#so reverting to a previous state

[viric-dreams]

[bigbroemen]

I swear to fucking god every time I get the sincere drive to do something outside of my regular bumbling routine shit stops working and I get derailed and I lose it. Like why.

[softservesoymilk]

In other news, I was listening to the P3 Movie ost in light of wondering if they will include it in the remake in some way.. it slaps harder than I remembered!

[topazadine]

Avoiding therapy speak in writing

I think we all know by now that therapy speak is irritating and unrealistic, especially if you are writing in a fantasy world that doesn't even have modern psychology.

Part of the reason that it is so annoying is that it is the definition of telling instead of showing: characters are just plainly informing us of their feelings rather than making us work for a better understanding. It's cheap and boring. Instead of making your characters seem like complex individuals with their own hangups and difficulties, they seem like plot points programmed to tell us things.

But obviously, you want to put these people in situations and have them talk about it! How do you do that without sounding maudlin? Here are some options.

Listen to real arguments/conversations

I cannot stress enough how important it is to listen to how actual real human beings talk to each other during heightened emotional states. They don't have to be nasty abusers, and they don't have to be perfect angels, just everyday people doing their normal thing.

Of course, I'd hope you're not seeing people argue all the time, but if you do happen to see it, listen carefully and notice how people actually address their problems. Think back to tough conversations that you have had, even if you wouldn't classify them as arguments. Consider how people acted and reacted to one another. Notice how normal humans talk about issues outside of therapy, even intelligent and emotionally evolved people.

I've had years of therapy, and even I do not talk in therapy ways about my issues when I'm talking to my family or friends. It just feels cheesy and fake outside of that particular setting - plus, it freaks other people out and can seem kind of manipulative. Try talking like that in a real conversation and see how uncomfortable it is. You'll understand why avoiding therapy speak is important.

Consider the character's own hangups

Just as everyone has their own unique speaking style and mindset, so do we all have our own argument styles. These are often informed by our pasts and upbringing; they are as varied as our own histories. However, there are a few different options.

Someone with a happy upbringing may be more assertive and willing to address their problems because they had that demonstrated to them as children.

A spoiled child will grow up to be a demanding adult who refuses to give any quarter.

Those who got yelled at a lot as children may shut down and fawn to avoid getting hurt.

Someone who grew up in a violent household may mimic that behavior and get incredibly aggressive when upset.

Individuals whose parents didn't teach them emotional regulation will lash out and get loud.

Manipulative people may stay very calm and gaslight the other person, or they may get hysterical to garner sympathy and make people focus on comforting them.

Someone who has gone to therapy may revert to their original argument style, or they may imperfectly apply what they have learned in a way that feels a bit unnatural. They may start out with rage, then force themselves to calm down through grounding techniques.

People who have been coached through previous emotional outbursts could demand a time out, then fail to actually calm themselves down.

Some may refuse to acknowledge they are upset and insist, in increasingly forceful terms, that they are fine.

Others may get quiet or crack a joke to ease the tension, but it doesn't really help.

Keep each confrontation short

IRL, emotional confrontations are generally not that long. They don't go on for hours and hours, though it can feel that way. No one is going on and on about their feelings and sharing every little detail of how they feel (at least not that I know of personally, maybe other people are different).

Even the worst arguments I have had, the real nexus of the argument was maybe an hour or two, though the fallout lasted much longer. I'd say there was an hour maximum of real, active confrontation, preceded or followed by hours/days/weeks of simmering frustration.

Why? Because arguments are exhausting. You don't have the energy for that in the heat of the moment. Yes, feuds and fights can last years, but each actual confrontation is short.

For longer, more serious issues, hash it out over a few sessions rather than all at once. It's rare to get everything out of the way immediately unless the characters already have a strong, loving relationship.

Show incongruencies

Especially for more reserved people, they will likely have their emotions leaking all over the place but won't actually say anything. As such, focus on body language while keeping the conversation more focused on the plot. For example, Character A might be crying but still trying to argue their point about whatever is going on.

Address physical complaints instead of emotional ones

In many cases, people will use "I'm tired" or "I didn't sleep well" or "I'm not feeling great" as shorthand for whatever is actually bothering them. It relieves pressure by not making them talk about upsetting matters while still addressing their discomfort in some form.

You should also consider the fact that some people can't connect physical sensations to feelings, so they may genuinely feel ill and not really understand why. This is especially common in people who can't emotionally regulate or have been through trauma.

For myself, I tend to somatize my feelings, so I might not feel upset, but I will feel physically sick. My stomach will hurt, my chest will get tight, or I'll get a headache, but my emotional state will seem calm. This isn't all that unusual, and many people experience this to different degrees.

As such, you can have your character say that their stomach hurts, or that they have a headache and can't discuss this anymore, or that they need to go lie down because they're dizzy. If we know they're relatively healthy, this can be a clue that they're getting overwhelmed but either cannot pinpoint their emotions or don't want to discuss them.

Let characters advance and retreat

A lot of the time, someone will address a scary emotion and then retreat again, sometimes over a period of hours, days, or even weeks. This is normal: most of us don't have the emotional fortitude to forge ahead through something difficult all in one go. Character A may say something vulnerable, then change the topic, laugh it off, say they're done discussing it, or even leave the situation.

Leave emotions partially unaddressed

Again, it's rare for someone to spill out everything they're feeling all in one go. As such, have Character A address the most important thing - or the least important, depending on their level of emotional maturity - and let it be done for then.

They might say their small piece, but when someone tries to probe deeper, they don't have an answer, or they get "stuck" on that one emotional level and cannot go further.

If Character B keeps pushing, then they may get incredibly upset and push back, or retreat.

Have Character B point out the feelings

Works especially well if the other character is a close companion or a parental figure. Often, people who know us really well will have better insight into our emotions than we do. Or, we might have good insight into our emotions but are still too afraid to open up. Having Character B point out the issue gives Character A grace to be more honest.

I can't tell you how many times I've been really upset, so I've distracted from the issue by getting angry about something completely different. Then, my mom will gently point out that I'm not actually crying about my new plastic cup being broken or whatever; I'm actually upset about XYZ. In that moment, I realize I've been caught out and admit that yes, that's what I'm really upset about.

Have Character A address it with a third character

Who among us hasn't gone to someone else to talk about our feelings? Having a third party serve as a sounding board is normal. Sometimes, Character A will feel such catharsis from this conversation that they don't address it as thoroughly with Character B.

Of course, you can use this to your advantage and create more tension if the third character gives bad advice or is biased.

Remember that just because the third party responded well does not mean that Character B does. You also have to avoid omniscience and remember that Character B wasn't privy to that conversation.

Have one confrontation be a stand-in for a larger one

I always think about the "The Iranian Yogurt Is Not the Issue" post when I think about this. Often times, things like not doing the dishes or whatever aren't actually the big deal: it's lack of boundaries, communication, or respect. A minor argument can be shorthand for a larger one that is too challenging for the characters to tackle.

This isn't just creating drama for the hell of it, though; it's about exploring the larger issues without making the characters lay it out on the table. A good reader will be able to see it's not about the Iranian Yogurt as long as you set up the relationship well.

Currently, I am writing a story where Uileac and his sister Cerie go to rescue Uileac's husband, Orrinir. On the way there, Uileac idly comments on how he wonders where a waterfall comes from because he's trying to distract himself from thinking about the fact that his husband is kidnapped and possibly dead.

Cerie, being pretty wound up too, starts arguing with him about it because she's like "why is this relevant? We're kind of too busy to think about geology right now!" Uileac gets annoyed at her for being so aggro, and she gets annoyed at him for being so irreverent. Both of them are upset about something completely different, but they're too scared and panicked to actually address that, so they release their frustrations by complaining about waterfalls.

Those bad vibes have to go somewhere, but neither of them are very good at talking about their feelings (though very good at stuffing them down). As such, they take the pressure off by sniping at one another. You've probably done this too, when you get into a dumb argument about something absolutely pointless because there's something you don't feel strong enough to discuss.

There's also the fact that if you're mad at someone about something but feel it's too stupid or petty to discuss, that frustration will leak out and everything else they do will annoy you, leading to a bunch of irrelevant arguments.

Use "reaffirmation" gestures

I talked about this in a different post, but after an argument, the "make up" stage doesn't always involve going "ohhh I forgive you" and big hugs and kisses, especially when the two characters aren't emotionally mature.

Instead, Character A makes gestures that reaffirm the relationship. This could be offering to do something Character B needs, making plans for later, or changing the topic to discuss something the other character cares about ("how are your cats doing?") etc.

Note that these "reaffirmation" gestures aren't the same as the cycle of abuse. This is more when two characters have had a difficult emotional conversation but aren't really sure how to continue being emotionally open, so they revert to something safer that still shows they care. They're not over-the-top gestures either, but more a special attention to something the other person loves. Knowing what the other person loves also demonstrates the depth of their relationship.

As always, I can't tell you what to do with your writing.

You are the crafter of your own story, and if you want people to talk like therapists for whatever reason, that's your choice. However, we want characters to feel like real people, and most real people don't lay it all out on the table every single time they're upset. If they do, they might be trauma vomiting, which is icky in and of itself.

Healthy communication isn't always perfect communication. People can have strong, loving relationships and still get things wrong - we're human. Having people calmly and rationally and easily talk about their feelings every single time is not only kind of boring, but it also feels weird, because unless we're primed to discuss those difficult topics and know we're perfectly safe, we're not going to do that.

People don't even do that in therapy, where they are paying for the service of talking about their feelings! Therapists also don't always do that IRL!

We're humans, and your characters need to feel like humans as well. That means letting them be imperfect communicators and using context clues rather than making them do all the work for the reader.

If you liked my advice, consider purchasing my book, 9 Years Yearning, for $3!

[sturnsrecord]

────── ⌗ DON’T CALL. matt sturniolo

ex!matt x reader ꒰ 2.6k words

you accidentally call matt when drunk, saying everything you’d wish you’d said before, but it doesn’t go the way you’d hoped.

⌇ contains. unresolved angst

part one.

you'd thought about your call with matt for days after. you felt bad about thinking of him, especially when you were with your boyfriend. 

a part of you resented matt for calling you in the first place, somehow spinning your world on its axis over a ten minute call. 

but it was difficult to fully hate him right now, hearing his voice had somehow reminded you how much you did love him – or had loved him. 

the separation between your lives somehow closing in after talking, like a reminder that you could speak to him whenever. the walls you had put up in your life crumbling as the nostalgia of matt dragged them down. 

it was stupid of you to think you'd fully gotten over him, but apparently out of sight, out of mind did work. until it didn’t anymore. 

but after a few weeks you'd managed to get back to normal, reverting back to your previous emotions of not thinking of him.

it was easy to fill your mind with other things, whether that be your friends, your boyfriend, or even the demand of work you had. when you knew you weren’t gonna see or speak to him, it was easy to not be overcome with thoughts of him. 

like most weekend nights you found yourself at random clubs or frat parties, getting respectfully drunk with your friends. it was a good balance to how hard you worked yourself, feeling good about sometimes letting loose and having fun.

you found yourself sat in the living room of a frat house, surrounded by your friends as you all prank called people. it was stupid, but you were all drunk so anything you'd done would've been funny. 

“wait, have you got anyone funny to call.” your friend giggles, scrolling through your phone as you peer over her shoulder as you laugh. 

she clicks on matt's contact fully knowing who he was as she looks back at you with a grin. you roll your eyes, before they dart around the room. you pull a face as if to say it would be funny. and then she clicks the call button.

you gasp, erupting into giggles at the thought of your drunk friend trying to prank call matt. you can already imagine his awkward response, and the way he'd probably hang up as soon as he realised it was a prank call. 

but then your face drops. “wait, i don't have no caller id on!” you shriek, holding your hand over your mouth. your friend gasps, quickly hanging up. the both of you exchange a look of shock before erupting into a fit of giggles over the situation. 

