#i wish not to go into both to my editor or anyone else

[chainsawmascara]

Returning from a six month hiatus as a journalist with the biggest news i can offer my editor and praying I'm not murdered disappearing without a word.

[gluion]

finger trapped (ripped to its seams) ➵ myung jaehyun

myung jaehyun x reader

with an unexpected reunion, you and jaehyun relive the memories of cheongju—and confront what could’ve been between you two.

general genre/warnings ➵ friends to almost lovers, angst, fluff, gender neutral reader, some depressive and insecure thoughts, hurt/comfort, the last five years story-telling method (aka present will be told going backwards while past will be told moving forward… i hope that makes sense), brief mention of blood from picking on your skin, tiger parents so… parental issues, both of you come from cheongju for the sake of the story, unexpected reunion, keeping secrets & lying, jealousy remains but love triumphs, journalist reader (u kno i had to do it), reader is a nerd and jaehyun is a student-athlete, kms jokes from jongseob (all /lh), finger traps aren’t efficient after all

word count ➵ 15.7k words

playlist ➵ end of beginning by djo // high school in jakarta by niki // i know it won’t work by gracie abrams // no big deal (i love you) by dodie // keeping tabs by niki // no one knows by stephen sanchez & laufey // so what now by reneé rapp // i wish i hated you by ariana grande // the 1 by taylor swift // seasons by wave to earth

a/n ➵ it's finally out! this work is so so personal to me on so many levels so i hope you all love and treat this fic with care :')) for the bitches who struggle with parents and dreams.... this one's for you (i am in the same boat) i appreciate everyone who's been so patient and looking forward to this fic's release. you can access the changmin & hanbin vers as well! please do reblog and leave feedback!!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

present -> three weeks after the interview, 2024

the newsroom never sleeps. the rings of landlines and clacks of keyboards bounce off the four walls. through light bulbs or sunshine, light continues to remain. and at every corner, a journalist stands—ready to enter the depths of slumber but remain on their toes as they await for an update on their unraveling story.

but the newsroom is rarely busy unless there’s a major nationwide event, election season or the super bowl to name a few, for most journalists are out to discover what the world has to offer.

knowledge doesn’t only come from the chitchat of your coworkers. it’s only on the field that you’ll hear of hearsay and testimonies. after all, the choice to probe rests on your shoulders.

“there’s a typo over there.”

“huh? where?”

“over here,” you mumble as your finger darts to point at a section on the screen. “it’s supposed to say “with their climactic performance,” not climatic.”

“ah, i see it now. sorry about that,” lee jihoon of digital development says as he corrects the error. his hair is disheveled from the hood that once perched on his head during the night he spent in the newsroom. you would’ve scolded the guy—go home and take a shower before you stink up the place—but you are no better, grouped with the other journalists who stayed up in the office.

“there we go. should be all good. now, are you ready to go through the profiles?”

an exhausted chuckle departs from your lips. “yeah, let’s go—”

“what’s the update?” life and arts editor kim namjoon—your editor—comes to you with a smile.

the grey hoodie he wears paired with comfortable jeans shows that he’s a little relaxed. for once, you don’t see him on his phone, battling the deadlines or getting pitched stories by the other editors. it’s a nice sight but one that won’t last for long.  

“we just finished going through the article about the group, so we still have yet to go through the profiles.” jihoon then looks at you. “i can’t believe you basically wrote seven articles. like, six profiles and one main article is a lot. you didn’t want to work on it with anyone else?”

once namjoon stands beside you, you bump your shoulder against his figure. “i didn’t have a choice, did i?” it’s a rhetorical question but one your editor still chooses to answer.

“unfortunately, we’re understaffed, but it seemed like you got the hang of it. i wouldn’t have trusted anyone else to do it.” namjoon shoots you a smile before redirecting his attention back to jihoon. “and as much as i’d love to tell y/n more, we have to pick up the pace.” without any further questions, the three of you resume with work. 

there’s no time to waste in the journalism industry. still, his praise doesn’t go unnoticed. 

one article turned into eight done in a matter of 30 minutes, all with the help of three pairs of eyes to go through them. (namjoon seemed to carry the heavy lifting. after all, the guy was trained to be quick in reading and spotting errors.)

it should’ve been easy to keep up with your editor for all the other articles; you know each profile like the back of your hand.

then, the face of a boy who you once knew sits on the screen.

his gaze seems to pierce through your soul, almost in the same way you last talked to him. the loose ends of composure slip through your fingers; your breath’s stuck in your throat as the hammering of your heart fills your ears. yet, he stands still on the monitor.

as your eyes drift through the passages you’ve written, every sound is drowned out. the voice of your editor fades like the everchanging seasons and the clicks of the keyboard resemble the sobs you let out in the comfort of your childhood room.

and suddenly, the hands of the clock have turned all the way back to 2019. the cubicles transformed into aisles of chips and instant ramen, and you hear mr. kim’s voice in the distance—i have some hotteok! fresh from the pan! but amidst it all, you hear the giggles of the boy, your best friend, as he rushes towards you—i’ll go audition and make you proud. as your arm is wrapped with the heat of his fingers, you almost believe that your life as a journalist is nothing but a dream—

“i knew him.” the illusion disappears within a blink of an eye. namjoon’s eyes snap towards you and jihoon stops scrolling through the website. “we went to the same high school.”

you aren’t sure why you revealed that to your coworkers, let alone your boss. it’s an old memory—your weight to carry. before you can apologize for disrupting their work, namjoon’s hand rests on your shoulder, his thumb drawing shapes into it. when you look over at him, you’re greeted by his smile. it resembles your bed after a long day of work or a slow day at the newsroom.

but it never lives up to him, whose giggles resemble nature’s symphonies. the two shots of espresso you need at the start of the day once came in the form of his warm embrace. most of all, his smile is enough to illuminate the world even through the strongest storms and times when power went out.

for the remaining articles, not a single word leaves you. before you know it, all seven articles were ready to go up on the web.

“that’s all of it. should i still schedule them to go up around 12 p.m.?” jihoon notes as he saves the drafts.

“yeah, 12 p.m. still sounds good. thanks a lot.” namjoon nudges his shoulder before looking over to you. “let’s talk in my office.”

you don’t question his orders. once namjoon takes off, you follow him all the way to his office. as he swings the door open, you are met with the familiar sight of his workspace. hues of green and brown mix, where nature and art meet within the space of corporate.

once namjoon takes a seat on his chair, you find your spot across from him. his eyes stare off to the window. for a moment, you’re not sure what to expect from this impromptu meeting.

seconds pass and not a single word has been said—

“this place’s always alive,” your editor breaks the silence. “don’t you think so?”

you follow his line of sight. busy seoul never changes; the skyscrapers pollute the sky and the people never sleep, off to work or off to party.

“where’d you grow up again?”

you look back at namjoon whose eyes still remain locked on the city. “cheongju.”

he hums. “i haven’t been there. nice place?”

“yeah, but i haven’t gone back in a while.”

“when was the last time?” his eyes finally meet yours.

your teeth grasp the inside of your cheek. “2019, since i first left,” you admit. 

“do you miss it?”

you’re not sure how to answer. the pavements you’ve scraped your knees against and the walls your laughs bounced off of—do you miss them all? or is the reason behind your laughter and scabs the one you long for?

“is that why you were hesitant about interviewing them?” namjoon’s thumbs fiddle with each other. “because of your history with him?”

now, you stare at your linked hands. maybe the silence from you is enough to answer his question but you know namjoon would never settle for a soundless answer.

“i—i’m not a good person. and even if i didn’t make the choice to leave, i—” you hold yourself back. your fingers start to pick on the skin around your thumbs, peeling it so blood can spill. 

“it’s okay, i understand. you don’t have to share it with me.” your eyes drift back to namjoon, spotting a small smile that rests on his face. “it must’ve been hard to relive it all.”

the bond you have with namjoon is one that you hold close to your heart. through his mentorship, you got to learn about what it means to be a writer. the fears of being a journalist would loom over you, where questions of salary and demanding work hours would occupy your mind, but namjoon became someone who would absolve them all. he became a pillar in your life, one that provides you hope and comfort within the industry.

“so, don’t feel pressured to talk about it. but if you ever want to open up about it, then i’ll be here.”

namjoon’s giving you an exit. are you willing to take it?

you cross your arms as you lean back into the chair. “you know how i was a science major then?”

“yeah, i remember looking over your resume. and then i saw that you were part of your university’s publication.”

your tongue pushes against the inside of your cheek. “i would’ve gotten some job in that field, like, i had it lined up for me.”

“really? like lab coat and all?”

as namjoon attempts to hold back his laugh over the image, you chuckle along. “yeah, lab coat and all! it’s crazy how my life was all set for that field, but i’m here now.” you look down at your arms. “i think just facing him in a completely different field that i once used to imagine with him was just strange. but i think hearing his answers really did it for me.”

namjoon nods at your words. “care to have lunch with me?” your eyes snap back to your editor. “i’m guessing you want to talk about it, after all.”

all you do is smile before getting off your seat.

spring of 2019

the season of spring has graced cheongju; the sun gleams in the expanse of blue and birds perched on tree branches sing their songs. it’s the perfect season to embrace the wonders of the town.

while it would be a delight to bask under the returning warmth, you’re stuck within the walls of the classroom, head resting on crossed arms. 

still, the lilacs have yet to bloom.

“y/n.” you quickly sit up before your eyes settle on your adviser, ms. jeon, who stands in front of the classroom. “let’s take attendance.”

with that, you’re beside her as you call out each name on the class list. it’s a quick process of saying your classmates’ names for them to respond in variations of “present,” until you reach the section of last names that start with an ‘m’.

“myung jaehyun.” no response.

you rip your eyes off the piece of paper, only met with your classmates who either look at each other in confusion or spaced out in their own worlds.

“myung jaehyun?” when you’re met with the same reaction, you’re ready to mark the student absent—

“sorry!” the doors slam open. a boy clad in a white polo and jogging pants is panting by the entrance, covered in sweat as he rests on the edge of it. “sorry, i’m late.”

“oh, it’s okay! you arrived just in time.” ms. jeon smiles at the tardy student. as you watch him take a seat, his eyes lock with yours, but your adviser nudges you before saying, “y/n, proceed.”  

myung jaehyun made his name a few years back at a competition. the applause and roars from the crowd marked his spot in the school. others describe his movement as of cranes, standing in the middle of a pond as they do their best to minimize forming any ripples, or of elephants, swaying their trunks with control like no other.

but he’s a versatile dancer; nothing can truly capture him.

once you’ve finished marking the attendance, you go back to your seat. you’re ready to start the day with no bother but you can’t shake the feeling of being watched.

“now, you can see in these,” your art teacher, ms. park, points to the screen showcasing works from her favorite contemporary artists like kwon yongju and félix gonzález-torres, “that there are no borders to what constitutes art. and that’s not wrong because we have to recognize that art comes in different forms as we progress, from traditional painting and sculptures to digital ones.”

this field isn't your strong suit. with a greater understanding of the sciences, you struggle to create anything that could be on par with the works of any artist. yet, you enjoyed learning about every piece that your teacher shared, like unfolding and admiring something you know you can never replicate or create. still, the universe decides that they have other plans for you.

“as i mentioned before, i’ll be giving you time to work on your final assessment, which is to create an artwork for the class exhibit. for this deliverable, i’m asking that your work will be a collaborative one, meaning you aren’t working alone.” in a sea of chatter, some groans exit your classmates. “remember, inspiration doesn’t come from your own bubble! take this as your opportunity to create something that you’ve never imagined.”

within a split second, students are off their seats as they attempt to find a partner to work with. you, however, were struggling to think of who you could team up with. admittedly, you have a very different work style compared to others—even baek jiheon, aspiring valedictorian, didn’t enjoy working with you. she turned every activity into a competition against you. (you didn’t enjoy her, either.) while you’re considering shamefully going up to your classmates like a stray dog looking for anyone willing to care for them—

“hi!” in front of you stands the tardy student of today, all smiles as his hands find comfort in the pockets of his jogging pants. “do you have a partner already?”

with furrowed eyebrows, you can’t help but look him up and down. “no, why?”

“well,” jaehyun looks around the classroom, “everyone seems to have paired up except for us.” as his eyes drift back to you, he flashes you a smile, one that shows the dips engraved into his cheeks. “which leaves me to ask if you would like to work with me for this.”

you don’t have a choice. ms. park would never bend the rules for you. if anything, she would find a way to pair you with another student who would dread the idea of working with you. (“i’m sure they won’t mind being partners with you, right?” is what she would ask the poor student, only to be met with their retreat.)

“unless we accept a failing mark, which i’m sure we both don’t want.” it’s not like jaehyun had a choice as well.

“okay.” with one word, light fills his eyes, enough to resemble the starlight that grazes your skin every night. “we can meet and discuss our schedules, especially because i’ve got ap stat, and you have, uhm,” a cough leaves you, “training, i’m assuming, or rehearsals. i don’t really know what you call them.”

his eyebrows shoot up as his mouth parts open. “o—oh, yeah. i usually have training after class until 8 p.m. on tuesdays, thursdays, and saturdays.”

“same. my classes are until 7 p.m. on tuesdays and thursdays, so maybe we can use the other days to work together?”

with one nod from him, his dimples reappear. “great! i’ll see you tomorrow.”

before you know it, everyone finds their way back to their seats for ms. park’s final reminders. you do your best to pay attention to every announcement, jotting down every word on your planner and planning out your agenda for the upcoming weeks. yet, your eyes seem to have a mind of their own as they drift back to the boy who discreetly passes notes to hwang intak, another dancer on the team, all while listening to the teacher.

you don’t notice how long you spend staring at jaehyun until he turns to meet your gaze. in that split second, you look at each other—then, embarrassment washes over you. you shift your attention back to ms. park. as you drum your fingers against the desk, mentally kicking yourself over the interaction, you still can’t shake the feeling of being watched.

you look back at jaehyun; he’s still looking at you.

his dimples make their reappearance before he looks back at ms. park. you do the same as you attempt to listen to her ramble about banksy’s works. 

(you’re still thinking about the dips in his cheeks.)

the first time you get to meet with jaehyun for the project happens the following week. you two had different commitments to attend to, whether it be other projects or training. and while you would usually settle to meet in the school library or a cafe nearby, you find yourself inside the empty gymnasium, sitting on bleachers while your partner stands in front of mirrors.

“don’t you think it would be nice to combine our hobbies together?”

your pencil taps against the notebook. “like, your dancing? with what?”

“whatever you like to do!” once he makes his way to you, he leans on the row in front of you with crossed arms. “i mean, do you have anything you like to do during your free time?”

a scoff leaves you. “funny of you to assume that i have free time.”

“what’s your schedule like?”

“well, i have our classes and ap ones, then kumon at night.”

jaehyun reels at the thought of your schedule. “that’s brutal. the last time i had kumon was back in grade 4.”

“yeah, but i’m sure yours is busy as well. the amount of time that you put into training is…” his eyes are wide, hanging on your words. it’s the hope they hold that has you say, “admirable.”

a shy smile takes over his features. “yeah, but it’s only because my family is supportive of what i do.”

then, limbs whose color resembles the void slither their way to your heart, wrapping around it while the organ struggles to beat; it’s a slow process but an unending hole that will birth from it. yet, you do your best to fight off these limbs, unraveling them one by one in hopes it will give up—until you settle for shaking them off.

you only muster out a hum.

“do you have anything you like to do during those short breaks?”

your lips trill. “i don’t know. watch something on youtube?”

his cheeks puff up, stuck in his thoughts as he tries to navigate this project—and you—until his eyes glint. “what do you do when you want to vent?”

“you sure have a lot of questions,” you comment, trying to hold back a chuckle at his curiosity. “i can just adjust to you. maybe attempt to draw, picture, or even film you.”

his eyebrows furrow. “but that wouldn’t make it collaborative. i want us to work on something that aligns with what we do.”

a beat passes.

he holds your gaze. “i want us to create something that shows us.”

inside you, a gong is struck; its sound reverberates throughout your body, from the crown of your forehead to the tips of your toes. then, silence seeps in—a moment only for you and him.

“i, uh, write,” you whisper as your eyes shift to the notebook resting on your lap.

“really? like, stories and poetry?”

you nod. “i like writing people’s stories more, but i do like making ones.” when you look back at jaehyun, his eyes are still filled with curiosity. “i would, like, find interviews online and try to make my own, sort of, uhm—god this is embarrassing. forget about it.”

“huh? no, it isn’t!” he attempts to reassure your shrunken figure. “i mean, you don’t have to share more if you really don’t want to, but i’d like to hear more about it.” and when his dimples appear, you almost can’t help but feel your face warm up.

“i’d make articles, i guess?” he nods along with your words. “i don’t know, it’s just interesting to hear about people’s lives and kind of create something out of it, and i like thinking about all the possibilities of who would love to hear them. like, don’t you think that some of the stories that we read hold fragments of someone?”

“that’s an interesting way to look at it.”

as you doodle on your notebook, you say, “yeah, it’s just fun to hear these stories and maybe create something out of it. or even think of stories that i could never live out, you know?” you expect yourself to be met with the bored face of jaehyun but his eyes remain on you.

“what if you interview me?”

your eyebrows shoot up. “you?”

“yeah,” he stands up before walking up to your row, finding a spot beside you. “think of me as your first interviewee if you want.”

the sudden suggestion has you stumbling over your words. “huh? b—but, i don’t have questions prepared. and how does this help our project?” 

when his arms brush against yours, you start to become aware of the distance between your shoulders—and his face from yours. warmth spreads throughout your body, almost like you’re about to have a fever. once his open hand rests near yours, you don’t know what he’s asking.

“let me draw it out for you.” you hand him your pencil and notebook, allowing him to see your doodles. (you don’t miss his grin.) “you know, with that article you make, we can cut it up and create something out of it.” a roughly drawn sketch of a boy posed in the middle of a dance move now rests on the page. “i don’t know if a collage would be okay.”

as you think about what can be done, you perch your chin on your palm. “we can do papercut art? basically, it’s cutting up the article in a way to form an image.”

“oh, that sounds cool!”

“yeah, but the only challenge is that we can only use one piece of paper.” a sigh leaves you. “it would be impossible for me to even do that.”

“that’s why you have me.” his small smile causes wind chimes to ring. (you’re positive you heard them, even if there were no such things in the gymnasium.)

he continues to sketch out the layout of your joint artwork. “how do we feel about this?” on the paper, there are two boxes beside the figure, where one is labeled as “photo of me” while the other is labeled “an article by y/n.” your head tilts. “it’ll be a three-set piece. so, it’ll be a photo of me and your article, and in between is the papercut art that we’ll make.”

you hum. “you know, you’re very creative.” you look at him only to see that he’s been staring at you. “like, you’re inclined to the arts. i wouldn’t have been able to think of something like this.”

“you’re just as creative,” he argues back as he writes down something.

you shake your head before retorting, “jaehyun, you’re very talented. i’ve seen the way you dance,” his movements halt, “and you’re like no other dancer i’ve seen. if you ever try out to be an idol, i’m sure you’d do great, maybe end up on the list of the best dancers in the industry.”

but he shakes his head, going back to writing on your notebook and shutting down your compliments. you decide to not push.

“i can get the photo sometime during my training,” he says as he hands you your notebook.

“then i can have the questions sometime this week. for the article, i can have it done maybe four days after the interview. how does wednesday, after school, sound for the interview?”

he shoots you a smile before standing up from his seat. “that’s perfect! i’m looking forward to meeting journalist y/n.” you can’t help but scoff at what he calls you. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you shake your head. “it’s just a silly name.” because the reality is that you had your future planned out—and it definitely didn’t involve that field.

he shrugs. “i don’t know, i think it would fit you.”

“but you haven’t read any of my works.”

“but i want to root for you in the same way you do for me. i don’t want you to feel ashamed of your works.” a fire ignites in your heart; it’s a fireplace.

you’re baffled that jaehyun, out of all people, now holds your secret, but you’re even astounded over the idea of him supporting you. you almost can’t remember the last time you heard such words of support. is it genuine or nothing but a facade?

“anyway, i’ve got to go. i need to catch up on some homework.” while you shoot him a nod, his dimples make their appearance once more. “i’ll see you tomorrow!” as he takes off, you’re left in the gymnasium with your opened notebook and unlocked heart. you look back down at his sketch surrounded by your doodles, but you don’t miss his little note—cute doodles btw <3

the season of spring has unfolded in cheongju; a single lilac has bloomed.

present -> a day before the interview, 2024

it’s a late night on a tuesday, about to be a midnight wednesday, and you’re in a convenience store as you scout for your dinner. all hauled up in the newsroom, the idea of ordering food during a time where restaurants would still be open slipped your mind. now, you’re left to scan through the same options you’ve eaten for the past years since you started living in seoul.

the convenience clerks are familiar with you, both kim jongseob and kim jiwoo. with your constant late-night meals at the store, you’d talk to whichever one had a shift. jongseob is saving up to upgrade his setup at home to record more music. with all the stories he shares about his time in underground rap battles along with the short verses he’s performed for you, you’re positive that he’ll get signed to a label soon. as for jiwoo, this is one of the many jobs she has in order to save enough money for fashion school. you’ve seen her sketches and outfits she’s put together and you’re hoping that she’ll get accepted.

a sigh leaves you. you didn’t have a problem with eating the food here but you were craving for something new in your life in seoul. the perpetual cycle of eating takeout food and unconsciously skipping meals for work needed to be disrupted just for a moment. but you weren’t seeking michelin-star food—all you wanted was something home cooked. something from home.

the spice of tteokbokki, the burn of freshly fried hotteok, and the sweetness of homemade peach iced tea—mr. kim’s convenience store had it all.

your tastebuds long for cheongju.

“planning to beat your record of spending 23 minutes on deciding what to get?”

you roll your eyes before looking to your right, seeing jongseob stock up the drinks in the fridge. “i hate you.”

“what? i’m just saying, you’re taking a lot longer to decide today.” he chuckles before placing the last bottle of sweetened probiotic milk in the fridge. “none of the options look good to you?”

“sort of,” you hum before you scan through the aisle of packaged meals. “i think i’m craving for something different.”

“i get it. the food here can get boring, which is why i’m planning to order pizza if you want to split the costs.”

your eyebrows shoot up at jongseob’s suggestion. “really? you’d share pizza with me?”

“yeah, as long as you pay for your share.” he shoots you a smile before grabbing on a trolley carrying empty boxes. “unless… you want to pay for the whole thing.”

you bite back a smile as you shake your head. you should’ve known the guy would ask you to buy him food, but you knew that he needed the money and you at least had a stable income to keep you comfortable. “fine,” jongseob’s smile grows as you fish out your wallet from your pocket and pull out a couple of bills. “just order enough for us two.” 

