#im just saying that to say it dont mind me
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im REAAAAALLY sorry for the likje longest wait ever but in the meanwhile i've wiorked on my oc too so i'll prob post abt it soon. sorry if this is short or bad but it took me a long time to get motivation to write this 😓
(this isnt proofread so if u see any mistakes dont mind them i’ll correct them tomorrow cause im too tired)
fem! reader btw
Daisuke never liked to rely too much on other people, he was always told how annoying he can be so that would make him even more of a weight than he already is.
Although he can’t complain when his girlfriend is the one who gets to take care of him. After what happened at the Tulpar you could see big changes in his attitude, he tried to smile at you but you can see that it’s not the same genuine lovely smile he used to give you in the past, when he was still on earth with you.
You were his girlfriend before he got the news from his parents about the internship and no matter how much you tried to convince him to not leave he still did, promising you that he’d come back for you. He wasn’t wrong, but this isn’t what you were expecting.
He had many scars around his body, barely able to move. He was put in a wheelchair for a few months, just until the scars have healed and he could get back in feet.
Daisuke’s parents found him a therapist, ignoring the boy’s wishes not to. Because after all he had you, you were the only one who he opened up with about what happened to all of them, about how guilty he felt for them. You were the one holding him in your arms after he cried on your shoulder for hours, you were the one changing his dirty bandages but most of all you were the one that loved him.
At nights like this you liked to wait until Daisuke was sleeping to leave him on your shared bed and go out your balcony to watch the sky filled with the city’s light, and when days were harder you took the hidden pack of cigarettes and light one up.
As you were watching the sky above your head you felt moving inside the house but didn’t think much of it, as it could be your pet just wandering around.
Your presumption turned out to be wrong as you heard your name be yelled from your bedroom, you quickly get inside to check on the voice and found your boyfriend on the floor. You run to him and slowly get him back on your bed. He pouts seeing your worried face checking for any damage.
“Are you okay? How did you get down there, most importantly why were you th-“ He stops you before you can bombard him with even more questions.
“I’m sorry Y/n, i just needed to drink something and when i saw that you weren’t here i tried to take it myself but i couldn’t...” You could see the disappointment in his eyes, you thought he might be feeling like a weight on your shoulders so you tried your best to comfort him.
“Daisuke look at me. You don’t have to apologise, it’s my fault. I should’ve been there for you but i wasn’t and i’m sorry about that. You shouldn’t force yourself to move too much, the doctors said that your body is still too fragile to sudden movements.” The boy looked at you, the mention of doctors saddened him.
“I’m so tired of these doctors, i sometimes wish you could be the one treating me instead. And the therapist girl always keeps trying to make me spill stuff, is it wrong that i don’t want to talk about it? She keeps asking about you a lot too, she might be thinking that you know more than her.”
“She wouldn’t be wrong, if it makes you feel any better i could try speaking with her.” He tiredly nodded at you and you both get back in bed, drifting off into sleep while holding him.
“Goodnight Y/n, i love you.”
IDK HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS. i weote it in 2 hours so maybe that why its so bad and yea im so tired idek what im saying
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friction | reader (f) x crush!nanami pt. 8
pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami
synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.
warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)
a/n: AHHH im so sorry i was gone for so long! work and school and i got sick again. my luck lately has been quite poor, but here's the next part!! i dont think its quite well written but i hope you all think its good! thank u again for ur support, kindness, and patience :) (sorry i say thank you so much, cant help myself!)
all parts: pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7,
December | Tokyo, Japan | Wednesday
You should have worn more lotion.
The unkind cold and threatening winds made your trek to work excruciatingly more difficult. Surely you made it, but had to get blind by the flurries of snow in the process. You take your time in the lobby, stomping aggressively down at the weather mats to remove all the snow and ice from your boots. You shake yourself like a wet dog to get the snow off your coat, too. The lobby men chuckle at you, and you couldn’t help but smile.
It’s been rough to do so, after all. Considering you got rejected twice by the same man, you needed all the serotonin you could get. You spent hours crying, which only halted when you finally passed out. The heartbreak exhausted you, given how dark your eyes were, and how hollow your chest has felt since then. The worst part about all of it is that despite everything, you still had Nanami’s coffee in mind.
It floated in your mind to go to the cafe and get him a cup. But you have to remember that he has other assistants who know his coffee order now. You were now one of few who knew it.
To have your relationship seen as just boss/assistant by the other participant felt like punishment. A large sigh left your lips when you exited the elevator on your floor. Shivers tickled your body as you begrudgingly walked over to your desk. It was warm in the office, enough for you to take solace in.
You begin to turn on your computer and prepare your desk, before being interrupted by two hands slamming down your desk. You look up to find a panting (and exhausted) Haibara. “Yu?” You whisper worriedly. “Is everything okay?”
“He lost the flashdrive,” Haibara lets out. “The presentation… it’s missing.”
Your eyes widen, “Nanami? But… how?” Of all people, Nanami was never one to lack in anything, especially in organization. He was always sharp and aware of where all his things were. You never had to concern yourself with assignments getting lost because Nanami is too diligent.
“We– we um, drank last night…?” Haibara reluctantly confesses. “We both got home quite late… he might not have his whole head on.”
Without another word, you swiftly leave your desk and rush over to Nanami’s office, with Haibara following closely behind. On your way towards his office, you see all of Takada’s assistants outside of his office, their expressions full of concern. You make your way through them and knock on his door gently.
“What?” Nanami’s annoyed tone rang through the door.
“It’s Y/N,” you reply, ignoring his attitude.
Quick shifting was sound behind the door before the doorknob began to turn. The door opens to reveal a disheveled Nanami. Despite his usually refined features, his unkempt hair and unbutton shirt was quite distracting. The shadows line his collarbone and the darkness under his eyes add to the intensity in his struggling, hazel eyes. He leaned against the door frame, his eyes slightly lighting up from your presence. There was some sort of relief in his eyes, but it was still drowned out by anxiety.
“Please, please tell me you have a copy?” Nanami practically begs.
You feel a lump in your throat from seeing his desperation. Not even you can be dismissive to his plea. “I–I was instructed not to keep an extra copy. It’s confidential, so I didn’t…”
Nanami let out a quiet ‘fuck,’ retreating slowly back towards his desk. “Don’t worry, I’m not upset with you. I’m upset with myself because you’re right and I’m simply irresponsible…” He leans back against his desk, defeatedly holding himself up with his hands firmly down on the desk behind him. He looks distantly to the floor, a sight you never thought you’d ever see.
The confident, sharp Nanami was now at his wits’ end.
“Do you remember when you last had it?” You ask quietly.
“I had it in my coat pocket on my way here,” he recalls quietly, “I still had it when I got off the train, so it must be outside around the area.”
“But with all that snow…” Haibara begins, the defeat clearly on his tongue.
You let out a sigh, emitting a calm apology before dismissing yourself. Once you were out of sight, you ran towards the elevator, practically beating the button until it arrived to you. You impatiently wait as you descend, your body already feeling the cold from outside. Even maintenance couldn’t believe their eyes as they watched you run out from the lobby, and into the harsh weather.
It was a bit embarrassing for you. You were always there to fix Nanami’s scarce mistakes, or prevent them. Even after he broke your heart twice, here you are, outside in the freezing cold, without any garments to protect you from it. You could feel your body beginning to go numb from the seconds you were outside.
Your exposed legs were inches deep in the snow, your frigid hands sifting desperately through the snow. Why? You asked yourself. Why, why, why? You were freezing, the weather was harsh, and this flash drive is as small as a roach. Why were you doing all of this?
As you shoveled through the snow, you were finally able to feel how you were feeling after facing Nanami again. You were able to keep yourself from crying, but you wanted to cry profusely. Your boss, your crush, was stressed out over a mistake he made, and it didn’t even make you feel better. Unfortunately, your feelings were too weaved into his, and you felt the stress he is feeling.
It bothered you to see him stressed. So much so, your body moved on its own and now it was in the cold, looking for the solution to Nanami’s problem. You didn’t even stay idle for a moment while in his office. Perhaps, the reason why you were helping him was because since you met Nanami, he has always been someone to work for his team.
But you know for sure part of it was that you never want to see him like that again.
Taking on projects on his own to keep his other colleagues working in low piles. Working with clients he personally isn’t a fan of to make sure the company grows. Providing breakfast and lunch when important meetings arise to make sure everyone at least eats well before torturous work. He was strict, but never a mean person. And to that end might explain why you still felt the way you did.
However,
Your respect for him goes above your feelings. A hard piece of plastic was barely felt between your fingers, but they were able to hold onto it firmly. The small flash drive, covered in a bit of snow, still glowed green when you pushed up to reveal the USB. You promptly make your way back in, the warmth barely penetrating the cold you developed while being outside.
I’m gonna get sick, you thought to yourself. As you passed through the lobby, you noticed Nanami’s clients getting checked in at the lobby. You hurry to the elevator, pushing aggressively at the close button so they didn’t have a chance to get there at the same time you did. You move your legs in place, attempting to regain some warmth. While you ascended, you purposely pushed the buttons of the floors you passed to delay their arrival. Finally reaching your level, you rush out to go to the other free elevator. As you did, you were met with a concerned Haibara.
“H-hey!” Haibara calls to you, but you ignore him and shove the flash drive into his hand. But as you did, he noticed that you were frozen and kept his hands around yours. “You… found it? Did you go outside? Without a coat? Y/N, you’re freezing!”
Oh, how you wished you fell for Haibara instead. You pull away your hand, quickly entering the other elevator and slamming your hands on the buttons. You look up at Haibara, your bottom lip blue and quivering. “Take it to Nanami,” you say roughly, your voice hoarse from the little warmth in your body. “Your clients. They’re downstairs. Hurry up.”
Haibara holds onto your arms, noticing that you could barely keep yourself up, “yeah, fuck the clients. You look like you’re going to pass out.”
“Please,” you look up at him desperately, tears welling in your eyes. It was already enough that you felt stupid for even looking for the flashdrive in this state. But even Haibara couldn’t push away the hurt and stress in your own eyes. “I’ll be fine… please help Nanami finish this.”
“Let me at least walk you to your desk–”
“I got her!” You both look over to see Tae run over, his apron dancing left and right from not being properly tied in the back. He quickly takes hold of you, looking up at Haibara to give him a curt nod in replacement of a proper bow. “Resume your work, Haibara-sama. I can tend to her.”
Tae held you close enough that you could feel his warmth. It was intoxicating almost, the solace of his heat and the scent of pine needles emanating from his body. The fresh scent of linen coming from his black sweatshirt made you feel a little nostalgic but uneasy. You could still feel the cold taking you over, your entire body shivering. His hands firmly held you without squeezing you tightly.
Haibara looks down skeptically, but you wave at him. “Please go,” you croak, coughs finally leaving your throat. “I’ll be fine.” You could see that you didn’t quite persuade him, but for the sake of Nanami, he nodded.
He eyes Tae, a rare serious aura surrounding him, “get her to a doctor if she needs it. I’ll be back as soon as the presentation ends. Please make her something hot, like hot cocoa or soup.” Tae nods, allowing Haibara to run back towards Nanami, who was probably drowning in his own anxiety.
“‘m sorry to inconvenience you like this, Tae,” you whisper, your body still shaking and twitching from the cold. “But thank you for that.”
“No worries, please don’t exert yourself,” Tae softly warns. He tightens his hold on you before slowly walking you over to the cafe. Though you didn’t have enough trust to close your eyes, you did have enough to hold his sweater, confident that he won’t let you fall. “Let me help you. After all, you helped me first. Come, the cafe is just around the corner.”
The relief on Nanami’s face was truly meant to be displayed in a museum.
He held onto the flashdrive tightly, mentally scolding himself from ever dropping it in the first place. He forces it into the projector, and everything was set up for the clients to come in moments. He noticed that the flash drive was not only still cold, but slightly wet. “Was it outside in the snow?”
Haibara nods as he fixes up the conference table a bit. It was ornate with drinks, snacks, and notetaking items for their clients to use and enjoy. “The snow is really growing by the inch out there. This winter is brutal.”
“It truly is unkind out there,” Nanami sighs, his eyes looking through the window. “I hope you grabbed your coat before going out there.”
Haibara shakes his head, “it wasn’t me who found the flashdrive; it was Y/N. I caught her at the elevator, and she was the one who handed it to me.”
Nanami slightly perks up at your name, “did she really?”
“She left straight from your office to go find it,” Haibara says quietly, “but she didn’t even bring a sweater. She was completely frozen when I saw her.”
This left a pit in Nanami’s stomach. “Why did she not bring a coat? She’s more rational than that.”
Haibara lets out a sigh, “who’s to say, Kento. Y/N works very hard to do right by you and this company. I think she’d do whatever it takes in order to make sure you and this department shines.”
“Disregarding her health is not why she’s here,” Nanami huffs strictly. “Where is she?”
“I left her with the barista you hired,” Haibara informs, “my guess is he took her to the cafe to warm her up.”
Nanami’s eyes cut over to Haibara, burning through his soul. Despite this, Haibara still didn’t see his eyes. “You left her with a stranger?”
“A stranger you hired,” Haibara clarifies. “Anyways, Y/N insisted I come help you. I’d probably make her feel worse if I didn’t.”
There was a rare annoyance that Nanami never felt. You were always conscious of yourself, and others. Nanami always noticed when you would help someone with a large pile of papers, or when you applied bandages to blisters due to your heels. But more times than not, you never shied away from a challenge, and never hesitated to help someone whether they asked or not.
But now you were far from him, and he couldn’t do anything to help you. He had this stupid presentation to do, rather than be by your side and tend to you. After all, you truly were the reason behind his success. The reason for his reduced stress, and a direct asset to his department. You did so much for him, only to be given a shred of that effort. He was feeling guilty, not only for being unaware of his feelings towards you, but the immense disregard he had for your own feelings and effort in this company.
You were his dear assistant, and he was breaking you.
“I’ll be back,” Nanami hums, rushing out of the conference room. Haibara looks back and follows right behind him, surprised by his sudden dash.
Nanami, the meeting!” Haibara calls out to him, “you can’t do this right now!”
His response was silence as he reached the corner towards the cafe. As he appears in the opening, his hazel eyes relentlessly looked for you. But when he stumbled upon you, his concern and annoyance skyrocketed.
You were lying on one of the couches at the cafe, surrounded by a few of the baristas there. They all comforted you, as you lay under a few blankets. But Nanami noticed that below all of that, you were covered by a large, black crewneck. On your head, a beanie as well. And sat on a stool right in front of you with a hot coffee cup was Tae, the barista he hired. Nanami noticed the warmth in his eyes when he looked down at you, with a free hand out to you. Your boss felt a lump in his throat when he saw you take his hand, helping you sit up to take the cup from him. Tae kept his hand on the bottom of the cup while you sipped it cautiously.
His chest felt like someone was pushing it down, his breath was limited. His heart, at the same time, was punching against it as well, almost as if it was going through a two-front war. He looks down at his hands, adjusting the sleeves at both of his wrists. He needed to reach you– sooner rather than later. And now looked like the perfect opportunity.
But before he could take another step, the elevator behind him opened, and the entourage of clients he was expecting stood before him, all smiles. Haibara catches up and pats Nanami’s back, forcing him to turn around as they both curtly bow in greeting. A vein protruded Nanami’s temple, and Haibara looked back to see what he was looking at.
What he saw made him crack a small smile, his energy returning to him as he led the clients and an annoyed Nanami towards the conference room.
Taglist: [Now Closed]
@blossomedfloweroflove @numblytemporary @everyoneandtheirmothers @animechick555 @inthedarkshadows000
@m-arj-1 @julk4e @hadassery @swoozleee @angxlsatvrn
@v1x3n @s-witch-bitch @furgusonn @watyousayin @thechaoticarchivist
@simp-manhwa @5sos-wdw @ffyona1214 @phantombaby @evangel44xxcds
@ukiyodestiny @jasminelee324 @eurydxceorphxus @moonlightazriel @s3rp3ntsssc0ve
@dusty-dweller @wifenanami @bokuatsubro @ayesayman @starry-eyed--dreamer
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#nanami kento#jjk nanami#nananmi kento#jjk x reader#nanami fanfic#nanami x reader#kento nanami#nanami smut#jujutsu nanami
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A (long) interpretation of the 8x06 BuckTommy ending
I've been trying to make sense of why Tommy responded to Buck's monologue by breaking up and here are my thoughts. This is all my interpretation and my interpretation only. I'm choosing to believe it because it's the only way the scene makes sense to me. Pls dont get mad about it.
Please feel free to add on and discuss.
I think Tommy was completely ready to overlook the Abby connection until Buck started talking about his relationship with her. I don't think it's the relationship that changed Tommy's mind, but how Buck applied it to their relationship.
Buck said "My relationship with Abby was the most transformative of my life... until now" and I think that's what the nail in the coffin was. While it's incredibly sweet was he was trying to say, what he essentially actually said was "this relationship is another transformation point in my life".
