#im willing to move at this point. i dont care. i want to work i want to be stable and boring and happy again.

[suntails]

job market misery

[thepumpkincorsair]

So, I watched the first episode of “Those About To Die” on Peacock.

I enjoyed it, and Im willing to do write ups if folks would be interested…

Since I wana talk about details, and I dont wana spread spoilers, everything is below the readmore.

What I liked: 🔵 And what I disliked: 🟠

Total Ranking: 8/10 - very good, worth the watch 👍

🟠 It dove into the Intrigue right away, which made it hard to watch while doing other things, but I can appreciate a show that grabs you by the shoulders and shoves you down into the couch to pay attention.

🔵 It wasn’t boring, quite the contrary, I felt fully engaged throughout the episode. Theres a lot of small moving parts to the story, and it orchestrates together incredibly well so far, even for Episode One. The writing is very well done, which is a lynchpin for me on a show like this. You cant pretend to be an intrigue type series without a proper plot. And, in my opinion, they’ve set their plots well right away. Tenax getting those shares in Blue was a great con, which had clearly been going a while, but we only saw the tail end of it. I see this little setup as a great look at how the writers DO their work. Connections matter, money does more than talk, and if you play the game wrong, you die. Don’t trust anyone.

🔵 I REALLY enjoyed the historical aspects of the first episode. Like, yes, this plot happened, its a historical fiction and a number of these characters exist in history, but its not just that. Its the small details, the different knives in different cultures, the veterinary care of race horses, the deities from more than just the main roman pantheon, the drinkware, the VARIOUS clothes from various cultures and climates…. And yes, women often went topless when they were a sxwrkr. Gotta advert.

🔵 ON THAT SUBJECT: can we talk about “3 sesterce… and Im tighter than both of them.” MY BOY, YOU ARE RIZZIN TOO HARD AND I LOST IT. Please, please let him be in future episodes. Omfg….

🟠 I am forced to concede the accuracy isnt PERFECT, the horses wore modern driving bridles to go with their ancient styled chariots. However, Im realistic about how many horses are trained today to pull anything without blinders, and how much safer modern bridles are. I’ll also note: I absolutely saw the animal handler grab the horse differently (calmly) before the riot surrounded it, then direct the horse to dance in the crowd. Great training with the horse! Bad camera angle. Lol

🔵 I also really like this cast so far. Everyone fills their roles incredibly well.

Hopkins doesnt even need an introduction, the mans a legend and brings all his experience to the stage with him every time. -chefs kiss-

Rheon was great in GOT, he plays calculatingly unhinged exceptionally well. But I wont lie, seeing him in a more commanding, level headedly calculating person?

Hashim….. HASHIM!!! Im SO excited to see where his character goes. We haven’t seen much of him in Ep 1 just yet, but he’s clearly going to be one of the main players. Im not familiar with him as an actor, but I’ve enjoyed his performance so far, and I REALLY appreciate the story being told.

Martins is also incredible. She does a fantastic job of knowing the danger her characters children are facing, but also knowing she HAS to play her cards right to save them. She personifies the strength and determination of a mother perfectly.

🔵 Quite honestly, I have to give points to that whole plot-line in general. That point of view is something we’ve had hidden from us (in America) for so long, that I think a LOT of people have… become calloused. I hope seeing it will potentially help others come to an empathetic understanding. This isn’t glossing over what happened, or whats likely to happen to any of the three children.

🔵 I also want to gush over actually SHOWING the wider Roman Empire, we get to see the direct effect of their influence in both Africa and Spain so far. Egypt was their bread basket, and without that grain, youve got problems. The Berber Coast has animals, and people they want, and we see money exchanging hands for the purpose of those ends. We see how the locals were told they’d be treated fairly, paid properly, and even eventually become citizens, like the Spaniards, only to have those promises thrown aside as soon as the Romans have better money to make. These people gave the Empire everything it wanted, but the Empire is never satisfied.

We also get to appreciate how far west the empire went when the Spaniards are trying to sell their horses. (Plot-bunny: Andies are dancing horses, exceptionally athletic, and a prime choice for chariots, though, a standardbred is the usual choice for modern cart racers)

🟠 I will say the CGI isnt the best. You can tell exactly when they change from live action to CGI. But this is a minor issue for me tbh. Its passable CGI, and they use it to avoid putting animals or people in danger which, obviously, I appreciate. A chariot wreck was shown, annnnnd it was pretty darn accurate to how messy those would have been. Not good times y’all. Not good times. Also, the ramifications of a major concussion. Oof. At least the guy would have barely knew what was happening? Still.

🔵 The sound effects were enough without being over the top. Often times when theres gore to show, theres all these extra squelching noises and gratuitous blood… not this time. It’s actually… pretty durn accurate. Don’t ask how I know. I don’t wana tell you, and you dont wana know.

Overall, it was a really solid first episode, and I plan on watching the rest.

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

infodumps abt a new au idea (the demon-familiars au, or the un-familiars au)

TL,DR: Reader is a witch/wizard hired by a town to handle a poltergeist/demon problem (Vanny has a cult and is trying to summon demons lol), but they aren't very good at being a witch/wizard and after a bunch of 'throwing things at the wall to see if anything sticks' and absolutely nothing working, they, in a panic, kind of accidentally summon Sun and Moon, who are equally shocked to see them and after a bunch of staring at each other like ?????????? reader ropes Sun and Moon into helping them and hides them in plain sight as their 'familiars' until they've taken care of the demonic cult problem, promising to send them home as soon as things are ok again. PLOT TWIST THEY GET ATTACHED TO EACH OTHER AND KISS PROBABLY HAHAHAAAAAA

(the long initial ramblings/brainstorming i did w the space aces in discord is copy-pasted below, if anyone wants only vaguely coherent ideas n concepts abt this au and ur willing to torture urself, go nuts w it ig lol)

taken directly from the space aces discord, i present: the reason all of my aus are barely coherent and somehow overly thought through and barebones all at once, as shown by the following example (unfamiliars au edition)

weird silly demons/familiars Sun Moon au where Reader is a (less than talented) amateur witch/wizard trying to lie themselves into a position of relative security (bc theyve had to move three different times bc towns shun n drive away witches/wizards that proves to be unhelpful) and they werent actually trying to summon sun n moon so they end up getting them involved in their scheme but oops there is some kind of other demonic threat that is actually a big problem and oops oops now we have to seriously work together to not get killed by the other eviller demon or the cult summoning it while also fooling the townsfolk into thinking that u r competent and have everything under control

Sun and Moon, a couple of demons just chilling when suddenly summoned to the material world: what in the heck Reader, having just performed a spell/ritual they've never read the instructions for backwards and facing the wrong cardinal direction: SHUT UP AND PRETEND TO BE MY FAMILIAR FOR A MINUTE OR WE ARE BOTH GONNA GET KILLED, BURNING-ON-A-CROSS STYLE

hhhgj i just had. a rlly sappy idea for the 'familiars' part

basically like. witches n wizards naturally end up casting their own 'summoning' spell for their familiar at some point, most of th time when they are really starting to understand and control their magic? so to see a witch or wizard without one it's like 'wow they're a beginner' or 'something is wrong with them, why dont they have a familiar??'

so Reader asks Sun n Moon to pretend to be their familiars partly bc 'uh oh i summoned two whole entire demons without even meaning to i have to make this look intentional' and 'if i have a familiar the people will assume im a Real Witch/Wizard and respect me more'

and at one point when they r getting to be like, actual friends instead of 'weird roommates', Sun gets curious bc ofc he does

Sun: Soooo,, we're your pretend-familiars? Reader: Yea Sun: Sooooooooo,, do u not have a familiar? I've never heard of a wizard with no familiar Reader, visibly upset/disappointed (in themselves): Yeah, well, it turns out it's only the witches and wizards with actual skills that can summon familiars. So. Couldn't tell you if I've got one or not, I've never managed a proper summoning spell. Sun, foot in his mouth: oh,, Reader: Yep.

and then later. It turns out. There are ways to make a demon into a familiar! Turns out in the distant past some wizards used to make demons they frequently summoned for spell/magic services into familiars bc it was way easier than just doing the entire summoning ritual every single time

but at this point, Reader and Sun n Moon are close enough to be good friends, and Reader doesnt want to force that kind of permanent connection on them, they probably just want to go home, theyre probably sick of being here and being around u, and,,, u get the idea

and Sun n Moon dont wanna force that kind of permanent connection on YOU bc what if ur sick of them, or ur tired of feeding and housing them or putting up with their jokes n bickering, or maybe after everything u really dont want anything to do with demons!!!

