked over to the fridge and pulled the door open, pale light emanating from inside as you rifled around, moving containers and cartons and fresh produce. It was then that you revealed a cardboard box. Returning to the counter, you set the box in the very centre, and with trembling hands, you began unsticking the corners in order to reveal the surprise inside—a decent sized cupcake, frosted high with thick, white icing.
You sniffed again, turning to grab something from a utensil drawer, and then another item or two out the cupboard.
“It’s from Terra Cotta—it’s just a red velvet cupcake with cream cheese icing—which I ordered as a dessert when I ate out with Princess the other night. But I was too full to eat it after stuffing my face with pasta, unfortunately. So, I got it packaged up. Stuck it in the fridge. Forgot about its existence until now.”
A butter knife fell onto the island, followed by a lighter and a single pink candle. You sighed, eyes turning waterier by the minute, and Wonwoo felt a twinge in his chest that ached like hell.
“Do you like red velvet cake?”
Wonwoo huffed, shrugging. “Um, I’m not sure. Never had it.”
You picked up the candle. “Want to?”
He smiled. “Sure.”
Rather than keeping the cupcake inside the box, you moved the dessert delicately onto a clean porcelain plate and proceeded to shut the lights off. The orange sunset that painted the streets had bled out all its lurid colour. Wonwoo was just beginning to realize how dark it was in the apartment. You propped the pink candle into the expertly piped cream cheese frosting and ignited the tiny wick. A shivering halo of fire reflected in the marble countertop as the flame wriggled and the wax burnt.
Honestly, he didn’t know what the moment signified—if it was a mere gesture of forgiveness, or just a simple means to release all the tension—Wonwoo had not a clue. He thought he should be looking at the cupcake but Wonwoo was looking at you and the lambent glow flickering across your very upset, still face.
Sniffling again, you picked up the butter knife.
“Okay… hurry up and make a wish, please.”
“Really?” Wonwoo chuckled. “You want me to make a wish?”
“Uh… yes. That’s what people do when it’s their birthday.”
“It’s not my birthday.”
“Well—fuck—the spirit of your birthday, then.”
“You're asking a lot of me, you know. All this pressure.”
“Oh my god—it's just one ditsy little wish. I'm not asking you to write out your will, or solve world hunger. It's one stupid, tiny wish. For the sake of the moment. Hurry up before the wax drips on the icing.”
“I think you can just peel the wax off once it hardens—”
“Fuck! I don’t care, Wonwoo! God! Just—” he watched with a satisfactory smirk as you leaned forward and impatiently blew out the candle for him, “—there! Now, you don’t even get the opportunity to make a wish. Hope it was worth it.”
“So, you made a wish in my place, right?”
“Shut up. I’m cutting you the smaller half.”
“You didn't answer my question, though.”
“You didn't answer my question, though.”
“Hey, I don’t sound like that.”
“No, I didn't make a wish in your place—here.”
“Thank you.”
“… How does it taste?”
“Uh, it’s good. A little firm. The icing is really rich, but I suppose that’s typical of cream cheese stuff. But overall, I like it.”
“I really love red velvet. Especially in cupcake form.”
“Hm. Didn’t know that.”
“I wonder if I could get a dozen ordered for my birthday...”
“We’re celebrating my birthday and you’re already thinking of your own? Can you at least wait until I’m out the fucking door?”
“You said it doesn’t matter!”
“Now, that’s not what I said.”
“Don't act like such a smart ass.”
Wonwoo knew he missed your quippy retorts, but he hadn’t realized he’d missed it this much. It was filling a pitted crater within his chest that had remained empty and stone cold ever since the argument.
As you turned the kitchen light back on, Wonwoo stuffed the rest of the frosted cupcake into his mouth and dusted his hands clean.
He didn’t know what was supposed to happen now.
Stubbornly, Wonwoo didn’t want to leave your apartment. It had been too long since he’d last seen your beautiful face, and half his summer was already wasted to lamenting the relationship he’d ungraciously snipped in half like a fresh garden rose. If you wanted him to leave, then he would oblige, because Wonwoo could never go back on his word to abide by the choices that might make you the happiest. That was what he cared about most, anyway.
From the opposite side of the island, you began to cross your arms again, fingers digging tight into your ribs. Wonwoo could see that the hues of grief and melancholy hadn’t really abandoned your face since his arrival, and the tears that had earlier welled up in your eyes were steadily returning, glinting along your bottom lashes as though they were dew droplets. Feeling his throat turn dry and sensing the air become dampened with your sadness, Wonwoo knew what you were going to ask—he braced himself quick.
“So… um…” you began pulling at the short sleeve of your silk-buttoned top, rolling the fabric between uneasy fingers, “it’s getting a little bit late and I just t-think you should go now, Wonwoo…”
He nodded, pushing at his glasses. “Yeah… of course.”
There was such an evident somberness about the way his feet dragged toward the door. You had walked him over, and now that the space between you was significantly less, Wonwoo had never battled so hard with his self-control to keep himself from touching you—even if it was just a slight, chaste brush of his fingers against yours—the simplicity and feel of your strawberry-scented skin would appease his constant aching. He glanced at you, saw that your arms were still crossed and your eyes trained to muse over the floorboards.
Wonwoo scraped against the cuticle of his thumb.
Does he just… leave?
It felt too abrupt.
He smiled at you, keeping it soft and mindful.
“Thank you for listening to me… I mean it… you didn’t have to but you did anyway and… uh, I don’t know. Just—thank you.”
“Mmhm…”
You were squeezing at your ribs even tighter now, pressing in your fingers so unnaturally deep. In fact, Wonwoo was beginning to feel worried, especially when he noticed the quivering in your frame and the hard bite you were sinking into your lower lip—how there were tears streaking one by one down the slope of your cheeks.
Wonwoo’s hand had been lingering on the doorknob, though it slipped off absentmindedly. He wanted to reach for your shoulder and give it a comfortable, warm massage, but he was still too fearful.
“Her… are you alright?”
After a cautious step closer, Wonwoo paused, attempting to peer at your face despite its pointed direction toward the floor. The question was worthless, he realized. You were crying and choking up.
“Do you… should I go?”
God—what an even more stupid question to ask—the thing he wanted to do least was leave when you were this hurt. But Wonwoo needed to know if it was his presence that was disturbing you.
You shook your head, sniffled up all the wet, runny congestion in your nose. He watched the teeth free from your lip as you gasped.
“I-I don’t know… I’m really, really sad, Wonwoo.”
He thought he might panic in the midst of your crumbling, however, there was too much guilt and heartache inside him.
“I know…” he murmured.
Somehow, it felt so criminal to just stand there and watch you weep, hearing every desperate attempt for a breath as you could only clutch onto yourself harder and let the tears helplessly fall.
Wonwoo swallowed, feeling his throat burn.
“Can I comfort you for a bit?”
You hiccupped, and your face pinched up in complete misery, the response struggling to escape through the large sob you cried out.
“Please.”
Immediately, his hands braced against the edges of your very warm, wet face. The heat was radiating like a summer blacktop, and the tears were quick to pool against his fingers as he did his darndest to softly clean and wipe them from your skin—though, Wonwoo came to accept that it might be futile—and he opted to cup your cheeks for just a brief moment, staring into your damp lashes and puffy eyes.
“Still such a gorgeous girl, even when you’re crying.”
You huffed at him, grasping onto his hoodie and tugging it.
“I need you closer, please.”
Waddling into his arms, your face smushed right against his shoulder. In the dim august dusk that meekly glowed through the windows of your downtown, sumptuous apartment, Wonwoo cradled you, coaxing a hand nice and gentle along your trembling head while his arm kept you secured firm into his body. As wonderful as it felt to hold you in the way he always dreamt of, Wonwoo knew that those tears wrinkling his clothes were mostly driven by him.
Your arms dug into his chest. It seemed like you wanted to burrow impossibly closer, into his ribs if you could, but the desire frustratingly couldn’t be fulfilled. To compensate, Wonwoo attempted to squeeze you even more, though he was somewhat afraid of cracking you in half. Maybe that’s what you were craving.
But he liked you very much alive.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair, still damp from the shower and rife with the scent of fragrant blossoms, “I know you don’t want me to apologize, but I have to. Everything I said to you… it was just stupid, pent-up rage from my own shortcomings… so much was building inside me and I made such a dumb fucking mistake—taking our situation and using it as a target—it was all bullshit..." inhaling a breath, Wonwoo sighed. "I shouldn’t have let you walk out that door… but I don’t think you would have wanted to listen, anyway... you probably would have just told me again to go fuck myself… you know, that was actually the first time I’ve ever been told that?”
Your cheek nuzzled against his shoulder. The breath you proceeded to cough out made it sound like you were terribly ill.
“T-That’s hard to believe…”
Wonwoo smiled, smoothing a hand down your back. “You think so?”
Threading your fingers deeper into his hoodie, you nodded.
Stopping to contemplate, Wonwoo ended up agreeing, “hm… yeah... you’re right. There were probably a lot of times in my life where I deserved to hear that. But you’re the first, anyway.”
“Y-You… you deserve to hear it again… I mean, what were you thinking, Wonwoo?” Raising your head from his shoulder and sucking in a much-needed breath, you rubbed at the glisten iridescent to your face. “I didn’t know… I was just trying to t-tal-talk to you…”
Wonwoo unstuck some small, matted hairs from your forehead, guiding them away with the daintiest movements.
“I know you were...” he answered, keeping his voice quiet.
“And then, in the car… I-I just sat there and cried for so long that the sky got dark. I didn’t know what to do—like, I thought I might call Mingyu but he was at work a-and I had no idea what I would even say to him... and then, I called Princess. And she said I could come over and I legit couldn’t get one fucking word out to her.”
Meanwhile focusing on your choked, heavy sentiments, Wonwoo continued to clean the tears from your face. A warm hand had grabbed onto his wrist, not stopping him—just gently holding—as though you needed the contact to ground yourself, even a little bit.
“The shitty part was… even when I was at my angriest… I still couldn’t get myself to hate you. But I wanted it so bad, Wonwoo. I stayed up almost every night, trying to convince myself that you were the worst person I ever met, a-and that I would be better off without you—that you were a poison to me and everything about you is just a ruse to hurt people. No matter what I told myself, nothing would ever work… because I would—I-I don’t fucking know—I would think about how fucking good you make me feel inside. H-How happy I am when I’m with you. You listen to me, a-and you care about my thoughts and my interests and you’re just—you—you fucking live inside me somehow and I want you out so bad but there’s nothing I can do.”
Wonwoo had removed his hands from your face.
They slid down to your hips. He squeezed them tight, digging his thumbs into your flesh and bone over the silken shorts.
“You live inside me, too.”
Rubbing off your nose, you shook your head angrily.
“It can’t be like that.”
His throat twisted up.
“Why?”
“B-Because it—it can’t. You know I have Mingyu…”
“I only think about you. It’s always you. I don’t want it to change.” Wonwoo pleaded, hanging onto every word—trying to search for your eyes despite the adamant refusal to meet his gaze.
“But I just—I can’t do it.”
“Why?”
“Because!” You pushed at his broad chest, forcing him away as the anguished, grief-stricken shout reverberated between the high ceilings. Gripping at your head, you started to cry again. “I-I’m still so fucking angry at you, Wonwoo. I hate holding onto it and I hate that it’s been over a month and I’m still processing everything, but I can’t just move on from those feelings! I have to see it through. ”
The air was ice cold against him.
He just wanted your perfect body back in his arms.
“O-Okay… okay. I get it.”
“You do? Because I can’t keep reliving this. I just can’t.”
Wonwoo sighed, curling his fingers in and out.
“No, I—I hear you. I promise.”
You still needed time. You weren’t ready to forgive him. That was okay, and he wasn’t the least bit vexated by it. If he had to wait an entire year, then he would wait. Nothing would shake him from you.
Slapping a palm against your cheek, you shoved away the further tears which were seeming to become an annoyance. Wonwoo wanted desperately to be the one to wipe your pretty face and kiss away the salty taste of your sadness, but he knew not to push his luck.
Beyond the windowpanes, the sky was nearly pitch black, pinpricked by all the distant lights from the city buildings.
“I’ll go now, okay?” Wonwoo murmured.
Folding your arms, you sniffled a little, nodding.
“Okay...”
He wanted to say goodnight to you, but then he thought of that rule you had proclaimed during your late-night phone conversation many moons ago—you had to say it first as courtesy.
Except, you were silent.
Nonetheless, Wonwoo had liked to think it was sitting right on the tip of your tongue, just as it was sitting on his.
—SEPTEMBER 8TH.
When he thought back on his summer, Wonwoo couldn’t believe the quickness with which it had flown by, especially considering how nauseously slow some parts moved while he existed, trapped, inside them. Still, it was probably Wonwoo’s most eventful summer since his move from Korea, in more ways than one. Now, it was back to university for his final year as a maths student, and Wonwoo actually couldn’t be happier for the introduction of routine and the opportunity to test all the inner workings he’d accomplished.
Just last week, Vernon had thrown together a small party in the backyard of his friend’s rental home. He was housesitting, and though Wonwoo wasn’t sure why the friend in question would pick a promiscuous drug dealer for hospitality upkeep, the party was apparently approved and Wonwoo had made the effort to attend.
It gave him the chance to reunite with Seungcheol and Seokmin who he’d unintentionally given the cold shoulder. He was just thankful they were relaxed about everything. The night was spent swapping stories from their summer by the makeshift firepit, drinking cold beers, and watching the fireflies twinkle in the dry backyard brush. Vernon had spent all his time sweet-talking some new girl he’d invited from the club, and when they disappeared inside for about half an hour, Wonwoo prayed his bladder could hold out.
Wonwoo had also invited Sierra.
He figured she was just too warm and amicable and he knew she would get along seamlessly with everyone there.
Since they last spoke downstairs in the pottery shop during late July, Sierra had gotten herself a girlfriend—a patron of the Honeymoon who worked up the courage to ask Sierra out after admiring her bartending skills, as he’d heard it—and Wonwoo was more than happy to extend the invite. Seungcheol had predictably brought along Princess, though Wonwoo hadn’t been too worried. They seemed to be on good terms despite the chip in the relationship.
If you had been in town at the time, Wonwoo would have invited you, too. But you weren’t, instead accompanying your mother on a three-day venture outside the city for some publisher’s trip.
But he kept you in mind the entire night. He saw you in the wide, bright moon sitting squarely above the crackling fire, and he felt you in the colder breezes that whispered the beginnings of a soft, fresh autumn. You were everywhere inside him, just like his blood.
Wonwoo had liked to think he’d done it right. All those conversations he shared with you over the phone since the reunion at your apartment seemed promising—even when they flared and ached like a broken bone—Wonwoo had just wanted to hear your voice and know your heart. Though, the conclusion had dipped him in a strange, confusing predicament he still struggled to reason.
“I think we work best as friends… we’ll always be friends.”
The moment was followed by the most intense silence, and then Wonwoo had shifted the phone against his ear, spreading on an audible smile that couldn’t have looked any faker in person.
“Yeah… I see that, too.”
But he didn’t.
He was still in love with you.
And now Wonwoo didn’t know what to do.
You had come to an agreement that he should no longer help you with the book as it had been a point of contention since the start. Plus, you were now confident enough in your skills to finish it.
Surprisingly, Wonwoo was okay with that.
Nonetheless, he did offer his help if you ever needed it.
In fact, as Wonwoo sat in the small auditorium for his newest elective—the continuation to last year’s creative writing—he was scrolling through an old document you had sent him months ago, containing a litany of the same messily written paragraph, just rehashed as you attempted to find the best wording for it. Wonwoo couldn’t help but smile against the palm squishing at his chin.
Your mind always did seem to work in twelve different ways.
Since he’d shown up early to the lecture, Wonwoo was able to pick a good seat in the middle. He recognized a few faces from last year as more students began to trickle in. Wonwoo kept his bookbag on the chair to his right because he liked the extra space, though he began fearing he might have to move it when the lecture hall filled to a degree past his expectations. Since when did all these people take the class last year? Was it because of the new professor? He spun a pen between his fingers, observing everyone rather judgementally.
“Hey—are you saving a seat for your non-existent friend, or are you leaving your bag here to make sure no one else would sit beside you? Not that anyone would want to with the way you’re begrudgingly staring down every single person who walks in here.”
Wonwoo grinned, the pen stilling into his hand.
He knew your attitude like the ducks on his aunt’s shower curtain.
“If it’s such a big deal to you, you can move it.”
“Oh, can I? Do I get the pleasure of moving your bookbag, Wonwoo? Are you really that kind as to save such a life-changing, personal, and intimate experience, just for me?”
Smirking up at you, Wonwoo dropped his bag onto the floor.
He was promptly greeted by a very shiny smile.
“That’s what I thought,” you said matter-of-factly, setting your iconic cream purse onto your lap after sliding into the chair.
“So,” Wonwoo huffed, leaning back and casting you a curious glance, “you didn’t tell me you were going to take creative writing.”
Pulling out some chapstick, you laughed. “Uh—you didn’t tell me, either,” the comment was wry and muttered through the obstacle of moisturizing your lips.
Scratching his temple, Wonwoo chuckled, “fair.”
“Gosh, there’s so many people in here. Way more than I was expecting. I mean, who even are these goddamn people? I hardly recognize any of them—oh my gosh, do you think it’s because of the new professor? I looked her up, you know. She’s published three books—they’ve all got crazy good accolades—and one of them was even made into a movie! That has to be why. Should I try to get face time with her after class? No—actually, I won’t. Then I look totally desperate. I’ll play it cool. I’ll wait until, like, three classes from now.”
“Well, you’re never short of making an impression.”
“Meaning what?”
“Fuck,” Wonwoo laughed, “what the fuck do you think it means? It’s not like I’m talking in morse code. You make an impression.”
You smacked a hand down on his knee. “Well, how do I know if you mean good or bad! And don't curse at me like that.”
“Okay, okay. You're right. I'm sorry.”
“Are you?”
“Yes,” he replied, softening his voice, “I am very extremely sorry.”
That little smile you gave him was enchanting.
Wonwoo cleared his throat. “And I meant good, obviously.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. If you say anything to her, she’ll love you.”
“That’s a bit extreme.”
“She’ll keep you reasonably in her thoughts?”
“Hm. Yes. I like that better,” you agreed.
While you busied yourself with removing the laptop from your purse and taking an extra minute to inspect your face with a small, compact mirror, Wonwoo glanced around the room again. A few people standing by the professor’s podium at the front were looking at you, their mouths moving in conversation, though Wonwoo could hear none of it from the general chatter. He supposed you were used to getting those dissecting, curious, maybe even sometimes hurtful stares. There was always a light shining on you, wanted or not.
As Wonwoo pulled open the class syllabus on his laptop, he felt a tap against his shoulder. Slightly turning his head, he spotted someone shuffling by in the cramped row behind him, waving.
“Hey, Wonwoo,” the stranger said quickly in passing.
Squinting at him through his glasses, Wonwoo nodded. “Uh, hey.”
You quirked an eyebrow. “Who was that?”
He shrugged. “No idea. Someone from last year, I guess.”
“I see. Mr. Popular. Taking names and breaking hearts.”
Wonwoo laughed, shaking his head. “The opposite, actually.”
You giggled so lightly at his response, and for a very slow moment, Wonwoo saw and felt the heat of your eyes stilling in focus upon his face. He squirmed somewhat in his seat, fingers picking at the rough, dark blue material upholstered over the chair’s arm. But then you resumed staring back at yourself in the compact mirror while applying another layer of lip balm, and Wonwoo had to subtly breathe out all the butterflies that fluttered up from his stomach.
With a satisfying snap, you’d shut the mirror, stuffing it back into the purse that was sitting atop his bag on the floor. He wanted to ask you how the book was coming along, how much progress you had made since he last proofread anything, if you were still engaging in those messily long sentences or had you since learned to clean them up.
But it was hard for Wonwoo to ask.
He studied the nervous hands in his lap.
“So… are you free after class?”
You tilted your head in thought. “Uh, I think so? This is my only class today, actually. No more SSA. I’m beyond happy. No one else seemed to take it well but me. I don’t care, though.”
“No, you made the right choice.”
“So, why do you ask?” Angling your body toward him, you smiled, and Wonwoo felt this pool of warmth expand in his chest.
“Do you want to stop at the café on Sunnyside?”
“Maybe. Is it good? I’ve never actually ate there.”
“I think it’s good,” he said, bouncing his knee. “I used to sit in there all the time. I don’t as much anymore, but it’s a cute place to visit. About a ten-minute walk from here. Plus, it’s nice outside.”
You nodded. “I’ll think it over.”
Knowing that class was starting soon, Wonwoo moved the phone sitting on the edge of his tabletop into his back pocket.
“Actually, can I ask you something?”
He stiffened in his seat, hardly managing a nod. That always seemed to be a weighted question, especially in your hands, and the fact that you were biting the skin of your bottom lip only stirred forth more worry. Wonwoo folded his arms and nodded, feeling his heart beat.
“Well, it’s just—there’s no exact date yet, okay? But sometime in very late September my family is having another dinner party.”