“of course,” he says as soon as you hand him some money. “i’ll make sure to order the most expensive thing on the menu.”

you scoff at his joke. “just make sure to treat me to something.”

the bell by the door chimes. “sorry, can’t hear you over that! need to attend to a customer!” jongseob dashes away from you while dragging the trolley. that little shit just knew how to press your buttons, but you love the kid, anyway.

still, you stand in the middle of the mart and your heart longs for home.

then, you shut your eyes, and you’re transported back in front of the familiar aisle filled with bags of potato chips and sweet corn. the noisy fan along with the soft sounds of mr. kim’s korean drama fills your ears. a mix of yellow and orange hues paint every corner of the mart, including you—and you’re not alone.

your best friend stands on your right, wearing the unbuttoned school uniform polo over a tank top along with jogging pants. he’s lost in thought as he scans through the options of snacks you two can have for today’s afternoon. he starts to giggle to himself, probably from a silly thought he’ll share with you in the next second or a memory involving you, and the dips in his cheeks appear—your heart thumps in your ears.

and just like how quickly you were transported back to cheongju, your surroundings transformed into the cool-lit convenience store found in seoul. all you have left is the image of him bathed in the sunlight.

but he fades away like the ink on old receipts, never gone, because the glowing image of him warps into a different version who stands next to you in the cold mart. he’s grown a few inches taller and his hair doesn’t get in the way of his line of sight. while he wears a green sweater, you notice that he’s gained some muscles. his eyes scan through the aisle behind you filled with different brands of instant ramen.

but he bites the inside of his cheek and his dimples appear.

it’s a tornado that brews within you, enough to uproot trees and displace buildings, all because of an unexpected reunion with jaehyun. why did the universe decide to bring two ex-best friends on a random tuesday night? what brings him to the convenience store at the same time you’re there? and why did it have to happen a day before the interview?

you weren’t going to commit the same mistake; keep your eyes off of him and make your way out of the store. it didn’t matter if you had an empty, growling stomach, or gave free money to jongseob. you need to leave without the distant, familiar face noticing.

your feet act fast, and you're almost certain that might’ve caught his attention, but it didn’t matter as you see jongseob standing behind the cashier with his phone out. “i just ordered the pizza. it should arrive in about… 20 to 30 minutes.”

“yeah, about that…”

“don’t tell me you’re taking your money back.”

at the sight of jongseob’s pout, you roll your eyes. “no, keep it. i just—i need to go.”

“what? why?”

you peek behind you. it seems like he didn’t recognize you, after all. “i’ve got… work!”

“but don’t you only have your interview with boynext—”

“hey!” your fingers snap at him. “you cannot—i mean, you just… just take the goddamn money.”

“but we’re supposed to share the pizza. you haven’t eaten.”

an exasperated sigh leaves you. “jongseob, just treat me next time. i can eat at home.”

and you’re ready to leave the convenience store, bid farewell to jongseob and a delicious pizza made for two, and never greet or say goodbye to the living fragment of what you last know of cheongju—

“y/n?”

and the plan failed.

when you meet his gaze, you’re able to take in the different version of him. he’s grown so much—it’s such a pain that you weren’t there to witness it. his eyes are a pool of emotions; you can’t identify them.

all it takes is one breath from you. “jaehyun.”

a beat passes.

“i’m just gonna… go through the storage,” jongseob points his thumb at the back of the mart, “and maybe kill myself afterwards. i don’t know.” before you can protest, he’s already gone. (and he still has your money. that fucker.)

you and jaehyun were once painted with the hues of the sun. this reunion is tainted with blue.

jaehyun’s fingers tense up, almost as if he was hesitating—debating—on how to approach you. his body would waver, but he never took a step towards you. “i… i wasn’t expecting to meet you here.” 

“same here.” you lean your back against the checkout counter. “d—do you stay around this part of the city?”

he shakes his head. “i live around 15, maybe 20, minutes away from here. i’m only here because…” your breath gets caught in your throat. “i don’t know.”

fate. that’s what brought us here.

“do you live here?”

you nod. “yeah, ever since—” the sentence never gets completed; you and him already know.

for a moment, sorrow flashes in his eyes, but a smile shows up. the dimples don’t appear. “i, uh, i was going to get something from here but it seems like your friend is busy.”

“sorry about jongseob.” you whip out your phone and scold him through text. “he should be with us in a bit.”

jaehyun hums before walking to the freezer filled with different ice cream. as he looks through the selection, he asks, “do you still like twin bar?”

“y—yeah.”

“still the grape flavor?” you don’t know what to say, but when his gaze meets yours, you settle for a nod. with your favorite ice cream in one hand and a sandwich in the other, he finally walks towards you. you don’t miss the slight stagger in his steps.

jaehyun finds his spot beside you. there’s still distance between you two—two tiles worth, enough space for one person—but it’s enough for your muscles to freeze. thankfully, jongseob comes just in time to manage the cashier (with an awkward smile plastered on).

he scans jaehyun’s item first before grabbing onto your ice cream.

“oh, i’m paying—”

“no, let me,” jaehyun insists. “you can always treat me another time.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, thinking over the second half of his sentence. jongseob holds back from scanning the item, until you shoot him a nod. jaehyun pays for the food before jongseob hands them to you.

“i’ll just let you know when the pizza gets here.” his small smile is enough for your shoulders to ease and a quiet exhale to leave. a small nod is all you give him.

you follow jaehyun outside to the tables in front of the mart. once he’s settled on a spot, you sit across from him. he tears away the plastic wrapping of his food while you play with the ends of yours. 

while he swallows what you assume to be his dinner of the day, you’re left to swallow your own pride.

“i’ve seen your performances.” his chews halt. “you’re—” captivating. “you’ve improved a lot.”  

with one gulp, a shy smile takes over his face. “i still have a long way to go.”

“you always say that, even back then.” a half bitten sandwich now rests on the wrapper. “but i admire your drive.” always have.

while a different version of jaehyun sits across you, the one you knew back in cheongju still lives. in the busy, unfamiliar expanse of seoul, meeting five years later, he’ll never be stranger. you could never treat him as such, even if you wanted to.

“there’s always room for improvement,” he says.

you hum along with his sentiment. “did you stick with early childhood education?” you’re met with his orbs that hold a thousand of emotions, some you can name as shock, confusion. a question hangs in the air—what did you deserve to know?

“sorry, i’m assuming you still went to college, which is totally fine if you did or didn’t, by the way. and it’s also okay if you didn’t stick to your major. i mean, you always talked about pursuing a performing arts degree before—”

“y/n,” he giggles, “you’re okay. i still went to college but i took media & communication.” your eyebrows shoot up at the revelation. “i thought it made sense to study something related to what i do, just the more technical and theoretical side of it, i guess. and the online classes were easy to squeeze into my schedule.” he lifts up the sandwich. “what about you?”

“uh, i ended up in the same course as well.” a hum of shock leaves jaehyun. “yeah,” you chuckle, “i managed to shift courses.”

“that’s amazing! i’m happy for you.”

you smile at him. “thanks. now, i’m just—” you should tell him what you do. what would be a better time to reveal that you ended up in the path he dreamed for you to be than now? “—figuring things out.”

with your vagueness, jaehyun only nods before munching away. if there’s anything about you that still remains, it’s that you shouldn’t be pushed to share something you didn’t want to talk about. he still knew that.

as he finishes his sandwich, you tear off the plastic wrapping of your ice cream. with the twin bar in your hands, you snap it into two before you hand him a piece. confusion paints his features, wide eyes glossing over the popsicle in your hand, but he takes it before you can say anything.

“thanks.”

you shake your head. “don’t even worry about it. it’s only tradition.”

silence settles between you two. as you eat away on your share of the twin bar, you look up to the sky. from where you sit, you can’t see a single star; the lights of seoul seemed to outshine them. and during those moments, you almost can’t help but miss the view of the starry night from your childhood room.

you glance at jaehyun who looks up to the sky as well. yet, one hand remains in his pocket, almost as if he’s fiddling with something. 

as if he feels your eyes on him, he asks, “did you ever think about coming back?”

you halt your movements. if there’s one thing you were expecting your old friend to ask, it would be related to your sudden departure. but you’re hit with an entirely different question, one you didn’t get to rehearse the answer to in case you ever cross paths with him. 

because after all this talk about your yearning for cheongju, why didn’t you choose to visit? despite how much you long for mr. kim’s home cooked meals, skies filled with stars, or the presence of your best friend, why didn’t you ever come back?

if you miss home, why is your first instinct to run away from it?

and the reality is that you do think about it all the time. since you left cheongju, you drafted out how many plans to go back. you were homesick, missing the familiar landscape you spent your entire childhood growing up in. but most of all, you missed jaehyun. as long as you had him, you would survive anywhere, whether in seoul or cheongju.

despite how much you yearned for him during your years away, you learned that your relationship wasn’t always filled with the warmth that would grace you two every afternoon. for so long, you’ve sat with jealousy. while his family was his pillar of strength, you were met with a home that offered nothing but criticism.

the black limbs slowly ate away at your heart; the void was born.

it became easier to remain resentful. with the distance, you weren’t faced with jaehyun’s genuineness. yet, with time, you discovered that you still cared for him—regardless of your jealousy—because you still wanted more for him than you did for yourself.

for a long time, you resented. now, it’s only guilt that held you back from going back to him.

so when you remain silent, jaehyun takes it as your answer.

and for the first time, the distance feels greater since you first left cheongju.

summer of 2019

it’s the peak of summer. amidst the expanse of verdant fields, bees seek solace in the fully-bloomed sunflowers and kaleidoscope wings illuminate as they soar.

but summer is where mouths go dry and clothes cling to skin. as days blend with each other, the comfort of your bed is all you have until the season passes.

the fan rumbles against the wooden floor, doing its best to cool you, but the heat prickles against the back of your neck. the wind has turned into nothing but hot waves. with your elbows perched on the desk, a sigh leaves you as you attempt to make sense of the worksheet filled with math equations.

your room is your favorite place in cheongju. within these four walls are scattered fragments of you, from your favorite books and mangas that rest on the bookshelf to the stuffed toys that rest on your bed. book tabs stick out of your workbooks lined up on your desk and your cork board is filled with crossed out to-do lists.

and every once in a while, you would look out through your window, admiring the neighboring houses and all their greenery. as people walk on pavements, you cannot help but think about where they’re off to—are they on their way to work? did they leave an important document back home? or are they coming back to a meal and home filled with warmth?

despite the halo soundtrack filling your ears, the cogs in your brain seem to drown them out. the numbers on your paper have jumbled up. it should’ve been easy. after all, you’ve become friends with the letters who’ve squeezed their way into math. once you’ve wrapped up on this assignment, you know you’ll wake up to another set of work to do. it didn’t help that you’re stuck watching kids your age enjoy their break.

with a tired mind, you consider making yourself another cup of iced coffee. maybe another dose of caffeine will make sense of the numbers—

your phone buzzes against your table. as your eyes rip from the unfinished worksheet, you spot the familiar name flashing on the screen. with one glance at your door, you bring your headphones to rest around your neck. it takes three rings for you to answer.

“what do you want?”

“the fuck? what’s wrong with you?”

you roll your eyes as you fiddle with your pen. “i’m studying, you fucker.”

“on a sunday?” jaehyun’s question has you only groan. “what happened to resting?”

“i wish,” you murmur as you scratch the back of your head. “i’ve been stuck on this stupid worksheet for the past hours. it’s annoying too. i mean, i already know this topic, so i don’t know why it’s so hard.”

“awe, is my best friend suffering over kumon?”

your forehead rests on crossed arms. “yes. i think i’m going to die.”

“okay, then. i’ll take that as my sign.”

“sign to what?”

he chuckles as if it were obvious. “to save you! let’s go to mr. kim’s.”

a groan leaves you as your back meets the chair. “no, i can’t. do you know what would happen if i don’t finish my kumon?”

“uh… no?”

“me, neither. i’m not taking my chances.”

“but, you’re not even doing anything!” jaehyun pointing out the obvious has you rolling your eyes. “wouldn’t it be better to take a break with your best friend? i can even help out.”

as you bite the inside of your cheek, you glance once more at your closed door. you weigh it out; would you rather take a break with your best friend or would you save yourself from the consequences brought by home?

but the answer was already clear. “give me 10 minutes.”

jaehyun laughs before you drop the call.

it’s the smell of fresh hotteok that greets you. the quiet buzzing of the fan accompanied by mr. kim’s favorite trot music fills your ears. while the owner seems to be away from the cashier, a white, stray cat takes over, body flopped on the counter as it snores away the heat. as the sun pours through windows, coating every corner of the mart with a glow of fireflies, you know this will be a place of its own.

“y/n, over here!” a familiar voice calls out. as you whip your head to the source, you see your best friend by the chest freezer, eyes crinkled and all dimples.

now, you’re certain that nothing could ever replicate this.

you walk towards jaehyun, finding your spot beside him as you two look through the collection of frozen treats. “so, what do you want from here?” you ask.

“uh… i’ll be honest, i just realized i’m short on money.”

you glance through the price tags, only for a groan to leave you. “i’m short too. when did mr. kim raise the prices?”

“no clue. i thought i’d have enough to get a summer crush,” jaehyun complains as his eyes are glued to the coffee sorbet. “i hate inflation.”

“come on.” you fish out for the coins in your pocket. “let’s see how much we have together.” jaehyun does the same. with palms out, you two count through your shared funds.

“we can get a summer crush!”

“you can get one. i’ll be left with barely anything.” you look through the selection once more. “man, i really want samanco. the red bean sounds so good right now.”

defeat casts over jaehyun’s features. for a moment, you almost consider giving up on having a frozen treat and settling for a glass bottle of orange soda, until you spot a familiar popsicle brand.

“holy shit, it’s right there.”

“what?”

“there!” your finger points at the stack of twin bars. “we can probably get that and split it.”

jaehyun’s expression morphs into realization. “okay, let’s get—”

“dibs on grape.”

“dibs?” he furrows his eyebrows at you. “you can’t just call dibs. you’re doing it wrong. clearly, we should discuss—”

“nope,” you retort. a chuckle laced with disbelief leaves your best friend. to him, it seemed like you were joking around. “i made the suggestion and contributed a lot more to our shared funds.”

“okay, but—”

“don’t tell me you want the peach flavor more than the grape.” as you continue to shut him down, he knows there’s no way around you.

(plus, he wasn’t a fan of peach-flavored things, anyway. how unfortunate that mr. kim only has those two flavors right now.)

“next time, we’re choosing a flavor that i want,” he gives in. you let out a cheer before grabbing the frozen treat.

you two make your way back to the cashier and spot mr. kim slouched in front of the television, hand stroking the sleepy feline. he’s still wearing an old, red plaid apron on top of a pair of basketball shorts and a loose graphic tee which had the name of a band you’re unfamiliar with. with how he sits, you’re afraid that his back problems will get even worse. (still, you don’t say anything. he’ll only play it off and say he’s still one of the “youngins”... whatever that means.)

once his eyes land on you two, a grin takes over. “ah, my favorite kids! it’s nice to see you both.”

“yeah, it’s been a while,” jaehyun starts off. “y/n’s always busy with kumon.”

you narrow your eyes at the boy. “hey! you’re busy, too! you’ve been practicing at the studio almost every day!” the wrapped popsicle now rests on the counter. “every time i’m free, you’re not.”

“hey! whenever you’re free, i’m tired from training!”

“okay, let’s settle down,” mr. kim breaks up the banter. he then takes note of the ice cream on the cashier, the price showing up on the cashier. “isn’t the heat hard enough for you two to be studying or practicing?”

“yes, very much.” you count the coins once more before dropping the exact amount on the counter. “but,” you glance at jaehyun and his disheartened expression is enough for mountains to move, “i don’t think we have a choice.”

in reality, these were the circumstances you two had to work and live with. during the days jaehyun ended practice early, you were drowning in summer school assessments. whenever you managed to finish your homework, it would be during the hours your best friend was off at the studio or passed out at home from exhaustion.

“choice, no choice, people always say that.” mr. kim counts your payment before putting it into the cashier. as he takes note of what you’ve bought, he says, “everyone has a choice. i’m sure you two can figure it out.”

the only difference is that one chose this path; the other had to suffer from the decision forced onto them.

“don’t worry, mr. kim,” jaehyun nudges your shoulder. “i’m sure we’ll figure it out.” and when the dips in his cheeks appear, you find yourself smiling back.

maybe you were okay with the life you had to live, just maybe.

“anyway, we’ll go ahead,” jaehyun bids farewell to mr. kim.

you giggle. “he means we’re just going to eat our ice cream at the front.”

as you two slowly make your way out of the mart, mr. kim shakes his head. “you lovebirds go ahead. i’ll see you next time!”

“mr. kim!” you and jaehyun shout in unison before glancing at each other.

“what?!”

your best friend groans. “you know we aren’t together.”

“yeah! like, i can’t imagine it,” you join in.

still, the owner laughs at your reactions. “you two are so funny. just go and enjoy your ice cream.”

you roll your eyes at his words. “bye, mr. kim!”

with that, you and jaehyun were out of the mart and took a seat on the benches. you hand your best friend the wrapped frozen treat before letting out a sigh. “i still can’t believe this is one of the few times we got to meet up during the break.”

“i know.” he tears the plastic wrapping off. “you would think that summer break would mean we get to hang out nonstop, but i’m starting to think we saw each other more whenever we had school.”

you hum. “i know. and i had ap stat while you had training.” your eyes dart at jaehyun who grips onto the popsicle sticks, struggling to split it into two. “oh my god, don’t tell me you can’t split it.”

“hey! it’s hard.”

as you giggle, you reach your hand out. “let me do it.” once jaehyun hands you the twin bar, you attempt to split the two. for a moment, you almost think about agreeing with him. yet, the frozen treat splits into two perfectly, and a satisfied smile rests on your lips.

you hand him one popsicle, only to be met with his glare. “i know, i’m just better.”

“just shut up.” to that, another laugh leaves you.

under the sun, you enjoy the coolness of the twin bar. while you would’ve stared off to nowhere, you and jaehyun were here at the right time to catch civilians bustling away. some were on dates, where one would go on about their interest while the other would smile at their rambling. there were kids whose chatter could be heard all the way from the end of the block, and blue-collar men who were off to enjoy their break.

you can’t help but imagine what people saw—thought—of you and jaehyun. did they think of you as unexpected friends? has it ever crossed their minds that you two were only classmates who seemed to always be paired together? or did they ever think the same as mr. kim?

“you know,” jaehyun starts off, causing you to look at him, “i was going through college courses the other day.”

your eyebrows shoot up. “oh?”

with your reaction, jaehyun giggles. “i was just curious, you know? not that i’m giving up on dance or anything, but,” he licks the popsicle, “early childhood education sounds cool.”

you hum. “i wasn’t expecting that.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“no, it’s not a bad thing!” you reassure the boy. “it’s just,” you rip your gaze off of jaehyun and look at the playground, “i always thought of you as a dancer, you know? kind of like you were meant for the stage.” the laughter of the kids who passed by you two bounces all over the block and you can’t help but smile. “but i don’t doubt it.”

the breeze graces your sweat-covered skin. “what about you?” you look back at him. “would you ever consider journalism? maybe communication as your major?”

you’re quick to laugh at his suggestion, but when confusion paints his features, you realize it’s a serious question from him.

“no.” it’s a straightforward answer from you, but jaehyun could never settle with that

“why not?”

a sigh leaves you. “i just don’t consider it. i mean, i think about it,” all the time, “but not enough to consider it. plus, astrophysics is cool.”

“but is it your dream?”

jaehyun’s question is an easy one to answer—not at all. you’ve had enough learning about theories and making sense of the numbers. if your future is going to only complicate that further, then maybe astrophysics isn’t made for you. 

but who’s to say that you’ll even enjoy journalism?

“we’ll see.” you leave it at that and jaehyun didn’t push for more.

because the reality is that if you ever did consider it, transform those dreams into action plans, you were terrified to be met with your parents’ disappointment—it wouldn’t only be from your lousy desires but from jaehyun’s role in your life.

the first time you mentioned jaehyun to your parents happened over dinner, letting them know you would be staying later at school to work on the final project for art class with him. they didn’t bat an eye at his name as they continued to talk about what happened during work and pester you about your progress in other classes. (art class didn’t matter to them, only the sciences and math were ones they seemed to track. still, they would criticize you if you didn’t place first honors.)

with your parents’ oversight, something blossomed between you and jaehyun. from there, there were more days you would get home later than usual. while you were still on top of your work, they took your late arrivals as a form of negligence.

all it took was one night for them to demand an explanation. the reappearance of him in the conversation had only caused them to reprimand you—jaehyun’s not like you. he’ll only hold you back. 

from that day on, you’ve learned to keep his name out of conversations. you’ll enjoy what you have with jaehyun, even if it has to be kept under the wraps.

“how’s training?” you change the subject, trying to keep the attention off of your failed dreams to jaehyun’s flourishing ones.

“well, it’s a lot,” he chuckles as he munches a piece. “you already know that it takes how many hours to get to the company, and the hours i spend in the practice room are unlike the trainings i have at school.”

as his eyes meet yours, you only shoot him an apologetic smile. it was never going to be easy; you two knew that before jaehyun entered the doors of the company. yet, he still held on.

“you know, i never considered it before, but i like where i’m going,” he admits. “even if i’ve always had dreams to pursue dance, i want to make my family proud if i ever get to debut.” 

jaehyun knows how to persevere. regardless of all the bruises he gets from performing complex dance routines or the hours of sleep he longs for, he knows how to hold on. you wish you could say the same for yourself.

“and you will,” you reassure the boy, wrapping your arm around his shoulders. “who wouldn’t be proud of you?”

he holds your stare and your smile falters. for a moment, you don’t know if you touched on a sensitive topic. would he shrug your arm off? do you think he’ll shut you off, maybe cut your time together short? will jaehyun get mad at you for something you didn’t know was wrong? would he be just like them?

“i want to make you proud.”

that’s enough to answer it all.

you shake your head. “don’t even doubt that for a second.” your arm finds it spot back to your side, and jaehyun’s loops his with yours.

although he knows how to persevere, he never knows when to shut his ears from the shadows. 

“i am proud of you,” you tell him. “always have, always will.” he can’t help but smile. all you can hope is that he’ll listen closely to your voice.

“i almost forgot,” he says out of nowhere.

“forgot what?”

as he tugs his arm away, his hand fishes for something in his pocket. “close your eyes.” you furrow your eyebrows. “just do it!” you follow his orders. “and keep them closed, okay?” you let out a hum.

before you know it, something wraps around your index finger. you would’ve opened your eyes, confused over the foreign yet familiar material, but they remain shut. 

“okay, open.”

your gaze rests on your finger wrapped in yellow and blue. it’s a finger trap—and the other end is connected to jaehyun. despite your tug, it still holds you two together.

it’s the warmth that fills your cheeks, the heartbeat in your ears, and your starstruck eyes that has him smile. “no matter what happens, we’ll stick together, okay? regardless of what paths we end up pursuing. all that matters is that we have each other.”

he’s filled with hope. hope for his dreams. hope for your relationship. hope for what the future holds for you two. you can’t help but hope as well.

all it takes is a nod from you to solidify the promise to the universe.

you two sit in silence, finishing up the popsicles as people continue to pass by. at one point, you heard mr. kim let out a curse over the drama he’s watching. the sun is about to set, wrapping you two in a golden blanket, and all that matters is the finger trap.

present  -> two weeks before the interview, 2024

it’s no surprise to you that the newsroom is quiet. while your peers are off to gather more information, you’re with lee chaeyeon of news as she tries to meet the deadline for her article’s first close.

“do you think dokyeom will be late?” you ask as you watch her rephrase sentences.

she laughs. “when is he never? minho’s always assigning him coverages.”

“that’s true.” your eyes drift to the hallway. “i’m just hungry. he still owes me food, you know?”

“over another bet? or you saving his ass?”

“over helping him with an article,” you reveal, earning a shocked look from her. “for some odd reason, he needed another writer to help out with a live coverage, and all the sports writers and sports editor were busy handling the other events.”

“holy shit.” chaeyeon continues with her work. “i didn’t expect you to work on anything sports-related.”

“yeah, but it helped that it was a dance competition. at least i know something about dance.” you only know who to thank. “i’m going to make sure i get compensated for that. i’m planning to raise it to minho and namjoon, anyway. that’s if dokyeom would fucking come and help in explaining the situation.”

with the mention of the tardy writer’s name, he’s scrambling through the halls with his backpack in one hand and a paper bag in the other. the moment he sees you, he shoots you an apologetic smile.