so there's a lot of sad pining that none of them know abt

bc ofc they r all idiots in this au sorry thems the rules

and then at some point there is some big threat/place they have to go to, or maybe Reader gets injured in a fight, idk take ur pick, anyway in a heat of the moment panic Moon is like 'HEY U WANT US TO BE UR FAMILIARS RIGHT??' and reader like barely conscious is like 'w??? yea??????' thinkin he means the pretend thing theyve had going on

anyway spur of the moment/'im doing this to save ur life bc i love u' familiar binding spell/ritual performed BAM now ur stuck together

and when everything is calm again n the fighting is over reader looks at Moon and is like 'so ur like,, my actual familiar now,,' and Moon, sweating bullets, unsure if this is rlly what u wanted or if u went with it out of fear of dying, is like 'yyyyyyyyyes?'

and reader starts bawling their eyes out and kisses him bc this is like. th dream scenario to u

anyway reader n sun n moon are th worlds least likely wizard/familiars combo but somehow they r absolutely unstoppable together thank u for coming to my tedtalk

[tigerdrop]

Hi I pre-ordered the keychain and I'm very excited for it!! I wanted to know how you think it would go if Bill and Ford were to reunite at some point post Weirdmageddon, Bill is still incredibly obsessed with Ford (and likely that will never change), but Ford is angry at him because of the past, do you think they could work something out?

oh i absolutely do. i was just thinking about this the other day.......sure it would be healthier for both of them to cope and move on, but would it be more fun?? NO!!!!!!!!

i can make it work. im going to write this eventually but right now im working on a fic about the first time bill and ford hook up. but i can make it work

consider bill taking a lot of misguided lessons from his therapy sessions and thinking "well clearly the way to fix all of this and get sixer back is to go back in time and redo everything. but better this time". envision this going haywire in every way you would expect going back in time to fix things to do

even funnier if bill decides hes going to break out of the theraprism to do this. he Did not learn a fucking thing other than "if you are mean to somebody they might not like you anymore". mission accomplished

i think he could fuck things up so bad with time travel bullshit . it would be so funny. we all saw the fucking time travel episode, ok, now imagine something like that except with bill desperately trying to interrupt the timeline to show sixer that hes got Emotional Intelligence now, he did therapy, he made collages and lumpy clay hearts that he DIDNT smash into goop, and hes Better than the bill ford knew when he was younger. it would be so embarrassing to watch

my vision is that bill makes such a huge fucking mess of the timeline and of their dimension and it causes so many problems for so many people and they are all So mad at him. except, weirdly enough, for ford

the guys on trial for time crimes and the only one willing to say a nice thing about him is his dipshit ex with an ego bigger than god. because he actually feels touched that bill did all of this stuff just for him. and bill apologized, even if he doesnt fully understand the purpose of "apologies" or "contrition"

it hits ford square in the emotional intersection of "i never stopped thinking about bill even though he fucked me over and i never want to see him again" and "bill would cause this much trouble and this much chaos out of a misguided attempt to patch things up". he actually cares!!!

and its cartoons. its not like bill has to go to fucking time jail if i dont want him to. ford can abruptly interrupt to defend him out of nowhere while every single member of his family thinks he has lost his mind. the power of love (and time community service) can get him out of it. And it can work

ford never stopped being easy to flatter and having a god move heaven and earth just to make him happier is like the biggest ego boost known to man. so even if hes still hurt over everything i dont think he could resist feeling that special. that powerful

but now hes older and smarter and he doesnt have anything to offer bill. and bill doesnt have anything he wants anymore. except, you know. company

so i think ford is easily stupid enough to have one last pity date that turns into a second and a third and so on. its not like everything is fixed but bill showed that he was actually capable of emotional growth. he Did change. just for some dumbass human. which is crazayyyyyy

(and now at least 7 different people/creatures/entities would explode bill into 1 million pieces if he throws another fucking tantrum. and fords got that aluminum plate in his head......hes the one in control now. bill cant do anything except, maybe, break fords heart. which would also make everybody explode him)

everybody hates that bill shows up to family functions now but what can you do. sometimes the interdimensional dream demon that possessed you and slammed your hands in drawers ends up dating your grunkle. Its basically the same as having a stepdad

and they could fuck about it. The end

[thekingofwinterblog]

The Failed Themes of Communication

So I havent exactly been shy about the fact that MHA deciding not to actually go through with Izuku x Ochako is something that has really ticked me off(and this is from someone who isnt particularily fond of the pairing to begin with) for a whole host of reasons regarding how it effectively negates Uraraka's character growth with Toga, how it makes every single romantic interaction with these two a complete waste of time, and overall just being a massive cop out.

However, it was as i was digging into the themes of the final chapter, and why it just feels so off to me and so many others, that i finally realized THE big flaw that the decision not to go through with this ship at the 11th hour basically personifies.

The theme of healthy communication.

The final chapter feels off, not just because it's not a particularily impressive chapter dedicated to the theme of heroism(devoid of the personal sacrifices that the heroes of the tale constantly makes that makes them feel real), but also because while focusing on that theme, MHA drops the Ball on every, single other one of it's themes.

And amongst these, the one Uraraka ultimately not confessing and still pining for Izuku encapsulates, is the fact that one of MHA's big constant themes is that of healthy communication.

It is one of the cornerstones through this series from the first few chapters that the best(and healthiest) results is when people actually talk to each other, try to understand the other side, and grow from there.

It is in fact, one of the main differences between the heroes and villains, in the fact that while the Heroes are flawed and imperfect beings, upholding a well intentioned but flawed system, the villains dont communicate with each other and help each other grow.

They care about each other, but other than twice, none of them ever really manage to form bonds with the rest that helps them grow past their own self destructive flaws, and in the end, leads all of them to a bad fate, be it death or prison.

And meanwhile, it is the opposite for our heroes, who's greatest internal moments are always the ones where they try to understand each other and help their fellows.

In other words, the complete opposite of how the story ultimately refused to go through with Izuku x Uraraka in order to not upset shippers.

it especially stands out so badly, because the final to last chapter is all about this theme, with Izuku and Uraraka being focal, sentral points no less.

The final chapter betrays this theme all over the place, with us being told very bluntly that class 1-A as a whole has stopped really seeing Izuku on a permanent basis... But that's okay because they have secretly been funding his return to heroism.

which is... comendable of them, but it does not take away from the fact that Izuku knew nothing about this, and for 5 years, if his life, half a decade, not only did they leave him in the dark about their plans to help him continue his dreams, the story makes it very clear they stopped taking time out of their schedule to even meet up with the guy and continue to be friends with him.

it's treated as a joke to smash, but at the very end of the series, Izuku has effectively moved on. He has accepted his lot in life, and effectively given up on remaining close with his old friends, and come to terms with the fact his dream is dead and it's time to move on.

And who can blame him? His fucking friends kept any and all ideas that they actually wanted and were working to getting him back a complete secret from him for long enough that he has a fucking teaching career that if he wants to become a full time hero he will now have to abandon.

That is... remarkably cruel to be very clear. and also incredibly unessecary.

Im sure a lot of people who havent really try to fully analyze this ending felt really, really angry at it, and im willing to bet this complete refudation of one of MHA's biggest themes is the reason for it.

None of these guys(other than Deku) actually managed to live the ideals all of them tried to embrace in the second to last chapter.

But then we get to Uraraka speciffically. Because she embodies this complete rejection of the theme of communication completely.

And it's very clear at the end that Kohei wanted to leave it open, but also make it very clear that: Well, the door is still open, Uraraka is clearly still interested in him, it might happen guys!

But it's too late now.

And i dont mean that it's too late logically, in the sense that it could theoretically still happen.

I mean it's too late, because to reach this point, he effectivaly had to have Uraraka trample the themes of actually talking to people, especially those you care about, into the ground.

Uraraka was just as complicit in keeping Izuku in the dark as the entire rest of class 1-A. But she is hurt more than anyone else by it.

The way the chapter went out of it's way to hammer in the point that NOBODY from 1-A took special time out of their schedules to keep in touch, ironically ensures that the ones who were closest to him were the ones who looked the worse off, but this hurts urarak the most by far.

Not only because of the fact she was in love with him, but apparently refused to act on those feelings for 8 years, completely negating everything she resolved to become during her fight with Toga, but it also makes her entire schtick about now helping youngsters with Quirk problems ring hollow.

"You heroes hurt your own families just to help strangers. You heroes pretend to be society's guardians. For generations, you pretended not to see those you couldn't protect and swept their pain under the rug. It's tainted everything you built. That means your system's rotten from the inside with maggots crawling out. It all builds up little by little over time."

Shigaraki's words about Heroes rings true here, at the very end.

Uraraka fights to rebuild the Quirk system to help complete strangers... But in the process she neglects her own relationship with her closest friend, leaving him to suffer alone when it is within her power to do something about it.

Hell, take romance out of it, and you get the same result.

It might not be on the same level as, say, endeavor or Nana's failure with her son, but it's there.