Wonwoo’s fingers dug into his arms. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah…” you trailed off, continuing to bite your lip, “and, I basically—I-I’ve kind of been blabbing to my mom and stuff. You’ve definitely come up in some conversations. She made a comment that I could invite you and even though I disagree with her on, like, millions of things, I thought it might be a good idea…” your eyes flashed at him doubtfully. “So, like, I’m not gonna force you or anything. I’ve ranted to you about these dinner parties before so I’m sure you know how awful they can be. But… I don’t know… I mean, you don’t even have to stay the entire time. You could just pop by, o-or, or something like that. I just… I think seeing you before will help calm me down.”
Out of everything you could have asked, Wonwoo was least expecting the dinner party question. It seemed to have a very routine structure and Wonwoo couldn’t help but think that his presence there might throw everything off-kilter and the last—the very fucking last—thing he wanted was for your parents to absolutely loathe him. You always complained about them. Even with Mingyu and Seokmin there to accompany you, it seemed never to be enough. However, Wonwoo would hate to leave you hanging so dryly out in the open.
Even if he dreaded it, you mattered more to him than any awkward or nervous sentiments he harboured about the situation.
“Uh… okay. Yeah. I can go.”
You straightened up like a hair standing on end. “Really?!”
He nodded, pushing up his glasses. “Yeah.”
“Oh my gosh! You’re the best!”
Leaning over the chair rest, you bracketed your arms around Wonwoo’s neck, squeezing him into a quick hug that left his heart racing. Your sweet smell lingered in his nose as you slipped away.
“That’s such a relief… and—yes—for as much as I complain about it, I promise I’ll do my absolute best to keep everything on the rails. I’ll get you out of anything awkward or uncomfortable. And if you feel like it’s too much, I’ll be right there. I promise.”
Wonwoo smiled bashfully, shaking his head.
“Don’t put so much pressure on yourself. I can manage a few shit conversations and uncomfortable silences. I’ve got my own problematic parents. I appreciate the thought, though. Means a lot.”
It would be another matter to anxiously dwell over until it actually happened, but Wonwoo was okay with it knowing how receptive you had become to his mood. More than anything, he didn’t know how to deal with Mingyu. The party had been decent. There were multiple people to bounce off and uplift the weight, substances to mellow the tension and distract the mind. But this felt very different. This would be more intimate. Less room for error in the form of lasting, arduous glances and short but gentle touches.
All he hoped for is that it might end better than the party.
—SEPTEMBER 29TH.
“So, I’ll come pick you up, okay? Just gotta text me.”
“… Yeah, that works. Okay.”
“Take a breath, Glasses. If anyone’s got this, it’s you, alright? No negative Nina shit. You’re lookin’ gorgeous, even more than me.”
“It’s Nancy.”
“What?”
“It’s—never mind.”
“Who’s Nancy?”
“I said never mind.”
“Okay, okay. Jeez… make sure you drop the attitude when you get in there. It’s not very cute of you, yeah?”
Wonwoo felt Vernon’s hand grip onto his shoulder, bestowing him a confident shake that somehow only served to reveal how jellied and weak he’d become. But Wonwoo also knew he couldn’t sit inside the mint-scented interior of his friend’s vanilla Camry the entire night, waiting for some lightning bolt to strike him with the energy he blatantly needed. Consequently, his attitude had gotten a bit snappy.
Vernon was right, though. Wonwoo had to find it within himself to relax, take a breath, and realize the time would fly once he was past the initial haze. Besides, you were there. That was all he really cared about. It made the most impossible things possible.
Looking down at the sleek, unwrinkled material of his black suit jacket, Wonwoo gave it a final and deciding tug. He then reached for the gift bag sitting by his feet. Inhaling, his lungs filled deep with air and Wonwoo was clicking his fist against Vernon’s.
“You’ve got this, playboy.”
“See you on the other side, I guess.”
Exiting the vehicle, Wonwoo spared one last hopeful glance at his face-studded friend before slamming the door shut, now caught outside underneath the moon’s shimmer. Late nights in September always seemed to be somewhat dewy and cold, with golden, ruby, and amber leaves slicked against the streets like flowers pressed into paper. Wonwoo shivered, smelling the earthiness in the atmosphere.
After tightening his fingers around the straps of the gift bag, he began making his way up the smoothly paved driveway, toward the welcoming and aglow ambiance that beamed from your family house.
He grabbed the rung at the door, slamming it a few times.
The anxious breath slowly flowed from his mouth as Wonwoo’s mind raced with who would be the one to answer. Feeling his circled glasses slip, Wonwoo pushed them back up using his finger. At the same time, the front door swung open, and in the clarity, relief washed over him like the caress of that autumn wind.
“Fuck! You’re here!”
Before Wonwoo could get a word out, your arms were already thrown around his neck. The hug was fleeting. As quickly as your body was pressed flush against his, it was gone a second later.
“Uh, yeah. Just got dropped off.”
“Oh my gosh. Come in, come in,” you chirped like an excited bird, pulling at his elbow, “I’m legit so happy you’re here. Don’t worry about taking off your shoes. I know I’m barefoot at the moment but I’ve been so freaking scatterbrained that I haven’t even picked out a pair of heels yet. You look amazing. I’ve never seen you dressed up!”
His face began to burn at the compliment.
“I don’t attend many things that require fancy clothes.”
“Well, there’s a first for everything.”
Smiling, Wonwoo realized that he hadn’t really marvelled your dress, but there was something awfully familiar about it—the shiny olive-green colour, the elegant, revealing slit at the right thigh, the thin yet simple straps draped along the open, lowcut back—he then remembered it was the final dress you had tried on from that expensive boutique in the mall. Somehow, the material looked even more stunning on you now than it did before.
His face grew warmer, sizzling almost.
“That dress has always looked perfect on you.”
There was so much more he could spew in the moment, some cloying, sweet thoughts and some very impure ones, too. But Wonwoo wasn’t trying to cross boundaries and he had to respect your wishes of staying as friends, even if it tore him up inside beyond words.
Fiddling with your fingers, you gave him a soft smile. “I’m glad you recognized it.”
The hallway suddenly got very quiet. You were both just standing there, staring at each other, biting lips and scratching skin.
“So, um, I guess I can show you arou—”
“Oh, there they are! Honey, they’re out here!”
Wonwoo’s tender gaze had suddenly snapped toward a woman barging out from an illuminated doorway, a wine glass poised in her hand while the largest, most bedazzled necklace he had ever seen weighed down to her chest. Weathered heels beat the floorboards, echoing between the walls as she stalked toward him.
“You must be Wonwoo!”
Her hand was gripping onto his wrist and Wonwoo could only prompt a weak smile that was indicative of his racing, feeble heart.
“Yeah, correct. Pleased to finally meet you.”
“Oh, charmer. Pleasure’s all mine, sunshine. Okay, but—let me get a good look at you. Don’t feel like you have to stand by the doorway, all polite-like. Come a bit more into the light, over here.”
“Mom, don’t pull him,” you warned between clenched teeth.
“Ah, it’s alright, it’s alright. Don’t fret so much. Sheesh.”
Standing beneath the warm and yellow glow from the hallway chandelier, there was notable heaviness in Wonwoo’s chest as your mother’s dilated, intensive gaze wracked along his every feature, as though she were the reading the fine print to one of her catalogues.
“You’re certainly gorgeous,” she complimented, “and that voice! So soothing. How do you not have a lovely lady on your arm?”
Wonwoo’s eyes skipped to you in complete and utter panic.
Grabbing onto her shoulder, you gently guided her away.
“Mom, come on. You’re smothering him, alright? Remember the thing with Mingyu? I told you not to do that anymore. He just got here and I want him to actually enjoy himself. Don’t be so… pouncey.”
“Okay. I got it,” the mom said, lifting her hand and wine glass in submission, seeming serious for no less a few seconds. “The princess of the house, FYI. She always gets what she wants.”
You knocked her touch away as she wriggled your chin, very poorly veiling your annoyance through a grumble, “it’s not like that.”
“Didn’t I call in your father? What’s taking so long?”
“I don’t know. He’s probably hiding in his office.”
“Is that where he is? Really? When I asked him to set the table? Jeez. You spend all day cooking a meal, chopping and dicing and braising and frying, and the man just can’t be bothered to put out some knives and forks. This is why I opened the wine early, y’know.”
Your arms folded, and you appeared so much smaller.
“Seokmin set the table already.”
“Oh! What—he—he did? I didn't even notice!”
“Yes, like an hour ago.”
“Oh my gosh! That boy’s an angel. Raised so well, wasn’t he? You know Seokmin, right, Wonwoo? You’re all friends?”
Awkwardly shifting in his place, Wonwoo nodded. He couldn’t help but wonder where Seokmin or Mingyu were. There was dulled music echoing softly from a distant room in the house. Down the hallway corridor, it seemed to open up into a big living space.
Suddenly, your mom began to wiggle her finger at the bag he was holding limp in his hand, and for a moment, Wonwoo had even forgot it existed. She sipped from her gradually disappearing wine again, her words sounding muffled as they fogged up the glass.
“Is that a gift I spot in your hand, dear?”
“Oh, yeah,” he answered.
Flattening a palm over the intricate jewel necklace glittering down her chest, your mother fawned adoringly, and Wonwoo’s stomach immediately dropped knowing it wasn’t her gift at all.
“Gosh! You shouldn’t’ve!”
“Uh, a-actually, it’s not—it was—I got this for your daughter.”
His gut twisted, watching the excitement and gleam drain from your mother’s face, her smile wiped away like an eraser to a penciled drawing. At least you had brightened up, though it wasn’t without caution, and Wonwoo wasn’t entirely sure what to say.
Straightening her spine, a grin then twitched unnaturally to her mouth. She was directly back into the wine for another drink.
“Well, that’s certainly thoughtful.” Wiping off her lips, she unnervingly held Wonwoo’s gaze for a brief moment, her eyes harder than diamonds. She then turned toward you, proceeding to gesture in a swirling motion with her finger at your face. “Sweetheart, if you don’t mind, could you take a few minutes to just fix your makeup?”
Your expression faltered, shoulders sagging.
“My makeup? What’s wrong with it?”
“Well, the lashes are lifting a bit. It’s not too noticeable in this dusky hallway but out in the proper light, everyone will be able to tell. And I wouldn’t use that shade of lipstick. Remember the tip I gave you? When we take photos that colour is not going to show well.”
“I do remember, yes. But I thought it could match with—”
“No but’s. These dinners are important for us, alright? Go fix.”
Wonwoo held his breath. In all his time spent getting to know you—your likes and dislikes, your pet peeves and oddly specific rules about the way things should work—the one cardinal sin was to never interrupt you. Even when he was fighting tooth and nail against you in his apartment, aching with hurt and bitterness, he didn’t cut you off once to get his word over yours. He doubted Mingyu had ever done it, and he was positive Seokmin hadn’t, either. To actually witness it felt somewhat like a crime requiring swift punishment.
Though, for all that Wonwoo was expecting in response to the rage that had just rippled across your face, there was nothing.
Because you’d choked it down like foul cough syrup.
He watched the fist unclench at your side.
“Okay,” you stated in surprising simplicity, “I’ll go fix it,” still with a sprinkle of attitude that your mother opted to ignore as she announced her trip into the kitchen to check the food.
The second she was obscured from view, a noticeable glisten of tears and exhaustion glimmered in your eyes, though you sucked all the emotions back with a deep, deep breath.
“Do you want to come with me, upstairs for a second?” You asked in a tight, shaky voice. “Unless you want to find Seokmin.”
Wonwoo shook his head. “No, I’ll see him later. Of course I’ll come with you,” he answered, smiling at you with all his tenderness.
He proceeded to follow you up a dimly lit staircase draped in a chocolate brown rug. The house looked quite small from the outside, hidden almost, by the inky night, but as Wonwoo accompanied you at the robust, wooden dresser kept against the corridor wall, he realized just how long the house actually was.
Your lower back pressed against the dresser, hands gripping the edges and fingers scraping the underside of the chestnut.
Wonwoo left the gift bag sitting next to an amorphous, black metallic sculpture that he couldn’t even begin to understand, then dusting off his palms and watching you shake your head.
“I mean, you’ve only been here for five minutes, and I’m already breaking out my seams,” you laughed, dabbing at a tear travelling too far down your cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for it to be like this so soon and I’m not gonna force you to stay.”
“Stop saying that,” Wonwoo urged, tucking his hands into his pockets, “I told you I would come. I’m not going to abandon you.”
You paused, biting the swollen skin of your bottom lip.
“… Okay.” Looking down at the ground, you wiped your damp face again before hugging yourself. “She always does this… she always has something to point out. Nothing can ever be perfect for her. I’ve spent, like, all day, preparing myself, because that’s what she wants, and it’s still not enough. I don’t get it. I feel—” you sucked in a needy breath, pinching at your nose, “—I feel like I’m just some stupid doll she’s trying to perfect, but I never came perfect in the first place, so it’s all a big waste, and somehow, it’s my fault… I know I’m unloading and I’m sorry for that, too. This day has just been—I hate it. I hate these dinners. I fucking hate everything about them. I want to bang my head against the wall.”
Wonwoo smiled at you.
He untucked a hand from his pocket and reached for the clenched fist at your hip, spreading apart your fingers into his.
“Don’t worry about that. I’m listening, okay?”
Though your eyes were misty with tears and tiredness, you managed to return a frail little grin that was deeply sincere. Your hand tightened in his for a moment, and then you were stepping into him like he was a fresh blanket straight from the laundry. Fingers bunched up his suit jacket and your face was warm against his neck.
“I think it’ll be a little better tonight,” you whispered. “You’re the only one here who doesn’t make me feel like I’m going insane.”
Wonwoo passed up and down your bare back with his hand, admiring the softness to your pampered skin and the luscious scent of your hair, though he knew you had probably hated every moment trapped in the hot shower, exfoliating and shaving and scrubbing your body clean. He felt you squeeze onto him harder.
“Can I see what your gift is?”
“Oh, yeah…” he muttered, pulling apart from your heat, “it’s kind of a two-in-one thing. It’ll make sense once I explain.”
“That seems exciting,” you answered, returning to your lean against the chestnut dresser, folding your arms and smiling.
“So, um—if you remember the poker game—I owed you a pretty big lump of cash,” Wonwoo said, reaching inside the bag to grab a smooth, matte box, “and then there was the day at the museum, of course. Running home in the rain. You lost a shoe.”
“Oh my gosh, yeah…” you giggled fondly at the memory.
“I was at the mall—and, yes, I know. Why would I be at the mall when I hate the place? But I was getting my laptop fixed at that tech store on the third floor, and I also needed wires for my—okay. Never mind the rambling. Fuck, I’m turning into you now. Anyway, I walked past that one store you love and get pretty much all your clothes from. They had these heels in the window. The white ones, which you said to me are actually not white, but a very specific shade of ivory that I couldn’t see and still fail to see, to be honest. And they had that little bit of gold in the straps… but the point is—I got them for you.”
You glitched for a second, and it wasn’t until Wonwoo was basically pushing the box into your chest that you seemed to realize.
“Wait… you actually went to Rosette?”
He nodded matter-of-factly. “Yes.”
“Are you fucking serious?” Immediately, you flipped the box open and began flicking away the neatly trimmed cover of glittered tissue paper. “You got me the Gold Crystal Rope-Strapped and Ivory Ankle four-inch from Mirabella? Wonwoo! I-I was just talking when I saw them in the mall! I mean, you didn't have to actually get them!”
“I know,” Wonwoo answered, helping you pick the heels out from their imprints, “you’re always just talking, though.”
“Unnecessary.”
“To you.”
He was thankful you were too enraptured by the shoes to bother retaliating. Under regular circumstances, Wonwoo wouldn’t ever have been able to make such an expensive decision, but he still had some leftovers from winning the other poker matches at the party, in addition to a work bonus, and he knew that he still needed to repay you those favours even if they weren’t being held against him.
“They’re so freaking gorgeous,” you fawned, inspecting each heel like a jeweller would to their collection, “I can’t tell if I want to hit you or jump on you in happiness. I love them so much.”
“Well, I’m glad.”
“Oh my gosh, can you help me put them on? Pretty please?”
“Uh—yeah, ‘course.”
You gripped the edges of the dresser, slightly sitting on the surface as Wonwoo squatted down to your bare feet. He collected the first ivory heel and loosened the anklet buckle, proceeding to help slide the shoe on until it was fit perfectly. As he busied himself with loosening the buckle to the other heel, Wonwoo felt the ghost of your fingertips brush through his hair. In a spilt second, he froze, staring up at you, who was grinning back in utmost beauty.
“Just fixing your hair a little,” you stated innocently.
Wonwoo readjusted his glasses, nodding. “O-Okay.”
The action hadn’t felt that innocent, and as Wonwoo swallowed tight and continued sliding your ankle through the heel, he was overwhelmed with the most blaring, vivid, heart-hammering thoughts of smoothing his hands along each your soft thighs, pinning up the slippery silk to your olive-green dress, tugging aside your thin panties, burying his face and tongue so hot and heavy into your—
“Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes!”
“Fuck,” you groaned, lolling your head back while Wonwoo finished settling the heel onto your foot, “just in case you didn’t connect the dots, that means we need to get downstairs.”
He returned to height, straightening out the sleeves to his suit jacket. For some reason, there was such an intense disappointment burning in his chest, as though his carnal thoughts were not just thoughts but an actual intent to pleasure you—which was completely ludacris given your friendship and the fact your boyfriend was probably downstairs—that had now been ripped away from him by the shrill pitch of your mother’s beckoning voice.
“Should I take the box—”
“It doesn’t matter.”
You grabbed onto his hand, tugging him toward the staircase.
“C’mon. Let’s get this shit over with.”
And Wonwoo followed, though he couldn’t help but note how you carefully dropped his hand upon rounding the corner into the kitchen, where Seokmin and Mingyu were standing about.
“Hey!” Seokmin exclaimed, pointing toward him. “Wonwoo!”
Expectantly, Seokmin looked like he belonged in a suit. That dark cherry red colour was rather fitting and only served to amplify the glow of his indestructible enthusiasm. Wonwoo awkwardly sauntered over to them, playing with the threads in his pockets.
Mingyu’s suit was more charcoal in tone, with his hair expertly gelled and combed. He mirrored a suave movie star as he leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping from his partly-filled wine glass.
“Uh, hey guys.”
You were hovering at the stove alongside your mother, talking in a hushed manner, while she stirred a large and bubbling pot of aromatic sauce, smelling like rosemary and perhaps cooked off vodka or some other alcohol. There was food everywhere—warm bread plates and fresh salad bowls and artistically painted casserole dishes covered by tinfoil. A window had been cracked open to help alleviate the heat swarming the kitchen, which Wonwoo could feel a little too uncomfortably in the air.
Seokmin grabbed at a couple crackers and cubed cheese organized onto a charcuterie board behind him.
“Don’t you clean up well?” He complimented with a big grin.
Wonwoo shook his head. “Not that well.”
“Hey—” Seokmin suddenly grabbed onto Wonwoo’s shoulder and pointed a finger at him, “—you’re here, alright? That’s an honour.”
Mingyu brushed the cracker crumbs off Seokmin’s suit.
“Don’t snack too much. She hates when you can’t eat.”
“Uh—I made this stupid board. I get to eat from it whenever I want. I’ll be fine, anyway. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
Mingyu stopped tidying Seokmin’s suit, instead grabbing his wine glass off the countertop, sighing aloud, “that was a stupid idea…”
From the dreariness to his words and the slouch pulling down his shoulders, Mingyu didn’t seem to be all that excited or even half as chipper as Seokmin, though Wonwoo suspected that he knew the dinner parties to be a complete trainwreck. If Mingyu could hardly stomach a night with your parents despite all the stunning food and drink, then Wonwoo had no idea as to how he’d survive.
“So, um…” Seokmin lowered his voice, tipping his head close to Mingyu’s ear, “should we give him the rulebook?”
“Rulebook?” Wonwoo echoed.
“Uh,” Mingyu sipped quickly from his wine, “yeah, guess we can do that. Not in here, though. Let Her talk to her mom.”
“Easy peasy lemon squeezy.” Seokmin smiled, flashing a sly wink at Mingyu. “Hey, we’re gonna give Wonwoo a quick tour, alright!” He then called, his hand wrapping around the boy’s bicep, already beginning to tug him toward the hallway. “It won’t take too long; we’ll just show the bottom floor! Be back in a few!”
“Oh, uh, I guess that’s fine,” your mother replied while grabbing onto the pot handles with two tea towels, moving the sauce from the element, “but please do be quick! And, Seokmin—do you mind fetching the hubby from his office after you’re done?”
“I can do that, for sure,” he answered, smiling bright.
“Thank you, dear. I appreciate you so much.”
He was escorted out the muggy kitchen and down the corridor, flanked by Mingyu and Seokmin until they reached the living area where the piano music had been coming from.