“oh, that's bad.” she laughs, handing your phone back. you take it from her, looking down at your phone, eyes wide. 

okay so in hindsight, maybe you were too drunk to have been trusted with calling people. not to mention the state of your friend. 

then your phone flashes in your hand, an incoming call from matt. “fuck.” you say loudly, giggling as your friend peers over the back of the couch to see. she stifles a laugh before patting your shoulder and giving you a look.

you take a breath before walking off with your phone to a somewhat quieter part of the house.

matts in bed, half asleep. he senses his phone go off, his room lighting up in the dark from the notification. 

he assumes it's a random notification, until the light doesn't dim. he turns over in his bed, opening his eyes slightly as he grabs his phone seeing a call. from you.

his heart stops for a second and the shock fully wakes him up. but before he can pick up its gone, his phone returning to the lockscreen, now with a notification of a missed call from you.

he sits up, staring at it like some idiot. 

after the last conversation, he had assumed that you weren’t gonna call again. and that made sense, so why were you calling him at almost 2am?

he decides to try and ignore it, going on the assumption that you'd accidentally called him. because why else would you?

but then again, what if you had meant to call. he would be even stupider to not call back and find out why.

his mind flicks between the two options as he bites down on his nail, heavily debating what to do. 

then he decides, clicking on the missed call notification. the phone starts to ring and he puts it on loudspeaker, turning the volume down.

he sits there waiting, picking at his nails as he tries not to regret his decision. but you'd called him, of course he was gonna return it. 

you pick up, holding your phone to your ear. “heyyy.” you chime. his eyes shoot over to the call, picking up the phone to hold it out in his hand. “hey.” he stutters, trying to clear his throat quietly. “you uh- you called me.” he mumbles, almost as a question.

“yeah, sorry ‘bout that.” you giggle. his body relaxes a little, now realising it was an accident. 

“my friends- they called you, stupid prank calling actually- sorry though.” you chuckle awkwardly, your words jumbling together as you struggle to get through your sentence. 

he realises you're drunk quite quickly, recognising the way you couldn't string a coherent sentence together, whilst also cramming in as many words as possible. 

“no worries.” he chuckles back, smiling at how funny you sounded when drunk. “just caught me by surprise is all.” he mumbles out, dragging the conversation just to hear more of your voice. 

“right yeah.” you huff, imagining that it probably scared the shit out of him. “sorry- again.” you slur apologetically. 

there's a small pause, and you think the call is done but then he speaks again. “you drunk?” he asks in amusement. 

you chuckle a little, brushing your hair out of your flushed face. “is it that obvious?” you retort, feigning nervousness. 

he chuckles back under his breath. “yeah.” he says blatantly, which made you sigh a little. 

“yeah well i'm seein’ double right now so.” you huff out, making him laugh. he always found you quite funny when drunk, saying double the amount you usually did as well as cracking shitty jokes left right and center. 

“you okay- like can you get home okay?” he asks, trying and failing miserably to sound casual, and not like he's worried about your safety. 

you smile at his concern, but you're too drunk to not tease him a little. “why, you worried ‘bout me or somethin’?”

he rolls his eyes, ignoring the shiver that went through his body at your teasing tone. “course i'm worried ‘bout you, dummy.” he mumbles out, not thinking twice about his response. 

your teasing demeanour drops at his words, your comment coming back to bite you in the ass. why did he have to be so goddamn nice?

he smirks at the silence, imagining your pretty little face reacting to his words. but he can't let that get to his head, as he shakes the thoughts away. “seriously though, whos lookin’ after you?” he asks, his voice more stern and serious than before. 

“friends”. you mumble back. “they're not all drunk.” you joke, to which he chuckles a little, nodding his head. it was difficult for him to hide how much he cared about you, and right now almost felt like an excuse to do so.

“okay, that's good.” he mumbles, almost more to himself than to you. “hope they're keeping you outta’ trouble.” he teases. he knows he really shouldn't talk to you like that, and that you only did because you're drunk. but he just couldn't help himself, always trying to feed into the chemistry you once had. or still have. 

“clearly not.” you tease back, giving back what he gave. his throat goes a little dry as you willingly continue this back and forth. he knows he shouldn't feed into it, he really knows that. but god do you make it difficult when you talk to him like that. 

“yeah, clearly not.” he scoffs back, shaking his head a little at your drunk boldness that he knew so well. “you call all your ex boyfriends when you're this drunk, or just me?” he retorts back, knowing he shouldn't, but not regretting a single word.

you chuckle under your breath, your face flushing either from the alcohol or from matt. “no, just you.” you breathe out shamelessly. 

“is that supposed to flatter me?” he mumbles through the phone, now just blatantly flirting with you.

you shrug, your teeth digging into your bottom lip. “only if you want it to.” you slur back, not really thinking about what you were saying. 

he knew you loved a flirt, and that it came naturally to you. so it wouldn't have been out of the realm to say he was taking advantage of your easy flirtation, something that only got better the drunker you got.

it was morally wrong all round. flirting with his drunk ex on the phone when he knew she had a boyfriend. 

and even though you were drunk off your head, you knew what you were doing. letting yourself flirt and talk to matt like that, saying what came to mind instead of just being friendly and civil. 

it's like you wanted to talk to him like that, and the only way to do so was blaming it on the alcohol in your system.

and it may have given you the confidence to say all that shit, but you knew how you really felt. the way that certain things would pop into your head to say, and you'd normally make the conscious effort to get rid of them, and push them down.

but now intoxicated, it was a lot harder to ignore those feelings, your tongue almost darting out of your mouth to spit out the words. like nothing else mattered other than you and matt.

“i miss you.” you whisper, hoarse and quiet.

matt's heart stops, his breath becoming shallow. your words doing more than he thought they would. 

and it wasn't just what you said, it was also the way you said it. like you'd been keeping it to yourself for too long, like it physically hurt you to say it. 

“i really do.” you mumble in the silence, sounding like you were about to burst into tears. he takes in a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest at the sound of your voice. 

“you're drunk.” he responds bluntly, trying to shut the conversation down. he knew you meant it, but talking to each other like this was stupid, and if you were in your right mind, you never would have said that.

your face drops, both hurt and embarrassment flooding through your body at the rejection. “what?” you mumble, half expecting matt to say it back, or at least say something. 

he sighs, squeezing his eyes shut as the words leave his mouth. “you're drunk, you don't know what you're saying.” he mumbles, not wanting to shut you down, but knowing he can't listen to you drunkenly slur about shit like that. 

“i mean it matt.” you croak out, hurt that he didn't believe you or that he really thought it wasn't true. he shakes his head, his heart clenching in his chest.

“no you don’t.” he whispers. maybe you did, but how could he sit with that narrative, that you'd already moved on with someone else…but you missed him.

none of it sat right with him, and he knew he had to let you go for both your sakes. and it was taking everything in him to do so, knowing that he was breaking your heart as well as his own.

“why are you  doing this?” you whisper, drunk and upset. of course you thought you were thinking clearly right now, putting everything out there. but you werent. you were just messing everything up.

he sniffles a little, taking a deep breath as he runs his hands over his face. “look, i think it's best if we don't talk anymore.” he says, the words twisting his stomach as he says them.

your already watering eyes prickle before tears begin to slide down your cheeks. “why are you doing this?” you repeat, it coming out in more of  a sob now. 

he can barely keep it together at the sound of your broken voice, using all his will power to not just take it back and make up, promising to talk again soon.

but he's in it now, and it has to be done. maybe if you were still single it would be easier, you could call and harmlessly flirt with eachother – fucked yourselves over, but only yourselves.

but you weren’t, and that harsh fact was the exact kick in the ass matt needed to actually get over you.

“because, you have a boyfriend, and i uh-” he swallows thickly, struggling to put his emotions into words. “i miss you too.” he mumbles out.

your breath catches in your throat, it's all you wanted to hear. but he was right, you did have a boyfriend now, and this wasn't fair to him. 

“i’m really sorry matt, for fucking it up.” you croak out quietly, knowing that this was the end. really the end. 

“you didn't.” he says back with a smile, tears now streaming down his cheek. neither of you knew what to say really, you didn't want this and he did. but a part of you knew that was just the alcohol talking, and if you were sober you would've done the mature thing. 

“take care matt.” you say, your voice wavering despite how hard you try to keep it still. he swallows, relishing in the sound of your voice, taking a deep breath.

“yeah, you too.” he says back softly, his finger already hovering over the hang up button, like if he hangs up it might just cut all the emotion away. maybe cut the string keeping you together. 

but he can't bring himself to do it, his fingers fidgeting in the air slightly. 

you take the plunge, pressing the red button as you let out a sigh, maybe of relief but more likely of pain, feeling like you couldn't breathe right now.

his eyes widen as the call ends, and for a second he gets freaked out, ready to call you back. but he knows he can't, despite how much he wants to.

he goes onto your contact, his eyes staring at the call button like there's something drawing him there, but instead he scrolls down, letting out a long breath as he deletes your number. 

it hurts, but now it's done it doesn't matter. he then thinks ahead, deleting all his call history so he can't see your number and now his phone is cleared, in the way he wishes his mind was. 

he doesn't know what to do now, sniffling back the tears.

you might talk again one day, but it would be on your accord, because you still had his number. and he hoped that day wouldn't come anytime soon, that there'd be enough time for you to both move on properly. because it was difficult, but god did he love you too much to not do it.

𐔌 ©.STURNSRECORD

notes. not sure if I like this or not, but finally here’s the gut wrenching part two

[psychotrenny]

I don't think "Fascist" is a very useful or accurate thing to call Caesar and his Legion (from Fallout: New Vegas) in the context of the game world itself. Like there are a lot of aesthetic similarities and basically all of their unironic real world fans are some sort of Nazi Nerd, but when talking about their place within the context of fictional post-nuclear Nevada it just doesn't work. Like Caesar's whole deal is that he's a Social Scientist who, living in a world that's been "blasted back to the Stone Age", figures that society must evolve through the same stages if it wants to properly return to modernity. The Legion is basically comprised of "Primitive Communists"* who've been forced into a Slave Society. His criticisms of the NCR boil down to them being a moribund remnant of/reversion to Old World Capitalism rather than something organically adapted to the post-Nuclear world. He repeatedly talks about how the Legion isn't meant to represent an ideal society but simply a stepping stone onto something better (the thesis that will clash with it's antithesis and evolve into a superior synthesis). His interactions with the Courier heavily imply that the Legion's Misogyny, Homophobia, Tech aversion etc. are much more tools of social organisation and control than values that Caesar personally holds. The Legion isn't just some band of mindlessly violent reactionaries but the product of very deliberate Social Engineering; a peculiarly post-nuclear sort of scientifically planned society

Now I'm not defending the Legion as a "good" choice or anything; Caesar's plan has a lot of problems, it's not hard to poke holes into and in terms of unadulterated cruelty The Legion is easily the most morally repugnant of the main factions. But the thing I really love about The Legion is how, within the specific context of Fallout's setting, it makes sense. Like once you really think about it you can understand why someone in Edward Sallow's position would arrive at these conclusions, and there are good reasons why (if you take your roleplaying seriously and don't treat the Player Character as an extension of yourself) someone living in this world might chose to side with him. The Legion may be terrible but it's not evil for the sake of evil; there's genuinely a compelling ideology behind it.

It's why I get sad when I see so many people dismiss them as the "dum dum fascist slavers" because there's so much more to them than that. Like I think the best part about The Legion is how ridiculous they first appear ("These raiders dress like Ben-Hur extras?????) but once you find out more about them then it all starts to click ("Oh I see their leader is trying to assimilate them into a distinct and alien culture in order to maintain their loyalty; severing their previous connections and giving them a whole new identity"). So it sucks to see so many people get caught up in the first part and never make enough connections to reach the second. Like in general, Fallout: New Vegas is very messy and flawed and yet it's full of all these interesting little nuances and I think that's worth appreciating it. It's why, time and time again, I keep walking down that dusty road

*in the very broad sense that Fallouts "Tribals" are meant to represent people who have reverted back to some sort of pre-state society; of course there are countless problems with how Fallout treats this matter (including but not limited to incredible amounts of racism) but in order to understand Caesar we're forced to meet the game on it's terms

[swimming-karyss]

Sabo: loneliness, connection and affection

Trying to organise my thoughts on this matter hehe

I just thought that Sabo's relationship with loneliness and connection are very interesting, and not much people talk about how terribly lonely his childhood days were(even compared to Ace&Luffy).