She could take the time to always make sure to reach out a comforting hand to her supposed closest friend... But she does not. For 5 years. Forget not gowing the stones to confess after 3 yeara, Uraraka is a terrible friend in general.

MHA is going to join the plethora of overall good manga with terrible endings... But i dont think i've seen an ending that killed its own themes so thouroughly just so that it wouldn't have to go through with the pairing it has been setting up since the start of a 430 chapter long story.

[ileftherbackhome]

like okay im thinking about how the whole title track sounds very much like she's trying so hard to make the situation sound romantic when the lyrics are objectively what the fuck and how thats probably the point of the song because like the more i really read the lyrics, the more im like these lyrics sound very similar to those in so high school to me.

like i said previously that so high school doesnt work for me as a love song because the lyrics are so un-romantic and what the fuck and I'm thinking ttpd falls under the same category of love songs trying really hard to be love songs but the reality of the situation is so bleak.

for example, ttpd talks about her lover "self sabatoging" and "throwing spikes down on the road" and the "romantic thing" they did together was smoke weed and eat lots of chocolate in bed. The most "romantic" thing he does is at dinner when he takes her ring off her middle finger and put it on her fourth finger, which SHE interprets as "the one people put wedding rings on" because SHE wants to get married and will read into things that arent meant to be read into to justify the "cyclone" of a ride she chose to be on. in other words, she justifies her behavior by saying that it's true love and they're destined to end up married together.

i keep thinking about that HORRIFIC fucking quote from the folklore documentary where taylor admits as much when she says that "betty and james" end up together in her end but "he really puts her through it." anyways moving on before i yak.

the whole title track is the most unromantic, least sexy set of situations you can think of and the cringey lyricism of it all plays into the art of it all because she did it all on purpose to convey her delusional behavior and thinking patterns last year after the break up with joe. the whole song reads as delusional because she wasn't thinking straight after the break up and she wanted to get that point across here i think.

but also like so high school is equally as cringey and unsexy and unromantic as you can fucking get. im sorry but if you're older than 25 and still think american pie is a good movie, you're cringey. if you think having sex around people who dont know thats what you're doing is cool and sexy, you're cringey. like idk the whole song just doesnt feel romantic to me. who actually wants to feel sixteen again ? i was suicidal back then so im biased af but i feel like adulthood is so much better than teenagehood.

its so fucking cringey to want to stay young forever. its so fucking cringey to want to not age and be stuck in a high school mentality. like idk when i hear the song, im just not feeling romantic at all the same way i do not feel romantic at all listening to the title track either. both of these songs to me are similar in nature. cringey af lyrics written to try and back the best out of bleak options because the person who is making these choices just wants to be married already and doesnt care who gets her to the aisle at this point.

like i feel like there is such a desperation in ttpd to be settled down and married and im like.... why? what is the rush? why are you acting like its the end of the world if you're not married by 35? its why the prophecy is a skip for me because its just like... i dont relate to that level of desperation at all.

have i wanted to be loved? yes.

have i been rejected and down bad crying at the gym before? yes.

have i gotten into a serious depressive episode because of a relationship break up before? yes.

but have i ever been so desperate to lower my standards in what i find acceptable in a relationship? no.

i cannot relate to dating people i do not actually like because i want to get married and be married in the eyes of other people so badly im willing to entertain anything at this point.

like i understand ignoring small red flags that could go either way in the beginning of a relationship but i could never seriously commit to changing my entire personality to be in a relationship with someone.

there are also some things i just could never fucking accept in a relationship and treating me like im not high on your list of priorities is one of them. i also am not the type to "send signals" by "biting my nails down to the quick" either in a relationship. i will make my opinion and argument known for why you should not treat me x y z and you still do, i will leave. i will leave so fucking fast and i will not spend 3 years cultivating a side piece relationship to escape into either. i will just leave.

and i feel like taylor has exposed a deep critical truth about herself and her mentality to love that feels very like young to me... i remember thinking this way when i was a child but by 17 i had really outgrown that idea of romance and love already and was developing the 1989 approach to love which i think is another important thing to consider in the ttpd conversation.

because 1989 has assumedly over 100 songs written on it and we got just over 20 of them for taylor's version. that means there is 4/5 of the 1989 era in the vault that we will never hear. and ttpd is 2 hours worth of music written in about 6-10 months so its safe to assume that ttpd era is mostly not in the vault (maybe 1/5 in the vault).

and 1989 is like the life of the bolter character in blank space and i just always assumed taylor and the bolter were one and the same during 1989 era. but even just the 5 songs we got off the vault are so much like ttpd to me that i feel like the real character of 1989 is more like ttpd where the bolter is 1 song out of 31, most of which directly contrast the narrative told in the bolter.

and i feel like 1989 is more an album of taylor's idealized version of herself and ttpd is who she really is to present that image of herself to the world. and the insides of it are so very human but kind of ugly and worthy of ridicule. ttpd is the expansion of dear reader where she warns you of what is to come and how she is going to show you the reality behind "the home thats really a house" because nobody is there waiting for her due to actions she takes to self-sabatoge at every opportunity.

she is so caught up in what people say about her that she spent 3 out of 6 years of her public "end game" relationship fantasizing about how to end up with a past toxic fling from her roaring 20s. she is gatsby looking back at the green light of the 1989 era and wanting to be that "happy" again. so she burns it all down and she's left with songs like ttpd and so high school to sing about because she is a feather taken by the wind blowing.

anyways this is a huge fucking ramble sorry yall if u made it down here congrats holy shit 💓

[ace930615]

IMPORTANT PLEASE READDDD

Hey guys, unfortunately I'm going to have to take a hiatus for awhile :-( a lot is going on in my personal life with school and work, and as of recently a few weeks back around Christmas my grandmother caught covid and it really knocked her down and made her extremely weak. She can't really walk anymore, needs oxygen, has bowel incontinence, and dementia. She was in the hospital until about a week ago and was going to be living with my family for the time being until we figured out exactly what my nana needs. I honestly dont know why they discharged her because ... man she was still really bad and they knew that she wouldn't have a nurse to come to our house yet! She was residing in my sisters room while my sister moved into our father's office. My sister and i were taking care of her full time for a week, which was extremely stressful. My sister and i had to make sure she was eating/drinking, cleaning up after her (changing her diaper) constantly changing her sheets and making sure she wasn't taking her catheter or diaper off because she kept doing it lmfao. My sister and i told our dad she absolutely needs more assistance than what my sister and i were providing her, we couldn't even get her properly clean like in the bath since she still had a catheter and could barely move we would have to wipe her down! She started to get sick again and we brought her back to the hospital (which she ended up falling and hitting her head). They tried to discharge her back to our house again but eventually my dad got them to discharge her to a nursing home. She's about an hour away, and might need to go to more of a facility/rehab rather than an elderly home because of how sick she is. It's not something we can exactly afford, its going to take whatever little money she gets by the government (since shes not working obviously) and whatever medical/insurance can cover. There really isnt any other choice, we dont have anyone in the family who can dedicated 100% of their time taking care of her (which would have probably been my mom but shes dead), even then my nana would probably still need a nurse constantly if she were to live at our house. My dad and i have been dealing with her insurance since some of it is in my name, and we found out she stopped paying her bills months ago. This isnt surprising considering how downhill she has gone, even before she was sick but my dad wouldnt listen to my sister and i who were still taking care of her weekly because she just got so weak while she still lived in her apartment (due to old age and a number of medical issues). My nana is also incredibly stubborn and did not want to move out of her apartment for as long as she could. She still thinks she can go back but obviously not. So its been really messy! Really messy and stressful and sad LOL. On top I am also having computer issues which is preventing me from saving any art I draw, which honestly im probably just going to have to get a new computer at this point. If you have commissioned me please reach out, I will also be sending messages when i can to my commissioners and we can further discuss it. I am open to refunds at this time! Unless you are willing to wait until i come back, which could be a few months. I absolutely cannot focus on art professionally right now due to these circumstances. I haven't felt this since my mom got sick and passed away in 2016 so it's really... taking a toll on me and my family. Im sorry if this post is a mess there is so much more to this situation and its so complicated i tried to just go over the most important stuff. Thank you guys again. I will be back soon!

[abyssalpriest]

Balance is important in getting to know the gods. We all ramble on for thousands of hours of how we see the gods in our lives, putting their faces over facts of our own existence. You feel the energy of the storm, it's Zeus, you feel the fire in your heart to protect your loved ones, its Ares. You see the world change around you, see patterns form, see power in nature, see lives lived and people loved and you insert the gods into it. That's one part of working with them, sure, but this is all parts of your own existence with a shifted viewpoint to include the gods. I'm not saying the gods are mental, I'm saying that they exist outside our own lives and the small amount of room we make for them in what we already have. You know where they fit into your life, but where do you fit in theirs? Where do you meet them as opposed to them meeting you?