Before he could issue even one question, Wonwoo was pressed down onto the red, very large-cushioned couch. Seokmin sat on the marble coffee table while Mingyu fixed himself onto the arm of a sturdy leather chair, crossing an ankle over his knee. Neither boy spoke for a moment and Wonwoo couldn’t help but feel a bit frightened as he listened to the elegant, soft piano tune fill the space.
“So… what’s the rulebook?”
“Well, it’s not an actual rulebook,” Seokmin corrected, “that was just for dramatics, allure, etcetera. But that’s what we call it.”
“We? You and Mingyu, you mean.”
Shifting in his place, Seokmin nodded, and his voice dropped an octave lower, "play the game long enough, you learn the rules.”
Mingyu’s chuckle dampened into the wine glass. “And there a lot of fuckin’ rules, that’s for damn sure,” he said with a scary smirk.
“But—we’ll just give you the crash course for now, as to lessen the overwhelmingness of what it takes to endure a dinner party.”
“Um, does Her know—”
“There are three principal rules; I’ll give them to you quick, so listen good,” Seokmin interrupted, leaning further into Wonwoo’s space, speaking quietly. “Rule one: do whatever the mom says, even if she doesn’t say it directly, or scarcely alludes to it. Makes everything ten times smoother, and gets her to like you, which is very important. Rule two: there is a guaranteed argument between Her’s mom and Her every fucking time—you stay out of it—never pick sides.
If you do get roped into whatever petty, passive-aggressive shame-fest they rake up, insert a compliment. Example: this steak is so tender and perfectly cooked! FYI—we’re not eating steak, so think of your own thing—and rule three: Her is like a freshly shaken can of carbonated soda and she can explode at any given moment. As her dear friends, and boyfriend, we have to make sure that doesn’t happen or else you’ll want to axe yourself.”
Wonwoo furrowed his brow heavily at Seokmin, noting a few crumbs left on his cherry suit from the cheese and crackers.
“How do we stop that?” He asked genuinely.
Mingyu proceeded to lower the nearly emptied wine glass against his knee, clearing his throat, “you don’t stop it.”
“But I thought—”
“It happens every time, without fail,” Seokmin answered, shaking his head, “but you can prolong it. You know, like cracking open the cap and letting out some air instead of the bottle fizzling into obliteration right away. The explosion’s not as big then. It’s easy. You just keep the conversation pushing. Don’t leave any space for bickering. Mingyu sometimes takes Her downstairs, or outside. To be fair, you don’t really have to worry about the last part.”
“Yeah,” Mingyu huffed, hardly amused, “lucky you, huh?”
“What happens if that fails?” Wonwoo asked.
Seokmin leaned back, tipping his head to the side. “Last year Her’s mom spent six hours braising these honey-garlic barbeque ribs with asparagus and stuffed potatoes. Guess where the food ended up by the end of the night? Because it wasn’t my starving mouth.”
“I don’t think I want to know,” Wonwoo sighed.
Bobbing his head approvingly, Seokmin smiled. “Exactly.”
“If these dinners are always such a mess, why do they keep happening? I mean, it doesn’t seem like anybody enjoys them.”
Fiddling with the thick folded cuff of his dress shirt, Seokmin shrugged. “I don’t know, to be honest. They used to a be a lot bigger in the past. Way more relatives and family friends. Just get-together's with a lot of food and drink and intoxicatedness. A way to maintain community and repore or something. But it’s shrunk down over the years. I still can’t tell if that makes it better or worse.”
Mingyu rubbed tiresomely down his neck, somewhat wincing as he massaged a sore spot. “It definitely makes it worse.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Seokmin agreed, “it puts more pressure on the rest of us… anyway, I should grab ‘the hubby’ as per request.”
Snickering, Mingyu flashed his pointed canine teeth and raised the wine back to his lips. “Makes your skin crawl, doesn’t it?”
With an uneased laugh, Seokmin smirked. “Every time.”
As the boy disappeared down a dark hallway to the right of the large living area, Wonwoo assumed he and Mingyu might return to the kitchen as it was probably not the best idea—leaving you alone for too long with your nitpicking mother—but when Wonwoo began lifting himself from the plump couch cushions he was sunken into, Mingyu’s hand touched at his shoulder to stop him.
In an instant, trepidation surged throughout his body.
Wonwoo’s face had most certainly gone white, though the lighting in the living room was too warm and orangey to tell.
“I just wanna talk to you about something real quick,” Mingyu said, stretching forward to leave his empty glass on the marbled table.
“Oh—um, okay.”
When he thought about the past few months, Wonwoo realized he hadn’t even spoke to Mingyu since the blowout party back in June. So much had happened since then, good and bad. Wonwoo could only suspect that he was about to hear the worst talking-to in his life, though he attempted to feign the terror for casualness.
Mingyu swooped a hand behind his ear, brushing back his perfectly styled hair, and looked to Wonwoo almost… forgivingly?
“I know you and I haven’t seen each other since the party at Seungcheol’s. I know some shit went down between you and Her and that it really blew up and you guys weren’t talking for a bit. She said, like, it was something to do with the book she’s writing and you were having differences about the direction and it kinda exploded.”
Wonwoo prayed it was imperceptible, the gigantic breath of relief he fought to exhale without too much giveaway, knowing that you hadn’t told Mingyu the truth to the argument. He was happy about your work-around, though he didn’t know if it was… morally right… that you opted not to tell your boyfriend—the person you supposedly trusted most—one of your biggest miseries.
“Oh… yeah,” Wonwoo exhaled, “it got pretty ugly.”
Mingyu nodded. “I honestly don’t even know if she’s still working on it. She doesn’t tell me about it. I don’t get why it’s so fuckin’ important to her but… I digress. Anyway, like Seokmin said, you’re here now, so you two obviously hashed it out. She seems to really appreciate you as a friend. And—hey—it helps takes some of the weight off my shoulders, y’know? Girl’s a fuckin’ handful sometimes.”
Wonwoo swallowed, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation and the alcohol he was beginning to smell from the boy’s clothes. He understood the situation was stressful for Mingyu, that he might be teetering between things absentmindedly, yet he nonetheless questioned what Mingyu’s intentions even were with you.
“Well, uh… I really enjoy spending time with her, too,” he murmured as Mingyu reclaimed his emptied wine glass.
There was a strong grip on his shoulder, shaking it.
“You’re a good person, man. Seriously.”
Using Wonwoo as a support crutch, Mingyu heaved onto his feet, then proceeded to straighten out his charcoal suit jacket.
“M’kay, I’m going back to the kitchen. We’re probably gonna eat soon so don’t spend too long losing your head out here.”
“Yeah, got it.”
He watched Mingyu amble down the long and subtly aglow corridor, carrying his wine glass low at the hip until reaching the threshold to the kitchen. You had suddenly popped out, stumbling into him with a smile and some hushed words that were impossible to comprehend as Wonwoo sat alone, listening to the jazzy piano tunes from the record player. After nipping a quick kiss against your boyfriend’s lips, you entered the living room with a crooked head.
“What’chya doing out here?” You inquired, pressing a hand against the grand, wooden frame adorning the entry way.
Wonwoo grabbed at his knees while pulling himself up.
“Just a quick pep talk. And a fly-by of some rules.”
“Oh,” you chuckled, “Seokmin’s crash course, was it?”
“Yeah.”
“Sometimes I call him John Green just to piss him off.”
Wonwoo smiled, stepping around the marble coffee table. “I feel like that might serve to stroke Seokmin’s ego above all.”
“No, it starts to irritate him after a while. You should know at this point I can piss off just about anybody. Even Seokmin. It’s a talent. Though I don’t think it’s enough for me anymore. I want to start pushing people to rock bottom or I haven’t done enough.”
There was a teasing sparkle in your eye as Wonwoo approached you. He could smell all that deliciously cooked food from down the corridor and his stomach was certainly responding to it.
“I can get you there,” Wonwoo said. “Don’t stress.”
“Forgot to fix my makeup. Want to come with me?”
He agreed, and you began to guide him across the living room, swathed in all its expensive mahogany fabrics, obtuse looking vases, and jade-green lamp shades that reminded him of late-night study sessions at the campus library. You pulled him past a wide shelf that was organized with much smaller, glazed sculptures that caught his attention as they lowly glimmered in the mellow light.
“Woah,” he gripped at your wrist, stopping your swift walk, “someone in your family loves ceramics, I’m guessing?”
You ricocheted back into his side, then taking a few seconds to adjust some invisible flaws in your hair before responding.
“That’s just some pottery I did when I was younger.”
Wonwoo squinted at you. “Really?”
“Mmhm.”
“You took classes?”
Shrugging, you muttered a simple, “yeah.”
“Is that why you were so interested in that vase back at my apartment?” When you continued to stare at him blankly, Wonwoo cleared his throat and reiterated, “the red one? It was really round at the bottom, but the stem was tall and skinny. You really liked it.”
“Oh—yeah—sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve last been to your apartment. I don’t know if that’s why I liked it. Probably.”
He smiled at you inquisitively. “I’m surprised you never mentioned that to me, considering my landlord is a ceramics teacher. I mean, as you know.”
Your eyes seemed reminiscent and adrift, glancing from sculpture to sculpture—lopsided teapots, poorly shaped toadstools, crooked little spoons—there were a plethora of your small creations laid across the shelf, gathering dust and appearing untended to.
Wonwoo cleared his throat, hands buried in his pockets. “I just didn’t peg you as someone who liked getting their hands dirty. I suppose it’s different when you’re younger, though.”
Pursing your lip, you nodded. “Things are always different when you’re young. My mom used to use the spoons I made to scoop sugar into her coffees. But she doesn’t drink coffee anymore. Just wine.”
“Well, it’s nice she appreciated your effort.”
There was a beat of silence. Your expression twitched.
“I had to beg to take those classes, y’know?”
Wonwoo raised an eyebrow at you. “How come?”
Your arms folded, and you shrugged again. “My parents honestly saw it as a distraction. I mean, why let your daughter play with some clay when she can hardly pass her math tests. But there was this super artsy girl in our recreational class who always made the best teacups from the clay, and she would paint them so beautifully… I wanted to be able to do what she did. So I asked my parents again and again and again until they fucking gave up and found a pottery class to enroll me in. Although, I'm pretty sure they supposed I would drop it sooner or later. Like it was just an itch I had to scratch. It was in this little art shop that looked similar to your landlord's.”
He smiled at you. “Was your instructor a polish lady?”
“No, she was not polish,” your head shook as you swept some dust from the black shelf, rubbing your fingers together, “I remember that much, but I don’t remember her name. It was after a flower, though. Something too complicated for my eleven-year-old brain to retain.”
“Probably Chrysanthemum or some shit,” Wonwoo muttered.
You laughed at his comment, “probably.”
“… Well, you must have liked it. You made so much stuff.”
“Oh, I loved it. I mean, looking at some of this stuff now, it’s not that great. But I didn’t really care that much at the time.”
“Considering you were a child, it’s pretty damn good.”
Wonwoo felt your elbow dig shallowly into his ribs. “Don’t try to flatter eleven-year-old me,” you warned him. “If you would have seen the other girl’s creations, mine would turn from pretty damn good to: well, at least she tried something new!”
“No,” Wonwoo chuckled, “that’s dumb.”
“Honestly, there was so much stuff that I made. More than half of it’s not even on this shelf. There wouldn’t be enough space.”
“Shit. What happened to it?”
You pinched at the olive fabric of your dress, massaging the silk between your fingertips for a moment while examining each and every sculpture moulded and grooved by your tiny childhood hands.
“My favourite part was destroying it,” you answered.
Wonwoo narrowed his brow, “I don’t think I could do that to something I spent so much effort and time creating.”
“Yeah, and that’s all good and fine,” you reasoned, adjusting your shoulders, “but I just didn’t see it like that, I guess...”
Intrigued, Wonwoo smiled at you. “How did you see it, then?”
For a moment, you thought, staring off into space.
“Well, I just don’t understand why people are so afraid of things being ephemeral. When you’re an artist, or a writer, or a musician, I feel like you want to make something that will last forever, transcend eras, touch people for a lifetime, or, I don’t know—you want it to stay preserved, like when they embalm things. But I feel like there’s just as much worth and importance to the things that hardly last at all. I feel like there’s so much freedom and self-assurance in building something up and then crushing it down.
That’s what I loved about it. When the clay would explode from between my fingers and stick into the lines of my palms because I was squeezing it so hard—it just felt good. Like it was supposed to happen. Like I was letting go. It doesn’t have to mean I… failed. It doesn’t have to mean I’m good at it either… I guess I just want to enjoy things without the burden of having to prove I deserve to enjoy them. Why can't I just do it? Why can't it just be between me and myself, you know? Why can't I decide what to take from it?"
Wonwoo nodded at you.
Contrarily, that was the opposite to his own beliefs surrounding his art, and maybe even his life. Wonwoo could never let things go, nor was he sure when that quality had permanently wedged its way into his human nature. For some reason, Wonwoo saw the past memory where his older brother had scampered away into the bushes surrounding the public pool during that game of Lifeguard all those hot summers ago, leaving an adolescent Wonwoo to get dragged from the water and thrown onto the sun-scorched concrete as everyone watched.
He saw the fuzzy, white glow that beamed from his laptop left open in the darkness, sitting still with all those pages he wrote, and yet to be filled with the words that he could never string together.
Unlike you, Wonwoo had never figured out the mechanism to letting things go. Instead, he held everything—between his fingers, across his shoulders, on his tongue, under his skin, deep inside his chest. Hence, for a split second, he was incredibly jealous that it seemed you could live without weight. You were just a breeze.
And just like everyone else, you were still discovering yourself.
“Anyway. That’s my take on it."
"Why'd you stop? This seemed like such a big part of you."
You flicked your eyes around, shrugging. "Things got in the way."
Wonwoo wondered what things, though he didn't ask.
"But we should hurry. Dinner will be ready soon and my mom will flip if we’re not at the table in time. She interprets it as ‘we don’t care’ and that will open a can of worms nobody wants to see.”
You sighed, then grabbing onto Wonwoo’s arm to pull him down another mysterious, long corridor in your maze of a house.
“Oh, Mingyu, that’s brilliant! I’m so glad the interview went well! I had him slip in a good word for you, too. But I’m sure you put the nail in the coffin. Walking straight into a promotion, you know, that’s something so hard to come by. You’ll settle just perfectly.”
“Yeah, thanks. To you as well. That word went a long way.”
“Making the right connections is certainly key.”
“It is. But I’m just lucky, is all. Your daughter is the real key. She’s given me so much—you all have—I just wanna let you know how grateful I am. Seriously. You’re some of the kindest people.”
“Shush! Before I give you a lash from this towel. It’s been sitting under the potato tray so it’s nice and hot… I’m so excited for your future together. A real power-couple! That’s for sure.”
“Hm. Yeah.”
Wonwoo was pressed flush to the wall just outside the kitchen, simultaneously holding his breath while listening to the conversation between your mother and Mingyu as everyone was presumably sat around the dressed table. Your fingers were hurriedly ruffling out some wrinkles in his tie while you repeatedly cursed at both your tardiness, and he simply let you do what you pleased. After a half-second adjustment made to his collar, you wasted not an instant more—Wonwoo was suddenly thrust into the warm kitchen with you impatiently in tow.
As expected, everyone was sat and waiting. Even your father had been at last pulled from his study, and he was positioned at the head of the long dinner table while twiddling a fork around in his fingers.
Your mother had an elbow propped on Mingyu’s chair.
She was the only one standing.
“Quick,” you whispered into Wonwoo’s ear, practically shoving him down into the empty seat beside Seokmin, “sit there.”
Upon the nervous side-eye that his friend shot at Wonwoo, he suspected that he may have just wriggled his way into an unfortunate ticket straight to hell. You held up the flowy, billowing silk of your olive dress while making your way to the seat across from him and beside a very unenthused-looking Mingyu, who was evidently chewing on his inner cheek. Wonwoo caught Mingyu’s stare for no less than a second, and there was nearly enough electricity in the glance to make a crackle.
A few more dishes had been squeezed onto the table since he was last in the kitchen. Despite the fact there was only six people eating, nearly every corner and crevice of the table was occupied. Your mother had cooked enough to feed an entire party, unless she was planning on sending everyone home with tupperwares full of leftovers.
“Looks super delicious,” Seokmin complimented.
Mingyu nodded in agreement. “Smells even better.”
Wonwoo didn’t know if he was also supposed to throw out some off-the-tongue compliment and keep the train chugging. The atmosphere was just so heavy—everything felt like an extreme effort—he could hardly breathe without the sensation of his lungs itching, as though they were adorned in cobwebs. Unconsciously, he’d started picking at his thumb, his appetite disappearing by the second in place of dread.
“You boys are so lovely, thank you,” your mother commented, straightening out the orange tea towel in her hand while continuing to lean into the side of Mingyu’s chair. “This was all a labour of love.”
Seokmin flashed a picturesque smile that Wonwoo had seen many times before. “Well, I’m feeling the love. That’s for sure. Are we ready to dig in all?” Still, there was a bit of anxious haste in his actions.
“One moment, first,” your mother stated, pausing Seokmin in his reach for a large casserole spoon. Wonwoo clasped his hands together even tighter as she said, “we’re going to wait a few minutes more.”
You had pulled out your chair, but you didn’t sit.
“Mom, I was just fixing my makeup. That’s what you asked me to do. There’s no reason to make everyone keep waiting.” You removed the towel from her hand and laced it through the oven handlebar. “Just take a seat, okay? I’ll start making everyone’s plates if they pass them.”
She smiled at you. “Well, that’s a very sweet gesture. But it doesn’t take long to fix an unstuck lash or change a lipstick. You’ve got yourself a makeup chair. You should know better than anyone, my love.”
Wonwoo hated this—he hated the way your mother’s criticizing was buttered up nice with a practiced, insincere smile and a crooning voice. He hated the way Mingyu was pushing fingers against the knot in his stiff eyebrow like something horrible was about to happen. He hated the way your father was uncomfortably mute, sitting only with a pursed lip and folded arms in complete disinterest, like he’d rather be anywhere else. He hated that Seokmin was continuing to beam his signature-watt smile even though the air was dense enough to crush everyone flat.
You picked up Mingyu’s plate, presumably because it was the closest to you, and started slopping some hot casserole onto it. Every movement was autopilot, thoughtless, as the steam from the breached casserole rolled up into the air and shrouded you.
“I was only trying to make it perfect,” you muttered.
“Make it what?” Your mother questioned, staring you down.
“Perfe—”
“Stop mumbling, my love. I can’t hear you.”
Mingyu’s messy plate was collapsed back onto its placemat with a very loud thud, and you looked to your mother with utmost annoyance.
“I was trying to make it per-fect.”
She quirked her head. “And you needed Wonwoo to do that?”
Just as he ruminated—the universe had a fearsome penchant for whirlpooling him into the centre of everything and anything horrible, like his name was written in the water. Though, Wonwoo couldn’t say he was expecting to survive the dinner party unscathed. He tried to remember the quick spiel of rules Seokmin had relayed to him—was it better to get involved or just shut the fuck up? Wasn’t Mingyu supposed to do something? Wasn’t Seokmin supposed to keep the conversation pushing?
“Mom, please, just—I was showing him around, okay? He’s the guest. He’s never been over before. Wonwoo has nothing to do with us being a few minutes late to dinner. So just leave him be.” You removed the tinfoil from another bowl. Grabbing a wooden spoon, you started slapping creamy mashed potatoes onto Mingyu’s plate. “Trying to make something out of nothing… why can’t we just eat for once?”
“Honey, we could be eating, but you’re choosing to sulk.”
“I’m not sulking! I’m trying to help!”
“No, no, no. Mingyu’s plate looks like an animal that got squashed by a car. If you can’t even properly fix your future husband a nice-looking plate of food without pooling all your anger into it, then there’s an issue, there.” She shook her head. “A very big issue.”
Wonwoo could see your eyes burning.
Mingyu had then sighed, removing the wooden spoon that was clenched up in your hand like a weapon and slipping it back into the mashed potato bowl. The boy tugged a few times at your wrist, keeping his tired voice as soft as possible while imploring you to sit down.
“It’s alright, everything’s fine,” he said, probably to soothe himself more than anything, “all the food goes straight into my mouth, anyway. Same goes for all of us. Sit down, Her, alright? Please?”
“No,” you snapped your wrist free, “I don’t want to sit.”
In a desperate hope to experience some sort of consolidation amongst the tension, Wonwoo angled a glance toward Seokmin. When his friend wouldn’t look back and merely opted to keep biting his blistering lip, Wonwoo quite literally felt a meteor sink into his stomach.
Slicking a hand along his shiny hair, Mingyu sighed even deeper. “Please just sit. You know what’ll happen. Please.”
Again stepping away from Mingyu’s attempted touch, you began to shout, and Wonwoo’s breath froze as your voice echoed around the kitchen in a hauntingly similar manner to the quarrel at his apartment.
“I already said no!”
From the head of the table, your father pushed out his chair. His voice was oddly gruff when he spoke, like he hadn’t said a word all day and his throat was hoarse by consequence.
“Don’t shout,” was all he warned.
Your mother shook her head. “She will raise her voice when she doesn’t get what she wants.”
