#i’m probably going have to do black for the versatility

[icelogged]

breakfast and the decision to be angel or a demon

[gremoria411]

A question I've been half-pondering since you posted some of your thoughts of G-Witch -- are there any series that you think do particularly neat things with design lineages (either aesthetically or otherwise)?

Obviously in G-Witch, you've got this lovely variety in mobile suit design, with each corporation having a different, easily-identifiable style. But there's also things like how both styles of 'suit in Gundam Wing (Gundams and Leos et al) trace back to Tallgeese, so you have a 'progenitor' mecha running around.

Oooh, that is a fun one. Off the top of my head I can think of around two series that do really interesting things with Mobile Suit Design Lineages, Mobile Suit Gundam Iron Blooded Orphans and Mobile Suit Gundam 00, but Gundam Wing, Witch From Mercury, SEED and the Universal Century in General all have examples worth discussing.

Note: I hit the character limit here, so this post’ll just be part one, and contains my thoughts on 3/4 of the main units in 00. I’ll talk about the fourth and other series in a subsequent post.

Admittedly, most of these are the titular Gundam’s design lineage, but there’s enough grunts that are worth discussing too.

First of all, Gundam 00

I’ll fully admit the above graphic is overkill for what I’m going to actually be discussing, but I think the design lineages of the four main Gundam’s is very very good, because each unit is clearly delineated into a speciality. (I’m gonna define them by their Third Generation Entry, since that’s the ones in the first season of the show).

Exia - Blue, with a focus on close quarters combat (I.E. Swords, to the point its original developmental code was “Seven Swords”).

Dynames - Green, with a focus on long range and sniping.

Kyrios - Orange, a transforming mobile suit that has high mobility.

Virtue - Black and White (sometimes with purple), Initially seems to be the Heavy Weapon Gundam, then later you realise it’s just full of absolute bullshit. It’s great I love it.

The second season, movie and side manga all add to this development line, so you can see how each concept develops over time. It also provides alternate equipment options for the main units, variants on a theme if you will. (I’m going to ramble a lot here, so I’ll identify which unit I’m talking about in bold).

Exia, for example, is the melee Gundam, one of two Gundam’s designed to primarily deal with any traitors to Celestial Being (I should do an analysis post on 00 sometime……, anyway). It accomplishes this by incorporating weaponry specifically designed to get around GN defences which, at the time of its inception, is unique to celestial being (this is why it’s got solid swords in addition to beam weapons). Its immediate predecessor, the Astraea, is probably the most stable of the original second-generation gundams - it’s designed for melee combat and doesn’t incorporate much experimental systems into the mobile suit itself. Because of this stability, it’s typically used for testing weaponry slated for other Gundam’s, such as the proto GN Launcher. This is further evidenced when it’s modified into the Astraea F by the Celestial Being support organisation Fereshte, since it’s the mobile suit of choice for that organisation when circumstances don’t demand a different unit, again because of that versatility. The Exia’s successor is the 00 Gundam (which I habitually just roll into the 00 Raiser, since it’s only around for about three episodes). The 00 Gundam is fitted with two GN Drives instead of the standard one, which should give in a far greater output. In practice, it needs to be fitted with the 0 Raiser, a little stabilisation plane thing, in order to run stably. This becomes the standard loadout for the Gundam, and it becomes the 00 Raiser. The 00 Raiser has slightly less swords than its predecessor the Exia, but makes up for this by incorporating the Raiser Sword, which essentially turns the entire Gundam into a sword hilt. The 00 Gundam’s Variants, the 00 Seven Swords and XN Raiser are essentially the 00 Gundam with even more swords and bladed weapons bolted to the frame (I’d like to specifically call out the Seven Swords for having GN Katars, which is just neat, honestly). As Setsuna’s penultimate suit, we have the 00 Quanta, which dares to ask the question “laser-shooting psychic swords?”, and can also freely teleport, just in case you thought distance was going to make this easier. The 00 Quanta Full Saber is probably what you’d expect by this point - the 00 Quanta with a bunch of extra swords strapped to it. (The ELS Quanta’s not, strictly speaking, a combat Gundam, so I tend to look at it as its own thing). The Exia line starts off basic, but eventually takes the concept of “sword” to greater and more ridiculous levels.

Dynames, is a sniper, but it develops very differently to the other Gundams. The original Dynames and its successor Cherudim were developed for Neil Dylandy, an excellent sniper. However, the Cherudim and its successors were piloted by Neil’s brother Lyle instead. Lyle was not as good a sniper as his brother, and so his Gundam’s were subsequently reconfigured in order to be more effective in large-scale combat - rapid fire rifles and submachine guns as opposed to “true sniping”. So, though the line shares several visual elements and retains a focus on ranged combat, it changes with its pilot.The Dynames was armed rather simply - a sniper rifle and two pistols, with supplemental armour being added. This is likely a direct response to its predecessor, the Sadalsuud. The Sadalsuud is notable for two reasons - it was configured more as an information-gathering unit than a combat machine, and it was notably lacking in armour. The Sadalsuud F incorporated a pinpoint GN Field in order to get around this issue, but the Dynames simply incorporated more armour as a result (likely due to practicality). The Gundam Cherudim, Dynames successor, incorporated missile pods and GN shield bits in addition to its pistols and sniper rifle, with its GWHW/R pack adding GN Rifle bits to the mix, giving the Cherudim far more guns to use. Another equipment pack, the Cherudim SAGA, even went so far as to be a “Seven Guns” counterpart to the Exia’s “Seven Swords” philosophy. Lastly, there is the Gundam Zabanya, which incorporated GN Rifle Bits and GN Holster bits, casting off its original sniping specialisation for a mass battle focus. “You don’t need to be a better shot, you need to shoot more bullets”, indeed. The Dynames line shows the progression from scout, to sniper, to more sniper, to Gundam with a billion guns. This is directly due to the influence of its pilot and the difference between the brothers - Neil’s a Sniper, Lyle’s a Gunslinger and so the line is adjusted accordingly.

The Kyrios is probably the simplest to talk about, since it was piloted by Allelujah/Hallelujah Haptism and was designed to maximise its aerial profile. The Kyrios itself was armed with beam sabers, a beam submachine gun and claw shield, with various optional missile packs, typically used in quick strikes. Its immediate predecessor, the Aubulhool, was barely a mobile suit at all, being essentially a proof-of-concept for the transformation mechanism. Nonetheless, it would also be used as a quick strike craft by celestial being when required. The Arios is essentially the Kyrios but more so - it has a new rifle, and the original beam submachine guns and claw shield have now been integrated into the mobile suit itself. The GWHW/M pack gives it a missile pod and swaps the rifle out for a GN Cannon. The Arios is also unique in that it incorporates a support mech - the GN Archer, which is essentially a smaller, simpler Arios for all intents and purposes (it’s not on the chart, but it was adapted from the Gundam Artemie, the bee-looking Gundam at the top-right). The Arios Ascalon is essentially the Arios fitted with various pieces of equipment originally slated for other units - a GN sword from the Exia, missiles from the Dynames and a GN Launcher from the Virtue. This makes it far more versatile, while still retaining its excellent mobility. It’s another one I’m quite fond of, simply because I find the versatility appealing. That and I think the Arios looks good in red. The last unit in the line is the Gundam Harute - designed from the ground-up as a two-man space superiority fighter. It’s also designed to leverage the abilities of its two/three super-soldier pilots, incorporating the Marute Mode which allows its pilots to fight in-sync (it’s…. Not quite clear how it does this, but 00 runs with the “quantum innovators understanding” stuff quite a bit, so I’m not too concerned). The Harute also incorporates GN Sword Rifles, which are scissor gun-swords (fun), as well as GN Scissor bits and a nice lovely missile container on the rear. Kyrios and its derivatives are largely concerned with doing the same thing - a fast attack plane that’s also a Gundam. It’s a very good, very achievable concept, so it’s neat seeing how the line develops over time. I’d like to note that the Harute is basically a culmination of everything that came before it, but considering I’m quite fond of it, perhaps I’m a little biased there.

I’ll talk about Virtue and other series in a follow up to this post, since I managed to hit the character limit for the first time.