If you work for someone who is destruction for example, you can spend so much of your life working that into what already exists in your life and changing your habits and actions around making sure you now worship these parts youve assigned god names to. You can start seeing change in your life - something already there you're assigning the god to - as that god, and even start moving to shift your view of that part of your life, start incorporating worship into the daily routine... But where do you work outside yourself, where do you reach into the gods' lives and their own spheres?

There's so much use to seeing the gods as already all around you, or as the forces you're familiar with, and trying to seek out what you already know - their energy, their attributes you read online, their appearances as others have described, and the patterns you've noticed of them in your own life - is useful. It's useful to bring them into your own life. It's useful to say that the presence of Destruction is the catastrophic breakup you just had, and the storm brewing outside, and that you bring him in when you worship him at the altar you have for him. At some point though all one ends up working with, when focused on this, is parts of one's own life shifted a little to be effigies of the gods and temporary houses. It ends up the case that we create a house, a life, to both live in and share by being roommates with the god in question, which can make us feel like we know the world - "surely we do because we feel them in everything we see and invoke them in everything we do" - but we forget we never leave our own house to see the parts of them existing outside us. Even if they gods are present in our life, we're still experiencing our life.

This isn't something with a hard line, as in if your answer to this is "yeah but I constantly seek out new experiences of them" i cant say whether I'm talking about what you do or not... But specifically so much of deity work nowadays that I see online is reorienting viewpoints, assigning gods' faces to phenomena in one's life, and so on...

What I say when balance and seeking out the god outside your shared house is necessary... Gods like Destruction and War do not exist in your house. They exist in - and explicitly are - things you probably hate. Destruction is children maimed and gutted. War is innocent civilians burned to ashes. The metaphorical houses of the gods, outside of the ones you build in your own lives, are foreign, are scary, but hold so much of them you'll never see if you constantly refuse to find the gods in anything other than your own boundaries and lives. You may be willing to find them in discomfort such as, again, the bad breakup, you dont want to exist in that but you make room for it in your life to worship Destruction... Again, I cant tell you if thats what Im talking about or if your practice is balanced like im advocating for, only you know. But the use of constantly assigning "this is them, therefore when i experience this its them" runs thin when half if not much more of the god ends up in the mental "this isnt them, or if it is i dont care about it" bin, because understanding the gods becomes toxic (in the way of a bacterial infection) and insular and ultimately breeds ignorance of the gods themselves. Too much of a good thing is not good.

People dont ever want to touch the gods themselves. Ultimately.... Figures like Zeus, as much as he and I are always going to have big conflicts in his moral ambiguity - we actively argue over a lot, lmfao - are at the forefront of divinity and the gods for a reason. Theres pretty much always an element of destruction, hatred, boundary-crossing, or so on to the gods - Harvest kills plants and animals alike before their time, Love creates stalkers, War doesn't accept the screams of the civilians as enough cause to end itself - and you can keep trying to ignore these parts and pretend you know the god... But when someone or something has killed, at some point you need to understand you're tlaking to and worshiping a killer and that's intrinsically a part of the person in the way that it's not just a werewolf thing that pops out under the full moon. The homey god to you is the cause of someone else's trauma concurrent to you worshiping them

This balance thing though is the point - saying that so many people in this community fit the gods into their already existent lives, and asking where do you fit into the gods? Where do you meet them? If you do reach outside yourself and ask them to show you who they are - but do so with the (consciously thought about or not) caveats that if they appear differently energetically or appearance-wise to what youre expecting, or show up and legitimately make you viscerally uncomfortable, or in a way that shows you a bunch of things that aren't useful to you, or so on.... you're asking them to give you more ways that they already exist in your already existent life and already existent boundaries, which, again, is assigning them to parts of your life

Its complex! Because yeah, pushing your boundaries is bad, scarying you is bad... but some parts of the gods are bad. Ultimately if all you want is to worship things around you and assign the gods to them, thats your prerogative. I am much more interested in and involved with deity work, involving actual working relationships and... ultimately, knowing the gods. You get a lot out of seeing where in your life the gods fit in, but you cant actually know them if you only accept information that fits into your life, or that mildly pushes boundaries. Gods are extremely complex in a myriad of ways, only one of which i've really touched on here (morality), there's so many ways the defy what you expect from them. Do you know and work with Destruction if you only work with Change In My Life and with Minor Disruption? Are Change In My Life and Minor Disruption Destruction? If you claim to work with War but only work with Interpersonal Conflict and Internal Conflict and Internal Drive, you're... not working with War. These are definitely offshoots that exist in a War gods arsenal and as aspects of them, but when you only choose to work with certain aspects AND convince yourself you're outside your comfort zone and exploring the god proper because you see them in...... things youve assigned as them...

ill put it this way: You dont know your neighbour if you only ever say hi and talk to them when theyre in their yard next to you and about topics relating to you and what you do in life. You dont know them if youve never gone to work with them, or discussed their life where it has nothing to do with you. In the way that gods exist beyond human concepts of bodies, time and space, even relations, symbolism, boundaries of self and other, and so on... If you only ever talk to them as a neighbour in human forms and forms youre comfortable with seeing, and you know they run off as a wild dog and gore bodies on the battlefield and oversee childbirth and break ships and drown sailors and also they oversee the flow of time itself... and all you ever talk to them about is how those things might relate to your life - which ultimately, as Im saying with the "where do you go into their life", does not include any of these things - youre going to know so, so little

Compare that to the person that acknowledges - well, we'll put it this way because ive administrative things to do in the astral. I was staunchly anti-monarchy, anti-war, and a bunch of other things before I met Lev again this life. I was a "behead all kings" "Ill lay down and die if a war's going on because there's only losers in war" person... My morals havent changed, I just actually started discussing why he is a ruler, why he oversees war, why these things persist and happen... And now I actually know who I'm working with. I could - and Lev was absolutely a willing participant he loves to just have simple working relationships with people and praise them for the bare minimum and act like he's in a deep relationship with people who barely know him because our lives are short and he has business to attend to - i could not touch Destruction as dead kids. I could not touch the complex politics of gods as politicians. I could not re-examine war and why its perpetuated. I could ignore that Destruction is violence, that Despair is the witness of trauma, that working with Destruction means I am allied with the very literal, not metaphorical, person who throws ships against rocks and collapses buildings in earthquakes... He's not built to be comfortable for me. He's not built to be comfortable for himself. To pretend he only exists in ways that are comfortable or barely boundary-crossing, that are all loveable, that are all understandable, is to pretend that 0.0001% of him is him proper. To be faced with 0.0001% of him and claim you - well, you just cant claim you know and work with him with serious weight if you refuse to work with 99.999% of him, and thats not a hierarchical thing - you can choose to balance out your work by seeking him as he exists outside you. Or you can choose to not! But choosing to be incomplete and unbalanced is not the same as being complete and balanced

[terraliensvent]

I agree abt the white knighting. u and some anons r quick to criticize the language ppl in terras use but when asked to introspect abt it urself, u refuse cause it’s ur blog ur opinion ur rules. that’s hypocrisy to me. i aint burying my head in the sand like u say, this is a genuine criticism and if u r gonna ignore it then I think that’s petty. all ur being asked is to look back and try to understand where anons r coming from, u call some ppl white knights and meat riders for bringing up valid concerns even if they also agree terras r bad. U don’t just do it on posts where ppl actually are white knighting.

alright lets dissect every recent post i have called whiteknighting

Post 1

“Oh yeah. A villain bc they revoked the right to THEIR OWN WORK... Whatever shall the world do? However shall we survive the fact coy didn't want them using THEIR WORK after going back on a deal”

hey look speaking of whiteknights

youre missing the forest for the trees here, terra staff was completely willing to remove coys assets but they wanted to act like a toddler stomping their foot shouting “NOW NOW NOW” that they broke in to the site and vandalized it. but sure, your immature petty pos idol can do no wrong

what about this is ignoring?

their argument: “coy is not a villain for wanting their art taken down”

my argument: “nobody said that, cal was perfectly fine taking the artwork down, they just said they cant do it in a heartbeat. coy is in the wrong for breaking in to the site and doing it themself with no consideration for how it will affect the species.”

Post 2

“It's so funny how obsessed y'all are with coy and civ... Get over it bro”

wow its almost like… their actions have a direct consequence on the species…whoooaa

Their argument: “why do you guys care about this”

my argument: “because people have put time and effort into this species, cal and his new team are trying to pick up the pieces and have gone a lot further than ever before with coy and civ at the head. coy being a dipshit has a direct affect on how the species will operate, specifically in this situation by taking away all the old pet species which people may have cared about and wanted to make characters out of.”