“speak of the devil,” you say as you stand up straight. “why do you always show up late? i helped you with the article.”

dokyeom finds his spot beside you as he sets down the bag on your desk. “i’ll have you know that wasn’t the only article i had yesterday. i was catching up on other ones that minho assigned me.” before he can plop down on his seat, he spots chaeyeon working. “damn, tough life at news.”

“no need to point out the obvious, doofus.”

“wow, harsh,” he replies to her insult. “just so you know, i bought food for us.”

“thank god,” you exclaim as you open the paper bag filled with takeout containers and sealed cups. as you pull them out one by one, you spot your usual order from the vietnamese restaurant around the corner. “oh my god, thank you for getting me this.” you take a seat before you pass dokyeom his food and utensils.

“yeah, i know. i’m just the best.” his shower of compliments for himself only has you rolling your eyes. “but thank you, by the way, for helping me out with the article. i needed an extra pair of hands and my own editor couldn’t stand in to help out.”

“it’s fine. just make sure you help me get compensated for that article,” you say before you open the container. as the smell of bun bo nam bo fills your nose, you can’t help but let out a quiet moan. “holy fuck, i’ve been craving this.”

“i made sure to get you some vietnamese coffee also.”

“yeah, i saw. thank you.” you split the chopsticks with one hand. you’re about to mix the bowl of your favorite food—

“is y/n here?” your editor calls out, causing you to let out a sigh before you stand up from your seat.

“yes?”

namjoon’s gaze lands on you. “can i talk to you for a bit?”

despite your grumbling stomach, you give him a nod and set your food down. as he retreats to his office, you glare at dokyeom who munches away on goi cuon. “i hate you.”

“hey, what did i do?!” you ignore his attempts to defend himself as you make your way to your editor’s office.

once you swing the door open, you spot namjoon whose eyes are stuck to the screen. “you can take a seat,” he says with no attempt to look at you. you sit across from him, hands folded on your lap, while he types away on his keyboard.

the moment he hits the ‘enter’ key is when he finally looks at you. “sorry about that. i was just replying to minho regarding your compensation for the article you worked with dokyeom. we both appreciate what you did. next time though, make sure to loop in minho or me before you two start working on beats not within your staffs.”

“sorry about that,” you start off. “dokyeom only asked for my help and i thought it would be fine since i’m familiar with dance, anyway.”

namjoon shakes his head with a small smile plastered on his face. “it is fine, just make sure to inform us.” you only nod.

“anyway, i’m sorry to have this meeting with you right now but i have to leave work early today, and i thought that you’d appreciate that i tell this to you now instead of tomorrow,” he says. you hum, curious about what he has to say. “i have a coverage for you, a very, very, long one.”

over the sight of your wide eyes, he can’t help but chuckle. “it’s seven articles,” he says and your mouth gapes over the number. “well, one main article and six profiles with very brief introductory paragraphs.” his attempt to ease your shocked state does nothing.

“namjoon, that’s… a lot.”

“yes, i know. i would love to split the workload but everyone else is handling other articles, and i trust you. i know i’m asking for a lot but i’ll make sure to help you out with them. it’s just that we’re working on a time crunch and i don’t know anyone else i can ask but you.”

the faith that your editor seems to have in you is like no other.

“profiles, like, those q&a transcripts?” you ask.

he nods before saying, “yes, and just a brief introductory paragraph for each profile. i’m just expecting you to put more work into the article about the group. i’ll make sure to help out with the profiles.”

namjoon’s trust should be anxiety inducing, enough to send you complaining, but you find yourself relieved. your mentor became your second-in-command; the mountain of workload transformed into a hill.

“okay.”

a relaxed smile appears on his face at your acceptance. “thank god! i was going to stress about this the whole day if you refused. i’ll make sure to send you the details about this once i’m done with my appointments, and then we can see how we’ll divide the work later on.” he types something. “we’re covering a k-pop group which is why there’s one main article about the whole group and then six profiles.”

“yeah, i figured that out.” this isn’t anything out of your usual articles. “can i ask who we’re interviewing? maybe i can do some research on them while you attend your meetings.” you pull out your phone, ready to search up whoever your editor says.

“don’t know if you’re familiar with them but they’re called boynextdoor?” you still in your seat. “wait, let me check. yes, that’s their name.”

“boynextdoor?”

namjoon looks at you, now met with your features that have transformed from wide eyes to scrunched eyebrows.  “yeah. do you know them?” 

you shake your head without a second thought. “no, i don’t think i do,” you whisper the last sentence to yourself. his narrow eyes look over you, almost dissecting you.

the walls surrounding you are painted in solid colors of pearl, almost untouched. yet, under the paint are cracks that spread like cobwebs. every burst is a testament to the earthquakes they’ve faced; no one should be able to see a single line of black amid the white sea. now, they’re filled with paste, and it should be enough to cover them all.

but for the first time, the paint has chipped and the paste has deteriorated; the different colors of cheongju seep through the cracks.

you clear your throat as you straighten your back. “i’ll be sure to research them.” you wave your phone at him, hoping to divert his attention, but his gaze remains on you.

a sigh leaves him. “okay. expect to receive the documents later in the afternoon.”

he doesn’t push any further. for now, the walls remain intact. (or appear as so.)

it was never going to be easy.

“honestly, i gave up expecting to win as we practiced,” the youngest says through tears. as they huddle, they let out silent wishes for the upcoming years. before they blow the candle, they don’t forget to express their gratitude to the fandom who stuck with them through thick and thin.

a time of celebration turned into a moment to remember their struggles. these were pockets of their time that marked their spot in history.

“oh, everyone behind us is crying!” another member points out as the camera captures the team’s bittersweet cries.

and when you catch sight of the brunette who hides his tears behind his friend, the ache in your chest starts to spread through your veins. the video cuts to his low-hanging head as his members comfort him. they knew all of his hardships—you only know a fraction.

such a tender moment happened a year ago; it’s shorter than the amount of time between this achievement and your departure. within those years, what did jaehyun undergo? did his trainings waver his passion or did the fire burn just as bright as it did since he first auditioned? was he confident in his skills or was he still critical about every performance he had?

but most of all, what did he face? what did he learn? to hate? to love?

what did he go through without you?

you don’t forget to take note of their first win on your document filled with bullet points of information. while you were going to continue watching, a recommended video caught your attention. it’s a jaehyun focus. you don’t hesitate to click it.

the video starts off with him checking up on the fans before the performance starts. as he mimes out eating, they answer his question with reassurance.

and there they come—his dimples appear.

it transitions to their group in their opening formation. as they await for the song to play out, jaehyun’s familiar smile shifts into a dominant gaze.

in the same way the first notes draw people to listen, your eyes never leave the boy. his movements are fluid, like water droplets sliding off leaves. he commands the stage regardless of where he’s positioned.

jaehyun is meant to be on the stage—no, every stage is made for him. every crowd is meant to cheer his name and remain captive to his talents, and every spotlight is meant to shine on him.

you rest your chin on crossed arms. long gone was the bowl cut and loose school uniform. he’s grown. matured, even. yet, the moments where his smile appears makes you realize one thing: the 16-year-old boy you knew still lives within him.

as their performance comes to an end, you don’t bother to move your cursor, letting the next recommended video play. and when his vlog plays out, you realize that a fragment of his identity is a whole of what you know.

what an honor it is to have known him for even a fraction of your lifetime.

his voice is a lullaby, the same one you used to fall asleep to, so you allow yourself to close your eyes. you let go of the responsibilities for just this moment, and allow yourself to be transported back into the warmth of his arms.

fall of 2019

out of all the seasons, autumn took its spot in being your favorite. clusters of green slowly morph  into shades of oranges and browns. it’s a symphony of chirps that fills the silence. while the breeze brings you comfort after the heat of summer, it also reminds you of the looming winter.

it’s a shame that autumn does live up to its other name: a season of fall.

“you’re always like this,” your mother comments. you stand in front of your parents, slumped shoulders and downcast eyes, as they hold a sheet of paper they believe dictates your future. “always so sensitive. we’re just asking you what went different. why did your grades drop?” to them, a shift from a to b+ is a threat to your future. 

while your feet stand on wooden floors, a flood starts to form. murky waves crash against your legs, but you do your best to keep your balance.

“answer us when you’re being talked to.” your father snaps you out of your thoughts. “what have you been doing for your grades to drop?” you want to answer but a single sound that leaves you may only lead to blubbers that your parents will scold you for. 

with your silence, your mother sneers. “i knew we shouldn’t have let you do your own things. i told you so.” she shifts her gaze to him. “what did i tell you about y/n? you know they’ll only slack off!”

“i thought we could trust them. clearly, i was wrong.” your father’s glare raises the water levels, reaching your chest. you don’t know how to swim in the foggy ocean.

“i know why.” she crosses her arms. “it’s because of that jaehyun boy, isn’t it?” she says his name laced with disgust.

you don’t think twice to defend him. “no, it isn’t!”

“don’t you dare talk back at me!”

“but i’m not! he’s done nothing.”

your father begins to raise his voice. “and that’s what’s wrong! that lazy boy does nothing for his studies. he clearly doesn’t care about his future.”

you always knew it would be a losing battle, but you’ll put up the fight to protect your best friend’s name. “that’s not true! he does care. he’s planning to do early childhood education for college, maybe become a teacher.”

“that job has no money. see, i can already see that you’re being influenced by him,” he argues back.

and as the murky waters rise, filling your lungs, your first instinct is to close your eyes and scream. “stop saying that about him!”

a beat passes.

“i don’t want you hanging out with him.”

“but—”

“shut up.” your mother’s words cause you to look up, meeting your parents’ faces filled with anger.  “go to your room. now.” you’re nothing but a puppet for them.

was it even a battle if you always knew you were going to lose?

despite the safety of your room, you don’t let the tears flow down. you do anything to distract yourself; maybe a book will convince you that your life is only a figment of your imagination.

waves continue to crash against your body. if you let them take your body, would they send you far away from cheongju? from your parents? from the weight you were entrusted to carry since birth?

but would you allow the waves to send you away from jaehyun?

your phone buzzes against the mattress. with tear-filled eyes, you see your best friend trying to reach you. you don’t think twice about declining his call and shutting off your phone.

as you curl in your bed, you hope the sea will swallow you whole—the slow, burning pain that comes with drowning won’t compare to the burns that haven’t healed. but you know that the blame rests on your shoulders. if only you had studied harder, cut off hours of rest for your work, then maybe you would be the perfect child your parents wanted.

were you wrong for allowing yourself to enjoy the small breaks between classes? was the time spent in the mart supposed to be for schoolwork? should you have found yourself a tutor? were you in the wrong for not working yourself to the bone? did you not work enough?

are you not enough?

then, a knock. your eyes snap open. like a stroke of light in the middle of the dark, jaehyun is by your window.

you get off your bed to open the window. as the glass barrier disappears, he enters your room. “are you okay?” he spots your glassy eyes and his hands find their spot on your shoulders. “what happened?”

you break eye contact. “what do you want, jaehyun?”

“you didn’t pick up your phone. and when i tried calling again, i couldn’t reach you,” he starts to explain.

you shrug off his grip on you before you take a seat on your bed. “i’m fine. my phone died.” as you feel the spot beside you dip, you look at your best friend. at the sight of his furrowed eyebrows, you know he doesn’t believe you. “i said i’m fine.”

“i didn’t say anything.” for you are an open book to him.

he opens his arms towards you—it’s your move to make. then, a tight-lipped smile shows on his face, his dimples appear, and you allow yourself to fall. with his arms wrapped around you, you shut your eyes as you nestle your face into his neck.

breathe in. breathe out.

his hand finds its spot on your back, rubbing it in circles.

breathe in. breathe out.

“it’s okay, i’m here,” he says, and you allow yourself to crumble in front of him for the first time.

the tears hit jaehyun’s neck like a light drizzle. your wails bring earthquakes into his world.

yet, his warmth is enough to dry up droplets, and his embrace protects you as you fall into the cracks of the earth and into the depths of the world. the flood starts to subside.

in your time knowing jaehyun, how much did he know about you after all? had he always known of your strained relationship with your parents? did he hear about it from others or was he able to connect the dots?

because you didn’t know yourself outside of your parents anymore. did you like science because of your kumon classes? was your interest in writing birthed from a desire for validation from your parents?

are you nothing but an array of achievements and failures?

but your parents will never be satisfied; a standard too high is practically nonexistent.

jaehyun moves so that you two can lie down. his arms remain wrapped around you as you hide in his neck. “i’m sorry if i wasn’t there for you when you needed it then.” his whispered apology causes you to shake your head.

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” you blubber out to his neck.

“and you didn’t, as well.” his hand finds its spot behind your head. with every stroke, a tear streams down. “and i want you to know that i’ll be here for you.”

in your house, your room was the only space you called home. solace built by you. 

now, your home is jaehyun.

present -> two weeks before the interview, 2024

something about the newsroom feels odd to you. there’s nothing out of the ordinary aside from it bustling with journalists. the familiar sounds of printers and chatter from your workmates fill your ears. it’s a typical occurrence for your peers to meet their deadlines on the day itself. the tug in your gut doesn’t resemble ones formed out of your anxiety. why does it feel like one of destiny?

“where is dokyeom? i swear, this guy never shows up to the office.”

you snap out of your thoughts, looking over at chaeyeon who browses through her phone. as you shove a bill into the vending machine, a chuckle leaves you. “when is he never?”

“maybe if he finishes his coverages on time then he’d be getting enough sleep. then, he won’t be late.”

you side-eye your friend before you click on a button. “you know that’s not true.”

she sighs at the same time your bottle of iced tea drops. “yeah. apparently, if you have free time, you’re not a good journalist or some shit which i find stupid.” you grab your drink before facing her. “am i not allowed to do something else that’s not related to my job? i swear, this is why i’m single.”

“then date another journalist.” your joke earns a scowl from her.

“i’m never dating anyone in my field. a journalist dating another journalist is like,” she looks up to the ceiling as she thinks, “a long distance relationship with how much they’ll never see or have time for each other.”

a laugh erupts from you, one that may be too loud for your liking. “true.”

as you walk out of the breakroom with chaeyeon, you notice something in the corner of your eye: a brunette by the restroom. while you can’t see his face, you spot what’s in his hand and you halt in your tracks—a finger trap.

“hey, is there someone there?” your eyes snap back to your friend who looks at you in confusion. when your eyes drift back to where the brunette once was, he’s already gone. you shake your head before walking back to your desk.

the same gut feeling lingers. with a frown, you open up your article only to be met with a few comments that namjoon left last night. maybe your gut knew that you weren’t done with your work. thankfully, it’s nothing too major, and you can have them done within the next few minutes.

“there you are!” chaeyeon exclaims, causing you to look up from your screen to a panting dokyeom. “were you working on your articles again?”

“actually, i went out last night.” while you shake your head at dokyeom’s reveal, chaeyeon gasps. “yeah, i did! i actually had fun for once!”

as he nods proudly at last night’s events, she complains, “are you serious?! how come you have time to go out? i was just talking to y/n that we never have time to ourselves.”

“i’m in sports,” he points out as he shrugs his shoulders. “you’re in news.” at this point, you’re expecting the two to spiral into an argument, so you redirect your focus back to your article.

“hey, did you hear though? there’s a k-pop group in the building.” you glance at chaeyeon.

your other friend leans on the cubicle. “really? who?”

“no clue.”

dokyeom lets out a groan. “what type of journalist are you if you can’t find out?”

“yah!” chaeyeon smacks his arm, causing him to wince in pain. “says you who can never submit on time.”

“hey, i’ll have you know that minho has been understanding!”

“whatever.” she rolls her eyes before looking at you. “that means you’ll probably be handling them. i hope they’re cute so that you can finally have something going on with your life outside of work.”

a chuckle leaves you as you get back to work. “i’m never dating an idol. i’d get hunted down by their fans.” 

“yeah, but can’t you dream a little? do you ever imagine what it would be like?”

the past plays in your mind. after school performances and interviews. broken-up popsicles. finger traps. a life you shared with jaehyun then—one you still cling onto.

yet, you shake your head as you edit your article. “not even.”

it’s a life you’ll keep to yourself.

“what’s the update?”

the three of you look away from each other, spotting namjoon who comes to you with a smile. long gone were the sweaters that failed to drown out his figure and the boxy glasses that would rest on the bridge of his nose. now, he wears a dress shirt and trousers with hair slicked to the side. there were no frames for him to hide behind.

“ah, namjoon! you’re dressed so nice today.”

with dokyeom’s compliment, he can’t hold back on his smile. “thank you. are you guys done with your articles?”

as your friends nod, you add the finishing touches to the document. “and done! i just finished addressing your comments.”

“great. thanks, y/n.”

“do you have something?” chaeyeon asks your editor, causing you to roll your eyes. one thing about journalists is that they love to know everything.

namjoon nods before saying, “i just had a meeting with some possible interviewees.”

“is this the one with the k-pop group?” as dokyeom asks the question, you can’t help but laugh as chaeyeon looks at him in disbelief for spilling confidential information.

your editor chuckles. “yes.”

“can we know—”

“no, you can’t know.”

chaeyeon pouts at namjoon. “not even a hint?”

namjoon ignores her question and begins to walk off. “good work, y/n!” he calls out before leaving you three alone.

“man, namjoon never tells us shit,” chaeyeon complains as she leans on the table.

“to you guys, at least,” you argue with a small shrug.

still, the gut feeling remains.

something about the newsroom feels odd to jaehyun. while he’s had his fair share of paranormal experiences, his gut tells him that there’s something in the office. yet, the tug isn’t one that speaks of danger. why does it feel like one of destiny?

“should we have a short break before we discuss the schedules for the photoshoots and interviews?” jaehyun is snapped out of his thoughts by namjoon’s suggestion.

his manager looks at the group. “do you guys need a break?”

“should we have a short break before we discuss the schedules for the photoshoots and interviews?” jaehyun is snapped out of his thoughts by namjoon’s suggestion.

his manager looks at the group. “do you guys need a break?”

although everyone seemed fine with proceeding, he couldn’t shake off the feeling. maybe the leftover curry he had this morning went bad. “i’ll go,” he says as he gets off his seat.

namjoon slowly stands up. “okay, i can bring you there—”

“it’s okay! i saw the washroom on the way here,” jaehyun says before walking to the door. “you can discuss the details without me first.”

with his manager’s nods, namjoon settles back into his seat. “okay then, here are some of the dates i have in mind...”

jaehyun exits the room. he bites on the inside of the cheek as he thinks of what his gut could be telling him. is it the nerves for the upcoming tour? is he worried about the next comeback they’ve been preparing? or is he scared about what the future has in store for his group?

with his mind on these questions, he doesn’t realize that he arrives in front of the bathroom door. a sigh of frustration leaves him. the worst thing about gut feelings is never knowing what they’re trying to say.

he grips the handle, ready to swing the door open, until a familiar laugh hits his ears. one of the past. one he hasn’t heard in years. his muscles freeze.

when was the last time he heard that chortle? when was the last time he became the cause of it?

his eyes dart around the area for the source but no one else is here. he can’t help but shake his head in disbelief.

it should be stupid for him to think you two would ever reunite. in what world would you be in the same place as he is? it’s been five years. you could be anywhere around the world. yet, he fishes for something out of his pocket; the same finger trap he linked you to him rests on the palm of his hand.

he sighs before entering the washroom and shoving it back into his pocket.

maybe he’ll hold out a little longer.

winter of 2019

out of all the seasons, jaehyun’s favorite is winter. snowflakes fall, filling the sky with stars that people can touch, and snow piles on sidewalks, letting him throw snowballs at his friends. despite the freezing temperatures, jaehyun prefers this over nearly-boiling ones.

he can’t wait to share this season with you.

yet, the familiar, chilly breeze of the season transforms into whispers, and word gets around like thrown snowballs. 

“is y/n really not going to school anymore?” jaehyun looks up from his desk to see jiheon standing in front of him. he tilts his head in confusion, causing her to roll her eyes. “are they not going here anymore?”

he frowns. “huh? what kind of rumor is that?”

“i don’t know. it’s what people have been saying,” she says as she crosses her arms. “i asked because i wanted to know if my competition’s gone, you know? and you’re the only one here who has an idea about their whereabouts.”

jaehyun laughs in disbelief. “no, i was with them last week.”

when jaehyun last saw you, you asked for space. with what’s been happening with your family, you needed time to process and cope with your issues, and he respected that. after all, he only knew a fraction of your relationship with your parents, and he didn’t want to intrude in anything you didn’t want him to be a part of. still, jaehyun reminded you that he’ll be there if you need him.

“damn, that sucks,” jiheon groans as her shoulders slump. “these stupid rumors.” as soon as she leaves jaehyun alone, he shakes his head.

the bell rings. students start rushing into classrooms and teachers scold those who aren’t on their seats. ms. jeon enters the room, walking to the desk in front and setting her things down. “baek jiheon, you’ll be in charge of attendance today.”

as jaehyun’s classmate gets off her seat, he can’t help but look at your desk that still remains empty.

“you have to message us when you land,” your mother says as she fixes the collar of your coat. despite your nod, she clicks her tongue. “answer me properly.”

“yes, i will.”

once your father finishes placing the last luggage in the trunk of the taxi, he stands beside your mother. “don’t forget why we’re sending you there. we expect you to do better with no distractions.”

your phone buzzes in your hand. as you look down, you see a message from jaehyun. as he asks about your whereabouts, the weight gets heavier—will you stand or crumble under it?

“who’s that?”

you stash your phone away as you look back at your parents. “nothing. it’s just an email from the school. they sent over the date for the orientation.” at the sight of their satisfied smile, you let out a small sigh of relief.

“well, go on.” your nod at your mother before getting in the car. with the windows still down, she adds, “don’t forget to get endorsement letters from the professors i sent over to you or else you won’t get to study abroad like we planned.” her choice of pronouns is funny; a plan that they crafted which never considered your input.