Then when talking about Tommy being confident with himself, Buck says "honestly, it just makes me admire you more". If this weren't a breakup scene, Buck should have said "makes me love you more" here. Again, what he's essentially actually said is "I'm looking up to you and admiring you and learning how to be that way".
While Buck has the absolute best intentions with what he's saying, he's trying to convey to Tommy how much he likes him and appreciates him and wants to be with him (hence why he follows it up by asking Tommy to move in with him), I think Tommy took this as Buck seeing him as a guide.
With the way Buck phrased things, and the things I interpreted from it, it does come off as "you're guiding me through my first gay relationship". Again, I absolutely don't think this is what Buck meant, but I wonder if this is what we were meant to see.
Tommy knew he was Buck's first boyfriend, they'd gotten over this hurdle in 7x05 when Tommy leaves Buck as the restaurant and says he's not ready. Buck proved he was ready by coming out and calling Tommy and announcing their relationship publicly.
But here we are, six months later, and instead of Buck telling Tommy he loves him, he's telling him their relationship is transformative for Buck and he admires Tommy. He said the wrong things with good intentions. I think Tommy thought Buck was ready for this, especially after all the progress they made and Buck saying "im ready to take the next step" and move in together, but Buck's monologue comes off as maybe he isn't ready. Whether he is or isn't, I suppose, is up to further interpretation entirely. I think Buck is just Bad with words. If Buck really thinks what he's said and implied, maybe he isn't ready in Tommy's mind.
Now this is where I divert into two points:
I think Tommy was somewhat justified in not wanting to be Buck's gay guide. Tommy says "no matter how bad I want it to be... I'm not your last". He's falling for Buck, he wants a forever with Buck. But here Buck is telling him, six months into their relationship, that their relationship is just transformative for him. Or at least that's how it's coming across. At 40 years old, Tommy doesn't need to be someones gay Yoda, and if that's what he's being led to believe he is to Buck, I do think he's justified in breaking up. Nevermind the horrendous miscommunication of this conversation, they should've talked more in-depth and avoided this. Tommy knows, possibly from experience, that relationships like that don't last, and it's in that moment he thinks that's what their relationship is. I dont wholly blame him for ending it if this was his thought process.
The writing. Oh boy. Even Lou in interviews is interpreting the scene and I think when you have actors interpreting a scene they were in, it hasn't been particularly well written. This is the only instance we get where it's implied Tommy is Buck's guide. In every other episode he appears in, their relationship is completely normal and healthy. It seems to be in 8x06 he has been pivoted to act as an Abby 2.0, just a moving point for Buck. Obviously this links back to my points above. They've had to outright spell it to Buck and the audience that Tommy is Buck's first, not his last, and that Buck is still figuring himself out. Now to me, that reads as "we haven't displayed this well enough" which is again poor writing and borderline backtracking on 8x05. If it has to be explicitly said, then they haven't done a good job at showing it, which they haven't. Like I said, their relationship was perfectly normal and healthy up until this point, and it wasn't explicit or even hinted that this was Buck's 'starter relationship'. Buck, Tommy, and the audience were blindsided.
Knowing this still, the breakup still feels like it came out of nowhere. No foreshadowing, no hints. Even the characters dont see it coming (and apparently Lou didnt either). I don't like how it was written, and I believe the reason they gave for the breakup (first not last) is a bit of a cop out. That's not a valid reason. Buck didn't want to breakup, Tommy didn't want to break-up... Both characters were left unhappy. They have every reason to go back to one another.
Buck and Tommy should have been able to talk through it, work through it. This was all a miscommunication because Buck has never exactly had a way with words... There was no reason for it to go down this way and it feels out of character and abrupt. This should have been the hurdle. Instead, the show chose the easy way out to break them up and that sucks because it feels unfinished.
Ironically, because it feels unfinished, it also feels open. There's already fix-it fics that are completely logical. There are so many ways Buck and Tommy can reconcile following this that will be satisfying and beautiful. They can absolutely find their way back to each other and it won't feel forced.
#without this interpretation the scene feels like the dialogue just doesn't connect#I dont get how Tommy got to breaking up after Tommy said what he said without this interpretation#bucktommy#Tommy kinard#Evan buckley#911#911onabc#tevan#episode analysis#8x06#8x06 spoilers#8x06 confessions#911 8x06
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Hi sorry but people on twitter are saying you’re a nazi and I was just wondering if that was true??
Not only is this quite outrageous take on someone without like 0 actual proof. I can admit in the "proof"(the zionism thing which people mean as Nazism) people used against me was me at most being insensitive/ignorant which i already sincerely apologized for because i wasn't edjucated on the matter whatsoever. It was not right of me and I never repeated that after i found out about the truth of things.
But also this is ridiculous. I'm not american, I'm from a country that has been wartorn by nazis and communists. All my life I was taught about atrocities these two sides did to central europe and other countries. If you had a swastika tattooed on you here you would get literally arrested or killed on the street. But that isn't even an argument, that's just me stating how stupid and hypocritical it would be of anyone to support such things from the area i was raised in. I'm highly anti nazi, anti facist or anti anything that is even similar to that. I stand with civilians and innocent people that are being collateral damage to war and governments. Therefore I'm not a trump supporter, i was always left leaning i was always for rights. Hell I'm a bisexual woman, how could i ever support someone like Trump in my right mind?
I do not understand where this claim is absolutely coming from and i dont understand how people disregard the severity of saying this online with confidence. This is such a serious accusation that can ruin reputations unrightfully and just shows how people have no interest searching for more proof or anything before saying serious things because all they care about is drama and that the finger is not pointed at them in that moment. We as society got too comfortable about canceling and just saying anything, growing into complete parasocial relationship within each other. You are either no person to them, no human being or you are a glorified idea. Everyone is a person behind that screen and if they ever got over they pride and looked themselves in the core they would understand they also do mistakes and not everything is black and white.
I'm hurt by these accusations. This isn't anywhere close to calling someone names or weird for having odd preferences and stuff in fandoms. This is claiming that I support actual genocide, suffering of real people which is fucking awful. It makes me sad, deeply hurt. I'm not saying im better than anyone else, i dont need to be, I want this genocide to end same as anyone else would. I reflected, I took criticizm to heart and I'm now trying to truly do something with my following, i retweet donation links and donate to the charities with spare money i have.
The truth is, no matter what I say, it will never be enough for the people that just want to have moral highground, they act like they never made a mistake, like they were never ignorant in their life. I wonder how they would like it if someone took something terrible out of context and endlessly kept posting it on social media just to feel better without you having a proper chance to redeem yourself, always being seen as a "nazi" in some people's eyes because someone lied about you. It's sad and I'm sorry you keep seeing this lie about me. I think about it every day. And with this message I wanted to let you know what I truly feel and think. If you believe it is on you, but I'm finally putting my thoughts out there after months of thinking.
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i am so fucking upset I AM SO FUCKING UPSET . i cannot convey how absolutely devastated i am like im sitting here in the dark unable to fully convey KANFKDNFKFJFJFNFN AHHHSHFJRJGKKGKGKFKFKFKFKGKFK
okok im sorry i do have some things to say as general statements abt my experience and ur skills before we get into some of the nitty gritty 😭 but first off, moni, i am ashamed to say i somehow missed that u dedicated this to me. i am so so sorry for not seeing it for some awful reason, but pls know that i am so honored—like beyond honored and appreciative. u r crazy good at ur craft and i am so happy ur posting ur fiction for us to read :'))
also, i def mentioned it in my notes below, but i loooove the film quality of your writing. like the i could see the color shifts. OH MY GOD I ALSO DIDNT TALK ABT THE RELATION OF WINTER TO THE SENEFNKRNFJT TO THE END IM UPSET AGAIN i literally cannot. u have a talent for coaxing me to hand over my heart and then watching u squeeze it :')))) im upset :')))) ur really too good and i... im biting my knuckles and struggling to type bc i wanna cry
thank u for this. i know u say this fic is something ur most proud of, and that is incredibly well merited. like oh my god. i can't right now i kind of just want to cry
also, before i put my notes below, i wanted to include the songs i listened to during this and i think i def picked an appropriate playlist skfnekfn: they see me dream (tbz), future me (hailey knox), dream launch (wayv), wings (tbz), smiling thru. (slchld), square one (tbz), someday faraway (labit), empty box (atz), same dream, same mind, same night (svt), 111 (thuy), the race (chris james), heaven - acoustic (onerepublic), raise y_our glass (huh yunjin)
omg i do have to comment on the presence of two of my like,, "older brother" figure idols uji and namjoon ekfnkrnf i always imagine them in that kind of way so the vibe just feels all the more warm haha (despite the hazy sleep-deprived solidarity going on dkgnjrnf)
WAIT.... THE CONVENIENCE STORE FROM THE TEASER... OH NO.
IT RESEMBLES UR BED AFTER A LONG DAY OF WORK BUT IT DOESNT LIVE UP TO HIM?? im devastated in two sentences
the picking your fingers until blood spills is such a great humanizing detail
still, the lilacs have yet to bloom.
omg im such a sucker for flower symbolism,, this feels like a low-key reference to feelings between u and changmin? OH I SEE THEY DINT EVEN KNOW EACH OTHER YET SKFNDKFN THIS CHANGES THINGS
PLS THE "im sure they wouldn't mind working w u" ASSIGNED PAIRINGS IS SOOOOOO im getting ptsd from middle school 😭😭 that feeling of everyone knowing someone and ur just kind of alone, knowing no one will likely come to u themselves,,, but changmin... tsk tsk i have a feeling abt you....... IM ONTO U SIR
you look back at changmin; he’s still looking at you. ; (you’re still thinking about the dips in his cheeks.)
IM ONTO U JI CHANGMIN (also so real tho... his dimples are like... meant to be the centerpiece of an art gallery)
KUMON. (i mercifully never had to face that, but maybe that's why i fkn suck at math today 💀)
oh no....
i swear this is related, but im listening to wayv's dream launch and reading this part in particular w the song is so... i feel so emo rn like its okay yn-bear... you'll be okay i swear, i know it sucks now but one day ur dreams will come true even if its hard to detach ourselves from our parents' expectations and influences
also the imagery here is so visceral and vivid... like i can see it in my mind, the way you're so used to the feeling, but u still shake them off anyway bc u dont want them to linger; u can't breathe w them there, so /present/
don’t you think that some of the stories that we read hold fragments of someone?
i love this line and totally agree w this
also wanted to add that changmin trying to coax this info out of them is so :(( i love him
AWH WAIT PAPERCUT ART AND FORMING IMAGES OUT OF THEM SUCH A COOL IDEA its like the deletion(?) poetry where u take a piece of text and blot out all words except for certain ones to form poetry?
the idol comment,,, the fourth wall is shaking
OMG THE PIC???? SO GOOD WHAT I LOVE THIS AND AS A VISUAL AID/SUPPLEMENT TOO?? omg and ending this section w the single lilac having bloomed TT ugh i love callbacks to symbols
your tastebuds long for cheongju.
baaaaaanger line
jongseobs characterization >>> I LOOOVE IMPISH YOUNGER SIBLING CODED CHARACTERS
still, you stand in the middle of the mart and your heart longs for home.
and this one too ^ i feel this. the exhaustion and yearning that settles in your bones until ur convinced emotion really does carry tangible weight i love longing-for-homeisms
you and changmin were once painted with the hues of the sun. this reunion is tainted with blue.
I CHOKED. also i would like to comment on the delicious pacing of this past scene from when u realize who's standing right next to u and how the world seems to rush back toward the present from the past and ur frantic and slapping money into jongseobs palms and then—"yn?"—world stop. IIIIINHALES .. SCREAMS SO GOOD
love the blue stain over my view btw
idk how to feel abt the grape flavor being yns favorite 🧍🏻♀️ u do u tho
THIS???????? THIS!!!!!!! what did u deserve to know just feels so right in this situation,, when you've fallen out of touch who used to be ur world—when u r no longer their world or in their world, how much should you reveal? do they still care? where is the line drawn now?
if you miss home, why is your first instinct to run away from it?
im tearing at the walls. i am unfortunately devastated by this question. home is such a... its a complicated thing for so many people.
the black limbs slowly ate away at your heart; the void was born.
THEYRE BACK but now, instead of simply curling arounf ur heart, they're digging their nails into it and ripping chunks of it away
the lingering feelings of envy and resentment of changmins home life versus yns is so... like i think it adds such an important layer of nuance to their relationship
because you still wanted more for him than you did for yourself.
OH MY GOD
oh my god
AND THE DISTANCE FEELS GREATER NOW.. oh my god... the silence and the negative space r so loud... oh my god.....
the contrast to the next segment in summer is so staggering dkgndjnfnf also congrats to them for levelling up in friendship to calling each other fuckers!! LMFAO i adore their little back n forth here haha their arguing over the phone, to arguing over popsicle flavors
LOVEBIRDS SKCNDKFNKFNXKDKKDKD
astrophysics is cool when someone on yt is explaining it in layman's terms or ur in the space.com website, but not when ur looking at all those nightmarish equations... *shudders violently*
from that day on, you’ve learned to keep his name out of conversations. you’ll enjoy what you have with changmin, even if it has to be kept under the wraps.
in a way, this is like a form of protection, not only protecting ur own freedom and agency but akso protecting the person who has wormed his way into ur life and is determined to stay,, someone who seems to be the one good thing happening to u at that moment
im so... i wish i could sit yn down and give them a hug and a pep talk. they do know how to persevere. they're literally pushing thru right now
FINGER TRAP FINGER TRAP TITLE MENTIONED THIS IS NOT A DRILL
omg THE PROFILES SJCBDJFN THEYRE GONNA BE INTERVIEWING OUR BOYZ DJFBKDNCKDNF i am Howling at the moon
THIS??? IS FUCKING EVERYTHING???????? the different colors of cheongju seep thru gaaaaaaawd the careful wall you've built to rpetend ur past is behind u has now returned to remind u that it does, in fact, still exist. it will not hesitate to break ur bubble of present reality
i have a violent urge to throttle a couple who are poor excuses for parents
also just bringing in the murky waters rising and drowning u and filling ur lungs is just as compelling and visceral through this section. like u described it perfectly well, how when ur starting to lose oxygen, your chest burns and its slow but throbbing
are you nothing but an array of achievements and failures?
aren't we all though? :(
NOW UR HOME IS CHANGMIN.
i love just imagining ur writing like a movie, like this part in particular u can just kind of envision these things flicking across the screen chuchuchuchu—back to the present. finger traps.... clinging onto those fragments of the past... when u try to rip your fingers out of a finger trap, it grips onto u tighter; a slow withdrawal is the only way to escape... oh god
WHY DOES IT FEEL LIKE ONE OF DESTINY x2 I SEE U MONI I SEE YOU.
HE WAS THE ONE OUTSIDE THE BATHROOM IM GONNA GNAW MY FINGERS OFF
im very slow today but the incorporation of all four szns into the sections of this fic is like mwah MWAHMWAHMWAH and hE CANT WAIT TO SHARE THIS SZN W U?? IM YELLING??? ugh i think im too single.
dude my heart dropped into my ass . what r these fuckass parents doing
WHAT NINONOENFOFNFJFJ NO WHAT MONI STOP NO U CANT JUST LET THE CAR GO NO HE'S RIGHT THERE NO NONONOSNFJDNFJFJ im having a crisis no WHAT
. oh my god
Oh my god that hurts. Oh my god i cant im so
im
oh im so upset they never got closure they never got to say goodbye ur right the only way to get out of a finger trap is thru a slow withdrawal—unless the connections is severed so forcefully, it just breaks .
oh my god
i dont wanna read this interview im so upset
im so fucking upset.
finger trapped (ripped to its seams) ➵ ji changmin
ji changmin x reader
with an unexpected reunion, you and changmin relive the memories of cheongju—and confront what could’ve been between you two.
general genre/warnings ➵ friends to almost lovers, angst, fluff, gender neutral reader, some depressive and insecure thoughts, hurt/comfort, the last five years story-telling method (aka present will be told going backwards while past will be told moving forward... i hope that makes sense), brief mention of blood from picking on your skin, tiger parents so... parental issues, unexpected reunion, keeping secrets & lying, jealousy remains but love triumphs, journalist reader (u kno i had to do it), reader is a nerd and changmin is a student-athlete, kms jokes from jongseob (all /lh), finger traps aren’t efficient after all
word count ➵ 15.7k words
playlist ➵ end of beginning by djo // high school in jakarta by niki // i know it won't work by gracie abrams // no big deal (i love you) by dodie // keeping tabs by niki // no one knows by stephen sanchez & laufey // so what now by reneé rapp // i wish i hated you by ariana grande // the 1 by taylor swift // seasons by wave to earth
a/n ➵ it's finally out! this is my submission for @deoboyznet's the love letter collective event! this work is so so personal to me on so many levels so i hope you all love and treat this fic with care :')) for the bitches who struggle with parents and dreams.... this one's for you (i am in the same boat) i appreciate everyone who's been so patient and looking forward to this fic's release. i'd like to thank @hcuyk for being a betareader for this fic! i also want to dedicate this one to @sungbeam and @wavesmp3 <3 your works inspire me so much and i think this fic is a product of how much they've influence me. hanbin's version is now available! please don't forget to reblog and leave feedback!!
want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist
present -> three weeks after the interview, 2024
the newsroom never sleeps. the rings of landlines and clacks of keyboards bounce off the four walls. through light bulbs or sunshine, light continues to remain. and at every corner, a journalist stands—ready to enter the depths of slumber but remain on their toes as they await for an update on their unraveling story.
but the newsroom is rarely busy unless there’s a major nationwide event, election season or the super bowl to name a few, for most journalists are out to discover what the world has to offer.
knowledge doesn’t only come from the chitchat of your coworkers. it’s only on the field that you’ll hear of hearsay and testimonies. after all, the choice to probe rests on your shoulders.