Post 3

“You mean.... The site THEY MADE? oh noo, how dare they remove their art from the site them and their partner made... Boohoo.... Boo boohoo.... Stan petty Coy”

come in my inbox again with these room temperature iq takes and im blocking you. they barely did shit for the species and you know that, and coy themself admitted they never had anything to do with the site they just wanted to make their dumbass plain white dog adopts to rake in cash while doing no extra work to put the pieces together

repeating: cal and staff were PERFECTLY FINE taking off all of civ and coys assets, however you cant fucking do that with the snap of a finger. i know this must be incredibly difficult for you coy supporters out there but lets TRY to use our brains for a min

their argument: (ignores my counterpoint from Post 1) well THEY made the site initially. i dont care im still gonna stan coy.”

my argument: “oh ok cool, i can see you are not actually willing to engage with the argument and just want to be inflammatory, and i dont feel like dealing with you if you arent going to use critical thinking. (reiterating my point from post 1)

for this post in particular, i would also like to add that in the transferring of species ownership, there are cetrain things that can be assumed to change ownership along with the transfer. (this is not the first time a species has ever been transferred in ownership). for one, the site. obviously thats needed for species functions so it now belongs to cal. another is NPCs, other species when transferred will give the NPCs to relevant staff because they are an integral part of species function. in this specific instance, the pets, since they were never a part of the original agreement they are assumed to move ownership as well. coy can make the argument they want their art taken down, thats perfectly fine, they could even say they want their designs taken down, but again, the problem is that this is not something that can just be done at the drop of a hat. you need to find replacements and create new assets. breaking in to the site and vandalizing it because you wanted to be a bitch baby and have no patience is immature and wrong. the site has changed ownership. you do not have agency over it anymore, you dont get to go in and delete things without asking.

lets compare this to an oc you trade on toyhouse. lets say you own this OC for a year, and you have drawn a good amount of art for it. then you trade it away, boop, gone, not yours anymore. lets say later on you dont want your art featured on that OC’s page. problem is, that art you drew is embedded within the character’s profile code. you have the full right to delete the art, but you cant just break into the OC’s profile code and fuck around with it yourself. you have to ask the new owner to take it down, and they say of course, but youll have to be patient so they can redraw a new asset for the code.

granted, this example falls short in some ways, but you get what im trying to say

anyways, the point is that if youre going to refuse to engage with the argument then im not going to engage with you. i truly do not understand why you guys are ride or die-ing for these shitty posts that have absolutely no substance

[okthatsgreat]

i am GRABBING YOU and SHAKING YOU. did you know your mikane is the craziest. did you. did you know that. last chapter drove me so far up the wall i am still yet to calmndown...... poor mikan. imagine ur emotionally repressed gf runs away again only for two children w the exact same problem to come barging through your door.

i have so many things to ask........ but i shan't ask them all. please please tell me anything about ur ideas for mikane in general or in oppdmh bc they're the most crazy insane yuri ever. OH RIGHT YEAH AND. the actual question. obviously opddmh mikan still struggles with anxiety, but how do you think she's changed in mentality and issues after everything that came after danganronpa? any issues outgrown or gained? morphed in some way? love ur work so much every time. u made me pause my utena rewatch and that is such a big compliment u do not even know

GRABS YOU SHAKES YOUSHAKESYOU SHAKES YOU SHAKES YOU

talking about this fic, as always putting the answer under read more for people who dont wanna read lol!!!!!!!

OHHH MY GOD IM INSANE ABOUT THEMM. went into this fic knowing that i wanted mikan and akane to have their own povs because i thought theyd bring different perspectives, especially in comparison to makoto's pov. i knew what i wanted mikans story to involve and i had a vague idea about akanes (fun fact rantaro was originally gonna be kaito LOL) and then like two chapters into writing mikans point of view i was like waiiiitttt a minute. wait a minute hold on. what if they were in love. and what if they were so not normal about it

it made so much sense for the story i wanted both of them to tell that immediately i went into my notes and started pivoting a few things LMFAO. i just think that their relationship (or their pining at least lol) is able to neatly underline some of their core themes/issues in this fic, whether that be for better or for worse. through the lens of their relationship im hoping to convey mikan's sheer capacity of worry and insecurity, how she finds it difficult to move through life without another person to rely on even if she has done a bit of growing since the simulator and how that dependency affects her. and then of course akane's emotional repression is highlighted through their relationship (her forgetfulness, her inability to communicate, LEAVING all of the time), but also it's a great reminder of just how protective akane can get even if she isn't there. not to mention how worried she gets about mikan despite her absolute refusal to worry.

they care about each other to the point of unspoken codependency and while it is absolutely making both of them feel safe and happy it is still a reminder of their underlying problems. akane would do anything to avoid somebody thinking she is weak enough to be cared for. but all mikan can do is care and care and care about her. both of them are so willing to shoulder the problems of the other but neither of them want to be seen as burdens, so all they end up doing is silently dance around their issues until eventually somebody caves. INSANE YURI MOMENT

mikan still absolutely has anxiety LMFAO and dare i say..... she's...... kind of better????????????????????? or maybe not actually. going into this i had to think about how to write these characters in a way that felt true to who they are but also remembering that they have GROWN, even if danganronpa really makes them feel as if they havent lol. this is a mikan who has likely endured years of therapy, even if that therapy is SHIT at best. this is also a mikan who has been shoved into the spotlight rather forcibly and has basically been given the choice to adapt or die. so i probably shouldnt say that shes "better", it's more that shes had to modify herself to fit this new lifestyle of hers. she hasnt been given much of a choice, and i imagine shes had a few years to really fuck up and struggle before reaching this point. she is constantly in the spotlight and basically always under scrutiny, so ive sort of swayed away from her wanting attention and focused more on how she reacts to this attention-- shes grown bitter from the negative and she doesnt think she deserves most of the positive. it's this hurricane of problems with mikan and a lot of it involves her own struggle to view herself as a good person, which stems heavily from the insecurities she already had in her game and intensified by what happened outside of it. years of being seen as this iconic chapter three killer has absolutely worn her down a bit, but there is still a part of her that yearns for control over her life and the people surrounding it. she is still SO anxious, ive tried to really hammer home quite a few recurring symptoms with her like her nervous tics, sickness/lack of appetite, hair shedding, etc!! and she is extremely bitter about how shes been treated, too, which im hoping to elaborate on further on down the line. however she really, REALLY can not be passing out in front of cameras or throwing any fits about the exploitation shes endured since shes been a teen because the company she works for wont accept anything that isnt on brand. and underneath it all shes still that scared little kid that desperately wants to please

she's an older mikan but she is still very much hurting, not necessarily any less but in a way that's a bit different if that makes sense :)

you are SO FUCKING NICE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <33333333333

[anawrites3]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

I got tagged by @zeroducks-2, thanks love 💕💕 Sorry it took me so long to answer -3-

How many works do you have on AO3? It's 44 (+1 unrevealed)! And 19 of that are DC fics

What’s your total A03 word count? 163,947 I need to post more on ao3, huh

What fandoms do you write for? Mostly DC rn, tho I have a few fics for COD

What are your top five fics by kudos? on this account all of those are bakudeku because I've been very deep in the fandom until last year lmao so I'm going to cheat a little :3 and list the ones from DC fandom to self-promote myself a little 😂

1. taking a break (alone, please) at 345! I'm really happy with that and quite surprised because it's the very first proper sladick fic I wrote! Dick gets hurt during a mission so Slade takes him somewhere to take care of the wound and maybe have a little fun while he's at that. The only problem is that Dick's comm gets turned on at some point.

2. unexpectedly beneficial at 289. This is surprise since it's a New Year fic and those, in my experience, never get that much kudso lmao It's also my second fic! Dick's stuck at Brucie's New Year Eve's party. Slade comes over to keep him company

3. bunny-shaped trouble at 230 kudos, the idea came from Claudia who sent me a prompt 💕 Dick gets turned into a bunny and takes the opportunity to annoy the hell out of Slade

4. persistence at 219! This was my entry for sladerobin week and for some reason I was very anxious so I'm glad its so high in the ranks Dick goes on an undercover mission, where he has to seduce the target. Slade isn't very happy about that.

5. conflict resolution at 217 kudos! It's the first part of the series and well, let's be honest, compared to the rest (that is posted here on tumblr now, im working on it to post it properly on ao3) it isn't very exciting but I still love it and I'm happy it's so high as well! King Slade Wilson offers the way to stop the war between Gotham and Defiance. He will stop the attacks if prince Richard becomes his royal consort.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I always do!! Sometimes it just takes me longer (like rn oops) but I always make sure to respond to comments and show people how much I appreciate them taking the moment to share their thoughts with me 💕💕

What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? It's definitely keeping what's mine because Dick is having awful time in this one, to the point that I tagged it as hurt/no comfort because well, Dick is hurt and doesnt get any comfort. I mean, he kind of does? But it doesnt actually comfort him so yeah 😂

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I write a lot of fluff so this is actually a very difficult question lmao but I would say it's (not) willing to share which is a short domestic fluff. And Dick has a cat so that's very happy for me haha

Do you get hate on your fic? I do not, actually! And I'm a little surprised by it because sladick and batkids ships gets hated on a lot

Do you write smut? More and more lately

Do you write crossovers? Not really right now, no

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Thankfully no or at least I dont know about it lol

Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope

Have you ever co-written a fic? Not yet but I think it would be really fun!