But in essence, I think 00 does interesting things with its Gundam Design Lineages because each unit has a specific role, so it’s interesting seeing how they develop within that role, and seeing how their pilots influence them. The vast amount of other units added in supplemental material further sheds light on the in-universe development patterns and general “goals” of each unit. Exia retains the sword focus, but takes it in more esoteric directions as Setsuna himself moves toward his awakening as an innovator, Dynames undergoes a shift from sniping to gunslinging when its original pilot dies and celestial being replaced him with his brother (which is a very weird process, now that I think about it). Kyrios basically hits the nail on the head first time with its mobility and fast attack focus, with Arios basically just adding armaments, however his eventual understanding with Marie enables the addition of the GN Archer and eventual development of the Zabanya, which raises its mobility to even greater heights. On the other side of the coin, the units seen during 00P and 00F provide context for their successors - what worked and what didn’t, and how they developed.

[vivianbernadetteaurora]

The 1950s

1950s were a big turnover like many other decades before and after and continue to be so. Such as one is over the top., gracious big bold, logos, intensity, blunt, colourful, and brassy almost, when you think of this most of us of our generation would think of the 2000s and the 210s and the shift of the two this 10 period cycle, well actually it’s a 20 year cycle if you really think about it coming in and out of fashion maybe 15 at the most, so you’ve got the 1940s where the war is still going up until 45 where is the, black-and-white even in the movie signals this?, we were invented somehow that had the money to, people like Marilyn Monroe, Elizabeth Taylor, Paul Newman and Robert Redford.

Hollywood and these times does this to these women? It mainly does it to the women it torment them torches them it will give them somebody who is their double., they understudy but tell them how amazing that other person is and that they wouldn’t reject these kind of office so why are you when they are deep into their career and they have given us everything of themselves? They are about down to bound to be a tad bit angry and the funny, narcissism does this to us? It thinks oh it won’t be me. I’ll never feel that way about somebody before me such as Marilyn Monroe probably never thinking she would feel like Joanne Crawford did about her who were up and coming., as a woman, you must be dignified but not too dignified to the point of you coming across arrogant, you must be flirty but never a slut, you must have virgin like quality but don’t be too virginal, age gracefully but don’t be ugly, why don’t you lose a few pounds but don’t get too skinny.

All these things are absolute recipe for disaster, and monsters the real monsters of the people behind these acts of making people feel this way the talent agents the executives, the managers the people who these companies the nepotism, allot it .

The difference in these decades like the 80s and the 90s grunge versus hair metal heroine versus cocaine, two different kinds of things in all of these things I’ve listed above so what are we due for next to me?, the 210s were rather over the top but also subtle so when it comes to our next decade that’s coming up with making it subtle bit again, so these women are men the men had it in the way the homosexual ones anyway they weren’t allowed to be open with their sex, point where they would make these men marry women while they had a life on the side which couldn’t be publicised which couldn’t be shown, I even said to my boyfriend if we break up, I want to marry a gay man, the way gay men treat women, and I hate to make sweeping statements and I seem to a lot. I seem to write like that energies sometimes.

But I love the beauty of sees a woman and her straight man never could. , this decade of the 50s bought us the Marilyn Monroe of her absolute peak, her beautiful presence versatile and face, even though she was even one he got bullied by Louis Mayer, the company, to the point I think he even called her his little chinless wonder, bullying tactics, it worked in the 2000s with Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton, where do they stay? These women go back, they’ve made up a bit now because they’re both mothers, I dread to imagine what kind of mother might be with her addiction issues sorry I’m an addict myself and it worries mate maybe it was a blessing, disguise have children?, like not to be able to have children it’s horrible. Your life ends up becoming an addiction disaster if you’re not stable enough.m and men who don’t treat you right, children are a blessing and if you have them count yourself lucky every day, do I think abortions bad, I don’t if you’re not in the right place to have a child then you shouldn’t.

This is comparing all the decades having very similar ways and if you look at it, you’ll see,. one thing I didn’t like was Jane Mansfield think the woman had much class, especially when it came to Monroe she played into the image of being exactly like her, to me it’s a shame they didn’t play into her being probably mixed cause I think she is. and by no means do I mean blackface but make them more darker? Dark hair? Lipstick et cetera, but they had to do a copy of, king size Monroe call her, and she was she lived, Monroe hated it and if you can see some of these pictures she copied it, was is Mansfield love being Monroe as Monro didn’t.

[rwby-necromancer-au]

OK BECAUSE AT LEAST ONE PERSON SHOWED INTEREST

I’ve been thinking about songbirds a LOT lately

I have such a vivid image in my mind of how these guys would look and how it’d look to be on one of these stolen ships taking people out of Atlas to save them. How they’d care for these people and try to keep them safe.

I’ve also toyed with the idea of giving them a uniform of some kind. Instead of them looking like ordinary people.

I think them being dressed in all black would be a cool counterpart to Atlas’s Pursuers wearing only white.

In this hypothetical uniform, they’d wear masks. (specifically plague doctor masks bc I’m predictable and they offer a lot of versatility in design considering they’re called songBIRDS)

And also I’ve always imagined them with black captain hats or black chauffeur hats:

LOTS of layers, like a LOT.

They go everywhere, so they need to be prepared for any kind of weather. The hottest of the hot and the coldest of the cold.

I figure these guys may also just use dark colors, not necessarily black

Like brown, dark green, or whatever matches their mask, which will entirely depend on what role they have on the ship. Role = what kind of bird you are.

Here are the roles and their associated birds:

- Captains are Crows or Ravens

- Second in Commands would be Passerines

- Healers/Medics are Hummingbirds or Kinglets

- General songbirds without a specific role are Blackbirds

- Caretaker songbirds (ones that care for orphaned children or the elderly) are Cardinals

- Psychiatric Songbirds are Starlings

- Chef/Cafeteria Songbirds are Swallows (see what I did there? Hehe)

I imagine they wear trench coats, which I think would be a nice callback to where Oz got the idea for his own trench coat and why he likes them so much.

Another fun callback is how Qrow has his own plague doctor/songbird mask.

And how Glynda wears similar boots to the songbirds.

They probably wear cargo pants with lots of pockets, and bodysuits that go all the way up over the head (apart from the face), these can be swapped out for short sleeve version too. Work gloves and steel toed work boots are a must, so are lots of bags and holsters. I imagine they also have a harness that has some bags on it too.

All hidden beneath a heavy trench coat, that also has pockets.

I imagine these holsters and pockets are used to hold guns, flash bangs, other forms of weapon that can temporarily disable an enemy, knives, etc.

And most of these holsters and bags have a cover to go over them, to keep the things inside in place.

Can’t have anything too restricting, they need to be able to jump, run, roll, etc.

I imagine that they whistle, sing, hum, and that every song means something different.

Rarely do they ever actually speak to each other when they’re working, only use non verbal or musical communication. The only time you’ll see them converse is when they’re on the ship itself and not in danger.

They have to give up their entire identities to do this job, only being referred to by “Songbird” or their title of songbird (I.e “Blackbird” or otherwise)

They are covered head to toe. No skin is allowed to show really.

Those with long hair must either tie their hair up in a way that their hat and bodysuit will cover it, or cut it (Most usually cut their hair).

All songbirds must know how to speak in sign language.

All the boats that are used to take people out of Atlas/Mistral must be stolen from Atlas/Mistral or made to look identical to their ships. That way they can avoid detection

But yeah, those are some of my thoughts about them!!!

I really love thinking about these guys!

[metalhealth-willdriveyoumad]

It’s really really unfortunate how much racism and insensitivity there still is in a lot of rock spaces, even in some of the most surface level communities, even in a lot of the music.

I would like to imagine that everyone who’s done even a quick look into the history of early rock ‘n’ roll is more than aware that a lot of Elvis’s stuff was stolen from black musicians and he, along with other white musicians, were given heavy spotlight over black contemporaries that weren’t completely plagiarized like Little Richard. But that’s where the conversation stops for a lot of white people.

And that leaves some massive blind spots where nothing gets called out for whatever reason. Maybe white people just don’t realize. That wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe people of color are just too tired to deal with it, that also wouldn’t be earth shattering.

Regardless, it’s still harmful and leads to some really rough environments for people of color in these space. Environments where we’re having to see people you like and even respect go to bat for a group of people that are, at best, painfully unaware of the world around them.

And I don’t mean stuff from last century that’s either been apologized for or that was so standard for the time that it might not even be worth spending any time on. Some of the things bothering me at the moment happened on albums, in interviews, etc. that people I’m in community with were almost certainly alive for. And I’m not all that old.

This isn’t exclusive to spaces with all white bands or with mostly regressive beliefs. There are some lovely, mostly progressive people that can fall into this trap. I personally am in some spaces where there are a ton of people whose favorite guitarist is black or favorite singer is Mexican and Native American or favorite drummer is Cuban-American, who are fully unaware of a lot of questionable things going on with their favorite acts. Even if you think you’re immune, please just be a little more thoughtful. If something ever gives you a little pause or hits you weird, there’s probably a good reason and it wouldn’t hurt to dig into it.