“there’s a typo over there.”
“huh? where?”
“over here,” you mumble as your finger darts to point at a section on the screen. “it’s supposed to say “in their climactic performance on road to kingdom,” not climatic.”
“ah, i see it now. sorry about that,” lee jihoon of digital development says as he corrects the error. his hair is disheveled from the hood that once perched on his head during the night he spent in the newsroom. you would’ve scolded the guy—go home and take a shower before you stink up the place—but you are no better, grouped with the other journalists who stayed up in the office.
“there we go. should be all good. now, are you ready to go through the profiles?”
an exhausted chuckle departs from your lips. “yeah, let’s go—”
“what’s the update?” life and arts editor kim namjoon—your editor—comes to you with a smile.
the grey hoodie he wears paired with comfortable jeans shows that he’s a little relaxed. for once, you don’t see him on his phone, battling the deadlines or getting pitched stories by the other editors. it’s a nice sight but one that won’t last for long.
“we just finished going through the article about the group, so we still have yet to go through the profiles.” jihoon then looks at you. “i can’t believe you basically wrote 12 articles. like, 11 profiles and one main article is a lot. you didn’t want to work on it with anyone else?”
once namjoon stands beside you, you bump your shoulder against his figure. “i didn’t have a choice, did i?” it’s a rhetorical question but one your editor still chooses to answer.
“unfortunately, we’re understaffed, but it seemed like you got the hang of it. i wouldn’t have trusted anyone else to do it.” namjoon shoots you a smile before redirecting his attention back to jihoon. “and as much as i’d love to tell y/n more, we have to pick up the pace.” without any further questions, the three of you resume with work.
there’s no time to waste in the journalism industry. still, his praise doesn’t go unnoticed.
one article turned into eight done in a matter of 30 minutes, all with the help of three pairs of eyes to go through them. (namjoon seemed to carry the heavy lifting. after all, the guy was trained to be quick in reading and spotting errors.)
it should’ve been easy to keep up with your editor for all the other articles; you know each profile like the back of your hand.
then, the face of a boy who you once knew sits on the screen.
his gaze seems to pierce through your soul, almost in the same way you last talked to him. the loose ends of composure slip through your fingers; your breath’s stuck in your throat as the hammering of your heart fills your ears. yet, he stands still on the monitor.
as your eyes drift through the passages you’ve written, every sound is drowned out. the voice of your editor fades like the everchanging seasons and the clicks of the keyboard resemble the sobs you let out in the comfort of your childhood room.
and suddenly, the hands of the clock have turned all the way back to 2014. the cubicles transformed into aisles of chips and instant ramen, and you hear mr. kim’s voice in the distance—i have some hotteok! fresh from the pan! but amidst it all, you hear the giggles of the boy, your best friend, as he rushes towards you—i’ll go audition and make you proud. as your arm is wrapped with the heat of his fingers, you almost believe that your life as a journalist is nothing but a dream—
“i knew him.” the illusion disappears within a blink of an eye. namjoon’s eyes snap towards you and jihoon stops scrolling through the website. “we went to the same high school.”
you aren’t sure why you revealed that to your coworkers, let alone your boss. it’s an old memory—your weight to carry. before you can apologize for disrupting their work, namjoon’s hand rests on your shoulder, his thumb drawing shapes into it. when you look over at him, you’re greeted by his smile. it resembles your bed after a long day of work or a slow day at the newsroom.
but it never lives up to him, whose giggles resemble nature’s symphonies. the two shots of espresso you need at the start of the day once came in the form of his warm embrace. most of all, his smile is enough to illuminate the world even through the strongest storms and times when power went out.
for the remaining articles, not a single word leaves you. before you know it, all 12 articles were ready to go up on the web.
“that’s all of it. should i still schedule them to go up around 12 p.m.?” jihoon notes as he saves the drafts.
“yeah, 12 p.m. still sounds good. thanks a lot.” namjoon nudges his shoulder before looking over to you. “let’s talk in my office.”
you don’t question his orders. once namjoon takes off, you follow him all the way to his office. as he swings the door open, you are met with the familiar sight of his workspace. hues of green and brown mix, where nature and art meet within the space of corporate.
once namjoon takes a seat on his chair, you find your spot across from him. his eyes stare off to the window. for a moment, you’re not sure what to expect from this impromptu meeting.
seconds pass and not a single word has been said—
“this place’s always alive,” your editor breaks the silence. “don’t you think so?”
you follow his line of sight. busy seoul never changes; the skyscrapers pollute the sky and the people never sleep, off to work or off to party.
“where’d you grow up again?”
you look back at namjoon whose eyes still remain locked on the city. “cheongju.”
he hums. “i haven’t been there. nice place?”
“yeah, but i haven’t gone back in a while.”
“when was the last time?” his eyes finally meet yours.
your teeth grasp the inside of your cheek. “2014, since i first left,” you admit.
“do you miss it?”
you’re not sure how to answer. the pavements you’ve scraped your knees against and the walls your laughs bounced off of—do you miss them all? or is the reason behind your laughter and scabs the one you long for?
“is that why you were hesitant about interviewing them?” namjoon’s thumbs fiddle with each other. “because of your history with him?”
now, you stare at your linked hands. maybe the silence from you is enough to answer his question but you know namjoon would never settle for a soundless answer.
“i—i’m not a good person. and even if i didn’t make the choice to leave, i—” you hold yourself back. your fingers start to pick on the skin around your thumbs, peeling it so blood can spill.
“it’s okay, i understand. you don’t have to share it with me.” your eyes drift back to namjoon, spotting a small smile that rests on his face. “it must’ve been hard to relive it all.”
the bond you have with namjoon is one that you hold close to your heart. through his mentorship, you got to learn about what it means to be a writer. the fears of being a journalist would loom over you, where questions of salary and demanding work hours would occupy your mind, but namjoon became someone who would absolve them all. he became a pillar in your life, one that provides you hope and comfort within the industry.
“so, don’t feel pressured to talk about it. but if you ever want to open up about it, then i’ll be here.”
namjoon’s giving you an exit. are you willing to take it?
you cross your arms as you lean back into the chair. “you know how i was a science major then?”
“yeah, i remember looking over your resume. and then i saw that you were part of your university’s publication.”
your tongue pushes against the inside of your cheek. “i would’ve gotten some job in that field, like, i had it lined up for me.”
“really? like lab coat and all?”
as namjoon attempts to hold back his laugh over the image, you chuckle along. “yeah, lab coat and all! it’s crazy how my life was all set for that field, but i’m here now.” you look down at your arms. “i think just facing him in a completely different field that i once used to imagine with him was just strange. but i think hearing his answers really did it for me.”
namjoon nods at your words. “care to have lunch with me?” your eyes snap back to your editor. “i’m guessing you want to talk about it, after all.”
all you do is smile before getting off your seat.
spring of 2014
the season of spring has graced cheongju; the sun gleams in the expanse of blue and birds perched on tree branches sing their songs. it’s the perfect season to embrace the wonders of the town.
while it would be a delight to bask under the returning warmth, you’re stuck within the walls of the classroom, head resting on crossed arms.
still, the lilacs have yet to bloom.
“y/n.” you quickly sit up before your eyes settle on your adviser, ms. jeon, who stands in front of the classroom. “let’s take attendance.”
with that, you’re beside her as you call out each name on the class list. it’s a quick process of saying your classmates’ names for them to respond in variations of “present,” until you reach the section of last names that start with a ‘j’.
“ji changmin.” no response.
you rip your eyes off the piece of paper, only met with your classmates who either look at each other in confusion or spaced out in their own worlds.
“ji changmin?” when you’re met with the same reaction, you’re ready to mark the student absent—
“sorry!” the doors slam open. a boy clad in a white polo and jogging pants is panting by the entrance, covered in sweat as he rests on the edge of it. “sorry, i’m late.”
“oh, it’s okay! you arrived just in time.” ms. jeon smiles at the tardy student. as you watch him take a seat, his eyes lock with yours, but your adviser nudges you before saying, “y/n, proceed.”
ji changmin made his name a few years back at a competition. the applause and roars from the crowd marked his spot in the school. others describe his movement as of cranes, standing in the middle of a pond as they do their best to minimize forming any ripples, or of elephants, swaying their trunks with control like no other.
but he’s a versatile dancer; nothing can truly capture him.
once you’ve finished marking the attendance, you go back to your seat. you’re ready to start the day with no bother but you can’t shake the feeling of being watched.
“now, you can see in these,” your art teacher, ms. park, points to the screen showcasing works from her favorite contemporary artists like kwon yongju and félix gonzález-torres, “that there are no borders to what constitutes art. and that’s not wrong because we have to recognize that art comes in different forms as we progress, from traditional painting and sculptures to digital ones.”
this field isn't your strong suit. with a greater understanding of the sciences, you struggle to create anything that could be on par with the works of any artist. yet, you enjoyed learning about every piece that your teacher shared, like unfolding and admiring something you know you can never replicate or create. still, the universe decides that they have other plans for you.
“as i mentioned before, i’ll be giving you time to work on your final assessment, which is to create an artwork for the class exhibit. for this deliverable, i’m asking that your work will be a collaborative one, meaning you aren’t working alone.” in a sea of chatter, some groans exit your classmates. “remember, inspiration doesn’t come from your own bubble! take this as your opportunity to create something that you’ve never imagined.”
within a split second, students are off their seats as they attempt to find a partner to work with. you, however, were struggling to think of who you could team up with. admittedly, you have a very different work style compared to others—even cheng xiao, aspiring valedictorian, didn’t enjoy working with you. she turned every activity into a competition against you. (you didn’t enjoy her, either.) while you’re considering shamefully going up to your classmates like a stray dog looking for anyone willing to care for them—
“hi!” in front of you stands the tardy student of today, all smiles as his hands find comfort in the pockets of his jogging pants. “do you have a partner already?”
with furrowed eyebrows, you can’t help but look him up and down. “no, why?”
“well,” changmin looks around the classroom, “everyone seems to have paired up except for us.” as his eyes drift back to you, he flashes you a smile, one that shows the dips engraved into his cheeks. “which leaves me to ask if you would like to work with me for this.”
you don’t have a choice. ms. park would never bend the rules for you. if anything, she would find a way to pair you with another student who would dread the idea of working with you. (“i’m sure they won’t mind being partners with you, right?” is what she would ask the poor student, only to be met with their retreat.)
“unless we accept a failing mark, which i’m sure we both don’t want.” it’s not like changmin had a choice as well.
“okay.” with one word, light fills his eyes, enough to resemble the starlight that grazes your skin every night. “we can meet and discuss our schedules, especially because i’ve got ap stat, and you have, uhm,” a cough leaves you, “training, i’m assuming, or rehearsals. i don’t really know what you call them.”
his eyebrows shoot up as his mouth parts open. “o—oh, yeah. i usually have training after class until 8 p.m. on tuesdays, thursdays, and saturdays.”
“same. my classes are until 7 p.m. on tuesdays and thursdays, so maybe we can use the other days to work together?”
with one nod from him, his dimples reappear. “great! i’ll see you tomorrow.”
before you know it, everyone finds their way back to their seats for ms. park’s final reminders. you do your best to pay attention to every announcement, jotting down every word on your planner and planning out your agenda for the upcoming weeks. yet, your eyes seem to have a mind of their own as they drift back to the boy who discreetly passes notes to kim donghan, another dancer on the team, all while listening to the teacher.
you don’t notice how long you spend staring at changmin until he turns to meet your gaze. in that split second, you look at each other—then, embarrassment washes over you. you shift your attention back to ms. park. as you drum your fingers against the desk, mentally kicking yourself over the interaction, you still can’t shake the feeling of being watched.
you look back at changmin; he’s still looking at you.
his dimples make their reappearance before he looks back at ms. park. you do the same as you attempt to listen to her ramble about banksy’s works.
(you’re still thinking about the dips in his cheeks.)
the first time you get to meet with changmin for the project happens the following week. you two had different commitments to attend to, whether it be other projects or training. and while you would usually settle to meet in the school library or a cafe nearby, you find yourself inside the empty gymnasium, sitting on bleachers while your partner stands in front of mirrors.
“don’t you think it would be nice to combine our hobbies together?”
your pencil taps against the notebook. “like, your dancing? with what?”
“whatever you like to do!” once he makes his way to you, he leans on the row in front of you with crossed arms. “i mean, do you have anything you like to do during your free time?”
a scoff leaves you. “funny of you to assume that i have free time.”
“what’s your schedule like?”
“well, i have our classes and ap ones, then kumon at night.”
changmin reels at the thought of your schedule. “that’s brutal. the last time i had kumon was back in grade 4.”
“yeah, but i’m sure yours is busy as well. the amount of time that you put into training is…” his eyes are wide, hanging on your words. it’s the hope they hold that has you say, “admirable.”
a shy smile takes over his features. “yeah, but it’s only because my family is supportive of what i do.”
then, limbs whose color resembles the void slither their way to your heart, wrapping around it while the organ struggles to beat; it’s a slow process but an unending hole that will birth from it. yet, you do your best to fight off these limbs, unraveling them one by one in hopes it will give up—until you settle for shaking them off.
you only muster out a hum.
“do you have anything you like to do during those short breaks?”
your lips trill. “i don’t know. watch something on youtube?”
his cheeks puff up, stuck in his thoughts as he tries to navigate this project—and you—until his eyes glint. “what do you do when you want to vent?”
“you sure have a lot of questions,” you comment, trying to hold back a chuckle at his curiosity. “i can just adjust to you. maybe attempt to draw, picture, or even film you.”
his eyebrows furrow. “but that wouldn’t make it collaborative. i want us to work on something that aligns with what we do.”
a beat passes.
he holds your gaze. “i want us to create something that shows us.”
inside you, a gong is struck; its sound reverberates throughout your body, from the crown of your forehead to the tips of your toes. then, silence seeps in—a moment only for you and him.
“i, uh, write,” you whisper as your eyes shift to the notebook resting on your lap.
“really? like, stories and poetry?”
you nod. “i like writing people’s stories more, but i do like making ones.” when you look back at changmin, his eyes are still filled with curiosity. “i would, like, find interviews online and try to make my own, sort of, uhm—god this is embarrassing. forget about it.”
“huh? no, it isn’t!” he attempts to reassure your shrunken figure. “i mean, you don’t have to share more if you really don’t want to, but i’d like to hear more about it.” and when his dimples appear, you almost can’t help but feel your face warm up.
“i’d make articles, i guess?” he nods along with your words. “i don’t know, it’s just interesting to hear about people’s lives and kind of create something out of it, and i like thinking about all the possibilities of who would love to hear them. like, don’t you think that some of the stories that we read hold fragments of someone?”
“that’s an interesting way to look at it.”
as you doodle on your notebook, you say, “yeah, it’s just fun to hear these stories and maybe create something out of it. or even think of stories that i could never live out, you know?” you expect yourself to be met with the bored face of changmin but his eyes remain on you.
“what if you interview me?”
your eyebrows shoot up. “you?”
“yeah,” he stands up before walking up to your row, finding a spot beside you. “think of me as your first interviewee if you want.”
the sudden suggestion has you stumbling over your words. “huh? b—but, i don’t have questions prepared. and how does this help our project?”
when his arms brush against yours, you start to become aware of the distance between your shoulders—and his face from yours. warmth spreads throughout your body, almost like you’re about to have a fever. once his open hand rests near yours, you don’t know what he’s asking.
“let me draw it out for you.” you hand him your pencil and notebook, allowing him to see your doodles. (you don’t miss his grin.) “you know, with that article you make, we can cut it up and create something out of it.” a roughly drawn sketch of a boy posed in the middle of a dance move now rests on the page. “i don’t know if a collage would be okay.”
as you think about what can be done, you perch your chin on your palm. “we can do papercut art? basically, it’s cutting up the article in a way to form an image.”