What‘s your all-time favourite ship? I have one of those for every fandom I'm in lmao and right now it's sladick

What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Gosh, don't say that lmao! Buut *looks quickly through the list of my wips* probably the one I named "the middle of the night" which is like,,, undercover mision identity porn masquerade ball sladick story that Im very exciting about but for some reason I just keep moving it down on my list of wips sooo... yeah. Maybe cause masquerade balls need a lot of dance descriptions and I suck at that lmao

What’s your writing strengths? Writing dialogue! I like it a lot and I've been told I'm good at it :3

What’s your writing weaknesses? Actually sitting down to start writing 😂 and more complicated descriptions like fights or dances and stuff like that, I'm still working on it

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I like it a lot actually but not if there's too much of it - just a few sentences are enough or just a few words thrown here and there, and there needs to be translation somewhere in the fic, in the notes or something because people should know what the characters are saying but yeah, I like how it directly shows that someone is speaking in another language instead of writing "he cursed in russian" or other stuff like that

First fandom you wrote for? *hides my face into my hands* Strawberry Shortcake probably... from when I was still a babey...

Favourite fic you’ve ever written? sun and sunflower, a little brudick story about Bruce being smitten and a coward

Tagging time! @roipecheur @wingdingery @blackbeanbao @enak-s and anyone who'd like to do it as well!

[seyvetch]

A vent post of things that have been on my mind lately

I want to fucking die ;-; (I have no plans to act on that just need to vent)

Ffs everything is just getting harder, people can leave me at any time like the person I loved the most who left me a month ago and Im becoming a worse person and I wasnt that amazing in the first place. Everything is just going worse, I barely have hope for future and I cant even feel love properly anymore. Im overwhelmed by minimal ammount work I used to be able to handle and unsure I could even work to get money to sustain myself.

Almost all that I feel is despair anger and apathy. Last time I tried to medicate it caused me great loss of appetite and I almost starved to death bc I couldnt eat. At this point I just want my life to end. I dont know how Im supposed to live in Russia like this nor do I know how to escape it.

3 people who Ill eternaly be greatful to said they would be willing to let me stay with them if I wanted to escape Russia but problem is: one broke all contact with me cuz the host got themself a boyfriend so apperently they didnt like I had a relationship with their sysmate, one ghosts me for some reason despite actively reblogging my posts and me seemingly being on good terms with them when we talk and the 3rd one lives in Germany - a country which language of I dont know still.

Well even if I stayed with any of them Id probably just ruin my relationship with them. Im not that great in person.

One other thing thats been on my mind is the first person I talked about in the list of people who offered me to stay with. I loved them more than anyone probably. More than myself certainly. I thought we were soulmates. I just cant get over them no matter how much I try not to care. They even appear in my dreams though its more like nightmares of rejection. Why did it have to go this way. Is it bad that I still have hope everything will work out? Its probably futile. Im blocked instantly any time I tried to reach them. Whats the most cruel is how the breakup went it wasnt even them to my knowledge who broke me up with them it was their host or another sysmate despite the previous promise that I could still date them. I dont even know how they feel about the breakup. Maybe it was them and they got tired of me. Ill never know bc I havent recieved as much as a goodbye before being blocked. Not as much as a word. I only know that they have a boyfriend bc I looked at their tiktok in trying to decypher why I was left like that :/.

Whatever the painll probably go away with time. What wont go away is my disabilities which are getting harder to deal with in terms of my productivity. Its only getting worse. I can barely make myself do the minimum required of me. How will I find the job? How will I get enough money to move to a different country before I cant leave Russia anymore? Could I leave Russia now if I had money? Would that even be possible? Is it already too late? Had I never had a chance to escape?

No matter how I look at it all I can see in my future is being alone stuck in this hellhole of a country which will only get wose and more authoritarian with time. And then if Im lucky another revolution will happen and devistate what remains of the country leaving the poeple maybe not as oppressed but left in poverty just like the horror stories my parents told me of what happened last time a revolution occured.

Everyone will just leave me behind no matter what I do. It always happens. Its just the matter of time.

Well we will see how it turns out but for now all I can do is to move forward.

[bl00dh0rs3]

I think the reason theres such a Great Divide between how people feel about villains getting redemption arcs is the fact that 1.) Nobody knows what redemption means anymore (ie. It has absolutely NOTHING to do with forgiveness), and 2.) People on a large scale lack an understanding of... who these former-villains are made for.

Admittedly this is largely based on a personal theory i have, that They are made for and by people who feel like they've done bad things in the past, things they personally feel remorseful for but, because its the past, cant necessarily do anything about, even if they themselves have improved and grown as an individual. I say that bc i know thats why I value redemption arcs as much as i do.

Am i the same person who did those things anymore? No, not by a long shot. But not everyone would think so, and I'm aware of that by nature of just. Knowing how to imagine myself in other ppls shoes, and understanding that nobody can ever know anybody else's full story + that will never stop anyone from making judgements based on what they DO know.

There's ALWAYS someone out there who will hate you, think you are the literal scum of the earth, the devil incarnate. There are almost 8 billion people on this planet. This is a fact.

And ideally, in knowing this, we'd be able to brush it off and continue on, content in the fact that we can't control how other people feel and willing to improve ourselves despite that fact. However--humans care. By default. We are social creatures that want to feel liked and welcomed because once upon a time, being loathed by the other humans around you had the potential to mean death.

So we worry. Our actions and their repercussions haunt us and make us MISERABLE, and there is nothing we can do to change that fact.

Just as well--that misery? It helps no one. Absolutely fucking no one.

But it cannot simply be shrugged off by most people, as I established before. So, what exactly are we supposed to do? Obviously--we're supposed to work through those feelings. And lo and behold, story crafting is a FANTASTIC way of doing just that! You can be as literal or as figurative as you want, whatever helps YOU, as a writer, breathe easier, and move forward with the energy and confidence to be a better person than you were before tackling those complex, painful, scary feelings.

Redemption arcs are self soothing wish fulfillment--and i mean this in an entirely positive way. We need to be able to believe that we can change FIRST, in order to change at all. If every story we see kills off every single bad person they portray--how does that affect us, subconsciously? What sort of underlying bias does it instill? The idea that once a person does something awful, that theres no turning back? No coming back EVER? Maybe. Who knows! I think that's fucking depressing, close minded, and detrimental to everyone exposed to it.

All I know is that when i was in a short phase of absolutely loathing redemption arcs along with everyone else, I was in a stage of my life where i hated myself to the point of self harm. Because i believed i was genuinely fucking evil for all the things id said and done as an ignorant child, and that there was no way back, and that i NEEDED to suffer to 'repent'. And i did not grow up in a highly Christian household--so Where exactly did that mindset come from, hmm? Sounds a little familiar, don't it.

... The point im trying to get at here, is this;

Redemption arcs are not made for victims.

They are made for perpetrators.

They are made by an author, to show other "bad people" in the world that, "hey. you are not set in stone. You are alive and you have free will and you can make different choices. Here is how, and here is why."

Now--i know what youre about to say. "But jack most redemption arcs suck and dont actually say any of those things!!! They just let the villain get off scott free with a happily ever after without doing any of the hard work on screen of Actually changing!" To which, i have a few things to ask you about.

1.) Was that ACTUALLY an attempted redemption arc? Or did the villain just happen to survive the climax of the story, and was momentarily shown to have had a change of heart, finally?

.... iiiiiiiiiiimplying that they are going to START their work towards redemption.... post-canon?

2.) So what? Sometimes stories and the tropes within them aren't written well. A shitty redemption is not different from a shitty romance or a shitty hero's journey. Not everyone is Shakespeare, and not everything has to be made to your standards. If you don't like it, you don't have to look at it. That doesn't mean you should write off the entire Concept as inherently bad.

And 3.) I will also challenge you to consider just how personal your reading of a character's redemption arc is. Like I'm saying--redeemed villains are not made for victims. They are made to address and dig into the meat of just how awful someone of human intelligence can be, and try to wrangle an idea of HOW that person can come out of it somehow, healthier, happier, and kinder.

They have to address sensitive topics, more often than not. Like it is literally required--if the villain never does anything BAD, theres no story. Theres nothing for them to pursue redemption ABOUT. And those sensitive topics can bring out the ire of people who have been through them--obviously! And that is not the fault of the viewer! You have every right to feel how you feel, and hate a villain as much as you want for it--but try to REMEMBER that that is where your feelings of distaste are coming from, when attempting to criticize the thing you are watching--especially if youre going to be especially vitriolic about it in the faces of people who enjoy that villain, and their redemption arc.