“okay.”

as your father commands the driver to go, your gaze remains on the two. it should be okay with you to leave cheongju; you’d be far away from your parents and experience an entirely different landscape to explore. it’s time you break away from the chains of this town. learn a life outside of what your parents forced you into.

yet, as the car takes its leave, the figure of your parents slowly shrinks. the distance from them should’ve given you the space to breathe, a relief you’ve longed for, but it only reminds you of your strained relationship. to them, it would be better that you’re out of their sight—and with your farewell, you never heard the three-word phrase.

the window rolls up. you try to hold back the tears, but the scenery of cheongju that you pass by births a storm within you. you didn’t want to say goodbye to home, regardless of how much you say you didn’t have a home in this town. every corner holds a piece of you in the same way you hold a piece of them.

the car approaches a safe haven you share. despite the snow that piles at the front, mr. kim’s convenience store is still open. you’ll never get to have his hotteok again or hear his favorite dramas play in the background. worst of all, you never got to say goodbye.

then, the familiar figure of your best friend exits the mart, and the storm transforms into a typhoon. the plastic bag he holds is filled with your favorite snacks, from the grape-flavored twin bar to a bottle of mr. kim’s homemade peach iced tea.

and in that moment that your car passes him, he pulls out his phone from his pocket, and you spot the familiar trap wrapped around his finger—the other end holds no one.

as quickly as you came into jaehyun’s life, he disappears from your view.

finger traps were fascinating. if you tug hard, the contraption won’t let your fingers go. yet, if you allow the two fingers to meet, allowing the toy to loosen, it’ll let you go with no harm.

but your finger trap with jaehyun was different. maybe it was already ripped to its seams.

interview

q: what made you decide on becoming an idol?

a: i’ve always loved dancing. growing up in cheongju, i always made time [for dance] whether it be [for] school competitions, talent shows, or even [choreographies] i wanted to try out. but i never considered becoming [an idol] until high school. a lot of my friends and family thought i was capable, and i’m glad they trusted me. it feels good to give back to them with every performance.

q: compared to your other members, you’ve spent a lot of years dancing and training to become an idol. what kept you going throughout your years of training?

a: my family’s support was one big thing that helped me [during my training.] every trip from my house to the company would last hours, and it drained me physically. so as the years went by, i started to question if all the time, money, [and] effort i was putting into an unpromised debut would be worth it, but my parents and brother were always there to support and [take] care of me. but i’d also like to think my best friend was a major support in training years. i think they were the first one to [tell me that they saw me as an idol,] and at the time i brushed off the idea. but, look where i am now? so i think i owe a lot to them.

q: is there anything you’d like to say to those who’ve supported you as boynextdoors’s myung jaehyun? a: mom and dad, thank you for believing in me. i know it wasn’t easy to wait until midnight for me to come home or take care of me whenever i got sick from training. thank you for always supporting me in every performance. to my brother, thank you for helping mom and dad out at home. every day, i remind myself that you gave up so much just so i can pursue my dreams, and i want you know that i’m forever grateful for your sacrifices. to the rest of [boynextdoor], thank you for always allowing me to rely on you. i’m glad i can say i have brothers who i get to achieve my dreams with. onedoor, thank you for your love and support over the years. i wouldn’t be boynextdoor’s leader or myung jaehyun if it weren’t for you. and lastly, thank you to my best friend. i hope you’ll always be proud of me the same way i’ll forever be proud of you.

taglist: @kflixnet @blankjournal @blissfullsvn @lovialy @onedoornet

[taffycandyqt]

Hi taffy!! Idk if anyone has done this but its been on my mind for a while now. YouTuber reader and editor donnie. Where Donnie has a little avatar that pops into videos and reader talks in the video to him for when he edits (kind of like a Markiplier and Lixian kind of thing?) Thanks soo much! Lots of love!

Yesssss!!!! I absolutely love Marks and Lixians dynamic! Oh this is gonna be so fun!

You didn't specify what version you wanted so I'm just gonna assume you want rise Donnie and do that👍

Masterlist

Request Rules

Little Editor Boy

You found your video editor a couple years after starting YouTube. He's great at his job and you enjoy talking to him. You never met him in person though, so imagine your surprise when you find out he's a giant mutant turtle!

Rise Donnie x gn reader

Headcannons

Fluff

Before dating

Othello was the best person you had ever worked with and one of your closest friends.

You hired him after he had edited one of your videos for his own channel.

It was purely for satire but you loved his sense of humor and he was good at what he does.

Now you guys call practically all the time and he even feeds you ideas for new videos.

You loved pushing your dynamic on your videos too!

Talking to him like he was in the room with you and teasing back and forth like he was there responding to you.

It was fun!

You hated watching your videos but you loved to go to the parts where you "talk to him" just to see his witty comebacks.

He never ceased to make you laugh.

With all this though you've never met in person, nor have you ever seen his face.

He always avoids the topic or makes some sort of excuse.

No he doesn't have a working camera on any of his technological devices despite his fluency with the stuff, yes he really does live in Zimbabwe even thought he consistently talks about going to places exclusively in New York

Yes he is busy Ninja training, no that is not a lie, unfortunately he is planning on being sick the next two weeks that your free so guys can't visit each other.

Safe to say, you were done with his bull.

So on your next phone call you cornered him for the truth.

Little did you know that the truth was, he did want to meet you, but he couldn't.

Now it should be known that Donnie isn't ashamed of how he looks.

Is he aware? Yes.

Does he care? No.

If someone else has a problem with it, it's just that, their problem.

But with you, he wants you to like him, and he HATES that.

He wishes that taking the chance to meet you in person didn't scare him so much.

He doesn't want you to scream, run, call him a freak, and fire him!

So when you put him in tight position to meet you, he was kinda freaking out.

Not that his "bad boy" persona would ever let him show it.

Donnie's knee bounced under the table as he waited for you to come into the shabby diner you both decided to meet at. Purple hoodie and mittens with black jeans and sneakers. Normally he hated wearing all this junk but if he could avoid the inevitable freakout as long as possible then so be it. With his hood pulled up to shield his face from the occasional passer-by. The yellow lights flickered periodically and it made him wish he was back at his lab fixing up whatever project he felt like instead of watching that persistent technological annoyance.

The minutes ticked by and he was starting to wonder if you were coming at all. Maybe you had seen him from afar and decided you didn't actually want to meet him? Maybe you were freaked out? At this point he couldn't decide which one would distress him more. The prospect of meeting you or the idea that you no longer want to meet him. Panicked thoughts started rushing through his head and the plasticy covering of his booth seat was becoming increasingly uncomfortable the longer he sat there alone. If felt like he was in the splash zone waiting for a wave to smack him.

Before he can go any deeper into this panic though, you say down in front of him.

"Sorry I'm a little late. Hopefully five minutes wasn't too long a wait!" you laughed to yourself as you slid into the booth seat across from him.

"N-nope! All good here! A ha..." he mumbled awkwardly.

You both talked as your food came and he stayed draw in on himself and refused to let you see his face.

He would get more comfortable with the conversation as you talked and things seemed to be getting into a better note but his body language still seemed to stay uncomfortable.

You just kept the conversation up and hoped he would come out of his shell.

Nothing seemed to be working until you got on the topic of Jupiter Jim and you mentioned how underrated Atomic Lass and Atomic Lads dynamic is within the franchise and fanbase.

He'd sit up so fast that his hood flew off is face as he released an exasperated "EXACTLY!"

Now it was your turn to be shocked.

You didn't know what to expect but it wasn't green skin and less than human features.

Your bewildered staring clued him into his fatal mistake.

He'd sink back into the booth seat choking out an awkward forced laugh.

You so badly want to ask "What are you?" But that seemed a tad dehumanizing. Though you guessed he wasn't really human.

So after the initial shock wore off, you decided to say something a bit different.

"There's the face I've been dying to meet," you smiled.

"Pardon?" He looked up at you a tad surprised.

This was the first time he made eye contact with you since you got here.

"I haven't been trying to meet you in person for so long just so I could catch a glimpse of your fashion sense you know,"

After that he played it off like he knew you would react that way and immediately straightened his posture at the table.

The time there also got a bit more comfortable as you both chatted freely.

He still kept the hood on but was no longer using it to obscure his face.

Eventually you noticed his hands had been degloved and saw his green three fingers.

You didn't stare like you did at his face but you made a mental note to ask him about it later.

You were still curious okay?

While Dating

Once you two start saying it becomes increasingly obvious to you followers.

Your interactions with Donnie's little character slowly went from boss employee teasing to ridiculous romantic jokes to just straight up calling him pet names.

When you find out about Donnie's family and their mutant situation you were actually really interested.

Though it did make you a little sad at the realization that his behavior when you first met in person was because he thought you'd think of him differently.

Because of this one of your favorite names for him becomes "handsome boy" or "handsome man".

You'd ask him to edit something for you in one of your videos and when you were done explaining it you'd say "thank you my handsome boy!" And continue playing the game.

The first time this happened he was just watching the video to edit it like he normally does, only to get jump scared by the nickname.

Don't get me wrong, he loved the name, but he just didn't know what to think.

It took him a good ten minutes to recover from his flustered state of mind.

After he got out of it he would consider just editing that part out.

For.... reasons.

But ultimately left it in since the cut would be too awkward.

Needless to say your followers are BEGGING for an Othello face reveal and you just have to keep saying no😭😭

Outside of that you are like the OTP for Internet couples.

It gets to the point where you guys kinda become a meme

Some fan of a different streamer will talk about how that streamer and their partner and perfect for eachother and then one of your fans will just be like "yeah but are they as perfect as y/n and Othello von Ryan?"

It even evolves I into "peanut butter and jelly are the perfect pair" "not as perfect as y/n and Othello tho..."

or "UGH! GUYS! My fit EATS! Almost as much as y/n and Othello!"

It's all in good fun, and you find it absolutely hilarious.

Donnie is amused and anytime you show him these memes he simply nods and says something along the lines of "well I cannot disagree with objective fact."

Overall, very cute, very fun.

[exhaustedcatte]

Are we doing this here? (yes)

Remus ran his sweaty palms over his suit, which did nothing to dry them off given that the material was very silky.

“My god, Lily, you should’ve asked someone else to sub in,” Remus muttered balefully.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed, accent thick – it only ever came out when she was nervous. “You made bigger numbers than Susan when you filled in for her last time.”

“I wish I was knee deep in editing instead,” he said, just to keep the banter going.

Remus wasn’t mad about Lily asking him to fill in for her co-worker, mainly because the carpet they were on was for a Period Era film whose book had him crying for days. No, he was just very out of depth being in front of a camera and not a screen. Besides, this must be what people call Nepotism. Remus was simply an editor, who cuts clips out and makes a nice video out of it. Lily, who’d pulled strings to get Snarky little Remus Lupin out here, did so with the intention of getting him to do some networking.

“No, you don’t, not when Black will be here,” she replied knowingly.

She knew too much, honestly. Lily simply barked a laugh when he told her that.

He tried to settle his nerves by doing a headcount of the reporters on the carpet. He thought he might reach Nirvana once he’d counted upto the 90 mark, but his cameraman starts clicking the little button with such force, Remus is startled out of the ‘counting sheep to sleep’ method he was using.

“Oh my god,” Lily applied her lipstick hastily. “Remus! Remus that’s Dame Minerva McGonagall.”

He bit his lip, trying to contain his own excitement. “Who gets her?”

They were both under the same network, it would make no sense for both of them to interview her with similar questions.

“Do you… do you want it?” Lily asked.

Remus saw the generosity in her offering her role model to him. “Of course not, Lils. I was only pulling your leg.”

She punched his arm. “I was about to replace you with Frank.”

Remus’ cameraman, Frank Longbottom, popped his head from behind the huge camera, “Oh, piss off.”

Minerva strode into their section after getting her photographs taken. Remus stepped away in awe. He’d never been so close to anyone famous, well excluding his one boyfriend – who wrote three love songs about him and then dumped him after the songs blew up. They’d been together at the cusp of his fame. Remus squashed the thought of Caradoc Dearborn, the nation’s favourite Pop Artist, according to Daily Prophet.

“Miss Minerva,” Lily smiled brightly, “you look lovely. Might I know who you’re wearing?”

“Why, you look beautiful yourself,” the woman smiled. “This was a work of Pandora Lovegood.”

“It looks stunning,” Lily reiterated sincerely. She segued into her question smoothly with, “The pantsuit must’ve been easier to wear than traditional Victorian outfits, right?”

“Oh yes,” she nodded. “Many, many layers.”

“This film is also your comeback after two years, how does it feel?”

They’re lucky they secured the entry spot on the carpet, because the other interviewers are likely to ask the same questions as these actors progress down the line.

“It’s very special. I’ve known the director, James Potter, for a few years now and working with him has been lovely because he really eased me into it,” Minerva spoke fondly of James Potter and it was all but a miracle that Lily’s knees didn’t give out judging by the dizzy expression that overtook her smile when her celebrity crush was name dropped. (Remus knew Lily as well as she knew him, so it was never a disadvantage really.)

“The trailer also broke records, have you got any anecdotes to spare about scenes that have been revealed?”

Minerva pondered for a few. “I found it very difficult to chase Sirius around set when he thought dropping seeds on my hat was a good idea. I almost had a pigeon infestation on me.”

“Did you have to run in the gown?” Lily laughed good-naturedly.

Remus also had to hold back a snort at the vivid image of the Dame running behind Sirius Black and a flock of pigeons trailing her.

“Running after him was a personal choice, it wasn’t a shot for the movie,” the actress said primly, making everyone laugh again.

“I wish the movie great success, it was lovely meeting you,” Lily bade her goodbye.

Minerva smiled once again before heading over to the next reporter.

“How was I?” Lily asked.

“Good, but a touch too nervous maybe,” Remus offered honestly.

“Okay.” She spotted Slughorn making his way over to them and straightened, “It’s go time.”

The old veteran was suited up in boring grey slacks and a grey suit jacket with a plain white shirt under. Remus wished there were less boring men’s outfits on the carpet, at least then it’d make it interesting for him to edit these things, it would provide great gossip material.

Lily breezed through the next couple interviews, trying to shuffle her questions between them to make it less monotonous for both parties.

When Narcissa Malfoy finally sashayed away, Lily slugged half of Remus’ ginger lemon tea. “This thermos is god sent, the tea is so warm.”

“I know. It was Caradoc’s last christmas present. But it’s so good, I couldn’t justify throwing away just because he was a shit ex.”

“His money anyway,” Lily winked. Her voice sounded too hoarse.

“Want me to go?” Remus asked.

Her shoulders slumped, a bit relieved. “I would appreciate that.”

Remus steadied his mind, just a few questions and that’s all there was. You can do this, you got this, it’s just a few minutes and – Holy fucking god.

Marlene McKinnon stepped out of her car in a sequinned dress, thigh high slit and tall pumps.

Remus managed to snag her first out of the sea of interviewers.

“Good evening,” he smiled. “You look gorgeous, very old Hollywood.”

Her blonde hair was pinned up, lips painted blood red, mole under her eye, black sequinned dress glimmering in the flashes of the cameras.

“Thank you so much, but I have to thank Fortescue for this.”

Her ability to understand cues was very well appreciated by Remus.

“I must say, your role in the movie seems to be rather demanding psychologically,” Remus started off strong, “judging by the book and the trailer, of course.”

Marlene blinked away her surprise fast. Women were usually not asked about their character’s personalities very often.

“Harriet is a bit of a character,” she said eagerly. “She’s too strict on herself and clearly a bit emotionally constipated,” Marlene laughed.

“Was it difficult to recover from that kind of a role?”

“It was,” Marlene’s surprise bled into her voice. “Harriet’s strictness with herself often translated into her constantly picking herself apart so my confidence did see it’s ups and downs.”

“And she’s also Irish!“ Remus redirected towards something lighthearted. “How was working the accent for you?”

“I’m so used to London, it took a lot of work to get my pronunciation as close to a native as I could,” she admitted sheepishly.

Remus grinned, watch pulsating silently on his wrist. “Well, Harriet, I wont keep you long, for your duties call you elsewhere.”

“Wow,” Marlene laughed, “you’re better than Sirius, man!”

“I wouldn’t make it past auditions, Marlene,” he deadpanned.

She giggled. “Give yourself some credit. Sirius only remembered his dialogues when he had to whinge about me.”

Remus shifted back, on his hip, “Harriet, dear, don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Marlene guffawed, “Oh, you’re good.” She waved as she was led away.

Remus didn’t get a refractory period when the next actor swarmed in.

After six successful interviews Remus started to loosen up. He managed to land a few jokes based on the knowledge of the actors and their characters.

“Are you the interviewer that Marls said I had to meet?”

Remus turned around.

Sirius Orion Black.

He was wearing proper Victorian attire. A ruffled white blouse, a midnight blue paisley vest with gold embroidery, charcoal slacks and tailcoat. His hair was tied back with a gold ribbon. God. He looked delectable.

Remus’ brain sent pure dumb into his head and he fish-mouthed. “You cut quite a figure in that suit.”

“It’s an Ollivander custom,” Sirius grinned, eyes shining. Oh, his smile. “I see you’re dressed to star alongside me too!”

Remus cracked a smile. No one had commented on his commitment to the part yet. He was also similarly in Victorian garbs, but he decided to take a simpler route by thrifting and sewing them himself.

“It’s a Remus Lupin special,” he said. After a pause, he motioned to himself, and added, “I’m Remus Lupin.”

“You’ve got quite the talent in suit making, Lupin. Want to make one for me next time?” Sirius leaned in close. Remus could smell the decadent notes of vanilla and coffee in his perfume.

“I’m not all that talented,” Remus said modestly. “I might be better at taking a suit off than putting it on you.”

What the hell am I doing? On Broadcast! Oh, he’s so fired. Lily pinched his arm from behind.

But Sirius Black grinned widely, very obviously looking him up and down, “You certainly have the permission.”

Remus smirked. “Alright now, let’s keep it media-friendly. Tell us, Sirius, you’ve taken on the role of Sir Fitzwilliam Grey, who is notoriously difficult. What was being such a frustrating man like?”

“Frustrating,” Sirius laughed. “He definitely was written well, but boy, he got on my nerves a bit.”

Remus also smiled, agreeing, “It’s true, the book almost made me pull my hair out.”

“You can pull my hair instead,” Sirius winked.

Remus swallowed, before smiling brightly. “Ah, but I don’t put out until the fourth date at least.”

Sirius snorted, “I was talking about braiding my hair.”

“Mm, either ways, I am good with my hands.”

Sirius hid his face in his palms, shoulders shaking with laughter. Remus felt proud of himself for making this man laugh. God, he looked really beautiful.

“So,” he cleared his throat at Frank’s pointed gaze. “James Potter is your best friend and this isn’t your first production together. But you mentioned this project was very close to you, why so?”

“I grew up in a family like Grey’s, so I could understand why he behaved the way he did – I was much like him until I met James. So now I’m not welcome home anymore,” Sirius snickered lightly. This news was known to the public for a while, but it was still a sore subject.

“You’re welcome to my home anytime,” Remus winked, trying to make it lighter on the viewers.

This time, Sirius actually blushed. “I’ll make a note of that.”

“Your first film was also a period era movie, was it nostalgic going back to your roots, in a sense?”

“A little. I was too nervous to experience everything the first time, so this felt like redemption,” Sirius said. Then he broke into a jive, “Redemption is leaving the man you dreamed of~”

Jesus. Caradoc Dearborn through the mouth of Sirius. But Sirius had a really nice voice, rich and robust.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I keep singing that song, must be because I’ve been hearing it a lot on the radio.”

“Yeah, me too,” Remus said stiffly. Lily snorted into her palm.

“Oh?”

“Er, my ex… he was a huge fan of, um, Caradoc Dearborn,” Remus felt his eye twitch.

“Oh.”

“He’s my ex,” Remus shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“Oh yeah, absolutely. If he left you, then he was probably a right Fitzwilliam Grey, eh,” Sirius giggled. “Or like, Earl Grey. A bit basic.”

“You’re right.” He leaned in a bit, heart jumping when Sirius mirrored his action. “I much prefer it Black.”

Sirius’ ears were slowly getting red, probably like his own. “Everyone likes black tea, Remus.”

“We all have good taste,” Remus nodded importantly, willing himself to stand his ground.

His watch beeped, breaking the moment. “Oh, we’ve run out of time. Have you got any last remarks?”

“I hope you watch the movie,” he said to the camera. “And let me know how it is,” he turned to Remus.

“Well, it has been a pleasure to talk to you Mr Black,” Remus smiled his professional smile.

“You too, Remus,” Sirius said softly. “I will see you sometime.”

That sounded like a promise if he’d ever heard one.

Sirius strode away, but Remus noticed him peeking back at where he was stood.

“What on Earth was that Remus?” Lily squealed. “How can we possibly use this footage?!”

“We can, I think. It’s guaranteed views, Lils,” Frank interjected.

Remus blushed. “Sorry, I don’t know what got over me.”

“Thinking with the wrong organ, most likely,” Lily muttered, but she sounded too fond and too impressed to be mad.

“Most likely,” Remus echoed, once again on the receiving end of The Sirius Black smile.

His phone rang six times before he even considered picking it up.

“Hey,” he croaked. “I met the deadlines and uploaded it yesterday evening.”

Lily, who had been pestering him to get the interview out before the movie’s first day, didn’t utter a word.

“Lils?”

“Have you seen the comments?”

Oh, god.

Remus sat up in his bed, blankets falling in a pool around his naked torso. “Should I?”

“Yes.”

He pulled up the video, and immediately was stunned by the 2.3 million views on it. “Holy shit?”

“Read the comments, lad.”

laralare: um id tap his ass too sirius, get in line

beyzoz: not in front of my saladfsusjro?!

flour: am i jealous of sirius or remus lupin?

patricknorth: 6.57 im gay now

gillian: look at the eYES sirius makes when remus mentions his ex!!

hollyhollyday: the blatant flirting?! jail. my single ass is sobbing at 2am

freyja: i like lupin. we need him on more carpets.

doorathea: sirius looks so hot, id hit too. so yeah, remus was just being gay, not unprofessional.

Remus laughed incredulously at the number of comments in support of this tomfoolery.

“Now, Remus, I want you to breathe and go on Twitter.”

“Lily!”

Twitter was flooded with trends. About Him. And Sirius. Together.

#remusirius

#sirius black flirting

#remus lupin

Remus found many tweets – mostly laughing at the pair and dissecting the interaction. But it had felt so natural even to Remus so he had left it in, thinking it was amusing. Clearly everyone agreed.

The topmost tweet however.

SiriusBlack:

Last night was one of my favourite nights ever. I hope tonight you all can enjoy the movie too. Dress victorian, thrift and sew your outfits, have some fun!(a borrowed idea) when in rome, do as the romans do, (or is when in remus more apt? lol) enjoy!!

Remus screamed into his phone, blushing at the innuendo.

“His publicist loves you or hates you.”

“Let’s hope she’s obsessed with me, because.”

“Uh oh, Remus. Remus, what are you doing?”

“Nothing!”

RJLupin: im going to the movie w my best friend this weekend.

SiriusBlack: oh he’s in my dms now

RJLupin: too presumptuous?

SiriusBlack: the right amount i think.

text me here– xxx

“Remus…?”

“Might’ve scored a date with Fitzwilliam.”

“Remus! Caradoc could never!”

Remus laughed.

(a/n: based on a prompt i saw on pinterest lol. can you tell i can’t flirt for my life. or that i have no idea how red carpets work? i wrote this at arse o’ clock, so please excuse the lack of research and feasible scenarios that went into this. i hope it put a smile on your face at least.)

[trutrustories]

STUDY IN LOKI ROMANCE

Part 3: 1893

Since we're only a few days away from the last episode, I decided to COUNT DOWN everything we´ve got so far ( that can be interpreted very easily as romantic ) and discuss what the actual fuck is going on with second season. Because even though I shipped lokius practically from S1E2, I absolutely did NOT expect this kind of development. (Not that I´m complaining)

Warning: This is gonna be LONG post, lots of screenshots, lots of SPOILERS, lot of "oh-my-god-they-so-cute" language, and little bit of meta.

I originally thought that this post would be everything at once, but since I have just too many screenshots this time around, I´ll have to split it. so every post will be one episode. Color coding means:

IIIIIIIIII = anything, that coud potentialy be just acting choice.

IIIIIIIIII = everything else (tzn.: whatever was written, and/or carefully prepared by filmmakers. )

side note: I already wrote, about how amazing it is, that Mobius is unable to fight but fights anyway and how beautifuly, and ridiculously brave he is HERE. But this is about Loki/Mobius interactions, so I´ll try my best not to talk about THAT. (Even when I´m really happy, that s2 continues with this formula and Mobius is still his completely defenseless while aggressively brave self. I love him, btw.)

EPISODE 1 HERE EPISODE 2 HERE

Episode 3, here we go:

22) matching suits part 2 anyone, who work on those costumes: I want to kiss you all!

23) Another exhibition of touches:

the challange name is: "how close we can get, before we sink into each other"

24) "And they lived happily ever after..." They had some lokius fan in the editing room, I´m telling ya! This retro movie style transition... THAT is my roman empire...

like seriously? what is the purpose of this? I can´t wrap my head around it. someone just thought that it is really crucial to end this scene with two of them in a circle. OK.

but WHY?