Wonwoo couldn’t help but feel the cut from her disappointed eyes even though she wasn’t even looking at him.
“I’m raising my voice because you’re not listening! You haven’t listened to me all fucking day! Oh my god! It’s eating me alive!”
In an instant, Mingyu was to his feet, almost trying to court you into the corner by the open window with his hands that you battered away. Wonwoo gripped onto his knees. He couldn’t choke out a damn word and Seokmin seemed to have become stiller than stone.
“Calm down,” Mingyu urged, “take some breaths.”
“You still won’t listen!”
“I’ll listen later, I promise.”
“Mingyu, do you even hear yourself?!”
“Just—you’re blowing this out of proportion again.”
“Stop trying to control me!”
“Calm down and—hey!”
With a frustrated groan, you squirmed away from Mingyu and rushed back to the dinner table where your mother continued to stare at you with such conflict in her expression, as though it was mentally taxing her to compute how such a seemingly perfect, established daughter could simultaneously appear so unraveled and incomplete before her. For a second, Wonwoo thought you might take the mashed potatoes or casserole and just completely drench the wall in their remnants.
But you didn’t do anything. Instead, you looked across the organized table—the vibrant food, sparkling drinking glasses, and expensive, unpopped bottles of alcohol—at Wonwoo, who had admittedly felt pretty useless and paralyzed throughout the ordeal. You looked straight into his eyes and he could see that you were almost physically begging him for an out. And, if he could see himself as an outsider, it was probably the same damn look he was giving you.
Wonwoo hadn’t even noticed the silence in the room.
Your father coughed, retrieving his utensils, ready to sweep the argument and very obvious hostility under the rug—put a small little bandage on a gigantic wound that had been festering for years.
“Same dance every time. Come sit, Mingyu. Let’s just eat.”
That would be nice, if Wonwoo had any appetite.
That would be nice if he wasn’t pushing out his chair, getting up from the table, keeping his gaze level and connected with yours, watching you swallow hard, hold back your tears, anxiously flex your fingers in a momentary contemplation and then—unprompted—run. Just run.
Wonwoo fled into the corridor with you right behind him, your hands kneading against his lower back as he threw open the door to the quiet, dimly lit front porch where that damp and black September night was ready to breathe him in and whisk you two away. He heard the very confused shouting from the kitchen, but there wasn’t any time to waste.
Wonwoo flew down the wood steps and splashed through a shallow puddle reflecting the moonlight, running toward the long street drifted in thinly strewn mist. He continued to run, only stopping for a brief moment to turn around and observe you quickly fling off your heels before scooping them up while everyone crowded onto the porch, yelling.
In your bare feet and a smile so pearlescent, you sprinted straight into Wonwoo’s outstretched arms, giggling aloud while he gripped your body firm and spun you in a circle that saw your dress twirl like a ribbon and your legs brush through the alive air.
Mingyu began stalking down the driveway, visibly angry, his face twisted into a snarl that might see Wonwoo getting split in his nose.
“Fuck, fuck!” You cursed, squeezing your fingers into his. He was suddenly being tugged down the empty, dark street, as though there was some invisible curtain for you to magically disappear behind. “Let’s go!”
Wonwoo didn’t mind one bit. Indefinitely, he would let you tug him over a cliff if it meant you two could fall together. The street was long and wet but the air was so fresh. Every breath he took was pure.
He didn’t know where you were going.
But he didn’t need to.
“Be careful. I don’t want you to step on something sharp.”
“I think I already did.”
Wonwoo pulled tight on your warm hand, stopping you.
“Seriously? Let me look.”
You made a slight huffing noise while sitting down on a large boulder, not caring that the surface was sandy and damp, forming a dark imprint against your olive dress. Wonwoo squatted down, looking at the dirty underside to one bare foot, and then the other, realizing there weren’t any cuts. He then used the cuff to his suit jacket, brushing off the small pieces of grit stuck into the skin in case he missed anything.
In all honesty, Wonwoo had no idea where you two were. After running far down the fancy Hillcrest Street until your family house was completely obscured into mist and memory, you led Wonwoo off onto a separate footpath by the treeline. Your fingers were slotted into each other’s. This was the first time Wonwoo had let go of your hand since running away, and the chilled air felt like prickles on his palm.
Removing the phone from his pocket to shine a light, he wasn’t at all surprised to see the missed calls and texts that had collected minute by minute from Seokmin earlier. You didn’t even have your phone. The only thing you carried was the ivory heels that Wonwoo gifted you at the start of the evening, which were still clutched in your hand.
“No blood. No lacerations. Just dirt,” Wonwoo said. “If you did cut yourself, you might not even feel it with all that adrenaline.”
You smiled at him. “Your phone a graveyard of Seokmin texts?”
He smirked, flicking through them all. “Precisely, yeah.”
Leaning backward on the boulder, you at last let go of the heels and stretched your arms out behind you, staring up at the moonlight patterning between the forest trees, their branches more barren as the autumn leaves came loose in the breeze. They fell down one by one, rustling softly whenever they hit the ground. He heard you sigh.
“Everyone there can go fuck themselves.”
Putting his phone away, Wonwoo smiled. “Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“That line’s a classic, coming from you.”
He attempted to sit beside you on the boulder, ignoring how uneven and rough it felt under his butt. Wherever you were along the footpath, it was perfectly hushed, almost felt hidden. The tree branches above him had framed the moon akin to a picture—except, he felt like he was the one painted, and that it was the moon who was watching him.
“I’m sorry.”
Wonwoo began to look at you rather than the night sky.
“Don’t apologize.”
You stared at him deeply, licking your lips and shaking your head. His eyes were now well adjusted to the scarce light. Just the silver through the trees was enough to read and inspect your pretty face.
“It went off the rails.”
He shrugged, staring back. “It seemed like it needed to.”
“I made you part of it.”
“I made myself part of it.”
“But, I mean—just—if you… if you never…”
Wonwoo raised his eyebrow. “If I never what? Met you?”
Puffing out a long breath, you looked down, picking at something on the boulder with a manicured nail. “… Yeah.”
“No,” Wonwoo was firm to correct, continuing to stare at you intensely even if you couldn’t face him in the turmoil of processing all the emotion and chaos, “you’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”
You lolled out your tongue, smiling and sheepish. “Blah.”
He laughed, “I mean it.”
Sighing again, you glanced back at Wonwoo, your eyes flickering along his every detail in the dewy night. Your hand reached out to his collar, making another brief, probably unnecessary adjustment to it before sliding the gentle fingers down his chest. Wonwoo’s mouth ran disgustingly dry in that moment, to the point that he was relieved when you removed your hand because you might have felt how fast his heart was beating and thought him to be quite pathetic.
Tightly swallowing, he brushed an itch off his nose and opened his mouth with a question, his gaze catching yours. Although, at the last second, he weened himself from speaking when the doubt found and froze him. A breeze tickled through his hair and Wonwoo shivered.
Your brow furrowed.
“What?” You urged him.
Wonwoo chuckled. “Fuck. Nothing.”
“Not nothing. Please. What is it?”
You were leaning closer into him, enthralling him with those earnest, gleaming eyes. He swore the nighttime wind was pushing your sweet, blossomy scent against him—was pushing you against him—because now your thigh was squished right beside his and your shoulders were warm together. Wonwoo adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat.
“Who are you?” He paused, but didn’t falter. “Actually?”
Your forehead wrinkled. “What do you mean?”
Wonwoo examined every aspect of your face that he had come to know so well over the months—the face he gradually couldn’t stop thinking about, to the point you would appear in his dreams. The face he was once completely disinterested in, because you were not someone that should have any reason to be in his life, just as he had no reason to be in yours. He felt his body move closer into your inviting warmth.
In fact, you two were so close that if he moved even an inch or few forward, then his lips might find themselves pressing to yours and his hand might settle and smooth up along your thigh to your cheek. Then, it would be impossible to leave the footpath without digging into you right then and there, kissing and tasting from you everywhere.
“What’s your name?”
It sounded like an obvious, warranted question that just about anyone would ask given the opportunity. But Wonwoo had never found himself wondering it. The things he wondered about you were much different and more character-driven, yet Wonwoo had come to realize that your name was just as important and precious and intact with your identity as everything else. He almost felt like it was the very last piece of you that he hadn’t shifted into place—his last chapter in a very long, complicated, topsy-turvy, seemingly-never-ending book.
Wonwoo thought you might laugh at him.
Tell him, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” in that very smug tone of voice he’d hear from time to time while smiling hot with your secret.
Instead, however, you just stayed silent.
His hand touched with fragile softness at the edge of your face, a thumb then stroking along the space before your ear as you swallowed.
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he whispered, hearing the leaves rustle above him, “it’s fine either—”
“No, one second.”
Wonwoo bit his tongue, opting to watch you lean back while digging fingers into the cleavage of your dress. From somewhere—he could only surmise—you had pulled out a thin tube with a cherry lid.
“Was that the lip stuff you put on?” He snorted.
“Lip liner. With a sticky patch on it right here. Figured I should keep it close. You know, in case a crumb managed to remove a single spec of it. Can't have my mother passing out from shame.”
“Clever thinking.”
“Give me your hand.”
Stretching out his fingers, he let his hand sit in your lap while you pulled the lid off with your teeth, then gripping his wrist and halfway leaning down to push the tip of the lip applicator against his palm. The sensation was cool and smooth. He felt each letter you traced, though he refused to let himself guess until you were done.
Under the moonlight, Wonwoo raised the calligraphed hand to his face, pushing up his glasses as he realized—at last—the complete gist of who you were. And with your name came the understanding of what you were, in fact, doing in his very meaningless life.
Wonwoo kept staring fondly at his hand. But, as he was staring, you suddenly reached forth and smeared your thumb across the neat letters until they were lost. A memory made, and then covered.
Only between you.
When Wonwoo looked to you again, he saw everything about you so clearly that it was almost shining. Every decision you made, every word you said, the way you walked and dressed and flourished so openly before crashing so hard—Wonwoo could snap all those pieces into place.
“Can I ask you something?” You said.
He blinked at you absentmindedly, too caught up in his daze.
“Wonwoo?”
“Sorry—yeah?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
Pressing your knees together, the wind fluttered the fabric of your silky olive dress, and he could tell you were getting cold.
“When you were at my apartment, apologizing to me about our fight, that was the first and only time I ever heard you mention your ex-girlfriend.” Clicking your nervous feet, you looked over his shadowy face and the moonlight dancing in his glasses, “was she your first love?”
Crushing his hands tight into each other, Wonwoo bit his lip. “Yeah.”
Keeping your eyeline steady, you nodded. “Was she… like… what did you love about her?”
He almost couldn’t breathe. “Everything.”
You frowned. “Even the bad stuff?”
“Yeah…” he mumbled, “even the bad stuff.”
It was very quiet for a moment, with you simply sitting in reflection and staring into the dark silhouettes of the trees. He was sure you already knew the answer to your initial question, although he understood that hearing him say it was different than infinitely assuming about a past that wasn’t yours. Wonwoo had been in love before, and then heartbroken down into little fragments of himself that he spent months soullessly dusting around. And somehow, he was in love again—a new love that felt so much different but still fit him so right.
“Hm…” you hummed.
Wonwoo placed his hand on your bare back, beginning to sweep his fingers up and down, sensing your skin quiver in response.
“It’s late,” he whispered, nudging his knee into yours and warming your ear with his breath, “I know you don’t want to go home, and that’s alright. I get it. But we should figure something out before my phone battery dies, yeah?” He proceeded to grab your hand and squeeze it. “I don’t wanna leave a pretty girl like you out in the cold and wet.”
When you looked at him, you were pouting, exhaustion shining on your face like the dew in the moonlit leaves. “I don’t want to go anywhere without you.” Your fingers gripped his impossibly tighter.
“Do you want to stay the night at my place?”
You snuggled your head into the crook between his jaw and shoulder, wrapping your arms around his elbow to hold him close. “Yes.”
“Well, I’ve got one call,” Wonwoo sighed, fishing out his phone and squinting against its lurid light, “better hope he fucking answers.”
Vernon was confused to say the least, beckoned down a random street at near midnight when he could be in bed with the girl he was happily feeling up just half an hour ago, until a certain phone call ruined it. Wonwoo could tell from the manner in which his friend’s heavily furrowed brow remained creased when he opened the vanilla Camry’s back door, allowing you to slide in first with your heels in hand while Wonwoo followed. Tugging the door shut, Wonwoo could then only smile at poor, disgruntled, face-studded Vernon who was continuing to inquisitively stare him down through the rear-view mirror as though there was something smeared across his cheek or stuck in his hair.
Perhaps it was the patches of dampness and dirt on Wonwoo’s suit and your once very elegant dress, but it didn’t matter anymore.
“So… uh… dinner went well, then?” Vernon asked in a big huff after no one offered to break the silence, slightly turning his head to analyze the backseat using his busted, buzzing ceiling light.
Wonwoo and you were pressed together. Both unreceptive.
“Woah. Stop talking over each other, guys,” he joked dryly.
“Couldn’t have gone better,” Wonwoo decided to say.
“… M’kay…” Vernon replied, still perplexed but probably sensing it was best to save all the questions for later. “Music?”
Wonwoo nodded and turned off the ceiling light. “Sure.”
That was the beginning and end of the conversation.
Vernon pulled out from Hillcrest, keeping his elbow against the half-opened window during the drive, meanwhile you were allowing your heavy eyes to at last flutter shut. Leaning your head against Wonwoo’s broad shoulder, he noticed that your fingers were playing with his—you had gently grabbed his thumb and started rubbing his pigmented scar in absent circles, massaging into all the weathered years spent scratching himself until his anxiety would peddle away. The lip liner was still smudged against his palm in a cherry-tinted blur that he never wanted to wash off.
Smiling, Wonwoo let his cheek sit atop your hair, sensing the delightful breeze from Vernon's window flow into the backseat.
He was glad he went to the dinner party.
“Here are the keys. This copper one here is for the shop. This blue one is my apartment key. Go inside and get warmed up. I’ll join you in a few, alright? Promise… be careful on the steps,” Wonwoo instructed after opening the car door, proceeding to wrap his keychain in your fingers once you had emerged into the wind and sodden air.
With the white heels strung through your arm, you nodded at him sleepily and walked up the three little stairs to the pottery shop.
After you disappeared inside, Wonwoo turned around and opened the passenger seat door, climbing back into his friend’s Camry kept stalled but running at the curb. At first, there was silence between them. They both gazed down through the illumination of the headlights washing out the empty street. Vernon then slid his hand off the steering wheel, letting it cascade through his messy black hair instead.
“Do I even wanna know what fuckin’ happened?” His friend asked, his head clunking back against the upholstered seat.
Wonwoo blinked down at his lap. He started to smile, feeling it creep along his mouth even though he knew how suspect it looked.
Then, Wonwoo chuckled.
“We ran out.”
He finally looked to Vernon, who was staring back with highly quirked eyebrows and a dropped jaw. After exchanging an incredulous glance with each other, the two boys were laughing and ripping apart the silence. Vernon crossed his arms, sunk further down in his seat.
“Never would I picture you doin’ that…” he said through a lazy grin, “runnin’ out with another dude’s girl is insane, can’t lie.”
Wonwoo rubbed a palm along his cheek, still fucking smiling. “Think he’s gonna beat my ass?”
Vernon stared at him, deadpanned in his expression. “Is that even a question, Glasses? I’d beat your ass. I don’t even have a girl.”
“I don’t care.”
“If he beats your ass?”
“Yeah.”
Suddenly, a hand was pushing against Wonwoo’s shoulder. Vernon was smirking at him hard, teething over his bottom lip.
“Damn. She’s got you by the scruff, huh?”
Wonwoo shrugged, beginning to shake his head. “You should see the way he treats her… there’s some weird ties between him and her family. I think he’s playing the long game… getting what we can while he can and then parading her around as a trophy or something. But she's miserable with him.” Running a thumb along his knuckles, Wonwoo grinned. “He can beat my ass if he wants to.”
Vernon clicked his tongue. “Well, just to float the idea, I’m s—”
“No,” quickly laughing away his friend’s questionable response, Wonwoo merely rubbed under his glasses and refused. “I’m not trying to get locked away for first degree murder. And neither are you.”
“I’m just tryin’ to say I’ve got you is all,” Vernon said with his usual nonchalance, as laid back as an ironing board, “but—you’re right. Save that for when I’m an actual drug lord. He’s not gettin’ anything from me. Not even a Flintstone gummy.”
“Well, I appreciate the favour. Sorry to interrupt.”
“Nah, I could tell it was somethin’ important,” Vernon excused, giving Wonwoo a comfortable smile, “s’not like I can’t ever get brain again. Your situation seemed like a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”
Looking back at the pottery shop and the single light within keeping everything aglow, Wonwoo wondered if you made it into his apartment okay. He was worried about leaving you on your own for too long, especially when taking into consideration the extremities of the dinner party (that hadn’t really been a dinner or a party when he thought about it). Rolling out his shoulders, he turned to Vernon again.
“She needs to eat something. I’ll order food. You want any?”
Vernon scrunched his face. “What—you’re askin’ me to come inside with you two? I’m not on real good terms with her, y’know that, right? Just ‘cause she’s fuckin’ with you doesn’t mean that for me."
“It won’t be like that.”
“How do y’know? You guys gossip about me?”
Wonwoo smiled, pushing up his glasses. “I just know.”
Vernon paused to think for a moment, his hand returned back to the steering wheel while sharp teeth pulled at the skin along his bottom lip. With just the edge to his face streaked in yellow light from the outside street lamp, it was difficult to interpret his mindset, although Wonwoo knew it was a done deal when Vernon removed the glittering keys from the ignition and the rumbling car at last went silent along the empty midnight street.
Besides, Wonwoo would pay for it all, anyway.
Vernon quietly trailed behind Wonwoo into the apartment, the front door left unlocked and the living area bathed by the warm-coloured light fixture but absent of your presence. His friend placed the car keys onto the coffee table with an uncharacteristic softness, and Wonwoo figured that Vernon was probably still feeling uncertain about spending time with you—which made sense—the last time Vernon had spoken to you (spoken probably wasn’t an accurate word) was the confrontation at the gas station where he feared you might light his hair on fire.
Though, when Wonwoo poked open his ajar bedroom door, he found you standing near his desk, peering across the walled corkboard and all its pinned photos from his life back in South Korea.
He flicked on the light, pulling out the deep blue darkness from the air, and smiled at you.
“Everything alright?”
With your arms folded, you seemed smaller than usual. “Yeah—sorry that I came in here without permission.”
He was quick to shake his head. “No big deal—you don’t need permission.”
You were silent for a few seconds, grinning to yourself, and then gestured to one of the glossy developed photos stuck to the cork.
“That’s Bohyuk?”
Wonwoo nodded, “yeah.”
He realized you hadn’t spent much time in his room over the months that you’d known each other. For the most part, Wonwoo would always be at your apartment, or some unique location necessary to your story-telling when he was still helping with the book. At one point it would have perturbed him to see you gazing along the finer details of his room so curiously. Now, however, he welcomed it.
Stuffing hands into his pockets, Wonwoo let you observe the corkboard, watching you with a very amorous, kind smile that he hadn’t even processed until his cheeks started flaring with a heated ache.
“Wonwoo?”
“Yeah?”
“… I’m hungry.”
Unable to flatten out his smile, Wonwoo walked over to you and smoothed his hand along the side of your face, then caressing his thumb underneath your twinkling eye and against your cheekbone.
“I know,” he murmured, “I’ll order food.”
“Chinese?”
“If that’s what you want, then I’ll make it happen.”
Delighted to see your expression brighten, Wonwoo at last removed his hand from your skin. He knew he shouldn’t touch you or look so fucking pathetically in-love into your eyes, but he didn’t care.
“Do you think I can shower? I want to take all this makeup off.”
“Yeah, of course. Go for—”
Suddenly, from the living room, there was a loud bang that distinctly sounded like Vernon plowing straight into something heavy.
“What was that?” You asked, covering your mouth.
Wonwoo chuckled, “Vernon. Hey—you alright?!”
“All good!!” His friend shouted back. “Just—how ‘bout don’t keep your fuckin’ weights right beside the couch, yeah? Almost broke my fuckin’ foot!”
“Oops.” Wonwoo shrugged very unapologetically, staring into your amused eyes and giggling together. “He’s gonna eat with us… he did a big favour coming down to get us and everything, you know?”
“That’s okay,” you answered, “I just want to shower.”
“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll give you the room. Wear whatever you want. I’ll just take the keys so I can lock up downstairs.” He was nearly on his way out, but stopped abruptly. “Should we… uh… should I at least text Seokmin and tell him you’re safe? I mean, just in case—”
“Sure,” the response was quick and muttered with little care, “I’m sure they can surmise where I am, but you can do that, too.”
“Yeah, okay… well, I’ll leave you be. Food will probably be here by the time you’re out and dried off. I’ll make sure it doesn’t get cold.”