You have every right to not like it--but take a moment to analyze WHY before claiming it's "bad".

It probably just wasn't written for you.

We live in a world that already encourages so much cruelty--but, people can heal and feel motivated to do better by watching redemption arcs play out for characters that they see themselves in.

Even if you think it's shallow--does it actually MATTER if it is or not? I don't think so. I don't give a fuck what's going on in someones head--as long as they are treating the people and world around them with kindness and respect, I think that's all that should matter. Actions speak louder than words and all that. People are allowed to want to be better because it feels good. People NEED to be allowed to want to feel good, if it means shirking harmful habits and mentalities. Do you get what im saying?

Obviously there's plenty of nuance to these situations--in regards to fictional characters, there is inherently more give in what a character can do. They are not real. Nobody is actually getting hurt. So, pushing them to the FARTHEST LIMITS of how bad a person can be, and coming back? It's like a power fantasy, with a self reflective twist. And power fantasies are not inherently bad, either.

How heartwarming is it, to imagine that even that terrible tyrant who slaughtered innocents and razed cities can feel remorse? For them to give everything they have to help rebuild what they destroyed, and show compassion for the people they've hurt, and vowing to never let it happen again?

Because if even that terrible man on the screen can change--then of course I can change, too. Of course I, a person who's merely made a few callous comments and emotional scarred an ex by being a toxic asshole, can be better. I HAVE to be. It is an obligation.

An obligation that I may have otherwise seen as an insurmountable obstacle. Because I did. Thats what I saw it is as. I had been convinced that every bad thing I did, made me who I was. That everyone could just see it on my face--and that if they didn't, all they'd need to do was look a little bit closer before being repulsed by what they saw. It made me bitter and mean and I had so few friends I felt like I could actually be open with. I am still dealing with the repercussions of that mentality today--it is the source of quite literally All Of My Woes.

You've all seen my vent posts. All that shit? Consequences of this. This is why my lows go as low as they do--and This is why I am SO passionate about my villainous blorbos. This is why I love redemption arcs. They remind me that there is still hope for me--that there is still hope for everyone. You might enjoy living as a pessimist--but not everyone has the fortitude to maintain that attitude on a healthy level.

So when you see someone who is enjoying a villian you hate, and its making silly content of them being redeemed and goofing off and being happy and alive and loved--have a little compassion. That person its probably dealing with some shit, too. So just let it be.

[haekiiu]

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

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

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

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

too late…. she did.

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

damn. jisung and y/n didn’t work out…

_

NOW THAT WE’RE PAST THAT!!

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

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

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

“don’t run from it, just take it”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"y/n?" 

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

he knocks again, a bitter taste in his mouth. 

"y/n, i know you're home." 

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

"are you happy now?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"it didn't make a difference?"  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"i know." he knew now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"but i-"

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

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

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

"wanted?" he asks, quietly.  

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

"jaemin's outside." 

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

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

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

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

"you'll stop seeing y/n?" 

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

"haechan, stop." 

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

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

"i'll stop seeing her." 

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

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

"tell her what?" 

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

"is there a difference?" 

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

"so you want to keep seeing her?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

neither of them really believed it. 

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

"what did he say?" 

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

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

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

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

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

"but that's what he meant." 

"mark?" 

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

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

"so he won't see her anymore?" 

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

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

"how did this happen?" 

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

"haechan?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

haechan is dreaming again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

he didn't know the answers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"did you come with jaemin?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and he takes you home. 

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"haechan, don't you want me?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you hum. "haechan." 

"don't," he echoes. 

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

"baby, don't move!" 

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

you almost don't believe your eyes. 

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

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

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

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

"you're making it messy —" 

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

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

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

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

"i'm fine," you croak out. 

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

"is she…?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"are you sure you're okay?" 

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

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

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

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

you nod, dazed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"taxi?" he looks at you, confused. 

"i…i should go now, right?" 

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

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

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

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

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

you don't know what to do. 

"hyuckie?" 

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

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

"but i want it in a braid…"  

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

her lip wobbles. "but…"

"let me help," you say, suddenly. 

he turns, round eyes wide. "what?" 

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

he nods, a little dazed. "really?" 

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

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

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

— 

the bed dips under his weight as he sits down. 

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

"did you get her to school?" 

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

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

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

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

"y/n, i'm really sorry." 

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

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

you bite your lip. "haechan —"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"he what?" 

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

"and now?" 

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

your breath catches. 

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

"you miss me?" 

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

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

he shakes his head, trying to clear it. 

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

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

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

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

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

he nods, quickly. "of course." 

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

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

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

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

"haechan?" 

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

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

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

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

" – that's not possible." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"not haechan, donghyuck," he whispers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"do you want to talk about rules now?" 

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

"sure." 

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

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

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

he hesitates. "so…no marking?" 

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

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

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

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

"oh." 

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

"are we still a secret?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but he shakes his head. "don't go." 

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

—

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

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

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

"friends?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

but there are things to soothe the ache. 

"did you like the show?" 

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

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

"it was good," you murmur. 

"yeah?" 

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

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

his smile falters.

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

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

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

there's a beat. 

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

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

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

"baby's fine," you whisper. 

"princess?" 

"hmm?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he lifts his head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"can i…?" 

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

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

"how are you so wet? fuck-" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"you got stronger," you blurt out. 

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

"no," you say shyly. "i loved it." 

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

"you deserve better," he says, quietly. 

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

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

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

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

he does exactly as you say. 

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"haechan?" 

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

"now?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

you didn't want to hurt his feelings again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but of course, things are never easy. 

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

"you look nice," he says, quietly. 

your lips part. "haechan-" 

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

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

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

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

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

it's easier said than done.

—

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

"this isn't working out, is it?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"since we're friends…" 

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

"can i ask…do you like haechan?" 

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

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

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

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

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

"know him?" he asks, confused. 

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

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

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

"maybe," you say, softly. 

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

let's try not to do anything romantic. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ventingbaybe]

1/16/24

I did end up moving out after that last post, two or so years ago.

Im on my second year break from school, the whole point of the gap year was to save money for school. I got kicked out though, so there went that.

My parents dont like when i word it that i got kicked out, I was “heavily implied that I should move out so that I can thrive away from my family because they didnt sign up to start taking care of me again because I couldnt go back to school” but not kicked out.

I got a second job, worked 80 hour weeks for a while, quit one, work the other. Moved from one apartment to another and then another. I dont have any roommates, just me. I cant get an animal because it would be irresponsible when im planning on going back to school and wouldnt be able to bring them with me.

Every month I pay $1000 in rent, $500 in my loan repayment, and whatever other shit i get roped into.

I have a boyfriend. I had a crush on him at the beginning of last summer, we met at work. I ended up getting over him at one point. But sometime in October I got drunk and flirted with him, we went on a couple dates and made it official. Its awkward. We dont have anything to talk about and dont have anything in common. I feel bad that I cant be the partner that he deserves, but we just arent fit for one another. We need to break up but we havent had any free time to see eachother and actually have a talk about anything. Hes a great guy, but romantically we just arent compatible at all.

Were having a winter storm in my state and just my washing machine pipe froze, so last night at 2am I got to spend hours cleaning up my overflowed washing machine and hand wringing out and emptying the machine. I feel constantly overwhelmed and like Im drowning, but I dont have a solid enough support system to feel helped. This isnt to diss my friends or anything, I just need professional help at this point and cant keep burdening my friends with this kind of constant badgering of venting.

I need to make some more friends, like actual friends I hang out with who are on a similar level of being grown up as me. I need other people who are moved out that I can find some relation and comfort in. I just dont feel like I have anyone solid in my corner that I can turn to at this moment. Its my own fault which is even more frustrating.

I wish i could just go home and curl up on the couch and be comforted. Im a grown person whose fully moved out, supported completely by myself, but I just want my mom. I wish her and I were close. But neither of us are willing to let down our egos enough to ever talk without fighting. One time my mom told me she likes me better when Im drunk, because Im quiet and sweet. So everytime i go over, I have a drink and pretend it affects me more than it does.

I was a functioning alcoholic for most of my senior year of highschool. I’d drink nearly half a bottle of vodka every night. It hurts to see people compliment how I act when im drunk more than when Im sober. I wish I was a likable person. I dont know why I lash out, why I cant not have the last word, but I also wish i didnt have to fight everyone at any given moment.

I dont know why i fight but I dont know why everyone around me loves to rile me up.