“oh, that sounds cool!”
“yeah, but the only challenge is that we can only use one piece of paper.” a sigh leaves you. “it would be impossible for me to even do that.”
“that’s why you have me.” his small smile causes wind chimes to ring. (you’re positive you heard them, even if there were no such things in the gymnasium.)
he continues to sketch out the layout of your joint artwork. “how do we feel about this?” on the paper, there are two boxes beside the figure, where one is labeled as “photo of me” while the other is labeled “an article by y/n.” your head tilts. “it’ll be a three-set piece. so, it’ll be a photo of me and your article, and in between is the papercut art that we’ll make.”
you hum. “you know, you’re very creative.” you look at him only to see that he’s been staring at you. “like, you’re inclined to the arts. i wouldn’t have been able to think of something like this.”
“you’re just as creative,” he argues back as he writes down something.
you shake your head before retorting, “changmin, you’re very talented. i’ve seen the way you dance,” his movements halt, “and you’re like no other dancer i’ve seen. if you ever try out to be an idol, i’m sure you’d do great, maybe end up on the list of the best dancers in the industry.”
but he shakes his head, going back to writing on your notebook and shutting down your compliments. you decide to not push.
“i can get the photo sometime during my training,” he says as he hands you your notebook.
“then i can have the questions sometime this week. for the article, i can have it done maybe four days after the interview. how does wednesday, after school, sound for the interview?”
he shoots you a smile before standing up from his seat. “that’s perfect! i’m looking forward to meeting journalist y/n.” you can’t help but scoff at what he calls you. “what’s wrong?”
“nothing,” you shake your head. “it’s just a silly name.” because the reality is that you had your future planned out—and it definitely didn’t involve that field.
he shrugs. “i don’t know, i think it would fit you.”
“but you haven’t read any of my works.”
“but i want to root for you in the same way you do for me. i don’t want you to feel ashamed of your works.” a fire ignites in your heart; it’s a fireplace.
you’re baffled that changmin, out of all people, now holds your secret, but you’re even astounded over the idea of him supporting you. you almost can’t remember the last time you heard such words of support. is it genuine or nothing but a facade?
“anyway, i’ve got to go. i need to catch up on some homework.” while you shoot him a nod, his dimples make their appearance once more. “i’ll see you tomorrow!” as he takes off, you’re left in the gymnasium with your opened notebook and unlocked heart. you look back down at his sketch surrounded by your doodles, but you don’t miss his little note—cute doodles btw <3
the season of spring has unfolded in cheongju; a single lilac has bloomed.
present -> a day before the interview, 2024
it’s a late night on a tuesday, about to be a midnight wednesday, and you’re in a convenience store as you scout for your dinner. all hauled up in the newsroom, the idea of ordering food during a time where restaurants would still be open slipped your mind. now, you’re left to scan through the same options you’ve eaten for the past years since you started living in seoul.
the convenience clerks are familiar with you, both kim jongseob and kim jiwoo. with your constant late-night meals at the store, you’d talk to whichever one had a shift. jongseob is saving up to upgrade his setup at home to record more music. with all the stories he shares about his time in underground rap battles along with the short verses he’s performed for you, you’re positive that he’ll get signed to a label soon. as for jiwoo, this is one of the many jobs she has in order to save enough money for fashion school. you’ve seen her sketches and outfits she’s put together and you’re hoping that she’ll get accepted.
a sigh leaves you. you didn’t have a problem with eating the food here but you were craving for something new in your life in seoul. the perpetual cycle of eating takeout food and unconsciously skipping meals for work needed to be disrupted just for a moment. but you weren’t seeking michelin-star food—all you wanted was something home cooked. something from home.
the spice of tteokbokki, the burn of freshly fried hotteok, and the sweetness of homemade peach iced tea—mr. kim’s convenience store had it all.
your tastebuds long for cheongju.
“planning to beat your record of spending 23 minutes on deciding what to get?”
you roll your eyes before looking to your right, seeing jongseob stock up the drinks in the fridge. “i hate you.”
“what? i’m just saying, you’re taking a lot longer to decide today.” he chuckles before placing the last bottle of sweetened probiotic milk in the fridge. “none of the options look good to you?”
“sort of,” you hum before you scan through the aisle of packaged meals. “i think i’m craving for something different.”
“i get it. the food here can get boring, which is why i’m planning to order pizza if you want to split the costs.”
your eyebrows shoot up at jongseob’s suggestion. “really? you’d share pizza with me?”
“yeah, as long as you pay for your share.” he shoots you a smile before grabbing on a trolley carrying empty boxes. “unless… you want to pay for the whole thing.”
you bite back a smile as you shake your head. you should’ve known the guy would ask you to buy him food, but you knew that he needed the money and you at least had a stable income to keep you comfortable. “fine,” jongseob’s smile grows as you fish out your wallet from your pocket and pull out a couple of bills. “just order enough for us two.”
“of course,” he says as soon as you hand him some money. “i’ll make sure to order the most expensive thing on the menu.”
you scoff at his joke. “just make sure to treat me to something.”
the bell by the door chimes. “sorry, can’t hear you over that! need to attend to a customer!” jongseob dashes away from you while dragging the trolley. that little shit just knew how to press your buttons, but you love the kid, anyway.
still, you stand in the middle of the mart and your heart longs for home.
then, you shut your eyes, and you’re transported back in front of the familiar aisle filled with bags of potato chips and sweet corn. the noisy fan along with the soft sounds of mr. kim’s korean drama fills your ears. a mix of yellow and orange hues paint every corner of the mart, including you—and you’re not alone.
your best friend stands on your right, wearing the unbuttoned school uniform polo over a tank top along with jogging pants. he’s lost in thought as he scans through the options of snacks you two can have for today’s afternoon. he starts to giggle to himself, probably from a silly thought he’ll share with you in the next second or a memory involving you, and the dips in his cheeks appear—your heart thumps in your ears.
and just like how quickly you were transported back to cheongju, your surroundings transformed into the cool-lit convenience store found in seoul. all you have left is the image of him bathed in the sunlight.
but he fades away like the ink on old receipts, never gone, because the glowing image of him warps into a different version who stands next to you in the cold mart. he’s grown a few inches taller and his hair doesn’t get in the way of his line of sight. while he wears a green sweater, you notice that he’s gained some muscles. his eyes scan through the aisle behind you filled with different brands of instant ramen.
but he bites the inside of his cheek and his dimples appear.
it’s a tornado that brews within you, enough to uproot trees and displace buildings, all because of an unexpected reunion with changmin. why did the universe decide to bring two ex-best friends on a random tuesday night? what brings him to the convenience store at the same time you’re there? and why did it have to happen a day before the interview?
you weren’t going to commit the same mistake; keep your eyes off of him and make your way out of the store. it didn’t matter if you had an empty, growling stomach, or gave free money to jongseob. you need to leave without the distant, familiar face noticing.
your feet act fast, and you're almost certain that might’ve caught his attention, but it didn’t matter as you see jongseob standing behind the cashier with his phone out. “i just ordered the pizza. it should arrive in about… 20 to 30 minutes.”
“yeah, about that…”
“don’t tell me you’re taking your money back.”
at the sight of jongseob’s pout, you roll your eyes. “no, keep it. i just—i need to go.”
“what? why?”
you peek behind you. it seems like he didn’t recognize you, after all. “i’ve got… work!”
“but don’t you only have your interview with the bo—”
“hey!” your fingers snap at him. “you cannot—i mean, you just… just take the goddamn money.”
“but we’re supposed to share the pizza. you haven’t eaten.”
an exasperated sigh leaves you. “jongseob, just treat me next time. i can eat at home.”
and you’re ready to leave the convenience store, bid farewell to jongseob and a delicious pizza made for two, and never greet or say goodbye to the living fragment of what you last know of cheongju—
“y/n?”
and the plan failed.
when you meet his gaze, you’re able to take in the different version of him. he’s grown so much—it’s such a pain that you weren’t there to witness it. his eyes are a pool of emotions; you can’t identify them.
all it takes is one breath from you. “changmin.”
a beat passes.
“i’m just gonna… go through the storage,” jongseob points his thumb at the back of the mart, “and maybe kill myself afterwards. i don’t know.” before you can protest, he’s already gone. (and he still has your money. that fucker.)
you and changmin were once painted with the hues of the sun. this reunion is tainted with blue.
changmin’s fingers tense up, almost as if he was hesitating—debating—on how to approach you. his body would waver, but he never took a step towards you. “i… i wasn’t expecting to meet you here.”
“same here.” you lean your back against the checkout counter. “d—do you stay around this part of the city?”
he shakes his head. “i live around 15, maybe 20, minutes away from here. i’m only here because…” your breath gets caught in your throat. “i don’t know.”
fate. that’s what brought us here.
“do you live here?”
you nod. “yeah, ever since—” the sentence never gets completed; you and him already know.
for a moment, sorrow flashes in his eyes, but a smile shows up. the dimples don’t appear. “i, uh, i was going to get something from here but it seems like your friend is busy.”
“sorry about jongseob.” you whip out your phone and scold him through text. “he should be with us in a bit.”
changmin hums before walking to the freezer filled with different ice cream. as he looks through the selection, he asks, “do you still like twin bar?”
“y—yeah.”
“still the grape flavor?” you don’t know what to say, but when his gaze meets yours, you settle for a nod. with your favorite ice cream in one hand and a sandwich in the other, he finally walks towards you. you don’t miss the slight stagger in his steps.
changmin finds his spot beside you. there’s still distance between you two—two tiles worth, enough space for one person—but it’s enough for your muscles to freeze. thankfully, jongseob comes just in time to manage the cashier (with an awkward smile plastered on).
he scans changmin’s item first before grabbing onto your ice cream.
“oh, i’m paying—”
“no, let me,” changmin insists. “you can always treat me another time.”
you bite the inside of your cheek, thinking over the second half of his sentence. jongseob holds back from scanning the item, until you shoot him a nod. changmin pays for the food before jongseob hands them to you.
“i’ll just let you know when the pizza gets here.” his small smile is enough for your shoulders to ease and a quiet exhale to leave. a small nod is all you give him.
you follow changmin outside to the tables in front of the mart. once he’s settled on a spot, you sit across from him. he tears away the plastic wrapping of his food while you play with the ends of yours.
while he swallows what you assume to be his dinner of the day, you’re left to swallow your own pride.
“i’ve seen your performances.” his chews halt. “you’re—” captivating. “you’ve improved a lot.”
with one gulp, a shy smile takes over his face. “i still have a long way to go.”
“you always say that, even back then.” a half bitten sandwich now rests on the wrapper. “but i admire your drive.” always have.
while a different version of changmin sits across you, the one you knew back in cheongju still lives. in the busy, unfamiliar expanse of seoul, meeting 10 years later, he’ll never be stranger. you could never treat him as such, even if you wanted to.
“there’s always room for improvement,” he says.
you hum along with his sentiment. “did you stick with early childhood education?” you’re met with his orbs that hold a thousand of emotions, some you can name as shock, confusion. a question hangs in the air—what did you deserve to know?
“sorry, i’m assuming you still went to college, which is totally fine if you did or didn’t, by the way. and it’s also okay if you didn’t stick to your major. i mean, you always talked about pursuing a performing arts degree before—”
“y/n,” he giggles, “you’re okay. i still went to college but i took media & communication.” your eyebrows shoot up at the revelation. “i thought it made sense to study something related to what i do, just the more technical and theoretical side of it, i guess. and the online classes were easy to squeeze into my schedule.” he lifts up the sandwich. “what about you?”
“uh, i ended up in the same course as well.” a hum of shock leaves changmin. “yeah,” you chuckle, “i managed to shift courses.”
“that’s amazing! i’m happy for you.”
you smile at him. “thanks. now, i’m just—” you should tell him what you do. what would be a better time to reveal that you ended up in the path he dreamed for you to be than now? “—figuring things out.”
with your vagueness, changmin only nods before munching away. if there’s anything about you that still remains, it’s that you shouldn’t be pushed to share something you didn’t want to talk about. he still knew that.
as he finishes his sandwich, you tear off the plastic wrapping of your ice cream. with the twin bar in your hands, you snap it into two before you hand him a piece. confusion paints his features, wide eyes glossing over the popsicle in your hand, but he takes it before you can say anything.
“thanks.”
you shake your head. “don’t even worry about it. it’s only tradition.”
silence settles between you two. as you eat away on your share of the twin bar, you look up to the sky. from where you sit, you can’t see a single star; the lights of seoul seemed to outshine them. and during those moments, you almost can’t help but miss the view of the starry night from your childhood room.
you glance at changmin who looks up to the sky as well. yet, one hand remains in his pocket, almost as if he’s fiddling with something.
as if he feels your eyes on him, he asks, “did you ever think about coming back?”
you halt your movements. if there’s one thing you were expecting your old friend to ask, it would be related to your sudden departure. but you’re hit with an entirely different question, one you didn’t get to rehearse the answer to in case you ever cross paths with him.
because after all this talk about your yearning for cheongju, why didn’t you choose to visit? despite how much you long mr. kim’s home cooked meals, skies filled with stars, or the presence of your best friend, why didn’t you ever come back?
if you miss home, why is your first instinct to run away from it?
and the reality is that you do think about it all the time. since you left cheongju, you drafted out how many plans to go back. you were homesick, missing the familiar landscape you spent your entire childhood growing up in. but most of all, you missed changmin. as long as you had him, you would survive anywhere, whether in seoul or cheongju.
despite how much you yearned for him during your years away, you learned that your relationship wasn’t always filled with the warmth that would grace you two every afternoon. for so long, you’ve sat with jealousy. while his family was his pillar of strength, you were met with a home that offered nothing but criticism.
the black limbs slowly ate away at your heart; the void was born.
it became easier to remain resentful. with the distance, you weren’t faced with changmin’s genuineness. yet, with time, you discovered that you still cared for him—regardless of your jealousy—because you still wanted more for him than you did for yourself.
for a long time, you resented. now, it’s only guilt that held you back from going back to him.
so when you remain silent, changmin takes it as your answer.
and for the first time, the distance feels greater since you first left cheongju.
summer of 2014
it’s the peak of summer. amidst the expanse of verdant fields, bees seek solace in the fully-bloomed sunflowers and kaleidoscope wings illuminate as they soar.
but summer is where mouths go dry and clothes cling to skin. as days blend with each other, the comfort of your bed is all you have until the season passes.
the fan rumbles against the wooden floor, doing its best to cool you, but the heat prickles against the back of your neck. the wind has turned into nothing but hot waves. with your elbows perched on the desk, a sigh leaves you as you attempt to make sense of the worksheet filled with math equations.
your room is your favorite place in cheongju. within these four walls are scattered fragments of you, from your favorite books and mangas that rest on the bookshelf to the stuffed toys that rest on your bed. book tabs stick out of your workbooks lined up on your desk and your cork board is filled with crossed out to-do lists.
and every once in a while, you would look out through your window, admiring the neighboring houses and all their greenery. as people walk on pavements, you cannot help but think about where they’re off to—are they on their way to work? did they leave an important document back home? or are they coming back to a meal and home filled with warmth?
despite the halo soundtrack filling your ears, the cogs in your brain seem to drown them out. the numbers on your paper have jumbled up. it should’ve been easy. after all, you’ve become friends with the letters who’ve squeezed their way into math. once you’ve wrapped up on this assignment, you know you’ll wake up to another set of work to do. it didn’t help that you’re stuck watching kids your age enjoy their break.
with a tired mind, you consider making yourself another cup of iced coffee. maybe another dose of caffeine will make sense of the numbers—
your phone buzzes against your table. as your eyes rip from the unfinished worksheet, you spot the familiar name flashing on the screen. with one glance at your door, you bring your headphones to rest around your neck. it takes three rings for you to answer.
“what do you want?”
“the fuck? what’s wrong with you?”
you roll your eyes as you fiddle with your pen. “i’m studying, you fucker.”
“on a sunday?” changmin’s question has you only groan. “what happened to resting?”
“i wish,” you murmur as you scratch the back of your head. “i’ve been stuck on this stupid worksheet for the past hours. it’s annoying too. i mean, i already know this topic, so i don’t know why it’s so hard.”
“awe, is my best friend suffering over kumon?”
your forehead rests on crossed arms. “yes. i think i’m going to die.”
“okay, then. i’ll take that as my sign.”
“sign to what?”
he chuckles as if it were obvious. “to save you! let’s go to mr. kim’s.”
a groan leaves you as your back meets the chair. “no, i can’t. do you know what would happen if i don’t finish my kumon?”
“uh… no?”
“me, neither. i’m not taking my chances.”
