#if you want me to care about a relationship try going back to storytelling basics and Show Don't Tell :)

[empire-of-the-words]

I'm 10 and a half episodes into Young Justice (the TV show), and I feel like I should record my feelings for posterity's sake, so here we go (under the cut because it got too long 😅)

(Also I will be using superhero names for the most part since I don't want to look up how to spell Miss Martian or Aqualad's name)

Spoilers: I already know the Red Arrow thing. I'm also pretty confident I know Artemis's backstory. This doesn't bug me, because I love storytelling. A lot. So I keep looking at it from the writers' POV and it's honestly very fun. I also know a piece of Miss Martian's backstop, and the same as above applies

Investment in the characters: Honestly the show is doing a great job at this. So far it's had an episode focusing mainly on every character except Robin (who I'll talk about in a sec). The show is doing a lot of one episode character arcs (which is a great way to get you invested in the characters). Superboy and Superman both have obvious season character arcs going on, but the others have enough stuff that I'm confident they can do stuff with them

Robin: He is so competent in this, and I love it. Him being too competent to lead the team is both funny and adds another layer to both him and Aqualad. He actually hasn't had an episode really focused on him yet, just side plots. But this kind of works, since everyone knows Robin and there's less of a need to make sure people like him. (And this works. I didn't need to get as invested in Dick and Roy (and Bruce and Clark) since I'm already invested in their comic versions)

I also love that he hasn't revealed his identity yet. The little things about it (like in that episode the League of Shadows was trying to hack Wayne Enterprises). Especially with Artemis heading to Gotham Academy, I'm really hoping she has some fun interactions with Dick

Ships: Miss Martian/Superboy is pretty cute. I passively ship it. Just hoping they have real relationships with other members of the team. Kid Flash/Artemis (does she have a hero name?) is a bit more interesting. The amnesia episode did a good job selling it to me, as it shows they don’t necessarily hate each other at a basic level. Also I hate Kid Flash's crush on Miss Martian (or at least how he acts because of it), and rooting for another ship is the same as rooting for it to die. No real love triangle stuff for now, and hoping it stays that way. There's also the ship getting its own category:

JadeRoy: Starting very different from the comics (where they basically started as Enemy Lovers), but, uh, I Don't Care. I love this ship, both in comics and here. They're entirely enemies right now, but they've started to attach extra emotions to each other (not good ones, don't get me wrong, but they're singling each other out). And I know Lian will exist in this universe (thanks dc wiki), so I'm happily excited for Slow Burn (with the back of my mind preparing for disappointment, just in case). Not sure if this is going Enemies to Enemy Lovers or just straight up Enemies to Lovers (since it's a kids show they might give them a happy ending) but either way I'm down for it

(I'm actually horrible at watching shows in their entirety (instead of dropping them after a few episodes) , and the way I actually got myself to push forward and get invested was the knowledge that Cheshire appears in episode 6, and I really wanted to see her)

I'm super invested in the Superman/Superboy plotline. Also, Martian Manhunter giving Connor the last name Kent was just hilarious. The whole League is just like, "you will parent this kid, clark" and I love it. It's also got me thinking about how comic writers indirectly said Bruce wouldn't be great in this situation despite this version of him pushing for it, but that's an essay for another time (possibly never since it might involve reading Morrison!Talia which I desperately do not want to do 😭)

Speaking of Talia. I am dreading it. I know Damian’s just a cameo and it's a kids show, so it can't get as bad as the DCAU (knock on wood), but this is 2011. This is peak Morrison!Talia, and I do not want to see my favorite character's characterization get spit on

Moving on the nicer things, Batman is Peak Batman. He is a dad, and he’s trying his best, and they better not ruin him

The Light: I guess it makes sense that all these secret organizations are secretly all 1 secret organization, but I'm not quite invested yet. Also finding it hard to believe Ra's al Ghul would join an organization where he's not in charge

Also! I have figured out the usual formula. They start the episode with both a mission usually, and give one character a personal conflict. Things get to their worst at about the 16 minute mark, resolve at about 20/21 minutes, have a final scene with the team and a final final scene reveal the bad guys were actually part of the Light conspiracy thing. Honestly it's kind of comforting having a formula

Overall, pretty good. Can't say how quickly I'll watch it, or how often I'll post about it, but I'm going to keep watching it, which is pretty good, particularly for a kids show

Also if someone's reading this and really curious about what I think about something specific, feel free to send an ask, it'll be fun :)

[artsofmetamoor]

Hey! I want you to know never doubt it, your art is FAN-TASTIC 👀 and it deserves all the praise it can get! 💖✨️❤️

How do you come up with your designs for the characters? Diego in particular; how did you come up with the design or the color scheme and the like! Seems a complicated process of thought!

Thank you so much for your incredibly kind words, it means a lot!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Oh gosh, there's a bit to unpack here, but I'll try not to drag it! Diego is an interesting choice, not many people ask me about him, you are very attentive stranger! It's kind of funny because when I first created him he had a simple antagonistic role, mainly because I didn’t have much experience with character design or storytelling at the time. Both him and my skills are still growing.

When designing a character, I start by exploring their personality, background, and role in the story. So now I aimed to capture Diego's inner qualities and flaws, as well as how his environment and relationships influence him. From his pose, to the way he carries himself, his expressions, the silhouette of his body e.t.c. all of that must hint to the viewer who is is as a person.

For instance Diego has mostly the role of an archer in the rebellion, so he should have well-developed upper arms and shoulders. However, given his stealthy and cunning nature, I imagined him to be toned and athletic rather than overly muscular despite being a warrior. Additionally, Diego has a subtle 'posh' vibe to him even when he's being erratic, which I try to show through small details like elegant movements or the gestures of his hands.

After deciding his body structure I move over to all the other details that add to his character. For example I also wanted his clothes to balance his personality with his role in a rebellion, so they are a bit more elegant for a rebel, reflecting his slightly vain nature, but I also tried to portray them as practical. Everything he wears has a purpose, whether it’s for mobility, stealth, or durability in battle. The elegance in his attire is subtle, maybe in the cut of his tunic or the way his boots are laced, but it’s there, showing that he’s someone who cares about how he presents himself. Now that I think about it Diego is pretty much like an elf ranger 😆

As far as his colors go, one of the first things I knew I wanted for Diego was red hair. Even though it’s a bit cliché, I felt it symbolized the fiery aggression he carries inside. As his character developed, the red hair came to represent not just aggression, but also his passion, determination, and his intense need to prove himself (feelings he often keeps hidden). The color also reflects how he loves fiercely, sometimes to the point of self-destruction. I focused on keeping his hair red and built the color scheme around it because having that one fixed detail made the rest of the design process easier for me.

After that I used complementary and softer colors such as greens and earthly browns to highlight his outfit, eyes e.t.c.

It can definitely seem daunting to create something from scratch, I always try to go back to basics so things don't turn into a rumble in my head. For example, when I'm choosing color schemes for either characters or environments I tend to just look back at color theory, and I know that might seem dull, but it’s incredibly important and useful for understanding how colors interact and complement each other (just like it is important to understand anatomy for drawing figures).

I won’t dive into the technical details since there are plenty of online tutorials, but one reference I highly recommend is James Gurney’s book Color and Light. It’s been a game-changer for me and it's a tool I frequently return to when I feel stuck in my coloring process:

Palette generators are also useful resources:

https://color.adobe.com/create/color-wheel

Even stuff like character creator and dress-up games can be surprisingly effective for inspiration and kick starting a base for character designs and color schemes if you are feeling stuck. Some of our most beloved original characters started from this, combined with the techniques I mentioned above. For example, Dilla was initially created by @katerinaaqu using one of these games (left). I then drew her and fleshed out her body structure and tailored her appearance to better fit her personality and physical descriptions, as we both envisioned her (right) :

With this I also must point out that the development of Diego and the entirety of Chronicles of Metamoor was a team effort. My friend @katerinaaqu, an awesome writer who collaborates with me on this project, played a big role in shaping these characters. Her detailed descriptions, stories, and insights were very important to bring them all to life ❤️

I think this is all for now. I apologize if this explanation was a bit general, but if you (or anyone else) have more questions about Diego’s design or any of our other characters, or even just any general question feel free to ask! Your support and interest in my art and our story mean a lot to me, thank you so much! ❤️🌹

[brw]

People claiming Vision is an absent parent irritates me for a lot of reasons, but I think most majorly the idea that because writers are not interested in Vision, that means their absence from Billy and Tommy's lives must be a personal decision.

The reality is, not a lot of writers care about Vision. This is fine; they are primarily a supporting cast side character these days, and long have the days when they were one of the main sources of drama and storytelling on the Avengers past. Vision is not active in Billy and Tommy's life, because Vision isn't active in anybody's life right now. Very few of their major relationships are particularly defined right now, with the only exception really being Viv and maybe Wanda. And even with Viv, we don't know what her day to day life looks like, how she and Vision interact with each other at home, if Vision still wants Viv to attend higher education. How does Vision feel about Amka still living with them? We don't know, and we likely never will.

Or, Vision's relationship to Simon. What's that like, right now? Other than vague amicability with no explanation of how these two, who historically have had a very fraught and tense relationship, got to that place. Does Simon know Viv? Does he care about any of his nephews? Does he have any opinions on Vision being a full time Avenger? We don't know! Or, Ultron. How does Vision feel about their abusive father coming back as a hero? Is Vision going to project the fatherhood they've always wanted but never had onto Mark 12, or will Vision try to be amicable but ultimately reject him because the pain of Ultron's neglect and abuse is too much? We probably won't ever know, either.

None of the relationships that Vision should have been large and consistent and clear in their life are there. Vision is a side character for whoever needs it, and this is fine, but it makes it very frustrating when readers take this absence as proof Vision is negligent and doesn't care about Tommy and Billy and in fact barely knows their names, when the reason is very clearly "Vision is not a major character and not someone any writer particularly cares enough to dive in deep to their own relationships with their children".

And, just in case it needs to be said, Tommy and Billy I don't think particularly want or need Vision in their lives, anyway. It's upsetting, because I'd like to see those dynamics explored, but they both knew and were friends with Jonas, the dead teen Young Avengers version of Vision. It makes sense they wouldn't be falling over themselves to acquaint themselves with Vision, when the ghost of their dead friend is essentially staring back.

Basically, I just think genuinely trying to claim Vision is an absent parent to Billy and Tommy is ridiculous for a lot of reasons. It's a very Watsonian way to look at something that has a very clear answer as to why we don't see that relationship; none of the writers handling Billy or Tommy or even Wanda have a particular desire to expand on Vision's relationships with these three in any detailed or nuanced way. This is again, fine; I would not expect these comics to become the Vision hour, because this ain't about them. But it's odd to me to act like this lack of care is due to a moral failing on Vision's part, and not just a long history of contemporary writers not really knowing to do with Vision, which is why something as bad as Tom King's character assassination series was allowed to exist.

Also, like, name one time Wanda has ever spoken to Tommy outside of Billy. The reasoning for this is very much the same; very few writers care about Tommy outside of Billy, and it shows in how underdeveloped his dynamic is with her. But you don't see people applying the same absent parent narrative, assumedly because people recognise the reason just is that Tommy unfortunately plays second fiddle to his twin, as is the unfortunate case for every pair of Marvel twins, more or less.

[artist-issues]

(I may have accidentally clicked the Unfollow button instead of the Ask button, my bad!! 😅 Still following ya!)

I'm here to deliver you a fun question amidst a world full of negativity, and that is;

If you ever had the opportunity to create your own story/animated film, what would you want it to be about? Who would be the characters and how would you want to write their stories? Would you bring in subtle tenets of your faith, or go all-out Lewis/Tolkien and dive into analogy/Christian values? Fantasy or Sci-fi? Romcom or thriller? Adventure or something cosy and intimate? Any worldbuilding?

Basically, if you could write your dream stories, what would they be about?

Sorry if you've got a similar question before, but I am really curious. Your posts talking about storytelling and faith always fascinate me, and I'd love to know how someone with such a love for Christ and stories would go about creating their own stories 💙

This is a wonderful question! I can't tell you how wonderful. Thank you! I'm so glad you follow me still!

I guess I'd always lean more toward allegory, and fantasy. I don't know how to make a story that isn't saying something very intentionally about God and people and their relationship to God.

It's funny, my taste in stories is more intimate. My favorite Disney movie is Lilo & Stitch, for example. But I have a hard time boiling it down when I make my own stories, because I like to trace every character's motivations back to their source--and when I do that, I wind up world building without meaning to, for way longer than I planned!

I make my stories based off of the Invisible Ink model by Brian McDonald, with a few tweaks to the outline so that it makes sense to me specifically.

So I always start with a thesis statement, the Point of the Story, the lesson I'm hoping it teaches. Then I break it down by listing "characters that need to learn it" and "characters that believe the opposite of it" and "characters that know it already." And then how they all interact, and where they'll be by the end of the story. Fun stuff like setting and fictional history and characterizations come while I'm filling all of that in, kind of naturally, which I wish I was better at giving in to.

Anyway! On to the fun part of your question;

I keep my stories really private because I have learned that if I "tell" the story, even just in a summary or a tumblr post or a text to a friend, I lose a lot of inspiration and a lot of...mental freedom to finish the story itself. It's like once I say it out loud, that version of the story is final in my subconscious, and I have less motivation to tweak it.

So I don't tell people about my ideas. Not unless we're officially or professionally collaborating.

But this question is so GOOD and I so APPRECIATE IT, that I'm going to get over that and tell you about one, for example, that I started doing but probably won't get to make.

I call it "Come When You're Called" and it's a story about a sheep farm, from the perspective of the farm animals (but specifically the dogs.) The style is like if all of Ruyard Kipling's Serious Animals With Their Own Noble Cultures met Albert Payson Terhune's How Animals Thrive Serving Their Owners met Disney's Fun Anthropomorphic Animals.

The main character is a border collie named Sky Blue (she's liver-colored with blue eyes) who is learning the lifestyle of a good dog on her master's farm. She's very energetic. Thats the one word you could use to describe her. She never stops trying to play or have fun. She's proud of being the fastest dog on the property; the older border collie she's learning from, Sharps, isn't even as fast as she is. He's teaching her how to recognize the Master's commands and obey them immediately.

Sharps is excellent at what he does, but he's super irritable because all he cares about is the work. If he had a character arc, it would be to find his identity in how much his Master loves him instead of how well he can do his job. When he first meets Sky, he doesn't like her because there's a subtle fear that he's getting too old to do the work himself. He's very strict.

There's another older dog on the property. His name is Lockjaw but everybody calls him LJ, and he's the opposite of Sharps. He's even older, wiser, and downright jolly. He used to be the guard dog for the whole huge property, but he's been raising a young German Shepherd named Buckwild to take it over. Buckwild and LJ have southern accents and Buck is a very smart, good dog...as long as someone tells him what to do, and exactly how to do it: his default state is laziness. He becomes Sky's love interest.

Anyway, the music would be very highlands-folksy—think The Oh Hellos. Each animal species on the farm has its own "culture," but they all function like a kingdom serving their king, the human Master. When you're living by that code of obeying and fulfilling your purpose, the animals generally call it "Coming When You're Called." But if you are disobedient, lazy, or out for yourself, stealing food or killing the Master's chickens or whatever, you're twisted and looked at with scorn and apprehension by the good animals.

It would be super episodic. 🤷‍♀️ There's villain characters, like a pack of wolves that like to try picking off the sheep every once in a while. Theres also a tomcat who does not Come When He's Called, but just sort of does whatever he wants around the farm and causes mischief. Theres a tiny black kitten who Sky teaches what she's learning, about how to Come When You're Called, who wants to grow up and chase the lazy tomcat off and take his place. Stuff like that.

I have other ideas. One, in particular, I've mentioned before, got me involved with the studio I'm currently working in. It's an allegory to do with a siren, vampire, and werewolf in the early 2000s. But I'll keep that one to myself 🫢 for now! The story the studio and I are making right now is sci-fi fantasy adventure, about a family that needs to figure out their relationship to each other and the world they're finding themselves rulers of...but that's all I'll say about that until it's out there for people to watch!

Really I like creating all of it. I've got a sci-fi idea, three fantasy ones, and then an ongoing batch of monster stories, too! I guess I always tend to create as if my audience is...in that 12-20 range? But really, like Disney, I'd like it if my stuff could be enjoyable for all ages. We'll see! I think! I hope!

Thank you for this question!

[takeariskao3]

Hey Hannah, could we get some headcanons of Hinny in TPFY and AG? I just want to see how they differentiate between the two stories.

it's so funny to me that this time last year i was asking myself this exact question. but i haven't done this little thought experiment for quite a while because pretty quickly the two ginnys solidified into very different versions her and they definitely take up very different headspaces throughout the stories. honestly even in my own planning and perceptions of them.. they are two very separate people. that sounds so weird because in theory they ARE the same character, but at the same time i did have to find some differences to make the fics unique, and for the prose and narration to sound fresh.

with that being said, this is going to be so disorganized and disjointed. i already know half of it isn't going to make sense to anyone but me, but life is nuts, it's where my head's at right now, and i can't change it.

here goes nothing

i guess i can start with how they are similar? in both stories, the seven books are canon. they are a great foundation and framework for me to work in, i know each book like the back of my hand and i really had no desire to try to tweak or change anything in the original text.

HOWEVER, the main difference between the two, is the path from you is not epilogue compliant. and that was born from several questions that haunted me for about a decade before i even had the idea or the inclination to write hp fanfiction. but the main two i wanted to explore and answer were 1) did ginny really know it was harry that walked past her on his way to the forest? i'm pretty sure she did. so how does she react to something like that? how does that fit into their relationship arc and how does him not stopping parallel other things in their relationship? and 2) what happened to her at hogwarts in her 6th year? how did that affect her in the weeks, months, years afterward?

so why do those questions need to be explored and answered in an canon (read: epilogue) divergent setting? mostly because i didn't really like the epilogue (🤷) but also because it seemed like a two birds one stone situation. i needed time and space between 'the end' (chap 1, which really exists as a prologue?) and 'the beginning' (chap 2, which is when we pick up after the time jump). for maximum angst, tension, and storytelling potential.

so in short, tpfy!ginny is defined by her reaction to harry's march to death/faked death, and her reaction to her own experiences (trauma) during the occupied year at hogwarts.

once i had that story/plot idea in mind. i really started to try and shape ginny into a coherent personality. i mean we have the framework, right? we know what she's like at school, we know what her family and what her classmates say about her, and we know how she acts and interacts when she is in scenes with harry. but how does that become a person. i settled on five (ish) defining character traits (which are basically just a textbook enneagram 8)

Ginny is self-reliant and self-confident. she want's to prove her strength and resist any weakness, she wants to be important in the world, she wants to be a decision maker in her own life/situation, and she wants to be in control of those situations.

the main conflict then became, the way tpfy!ginny feels about harry makes her feel out of control, or another way of putting it, is she can't control how she feels about him. it's instinctual, overwhelming, and it scares her a bit because she doesn't feel like she is in control of her decisions when it comes to him. loving him, caring about him, putting his needs before hers, are all things that she does that don't feel like conscious decisions. this is directly at war with her base personality.

which i've got to say, has been so fun to write. i just torture her, i know i do.

moving on

already gone was born from a place of curiosity and literally took on three or even four different forms before it was an amenesia fic. i had spent nearly a year working on the path from you and was trying to find ways to piece harry and ginny back together again in this altered timeline, and one night i was just like.. 'how the fuck did they do this right away??' i really honestly just wanted to figure it out, for my own peace of mind. how did they get back together within a canon (read: epilogue) compliant timeline.

so i started brainstorming, and i wrote a really angsty post-war oneshot for @hinnyfied's birthday and i thought... this might be something. i might have something here.

but then i was like HOW is she different from tpfy!ginny? because she has to be... but she also still has to be ginny!? but for all the wonderful characteristics she possesses, those same traits can be her own worst enemy (which in tpfy they are)

so in already gone, what is the catalyst that sends her down a different path? i decided it was mostly pretty simple... ag!ginny, didn't make the connection, or at least didn't know for sure that harry walked by her on his way into the forest. the rustle she heard was just that, a rustle. i also decided that the events during her 6th year maybe weren't as horrifying(?), trauma inducing (?), specific to just her(?), as they are in tpfy.

but these were all decisions i made when i was just attempting to write a summer '98 a story.

i really didn't settle on the amnesia plot until two or three months later, because as much as i wanted that summer to be an angsty will they/won't they... it just wasn't. harry and ginny took on a completely different relationship arc than what i had planned and it became, not a story of reconciliation, which i so desperately wanted, but a story of mutual dependency, and the idea that home for them isn't a place, but a person. their relationship (and i do mean both of them, this isn't exclusive to just harry) post-war wasn't born out of shared interests, and sense of humor, and similar values, but of a deep understanding that some wounds don't heal, and some grief can't be quantified. but with that understanding, they can still move forward and live with it. as long as they're together.

so then i was a real bitch and i took it away.

whoops.

BUT THEN THE REALLY FUN PART STARTED HAPPENING

because while i like to assume ginny is deeply affected by her experience with the diary, by order of the phoenix she has either buried it so deep in an effort not to process, OR processed it enough that she can hide any lingering thoughts or actions that might still plague her because of it. she is not defined by her trauma. she has outwardly overcome.

she is also in her peak "i am over harry potter" phase.

like c'mon. that's hilarious. because she wakes up married to him.. and she is also thrown back into an (outwardly) well-adjusted mindset. which could possibly (i will neither confirm or deny this at present because spoilers) throw a big wrench into her relationship that is rooted in shared trauma and the understanding of that trauma. cannot stress this enough, already gone harry and ginny were and are co-dependent. but i sort of love that for them?

ANYWAYS

i've rambled enough. i hope this makes at least some sort of sense. and thanks so much for reading both stories!

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Another important storytelling skill (at least in my writing process) is learning how to pare away what's not needed. I always start with a basic idea that needs fleshing out. Then after I flesh out several aspects of the story, I need to examine that sprawl and figure out which pieces are the important ones--the ones that support the main plot, character and thematic threads of the story--and then prune away the unnecessary ones that distract from that.

With fairy tale retellings, there's an extra layer to this process. Fairy tales come with certain plot points and iconic images, and you want to include as many of them as possible. But fairy tales are allowed to have stuff happen "just because", while a retelling needs to make all these pieces fit together in a coherent character and thematic arc. There are many ways to adapt different elements, and you need to figure out which approaches allow each element to make the most sense in your story. Your story, unlike the original fairy tale, needs to have a point--a theme or arc that it's highlighting--and the story choices you make need to serve that. If a certain piece doesn't make sense with that arc, it's best to take out or alter that element rather than force it in where it doesn't fit.

Crafting, arranging, and paring away all these pieces is an ongoing and layered process--part sculpting, part jigsaw puzzle. And a retelling has an extra layer of difficulty, because it can be tough to determine which elements are serving the story and which ones you're just shoving in because they're part of the original fairy tale.

"The Goose Girl" can be a difficult story to retell, because it has a lot of iconic elements that don't really connect to the main plotline. Most retellings that try to shove in everything have at least one element that's a poor fit in the storyworld, or gloss over a piece of it by making it metaphorical or whatever. Part of the challenge I set myself was trying to keep all the elements in the story, but in creative ways that didn't break the world and mood I was crafting. I did develop explanations for every element, most of which I rather liked. But I've come to the conclusion that the story will be better served if I pare some of them away to focus on the story that I really want to tell.