Ace has been alienated from people from the beginning. Raised in the middle of the jungle, by bandits who never showed much affection, and who repeated the same hurtful words as others did. The state of loneliness is the norm for him. He has never known any other life. Naturally, he'd be protective of what little he has(Sabo) and reluctant to open up and accept new connections(Luffy).

As for Luffy, he has been left alone. Shanks left him after a year staying at Windmill village. Garp constantly took him out of his regular life only to leave him alone in the jungle. And he as well took him away from the village and Makino, after he ate his devil fruit. And while he didn't have [present] parents, he had been cared for. Luffy knows the difference between loneliness and companionship. Which is why he chased Ace's recognition so much.

Sabo's situation is more similar to Luffy's.

But do you ever think that Sabo loved his parents? That he wanted them to love him too? He wouldn't have drawn them if he didn't. He wouldn't be so disheartened at their dismissal if he hated them from the start. But his parents made their love conditional. Sabo had to earn their love and his happiness, while they ignored his pain and attempts to connect. 

And as you know this kind of relationship could leave a lasting impact on how one navigates their future relationships! But on that later😊

Now, Sabo ran away and that opened a whole other can of worms. He's a child, that for five years didn't have anyone to rely on. Of course, Ace was with him, but after he left for the day, Sabo was left completely alone. I mean, at least Ace had Dadan and occasionally Makino and Garp, they shared meals together, he could turn to them in case something happened and they provided him with company and a roof above his head. Sabo lived on the Gray Terminal by himself, in a place where people considered him either a troublemaker to avoid, or a pest to get rid of (those like pirates and bandits). So through Ace and Luffy Sabo gains not only brothers but also other connections and people who care about him! And he welcomes both Dadan and Makino with a bright smile :) Now that I think about it, just like Ace told him about Luffy, he also must've told Sabo about them too🥹

And while all this is nice, his previous problems didn't go away magically. 

(… But his issues aren't stated or shown as explicitly as Ace and Luffy's, so they are easier to dismiss.)

Even though Sabo trusted Ace with his life, he still kept his origins a secret from him, whether it was because he felt them insignificant compared to Ace's or because he feared abandonment in case Ace would be disappointed. And he was more than willing to keep his secret until the very end - Luffy&Ace literally had to beat(strangle) the truth out of him. Sabo also put distance between them in another way too: Ace thought the two of them would sail together, Sabo didn't.

That is honestly also a point to how controlling his parents were. Sabo wanted freedom so much that he didn't mind the loneliness that came with it. Well, he got what he wanted ;) 

Now it would be easy to say that his amnesia also erased his trauma. But it didn't! Sabo still felt hid parents' influence. (And unlike the other weird amnesia case (the sea sure likes to take people's memories huh) - Big Mom - he didn't revert to his younger self, he only lost access to his memories, his feelings and 'character development' remained). If anything it only led to Sabo not being able to identify the cause of his issues → not being able to treat them properly. Now, the RA seem like decent guys, they very well could be the needed support system for Sabo, but again, it's an army with a whole lot of other issues to deal with. So either way his trauma most likely was allowed to fester for a while as we see its consequences show in his adulthood. 

Even though Sabo seems to be doing well as an adult, there's still some signs of emotional distance. He has never reciprocated a hug, even though he doesn't have a problem with physical touch in general, he didn't even think about approaching Luffy in Dressrosa at first and was very tense when actually talking to him. And it's honestly fascinating just how stiff his body language was in Dressrosa (maybe I'll talk about it in general some other time) - be it shock or anger he keeps his arms to his body, unlike Koala or Hack, who choose violence.

He also showed barely any reaction during Vegapunk's speech despite the panelling focusing on him specifically. I'd say he mostly keeps his negative emotions in check, bc in Robin's little flashback he was quite expressive! The main counterpoint is 'special Luff' where he is very open about his anger, but he has a really decent reason for it: his feelings being made fun of. And as you'll see later it's a very sensitive topic for him →

To begin with, he avoids talking about things that have emotionally impacted him in any way.

1.This one might be a stretch, but he begins to talk about his encounter with Fujitora, only not to say anything in the end, idk what's wrong with him; 2. After a very emotional fight with Burgess Sabo dismisses any worries without even mentioning the fight; 3. He refuses to talk with Hack about Luffy, even though we know that he loves to yap about him to Dragon. And that is right after he didn't want to wake Luffy up to even say goodbye! He also changes the topic quickly so Karasu wouldn't be able to further question him.

Even though these scenes are played as gags, he really seems to have trouble with emotional intimacy and opening up about his feelings. And that makes him seem inattentive and irresponsible, thus affecting his relationships with others even more… 

And speaking of which, he is accustomed with either suppressing his feelings or at least just keeping them in check. He hides his worries from his colleagues, appearing as cheerful as always. And during his meeting with Dragon and Iva he brushes aside his guilt and grief for king Kobra (but, I mean it's a work meeting, they need to be professional) and never once he acknowledges his injuries.

And if he's willing to disregard such a thing as grief, how do you think he really feels about his new title, which was gained by the blood of a man he failed to save?

And frankly, right now we don't know much about Sabo! We know about his childhood, and the way he presents himself now(and that is some material to work with), but the 12 years in the Revolutionary Army are a mystery, and again it's an army, I bet he's seen many things, especially considering how high his position is!

tldr: like Luffy, Sabo has a special relationship with loneliness and abandonment. But unlike Luffy, who especially in pre-ts hated separation, Sabo pushes people away. And what makes it even harder for others to connect with him, is that he tends to hide his feelings and problems.

(like a cat)

but again, I might be reading something wrong, my bad

[jillsandwhichs]

Warm winter night

Chapter 9 to Joel Miller x Reader Smutshot Collection

Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: You & Joel get snowed in your home due to a snow storm. While you're more upset about it, Joel takes advantage of the time you two have together

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Married

WC: 2.7k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Making out, Dirty talk, Breast play, Spanking, Hair pulling, Oral (F receives), Overstimulation, Unprotected P in V, Doggy style, Clit rubbing, He finishes in you & A bit of aftercare

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

"I can't believe we're snowed in." You exclaimed with annoyance. This isn't convenient at all, it is a massive bother. You had plans for this evening. You wanted to do some last minute grocery shopping and stop by the bank before it closes but of course, mother nature has to work against you per usual. Your husband, Joel, looked up from his book and watched as you paced from the sliding door to the living room, where he was sat.

The fireplace was going and it's crackling was satisfying but also a plain reminder of the fact it is Winter time - hence why you two are snowed in. You thought you two moving to Wyoming would be good but you completely discounted the fact snow would end up being an issue. You plopped down on the couch with a groan, arms crossed & your face pouty.

Joel was indulged in his book but he looked away from it, gazing at you. "Is the princess okay?" He teased and smirked at you. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. "No," you fixed your position, now sitting crisscross on the couch, "I am irritated." "So I can see." Joel snickered and closed his book, setting it on the end table and reverting his attention to fully focus on you.

There was just a lot you wanted to get done today and now all you'll be able to think about is the fact you won't be able to do any of it. You sighed deeply and glanced over at your husband who was already looking at you. "We won't even be able to order dinner tonight." You whined. "I'll have to cook." He laughed at you and pulled you into his arms, the two of you now laying together on the couch. "You let me handle dinner tonight, alright?" It's so sexy when he takes charge. "Ok baby." You responded.

Joel began to gently caress your legs, massaging them and getting you relaxed rather quickly. "You just need to relax babygirl, enough with the worryin'." Joel stated in a stern way to you. He isn't necessarily wrong. You can't help it. "I know," You nodded and let out a deep breath you felt you'd been holding in. "I love to just be in charge and get things done." "Trust me, I know." Joel snickered and was now massaging your feet firmly, getting out all the pressure and knots.

"It's nice like this though, you've gotta admit darlin'." "What exactly are you referring to?" "Us being snowed in together. Better than us bein' apart, yeah?" You smiled at his words and nodded. "You are right babe." There's no other person you'd rather be stuck with than your husband. Being with him is heaven's official blessing. "Ugh, it hurts." You referred to him pushing on your feet, trying to release the tension buried within them. "Oh hush it." He huffed out.

After he was finished with your feet, he let them go and gandered over at you. You looked into his eyes and sat up, laying back in his arms as you were just moments ago. He held you close and kissed the top of your head, his thumb rubbing up and down on your upper arm, calming you easily. "What's got you in such a mood?" You broke out into a laugh before glancing up at him, getting a close glance at his handsome, rugged face. "Nothin'. Can I not love up on my wife? Since when is that a crime baby?"

Oh Joel and his theatrics.

You giggled and kissed his chin, his scruff scraping against your lips. "Nothing is wrong with that, I was just curious." You snorted and placed your hand on his chest. It was rising up and down at a pace in which was comforting for you to feel. His heart was beating a bit quicker than usual but that's normal from time to time. Joel leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you lovingly. Anytime the two of you kiss it is as if sparks fly. It's your most favorite thing to do.

As the two of you kissed more, his hands swiftly moved to your waist, holding it. As he held you, you felt his fingers dig into your skin, earning a slight but evident moan out of you. "Joel," You stuttered, his hands now trailing down to your ass where he then squeezed it and left a vibrant spank on it. You giggled and as you did, he took his chance to slither his tongue into your mouth, kissing you more passionately now.

He pulled you into his lap and you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as much as you could. His lips are soft and are exactly what you need. "Baby," You giggled, pulling away and resting your arms on his shoulders. "Hm?" He mumbled. "You're so hard," You gawked, being able to feel his dick beneath you - it is practically begging to be inside of you. "Can't help myself baby." Joel said simply before kissing you again.

As you two made out more, his hands went to the end of your tank top before he then removed it. You weren't wearing a bra beneath it, so your breasts came out, free and in need. Joel's mouth was basically watering before he latched onto one of your nipples, suckling on it with pressure and force that couldn't be matched. This was all escalating so fast but you didn't mind. Now all you wanted was Joel - and that cock of his.

Your hands ran erratically through his brown, messy hair as he went back and fourth between both of your tits, sucking on both and ensuring your arousal. You could feel a pool of wetness becoming of in your panties and it's yearning for Joel's touch. "Fuck babe." You moaned as he popped your nipple out of his mouth with a snicker. "I love doin' that to ya sweet girl." "Clearly." You panted, glancing down at your boobs which now had a glistening coat on them from where he was sucking.

You took off his shirt and threw it on the floor. You shivered from the cold but you ignore it as best as you can, knowing you'll be very warm here shortly. You are wet. It's crazy how easily Joel turns you on. He's hard, very hard, you can feel it between your legs pressing against you. You cannot wait to have him inside of you, fucking you as hard as he possibly can.

His chest pressed up against yours, your boobs meshing to meet his chest. "I want you." You moaned in between kisses. You are practically begging for him at this point. "I want you baby, and I'm gonna take ya." He then lifted you up into his arms. You giggled and held onto him. He was walking over towards your guy's shared bedroom. You figured the two of you were just going to make love on the couch but he clearly has a different plan in mind.

Joel tossed you onto the bed and you laughed, loving how rough he can be with you sometimes. You watched he pulled his brown leather belt out through the loops of his jeans and dropped it onto the along with said jeans. His boxers were still on as he climbed onto the bed, kissing you in a rushed manner, backing you onto the bed. Your head hit the pillow with a *ploof* noise and you slid your tongue into his wet, warm mouth once again.

You encased your arms around his neck, pulling him closer against you. As you two made out, you felt his hands amble down to your shorts where he then pulled them off along with your panties. You shivered due to the cold air hitting your pale body and he held you close, wanting you to feel safe and warm. "I'm goin' make a mess outta you." Joel murmured against your ear as he began to kiss and nibble it, traversing down to your neck.