I’m not going to make this about anything specific, in part because I want this to have some good versatility and I really don’t mean to call anyone out in specific. But I do think people need to be more mindful of the music they’re listening to and the conversations they’re having. It’s really minimal effort so much of the time and it does wonders for making more people more comfortable in their fandoms.

[thatwasntverycashmoneyofme]

{ 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 — 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖼𝗈𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗋𝖺, 𝗒𝖺𝗆𝗂 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝗈𝗋, 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝖾. }

asshole! yami sukehiro who’s deliberately disrespectful and it’s probably most likely cuz he was treated roughly for being a foreigner, but this man has no filter especially when it comes to you his cute chubby black foreigner girlfriend.

he definitely gives off guard dog energy, lingering behind you, and he can’t leave you alone or let you go anywhere by yourself and it’s not just cuz he’s possessive and protective, he gets jealous super easily and know how the men of the Clover Kingdom reacts to a beautiful foreigner.

he learned his lesson last time almost having to give his Captain position up for nearly beating a man to the brink of death but yk he locked in with julius so the request for his removal got denied, just barely, but anyways here’s how that went:

you’re standing in the market place collecting your sweets that you brought from the nice vender lady but something catches your eye and you drift off from yami’s line of sight, something he told you not to do, when he looked down to light his blunt (no cig smokers over here🙅🏾‍♀️) you got entranced by a long scarf touching the silk fabric that could have versatile use, you jump feeling someone approach you.

a nobody, who you don’t even remember well enough to give a description to, trying to talk you up as you blatantly ignore him continuing your sales purchase.

the guy gets feed up by your neglect pulling on your wrist as he talks down to you “its not like you have anything to do right?? with all these coins on you, I’m just trying to help you further your business. I could put in a good word for you to my friends no doubt they haven’t been with a foreigner”

you hear the vender yell for help as you stare at the hand the man has on your wrist you look up in front of you seeing the man smirk as your eyes are finally on him. you paused for a minute trying to process ‘did this guy just call me a whore??’

before you can even utter a word, a large rough tan hand encased the man’s hand on your wrist “oi sweetheart this guy bothering you?” you snatch your wrist from the hold, a pout on your lips as you rub it with your other hand “no yami im fine let’s go” you start to walk a few steps before the rando spoke again “geez another foreigner you have to wait your turn buddy I asked for her services first”

you see yami’s aura before you heard the shrill scream freezing everyone in their place in the market “oi oi you calling my woman a whore? i have a good reason enough to kill you for putting your grimy hands on her” you walk around yami finding the rando’s hand flapping limply you could only assume yami broke the guys wrist

“yami stop i got everything i needed from the market let’s go” he sighs dropping the broken bone in his hand as the man let out a pained sound “fine… be lucky you’re only going home with a broken hand” yami catches up to you ready to head back to the bulls home before the annoying voice of the man rang

“yeah you better leave I don’t want to bed a foreign whore whose womb is tainted with another foreigner” you could feel the wind rush pass you before hearing the man choking on his own blood as yami’s fist connected relentlessly.

you weren’t that dumb to try and stop him and definitely not dumb enough to step in so you waited, lighting a blunt putting all your weight on one leg jutting your hip out.

a few minutes pass and yami rises from the pulp of bloodied scum, his fists scraped and scarred as he pulled the blunt from your lips taking a drag as you both walk home his shoulders relaxed “that paperwork’s gonna be a bitch to deal with i’ll have to talk to julius. that fucker’s lucky i let him live if he gets help in time” you laugh at his monotonous voice “thank you for sticking up for me yami baby”

he breathes out smoke handing you the blunt once again “no problem sweetheart you’re too pretty to be hassled like a whore. good thing i fuck you enough like one” you choke on the smoke invading your lungs as he took it from you for the last few puffs as you try to compose yourself feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you let out a low whine “yamii~ stop it”

𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗆 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌. 𝖣𝖮𝖭𝖳 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅, 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒 𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾. ©𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖺𝗅

[chiveburger]

2022′s favorite skincare, make-up and fragrances tagged by my longtime fave @nito-onna. here is the link is her much more articulate post! 

starting with skincare... 

rohto mentholatum - acnes anti-bacteria spot dressing patch. I’ve tried two acne patches in the last couple months and this one is by far the better one. It’s very thin and unnoticable, it comes in two sizes per sheet and has helped me quicken the process of popped pimples and whiteheads

lush - catastrophe cosmetic. this clay mask is probably one of the best lush fresh masks I’ve used, and I’m planning to repurchase it with my recyclables. It’s more moisturizing than it seems, and after it dries it flakes off and makes for a very easy cleaning process (compared to every other lush fresh mask). 

laneige - water bank blue hyaluronic eye cream. I’m not a consistent user of eye cream, even though I should be but I’ve stuck with using the one from laneige for the last couple months. It’s straightforwardly packaged, supple and gel-like which makes it very light on the under eyes. It also lasts for a long time

fresh nation - b5 hydropower lip care. one of my go-to lip balms during these last winter months. I also slather it on as an overnight lip mask. It’s not heavy, scentless but moisturizes well. It was also like $14 for 3...

bush balm - bermuda dark spot exfoliating scrub and oil combination. probably one of my most favorite finds of 2022. I’ve been using this religiously on my underarms and I do see a very gradual fading of my dark spots. the sugar scrub is very gentle, and the oil is not excessively greasy. this is my only ongoing subscription on amazon

going to make-up...

wet n wild - megaglo makeup stick in sand. one of the BEST concealers I’ve used in years, and the only con about this is that it kinda stinks. this shade is perfect for my skintone, it’s not very heavy, extremely cheap and does a really good job on my eye bags. I haven’t found a concealer in this suitable of a shade ever

glossier - cloud paint in beam. a forever favorite item for me regardless of the year. I’ve had one tube of this bush for the last 3 years so it really goes a long way, and I do not leave the house on a day out without using this. the cream texture is light and versatile and you can build the strength of the blush according to your preference. 

dejavu - fiberwig ultra long mascara in pure black. again, an item I’ve used for a couple years and still love and is always apart of my make-up routine. It’s the one mascara I’ve used that doesn’t clump and elongates my lashes without making spider legs. I haven’t experimented with any other mascara after finding this one.

lastly I only have one fragrance and its...

giorgio armani - sì eau de parfum. all I can say is that this is my scent. If you ever meet me in person I’ll smell like this. I’ve gone back and forth from different perfumes but I always end up coming back to sì. I’m not a big fan of floral scents, so this one is more musky. I have used this since high school and have not found a scent I like as much as this. 

thanks for reading if you’ve gotten this far. I tag @033h, @vensulove, @calpicowater, @idleminds, @julieterbang and everyone who likes pentagon to do this tag!

[steven1123x]

Behind The Scenes - Chapter 27: Actors At Work

🎬🎥 🎬🎥 🎬🎥 🎬🎥 🎬🎥 🎬🎥 🎬🎥 🎬

A few days passed, and Steven woke up in his room, he picked up his phone and got a text from Mordecai. He and the crew were at the studio. Steven looks at the time, the numbers read 9:10 and under it, it said March 26.

Steven got out of bed and went to the bathroom.

He stepped out and went to his closet and picked out his bright red star shirt and a pair of black basketball shorts. The hybrid put them on grabbed his white Converse, put them on, and tied them.

He grabbed his hat that he bought a few days ago and put it atop his curly hair, grabbed his phone, and went out the door. Steven went on his phone and looked up the distance.

Twenty-five minutes. Perfect.

Steven walked downstairs, went out the door, grabbed his bike, and took the ride to Burbank. He decided to listen to music on the way.

He grabs his earbuds, plugs them in, and puts on a song.

The Cartoon Network movie lot was already bustling with life. Steven parked his bike, and put his feet on the ground, As a tall and grey rock man walked up. he wore a black guard uniform. “Rada rada.”

Steven showed him the text that he got from his friend Mordecai. “I’m here to watch them film Snitzhel.” He said.

Snitzhel nods and rasied the gate. Steven biked inside the studio and saw actors, Crew members, And even familiar faces studying their lines, he was looking for Regular Show.

“Oh, excuse me?” Steven asked. He sees a boy, he is wearing a white hat that covers his head and neck, his clothes are a blue shirt and shorts consisting of a green backpack worn on his back, completed with white socks that were cupped around his ankles and black shoes.

“Oh, hello.” the boy said.

“Oh my gosh! your Finn The Human from Adventure Time! Can I have a picture?” he asked.