My family has always known I had anger issues, and nothing made them laugh harder than seeing me lose my temper, if i got mad i was laughed at. If i got sad I was laughed at. If i stayed sat at that dining room table and went quiet then i was laughed at. If i excused myself to go to my room or hide in the bathroom, I was laughed at. There was no way to get away from the ridicule besides being an asshole back, and then someone else was always allowed to storm off. No one else was laughed at when they left. The table would go silent until everyone else excused themselves and it was just me.

Theres nothing quite like being left alone while everyone else comforts eachother. Why wasnt I included. Was it my own fault? Was I that repulsive of a kid? A teen? What about me was so fundamentally wrong that I couldnt be included.

I remember being young, maybe 9 at this memory. My brother had said something, I said something back, he stormed off and told my mom. I remember feeling excited when my mom came to my door. I remember thinking maybe it was my turn to be comforted. To be held and rocked the way she would to my brothers. I remember standing there while she screamed at me, hearing my brothers doors squeak open so they could tune in to the show. Being ridiculed for being such a horrible daughter, a horrible sister, just a base level horrible person to be around. How much my brothers would complain to my parents about how much they hated me.

Watching my mother stand there with this blank face as I would stand there, tears welled up in my eyes being told that if it wasnt for being family, I would be unloved.

She would hug me after, let my tears soak into the shoulder of her shirt, and say nothing as Id choke out apologies for being how I was. She’d stand there and hold me, telling me that all I could do was change.

So I tried. I tried so hard. I distanced myself from my family so they wouldnt have to deal with me. I got criticized for hiding away and hating them.

Now that I dont live there its easier. I dont see any of them often and they seem happy. My older brother is also moved out but he was still over there constantly, having dinner with the family most nights. I would tell my mom I would swing by later and come over to an empty house. Id wait for an hour, thinking maybe they were all just out, but they wouldnt be back. Id put away whatever Id brought over and leave, a silent drive back home to throw myself into an empty apartment and sit there. Not even a text to acknowledge whatever Id brought. Who knows if they even noticed.

I know my parents care about me, at least on some level. My dad comes over to help me set up my wifi, he drove me to work during this snow storm. I can see that on a base level he cares. But I hate that ill never know how much. Some people you can just sense it when you meet their parents, how they interact, how their parents look at them so fondly.

I feel embarrassed when my friends meet my family, not because Im embarrassed of my family, but because I know that the way I talk about my family isnt reciprocated. That no matter how many stories of my family I can share to my friends, how fondly I talk about them and their achievements, how every eyelash I wish on is spent wishing for my family to receive only the best, I know that when my friends look at my family and I, they dont see that fond look that their parents give them.

No matter how funny I can be around my friends, it will never translate over with my family. How I get quiet and move to the background around family.

I wish I was something and someone that could be talked about.

I wish I was worth bringing up in conversation when Im not around.

I wish just once in my life I felt like I was worth putting up with.

[hiemaldesirae]

oh my, im very glad to hear that!! ill check it out once i have more time haha, excited to see it ^^ and of course i dont mind- fandom is all about sharing ideas and collaborating after all, im honestly flattered that i managed to jog your inspiration with my writing aha

to build on some of your thoughts,

as you said, aus dont have to follow the spirit of their inspiration and i wasnt planning on following the storyline of the laila and its possession of yvonne.

instead i had wanted to lean into the idea of the villain being the "system" of svsss- and this also ties into the point of sjs return and sqh's actual involvement with svsss in svadd. its not as straightforward as it seems haha but i can assure you if i do end up making sy a villain it wont be in the same way as vadd.

if it reassures you though in all of my drafts and outlines, not one of the endings ive created has ended with sj staying in svsss ^^

as for the roxanna au, i think personally that sjs personality is very easily crafted around the opportunities he's given in life and that for the personality ive given him, the idea of moths fit more.

whenever it comes to aus that take a character and gives them drastically different circumstances from birth to their counterparts, i find myself weighing the nature vs nurture debate in my head. what ive figured out works for me after writing for several fandoms is that the basic personality traits of someone- (for lqg, for example, it would be stubborn and strong minded)- will stay the same despite their circumstances: this is their "nature".

however, the ways these traits may manifest will differ. in my mind, sj is crafty and adaptable but innately free spirited: he shifts and molds to those of the people around him but the mischievous personality displayed on the street with yue qi is what i draw on for base traits.

in svadd, sj is more laid back than, say, even sy is in canon. but in roxanna, sj has gone through drastically different circumstances: he grows up in a household competing for the fickle affections of his lord father, witnesses his older brothers death (think xana seeing achille's death) and ends up having to take care of his younger brother and his retainer while still keeping favour and preventing his house's downfall. the way sj curries favour is unlike roxanna: he despises the others of his house more than he is willing to curry favour, and after yue qi's death, he is less talkative.

thus for him the best persona i can think of him taking is that of an aloof scholar / master and using his strategic expertise to get into his father's good graces, and the moth motif-- unassuming, simple, plain, works better for a master who works from the shadow.

i do like the idea of the butterfly motif, though i may end up using it for sy himself! it certainly ties into fanons idea of him being a sickly young master haha

and for your thoughts on xana: yeah, definitely- that was the one complaint i had with the story. i read a crossover fic once for a different fandom where the character in xanas place had a gift that allowed them to see into the future and thats how they knew.. personally i think it would have been a better move for her character, but i still love her anyway

thanks so much once again for letting me ramble on and giving me the chance to talk about these aus ^^ <3 loved seeing your ideas, theyre incredibly well thought out and detailed!

please. I'm begging you for more crumbs about VADD!Shen Jiu and also that Roxana AU you have from that art post you did of the two.

As a VADD AND SVSSS fan, especially as a fan of the original villains— please. I AM FROTHING AT THE MOUTH FOR MORE. I'm actually in the process of outlining a crossover with the original goods of both.

God, the Roxana one as well— please, PLEASE TELL ME SJ IS ROXIE HE'S SO ROXANA-CODED SOMEHOW. GIVE HIM BUTTERFLIES AND POISON AND— *gets knocked out*

by the way, LOVE your artstyle. scratches an itch i did not know existed in my brain. your chibis as well. they're so cute!!

oh you have no idea how long ive waited to talk about them. this mayyy get a bit long so ill leave it under the readmore.

disclaimer: i intend on finishing these fics so what im going to be talking about is inspirations and unfinished / abandoned ideas and other ideas i have for the works instead of anything relating to the plots themselves

for svadd, sj is a lot more complicated than he appears to be on the surface. im not so sure if what i have written currently is what i /want/ exactly because i know i want his character to go a certain way. the relationships between him and his modern-day friends is one meant to parallel the in-game "shen qingqiu" sj compares himself to and in much the same way, mirror the way that sy contrasts himself with sqq in canon: but instead of being condescending and viewing sqq as a one dimensional character, sj is able to appreciate his nuance while still being rightfully angry over his actions

to me, sj is supposed to be an unreliable narrator who constantly enforces his own thoughts. he tells himself over and over that he misses his home and that he wants to go back, that he absolutely needs to- but then, he turns the other way and finds himself being sucked even deeper into this different one.

i also really wanted to explore how sjs dynamic with a lot of the characters would be affected knowing that they were "based off" his real friends, but again im not very confident with how it came off lol

there was a lot of points in the story where i attempted to add in foreshadowing for the ending i want the story to take... in any case, it definitely wont go the same way as vadd, though i did toy with the idea of a "version" of sy being the main villain haha

(it might still happen for shits and giggles)

as for the roxanna au there are a lot of things ive wanted to do with this au and its good that i havent posted because it means i can keep revising til i come up with something good lol

its a liujiu au with some bingyuan / cumplane thrown into the mix (the cumplane is overwhelmingly toxic btw bingyuan is the healthy one out of the two here 😭) where yes sj is xana !!! he really just makes such a good manhwa villainess haha

i had been puzzling over what i wanted his motif to be-- after all, sj is typically associated with the simplicity and calming bamboo so the glittering butterflies wouldnt work with him- but after some deliberation i decided with using moths for him :3c still subject to change ofc but i think im happy with this as is

the story is somewhat similar to how roxanna goes but surprise sj isnt the transmigrator here! (and honestly, roxanna wouldve been sm better if xana hadnt been a transmigrator... or maybe i just think that because it was only used as a convenient plot point for her to know crucial info. sigh.)

my outline of how the roxanna au goes is basically this:

lqg fucks around and finds out

sj who has been seeing dreams of the "book" sy read knows what will happen to his family if lqg dies

etc

at the same time: sy, transmigrator, attempts to make sure his only surviving older brother lives to a long happy life and the only way he can secure this is by fucking up that hack author

also i killed off qi-ge and idk if i want him to come back. he'll be like the stereotypical dead anime mother for this au lmao

hmm and i think thats all i have to say for these aus... thanks for giving me a chance to ramble on haha ~ much appreciated !! and thank you for the compliment, im flattered!! 🥹🥹💕