So the thing that keeps attracting me back to this story idea is the politics. This story is all about differing ideas of leadership. How should a leader conduct themselves? What actions is a leader justified in taking to preserve power? How do ideals balance with practicalities? The handmaid's ruthless seizure of power seems to have left her the victor, while the real princess's morals leave her powerless. The princess has to decide which actions she is justified and willing to take to get her crown back; she has to decide what kind of leader she is going to be. And these questions are all tangled up with the personal relationships--after such a devastating betrayal from her handmaid, the princess has to decide just how far she is willing to trust this foreign trickster king who's offering help.

You'll notice there's not much magic in that plotline. That doesn't mean there can't be. I've tried weaving in some subtle magical explanations for things like the princess's inability to reveal the truth, or her ability to control the wind. But the more I consider it, the more this worldbuilding seems like a distraction from the very grounded, political, personal plotline I actually care about. It feels like these elements are just tacked on because they exist in the original fairy tale. It feels much more fitting to have cultural or character explanations for most of these elements--at most, some minor magical elements, or hints that there could be magic explanations even if the characters aren't quite sure. This keeps the focus on the choices and characters of these people instead of on the magical elements that are hemming them in. I need to focus on these three central characters--the princess, the handmaid, and the king--and how their differing philosophies interact to draw out the theme and bring about the final resolution. If that means losing a few pieces of the original fairy tale, so be it. What matters is keeping the elements that allow me to tell my story.

[onewomancitadel]

I was thinking recently about what sort of warnings for sexual content I should put on something I'm going to post and it made me rethink the expectations of tagging for sexually explicit content. I find the tag 'dubcon' almost universally offensive because it's sexual assault/rape or it isn't. There is no 'grey area', particularly and especially in, say - this was an example that cropped up to my mind - magical scenarios.

The point of a magical scenario ('fuck or die') is to force the characters to admit what they really want. It's not literally analogous to a real-life situation. It's a tool of the genre. They both really want it and it literally requires magical forces to make them have sex. If you are taking it as a literal mechanic, if, say, it's true and romantic love and not a problematic relationship you're depicting, the characters would achieve any means possible to not rape their love interests. Like I don't know how to convey exactly how offensive the idea is of taking the magical scenario, construing it as dubcon, and then writing that as a lovey-dovey wholesome romance. It's fucking insane. It's not fucking dubcon. In that case, just straight up admit what it is if they cannot plausibly and fully consent!

I especially hate inebriated characters tagged dubcon because nobody's really in agreement about if a tipsy/sober character sex constitutes dubcon or not because it's an awkward conversation in real life which is complicated by the fact that alcohol is working as a narrative lubricant. If both characters are inebriated/drunk that's probably less a grey area, but we all know someone who is black out drunk, slurring etc. is not in a position to have sex and whether or not there is sex taking place, I'd be concerned about a friend or a love interest who was black out drunk/slurring/loss of coordination etc. It's not just a question of consent but caring for those around you. It's not just strict romance mechanics.

Like, either say it is rape or it isn't. Stake some actual ground. The reality is that rape is a terrifying idea and it's not a word people like thinking about; the archetypal idea of rape is forcible, violent sex, and that's basically it. You don't use the word and people are alright talking about it, both in the sense of victimhood and in active battery.

What's incensing to me is that dubcon does not have any equivalent in real life. It really doesn't, and I'm sorry to talk about such a brutal topic but it really, really doesn't. There are plenty of scenarios no one wants to call rape. There is no way that 'dubcon' as a concept can hold up legally or morally. It completely neuters the ability to disambiguate between sex and rape. If you accept that there are circumstances where you can reasonably argue that consent is blurred then you effectively neuter the defense to talk about rape in a meaningful way.

It is so patently absurd I can only hope that it's just a logical consequence of the phenomenon of overtagging for the most bizarre things. The reality is that in overcorrecting with 'dubcon' you are now tagging for potentially much more violent content than it is (is it rape?) which thereby makes so many sexual dynamics in storytelling murky. Is it rape if they both really want it but one of them thinks the other doesn't and is trying to get them to stop? I've seen this type of thing tagged dubcon.

To circle back to romance, excluding darkfic (I mean, even use of dubcon there is absurd), I never ever ever ever want my characters in a situation where they have plausibly sexually assaulted/raped their love interest. It's true love. They would rather die than do that. You have to actually consider the implications of what dubcon actually means.

I get that there is probably some defense of dubcon - and it's uncomfortable to consider the fact that one may not enjoy dubcon but enjoy reading about rape - but frankly I think it doesn't speak to a feminist 'overcorrection', I think what it actually speaks to is the prevailing discomfort surrounding the topic of rape and the self-awareness of it being an uncomfortable topic that people are starting to talk more about, but without any of the actual determination and grit to confront what it really is and what that really constitutes for sexual politics and, well, tagging shit on your AO3 fic.

To be completely straightforward the politics of forcing people to tag for potentially problematic content has a) obviously backfired, and b) is rooted in crybully fandom policing and control; it's not something practised in published literature as it is and reading is where you have the most consent and control over something you're participating in even without warnings. You choose to imagine the things that you are reading. Yes, I'm aware the common refrain of protecting 'problematic' fic and darker literature is that it's 'tagged for', but I don't think that's the first or last justification for its existence. The practice of tagging (in my eyes) has more to do with classifying what a fic is, not to serviceably cover every conceivable potential trigger.

That, to me, this practice of overtagging and more specifically 'dubious consent' actually has extreme feminist implications is maddening to me. Because it's not about feminism or safe spaces or looking after people. Not at all.

The irony is that critiquing this is what would incur accusations of anti-feminism or somesuch nonsense, which is obviously the problem rooted in adopting feminism as merely an Internet aesthetic and as a corporate image. But I think it should be patently clear that the implications of dubcon has on the concept of sex, rape and consent have not been thought through.

[futilecombat]

6, 9, 19? :]

6. Favourite secondary character?

Hm hm hm. I think people might expect me to say ren (ryuki) but it’s actually ichijou. Without getting too into specific events because I want my beautiful friends to watch kuuga someday, the way his character changes of his own accord and is changed by his relationships throughout the show’s run was deeply affecting and perfectly suited to my storytelling tastes lol. & Additionally I just think shingo katsurayama performed incredibly in that show. I’ve been sayinggggg the emotional minutiae he’s able to portray with his expressions alone no dialogue is remarkable to me.

9. Favourite theme song?

Already answered for opening/ending theme so let’s do non-show insert songs. Surprising absolutely no one…its red rock & mirage mirror

19. If you could go back and change one show, what would you change?

[Looks around]

The ending arc of drive was extremely unsatisfying to me for a variety of reasons, some of which are moment-to-moment decisions and most of which had been building up for quite some time throughout the second half of the show and came to a head in the finale episodes. Which is sad to me because I did enjoy the show and I think it had a lot of good points & standout episodes! I will try to keep this brief LOL

1. The kiriko sidelining was so shameless it felt insane. Quite literally sitting her out of the final couple of episodes was the most egregious but additionally the way the rest of the cast hid banno’s identity from her excluded her from part of the narrative that is EXTREMELY relevant to her— past that, once it was revealed to her, no time was taken whatsoever to dwell on her emotions or opinions, and in the end go gets the catharsis of killing banno for good. & That scene is fantastic, a highlight for me, but banno is kiriko’s father too, and I don’t feel like the show even gave me enough information to describe what her feelings on the matter would’ve been.

2. Tomari’s storyline couldve wrapped after the type tridoron episodes and I would’ve been completely fine with that. When the target of tomari’s ire is “the person that killed his father” it is easy for me to empathize with his position and be compelled by his choices. This is also the point at which his relationship with belt-san is the most interesting. Past that? I feel the falloff is best represented by the fact that the “final boss” (besides the roidmudes and believe me I’ll get to that) is some thing no one’s ever heard of that just started existing in the finale episodes and for that reason is utterly uninteresting. Of course killing banno would fall to go! But now your secondary has taken care of the primary threat of the latter half of the season and your protagonist feels like he’s flailing for relevancy

3. I really really really will try to be brief with this one because I have the most thoughts about it but the underlying moral narrative’s treatment of the roidmudes culminating in tomari’s dialogue with heart at the end was just so so baffling to me … I talked mid-way through about not really getting what the difference is between tomari and go’s stances if both of them, at the end of the day, strive to kill roidmudes— and that did not ever feel resolved. The show gave me all the tools to conceptualize the questions “do roidmudes deserve a chance at life?” and “are roidmudes really so dissimilar from humans?” but by the end of the it I felt that the written content; the positions and the choices of the characters, completely failed to ACTUALLY ask those questions at all, let alone offer either a solution or a meaningful lack of one. Lines like (paraphrasing) “The roidmudes are capable of caring for each other. Seeing that, I want to fight them on equal terms” come to mind as particularly incongruous to me. The difference between the way humans who commit crimes are treated vs roidmudes who commit crimes. Medic dying for… basically no reason? The note of futility in the last confrontation between heart and tomari was the final nail in the coffin for me.. Heart is the only roidmude who ‘surpassed humans’? Tomari? Not chase? Not medic who just a few minutes ago killed herself so you would live? Not brain? Not 072? Isn’t it so tragic that the roidmudes all had to die and we couldn’t live in harmony?! I don’t know, not really, since the only conclusion I can really come to is that that was a choice that the writers, and by extension in-universe: tomari (and co), made. I don’t think you can successfully portray a group of antagonists as victims of abuse responding to that with great nuance of personality and opinion and then also have it be unquestionably okay to kill them like generic cartoon criminals.

So basically I would A. keep kiriko AT THE VERY LEAST emotionally relevant to the relationships established for her and if we’re being real ambitious let her fight there’s no reason she can’t fight other than misogyny and B. Why are we killing roidmudes. Why did we continuously kill roidmudes. Just capture them… you have a scientist character seemingly capable of inventing Anything. B2. The final antagonist for everyone couldve still been banno. And if you need extra bodies for everyone else to fight the weird machine programming shit couldve ALSO been there just as fodder. Chase still could’ve sacrificed himself and it makes sense that everyone would give go/kiriko the final say in whether or not they kill banno for good. So we don’t have to lose any of the good scenes from those episodes.

[loopy777]

I have many issues with the final chapter, big and small, but Izuku himself isnt one of them. In fact he reminded me why i loved the guy so much, a lot in this chapter.

Mostly my problems is how Hori very obviously did not consider how incredibly easy it is to read the rest of the cast in a ludicrously uncharitable light.

I know you make the joke/point that there isnt actually any evidence Katara hadn't divorced aang at some point by Korra. Because the creators didnt really consider the unintended ways you could read what they wrote.

And thats basically the same main problem with the rest of the cast.

Yeah they come through for izuku in the end... But its fully possible to read them as having let their relationship with izuku go anywhere from cooled down a bit, to full on abandoned for the five year period and Izuku is just too nice to complain about it.

Obviously not the creators intended message, but the way he wrote it, did not focus on the strength of Izuku's relationships at all and instead seemed to imply Izuku didnt have any outstanding relationships left with any of the class(Be it iida, uraraka, bakugo, or anyone else.) Was... Not the best choice.

The worst part is that they keep izuku in the dark for 5 freaking years, seemingly just so they can have a massive surprise for him. What if he'd moved away by the time it happened, emigrating to the usa or something? Or gotten married with a kid, and based his entire family plan foreward with the idea that he would have a nice, stable teaching job, where he didnt move around much? Not to mention the school will suddenly and unexpectedly find itself down a teacher if he's actually gonna become a fulltime hero. So there was actual, tangible real problems that came about not telling izuku so he could plan accordingly.

Again, you can easily read this as not as bad as worst case scenario, but you can very easily read it as class 1-A letting their relationship with Izuku be almost abandoned over the five year period, with the idea that they would catch back up again when he could be a full time hero again.

Which is... A rather unfortunate reading, as it would basically mean that 1-A left one of their own alone and withouth support in one of the most trying period of his life when he truly needed them.

Honestly i dont for a second believe thats what Hori intended, but i fully understand why so many people are pissed at the ending.

Its too vague about the stuff that matters, while peeling back the curtain on stuff that we didnt really need to see(Izuku's endless monologues could have been trimmed down to him at least having some thoughts singling out the friends that is his closest form of support).

The fact that you can very easily read the flow of events presented as Izuku being mostly abandoned by his friends for 5 years, is an objective flaw in the writing. Especially when the last chapter was all about the importance of seeking support and giving it to your friends.

I have no problems with izuku himself though beyond maybe being too in denial that he isnt doing so fine. He is still MHA's best boy, easily.

It may be an 'objective flaw.'

But does anyone care? :P

I mean, objectively, it is impossible to nitpick-proof a story against people who want to read against the obvious intent of the text. This is especially true for a comic book, where the storytelling has limited flexibility. (A picture may be worth a thousand words, but those words tend to cluster. When you're writing the words yourself, you can spread 'em out and cover a lot more ground. Especially if you use parentheses.) And I think we can all agree what the intent of the story is supposed to be, here. There is no implication that all of the class completely ghosts Deku for more than half a decade. Sure, nothing in the story may be standing out and saying, "By the way, they have monthly lunches where at least 80% of the class is always present and Deku not only attends every one, but he never has to pay for his meal." But does it need to? Especially when the final beat in the story is that these people went to extraordinary lengths to continue to include him in their adventures?

This is a lot different from my Kataang Divorce Theory, because I'm not just having fun with some missing bits in the storytelling, nor am I trying to criticize the storytellers for being a little sloppy or not nitpick-proofing their story. I'm using it to criticize the treatment of Katara specifically, drawing attention to an unequal depiction of her character compared to other major legacy cast members and in doing so questioning how feminist the work really is compared to what its creators are claiming. That feels like something a lot more legitimate to me than saying, "Well, the ending isn't as bulletproof as I want it to be."

What does this criticism say about MHA? Are we arguing that Deku's character hasn't gotten the attention it deserves? Is the storyteller making claims that the story isn't backing up?

To be generous, maybe there are people out there claiming that MHA is full of rock-solid storytelling and is immune to criticism of its structure. If so, I would not be one of those people. But if they do exist, rather than hitting them with weird bad-faith readings, why don't we just wait for them to hit puberty and discover stories for adults?

Moreover, I don't see anything in the story that claims Deku's Iron Man suit took 5-8 solid years to develop or fund. All Might just says that the data from the big fight created new possibilities, and they want even more data. Knowing Hatsume (and leaning on the consistent humorous tone of MHA), the suit could have been thrown together in a week after a new breakthrough.

So, yes, what you describe is an interpretation that one can make from the given story.

But by All Might's firm buttocks, why would anyone want to do so besides weird trouble-making?

[haekiiu]

before i get into my little review, if you will, i present my thoughts while reading this. 🤓☝️

excuse me?? U DONT GET TO FEEL SAD HAECHAN!! UR THE BAD GUY HERE FACK OFF

uh- anger management issues much? like she’s ignoring u FOR A REASON!! DONT PUNCH THE DOOR

OMG FINALLY SET THOSE BOUNDARIES GIRL!! FUCK HIM!!

too late…. she did.

okay now why would u go to tell her “good luck” STFU like it feels like a ploy to make her think abt him on her date- the guy is basically sabotaging her future relationship

damn. jisung and y/n didn’t work out…

_

NOW THAT WE’RE PAST THAT!!

I feel like what’s best for y/n is to cut haechan off completely. she physically CANNOT do “no romance” w haechan, and it shows so heavily when she keeps asking him to do lovey things for her such as take care of her, or when she got scared when haechan tried to treat her the way he treats all the other girls. like if all you guys are, is fwb, you should be okay if he just treats you as a quick fuck, no? like the whole point is that you guys are friends first, fuck buddies next? idk maybe just start calling each other bro and homie then- perhaps that’ll help their situation and help eliminate any potential romantic feelings.

i was honestly thinking jisung and y/n would have something more? but tbh after reading i feel very neutral… if anything, i think it’s better they didn’t work out, (from a storytelling point of view). i say this because up until this point, y/n has been SOOO obsessed with haechan and literally cant function without the guy in her life, (THE DICK CANT BE THAT GOOD!) and is still currently trying to sort her own feelings out in her head, so ofc she wouldn’t be in the right headspace or position to start a new relationship. and also i think it’s very realistic to have potential partners that’s just don’t work out, like that’s totally normal, and then ending off and agreeing on being friends is a healthy thing to do…. maybe… it is if they’re both being sincere, but if jisung isn’t being genuine about it- RED FUCKING FLAG RUN TF AWAY

i also don’t like how haechan was like, “we do things on your terms” but meanwhile they’re in a fwb situation he basically coerced her into? (some of my logic for this is below) like yea, he’s listening to her and doing whatever she says, but to me it’s like he pushed her into a corner with this one… and the line where he said:

“don’t run from it, just take it”

kinda resonates with me in the essence that when y/n finally decided to set boundaries, or when y/n wasn’t fully willing to start anything with him again, he pulls her back in, and just forces what he wants onto her. if they were to truly be following what what y/n said, and doing things on her terms, they would not be fwb right now. admittedly, i do think they might’ve talked and potentially rekindled again at some point, but im still a heavy believer that if y/n had gone long enough without haechan, and gotten past that initial, “i miss him” phase, she would’ve been fine (for the most part). she has an amazing friend, who’s also an incredible support system for her, and in the end, even she can admit time apart from him was good for her, when haechan was more hesitant.

when dealing with a manipulator like haechan, cutting them off and the aftermath of cutting them off, is always the hardest, but if you’re fortunate enough to have a support system that is taking care of you and showing you what life can be like without them, like JAEMIN, you’ll eventually reach a point from which you can heal from. however, y/n jumped back into this situation FAR too early, quite literally picking at the scab without letting it heal fully. like aiya… u stupid….

also, another thing, I HATE HAECHAN! like go away!! don’t tell her “good luck” before her date??? for this moment, whether it be intentional or not, going to see y/n, is such a manipulative move, and is the last thing someone who’s genuinely happy for her would do, and is very much a tactic to get the other person to think about them to a point where it might get overwhelming. not to to mention that this has the markings of someone who’s still VERY possessive over the other person, which he is. ik this sounds funny, i know, but it’s not like they were friends before this, they had a sex based relationship that was romantically charged, where both parties got hurt, and where both parties are still getting over their residual (more like current) feelings from it. i honestly think that doing this is a way for haechan to still control her. he’s obviously not okay with her going on this date, and i’m betting you that if she knew he wasn’t okay with it, she wouldn’t have gone. and just in general, i feel like it’s going TOO ABOVE AND BEYOND to show her that you’re happy for her and rooting for her? like? that’s so odd, who does that?

ANYWAYS i feel like i’m still processing things, so i’m kinda just rambling, but moral of the story here, JAEMIN ALWAYS KNOWS BEST!

(im also lowkey half asleep while writing this so please excuse anything that doesn’t sense)

haechan — settle down (rockstar hyuck) | part 2 of 3

wc: 18k (yay!) genre: angst, smut (18+ minors dni), a bit of fluff warnings: wet dreams, jerking off, fingering, oral (f receiving), protected sex, making out, praise kink, strength kink (? he's strong...) crying during sex, dirty talk, aftercare...? petnames (baby, princess), and ... names needs to be read after part 1 i think! a/n: shorter warnings list lmfao anyway.... i....this took me awhile but i really hope u enjoy this and the way it reads. let me know what you think and please be kind :) thank you thank you THANK YOU to every single one of you on my taglist and if you've sent me an ask, reblogged, or left a comment. i could not have finished this without u

haechan almost always knew of the hurt he caused — especially to you. 

he knew what he was doing each time he showed up around you at a party, love bites staining his skin and hair messy and wild. he noticed the way you recognised the perfume on him with a crinkle of your nose, or the slight flicker of sadness in your eyes when his phone would vibrate against the bedside table, wandering to the names on his phone. he could feel the way your shoulders tensed when he smiled blankly at you, track your movements as you looked away when he was cozying up with someone else. 

and most of all – he knew that beyond that, you couldn't go to him for all your hurt. and that was what would be most painful, the knowledge that everything you had to suffer was unjustified, feelings not tied to reason, because he never made you any promises.

haechan almost always knew of the hurt he caused — and he always hoped that his touch could be a good enough apology. 

all throughout rehearsals, when they took the trip to the venue, back to when he had woken up that morning, something had stirred in his chest. he was never nervous before shows, but this time he fiddled with his guitar mindlessly, wandering over to the bar and ordering just a few drinks to hopefully dull the way his heart was racing in his chest, alcohol burning a path down his throat. he picked at the way his hair fell over his eyes, re-doing his makeup before the show with the black eyeliner that he couldn't hold without thinking of you. his bandmates watching him carefully, not knowing what had changed. he wouldn't be able to tell them if they'd asked. 

it was only when the girl in the bathroom had stumbled away on shaky feet, leaving one last slick touch on his arm as a goodbye, when all his feelings that had ached in him that day came crashing down in his chest, that crushing weight he couldn't ignore each time he tried to breathe. 

you had kissed him — and it felt like a promise. 

it was this thought that now stung at him, as he watched the numbers on the screen of the elevator flick higher and higher. he had made his way to your apartment as if on autopilot, driving down streets now too familiar. he always knows the hurt he causes you — and he feels it now, like retribution, because even now he has no right to be angry at you. no right to blame you for his hurt, because while he had never made you promises, in reality you hadn't either. 

but the reality was he was here now, knocking on your apartment door. 

"y/n?" 

there's warm light seeping out under your apartment door, he can see all your shoes on the rack outside. jaemin's not home, but you definitely are. 

he knocks again, a bitter taste in his mouth. 

"y/n, i know you're home." 

his hand curls into a fist, and he hits it against the door, twice. he thinks he can hear something beyond the door, a clink of something like keys, so he raises his voice, the tone of it rough. 

"are you happy now?" 

mark has told him he gets vindictive when he's hurt or scared, has urged him to think before he speaks. 

"does it make you feel like you have the upper hand? standing me up?"

but haechan can't distinguish what he's feeling right now. 

"because i don't care at all," he spits, lies he'd never rehearsed, the alcohol mixing with thoughts he didn't even know he had, to inflict the cruelest hurt. "at least i know the girl i fucked didn't feel any different." his voice dips low, cold freezing over each syllable. "i hope you know even if you went, i still would've picked her. it didn't make any difference." 

the night is still, and quiet. his words seem to swell in the air, ringing around in his head. he stands in front of the door, head lowered, hand still lingering on cool surface, breaths dragged out of his lungs painfully. he waits for so long, that he wonders if he was speaking to no one at all — if you'd been asleep, if he imagined the sounds beyond the door.  

but then there's a soft click, and the door drifts open. 

the moment haechan sees you, he feels it like a shot to his chest, because something was terribly wrong. 

it's not just the tears running down your cheeks. 

your face is blotchy and red, dark circles under your teary eyes, your hair mussed up and tangled. you're wrapped in layers of clothing despite the cool summer night, your body still trembling with cold, and when you speak, your voice is so hoarse and broken that it makes goosebumps break out over his skin — and an achy tone he never wanted to hear from you ever again.

"it didn't make a difference?"  

his lips part. he tugs on his jacket, trying to to close it, to pull up his collar a little higher, but it's too late — your eyes are already reading the marks on his skin, drinking in every last detail of him. 5 minutes ago he had wanted nothing more than for you to open the door and see him exactly like this — lipstick smudged lips and fucked out eyes, the smell of fake roses clinging to each fibre of his clothing, the rips in his jeans tugged this way and that.  

and all at once he knew — you had wanted to go, and he just accused you of the worst thing. you were going to go, and now he was forcing you to look at him like this. if the trip here made him feel vulnerable and bruised, he knew it must have felt like this for you too on the nights he didn't ask for you — the two of you sharing feelings that you weren't supposed to have, that you couldn't justify.  

now haechan sees the way your face crumples, tears gathering on your waterline. you lift your hands to wipe them away, and it's like he can feel the way your chest shakes with wounded sounds and choked sobs, your fingers clenching into fists as you bite your lip to keep from bursting into tears.  