“Sure, man,” he said, Finn walked over and put his arm around the boy’s shoulders, and Steven took a selfie with the boy.

“Oh, can you point me to where the Regular Show studio is?”

“Oh, you see that soundstage over there?” he asked. Steven nods. “It’s there, soundstage twelve.”

“Thanks, Finn! Hey. Happy late birthday by the way.”

“Thank you!” he said, then Steven rode off to the soundstage.

He’d made it, he walked in and saw a large, acoustically treated space designed for recording the show. Inside, he saw high ceilings and expansive floor space to accommodate various setups. The walls are often lined with sound-absorbing materials, such as foam panels or curtains, to minimize echoes and improve sound quality.

The floor may be open or have a stage area, with various microphones, instruments, and recording equipment scattered throughout. There are usually control rooms adjacent to the main stage, equipped with mixing consoles, audio interfaces, and monitors for sound engineers to manage the recording process.

The lighting can vary, with bright overhead lights for visibility and more atmospheric lighting for specific scenes or performances. Overall, a soundstage is a versatile environment tailored for optimal audio production, featuring a blend of technical equipment and creative space.

Steven sees a living room setup, Mordecai and Rigby are talking with Margret at the snack table. Then, someone walks into the set. Steven sees him — probably Mordecai and Rigby’s director.

The man has straight, dark brown hair that falls over his forehead and ears. He is smiling broadly, displaying his teeth. He is wearing a light-colored, button-up shirt. He also has a black and white checkered lanyard around his neck, He holds a clipboard under his arm as he walks to the director's chair.

“Coooollll!” Steven whispered, his eyes going starry, his friends smiled at him.

“I will ask him if you can watch,” Mordecai said, Walking up to the director.

“So, Steven. you want to be an actor?” Margret asked.

“Heck yeah, I do! That will be AWESOME!” He said, jumping up into the air, Margret chuckled, she liked him.

“Yeah, It’s a lot of fun, I love it you know.”

“I bet!” he said. Then, the Blue Jay walked back towards him and gave the hybrid a thumbs up.

“Okay places, guys! And action!”

🎬🎥 🎬🎥 🎬🎥 🎬🎥 🎬🎥 🎬🎥 🎬🎥 🎬

“Regular Show: Brain Eraser, Scene One. Take one.” the Clapper Loader said, clapping the clapperboard.

Mordecai and Rigby were deeply engrossed in their latest video game session, the screen flashing with vibrant colors and intense action. Suddenly, a loud explosion erupted from the television, accompanied by bold letters declaring, “PLAYER 1 WINS!” Rigby slumped back into the couch, frustration etched on his face.

“Ugh! I lost again,” he groaned, his eyes narrowing at the screen.

Mordecai, with a smug grin, simply shrugged, his amusement evident. “Hmph. Hmph,” he replied, relishing his victory.

Rigby’s annoyance quickly turned to distraction as he rummaged through the couch cushions. “This stupid thing was throwing me off,” he muttered, pulling out a magazine that read, “Mustaches Monthly - SPECIAL HANDLEBAR ISSUE!”

Mordecai’s eyes widened in realization. “Dude! Pops' Mustaches Monthly! Benson told us to deliver this weeks ago. You have to give this to Pops.”

Rigby’s protest was immediate. “What?! Why do I have to?”

“Because you’re the tool who crammed it between the sofa cushions!” Mordecai shot back, exasperated.

Rigby huffed, sinking deeper into the couch. “I can’t get up now. I’m going to lose this sweet butt cheek groove I’ve been working into this couch! It looks just like me!” He gestured to the distinct impression his body had left on the fabric.

Mordecai rolled his eyes. “I’m not going up those stairs, dude.”

After a moment of silence, Rigby proposed a solution. “Fine, let’s play rock-paper-scissors for it.”

With determination, Rigby threw out paper while Mordecai chose rock. “Hmph hmph,” Rigby smirked, reveling in his victory.

“Whatever,” Mordecai groaned, begrudgingly conceding. As Rigby resumed his gaming, Mordecai reluctantly made his way to Pops’ room, where he could hear the sound of running water.

“Pops. Yo, Pops. I found your Mustache Monthly,” he called out, placing the magazine on a chair. Just as he turned, he was met with a shocking sight—Pops, fresh out of the shower and completely naked.

“Aaaaagh!” both Mordecai and Pops screamed in unison, their eyes wide with horror.

In the chaos, Mordecai caught an unintended glimpse of Pops' “junk mail.” Panic surged through him as Pops hurriedly covered himself with his hat, while Mordecai instinctively shielded his eyes.

“Aaaaagh!” they both continued to exclaim, trying to escape the awkward situation, but finding themselves blocking each other’s path.

“Uh... uh... uh... uh...” Mordecai stammered his heart racing.

“Uh... uh... uh... uh...” Pops echoed, equally flustered.

Steven was trying his hardest to contain his laughter.

Finally, Mordecai managed to slip past Pops, darting out of the room just as Pops retreated into his bathroom. Breathing heavily, Mordecai made his way back downstairs and plopped onto the couch next to Rigby.

“Stop playing for a second,” Mordecai panted. “When I went upstairs, Pops was getting out of the shower.”

Rigby looked at him, puzzled. “Yeah, so?”

“And he didn’t have a towel,” Mordecai replied, his voice laced with disbelief.

Rigby’s face twisted in disgust. “Ewww!”

“Cut! Perfect guys!” J.G said, standing up, Steven then burst out laughing.

“Not funny, Steven.” he glares at his friend.

“It is! you saw Pops naked, dude!”

Rigby looks at his two friends back to back.

“It was for the scene!” he protested.

“I know! but was that acting or real? cause it looked pretty real to me.” Rigby said, Mordecai punched him in the arm.

“Owwww!” Rigby said as his friend glared at him.

“You did a good job,” Margret said. Mordecai could still see Pops’… stuff, it’s burned into his brain. And they were rehearsed this last week!

“Thanks, Margret,” he said. Sighing to himself.

Steven looks at Mordecai.

“Okay guys, places!” J.G. sat in the director’s chair holding a bottle of water in his hand. “And…” The man said. “Action.”

“Regular Show: Brain Eraser, Scene Two. Take two.” the Clapper Loader said, clapping the clapperboard.

Mordecai and Rigby were lounging in the park, the sun casting long shadows as the day wound down. Trying to be helpful, Mordecai picked up Mr. Peterson's magazine delivery, intending to drop it off at the old man's house on their way back.

"I tried not to look and just give him the magazine, but I saw his..." Mordecai began, his voice tinged with horror.

Rigby, ever the jokester, interjected with a smirk, "His junk mail? Ha ha ha ha ha ha!"

Mordecai's face turned pale. "No, dude, I'm mentally scarred. It's like the image is glued to the inside of my eyelids. Every saggy, wrinkled, shriveled, pasty..."

"Whoa, whoa! Don't put it in my head," Rigby quickly interrupted, holding up his hand as if to ward off the mental image.

Mordecai glared at him, the ghostly vision still unsettling in his mind. "This is your fault. You have to help me."

Rigby sighed, realizing the gravity of his friend's distress. "I'll help you to forget it if you promise to stop talking about it."

A glimmer of hope appeared in Mordecai's eyes. "Deal."

They shook hands, sealing the agreement, each hoping to put the disturbing incident behind them.

Steven watches the whole filming process from start to end.

🎬🎥 🎬🎥 🎬🎥 🎬🎥 🎬🎥 🎬🎥 🎬🎥 🎬

The behind-the-scenes took hours to film because some actors forgot their lines. But all and all, it was a good filming day, Steven was walking out of the soundstage, he was about to grab his bike, then he bumped into a woman. Steven looks up.

The woman has short, curly dark hair and wears glasses. She is dressed in a plaid shirt with red, blue, and black colors over a light-colored top. She is standing with one hand in her pocket.

“I… I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay, It’s my fault. Should’ve watched where I was going.” The woman said Steven heard the woman’s voice. It was the most calming voice he had ever heard in his life.

“What’s your name?” the woman asked.

“I’m Steven Universe.

“I’m Rebecca Sugar, nice to meet you.”

🎬🎥 🎬🎥 🎬🎥 🎬🎥 🎬🎥 🎬🎥 🎬🎥 🎬

A\N: THIS IS IT! Steven had just met his future director! I can’t wait to see where this goes from here! Bye, guys!