It was LITTERALY used only once! (I´m sorry, but as someone, who works as an editor, this just driving me crazy 🤒🫠)

25) Loki and Mobius enjoying popcorn:

I have several things to say here:

ever heard about when one person is "forced" to have fun for the first time, and to try new things by the other person, and he´s protesting and is all about work and serious matters, but secretly loves it and is visibly relaxed and happy? - Because I´m sure this is some bloody romantic comedy trope, that everyone have seen about hundred times!

"Oh look, you have a piece of food on the chin, let me just…"

I know I already said this somewhere, but, this is the moment, where in my language suddenly (completely randomly) switched from formal way of speaking to each other to intimate way of speaking to each other. (I´m Czech, btw, and I have no idea, what happened in that recording studio but it had to be interesting)

26) Also... Bickering like married couple (part 3)

27) "You know sometimes I forget, that you are one of them... Blows my mind!"

Mobius being Loki´s fan.

Also yeas. Loki is one of them. God. And Mobius is a small, normal dude. JUST A HUMAN. Analyst, even! And they´re eating popcorn together.... also Loki will do whatever Mobius wishes

28) another "let´s be as close as we physically can" challange

Loki can´t keep only eye on him. he needs hands, because reasons

29) Mobius supporting Loki in using magic...

... or I should say Loki using Magic, whenever Mobius wishes, because...

"Will you handle this please?" "Gently!"

And on top of that... not him, explaining, what just happened, to the public, by: "The amazing Loki, everyone! He´ll be here all week! 🥳🥳🥳"

who the heck asked, Mobius? stop showing off with your magical boyfriend

30) Victor/Ravonna - the most transparent mirror ever:

THIS scene? Are you kidding? Ravonna running towards Victor: "Mr Timley! are you okay? And Mobius running practicly at the same time towards Loki with: You allright?" and both helping their man up on their feet?! IN SYNC! this is too much.

WTF

31) THE BIKE THIS. this is the most GREENLY green point, I can think of. Someone had to have this vision. This idea. And put it in to screenplay. Someone had to find the bike. Someone was shooting this. Camera is moving around them. And they were all like GREAT idea, let´s have them riding tandem bike while chasing Ravonna and Timely, that makes complete sense! (even when we have Loki chasing Brad USING MAGIC one episode back) anyway... ever heard about "let´s do this crazy stupid thing - absolutely not - and then they do the thing" trope?

32) Loki going with Mobius, not even thinking about it anymore.

And to think, that I was expecting something like S01E03 (Lamentis episode)! Once again, I wasn´t prepared for amount of Lokius content I was actually served. What a surprise! 🤯

[shiningwonderland]

Natsuki Shinomiya (Repeat)

Translator: Raz (Twitter: agnadance)

Proofreader: Nadie (Twitter: nmoniag)

Editor: Aoi (Twitter: AoiTsukihime)

QA: Rei (Twitter: wolfe_raine)

August — One Summer's Affetto

It's now August. Most of my classmates have returned home.

I debated whether or not to go back or not, but I was glad when Shinomiya-san said to me that we should do our best during summer break as well…

I've decided to stay behind and now I'm practicing at the school everyday.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Phew… It's so hot everyday.

Haruka Nanami: I agree, but at least it feels cooler inside the school.

Saotome Gakuen's air conditioning is top notch. It's always mildly air conditioned so it never becomes too hot in the summer.

Natsuki Shinomiya: There are many delicate instruments, so I'm glad that the air conditioning is reliable.

Haruka Nanami: Speaking of instruments… I was thinking about adding a violin in the musical accompaniment… 

Haruka Nanami: So… are you willing to play it?

Natsuki Shinomiya: … Me?

Haruka Nanami: Yes. I would love for you to play it, Shinomiya-san…

Natsuki Shinomiya: I… see. If I can be of service, but…

Haruka Nanami: Um… Don't push yourself… I know you have... special circumstances.

Natsuki Shinomiya: No, that's not it…. I just noticed that you went back to calling me Shinomiya-san again…

Haruka Nanami: Ah…

I've called him Natsuki-kun a number of times when I put in the effort, but I naturally slip back to calling him Shinomiya-san.

Natsuki Shinomiya: I know I shouldn't be forcing you to call me that… but I do feel a little lonely.

Select the Phrase!

1)　時間をください。Give me some time. (+5 Love, +5 Music)

Haruka Nanami: Shinomiya-san… You're older and composed, so I have a hard time calling by your first name so casually…

2)　ごめんなさい。I'm sorry. (+0 Love, +0 Music)

Haruka Nanami: Um… I'm not used to it yet, so I end up calling you Shinomiya-san…

3)　努力はしているのですが・・・I'm trying my best, but… (+10 Love, +5 Music)

Haruka Nanami: I can't really get myself to call you that right now… but I want to properly call you by your first name one day. So…

Haruka Nanami: I don't dislike calling you by your first name, it's just… I just feel like a person like me isn't fit to call you like that…

Haruka Nanami: Once I feel more confident, I think I'll be able to call you by your first name, so can you wait for me until then?

Natsuki Shinomiya: Haru-chan… I understand. I'll be waiting…

Shinomiya-san puts both of his hands around my right hand.

Natsuki Shinomiya: You're a far more wonderful girl than you think you are.

Natsuki Shinomiya: I want you to someday be more confident, even if it may take time.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Your hands can make music–they have unlimited potential. Your music can change the world no matter what it could be like.

Natsuki Shinomiya: I understand lacking confidence the most out of anyone else… I was that way too.

Natsuki Shinomiya: … Huh? How strange, I was trying to encourage you, and yet….

Natsuki Shinomiya: I can say the same things I'm telling you, to myself.

Shinomiya-san breaks into a smile and hugs me tightly.

Haruka Nanami: Uh, um…

Shinomiya-san gently lets go of me and looks me in the eyes.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Let's make an entire world, you and I… I will sing the songs you make. If our song is recognized by others, would that give you more confidence?

Haruka Nanami: … Yes.

Natsuki Shinomiya: If that's so, then I need to do my best, too… If you wish, I'll play the violin and the viola in any way you please. 

Haruka Nanami: T-thank you. T-then, I'll bring the sheet music. I left them at the dorm…

Natsuki Shinomiya: Okay, see you soon!

I head to the dorms to fetch my sheet music.

When I return to the classroom, Shinomiya-san is sitting on the window sill while gazing forlornly at the scenery outside.

Haruka Nanami: … Shinomiya-san.

Natsuki Shinomiya: …

Haruka Nanami: Shinomiya-san…?

Natsuki Shinomiya: Ah… ahh, I'm so sorry! I was just deep in thought…

Shinomiya-san… Is he scared to play the violin after all?

Haruka Nanami: U-um! I'm sorry, you're still scared about playing, right? Well… we don't have to use this song. I'll return the sheets back to my room.

In a panic, I whip around and try to return to the dorms, but…

Natsuki Shinomiya: Haru-chan, don't go…

Shinomiya-san hugs me from behind.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Don't say such a sad thing… You wrote that music, didn't you?

Haruka Nanami: … Yes.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Your sound… I don't want to miss one note of a melody you've spun to life. I want to feel all of you.

Natsuki Shinomiya: What you have here isn't just music notes lined up next to each other. It's your heart… I refuse to disregard it.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Can you show me your sheet music?

Haruka Nanami: … Okay.

Shinomiya-san looks at my sheet music, smiles, then plays it on the spot for me.

His performance back in April when he was introducing himself sounded lonely…

But now, his sound is kind, warm like a ray of sunshine.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Haru-chan…

Shinomiya-san freezes in place.

Haruka Nanami: U-um… Is it hard to play…?

Natsuki Shinomiya: No, it's wonderful! So much so that I think it's a waste for me to be the only one playing.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Haru-chan… Will you join me?

Haruka Nanami: Join…?

Natsuki Shinomiya: There's a piano.

Haruka Nanami: Ah…

I can play the piano, but…

Haruka Nanami: But I'm not that good… Also, I don't know if I can properly match your performance…

Natsuki Shinomiya: Haru-chan, believe in yourself… Believe in me who chose you.

Natsuki Shinomiya: It'll be okay. You're an angel loved by the gods of music.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Feel me and my music… Go with your feelings and let the piano sing…

Natsuki Shinomiya: That way, we'll surely become one. We can communicate heart to heart.

Haruka Nanami: … I'll try.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Merci, Haru-chan! I'll begin.

Shinomiya-san weaves a melody… Following my heart, I let my fingers dance on the piano keys.

A momentary dream. It was only a couple of seconds, but it felt like an instant that could've been an eternity.

Even without thinking about it, I knew the sound in my heart.

I want to resonate and become one…

A voiceless chorus flows outward from my fingertips and spontaneously weaves itself into a melody.

Natsuki Shinomiya: …

We are like fairies who are music notes dancing on top of the musical staff.

I'm filled with pleasure, happiness, and sorrow…

Tears are about to overflow–this indescribable feeling melts and blends into our sound.

Natsuki Shinomiya: …

Haruka Nanami: …

Once we finish our duet, we gaze at each other and smile.

Shinomiya-san puts his violin back into its case, then puts his hand on mine.

Natsuki Shinomiya: It's been so long since I've felt such exhilaration! Your sound moves me and has gripped onto my heart!

Haruka Nanami: No, not at all… but I wanted the intro to be like this. I… enjoyed myself…

Natsuki Shinomiya: I enjoyed myself as well! It's been so many years since I've had so much fun playing the violin!

Natsuki Shinomiya: You really are my muse. I was about to forget what I hold dear to me, but you helped me remember once more.

Natsuki Shinomiya: I feel like maybe I can take back the past I lost that day as long as I'm with you… 

Shinomiya-san… As I thought, something happened in his past…

Maybe that's why his personality changes when he takes off his glasses…

Shinomiya-san, I want to know the real you.

I wonder if you'll show me one day…

Haruka Nanami: Um…

Natsuki Shinomiya: Ah, I'm sorry. I've said something heavy just now.

Natsuki Shinomiya: How about we change our surroundings and practice outside? I made a lunch box! We can eat it under the shade of the trees.

Select the Phrase!

お弁当・・・ですか？A… lunch box? (+0 Love, +0 Music)

Natsuki Shinomiya: Yes. There's octopus sausages and bunny-eared apples!

Haruka Nanami: That sounds delicious!

Natsuki Shinomiya: I have a favorite spot behind the mountain on the academy grounds where we can eat our lunch.

はい。Okay. (+20 Love, +0 Music)

Haruka Nanami: Practicing outside sounds exciting!

Natsuki Shinomiya: Right? I'll show you my favorite spot. I've told no one else!

あ、いいですね、それ。Oh, that sounds great. (+10 Love, +0 Music)

Haruka Nanami: That sounds very fun!

Natsuki Shinomiya: I'll take you to my favorite spot, but it's a secret between the two of us, hehe!

Shinomiya-san brings me to the forest behind the academy.

A cool breeze wafts through the air of the forest.

Haruka Nanami: Ah…

As I space out while walking, I stumble on a branch.

Luckily, I find myself cradled in Shinomiya-san's arms.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Are you okay? I'm sorry, it must be hard to walk in the forest.

Haruka Nanami: Ah… Sorry, I wasn't being careful.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Should we… hold hands?

Haruka Nanami: Huh?

Natsuki Shinomiya: We can't hold hands at a party, but I can escort you to the forest amphitheater.

Haruka Nanami: … T-thank you.

Shinomiya-san holds my hand as we walk through the forest.

Natsuki Shinomiya: We're here. Welcome to the forest amphitheater…!

The place Shinomiya-san has showed me is a spot where small animals come to rest among the rays of sunshine.

The small birds fly about as the squirrels and rabbits frolic among the pools of light.

Haruka Nanami: Wow! What a wonderful place… I didn't know there was a place like this!

Natsuki Shinomiya: Hehe! This is the secret flower garden… I often come here and talk to everyone.

One little bird flutters towards Shinomiya-san.

It flies around him and twitters as if it's talking to him.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Hehe, how do you do, little bird? What? You want to hear that song? Sure, I'll play it for you.

Shinomiya-san strokes the bird's head on his shoulder, grins, then starts playing his viola.

The animals of the forest gather around him, attracted by his performance.

… Unbelievable.

Truly wonderful performances not only enrapture people but animals as well.

The moment the song finishes, the animals crowd around him.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Hehe, everyone's been doing well, I see…!

He strokes the small animals' heads and necks as he talks to them. They all seem to be comfortable around him.

A cat walks up to him.

Haruka Nanami: Ah, Kuppuru…! Come here…

Natsuki Shinomiya: Is that kitty's name Kuppuru-chan? I've never seen him before. Is he your cat?

Haruka Nanami: Umm, I saved him once and ever since then, he's been attached to me. I've been secretly keeping him in my dorm room.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Hehe, that's against the rules.

Haruka Nanami: I'm sorry.

Natsuki Shinomiya: If you call me by my first name, I won't tell anyone.

Haruka Nanami: Uh…

Natsuki Shinomiya: Hehe, I'm kidding… There's no rush.

Haruka Nanami: I'm sorry.

Natsuki Shinomiya: That's no good, isn't it. I've been causing you so much trouble lately.

Haruka Nanami: Not at all…

Natsuki Shinomiya: No, I've been pushing your boundaries, and you're such a nice person… I've been asking too much of you without realizing it.

Haruka Nanami: You're always so nice to me… You're not asking too much at all.

Natsuki Shinomiya: If you say it like that, I'll start wanting to push you even more.

Natsuki Shinomiya: You're like an untouched canvas, completely open to me dotting it with foolish words. 

Natsuki Shinomiya: You always respond to me so honestly, which makes me want to see more of your expressions.

Natsuki Shinomiya: But if I do that, I'll end up causing you too much trouble.

Natsuki Shinomiya: I know I need to push down these feelings…

Natsuki Shinomiya: Even so, there are times I can't keep them in. For example, like this…

Shinomiya-san takes my hand and pulls me towards him.

He gives me not a light hug–it's a firm, deep embrace.

Natsuki Shinomiya: I want to feel you forever, just like this…

His soft whisper is not his usual kind tone of voice. There's a tinge of sadness mixed in it.

My heart skips a beat at Shinomiya-san's uncharacteristically serious attitude.

He has his childish, innocent expression. Now he has a mature expression.

They're both a part of him… yet why is my heart beating so fast?

Haruka Nanami: Um, uhh…

Natsuki Shinomiya: See, I'm already making you nervous.

Shinomiya-san chuckles.

Natsuki Shinomiya: But now… you're within my arms, and that makes me happier than anything else.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Feeling your warmth, I get caught up in this illusion that it's not just your heartbeat, but the beat of your soul that I get to touch.

Haruka Nanami: Umm, this is very embarrassing… But… I'm not hating it…

Hearing that, Shinomiya-san releases his hold on me.

Natsuki Shinomiya: If you say something like that, it's going to be hard to keep myself from teasing you even more.

Natsuki Shinomiya: It’s no good, I need to hold myself back… Shall we change the mood and start eating lunch?

He grins. 

Haruka Nanami: … Okay.

It's the usual Shinomiya-san and his kind, soft smile…

This makes me think there's a different side to him besides when he doesn't have his glasses on…

There are times when his atmosphere is so different that I become confused.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Come, Haru-chan. Sit here…

Shinomiya-san spreads a large handkerchief on the ground and gestures to me to sit on it.

He takes out a lunch box in one smooth motion.

If I recall correctly, the cookies he brought for his self-introduction were not very tasty–in fact, their flavor was beyond anyone could ever imagine. 

I briefly shudder at the memory.

The lunch box is decorated with cute illustrations of small birds. The usual fillings karaage chicken and tamagoyaki–rolled omelets–are packed inside of it.

I know Shinomiya-san isn't that great at cooking, but…

It looks quite nice, so I'm sure he must've improved his cooking skills.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Here, have a bite.

Select the Phrase!

いただきます。I'll have a bite. (+10 Love, +5 Music)

Natsuki Shinomiya: Okay, open up!

He holds out a karaage for me.

Haruka Nanami: Uhh…?

Should I open my mouth? I guess I should…

I'm a little embarrassed, but I open my mouth and chomp down on the karaage.

Natsuki Shinomiya: I've always wanted to do something like this. I feel like I'm a mother swallow feeding her chick.

あ・・・はい。Ah, okay. (+10 Love, +0 Music)

Haruka Nanami: I'll have a bite.

I eat a bite of a tamagoyaki.

だ、大丈夫ですか？I-is it okay? (+0 Love, +0 Music)

Natsuki Shinomiya: Of course it's okay! I made enough for two.

No… That's not what I meant… But I can't outright ask him about the taste…

I steel myself and eat an octopus-shaped sausage.

…!

Haruka Nanami: Erk…

T-this is…! This is beyond mere flavor… My consciousness… is fading…

I have no idea how long I've been out. When I wake up, I find myself lying down with my head resting on Shinomiya-san's knees.

Natsuki Shinomiya: … Phew, thank goodness, you've woken up!

Haruka Nanami: Ah… Yes. I'm sorry.

I try to raise myself up.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Don't strain yourself. Rest a little longer…

I comply.

Shinomiya-san gently strokes my hair. I feel sheepish… but it's kind of soothing.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Haru-chan, you've been working too hard… You must've had a bout of anemia.

Natsuki Shinomiya: My apologies, I should've been more mindful…

Haruka Nanami: Huh? … Ah, umm…

Shinomiya-san… Does he think the reason why I fainted was not because of his food, but because of anemia?

If that's so… then I shouldn't tell him the truth. I'll go with anemia.

Natsuki Shinomiya: If you're in any kind of pain, please don't hesitate to tell me. We're partners, after all.

Haruka Nanami: … Okay.

Select the Phrase!

あの、さっきの料理なんですけど。About the cooking earlier…(+0 Love, +0 Music)

Natsuki Shinomiya: It's fine, I saved a portion for you. Do you want to eat it now?

Haruka Nanami: No… not yet…

I think about telling him, but I'll just keep it to myself for now.

ありがとうございます。Thank you. (+20 Love, +0 Music)

Haruka Nanami: I'll make sure to depend on you more.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Yes, you can depend on me. I feel like I can make more delicious cooking if you did that!

Natsuki Shinomiya: My liver and spinach shortcake is delicious! It can cure anemia!

Haruka Nanami: I… see. Maybe if I ever had the opportunity…

I say that, but I couldn't bring myself to finish my sentence with, "I'll eat it."

これからはちゃんと言います。I'll tell you from now on. (+10 Love, +5 Music)

Natsuki Shinomiya: Yes, please do. I never want to see your smile as beautiful as a delicate wild rose to darken…

Natsuki Shinomiya: It's getting dark, so we should go back to school. You can ride on my back.

Shinomiya-san turns his back towards me.

Haruka Nanami: No… I can't do that. I'm okay…

Natsuki Shinomiya: I can't make you walk when you've fainted earlier. Am I not dependable enough?

Haruka Nanami: No, no. That's not it… Umm… Okay, I'll do it.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Okay!

I let Shinomiya-san carry me on his back.

Night falls as he walks through the woods, revealing the moon and a brilliant star.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Ah, a star… The first star of the evening.

Haruka Nanami: Ah… It is…!

Natsuki Shinomiya: Do you like stars?

Select the Phrase!

はいっ！ Yes! (+10 Love, +10 Music)

Haruka Nanami: When I unravel the lore behind the constellations, it inspires music in my soul.

Haruka Nanami: I'm a real big fan of the moon, the stars, and constellations!

銀河って・・・ The galaxy… (+10 Love, +0 Music)

Haruka Nanami: It's so romantic… I bubble over with excitement when I see the starry sky in all its glory!

宇宙は・・・ Space… (+0 Love, +10 Music)

Haruka Nanami: I'm interested in it because it's mysterious and enigmatic.

Haruka Nanami: It gives me such delight just watching the stars above. They're wonderful!

Natsuki Shinomiya: Hehe! When I was a young boy, I saw the most beautiful stars one night!

Natsuki Shinomiya: I got to visit the beach with my parents in the south, and the starry sky and moon were shining bright. 

Natsuki Shinomiya: People tend to shed tears when they see something truly stunning. 

Natsuki Shinomiya: That was the first time I was so moved. The Southern Cross was shining bright and left an impression on me…

Natsuki Shinomiya: When I returned to Japan, I tried my best searching for that same starry sky, but I couldn't find it.

Natsuki Shinomiya: My parents said it's a constellation you can't see in the Northern Hemisphere and I was disheartened.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Stars are unreachable, but when I look up at them, they shine down on me.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Still, I wasn't even able to gaze upon them. I yearned for them, and yet they became even further out of reach…

Natsuki Shinomiya: But… It's not like I can't go see them again. I can always just go back.

Natsuki Shinomiya: When I decide to visit again, will you go with me?

Natsuki Shinomiya: If I were to take the Southern Cross out of the night sky and put it into a necklace, I'm sure it would look beautiful on you.

Haruka Nanami: I… would like to see that starry sky too.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Hehe, then if I were to debut, let's go there on our first vacation.

It sounds like a dream, but sounds like a possible future if we were to try.

Shinomiya-san carries me as we head back to the dorms.

Shinomiya-san's back is much more built than I imagined. He feels more like a man than ever before. 

Haruka Nanami: … You're warm.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Hehe, it's my pleasure.

Haruka Nanami: Eh…? Ah, I… said that out loud? S-sorry.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Why are you apologizing? I'm so happy! I would like to be like this forever.

Haruka Nanami: N-no, um… I'm heavy… so…

Natsuki Shinomiya: Of course not. You're as light as a little bird.

Haruka Nanami: … A little bird? That can't be true…

Natsuki Shinomiya: Hehe, but it is, my sweet bird…

Shinomiya-san keeps teasing me all the way back to the dorms.

MINI GAME

Ringo Tsukimiya: Today, I'm going to have you play a more difficult performance, but it'll be okay. I'll teach you!

Ringo Tsukimiya: Hehe, I'm a pro after all! I'm pretty skilled!

Ringo Tsukimiya: Even if the song is the same, you can change its feeling by your performance. Learn more and polish it up.

Ringo Tsukimiya: Anyway, music start!

RANK S

Natsuki Shinomiya: Wow, amazing! Let's do our best and make our dreams come true!

Haruka Nanami: Yes!

Shinomiya-san… He listened to my performance! I'm glad I did well.

Chapter End

[aseriesofunfortunatejan]

so what is " To the Moon? " looks at you for any possible hyperfixation-spurred retelling you may wish to share

You are so right to ask...............

I wouldn't describe To the Moon (& co) as a hyperfixation of mine, since it's one of these series I love for its objective qualities. But it is one of my very long standing interests.

To the Moon is a RPG Maker game, originally released on Steam for Windows in 2011, though it has since been ported to to Mac, iOS, Android and Nintendo Switch. Over the years, it has spanned into a series with its mainline sequels being Finding Paradise and Impostor Factory, though in order to enjoy the full story, the shorter, bonus episodes are just as important.

You play as Dr. Eva Rosalene and Dr. Neil Watts, two employees of Sigmund Corporation, a company that possesses the technology to create artificial memories and uses it to fulfil the last wishes of dying patients. Their patient, Johnny Wyles, has requested their services and tasked them with bringing him to the moon. (Roll credits.)

Though he knows he wants to go to the moon at all costs, he does not remember why. Drs. Rosalene and Watts use SigCorp's "Memory Editor" to travel inside Johnny's memory in order to figure it out and, with that information, create a realistic and satisfying memory. They're used to this job - dying patients can be difficult to communicate with, so they need to locate a recent memory in which they'll be able to have a chat with his "past self", who will give them that information. Unfortunately, even this version of Johnny doesn't help, so they end up having to travel farther and farther back in his memories to figure it out themselves, of course without interfering with the already unstable patient's memories more than they need to.

Experiencing his life backwards, they end up simultaneously discovering the life of his deceased wife, River, whose odd personality and wants bring up a lot of questions.