Finally, Wonwoo clicked his bedroom door shut. Keys in hand, he re-entered the living room to find Vernon plumped down on the couch with a pillow in his lap, all spread out like he owned the damn place, texting away on his phone. Wonwoo laughed as he walked by.
“Writing out your apology letter?”
“Somethin’ like that…” his friend mumbled, clearly more focused on his pixeled screen, “I might not be gettin’ that head after all.”
“Life’s all about sacrifices,” Wonwoo sighed while opening the front door, pausing briefly to mention, “we’re getting Chinese food by the way. She didn’t care that you’re staying. Anything you want?”
Vernon smiled while keeping his eyes trained to the phone. “No way. That’s a relief… n’yeah—I like the chicken balls with the sweet and sour sauce. Pork-fried rice is good, too. I’m not picky.”
“Noted.”
“So—wait—I have to ask, and you can tell me to fuck off if you want, but how did you become a drug dealer? Like, at what point did you even realize that was your… I don’t know… calling?”
Sitting cross-legged on the carpet with a carton of noodles in hand and a napkin splayed upon your bare lap, pointed chopsticks were being angled at Vernon from across the coffee table. He took a sip from his can of bright red soda, placing it back onto the coaster with a thud.
“Uh, fuck,” Vernon coughed, smiling subtly while beginning to pick through his own personal container of pork-fried rice, “well, I can answer it, I guess… do I get to ask a question in return?”
You grabbed the napkin, wiping off the sauce from your mouth.
“I’ll allow it.”
“Fair enough,” his friend answered.
Wonwoo had heard the story only once before during a smoke session on the apartment rooftop, though he doubted Vernon would trudge through all the details. Despite seeming like an open book who couldn't care less, there really were some sweet spots he didn’t like having prodded. Nonetheless, Wonwoo thought it was a good, earnest opening between the two of you, so he opted to stay silent while pulling the meat off his ribs with his teeth.
“Uh, I was a stubborn kid, let’s say that. Tried my hand at school but I could never get the hang of it. Could never keep a job long. My parents caught me usin’ once, weed and ecstasy, and they said if it happened again, I’m out.” Vernon fed himself another forkful of rice, taking a moment to swallow while you listened intently. “I thought I could keep it straight, but no luck. Yeah. They had no tolerance for it. I was out the next day. My mom was the most pissed, but she tries to reach out every now and then. I dunno... I feel done with ‘em, if I'm bein' honest. I’ve got somethin’ that works so I just run with it. The money speaks for itself so I can’t complain.”
As Wonwoo expected, it was the heavily watered-down version of everything that happened between Vernon and his family, however, it was enough to paint the picture. Taking a moment to slurp up some spicy noodles, you soon set the carton down and patted along your gradually swelling lips. The crumpled napkin was placed on the table.
“Yeah, I bet the money speaks for itself. You’ve got a bunch of stupidly rich university students on your roster. They go through just about everything they can get their hands on. It’s fucking insane.”
Vernon propped his elbows onto his knees, gathering more rice onto the plastic white fork while smirking at you knowingly.
“You’ve got that coke sniff, y’know?”
Wonwoo widened his eyes at Vernon, suspecting a wildfire.
But you merely shrugged, quite honest in your response.
“I know. I did it once with Mingyu, some friends, and I thought never again…” with a sigh, you massaged at your shoulder, staring off into a random spot that Wonwoo couldn’t pinpoint. “Mingyu was getting it for me at almost every party we went to. I don’t know. I thought, since he paid for it, since it’s right here, I might as well do it.”
Slipping the fork out from his mouth, Vernon grinned. “Coked-up sex is crazy. Especially when you've got the right cut. It hits.”
“Vernon,” Wonwoo immediately chirped at him while setting down his emptied container of food, his voice sounding particularly stern, like he was scolding a child for making an ignorant comment.
“What?” His friend laughed, raking a tattooed hand through his loose and shiny black hair. “It is. Feels like you’re on another planet.”
“Yeah, whatever. Just think a little before you speak, please.”
Again, Wonwoo was surprised to see your nonchalance.
“It’s okay. I know what you’re saying. I think… like… Mingyu only wanted me to have it for that reason—I’m making it sound like some non-consensual, pressured shit—it’s not,” you muttered, waving around your hand in dismissal, “I just… the thing is I don’t like how I feel afterward. But it was never enough for me to say that I didn’t want it. I liked that it would take me out of my head for a bit. My mind would stop running on overdrive.” Then, you pulled your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. “The last time I did anything like that was the party at Seungcheol’s, though.”
Whenever the party was mentioned, Wonwoo would always bite down on his lip and tightly curl his fingers. He had discussed it with you in the past, beyond the summer evening spent at your apartment with a red velvet cupcake in between you and a painful, aching hug he could still feel all the warmth and regret to.
There were long, long phone conversations. And somewhere, stuffed in his mind, was the memory of you and Mingyu behind the door as he listened to every little sound—skin hitting skin, the desperation in your voice, wood smacking the wall.
“Yeah, is what it is,” Vernon replied. He pulled a toothpick out from his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. “Do I get my question now?”
“Uh… sure.”
Wonwoo had almost missed you staring at him. There was a concernedness to it, but when he smiled back you seemed to breathe.
“Still think I’m a gigantic fuckin’ tool?”
Immediately, you started laughing. Wonwoo followed suit, on the brink of embarrassingly blowing out the soda he just sipped from in a big spray. He was actually quite relived that Vernon had picked a more light-hearted question rather than something intimate. His friend swirled the toothpick around with his tongue, continuing to smirk in confidence.
“Giggle away. I’m curious, is all.”
Kissing your teeth, you held Vernon’s coppery, honey eyes. “You are a tool, one-hundred percent… but, I think you know that about yourself. And, um, you’re a good friend to Wonwoo. So… I guess my opinions about you have shifted. Appearances are deceiving.”
Pleased with your candour, Vernon grabbed his drink, leaned against the recliner behind him, and nodded his head approvingly.
“That tickles my fancy well enough.”
"Don't you think you'll want to settle down eventually?" You asked.
Vernon scrunched his eyebrow. "What?"
"Like, what if you find a girl. A really nice girl who could change your perspective. Do you think you'd want to settle down?"
With a quick laugh, Vernon shook his head. "Nice girls don't use half their last pay check to buy drugs. It's business at the end of the day."
Seeming skeptical, your eyes narrowed. "Right..."
"Vernon has his mind set on very specific things," Wonwoo smiled.
Straightening out the large shirt that draped around your frame—another garment belonging to Wonwoo that you had pulled from his dresser—you glanced between each boy and smiled.
“So... now I'm curious. How did this unlikely pairing meet?”
As Vernon was busy with navigating his toothpick, Wonwoo decided to tell the story, prompting him to sit up straight and alleviate his spine from being crooked against the hard bottom of the couch.
“I was convinced into attending a little New Year’s Eve party thing by these guys I don’t talk to anymore. Spent about half an hour wandering the halls, doing aimless laps, hating every second of it, debating if I should just take off. Not like anyone would notice. Then I bump into this guy—” Wonwoo nodded at Vernon, “—who was all tattooed and pierced up with this girl all over him. She was on the kitchen counter, one hand gripping his bicep while she was laying hickies to his fucking neck from behind.”
You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Who was that?”
Wonwoo shrugged. “Fuck if I know. Vernon?”
“Uh—I don’t know if I remember, honestly. She used to buy poppers off me like every damn week so I called her Poppy. That’s not her real name, though. She’s long gone. Moved cities months ago.”
“Yeah, well, he told me I looked like a lost ghost. Asked if I wanted a swisher. I agreed for some reason, and we went out back.”
Brushing a hand down your neck, you giggled. “A lost ghost?”
Vernon nodded, folding his arms.
“Yeah. Glasses always used to have that look to him. Dead man walkin’ kinda thing. Just wanderin’ around with no purpose.”
Wonwoo hoarsely chuckled at his friend, “jeez—thanks.”
“You can’t deny it.”
“I know. But to be fair, I was fucking going through something.”
“Mmhm, that’s why I took you under my wing,” Vernon sang, his eyes swimming with their usual gold-tinted mischief, “I could just tell you needed some guidance. Gave him the swisher of eternal friendship.”
“Is that what you call it?” Wonwoo huffed sarcastically.
“I call it many different things.”
You smiled sweetly at Wonwoo while your fingers played with the long cuff on the borrowed t-shirt. “Whatever it was, I guess it turned into something pretty good... and, Vernon, I am sorry for how I acted at the gas station. There was just a lot going through my mind.”
True to his casual, untroubled nature, Vernon swung his head dismissively while letting an arm collapse across his knee, the toothpick now in his hand and being spun between his ringed fingers. “No, you’re good. Don't worry 'bout it. It was just ‘cause you care n' shit. I get that.” Quirking his expression in an endearing manner, he proceeded to flash you a solid grin. “You didn’t singe my hair off so, I’ve got no grudge.”
You laughed, “I wouldn’t have actually done anything to you.”
“Eh, it’s hard to tell, isn’t it?” Vernon answered in a smirk.
Reaching for your drink, you sipped from it and then snuggled the can between your criss-crossed legs. Wonwoo examined that very intriguing smile opening its way across your mouth like a spring blossom, wanting to know the exact moment that sparked it.
A quiet pause passed, and then you were sighing with bliss behind it—that relaxed kind of sigh when everything seemed to click.
“It’s nice hanging out with you guys…” you murmured, staring across the coffee table scattered with ripped-open sauce packets, empty cardboard containers, wood chopsticks, and unfurling napkins. “It just feels lighter… I don’t know… making friends has always been so tough for me. The right friends, I mean. Friends that actually feel like friends.”
Wonwoo pinched his lip in his teeth.
“It can take a while before you hit the right people.”
Vernon shrugged, concealing a burp that had him rubbing down his broad chest. “If we’re all friends, then we’ve gotta be the weirdest fuckin’ collaboration of people I’ve ever seen.”
You snickered into your hands while Wonwoo lounged an elbow onto the couch to help prop up his head, rolling his eyes toward Vernon.
Though, Wonwoo could easily understand what Vernon was getting at. You, a popular and high-fashion campus honorary who at first glance seemed to have very little patience for anyone but yourself, followed by the guttural and unbothered drug dealer without a care in the world, beside an anxiety-ridden hermit just trying to exist and somehow not turn to a puddle in the process. Vernon was right—it was a strange grouping of people suckled together despite their completely different paths and choices. Somewhere, somehow, though, there was a connection.
Like a fated string weaving everything into a knot.
Since Wonwoo had already ordered the Chinese food fairly late, it was quite difficult to find an ice cream place in the area that was open past midnight. Vernon and his sudden craving for cookie dough had offered the idea, and you easily caved, which led Wonwoo on a spiral of searching through his phone. Unfortunately, the only ice cream they could order was vanilla soft-serve cones from a twenty-four-hour fast-food chain which arrived to his apartment dripping. But no one really cared, and Wonwoo threw on the television for some background noise.
The conversations lasted until about two in the morning.
Vernon had not so gracefully taken up the entire couch, his face shoved into the embroidered pillow, an arm left dangling limp over the edge, and a smear of soft-serve dried to his cheek. You and Wonwoo were sitting side by side on the floor, a blanket spread around your shoulders with your knee spilled onto his lap, attempting to finish up the random movie that he couldn’t even remember playing. When the credits began rolling, it took him a moment to process that the drama flick was even over. Your head was tucked against his shoulder, eyes shut but still twitching against the dull, meek light flooding from the screen.
He placed his hand on your bare thigh, fingers stretching eager over the warm and soft skin to carefully grip it and give you a squeeze.
Then, with his lips feathering at your forehead, he mumbled your name to get you awake. Wonwoo did feel somewhat guilty about stirring you, but he’d rather you have a comfortable sleep on his bed than the living room floor. He continued to rub your thigh nice and slow, watching your eyelids flicker open and squint at him through the dark room. There was a shallow grin that you gave him, full of contentment.
“You’re all fuzzy…” you yawned, proceeding to rub at your eye.
“It’s late,” he answered quietly, almost whispering, “I think I should get you to bed. You’ll be much comfier in my room.”
“Is Vernon asleep?”
“Mmhm.”
Turning back to glance at the couch, you yawned again.
“… Oh… so, we’re going to your room?”
“Yeah… c’mon, I’ll help you up.”
Wonwoo didn’t turn on the light in his bedroom since there was already a small separation in the curtains, allowing just the right amount of moonlight through to outline everything around him in bluish-silver.
You sat down on his bed, letting your fingers travel along the sheets to feel all the slight rumples and divots, only to look up at Wonwoo with a tired smile and sincere, blinking, gorgeous eyes that felt akin to a gut punch. As much as he wanted it—needed it—Wonwoo knew that he couldn’t sleep next to you. He couldn’t trust himself. He couldn’t fathom having you so fucking close in the intimate, cocooning darkness and not being able to squeeze his cold hands along every perfect part of you.
But you weren’t making it easy.
In fact, you were making it excruciatingly hard.
“Are you not going to lie down with me?”
Wonwoo felt the twig snap in his chest. You wouldn’t stop staring up at him through those wispy eyelashes and nibbling on your lip.
“I’ve got the recliner in the living room…” he could hardly choke it out. There was so much heat in his body that he could melt.
“Why sleep there? The bed is big enough.”
His deep voice twisted into a laugh he couldn’t avoid. “Yeah, the bed’s not the issue… uh, it’s fine, though. The recliner’s nice.”
He took a step back, but then you had grabbed his wrist.
“Wonwoo,” you said his name in a tender, breathy, desperate sort of way that sent his heart shattering to his feet, your eyes glistening through the sparse light like two comets, “I don’t want to sleep alone.”
Fuck—it was all he could think—fuck, fuck, fuck.
With your fingers still wrapped to his wrist, Wonwoo pushed his hand gently against the side of your face. He was closer to you now, applying a soft pressure to angle your head up at him. You were breathing thick per every second that passed, holding his eye contact without one fracture, smiling arch. Wonwoo wanted to drink you.
Leaning into his palm, you swallowed and squeaked, “please?”
His thumb was on your chin. Right under your bottom lip.
“Fuck, you can't look at me like that…” Wonwoo rasped in a low, hushed voice that was struggling not to crack.
Truly, he meant it.
Your hand slid further along his wrist, almost tickling him.
“Ple—”
Immediately, Wonwoo pressed his thumb past your bottom lip and onto the ridge of your lower teeth, stifling that dangerous little word before it could hit his ear the wrong way and render him spineless.
“No more, okay?” He murmured, slowly sliding the digit from your warm, damp mouth, feigning obliviousness to your thighs clamping together and the manner in which your fingernails dug at his skin.
There was another moment of intense, humid silence while he wiped the wetness against the edge of your jaw.
“Seriously,” Wonwoo firmed up his voice, “no more.”
When you at last seemed compliant, nodding, Wonwoo let his hand drift from your heated-up face. You stayed in place, quiet as ever, on the edge of his bed, watching him disappear through the doorway.
As he collapsed onto the recliner and pulled the blanket once pooled on the floor over his body, Wonwoo didn’t even bother shutting his eyes or removing his glasses. Instead, he stared up at the popcorn ceiling, letting his heart thump, thump, thump and his mind wander until he naturally couldn’t fight the imminent feeling of sleep.
It certainly didn’t help that you had wandered into his dreams—dreams that he should probably keep to himself, warped fully by desire and longing.
—END OF PART FIVE.
#seventeen scenarios#wonwoo scenarios#seventeen x reader#wonwoo x reader#seventeen imagines#wonwoo imagines#seventeen fanfic#wonwoo fanfic#svt fanfic#jeon wonwoo#svt scenarios#seventeen angst#seventeen smut
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okay gang since a grand total of one ☝ of you is curious about the show (that person is em/peachy hello em/peachy if you are reading this!!) I will reveal what the show is!!
I watched this show when I was young, and I was NOT KIDDING when I meant DisneyXD kids show,,, My brain choses to be interested in goofiest of things...
Show is under the cut!! Btw if ur any of my irls seeing this LOOK AWAY DO NOT INTERACT LEAVE NOW!!! /J
ok are my irls gone. swag. u guys can look now
IDK IF ANYONE ELSE REMEMBERS THIS SHOW.... BUT THIS WAS MY JAM AS A KID!! A majority of the first season is uploaded on yt in a public playlist, and the easy access to it made the brainrot go CRAZY,,
My current favorite rn is Happy. Starting to see a pattern w my favorite blorbos... (silly guys)
I hope know u guys know what i meant when i said it sucks having the urge to write self insert stuff for every media i get into bcs i dont think there is a target audience for 'spin off show of the dwarves from snow white x reader' content 😭😭
It's pretty late where I am and I think that's why Im making the impulsive decision to make this post, but honestly.... I think I wouldve made this post either way.... I know myself too well I definitely wouldve taken any opportunity to yap abt this show even if its a tiny bit BAHSAH
It’s nice to see you online again! You’re making me very curious about that show you’re interested in 😔
Also, happy pride month! 🏳️🌈
-🍑
EM!!! PEACHY!!!!! JUMPS UP AND DOWN IN JOY HELLO!!!!!
I've missed u man,, Happy pride month to you, too!!
And um... Well u see it's embarrassing to admit bcs when I say kids show I mean KIDS show. Like DISNEYXD kids show. I used to watch it when I was younger and recently got back into it, and the brainrot is crazy!!! I've debated making some kind of post about it, but... It's so niche I really doubt anyone would want it 😭😭
#i am NOT tagging the fandom bcs the tags are already like. so dry and rare of new content#and (from what I know) has still active fans like me who are patiently awaiting to see if anyone would post something with it#DAWG IF I EVER DO END UP WRITING SELF INDULGENT PIECES AND POSTING IT ID HAVE TO BATTLE W MYSELG ON WHETHER TO TAG IT OR NOT#i really doubt those other 7D fans would expect a self insert post to appear on their dash#im gonna have to keep the brainrot to myselg (and some irl friends) for now..... bcs i am embarassed#if anyone IS curious abt it the brainrot tho.... i wouldnt mind telling.... 👀#i literally drew a happyxoc piece earlier i dont think i am normal abt this show you guys /silly
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Hiiiii what are your theories on what post-resurrection Jon with be like?
So I AM curious if he’s gonna be a bit more animalistic. I went back to look at Varamyr and I feel like Varamyr is a weirdo but he doesn’t act like an animal, despite spending a lot of time as an animal. Now you can contrast this to some of the Starklings who will do shit like growl and howl and stuff, and Jojen in fact warns against staying an animal for too long.
“Bran the boy and Summer the wolf. You are two, then?"
"Two," he sighed, "and one." He hated Jojen when he got stupid like this. At Winterfell he wanted me to dream my wolf dreams, and now that I know how he's always calling me back.
"Remember that, Bran. Remember yourself, or the wolf will consume you. When you join, it is not enough to run and hunt and howl in Summer's skin."
But the thing is - it’s Rickon Bran and Arya doing that. Bran & Arya are barely old enough to be self aware and Rickon is a literal toddler (I think all the Starklings refer to him as “the baby” not as in “the youngest” but as in he is TINY still). Jon is sixteen. I do wonder if he adjusts better simply because he’s older. But to flip back again…Varamyr is our only reference and Jojen explicitly warns against it. So will Jon have a temper? Will he growl, go nonverbal when emotional, like Rickon does? Will he howl at the moon like Bran and Arya? Will other people find him unsettling? Not in the “why is this grown man acting like a wolf” way but in that way that actual wolves are unsettling….you know the stories about how you KNOW if you’ve seen a wolf because they’re fuck off huge, they LOOK like predators, and your instincts tell you “this thing can kill me” in a way they don’t when you see a regular dog? What if he’s just unnerving to be around?
I do wonder about his physical look as well. Every person who ~comes back from the dead~ still bares the scars they got while dying. Beric & LSH’s injuries seem to healing human slow - that is to say, if they hadn’t received killing blows, Cat’s vocal chords would be healing at about the rate we see LSH start to regain speech, and Beric’s various cuts are scarring & healing at a normal rate. Bran is paralyzed. Drogo is…all of that. Will he face some issues with his body because the wounds are still healing? Will he have some more stiffness in his limbs, like the way his burnt hand has problems? I don’t really know how he would pick up the red eyes and white hair from ghost - Beric, LSH, Bran, even Drogo, they don’t suddenly change eye or hair color or something, and Brynden was BORN albino it’s not like his magic made him that way later - but I’m ngl I still kind of hope he’ll have the red eyes, I think it’s neat. He doesn’t need white hair tho I think that’s overkill.
When it comes to his priorities, I think we're going to see a huge shift. I know everyone ragged on the show for just having Jon be like "yeah i'm peacing out bye" bc there's going to be more hubbub than that but I do think Jon is going to feel incredibly jaded when it comes to the Night's Watch. I always come back to his confrontation with Maester Aemon and the fact that Aemon is distressed by his choice to not attempt to help Elia and her babies...