[idontknowreallywhy]

Best Jupidad Moments #4 Nevermoor Ch 7 - Settling into Reality

I’m going to start this ramble with a little flashback to Ch 2

She had imagined, a hundred times over, how it would feel to be liked instead of feared. To see people smile instead of flinch when she walked into a room. It was one of her favourite daydreams. But that was all it was, Morrigan told herself, shaking the cobwebs out of her head. A daydream.

And now… chapter 7…

Jupiter stood behind a wooden desk, leaning over a mess of papers and maps. He looked up, smiling broadly. ‘Ah! There you are. Excellent. ‘I thought I might give you a little tour. Sleep well?’ ‘Yes, thanks,’ said Morrigan. She suddenly felt shy. It was all this smiling at her that Jupiter kept doing, she thought. It wasn’t natural.

Must be weird to wake up for the first time in a world where your favourite daydream has come true! 

So now it’s going to get real - how does life work for these two from now on?

Obviously it’s not going to be plain sailing, that would be dull and would get so saccharine we’d get a headache. Even with his superior ability to see how people are feeling, Jupiter can’t get it right all the time as it wouldn’t feel genuine for the reader (and the best heroes are fallible and human). For this relationship to be believable, our Jupidad is going have to make some wrong calls. Buckle up…

‘Definitely not,’ Morrigan said, bristling. ‘I don’t want a nickname.’ ‘Course you do, everyone wants—’ … … ‘Everyone wants a nickname,’ Jupiter continued after the announcement.

‘Mog is a great nickname!’ Jupiter insisted. He rolled the word around in his mouth as they walked down the long hallway. ‘Mog. Moggers. The Mogster. It’s so versatile.’ Morrigan made a face.

‘It sounds like something an animal vomits up and leaves on your doorstep. Are you going to tell me about the Wundrous Society now?’

‘Soon, Mog, but—’

‘Morrigan.’

‘—first, the grand tour.’

At best he’s going from supportive-dad-mode to annoying-dad-mode here… having read Hollowpox and knowing that she eventually embraces “Mog” it’s hard to feel *too* cross with him in retrospect but I found this section a little uncomfortable and somewhat surprising after how focused he was on allowing her to have her own agency in the previous chapters. It’s not like it’s an unimportant thing either… the name people use for you is kind of a big deal and she’s pointed out that it doesn’t feel like a flattering one…

I wonder, perhaps, if the nickname thing is because he wants to draw another line between himself and Corvus who always used her full first name and would never have used something as affectionate as a pet name for his only daughter. Safe to say Morrigan’s probably been called a lot of names but never a cute silly one before.

It also makes me wonder whether Jack was a Jove-bestowed nickname and if so, what John Arjuna thought of it at the time. 

On the definite plus side he never introduces her as Mog, nor does he try to persuade anyone else to call her this.

‘You were going to tell me about the Wundrous Society …’ ‘I know, and I will, but it’ll have to wait. Martha—’ He waved the young maid closer. ‘Could you give Morrigan a little tour? Just the highlights.’

And here’s where Morrigan begins to be introduced to the fact that our Jupidad is going to be a frequently absent parental figure. He’s got so many calls on his time.

Thus he is missing (yet much spoken of) for the rest of the chapter. However I’m going to slip in one little foreshadowing theory about the chandelier just in case I run out of steam before I get to chapter 26…

Martha held both hands to her cheeks. ‘Oh … Captain North will be so upset. That ship’s been there for ever, it’s his favourite thing. How could this happen?

The precious chandelier was a pink sailing ship. As we find out later, it grows back as a black bird with outstretched wings, which some view as a comforting protective creature and others as threatening. 

Jupiter said he loved it even more than the pink sailing ship.

Jupiter took on the hotel when it was a wreck. I reckon at that point the chandelier was fairly normal but became a sailing ship to represent the chief passion of its explorer proprietor - adventure, travel, discovering new realms. The day his Mog arrives, that loses its top spot in a dramatic style and is eventually replaced with a very clear symbol of his new #1 priority - the little girl he saved who will eventually become the one to protect him and everyone he loves in return.

[mrs-mquve-cc]

Palette for upcoming eyebrow recolors!

So, since I changed my palette for hair, I also need eyebrows to match! I’ve switched most of the brows I use in my game to @pooklet‘s gorgeous retextured & bumpmapped eyebrows (naturals, unnaturals) and I plan on doing some of my own using the textures by Trapping and actions they’ve shared.

I was able to choose 21 colors (8 natural & 15 unnatural) to match the 33 hair colors I’m using now. Most of these will go with mutiple hair colors but there’s a few oddballs that need to be done on their own.

Black - matches Isis & Lucifer Dk Brown - matches Nesert, Depth Charge, & Shinji Volatile - matches Serqet & Rei Lt Red - matches Asuka Dk Red - matches Verin & Explosive Tntesium - matches Cesium Torpedosphine - matches Torpedo Pyrodechelane - matches Pyrodex, Hangfire, & Haunting Shatterwave - matches Aether & Shock Wave Napardx - matches Napalm Cannogentmx - matches Cannonball, Blasting Agent, & HMX Afterathian - matches Afterburner & Fluorophore Powderlite - matches Powder Cake & Pentolite Tetrylene - matches Tetryl & Xylene

I could have just done Asuka, Cesium, Torpedo, & Napalm straight but I decided to go with the broader actions for versatility. I use Explosive instead of Molotov for natural black hairs so it works out that Dk Red also works for that color.

These will NOT be binned as I prefer to have eyebrows independent of hair color. I will probably offer an option of color-grouped files using @ocelotekatl’s BSOK and Pooklet’s color glyphs (adding new ones for naturals).

So, I know 21 eyebrow colors is a lot, but it’s still fewer files than 33!

[tokiro07]

Undead Unluck ch. 146 thoughts

[3-For-1 Deal]

I mentioned a while ago that Undead Unluck operates on the one plot point per chapter principal, but there’s an exception to every rule, as we saw a few weeks ago leading into the Void battle

Much like said chapter, this one covers three separate events, so I guess that’s Tozuka’s method: if he can’t stretch out one event into a whole chapter, he might as well cram in three. I like it, it’s an efficient use of time

So as I guessed, Yusai is one of the Negators that Fuuko mentioned recruiting last week. I was admittedly wrong about Feng, but I was iffy about him anyway, and we did already get some insight to his character this arc, so it’s only right that we get the previously underutilized Yusai

We see Yusai facing down an unnamed UMA, who based on the black spikes I would think is some kind of iron UMA. Yusai defends her village from this UMA by presumably tricking it into piercing its blades into trees then holding it in place with Undraw for an entire week. Christ, no wonder she’s literally about to die! She had to stay conscious that entire time without food or water; the fact that she’s only just NOW about to die is nothing short of a miracle, as that’s literally the maximum time the human body can go without water. Granted, staying perfectly still that entire time while also in a life-or-death scenario would likely mean that a lot of her metabolic processes literally stopped, so perhaps her water consumption was minimized? Either way, it’s a perfect recipe for keeling over, hence why she looks so emaciated

Fuuko arrives just in time to save her, which means one very important thing: this is where Yusai was at this time last Loop. So, how did Yusai survive last time? If I had to guess, I’d say there happened to be a certain shirtless amnesiac passing by last time, wouldn’t you?

Fuuko defeats the UMA, though I’m not entirely sure if she killed it and eliminated its Rule or just incapacitated it, but the story doesn’t care so neither do we. She brings Yusai back to base and gets her some much needed food, though given that she’s EATING A FULL MEAL AT THE GOD DAMN SPEED OF LIGHT by all rights she should be dying immediately anyway from rupturing her malnourished stomach. She should be taking that rice and mashing it into gruel with lightly salted water, not jamming it into her gullet

Also, Tozuka seems to have slightly altered Yusai’s design; her hair has a much softer look to it this time compared to how she looked in Akira’s flashback, being drawn more rounded instead of spikey, and with what looks like a much higher ponytail. I’m not sure if Tozuka just wasn’t satisfied with the original design, but honestly this one feels like it has more personality, so I appreciate it

Yusai apparently can’t draw her own sword, nor can she remove anything that she views as being inside something else, rendering her unable to draw her own sword or even her chopsticks out of her mouth between bites. How she gets them out later, I have no idea, but this does illustrate an important factor of Undraw’s Rules: it does not target the user, it targets the object. We’ve seen her negate Spring’s cherry blossoms, the unnamed UMA’s blades and even Sun’s feet, so it’s clear that she’s an external targeter. Preventing herself from drawing her weapons implies that she’s targeting herself as well, but since a Negator can only be external or internal, not both, she must be negating the objects ability to be drawn, not the person’s ability to draw. It’s not even limited to weapons! She could probably prevent an enemy from “drawing blood” if she thought about it, making Undraw a much more versatile ability than I originally gave it credit for. Can’t wait to see how far Tozuka pushes it!