His words and his touch... Oh they are immaculate. You laid comfortably against the pillow and fully gave yourself to Joel; He is free to do whatever he pleases with you and your body. His kisses went from your neck and suddenly down to your stomach where he took his sweet time. Those kisses he leaves on you were quick to relax you and have you ready for him. At this point, you can feel yourself pulsing with need and hunger for this man.

His fingers went from being pressed into your thigh to know going to your pussy where he stuck his index in your folds, feeling how wet you are. "Fuck sakes," Joel whispered, taking his finger up to his mouth and tasting you as if you were an appetizer before his grand meal, "So wet for me, hm?" He said with a cocky tone. "Baby, just please, do it already, I want you." You begged for him to just please you, to make you cum. It's all you want right now.

Joel chuckled and nodded. "Shh babygirl, don't worry, you're going to get exactly what you want." Whenever he says that, he isn't lying. Joel is the one man in this whole wide world who knows how to please you just right. He kissed more down your stomach until he reached your pussy. You were shaking at this point, shaking with need. All you want is for him to touch you, to please you in any way. "Oh," you moaned out as he started to kiss and bite on your inner thighs.

This process was slow, Joel knows it is. He takes him time with you, making you all wet and ready for him. He'll act as if he's going to finally start eating you out, then he'll pull away to kiss your lips or to nibble on your thighs. It's frustrating and that is exactly why Joel does it. "Fuck, please, just do it." You squeezed your thighs around his head, forcing him to stay in his place. This earned a giggle out of him before he then pulled your thighs off of his head and immediately began to lap at you relentlessly.

Now this is it. He'll make you cum over... And over... And over again, overstimulation at its finest. "Joel! Oh, holy fuck." You moaned out loudly as his tongue worked absolute wonders on you, making you squirm and causing your legs to shake like crazy. "Just like that... Oh..." You sighed softly, loving how fast and delicate he is with you. "Taste so damn good." Joel managed to mumble out in between suckles & licks.

He teased your clit repeatedly. Over and over again, he lapped and it and would wrap his lips around it, sucking it right up. It's too much. It feels so good. Your stomach is doing all sorts of flips & tricks currently. Your legs are shaking from the pleasure and before you know it, you'll be cumming on his face, just how he likes it. "Joel..." You panted out as he just continued to please you. Now it's becoming too much.

"I'm gonna cum." "Oh yeah? Cum for me darlin'." Joel stated in that low, deep, sexy tone to you. You love when he does that. "Oh fuck!" Your body then shook due to your orgasm as he rubbed your clit and licked at your tight, little hole. Vibrations and waves of pleasure coursed through your body like never before. "Okay, okay, fuck." You don't even know what you're saying, you aren't even in reality anymore.

He didn't stop. His thumb rubbed your clit as fast as it could go and his tongue was moving swiftly along your dripping cunt. You knew he'd do this. It's too much, too fucking much. "Baby!" You squealed as he kept it up. It was only becoming more and more intense. You seriously feel another climax overcoming you. "C'mon baby, you handle it, I know you can." Joel whispered to you. Well when he puts it that way, how can you deny him the pleasure of seeing you this way?

You know he loves watching you unfold under his touch. He gets off on it like he's some sort of a sadist. It's sexy, honestly. "You can do it baby, just take it." He egged you on. You moaned as he continued to rub your clit with haste and suckle all over your cunt - not a single crevice was left unlicked. "Doin' so well." The way he praises you... It's so attractive. No matter how much he does it, you still love it all the same.

Just a bit longer and you came again. You felt your fluids dripping down your inner thighs and onto your guy's bed. You don't even care, you are too blinded by lust and need to care. Joel chuckled and kissed your clit gently before finally pulling away. "Made you cum twice... How about a third?" He then flipped you onto your stomach and lifted your ass up to meet his pelvic area. He brought his palm down and gave it a proud smack, earning a squeal out of you.

Joel pulled down his boxers and his erect cock hit your ass. You could tell he is insanely horny, just as you are. "Look at how hard you got me babygirl. You did this." He squeezed your rear end and then kissed it (He's an ass guy). You giggled and bit your lip. "And I don't regret a damn thing." You whispered to him. He scoffed out a laugh before suddenly slipping his dick inside of you, pushing himself as deep into you as he could.

You knew you'd get a rise out of him, and that's exactly why you said it.

Your pussy is still sensitive but he continued nonetheless. His thrusts and pounds into you were relentlessly, just as his wet tounge was. He's big, so very big. Each time he moves into you, it's heaven on Earth. "Talk like that again, see what happens." Joel grunted out as he pushed himself deeper into you, hitting your sweet spot before pulling back, only to repeat this sensual process.

"You heard me Joel," You moaned out as his sudden pick up of pace, "I don't regret a thing. I love knowing that I do infact have some control over you." You giggled out. Joel scoffed and immediately snatched your hair up into his hand, pulling on it roughly as he slammed into you at a harder rate. "You don't have any fuckin' control over me, remember that." Oh you will.

Your mouth was agape as he fucked you, your hair being pulled and your pussy being destroyed. Joel can handle you, oh yes he can. "You're a funny girl sweetheart, to think that way." He then leaned down and kissed you. It was sloppy but meaningful. A string of spit appeared between both of your guy's mouth before he kissed you again and abruptly pulled away.

Your legs began to wobble and you could hardly hold yourself up. You felt your legs completely giving out beneath you. "No," He pulled your legs back up, "Stay in your fucking place." He ordered, which only made you turned on further. It's safe to say you love when Joel is in control. "I'm gonna cum soon, just stay put baby." He practically pleaded with you. You simply smiled.

His hands grip was now tighter and his other hand moved away from your hip to spank you. When he did that, it was ultimately your undoing.

Your body shook and you suddenly felt his hand swerve between your legs. He rubbed your clit as you came which caused your walls to clench around him furthermore, helping him bust deep inside of you. "Good fuckin' Lord, good girl." Joel whispered as he came inside of you, his semen seeping out of your hole slightly. You whined and held onto the sheets beneath you for support.

Eventually, Joel pulled out of you. He picked you up into his arms as if you were a ragdoll and he held you close. There is nothing more intimate than aftercare. He kissed the top of your sweaty hair and caressed your flushed cheeks. "You okay dear?" He asked you in a subtle whisper. "I am." You reassured him before kissing his cheek and clinging to him as if you are a spider monkey.

Joel snickered and patted your ass, standing up and holding you close. "Want me to run us a bath? Then I'll cook dinner and we can watch that stupid ass show you've been into." You laughed at his description of the show you've been watching and you nodded. "Yes please, I would love that."

You really would.

[velvetvisionsaurora]

Synopsis: When talented producer Y/n (known professionally as the mysterious "Celeste") accepts a position at JYP Entertainment to help Stray Kids with their comeback, she expects to focus solely on creating music. What she doesn't expect is the immediate connection she feels with Han Jisung—the group's quick-witted, sensitive rapper and producer who's been following her career from afar.

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Smut, Heartbreak

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Masterlist Ko-fi☕️ <- Want to buy me a coffee?

Chapter 16: Breaking Point

Three days after your date with Jiwoo, the tension in the studio had become almost unbearable. Your initial resolve to maintain professional composure was crumbling under the weight of constant proximity to Han, whose own behavior had shifted in ways you couldn't quite interpret. Where before he had been carefully neutral, now he seemed to alternate between avoiding eye contact entirely and watching you with an intensity that made your skin prickle with awareness.

The date with Jiwoo—which you hadn't repeated despite his polite follow-up message—had somehow changed the dynamic, though you couldn't understand why. If Han truly believed his feelings for you had been circumstantial, why would your dinner with someone else affect him at all?

Yet something had shifted, creating a volatile undercurrent that threatened the professional environment you'd both worked so hard to maintain after the breakup. Other members had begun to notice as well, exchanging concerned glances when production discussions between you and Han became clipped and tense, when creative disagreements that would have previously been resolved through collaborative compromise turned into stubborn standoffs.

Today's session had begun normally enough—reviewing the final mix of the title track, making minor adjustments to levels and effects. But tension had been building incrementally, each small interaction between you and Han carrying the weight of unspoken words and suppressed emotions.

"The vocal reverb on the bridge needs reduction," you noted, making an adjustment to the mix without waiting for agreement. "It's muddying the instrumental texture."

Han frowned, reaching to revert your change. "The reverb provides depth. Without it, the transition feels two-dimensional."

"The depth should come from the arrangement, not artificial effects," you countered, your tone more brusque than usual. "The composition is strong enough to stand without excessive processing."

Chan glanced between you, clearly sensing the growing tension. "Maybe we could try a compromise? Reduce the reverb slightly but maintain some of that atmospheric quality?"

"The current level is already a compromise," Han insisted, an edge entering his voice that would have been unthinkable in your earlier collaborations. "Further reduction undermines the emotional impact of the section."

"That's your subjective interpretation," you responded, professional patience wearing dangerously thin. "Objectively, the mix is cleaner and more effective with reduced reverb."

"Music isn't objective," Han shot back, frustration evident in his posture. "It's emotional expression, not mathematical calculation."

"And professional production is about balancing expression with technical quality," you countered, the argument moving beyond the specific issue into broader philosophical territory. "Sometimes that means making choices that serve the overall composition rather than individual preferences."

Changbin exchanged a concerned look with Chan, both clearly uncomfortable with the escalating tension. "Maybe we should take a break," he suggested cautiously. "Get some fresh perspective."

"The perspective is clear," Han stated firmly, his gaze challenging as it met yours across the console. "The reverb stays as is."

Something in his tone—the flat finality, the dismissal of your professional judgment—broke through your carefully maintained composure. "You don't get to make unilateral decisions about this mix," you said, your voice dangerously quiet. "That's not how collaboration works."

"Isn't it?" Han replied, something bitter entering his expression. "I thought making decisions for other people was standard practice around here."

The comment landed like a slap, its meaning clear only to you—a reference to his decision to end your relationship without discussion, to declare his feelings insufficient without giving you a voice in the matter. The sudden intrusion of personal history into professional disagreement crossed a line that had been carefully maintained for weeks.

"That's completely inappropriate," you said, standing abruptly from your station. "And entirely irrelevant to this discussion."

"Is it?" Han challenged, rising as well, the professional pretense crumbling further with each exchange. "Or is it the root of the whole problem?"

Chan stepped forward, alarm evident in his expression. "Okay, let's definitely take that break now. Fifteen minutes, everyone cool down, then we'll revisit this with clear heads."

But the breaking point had been reached, weeks of suppressed hurt and confusion finally boiling over into words that couldn't be taken back.

"You don't get to act like the injured party here," you said, gathering your belongings with trembling hands. "You made your feelings—or lack thereof—perfectly clear. You don't then get to have opinions about how I process that or who I spend time with."

Han's expression flickered with something like pain before hardening again. "I never claimed to have opinions about that. Your personal life is your business."

"Then why the sudden hostility since the date?" you demanded, abandoning professional reservation entirely. "If you truly meant what you said about your feelings not being deep enough, why does it matter to you what I do outside this studio?"

The question hung in the air between you, loaded with implications neither of you were prepared to address directly. Chan and Changbin remained frozen in place, clearly uncertain whether intervention would improve the situation or escalate it further.

"It doesn't matter to me," Han insisted, though his tense posture and averted gaze suggested otherwise. "I'm focused on the music, which is why I'm advocating for the production choices that best serve the composition."

"Right," you replied, disbelief evident in your tone. "This is exclusively about reverb levels, not about you attempting to assert control in one area since you've lost it in another."

The psychological assessment was cutting in its accuracy, causing Han to flinch visibly before his expression hardened into something distant and cold. "Believe whatever you want. I'm trying to create the best possible album, which is what we're all here for, supposedly."

"Yes, it is," you agreed, a sudden clarity washing over you as the full weight of the situation settled in your chest. "And I'm beginning to think my physical presence here is becoming detrimental to that goal."

Chan stepped forward, concern deepening in his expression. "Y/n, that's not—"

"It's true," you interrupted quietly. "The current dynamic isn't sustainable or productive. We need to find a different approach."

Without further elaboration, you turned and left the studio, ignoring Chan's call of your name as the door closed behind you. The walk to your dorm passed in a blur of hurt and clarity, each step cementing the decision that had been forming in your mind since the argument began.