Eva and Neil present themselves as a comedic duo of tired (and weird) doctors who only wish to get their work done, but their interaction with Johnny's past showcases the different ways in which they're both touched by their patient's experiences. Learning about the struggles of Johnny and the peculiar River throughout their life is already touching, but the game decides to punch you in the gut every once in a while - and particularly at the end.

The entire cast, be it the protagonists or those who surround or surrounded Johnny, is interesting and each touching in their own way. The game does a really good balancing job between "entertaining" (usually thanks to the protagonists) and "gut-wrenching" (usually thanks to Johnny's past).

As the series continues, though, not only do the new patients have their own touching stories, but Eva and Neil's own version of that balances occupies a bigger and bigger role.

To the Moon is a sad story, but it's so worth it in my opinion. I've read or watched stories that were sad for the sake of being sad and, in my opinion, didn't bring anything good to the table because of it - but something about To the Moon makes you feel like you experienced something worthwhile. Catharsis is an important theme at the heart of the series. River is a stand-out, fascinating character who was clearly written with a lot of love, but everything about this game is great. As for the sequels, no matter how much I told myself they could never be To the Moon to me, when I played them, the gut punches still got to me. Finding Paradise has both relatable and touching narratives. Impostor Factory is something else - something meant for those who have been following Eva and Neil for a while.

The games aren't very long and are relatively inexpensive. They're also regularly on sale. I warmly recommend them to anyone. More "bonus" episodes have yet to come out, and have been announced to be the ending of the series. I think more people should hop on the bandwagon to be there when it all culminates!

[reijnders]

PLEEEEEAASE give me your pixie hollow headcanons or lore or theories or whatever i am so deep into it right now and i don't know anyone else who likes it :,)

- @pairies-n-fixies

a new hand touches the beacon…

imma put everything below the cut cus this is gonna get /long/, but heres a TL;DR as well :)

blurry boundaries btwn seasons + air currents + common Clank and Bobble forgetfulness L

the Keeper's ice film about Peri and Tink's Arrival isn't beat for beat, its just a summary

oh god idk if i can tl:dr this one but basically both lord milori and minister of winter can exist i promise

starting off with Tinkerbell, Clank, and Bobble flying through the winter woods b4 settling on Tinker's Nook my /personal/ thought is that 1) the boundaries between seasons are only hard and fast across water, like between winter and autumn in Secret of the Wings, 2) the air right above those borders can have a lot more variation due to changing air currents n stuff, so while is was definitely chilly, it was also bordering spring(evidenced purely by the color of the snowless trees in this horrible screenshot), so with a combo of those they could potentially be okay for a few brief seconds of a fly-by, and 3) Clank and Bobble are not always the thinkers when it comes to Anything Except Tinkering. i could fully accept that they were /not/ supposed to do that and forgot until a bit after.

Periwinkle's existence! dull boring-ass answer: camera didnt care about Periwinkle/wishful thinking that they had some level of meta planning ahead and wanted to keep the idea of more than one a secret. less dull answer: the cinematic reenactment that Peri and Tink saw in the Keeper's work zone wasn't as accurate to real life within the world timing-wise. the Keeper's own personal magic(and by that extension, the natural way in which he and any past and future Keepers are able to manipulate dust) is for the retelling of history. So Peri and Tink were from the same laugh, yeah, but not as back-to-back as it was made to seem in the movie. essentially its like the Keeper has OpenShot Video Editor edition pixie dust powers.

my big finale,,,, the one i actually focus a lot on in my fairy worldbuilding Lord Milori vs the Minister of Winter in the first movie I personally choose to believe that they both exist, but lemme break it down for you beat for beat

PART ONE: THE FUNCTION OF A MINISTER

so we know, based on ofc the first movie, that the ministers are for each season, they oversee the organization and prep for bringing that season to the mainland, and also just keeping it tidy within the Hollow.

so naturally, there should be four ministers, one for each season. now here is where i first start deviating a little from canon. so understandable, the pixie hollow seasons are based on the far northern/southern hemisphere experience of them, because going elsewhere would mean a lot less difference between each season all the way until you hit the equator's dry/wet season split. therefore, spring, summer, and autumn aren't the same level of warm. summer is the warmest season, and Warm fairies who do most of their tasks for that season will be biologically more optimized for that region, same for all the others.

The ministers of Spring and Autumn, for instance, would have a somewhat better resistance to the cold than the minister of Summer, though they are still naturally Warm fairies and eventually would reach a point where their wings would grow to cold and snap. The minister of Winter could technically be neither a Warm or Winter fairy by this metric. Because the ministers do a lot of their work with the Queen, and only oversee the production and take down of their seasons, it's understandable that the winter minister would be a Warm fairy biologically, but since Talent is an innate thing, each and every minister of Winter that Arrives could be of this unique class of fairies that can spend a much longer time in the Winter section of the Hollow, and on the flip side, maybe not do so well in the Summer section of the Hollow.

PART TWO: THE FUNCTION OF LORD MILORI

So we have ministers and we have a Queen. i've established that the minister of Winter could feasibly venture into Winter whenever she needs to to check on how things are going, but what about the long term? This is where Milori comes in, not as a minister, but as a stand-in for Queen Clarion. Since she herself cannot go into Winter for very long, he's essentially her, but for Winter. he may occasionally receive correspondence from her with big news and changes to protocol, but for the most part he operates on his own, since i imagine mail between the seasonal boundary would require rigorous scheduling and couldn't be done just on the fly unless you've acquired a bird, or...

...if you have a minister of Winter.

PART THREE: WORKING TOGETHER

Having both a minister and a lord of winter would make sense, mainly because the role of minister is necessary regardless of seasonal conflicts! in the first movie, when Spring is being brought to the world, it is the minister that accompanies the nature talent fairies, not Clarion. Similarly, it shows the minister of Winter returning with her fairies after the onset of her season.

If Milori were to overwrite the minister entirely, and take over all her duties, it would conflict more with his own lore, because he would have to be able to join in meetings conducted in the Tree on the regular with no issue, which we know he can't do. And on top of that, he would have to travel to the mainland on the regular, which would leave the Winter Woods without a leader for a good chunk of each year, which would not be a good combination in an emergency situation.

PART FOUR: LITERALLY JUST SHARING SOME FUN STUFF I CAME UP WITH

I like to think that things like queens, ministers, and lords comes in rough cycles. Now some of this delves into things that i truly dont have time to get into(regarding mother dove, the age of the Hollow, fairies interactions with humans, the power of flight, how fairies interact with dust) but im gonna try with what i have.

So imagine, for a moment, that Clarion is not the first queen, and on top of that, the Hollow is not the first location on Neverland that fairies have lived. I headcanon Clarion as a "young" queen, but she is still a little over a thousand years old, with a lot more to go.

Ministers and Lords also follow a cycle, with the one of Lord/Ladies of winter being shorter than that of a Queen, but still pretty long(minimum half of a Queen's expected lifespan), and ministers being less than that(minimum a third of a Queen's lifespan). The average fairy lives a while, but not forever, so it is rare for the average joe to see the changing of Queens, lords, and ministers. There can be exceptions, of course, when someone passes away due to outside causes, or if someone is exiled, but those situations are rare, especially now that fairies live in The Hollow.

With the exception of Spring, i headcanon the current ministers as having Arrived in the last few years of the previous Queen's life, and Milori showing up <10 years after Clarion Arrived as queen. Any fairy alive today(with today being late 18whatever the hell in the movies to the 1940s) would not remember this stuff, but its fun to think about!

[leviismybby]

As a distrustful ocxcanon consumer, in any fandom, if a character has a canon relationship or is very related to character X, I try to stay away from making Selfship with them.

Even though I see that Levi doesn't have a love interest in canon, so I do Selfship with him and consume content about them, including your articles, some shipper say that even though Levi ships are not canon, there is actually a subtext in their relationship, and they claim that Isayama doesn't show it openly because he is afraid of the fans. Or they say that even if that ship is not canon, Levi cares about character X more than anyone else, and that he would have so much compassionate feelings for him that he would drive humanity to hell.

Even though I thought they were just exaggerating and I ignored them, this last statement impresses me because in canon, Levi's actions and the fact that half of the character arc is about character X, and also the side materials, Va's, Isayama interviews, whenever Levi is mentioned, I feel like half of it is always about X, and I feel like they're always trying to insert X somehow. Yes, Levi doesn't have a canon romantic relationship, but I have a hard time imagining him as an independent, equal man based on these things, and I have a hard time building scenarios about him. Sorry for writing so much nonsense. One thing I want to say is that I envy your guys for not worrying about it and having fun with your own content. I wish I could be like your guys and not worry about it so much and have my own fun.

Anon your feelings are valid and I completely understand that it can get frustrating. It bothered me when I first got into the fandom and I don't shy away from that fact. 🤷🏼‍♀️

However, Isayama has never been the one to shy away from making his actual couples canon, never. 'Subtext' being something shippers use doesn't surprise me at all, since most of the times it's nothing. Using subtext for a ship is dumb, I said this before, If we go by subtext, hell even Eren and Levi can be read to have something romantic in that sense which,of course, they don't haha.

As for the interviews, Isayama's editor himself told the fans not to take interviews as strictly canon and any actual interview I have heard from Isayama, he never talked about Levi with anybody in a romantic way. As for the side materials, there's again, nothing romantic about it. Hell, there are side materials for every single Levi "ship", shippers often just choose and pick what they want from these materials, anon. And Va's interviews are interesting because Levi's VA apparently stated at one point that he thinks Erwin and Levi aren't even friends, just comrades. Most interviews on here are badly translated or shippers just pick and choose what they want to hear and twist words.

I'll assume that when you say "X" you're talking about Erwin and I can't deny that Erwin was a very important person to Levi and his death was one of the main plots of the story, however, this isn't by any means because Levi was in love with Erwin or had some sort of secret romantic relationship going on with him or because Erwin was Levi's "most important" person. Levi saw Erwin as a guiding light for his strength, he believed that Erwin can show him how to help people, save humanity. They both had so much respect for each other. He was his friend and comrade, that's a strong relationship but not at all a romantic one. Levi's character arc was never about Erwin, if you think that way, maybe you should pay more attention to the canon manga and the anime instead of listening to what people on the internet say anon, Levi is his own character, it was never about Erwin only.

Levi is his own character, he cares about all of his friends and comrades equally. So anon, you should have fun, let yourself enjoy Levi's character because he doesn't have a love interest because the simple truth is, if Isayama wanted Levi to have something romantic with Erwin, Hange, Petra, whoever. He would've done that but he didn't because again, Levi doesn't have a lover and doesn't need one.

[nerdacious]

So now that the fic has been finished for a bit I have some questions about the making of Partners and Paper Trails. I'm just curious about what it was like to write it (and wondering whether my experiences writing for this fandom are universal). No pressure to answer!

Generally speaking, did you find Harry's chapters or Kim's chapters harder/easier to write?

Which parts of the fic (either POV) were your favorite to write? Alternatively, which parts were unexpectedly frustrating?

From what I understand, you wrote the entire fic ahead of time and then edited it as you went along, but didn't start publishing it until the first draft was entirely finished. Do you have any advice for someone who's attempting to write a long fic following a similar process?

(as a secret fourth question, if there's any hidden lore/details that people didn't seem to pick up on/something else fic related you want to share and haven't had the opportunity to, I'm all ears. love me some secret lore 👀)

Sorry it took me so long to respond, I was working on my response instead of working and then I was like crap, I should probably do work, and then I actually went out and did stuff with people irl for once lol. So now I'm back home and can answer this!

Generally speaking, did you find Harry's chapters or Kim's chapters harder/easier to write?

There were aspects of both that were difficult. I spent a whole other fic in Kim's head so I had more practice with him, but I think Harry ended up being a little easier or at least more fun. I could break up reactions and thoughts into each of his aspects vs the solid paragraphs of Kim's chapters. You also can just do more wacky stuff with Harry and his skills. However, it was hard to remember all of the skills. Like, I did Encyclopedia so dirty. After a point I kind of just forgot about him or didn't feel like thinking up facts for him to chime in about lol

Which parts of the fic (either POV) were your favorite to write? Alternatively, which parts were unexpectedly frustrating?

My favorite thing to write is dialogue, especially when Kim and Harry are really getting into the groove of the case and when they get their little banters going. I also really like competence porn so Harry wasn't nearly as much of a mess as he could be in game. It was a bit of a wish fulfillment fic in that I wanted to see Harry doing better for himself and not just for Kim. I think directly after Martinaise he probably was doing worse than the point he's at in the start of the fic.

The hardest part was writing the case and trying not to make it too obvious (but it definitely was so I had to hope people enjoyed it regardless haha). I'd never done a mystery before so coming up with what happened and how/what they discovered was challenging. So I guess that's not really unexpectedly difficult. Writing the actual porn was unexpectedly frustrating! A majority of what I write is smut so it was like "why is this so difficult???". I had to get that last chapter perfect (I still don't think it is, but what writer ever does) because I dragged it out long enough and I didn't want to let anyone down. It's very different from what I originally had. I also had never written d/s before, thankfully my editor has experience in that realm so he had really good pointers even though it's really light in the fic lol. I still don't know how successful I was with the smut for this one.

From what I understand, you wrote the entire fic ahead of time and then edited it as you went along, but didn't start publishing it until the first draft was entirely finished. Do you have any advice for someone who's attempting to write a long fic following a similar process?

Some people can just write and post as they go, but I have way too much anxiety to start posting something that isn't finished. I also have way too much ADHD to trust that once I started something I actually would finish it. I've also seen too many fics that don't know or don't want to quit so they just keep going past the point where it would have been a good/interesting ending (not really in this fandom, I just mean in general). So, yes, I finished it, had my editor do an initial read, made some general edits based on his feedback, and then he did a more in-depth edit of the first few chapters and then I started posting them. Some chapters I added a lot more to them during this stage and some chapters stayed pretty much the same. There are a few chapters that haven't been edited because he was unexpectedly unavailable for an extended period of time and I didn't want to stop the momentum. I didn't really have a beta reader for this one, but I asked a few people to beta specific chapters. It's not something I typically would want, I'd have preferred to have a beta for all of it, but it is what it is (or was rather). So all of that is to say, you don't have to do it that way lol, but I would at least have an outline and stopping point and stick to it. And if you want a beta reader, find someone who's opinion you trust and who you can trust will be honest with you. Also don't get rid of anything entirely. If you like something, but it doesn't work, cut it and paste it in a separate document because you might find a way to bring it back or parts of it back in other places. Also make copies for version control. Once I finished it, I made a copy so if I changed something too much in the final version but didn't like it, I could either refer back to or restore parts from the original.

As for secret lore/things no one mentioned:

In the first chapter, when Mollins first flips the siren on, Harry has an adverse reaction to the sound because of his encounter with The Pigs. Then there's an Esprit De Corps check about her listening to her police shows. (Hilarious fact: I couldn't remember her real name correctly at first and before I double checked the wiki I thought it was Marine Le Pen loool)

This goes back to the first fic, but Kim bought a book on how to support someone in addiction recovery and the receipt shows he bought it when he first started as a detective with Eyes. If you take the radiation drug in the game, there's mention of Kim possibly having had a partner with addiction. Also based on his many comments on seeing officers in much worse condition and having only one partner, I'm guessing he's talking about Eyes so I went with that. I still have no idea what exactly happened with Eyes in my story, though.

Shivers helps Kim open the door to the Linnea.

The reason Johnny's body was dropped off in the Harbor is because there had been a bank robbery in Jamrock at the time and there were cops everywhere looking for anything suspicious. That's a tidbit that didn't make it into the text.

The people in Harry's Shivers check in the first part of his final POV chapter are the people that would have been targeted next.

Thanks for asking these questions, they were fun to answer!

[loftec]

Ooohh ho! not missing my chance for a lil peek into that noggin of yours!! <3

📓

Hah! Sorry for taking ages to do this, I quite honestly decided that I would use this opportunity to tell one of you poor sods brave enough to ask about my epic Merlin canon divergent daydream story I've worked on since 2012, and then I spent 2 days just THINKING through the general plotpoints, nevermind writing them down, and then I remembered I have a big deadline coming up at work and had no time for daydreaming at all.

So maybe let's not do that one… but what else, what else? My problem is that I consider all my Shameless daydream stories to be actual drafts for actual fics (that I probably won't ever write but I simply must still believe!) so I’m not sure… Hang on, I've seen you politely like some of the Dead Boy stuff I’ve reblogged, haven't I? I will take this as an invitation to tell you about my Other DBD daydream story!

Open on Crystal and Charles carefully walking down a corridor lined with doors on both sides, bickering. They're looking for something and Crystal wants to kick down doors and rifle through things, and Charles is doing his LEVEL BEST to be the stand-in think-first guy in their unbalanced kick-first-think-later duo. They're inside Edwin's mind, and Charles is like look, Edwin would hate this, he doesn't even take off his jacket in mixed company (by which Charles means any company besides Charles) and now we're walking through his thoughts and memories and you know what he's like about his books, how do you think he'd feel about having us mucking about in his mind??

Cut back to earlier with some context for how they ended up there. Edwin had just shut down at some point (for magical reasons or some delayed reaction to, you know, all the trauma) and they figure out that he's somehow trapped in his own mind and Crystal says she'll go in and figure him out, and Charles insists that she must not go alone because Edwin's got a great big old mind, right? She needs a guide or she’ll get lost or make things worse or see something she shouldn't. Crystal isn't impressed with his lack of faith in her, but she can see that he's at his wits' end and concedes that he has a point. If anyone can navigate whatever's going on in Edwin's mind, besides Edwin, it's Charles.

It's an endless system of warmly lit hallways, dark patterned carpets and soft worn wooden floors, wallpapers and wall sconces and doors, so many doors. The doors have labels on them, and the hallways connect in octagonal sitting rooms and mind-breaking MC Escher stairways, different wings of the sprawling structure organised after subject. History, Arcana, Language (there's a door in there labelled "English (Charles)" that our detectives won’t see, but which I want you to know about just for fun), and so on.

In a more brightly lit wing of Edwin's mind palace (hah) labelled "Friends and Acquaintances", looking a bit like a new addition to the house, Crystal finds a door with her name on it and finally argues her way into getting to open a door and snoop a little. She's surprised by how nice it is in there, a big comfy chair next to an open window, sheer curtains billowing in a mild breeze, sounds from a distant city below. The walls are lined with bookcases, most of which are empty. She grabs one of the few books neatly placed on one of the shelves, where one would naturally assume the start of an indexed collection would be. She opens the book to a random page, filled with tidy handwritten notes. "Likes Pro Wrestling (Ed. Ask C about Pro Wrestling) Americans, honestly!" is next to "Visibly distraught at mention of Niko (Ed. Offer comfort next time.)" and "Must she be here quite this much?" and ”I wish she would have never darkened our door.” and "Likes coffee (Ed. Look into supplies)”. She closes it again, and carefully puts it back. There’s so much space for more books in this room.

(I meant ”Ed” as ”Editor’s note” but just realised it looks a bit like he’s referring to himself as Ed in his own mind, which is pretty funny.)

Charles leads them through the building, unsure of what they’re looking for but surprisingly sure of where they’re going. He casually mentions the most tender and meticulous observations when Crystal asks for reasoning behind going this way or that, or why they’re not checking one door over another. One door is labelled ”The Dollhouse” and Crystal jokes about wanting to check it out, wondering if it’s something formative from his childhood, and Charles tells her don’t go near it, trust me. You don’t want to know. And Crystal hears him and follows his lead and doesn’t mention the very notable absence of a ”Charles” door, even though she really wants to. Charles is nothing if not observant, he must have noticed too.

He also doesn’t seem phased when they find the whole-ass Charles wing. Door after door after door after door, ”Charles (Jokes)”, ”Charles (Open Cases)”, ”Charles (Closed Cases)”, ”Charles (Unsaid)”, ”Charles (Secrets)”, ”Charles (Daily)” ”Charles (Pre-Afterlife)”, ”Charles!”, ”Charles?”, ”Charles (Smiles)”, ”Charles (Scores 1993-1999”) and on and on. Charles peeks into one or two, suddenly unsure if he knows what he’s doing or where he’s supposed to be looking, and the rooms all look like the office. Some at night, some flooded with sunlight, some muffled by snowfall, some rattling in a storm, all of them filled with a homely warmth and absolutely stacked with shelves upon shelves of books and archive boxes stuffed heavy with files. In ”Charles (Scores 1999-2010)” Charles can’t help himself and pulls out a file from a dusty box close to the doorway. ��November 11, 2009. Pictionary. Win: Charles.” The ghost of a lump forming in his throat, Charles looks through the attached appendices, smiles at the memory of Edwin’s outraged ”Charles! That is not a penguin, in what world is that a penguin?”, his fingertips tracing the beaked blob on one of the wrinkled papers.

At the end of the very long hallway there’s a small door, looking more like a janitor’s closet than another room, and there isn’t a proper plaque on this one, but a handwritten note stuck to it with tape. It says ”Mr and Mrs Rowland”. Charles can’t even comprehend what Edwin knows about Charles’ parents that wouldn’t handily fit in the ”Charles (Pre-Afterlife)” room, but would need the extra closet space. Curiosity gets the better of him and when he opens it, he finds it just stuffed to the brim with scribbles, actual cartoony scribbles that fall out in a big pile over his feet and up to his knees, ”Mr and Mrs Rowland” written over and over and over and swept into a dark closet. Like, you’re not a 14 year old girl with a crush, but you’re gay and you’re a ghost and you’re from 1916 and you’re in love with your best friend who has made you watch enough modern media to influence some tiny annoying and persistent part of your mind to subconsciously do an abjectly silly thing you know makes no sense, but will only do it more if you try to reason with it.

Crystal very kindly doesn’t comment on it as she helps him kick the bouncing scribbles back into a pile they can shove back in the closet. Charles is a little red around the ears, but he doesn’t seem surprised, so this is yet another thing Crystal has underestimated about him. Charles for the first time since Crystal got them in there, feels lost. He followed his instincts and he was so sure, until he ended up in the Charles wing and maybe got a bit distracted? Does he actually think Edwin is somewhere in this part of his mind palace (heh) or is he just being a massive self-absorbed knob wishing he could go back in one of his rooms and just go through memories until Edwin would find him, instead?

Then Crystal notices one of those fold-down ceiling ladders above them. Even this is labelled, a neat little sign saying ”Uncategorised”. He pulls the string and folds down the steps, carefully climbing up and sticking his head into… an attic. The attic. As cluttered and dusty as he remembers it, the first rays of early dawn shining through the dirty window and filling the space with shadows and twilight.

So this is as far as I’ve gotten, I’ve mostly just enjoyed having Charles and Crystal walk around in Edwin’s mind, exploring and talking about things (Edwin, and hell, and feelings). Also I more or less finished my deadline yesterday and told myself to go to bed early to finally get a full night’s sleep, and instead I stayed up until 1 am and wrote this and I don’t know if it makes any kind of sense, but there it is!

(On a sidenote; I genuinely couldn’t tell you how it is that the opening to Dreamcatcher at some point became foundational to my personality, when I’m pretty sure I’ve never actually watched all of Dreamcatcher.)

[bettsfic]

craft essay a day #11

took a couple days off because i got a plot bunny for a fic that turned into a short story that turned into a novella that turned into a novel but might still be a novella depending on whether i want the main character to commit a murder or if i just want everyone to have a good time.