Nico comes in and informs Fuuko that he can’t locate Kasuga Village, which Yusai is apparently familiar with, so presumably she guides Fuuko to it. As it turns out, Kasuga Village is Isshin’s home, so I wonder if perhaps Yusai’s family is familiar with the Isshin clan? I hope we’ll get to see a more in-depth explanation of their ties, this plot point unfortunately felt a little glossed over

Kasuga Village is attacked by the same UMA that killed our Isshin’s father in the previous Loop, but this time it’s met by Isshin the 12th, her grandfather. Whether this means that this is a Junior and multiple attack the village or it’s attacking earlier in this Loop, I’m unclear, but either way, Yusai steps in to kill the UMA using the iconic iaido that we’ve seen Andy use so often, only she has to do it without actually drawing her blade. Frankly the fact that she destroyed a UMA’s core with her sheathe is pretty damn impressive, imagine how strong she’ll be once she learns how to overcome that limitation like the previous Yusai did

They ask Isshin 12 to join their cause, but he declines on the basis that he can’t leave his home unprotected. In comes Isshin’s dad with who else but little baby Isshin on his back! She’s so cute, and I am reaffirmed in my decision to name my Tinkatink after her in Pokemon Scarlet. She’s even got her hair in a little knot! Seeing her bap away her loving grandpa is super endearing, this is the kind of thing I want to see more of

Fuuko immediately clocks that this Isshin, referring to her by her true name of Haruka, confirming for Isshin 12 that Fuuko’s story about the timeloop is true. Moved by Fuuko’s tears of joy and the tale of Haruka’s exploits as the next Unbreakable, Isshin 12 changes his mind and decides to accept Fuuko’s invitation

I did mention Isshin as a possible recruit last week, but somehow I forgot to mention the logical inconsistency at the time: see, I knew that Isshin was 23 in 2020, meaning that she was born in 1997, making her only two years old in 1999. I knew that, and I knew that her grandfather should still have been alive at this time, but I just...didn’t bring that up last time. Can’t remember why. BUT I did say we might get Unbreakable and we did, so there

So there you have it, an attacker and a support, that’s both of the recruits Fuuko said she wanted, so now we’re ready to go to the South China Sea, yeah? Well surprisingly, no! Because somehow Fuuko has been made aware of a third recruit she wants: everyone’s favorite guy, SEAN DATZ!

Wait, Sean Datz? In 1999? But he was 18 in 2020 last time! He’s not supposed to be born for another three years, but here he is, about...what, 15? He seems younger than in 2020, but it’s a bit hard to tell, so maybe not. Either way, he’s clearly a 90′s kid now, but how can that be? Well according to Fuuko, he was actually born early somehow, and she attributes this to everyone’s souls actively trying to help her reunite them all

That’s...a little odd, since Sean seems to be the only one who was explicitly born early, but...maybe that’s why Fuuko thought she had till 2003? Maybe everything is happening earlier...? I don’t know. Maybe Sean is just that cosmically unimportant that he can be reinserted into the timeline anywhere and it doesn’t matter. What a loser, the flow of time doesn’t even care when he’s born

I also love that Nico conjectures that the souls trying to help Fuuko is a sign that they all love her, but Sean literally had one interaction with her: he tried to kill her and got cut in half for it! If anyone should want nothing to do with her, it’s him! He’s just the weirdest one to use as an example for this, I really hope this gets expounded upon next week

The team tracks Sean with infrared as he’s only unable to be seen by light, not heat, though perhaps he’ll be able to remove that weakness later, and he’s able to run through the streets of Brazil with his eyes closed without any issue. It looks like he’s memorized the layout of the city, but it’s more impressive that he hasn’t bumped into anyone. Maybe his senses are pretty sharp? Not sharp enough not to bump into Void, though, who paralyzes him with Unavoidable. Naturally, this only keeps him from continuing to run or close his eyes to become invisible again, but does not keep him from drawing his iconic butterfly knife

Fuuko sees this coming though and brings him to the ground, knocking his knife out of his hand and embedding it just like what happened last time. Of course this time he’s not cut in half, so maybe this is the beginning of Sean’s redemption arc. Maybe this is his Bellamy moment where after suffering a parallel defeat to his previous one, he shows that he’s actually pretty likable and endearing?

I wanted to make a joke about how I’d hate this series for making Sean likable, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. I actually really like the idea of Sean becoming an actual character, and Tozuka has done a great job so far of endearing us to previously one-note characters, so I’m excited to see what kind of dynamic Sean brings to the table

All in all, this wasn’t a mind-blowing chapter since it’s mostly set up for what’s to come next, but I don’t think it needs to be a banger every single week. I saw someone say on twitter that this arc feels stale because the stakes are so low, and while they went on to write a nice analysis of Undead Unluck as a metaphor for trauma and grief, I just couldn’t get behind their initial premise. We already know what the stakes are for this arc, they were illustrated for us quite clearly not twenty chapters ago: we saw everyone and everything reduced to ash and rubble. We saw all of our friends give their lives with tears on their cheeks and blood on their hands to ensure Fuuko made it to the next world to prevent this from ever happening again

These people are what’s at stake. Their lives, their loved ones, their happiness, all of that is on the line here, and this person thinks it’s stale? Sorry pal, that’s just a bad take all around. I think they’re mistaking “stakes” with “an immediate threat.” No, there’s no major arc villain to face right now, only the abstract knowledge that one wrong move will result in someone repeating the tragedies of their past, but that’s a pretty key concept in narrative fiction: character-driven storytelling

See, Undead Unluck is a character-driven story disguised as a plot-driven one. Fuuko and Andy’s involvement in the Union is 100% motivated by what they want: to stop being Negators so they can live (and die) normally. Every action they take is motivated by what they want or their morals, not by their immediate needs as the plot demands. However, the story is FRAMED as being plot-driven because Apocalypse literally tells the cast what to do and where to go next. Go capture Spoil to get Unrepair’s location, go kill the Seasons to prevent Ragnarok; these are plot points that decide the literal next step in the story, giving the illusion of a plot-driven narrative, but now? Fuuko’s calling the shots. Fuuko’s only going on Quests that she wants to go on that further the agenda she’s decided on, the narrative is no longer driven by the needs of the plot but by the desires of the characters. Fuuko and co. aren’t fighting with the goal of killing God, they’re fighting with the goal of living how they want. They’re explicitly rejecting the plot-driven narrative to replace it with a character-driven one, changing the rules of the world to those of self-determination if you will

Seeing the previously unused characters become more fleshed out in their personalities and their interactions may not be the kind of hard-hitting, pulse-pounding action you’ve come to expect from fights like the Union/Under vs. Sun, but to me it’s everything I ever wanted from this series and from manga as a whole. I want to get to know these people, I want to see how they get along with each other. I want to know what they’re actually, literally fighting for, not the contextual reason why they’re fighting, and watching Fuuko cry over meeting her friend as a baby? That tells me so much more than an all out brawl against some monster ever could

[lady-wallace]

Fanfic Paperback Bind-Up Interest Check

**EDIT** I’ll be leaving this form up for another week to get a few more responses, but from what I’ve heard from you all so far, I’m excited to say that I’ll definitely be going forward with the project! And I will be posting another form soon to vote on what the second story I’ll be releasing will be. Thank you everyone who has filled this out so far! ~~~

Hey everyone! I’m trying to plan out a couple projects I’d like to do next year and one of them (something I’ve been thinking of for a while) is publishing a couple of my fanfics in paperback.

I will be starting with Family Matters and probably one other longer fic or short story collection for the first round and if that is successful I will probably do more in the future.

If you are one of my readers, please take a moment to give me your opinion on this project by filling out this interest check: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1T_RExqc_abhHkor1SlrMOYkXYUYld-iO7Rtw1qYm9eA/edit

These copies would ideally have exclusive content to them and will not just be a copy/paste of the ones on Ao3. I will be doing extensive edits with the likelihood of adding extensions to scenes or even new scenes all together. They will also be fully illustrated with black and white pen and ink style illustrations and given shiny covers. All the art will be specifically done for the paperback copies (and probably PDFs as well for versatility) so even if the stories already have art for them, this will all be fresh.