Maester Aemon sighed. “Have you heard nothing I’ve told you, Jon? Do you think you are the first?” He shook his ancient head, a gesture weary beyond words. “Three times the gods saw fit to test my vows. Once when I was a boy, once in the fullness of my manhood, and once when I had grown old. By then my strength was fled, my eyes grown dim, yet that last choice was as cruel as the first. My ravens would bring the news from the south, words darker than their wings, the ruin of my House, the death of my kin, disgrace and desolation. What could I have done, old, blind, frail? I was helpless as a suckling babe, yet still it grieved me to sit forgotten as they cut down my brother’s poor grandson, and his son, and even the little children …” Jon was shocked to see the shine of tears in the old man’s eyes. ...“Once. So you see, Jon, I do know … and knowing, I will not tell you stay or go. You must make that choice yourself, and live with it all the rest of your days. As I have.” His voice fell to a whisper. “As I have …”
There’s nothing he could have done and he knows it. AND YET. How do you justify to yourself hiding out at the Wall in safety while children of your house are slaughtered? How do you make your peace with it? You can’t! Love is the death of duty!! Aemon doesn’t ever make peace with it! He spends the last days of his life hating himself for being so old, being unable to help Dany, reaching out for the brother he’s long lost in his dreams. I think being murdered by his men, after months of arguing with them, of trying to get them to put aside their shitty little beef with the wildlings and focus on the real threats to their safety, and the knowledge that “Arya” is ALIVE OUT THERE, it’s all going to massively change his priorities. When you factor in the girl in gray turning out to be Sansa (don’t boo me i’m right!!)…I don’t think he’s going to hem and haw about being a brother of the night’s watch, I think he’s taking his shit, and he’s getting the fuck out of dodge.
But when it comes to his state of mind…again, I’ve come around to the idea that Jon is going to be resurrected 100% due to Northern type magic, and not anything Melisandre is doing. I’m willing to be wrong on this one btw, I do think there’s still a shot some funky magic brings him back but I think with all the build up to Jon actively warging, to accepting his magic, and opening his third eye, is in fact building up not just to Jon spending a long time in Ghost while his body is found and resurrected, but that his body will HEAL while he’s not in it the way Bran’s does, and he comes back to an injured but on the mend body.
If he’s waiting around for his body to heal though, he’s going to be spending a hot minute inside Ghost & greenseeing. Possibly longer than Bran did. I think like Bran, he’ll have his own mini vision quest as he wanders and sleeps in ghost’s body - and I think he’s going to find out Bran is still alive. See, Bran figures out that Robb is dead through a green dream, then buries the memory-
The dream he'd had . . . the dream Summer had had . . . No, I mustn't think about that dream. He had not even told the Reeds, though Meera at least seemed to sense that something was wrong. If he never talked of it maybe he could forget he ever dreamed it, and then it wouldn't have happened and Robb and Grey Wind would still be . . .
And we know Summer is aware of his scattered siblings, dwelling on them often. I don’t think it’s out of the realm of possibility that the connection works the other way. We also know Bran is still dwelling on his family, with his weirwood dreams focusing on Ned. Similar to Aemon, similar to Jon’s whole story, Bran struggles in balancing his love for his family with what he feels is his duty. Not only that but imo there’s a lot of connections between Jon and Bran when it comes to magic. Jon is the only character we see saying goodbye to Bran, which has always stuck out to me. Bran also attempts to open Jon’s third eye before Robb (presumably - i think if bran was talking to robb in his dream, he would have brought it up) Sansa, Arya, or Rickon (again, presumably).
It seemed to sprout from solid rock, its pale roots twisting up from a myriad of fissures and hairline cracks. The tree was slender compared to other weirwoods he had seen, no more than a sapling, yet it was growing as he watched, its limbs thickening as they reached for the sky. Wary, he circled the smooth white trunk until he came to the face. Red eyes looked at him. Fierce eyes they were, yet glad to see him. The weirwood had his brother's face. Had his brother always had three eyes?
Not always, came the silent shout. Not before the crow…. Don’t be afraid, I like it in the dark. No one can see you, but you can see them. But first you have to open your eyes. See? Like this. And the tree reached down and touched him.
And Bran has that near miss where he and Jon are in the same places at the same time, with Bran running into Sam & Gilly. Additionally, we get all those scenes with Mormont’s crow doing weird stuff and we have no idea if it’s Bloodraven or Bran - it’s very possible Bran At Some Point In Time has been trying to get Jon’s attention for a long time.
All of that to say I think there’s a build up to Jon and Bran being the first Starklings to reunite, but not in body, just in mind! While trapped in Ghost’s body greendreaming about his thought to be dead brother, Bran will have the opportunity to jumpstart Jon’s magic the way his was, and Jon will realize Bran is still alive - potentially even exchanging important information about the Others, Winterfell, and Jon’s real parents…Both boys return to their bodies, turn to the people they’ve sworn their lifetimes to and go “actually fuck this shit and fuck you too” and try to leave.
Try, being the operative word here, of course.
#i’m saying fuck it and putting this in the tag#valyrianscrolls#twow speculation#jon snow#bran stark#rani attempts meta#lawyering for bran#i had some meta partially written about how bran was leaving the cave and this gave me the kick in the ass i needed anon i put everything i#had here. i think bran is going to see jon was almost murdered they’re gonna talk about the others then he’s gonna wake up#and tell br exactly where he can shove it. i do not think this is gonna go over well!
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Oh my gosh im so excited to see a twst writer in the community!! Can u please share some heartslabyul headcanons (no pressure if u dont want to) i just love them so much thank you!
Heartslabyul Hcs
HELLOOO this has been sitting in my ask box for ages and i am so sorry for dying and not posting for a whole month.. erm. anyway, headcanons. unfortunately no new fic im sorry but uh soon!!! its heartslabyul tho soo enjoy!!
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since riddle was never exposed to tickling when he was a child, he was always curious about what it felt like. like, he’s read about it, heard about it, etc, but just couldn’t imagine HOW it could make someone laugh. afterall, it sounds so absurd. which makes total sense.
it wasn’t until he started hanging out with chenya and trey that he finally learned what it was like. chenya had been the one to poke him in the side first. riddle had jumped, sputtered, giggled, and jsut reaxted like how any ticklish person would and riddle was like,, what was that?? chenya had simply told him he was curious and trey was like “oh, youre ticklish, huh?” and suddenly it made SO MUCH sense. THATS what tickling was like, and now that he had a taste of it, he was curious about more. being actually tickled and tickling someone. thankfully, being friends witb the two, he did in fact experience those
when he arrived at nrc, it didnt happen as much but trey seemed to notice that riddle didnt exactly hate tickling. as he got older he tried to hide it, but he didnt hate iy. maybe wasnt as interested as when he was younger, but it was more neutral. trey would like to poke him to get his attention and such.
trey is ticklish but maybe would prefer to be tbe ler, or at least let it be equal. he’s like, teh nonchalant tickler HELPP so like, usually won’t go very far, not more than a poke to tbe side or something small like that, but well, he still does it to like most of heartslabyul and his friends outside of heartslabyul, but is like totally casual abt it so sometimes ppl wonder if they should even bring it up
when they do, “i only wanted to get your attention.” hey trey! calling their name works just as well btw!! no but sometimes he does it just because he feels like it. always the same excuse too😭
cater is pretty ticklish. he has a love-hate relationship of it. i thjnk he enjoys tickling people, but doesnt do it much because HE doesnt particularly ENJOY getting tickled and he doesnt want them to like, retaliate. he doesnt hate it but his sisters loved tickling hjm when he was younger so it kinda left a bad taste in his mouth. basically, he usually will only have a good time if its someone he knows well and is comfortable with and he knows theh wont push him to the brink. he doesnt like to laugh uncontrollably i feel like. eitherway, he def tickles others the same exact way bc he doesnt want them to feel the same way he does about it.
he doesnt mind gentle tickles at all, but again, ws long as he’s with the right people. i feel like with a partner, he would actyally really love tickles while they r cuddling. super cute, yes.
deuce didnt get tickled a lot, at least not until he entered nrc. never really had any feelinfs towards it. he hated it when he was younger, became more neutral about it when he grew up. he would definitely defend someone if they thought it was embarrassing. “everyones ticklish! nothing to be ashamed of!”
this actually leads to him getting tickled about half the time😭😭 because everyone loves to tickle the first year students (i would too). super embarrassed? yes. super awkward? yes. hates it? nope!! prob would be blushing and all but never have any complaints
ace, on tbe other hand, did get tickled a lot when he was younger and that did not change upon his arrival to nrc. i dont know how to describe it, he just radiates those vibes. also i frel like he was more of the “popular” guys in middle school (he peaked in middle school just kidding) but he was prob the one his frienfs liked to gang up on and tickle
doesnt PARTICULARLY seek out being tickled but will ALWAYS join in if one of his friends is being tickled in front of him with the most sadistic smile on his face. he js evil, do not let urself be tickled by him (or do maybe).
yk that guy who will convince others to tickle the super scary boss?? no?? well whatever, that’s cater. tell me he doesnt whisper to the freshman to tickle riddle… everyone knows its him too except riddle because, well, the freshman never get too far in their endeavors. afterall, leaders are to set an example!
trey knows ofc, but does he stop it? ofc not!! riddle needs a laugh time to time after all.
tickle fights. between all five of them. most r started by the chaotic duo (ace and deuce) or cater. and well, the winner is USUALLY cater or riddle, trey too. ace and deuce never win. plus, cater has his clones to back him up, but if riddle uses his spell, he’s the first one gone
trey just kinda lets it happen, until he doesnt. yea hes ticklish but rarely does he lose unless he lets it happen on purpose. (until u get his back, then he’s done for) riddle and cater know this pretty well, ace and deuce have yet to find out. whenever they come close, trey quickly turns the tables LOL
#tickling#heartslabyul#lee!riddle#ticklish!riddle#ler!riddle#lee!cater#ticklish!cater#ler!cater#lee!trey#ticklish!trey#ler!trey#lee!ace#ticklish!ace#ler!ace#lee!deuce#ticklish!deuce#ler!deuce#riddle rosehearts#cater diamond#trey clover#ace trappola#deuce spade#twst tickling#twisted wonderland#jai’s headcanons
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hi i'm the anon who asked you a couple things the other day (you may be able to figure out who i am after reading and that's okay). i guess i just didn't see the posts you were referring to in both cases despite spending a while scrolling through your blog and just reading.
for some clarification about the wlw question, i didn't care about canon or fanon, i was just curious about how your opinions work since i personally do like many of the ships you don't, as well as some we mutually share, and i'm the type of person who wants to learn about differing viewpoints to understand them better despite that.
i'm also wondering how you like scorptra if you're a catradora anti since catra has been verbally abusive to scorpia at the very least, though i'm aware that's arguably better than her treatment of adora but still not healthy until the very end of the last episode.
i hope it's understood that my intention was not to challenge you as a gotcha but simply just to know you a bit better. i may have stopped feeling comfortable being mutuals with you (or just following? i don't remember tbh) for various reasons related to fandom but i still respect you as a person and your opinions so sometimes i come back.
also big W on harlivy and korrasami btw, i love our bi4bi queens
lastly i agree with you 100% on the lunter tiktok video, i love voidpitws' edits very much so i still follow on instagram but i don't support the superiority complex all the canon sibling truthers have when they're wrong 🤷
Hi!
Yeah, that's fine, I understand that a lot of people can have different opinions with me, since a lot of mine are controversional, even if you agree with some
I would love to answer your question about Scorptra and Catradora tho
First of all, catradora being abusive isn't even the only reason why I hate this ship. I talked about it before so I don't wanna fully describe everything again, I will just call them: it ruined s5 and both of Adora and Catra's arcs and that's basically a canon incest, since they werent even just portrayed as adoptive sisters, but even the whole crew, including Nate, have admitted it multipe times. You can try to find some posts about it in anti tags, there is actually a lot of information, if you're actually interested
Now, about abusiveness and Scorptra. Tbh, I really don't understand how can people even compare these two, when these ships are so different, but anyways. I will talk about Scorptra s1-3 and s4 separately, since the whole portal arc has changed so many things
Let's see. Why I consider Catradora as an extremely abusive relationship?
Let's compare Catradora to s1-3 Scorptra
Catra hates Adora and tried to make her suffer as much as possible. Every time she saw Adora, she did everything to hurt her either physically, or mentally, by making her self-hatred stronger than it ever was and used every opportunity to do this. And no, It never was "bc they were at the war". Catra did it bc she just personally hated Adora and wanted to make her feel pain, no one made Catra do this, it was always her personal desire. And even when they were kids, she was the same. And the reason why It's rather "abuser x victim", than "enemies" is bc Adora never treated Catra the same. If in case with Glimmer, It's at least mutual, than with Adora it never was. Catra was always the one who tried to find a fight with Adora. Adora never tried to hurt Catra and never tried to offend her. All she was doing was self-defense. And claiming self-defense as smth even near to abuse, is just horribly and a victim-blaming. Also you can see, every time Adora "hurt" Catra (even tho it was never Adora's fault and was always on Catra's victim complex) she immidiatly tried to apologize and to fix it, just bc she cared about Catra's feelings, even tho it was never her fault and responsibility
What about Scorptra? Well, Catra just never tried to make Scorpia hate herself and feel awful and didn't tried to physically hurt her. We can say Catra did say smth offensive to Scorpia, but it was never bc she wanted to hurt her, but rather bc Catra didn't care about Scorpia yet and Scorpia's love to Catra was confusing to Catra, she didn't even understand that Scorpia loves her, for her Scorpia was just weird and kinda annoying, especially bc for Catra It had to take a lot of time to love someone, so after s2 (White out episode) when she realized that Scorpia actually cares about her and isn't just being annoying, she accepts Scorpia and starts caring about her back. And after that episode she stops thinking about Scorpia as about just someone weird and starts thinking about her as a friend who cares about her like Adora did once
So, after that Catra starts developing her trust and careness to Scorpia. She desides to be honest with Scorpia and lets her in, by letting Scorpia help her. And then, when she realized that Scorpia isn't even "just" care about her, but also is ready to sacrafice everything she had to save Catra, Catra does the same to Scorpia and puts Scorpia's life before her own. And that's her most selfless action, which, Imo is much more selfless than Catra ever was in s1 or s5 with Adora. Bc, if Catra never thought Adora actually cares about her and thought Adora cares about SW and her role much more, with Scorpia it was the first time she saw someone who cares about her more, than about anything else. And when she realizes it, she desides to do the same for Scorpia, bc she values it so much.
And then they spend the happiest day in their life in a Crimson waste, being mutually respectful to each other and mutually loving being around each other
So I genuinely don't understand how can people say Scorpia was abusive there just bc it was a slow-burn for Catra, bc she has the clearest attachment-issues and couldn't believe someone can actually love her due to her life experience. But I think that's what makes their relationship with Scorpia only more important, bc Scorpia managed to "deserve" Catra's trust, love, respect and careness, even tho Catra was actually such a selfish person who is afraid of being used and left and didn't believe anyone can actually care about her. Scorpia was the first person who has shown Catra that she doesn't have to deserve love to be loved (like it was with SW) . And that she's not alone and that there are people who care about her and are not gonna leave her. For who Catra isn't just an "another friend" to use and leave, who doesn't worth staying for (like from her perspective she was for Adora. Which, again, I obviously don't blame Adora for, she didn't have to care only about Catra, It's just what Catra thought about Adora). Even if we compare Adora and Scorpia's leaving:
Adora left the Horde despite Catra, Scorpia left the Horde because of Catra
Adora showed Catra that she doesn't worth staying in the Horde. And Scorpia showed Catra that the only thing that could make her leave the Horde is Catra
Also, every time Adora tried to help Catra or just did something well, Catra was jealous and envy, bc she saw Adora as a competitor, which isn't healthy, especially considering the fact that Adora never saw Catra the same way. And when Scorpia helps Catra and does her job well, Catra sees, respects and thanks her. That's why her in s4 saying Scorpia she's useless was a straight up lie
Here we go to another thing: Catra always saw Adora as her enemy or a rival, not just as a friend. Which created a super unhealthy dynamic between them. Catra was always the envy friend to Adora, who can't be happy for her and always finds a way do downplay her achievements like we've seen in ep1. Catra was not only envy of Adora's achievements and respect, but also of Shadow Weaver's love. Which was a sibling jealous of a mother or a mother figure, their whole "Golden child" and "Scapegoat child" dynamic with an abusive mother figure
And so Catra's envyness lead to hateness and the hateness lead to unhealthy obsessesion Catra had
She made her whole life and whole goal to make Adora "lose", bc she couldn't handle Adora winning her. She was ready to destroy the whole world just bc of it which isn't healthy in any way. And if you're gonna call Scorpia "obsessed" with Catra, remember that Scorpia was the one who was against activating the portal bc of the risks and tried to make Catra change her mind even despite loving her, while Catra still did it bc of her obsessesion with Adora. Catra was litterally addicted and I do not think giving an addict their addition in the end as a praise is healthy. Catra should have been learnt to let her obsessesion go, to get a life, to find other reasons and goals to live, besides hunting Adora. It could be anything. But giving her just what she was so obsessed with is the worst idea Nate could possible choose
And what about Adora?
Even tho Catra was her best friend, Adora never cared about her as much in the first place. Basically, unlike Catra, Adora always had her own life that wasn't only about her love interest. If the only thing Catra had in the Horde was Adora, Adora did have a lot of things besides Catra: she had Lonnie, Kyle and Rogelio, she had SW's admiration, she had the Horde's respect and she had her own goals. Catra was in her life too, but she was never the first for Adora. Which is absolutely okay. What is not okay is Catra's life, since she decided to dadicate it to Adora and when Adora left, she became lonely. I can't blame her for that, but Catra's life is Catra's responsility and making it only about one person is just stupid and never ends well. So, that's true that Adora never wanted Catra as much as Catra wanted her. Tbh, Adora never even recalled Catra in a good way after s1, so, as someone who was never a catradora shipper, before s5 I had no idea and no thoughts that Adora actually cares about Catra, not even to mention that she "loves" her and this ship never made sense to me bc it. It was always so one-sided. And the way Catradora shippers are trying to call Scorptra one-sided, makes me think they just skipped the whole s3.
So , for Adora Catra was always just an ex friend who for some reason (since Adora didn't understand it) decided to hate and fight her, just bc for some reason she didn't want to go with her. Catra's behavior never made sense to Adora and that's also strange to me that they didn't want to mention it in s5.
And the worst thing is not even that for Adora Catra was always just an "ex friend", but that she also was a cruel enemy, who made Adora go throught so much trauma, made her hate herself and think that she should die and that her life has no worth, that she only makes things worse and doesn't deserve anything good, while in reality Adora is the most selfless and kind person out of the whole show. Catra tortured Adora, killed a mother of her best friend, terrorized the planed and took away homes and lives of so many innocent people. Adora didn't just despise Catra, but she hated her for everything she has done and s5 has completely erased that fact. And it wasn't the "love-hate" type of hate, It's a hateness people have to terrorists, murderouses and war criminals that take away people's lives and make the life horrible. And that's ridicilous how so many fans really think that's just bc it wasn't directly shown in a kid show means It's not true, while It's very much is and was so heavily implied. Like they think a "war" is when two lesbians are arguing, not when people are losing their homes and families and die. And Adora, as someone who can't stand cruelty and injustice, has litterally left the Horde to protect those people. Making Adora suddenly "love" someone who has done all these things makes no sense and was so stupid and horrible.
Especially considering the fact that her whole arc in s3 was about learning that she's not responsible for Catra's actions, that Catra decided to live like this herself and that Adora doesn't have to baby sit Catra and what SW did to Catra wasn't on Adora either and that she didn't have to be responsible for it. Adora did a right chose to leave an abusive environment and she actually did ask Catra to go with her many times. Yet what do we see in s5? Catra is a victim of everyone. Catra opening the portal and abusing every is now SW's responsibility and not Catra's one, Adora is also blamed for leaving Catra and not for chosing to love some days with Catra over saving the whole world and Adora has to baby sit Catra every fucking minute
It has completely destroyed everything that had been building for 4 seasons and that's terrible not only just for Adora, or even Catra, but for the whole ending and finale season.
So now about Scorptra in s4
While I do agree that their relationship obviously wasn't healthy there and Catra treated Scorpia and everyone around really bad, I don't think their relationship can be called abusive bc of that like catradora during their whole relationship.
First of all, when we talk about characters relationship, we should consider all of their relationship during the whole show in general, not just take out of the context one arc and run with it. If catradora was toxic and abusive on every single stage (when they were kids in the Horde, when they were enemies and when they became friends - couple), Scorptra, like I've already described it, wasn't. They mutually cared about each other and Catra didn't treat Scorpia horribly. S1-s3 was the default of their relationship and s4 wasn't what Scorpia and Catra's relationship is normally, it was what they turned into due to the stress and the whole shit that has happened in the finale of s3. Which doesn't justify Catra ofc, but it does show that Catra actually cares about Scorpia and what was in s4 was rather an exception, than what their relationship actually is. During it, Catra hated herself for what she did, she became like a "full" villain, she was angry on herself and on everyone else and focused on her goal to destroy the rebelion and started ignoring everything else that was and still is important to her, like Scorpia. So, after such a huge action, that has changed the war so much, that Catra had more things to care about than ever. What Im saying is that Catra's anger in s4 wasn't aimed at Scorpia. Scorpia just happened to be a scapegoat of Catra's stress and guilt. While with Adora, Catra did aim her anger exactly at her. And in this case the whole "they were at war" excuse fits much better, since Catra's anger at Scorpia was caused by the stress at the war and the portal, while dor Adora it was just a pure haterd. So, does it make it okay? Absolutely not, it still was unhealthy. But does it change everything and make Catra's relationship with Scorpia and Adora incomparable? Absolutely yes.