"The Sword of Damocles: On Suspense, Shower Murders, and Shooting People on the Beach" by Anthony Doerr, The Writer's Notebook II: Craft Essays from Tin House

beginner | intermediate | advanced | masterclass 

filed under: plot & conflict, structure, pacing, process

summary & my thoughts

in 2017 i was at tin house and i went to Anthony Doerr's lecture on simile. i use the word "lecture" loosely; it was closer to a performance. the guy's got great energy. i was so inspired by his lecture that i skipped the next one and returned to my room to start writing a new story, one that would go on to get published, win an award, and become my writing sample for the next four years, including my PhD application. i think that story was so successful in part because i wrote it only as a way to practice what Doerr had taught me about the work of similes. in fact in put so many similes into this story that when i workshopped it later, my professor wrote a little note in the margin that said, "not everything has to be like something else."

i wrote the thing to practice similes, and i ended up taking all the similes out. so it goes.

later, i attended Doerr's reading. having an audio processing issue, i'm really not a fan of readings. i would be able to listen if i could just look down at my phone, but that's rude so i end up only really getting disparate sounds and the occasional fleeting mental image. so i sit there in the back, bored and wishing i could process sound without requiring a second sensory stimulus.

with Doerr, a miracle happened: somehow, there was something about his sentences and paragraphing that made me able to understand what he was saying. for a brief, shining moment i understood the cultural obsession with podcasts. he was reading an excerpt from a short story, and i was hooked. and then it ended on a cliffhanger. so, being in the back, i left right before the end of the event and bought his book, hoping that when i asked him to sign it, he would tell me where i could find the story.

i was first in line. i gave him the book to sign and asked about the story. he said sorry, it wasn't published and probably wouldn't be. devastating. as he was signing my book, he looked at my badge which had my name and listed my genre as creative nonfiction. he asked what project i was working on. i was somewhat taken aback by this (because his line was now a mile long and also why would he care?), and told him the truth: "i'm writing a memoir on fanfiction."

over the years, i've been pretty open with just about everyone regarding how cool i think fanfic is and that i write it. it's not something i'm ashamed of and i'm generally not afraid of being judged, because it's an awesome and wonderful thing that exists in the world, and anyone who thinks otherwise has no idea what they're talking about and probably isn't someone i care to know. i've talked to dozens of authors, editors, and agents about fanfic and for the most part receive mild and polite curiosity as they attempt to align what i'm telling them with what they know of publishing. ultimately i'm sure they dismiss it, but for a beautiful couple minutes, i introduce them to something new.

(not a single person i've ever spoken with has known anything about fanfic. to us it seems so huge, but in literary circles, some people haven't even heard the word fanfiction.)

Anthony Doerr's eyes went wide. he gasped. he glanced around as if having a grand epiphany and said, "everything is fanfiction, isn't it? everything is inspired by something else."

"yes!" i said excitedly, appreciating that he and i are both excessively, possibly offputtingly, enthusiastic people. he signed my book, For Beth! A fellow writer. Your fan, Tony.

unfortunately his line was getting even longer (that's what happens when your book wins a Pulitzer i guess) and we had to cut our conversation short. a week later when i got home, i cracked open his book (all the light we cannot see) at, i don't know, 8pm maybe, and didn't go to bed until 5am when i finally finished it.

which is all to say, what Anthony Doerr says about writing, i listen to.

his essays are a lot like Mary Ruefle's in that he kind of talks about and around a general topic, and as such, this essay is a bit hard to summarize. in the vein of Wayne Booth he also leans heavily on dissecting block quote examples, and so this is a very long essay.

he begins with a disclaimer: "i'm an absolutely terrible writer of suspense. i use up most of my sentences describing trees or snow or light." i actually lol'd at this because i use his short story "The Hunter's Wife" in my lesson plan on developing imagery, and specifically refer to his detailed descriptions of trees, snow, and light.

he introduces the idea of "suspended suspense," or the moment of the story at its apex and relishing in the length of time it hovers there.

"I'm more interested in measured, proportionally handled suspense; the kind of suspense that makes you simultaneously want to skip forward a few paragraphs and to find out what will happen and dwell for as long as possible inside the slow blister of rising action."

he goes on to pull my favorite move of any craft essay: elaborating on the etymology of the term he's discussing, in this case "suspense," which comes from the latin "pendere" which means "to hang."

he talks about the idea of a plot being the thing in a story that is always ticking down to zero, and then compares storytelling and the concept of an obstacle to sports games and the reason people watch them.

"One way to look at games, tournaments, and seasons is that they are essentially highly formalized structures designed to produce obstacles. Why? Because obstacles are delay, and delay produces compelling narration."

Doerr believes that the draw of suspense is the ability to create a kind of anxiety outside of reality where one can feel emotions within the safe bubble of narrative structure. the story, after all, must always end, but life continues on.

he elaborates on two ideas in relation to suspension: interruption and diminishing returns. he cites a study which declares that humans crave interruptions in anything lasting. taking a break at work, for example, or an intermission at a play.

"Maybe interruptions—slowing down scenes just at their most pleasurable—are a way of making the sensations of vicarious anxiety and longing feel acute to us for as long as possible."

of the law of diminishing returns, he says that humans "crave newness" and that part of the allure of a break is to make new something pleasurable and familiar. for example, savoring chocolate by eating it slowly.

"...a huge percentage of writing your most climactic, emotional scenes is about learning to go very slowly. One has to learn to trawl the attention through the texture of the dream."

while all of this is great in theory, it doesn't really address the practicality of writing the damn thing. my favorite rule of thumb is "when the action is hot, write cool," an adage from Debra Gwartney that is certainly prescriptive but something i always keep in mind regardless. action hot, write cool is more or less what Doerr is saying. he's saying, slow down and take your time, while Gwartney is saying, the way to do that is to create narrative distance. my go-to example is the climax of the personal essay "The Fourth State of Matter" by JoAnn Beard, in which we become so distant from JoAnn's point of view we reach into the point of view of someone else.

climaxes are my least favorite thing to write. once i reach them, i skip all the way to the end of the story and write backwards, until the only thing left to write is the climax. i can't say whether or not this is effective advice, because i simply can't do it any other way. if there's a better way, i don't know it.

but i do have something you can try when you finally have to buckle down and get it done:

climaxes are generally the most emotional and visual part of a story. it's where the internal conflict meets up with the external conflict, and therefore you're dealing with both interior narration and sensation, and external movement of bodies in space. you should not expect yourself to handle all of these things at once. you only have one brain, and these sorts of scenes take two brains, maybe even three (how can you expect yourself to be inside your character's perspective while also standing outside of it to direct the action?), and so sometimes you have to layer them.

for your first pass on the climax: work on blocking only. all you're doing is rendering bodies in space. who are the characters in this scene, where are they in relation to each other, and what are they saying. how do they get from A to B interpersonally and/or physically? let's say your characters are finally having their first kiss. you have two bodies that have to go from not touching each other to touching each other. you potentially have some discussion between them. don't worry about dragging it out at this point per Doerr's recommendation. just get mouth A against mouth B. this is more or less only a light pencil sketch of the scene.

second pass: you've focused on the movement, now you go in and add the static details involving the sensation of the kiss and any other external detail your character is attending to, like an airplane flying overhead. most writers like to elaborate on what a person tastes like, which personally i think is weird and unnecessary because i as a reader don't really need to know what someone had for lunch, but whatever. you do you.

third pass: interiority only. my favorite way to pace out a climax is to allow your narrator access to time. allow them to think into the past, into something we don't know yet, or have them realize something, or whatever. let them think. you're controlling the mind of your narrator; use that to your advantage.

if you need to, make a pattern of it: blocking sentence, external sentence, internal sentence. movement, feeling, thought. of course, you're going to revise the shit out of this whole scene later hopefully and so you'll be able to move things around and rewrite as necessary. but in terms of just getting the whole thing onto the page, i find this layering technique pretty useful.

craft essay a day tag | cross-posted on AO3 | ask me something

[gvtted-ratz]

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JACKAL

Jackal/Dean x Hacker!GN!Reader

Last Edited: 21/06/2024

TW: mocking, bleeding, drugging, kidnapping, corrupt cop, foul language, imprisonment, threats of bodily harm, illegal information gathering, open ending

Requested: No.

Word Count: 3,415

AO3 LINK -> HERE

Notes: This took two weeks. It’s the pig’s time to shine. Not. Fuck this nasty bastard with his midlife crisis mohawk. Now, take it away, Penny. (/SpongeBob ref for Rppik.)

@rppik (editor/co-writer): this one goes out to my hyperfocusing baddies out there,

“I assume this is everything?” You can hear Blue and Red getting shifty at your words. They, as well as you, have been waiting for the introduction to end to start your biddings.

“That it is, yes! Would my esteemed customers like to let this lowly Auctioneer know what goods you wish to purchase?” 

Yes, that is the question, isn’t it? Who will you be bidding on to take with you?

》YOU HAVE SELECTED JACKAL 《

“ Blue window? Which do you wish to take with you? I’ll make sure to have it all written down!” The Auctioneer asks, motioning towards a metal door. Behind it, you’re sure there’s someone there to take notes of what items are purchased, they will be shipped to, as well as who wasn’t bought.

“Oh! I’ll do 250 for Mason and Machete each!” Blue’s window lights up. She sounds excited to go first with her purchases. Then again, she always complained when she didn’t get to go before everyone else; better she goes now than later.

“Very well. How about the red window? Whom will you be taking?” She asks, facial expression unable to be seen behind her bandage-like mask, though the way she talks with such joy only highlights how well she is at her job.

“120 on Jackal, 340 each for the Goffard boys,” Red says, window lighting up.

“What the fuck! Fuck you!” Derek says, Matt looking just as livid as his brother. The sweat that had been gathering on Dean’s forehead drips as his lips peel back in a sneer. Those that haven’t been chosen appear to be less tense, relieved to not be bought. On the other hand, both of the larger men that Blue has picked look ready to kill; their eyes looking this way and that, bodies tense like large predators ready to pounce. She’s known for enjoying men much larger than herself so she can “put them in their place” as she so puts it; Red always tends to mock her for her types, excluding the fact that they enjoy the bratty ones.

“Green window? Would you kindly tell this lowly Auctioneer your choice?”

“220 on the corrupt cop,” you announce. Dean looks towards your window, swallowing heavily. It looks like he knows he’s screwed if he goes with you. Yet, there isn’t a thing he can do about it.

“What? C’mon, Green. What’s the Old Man got that you’d want? I’m sure he’s twice your age. 230,” Red tries to barter.

“You’re taking two of the wealthiest men already. Corrupted or not, pigs tend to have information I can use. 320,” you refuse to back down. There’s a reason you tend to only take one, as you can spend the set limit if need be.

“Fine. I’ll take the beastkin for 120 then. Keep the fucking pig, Green.” Ren gives the red window a blank look, likely keeping his mouth shut in hopes of possibly being able to find a way out of the mess he’s gotten himself into. On the other hand, Blue cackles at Red’s defeat, always enjoying the show any sort of bickering brings. Your warped hum in agreement has The Auctioneer clasping her hands together, mic being jostled slightly.

“Then this concludes the bidding! I’ll have the purchases shipped–”

“Shipped?!” Dean cuts her off, but she keeps talking, ignoring the outburst.

“–to you as soon as possible! And those who were not bought will be released, as my lovely regulars have asked!” Some sort of gas starts to fill the room the prizes are in, causing many to start tugging at their bounds, yelling at each other or the windows. The only ones unaffected are you, your fellow buyers, as well as The Auctioneer, as the products start to sway, collapsing in heaps on the metal floor below. Just as quickly as the gas had started, it clears at once.

A crew comes in, dressed similarly to The Auctioneer, to start carrying, dragging, or wheeling away both purchased and unsold. Those who were not acquired are carted off to be dumped somewhere in their respective towns, unlike the procured. They will be drugged up so it’s easier to move to their designated places via buyers’ chosen locations. You watch with muted glee as your choice is put in a wheelchair, having the IV drip attached to his arm, now ready to be shipped to your given drop-off destination. He’ll be dropped off at your little hide-out, awaiting your return, whether he knows it or not.

“With all this now settled, you will wire the payments, yes?” The Auctioneer asks, the customer-service tone of voice still present. You bring out a burner phone, clicking through it to gain access to an account you set up a month prior to this show. If anyone were to get through your firewalls and protections, they’d only track it to some poor sap’s laptop off the coast of the US. It wouldn’t be your fault if said sap happens to have a few megabytes of illegal images saved onto that computer’s hard drive, either, busting the entire operation they have going on.

“I’ve sent the amount agreed upon. It should arrive shortly,” your words hold true, as some device beyond the metal door The Auctioneer is standing beside lets out a ding . Hearing it, she glances over the door before nodding.

“Thank you, Green. May your purchase bear lovely fruit for your taking!” You leave the boxed room, not bothering to listen to the other buyers in case they have any issues; such instances usually end up in heated arguments or death of said buyer, and you're not particularly interested either way. The door closes, another person dressed business-casual stepping in front of you to lead you out of the auction house. The only sounds available are your footsteps echoing, paired with the guide’s loud breathing, muffled poorly by the gauzy wrappings around their head. 

Arriving at a dark-wooden door, the guide opens it, stepping aside to allow you to walk through. You don’t slow your pace, heading down some brick steps to follow a worn gravel path towards your vehicle. Your keys are handed to you by another member of staff, dressed just like the others before them, allowing you to enter and start up the rental with ease. You don’t look back as you drive off, heading towards your work location. By the time you arrive, you’re sure he’ll be there, still hooked to the drip.

-------------------------------------

Pulling into the gloomy drop-off location, you spot an ambulance parked at the warehouse. You position your own vehicle near it, turning off the ignition before stepping out. Another one of the auction house’s people steps out to open the van’s back doors. They step away, allowing you to confirm that this is your item. You give a jerk of your head, confirming that the man strapped down on the gurney is your purchase. With your affirmation, they start to undo his bindings, removing the IV in the process. With the obstruction gone, a member of the crew picks him up like a sack of grains. You lead them into the dilapidated warehouse, knowing they’ll follow without hesitation,  having orders to please, alongside heed, high-ranking buyers.

The lot of you walk past chunks of concrete, piles of metal, a metal beam, clumps of dirt, and countless weeds that have made their way into the place. Entering a back room, you gesture towards a chair seated close to the middle of the area, nearly hidden away in the dark place; had the door not been open, the chair would have been completely obscured by shadows. It’s the only area that’s remotely salvageable out of the entire place, with the roof still held up, all walls in place, and a functioning door to lock when you want. As the lackey none-too-gently jostles Dean into the chair, you stride over to a desk housing a multitude of monitors. Clicking on your mouse, the monitors light up, casting a glow into the mostly dark room as your C.P.U’s fans start up from underneath the desk. The motorcycle helmet has a tinted lens, keeping the bright lights from harming your eyes; of course, protecting your vision was an added bonus of keeping your face and voice hidden from others, it being the main purpose of the costly helmet.

Turning your back to your setup, you look over at your newly acquired purchase slumped in the uncomfortable office chair; the wheels had been removed so anyone in it wouldn’t roll themselves around looking for escape options. You give the worker standing beside your unconscious prize a dismissive wave, their job now complete. They leave without a word nor hesitation to escape your place of employment, shutting the door behind them. You can admit, they had manners many before them hadn’t; The Auctioneer must have taken your words to heart and retrained or weeded out the unfit employees who had been rude. In the past, you had encountered some who believed they had the right to tell you how to treat your belongings like they knew what they needed more than you, the owner, did.

You stare down at the once egotistical man, waiting until you hear the van’s engine start; the gravel crunching under its wheels as it drives off, probably to head back to the auction house. You then turn your back towards the sleeping figure, deciding to rummage around in one of the drawers in your desk. Additionally, you move a few boxes of snacks to find a bundle of zip ties kept together with a rubber-band. With these in hand, you go back to Dean. The drugs in his system keep him under, completely malleable if you wanted to do anything you desired. Thankfully, you’re not like him when it comes to his tastes, if The Auctioneer's words were anything to go by; you're sure he would readily take advantage if he were in your shoes, happy to get his rocks off anyway he deemed fit.

You slip the plastic bonds over his wrists and onto the office chair arms, using more than 3 on each one; his ankles are bound together before being fastened to the gas lift under the seat. By now, you’re almost completely out of the restraints, making a mental note to buy more. Having Jackal completely secured, you’re able to get back to your job. Throwing the last few ties into the drawer, you kick it shut and plop down into the only other office chair in the building. The monitors’ lights greet you, your previous tabs still covering the screens.

Your keycaps clacking, alongside your mouse clicking, are the only sounds in the room. Time passes by relatively quickly while you work, hyper-focused on your job as code, images, intel, and correspondence between other informants sinks its claws into your attention.

That is, until you hear a low groan emerging from your captive. Keeping your gaze trained to the current sequence of coding you’re looking over, you decide to finish the task at hand before paying him any mind, making sure to glance at another monitor that houses photos of people; their private information is summarized in bullet points next to their respective pictures, knowing it won’t take much longer for this particular assignment to be finished.

The office chair housing your new, shiny, and reluctant informant creaks as he tries to yank his hands out of the plastic ties. You don’t let that distract you, dragging an image from a monitor you weren’t typing on to the one you’re currently using; it sticks itself to the document you’ve placed it over, the information beside it matching the file you’ve constructed for this individual.

“Hey,” his gruff voice croaks out. He’s been asleep for hours, making it sound more gravelly than usual. Perhaps he’s finally noticed his current situation. It’s too bad you’re not interested at the moment. 

“Hey!” You ignore his call, saving your progress on your current project. You can feel him seething at your lack of attention from how heavy his stare is, the creaking of the office chair echoing as he tugs and throws himself around. It isn’t long before you hear a growl that turns into a hiss as the chair tips from all of his struggling. The sound of his body smacking into the concrete below brings a small amount of satisfaction; you can hear a wheeze escape his lungs. With this, you finally decide to bless him with the oh-so-sought-after diligence he wanted from you.

“Having trouble, Old Man ?” The question sounds warbled from your helmet, but the mocking tone is so pronounced that not even your face covering can keep it monotone. The chair you sit in creaks as you swing it to face him. His crumpled form on the ground greets you, as does his curled lips in what would be a snarl, if he didn’t look so pathetic, that is. “For such a cocky pig , you sure do look like a wet mutt. ”

“Fuck you! When I get out of this, I’ll make sure you wish you were dead!” You click your tongue in annoyance, turning your chair away from him to continue your task. He can stay down there if he won’t be polite; let a worm like him wiggle in the dirt.

Your clacking sounds up again as you get back to work, tuning out more of his threats, growls, and hissing. To you, they sound like a cranky old pig squealing about all the wrongs it's suffered before getting slaughtered. Time passes by faster than you think, forcing all your attention to creating files upon files of information on people many of your clients have requested; good, bad, neutral, it matters not. This is your job, after all.

When you feel your back tighten from sitting in the same position for too long, you lean back, twitching at the quick shot of pain you feel. You turn your chair, looking over at the still collapsed man. He’s frowning, staring at you from the ground; Dean had stopped making sounds after realizing that you weren’t listening nor paying attention. With your now diligent eyes back on him, however, he curls his lips back like a mutt does when snarling.

“You need somethin’, Old Man?” The mocking tone you use seems to make his snarl deepen. “Well, I need something from you.”

“Fuck you! I’ll crush your fingers to fuckin’ dust with my boot heel if you so much as touch me with ‘em!” You raise your brow, knowing he can’t see it through the helmet.

“As if I’d be a captive fondler like you, Old Man. I need your brain for this,” your honesty only serves to make him hate you more; the way his eyes seem to glaze over with utter disgust and rage tells you so.

“And why would I help you?”

“Because you’re in no position to refuse. Unless… You want me to start taking your fingernails off one by one. I don’t have any issues either way,” your distorted voice says, not even bothered by the threat you’ve just promised him. You can see the gears turning in his head as he purses his lips in reluctant thought. To give in is to admit defeat, or that’s what you assume he believes; he has to give in one way or another due to the fact that one route promises a very bloody and painful outcome.

“Fine,” he begrudgingly agrees to you picking his brain on something.

“Good. Tell me how you get your victims through your swine work.”

“My what work?” Jackal looks completely lost on your command; it makes you sigh in annoyance. You even turn your chair away from him again to start typing.

“Your swine work, Hog . Pig . You’re a cop, Dumbass. Tell me how you nab your victims through it, Old Man,” you talk slowly, adopting the tone one would with a child.

“Stop fuckin’ callin’ me Old Man !” He snaps; you’re unsure if it was your tone that pushed him over or the name. That doesn’t mean you’ll stop, though.

“I’ll call you whatever I please, Old Man ,” you pause, looking back towards him over your shoulder. “ Now answer the question. ” The voice changer seems to glitch, causing it to warp and warble; it sounds much deeper than how it did in the previous line of conversation.

“ Fine . I punch out when it’s time to, change my clothes, and fuckin’ find someone I think looks like they’d put up a fight. That enough for you?”

“ No. Keep up your little cute act and you won’t have fingernails soon. ”

“Fuckin’ bossy. Fine . I go for the feisty ones, unless I’m in the mood for someone I can overpower easily. I follow ‘em around for a bit, see if they got what I want, and then try to drive ‘em into a corner where I can do whatever I please. Sometimes I just need to get off, and others I really just wanted to gut ‘em. I like doing both, though. Seein’ ‘em die with that fear in their eyes… It’s a huge fuckin’ turn on,” during his entire schpiel, your typing hasn’t stopped. In fact, it appears to have gone faster as he spouts away.

“Are there any specifics for who you target? Or did you just happen to find them…?” You trail off, trying to pick apart the brain hiding beneath his midlife crisis mohawk.

“I usually just saw ‘em by chance and went from there. I wanted innocents. Couldn’t give a shit about guilty folks.” You hum in acknowledgement, your typing slowing down only to be replaced by mouse clicks as he continues, “Why? Or are you just gonna say it’s not my business?” His snarkiness is laced into his question, nearly making you want to say exactly that– it’s none of his business.

“It doesn’t concern you. You’re just another means to an end, Dean .” The inhale from him seems to echo in your eardrums, knowing you’ve simply upset him once again. Then again, how can you not? He’s just another squealing pig, albeit an even more crude one than you're used to running into; he’s just another pawn you’ve bought for your entertainment.

The clacks from the keys signal the end of your chat. You’re now focusing on your assignment again, not caring about the man laying prone on the ground. Engrossed with the task on hand, you don’t hear your captive rubbing against his bindings, forcing the skin to break and bleed; it doesn't register in your mind when he starts to slip his wrists out from the ties so he can try his luck at his ankles. As far as you're concerned, the only thing worth your consideration is the annoying endeavours you’ve been hired to complete.

What does get you to stop your production is the leather-covered arm wrapping around your throat from behind. There may be no blade, but the arm is tight, unrelenting in this choke hold you’ve been placed in. His other arm is securely gripping his own form, making sure that you won’t be able to break free of this situation.

“Spent too long on your work, Green ,” Dean sneers from behind you. If you didn’t have your helmet on, you would have felt his breath, reeking of cigarettes from the few he smoked before his kidnapping.

“I’ll admit. I underestimated the piggy,” you say, feeling the arm constrict like a snake squeezing its prey. You choke out a wheezy laugh, hands laying still on your keyboard; you make no move to pry the arm off, knowing he’ll only go through with choking you out if you escalate the struggle further.

“Hook, line, sinker . You didn’ even notice when I started to use the ties to cut into my wrists. Everyone knows blood is just another kind of lube,” he retorts. “And now, I’m goin’ to make sure you feel just as humiliated as you made me feel. Let’s hope you don’ bleed out too quick. ” Those words are all you hear before the arm squeezes more, cutting off all your airflow. Your hands fly off your keyboard to claw, tear, and yank at the jacket’s sleeve, unable to grab any skin. You’re at a disadvantage, knowing only when it’s too late to save yourself.