"y/n-" he breathes. "are you…is everything —" 

"s-so you didn't mean it? when you invited me?" you're trying to steady your breathing. every second that passes where he's watching you fall to pieces in the doorway feels like it's searing into haechan's skin, the heavy feeling in his chest increasing tenfold with guilt. he swallows, as he watches you take a few deep breaths. "i thought… i thought it meant…when you invited m-me you said you weren't making empty promises —" 

"i wasn't." he bites his lip, taking a step towards you. "y/n —" 

but you back away. "i was going to go, haechan. i was really going to go –" 

"i know." he knew now. 

" — but i've been sick since yesterday, and it wasn't getting any better, i couldn't leave the house –" 

"why didn't you tell me?" he desperately wants to run away, but he knows it's worse for you. 

your voice is small. "i don't have your number."

it had slipped his mind. it was something so stupid, something so small – how he never wanted to give you a way to talk to him, or give himself an easy way to access you, didn't want things to be too easy. all of it had slowly built up to that feeling each time he glanced at his phone that night, clutching the lifeless device in his hands. 

the last thing he should do, if he ever wanted to see you again, is blame you. he bites back his question of why you didn't ask jaemin for help, wrapping his jacket around his body self-consciously, running a hand through his hair.  "i forgot," he whispers. hurt flickers across your face again. 

"i d-don't know why i thought this would be different." you wipe at your face, biting your lip again to keep from trembling. "i hoped that maybe, even if i couldn't show up, you'd come here and take care of me. when i heard you outside the door…" 

the words have a bitter bite to them, and you spit them out like you hate the taste in your mouth, hate every memory associated with his care. 

"i'll take care of you," he pleads, quickly, stepping towards you. 

he doesn't know what he expected, if you'd showed up. maybe he'd play for you, and leave with your hand in his. maybe he could have taken you in his car, or in his soft sheets at home. brought you out for a late dinner, sit with you and let you pry him open as you always did. or maybe he'd say nothing at all, and nothing would have changed – he didn't know. 

his touch has always been his apology, always his way of reaching you through the only sure thing the both of you wanted from each other. but the look on your face tells him that the brush of his fingertips against your skin is only cruelty. 

"you're fucked up if you think i'm letting you take care of me now," your voice is grating, rough on his skin. 

"but i-"

"you'll hold me like this? force me to stare at the marks on your chest? breathe the perfume that isn't yours?" your tone is harsh and accusatory. he takes it all. "what were you going to do, if i showed?" 

and for once, haechan can't help but be honest. "i don't know," he mumbles, and he sees the words hit you like a strike to your face.

"you knew i wanted more," you whisper. "you knew i wanted to be close to you, but you always…you always –" 

"wanted?" he asks, quietly.  

"you can't think i still want to know you, after everything. whatever person lies behind all that…" your tears have stopped, your voice unfeeling. the numbness in you mirrors his own. "i want nothing to do with him." 

he can't think of anything to say. he reaches out a hand, and for a moment you let his fingers graze your arm, fear and hurt in the way they curl around your wrist, begging you to hold on to him too. you're scaring him, and he doesn't know how to go back, but he knows he deserves everything you're saying to him. deserves the way you shake free of his hold and close the door, his feet stumbling over themselves as he backs away. 

you said you didn't want to know him, that you didn't know him at all. but he can't help thinking that's not true, because you knew him enough to know exactly how to hurt him through the walls, through the boy he pretended to be, right through his chest and past his ribcage, right into his aching heart. 

—

ever since your fever broke, your life had been quiet. 

you go to all your classes. you cut down on coffee by getting sleep at night. you take walks with jaemin around the neighborhood, falling back into old routines. movie nights, and grocery trips. he was coddling you, and you felt it every day — coming home to warm meals, the way he was more forgiving over little disputes. you didn't deserve it, watching him slip out of the front door quietly, camera bag slung over his shoulder. 

you didn't deserve it, because you ached to follow. 

some part of you was still trapped inside your room, heady and aching, desperately trying to reach him. needing his apology, needing him to recognise the way he hurt you. you couldn't look for answers in your memories, but you played each scene back in your mind like a looping film reel, letting images suffocate you — his jacket falling open, love bites marking his skin, all the times he's slipped from your grasp. and yet, other fragments come back too — the warmth of his hand on yours in the car, the slight tilt of his head as he brought his gaze level with yours, seeking you out when things got too much. his quiet answers in the dark, the slow smile that spread across his face that made you glow, knowing you'd made him happy. 

"he got off lightly," you tell jaemin one night, the both of you on the floor by the couch. ice cream and wine drip condensation on the table-top, and the both of you are too heavy with the rush of sugar and alcohol, the clock ticking in the silence of the room as you sit.  

"you just want to see him again," he'd replied, quietly. "don't you?" 

"i just wish we could have talked." your voice is small. you and haechan never truly talked, except for some nights in the dark, lying in his arms afraid to breathe, afraid of breaking the tenderness that swelled in the room, afraid of turning on the lights to see who you were holding in the shadows.

"and then what? you'd be together?" jaemin glances over at you, and the concern in his eyes makes you shrink back even more. you were supposed to be doing better. everything in your life was right, it was exactly the way it should be — but why did you feel empty? 

"then i'd at least have closure," you mumble. "i'm never going to get any answers unless i talk to him." 

a brief expression of discomfort crosses jaemin's face, but it's gone when you blink. 

"i just don't want you to see him again, and forget all the ways he hurt you." 

you don't say a word. both of you knew that it was something too likely to happen. 

—

it's dark in haechan's room. the boy liked it shadowy, black-out curtains drawn over the windows, the air cool from air-conditioning, an air humidifier spewing light blue mist in the corner. the boy sitting in bed had his guitar in his lap, picking at the strings quietly, his phone face-up on the bed next to him, recording his ideas. he was swaddled in a large hoodie, swallowing his frame, shorts riding high on his thighs as he curls into himself. 

he doesn't look up when mark shuffles in, closing the door behind him quietly, blinking as his eyes adjust to the low light. 

"jaemin's outside." 

haechan nods. "i heard you." his voice is a soft sound, boyish. mark has heard it enough growing up, that he knows haechan is scared. he knows haechan is waiting for answers, waiting for the verdict.

"he says he'll only continue to work with us if you stop seeing… y/n." 

the name trips in his mouth, clumsy. it feels strange to use it, especially around haechan, who knows you more than any of them do, like he's saying something he's not allowed to, a boy using an expletive he doesn't understand. haechan's body tenses when he hears your name in mark's voice, predictable, almost laughable — the slight tightening of his nimble fingers on the neck of the guitar, slip of his fingers on the guitar pick. 

"okay." and the boy goes back to playing. 

"you'll stop seeing y/n?" 

"yeah." mark moves closer to the bed, sees haechan's lower lip caught in his teeth. 

"haechan, stop." 

the boy shakes his head roughly, plucking at the strings a little harder. 

"what happened? what happened between you and y/n?" 

"i'll stop seeing her." 

"stop acting like i don't know you," mark mumbles, finally sitting down on the bed. haechan stills, as mark pulls the guitar away from him, his hands going limp as he lets mark set it down at the foot of the bed. "i hate it when you do that."  

"i'm sorry." a beat, then haechan buries his face in his hands, pulling at his features, before letting his arms drop down to the bed again. "could you…could you at least tell her?" 

"tell her what?" 

"that jaemin told me to stay away." haechan fiddles with the hem of his shirt, head still lowered. "i…i shouldn't be the one avoiding her. she should be avoiding me." 

"is there a difference?" 

"yeah." he mumbles his words, plush lips barely forming each syllable. "because i hurt her. i can't hurt her and then ignore her…that's…that's not right."

"so you want to keep seeing her?" 

"i just want…" his voice is hollow, and when he looks up at mark — the dim light in the room catching on the features of his face, mark can finally see the way his lips were raw, skin torn and bitten. his eyes, usually sharp and piercing, are puffy and swollen from crying, dazed pupils blinking up at him. "mark, i don't think i've ever hurt someone like this before."

mark wonders what he could have done, but he doesn't ask. "do you want to make it right?" 

"i don't know how." he swallows, throat bobbing. "i don't know if i can." 

"maybe avoiding her isn't the best thing…" mark starts, putting a hand on haechan's arm, but haechan flinches. 

"the band will kill me. jeno will kill me." mark opens his mouth to argue, but already haechan is leaning back against the headboard, head lowered and looking down at his lap. "i'll do it. i won't see her again."

"it'll be fine" mark reassures, softly. "in a few weeks, after a few more people, you'll forget all about her." 

neither of them really believed it. 

—

as jaemin sits on the couch — jeno sprawled on an armchair with jisung perched on the armrest, mark sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him, he thinks about how these boys have become his close friends. he fits in with them in a way he never has with his other clients — evenings spent photographing them, understanding them through the lens of his camera. cycling trips with jeno, bringing out mark's competitive streak as they drank in the kitchen, babying jisung and taking care of him when the other bandmates weren't around to do so. 

and of course, getting to know haechan — teaching him how to use a camera, chatting with him easily about the city. if jaemin was to be honest, haechan intimidated him a little with how guarded he was, every sentence he spoke to jaemin felt like it'd been turned over a million times in his head, each word careful and poised. he also disappeared for long periods of time, sometimes never there during parties. 

now jaemin knew what the time had been spent on. who he'd spent it on.

"we're really sorry." it's mark who speaks up first. jisung nods in agreement, while jeno looks on. 

"i don't need you to be sorry," mumbles jaemin. "it's not your fault." 

"still…" mark scratches the back of his close-cropped hair tentatively. "he mentioned it."

"what did he say?" 

"he didn't tell us everything," jisung says, voice hushed. his hair falls over his eyes as he ducks his head in thought. "mostly just told us to stay away." 

"did he sound like he wanted them to be exclusive?" 

mark and jisung exchange a glance, but it's jeno's voice that answers just as mark's lips part. 

"no." when jisung bites his lip, jeno raises his eyebrows, annoyed. "are you kidding? he just said he fucked her more often, and that we should fuck off." 

jisung looked wounded. "he didn't say that." 

"but that's what he meant." 

"mark?" 

jaemin calls out to the boy, bringing him out of his thoughts. mark was staring at his own hands, a frown creasing his face.

"haechan agreed," he says, slowly. your name lingers on the tip of his tongue as he says it, like he's tasting the sound, the unfamiliarity of it in his mouth. "i…i think i might know what's going on with haechan, but it's up to him to explain, not me." 

"so he won't see her anymore?" 

the words come easily to jaemin. he knew it was the deal he was going to make the moment he texted mark to ask if they could talk. he was willing to lose his growing friendship with the rest of the boys if it could give you peace, if all of you could go back to the way things were. 

he think back to how he found you — struggling to head out of the door the previous day, barely able to make it to the door, the fever burning up your brain and making your bones ache. he thinks of coming back home to you after he'd went to the pharmacy to get you medicine, slipping his shoes off at the door and immediately knowing that something had changed, from the tears streaming down your face. 

"how did this happen?" 

"he came to see me" you mumble, struggling with the sleeves of the thick sweater you were trying to pull your arms through. the moment you straighten, you wince as a dull pain throbbed through your head, hunching over again as stars blinked in your vision. 

"haechan?" 

he sets down the bag of medicine on the kitchen counter, picking up the thermometer and pointing it at your forehead. the light on the screen blinks red, and his eyebrows furrow, the displeased expression on his face only growing stronger. 

"why did you open the door?" he asks, slowly. "i thought we talked about this." 

"i thought…." your voice is scratchy, as pressure seems to rise inside your skull, pain that made your eyes tear up. it's laughable that you thought he would take care of you, and instead he ripped you to pieces. tears well up in your eyes again, and your lips part, only to let out a small sob. 

he grips onto your arm, gently but firmly, steering you back towards your room. you don't have any strength to fight back, it felt like the temperature in the room was at freezing point even though jaemin was only wearing a thin shirt and shorts, and the ache in your bones made every movement shoot pain through your nerves. even after lying down on your bed, swaddled in blankets, the dim light slightly easing the pain in your head, you were too weak to lift your head, stretching your fingers out over the blanket and crawling towards where jaemin's hand rested on the sheets. 

he held your hand and listened to you talk, knowing you needed to let it all out. he didn't judge, he didn't make faces. just listened with his eyes closed as you told him about meeting haechan, the way he pulled you away from everyone else and how you'd followed. he observed you quietly through his lashes as you sniffled, breaths breaking up your words. 

the story got harder to tell when you recounted moments of his tenderness — when he'd call you his, when he took care of you, when he'd promise to be harsh with you but never went through with it, the way his face fell when you cried. you stuttered and hesitated through it all, because you didn't know if any of it was real or just imagined.

jaemin knows he could have hurt you further — broken every last illusion, pierced through the image of haechan you had in your head. but he didn't have the heart to, so this was the best he could do — making sure it stopped. 

"it's done," mark nods, but he looks unhappy. 

jaemin doesn't feel the weight lift from his chest like he thought it would. he feels jisung move to sit next to him, a hand on his shoulder as he observes his face. 

"i'm really sorry," he mumbles, lips barely moving. 

"it's not your fault," jaemin replies, leaning back against the cushions, letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. 

—

haechan is dreaming again. 

except it's more memory than dream, the way you're laid up against the pillows, fingers tangled in his hair as he leaves kisses on your inner thighs. it's so vivid, the way you taste, the twitch of your muscles as you tense around him, the small gasp as he pulls away to sit back on his knees. 

"please-" you whimper, needy from being teased. scrabbling, you bring your knees to your chest, hands trembling as you hook them on your thighs, tears smearing your cheeks with a dewy glow. you were trying to keep your voice quiet, small sounds barely escaping your lips as you bit down on them, pleading with him through murmurs and barely coherent words. his shirt on your body crinkled everywhere from how he'd been grabbing at it, the long sleeves falling over your palms. it was straight out of a wet dream, which it now was, as you begged him to fuck you, your wet folds slick with spit and arousal as you bared yourself to him, pleading with him to sink into you. 

in memory, he croons. he gives you what you asked for — pressing your weight into the mattress as he pushes into you, feel you pulse around him as he goes in hard and deep, feel your body trembling against his. 

but in dream, he can be honest enough with himself to admit that it scares him when you cry. that his stomach twists when he hears you beg, like missing a step on a staircase, a second where he's rushing into nothing — not knowing if he'd made you like this, not knowing if he was hurting you. from the girl shaking against him, clumsy hands finding purchase on his shoulders, and you now — hips rocking into nothing, desperate for him. 

"i'm here," he whispers, gently taking your hands and slowly lowering your legs down to the bed. he kisses you until your breathing calms and slows, your hands now on the sides of his face, caressing his cheeks. he likes how you touch him as if you could ever bruise him, loving brushes of your fingertips, urgency making your fingers curl into his skin, hesitant scratches on his shoulders that your hands skitter away from. 

in dream, he pushes into you slowly, watching the way your lips part, breath caught in your chest, eyes fluttering closed as you take him in. wet sounds fill the room as he begins to move his hips, your face shyly tucked into his chest, your ankles sweetly hooked against his lower back as you melt together. the feelings in his chest intensifying the pleasure he feels from you wrapped around him. his eyes meet yours as you blink up at him, and it's so real — the way you glow against the sheets of his bed, eyes all soft and sparkling with tenderness. 

but then he wakes in the same bed: the feeling of you under him, the crash of his heartbeat in his chest, all of it hanging in the dark, a lingering tattoo on his body. 

—

so it's almost like a dream, when he opens the door to the stranger's bedroom, to see you slumped on the floor. 

the din from below echoes through the hall, the sounds of the overwhelming crowd seeping into the room and reminding him of why he was here. he'd been looking for a quiet place to be alone — the constant eyes on him making him feel self-conscious and jumpy. 

back at the apartment, jeno had said he wasn't being like himself, that he hadn't been himself in a long time, the memory of his laugh ringing in haechan's ears as he climbed upstairs. when has a crowd ever bothered you? when have you ever hated attention? 

he didn't know the answers. 

now haechan stands in the doorway, not believing his eyes. there was no way you'd known he would be here, alone. you're curled in on yourself on the floor, leaning against the bed with your knees tucked to your chest, eyes shut. your body is still, and for just a while longer he lets himself watch you for just a moment — drink in every single detail he'd missed even if it felt like teasing open his own wounds with fingers caked in salt. the rise and fall of your chest, your hair mussed up and falling over your face, the slope of your shoulders, your arms. 

and suddenly he's back in his bed, your weight the only thing he was sure of against his chest, drunk on the soft sounds you made, lips barely forming his name. 

you don't know he's here yet. he could walk away, leave you by yourself. but something in him told him he couldn't leave you like this in the middle of a party, barely conscious in a stranger's bedroom. before he knows what he's doing, before he can fathom the consequences, he's kneeling before you, slipping his jacket off his shoulders and draping it over your body. you reek of alcohol, stirring when you feel the weight of the leather on your body, your tongue numb and heavy in your mouth, eyelashes feeling stuck to your cheeks as you struggle to open your eyes. 

"y/n?" haechan whispers, choking on the sound of your name. 

"haech-" you trail off, fingers coming up to rub your eyes sleepily, the jacket slipping slightly. "haechan." it's the way you say it, like your tongue is too afraid to form the syllables, like something you can't bear to say. 

"i-i'm going to find someone," he mumbles, backing away from you, clumsily trying to get to his feet. "you stay here, i'll –"

"don't go-" the words almost get lost from the way you're slurring, lips barely moving, shaking your head as you reach for him again. your fingers slip on the sleeve of his shirt, before curling and holding on tight. "please don't leave." 

"i…" pain flickers over his features. he bites his lower lip, body moving towards yours instinctively, your hand crawling up his sleeve and grasping for his arm, fingers digging to the bone as you tremble. but then he feels your breath on his neck, and he pulls away again. 

"what happened, y/n? did someone hurt you?" he feels like a hypocrite. 

"no," you say, meekly. "i think i just had too much to drink." 

"did you come with jaemin?" 

you shake your head, nuzzling into him in a way that makes his heart pulse painfully in his chest. "i don't know anyone here." 

he still thinks he should get help from any of the girls downstairs. even as you meld yourself a little closer to him, he's almost certain you wouldn't be acting this way if you were sober. 

"y/n, i can't. please just let me call jaemin–" 

"want you here." you reach for him again, trying to pull him impossibly closer, fitting his body against yours. "don't want jaemin to see me like this." 

it dawns on him that besides jaemin, he was the only one you felt comfortable around like this. it wouldn't be the first time he's taken care of you when you were vulnerable or weak, and his body reacts out of habit — pulling you into his arms, his hands gently patting your back as you blink back tears in the crook of his neck. but it still didn't feel right, knowing he was the one who had caused this, and yet he was here holding you.

"let me talk to someone downstairs – i'll see if they can take you home," he murmurs. you bury your face deeper in his neck, shaking your head. "just 5 minutes, okay? i just need 5 minutes —" 

"don't want someone to bring me home," you rasp, and his gut twists painfully when i feels your tears damp on his skin. "i don't want to go back to my place. i want to go with you." 

"you're going to regret this," he says, softly. to him it's the truth you're not sober enough to see, even if it hurt to tell you. "you don't really want this, y/n." 

"is it because you want to find someone else?" your words are soft-edged, lips forming the words carefully, but it pierces him all the same. "is it- is it because you want to bring someone else home?" 

"no," he answers, quiet. "i haven't…not in a while." 

"so you just don't want to be around me?" 

his mind is racing, desperately trying to think of how he could help you, but his mind was coming up with nothing. that same feeling he always had around you — protectiveness intersecting with the ache in his chest everytime your eyes met his, all of it roaring in his ears, louder than the cacophony from any party. for all the times he's claimed he knew what was good for you, he's begun to realise that he has a terrible grasp on how not to hurt you. 

"you don't want to be around me," he corrects, but his fate is sealed when you let out a small sob, muffled against his shirt. 

and he takes you home. 

—

you watch him through your lashes, as he swipes a cotton pad on your face, cleaning off your makeup. 

"close your eyes," he mumbles, a slight pout forming on his lips from how hard he was concentrating, trying to be gentle with you. his touches are far too light, and you're sure your makeup is still on your face, but you let your lashes flutter shut anyway, feeling a featherlight brush against your eyelid as he holds it against your eye. dropping the used pad into a small bin, he brings a warm, damp towel up to your face, the material of it soft against your skin. 

"can you brush your teeth?" he holds a toothbrush up to your face, but he withdraws it once your hands come up to hold it, completely misjudging the distance and landing on his shoulders instead. "open," he coaxes, parting his own lips so you'd mimic him. he smiles fondly as you open your mouth wide, a hand coming up to hold your face in place. "good girl," he mumbles, and you preen at the praise that shines through your drunken haze, following his instructions to rinse out your mouth.  

there's a short pause. having brushed out your hair, removed your makeup and brushed your teeth, the only thing to do next was to get you to bed. 

your legs squeeze around his hips, your back against the mirror on his bathroom counter. "haechan," you mumble, tipsiness making you swallow your words. "don't…my clothes…" 

"i'll leave them on," he promises, ignoring the way your tight dress looks uncomfortable and unclean to sleep in. "don't worry." of course you don't feel comfortable around him, not after everything.

but for some reason, you're shaking your head, two clumsy hands closing in on one of his and guiding them to your back. "take them off. please–" you add, when he hesitates. "please help me."

"of course," he murmurs, familiarity sparking in his fingertips as they grasp for the zipper, a sense of dejavu in how he drags it down your spine slowly, your back arching slightly. you look at him, drink in the proximity like the first taste of rain after a heatwave — the pretty cut of his eyes, the way his pupils float upwards as he focuses on your back through the mirror. the round tip of his nose, and finally the plushness of his heart-shaped lips. it feels like reprieve, the ache in you finally soothed by the way his breath fans over your cheeks, a gentle balm on an open wound. you lean forward slightly into him as if drawn by a magnetic field, one of your hands coming up to trace the arches of his cupid's bow. 

"y/n?" you can feel his lips move, soft like rose petals on your fingertips. "what are you doing?" 

"you haven't called me baby all night," you blurt out. "or…or princess." your thumb dips to brush against his lower lip, before he's catching hold of your hand and pulling it away from his face gently. 

"i shouldn't," he mumbles, pressing a light kiss to your fingertips before letting go. "i can't."

your dress has gone loose around your body, and you push the sleeves off your shoulders with your hands, letting the fabric drop to your waist. you observe him, watching the way he swallows, throat bobbing when his eyes dart to your chest, lace draped over your curves. 

"haechan," you murmur, but then he turns, hands now fumbling with a pile of his clean clothes. he holds out a clean shirt to you, bunching it up at the collar to slip your head through it, but you stop him with a hand on his chest. 

"i want that one," you say, softly, pointing to a long sleeved shirt you'd remembered wearing before in the room he'd shared with the boys. something flickers in his eyes, his hands curling into fists before he picks it up. he's putting it over your head, the soft cotton hanging off your shoulders, his hands coming close to your body to guide your arms into the sleeves, until you can't take it anymore. 

"haechan, don't you want me?" 

his lips part, his hands stilling, slowly unfurling his grasp on you and placing his palms on the counter. "y/n…" 

"why aren't you-" you look up at him, biting your lip, your tongue too slow to form the thoughts your mind was racing with. "why haven't you touched me yet? do you not want me like this?" 

his heart splinters and fractures. you were so used to it — used to all his touches leading to kisses, kisses leading to him all over your body. "you're drunk." it's the only thing he can say. 