“but, you’re not even doing anything!” changmin pointing out the obvious has you rolling your eyes. “wouldn’t it be better to take a break with your best friend? i can even help out.”
as you bite the inside of your cheek, you glance once more at your closed door. you weigh it out; would you rather take a break with your best friend or would you save yourself from the consequences brought by home?
but the answer was already clear. “give me 10 minutes.”
changmin laughs before you drop the call.
it’s the smell of fresh hotteok that greets you. the quiet buzzing of the fan accompanied by mr. kim’s favorite trot music fills your ears. while the owner seems to be away from the cashier, a white, stray cat takes over, body flopped on the counter as it snores away the heat. as the sun pours through windows, coating every corner of the mart with a glow of fireflies, you know this will be a place of its own.
“y/n, over here!” a familiar voice calls out. as you whip your head to the source, you see your best friend by the chest freezer, eyes crinkled and all dimples.
now, you’re certain that nothing could ever replicate this.
you walk towards changmin, finding your spot beside him as you two look through the collection of frozen treats. “so, what do you want from here?” you ask.
“uh… i’ll be honest, i just realized i’m short on money.”
you glance through the price tags, only for a groan to leave you. “i’m short too. when did mr. kim raise the prices?”
“no clue. i thought i’d have enough to get a summer crush,” changmin complains as his eyes are glued to the coffee sorbet. “i hate inflation.”
“come on.” you fish out for the coins in your pocket. “let’s see how much we have together.” changmin does the same. with palms out, you two count through your shared funds.
“we can get a summer crush!”
“you can get one. i’ll be left with barely anything.” you look through the selection once more. “man, i really want samanco. the red bean sounds so good right now.”
defeat casts over changmin’s features. for a moment, you almost consider giving up on having a frozen treat and settling for a glass bottle of orange soda, until you spot a familiar popsicle brand.
“holy shit, it’s right there.”
“what?”
“there!” your finger points at the stack of twin bars. “we can probably get that and split it.”
changmin’s expression morphs into realization. “okay, let’s get—”
“dibs on grape.”
“dibs?” he furrows his eyebrows at you. “you can’t just call dibs. you’re doing it wrong. clearly, we should discuss—”
“nope,” you retort. a chuckle laced with disbelief leaves your best friend. to him, it seemed like you were joking around. “i made the suggestion and contributed a lot more to our shared funds.”
“okay, but—”
“don’t tell me you want the peach flavor more than the grape.” as you continue to shut him down, he knows there’s no way around you.
(plus, he wasn’t a fan of peach-flavored things, anyway. how unfortunate that mr. kim only has those two flavors right now.)
“next time, we’re choosing a flavor that i want,” he gives in. you let out a cheer before grabbing the frozen treat.
you two make your way back to the cashier and spot mr. kim slouched in front of the television, hand stroking the sleepy feline. he’s still wearing an old, red plaid apron on top of a pair of basketball shorts and a loose graphic tee which had the name of a band you’re unfamiliar with. with how he sits, you’re afraid that his back problems will get even worse. (still, you don’t say anything. he’ll only play it off and say he’s still one of the “youngins”... whatever that means.)
once his eyes land on you two, a grin takes over. “ah, my favorite kids! it’s nice to see you both.”
“yeah, it’s been a while,” changmin starts off. “y/n’s always busy with kumon.”
you narrow your eyes at the boy. “hey! you’re busy, too! you’ve been practicing at the studio almost every day!” the wrapped popsicle now rests on the counter. “every time i’m free, you’re not.”
“hey! whenever you’re free, i’m tired from training!”
“okay, let’s settle down,” mr. kim breaks up the banter. he then takes note of the ice cream on the cashier, the price showing up on the cashier. “isn’t the heat hard enough for you two to be studying or practicing?”
“yes, very much.” you count the coins once more before dropping the exact amount on the counter. “but,” you glance at changmin and his disheartened expression is enough for mountains to move, “i don’t think we have a choice.”
in reality, these were the circumstances you two had to work and live with. during the days changmin ended practice early, you were drowning in summer school assessments. whenever you managed to finish your homework, it would be during the hours your best friend was off at the studio or passed out at home from exhaustion.
“choice, no choice, people always say that.” mr. kim counts your payment before putting it into the cashier. as he takes note of what you’ve bought, he says, “everyone has a choice. i’m sure you two can figure it out.”
the only difference is that one chose this path; the other had to suffer from the decision forced onto them.
“don’t worry, mr. kim,” changmin nudges your shoulder. “i’m sure we’ll figure it out.” and when the dips in his cheeks appear, you find yourself smiling back.
maybe you were okay with the life you had to live, just maybe.
“anyway, we’ll go ahead,” changmin bids farewell to mr. kim.
you giggle. “he means we’re just going to eat our ice cream at the front.”
as you two slowly make your way out of the mart, mr. kim shakes his head. “you lovebirds go ahead. i’ll see you next time!”
“mr. kim!” you and changmin shout in unison before glancing at each other.
“what?!”
your best friend groans. “you know we aren’t together.”
“yeah! like, i can’t imagine it,” you join in.
still, the owner laughs at your reactions. “you two are so funny. just go and enjoy your ice cream.”
you roll your eyes at his words. “bye, mr. kim!”
with that, you and changmin were out of the mart and took a seat on the benches. you hand your best friend the wrapped frozen treat before letting out a sigh. “i still can’t believe this is one of the few times we got to meet up during the break.”
“i know.” he tears the plastic wrapping off. “you would think that summer break would mean we get to hang out nonstop, but i’m starting to think we saw each other more whenever we had school.”
you hum. “i know. and i had ap stat while you had training.” your eyes dart at changmin who grips onto the popsicle sticks, struggling to split it into two. “oh my god, don’t tell me you can’t split it.”
“hey! it’s hard.”
as you giggle, you reach your hand out. “let me do it.” once changmin hands you the twin bar, you attempt to split the two. for a moment, you almost think about agreeing with him. yet, the frozen treat splits into two perfectly, and a satisfied smile rests on your lips.
you hand him one popsicle, only to be met with his glare. “i know, i’m just better.”
“just shut up.” to that, another laugh leaves you.
under the sun, you enjoy the coolness of the twin bar. while you would’ve stared off to nowhere, you and changmin were here at the right time to catch civilians bustling away. some were on dates, where one would go on about their interest while the other would smile at their rambling. there were kids whose chatter could be heard all the way from the end of the block, and blue-collar men who were off to enjoy their break.
you can’t help but imagine what people saw—thought—of you and changmin. did they think of you as unexpected friends? has it ever crossed their minds that you two were only classmates who seemed to always be paired together? or did they ever think the same as mr. kim?
“you know,” changmin starts off, causing you to look at him, “i was going through college courses the other day.”
your eyebrows shoot up. “oh?”
with your reaction, changmin giggles. “i was just curious, you know? not that i’m giving up on dance or anything, but,” he licks the popsicle, “early childhood education sounds cool.”
you hum. “i wasn’t expecting that.”
“what’s that supposed to mean?”
“no, it’s not a bad thing!” you reassure the boy. “it’s just,” you rip your gaze off of changmin and look at the playground, “i always thought of you as a dancer, you know? kind of like you were meant for the stage.” the laughter of the kids who passed by you two bounces all over the block and you can’t help but smile. “but i don’t doubt it.”
the breeze graces your sweat-covered skin. “what about you?” you look back at him. “would you ever consider journalism? maybe communication as your major?”
you’re quick to laugh at his suggestion, but when confusion paints his features, you realize it’s a serious question from him.
“no.” it’s a straightforward answer from you, but changmin could never settle with that
“why not?”
a sigh leaves you. “i just don’t consider it. i mean, i think about it,” all the time, “but not enough to consider it. plus, astrophysics is cool.”
“but is it your dream?”
changmin’s question is an easy one to answer—not at all. you’ve had enough learning about theories and making sense of the numbers. if your future is going to only complicate that further, then maybe astrophysics isn’t made for you.
but who’s to say that you’ll even enjoy journalism?
“we’ll see.” you leave it at that and changmin didn’t push for more.
because the reality is that if you ever did consider it, transform those dreams into action plans, you were terrified to be met with your parents’ disappointment—it wouldn’t only be from your lousy desires but from changmin’s role in your life.
the first time you mentioned changmin to your parents happened over dinner, letting them know you would be staying later at school to work on the final project for art class with him. they didn’t bat an eye at his name as they continued to talk about what happened during work and pester you about your progress in other classes. (art class didn’t matter to them, only the sciences and math were ones they seemed to track. still, they would criticize you if you didn’t place first honors.)
with your parents’ oversight, something blossomed between you and changmin. from there, there were more days you would get home later than usual. while you were still on top of your work, they took your late arrivals as a form of negligence.
all it took was one night for them to demand an explanation. the reappearance of him in the conversation had only caused them to reprimand you—changmin’s not like you. he’ll only hold you back.
from that day on, you’ve learned to keep his name out of conversations. you’ll enjoy what you have with changmin, even if it has to be kept under the wraps.
“how’s training?” you change the subject, trying to keep the attention off of your failed dreams to changmin’s flourishing ones.
“well, it’s a lot,” he chuckles as he munches a piece. “you already know that it takes how many hours to get to the company, and the hours i spend in the practice room are unlike the trainings i have at school.”
as his eyes meet yours, you only shoot him an apologetic smile. it was never going to be easy; you two knew that before changmin entered the doors of the company. yet, he still held on.
“you know, i never considered it before, but i like where i’m going,” he admits. “even if i’ve always had dreams to pursue dance, i want to make my family proud if i ever get to debut.”
changmin knows how to persevere. regardless of all the bruises he gets from performing complex dance routines or the hours of sleep he longs for, he knows how to hold on. you wish you could say the same for yourself.
“and you will,” you reassure the boy, wrapping your arm around his shoulders. “who wouldn’t be proud of you?”
he holds your stare and your smile falters. for a moment, you don’t know if you touched on a sensitive topic. would he shrug your arm off? do you think he’ll shut you off, maybe cut your time together short? will changmin get mad at you for something you didn’t know was wrong? would he be just like them?
“i want to make you proud.”
that’s enough to answer it all.
you shake your head. “don’t even doubt that for a second.” your arm finds it spot back to your side, and changmin’s loops his with yours.
although he knows how to persevere, he never knows when to shut his ears from the shadows.
“i am proud of you,” you tell him. “always have, always will.” he can’t help but smile. all you can hope is that he’ll listen closely to your voice.
“i almost forgot,” he says out of nowhere.
“forgot what?”
as he tugs his arm away, his hand fishes for something in his pocket. “close your eyes.” you furrow your eyebrows. “just do it!” you follow his orders. “and keep them closed, okay?” you let out a hum.
before you know it, something wraps around your index finger. you would’ve opened your eyes, confused over the foreign yet familiar material, but they remain shut.
“okay, open.”
your gaze rests on your finger wrapped in yellow and blue. it’s a finger trap—and the other end is connected to changmin. despite your tug, it still holds you two together.
it’s the warmth that fills your cheeks, the heartbeat in your ears, and your starstruck eyes that has him smile. “no matter what happens, we’ll stick together, okay? regardless of what paths we end up pursuing. all that matters is that we have each other.”
he’s filled with hope. hope for his dreams. hope for your relationship. hope for what the future holds for you two. you can’t help but hope as well.
all it takes is a nod from you to solidify the promise to the universe.
you two sit in silence, finishing up the popsicles as people continue to pass by. at one point, you heard mr. kim let out a curse over the drama he’s watching. the sun is about to set, wrapping you two in a golden blanket, and all that matters is the finger trap.
present -> two weeks before the interview, 2024
it’s no surprise to you that the newsroom is quiet. while your peers are off to gather more information, you’re with lee chaeyeon of news as she tries to meet the deadline for her article’s first close.
“do you think dokyeom will be late?” you ask as you watch her rephrase sentences.
she laughs. “when is he never? minho’s always assigning him coverages.”
“that’s true.” your eyes drift to the hallway. “i’m just hungry. he still owes me food, you know?”
“over another bet? or you saving his ass?”
“over helping him with an article,” you reveal, earning a shocked look from her. “for some odd reason, he needed another writer to help out with a live coverage, and all the sports writers and sports editor were busy handling the other events.”
“holy shit.” chaeyeon continues with her work. “i didn’t expect you to work on anything sports-related.”
“yeah, but it helped that it was a dance competition. at least i know something about dance.” you only know who to thank. “i’m going to make sure i get compensated for that. i’m planning to raise it to minho and namjoon, anyway. that’s if dokyeom would fucking come and help in explaining the situation.”
with the mention of the tardy writer’s name, he’s scrambling through the halls with his backpack in one hand and a paper bag in the other. the moment he sees you, he shoots you an apologetic smile.
“speak of the devil,” you say as you stand up straight. “why do you always show up late? i helped you with the article.”
dokyeom finds his spot beside you as he sets down the bag on your desk. “i’ll have you know that wasn’t the only article i had yesterday. i was catching up on other ones that minho assigned me.” before he can plop down on his seat, he spots chaeyeon working. “damn, tough life at news.”
“no need to point out the obvious, doofus.”
“wow, harsh,” he replies to her insult. “just so you know, i bought food for us.”
“thank god,” you exclaim as you open the paper bag filled with takeout containers and sealed cups. as you pull them out one by one, you spot your usual order from the vietnamese restaurant around the corner. “oh my god, thank you for getting me this.” you take a seat before you pass dokyeom his food and utensils.
“yeah, i know. i’m just the best.” his shower of compliments for himself only has you rolling your eyes. “but thank you, by the way, for helping me out with the article. i needed an extra pair of hands and my own editor couldn’t stand in to help out.”
“it’s fine. just make sure you help me get compensated for that article,” you say before you open the container. as the smell of bun bo nam bo fills your nose, you can’t help but let out a quiet moan. “holy fuck, i’ve been craving this.”
“i made sure to get you some vietnamese coffee also.”
“yeah, i saw. thank you.” you split the chopsticks with one hand. you’re about to mix the bowl of your favorite food—
“is y/n here?” your editor calls out, causing you to let out a sigh before you stand up from your seat.
“yes?”
namjoon’s gaze lands on you. “can i talk to you for a bit?”
despite your grumbling stomach, you give him a nod and set your food down. as he retreats to his office, you glare at dokyeom who munches away on goi cuon. “i hate you.”
“hey, what did i do?!” you ignore his attempts to defend himself as you make your way to your editor’s office.
once you swing the door open, you spot namjoon whose eyes are stuck to the screen. “you can take a seat,” he says with no attempt to look at you. you sit across from him, hands folded on your lap, while he types away on his keyboard.
the moment he hits the ‘enter’ key is when he finally looks at you. “sorry about that. i was just replying to minho regarding your compensation for the article you worked with dokyeom. we both appreciate what you did. next time though, make sure to loop in minho or me before you two start working on beats not within your staffs.”
“sorry about that,” you start off. “dokyeom only asked for my help and i thought it would be fine since i’m familiar with dance, anyway.”
namjoon shakes his head with a small smile plastered on his face. “it is fine, just make sure to inform us.” you only nod.
“anyway, i’m sorry to have this meeting with you right now but i have to leave work early today, and i thought that you’d appreciate that i tell this to you now instead of tomorrow,” he says. you hum, curious about what he has to say. “i have a coverage for you, a very, very, long one.”
over the sight of your wide eyes, he can’t help but chuckle. “it’s 12 articles,” he says and your mouth gapes over the number. “well, one main article and 11 profiles with very brief introductory paragraphs.” his attempt to ease your shocked state does nothing.
“namjoon, that’s… a lot.”
“yes, i know. i would love to split the workload but everyone else is handling other articles, and i trust you. i know i’m asking for a lot but i’ll make sure to help you out with them. it’s just that we’re working on a time crunch and i don’t know anyone else i can ask but you.”
the faith that your editor seems to have in you is like no other.
“profiles, like, those q&a transcripts?” you ask.
he nods before saying, “yes, and just a brief introductory paragraph for each profile. i’m just expecting you to put more work into the article about the group. i’ll make sure to help out with the profiles.”
namjoon’s trust should be anxiety inducing, enough to send you complaining, but you find yourself relieved. your mentor became your second-in-command; the mountain of workload transformed into a hill.
“okay.”
a relaxed smile appears on his face at your acceptance. “thank god! i was going to stress about this the whole day if you refused. i’ll make sure to send you the details about this once i’m done with my appointments, and then we can see how we’ll divide the work later on.” he types something. “we’re covering a k-pop group which is why there’s one main article about the whole group and then 11 profiles.”
“yeah, i figured that out.” this isn’t anything out of your usual articles. “can i ask who we’re interviewing? maybe i can do some research on them while you attend your meetings.” you pull out your phone, ready to search up whoever your editor says.
“don’t know if you’re familiar with them but they’re called the boyz?” you still in your seat. “wait, let me check. yes, that’s their name.”