Maybe you should have chosen a different person to bid on.

》 START OVER? 《

[soullessjack]

How'd it go!!!!

It was amazing!!!!!!!! Alex was so lovely and funny to meet and such a sweetheart. I was also at Mark Sheppard’s panel and he is fucking hilarious, I almost got a headache from laughing so hard. He should seriously consider standup.

I sat through Rob and DJ’s panels as well before my meet and greet with Alex, they are both just so absolutely amazing and wonderful. And the meet & greet!!!! So much fun!!!! We were all really nervous, even Alex, so the conversations kept bouncing around but it was very much enjoyable! He started it with a whole bit about being a corporate bringing us in to fire us and give us a compensatory pizza party (also a funny bonus, we got on the topic of worst jobs and one of the people seated said “corporate hell,” and Alex said “but isn’t that all corporate?” love it so much).

I ended up missing the photo ops for lunch of all things lmfaooo, but we did a group photo with the meet and greet and airdropped the photos from other phones. If I ever get the chance to meet him again at another con I’m completely committed to getting a selfie with the stupidest angle possible tho.

I wish I could relay what he thought of the gifts and the written messages note but I could only be there for the day, so it’s possible we’ll never know unless he brings it up today or at another con. But I think he seemed to like it! He seemed most interested in the books I gave him, The Westing Game and an essay collection about identity psychology called Who Am I.

I also gave him ice wine teabags because that’s one of my most favorite teas ever and it’s actually ironically a Canadian brand! And he told me that ice wine is like a Canadian dessert drink but he didn’t know about the tea. And at his panel I grew enough balls to take the mic and actually ask him something! I can’t remember the full wording just from sheer excitement and exhaustion but it was something to the effect of, “Firstly I wanna say I really appreciate how much passion you have about what you do, and it really means a lot to me as an artist that you still care, so from one artist to another thank you for caring about your work, and what are some other things that inspire you to keep caring.” Sadly I don’t remember what he’d answered, but I’m sure once the panel goes up on YT I’ll find it again and be able to absorb it in the quiet peace of my cave

(It’s honestly a little embarrassing how much of this I actually don’t fully remember, but supposedly that’s a natural experience for people going to such exciting events like concerts or cons. Too much excitement and joy it all just blots out in your brain or something).

I truly enjoyed every bit of it, but for me the absolute highlight of the day was just being given his bracelet in exchange for what I’d given him. Not even kidding, I sobbed over it in my brother’s car almost six hours later after we’d left. And towards the end of the M&G (which was sort of rushed to make time for Osric’s panel but that’s ok) I asked if I could hug him and let me tell you. Hugging is one of my favorite forms of love language ever, and I’ve been told that I give very good ones, and I’ve wanted to give him a hug (I’ve wanted everything in this day practically) for nearly six years, so it was just amazing.

I never once doubted anyone who’s said he’s a sweetheart, but really being there and seeing him and talking to him and seeing that in the flesh. . It’s something else. I also had some very lovely and interesting conversations with some stand runners, like this one guy who has a comic series about the first werewolf and we got into a convo about Superman and BTAS vs STAS and actually met the first black writer/editor/artist/everything for Superman in DC, Christopher Priest, and a wonderful old lady and her (presumably) daughter who sold exclusive-yet-expensive figurines and made their own sterling silver SPN jewelry for JIBCONs. Artists meeting artists. Loved every minute of it!!!

I also talked to this sweet attendee lady who’s been to eight conventions beforehand and got some wonderful con advice from her. And one woman in the meet and greet circle who makes kandi bracelets and gifted me one of the many SPN themed ones she’d made! Right after the M&G finished I met my brother on the balcony and he’d been talking to another attendee from Canada who told me about her meeting alex yesterday and how sweet he was with her! She hugged us both and wished us a safe travel and yeah.

Overall it was such a wonderful experience and I can really see why it’s considered its own family and such a staple of the fandom. If I could ever go to any more in my life or even have my own stand set up someday I would honestly be set for life!! I hope you and anyone else who’s never gotten to go to one before has the same chance, because it really is so life changing and amazing. I talked to maybe like, 12—20 people of the entire attending population but I still felt so…connected with everybody there.

♾️/ 10 would absolutely no hesitation impulsive decision reckless spending do it again, especially to meet Alex again!!!!!!!

[boysplanetrecaps]

Build Up, Ep 5 Recap: The Neglected Performances

Welcome back to the one of the top twenty best Build Up recaps out there! In the previous one, we saw an adoring junior take on his senior. In this one, we’ll talk about the four performances that MNET saw fit to skip almost completely. 

So yeah, MNET saw fit to just unceremoniously fly through a total of four performances in less time than they spent on most of the other single performances. I’m so mad I feel like I could spontaneously combust. Where is Junyheok and Yeo One’s fire extinguisher? 

MNET spent about a minute per round (ie, less than 30 seconds on each performance) but I’ll go through a little more carefully. 

First up is Hyukjin and Jeong Inseong versus Lee Minwook and Jang Intae.

I’ll remind you who everyone is as we go along, since MNET hates all eight of these guys for no reason.

Hyukjin is from an unfortunately VERY nugu group called Fave1. He was in the Power group, V22, the one who sang that heavy metal sounding song. I mean, he frickin’ went for it, I’ll give him that. He wore that red suit on the first day. He performed in the Kajima Kajima (Don’t Go) group, and was made Low Tier just because everyone else did a bit better, not because he did badly. He seems to have lightened his hair a little bit since the Pre-4 round.  

Jeong Inseong is from a group called KNK. He was a V6, in the Allround section, and I remember really liking that first performance (my notes just read, “ooh, I like!”). He was in Breath, and along with Hwanhee, was sort of a go-to backstage reaction king during the whole Pre-4 mission. We didn’t hear what the judges thought of his performance one where or the other, but I thought he had a smooth, rich voice. 

They’ve decided to sing a song called Still Love You, originally performed by Lee Hongki and Yoo Hweseung. If you watched either You’re Beautiful (the Hong sisters k-drama) or Produce48, you’re familiar with Lee Hongki; he was Jeremy in You’re Beautiful and he was the cool, Japanese-speaking vocal coach in Produce48. But of course, you might know him as a member of FT Island. Hweseung was on PD101 Season 2. Now he is the main vocalist of N Flying, and I think he has a glorious voice. So yeah, I like both these guys.

The song itself isn’t my thing, but that’s fine, it doesn’t have to be. The lyrics are just typical K-ballad material -- “I love you and I’ll miss you and I will never forget you but I nobly hope you’ll be happy” blah blah. You know the drill. 

Full version here.

My thoughts:

Overall, I actually like their version better than the original. I’m not a huge fan of the song itself, but I like the way they sing it. 

Hyukjin is the weaker of the two vocalists, which is a bummer because I root for anyone who gets less than 10,000 views on his MVs. He still has a very nice voice. He just has a bit of sharp nasality occasionally that kind of spoils his tone. He also could slightly improve his agility. His straining high notes at the end were not… great. On the positive side, he has a really nice natural vocal color when he’s not straining, and he has excellent pitch and breath control, allowing him to hold -- and control -- long powerful notes, as long as he doesn’t push the high pitch too hard. I wish he’d sing more in his lower register, because that’s what I think sounds best. 

I really like Inseong’s voice. It doesn’t quite give me the tingles like Jay’s voice, or Neon’s, or Euibin’s, but it’s so nice. It’s just so rich and nice to listen to. He varies his dynamics, singing softly and cleanly sometimes, and loud and powerfully other times. He uses just the right amount of vibrato for my taste. I just think he’s a great singer. 

Their harmonies sounded really pretty; you can hear both of them, so they’re blending just right. 

Ok, so let’s see what we see on the show. 

The editors made sure to include Hyukjin’s not-too-great high notes. Sigh. They get an 87 from Wendy and a 65 from Jaehwan! Way harsh, Tai!

VCG says, “You should have made the best use of your weapons, but since you used it too often, it didn’t seem like a special move.” I assume he’s addressing Hyukjin, and I think I get what he means. Hyukjin kept the emotional level at 11 the whole time, and didn’t really vary up his dynamics. I think that’s kind of how the original version of the song goes, as well, but maybe they could have adapted it a little more. 

Poor Inseong. He sang so beautifully. Even if that one high note of Hyukjin’s wasn’t great, poor Inseong got dragged down with him. 

Next up is Minwook and Intae. 

Lee Minwook is from a group called Newkidd. He was in the Soul group, V9, and you guys, that little performance has been living in my playlist ever since. He wore a bunch of vests, including that bright blue vest that sort of gave gym-class jersey vibes. I really like his voice, but I guess the other guys didn’t because he was tied for 33rd in the vocal check in. He ended up in Something Like That, where the judges praised him effusively and he was chosen as Top Tier. 

Jang Intae is from the Allround group, V31, and is one of the mysteries of the show. I don’t even know his age. He actually came in last in the initial vote after the vocal check in, with only 5 votes. He was in the Every Moment group, along with Bain and Seunghun from CIX. Unfortunately, I haven’t exactly loved his singing on the show so far. In my opinion, his voice is quite nasal, and he lacks both agility and breath control. Solar disagrees with me, though; she voted for him as Top Tier (everyone else voted for Seunghun). 

The song they’ve chosen is Universe by EXO. This may shock and amaze you, but I really like this song. What? ME? LIKE A SONG BY EXO? WHAT NEXT? 

Anyway yeah, it’s a great song. Sure, the lyrics are basically the same as those of most k-ballads -- I lost you but I’ll look for you forever, blah blah -- but the chords are complicated and interesting and there’s a drive and power to it that make it feel authentic. Plus they look like this:

Was there ever a more delightful concept than just “they’re dressed for fall and holding steamy mugs”? Sigh.

Anyway, I’d be scared to sing this song because the original was sung by some of the best vocalists in the world, but I really like Minwook, so let’s see what he can do!

Full version

Mostly, very nice, and since my ears can’t help but compare them to D.O. and Chen and Baekhyun and Suho and Xiumin and Chanyeol, for me to say they did well is a big compliment. I do think they were both a bit nervous. This is still really nice, but their soft notes were shaky for both of them. 

Intae did better than he did the other times I’ve heard him, and Minwook didn’t do quite as well as other times, so they ended up a balanced pair.

Intae, left, and Minwook, right.

Minwook starts off a bit shaky. His tone is very pretty, but he actually hits the wrong note at about the :27 mark in the Youtube version. If you haven’t listened to the song 1000 times like I have, you may not notice, but I noticed, and I feel like the judges might have noticed too. (I thought about it -- was that a purposeful change on his part? And all I can say is that if it was meant to be purposeful, it doesn’t SOUND it, so the effect is the same.) His belts on the chorus also seemed a little harsh and out of control. But his natural vocal color is really nice, and he has a nice way to him, where he’s not overacting or straining all the time. 

Intae was still a bit nasal for my taste, but less so than other times I’ve heard him. He also uses more vibrato than I prefer, but not all the time. He has a lot of power to his belts and 

Their harmonies sounded really great, even the ones I think they worked out on their own that weren’t in the original song. I think they were smart to drop the octave right after that one long note. 

In the brief glimpse we see of them in the actual show, they look great. We only get a tiny bit of commentary, and it’s from Solar, who gave them their high score of 96. It’s not clear who Solar is addressing, but she tells someone -- maybe both of them -- “you have a great voice, and your manner and style of singing is also good. I think it was even better because you created it together.” Again, Solar is the same one who voted for Jang Intae in a previous round. She just really likes him for some reason. Seungkwan gave them their low score of 78, but we don’t hear from him.

We get the final score, and it’s 543 to 589 in favor of Minwook and Intae. If you do the math and subtract out the high and low scores, the average score of the other five judges was 83 for Minwook and Intae, and it was 78.2 for Hyukjin and Inseong. 

Round ten! Ding Ding!

Next up is fan favorite and Boy’s Planet survivor, Lee Hwanhee of Up10tion, paired with soldier and Pixar character Jo Hwanji. Hwanji isn’t dressed as a soldier today; he and Hwanhee are both wearing leather jackets instead, and Hwanhee has decided to a 90s scene girl looking choker. They’re going up against Lim Sanghyun and Taewoo.  

Team Hwan-hee-ji has decided to sing Four Seasons, originally by Taeyeon of SNSD.  Here’s the Full version on Youtube.

My thoughts:

Ok, I’m not the biggest fan of jazzy singing, but this seems really nice. They seem to be enjoying what they're doing and it comes across kind of classy and cool. 

I think Hwanhee uses a tiny bit too much vibrato for my taste here, and he gets a tiny bit shrieky, but it feels like a stylistic choice. Hwanji’s voice is so clean and lovely except for his kind of painful shrieky high note at about 2:57 in to the Youtube version. Neither of them are nasal and both have good breath control and sense of pitch. They also brought bounce and interest into it with their facial expressions and dynamics.

They did a thing where they sang one line back and forth to each other, and it kind of makes sense when you know the lyrics are “We longed for each other / We got sick of each other.”  And their cute punchy harmony section right after that sounded great. 

The MNET edit is downright cruel. It makes it seem like they did that “trade lines back and forth” the whole time, but that was just one little part. The on screen captions say things like “the two voices do not sound in harmony.” Who writes these captions? What are you talking about? 

We find out that their high and low scores were 79 and 69 respectively. I don’t get what the judges are annoyed about. It just feels like they were tired and cranky here in tenth round, really. Because 79 high and 69 low feel punitive. Are you really saying that they were worse than Woong and Seokhwa?  Yeah, Hwanji had that one bad note, but come on. 

Wendy gave the high score of 79, but we don't get to hear from her. VCG, who gave the low score, says “I couldn’t hear the lyrics. ‘I’m good at this’, ‘this is how good I am,’ ‘This is how high I can go and I can sing a little jazzy,’” he says in a mocking tone. “I think it was a performance that only showed your skills.” 

Genuine question: Were they not supposed to show their skills? What were they supposed to show? I’m confused. If they hadn’t shown their skills, you would have said “I wanted to see your skills.” What was bad about showing their skills? What is bad about showing that they’re good at this? 

Also, I am far from fluent in Korean, but I could compare what they were singing to the lyrics I found online and I didn’t get lost along the way, so they were pronouncing it well enough for *me* to understand them. 

Hwanhee and Hwanji take their bad scores with grace. Hwanhee has been on dozens of these shows by now and is just like, sure, whatever. 

Next up is Lim Sanghyun and Taewoo. They both performed in the Beautiful group. I enjoyed Sanghyun’s soft, gruff tone, but couldn’t quite get behind Taewoo’s “YG” style with its sharp, nasal tone and swaggy affectations. 

They’re singing Downpour, the song I.O.I. used as its sort of “goodbye” before it disbanded. The lyrics mark it as a fairly standard k-ballad about a breakup, comparing the sadness of a breakup to a temporary downpour, but it has a lovely melody. Fun fact: It was co-written by Woozi of Seventeen!

Full version without reactions

My thoughts:

I still am not really on board with Taewoo’s style of singing, though I think it would have a time and place. It’s not that he’s a bad singer; it’s just that I don’t much like the manner of his singing. He does this little sigh thing at the end of each line that is very YG feeling and not something I like, and he is unpleasantly pitchy on his falsetto and shrill when he employs his mixed register. Note to note his voice can sound really different, and some of the ways it can sound is nice, but he’s affected and stylistic when I think his natural color might be his nicest voice.

Also, why don’t people open their eyes? What is this singing with your eyes closed thing so many of them do? And I’m aware, they probably don’t have completely closed eyes, but if that’s how it looks on camera, then… they should be aware of how it looks, right?

Sanghyun is still more my style. His voice is just so soft and pretty in a smoky kind of way. He does kind of drop off at the end of lines sometimes, but not all the time, so I won’t hold it against him or anything. Sometimes his voice reminds me a little of Baekhyun’s, so that’s a compliment, right? I really don’t have a lot to say just because it’s such a nice voice -- not nasal at all, not pitchy, good breath control. None of the bad things, all the good things.

I do actually think their voices sound nice next to each other, but I wish Sanghyun had a different partner. 

In the MNET edit, we see a few moments with the caption, “A stage with very different voices but good harmony.” They get a high of 100 and a low of 85, so it’s pretty clear that they’ve won. 

We can’t see which judge gave them which score, but I assume that Solar may have given out the 100. We get to see her saying, “When different people come together like this, a truly unique team will emerge. That’s what I felt watching the performance.”

The final score is 641 to 515, which is just… ouch. That means that Hwanhee and Hwanji got the second lowest score of the whole round. It was just unnecessarily harsh for no raisin.

If you take out the highest and lowest scores and find the average of the remaining scores, the other five judges gave Team Hwan-hee-ji an average score of 73.4, and gave Sanghyun and Taewoo an average score of 91.2.

Well, I’m so glad we spent so much time watching Geonu and Soomin make up a handshake, and watching Inhyuk and Joohee smack talk, and had instant replays and reactions drag things out the whole time, and wasted time with people wondering what the score would be just seconds before the score is actually shown, etc. 

Imagine if we’d used that time to watch the SINGING on a SINGING SHOW that would have been TOO MUCH SINGING FOR A SINGING SHOW PLEASE I only want to watch people MAKE UP HANDSHAKES AND SMACK TALK ON MY SINGING SHOW The word “SING” stands for “SMACKTALKING IS NOW GOOD” and “MUSIC” stands for “MAKING UP SHAKES IS CRUCIAL” I guess

Why do I watch these MNET shows?

Oh yeah, that’s why. 

Ok, I’m going to cut it off here for now, and my next post will be an Elimination Special! See you then!

XOXO

BRP Unnie/Noona

[moved-naitfall]

— guidelines

This is Reina. I also own a multimuse blog ( @knightinsourarmor ) featuring some snk muses ( Mikasa Ackerman, Reiner Braun, Kuchel Ackerman ) and others. I also own a Todoroki Shoto blog ( @deibreak ).

I will interact ONLY with people to have read my rules.

REPLIES. I’m a slow writer. Trying to be a somewhat active member of this ( rotten ) society, and taking into consideration how things are in my life right now, I doubt I’ll be replying to a thread in less than a day. I might need days, weeks, or months to get to our thread. How long I take is NOT a reflection of my interest in our thread. Sometimes, I lose a specific muse, sometimes I don’t want to write a specific matter, sometimes I get stuck and can’t come up with a reply as good as yours. Or all of the above. But it’s definitely something that has nothing to do with you.

BETA EDITOR. I can only use beta editor, so I'd appreciate if you did the same so I can properly crop our threads.

CROSSOVERS. Crossover verses / AUs / Modern verses are main to my portrayal. I overly enjoy writing them ( sometimes more than canon interactions ), so I'd appreciate if you were interested on them. I don’t mind if I don’t know where your muse is coming from. If both sides want it, we can make this work. Crossover verses can be found on my muses page.

AGE. I'm over the age of eighteen. I won’t write with anyone younger than the age of eighteen. I am open to roleplay almost anything.

DRAMA. I won't interact with anyone participating / supporting call-out culture, drama, or vague-posting. I will hard-blocking anyone making public any issues they have with anyone. I'm not interested to participate in the anti / pro-ship civil war going around and give myself another label. I also happen to be aware, people give different meanings to these terms. In conclusion, I will interact with both sides, or better say, anyone who knows respect, and doesn't spread hatred between the two, or anyone else. I expect to be RESPECTED for the content I post and the people I write with, same way I RESPECT everyone else and their views whether I agree with these or NOT.

I'm a pretty tolerant* person to what people like to write ( teenagers (16+) having sex, problematic ships or themes, etc. ) whether or not I agree with these matters, simply because this is what tagging is for. I expect the same from the people I choose to follow, concerning the matters I like to explore, and my boundaries.

* I'm disgusted I even have to note this, but people read only what their twisted minds think, so by being tolerant, I certainly don't mean with pedophilia.

CONTENT. Fiction and writing is a way of developing emotions / characters / bonds we wouldn't have the chance to explore in real life. The matters I may explore, don't reflect my views in real life. I portray fictional characters, in fictional settings. I approach the characters and the matters I've chosen to write with respect and care, for the sake of writing and nothing else, and I expect the same from my mutuals. I may happen to choose to write about matters ‘ questionable ’ or ‘ disturbing ’, and I will do so for the sake of character building and nothing else. Such matters may be war, drug usage, suicide ideation, dissociation, villain logic, prostitution, romantic ships with age-gap ( Eren & Levi ) & more. I don't expect anyone to agree writing any of these matters as a requirement to be mutuals, but I expect being given the space to explore these as much as I wish, with the people interested.

Concerning the people I choose to write with ( or not ) and the content they choose to write ( with me or not ) it's not anyone's concern than their's or mine's. If you dislike the people I write with, or the content that may pop up on your dash, the content I write with anyone other than YOURSELF, it's not in my concern. I properly tag everything and have warned you, ANYTHING may come up on your dash if you don't block tags. I'm open ( not necessarily interested ) to exploring many sort of questionable matters with the people interested, and to avoid any misunderstandings, if you're going to be an ass* for content you don't like / support, don't follow in the first place. I'm not gonna make a list of examples, not because I'm afraid of anything, but because I don't want to put limits to what may appear, cause I don't know myself. But to be less intimidating, this is only a warning, I'll post what I like and I don't want to bother with people who will judge me for it.

* make a fuss instead of blocking or blocking tags

ERERI: ( Eren & Levi Romantic Relationship ) Check all information here.

SMUT: Exploring sexual themes is the least of my concerns in this blog. Sexual-themed threads are extremely rare and written only with people I trust, and only for the shake of WRITING. Exploring the bond, the emotions, and the atmosphere to come with the sexual act ( and that's why it's probably going to be 99% of emotions and 01% of the act described ). I prefer writing male x male sexual scenes. Only after a lot of building, I’ll feel comfortable enough to write male x female sexual scenes. I haven't decided on a tag yet, but when I do so, I'll inform you.

TRIGGERS. I tag the triggers my mutuals have on their rules/about page. A post with all the triggers tagged will be added soon. If you need me to tag a specific trigger, feel free to send me an ask or a message. I tag triggers like: ’#yourtriggergoeshere tw’ without the quotation marks. My own triggers are aliens, cockroaches, and drama. That’s the reason I won’t be writing with any single-muse roleplay blogs having alien muses (those having a non-human form). Cartoon/Anime alien faceclaims are the exceptions.

MAINS. I have blogs / threads which I prioritize over others. I don’t practice exclusives but there are roleplay partners I feel close to exclusives, meaning the chances to want to write with the same muse portrayed by someone else are very low. There are, but very low. I always enjoy looking at how someone has made their muse unique in their own way. You can find my main call here.

LIMIT. There's no limit to the asks you can send me or the active threads we may have going.

GENERAL: I'll remind you of the basic stuff: don't pester me for replies, control my muse, force a ship on me, etc. I'm OC friendly, crossover friendly, au friendly. Every romantic bond belongs to its own verse.

DROP. I don't drop threads and asks no matter how old. It's my policy to return the work you've put in writing something for me, even if it takes me years to do so. On your side though, feel free to drop anything you wish, no hard feelings.

MEMES & FANART. I'd appreciate if you reblogged memes / visuals / quotes from the source, unless I've tagged you in any of these. Memes / RP Starters have no time limit.

SPOILERS. This blog is not spoiler-free. A tag will be added soon.

ENGLISH. English isn’t my mother language. Keep in mind OOC language ≠ Thread language. I pay little mind and care to ooc posts and communication. Don’t assume the mistakes I make when writing ooc will be the same mistakes on threads. I’m much more careful when writing my muses and do my best to make no mistakes at all. There might be times I make some or write something difficult to understand. Of course my inbox/messages are open for clarifications.

LIKES as a sign you've read my guidelines are appreciated even if not necessary.