And what confirmes this fact is Catra's reaction there:
First of all, Catra didn't realize how much her words hurt Scorpia. Like I said before, Catra didn't mean to hurt her in the first place, she just wanted to be left alone and to put her anger on someone. And when Scorpia says Catra is a bad friend, she immidiatly realizes it and feels bad about hurting Scorpia, feels guilt. Something she never felt while hurting Adora. When she was hurting Adora, she was enjoying it and didn't think there was her fault, she put it on Adora. However with Scorpia, just when Catra realizes she hurt Scorpia, she immidiatly gets that It was her fault and that Scorpia didn't deserve it. And as we see later, Catra immidiatly stopped acting like this towards Scorpia and started treating her better (for example, sharing her thoughts and feelings with her, as a friend), the only problem is that it was too late.
When Hordak asked Catra where was Entrapta's recording, Catra lied to him, saying she didn't find it, bc she knew if Hordak found out Scorpia has damaged it, she would get in troubles.
So she takes Hordak's aggression on herself, instead of letting him hurt Scorpia. Just like she did in the prison scene, when she didn't let Scorpia help her get out bc Scorpia would have troubles bc of that. This shows us how much Catra actually cares about Scorpia, even when she is in the wrong and acts toxic.
And the saddest thing is that they actually could be together, happy and in healthy relationship, if only the creators decided to let Catra let go her obsessesion with Adora, for example, in the Crimson waste. I really love the idea of them staying there in s3, instead of returning to the Horde. It seems like it would be much better for everyone. Or at least, if s5 was written better and Catra actually had at least some screen time with Scorpia, they also could leave others and return to the Crimson waste as they wanted to.
So, It's not like I look at Catra yelling at Scorpia in s4 and think "ohh, that's so cute, they should kiss now", It's that their whole relationship was beautiful, complex and dramatic. Bc Catra could be happy with Scorpia, but her obsessesion was stronger and it ruined everything. I'll dare to call it "doomed yuri", bc of how tragic Catra's issues made it
Well, I think that's all, hope I did answer your questions
#Scorpia#Catra#Scorptra#Anti c//a#Anti catradora#She-ra#She-ra and the princess of power#anti spop s5#Wlw#Wlw ships
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im new here, so im sorry if this is a question youve answered before but tumblr's search bar failed me in finding this to be previous answered but.. uhmmm
c... can we make ocs/personas for Felt World? or would you rather we not or we hold off until further in?? bc i would love to make a puppet give our cowboy a smooch before he is, i assume bc he is a fucking catch and a half, taken off the market in canon lol i assume he wont still be single by the end. im a tad bit too embarrassed to ever post such drawings, but i wanted to know in case i ever did become brave enough to make them public if such you would be welcome to be tagged in or if that would make you feel uncomfortable
and also, for that purpose: as someone with disabilities, im really curious how disabilities are translated into Felt World? obviously not all of them, that'd take forever. but i was curious if they use mobility aids just like ours or if they use ones we could not have (an example of what i mean could be like "seal-chairs" in "Witch Hat Atelier"? they are chairs with hooves that run and jump, as opposed to wheels). and i know you said music is really powerful in this world, in both singing and instruments, but i wanted to also ask how in a world with so much focus on sound are the deaf/hard of hearing accomadated? deaf/HoH people can still play instruments, obviously (the most famous example being Beethoven), but i meant other than that
(also, if i recall accurately you once said that "the puppets have to speak to be considered sentient beings"? i was wondering if in the future could that be amended to "have to be able to communicate"? because i assume nonverbal puppets would still exist, as well as puppets who just dont speak much (whether thats a facet of deafness or nonspeaking shutdown or just a quiet personality). or would that break Felt World's world-building's logic in some way? that's a genuine question. i wasnt sure how to word it in a way that would minimize the risk of one being put on their back-foot, but i tried my best, it really is a genuine question)
(also, because i never like to assume fluency in disability-knowledge: if you need a resource on media portrayals of disability at any point, i highly recommend the youtuber, Oakwyrm. they do a lot of really cool analysis videos on disability. i do apologize if i am overstepping, and you are already largely fluent in disabled portrayals in media and/or already aware of Oakwyrm's existence. i just like to shout at least one resource out because i know many people have no idea where to look to learn more about general disability representation advice and whatnot. you do not have to watch their videos if you do not want to ♡)
also a bit of a tangent, idk if this is just a "for now" aspect of Donna due to her adjusting or if this is a core pillar of her personality but... just, thank you for making a feminine character who cries a lot and is emotional with Big Feelings. ive always felt more connected to the Dorthy Gales, Cinderellas, Clarisse de Cagliostros kind of heroines who are a bit of a "damsel in distress" (tho i do think that term reduces a lot of their agency and bravery) and i feel a bit lonely that we dont see many emotional-vitality-driven heroines who need some help as much as badass heroines or sassy heroines, both of whom are fully capable of getting shit sone alone. makes my cry-baby disabled ass feel a little pathetic (im very physically weak because of my chronic health issues, and am the type of Autistic ADHDer who is very sensitive to getting big feelings), even tho i know those types of heroines are valid and needed. i resonate a lot with AJR's lyric about "But I'm weak. And what's wrong with that?" even though i know im taking it out of context
and im sure Donna will prove herself capable of being on her own and having her own agency, same as all the heroines ive listed, i dont assume she will be stagnant, but i just wanted to really thank you for making a character that i relate to. i dont get that often. it makes me feel a bit abnormal and strange, and i mean moreso than the "well youre neurodivergent and sickly" kind of abnormal that would be implied. like. Weird Kid sitting alone at lunch kind of strange. so its really cool to see Donna and feel less lonely, is what im saying. i wish there were more heroines like her for people like me nowadays, rather than the archetype being reduced to "archiac stereotypes" (which i both do and dont understand the logic of. it depends on context and the example given) and therefore shelving a type of heroine we dont see in a lot of contemporary media (in exchange for a heroine we didnt get to see often (if at all) in past media, the sassy and badass ones, i do get it, and im glad theyre being used more as they should have always been. there are a select few of both camps that feel like "women have to be as stereotypically masculine as possible to be worthy of being called 'a strong character'" when i think strong characters have less to do with personality and more to do with "do they direct the narrative's plot? do they have agency?". but i could be wrong about that and i am getting off-topic)
but yeah. just. overall: thank you for introducing Donna to be like she is. it means a lot to me to see a heroine like her in contemporary media. im really excited to see what youll do next ♡ but yeah, i know im babbling a lot here and you dont need to reply to this half, i just really wanted to stress my thanks and WHY you have my thanks ♡♡♡ i really appreciate having Donna sit at my metaphorical lunch-table with me, even if she has to go sit somewhere else later. its been really nice to be beside her
thank you ♡
ps. i wasnt sure how to format this Ask because i know some people like to have each section have their own Ask for compartmentalizing/tag-organization reasons, but others like it all to be together so they know its all from one person as opposed to the anxiety of "ahh why did i get so many Asks all at once, did i do something wrong, do people hate me-- oh. its fine. i went through that rollercoaster for nothing. dear lord, am i drained now". so i tend to rather assume the latter, just in case; but do feel free to screenshot and section these out into their own posts if you are the former, i wont mind if youd rather do that ♡ have a nice day!!
Oh my goodness what a long message!!! 0.0!!
I had to take a few hours to think about everything to make sure I answered everything. But I should start off by showing my gratitude for the amount of time and effort you put into formulating this! So thank you, this was a really cool ask to receive <3
As for OCs, absolutely you can! I've already had a few who've made theirs, and I have no rules at all when it comes to shipping or self inserts or anything, as long as everyone is being respectful towards each other ^^
As for the disability aspect, I have a few key points that I want to explore in regards to especially deafness and muteness (is it called that? muteness?), but that's further along the story and will be introduced later! Also how song vs instruments work in this world is a part of the lore itself that'll be explained further down the line too, so no need to worry about our fellow mute or deaf/hoh peeps!
I have of course thought about mobility aids and other disability accommodations (because they can be born with defect, illnesses, and be injured pretty much like us, their bodies are a bit more fantastical but there are still rules) but i must admit didn't think further other than to give them similar mobility aids that we use. But clearly it would make more sense to make something more fantastical! I'll give it a thought! That's probably gonna be a fun design exercise ^^
I'm not sure if I can answer the entire ask in a way that does it justice, it's quite frankly the coolest message I've gotten, I'm gonna try and not let it get to my head (lol),
but i'm so glad you and seemingly many others seem to like Donna and appreciate her specifically for being sensitive and reacting strongly. It shouldn't be but it's really daunting to write female leads because as we know people just don't like women in media generally, but I eventually just got over it because I realized I was starting to write a character that demanded the audience cared and respected, rather than showing a story that I had fun telling, in a world worth exploring.
And not to spoil but I've already decided I do not want Donna to go through an arc where she's forced to abandon her emotions or go through something physically traumatic in order to "become tough" to be respected, that's not only overdone but lame and harmful wish fulfillment. So no worries in that department!
But anyways, I don't think I can properly say how appreciative I am of this ask!!! It really warms my heart that you and other people are going out of your way to send me asks about my little story that I came up with on a whim!!! It's truly the best compliment as a creator.
<3
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Hello! I went to sleep while finishing GC so naturally I had dreams abt it and some random questions- would you ever consider adding character descriptions for a Trans MC? (I know this is more work for u so feel free to ignore jus curious).
Also on that note I wanna add that the naming scene did in fact make me cry, I know it’s not the internet to be trans coded but- it just struck a cord with me- jus the fact that I got to choose my name and my fathers were happy for me🥲😭🙏🏼a whole box of puffs+ gone in one sitting. I can’t express how much I LOVE Da and Papa, they’re my Roman Empire I love them so much. They’re just so loving and accepting 🥲I wanna hug them
Speakin of characters I’d like to hug- Will we still be able to dig deeper into Zahns backstory even if we don’t romance them? Bc…I just…I wanna drag them back home far FAR from their Sect and just love them (platonically) forever. I wont deny tho I’m just very curious about their cult and like…wtf is going on there 👀
Ok this is already too long I’ll leave it at that💞gonna go reread this masterpiece now.
(Side note your description of the honey cakes made me wanna try them so I’m currently looking for recipes 🕺gonna eat them while I reread)
Have the loveliest day!
Sincerely,
-Oswin obsessed anon
Hello my dear!
First off, that is very sweet and I am loving that you dreamed about it!
I had wondered about making something of the sort, but like you said, it adds to an already complex system. My thinking when I did the character creation as it is was that, at least in this world, whoever you are - you just are. That's kinda how I see myself because I've always been in a grey area for my own identity. So, I just am. That's why I didn't enter any sort of specified option for transitioning.
I don't know if anything like the Trans descriptors will be in the game. If I did them, I'd want them to be at least meaningful. So, I won't say no, and it's something I'll take to heart when I consider the scope of the project.
I am thrilled that the naming scene was meaningful for you. I think I know how you feel there.
If I could magic any two people from my IF to life, I would probably go with Papa and Da, lol. Sorry to the RO lovers, but the world needs these daddies!
You will definitely see more of Zahn's backstory even if you don't romance them. Each RO will have that sort of baggage and you will be able to "try before you buy" so to speak. I haven't decided how deep that will go or how those will change depending on if they are romanced or not. I'm considering designing it so that you would need to romance them to get the entire scope of their background, problems, and such and help them find some sort of closure during their route. Zahn will start opening up more before you know it though!
Not to worry about a long ask - I love reading! Lol
I actually found a honey cake recipe that I wanted to post with a future update for chapter 3! But I'll pop it in here for you in case you want it. It's a bit fancier than what would be available to the MC's family, but it would be delectable. This chef is my all time favorite as well. Love the way he talks and his silly puns. I use his methods and recipes a lot and they never fail.
youtube
I hope your day is also lovely, Anon! Thank you for dropping in! ^_^
#god cursed if#asks#twine if#if wip#twine wip#interactive novel#gc if character development#did someone say cake?
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Your last post is funny bc just TODAY I watched that season finally. I’m literally 2 episodes into season 5 right now. As someone who just watched that for the first time (and hadn’t noticed it WAS the season finally when I started watching it) I was losing my goddamn MIND watching those episodes. Just constantly 😯😯😯. I began watching 911 when I started seeing posts circulating about Buck being bi. At the time I had no idea who he was other than the occasional gif set but it made me intrigued and I have been HOOKED. Literally trying to get through as many episodes as possible so I can watch the episodes live. Questions for you (since I have no one else to talk to about the show); when did you start watching? Have you had any predictions while watching the show that didn’t/ did come true? Like for me when I watched season 1 and Abby went to the fire department for the first time I SWORE up and down that her and Bobby were meant to be endgame (was clearly wrong lol). But also after Chris got stuck in the Tsunami I called it that something would happy to Harry later on (just a feeling that no one was safe lol, not even the kids). I’m just so curious to see what the fandom theories have been over time lol since I missed out on it!
Yeah, no, watching suspicion/survivors for the first time is WILD. Like, imma be honest and bit oversharing, I watched the show for the first time in a depressive episode, so I watched everything up to 5x10 in like, 6 days according to the posts I made on Tumblr about it, so I didn't realize theorize about anything, I was just hitting next episode like my life depended on it. But I didn't know anything about the show, like, at all, I had just watched 911 lone star in a weekend because it was on the tv and there were only like, 20 episodes of it out it at the time and a network in my country was just showing all of them on a loop, and I opened the Disney app fully intending to rewatch grey's anatomy, and 911 was the first show on my recommended to you list, and I had liked lone star enough, and was like sure why not. And I legit couldn't stop watching. All of this happened the week before 5x11 aired on the us, so 5x11 was the first episode I watched like "live" (the first episode I actually watched live was 5x16) but I watched it in the same week, I think I finished on a Tuesday? And the episode aired on Monday. I can't really give you any theories I have witnessed so far because they would be spoilers tho, but if you wanna come back once you catch up we can talk about some of the madness that goes around here. But I had the same thing happen to me, I didn't realize it was the season finale, and I didn't know anything about the show, so I had no idea what was happening, and I thought I had learned my lesson with the tsunami arc, because I watched 3x01 at like 3 am fully saying this is the last episode I will watch and then I'm gonna go to bed, and then the tsunami hit, and I was like well fuck and then Chris fell in the water and next thing I know is 5 am and Eddie is making me cry at the end there. But I saw the 13 and didn't realize the season only had 14 episodes and then everything kept happening. I seriously cannot imagine what it was like to be forced to wait a week between those 2 episodes it was SO CRAZY. When Eddie got shot I legit froze. Watching that for the first time not knowing it's coming is SOMETHING. I do remember thinking that they were gonna kill Shannon but I didn't expect to be right, I also remember clocking that Jason was Doug pretty fast. Something funny tho, I remember posting that meme that's like "I've had blank for 1 day and a half but if anything happened to him I'd kill everyone in this room and myself" with Buck and I waited until I had been watching for a day and a half, that means I posted it while watching the season 2 finale. I hit post and the truck blew up and I legit went like ????????? and that is still the most ironic thing that ever happened to me while posting about 911 kspskspkspakapkapa (here's the post, I actually came back to edit the tags because I was in shock lol) and I laugh every time I remember that lol but I'm glad you're enjoying the show, you can come back to talk to me about it any time!;
#i feel very luck to not know whats coming never in this show#i mean#we did know a few things with promos and stuff but like#i never had any major spoiler going into any episode for the first time and i love that#anon 😌#i really need a tag for asks#911
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so....abt that adventure time daemon au....sits down with folded hands. im SO SO curious as to what your thoughts are and lowkey wondering if theyre anything like what ive been cooking up in my twisted mind...slash joke...YOU GO FIRST I WANNA KNOW!!
jkdfgdjfkg yeah im gonna focus on the fionna + cake aspects since thats what i posted but if you wanna know about someone else send a followup!! i have the strongest ideas for marceline and more scattered thoughts on everyone else but!! i turn this around in my head a lot lol.
under the cut bc i am incapable of being short
so. the reason fionna world is Like It Is despite nominally being a human au is bc i decided that in ooo, humans are the only people with daemons! everyone else has Something Else, but that something else isnt actually a daemon (this bit is still fuzzy lol since it would just be more bg in anything i write).
so that means the only characters in adventure time who have/had a daemon are finn (tossing around the name honey for her?? shes unsettled but mostly dogs bc they grew up with dogs lol), marceline (she lost her daemon upon becoming a vampire, gets her back at the end of stakes. do not ask me what she is settled as idk as of now lol), and simon (lost her upon becoming ice king, he does Not get her back. i think its fun if she is a penguin bc that makes ice king surrounding himself w penguins super tragic. he knows something is gone but cannot articulate what.)
also i guess people like susan strong and the humans on the human island but shhhh i dont have super strong ideas for them lol.
ALL THAT TO SAY. since fionnaworld was created by prismo (gonna be real idk what his deal is but he is obviously His Own Thing and as a deity type deal he probably is granted w 'can see dust' powers and thus has no idea what daemons are all about) and lives in ice kings/later simons head (one who doesnt know about daemons and one who is mourning the permanent loss of his own) when fionna and cake were "created" finn jake and finn's daemon were mashed into two characters, who are! human and daemon.
everyone else either never had a daemon in normal ooo (ex. pb) or didnt have them at the time fionnaworld was created and thus they werent carried over (ex. marceline.) of everyone tho probably marshall WOULD know the most, this is why he has a line in my fic where he's like, do you know what i'd do for a weird cat? as a sort of hint that he SHOULD have a daemon, but. alas.
uhhh. where am i going with this.
OH RIGHT so yeah basically when fionnaworld became de-magicked it took with it a lot of people's points of connection--everyone ends up way more isolated than they were. since simon is mourning his own daemon that translates to daemons just Not Existing, and so fionna and cake are very much isolated from each other. they dont have the words for their relationship. all fionna knows is she needs cake with her, and vice versa.
cake IS still a daemon, but without that framework shes stuck in the 'normal cat' role even though she does a lot of noncatlike things, n her and fionna are very very good still at sorta knowing what the other is thinking and reacting accordingly. the people closest to fionna (so, really just marshall and gary lol) have SOME idea of what is up but if asked its more leftover instinct than like, the ability to actually explain any of this. fionna and cake try to interact w the world as a human-daemon pair but that doesnt work when the world has no fucking idea what that is.
uh. that. probably answers some question!! i think the plot of fionna and cake itself is MOSTLY the same...really fionna and cake just find out there is a word for who they are to each other n get that relationship reestablished which isnt a far cry from canon. i really like the stuff they do with betty/simon so i wouldnt want to change that, though i imagine there is a bit of simon mourning his lost daemon too--idk i feel like you could tie those feelings in if you were to write a full adaptation but i!! dont think enough changes to do that so i wont be lol.
i mostly just wanted to do episode one bc again. daemon in a world that doesnt know wtf a daemon is. truly the funniest and most tragic thing in the world.
#fionna and cake#daemons#daemon au#ask#daetalk#'why do you do this' look my life is 24/7 daemons ok ive embraced this#this is who i am. i will not change. you will read my daemon aus
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HIII more oc asks for you. feel free to answer with bunny or leon in mind or anybody else.. i am the curious guy ever and will devour it either way.
💭 THOUGHT BALLOON — what is your oc's MBTI, enneagram, and/or other personality aspects (if known/interested in)?
🖊️ BALLPOINT PEN — does your oc have any tattoos? do they want any (more) tattoos?
🔶 LARGE ORANGE DIAMOND — does your oc know cpr? do they have any other medical expertise?
🎄 CHRISTMAS TREE — what is your oc's favorite holiday?
🤔 THINKING FACE — what are some of your oc's quirks/mannerisms?
🤒 FACE WITH THERMOMETER — does your oc get sick easily?
okayyyy thank you good night 💥💥
send an emoji/description of emoji to learn more about an OC
thank you so much! i’ll answer for leon and bunny since they were both mentioned
💭 THOUGHT BALLOON — what is your oc's MBTI, enneagram, and/or other personality aspects (if known/interested in)?
ok i’ll be real i’m really not familiar or that interested in personality types, sorry😭
🖊️ BALLPOINT PEN — does your oc have any tattoos? do they want any (more) tattoos?
bunny doesn’t have any and i don’t think she’s particularly interested in getting any. i’ve toyed around w the idea that leon and coco get matching tattoos after a few too many drinks. i still need to design what they’d be tho. something fairly small and not immediately noticeable, maybe on their fingers?