Inside your dorm, you moved directly to your laptop, opening your email with shaking hands but absolute certainty about what needed to be done. The message you composed was professional and straightforward, addressed to JYP's production director with copies to your management team in LA:

Subject: Request for Remote Completion of Contract

Dear Director Park,

I am writing to formally request modification of my remaining contract obligations with JYP Entertainment. After careful consideration, I believe the project would be best served by my completing the remaining production work remotely from Los Angeles rather than continuing in Seoul.

The album is now in final mixing stages, with all major production elements established and approved in yesterday's executive review. The remaining work—final mixing adjustments, mastering supervision, and production notes—can be effectively accomplished through digital collaboration, as is standard practice in many international productions.

My team in LA has confirmed the availability of appropriate studio facilities to ensure seamless continuation of the project, and I am prepared to maintain the established timeline for completion.

I believe this arrangement will provide the most efficient path to completing the album at the quality level JYP expects and deserves. I remain fully committed to delivering an exceptional product and am available for immediate discussion of logistical details.

Thank you for your consideration of this request.

Sincerely, Celeste. Executive Producer

You read through the message twice, verifying that the tone remained entirely professional with no hint of the personal complications driving your decision. Satisfied that it represented a reasonable business request rather than an emotional reaction, you clicked send before you could reconsider.

The solution wasn't perfect—remote collaboration would present its own challenges—but it would provide the distance needed to complete the project without the daily emotional strain that had become increasingly unbearable. Seven weeks of careful professional distance had proven unsustainable; perhaps physical separation would allow both you and Han to refocus on the work rather than the complicated feelings neither of you seemed able to fully suppress.

As the email departed into digital space, a profound exhaustion settled over you, the adrenaline of confrontation giving way to a bone-deep weariness. You'd come to Seoul for a professional opportunity, a chance to expand your production repertoire and work with talented artists in a different cultural context. Somehow, that straightforward assignment had evolved into the most emotionally complicated experience of your career.

The worst part was how much you'd come to care—not just about Han, though that remained a raw wound, but about all of them. Felix with his sunshine warmth and perceptive friendship. I.N. with his endearing combination of youthful enthusiasm and surprising maturity. Hyunjin with his dramatic flair hiding genuine depth. Chan's steady leadership, Changbin's quiet insight, Lee Know's observant calm, Seungmin's thoughtful intelligence.

They had become more than colleagues, more than the subjects of a temporary assignment. They had become something like family, a realization that made your decision to leave prematurely all the more painful. But continuing in the current environment would only damage both the project and the relationships you'd developed.

Sometimes the kindest choice was also the most difficult. Distance, in this case, might be the greatest gift you could offer—to the album, to the group, to Han, and to yourself.

Your phone chimed with a message from Felix: "You okay? Chan told me you left suddenly after an argument."

The concern was touching but also a reminder of how intertwined your personal and professional lives had become here—precisely the complication that had led to the current situation.

"I'm fine," you replied, the standard response when one is anything but. "Just needed space to think."

The truth would come soon enough, once your request was processed and approved. For now, you needed time to begin the mental and emotional preparation for departure, for returning to LA weeks earlier than planned, for saying goodbye to people who had come to mean far more than you'd ever anticipated.

Seven weeks suddenly reduced to days, perhaps even hours, depending on how quickly management processed your request. Time that would now be measured in goodbyes rather than ongoing collaboration, in packing rather than production, in ending rather than creating.

It wasn't what you'd wanted or expected when you'd accepted this assignment. But sometimes the only way forward was to step away, however painful the separation might be.

---

The atmosphere in the studio remained tense in your absence, Han's expression closed and defensive as Chan and Changbin exchanged concerned glances, uncertain how to proceed after the unprecedented confrontation.

"Maybe I should go check on her," Chan suggested finally, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen after your departure.

"Give her space," Han countered, turning back to the console with forced focus. "We can continue working on the other tracks while she processes."

Changbin's expression reflected clear disapproval, though he directed his comment to Chan rather than Han. "Should we reschedule today's session? The energy isn't exactly conducive to creative work right now."

Before Chan could respond, the studio door opened to reveal Manager Kim, his expression uncharacteristically grave as he surveyed the room, noting your absence with a slight frown.

"Chan," he said, gesturing toward the hallway. "A word, please."

Han watched with growing unease as Chan followed the manager outside, the door closing behind them with a soft but somehow ominous click. Something about Manager Kim's expression, the unusual interruption of a production session, sent a chill of premonition through Han's system.

"What do you think that's about?" he asked Changbin, trying to keep his tone casual despite the anxiety building in his chest.

Changbin shrugged, though his expression suggested concern rather than indifference. "Probably related to what just happened here. Word travels fast in this building."

The observation only increased Han's discomfort. If Manager Kim had heard about their argument, about the personal tension that had infected the professional environment, would he make the connection to his earlier warning about inappropriate relationships? Would you face professional consequences because Han had failed to maintain the careful boundaries that were supposed to protect your career?

The minutes stretched endlessly as Han waited for Chan's return, each scenario his imagination conjured worse than the last. When the door finally reopened, Chan's expression confirmed his worst fears—something significant had happened, something that wouldn't be easily resolved.

"What is it?" Changbin asked, voicing the question Han couldn't bring himself to form.

Chan closed the door carefully before turning to face them, his expression a mixture of concern and resignation. "Y/n has requested to complete her contract remotely from LA. Effective immediately."

The news landed like a physical blow, leaving Han momentarily breathless as the implications registered. You were leaving. Not in seven weeks as scheduled, but now. Immediately. Without proper goodbyes or resolution or any of the closure he'd imagined might eventually come.

"She can't do that," he protested automatically, though he knew intellectually that you absolutely could—remote collaboration was standard in the industry, especially for international projects.

"Apparently she can," Chan replied, his tone carefully neutral though his eyes reflected concern as they assessed Han's reaction. "Management has approved the request. She'll be flying back to LA tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow?" Changbin repeated, genuine shock evident in his voice. "That's... abrupt."

Chan nodded, moving to his workstation with a sigh. "The email chain I was just shown suggests she made a compelling case for why remote completion makes sense at this stage of production. Technically, she's right—we're in final mixing, most of the creative heavy lifting is done. But the timing..."

He let the observation hang, the implication clear to everyone in the room. The timing, immediately following a heated argument with Han that crossed professional boundaries, was no coincidence.

"This is because of what happened today," Han said quietly, the reality settling in his chest like a stone. "Because I couldn't maintain professional separation."

Neither Chan nor Changbin contradicted this assessment, their silence confirmation enough. The weight of responsibility pressed Han further into his seat—you were leaving Seoul weeks ahead of schedule, abandoning the close-knit creative environment that had produced such exceptional work, because he had failed to honor the very boundaries he'd established to protect your career.

"We need to tell the others," Chan said finally, reaching for his phone. "I'll call a meeting at the dorm in an hour. Everyone should hear this together."

Han nodded numbly, unable to formulate a response that wouldn't reveal the full extent of his guilt and regret. You were leaving because of him—because of his inability to reconcile his feelings with his actions, because of the tension his deception had created, because continuing in his presence had become unsustainable.

The protection he'd claimed to provide through ending your relationship had ultimately failed, driving you away physically as well as emotionally. The irony was bitter, the failure complete. In trying to shield you from professional damage, he had created a situation so untenable that leaving early had become your only viable option.

Seven weeks reduced to less than twenty-four hours. Whatever slim hope he might have harbored for eventual resolution, for some kind of closure or understanding before your scheduled departure, had been extinguished by his own actions. The realization was devastating in its finality, in the absolute certainty that he had lost something precious through his own misguided choices.

---

The dorm living room was unusually silent as the eight members gathered, the somber atmosphere suggesting Chan had provided some context for the emergency meeting when summoning everyone. Han sat slightly apart from the others, hyperaware of the occasional glances cast in his direction—some concerned, others accusatory, none particularly comforting.

"I've called everyone here because there's been a significant development regarding the album production," Chan began, his leader persona firmly in place despite the personal nature of the situation. "Y/n has requested and received approval to complete her contract remotely from Los Angeles. She'll be flying out tomorrow morning."

Despite the hints Chan had clearly provided beforehand, the official announcement was met with immediate reactions of shock and distress.

"Tomorrow?" Felix repeated, dismay evident in his expression. "But she wasn't supposed to leave for seven more weeks."

"What happened?" Seungmin asked, his perceptive gaze moving between Chan and Han. "This seems sudden."

Chan hesitated, clearly considering how much detail was appropriate to share. "There was a disagreement during today's session that... escalated beyond professional bounds. Y/n feels the project would be better served by her completing the work remotely."

"A disagreement," Hyunjin repeated flatly, his eyes narrowing as they fixed on Han. "Would this 'disagreement' have anything to do with certain personal complications that have been affecting the studio atmosphere for weeks?"

Han met his gaze briefly before looking away, unable to deny the accusation but unwilling to elaborate on the specific exchange that had pushed you to your breaking point.

"This is ridiculous," Felix said, frustration evident in his usually cheerful voice. "She can't just leave without proper goodbyes. Without closure. Without..." he trailed off, the unspoken 'fixing things with Han' hanging in the air.

"Apparently she can," Lee Know observed quietly. "And given the situation, it's hard to blame her for wanting distance."

The pointed comment wasn't directed explicitly at Han, but its target was unmistakable nonetheless. Han remained silent, accepting the implicit criticism as his due. This outcome was the result of his choices, his actions, his failure to navigate the complicated circumstances he'd helped create.

"So that's it?" I.N. asked, his voice small and hurt in a way that made Han's chest tighten with fresh guilt. "Noona is just... leaving? Without saying goodbye?"

The Korean term of affection—the one you'd once mentioned touched you deeply when I.N. first used it—highlighted the personal bonds that had formed beyond professional collaboration. Bonds that would now be severed prematurely, leaving no opportunity for proper farewells or closure.

"I'm sure she'll say her goodbyes," Chan assured him, though his tone lacked conviction. "She wouldn't leave without at least messaging everyone."

"A text isn't the same as a proper goodbye," Hyunjin argued, his usual dramatic flair underscored by genuine emotion. "We should at least have a dinner or something before she goes. A chance to properly thank her for everything she's done."

"I'll reach out and suggest it," Chan agreed, though his expression suggested limited hope for success. "But given the circumstances..."

His gaze flickered briefly to Han, the implication clear—your desire for separation likely extended beyond professional considerations to include distance from Han specifically, making a group gathering potentially uncomfortable or unwelcome.

"This is completely messed up," Felix stated, voice rising with uncharacteristic anger. "She belongs here, with us, finishing what we started together. The album won't be the same without her physical presence."

"The production quality won't suffer," Chan assured him, ever the professional leader. "Y/n is still fully committed to the project, just from a different location."

"It's not about the production quality," Felix countered, frustration evident in his expression. "It's about the creative energy, the collaborative spirit, the family we've become. You can't replicate that through digital communication."

The word 'family' sent another wave of guilt through Han's system. You had indeed become something like family to many of the members—Felix's best friend, I.N.'s surrogate sister, a valued confidant and creative partner to others. Those connections would now be severed prematurely because of his inability to manage the personal complications he had helped create.

"This wouldn't be happening if certain people hadn't made things unnecessarily complicated," Hyunjin observed, not bothering to disguise the accusation in his tone as he looked directly at Han. "If feelings had been communicated honestly instead of whatever game has been playing out for weeks."

"Hyunjin," Chan warned, clearly trying to prevent further escalation. "Placing blame doesn't help the situation now."

"Doesn't it?" Hyunjin challenged, rising from his seat with building emotion. "Because I think acknowledging exactly why Y/n feels she needs to flee the country might be pretty relevant to fixing the problem."

Han remained silent, accepting Hyunjin's anger as justified given his limited understanding of the situation. Without knowing about Manager Kim's warning, about the potential career consequences you had faced, Hyunjin's interpretation was understandable—Han had created complications through his own emotional cowardice rather than legitimate concern for your professional future.

"It can't be fixed," Han said finally, the words emerging with quiet resignation. "Some situations don't have simple solutions, no matter how much we might want them to."