“the boyz?”
namjoon looks at you, now met with your features that have transformed from wide eyes to scrunched eyebrows. “yeah. do you know them?”
you shake your head without a second thought. “no, i don’t think i do,” you whisper the last sentence to yourself. his narrow eyes look over you, almost dissecting you.
the walls surrounding you are painted in solid colors of pearl, almost untouched. yet, under the paint are cracks that spread like cobwebs. every burst is a testament to the earthquakes they’ve faced; no one should be able to see a single line of black amid the white sea. now, they’re filled with paste, and it should be enough to cover them all.
but for the first time, the paint has chipped and the paste has deteriorated; the different colors of cheongju seep through the cracks.
you clear your throat as you straighten your back. “i’ll be sure to research them.” you wave your phone at him, hoping to divert his attention, but his gaze remains on you.
a sigh leaves him. “okay. expect to receive the documents later in the afternoon.”
he doesn’t push any further. for now, the walls remain intact. (or appear as so.)
it was never going to be easy.
“honestly, i gave up expecting to win as we practiced,” the youngest says through tears. as they huddle, they let out silent wishes for the upcoming years. before they blow the candle, they don’t forget to express their gratitude to the fandom who stuck with them through thick and thin.
a time of celebration turned into a moment to remember their struggles. these were pockets of their time that marked their spot in history.
“oh, everyone behind us is crying!” another member points out as the camera captures the team’s bittersweet cries.
and when you catch sight of the orange-haired boy who hides his tears behind his friend, the ache in your chest starts to spread through your veins. the video cuts to his low-hanging head as his members comfort him. they knew all of his hardships—you only know a fraction.
such a tender moment happened five years ago; it’s the same amount of time between this achievement and your departure. within those years, what did changmin undergo? did his trainings waver his passion or did the fire burn just as bright as it did since he first auditioned? was he confident in his skills or was he still critical about every performance he had?
but most of all, what did he face? what did he learn? to hate? to love?
what did he go through without you?
you don’t forget to take note of their first win on your document filled with bullet points of information. while you were going to continue watching, a recommended video caught your attention. it’s a changmin focus. you don’t hesitate to click it.
the video starts off with him checking up on the fans before the performance starts. as he mimes out eating, they answer his question with reassurance.
and there they come—his dimples appear.
it transitions to their group in their opening formation. as they await for the song to play out, changmin’s familiar smile shifts into a dominant gaze.
in the same way the first notes draw people to listen, your eyes never leave the boy. his movements are fluid, like water droplets sliding off leaves. he commands the stage regardless of where he’s positioned.
changmin is meant to be on the stage—no, every stage is made for him. every crowd is meant to cheer his name and remain captive to his talents, and every spotlight is meant to shine on him.
you rest your chin on crossed arms. long gone was the bowl cut and loose school uniform. he’s grown. matured, even. yet, the moments where his smile appears makes you realize one thing: the 16-year-old boy you knew still lives within him.
as their performance comes to an end, you don’t bother to move your cursor, letting the next recommended video play. and when his vlog plays out, you realize that a fragment of his identity is a whole of what you know.
what an honor it is to have known him for even a fraction of your lifetime.
his voice is a lullaby, the same one you used to fall asleep to, so you allow yourself to close your eyes. you let go of the responsibilities for just this moment, and allow yourself to be transported back into the warmth of his arms.
fall of 2014
out of all the seasons, autumn took its spot in being your favorite. clusters of green slowly morph into shades of oranges and browns. it’s a symphony of chirps that fills the silence. while the breeze brings you comfort after the heat of summer, it also reminds you of the looming winter.
it’s a shame that autumn does live up to its other name: a season of fall.
“you’re always like this,” your mother comments. you stand in front of your parents, slumped shoulders and downcast eyes, as they hold a sheet of paper they believe dictates your future. “always so sensitive. we’re just asking you what went different. why did your grades drop?” to them, a shift from a to b+ is a threat to your future.
while your feet stand on wooden floors, a flood starts to form. murky waves crash against your legs, but you do your best to keep your balance.
“answer us when you’re being talked to.” your father snaps you out of your thoughts. “what have you been doing for your grades to drop?” you want to answer but a single sound that leaves you may only lead to blubbers that your parents will scold you for.
with your silence, your mother sneers. “i knew we shouldn’t have let you do your own things. i told you so.” she shifts her gaze to him. “what did i tell you about y/n? you know they’ll only slack off!”
“i thought we could trust them. clearly, i was wrong.” your father’s glare raises the water levels, reaching your chest. you don’t know how to swim in the foggy ocean.
“i know why.” she crosses her arms. “it’s because of that changmin boy, isn’t it?” she says his name laced with disgust.
you don’t think twice to defend him. “no, it isn’t!”
“don’t you dare talk back at me!”
“but i’m not! he’s done nothing.”
your father begins to raise his voice. “and that’s what’s wrong! that lazy boy does nothing for his studies. he clearly doesn’t care about his future.”
you always knew it would be a losing battle, but you’ll put up the fight to protect your best friend’s name. “that’s not true! he does care. he’s planning to do early childhood education for college, maybe become a teacher.”
“that job has no money. see, i can already see that you’re being influenced by him,” he argues back.
and as the murky waters rise, filling your lungs, your first instinct is to close your eyes and scream. “stop saying that about him!”
a beat passes.
“i don’t want you hanging out with him.”
“but—”
“shut up.” your mother’s words cause you to look up, meeting your parents’ faces filled with anger. “go to your room. now.” you’re nothing but a puppet for them.
was it even a battle if you always knew you were going to lose?
despite the safety of your room, you don’t let the tears flow down. you do anything to distract yourself; maybe a book will convince you that your life is only a figment of your imagination.
waves continue to crash against your body. if you let them take your body, would they send you far away from cheongju? from your parents? from the weight you were entrusted to carry since birth?
but would you allow the waves to send you away from changmin?
your phone buzzes against the mattress. with tear-filled eyes, you see your best friend trying to reach you. you don’t think twice about declining his call and shutting off your phone.
as you curl in your bed, you hope the sea will swallow you whole—the slow, burning pain that comes with drowning won’t compare to the burns that haven’t healed. but you know that the blame rests on your shoulders. if only you had studied harder, cut off hours of rest for your work, then maybe you would be the perfect child your parents wanted.
were you wrong for allowing yourself to enjoy the small breaks between classes? was the time spent in the mart supposed to be for schoolwork? should you have found yourself a tutor? were you in the wrong for not working yourself to the bone? did you not work enough?
are you not enough?
then, a knock. your eyes snap open. like a stroke of light in the middle of the dark, changmin is by your window.
you get off your bed to open the window. as the glass barrier disappears, he enters your room. “are you okay?” he spots your glassy eyes and his hands find their spot on your shoulders. “what happened?”
you break eye contact. “what do you want, changmin?”
“you didn’t pick up your phone. and when i tried calling again, i couldn’t reach you,” he starts to explain.
you shrug off his grip on you before you take a seat on your bed. “i’m fine. my phone died.” as you feel the spot beside you dip, you look at your best friend. at the sight of his furrowed eyebrows, you know he doesn’t believe you. “i said i’m fine.”
“i didn’t say anything.” for you are an open book to him.
he opens his arms towards you—it’s your move to make. then, a tight-lipped smile shows on his face, his dimples appear, and you allow yourself to fall. with his arms wrapped around you, you shut your eyes as you nestle your face into his neck.
breathe in. breathe out.
his hand finds its spot on your back, rubbing it in circles.
breathe in. breathe out.
“it’s okay, i’m here,” he says, and you allow yourself to crumble in front of him for the first time.
the tears hit changmin’s neck like a light drizzle. your wails bring earthquakes into his world.
yet, his warmth is enough to dry up droplets, and his embrace protects you as you fall into the cracks of the earth and into the depths of the world. the flood starts to subside.
in your time knowing changmin, how much did he know about you after all? had he always known of your strained relationship with your parents? did he hear about it from others or was he able to connect the dots?
because you didn’t know yourself outside of your parents anymore. did you like science because of your kumon classes? was your interest in writing birthed from a desire for validation from your parents?
are you nothing but an array of achievements and failures?
but your parents will never be satisfied; a standard too high is practically nonexistent.
changmin moves so that you two can lie down. his arms remain wrapped around you as you hide in his neck. “i’m sorry if i wasn’t there for you when you needed it then.” his whispered apology causes you to shake your head.
“you didn’t do anything wrong,” you blubber out to his neck.
“and you didn’t, as well.” his hand finds its spot behind your head. with every stroke, a tear streams down. “and i want you to know that i’ll be here for you.”
in your house, your room was the only space you called home. solace built by you.
now, your home is changmin.
present -> two weeks before the interview, 2024
something about the newsroom feels odd to you. there’s nothing out of the ordinary aside from it bustling with journalists. the familiar sounds of printers and chatter from your workmates fill your ears. it’s a typical occurrence for your peers to meet their deadlines on the day itself. the tug in your gut doesn’t resemble ones formed out of your anxiety. why does it feel like one of destiny?
“where is dokyeom? i swear, this guy never shows up to the office.”
you snap out of your thoughts, looking over at chaeyeon who browses through her phone. as you shove a bill into the vending machine, a chuckle leaves you. “when is he never?”
“maybe if he finishes his coverages on time then he’d be getting enough sleep. then, he won’t be late.”
you side-eye your friend before you click on a button. “you know that’s not true.”
she sighs at the same time your bottle of iced tea drops. “yeah. apparently, if you have free time, you’re not a good journalist or some shit which i find stupid.” you grab your drink before facing her. “am i not allowed to do something else that’s not related to my job? i swear, this is why i’m single.”
“then date another journalist.” your joke earns a scowl from her.
“i’m never dating anyone in my field. a journalist dating another journalist is like,” she looks up to the ceiling as she thinks, “a long distance relationship with how much they’ll never see or have time for each other.”
a laugh erupts from you, one that may be too loud for your liking. “true.”
as you walk out of the breakroom with chaeyeon, you notice something in the corner of your eye: a brunette by the restroom. while you can’t see his face, you spot what’s in his hand and you halt in your tracks—a finger trap.
“hey, is there someone there?” your eyes snap back to your friend who looks at you in confusion. when your eyes drift back to where the brunette once was, he’s already gone. you shake your head before walking back to your desk.
the same gut feeling lingers. with a frown, you open up your article only to be met with a few comments that namjoon left last night. maybe your gut knew that you weren’t done with your work. thankfully, it’s nothing too major, and you can have them done within the next few minutes.
“there you are!” chaeyeon exclaims, causing you to look up from your screen to a panting dokyeom. “were you working on your articles again?”
“actually, i went out last night.” while you shake your head at dokyeom’s reveal, chaeyeon gasps. “yeah, i did! i actually had fun for once!”
as he nods proudly at last night’s events, she complains, “are you serious?! how come you have time to go out? i was just talking to y/n that we never have time to ourselves.”
“i’m in sports,” he points out as he shrugs his shoulders. “you’re in news.” at this point, you’re expecting the two to spiral into an argument, so you redirect your focus back to your article.
“hey, did you hear though? there’s a k-pop group in the building.” you glance at chaeyeon.
your other friend leans on the cubicle. “really? who?”
“no clue.”
dokyeom lets out a groan. “what type of journalist are you if you can’t find out?”
“yah!” chaeyeon smacks his arm, causing him to wince in pain. “says you who can never submit on time.”
“hey, i’ll have you know that minho has been understanding!”
“whatever.” she rolls her eyes before looking at you. “that means you’ll probably be handling them. i hope they’re cute so that you can finally have something going on with your life outside of work.”
a chuckle leaves you as you get back to work. “i’m never dating an idol. i’d get hunted down by their fans.”
“yeah, but can’t you dream a little? do you ever imagine what it would be like?”
the past plays in your mind. after school performances and interviews. broken-up popsicles. finger traps. a life you shared with changmin then—one you still cling onto.
yet, you shake your head as you edit your article. “not even.”
it’s a life you’ll keep to yourself.
“what’s the update?”
the three of you look away from each other, spotting namjoon who comes to you with a smile. long gone were the sweaters that failed to drown out his figure and the boxy glasses that would rest on the bridge of his nose. now, he wears a dress shirt and trousers with hair slicked to the side. there were no frames for him to hide behind.
“ah, namjoon! you’re dressed so nice today.”
with dokyeom’s compliment, he can’t hold back on his smile. “thank you. are you guys done with your articles?”
as your friends nod, you add the finishing touches to the document. “and done! i just finished addressing your comments.”
“great. thanks, y/n.”
“do you have something?” chaeyeon asks your editor, causing you to roll your eyes. one thing about journalists is that they love to know everything.
namjoon nods before saying, “i just had a meeting with some possible interviewees.”
“is this the one with the k-pop group?” as dokyeom asks the question, you can’t help but laugh as chaeyeon looks at him in disbelief for spilling confidential information.
your editor chuckles. “yes.”
“can we know—”
“no, you can’t know.”
chaeyeon pouts at namjoon. “not even a hint?”
namjoon ignores her question and begins to walk off. “good work, y/n!” he calls out before leaving you three alone.
“man, namjoon never tells us shit,” chaeyeon complains as she leans on the table.
“to you guys, at least,” you argue with a small shrug.
still, the gut feeling remains.
something about the newsroom feels odd to changmin. while he’s had his fair share of paranormal experiences, his gut tells him that there’s something in the office. yet, the tug isn’t one that speaks of danger. why does it feel like one of destiny?
“should we have a short break before we discuss the schedules for the photoshoots and interviews?” changmin is snapped out of his thoughts by namjoon’s suggestion.
his manager looks at the group. “do you guys need a break?”
sangyeon shoots namjoon a smile before looking at his members. “you guys can use the washroom if you need to.”
although everyone seemed fine with proceeding, changmin couldn’t shake off the feeling. maybe the leftover curry he had this morning went bad. “i’ll go,” he says as he gets off his seat.
namjoon slowly stands up. “okay, i can bring you there—”
“it’s okay! i saw the washroom on the way here,” changmin says before walking to the door. “you can discuss the details without me. i’m sure you guys will manage.”
with sangyeon’s and his manager’s nods, namjoon settles back into his seat. “okay then, here are some of the dates i have in mind...”
changmin exits the room. he bites on the inside of the cheek as he thinks of what his gut could be telling him. is it the nerves for the upcoming tour? is he worried about the next comeback they’ve been preparing? or is he scared about what the future has in store for his group?
with his mind on these questions, he doesn’t realize that he arrives in front of the bathroom door. a sigh of frustration leaves him. the worst thing about gut feelings is never knowing what they’re trying to say.
he grips the handle, ready to swing the door open, until a familiar laugh hits his ears. one of the past. one he hasn’t heard in years. his muscles freeze.
when was the last time he heard that chortle? when was the last time he became the cause of it?
his eyes dart around the area for the source but no one else is here. he can’t help but shake his head in disbelief.
it should be stupid for him to think you two would ever reunite. in what world would you be in the same place as he is? it’s been 10 years. you could be anywhere around the world. yet, he fishes for something out of his pocket; the same finger trap he linked you to him rests on the palm of his hand.
he sighs before entering the washroom and shoving it back into his pocket.
maybe he’ll hold out a little longer.
winter of 2014
out of all the seasons, changmin’s favorite is winter. snowflakes fall, filling the sky with stars that people can touch, and snow piles on sidewalks, letting him throw snowballs at his friends. despite the freezing temperatures, changmin prefers this over nearly-boiling ones.
he can’t wait to share this season with you.
yet, the familiar, chilly breeze of the season transforms into whispers, and word gets around like thrown snowballs.
“is y/n really not going to school anymore?” changmin looks up from his desk to see cheng xiao standing in front of him. he tilts his head in confusion, causing her to roll her eyes. “are they not going here anymore?”
he frowns. “huh? what kind of rumor is that?”
“i don’t know. it’s what people have been saying,” she says as she crosses her arms. “i asked because i wanted to know if my competition’s gone, you know? and you’re the only one here who has an idea about their whereabouts.”
changmin laughs in disbelief. “no, i was with them last week.”
when changmin last saw you, you asked for space. with what’s been happening with your family, you needed time to process and cope with your issues, and he respected that. after all, he only knew a fraction of your relationship with your parents, and he didn’t want to intrude in anything you didn’t want him to be a part of. still, changmin reminded you that he’ll be there if you need him.
“damn, that sucks,” cheng xiao groans as her shoulders slump. “these stupid rumors.” as soon as she leaves changmin alone, he shakes his head.
the bell rings. students start rushing into classrooms and teachers scold those who aren’t on their seats. ms. jeon enters the room, walking to the desk in front and setting her things down. “cheng xiao, you’ll be in charge of attendance today.”
as changmin’s classmate gets off her seat, he can’t help but look at your desk that still remains empty.
“you have to message us when you land,” your mother says as she fixes the collar of your coat. despite your nod, she clicks her tongue. “answer me properly.”
“yes, i will.”
once your father finishes placing the last luggage in the trunk of the taxi, he stands beside your mother. “don’t forget why we’re sending you there. we expect you to do better with no distractions.”
your phone buzzes in your hand. as you look down, you see a message from changmin. as he asks about your whereabouts, the weight gets heavier—will you stand or crumble under it?