"i know what i'm doing," you fire back, but your words lilt and smear together. "ask me anything and i can answer you right now." 

but all he does is resume putting your arms through the sleeves, your limbs pliant against him as always, and soon you're completely covered up, and he can breathe a little easier. his strong arms grip your waist, and you're like a ragdoll in his grip as he guides you to stand, the dress at your hips falling, the shirt brushing the top of your thighs. 

it gets worse when he sets you down in his bed. in another universe, this might be a moment of bliss for him, something romantic and sweet in the way your body curves against his pillows, sinking down into them and blinking up at him hazily. but guilt still thunders in his chest, his vision split by lightning bolts of fear. you would wake up hating him. he would never stop hurting you. you would never want to see him again. 

your arms slide up his, grasping for him. "please," you plead, your voice small. "what did i do wrong? why don't you want to touch me?" 

"you didn't do any wrong," he murmurs, as he lets his weight sink into bed next to you, feel you curl up against him. just for a minute he tells himself — just until you fall asleep. your weight on his chest feeling like someone had doused his body with warmth, a comfort that made his eyes prickle with tears. "y/n, you're perfect," he whispers, the words melting into the dark.

"don't say that." he feels tears wet against the soft fabric of his shirt over his chest. "stop saying my name." 

"baby," he amends. "sweetheart, go to sleep." 

you hum. "haechan." 

"don't," he echoes. 

"what's wrong?" you mumble, your question heavy with sleep. 

he grips onto you tighter, holding you fiercely as tears cloud his vision. 

"i'm sorry," he says, his voice cracking. "i'm so so so sorry." when you don't respond, he nuzzles into your hair, freckling wet kiss on your forehead. "i'm sorry," he repeats, long after you've fallen asleep. 

—

you wake up to the sound of laughter ringing out against the walls. 

the room is as dim as it was last night — dark curtains drawn and the lights turned off. time seemed to have come to a standstill, you couldn't tell if it had been days or weeks or even months since you'd fallen asleep. your body ached, still heavy with sleep while your mind cleared — it had been a while since you've slept this well.

blinking your eyes open, you slowly sit up, feeling sheets warm and soft against your skin. you sit there, dazed, getting your bearings as you survey the unfamiliar room again. your clothes, folded on a small couch next to the window. your jewelry on the bedside table, your phone plugged in to the charger. 

the only thing you recognised was the long sleeved shirt unmistakeable on your body, the familiar smell of perfume and body lotion in every fiber of the sheets.

stumbling over to the bathroom, the warm light brings back every memory — the party, the drinks, stumbling upstairs into a room as your consciousness slipped away, and then haechan, haechan, haechan. haechan leading you out of the party, taking you home in his car, taking care of you. your fingers ghost over your forehead, where you swear he kissed you just before you woke up.

you turn off the tap. in the silence, there's another round of giggles, bright like a child's, and then —

"baby, don't move!" 

haechan's voice rings lighter than you've ever heard it, and the smile in it is evident. this is a voice without shadows, fondness in every lilt and inflection. with something like urgency, you dry your hands on your shirt, padding out of his room, hesitantly blinking into the sunlit living room. 

you almost don't believe your eyes. 

haechan is sitting on the couch, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and pink lips stuck out in a pout. sitting on the floor, cross-legged between his knees, was a little girl — her hands busy with a doll, while her own hair was being meticulously braided and arranged by the boy…whose head snaps up the moment he hears the creak of the door. 

"you're awake," he blurts out, and the girl looks up. 

"hi!" she waves shyly, leaning forward towards you, but whining as the motion tugs on her hair instead. "hyuck! it hurts…" 

his eyes finally dart away from yours. "i'm sorry," he murmurs, lightly massaging her scalp with the tips of his fingers. 

"you're making it messy —" 

"right, sorry." he grabs a sparkly pink hairbrush and combs through her hair gently, beginning to rebraid. the girl goes back to her doll, settling back down and quickly losing interest in you. 

his eyes flick up to yours again, the tiniest hint of blush on his cheeks. "did you sleep well?"

you nod, feeling like you'd walked in on something you weren't supposed to. 

haechan studies your face, a strand of hair falling from his grasp before he tucks it in diligently. "are you hungover? there were painkillers on the bedside table, i don't know if you saw…" 

"i'm fine," you croak out. 

"and there's breakfast on the table," he murmurs, ducking his head back down to focus on the impressive french braid he was attempting. he looks back up when he feels you staring, as if fixed to the ground beneath your feet. 

"is she…?" 

"this is my baby sister," he answers, smiling softly. "sorry, i didn't know she was coming over today. her kindergarten is near here so sometimes i walk her to school." and then, with a nod towards the table, "please eat — i made too many sandwiches." 

the girl smiles, mumbling softly to herself. "hyuckie makes the best sandwiches." 

you can see 'hyuckie' blush at that, his lips pressed together tightly to keep in his smile as he pokes the little girl's cheek softly, going back to the braid. you cross over to the dining table, feet shuffling slowly, reluctantly tearing your eyes away from the two siblings, watching the fondness in haechan's eyes. quietly pulling out a chair, you sit down and pick up a sandwich, holding it gingerly between your fingers. 

a hushed voice breaks the silence, and you turn to see his sister, cupping her lips against haechan's ear whispering so loud that her words fill the room. "is she your friend?" the girl asks, pointing her pinky finger at you, head tilted with curiosity. haechan's head tilts too, but his eyes wander over to yours as he hesitates. 

"yes, she's my friend," he says, slowly. "we're…good friends." sliding the hair ties from his wrist, he finally finishes tying off the braid, before giving the girl a gentle pat on the shoulder. "you can play for 5 more minutes okay? hyuckie needs to talk to his friend." 

her round eyes blink at you as she slowly gets to her feet, before tottering over to the window, where another pile of dolls lay. haechan clears his throat, before shuffling over to you and sitting down in a chair next to yours. 

although he adjusts himself to face you, he keeps his distance – legs drawn in under the chair, hands placed carefully on his knees in a way you'd never seen him do before. it feels like the space between the both of you spans for entire oceans and continents, an invisible force field that holds weight against your limbs, keeping you from leaning in, incapable of even moving your fingertips. 

"are you sure you're okay?" 

he looks at you — his expression soft like wax melting around a candle wick. 

"do you…do you remember how you got here?" 

you nod, taking a deep breath. "the party?" 

"i'm sorry that you're here like this," he says, quietly. "i didn't know you were going to be there, i wasn't trying to corner you, i swear." 

you nod, dazed. 

"are you upset with me? for bringing you here?" at the conflict in your expression, he adds on, hurriedly, "i-i know it wasn't the best thing to do. i could've called jaemin, or mark, or anyone downstairs…it's just that i didn't know…i didn't know if it would be okay–" 

" — i'm not upset," you cut him off, the pressure easing as you raise a hand jerkily to place it over his. "i believe you. thank you for taking care of me last night."

he exhales slowly, and when he speaks he sounds even more troubled than before. "you…you shouldn't thank me. you shouldn't thank me for anything."

his eyes dart over to his little sister, checking in on her, and the sense that you're intruding on something creeps up on you again. 

haechan had been right — there was so much of him you didn't know. you hardly recognised the boy sitting beside you, despite a vague sense of comfort and familiarity in the slightest traces of his expression, the look in his eyes, his thumb absentmindedly stroking yours. it scared you. 

you withdraw your hand, pushing your chair a little further from his, the scrape of it dissonant in your ears. "so, uh, i'll just wait downstairs for the taxi if you don't feel comfortable —" 

"taxi?" he looks at you, confused. 

"i…i should go now, right?" 

"i wasn't going to ask you to go," he says, his voice small. "i was…i was hoping we could talk." 

"talk?" you echo. after weeks of nothing? "now?"

"i mean, not right now-" he glances over at the clock, wincing. "but can you stay today?" 

there's a pause. you don't think you've ever been able to read him — you've spent days second-guessing every emotion you thought he had, the meaning behind each expression, whether he ever told the truth. but something about him like this makes you hesitate, made your breath catch in your throat. all the ways you've tried to learn how to be immune to his words and his touch slowly melting away, because that was your defense against the version of haechan you thought you knew before. 

"i'll understand if you say no," he says, quietly. "but i have things i need to say to you. please." 

you don't know what to do. 

"hyuckie?" 

you both turn. haechan's baby sister is waddling over, her fist clenched around her hair ties as the last remnants of the french braid unravel from her head. she sniffles. "it fell." 

haechan's eyes dart back to you quickly, before refocusing his attention away. "it's okay-" he soothes, taking the hair ties from her as he swipes the pad of his thumb on her cheek, brushing off the teardrops that have begun to spill from her lashes. his lips jut out into a pout, his head tilting to meet her gaze. "let's just tie it up and go to school, hm?"

"but i want it in a braid…"  

"i can't finish it in time," he says, gently, touching the strands of her hair. "i'm sorry. i promise, we'll do it next time, okay?" 

her lip wobbles. "but…"

"let me help," you say, suddenly. 

he turns, round eyes wide. "what?" 

"i'll do her hair. you still need to get her things right?" 

he nods, a little dazed. "really?" 

"i'll stay," you murmur, and you slip the hair ties from his loose fingers and sling them around your wrist. "i need to talk to you too." 

you can feel his eyes on you as he coaxes his sister towards you, the girl shyly hiding her face in your hands as you swiftly braid two pigtails down her back. he still watches you out of the corner of his eye as he packs her bag, noting the way you listen to her babble on about her days at the school, the way you help adjust the straps of her backpack onto her tiny frame.

he looks at you like he's never seen you before. you think you know the feeling. 

— 

the bed dips under his weight as he sits down. 

"hey," you hear him murmur, and you stir. his hair falls over his face, and he's changed out of his clothes, and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses perches on his dainty nose. it's foreign, and new…until he pushes back his hair boyishly with an open palm, flicking his head like a puppy after a swim, and the skip in your heartbeat feels all too familiar in your ribcage. 

"did you get her to school?" 

he nods. "i got us lunch too. and stopped to get groceries." studying your face, he leans in. "i didn't want to wake you up so soon. do you feel better?" 

you hum. the morning now seemed like just a dream — haechan and his sister, the breakfast sandwiches. he'd left to walk her to school, telling you to rest in his bed until he got home. now, late afternoon light seeps into the room through the open door, until haechan gets up to close it, once again sealing the room in cozy darkness. 

"may i…?" he lifts up the corner of the covers, and you nod, easing yourself to the side as he gets into bed, leaning up against the headboard, his eyes trained on his lap. you lay on your side, that same feeling — as if you couldn't reach out and touch him, as if he existed in a world of his own without you, slowly settling in your body like a familiar ache. 

but then there's a shift — and you can feel his gaze warm on your skin. you blink up at him, his pupils focused on yours, pools of the darkest molten brown sucking you into his world. he wets his lips with his tongue nervously, taking a shuddering breath. 

"y/n, i'm really sorry." 

your heart squeezes a little in your chest. "for?" 

"for what i said that night…when i thought…when you didn't show up." he takes another breath. "and for not trusting you, for going to your place after i...." his fists clench the fabrics of the sheets, twisting it in his hands. 

you bite your lip. "haechan —"

" — i'm not done." he swallows, voice dipping low. "you were right. i knew you wanted more, i always knew exactly when i hurt you. but i never tried…i never tried to change anything. i'm sorry." his hands reach towards yours for a second, but he hesitates, dropping them back on his lap. 

"what would you have changed?" you ask, softly.

"i could have stopped seeing you," he murmurs. 

you smile, sadly. "i'm not convinced that would have hurt any less." that was something you knew for sure. 

"and i don't think i could have stopped myself," he admits. 

"haechan," his eyes move to yours. "why did you invite me?" his breathing picks up, and you want desperately to comfort him, to curl up on his lap and soothe him, but you knew the both of you were afraid of what would happen if you touched. knew the possibility that you'd try to find answers in skin-on-skin, lips-on-lips, and the possibility that it would all be lost in translation again.  

"i'm sorry, –" he looks at you sadly. "i think i was just trying to get you to stay. i…" he chews on his lip, glasses sliding a little lower on his slender nose bridge as his head dips. "i regret what i said, but some of it was true. i don't know what i would have done, and i don't think i was ready for…for what you thought it was." 

you nod, cheek rubbing against soft sheets, thinking about what he said. "haechan, i don't regret not going. i only wished i'd done it intentionally." 

"yeah?" he whispers. the sound sticks in his throat. 

"if you hadn't found me yesterday…would you still have looked for me? talked to me? i'm not hurt that you didn't find me sooner-" you cut in, when you see the guilt on his features, the parting of his lips in apology. "time apart….time apart was good. i needed it to clear my head. i….i couldn't stop myself around you." 

he doesn't say anything, for a while. "jaemin came over," he says, slowly. "and he said i couldn't talk to you or he would stop working with the band and it was decided for me." 

"he what?" 

haechan shakes his head. "i don't blame him. i'm not going to pretend that i couldn't have still talked to you if i really wanted to. i'm selfish enough to do that, i'll admit. i didn't reach out because i didn't know what to say, and i didn't know what i wanted." 

"and now?" 

he closes his eyes. "time apart was good," he murmurs, echoing your words. "it gave me a chance to go back to a time before." 

your breath catches. 

" — but i couldn't. i don't think i can take it any longer. i missed you, y/n. i miss you now, even as you're here." 

"you miss me?" 

something bothered you about it, hearing him say those words. when he'd pulled you away repeatedly in the weeks you've known each other, when he came for you time and time again, was that missing you too? were things different now? 

"i miss spending time with you," he says, almost timidly. "not just…not just sex. everything. i know it's selfish…" his eyes blink open, and he pushed his glasses up, avoiding your gaze. "i didn't mean to pressure you to come back. you can forget i said that." 

he shakes his head, trying to clear it. 

"i just wanted to tell you i'm sorry for hurting you." 

you'd never dared hope for a real apology from him. some part of you expected, or even secretly wished, he would find you again after that night, lie through his teeth to win you back. and in the weeks that followed, you took his silence to mean he didn't even care enough to do that.

and now here you were, sitting with him. after days and nights, he's had time to really mean his words — he wasn't himself, which is maybe why you believed he was telling the truth.

you think you know now, why he refused to let you in. why he hadn't wanted to take your first time, something so intimate and romantic that it would have pierced right through the layers he'd built up around himself. why he drew away so many nights when your touch lingered on each others' skin, when you wanted him to stay. 

"haechan," you say, quietly. "i need you to understand that i…that i've learned how to be hurt by you. i don't want to go back to how we were before." 

he nods, quickly. "of course." 

"and…you say you knew i wanted more. so you know that i wanted to be with you…romantically, right?" 

"i know." the words are so quiet, you barely catch them. 

"if…if i come back, i don't think i want that anymore." you say, gentle, but firm. jaemin was right — you couldn't let yourself forget all the ways he hurt you. "i associate us with too much hurt. i can't trust you with my heart, can you understand that?" 

there's silence. he's nodding, but when his lips part, he's wordless. 

"haechan?" 

"i understand," he murmurs. "i'm…i didn't…" he breaks off, fiddling with the covers, lip caught in his teeth. "whatever happens next will only happen on your terms," he says, softly. "i only want to do what you want to do, okay?" 

your brow furrows. "but haechan, if you don't feel comfortable with something –" 

"i'm fine as long as you still want to see me," he whispers. 

"if you don't want to let me in, i won't push anymore." you realize you truly mean it when you make the offer out loud. even if it hurt to know that you may never see him like this again, you press on, jaemin's advice resurfacing in your mind again. "you don't owe me any more of yourself. if you want it to just be sex, we can do that – but you have to commit to it too. so no more getting jealous, or —"  

" – that's not possible." 

"you're not making any sense." you should've been hurt, but sitting here now — looking at him, the way he melts into his room, fuzzy at the edges, soft curves of his face, you can't feel any of it. finally, you're beginning to see that he's just as lost as you are. his head is still bowed low, taking in every word you say like a weight he carries upon him. 

"it's not possible because you already know me. you know enough of me that i couldn't perform with you in the crowd, can't be myself around you at a party. i can't stand there onstage, do things like eyefuck girls and play the guitar and pretend to be someone else, while feeling your eyes on me. you'd see right through me."

he sounds like he's on the verge of tears, his voice achy and raw. and as you look up at him, tears are smudging on his waterline, his cheeks glistening as he sniffles. 

"i said i'd be fine with anything," he breathes shakily, as he starts to cry, sharp inhales punctuating his words. "and i am, i really am. i-i'm not in the position to set terms. it's fine if you don't want to know me, but i can't pretend we're just strangers anymore. i won't be able to." 

words you'd said to him — you can't think i still want to know you, after everything. 

for a moment, you entertain the idea that you've hurt him too. 

"i don't think i can pretend either," you murmur. "i hated it when you pretended like you didn't know me. like you'd never seen me before." 

i'm s-sorry, he chokes, but the syllables scattered across his sobs. he claps a hand to his mouth as his breathing speeds up even more, tears wetting his shirt, achy sounds muffled against his palm. and finally you sit up, limbs still clumsy and heavy from sleep, and you wrap your arms around him, and arm slung over his chest, another around his waist, just like you wanted to all this time.

his breath shudders against your palms, warm body against your skin. you bury your face in his neck, breathe in the familiar smell of him that changed no matter who he was or whoever he was pretending to be, until his breathing slows and his sobs come to a shaky stop. 

"i missed you too, haechan," you breathe. he shakes his head. "i did-" you insist, but he shakes his head again, a hand coming to touch your arm on his waist, squeezing tight. 

"not haechan, donghyuck," he whispers. 

"donghyuck," you correct, stroking the side of his cheek lovingly, your fingertip stained with his tears. "i missed you." 

"i missed you too." he says it like the words are dangerous, hushed and quiet. "are you…are you really coming back to me?"

"do you think we can be friends?" you ask, tentatively. not lovers, not strangers. this was the only in-between you knew that could do justice to the ways you knew each other, the only way you could see yourself holding on to him now.

he looks at you for a long time, until you forget your question. his nose is tinted pink, his eyes still watery as he drowns in his thoughts. 

he swallows. "are you sure?" he asks, softly. "your first time being with someone…and it's not even a real relationship." 

"you're doing that thing again," you murmur. "where you tell me what's good for me. how i should do things." you soften when you look up, seeing the guilt in his face, as if he had been caught red-handed. "i'm asking you again," you say, slowly. "do you think we can be friends?" 

this time, he nods. "yeah," he murmurs. "friends who…"

you nod too, feeling your cheeks burn, and then you lean in — slotting your lips against his. 

for a second, he doesn't kiss you back, and your stomach swoops. 

but then his mouth is moving against yours, soft and gentle. a close-lipped kiss, just the feeling of his soft lips on yours, the brush of your noses together, your eyes slowly fluttering shut to focus on the feeling. and even though you'd just agreed — even though you were the one who suggested it, a part of you wondered if you could ever only want to be friends with lee donghyuck.  

—

you sit at the dinner table, and haechan's entire body aches with a longing that crests over him like a tidal wave, knocking the breath from his lungs. 

he recalls the way he'd felt earlier, walking back across the park from the kindergarten, stopping by the grocery store and wandering the brightly-lit aisles, turning over pasta sauce and soup stock in his hands. the knowledge that you were in his home, sleeping, that he would turn the key in the lock and you would be waiting for him — burned down his throat like alcohol, a bonfire in his stomach. it felt like playing pretend. he was afraid to even drive you back to your apartment, to walk you to your door, to look at you too long in the moments after. and yet here he was, tipsy off the sweetness of being able to come home to you. 

after the talk, neither of you had gone much further than kissing. 

"i missed you so much," he murmurs – his voice crumpling under the weight of his own words. 

"do you want to show me?" your tone is lightly teasing, dipping low as you keep your smile on your face. the warmth coursing through your body has nothing to do with the blankets pooling around your thighs, and everything to do with the boy sitting across from you — doll-like legs with miles of silky skin splayed out over the sheets, back slouching against the headboard, all crumpled in and soft and worn. 

if you had gone to the bar weeks ago, let him guide you to this home, to this bed, you might already be familiar with this soft mattress in a whole different way.  

neither of you can deny the way your minds wander there still, despite everything. him missing your body framed against his, you craving the sink of his chest, the curve of his waist.  

there's silence, as his words register in the boy's head, pain flickering over his features. if he was feeling more like himself, he would pulled you in, caged you under him. tugged at that side of you that was always so pliant and easy for him and watched you unravel under his fingertips. the words are on the tip of his tongue — i'll show you. did you miss me too? kiss me. stay with me.

instead, his fingers withdraw, and gently touch the soft cotton of his shirt's hem, warm light flickering in his eyes. "not like this," he murmurs quietly. "not…not now."

you let out a breath, tension dissipating. "yeah," you'd murmured. "you're right." 

you'd gone to take a shower while he prepared dinner. there was something terribly domestic about all of it — you padding into the living room again, each fiber of your being smelling so much like him. the way he turned from where he stood guarding the soup bubbling on the stove to see you in one of his shirts, a towel draped over your shoulders. the feelings he hadn't learned to pin down, hadn't had the time to sort, intensified in his chest, an ache lodged inside him. 

friends. he'd introduced you to his sister as his friend, watched you braid her hair and laugh with her softly, heard your sweet voice wishing her good luck with school. the nights he'd spent with you by his side — talking about the band, about his tattoos. asking about how he did during the show, seeking your praise, wanting to know so badly how he appeared in your eyes. the way you somehow reached right through him and made him listen, made him stop. was that friendship? 

now with all the plates cleared and washed, the sounds of your clothes tumbling in his washing machine in the background, the smell of black nail polish prickled his nose as you leaned over. your fingers brushing his, holding them in place. 

"should i make it a little messy?" your voice is light. 

"it's usually messy because i get my sister to do it," he tells you, softly. "you don't have to mimic how it looks." 

you nod, a small smile on your face as you dip the brush back in the bottle. there's silence, for a while, as he watches you, studying the way you look with your head bowed, feeling each careful touch of your fingers, and then — 

"do you want to talk about rules now?" 

you look up at him just briefly before going back to the task. he swallows. 

"sure." 

another pause. and then quietly, "you can't get jealous anymore, you know that right?" 

"i know," he murmurs. "you told me to stop before…but i didn't. i'm sorry." 

you nod. "you can't be possessive of me, either." 

he hesitates. "so…no marking?" 

slowly, you let go of his left hand. "you can still leave hickeys and bruises," you mumble. "just don't…don't call me yours you know?" 

he didn't know if he could do that. "okay," he says, softly. "i'll try." and then, slowly and carefully, he asks, "are you going to keep coming to our shows?" 

the slide drag of the brush on his nail stops. "do you want me to?" 

he bites his lip. "i want you there," he says, slowly. "but i don't know if i'll be okay with having you in the crowd." 

"oh." 

"maybe you can watch from backstage. or the wings. i want you to," he adds, when you look troubled. "please." 

"are we still a secret?" 

his lips part. he wanted to say yes — but it was the way you'd asked it, like it was something you feared, that made him hesitate.

"because," you continue. "it didn't feel good, keeping it from jaemin. and as i said, i hated it when you pretended we were strangers." 

he felt your hands leave his, capping the bottle of nail polish as you leaned back in your chair, tucking your knees to your chest. he keeps his hands splayed on the table, taking a deep breath.

"no more secrets," he agrees. "and stop going to those parties, y/n. if you want to see me, just tell me." 

you raise your eyebrows. "we're not exclusive," you point out, slowly. "i don't go to the parties just for you. haechan, if you don't think you can do this…" 

"i can," he says, hurriedly. "i'm sorry. if i see you at a party…i'll say you're my friend. i'm sorry, it's just that i…i'm just…."

"it's okay." giving him a small smile, you get to your feet, shuffling over to the kitchen. you don't hear him come closer as you fill up a glass of water on the kitchen, only know of his presence as his hand touches your shoulder carefully. 