His response only seemed to fuel Hyunjin's frustration. "That's convenient, isn't it? Declaring something unfixable rather than actually trying to resolve it."

"You don't understand the full situation," Lee Know interjected, surprising Han with the partial defense. "There are complications beyond what's immediately apparent."

The comment suggested Lee Know had shared at least some of what Han had revealed about Manager Kim's warning, though clearly not with everyone given Hyunjin and Felix's continuing anger. The realization was both concerning and somewhat relieving—Han wasn't carrying the full weight of knowledge alone anymore, yet the circle of awareness was expanding in potentially dangerous ways.

"Then enlighten us," Felix challenged, his usually warm demeanor hardened by concern for you. "Because from where I'm sitting, we're losing someone important because of unresolved personal issues that should never have interfered with the professional environment in the first place."

The accusation stung precisely because it contained truth—the boundaries between personal and professional had indeed blurred beyond recovery, creating the very situation Han had feared from the beginning. Your career was potentially still at risk, but now from a different angle—the premature termination of your Seoul assignment, the unusual contract modification, the implied interpersonal complications that might raise questions with future employers or collaborators.

Before Han could formulate a response to Felix's challenge, a sound broke through the tense atmosphere—a sob, quickly stifled but unmistakable in the otherwise silent room. All heads turned toward I.N., the youngest member's eyes filling with tears he was clearly struggling to contain.

"It's not fair," he said, voice trembling with emotion. "Noona belongs here. With us. With her family."

The raw hurt in his expression, the genuine distress at your impending departure, broke something in Han's carefully maintained composure. I.N. had formed a special bond with you—the sibling-like relationship that had brought him comfort and guidance throughout your time in Seoul. That connection would now be severed prematurely because of Han's actions, his choices, his inability to navigate the complicated feelings between you without creating a situation that drove you away.

"I.N.—" Han began, though he had no idea what comfort he could possibly offer.

"This is your fault!" I.N. exclaimed suddenly, tears flowing freely now as he rose to his feet, hurt transforming into uncharacteristic anger directed squarely at Han. "You did something to make her want to leave, and now she's going away, and everything is ruined!"

The direct accusation from the usually gentle maknae stunned everyone into silence, the unprecedented outburst highlighting just how deeply your impending departure was affecting the group dynamics. I.N.'s relationship with you had been special—the noona/dongsaeng dynamic giving him a different kind of support than he received from the other members.

"You have to fix it," I.N. continued, voice breaking with emotion but conviction unwavering. "Whatever you did or said, you have to make it right. Noona belongs here, with her adoptive family. She was happy here until... until whatever happened between you two."

The plea was so earnest, so heartfelt that Han found himself unable to maintain eye contact, the weight of I.N.'s disappointment too heavy to bear directly. "It's not that simple," he said quietly, the familiar explanation feeling increasingly hollow with each repetition.

"Why not?" I.N. demanded, surprising everyone with his persistence. "If you care about her—and don't pretend you don't, we all see how you look at her—why can't you just be honest? Why can't you fix whatever broke?"

The simple question cut through Han's complex justifications with brutal efficiency. Why couldn't he just be honest? Why couldn't he trust you with the truth about Manager Kim's warning, about his real feelings, about the fear that had driven his decisions? Was protecting your career worth the pain his deception had caused—not just to you and himself, but to others who had formed meaningful connections with you during your time in Seoul?

"I.N., it's more complicated than—" Chan began, trying to defuse the situation with his usual diplomatic approach.

"It's NOT!" I.N. interrupted, tears streaming down his face now as emotion overwhelmed his usual respectful demeanor. "It's only complicated because people make things complicated! If you care about someone, you fight for them! You don't let them leave without even trying to make things right!"

The raw emotion in I.N.'s outburst silenced even Chan, the leader clearly recognizing that this was something the youngest member needed to express rather than be soothed away. I.N. rarely showed such intense feelings, his usually cheerful or thoughtfully quiet demeanor giving way only in exceptional circumstances.

This, apparently, qualified as exceptional.

"Please, hyung," I.N. pleaded, looking directly at Han with tear-filled eyes. "Please fix this. Please don't let noona leave like this."

The naked vulnerability in the request struck Han somewhere fundamental, breaking through layers of justification and self-protection to the core truth he'd been avoiding: his choices had hurt not just you and himself, but others who cared about you both. The ripple effects of his well-intentioned deception had expanded beyond anything he'd anticipated, creating pain he'd never intended.

"I'll try," Han heard himself say, the words emerging before conscious thought could censor them. "I can't promise it will work, but... I'll try."

The commitment, however tentative, seemed to provide I.N. with some measure of comfort. He nodded once, wiping tearfully at his face before retreating to Felix's supportive embrace, the older member murmuring gentle reassurances as he held the still-trembling maknae.

Han looked around the room, taking in the various expressions directed his way—Hyunjin's skepticism, Chan's concerned encouragement, Lee Know's knowing assessment, Changbin's cautious hope. Whatever happened next, whatever attempt he made to resolve the situation with you, would unfold with these witnesses, these people who cared about both of you in different ways.

The protection he'd sought through deception had failed. The careful distance he'd maintained had crumbled. The professional environment he'd prioritized had fractured despite his best efforts. All that remained was truth—however complicated, however potentially consequential, however terrifying in its implications.

You were leaving tomorrow. His time for careful calculations and protective distance had run out. Whatever happened next would require courage he wasn't sure he possessed, honesty he'd been avoiding for weeks.

But I.N.'s tearful plea echoed in his mind, a simple truth cutting through complex adult justifications: if you care about someone, you fight for them. You don't let them leave without trying to make things right.

The question that remained, the one Han would need to answer before facing you with the truth he'd been hiding, was deceptively simple yet profoundly challenging: what was he fighting for? Your career protection? His own emotional safety? The possibility of a relationship that still faced the fundamental challenge of geographic separation in just seven weeks?

As the group meeting dissolved into smaller conversations, plans for potential goodbyes, and processing of what your early departure meant for various members, Han retreated into silent contemplation of this essential question. The answer would determine his next actions, his approach to the precipice he now faced with time rapidly running out.

You were leaving tomorrow. Whatever truth needed sharing, whatever resolution might be possible, would need to happen before you boarded that plane. The countdown had begun, the moment of reckoning approaching with merciless speed.

Han could only hope that whatever courage he managed to summon would be enough, whatever truth he offered would be received, whatever damage existed could be repaired before time ran out completely.

---

As the meeting disbanded, members drifting off in various states of distress and concern, Chan caught Han's eye with a silent gesture toward the balcony. The leader's expression was unreadable, but the intent was clear—a private conversation was needed, away from the emotional chaos of the group.

Han followed with reluctance, knowing what awaited was likely another well-deserved critique of his handling of the situation. The cool evening air offered little relief from the suffocating weight of guilt and regret pressing against his chest as he stepped onto the small balcony, closing the door behind him.

Chan leaned against the railing, silent for a long moment as he gazed out at the city lights. When he finally spoke, his voice was carefully measured, the control of a leader who needed answers rather than emotional catharsis.

"I need the full story, Han. Not bits and pieces, not the sanitized version. Everything."

Han hesitated, instinct still pushing toward protection through selective disclosure. But I.N.'s tearful plea had cracked something fundamental in his resolve, and Chan's steady leadership had earned complete honesty, regardless of how uncomfortable the truth might be.

"Manager Kim called me into his office two weeks ago," Han began, voice low despite the privacy of their location. "Said there were rumors about me and Y/n having an inappropriate relationship. Warned me about the consequences if it was true."

Chan's posture stiffened slightly, but he remained silent, allowing Han to continue uninterrupted.

"For me, it would be disciplinary action, maybe impact on comeback promotions, but nothing career-ending," Han explained, the familiar words bitter on his tongue. "For Y/n? Immediate termination. A formal note in her professional file about contract breach. Blacklisting from JYP and probably other Korean entertainment companies."

"So you ended things to protect her career," Chan surmised, the pieces visibly connecting in his analytical mind. "But you didn't tell her why."

Han nodded, relieved at being understood without needing to justify his actions further. "I was afraid if she knew the truth, she might decide some things were worth the risk. That she might want to continue despite the professional consequences. I couldn't let her make that choice when the damage would fall almost entirely on her."

"So instead," Chan said, his tone sharpening slightly, "you told her what? That your feelings weren't genuine? That it was all circumstantial?"

The accuracy of Chan's guess suggested he'd pieced together more than Han had realized from observation alone. "Something like that," Han confirmed, shame coloring the admission. "I thought a clean break based on fading interest would be easier for her to accept than ongoing risk to her career."

Chan was quiet for a long moment, his breathing measured in the way that those closest to him recognized as controlled anger rather than calm acceptance. When he finally turned to face Han fully, his expression confirmed it—the usually warm, supportive leader was genuinely angry, something Han had rarely witnessed directed at any member, let alone himself.

"Let me make sure I understand this correctly," Chan said, voice dangerously quiet. "Our manager threatened one of my members with career consequences without ever speaking to me. Then that same member made a unilateral decision affecting another team member's emotional wellbeing and our group's dynamic without consulting me. And now we're losing our producer weeks ahead of schedule because both situations were mishandled from the beginning."

Put that way, the failure of communication seemed egregious, the bypassing of Chan's leadership an obvious misstep. Han hadn't considered how the situation might appear from Chan's perspective—not just the personal complications between himself and you, but the direct intervention from management without involving the group's leader.

"I didn't think—" Han began, but Chan cut him off with uncharacteristic sharpness.

"That's exactly the problem. You didn't think. Not about the group dynamics, not about proper channels of communication, and certainly not about what Y/n deserved to know for herself."

The criticism stung all the more for coming from Chan, whose leadership style typically emphasized support and guidance rather than direct confrontation. But the anger wasn't just about Han's decisions, he realized belatedly. It was about Manager Kim approaching Han directly with threats about career consequences without involving Chan as the group's leader and protective buffer between members and management.

"Why didn't you come to me?" Chan asked, the hurt beneath the anger becoming evident in his voice. "When Manager Kim made those threats, why didn't you immediately tell me? That's literally my job, Han—to handle these situations, to protect the members, to interface with management when issues arise."

The question revealed an aspect of the situation Han hadn't fully considered in his panic to protect you—that bypassing Chan might have been perceived as lack of trust in his leadership, an unintended insult to the person who had guided them through countless challenges over the years.

"I was trying to protect Y/n," Han explained weakly, the justification sounding increasingly insufficient with each iteration. "I thought handling it quietly would minimize the risk to her career."

"And instead," Chan replied, "you've created a situation where she's fleeing the country to escape the emotional fallout, the group is in disarray, and our album completion is now complicated by remote collaboration. All because you didn't trust me enough to help navigate this properly from the beginning."

The assessment was brutally accurate, highlighting the cascading failures that had resulted from Han's well-intentioned but ultimately misguided attempt to handle everything himself. He had no defense to offer, no justification that could mitigate the consequences of his choices.

"I'm sorry," he said simply, the words woefully inadequate but genuinely meant. "I should have come to you. I didn't think through all the implications."

Chan's expression softened slightly at the sincere apology, his natural tendency toward forgiveness tempering the justified anger. "No, you didn't. But my real issue isn't even with you right now."

He straightened, a resolute determination replacing the earlier hurt and anger. "Manager Kim had absolutely no right to approach you directly with threats about this situation. That conversation should have come to me first, as the group's leader. The fact that he deliberately circumvented my position to intimidate you individually is completely unacceptable."

The shift in focus surprised Han, who had expected Chan's anger to remain directed primarily at his own failings rather than management's approach. "I didn't think about it that way," he admitted. "I was too focused on the immediate threat to Y/n's career."

"Which is exactly why these structures exist," Chan explained, some of his usual patient leadership returning to his tone. "You were emotionally involved and isolated with this information, making decisions from a place of fear rather than with proper support and perspective. That's on Manager Kim, not just you."

The absolution wasn't complete—Han's choices had still created unnecessary complications—but the sharing of responsibility eased some of the crushing weight he'd been carrying alone. 