Thanks for your time, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts! If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to contact me :)

[hepatosaurus]

2022 AO3 Wrapped!

Last year, inspired by some people on discord, I decided to actually track my fic reading for once. I’ve been logging my books and movies for a good 20 years now, so why not try that with fic? I hoped it might help me comment more too, or at least get a sort of baseline number that I could improve on. So, after crunching the numbers: I read 110 fics and 1,188,700 words across 15 fandoms (...more on that last point later)! It was a fun experiment that I’ll definitely do again, with some tweaks. Please forgive any weird numbers/percentages; I haven’t taken a math class in manymany years, and it probably (definitely?) shows. The vibes are accurate, at least.

(I posted an earlier (and shorter) version of this on twitter, but wanted to archive it here too for posterity’s sake because...twitter.)

Word count

This is about what I expected, though I was surprised to see that I only read one 50-100k fic (only one 100k+ fic too, but that doesn’t surprise me at all). I finished up a couple long(er) fic in January (notably, one 200k+ fic), hence the high numbers there, and only read one (1!) fic in July, which explains those low numbers. Otherwise I generally read between 50-100k total per month.

More details behind the cut, aka god damn girl, you sure know what you like and stick with it, huh. (I really hope this text cut works...)

Top Fandoms

So, about those 15 fandoms. I really did think I might have more variety back in January - like maybe I’d be able to chart fandom trends over the months, something like that! - but lol nope. My FE3H fixation is still going strong, three years later. I’ll get to those Witch Hat Atelier and Stranger Things fics in my Marked for Later pile...eventually.

Top Authors

110 fics, 80 authors! There were definitely some repeat offenders: merionettes! desmodus! notallbees! printers_devil! epistrophic! nebulia! No names in the pie chart, but look at those pretty colors. You're all stars.

Top Pairings

No real surprises here. I’ve been in sylvix hell since early 2020 so I knew they’d dominate, but there’s an okay showing from...other Sylvain ships...and gen! and Claude ships! Hi Claude! (Graph cuts off at 20 for my sanity.)

Top Characters

Ha. ha ha ha ha ha ha. Surprise! Listen: I knew Sylvain would be #1, I’m not an idiot. However I did NOT realize he featured in 60% of the fic I read in 2022, jeeeesus christ man. (He’s versatile, okay!!!) Chief Blorbo aside, my Blue Lions/Golden Deer bias persists. Maybe in 2023 I'll read all those Black Eagles fics I saved? Or fic from other fandoms?? (Again, chart cut off at 20 for sanity.)

Tags, Tropes, and Ratings

Looks like I sure read a lot of horny post-canon friends-to-lovers get-together fics with a good dose of pining, huh. That...tracks. Regarding AUs, modern AUs won (14.8%), followed by college/university, canon divergent, and modern with magic. Also fun: figure skating! magical girls! rock band! time loops!

I definitely need to rethink how I track nsfw content though - it’s very inconsistent and redundant here, and doesn’t really tell me anything. The explicit rating is self explanatory, but what’s the deal with those different NSFW and smut numbers? Where did I draw the line? It probably make more sense to scrap the latter tag and just track PWPs.

Etc: Commenting, Rereading, Reccing, and Bookmarks

Commenting: I mentioned earlier that I hoped logging my fic reading would help me comment more, or at least find out how frequently I leave comments, and turns out that number is 46/110, or 41.8%. (Mer reminded me that this number does NOT include alpha reader comments, which is very true. ✨⛸️) Not bad, but I think 50% (or more?) is definitely doable next year. This whole practice really did help me comment more - it made me stop and think about exactly what I did or didn’t like about each fic I read, from <1k vignettes to 200k+ canon retellings. Obviously I’m not telling the authors what I didn’t like, but as for the good stuff...like, I found a lot of compliments hidden in the Comments/Notes field of my spreadsheet that never actually made it to a proper comment, but they definitely could have. I’m never gonna be a person who comments on everything, and I’m NOT going to lie and tell an author that I liked their fic when I really...didn’t? but: 50%. I think I can do that.

(also I cannot emphasize enough how great it was to have a completely private space to bitch about terrible (or not-so-terrible) fanfic. does this fic use too many repetitive epithets? does that author NOT understand Character Y at ALL? was the resolution to this otherwise decent fic just a liiiittle too rushed? tell it to the google form!!! A+ would recommend.)

Rereads: As expected! I don’t reread a ton, with some exceptions. (Honestly a lot of my non-FE fics this year were rereads of old favorites.)

Bookmarks: Without double-checking, I think I bookmarked fewer fics compared to previous years, mostly because I was already keeping track of them in my spreadsheet. I’d like to get a little better at consciously bookmarking fic going forward, though - it’s really handy to have a public, easily accessible list of my faves. (I also say this as someone who frequently raids the public bookmarks of other commenters/authors/etc.)

Recs: 46.4% “yes”! interesting. Only one hard no, and that was partially my fault for not reading tags/warnings correctly.

In an ideal world I’d have some actual fic recs here too, but that...did not happen.

Overall!

This was a fun and very satisfying experiment, especially as someone who loves tracking things. I know a lot of people hate the idea of having an actual/official AO3 Wrapped, and honestly I wouldn’t like that either, but it was fun to actively (and manually) subject myself to this particular Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known Through Fanfic Tropes. I DO think it made me read fic a little more...deliberately? And therefore I read a little less fic than normal, maybe. I noticed that I hardly dropped any fic at all, either because I was more picky with what I read or I just powered through, and I don’t think that was the case in previous years. There was also a tiny bit of pressure at the beginning to start off the year with the “right” fic. Like, “oh god is my first fic of the year seriously going to be this unfinished 2nd person, woke-up-with-the-wrong-junk CYOA in which Claude and Lorenz investigate fuckplants and discover the true meaning of friendship.” (for the record, it was not my first fic of the year, but I DO recommend it.)

God this is long. One benefit of twitter is that it doesn’t allow me to ramble on like this, but oh well, that’s what you get. I really, really hope the cut tag worked.

[woodsteingirl]

sam you have such a goood fashion sense ...... how do you find good clothes ... (<- shes going shopping today & has no idea what to look for)

eek sorry this is so late, but usually when shopping for anything that isn’t dresses i go for neutrals like brown, black, white, navy blue, et cetera because there’s a lot of versatility that you can get out of there, but if you find something that you like in a like prominent color that is NOT to say don’t get it, like i have those pink pants which i consider a statement piece in my wardrobe, i just don’t like. look for bright colored pants or tank tops (this is what i use in my wardrobe instead of t-shirts because i don’t like t-shirts.) when i go out and stuff, those are usually neutrals because they are like. base layers.

for dresses i think it depends sooo much on personal preference, i love wearing dresses more than anything so i look for them often but some people don’t like them, so how often you would wear something should probably go into whether or not you buy it. here i like to find more colorful statement pieces, because with dresses you don’t have to worry as much about matching them with pants or a top and stuff. dresses are just by themselves most of the time — so i would say just use personal discretion and stuff.

okay here is the REAL secret of my wardrobe and it’s sweaters, jackets, and outerwear. if you get a bunch of colorful outerwear you can make like a ton of different outfits from the same base layer. these pictures aren’t great and they’re from a while ago, but this is what i mean the tone of the outfit completely changes based on what i’m wearing on top. i loveeeee colors here it makes color contrasting with your base layer easier and it makes the outfits you wear with the same base layer look different. i love cardigans and suit jackets, cardigans can be light and work well in the summer.

i also want to take a moment to promote these sheer/chiffon cardigans/kimonos. they’re SO fun and i will stand by them forever the two on the opposite ends are from maurice’s and the first one is on sale as of today for like nine bucks which is a literal STEAL i think i’ll probably buy it for myself… these are sooo fun because they are light for the summer and they just look unreasonably cool… the patterns are always fun and it makes for being able to wear it with a lot of base layer colors because they are usually quite colorful. ALSO you can use it like a sort of dressing gown which is also fun…

that is my advice if you want more specifics feel free to ask this is just like a general overview, but i hope i could help!!

[love-karens-style]

School of Style – Beyond Basic Black: 3 Fast Facts

(source: © Dolce & Gabbana Menswear Fall/Winter 2015 Collection, via pintrest.com)

“Style is personality. It’s having the ability to look at things beyond fashion.” –Domenico Dolce & Stefano Gabbana

1. Velvet Vibes – First up in today’s Edition gentlemen, I’d like to talk about the model’s elaborate and exquisite patterned pullover, if I may. From my personal perspective gentlemen, velvet is a lovely and luxurious fabric, which can be especially exceptional in the evenings, as it reflects light in a rather beautiful way. Gentlemen, I’m also happy to see this sort of clothing on the model, because it is not what I would describe as a ‘trendy’ item, as such. The colour black in particular, is very versatile, and will never go out of style. As a Style Advisor, I would not eagerly encourage my clients to be 'followers of fashion,' but to think more about suitable and sustainable style. My stance towards trends, can be backed by authors, Scott Omelianuk and Ted Allen, who their book, Things A Man Should Know About Style, can be quoted as saying, “To follow slavishly every new fashion trend because it is fashionable and trendy… is not what style is about.” Style, from my standpoint, is to do with investing in what works for you, rather than allowing trends to dictate what you should be wearing.