"don't go," he murmurs. his arms slide around your body, gently pulling you towards him, and you turn slightly so you can see his face.

"i'm still here," you respond, softly. 

but he shakes his head. "don't go." 

you turn around in his arms and your lips brush, his own parting against yours, seeking permission. all the time he wonders when he'll stop kissing you like he's swearing an oath — devoted in the way he wraps his lips around yours, patient and true in the way his tongue moves against yours, and even now, something loving in the way he murmurs your name into the cavern of your mouth. his hands move carefully on your skin, nail polish still drying on his fingertips, and if either of you question the way you kiss, you keep it to yourselves. 

—

it's different, watching haechan perform, when he's not performing for you. 

you saw the way his eyes flitted through the crowd, making and breaking eye contact so fast it was hard to keep track of, each twitch of his expression rehearsed and calculated. a teasing part of his lips, sinful face fluttery and slack as the music crashed all around him, like he could physically feel it. he was right — you didn't see him the same. you knew it was the performance, that he was really the one trying to please the crowd, riding off the pleasure of attention. but despite seeing through it as he had said, it still had you feeling tightly wound inside, pressure building up inside you, a craving for his touch intensifying with each time his hips shifted against his guitar. 

and even worse was the way your heartbeat would trip over itself every time haechan's eyes flickered over to you. never during a song, but in the moments between — mark's voice speaking through the mic, the rest of the boys checking on their instruments or interacting with the crowd. he would look over at you briefly, almost shyly, his heart-shaped lips creasing into a smile. 

"friends?" 

the moment you'd arrived home, you had pleaded with jaemin not to be upset with haechan, but it turned out you didn't need to. haechan had left a message the night of the party, and when you'd walked in looking more well rested and collected than you'd had in days, jaemin knew that you had been safe. you'd reassured him too, when he asked if keeping you from him only made things worse. both of you had needed that time to come to this conclusion. only time would tell if it was the right one. 

"so you're going to be friends with benefits?" jaemin raised his eyebrows. "was this his idea or yours?" 

"mine," you mumble. feeling the need to defend yourself, you raise your voice just slightly. "i just think that…i want to keep seeing him, and i want to get to know him…but i don't want him in that way. anymore," you add, when jaemin bites his lip.

"did you really lose feelings, or are you just not ready?" he asks, quietly. 

you force a laugh out of your chest. "you think i'd still have feelings for someone who hurt me that much?" you try to say it sarcastically, but you don't have the heart to. the words have no bite, and instead truth echoes in the spaces between.

"that's not the worst thing in the world, y/n." his voice is steady, and calm. "it's okay to take your time. if you remember that lying to yourself will only hurt more." 

but there are things to soothe the ache. 

"did you like the show?" 

haechan roughly tugs off his jacket, letting it slump off his shoulders and onto the floor. the moment the last song ended he'd rushed off stage and right to you, eyes blazing under his heavy makeup, the both of you stumbling into one of the small storerooms backstage. 

a single small lightbulb barely illuminates the small space, bathing you in warm light and shadow. shelves of boxes line most of the walls, except for a sliver of space that currently presses against your back, your fingers touching the cold surface. 

"it was good," you murmur. 

"yeah?" 

he's still hungry for more. you can see it in his eyes — for all his good girls and you're perfect, you knew he craved to be adored too. 

"you were right," you say, softly. "it feels different, watching as your friend." 

his smile falters.

"i…i like it more," you continue. "being in the wings…makes me want to get your attention." 

"you have my attention now, princess," he points out. he touches a hand to your waist. 

it's almost scary, how you slip back into old patterns. a heady rush filling your senses, slowly dragging you under. this is why i couldn't stop, you think, as he leans in ever closer, his eyes glazed over as his gaze slides to your lips. 

there's a beat. 

"i forgot to ask," he mumbles. "no possessiveness right?" 

your mind clears, just a bit. you nod, breathlessly. 

"what else?" he asks. looking at you, timidly, he asks. "can i…are pet names okay? can i still call you baby?" 

"baby's fine," you whisper. 

"princess?" 

"hmm?"

"no," he smiles fondly at you. "i was asking if calling you princess was okay." 

you want to bury your face in your hands. or his chest. "princess is fine." 

his smile grows wider, before he suddenly turns serious again. "are we starting anew?" he asks, hesitantly. "can i…can i bring up things from before? or are we pretending that this is our first time…" 

"no more pretending," you murmur, feeling like a hypocrite. "why? did you want to bring up something?"

"kind of," he nods towards the door. "just thought you're going to love this," he says, slyly. "hearing stage crew and bandmates walking by, knowing that at any point someone could hear us, someone could come in…"

and now you do bury your face in your hands, and when he reaches around to hug you, you lean against his chest, feeling his laugh vibrate against you, feeling you with warmth. 

"it's okay," he murmurs, as his hands slide down to squeeze your waist. "i won't play with them this time, baby. today's all about you, hm?" 

his hands falter, perhaps realizing the words were too tender, a little too loving for what you both claimed this would be. 

"lets try not to do anything…romantic?" you mumble. 

you regret the words as soon as you say them, your teeth biting into your lip sharply. 

haechan's face has shuttered down. you can't read his expression, as he nods, taking your hands in his and kissing them. 

"please." you look at him, this time taking the dive, feeling yourself free-falling towards that familiar desire, letting the current swallow you whole. "i need you." 

in spite of everything, haechan's lips are as gentle as they've always been. 

his lips brush yours, once, twice, before he locks in his kiss, hands trembling slightly as he touches the side of your face, cups you in his palms. you want to ask him what's wrong, pulling away slightly, but he makes a wounded sound from the back of his throat, pressing you against the wall, his head dipping to kiss you fiercely. his tongue slides against yours, and he groans low against your lips. 

your hands fumble on his shirt, skimming his broad shoulders, strong arms. he pants into your mouth when your drag your nails down his chest, breaking away. tugging his shirt roughly over his head, he grabs your hands and places them on his chest before leaning in to kiss you again, this time working his way down your neck, his wet kisses making your body shudder as you cling onto him for support. 

"please," you murmur, wondering why he was staying so silent. "please-" 

but he shakes his head, fingers tracing your jaw, tilting your head up so he lap his tongue over a newly formed bruise. the room is silent save for the sound of his lips, but you crave his voice, his words guiding you through everything, the lilting cadence of it. 

"haechan-" a foreign feeling spikes in your stomach as he ignores you, continuing to kiss his way down to your collarbones, fingers tugging your collar wide open. it felt like he wasn't there at all. 

he breathes heavy against your skin as he curls his hands around your hips, holding on tight. still he doesn't say a word, or even make a sound, as his caress the back of your thighs.

"stop-" you blurt out. roughly, you take his hands in yours, gripping them by the wrists. 

he lifts his head. 

"haechan," you start, but he just looks at you. your heart squeezes painfully in your chest. 

"haechan, you're scaring me." your voice is panicked and tight, the tension so overwhelming that tears begin to blur your vision, your chest rising and falling faster. 

"baby?" he asks, alarmed. "what's wrong?" 

"please talk to me," you beg, wiping away the tears on your cheek. the ache has soothed slightly at his voice, but you need more. "why…why aren't you talking? you always…you always used to-" 

"i'm sorry," he whispers, pulling your body into his, wrapping his bare arms around you. "i'm here," he soothes, in your ear. "i'm here," he mumbles again, and again, until your breathing calms down. 

"i'm sorry," he repeats, kissing you softly. "i'm here now, baby, okay?" 

you nod, and now you guide his hands to your thighs, feel the way his breathing hitches.

"can i…?" 

"please," you say, breathlessly, and his hand cups your warm core. 

"fuck," he blurts out. you were so warm, the seat of your panties completely soaked through. he slides them to the side with nimble fingers, inhaling sharply as he strokes your folds. 

"how are you so wet? fuck-" 

"take them off," you plead, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to your skin. immediately, he tugs your panties and skirt down roughly, almost frustrated, barely waiting for you to step out of them before encouraging you to spread your legs wider as he strokes you, fingers dipping to catch at your entrance, your swollen clit. 

"so fucking wet," he marvels, groaning slightly as he swipes his fingers softly . 

"from watching you perform," you say, softly. 

the words send pleasure thrumming low in his navel. "yeah?" he murmurs, eyes meeting yours. 

slowly, he drops to his knees, and suddenly you feel hypersensitive — his breath on your thighs, hands gripping you tightly. he suckles a kiss close to your core, and you whine, loudly, the sound too loud in the small space. 

he looks up at you, sultry eyes framed in dark eyeliner. "let me hear you, baby," he coaxes, easing your legs open. he sticks out the tip of his tongue, and gives your clit a gentle flick, your hips bucking into his face before you can stop yourself. "i've been dreaming about this," he sighs, before he closes in and suckles on your clit. 

he lapped at you like all he'd done in your days apart was think about how best to do it — alternating between suckling on your clit, licking your folds with his tongue wide and flat, and prodding at your entrance. one hand keeping you pressed against the wall, his other slips around your entrance, sliding in one long finger, the way your walls suck him in making him moan, vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through you. you can feel the jut of his finger joints, the pad of his finger curling against your walls, while his tongue focuses on your clit, drawing shapes and letters expertly. 

you slump further against the wall, the pleasure making your legs shake, unable to hold yourself up, your hands tangled in his hair, knotting them around your fingers. 

"i can't stand-" you're cut off by a moan, as he bites into your thigh, licking up the wetness that stains them, a mix of your arousal and his saliva. "please," you wish you were on a bed, wish both of you had had more patience to go somewhere and do this right, feel the whole weight of his body on yours. 

"cum," he pants, sucking on your clit with his plush lips as he coaxes another finger into your warm, now mimicking a vibrating motion with his hand as he pushes in hard and fast. he doesn't break away even as he moans out, now curling his fingers languidly against your walls. "fuck, baby, i need you to cum now because i can't wait any longer-" 

his tongue presses onto your clit, and the pressure pushes you overboard. his hand the only thing keeping you upright, pushing roughly into you, he eats you out until your orgasm is over, kitten licking your clit as his head moves this way and that. you open your eyes and see him staring right at you, desire pulsing in his pupils, eyes blown out and dark. 

"good?" he breathes, both hands now gripping you tight. you nod, swallowing and gasping. his face is smeared with you, mouth and nose shining and glossy. he licks around his lips, mouth hanging open as his eyes glint. 

"more?" he asks, and you nod, gasping, falling to your knees. now, you're finally able to touch him, as your body crashes into his, causing him to nearly tip over from how he kneels, sitting back on his ankles to draw you into him. you kiss him deeply, letting his lips wrap around your tongue just the way you loved it, feel his hum vibrate against your own chest. 

his hands ghost under your shirt, and you help him pull it off, his hands cupping your breasts with his familiar touch, sucking kisses down your cleavage as you gasp for air. his hands roam your body indulgently, as if he was afraid you'd dissolve if he wasn't mapping your skin with his palms, his tongue, his lips. one hand trailing up and down your back, unclasping your bra, while the other squeezes the back of your thighs, resting his hand on your ass. 

he suckles on your nipples like he had all the time in the world, as if you weren't in a cramped store room feeling as if you were about to explode from his touch alone. gentle tongue drawing circles around the bud, eyes staring up at yours with devotion. your hips move against his, and his eyes flutter shut as he sighs, his hips starting to grind up against you as well. 

"turn around," he mumbles. "now, princess." 

"i want to see you," you protest, hands gripping onto his arms as he slowly walks forward on his knees, pushing you towards the wall. 

"i'm sorry, baby-" he kisses you, placatory and sweet. "we'll go again in my bedroom later, okay? need you like this now."

you let him maneuver you until you're facing the wall, legs spread apart as he kneels in between. trying to soothe you, he rubs a hand over your stomach, reminding you of his presence the entire time he rids himself of his jeans and underwear, rolling on a condom, tension building with every small sound, until you can feel something thick and heavy press between your legs. 

"haechan-" you pant, your back arching just slightly as you lean towards the wall for support, feeling his hand squeeze your hip. 

"i know," he mumbles, making slight shushing sounds as he eases himself against you. "i know, baby." 

even though he was behind you, you knew the face he would make as you felt his tip slowly push past your entrance, the way his eyebrows would float upwards as his eyes went unfocused, lips parting in a lovely 'ah- ah' that he tried hard to contain behind hisses and bitten lips. part of you still wants to see it, but all thoughts are lost as he fully sheaths himself into you, feeling him deep inside from the position. his hand on your hip creeps over to your navel, and he pushes gently over where he was buried inside you, the pressure somehow intensifying as you feel full from all sides. 

slowly, his body presses you further into the wall, and you gasp as the cool surface brushes your chest. he kisses the nape of your neck, and your body trembles, shifting against him and whining as you clench around him from sensitivity. behind you, haechan mumbles out a string of curses, hips jolting forward unsteadily before he stops himself. 

"please move," you whisper, and he moans, finally thrusting into you. he finds a rhythm that's slow and deep, feeling full and stretched out each time you throb around him. a particularly harsh thrust has you whining, your hips tilting towards the wall, trying to get away, but suddenly the solid weight of his body presses against you ever harsher as he rolls his hips, his chest pressed to your back. he feels stronger, and sturdier than he ever did before, as a hand creeps down to your clit and begins to rub slow and lazy circles, his body attuned to yours. you jolt away from the simulation, ass suddenly jolting back against his length, making you cry out again, sandwiched between pleasure. 

"don't run from it," he coaxes. "just take it, hm?" 

you had nowhere to go as he fucks himself into you, wet sounds filling the small space, and you're sure the floor is wet with your arousal, can feel your next climax approaching fast, making you forget about the ache in your knees and in the way your head pressed against the hard wall. you begin to shake in his hold, trying to fuck yourself back on his cock while he bullies your clit relentlessly, but once again his chest presses into you, strong arms holding you firmly in place as he overflows your body with pleasure, a hand slowly grasping yours and squeezing.

"i missed you, baby," he says, quietly, voice surprisingly steady despite the way he was ramming into you. "i really missed you." his lips brush the shell of your ear. 

you cum unexpectedly, crying out, squeezing tight around him as all the muscles in your body tense. your hand squeezes tight around his as the other rubs quick circles on your clit, working you through your orgasm. you can feel him still behind you as he cums too, whining in a pitch and tone you'd never heard from him before, desperate and achy as you clench around him again from the sound, so sensual that it rekindles a fire inside you despite the soreness in all your limbs. 

your weak hands fumble against him, scrabbling against his strong grip. he pulls out with a hiss, helping you turn around to face him. in the semi-darkness, you can see the concern pooling in his eyes, bright and scared. 

"was it too rough?" he asks, breathlessly. his hands skim your frame, pulling you onto his lap. 

you shake your head, nuzzling into him. you're torn between watching that silvery glow in his eyes, makeup smudged around all his corners, and burying yourself deep inside his chest until you can feel his heartbeat on your cheek. 

"baby? are you alright?" he rubs gentle circles on your back, as you nod. "use your words, please," he says, softly. 

"you got stronger," you blurt out. 

"did i hurt you?" he moves against you, something protective in the way he holds you that makes your body sing with warmth. 

"no," you say shyly. "i loved it." 

you lift your head just quick enough to catch the way his face crumples. before you can ask, he leans in and he's kissing you again — soft, gentle, sweet and almost shy. when you part, he looks dazed, eyes drifting down to your lips and wandering back up to your eyes. 

"you deserve better," he says, quietly. 

he looks down, at the way you're sitting in his lap, and then tilts his head sharply to look around the store room, as if he meant you deserved better than this for your first time back with him. as if this was about sex at all. 

you take a deep breath, and shake your head. "haechan, you're exactly what i deserve." 

the name rings out in the space. it seems to ground him, and he shakes his head to clear it, slowly untangling himself from you as he gets ready to help you up. 

you swallow. "take me home," you tell him. "take care of me." 

he does exactly as you say. 

—

attention simmers on your skin, a palpable heat you're unable to shake. 

girls circle the kitchen island like sharks, eyes glinting under the fluorescent lights, but they're never able to come close as it's so clear haechan's focus is entirely on you. haechan's back is turned to the party as he sits on the counter, long legs spilling over and the muscles in his thick thighs accentuated by the way he sits, denim stretched tight and each gaping hole making you doubt your decision to come to the party here, instead of going over to his home. 

it was his party, and he should go. the fans would be upset if he didn't at least show. now you were seriously regretting it, as you ducked your head to avoid the glare of another crowd as they passed by, while haechan knocked back another drink. 

he had been alight with energy ever since the show ended — agreeing amiably when you suggested going to the party, his smile only wavering when you reminded him he couldn't get jealous. and while your eyes wandered around the party, drinking in the scenes you hadn't seen in awhile, he was doing everything in his power to keep your attention on him, camera strap hanging from his neck as he clicked through the photos, pointing out the parts where jaemin had helped him, explaining the stories behind the pictures. 

"i didn't know you were into photography." it's a stupid statement, that you want to retract immediately. of course you didn't – you didn't know much about him at all. but it makes him smile a little proudly, clicking on the dial to speed through the photos. 

"yeah well, i've never taken a photo of you." he mumbles, scratching the nape of his neck. "i know for sure because when we…you know…when we weren't seeing each other, and i missed you…" his cheeks are burning up, his mouth barely moving as he tries to fumble through the rest of the sentence, plush lips swallowing his words. "i couldn't find any photos of you. on my camera or in my phone or…" he trails off. 

your heart thrums harder in your chest. "yeah?" 

"do…do you have photos of me?" he asks. timidly, softly. his eyes trained on his camera, unseeing, breath held in his chest waiting for your answer.

"of course i do," you murmur. you hope he can hear the smile in your voice, know that it's for him.  "rockstar." 

his fingers twitch, and he looks up at you, a searing intensity in his eyes that wasn't there before, flames licking at your cheeks as you hold his gaze, a warmth that sparks down your spine like fireworks. the sounds of the party fade away, sealing you in the vacuum of his attention.

"y/n,"  his voice drops an octave, all the softness drained out of it. 

"haechan?" 

"let me take a photo of you," he murmurs. "please." 

"now?" 

"no, not now," he says, slowly. "you know what i mean, princess." 

but you never get to clarify, because someone taps you lightly on the shoulder. haechan's eyes flicker behind you, all the intensity faded out, and it feels like your lungs fill with air again as you turn to see jisung, holding two cups in his hands, one of which he's holding out to you. 

you're torn between crushing guilt, and relief that he doesn't hate you. 

"j-jisung," you splutter. "jisung, hi." 

"hi, y/n." he smiles, nudging the cup towards you again, and you take it. almost against your will, your eyes dart over to haechan, but his face is impassive and neutral, camera laying forgotten on his lap as he turns quickly to survey the party behind him. was he trying to offer you privacy, or was he upset? 

you sip from the drink, trying not to make a face at the overwhelming sweetness that floods your tastebuds. the boy had barely put any alcohol in it. your hand almost inches towards the cup haechan made for you, wanting to balance out the taste, before you stop yourself. 

you didn't want to hurt his feelings again. 

"it's been a while," you say, sheepishly. "and again, i'm really sorry about last time."

"it's okay," he says, cheerfully. "haechan already apologised. besides, you can make it up to me on our date."

jisung's words have a physical effect on haechan. you feel him tense up behind you, body going stiff as he turns back to watch you, eyes trained on the side of your face. 

"you still owe me a date." you don't know if it's determination, or sheer recklessness, that inspired jisung to say this to you as you stood in the kitchen with haechan just inches away, the side of his thigh still brushing your waist. "are you free tomorrow night?" 

you try your best not to look at haechan. he had no right to care, you didn't owe him anything. you didn't know what you wanted to see on his face either way — whether his jealousy would make you angry, whether his sadness would hurt you instead. 

"i am," you agree, hesitantly, and jisung's close-lipped smile blooms. 

—

"you know there are other boys out there right? that there's a world beyond the band?" 

"shut up, jaemin," you mumble, checking your reflection in the dressing room mirror one last time. 

"this is good for you." his tone has changed, as he leans against the locked door. "jisung is nice. i hope it works out." 

tonight's show had been different. jaemin had reluctantly confirmed that it wasn't just your imagination — the way haechan was quieter throughout, more self-conscious in his performance, eyes barely scanning the crowd, taking longer glances at you throughout the show. jisung's confidence, on the other hand, poured off him in waves, his jacket unzipped, gums showing as he smiled wide. 

"i know." you sling your bag across your body, adjusting your skirt, as you turn to face him, taking a deep breath. "i'm really giving him a chance, jaemin. i'm…i'm taking this seriously, even if you don't believe me." it wasn't a lie. you barely knew anything about jisung, and jisung barely knew anything about you — but he was always sincere and sweet, quietly brave under his shyness. you couldn't forget the way he looked at you even with haechan by your side. it made you want to give him a chance too.

"i believe you," he reassures. "good luck, okay?" the door unlatches with a small click, and he gives you one last wave before heading out into the corridor. 

your eyes dart back to your reflection one last time before you turn back, satisfied with your appearance, and start towards the door. you barely take a step before there's a creak, and you think it's jaemin coming back, or perhaps jisung, wondering why you took so long. 

but of course, things are never easy. 

a familiar face enters the room, pushing the door open wide. he doesn't bother to close it, just takes you in for a second — eyes sweeping your frame, taking in your jewelry, the hints of makeup on your skin, your clothes, your neat hair. dejavu crawls over your skin, remembering the first time you'd met jisung, the way haechan had cornered you in the dressing room after, too. you tense your shoulders, preparing for the fight. 

"you look nice," he says, quietly. 

your lips part. "haechan-" 

but before you can speak, he's blurting out his next words. "j-jisung's going to love it," he stammers out, shadows flickering in his gaze as he swallows, throat bobbing. "i… i just came here to say good luck." at your surprised expression, his lips curve up into a sad smile. "that…that's what friends do, right?" 

"yeah." your hands grip onto the sling of your bag tightly, afraid of what your hands would do if you let go. 

"i'm going to go now," he mumbles. "i…have fun, y/n." 

there isn't a trace of sarcasm in his tone, his eyes soft and fond. he leaves before you can say another word, not closing the door behind him. you can hear his boots all the way down the corridor, can hear him disappear up the stairs. 

you try not to think about his voice, as you take the back exit out of the venue, see jisung standing in the warm summer night, smiling under a streetlight. try not to dwell on the fact that haechan might have actually wished the best for you – no more layers of pretense under pretense, no more feelings without reason. 

it's easier said than done.

—

two hours pass, your food gone from your plates, only the dregs of your drinks left in their glasses, before jisung finally clears his throat. 

"this isn't working out, is it?" 

"i'm sorry," you say, biting your lip. you'd walked to see a movie, something jisung had picked out, but had been mind-numbingly dull to you. you settled to watch his reactions instead, the way his hands flew over his eyes at the more intense scenes, the way he bit down on his fingers when the tension spiked. it was cute, but less so when he started asking you questions about the movie, and you had to admit you didn't remember any part of the plot past the first 20 minutes. 

late night dinner hadn't been better, each topic running itself to the ground quickly, your opinions and lack of opinions causing each conversation to crash to an uncomfortable halt. good things take time, had been jaemin's text to you when you asked for help. you were sure that jisung and you weren't acting like your true selves, the prospect of the date altering the way you talked and responded to each other, until you'd finally come to the conclusion that perhaps you just weren't compatible. 

"i really thought this would work out," jisung says, a tinge of sadness coloring his words. 

"i wanted it to," you confess. selfishly, you had almost been excited at the prospect of things working out with jisung — needing confirmation that you could still feel for others. excited for the date leading to the next, to fall in love with surety. 

excited to find the first relationship, the first 'you and i' that haechan seemed to think you deserved. 