"What do we do now?" Han asked, genuine uncertainty in his voice. "Y/n leaves tomorrow. There's no time to untangle all of this."

Chan's expression turned thoughtful, the strategic mind that had guided their group through various challenges already formulating approaches. "Here's what's going to happen. You are going to find Y/n tonight and tell her everything—Manager Kim's warning, your real feelings, the actual reason you ended things. Complete honesty, no more protection through deception."

The directive was clear, allowing no room for argument or evasion. "And then?"

"Then you let her make her own informed choice about what risks she's willing to take and what she wants moving forward," Chan continued firmly. "Whether that's maintaining distance, considering options despite the complications, or something else entirely—it has to be her decision this time, not yours."

The approach made sense, even as it terrified Han to relinquish the control he'd maintained through his protective deception. "And what about Manager Kim? The contract clause? The potential consequences?"

Chan's expression hardened with renewed determination. "You let me handle that. As the leader, it's my responsibility to address management overreach and protect my members—all of them, including our temporary producer who has become part of our family."

The confidence in Chan's voice, the certainty of his leadership in this moment, provided a reassurance Han hadn't realized he desperately needed. He wasn't alone in this situation anymore—the burden of protection and decision-making could be shared with someone whose judgment and authority he trusted implicitly.

"What are you going to do?" Han asked, both curious and concerned about potential repercussions for Chan himself.

"Have a very direct conversation with appropriate parties about chain of command and the proper handling of sensitive situations," Chan replied, his tone suggesting this would be no casual discussion. "What happened—approaching you directly with threats, bypassing my position as leader, creating a situation where both you and Y/n have been suffering unnecessarily—violates protocols that exist for good reasons."

Han hadn't seen this side of Chan often—the fiercely protective leader who, despite his usual diplomatic approach, could become immovable when his members' wellbeing was threatened. It was simultaneously reassuring and slightly intimidating to witness.

"You're willing to confront management over this?" Han asked, concerned about potential blowback for Chan's career as well. "Even with the comeback so close?"

Chan's expression made the answer clear before he verbalized it. "I have always prioritized the wellbeing of this team over corporate politics, and I always will. A leader who doesn't stand up when it matters isn't a leader worth following."

The simple declaration, delivered with absolute conviction, reminded Han why Chan had earned their unwavering trust and respect over the years. His leadership wasn't based on position alone, but on consistent actions that put the group's needs above individual interests—including, sometimes, his own.

"What if Y/n doesn't want to hear the truth now?" Han asked, voicing his deepest fear. "What if it's too late? What if she's already decided to move on?"

"Then at least she'll be making that decision with complete information," Chan replied pragmatically. "And you'll both have the closure of honesty rather than misunderstanding."

The wisdom in this approach was undeniable, however daunting the task of complete disclosure might be. Han nodded slowly, accepting the direction from his leader with the same trust he'd shown countless times throughout their years together.

"Tonight," he confirmed. "I'll talk to her tonight."

"Good," Chan said, some of the tension leaving his shoulders as he sensed Han's commitment. "And Han? No half-measures this time. Complete honesty, regardless of how vulnerable it makes you feel. She deserves that much after everything that's happened."

The instruction was clear—no more protective distance, no more shielding through selective disclosure, no more decisions made on her behalf without her input. Terrifying in its implications but necessary if any resolution was possible before you boarded that plane.

"I understand," Han said quietly, the weight of the task ahead settling on his shoulders. It would require courage he wasn't sure he possessed, honesty he'd been avoiding for weeks. But Chan's confidence, combined with I.N.'s tearful plea, had created an imperative that couldn't be ignored any longer.

Chan placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, leader and friend in equal measure now rather than disappointed superior. "Remember who you're doing this for—not just for Y/n, not just for the group, but for yourself too. Living with unspoken truth is its own kind of prison, Han. Whatever happens after you speak it, at least you'll be free of that."

The insight struck deeper than Chan likely realized, articulating something Han had felt but couldn't name—the suffocating weight of deception, even when motivated by protection rather than malice. The constant vigilance required to maintain the fiction had become its own form of exhaustion, a burden that had grown heavier with each passing day.

As they returned inside, the conversation concluded but its implications reverberating through Han's consciousness, one truth emerged with undeniable clarity: the time for protection through distance had ended. Only complete honesty remained as a viable path forward, whatever consequences might follow.

You were leaving tomorrow. The countdown had begun. Whatever courage Han could summon, whatever truth needed sharing, whatever resolution might be possible—it had to happen now, before time ran out completely.

With renewed determination tempered by realistic awareness of the challenges ahead, Han began mentally preparing for the conversation that would determine not just his own future, but yours as well. A conversation that should have happened weeks ago, before deception and distance created wounds that might prove impossible to heal.

But Chan believed in the power of truth, even belatedly offered. And Han, despite his fears, had to believe that possibility existed as well—that honesty, however late in coming, might still provide a foundation for whatever came next, even if that was nothing more than understanding and closure before physical separation.

You deserved the truth. And finally, after weeks of protective distance, Han was prepared to offer it—completely, without reservation, regardless of what followed.

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[waywardstation]

About the reblog game--is the POV going to stay on Ingo the whole time or are we going to get Akari randomly showing up incredibly confused and possibly falling from the sky again

On that note, did Akari even get sent back? Some of your works sort of imply that Arceus is kind of cruel and it won't let them go back together, so is she like fistfighting it right now to get sent back too? It would be absolutely GUTTING for Ingo to finally remember Akari only to find out that she never got sent back and then yet again start to beat himself up over the hypotheticals <3

As far as I know, it will just stay with Ingo. It’s planned to so far, but of course a winning option could always change that!!

And yes, Akari got sent back too, they just got sent back to their respective regions! It’s something that’s supposed to be made clear later on (if this story ends up going the projected way, at least) and we have not reached that yet, so yes it’s not very clear right now. But she got sent back and is now back in the modern day, same as Ingo!

I do hope to continue this comic soon, I know we reached the goal but I’ve been unable to work on it lately because of my neck ;-; I hope I can do so again soon!

And as for my interpretations, I have many, many thoughts about Arceus. I do not intend for Arceus to be cruel (it’s actually meant to be rather the opposite, Arceus is supposed to be extremely hands-off but compassionate, not intervening but offering guidance and help. There is emotional distance and no attachment or personal sentimentality; Arceus helps in situations it’s present in where it realizes it can be helpful, but it does not seek them out. If that makes sense (Like if I see a bug drowning in my pool while I’m swimming in it, I will scoop it up and watch over it as it dries itself off until it can fly away. But I do not go out of my way to go out to my pool and search for bugs that need help every day. Best way I can describe Arceus being hands-off but compassionate).

But of course no one really knows this interpretation in my works yet yet except for me, as I have not published the works that focus on this yet. (And to be clear, this characterization would extend to this reblog comic too)

As of now, all that people have really seen from me that I can recall is that Akari has expressed worry that they will not be allowed to go back together and Ingo will have to be left behind, so she will force Arceus to let her take Ingo back with her if she must. So yes Arceus sounds cruel lol, but it’s really Akari just assuming and preparing for the worst in an unknown scenario.

More about my interpretation of Arceus below, and how it relates to my overarching narrative in my fics.

Here is a piece I’ve been sitting on for a long, long time. But again because of my neck, don’t know when I am going to finish this art. A handful of people saw this sketch last year (and it is almost a year old now which makes me sad ;-;) but it is for my overarching canon that I have built for my fics, most of it becoming relevant in works that have not been published yet. Stuff in the stained glass depictions probably do not make sense yet because of this, apologies.

BUT it is Savepoint AU. I’ve talked a little about it before but some things have changed since then. Basically as it is now, both Akari and Ingo are not from this time. The timeline is trying to clean itself out (as it does with Pokemon and things that manage to stick around after space-time distortions) and get rid of them.

Arceus brought Akari to this timeline. Arceus has made save states for Akari (think like literally saving the game), something like an instance of how she should be (healthy, unharmed) as a reference. When the timeline tries to take her out (think like when you black out in PLA after taking too many hits from wild Pokemon, drowning, falling too far, ect.), Arceus reverts her body back to a previous save point where she was healthy and unhurt. Arceus brought her here for a reason and it wants to ensure she can finish the task. It will send her back when she completes it, so the timeline stops going after her.

Ingo was not brought to this timeline by Arceus. Ingo does not have save points. Ingo does not have a promise to be sent back home when he finishes his task, as he has no task to complete. Not because Arceus doesn’t care about what happens to Ingo, but because Arceus had nothing to do with Ingo’s arrival, and Ingo has nothing to do for Arceus. Ingo is just not really on Arceus’ radar, it’s focusing on Akari.

When the timeline starts trying to take Ingo out, he does not have save instances like Akari does to fall back on. For a while, Akari just relies on Arceus sending her messages through the arc phone about when something will happen (a method that Arceus employs once Akari has made it aware that Ingo is important to her, still without intervening) so that she can help Ingo avoid these incidents and stay alive, until she can finish her appointed task and bring him back home with her (as I said before, in her words, she’s going to do it whether she’s allowed to or not. She doesn’t know Arceus’ stance on things).

But this method cannot work forever, surely. And it doesn’t. Without spoiling anything, Akari begs Arceus for another way to keep going at Ingo’s end, and in its empathy, Arceus complies.

I’m looking forward to when I can get these works out and finish this piece. I think about Savepoint AU constantly haha.

As a last thing, I’ve attached this song. Practically all of it really works with this AU and I would like to do some sort of PMV for it eventually. But there are several lines in here that connect well with Arceus’ relationship with them in this AU as well from Ingo’s POV.

You held your hand in mine And then it felt so clear That you were in the air And I think so was I - Ingo does eventually receive care and protection from Arceus, but only through Akari’s insistence that he does. He experiences what Akari has been blessed with this entire time, and the difference is noticeable.

There’s a part of us in you And I was a fool Thinking it was me - Arceus is with Akari and protecting her, but it is not with Ingo nor is it protecting him. Before Akari came along, Ingo believed he was ‘protected’ too though, somehow managing to escape this timeline cleanse fate (yes, he did know about it technically from seeing what happened to space-time distortion pokemon), but he had not; it only started late.

Something outside my vision - Arceus, in relation to Ingo. It is not there for him, it does not appear for him, and has not reached out to him like it has for Akari. But it does eventually make itself noticable to him, it’s just not made itself comprehensible to him like it has to Akari.

[mesetacadre]

Hey! This is a question I've had for a little bit now but what's the need for the separation of the Party & the State following a successful revolution? Can't a Socialist state be completely Non-partisan like Libya was under the Socialist Arab Jamahiriya?

Do note that the non-separation of a CP and the state does not necessarily mean non-partisanship. The more common corollary for a separation is a more or less complete identification of one for the other. Non-partisanship, if anything, is one of the greatest separations a party can have with a state.

I don't think there is a need for such a separation, quite the contrary. The CP is not a party like what is known in capitalist states, it's not simply an association of people with a common political outlook. It is the fighting force of the proletariat, embodied by those members of the «class for itself»* who, in the process of inching towards the opportunity that will allow the party to take over the state, accumulate forces among the proletariat and expand the class for itself. It is not a paternalistic notion, the CP is not an organ that comes from without to say what is correct and force everyone to go along with it. It is the opposite, the recognition of the capacity for the working class to liberate and lead itself, because what it needs to organize itself is the CP, the organization which works to further the interests of the working class, the class it is a part of. Asserting this is important because the notion held by anti-communists and some communists alike is that these distinctions in consciousness constitute the refusal for the vast majority of the working class to participate in its own liberation. This distinction is a practical one, based on the reality that, especially before a successful revolution, the lion's share of the proletariat which the CP will interact with does not hold revolutionary beliefs.

Having established the CP as 1. An organization not for the proletariat but from within the proletariat, and 2. An organization in which the class for itself works and fights to liberate the proletariat and achieve the infrastructural organization of society on the basis of the complete socialization of the surplus value created by work, I don't believe there is a necessity to separate the CP from the state after a revolution.