“who’s that?”
you stash your phone away as you look back at your parents. “nothing. it’s just an email from the school. they sent over the date for the orientation.” at the sight of their satisfied smile, you let out a small sigh of relief.
“well, go on.” your nod at your mother before getting in the car. with the windows still down, she adds, “don’t forget to get endorsement letters from the professors i sent over to you or else you won’t get to study abroad like we planned.” her choice of pronouns is funny; a plan that they crafted which never considered your input.
“okay.”
as your father commands the driver to go, your gaze remains on the two. it should be okay with you to leave cheongju; you’d be far away from your parents and experience an entirely different landscape to explore. it’s time you break away from the chains of this town. learn a life outside of what your parents forced you into.
yet, as the car takes its leave, the figure of your parents slowly shrinks. the distance from them should’ve given you the space to breathe, a relief you’ve longed for, but it only reminds you of your strained relationship. to them, it would be better that you’re out of their sight—and with your farewell, you never heard the three-word phrase.
the window rolls up. you try to hold back the tears, but the scenery of cheongju that you pass by births a storm within you. you didn’t want to say goodbye to home, regardless of how much you say you didn’t have a home in this town. every corner holds a piece of you in the same way you hold a piece of them.
the car approaches a safe haven you share. despite the snow that piles at the front, mr. kim’s convenience store is still open. you’ll never get to have his hotteok again or hear his favorite dramas play in the background. worst of all, you never got to say goodbye.
then, the familiar figure of your best friend exits the mart, and the storm transforms into a typhoon. the plastic bag he holds is filled with your favorite snacks, from the grape-flavored twin bar to a bottle of mr. kim’s homemade peach iced tea.
and in that moment that your car passes him, he pulls out his phone from his pocket, and you spot the familiar trap wrapped around his finger—the other end holds no one.
as quickly as you came into changmin’s life, he disappears from your view.
finger traps were fascinating. if you tug hard, the contraption won’t let your fingers go. yet, if you allow the two fingers to meet, allowing the toy to loosen, it’ll let you go with no harm.
but your finger trap with changmin was different. maybe it was already ripped to its seams.
interview
q: what made you decide on becoming an idol?
a: i’ve always loved dancing. growing up in cheongju, i always made time [for dance] whether it be [for] school competitions, talent shows, or even [choreographies] i wanted to try out. but i never considered becoming [an idol] until high school. a lot of my friends and family thought i was capable, and i’m glad they trusted me. it feels good to give back to them with every performance.
q: as the first trainee meant to debut in the boyz, you’ve spent more time training compared to your other members. what kept you going throughout your years of training?
a: my family’s support was one big thing that helped me [during my training.] every trip from my house to the company would last hours, and it drained me physically. so as the years went by, i started to question if all the time, money, [and] effort i was putting into an unpromised debut would be worth it, but my parents and sisters were always there to support and [take] care of me. but i’d also like to think my best friend was a major support in training years. i think they were the first one to [tell me that they saw me as an idol,] and at the time i brushed off the idea. but, look where i am now? so i think i owe a lot to them.
q: is there anything you’d like to say to those who’ve supported you as the boyz’s q?
a: mom and dad, thank you for believing in me. i know it wasn’t easy to wait until midnight for me to come home or take care of me whenever i got sick from training. thank you for always supporting me in every performance. to my sisters, thank you for helping mom and dad out at home. every day, i remind myself that you gave up so much just so i can pursue my dreams, and i want you know that i’m forever grateful for your sacrifices. to the rest of [the boyz], thank you for always allowing me to rely on you. i’m glad i can say i have brothers who i get to achieve my dreams with. deobi, thank you for your love and support over the years. i wouldn’t be the boyz’s q or ji changmin if it weren’t for you. and lastly, thank you to my best friend. i hope you’ll always be proud of me the same way i’ll forever be proud of you.
tag list: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @mosviqu @vernyangel @stealanity @deobi0412 @blue-rainydays @maessseongs @dearly-somber
#ji changmin x reader#the boyz fic recs#im jumping off a cliff in t-minus two hours whoever wants to join may do so#pls read if u want something so heart wrenchingly beautiful
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May never come to reality but im planning out a Animatic to AJR's 'Maybe Man' (sue me) and need some help filling in some of the parts.
(Its probably going to be about all the life series in general not specifically Wild life. but feel free to try it fit it all in one series)
!!!long post incoming!!!
General plan so far:
First Half(ish) will be calmly looking at hermits in their peaceful habitats talking about their insecurities.
Finishing the first half when we get to the god part it will be Grian before life series started pleading to watchers and becoming one himself then cutting to him and all the other lifers standing around in a circle (like the start of each series) (much wow)
ONE. TWO. PANDEMONIUM.
murder, just all of the scenes of people dying biggest polt twist, betrayals, and Amount of kills.
Also specifically a close up of grain seeing the server burning in the reflection of his eyes.
ending with another shot of the beginning of a server but we see grains eyes which are weathered and worn out and maybe has some watcher purple
Specific Lines:
Wish I was a stone, so I couldn't feel You'd yell in my face, it'd be no big deal But I'd miss the way we make up and smile Don't want to be stone, I changed my mind
Im thinking scar and Grian Desert Duo? also could be
I wish I had eyes in the back of my head Then I could see the places I've been But then I would know that you're talkin' shit I don't wanna know what my friends think
This im Deff thinking cleo bigb scott and lizzie from the Boogeyman series (i forgor wich one that is)
but open to other ideas
Wish I were my dog out on the lawn I'd be so glad when I hear you come home But if I were my dog, I wouldn't live long I'm sure gonna miss her when she's gone
This is pearl playing with a dog, you cannot fucking make me change my mind
I wish I could act in a show on TV 'Cause then I could practice not bein' me I'll practice my cry, put it into my reel But you won't believe me when I cry for real
im either thinking like Ren or Martyn because of the acting thing or one of the scenes usually portrayed as lots of crying (ie Scott at the end of double life)
I wish that my brain would triple in size I'd nail every joke, I'd win every fight But I'd get too deep with that kind of mind I don't wanna know the point of life
ive been thinking of this as jimmy in general but also i dont want to be mean so other ideas would be great
In some other life I would be rich I'd travel in style, I'd cover the bill But couldn't complain 'bout anything small Nobody'd feel bad for me at all
havent given much thought for ones after this but im thinking Scar on Magic mountain trying to scam everyone?
If I was cocaine or a bottle of Jack I'd get invited to every frat But when you get old and your good days have passed You'll only want me when you're sad
have there been any people that bounce between alliances during one series?
Wish I was a song, your favorite one You'd follow the dance to me at your prom I would be there when your baby is born For two or three minutes, then I'm gone
there was at least one dande floor that was a trap, right??
I wish I was big, as big as my house I'd sleep on the trees, I'd skip every crowd But I wouldn't fit on my therapist's couch God, I could really use him now
probably ep1 of WildLife
I wish I was God, I'd never trip up And if I did, well, so fuckin' what? I could be cruel and break all your stuff Yeah, I'd be loved no matter what
pov grain angst
grain is on super windy mountain top surrounded by watchers crying, pleading to them
But if I was God, it'd get kinda weird 'Cause you would only say what I wanna hear And then you would die, you'd love me to death I never know who the hell I am
grian is surrounded by purple light wings and eyes becoming at least in part, a watcher
I wish I was me, whoever that is I could just be and not give a shit Hey, I'll be whatever makes you a fan 'Cause I don't know who the hell I am
cut to peaceful tranquil plains, all of them jn a circle at beginning of life series laughing joking shaking hands hugging (set em up for emotional damage)
One, two, pandemonium
black, black, PAN DE MONIUM
cut to destruction of server only using reds browns and blacks showing carnage this series has brought (and yes ofc player has died messages will appear in the corner as if in chat)
One, two, pandemonium
im thinking each line will be each of the series in chronological order
Here I go again
One, two, pandemonium
Here I go again
One, two, pandemonium
One, two-
Here I go again
cut to beginning of ?wild life? they all have scars when their final kills have been, some look tired some look determined
if you end up making this animatic if you want to put me in the credits as like 'inspired by' :3 but honestly idc that much. but you HAVE to tell me if you post one bc i will watch the hell out of that
#god i need more tags
#traffic smp#traffic series#last life#double life#third life#life series#ajr#animatic#help#ideas#outline#grian#mumbo#goodtimeswithscar#skizzleman#implusesv#geminitay#tangotek#joel smallishbeans#ldshadowlady#zombiecleo#bigb#bdoubleo100#martyn inthelittlewood#scott smajor#rendog#jimmy solidarity#solidaritygaming#pearlescentmoon#ethoslab
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i have seen people talk about how hard it is to draw anything if you have aphantasia (which is good to talk about and true and valid and also intersting to read and this post isnt to devalue that, two things can coexist etc etc)
i personally struggle with the opposite; i have incredible imagination, i'd say it's my best and only "inate talent", (this is not a brag ..) all stories i think about are movies, i can stop them, change camera angle and poses, rotate ever object however i want, place lighting sound and voices, even styles, i switch from ghibli to botw to fortiches style, even into the style of a comic i recently read which wasnt even animated, the only thing that only works half the time is music-
and that all might sound fantastic, but its a mess, it goes too fast and too quickly, things never play out one way, theres interruption, involuntarily sudden changes to other subjects, i feel like struggling to keep an angry horse on one path, it makes me waste HOURS each day just reversing and redoing a scene like im a movie director wizard in my head, theres no ONE finished version, it changes everytime yet i go back over and over again to make it better, i forget most of it within a few hours anyway; even IRL when someone tells me about a memory and they are not sure if i was with them during it once they start to explain trying to make me remember it instead i will imagine it, in the end i wont be sure if i actually remembered or if i just imagined it too real, it scares me how much i forget and cant remember only for my mind to make shit up, makign me doubt my own memory (its weird how it works, i have horrible geographical memory, when i drive somwhere i have known my entire life i need to remember the path to it by imagining driving it, i remember significant things but not the path to them or how they connect or in what order, i have to go through it in my head every single time)
by far the worst part though is that extreme disconnect between whats in my mind and what i can do, just because i can imagine things like that doesnt mean i can draw it (god i WISH), nothing i have ever drawn is how it was in my head, the few things you get to see are the ones i won the fight against myself with to keep going and say 'good enough' at some point the speed is a problem too, the things playing in my head, sometimes even multiple at the same time, play like, again, a movie, whatever im trying to draw is rarely ONE thing, its a whole scene that plays over and over, i want to draw it all but it wont work bc my mind is too fast and i am too slow, it makes me try to skip ahead and get things done as fast as possible, it NEVER works (also too much, theres so many things in my head, i have almost the entirety of the totk rewrite in my head already, novels worth of lore and story for my other projects, its overwhelming how much is in there that i cannot get out and on paper)
its why comics take me so long to make, why detailed paintings are so rare, its the rare times i can force myself to try and tune out my mind and just work on what is in front of me, usually works for a few hours .. if i can manage to reach that sort of focus at all, its why basic sketches of characters are so much easier to do bc i dont have to fight as hard to just draw a character doing nothing- as soon as i want to make it a sketch page of things and scenes the movies are back and are there to haunt me until i cry and give up after hours of trying to keep up with my mind that i will never be able to catch up to (and this is only about drawing .. )
i know skill and speed increase over time, but i wont ever get to where my mind is, its always ahead and trying to skip and jump towards it only makes me stumble and fall flat on my face- maybe its ADHD, maybe its the autism, maybe its the depression, maybe its just me, maybe its just all of that
what im trying to say is, head full, too much thought, too fast, never able to translate it into viewable things in the way and speed as my head works, i explode
#ganondoodles talks#personal#and then i play video game bc its easier than fighting my mind#and feel guilty like the worlds gonna crush me for wasting hundreds of hours on that#bc what could i have done in all that time instead (if my focus was there .. if i was able to keep up with my mind)#its probably either just whining#or ............... incredibly common among non neurotypicals#and here i am complaining#i just want to do so many things but CANT I CANT AND CANT BUT I WANT AND CANT ARGH
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my biggest problem with hazbin hotel writing after everything
guys do you notice how badly vivzie doesn't want to directly mention the theme of morality?
its always there, it flashes everywhere but she chooses to walk on edges. the redemption, extermination, falling in hell, god we literally have hell vs heaven war with these themes. and after everything the question "is this the right thing to do?" just exists like small stream of wind.
never in the show charlie asks herself "is my redemption plan is right?" she should know that there are very bad people who can also badly hurt others because she is there for a long. but this knowledge never brings up and we have to accept the fact that charlie is just an infantile and too stupid to comprehend evilness despite also knowing what good means. its really weird how the princess of hell who should already know the hellish history and society acts like she for the first saw someone like valentino being evil. SHE DIDNT LIVE FOR LONG IN HEAVEN (what could explain the blindness towards evil nature), SHE LIVED FOR LONG IN HELL, FUCKING HELL. how after many years she cant deal with the evilness of her people and instead just believe in a power of friendship? WHERE SHE WAS SO SHELTERED TO GET THIS MINDSET IN THE END?
its very weird how every theme that is revelant in this show, is literally connected with defining good vs evil BUT vivzie never, never makes us think about that. we just should accept the writing telling us what happened is good or bad, or even worse, doesn't matter and it was just for funnies (like that rpe joke with Sir Pentious).
the reason why this morality thing got in my mind is that im afraid what season 2 brings to us. im afraid that they will never mention elephant in the room: possibly irredeemable people. and hearing another doubtful information makes me scared that viv goes to the route "actually, there is no evil people and it just fault of some metaphoric disease that makes people evil!". and im very afraid of this happening in the future because it seems to be that everyone just ignores the existence of Irredeemableness. like doing evil doesnt really matter and there is just winners/losers side of history.
for some reason Sir Pentious in the past got in hell because of him ignoring the situation. let me mention he is the first to be ascended of all sinners and this backstory makes him pitiful for a reason. of all backstories, they chose the most depressing one. where he is a shut-in who had no will to change the inevitable situation. bro do not tell me you didnt do this to make another point of "innocent sinners"
emily. if not for emily, i wouldn't writing this. she is the angel version of charlie who also promotes "sinners deserve redemption" but also ignores existence of serial killers, rpists and another kinds of "that evil" people. the same problem charlie has but i can understand it at least.
I am not scared for saying this. viv seems to be not mature enough to even explore the concept of her show if she is afraid of exploring complete monsters (like exploring undoubtable evil AND NOT MAKING IT CONTROVERSIAL LIKE WITH VALENTINO AND ANGEL) and just stays on the line "of pure good (every main character) and wrongful revenge (VVVs, Adam, Lute and other exorcists, not gonna be surprised of Lilith adding to this group)".
of all characters, i only feel sympathy for lute (and also sir pentious with how he was handled throughout the show). sera was just stupid and wanted bloodshed because of her special placement in an angelic hierarchy. i dont believe this bullshit of her caring about well-being of her people when she went with extermination as it was nothing. all she should have said is that there are very horrible people and hell is not worth of being a threat to her lovely power. well, they didn't go for this route for some reason. now sera got in wrong too and she got in the first group with everyone.
TELL ME
TELL ME WHY NO ONE STILL POINTS ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM AND WE JUST ACCEPT THAT HELL IS JUST MISUNDERSTOOD
This is why I only care about Lute now because she is the only who has brain to acknowledge that there's monsters in hell
im so done with this show bro
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𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐩𝐞𝐚┇𝐂.𝐒
𝘱𝘵1. 𝘚𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴.
⌈after a lifetime of being ignored, and the death of her father, taking out her rage against the world the only way she knows how - murder.⌉
⌈pairing⌉ Chris Sturniolo x Sweetpea!reader.
⌈warnings!⌉ mentions of death, killing, drinking, smoking, smut (in later parts)
a/n: in my sweetpea era. I recommend watching it first before reading this lol. I dont wanna spoil anything. Its the same story line but like my own twist to it, and some similarities too. its been pretty good so far. so this is soley inspired off the show with also my own twist.
(Divider by @bernardsbendystraws)
‘People id love too kill…’ you thought. Sitting on the back of the bus between two men, man spreading ‘Men that lack human decency. Lindsey from the corner store who was never really happy to help’ flashing back to the memory.
“Just these please” you announced, barely noticed by her as she smacks her gum with headphones in “Right and I told her she couldn’t get mad at me just because her man wanted me.” She tells her friend over the phone.
‘My shitty boss. For failing to acknowledge my work, justin from work. For his lack of spacial awareness. Actually everyone from work ’ another flashback hits you. “Night!” You say enthusiastically just to be ignored by your boss and fellow employees.
‘My mom for leaving us and never telling us where she went’ flashbacks of you and your sister standing with your father begging your mother not to leave. Pulling yourself out of your daze you look down at your phone at your long list of messages to your sister typing an ‘I miss you’ message and hitting send.