2. Healthy Hands – In second place gentlemen, may I kindly bring your attention to the model’s hands? As you may have noticed, they appear to be moisturised and maintained, meaning that the model’s overall outfit is not ruined by dry, dull or dehydrated looking hands. Though gentlemen, I must mention that there is an effective way of applying hand cream, and I suspect that you may be applying it incorrectly. A brilliant beautician taught me that, you apply the product (hand cream) to the back of one hand, and then take the back of the other hand, rub the backs of your hands together, and then move on to the palms of your hands (which in my opinion doesn’t need as much product), not forgetting to work the product between the webs of your fingers. And voilà! Hydrated, happy hands. Moreover, according to author Robert O’Byrne, in his book, The Perfectly Groomed Gentleman, “Rough and calloused hands are not pleasant either to look at or to feel. They will let you down, particularly if you have taken the trouble over the rest of your appearance.”

3. Prominent Pattern – Finally gentlemen, as you may have probably noticed, the House of Dolce & Gabbana, decided to go for gold detailing. The detailing on the model’s top, from my personal perspective, serves as an interesting ‘accessory,’ and does not therefore, necessarily require any jewellery. Except a basic black watch, perhaps. Other pieces of jewellery could potentially take attention away from the fantastic features on the model’s top. So, gentlemen, always remember, “Simplicity is the keynote of all true elegance,” in the words of Coco Chanel.

Love, KF X                                                                                            

Happy to help: karensworldofstyle@live.co.uk or karens_style on X (Twitter)

This article was researched, written, edited, produced & published by Karen, on 26th August 2024

[planetkiimchi-rbs]

“i’m guessing you want to talk about it, after all.”

aww the dynamic yn has w namjoon :(

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.

i fucking LOVE dancers, even if i don’t stan zb1 there’s a sense of kinship w sung hanbin that i can’t quite explain

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.

ah </3 family issues…

they knew all of his hardships—you only know a fraction.

i’m sorry for ever trying to write an idol au, sorry for ever picking up a pen to write. i probably can’t write anything original for a month or so because anything i try to write will definitely just be (poorly) trying to emulate this fic

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

had to look up finger traps bc i didn’t know what they were but GOSH i really really love all your metaphors

fav lines:

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

“you’re—” captivating. “you’ve improved a lot.”

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

WHAT THE FUCK. these lines ???? are you trying to rip my heart out or what ????

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 cheonan—

but summer is where mouths go dry and clothes cling to skin.

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

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

overall thoughts:

noo cuz im actually in love with authors putting actual pictures in their fics like yes !!! i want to know what the notebook page looks like !!!! i want to see what handwriting you think the character has !!!

ok wait im actually speechless this is one of the best fics i’ve read in a long time, i genuinely haven’t found something that i’ve enjoyed half as much as this. and usually im trying my best to find specific lines i like to tell the author how much i liked their fic but with this fic i can’t choose because it’s so interspersed with dialogue and so beautifully woven together? i can’t possible copy the whole fic down for my comments but…. i love all the tension and little pauses and yn’s ramblings. so poetic.

trying to articulate my thoughts again, i love how you wrote yn’s family issues and how yn has mr kim as a kind of grandfather figure and how much fun they’re having… idk it’s very interesting and beautiful to read.

also playlist is very well curated, i feel like all the songs really fit this fic.

i like the vast amounts of metaphors used instead of directly talking about how yn is feeling, they’re very apt. (i love the pearl walls with black leaking through metaphor bc it also aligns w the black arms that threaten yn,, chef’s kiss)

i can’t believe we ended with no closure… open endings break my heart bc im a sucker for happily ever afters. but this was much needed and beautifully written angst.

finger trapped (ripped to its seams) ➵ sung hanbin

sung hanbin x reader

with an unexpected reunion, you and hanbin relive the memories of cheonan—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, unexpected reunion, keeping secrets & lying, jealousy remains but love triumphs, journalist reader (u kno i had to do it), reader is a nerd and hanbin is a student-athlete, kms jokes from jongseob (all /lh), finger traps aren’t efficient after all

word count ➵ 15.6k 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. 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 the climactic finale of boys planet,” 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 10 articles. like, nine 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 2017. 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 10 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. “cheonan.”

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. “2017, 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 2017

the season of spring has graced cheonan; 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 a ‘s’.

“sung hanbin.” 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.

“sung hanbin?” 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.”  

sung hanbin 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 lee soojin, 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,” hanbin 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 whiskers 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 hanbin 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 choi jiung, another dancer on the team, all while listening to the teacher.

you don’t notice how long you spend staring at hanbin 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 hanbin; 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 his whiskers.)

the first time you get to meet with hanbin 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.”

hanbin 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 hanbin, 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 hanbin 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, “hanbin, 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 hanbin, 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 cheonan; 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 cheonan.

“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 his whiskers appear—your heart thumps in your ears.

and just like how quickly you were transported back to cheonan, 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 hanbin. 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 zerobase—”

“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 cheonan—

“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. “hanbin.”

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 hanbin were once painted with the hues of the sun. this reunion is tainted with blue.

hanbin’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.”

hanbin 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.

hanbin 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 hanbin’s item first before grabbing onto your ice cream.

“oh, i’m paying—”

“no, let me,” hanbin 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. hanbin 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 hanbin 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 hanbin sits across you, the one you knew back in cheonan still lives. in the busy, unfamiliar expanse of seoul, meeting 7 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 hanbin. “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, hanbin 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 hanbin 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 cheonan, why didn’t you choose to visit? despite how much you long 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 cheonan, 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 hanbin. as long as you had him, you would survive anywhere, whether in seoul or cheonan.

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 hanbin’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, hanbin takes it as your answer.

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

summer of 2017

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 cheonan. 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?” hanbin’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!” hanbin 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.”

hanbin 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 hanbin, 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,” hanbin 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.” hanbin 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 hanbin’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.”

hanbin’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,” hanbin 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 hanbin 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 hanbin 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,” hanbin nudges your shoulder. “i’m sure we’ll figure it out.” and when his whiskers appear, you find yourself smiling back.

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

“anyway, we’ll go ahead,” hanbin 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 hanbin 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 hanbin 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 hanbin 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 hanbin 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 hanbin 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 hanbin. 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,” hanbin 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, hanbin 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 hanbin 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 hanbin 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?”

hanbin’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 hanbin 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 hanbin’s role in your life.

the first time you mentioned hanbin 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 hanbin . 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—hanbin’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 hanbin, 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 hanbin’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 hanbin 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.” 

hanbin 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 hanbin 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 hanbin’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 hanbin. 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 10 articles,” he says and your mouth gapes over the number. “well, one main article and nine 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 nine 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.

“ah, i’m sure you’ll be familiar with them. it’s zerobaseone.” you still in your seat. “you know, the group formed from boys planet.”

“zerobaseone?”

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 cheonan 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 was losing hope 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 longer than the amount of time between this achievement and your departure. within those years, what did hanbin 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 hanbin 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, hanbin’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.

hanbin 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 2017

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 hanbin 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 cheonan? from your parents? from the weight you were entrusted to carry since birth?

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

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, hanbin 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, hanbin?”

“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 whiskers 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 hanbin’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 hanbin, 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.

hanbin 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 hanbin.

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 hanbin 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 hanbin. 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?” hanbin 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,” hanbin 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...”

hanbin 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 7 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 2017

out of all the seasons, hanbin’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, hanbin 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?” hanbin looks up from his desk to see soojin 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.”

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

when hanbin 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, hanbin reminded you that he’ll be there if you need him.

“damn, that sucks,” soojin groans as her shoulders slump. “these stupid rumors.” as soon as she leaves hanbin 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. “lee soojin, you’ll be in charge of attendance today.”

as hanbin’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 hanbin. 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 cheonan; 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 cheonan 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 hanbin’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 hanbin 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 cheonan, 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 sisters 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 zerobaseone’s hanbin?

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 sister, 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 [zerobaseone], 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. zerose, thank you for your love and support over the years. i wouldn’t be zerobaseone’s leader or sung hanbin 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.

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