🔶 LARGE ORANGE DIAMOND — does your oc know cpr? do they have any other medical expertise?
i mean. leon is a doctor. so he knows CPR and any other first aid. he’s good at what he does, and when he’s completely focused on his work he doesn’t break under the pressure at all. i think he’s a very skilled surgeon and general medical examiner (as in, doing autopsies). nothing fazes him when it comes to medical stuff.
pre-war, i think bunny had a general idea of how to do CPR but she’d never done it before. she didn’t know any medical stuff either. post-war, she’s kinda had to learn some basics. gotta adapt to survive! she’s never done any sort of major medical procedure on anyone, tho she has been the one that needed immediate medical attention after a particular ambush while she and deacon were out one day. it’s fine now she just has a scar on her side.
🎄 CHRISTMAS TREE — what is your oc's favorite holiday?
pre-war bunny really enjoyed christmas and new years, mainly just for the parties she’d be invited to/throw. any excuse to get together and get drunk and eat good food and have fun. post-war idk if she really thinks much about holidays anymore? honestly i think she’s surprised they still exist in some capacity. i think her faves would stay the same regardless tho. also now that she has kids and a family to experience halloween with, she does enjoy that, but it does still leave a bittersweet taste in her mouth bc the world ended right before halloween/all the decorations can still be found 200+ years later. it’s a weird feeling.
similar to bunny i think leon also enjoys christmas. mainly bc he likes any excuse to go see his friends. and his friends live in the south so he has an excuse to Not trudge through snow! that’s very important when you’re a traveling doctor ok. he definitely does get the occasional case of christmas blues tho bc inevitably he does miss his dad and jonas. i think he has some really fond memories of the three of them celebrating together in the vault.
🤔 THINKING FACE — what are some of your oc's quirks/mannerisms?
when leon’s really focused on what he’s working on, he has a tendency to just kinda tune everything out. it can take a few shouts/shaking his shoulder to snap him out of it. bunny has a tendency to chew on her lip when she’s nervous or bored.
🤒 FACE WITH THERMOMETER — does your oc get sick easily?
shockingly no. i think leon only gets seriously sick like once every few years. in his canon i like to think the mothership zeta stuff was literally a fever dream. the alien stuff may or may not have been exacerbated by booker being next to him and telling him his fever was some extraterrestrial disease. regardless leon believes even harder in aliens than he did before so. it’s fine.
i think bunny is also in pretty good health all things considered? pretty average. gets the occasional cold or whatever. i think bunny and leon are both very much like. work through the sickness type people. bunny bc she likes to do everything herself and is such a workaholic that you gotta make her relax, and leon bc he feels like he owes it to everyone around him to always be on top of everything and “i’m a doctor i’d know if i was sick” *passes out*
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Preface: I am an 18+ blog, so minors don’t interact and keep scrolling
I know I was gonna do notes for the new Percy Jackson book, but in true Percy Jackson ADHD fashion, I stopped like a third of the way in bc it started feeling like a chore. And now I’m making this post days after finishing it 🤷🏻
But congratulations Rick Riordan on once again attracting his target reader audience
It was really good tho. If I wasn’t so bone tired lately, I would’ve finished it two days, but it took me like four lol. So if you have problems focusing on reading for long periods of time, this book is phenomenal (granted, I read oodles of college level books last year for my degree so middle grade is like a walk in the park but…my point still stands). This book is lower stakes than the original series, but if you love Percy as much as I do, this is great 😅😅 GIVE THAT BOY A BREAK
I’ll post a few spoilers below if you’re curious and nosey on what happens but don’t want to read the book. I encourage you to look up the general synopsis tho bc I’m not gonna write about that. This is gonna be my highlights.
Poseidon is a crocs and socks guy and I couldn’t be more happy. This is my biggest highlight. I’m not joking. Like of course he is. He’s also building an infinity pool in his underwater summer getaway which is just great. He’s trying to build a relationship ship with Percy so that’s great. Percy seems to be chill with that but he knows Poseidon’s gotta work for it.
Zeus being the reason why Percy’s gotta get 3 letters of recommendation. And why his first and only kite as a kid was struck down 😭😭😭
The existence of the restaurant Himbo Juice in this book surely means that Rick is aware of the femboy Hooters meme. Like I feel it in my nuggets
Percy and Annabeth sure are Percabeth-ing in this book and it gives me life. Like I can’t pinpoint an exact moment bc it’s everywhere.
I looooooove how Ganymede is painted as a victim of grooming in this book. Bc of course. And I looooove how Iris sympathizes with him bc she understands his situation and knows how he got an even worse deal than she did in his position. It’s also interesting how Riordan hops around this within the confines of middle grade fiction.
Also Ganymede feeling obligated to fill and top off everyone’s cups (demigod or not) was a nice touch
Iris has a demigod child that only loves monochrome and it’s killing her. Amazing
Sally Jackson is living her best life with Paul and is now a published author. AND SHE’S PREGNANT 😆😆😆😆😆😆 AND PERCY IS EXCITED TO BE A BIG BROTHER 😆😆😆😆😆😆😆 oh I love it. Honestly, I could have a book just on that with him doing big brother babysitting.
Hebe has a Chuck E Cheese establishment called Hebe Jeebies where people can become younger as they play games and eat cardboard pizza. And she has killer chickens that will eat your flesh and conduct chicken fights. ALSO THE MAIN CUSTOMERS BEING BOOMERS BC THEY CANT GROW UP IS HILARIOUS. Burn.
When the trio was turned 8 temporarily, Percy was so anxious bc childhood trauma obvi. But Percy going “I don’t want to go through growing up again. I won’t. I’m so scared,” was owie.
In fact, Percy being so anxious he pressure washed (pressure bombed?) a cave is relatable. If every time I had a panic attack I became a pressure washer, my neighborhood street would be so clean.
The god of old age (whose name escapes me) being the one who stole the chalice made a lot of sense. AND PERCY EMBRACED HIM INSTEAD OF FIGHTING HIM BC HE WILL BE FIGHTING OLD AGE HIS WHOLE LIFE AND HE WANTS TO GROW OLD😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I was tearing up. I think this was really targeted toward the young adult/approaching middle age audience. Damn you Riordan
Percy broke into Zeus’ chamber in Olympus to return the chalice and the only god to notice him was Athena!!!!!! They literally went “👁️👄👁️ 👀” She’s more tolerant of Percy being Athena’s boyfriend now!!! It’s gettin serious
Hmmmmmmmm
That’s all I have to say about that
#pjo#percy jackson and the olympians#percy jackson#the chalice of the gods#the chalice of the gods spoilers#percy jackson spoilers
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hi.
well… after being stalked and harassed for the past couple of months, i am finally back!! stay tuned lol i got some fics lined up for y’all 😁
anyway if you read that first line and thought to yourself “WTF?!?”, here is the full story for my curious readers (just a warning, it’s long and i rant a lot):
a couple of months ago, i started getting tagged by random accs on tiktok and insta that posted vids accusing me of the most random and heinous shit. honestly, it just baffled me the first time i saw them bc they made absolutely no sense whatsoever.
when the first ones popped up, i just blocked them thinking it was a random troll and went on with my life.
but then i kept getting spammed by other accs with new posts where they not only involved me but also my friends, and accused us as a friend group of being horrible ppl.
i had enough (i can’t even remember how many accs i blocked) and deleted ALL my social media apps for a while (i.e. more than a couple of months, oops) and basically isolated myself from ppl so that i could focus on other things to distract me (i ended up making daily exercise a habit so ig that’s one good thing that’s come out of this lol, i also rewatched all the marvel movies in timeline order hehe). i wish i continued writing so i could’ve at least had more content to share by now, but i was feeling so negative and pissed that i couldn’t even bring myself to write anything (i even uninstalled notion from my phone and that’s where i keep all my drafts and fic ideas)
i only found out the full situation less than a week ago when i reinstalled tiktok bc i missed it, only to find more burner accs harassing me. i finally had enough so i reinstalled insta to rant about it on my spam acc for my friends to see and to my surprise a couple of them knew who it was and explained the whole situation to me.
it was my first time interacting with ppl outside of my family in months lol, when i tell y’all i isolated myself i really did mean it 🙃 my irl friends didn’t even know anything out of the ordinary was happening bc i’m notorious in my friend group for going off the grid for months at a time bc of how bad my mental health gets sometimes, they know to just let me be and let me deal with it alone bc they understand that’s how i work best. (they won’t see this bc they don’t know this tumblr exists but i wanna apologise to my dear friends for my disappearing acts, my bad, i love y’all for being so understanding and still being my friend after all this time 🫶🏼)
anyway, it turns out the culprit was this guy that my friend had rejected previously and he’s so bitter and hateful that he decided to harass me bc he knew i was one of her bffs (the ppl he targeted were the ones in her closest friend group which included me)
but here’s the kicker: I’VE ONLY TALKED TO THIS GUY TWICE!! AND EACH TIME WE TALKED FOR LESS THAN 5 MINS ABOUT IRRELEVANT SHIT!!! WHY AM I INVOLVED?? YOU DON’T KNOW ME!!!!
youtube
when my friend found out she was so surprised and appalled that he was harassing me too, bc him, my friend, and the other ppl he targeted all go to the same college together (and i’m the only one in the friend group that goes to a different college, so to reiterate once again: this guy barely knows me! the last time we spoke was at my friends bday party 3 years ago!! he’s literally insane!)
she knew he was harassing my other friends since they’re all in the same school and know him in person, she didn’t think i would be involved too and i couldn’t believe i was.
anyway, i just wanted to rant about this whole thing bc i’m having a hard time processing it tbh. i hope that guy rots in hell and also finds a job there bc he was acting hella unemployed like who has time for this? he made me feel so confused and paranoid for weeks and i hope he gets all the karma he deserves in the universe.
y’all wanna know something funny tho? i started writing a changmin stalker fic in june, way before this whole situation happened. life imitates art ig 🤪 anyway i finally finished it and i’m gonna release that fic next after i fine tune it, at least now it’ll be somewhat realistic lmaoooo
#cupid speaks#literally the most ridiculous thing that’s ever happened to me#i went from having the most fun time in 🇵🇭 only to come back to this#i should’ve stayed at my grandma’s house that had no wifi for the rest of the summer instead 😒#anyways i’m going to sleep i’ll check back in the morning
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i can't. remember if i sent in numbers for the writer's ask already. if i did, crying ignore this but: 11, 12, and 30?
11. a wip you'd like to finish someday
Oh god i started so many just w/in the past few days. Jace hireling au obviously. jaceporter first time. Actually, the true honest to god earnest answer is i always felt terrible abandoning my multichap danganronpa talentswap. It's so old i really don't think its indicative of my current skill level but it was so much fun and it means so much to be and its so long and i did have a whole ending planned out but im just not that good at writing detectivework. I do think there's some good shit in there still tho.
The other answer that's kinda cheating is i have a fantasy based Taming of the shrew retelling i've been like retooling for like a goddamn year. It's such a fucked play but i have so many mixed feelings abt it. My feelings on taming are very similar to del toro's on pinocchio in that it's very pro domestication of the human spirit that i think is kinda depressing. Like im very centrist abt whether the play is irredeemable or whether its not meant to be taken seriously, but the themes are interesting. In my mind, there's like. all this stuff abt performance and palability and. Individiuality vs community. Acceptance vs ostracization. This tension between vulnerability n connection vs. power and control and how those are competing needs w/in people. Like. Kate n Petrucchio are both outsiders and petruchio could choose vulnerability and connection w/ his wife and instead he chooses social approval in a patriarchal society which he gains through proving how good he is at subjugating his wife. The themes are INTERESTING it's just the fuckin CONCLUSION (aka its morally good and just to gaslight your wife actually) are fuckin DIRE. On the other hand. Kate and Petruchio have mad chemistry and is it so wrong to think they should fuck nasty?
12. a trope you're really into right now
... 4 jaces? I feel like i have a weird stance on the clonefucking joke poll that goes around every few months (in that its not the same as masturbation b/c the minute their consciousness is different from yours thats like. a full person but not a person i would be compelled to be with but maybe im to arospec for that) so its never particularly compelled me before, like i thought that shit in Loki was kinda cringe. but just bc i don't find the idea particularly compelling for myself doesn't mean Jace can't be a little obsessed w/ himself. Tbh the idea of being a xerox of a xerox of a xerox in general is very interesting for me tho.
There's also something I think i keep returning to abt like. Having to renegotiate or reclaim power and love in a relationship that should otherwise be fucked and heartbreaking. By all intents and purposes, there should be one break at the heart of this that ruins everything, a moment at the beginning that should have ruined everthing from jump. but if we're stuck together, I'm determined to reconcile w/ myself that there's love there. It's very Jaceporter. It's very Kate n petruchio. Very hades n persephone I have another very old school ship that actually has something very similar happen. If you can figure it out based on this text i sent my friend then you were probaly on tumblr when a certain webcomic was updating.
30. share a fic you're especially proud of
I feel like me giving so many answers to these is a total copout. The truthful answer is that I have like a 10k togakure (hiro n togami for those curious) pwp fic thats on my google drive somewhere that i've never posted bc ive been too embarrassed and the ship is NOT that popular so i think like .5 people would read it. But it's like my favorite thing i've ever written. I might post it eventually. If i pluck up the courage. I have sent it to like 2-3 people in my lifetime. I'd cite a scene i like, but I like all of it. And also most if it is smut.
The half-hearted answer is my talentswap bc i am fuckin proud of it im just embarrassed bc i abandoned it. I'm legit so sad. I'm such a Hiro n Mukuro should be proxy siblings truther and im glad their scene was the last thing i posted but now it will never come into fruition.
So i guess. My default answer is my Sky High AU for It chapter 2. It's called Welcome To the Loser Track and it's reddie and in it Richie is the kid who glows and Eddie is the kid who turns into a guinea pig. I actually really like the movie Sky High a lot, I think it's a really good kids movie and it's got a lot of fun setpieces and cool design components and even some of the camerawork is pretty neat and cute stuff in it that's rly underrated. Its like one of the main Things i feel like ppl who are my friends or have been w/ me a long time know about me, and the silly thing abt me is that i really do earnestly like Zack/Magenta as a ship, but mainly bc i just think Zack gives off baby butch dyke vibes (and. I hate to use the phrase. but it's kinda black cat x golden retriever vibes). I actually like it so much that Sky High reddie is probably my favorite version of reddie, and i do think the other Losers in that mode are also very fun (Bill is strong n can fly, Mike controls plants, Stan melts, Bev is pyrokinetic, and Ben is a technopath). The main thing abt it is that it's COMPLETE (i have so many abandoned wips), but i am geuinely proud of it. I don't think the writing is like always the most polished but i think there is a lot of interesting queer subtext in that movie (in that there is basically a coming out scene even if the conclusion of the story is that he was straight the whole time lol) that i kinda picked at and did a good job elaborating on. There's actually a lot of underutilized subtext in that movie that isn't rly interrogated that i think is fun. I just think there's very romantic abt two people with "useless" powers seeing the beauty in each other.
I feel like some old school mutuals from my IT days already know this, but this is probably my favorite scene from the fic:
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If you don’t mind tho, would you have any clue where I could ask about this talk of the LU fandom/Jojo going out of line? I’m oblivious to whatever happened and I’m curious
it's a bit of a complicated and long story, but some of it has to do with fans in general just being rly pissy about characterizations. i'm not pointing any fingers or listing any names bc it's not a One Person kinda problem, and some people don't even notice/see the issue and don't think it's an issue at all. in the grand scheme of things, this first issue isn't rly that big of a deal
(this might get long, and might bring up some anxieties for people, so this break is for anybody who wants to avoid mentions of fandom discourse, including past belittlement of furries, otherkin, and systems. stay safe)
reminder: this is just me clarifying info bc somebody asked! i am not trying to dredge up old mistakes
^ some of the things im talkin about are like . people babying wind. people turning wars into a comic-relief character that only knows how to creep girls out. people turning twilight into an emo cowboy that constantly cries about his girlfriend that's now in another realm or whatever. people simplifying wild into a crazy arsonist who doesn't seem to have a brain. people taking the "bitter" part of legend and exaggerating it So much that he's literally just an asshole to everybody all the time for NO reason other than that "he's the bitchy one"
personally this isn't nearly as annoying to me as some others find it. but i think the Bigger one, for me at least, is jojo herself
in this post, jojo makes fun of furries and otherkin, which i do not agree with. i don't have a problem w jojo not wanting twi to be "furry-like" but she drew the furry purposefully disgusting and stupid-looking to make fun of them. i don't know much about otherkin, but i know it's wrong to make fun of other people, especially when they aren't hurting anybody <3
and in this post, while explaining four's characterization in the comic, jojo put the word system in air quotes, as if to suggest there's something wrong with systems or that they don't exist or something. that stirred up quite a lot of suspicion and doubt in the fandom, and many systems obviously did not like that. i am not a system, so that's all i'll put here—a lot of systems posted their own takes on it when it happened
jojo has since edited both the tumblr post and the insta post to not have the word system in quotes. she explained herself and apologized here and here (this specific one is, i Believe, referring to past mistakes such as the ones above), but some people still are a bit iffy on that whole debacle (me included)
there might be more, but that's everything that i personally know of as to why the fandom has sorta gone bad. this next reason (sorta two reasons) is a personal thing and i don't rly hold it against jojo herself:
silly reason: i just like familial bonds and Close relationships in fiction, and lu does not cover that. they call each other "brother" from time to time but that's not enough dammit i want them to cuddle and i want time to be the father figure and i want them to live in a nice ranch house together happily ever after OKAY!!!! /silly
a more serious reason: linkshipping
i DO NOT agree with people belittling others for posting linkshipping, and this happens in lu All The Time and it's appalling. im not gonna get into the whole "but it's against her rules" thing bc i have some conflicted feelings abt that whole topic and this will get ridiculously long if i prattle abt that, but . people r getting bullied. people r getting singled out and Called Out and hated on and, in extreme cases, Driven Off The Platform bc they posted two silly little fictional men kissing. that's inexcusable to me
it's a bit more complicated than that, but i am of the simple opinion that u should Never police how other people have fun, and this is all fictional and we should redirect our collective hatred toward Real World Problems instead of wasting our time on arguing about whether or not these fictional elves should kiss <3
if i do make a new au and get away from this fandom, i hope to provide a safe space for Everybody, including linkshippers
#qktalks#barnabyboppins#apologies for the long post—i wanted to be thorough#again; this is not me dredging up past mistakes of jojo's or me trying to start discourse!#i am simply here to educate#if i made a mistake somewhere pls tell me!
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i have many questions i'm sorry
do you think the cupitches are as close, or closer, than the halliwell sisters are?
has melinda ever wanted sisters over brothers
if you had to pick any of the four charmed ladies to make twins, who would it be?
how close are henry jr and paige (in ur opinion)?
do you think andy and henry would've liked each other
how are you doing <3
hi hi hi its okay i love answering questions ❤️‼️❤️📝❤️‼️
1. i would say the cupitches are honestly closer bc they’ve known about this power of three thing since birth + are raised by and empath and a relationship therapist (coops mortal (and sometimes magical!) job) so like the clear communication thing is really really super prevalent. they were learning how to carefully articulate their emotions without pinning the blame on others while most of us were still learning santa isn’t real
2. i mean sometimes a little but the fact that her + pj + kat + tam are all so so super close in age (with parker and peyton still relatively close as well) i think it scratches that itch so to speak like she has someone to braid their hair or put on wacky eyeshadow and bad fashion shows with you know?
3. easy. prue & piper. it would just make their dynamic so much jucier like hello prues overprotective nature over her twin but then also just being the brave one which i think would make piper even more the wallflower and also makes piper taking prues mantle post death even more interesting
4. honestly i think they’re pretty close i think henry jr is a naturally curious child and i think paige likes answering his questions like we really see how much paige loves study and learning esp in season five when she dives headfirst into studying witchcraft and even starts exploring angles not previously known to the halliwells (eg using chi in the s5 premiere, studying romani culture + magic in the eyes have it) so i think like paige has found conversations with her son very engaging even from a young age also i think henry jrs just like. cool. he has a similar dry sense of humor and is in general a fun guy to hang out with so i think he and paige are really close. honestly probably the closest to paige out of any of her children
5. this is difficult to say bc like. idk i really don’t know i wanna say yea bc i love a world in which everyone gets along but my gut is telling me that (if they met in a work setting not thru the girls) no. they’re both very stubborn and strong willed and then of course henry had this bad habit of bailing which yes is a romantic thing but i think any defining bad habits will always spill into other facets of your life and as we see with andy that cut and run deal really fuckin bothers him so he might hold an intrinsic dislike for henry. that being said tho i think if they had motive to bond (e.g. ur girlfriend’s sister is my girlfriend) i think yes they would be friends. i think they were both movie / video game kids growing up i think they would bond over thejr dated pop culture references
6. i am mostly okay but i have a new crush and i’m having a terrible time about it lol i kept saying you know what i need? a like crush? something fun to keep me occupied But Now I Have One and it is not fun!!!! auauaagahuagahhghhh!!
#i don’t think ive ever had a crush on someone cooler than me. or even cool. til now#and its sooo difficult i’m like whoa how are you this cool and also nice and also beautiful 😃🔫#anyway love how are you#charmed#💌
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