‘My sister for leaving me on read.. on the phone and in life.’ You continue thinking. The man beside you spreads his legs wider knocking you out of your trance. “Im sorry but do you mind closing your legs a little? Im already squished” you ask the man. He just scoffs.
‘My dad. For dying.’ Its not like it was his fault for dying. But he left me completely stranded. On my own. Sure I just turned 21 but im all alone now. My sister leaving me to live with her fiancé in California.
‘My old high school bully. Who made me invisible in school and in life. Christopher Sturniolo. Fucking Christopher Sturniolo. Who made my life a living hell.’ Flashbacks of you walking down the hall. You getting shoved into a locker just for the fucking asshole to laugh with his friends “guys I think I just bumped into a ghost” another time being you being at your locker, he walks over with his friends leaning against the locker by yours “guys did you hear that y/n died? Not like anyone would miss the girl anyways” he announces “I’m not dead I’m literally right here” you say in a hushed manner just for him and his friends to shove past you laughing.
Who subjected me to an endless cycle of psychological abuse. Destroying my self-worth and general context of the world. “Oh my god, do you guys smell that?! It smells like rotting flesh!” He says “shes so fucking weird.” One of his friends chime in. Christopher Sturniolo, for making me pull so much of my hair out, that I had to wear a wig. Christopher Sturniolo, for turning me into a ghost.
Making me forever invisible, and afraid.
*itty bitty time skip*
“We gather here today in honor of the late David Sharp. Who was not only a son to the lovely Barbara sharp. But a father to his two beloved daughters Jasmine and y/n Sharp……” the pastor says as he brutally mispronounces your name. “Thats not my name…” you whisper “hush.” Your sister says nudging you with her knee. “A man of many talents, a man of many friends, a man of many loving employees” you turn looking towards Aj giving him a small wave, just for a little head nod in response.
You’ve known Aj for roughly 2 years. Him working as an assistant to your father. You guys have also hooked up quite a few times. The last time being 2 weeks before your fathers passing. You’ve texted Aj in your down time. Mainly when you’ve felt lonely. Just to receive shit ass responses.
Y/n:
Hey… do you maybe wanna come over tonight?
Watch a movie or something?
Aj:
Cant. W the boys.
Y/n:
Oh okay!
Maybe some other time!
Aj:
👍🏼
Before you know it the funeral is over and your standing out front with your sister. Thanking people for coming. You hear a group of guys laughing. ‘Who the fuck laughs at a funeral?’ Looking towards the laughter you see him. “What is he doing here?!” You ask your sister. “Him and his brothers came back to pay respects to dad. Since Jim was a close friend of dad’s…” she says
“Matt, Nick, Chris thank you guys for coming!” She says giving the three boys a hug. You stood there with your head low. “Of course sorry for your loss. I cant Imagine how hard it must be for you guys right now…… hey y/n” Nick says while returning the hug to your sister and patting your arm gently. “How have you been kiddo?” Matt asks. You feel his eyes on you. Looking up you see chris staring at you. “Well my dad died so…” you say “y/n dont be weird” your sister says while nudging your arm. You start messing with the stands of your hair on the back of your neck
It is weird though. You haven’t seen the triplets since you all graduated high school. You getting a normal job at you local newspaper office and them moving to L.A. to be youtubers. I mean of course you guys always had dinners at each other’s house due to your parents being high school friends and your sister being best friends with Matt.
Probably because they’ve also dated in high school for about 10 months. Breaking it off because they both decided being friends would be much easier “You’re not still doing that are you?” Chris asks. Snapping you out of your thoughts you quickly move your hand letting out a small gasp. You look at him before excusing your self and walking away.
“Hey… Ive tried looking for you… when did you start smoking?” She asks with a disgust look on her face. “Since dad died. Only thing helping me stay focused. It was good catching up” you say. “Yea I havent seen the boys in ages. Ive missed them… So ive been thinking we need to sell the house y/n” Jas says breaking the silence “and dads business probably” she adds. “What? B-but I live in the house Jas.” You stammer out. “There are other houses.” She says bluntly
“Well Tom and I wanna buy a place for the kids and us so…” she says “why dont you move back? We could be like a little family!” You try to lift the mood. “Are you serious?” She asks rolling her eyes. “Its settled. Chris is helping. He has a friend in real estate so its final” she says looking down at her phone “Jas no. You cant. Not him.” You say as she cuts you off getting into the back of her uber “lets talk about this later okay? Ill call you… hey the boys are going to luckys tonight for a reunion drink. You should go.” She says trying to make you feel better
“Are you serious?” You ask “what?” She asks “he pretended like he was better than me. Did you not hear what he said to me. He hates me.” You ramble on. “Who chris? Maybe he doesnt. This could be good for you, ya know? A new start?” She says “well dads dead so” you state clearly annoyed and mad at everything thats happened in the past 10 minutes “yea I know. He was my dad too. You need to get over this whole Chris thing. Go to Luckys you might actually enjoy yourself.” She says rolling up the window as the car pulls off.
*another itty bitty time skip brought to you by yours truly*
‘There is no fucking way I actually showed up to this.’ You thought standing outside of the pub. Already a few glasses of wine in. You dont want to be labeled as a lightweight but you just turned 21 so ofc you’d get drunk easily not participating in underage drinking and high school parties.
Walking into the pub, you see many people. Some old cliques from school. Then you see him. Having that liquid courage and already leaving heated voicemails on your sister’s phone you stomp your way over to him.
“Christopher! CHRIS!” You yell grabbing onto his arm. “I need you to fuck off and stay out of my life” you say grabbing onto his forearm pulling him towards you “Oh hey y/n… are you good? Do you need some water?” He says with a smug grin on his face. “No I dont need fucking water I need you to fuck off!” You say “I have no idea what your talking about kid.” He says stepping towards you. Leaving little to no space between the both of you.
“You know exactly what im talking about! You ruined my life in high school you made my life a living fucking hell. My dads dead. Your selling my house! And now your ruining my life again!” You yell. Drawing attention from Matt and Nick as they walk over “Hey y/n… you dont look too good right now. Are you drunk do you need a ride home?” Matt asks “No what I need is for Chris to fuck off and stop ruining my life!” You yell tears welling up in your eyes. “Listen kid. I didnt give a shit about you in high school and I dont give a shit about you now. So all your shitty life problems thats on you. Get the fuck off me.” He says shoving you back.
“Hey are you-” you cut Nick off snatching your arm away from him stumbling out of the pub. Walking across the road a man bumps shoulders with you causing you to stumble some more. You walk down a flight of stairs that lead to a creek under an overpass. Sitting there lost in thought you dig through your purse finding your dads old pocket knife. “Lifes shit without you.” You mumble.
You get lost in thought when a man comes up behind you, taking a piss on the wall and hitting you with his piss “hey! What the fuck?! Did you not see me sitting here?!” You yell at the man “Oh shit sorry sweetpea didnt see you sitting there.” He says chuckling as he turns around to walk off.
Clearly still pissed off with your interaction with Chris and at the man that just pissed on you. You walk up behind him kicking him in the back of the leg “Do you see me now?!” You yell at the man “what the fuck, oh your in some shit now” he says walking towards you. Walking back your back hits the railing and hes getting to close to you.
With the knife in hand you jab it towards his stomach “Ah fuck! You fucking cut me! My favorite shirt! You ruined it! Your so done!” As he steps towards you, your mind goes blank as you jab him in the neck. The man falls to the ground and you straddle him as you stab him repeatedly “do you see me now?! Huh?! Now do you see me! Do you see me now!” Watching the life fade from his eyes you snap back into reality.
“Ohh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You say with panic in your eyes. Dropping the knife looking down at your body. Your covered in the mans blood you can taste it on your lips. In a rush you push the mans body into the creek picking up the knife. You look down at your outfit again zipping up your rain coat and pulling up the hood making a beeline straight to your home.
Walking into your home and hurriedly locking the door you run straight to your bathroom looking at yourself in the mirror. Closing your eyes you get a flashback from your last conversation with your father.
“What happened here?” He says pointing at your hand “oh nothing, justin just bumped into me” you say “you need to stop letting people piss all over you kid. You need to be more ‘RAHR!’ You know?” He says. Shaking your head you open your eyes looking into the mirror.
“RAAAAAAAAHRRRRR” you scream.
a/n: pt 1 wooo. It feels long and ive skipped a lot of parts from the show but I swear this is just the beginning. Pt2 idk when we’ll see how this does. My hands just hurt from all the typing lol.
#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#chris sturniolo#sweetpea#chris x reader#christopher sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo
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the concept of this story is soo good. the toxicity, the drama, the red flags EVERYWHERE !! i have a deep love for fucked up relationships in which both parties struggle with their vices - both personality and otherwise - and they are deeply miserable but they cant think of leaving. hostage situation of sorts. n the deeper you delve into the more youre able to sympathize with the characters despite being put off by their actions. i Love complexity ! i Love nuance ! i love enabling nasty shit !!! ive played RYWD n im so invested in every character especially the MC bc youre writing is just so real and so creative with its exploration of all kinds of emotions and i love how i can almost sense the underlying motivationa if characters thru every type of interaction and the plot progression. you are incrediblt talented n i am so stoked to see you apply your talent and genius to a rockstar story setting. im very faithful in your ability to deliver a truly immersive nasty sleazey rockstar partner and an MC with an equally debauched emotional outlook !! super excited to delve into the whole cast of characters you have planned n soo excited to step into the world you'll build with your writing. truly i feel catered to with your writing i cant stress how much i appriciate what you do, i usually dont feel posessed to leave long asks but your mind is just ✍️🔥!! lots of love
yes, you get it!!! the start of the ask is literally lifted straight out of my brain 🫶 I love flawed characters, I love exploring a darker world and characters that are changed by it!! and how they engage with other people just as fucked up as them for reasons that make it understandable how they ended up that way!!
also
the rest of the ask, I feel so emo about it!! thank you so much for the sweet sweet words, I won't forget them any time soon. I really try to write everything with an atmosphere that feels tangible and draws you into the characters and setting so you saying that means a lot to me <33
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Not even the first time he's done that either loll, hes lucky it still works,, the initial shatter wasnt /really/ technically out of anger, though :-3
#He is undoubtedly attached to it uh and maybe not in the best way but yknow what he gets wins where he can#using your tags to point that out again not sorrrryyy#im just saying that to say it dont mind me#DRILLING it into your brains#so unbelievably socially starved and attention starved pleeeaassseee#he spends most of his time now waiting. (blinks at you)#he came there to do things and youre distracting him (as if he didnt drag it with him)#hhggefhjgrrrghh
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act 4 :(
@chipper-smol and i came to a realization
#THID FUCKING GAAAAAAAMMMMEEEEE#i have more i wanna draw but my hands not working orz.. maybe ill get around to it later idk#i finally FINALLY managed to get inside that star room.. my own clone!! now neither of us will be virgins!!!!#i dont have anything to go off of but when the journal mentions making another 'me' it reminds me of loop saying theyre like a mirror#theyre always able to read siffrins mind without actually reading their mind (or so they say) but maybe it could just be tone matching???#or smth like that.. idk if these two things are connected though so maybe its more like subtext#i hope im not the only one who made the childrens hospital joke when it came around to color lore part 2#im also getting the sinking feeling of watching siffrin toe his way near the deep end like bro is so so close to losing it#i feel like if i knew nothing abt the game beforehand and why siffrin is looping in the first place my feelings abt this would be different#cuz id be pretty angry too if ive been stuck in a loop long enough to feel like everyone around me is pretending nothings wrong#than the fact that i have decided not to disclose im in a time loop and that everyone is living this day for the first time#although i also get hes doing this for a reason and when u believe in the universe i guess it also comes with sunk cost fallacy#'this is the path the universe led me down before i even knew what i wanted so all i can do is double down' THATS THE FATALISM TALKING#puppy plays isat#in stars and time#isat#isat spoilers#isat act 3 spoilers#isat act 4 spoilers#in stars and time spoilers#sona#puppysona#friends#chipper#doodles
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色彩 [Shikisai]
#my art#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#itafushi#fushiita#yuji itadori#megumi fushiguro#fanart#jjk fanart#megumi#yuuji#finally...some not angst.....#im worried out of my mind fr these two right abt now but we cope we cope :)#i woke up early n rushed to render this bc im leaving 2 catsit today n wont b able to spend every waking hour drawing like i have been#almost uploaded it without rendering megumi's ear and frgetting the sukuna scars so im sure ill find something i missed once i hit post smh#this pose fought me also >:( sighs why when i try to do not angst they do not want to cooperate . do they prefer being hurt#anyway !!!#i dont think any1 Listens when ppl put song links in the caption but if anyone is curious ! colours/shikisai galileo galilei#SO themcore im unwell i say that a lot but i mean it every time#speaking of colours i Love how these turned out but they ended up being a lot more cohesive than i intended GKHSDFK#wanted to have yuuji in warm and megumi in cold but that appears to have blended everywhere but their uniforms Oops#sighs these 2 and their sun/moon imagery r my cause of death. i die thinking abt it#resisted the urge 2 have a lmhs caption but let it b known. i amn Thinking it.#anyway i say ill b away from my drawing tablet but i fully plan 2 uber home one of the days so i can draw#i cant b slacking now the itfs reunion is nigh and i feel nauseous abt it i need to channel the nervous energy#have sketches.......just in case....but we dont Talk abt just in case >:(#itfs nation hold strong <3
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Sometimes I think about how Adrien, throughout the series, constantly grapples with his fear of abandonment. Gabriel conditioned him to believe that any love he receives is purely transactional, and that to earn affection he has to prove his utility. Adrien is constantly trying to prove his worth to his father for scraps of affection, and Chat Noir infamously crumbles on-screen any time he feels as though he is replaceable to Ladybug. It's a constant insecurity of his, like everyone will just dump him like a sack of potatoes the moment they find out how useless he is.
Meanwhile, all Marinette wants to is ensure that Adrien is happy. Because she loves him. She doesn't give two shits about how """useful""" he is. She holds him and tells him that she will never abandon him (both as Ladynoir and as Adrienette), and her fantasies are about saving him, not about him being "useful" to her. Throughout their relationship, Adrien is forced to disappoint Marinette constantly for reasons outside of his control (amok commands), and yet Marinette is still there for him.
At Adrien's lowest point, when he is forcibly torn away from everyone who had ever showed him genuine care, locked away in an all-white room and at his most "useless", right after disappointing Marinette and unable to even join the final battle or contribute in any way, she still saves him. She still loves him. Because he doesn't have to prove anything to her. Because he is loved and cherished for who he is, not for what he does, and that love is not conditional. Adrien's "happy ending" at the end of the first arc wasn't about him finally proving how useful he can be, because he never actually cared about being useful — he just saw it as the only means to feel loved and needed. Instead, in the end, he found out that he was loved and needed no matter what.
#ml s5 spoilers#ml s5 finale spoilers#idk im musing dont mind me#(as always this post isnt an invitation to tell me why You dont like the show. if that's the case then you can make your own post)#i think the ''what does this say about adrien's agency'' reading of the show is fair and an interesting perspective#but personally i find the ''what does this say about adrien's inherent worth as a person / how does this play into his fear of abandonment'#to also be a super valid way to read the series that is just as relevant to his character arc and i don't see people talking about enough#buggachatter
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this is the inside of my brain rn
future edit: heres some nsfw ok
#thank you to the really really wonderful and cool pshmirtzers who say nice things when im h**ny on main#no really it makes me feel so evil and happy. my people#draws#my human perry tag#its just like oh i can draw perry as a hot human guy dont mind if i do. 500 times
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some doodles
#i meant to put the balor one in the previous post but i forgor 😭its in a diff file from the sketch dump i was coloring in so it just didnt#exist in my mind at all. i felt like smth was missing as i was posting it but i couldnt place what hlep#adeline and eiland have been driving me insane lately. expect more of them. probably.#dont minf the last two guys. some concepts for future farms 😋 (pls mind them im crazy abt all my farmers even if they technically dont -#exist yet. pls ask abt them or smth pls im nroaml i can be nroma l i prommy)#fields of mistria#fom balor#sona#im gonna start tagging that i think.#fom eiland#fom adeline#fom elsie#fom farmer#my art#guys can i just say that im so happy that balor is silver n not gold cus otherwise i would have to confront a part of me im not proud of#we shouldnt talk abt it but like yeah jjust know i like his silver and his whole deal#have such a softspot n bias for characters who dont settle anywhere. who never lay down their roots or whatever. who keep their past secret#like oughh hes hitting so many marks#i like hawthorne a lot. hes more developed in my head. and also i like his dead look and hair bows. i have so many ideas abt him man it hur#i promised myself i wouldnt make a new save file til i reached y2 w rory but apperantly errols bday is cursed bc the game has frozen twice#sorry if you read all of these tags. go to my askbox w fom stuff or smth. ask abt my farmers plsplspls pl s jk haha unless. maybe even#gimme drawing reqs for fom in general. ok tyvm ly sorry for yapping. its what i do best
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