"it's okay," jisung reaches out, pats your hand clumsily, shyly, as if surprised that reaching towards you meant he actually got to touch you  "i didn't know much about you when i asked you out, anyway. just thought you were really pretty." he looks mortified again, and it makes you laugh — everything about him still endearing.

"do you want to just be friends?" you ask, gently. 

it's like a weight lifts from the conversation, and he sighs, relieved. "yeah," he echoes. "friends." 

the silence that follows is a lot more peaceful. jisung slumps slightly in his seat, like the tension has left his body. his deep voice somehow still manages to sound timid when he speaks up next. 

"since we're friends…" 

you nod, encouragingly, taking a last sip of your drink. 

"can i ask…do you like haechan?" 

you nearly choke. jisung was looking at you carefully, although he smiled at the expression on your face. 

"a-are you sure you want to talk about this?' you stammer. 

he shrugs, but there's something unreadable in his expression. "i'll always be curious about it, and i guess this is my chance to ask." 

you don't have the heart to answer him directly. 

"i…i used to," you say, slowly. "but that was when i didn't know him." 

"know him?" he asks, confused. 

you nod. "yeah. i didn't really know him as a person….just…knew the performance, i guess." 

jisung still looks confused, but he nods along. "well, do you know him now?" 

you think of the sunlight in his living room. the faint dimple on his cheek as he showed you a photo of his sister running towards the camera, her face alight as she called out for her big brother. his arms around you in the kitchen, as he asked you to stay. the slope of his neck as he turns towards you at the end of a song — the fading sound of his guitar as his eyes sought yours. 

"maybe," you say, softly. 

"and?" jisung prompts. "could you like him now?" 

you don't answer him aloud, but your unspoken words ring in your head. 

—

it's different this time, haechan tells himself, as he grips his phone in his hands. 

it's different this time, because he knew where you were. he knew why you weren't calling. 

he slumps back against his bed, his body heavy with alcohol but his mind racing wild, each thought outpacing the next. 

the apartment was silent and empty. both jeno and mark were gone for the night. haechan hadn't bothered to go to the party, knowing that he would feel jisung's absence like a pain lodged in his ribs. he wonders if jisung will bring you home, here, whether you'd let him, even if he knew jisung wasn't the type of boy to go further than hand-holding on the first date. he thinks of it anyway — of hearing your sounds through his bedroom wall. whether it would make you needier to know haechan was listening. 

he feels like a loser. he's never felt more uncomfortable in his own skin, more unclean, more ashamed. but then again, there's no one around to know, as he lets his mind wander a little farther, away from you and jisung, away from his phone, sinking deep into the last time he'd touched your skin, images and sensations jumping out eagerly at him when he closed his eyes. flicks through moments that caused a heat to lick down his spine, the familiar hum of pleasure buzzing low in his navel — your legs on his shoulders, your hands in his hair. your taste, the patterns he would draw on your body so you'd shake just the way he liked, the spot on your neck he could kitten-lick to feel you tense up all around him. 

that night, even after he'd fucked you in the store room, you had been insatiable. 

he'd tried to touch you like the other girls he used to play with — never speaking much, preferring to use his mouth for other things, let their own imaginations run wild with what he could be thinking behind his hooded eyes. he'd taken you with your face turned away from him, pleasure without intimacy, sucking bruises as a keepsake for you after the night ended, not as if you were his to keep or to lose. 

let's try not to do anything romantic. 

but then you'd begged him to talk to you. told him to take you home. he'd hated it — hated the way you folded for him, like someone had given him powers he couldn't help abuse. do you know how tender this is for me? he'd wanted to ask, as he was touching you again in his sheets back home, racing to meet your every demand before you asked for it. 

your legs parted for him as he entered you, trying to keep his eyes open through the pleasure to watch your every expression, the look he'd been dying to see — your eyelashes fluttering, lips parted silently, the sharp gasp as he found your soft spot, your hands scrabbling against his skin. he held your gaze even as he let you wrap your legs around his waist, ankles locked in a sweetheart's cross behind him as he pushed your legs even higher, letting him in deeper. he'd never imagined himself with anyone like this before — a position so full of love and closeness, feeling your body and ripple against his, leaning in to kiss your lips softly, kiss away your desperation. 

he'd almost gone crazy when you found your voice amidst all the pleasure. 

"donghyuck," you'd breathed, saying the name like a prayer. "feels so good." 

he had stilled, slowing to a stop, even though he was painfully hard in you. his heart racing in his chest, pounding so hard he felt like it was about to burst out of his chest.

"you," you mumbled, slowly grinding your hips against him. "you make me feel so good, 's like no one else-"  

"yeah?" he picks up the pace again, tilting your body at an angle now so he could go even deeper, watches the way your face changes. he was the one who pulled that sound from your chest — sated but desperate at the same time, needy but satisfied. "i make you feel this good, right? i'm good for you, everything's for you-" he babbled, not making sense to even himself, your praise burying itself deep inside him like a siren song. 

you'd choked out more praises, pretty words tumbling from your parted lips, your eyes never leaving his. 

"more, hyuck-" you pulled at him, nails scratching down his back. "hyuck-" 

it's like he can hear your voice, as his hand slides down to his hip, down to his leaking cock. 

he jerks himself off like that — to the images of you pressed under him, your voice calling his name. he does it fast, with no finesse — tugging roughly, the slide too dry, but he doesn't care about drawing out the pleasure, doesn't think it matters if you're not here with him. 

he feels even filthier after he finishes — peeling off his soiled shirt, as he stumbles to the bathroom. he knows he won't hear from you tonight, that you wouldn't do that to jisung, but still he keeps his phone unlocked with the ringer on next to his bed as he lays down again. 

maybe he would wake up, and you would tell him he could never see you or touch you again. his mind wanders in another direction now, away from your body, away from pleasure — to the ways you made his heart squeeze tight in his chest. when you said his name. when you'd comforted him as he was crying, the kindness in your eyes despite all the ways he hurt you. sitting on the kitchen counter, thinking of ways to keep you with him as your eyes wandered off. look at me, he'd wanted to beg. think of me. just me. 

he goes to sleep thinking about how this could be the last night before you'd really only exist in memory and fantasy, before everything changes.

@neochan, @ahncosette, @18shy @kittydollzz @jenoslutie @pussymode @yyfka @cheolctrl @jaeminsballs @mysummerhyuck @strawberrytyong @rosiejunnie @nctzen4eva @haechskies @wickedrei @sundamariis @liliansun @lanadreamie @nodisdino @angelwonie @foxydumps @manooffline @moonsmias @skzct7 @iscocohere @ficrecnctskz @makiswrld @itskkung @simpforarmihn @aryraaaa @rbf-aceu @laubyrinthine @yujuvly @nctevia @hyuckenjoyer @guhhfgbbj @girlwholoveslpreppyattire @kasperneo @eneiyri @toroufriteh @cauliephays @jisoung @niinjo @wonaoi @yuskitty @strawbabyz @readingisgodly @daegalfangirl @minkyuncutie @feat-sun @chaoticstrawberryland @shawnyle @sofix-hc7 @scftharu @spageddy @adorejaehyn @manooffline @02mrk @tyongspice1 @runahways @neosdaisy @hotmessexpress35

[atozphantomsquadron]

XV - Snake Eyes

(cw: suicide)

Our first mission with Cole wound up being related to our mission in Austria.  Since our return to the States Kitty had been going over intelligence and political scenarios regarding the president of Afghanistan, and a chilling report she presented to us and Yardley made a great deal of sense.  Afghanistan, at the time, was part of a three-nation alliance blocking the admission of a rogue nation, the kingdom of Jerzaan, from entering OPEC.  After their president and another of the leaders of the détente, a shah from Oman, were assassinated, the new interim governments were voting in favor of the kingdom’s admission, leaving one single opponent, Jordan.  Jordan was taking advantage of the body’s bylaws, which state admission of a new member requires a unanimous approval by the existing member nations, so Yardley sent us out on a mission to give covert protection to Jordan’s monarch, King Fahai.

While we waited for our mission to begin as well as our travel clearances, which also included the issuance of a HoSIP to Cole, I tried to do as Ken had asked and be a friend to my new teammate, spending time with him. We had pleasurable conversations for the most part, mainly talking about our respective pasts.  He was an Annapolis graduate, just like Ken had been, but still held respect for VMI thanks to some of his instructors being alumni.  Before he had joined us he had been a pilot, which made me slightly jealous since that was all I ever wanted out of my Navy career.  He had actually seen action over Iraq, something which I was also jealous of: combat pilots with actual wartime experience are few and far between now.

The conversation turned at one point to how I came to be in the unit.  I told him part of my story, leaving out the project and 37A, only starting when Ken found me on the street.  He seemed to have taken a neutral interest in the story as I went along.

As I reached a conclusion to my storytelling, Cole asked me an awkward question.  “Did you love him?”

I flushed slightly when he asked that.  “I guess I did.  He was the first person in a long time to show me any kindness.  I took it as a sign that he cared about me, so … yes, I guess I loved him.”

Cole sniffed at that response.  “I’m not surprised.  You’re a very nice girl, Ariel, I can see what he saw in you.  Forgive me if I’m less than enthusiastic about your relationship with him, though.  Having so little contact with my father left both me and my mother resenting him.”

“I remember him saying that was one of his regrets.”

“Good, I’m glad he felt something for us.”  His tone had turned very cold very fast.

“Cole, please, don’t resent him.  He cared about you…”

He stood up, fire flashing in his eyes.  “If he really gave two damns about us, would he have not sent any word of concern or condolence when mom died two years ago?  If he honestly loved me, would he have basically married his job and left me with this stupid role, on this stupid team, with you stupid people?”

He was nearly screaming at the end of that tirade.  His words cut me deeply.  I stood and ran out of the room, despite his pleading to me to come back, his apologies and assurances he was not angry at me.  Until we went out on the mission, I spent the rest of the waiting time curled up in my room, on my bed, trying to heal the emotional damage, pleading to God and to Ken to forgive Cole for his anger and forgive me for taking Ken away from Cole.

Shortly afterward, we received word that we would be heading to Monte Carlo, as King Fahai was attending a state function there.  Cole was issued his HoSIP and we were all given our roles for the operation.  36 hours later, I sat with Cyrus at an outside café, within sightline of the largest casino in the city, sipping a quiet cup of tea.

Cyrus sensed my apprehension as we sat there.  “Problem, my dear?”

I looked over at his camouflage body, normally-proportioned but still looking like him.  “Oh, nothing.  Not much, anyway.  Cole hates me, but what else is new?”

“Oh, I don’t think he hates you.  Sure, he has some deep-seated resentment against Ken, but I don’t think he’s transferred that to you.”

I sipped gently on my tea.  “They why is he taking it out on me?”

Cyrus reached over and took my hand in his.  It wasn’t until my mind went into fast-forward that I realized he was using that damned mind-reading spell on me again.  He smiled gently.

“I see now … you’re starting to get feelings for him.”  HoSIP Cyrus looked over at me, a twinkle in his artificially-disguised eye.

“I do not!”  I protested quickly before I realized that if Cyrus had just read it from my own mind, it must be true.  I sighed.  “Okay, maybe a little bit.”

“It’s not just because of that vision of yours, is it?”

“For God’s sake, stop reading my mind!!”  I playfully threw a sugar cube at Cyrus’s head.  “No, I’ll have you know it’s more than just the visions.”

He leaned in closer.  “Don’t fight the feelings, Ariel.  Trust me.  I’ve known love many times over my lifetime, I’ve known how it stings and I know how it heals.  This might be good for you, having Cole in your life and letting him in.”

I supported my head on my hand at that point.  “Perhaps.  Or maybe it’s the biggest mistake of my life.  Who knows but God, really?”

Cyrus got a misty, far-away look and smiled at me.  “Ariel, trust me, when love is right, it’s never a mistake.”

I nearly responded in the negative to that answer, but we were interrupted in our conversation by gunfire.  Across from where we sat, more men like the ones from Austria were swarming into the casino, weapons at the ready.  My heart went into my throat: I was worried about the mission, but more about Cole, being that he was inexperienced with the Sword and with working in a combat situation with Kitty.  Cyrus and I both dropped our HoSIP bodies and ran into the street, toward where the men were swarming.  I realized it would be faster if we flew, picked up Cyrus, and unfurled my wings to zip over to the fight.

I should tell you, fighting with Cyrus takes some experience, mainly because you need to learn how to ignore his magic blasts when they nearly burn your face off, but also because you have to watch where you’re going.  He’s powerful, but he’s also extremely short, so if you’re not careful you can trip over him and mess up both of your attacks.  This was another thing I was unsure about with Cole, once we forced our way inside through the black-clad forces.  We pushed through them, through the entrance and the lobby, through screaming gamblers and employees alike, until we found ourselves in the midst of the main gaming floor, surrounded on all sides by hostiles and reunited with Cole and Kitty.

Cole had already drawn the Sword, so the Guardsman stood at the ready, watching as we were circled and taunted by the enemy forces.  When we launched our attack, though, they seemed more than human.  They quickly dodged any physical attacks, whether it was the Sword or Kitty’s bullets.  Magic and non-standard attacks, however, seemed to work: Cyrus was picking off three at a time with spells, while I was just discovering that my human body could firecast as well, burning up more hostiles as we fought through them.

Some of the hostiles were more clever than others, however.  One of them threw a grenade into my fire stream, which detonated, the concussion knocking me backward.  I wound up slamming into the Guardsman and knocking him aside, making him drop the Sword and shrink back into Cole.  His eyes were red with battle rage.

“What the hell?!  Ariel, knock it off and get out of my way!”  He picked the Sword back up, rushing back into the fight as the armor grew around him.  He was unable to get any further into the swarm of black-clad fighters, however, and after a strong spell from Cyrus they were storming back out of the casino.

I looked around, short of breath and panicked.  “Kitty!  Where’s Kitty?!”

Cyrus came over to me and helped me to my feet.  “I think they captured her.”

Cole had sheathed the Sword.  “They wouldn’t have done it if somebody hadn’t knocked me out of the fight!”

I felt rage boiling in me.  I brought myself nose-to-nose with Cole: I felt the rumbling in that second stomach and felt smoke escaping my nostrils.  “If I had better backup when I was vulnerable, then maybe you wouldn’t have been knocked out.  Who do you think you are, you just joined this unit, you don’t know how to fight, you don’t know how to use that Sword …”

“I’m making the best of a bad situation here!  If you don’t like it, you can clear the hell out and get out of my goddamn face!”

The flames were coming.  I was very close to cooking this man I was trying to befriend, who I promised I would help.  Cyrus finally pushed his way between us.

“Kids, cut it out!  Not in front of civilians!”

We kept arguing and pushing toward each other, against Cyrus’s hands keeping us apart.  Finally both hands glowed against us.

“Concussion!”

The spell knocked both of us in opposite directions.  I shook my head to clear the cobwebs as I stood up, watching Cole do the same across the room.  Cyrus’s voice boomed at us as we recovered.

“Killing each other is not going to bring Kitty back!  Pull your damned heads out of your asses and move out!  We’re done with the mission.”

He seemed awfully emotional, more than I’d known him to be before.  Now that I think of this, combining his actions in the casino with our discussion outside should have been the first couple of clues about how he personally felt about Kitty, feelings that she would eventually reciprocate.  They turned out to be a really cute couple, and in fact last I’d heard they were expecting themselves.

(Transcriber’s note: At this point I’m probably thinking the same thing you are: is this a CIA unit or the cast of a soap opera?  There are so many different romantic interpersonal dynamics going on here that it’s hard to keep track.  I made a mental note to track down the Salems at a later date to try to get their own take on these events.—DAM)

After we ensured that King Fahai was still alive and healthy, we made our escape from Monte Carlo.  During the flight back, we were in contact with Yardley, and did our debriefing en route.  It was to our shock, then, that Yardley ordered us to remain in Langley pending further orders, rather than attempt a rescue of Kitty.

Cyrus was clearly upset by this.  “Sir, we need to get her back as soon as possible.  If it is indeed Jerzaan that has her, there’s no telling what they’re going to do with her.”

“I understand, Cyrus.  I really do.  Kitty’s like family to me.  All the same, I’m under budget watch by the GAO, so I can’t be expending materiel and manpower to send you guys out to Jerzaan on what could possibly be a wild goose chase.”

Cole crossed his arms and slumped in his chair.  “So we go home and wait for orders, huh?  That’s how this unit works?”

“It is as long as I’m here calling the shots, Cole.  Deal with it.”  Yardley disconnected.  I curled myself up into an emotional ball again, while Cole and Cyrus discussed something across the aisle from each other.  I was past the point of listening, so intently determined to do something to make people stop being angry.

That evening, as we returned to quarters, I begged off of dinner and informed Cyrus that I’d be taking a bath for most of the evening to clear my head.  When the door of the bathroom closed behind me, I turned the water on all the way to cold.  While it filled, I undressed and started looking at myself in the mirror again.  My dragonish face greeted me, half covered in my long black bangs.

Just the way Kitty had styled it.

I missed Kitty a great deal at that point, wishing that it had been me that had been captured rather than her.  My face sagged with my sadness, as I continued to lose myself in my eyes.

Isolation returned to me in a wave.  I opened the medicine cabinet behind the mirror and found two men’s razors.

I stepped into the bathtub, the cold water bracing me but not quite as much as it would have if my flesh had not made this change.  Again, it took a lot more pressure to cut through not only the dragon skin but also through the previous scar tissue, but I was able to find purchase.  Three times, lengthwise, on each wrist should do it, I thought.  The blood flowed freely once more, creating a pink tinge to the cold water which continued to flow over my body.  The tub slowly began to overflow as the lightheaded feeling came to me.  I closed my eyes and slipped my head under the surface, embracing oblivion.

I found myself in the old familiar surroundings, the dusky place between life and death.  No dragon stood there.  No knight stood there.  Nothing stood in the way of me and my final decision.  I took a step forward, moving toward the only light I could see, a gray faraway source of illumination which I could only guess was the entrance to the hereafter.  I slowly kept walking toward it, but strangely it never came closer.  I kept walking, speeding up my steps, running for it, sprinting for it, but still it never came closer.

Before I knew it, though, I had found someone else in the plain.  It was Ken.  He turned and looked at me with an expression of sincere duty on his face.

“You cannot pass.”

I burst into tears.  “Please Ken, don’t make me go back … Cole hates me, everything has gone to hell because of me … I don’t deserve to live anymore …”

“You must remain.  Cole needs you.  The love that will save a life.”

That finally stopped me short, that reminder of my past visions between life and death.  I finally decided it was time to ask.  “Is Cole that love?”

Ken motioned his head.  “Only if you let him be.”

“But how?  He’s grown so cold, so angry …”

“Reach out to him, Ariel.  Show him the care you hold in your heart, and he will return that care in kind.  Let your inhibitions go.  Let yourself love him.  You already know you want to.”

I held my hands to my heart.  It was beating nearly out of my chest.  “I do, Ken.”

Ken smiled, then faded into light.  It was then that I realized my eyes were opening.  Cole’s face was close to mine again, but this time it was an expression of horrified worry rather than anger that greeted me.  He was pulling me out of the bathtub and into his arms, trying to warm me back up.

“Come on, girl, hang in there.”  He turned his head and yelled.  “Cyrus, get the goddamn medic!  She’s really cold!”

I noticed how cold I was at that point and shivered, looking up at him pleadingly.  “Just let me go … no good to anyone …”

“No, girl, I can’t do that.  If my dad couldn’t let you die, then I won’t either.”  He clutched me gently to his chest and rocked me as we waited for Cyrus to return.  I was barely conscious of Cole and Cyrus and the medic tending to me, of Cole gently laying me in my bed, of Cyrus casting healing spells over my wrists once more.  What I was conscious of was the comfort of a soft mattress, of someone tucking in the sheets around me, of drifting off into a coma-like sleep, only roused when I felt another human lump next to my hip.

I briefly had a recollection of the last time this had happened.  Ken was tending to me, he was caring about me, he … he was loving me, loving me like a child.  He ensured that I was okay, that I would survive.  Weakly, I looked down at the lump next to me, and realized it was Cole’s entire body, outside the covers and still clothed in what he had been wearing when he rescued me.  He apparently had been trying to watch over me, only to have fatigue and sleep overcome him, so he was trying to share body warmth.

Cole was tending to me now.  Only he didn’t tend to me like a father, he tended to me like a lover.  I watched him quietly as he slept next to me, watched his peaceful expression change occasionally to a fearful one, to a concerned one, then back to peace.  His hair fell over his eyes slightly, tousling as he moved his head on the pillow.

My heart pounded again, like it had in the place between, like it had when Ken had confronted me on my feelings.  It pounded insistently, demanding I do something about the situation.  I looked back over at Cole, back at his peaceful sleeping form.  I raised a hand to stroke his cheek, and the beating of my heart accelerated to triple time.  I swallowed hard, feeling lightheaded again although it was not from blood loss this time.

The urge overcame me and guided my actions finally.  I reached my face forward and kissed him.  Not like I had kissed Ken, with the gentle peck, but the long kiss that comes with an admission of love.  I held my face to his, my lips to his, for what felt like an eternity.  My entire body felt electrified, like a battery receiving a new charge.

When I pulled back at last, his eyes were open and he was smiling.  His eyes felt relieved as they met mine.  He took a deep breath.  “Thank God, you’re alive.”

My heart jumped.  He cared about me, he truly did.  He saved me just like his father had, he had cared for me, he had helped to tend to my injuries.  Now he was tending to the last one, to my broken heart.

I rested my forehead on his, still keeping one hand on his cheek.  “Thanks to you, Cole, I’m alive.  Thank God for you.”  I was overcome with emotion again, giving in and kissing him again, this time deeper than before.  Things might have escalated, were it not for Cyrus clearing his throat as he walked in the room.

“I think she’s awake, Cyrus,” Cole said sheepishly as he sat up.

“Yes, I could tell by how far your tongue was going down her throat.”  Cyrus’s cynical answer made me chuckle gently, until he handed me another mug of his horrible medicinal cocktail.  “I know you hate this stuff, Ariel, but you need your energy.  We’re going to get Kitty back, Yardley be damned.”

(Transcriber’s note: I was able to find a record of an Admiral “Harris Yardley,” although it was an incomplete service record.  He spent time in Vietnam as a young officer before coming Stateside to attend the Naval War College.  By the time he graduated the war was already over, so he took a position as an intelligence liaison to the Naval Academy.  Apparently it was in Annapolis that he met Kenneth Sharpe, Cole’s father and the previous Guardsman, and began his relationship with what would eventually become CIBO #A13.  The records on him end shortly after he gets his second star: for all intents and purposes, he has disappeared off of the face of the earth.—DAM)

[tinseltine]

#2 – Whitney Houston: I Wanna Dance with Somebody | Sony Pictures Releasing | Director Kasi Lemmons | Screenplay Anthony McCarten - When you grow up in the late 80’s and early 90’s, like I did, Whitney Houston‘s music is a huge part of the soundtrack of your life. The recreation of so many iconic performances and the videos is why “I get so emotional baby” watching this music biopic. I didn’t care who I annoyed in the theater, I sung out loud to every song the entire movie and luckily there were others who joined me. There’s a true sense of joy, care, respect and triumph throughout the film even during the singer’s rough times.  Which I’m sure many critics will feel makes the movie too soft, that it goes too easy on Whitney. I haven’t wanted to read any reviews cause I don’t care about that.  I wanted to be in the presence of this iconic, megawatt talent again and relive the height of her fame when she just seemed absolutely perfect, and WHITNEY HOUSTON: I WANNA DANCE WITH SOMEBODY fulfills that need.

Anthony McCarten has written a clean, believable, engaging screenplay without many flourishes.  It’s not creative like Rocketman or Elvis, both of which I very much enjoyed, but I don’t think imaginative storytelling techniques would work for a Whitney biopic. The script moves pretty swiftly through her formative years singing in the church and on stage at a Cabaret backing up her mother, Sissy Houston, played by Tamara Tunie, who will always be Jessica on As the World Turns for me. Quickly Whitney is getting her recording contract with Artista Record, headed by Clive Davis, played by the incomparable Stanley Tucci. I always like him, but he really reminds you of Clive Davis. And the actor playing Bobby Brown (Ashton Sanders) seems like a clone of the singer from the 90’s.  But of course, what brings the movie home is the talent of Naomi Ackie, a Cockney girl from East London whose most major roles, at least stateside, have been in Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker as ex-Stormtrooper Jannah, and as Lena Waithe‘s wife Alicia in the third season of Master of None. Ackie doesn’t look like Houston, not nearly as attractive, yet it was easy enough to look past this and see her manifest the spirit of Whitney; sadly something Jennifer Hudson was never actually able to do playing Aretha.

A good portion of the film centers on Whitney’s relationship with Robin Crawford (Nafessa Williams) they meet as teens in a playground where Whitney includes her middle name, Elizabeth, when Robin asks who she is. The two just hit it off immediately and eventually move in together.  Whitney’s parents realize it’s more than girlfriends/roommates between them, which is why they don’t have any love for Robin and try to play down their relationship as much as possible, as this is at the start of Whitney’s career.  Of course, if Whitney had come to her fame in this present age, she could have been an out lesbian and lived her life with Robin as her spouse, nobody would bat an eyelash anymore, in fact, it would probably be a boost to her career.  At any rate, the film depicts her as basically straight, but simply loved Robin, and why not experiment with sexual orientation when you’re young?  Sometimes I envy how fluid kids can be today, which for the most part, is accepted. Kasi Lemmons says she took a lot from Crawford’s book “A Song for You: My Life with Whitney Houston” to capture their relationship. 

Although Whitney had a more casual, sporty side to her personality, it didn’t seem as though she was pining away for Robin, too afraid of her parents and the tabloids.  If Whitney had really wanted that life, I believe she would have made it happen, period.  Because this is a loving and fitting tribute to a legend, we don’t see the years with Bobby from their infamous Reality TV show, where Whitney acted super ghetto. Or the Diane Sawyer interview. These could have been fun to see. But I get why it skips over those years going straight to rehab and Oprah comeback.

For me, it’s not always about what’s being lauded. How often do you see a movie that seems so perfectly well-crafted and yet leaves you cold. I care about engagement, and I was transfixed watching the reenactment of Whitney’s 1994 medley at the American Music Awards of “I Loves You Porgy”/”And I Am Telling You I’m Not Going”/”I Have Nothing.” It brought me to tears, which is why this is my second favorite movie of 2022.

[astrologista]

i hate to say it but all bruce does these days is whineeeee. which i feel like is antithetical to how i understand him as a character. like yes, he broods and he does obsess, but he doesn’t really whine unless some of the time if only alfred is there to witness it lol.

like, fr. i haven’t really been keeping up with comics, so maybe i’m off base with some of this, but here’s what it looks like from the outside

bruce’s relationship with dick is under-served or just basically ignored, when they do bring it out, it’s only for very quick angst fuel then right back to business like they don’t know each other at all

bruce accepting jason back into the family was rushed and handled by sub-par writing which didn’t support the emotional gravitas that said reunification should have involved. i’ve seen a lot of fics that did it way better than what they did. it feels shoe-horned. also, why is bruce tacitly rubber-stamping jason as batman-affiliated when he’s still using GUNS? like WHAT. how does that make any sense. do bruce’s emotional boundaries matter at all? does everything have to be jason’s way or the highway? bruce is notoriously stubborn. much as he loves jason, i can’t see him letting that slide IF this were to work. DON’T SKIP OVER THE IMPORTANT CHARACTER WORK. like, set up the foundations and then build on top of that. don’t just jump to the payoff and try to walk things back as you go! it’s lazy and shows where editorial mandate stymied good storytelling. and there are way more issues with it that i have than just that. of course i love to see bruce and jason caring about each other and getting along as much as the next fan but the way they chose to go about it raises SO many questions

tim who?

no tim has been flanderized so fucking bad. actually he’s been transformed more into the fandom-lite version of himself, which i do kind of hate. oh yeah, he’s with bernard now. WHOOP TEE DOO! the fans have been clamoring for that pairing for years i’m sure.

there have been an assortment of good-to-middling damian comics since the 2010s as at least some writers seem vaguely interested in that dynamic with bruce but for every 2 mildly tolerable issues they drop one that’s got fucking jack shit bonkers writing in it and relies on only the most tired of “U LIED TO ME” tropes. nothing will compare to the tomasi 2011 batman and robin run and that was like the single decent output of the new 52 and the best thing dc has released in years. i’m right

among the newer characters they’ve released, it’s sad that they never really seem to... stick? PLEASE INVEST IN SOMEONE. more duke! more harper! more LITERALLY ANYONE!

bring the fun back to comics. where’s the storytelling. decide whether you want to create a new shitty joker and/or riddler iteration, or a new army of jokers and/or riddlers and/or scarecrows. or just create a new poo poo shitty villain of the week who will age like milk. why not have one based on social media. that’s a new one that i’m sure no one will ever see coming.

STOP SOFT REBOOTING EVERY ISSUE. we know, you’re going to start the next new groundbreaking run, take everything back to basics so nobody is confused, bring on the new readers with this cool new jumping on point, simple just batman alfred and the joker with juuuust enough of a new “modern” twist to it to differentiate it from the thousands of other times you did this. great job dc. doing great. when you’re done with that let’s do another mass cataclysm event across 20 books. im sure people will want to collect all those variant covers.

and i love how there are SO many fics that do it so, so, so much better. jesus fuck. and fic writers aren’t even being PAID! we’re not even being PAID!!

so, yeah, i’m kind of done with comics for time being. i’ve been dabbling in anime and games again, getting back to roots, but so far, it’s mainly been independent web content free of advertisers, executives, editorial and other bullshit that’s caught my fancy lately. the artistic freedom is really needed to tell a good story now. the multiverse / soft reboot / re-configure the universe every year bullshit that marvel popularized has infiltrated, like, everything, as well as the netflix model of “let’s cancel immediately after season 1”. there is no buildup. there is no excitement. there is no story. mba’s and boardrooms do not understand “story”. they don’t know what creativity is. they know what numbers, profits, engagement look like, and they are optimizing for that curve. i do not know why they are shocked when that curve sinks lower and lower every year. i just simply do not understand.

im so mad. kevin conroy’s dead and we’ll never get something like b:tas ever again. media has been my life since i was a baby. so i have to find some kind of stories to try to enjoy even if i have to eke it out in the margins of society lol

[bloomeng]

wanted to share this bc i completely agree

i like Con he seems like a nice guy, but something i notice often with actors/writers/etc. who suddenly gain big followings is that they too are often super excited about the part they get to play in all this, but when the balance between audience and production get thinner things get out of control.

specifically in this case we have him revealing information that technically isn’t canon and was likely cut for a reason. the thing about writing and generally just production is that there’s a million different powers at play and thus a lot of different reasons things get cut. and usually revealing the cut content doesn’t go well. ofmd isn’t anywhere near alone in this issue, i see it somewhat frequently. but ofmd is unique in that a lot of the stuff cut was specifically catering towards fans— ie: the underwater kiss, the boyfriends line, the darker elements of ed and izzy’s relationship, and now the tattoo. and because this stuff is so fan service-centric the backlash tends to be overwhelming. it’s easy to say well s2 was bad and it was cut for censorship and sure that might be a reason, but things like this get cut all the time, we just don’t usually hear about it.

personally i think izzy’s background being cut was totally justifiable, we barely had time to juggle everything else and we don’t need to know his tragic backstory to understand his whole deal. esp adding (likely) sh scars. that’s such a loaded topic, not something you can just casually address, and something that would’ve cluttered an already overfilled plot. things like that need time to be properly explored.

the way i see it is that the best stories focus on what needs to happen in a narrative not what an audience wants to see. especially in script writing, because you’re constantly writing with against a time limit, every scene should be progressing the story (unless it’s comedy). you don’t need every detail of a character’s life for their writing to be effective. in fact often times too much context can distract from the narrative and disrupt the emphasis. and i think when people talk about things “feeling like fanfiction” that’s what they’re identifying. fanfiction is perfect for and literally designed to just give people what they exactly want to see. it can explore places that traditional writing can’t and that’s valuable but when it comes to effective storytelling generally if you only write what audiences want to see it just ends up a mess. especially because audiences will always have conflicting opinions. it’s how we end up with endings like spn and sherlock. which this isn’t solely the issue of ofmd s2— i don’t even think it was the main issue— but i feel bad for the people who worked on this show when people overwhelmingly complain about how cut content shouldn’t have been cut.

fan service is great in moderation but too much and you sacrifice the impact of the story.

this isn’t about ofmd but i feel even worse when fans leak cut content. i see it a lot in video games and it always irks me because sure as a fan i’m gonna naturally have opinions but we will never know all the reasons things might’ve been changed. basically the industry is complicated and i’m not saying all changes made are good—bc they’re definitely not— but i think it’s important to remember that most of these people working on these projects are probably trying their best to balance things that we the audience are not privy to.

circling back to Con and his sharing of this info; the man totally means well and i don’t even think sharing this detail is necessarily this giant mistake— at least i hope he doesn’t get harassed over this— but i do think it exemplifies how this problem can quickly get out of hand. same with samba sharing a lot of bts footage. i think it’s very endearing to see how much the staff care about what they’re making. again as a fan i get why it’s fun to see but i also wish for the sanity of everyone we would just have a little more of that divide between audience and production.

but yah this is a big part of the reason i have a hard time participating in the vaguely (sometimes more than vaguely) parasocial relationship with actors. fans and actors alike mean well but it makes me cringe. esp when situations arise where they accidentally play into a popular fan theory and people take their word as canon. say it with me: actors are not writers. if it’s not addressed in the canon of the show it’s not canon.

something something don’t fly too close to the sun.

it’s wild to me that they took the time to apply a hidden tattoo to izzy every day and never utilized it in the show

[chainofclovers]

Ted Lasso 2x10 thoughts

GOOD GOD.

“No Weddings and a Funeral” is like being hungover but also coming out of a hangover. Having a terrible cold but also feeling better and appreciating every breath that comes through your nose. Embarking on an organizational project and accidentally falling into a photo album and crying about the pictures and organizing almost nothing tangible but making a few things more clear in your brain.

So much of this episode is about the AWFUL POINTLESSNESS OF DECORUM. How loud is too loud when you’re drinking stolen wine and shrieking about sex in a church right before your father’s funeral? How should you feel--thirty years later, as an accommodating, anger-averse person--about having been too angry to attend the funeral for your father who killed himself? What expression should you make when you show up really late to a different funeral? Why must you wear uncomfortable shoes just because someone died? What happens in your mind between standing up to give a eulogy for a man you’re still angry with and choosing to Rick Roll your mom and everyone else as an act of complicated love, humiliatingly incomplete until someone else starts to sing? Should you worry about your therapist seeing your normally tidy flat in a full-on state of depression mess? Is it okay to be offended that your boyfriend is so uncomfortable about death that he can’t stop making morbid jokes? Should you care about other people caring that you’re crunching an apple in church or squealing with joy to be reunited with a friend you’ve not seen in awhile? Are you obligated to explain your behavior if your kid doesn’t understand how you could stay with someone unfaithful? How far behind the counter should you sink when your [undefined relationship person]’s mother has just let you know she can see your dick through your underwear? Is a funeral reception an okay place to find a hookup? Is a funeral reception a decent spot for a break-up? Is a funeral reception a good time for a love confession when you know the person you’re confessing to is happy with someone else? And who do you make eye contact with when you can’t look directly at the person asking you if you’re okay when there’s so, so much about you she doesn’t know yet? Even if--for this tiny little moment within a vast swath of many okay and not-okay moments--you’re honest when you tell her that you are?

I fucking adored this episode because it answers all these questions very simply: Show up. Show up for yourself. Show up for your friends. Try not to harm yourself. Try not to harm your friends.

I love that this episode is about the messiness of adulthood and the things we bring with us from childhood and that it takes place partially in Rebecca’s childhood bedroom, and in Ted’s childhood memories. Dwelling in those places (whether physically or mentally) isn’t an automatic recipe for regression, but it does get everyone closer to the things that made them who they are, to the unresolved and half-buried parts of them that still make them tick today.

Forever obsessed with every single detail about Rebecca’s childhood bedroom.

Forever obsessed with Deborah’s decision to Rick Roll herself every single morning of her life.

Forever obsessed with Rebecca’s decision to Rick Roll her father’s funeral as a way to not have to make up a single word about her father and to do something very vulnerable and kind for herself and her mother and everyone.

Forever obsessed with Ted’s decision to Rick Roll Rebecca Rick Rolling her father’s funeral.

Forever obsessed with an entire found family backing it up.

I love that it is Isaac’s leadership that ensures every single member of the team attends the service for Paul.

I am very, very interested in Jamie’s love confession to Keeley because I do think it will spark some reflection in Keeley but I do not think it’ll go the cliched love triangle route.

Each scene with Rebecca and Sam struck (for me, a human being sharing a subjective perspective on the internet) the tender-awkward-beautiful-stressful chord I was hoping it would. I think it’s wonderful that Sam is honest with Rebecca about how difficult it is to keep their relationship a secret, and I love that Rebecca has a million mostly-unarticulated reasons for why she’d much prefer the secret to continue. I like that Sassy, Keeley, and Nora respond to the revelation as friends; they might be tempering their judgments in part because they’ve all gathered to bury Rebecca’s dad, but I don’t think their reactions would’ve been that different even on a happier occasion.

While there are a million and one different reasons why a continued relationship between Rebecca and Sam could cause serious ethical problems, I really love that when people share big news on this show, the people who care about them generally react by trying to see why the person is doing what they’re doing. Doesn’t mean they shouldn’t also hold each other accountable, but in my book it’s OK that Keeley’s first reaction was to feel happy that her friend is having some fun.

Also everyone has been making weird judgment calls this season, and this episode felt like a moment of real breakthroughs in terms of people telling the truth about things that happened to them and leaving themselves open to honest responses from others.

September 13, 1991. It’s so tenderly, beautifully, overwhelmingly meaningful that there’s still so much Ted and Rebecca don’t know about the things they have in common in these parallel lives they’re leading. The scene between Sarah Niles and Jason Sudeikis is so beautifully acted, and so is the scene between Hannah Waddingham and Harriet Walter. The way they intertwine to communicate that Ted and Rebecca basically lost the ability to trust their fathers simultaneously, from an ocean away? In the hands of lesser storytellers, it would feel too perfect a mirroring, but here it feels heartbreakingly imperfect. All the things they still don’t know. All the questions they try to ask each other. All the things they don’t dare ask yet. And then the storytellers are holding a candle up to all of it and letting the audience bask in the glow of this connection even if Ted and Rebecca can’t fully understand it yet.

I am so proud that Rebecca and Deborah were able to embark on the beginnings of a conversation about the ways Deborah and Paul’s relationship might have resembled or not resembled Rebecca and Rupert’s. It feels possible that they could get to a point where Rebecca truly internalizes her mother’s pride that she broke a cycle by leaving Rupert, and could maybe even understand why her mother made the choices she made. I love that in the final scene, they’re still relying on their old mother-daughter conversational patterns—the frustrations, the snippy shorthand, the passive-aggression. Mothers and daughters!

I am also proud that Ted—albeit via a joke about Sharon charging him for the house call—indicates that he understands the value of Sharon’s work. He’s changed a lot, all in realistic ways for someone who loves learning and really does want to meet people where they are and appreciate them. I’m very moved that instead of putting himself in a real harmful situation by showing up to the funeral on time at any cost, he did what he needed to do to take care of himself and accept care from someone else. And then Sharon’s suggestion that he think about things he loved about his father? And the way he’s able to share a positive memory of Rebecca’s own father at a time when she really needed it? Gosh.

Awkward, undecorous transition from 1991 to present-day incoming...but SASSY! She’s just, like, a whirling dervish of loyal friendship and not giving a fuck and penis size discussions and being casually, delightfully cruel to Rupert, who so deserves it. Rebecca was going on a real face journey when Sassy goes off with Ted at the end, and I’m sort of *eyes emoji* about all of that, but I continue to feel like Sassy is the most imperfectly wonderful friend-from-the-past kind of person and I love everything she and Nora get to do in this episode.

Keeley saying “That baby is whack” might be my favorite line in the episode? Maybe the whole show? Not really but really.

FUCK YOU, RUPERT. Bex and Diane, y’all are fine. And I truly feel for Nate...whatever scheme he’s getting suckered into. Whatever insecurity Rupert is preying on. I want Nate to go to therapy, too.

I feel like it was an unpopular opinion at the time, but I loved Rebecca’s 2x1 revelation about vulnerability and fear of getting hurt and needing to let someone love her. Sassy doesn’t always word things in the most nuanced way, but I think there’s a real possibility that she did ask Rebecca to really consider what it means to feel either safe or unsafe with a person but to know that in either circumstance, that person could end up causing her pain. Standing in that closet with Sam, managing to make it clear that she’s not asking for a break because she knows he will hurt her but because she has to figure out how to be with a wonderful person who could cause her pain...the growth, man. Makes me emotional.

I emerged from this episode feeling, of course, stunned by all the amazing parallels and revelations and beautiful acting and Rick Rolls and just, everything. I also emerged feeling sad/raw/tender because messiness and decorum and growth and coping mechanisms and death and dramatic irony and not knowing things about people and not knowing what you don’t know...it’s a sad, raw, tender place to be.

To quote a guy who got a whole sitcom (lol) named after him, life is real hard.

[jdrizzle15]

Her Second Return

Just like all of you, and especially my fellow Penny fans, I am absolutely devastated by the Volume 8 finale. I had been in quite a state these last few days, utterly heartbroken, and actually nauseous at times. It feels strange to me to be legitimately grieving a fictional character, but it’s not a bad thing to feel this way. To me, this just shows that CRWBY loves her just as much as us to have written her so well that we connect so completely with her, that it feels like we lost an actual piece of ourselves when she’s gone.

But as you can probably tell by the title, this mega post isn’t gonna be about accepting this end, not in the slightest! Today I want to share canon evidence that can point towards another return of our beloved quirky red headed cinnamon bun! I’m here to spread this hope that I and others in the Nuts & Dolts dolts Discord server have!

I have this separated into many different sections to keep these thoughts organized. With that said, here goes…

A Father’s Words:

In Episode 7 of Volume 7, ‘Worst Case Scenario’ we learn the origins of Penny’s aura, and thus her soul. We also learn that it takes more aura each time she’s brought back. This leaves open an option that could be used at a later point.

Many people theorized that Pietro could indeed revive Penny one more time, which he would absolutely do. But there also lies the possibility that someone else could donate some of theirs, I’m not sure about this as I feel like it’s akin to blood donation where compatibility matters or there's a high risk of altering her, but the possibility is definitely there.

Now, the conversation in Chapter 5 of Volume 8, ‘Amity’ that Pietro and Penny have is an important moment for both Father and Daughter. It was there to show how her death in PvP all that time ago really did have a heavy impact on him and is still affecting him to this day.

Instead of continuing to pretend that everything is A-okay, like he had done for most of Volume 7, he finally lets his true feelings about how it come out to Penny for what is quite likely the first time. Even going so far as to say "Are you asking me to go through that again?" when she offers to take the risk of trying to lift Amity with her power. He wants Penny to be able to live her life.

This entire scene with Pietro established “this is what will likely happen” even if circumstances are much different now, it doesn’t negate the fact that this is a key part of Penny’s story. Scenes like these have a purpose beyond simply making an eventual death all the more heart wrenching. Her never actually getting to live her life makes those scenes basically moot. It makes them effectively pointless from narrative point of view. Unless there's more to it.

Building Relationship:

The build up between Ruby and Penny the last two volumes has been absolutely phenomenal with a definite destination in mind, and this doesn’t feel like that destination. So much of the arc of this season was to help Penny. This girl that our main protagonist absolutely adores and treasures, it would just be awful to throw all of that out for what amounts to an avoidable end. Why use so much of their precious and very limited runtime on deliberately building up this relationship only to end it abruptly, and permanently, when they’re separated?

In my opinion, RT is definitely smarter now than to intentionally set up what was really looking like a budding gay relationship only to kill one of them for good. If N&D wasn't actually going in a romantic direction, why would they leave in all of the romance-adjacent stuff that they got, that's not how ‘just friends’ act. And that is not something you use such valuable time building up for absolutely no pay off whatsoever...

Representation of Hope:

At its core, RWBY has always been about hope. It’s not at the forefront the whole time, but there's been an underlying theme of hopefulness that has persisted since it began. Some describe the show as a Hopepunk, I personally find this to describe RWBY really well. This genre of storytelling is about caring for things deeply and the courage and strength it takes to do so. It’s about never submitting or accepting the way things are. Fighting for what you believe in and standing up for others. RWBY fits all of this extremely well. How does this relate to Penny? She has been shown to be a sign of hope for everyone, but especially for Ruby, the main main protagonist. A prerequisite for a Hopepunk story is the hope.

Her first death in V3 was something that fundamentally changed Ruby. For the first time in the series, we see our main character all but broken by this event. With the loss of Penny, immediately afterwards, Ruby’s hope followed. She made up for it through determination and force of will. We see it affect her multiple times throughout the journey to Volume 7. But upon her return in V7, Hope reached a high point for everyone, the sheer relief on Ruby’s face is plain to see!

In V8 chapter 5 ‘Amity’, Penny literally raises hope by lifting the arena into the sky so Ruby could spread her message. And when she falls, and Amity with her, the connection is lost and hope plummets again. From there things take a very negative turn with the hack begins to take Penny’s agency.

In chapter 11 ’Risk’ is the point in the arc where everyone is reunited for the moment, so two separate hero stories are no longer a thing at that point in time. For the time being focus seemed to be shifted to care about the characters and how they’re going to solve the current problems. This is also where Ruby reaches her lowest emotional point in the season.

It’s not huge, but it’s interesting how connected this is. Before Ruby and Yang share a good cry over learning the possible fate of Summer, Yang brings up restoring optimism and hope to Ruby after the younger sister storms out of the room in frustration. This is where Penny’s scenes take up the rest of the episode. Getting Penny back in control of her own body and safe again is what makes the ending of the episode much brighter, when just 5 minutes before Ruby had been distraught and scared. This then spills over into the group coming up with the plan to use the staff, putting the main group in a much better mood. Of all the things to go right, it’s interesting that it’s Penny.

Things go wrong with the plan in the end and Penny dies. I find it interesting that once again, Penny got them hopeful in their chances of doing something right. Given said plan succeeded but at the cost of Penny of all people, Penny is shown to be the beginning and end of hope for them

The highest and lowest points for hope seem to directly correlate to when Penny’s around. When she comes back again, hope will return too, just like it had before. And because she’ll likely be back for good this time, the second return will probably be close to when Ruby is nearing the complete abandonment of hope. This would be pretty par for the course of the show honestly.

A little aside, but in a sense, Penny also represents Unity. The CCT in Vale fell after her first death, knocking out global communications and the unifying connection it gave. When it was restored for the briefest moment, she was there. Her body connected so she could allow for its launch, her soul lighting the night to hold up Amity with every ounce of her strength. So of course when the Hack succeeds and she falls, she takes global comms down again with her. At a smaller scale - even at the Hack's second last attempt to control her, she draws everyone in the Schnee Manor together. At the start of the volume, Yang states the one thing that they all agree on is not surrendering Penny.

Unity seems appropriate for one whose first song and wish was for but one friend, who would go on to find so many more in the process, and permit for a moment the possibility of all Remnant becoming friends once more. Where she first died, the name of the episode devoted to her story - Amity, "friendship", from the Latin root amicus, "friend" - she almost lives and dies with the very possibility of a united Remnant. It's no wonder she's a priority target for Salem, the great divider, and it seems natural that her next restoration may very well allow the next bid to bring the world together.

The Void Screams:

Moments after Penny's death, we hear a weird scream in the void space. It was a guttural, pained, angry scream, almost like the void space itself was crying out. All the portals shuddered and flickered when it happened.

Some think that this scream was Salem returning, but that happens earlier than Penny’s death, her return is signaled with cinder's arm acting up. We know this because after the arm finished flailing uncontrollably, Cinder said triumphantly "she's back." If it were Salem screaming, it would have happened after she fixed herself, but it didn't.

And I doubt Cinder would have been surprised or unsettled by it considering she was happy Salem returned not long before it. And why would a Salem scream affect the portals anyway, she has no connection to the staff or it's magic.

Another thing to consider is the fact sound is not transmitted through the portals. Otherwise, they would've heard Oscar and the rest calling for them, or the screams of the citizens of Mantle and Atlas. This lowers the possibility of that scream being from Salem even further.

The sound really seems to be coming from something else entirely within the void, and that something is not at all happy. There’s also the fact that Penny was the only person who died in the void space, everyone else was just thrown out of it like Ruby and Co. The only logical cause to me is Penny. Her body was a product (or byproduct) of the same creation magic that made the void space, her blood seems to have been a trigger.

Now I can't be sure about it, but this makes me feel like Penny is almost a part of creation itself? For whatever this thing is to be so angry, that is the only explanation I can think of currently. But all of this could possibly relate to the Narnia allusion of 'the willing victim killed in a traitor's stead' that others have brought up, which will be covered next.

Narnia Parallels:

Atlas has several parallels and references to fictional places (putting aside real world ones like the United States). One of those is that of Narnia, both on the surface and on a deeper level. It is a land of winter year round, where people struggle to survive and there is a present divide between those loyal to the current Monarch and those who are not. James is a parallel to Jadis, the White Witch, a ruler whose thoughts and cares aren’t exactly centered around the actual well being of the people. The hologram table in Ironwood’s office is designed to look like stone, like the Stone Table which features prominently in the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. He has a handpicked cadre of special agents/secret police, like how Maugrim and his wolves served Jadis. Another key parallel is how Jadis’s winter sets in to oppress and kill everyone in Narnia, but the Witch provides aid and protection to her loyal followers. She has all the power to spare harm to others, and uses it only for the loyal. As soon as Mantle splits from James and Atlas, no care is taken to protect them from the cold of Solitas even though he has every ability to turn the heating grid back on. His protection is only for the loyal.

Now that the parallel is established, let's look into the details. Starting with how James plays the role of Jadis.

"I had forgotten that you are only a common boy. How should you understand reasons of State? You must learn, child, that what would be wrong for you or for any of the common people is not wrong in a great Queen such as I. The weight of the world is on our shoulders. We must be freed from all rules. Ours is a high and lonely destiny." These are the words Jadis says in the Magician’s Nephew to justify the blood civil war she and her sister had waged for rulership of Charn, before she came to Narnia. She won that war, technically, but only after the last battle had been lost and her sister had marched right up to her so that they were face to face. Jadis’s troops were dead, her followers had surrendered, and the capital was under full control of her sister. But, she still had one card, one ultimate play to win and prove the throne of Charn was rightfully her. The Deplorable Word, a piece of old magic that killed everyone and everything except for her on Charn. It was monstrous, senseless, cruel beyond measure. But it got her that hollow victory. This mindset, the disregard for the people except as tools for her own will, the ultimate ‘aoe’ destructive move that no one had even considered her using, the unwillingness to stop even when by all practical measures the war is over, is a shocking parallel to James. In many ways, he is Jadis in mindset and deed.

Then there is the shared desire for A Thing that both James and Jadis have. For James it’s the Winter Maiden and control over her. For Jadis it’s the Silver Apples from the Tree of Youth. And funnily enough, the Maiden Powers parallel the Apples quiet well. These apples grant power and a life of eternal beauty, but should not be taken or eaten on one’s own initiative. They must be given, a gift granted by another, or only suffering will come from obtaining them. "For the fruit always works — it must work — but it does not work happily for any who pluck it at their own will. If any Narnian, unbidden, had stolen an apple and planted it here to protect Narnia, it would have protected Narnia. But it would have done so by making Narnia into another strong and cruel empire like Charn, not the kindly land I mean it to be.” Jadis’s immortality, and some of her power, come from the fact that she ate an Apple of her own will after stealing her way into the garden where the Tree of Youth had been planted. She gained the eternal life she had wanted and the power along with it, but she did so by taking it and was cursed because of it. Her skin turned pale and her lips blackened as if she were a frozen corpse given life. She will be trapped in a life of misery and hate according to Aslan- oh hey Cinder, how’s having stolen the Power you always wanted working out for you? Cinder had the power she wanted, but she only got hungrier, eager to claim more and increase her might. But in her pursuit she was defeated and humiliated by Raven, had to steal her way out of Mistral, and then suffered defeat after defeat while in Atlas. Only in the end, when she didn’t keep pursuing the Maiden Power, did she get any kind of victory.

The reason these parallels to Narnia are so important is one of the most famous events of the series. The cracking of the Stone Table and the rebirth of Aslan after his death. ‘When a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backward.’ Well, the ‘Stone Table’ in James’s office has cracked, and Penny strikes me as a pretty willing victim. She has never actually committed any actual treachery or harm, as she was the Protector of Mantle, and fought for its and Atlas’s people until the very end. And because of her death, the actual traitor, Winter, who loyally served James until he had gone too far, was saved. Through Penny’s self sacrifice, Winter was saved. So now Death itself will start working backward.

(Major props to my friend @catontheweb for writing this section, I was getting nowhere with it, if they weren't there this part wouldn't exist!)

Norse Mythology:

The tree we see in the post credit scene gives off some serious Yggdrasil vibes. Also called the World Tree, it is essentially all of creation in Norse Mythology. It connects all nine realms, including the God realms of Asgard, the human realm of Midgard, and the underworld of Hel.

Humans are born from the branches of Yggdrasil. The web of Wyrd is woven for every person once they're born, and their path is set from there regardless of how many times the souls cycle over. But at the end, they're destined to end up in one of the worlds, for a myriad of reasons.

I believe Penny landed closest to this giant tree. She was on the center platform in the void space, so if that space is directly above the island(?) the tree is on, it makes sense for her to fall by the center nearest to the tree. This would not only open up all kinds of possibilities for the volume in general, but it would also create options for Penny.

The whole of Yggdrasil’s representations fit well into Penny’s story. Birth, growth, death and rebirth. We can count Penny’s appearance in V7 as birth for now, her growth is all her development in leaving =the military and becoming a Maiden, her death just happened, and her rebirth would be her revival. And this is a cycle she’s gone through before.

The Norse god Odin and Yggdrasil have quite a connection. In one story, Odin cut out one of his own eyes to gain knowledge from a pool underneath Yggdrasil. The only one that fell whose eyes alone are incredibly significant to the story was Ruby. So, they could choose to have her allude to Odin by having Ruby make some kind of deal with whatever entity likely rules over this magical place. An eye for Penny’s life.

There’s another story about Odin, Yggdrasil and the pursuit of knowledge. Odin so loved knowledge, that he sacrificed himself in a quest to learn the deeper magic of runes. It was believed one could only learn the magic spells from runes in death. So, Odin hung himself on Yggdrasil for nine days as an offering, and teetered between life and death. After he mastered the last spell on the ninth night, he ritually died and all light was extinguished from the world. Odin’s death lasted until midnight, when he was reborn and light returned to the world.

This story doesn’t fit Penny perfectly, but allusions often don’t. So If she really did land near the tree, she could be another loose representation of Odin’s story here. What she did wasn’t for knowledge, but to save her friends and keep Cinder from getting the Winter Maiden power. She believed it necessary that she sacrifice herself to achieve this end. As we established, Penny represents Hope, so her death means the loss of hope. This parallels Odin’s story of his death meaning the loss of light itself. So if this theory holds up, it would make this death temporary, until her rebirth and the return of Hope with her once again.

Alternatively, Ruby has the potential of loosely representing Odin in this story as well. Odin later uses the knowledge of the runes to do many things, but the most relevant one right now is awakening the dead. Both of these stories are about making a personal sacrifice to gain something that is desired. Ruby would absolutely make such sacrifices if it meant saving Penny.

It is said that Odin lived “according to his highest will unconditionally, accepting whatever hardships arise from that pursuit, and allowing nothing, not even death, to stand between him and the attainment of his goals." This sounds like Penny's arc of accepting the WM powers. This is more just a general connection between Penny and Odin, but I found it interesting.

Side Note: I encourage anyone who’s interested to look into RWBY connections to Norse Myth, there’s a surprising amount of things that feel eerily similar to the show. Likely just coincidental, but it’s fun to think about!

(If I got any of this wrong, I sincerely apologize by the way. I researched as best I could, but I admit it could have been lacking.)

Ambrosius and the Staff:

Ruby told Ambrosius "we kinda wanna keep her around longer than that" as part of her very specific instructions. Then Penny died about ten to fifteen minutes, at the absolute most thirty minutes later in-universe. I don’t know about you, but to me that seems very short to be considered ‘longer than that’. Technically it is, but when writing a story and a character says something like that, you typically don’t just kill the character they were referring to basically right away. It makes sense for a week-by-week watch, but in a volume binge, which many viewers do, it becomes ironic how fast Penny dies after being removed from her robotic body.

The first time we see the staff of creation being used, it's to save Penny. Using the staff of creation to help Penny is a sign of how incredibly important she is.

They’ve even got this entire transformation sequence for her, so it wouldn’t make sense for them to throw all that away two episodes later. In a meta context, it’s a massive waste of time and budget considering the asset creation for Penny.

Penny is a character who has already hopped bodies two times. And now we're supposed to just believe that this time it really is a final death? Just two episodes after we were explicitly told her body isn't what matters, that "Her soul is who she is" and that "the mechanical parts are just extra"? From a writing perspective, it feels strange, like your breaking a promise right after making it. And frankly, CRWBY is better than that, which makes me think this is not the actual end for her.

A possible connection between Penny, Ruby, and the Staff (thus Creation) can be seen in the intro. As Ruby is falling and being dragged down into the darkness, she is shown reaching for the staff. In the void space, Penny is the one with the relic. So with Penny having this strong connection to Creation, and the lyrics “fight for every life” playing as Ruby reaches for the staff, it’s a safe assumption to make, with the knowledge we now have, that the Staff of Creation represents Penny in this particular moment. Which could mean that V9 will be about, at least partially, fighting for Penny’s life.

Musical Hints:

In terms of music, Friend, as a song for Penny, is very dissonant from the episode itself. The song is oddly cheerful for Penny’s recent untimely death, and it overall highlights the wrong parts of death. It’s simply too happy to be a song about losing one of the most, if not the most joyous characters in the entire show. The song also abruptly ends. There’s no outro, and while this could symbolize the fact that Penny died young, it could be that the song itself is unfinished in a story sense.

What do we hear just before the song finishes, though? A progression of notes that sounds eerily similar to the last line of the opening of Volume 8. The notes for “Fight for ev’ry life” and “Who fin’lly felt alive'' share a similar melodic structure, they aren’t perfect clones of each other, but they are incredibly similar, to the point where it seems intentional. Penny may very well be the life that the opening song is fighting for. It is also worth noting that the line “Fight for every life” comes just after “Sometimes it’s worth it all to risk the fall,” which is the exact wording used for the description in the Volume 8 finale. Team RWBY risked the fall, yet, strangely the opposite of fighting for every life happened with Penny’s sacrifice. Perhaps the time to fight for every life has yet to happen, and we will see it come Volume 9.

For another thing, the lyrics for Friend are entirely centered on Penny’s feelings for Ruby, to the point where they read very much like a bittersweet love song. The music itself is incredibly cheerful, as mentioned previously, creating a mood whiplash with the end of the volume. Why would we hear a song about Penny’s feelings for Ruby, sounding like a love song, if her death is supposed to be a tragic sacrifice akin to Pyrrha’s? The song may very well be giving a clue into its future use in the show proper.

If this was meant to be a good bye song, why make it so cheerful and romantic sounding? There's only one part about her dying and even then, it's just too accepting and goes right back into cheerfulness. The song is also pretty hopeful, telling Penny's story in a fairly chronological order. And the part where she talks about sacrifice is quite pointedly followed up by one about feeling alive. It also ends with the super cheerful chorus, the word "alive" being the last... (Remember the episode title: The Final Word)

(I want to thank my friend @shadow-0f-x for writing the majority of this section! I was struggling to choose how to tackle it as I am not well versed in music theory.)

What We Didn’t See:

It is likely that Penny understood Jaune's semblance better than him and figured something out about it’s abilities in the same way that she understood Ruby's semblance better than her. She had plenty of time to observe his semblance up close as he boosted her aura to stave off the virus. Because of that intentionally timed cutaway in the finale, we don’t get to hear her explain herself after her strained “Trust me.” All of that seems really suspicious to me.

Pyrrha Parallel:

Pyrrha and Penny both sacrificed themselves to stop or stall Cinder. Jaune tried to convince the both of them to stop. With Pyrrha, he failed, while with Penny he actively helped her sacrifice herself. Doesn’t make sense for the guy who was determined not to let anyone else do what Pyrrha did, unless of course Penny assured him she’d be alright.

The Moment:

RT including the suicide hotline in the description shows that they're aware that Penny basically committed assisted suicide, seeing it as a noble sacrifice worth doing to save her friends. They're aware, and I believe they're smart enough to condemn that decision to hell and back.

The best way to do that in my opinion is to pull her back into the land of the living and let her witness first hand the consequences of throwing her life away so freely. This would show Penny how her actions affected others so maybe she could learn to truly value herself. To not think herself expendable. It would be bold and unwise to portray this choice as something good, unless it was going to be called upon later and be pointed out for how horrible it really is.

On top of this, Penny was way too content with her death, happy even. There's no way team RWBY is letting her stay content with it. It’s almost as though we're supposed to join Ruby and Co. in calling bullshit on what Penny is saying and doing because no, Penny, this is not how things are meant to work. It's as if Penny was basically saying "I want to die for my friends" because most of the volume had been about everyone else making sure she didn't die. She knows it will hurt them. She knows.

At the peak of it all, a choice like this will totally destroy Ruby. It may very well be her breaking point for Volume 9. Curiously, the moment itself is written like it’s the first choice Penny’s ever made, yet the entire Volume shows this isn’t the case. However, this is the first choice that Penny’s made solely independently and it’s rather pertinent that the choice she makes is a mistake. Outside of giving Winter the Maiden gift and saving the day temporarily, this sacrifice will not have any lasting positive effects. Jaune will be saddled with the grief of killing Penny. Ruby will have to live with losing her best friend and not being able to protect her a second time, and Winter now has the burden of the Winter Maiden abilities, making her a target of Cinder. This is a bad thing, and Penny needs to see the long term consequences.

Transfer of Power:

As we all know, colors in RWBY are really important and get a lot of focus in the show. That means the yellow we see as Penny gives Winter the Maiden Powers was intentional and likely important, no matter how insignificant it may seem. It’s possible that the transfer effect being yellow could have something to do with Jaune’s semblance. When Fria gave the power to Penny, the effect was very much blue, so this transfer should have been green since she was the one giving it this time. The weirdness of this transfer and the focus on color in RWBY really makes it look like something’s up with how that went down.

A little off topic, but Penny saying "I won't be gone, I'll be part of you." makes me think... Winter is smart, so when she gets time to think about what Penny said, maybe she'll arrive at the same question many in the audience came to; if she's literally part of Winter, can they be separated again? If Winter starts questioning that, the possibility of Penny coming back just skyrockets.

Fria actually tells Penny "I'll be gone" before giving her powers up, which is an interesting contrast to Penny telling Winter "I won't be gone". She may have gotten that line from Winter be all philosophical in V7, saying Fria was now a part of Penny, but it hits differently coming from an actual Maiden. S5o it’s possible that Maidens usually actually will be gone, but Jaune's semblance did something to change that.

This could go well with the theory that they won't need to find an aura transfer machine, or build another one, because Jaune will have a semblance evolution allowing him to do the transfer instead. It might actually be that this evolution already happened and the golden light we saw was Jaune transferring penny's aura to Winter in some way?

An observation that I find interesting is when Penny gives winter the powers, not only is the aura yellow but penny completely glows yellow too, and she obviously starts to disappear, but she doesn’t seem to fully disappear, she just glows.

It's possibly a fading out effect and she does fully fade but animation makes bright light easier, and so we don't actually see her disappear because she's dead and not gone. But it does once again emphasize the color yellow here!

And the color is coming from Penny, it does go up Winter's arm a bit, but Penny is clearly the source. This transfer is so weird and I’m not really sure how to interpret it. There's just actually no reason that we are aware of to make the effect yellow here is the thing. Unless it has something to do with either Jaune or Ambrosius, or potentially a combination of both...

Jaune’s Aura:

The way we see Jaune's aura break in the finale is strange. His aura shouldn't be breaking here. It had been long enough since he was boosting Penny, he's had time to recharge, and it didn't look like it was a strain on him at all. Plus, we know he has a lot of aura, so there probably wasn't too much to recharge in the first place.

He has a massive amount of aura, it has never broken before as far as I remember. Even if it has though, that doesn’t make this occurrence any less odd. It should absolutely never be a one-hit KO. We didn't see anything that would've drained it, that should not have been enough to break his aura. Unless he did something - something that would require a huge amount of aura - that we just didn't see. That amount of aura drain is far more than just an attempt at healing would do, Jaune absolutely did something with his semblance that took up almost all of his aura.

Pinocchio Allusion:

As any Penny fan knows, her character allusion is Pinocchio, the puppet who became a real boy. Penny deviates from the allusion by having always been a real girl, as Ruby is quick to point out, but she shares many story beats with her original story including multiple deaths. In the original story, Pinocchio dies from being hung by his own strings due to his poor decision making and he dies. Sounds a little familiar, does it not? This is where his tale originally ended. Readers were unsatisfied with this ending however, so the author decided to change the story by reviving Pinocchio and teaching him to be more careful.

Unlike Pinocchio making all the wrong decisions, Penny often makes the right ones, or ones she thinks is right, when concerning others. While usually a good thing, this has meant Penny almost giving herself up multiple times during V8, her last attempt being successful. This is where Penny and Pinocchio begin to share similarities again. They are both very reckless when it concerns themselves. This carelessness comes from different places, but it ends with the same result of them endangering their lives and even sometimes losing them.

In the Disney movie, Pinocchio dies by drowning after going to rescue Geppetto and washes up on the shore (like the beach in V8’s post credit scene). His father is devastated and takes him home to grieve, but as a reward for his selflessness in rescuing his father, the Blue Fairy returns and brings him back to life, as well as granting him humanity. Penny sacrificed her life as well, and it stands to reason that she should be rewarded for it, much like her allusion was.

Penny got her maiden powers from someone with blue aura and then gave her powers to someone with blue aura. So it could be that not only Ambrosius, but Fria and Winter as well represent the Blue Fairy. It could be set up for Winter helping to bring Penny back to life once more. It’s an out there theory I admit, but it’s not outright impossible either. The Blue Fairy in Pinocchio saved him three times that I know of, so RWBY having three representations does make sense.

Geppetto wished for him to live as a real boy, but it depended on what path Pinocchio took. This is very reminiscent of Penny and Pietro. Pietro wants to see her live her life, and surely with him absent in V8C14 that didn't work, despite Penny choosing. Her father did not see her happy enough to live her life, and will only be able to learn her death through others. But Pinocchio's themes were life and being alive. So the likelihood that this is not her end yet is quite high!

A Girl That Fell Through the World:

Penny could be the girl who fell through the world. The girl in the story fled the consequences of a choice. The only person who chose her ultimate fate was Penny. The others were pushed into the void, but she chose to die. The consequence of her choice is Ruby’s grief first and foremost, which Penny won’t see. The girl who fell through the world does come back though, and the world will be changed severely with Penny’s absence. Alternatively, it could also be Penny coming back to Wonderland or wherever they currently are, as long as it’s unrecognizable to her.

What Returning Brings:

Others might say another return would have no story relevant purpose, but I wholeheartedly disagree. Penny gives a profoundly youthful, joyous, and wondrous outlook on the world and story that we hadn't seen since Ruby in Volumes 1-3(not the end), Penny returning would bring a much needed levity back in after the despair they will undoubtedly be going through. While not necessarily a huge thing in most other shows, for RWBY, a show largely about keeping up hope, an ounce of such relief is a necessity.

As much as I hate saying it, Penny’s death does actually make some narrative sense because she had to pass on the Maiden powers. (They could have done this in a number of ways, and I personally think they chose rather poorly, but I digress.) Throughout this whole volume, we can see Penny seemingly being set up to join the main cast, but would have been too strong with the powers. This also accomplishes ridding her of the burden of responsibility that comes with being a Maiden and lets her obtain the freedom that’s so important to her character.

Once she returns, seeing this grief that her actions caused, particularly to Ruby, will get her to realize more that her actions can have serious repercussions. She made a choice, but that choice hurt the people she loves. She must have known that it would but I’m not sure she ever realized just how much.

I didn’t want this post to be heavy in the shipping department, so I largely left it out, but I am going to say this one thing that could have an impact. If Nuts & Dolts is on its way to being canon, which this volume makes it feel highly likely, this could be a catalyst.

It could prompt an arc for the both of them in which Penny learns to live her life fighting for her loved ones, rather than sacrificing it for them. A relationship could potentially start from there. And Ruby seeing Penny learn these things may also help her to stop doing the occasional but very dangerous and reckless things she does. Ruby witnessing Penny coming to terms with what she did to the people that care about her would actually make her stop to think “wait, is this how everyone else would feel if I got myself killed?” That would be a very important moment of character growth for her.

I’m certain there are other significant things that Penny returning can bring to the show. And there are definitely more sections I could add to this. At this point though, assuming anyone even made it this far, I think I’ve been going long enough already. So let’s just roll into the outro!

As painful and hopeless as it seems, I'm choosing to trust them with this because there is absolutely no way they didn't see backlash coming. The way this finale went makes me think that they calculated for backlash and aren’t jumping into something they don’t have a plan to recover from. Whether this trust is unfounded or not remains to be seen, but I don’t think it is currently. I do think, however, that the cause of this backlash was a major misstep. Now that it has happened though, they have a chance to do something good with it.

I know for a lot of you, trust in CRWBY has been damaged, some even irreparably so. And for those that feel this way, I don’t blame you. My trust in them took a hit too, but isn’t broken completely yet. There are many ways that they can bring her back that would make sense with the narrative, they have the ability to make it right, and after going over all of the hints and general weirdness of things many times, I think they will.

I'm feeling pretty confident now and I really didn't expect that to happen at all to be honest. But discussing and theorizing with the discord server seriously helped get my hopes back up surprisingly fast! It’s actually thanks to all of them that this gigantic post even happened! So thanks a ton my fellow Dolts! And a special thanks to!!

@arcana-amicus

@catontheweb

@cosmokyrin

@gaydontmesswithme224

@jammatown919

@shadow-0f-x

They really helped get this thing across the finish line!

And thank YOU for reading all~ of this! I sincerely wish it gave you some of the hope and confidence that I now have!