The state is the instrument of class oppression, the way in which a class society maintains the dominance of a class over another. So, when a CP overthrows the state and shapes it for its own devices, 2 things happen. First, the CP, as the organized fighting and political force of the working class, makes the proletariat become the class that wields the instrument of class oppression. Secondly, and immediately subsequent, there is a cuasi-inversion in the relations of class oppression. By wielding its own state, its own instrument of class oppression, the proletariat displaces the bourgeoisie from its previous position. But there is still a bourgeoisie, and there is still a proletariat, and whichever other classes have survived the revolutionary crisis of capitalism. We can't identify the replacement of the bourgeois state with the replacement of bourgeois productive relations. The capitalist order has been broken apart, yes, but it has not yet been replaced by a fully fledged communist society. This is a much deeper and complex change than that of the state, a transition between capitalism and communism is needed.

This transition is where all past and current communist revolutions continue today or ended at, what's usually referred to as socialism but for these discussions I prefer dictatorship of the proletariat (DotP), because it's much more descriptive for the state of affairs it refers to. A DotP is still a class society, one in which the proletariat is still the proletariat, and the dispossessed classes can, externally or internally to the DotP, use what is left of its resources to do all it can to revert its dispossession. The existence of a DotP is an implicit and explicit threat against the very existence of all classes. During this period, there is a constant (non-linear) change being applied to the productive relations of the DotP, and by extension/necessity the entirety or the infrastructure and superstructure alongside it. It is a very long process because a revolution does not create a blank slate, it creates a substrate made up of everything which wasn't directly and absolutely destroyed during the revolution. The tasks of a DotP is not only to build a completely new set of material conditions, and not only to defend itself and do all that's possible to stimulate the overthrow of the bourgeoisie in the rest of the world piece by piece, but it must also do all of it from a capitalist society. You're starting with the ship of Theseus, but instead of replacing every part so it remains a ship, you must replace each part and arrive at a jet airplane.

The process of the transition to communism is, therefore, one that's highly complex, and any actions during it which work against the proletariat's goal of a communist society are, at best, a temporary brake of the transition towards it, and at worst, the dispossessed bourgeoisie's bidding. And what way does the proletariat have to organize itself in pursuit of its class interests? the CP, as discussed before. The complete separation of the CP and the state amounts to the disarmament of the proletariat during the most unstable period of its existence as a proletariat, if the proletariat loses control of the ways it can apply its own oppression to the bourgeoisie and associated classes, it might very well see the complete reversal of the transition to communism. It will no longer be a dictatorship of the proletariat, because the proletariat's own organization no longer exerts its own interests.

If you look at real dictatorships of the proletariat, you'll find that the degree to which the CP and the state are united will differ. The USSR was, throughout most of its history, a DotP in which the CP was very closely united with the state. Cuba also used to do the same, but in recent years there is a worrying (to me) trend to separate CP and state, related to the very difficult conditions imposed on it by the blockade. Other changes are, for instance, the legalization of small business ownership. However, this isn't as clear cut, because in the vast majority of cases, these are "small businesses" operated by the state to get around the blockade, because Cuban small businesses suffer less restrictions than the state itself. A problem that a more pervasive separation of the CP and stage creates is a duplicity. Since in most cases, after a revolution, the CP and the state start out being united, a posterior separation often creates situations in which there is a state institution and a party responsibility in charge of the same thing, which can create confusion and inefficiency. This is the case of the CPC and its state at some levels of its territorial administration, and IIRC Vietnam as well, though it's been a while since I saw the source and my memory isn't the best.

I can't state anything for certain on Libya, so I'd have two main questions regarding it. First, if the Libyan revolution was a communist one or a national-liberation one under "socialist" leadership, and second, if the non-partisanship was a factor that facilitated the overthrow of Gadaffi, similar in a way to Allende's non-violence allowing the military to be used by the US

*«Class for itself» and «class in itself» are concepts defined by Marx and later developed by Lenin, referring to, essentially, two kinds of class consciousness; Class in itself refers to the members of the working class with a spontaneous, economic, trade-unionist consciousness. It is the one acquired on its own through the mere experience or class antagonisms. eg. your boss keeps paying you less while making you work more, so you come to the conclusion that you need to work together with other coworkers to achieve better conditions for your work. Class for itself refers to the members of the working class who, through a means that's usually educational, build a revolutionary, political consciousness, understanding in some way or another the reality of the class struggle and that its only conclusion will be the overthrow of the bourgeoisie by the proletariat.

[deathnguts]

AU where Barty never stopped looking for Regulus when he was pronounced dead because Regulus can’t just die. AU where Barty drove himself mad living off of energy and nutrient potions because he didn’t have time to doddle what if regulus needed him?! AU where Barty looked and looked and actually found him. AU where Barty’s search amounts to a lake with docile inferi and the love of his life he,d down at the bottom by them. AU where in a grief induced magical rage, he fights and leaves with Regulus’ cold, dripping body in his arms and keeps it for himself.

Barty refuses to think that after everything regulus was, after eveyrthing he fought for, regulus was just gone. It can’t be real, he has to be able to do something. So he meticulously maintains his corpse, using deep,y dark magic he clawed and bit to get his hands on to revert it back to its previous state, to a point it looks as if regulus is simply sleeping in his home, but he never wakes up.

Barty lovingly tucking regulus into his bed so he can further delude himself into believing his love, his heart, is just sleeping with a kiss to his forehead and a lingering touch over every part of him. Barty who watches as his chest doesn’t rise and fall and closes his eyes to escape it. Barty who gives in after what feels like eternity to climb into the bed himself and nuzzle his head back where it belongs, against Regulus’ chest. He moves regulus’ arms to wrap loosely over his neck and sighs in relief because finally he’s back in his arms. Barty who sleeps, really sleeps, for the first time in weeks in this bed he made with a corpse in tow.

Barty who spends his time sitting by Regulus’ body with his head knocked against one of regulus’ hands or maybe in his cold lap and simply begs him to wake up but he won’t. Barty sniffling when he presses kisses to his lover’s cold face and whispering ‘don’t cry darling’ and he can’t tell if he’s talking to regulus or if regulus is talking to him.

Barty who whispers in his own home because as much as he desperately begs and wishes for regulus to wake up, he’s gotten into habit of fearing that just as much. He looks at Regulus like he could wake up at any moment, like a Jack in a box ready to spring, and he can’t help but brace himself for some sort of impact. He’s afraid, but he’s hopeful, and still so utterly in love.

Barty who murmurs sweet nothings amidst his apologies for being too loud to a body who can’t hear him, ‘I’m sorry my lovely go back to sleep.’

And then years later, after yet another separation and time locked away in his own mind behind imperio, Barty swears he hears the dementor whisper in a voice he’s been craving so for all his life ‘Come to bed, my love.’

[doitforstamets]

What’s up with the green lighting in the toast scene?

About me: I have a degree in fine art. Cinema is not my expertise even though I consider myself quite overall popculture savvy. I am a fucking nerd (this answer is several pages long).

Q: Has anyone figured out what’s up with the Green lighting thing? In Hob’s scene the computer was generating this very strong green color that hued the entire scene. The same thing happened with Ishtar in her changing room when talking to Dream.

There's a very in-your-face green light in the toast scene with Hob and Dream. Here are my thoughts about its meaning.

First, the obvious reasons: we associate (early) computers with green lettering. It also creates a great contrast with the yellow tones from the fireplace.

Symbolically, green could be so many things. Too many to make any sense. We have to look at it in the context of The Sandman – I’m choosing to do mostly season 2, because there’s been significant changes in between seasons, and I see them as visually self-contained.

One example I do wanna highlight (as cinema is continuously repeating certain motifs):

In The Matrix, blue is used to signify scenes happening in the real world, and a green hue is used for the ones in the Matrix. This is a widely known and duplicated effect in cinema to distinguish between different realities or experiences. Also the green “futuristic” bits of code, very Matrix.

Now, to The Sandman. 

Here’s the scene we’re looking at. Two things to note: the colours – green and yellow, stark contrasts – and the camera angle. Before this scene, the camera has stayed mostly level throughout the episode.

The previous scene, where Dream visits Daniel, also uses tilted angles for emphasis. The Dutch angle is a usual practice in cinema to convey instability or uncomfortable tension.

In this scene, the colour is blue, which is a straightforward choice for a bedroom at night setting. The camera angles change in between shots depending on the character whose perspective is shown. Lyta sees Dream as a threat. Dutch angle is used, in addition to stark backlight, to signify her discomfort in the situation. The scenes showing Lyta from Dream’s perspective are level.

As I see it, in Hob’s case, the angle is used to signify the state of dreaming – even more so Hob’s awareness of his state of dreaming. It is only used after he gets confirmation that it is, indeed, a dream.

There is also a lot of unspoken tension in the scene. Dream knows he might not be back for a while, but it’s left unclear how worried he actually is. Hob doesn't begin to understand the severity of the situation, partly because he's dreaming, yet he makes an almost prophetic toast.

(Personally I thought the use of Dutch angle was a little bit excessive here. We get it, it’s a dream.)

Another scene, where Dream and Ishtar are talking, was mentioned, so we’ll take a look at that. It'll help us define the meaning of these colours within the context of The Sandman.

Very green. More than Hob’s scene, although the hue is similar.

In this scene, Ishtar comes to the realization she’s most likely going to die. 

One fairly common interpretation for the colour green is death. (As well as jealousy – maybe some of that here – and disease, but that does not apply to the Sandman, so we are ignoring it.)

So does green signify death? Sometimes, yes. In the case of Sandman?

I don’t think so, here’s why: there are many scenes about death where green is not the primary colour. Bernie Capax is a character that we know very little about. Pretty much his whole point is that he finally dies. However, the scene is a blue-ish teal colour, not green. Ishtar also reverts to this colour scheme for her final dance.

In Ishtar’s case, I think the green is used to show her acceptance of death. As commonly seen in cinema, red symbolizes wraith, fury, violence. A green death seems more peaceful. 

Another character shown in green and accepting their death – even if posthumously – is Wanda. She spends her whole appearance in the show wearing deep green. (Also because of Oz. Another reference point I'm sure would make for a whole another essay.)

Going back to Hob, we cannot ignore his background. I’m going down a fucking rabbithole reading about medieval interpretations of the colour.

Green can be associated with nature, rebirth, transformation, the supernatural, the fae, magic and tricksters.

From my very limited research (please correct if I’m wrong) green symbolizes some form of afterlife or rebirth in ancient Egyptian beliefs, alchemy and Christianity.

Medieval scholars inherited the idea from ancient times that green was a Middle Colour. Symbolically, it balanced between the extremes of white and black. 

This next one will seem far-fetched. It might be. But I think this fandom will appreciate it nonetheless.

There is an Arthurian legend of the Green Knight: A strange visitor arrives at King Arthur’s court. He challenges the group’s leader or any other brave representative to a game and to meet him again a year later. The Green Knight is beheaded but does not die. Epic tale ensues.

There are so many interpretations of this story I can’t begin to analyze them without attending university first. There’s a lot out there if you’re interested.

I’m going to quote this part from an article I really liked (Being Green in Late Medieval English Literature):

“Sir Gawain and the Green Knight -- seems to rejoice in diversity and more fluid, adaptive human/nonhuman relations. For both authors (Gawain Poet, Chaucer) green, whether associated with a place or a person, indicates a moment of choice, or of change; a point where things are not fixed and sure, but liable to alteration. Moreover, it indicates that whatever choice we make, there will be consequences by which we must abide. We might like to consider our options carefully.”

In conclusion:

I don’t think green as a colour is either positive or negative, but sits in the middle, paradoxically a color of both the natural and unnatural, life and death, honesty and deception. 

Honestly, when I began, I was mostly thinking about the coming death as an explanation for this choice. Now it’s clear it’s much more complex than that. Not that I think this is the “correct” answer. I believe art, including all media, is shaped by the relation to the viewer and the viewer’s interpretation of things, whether it was intended by the creator(s) or not.

When it comes to the toast scene, the use of colour green can be summarised to the most relevant meanings:

Otherwordly. The atmosphere of a dream is created by camera angles and colours. There’s a contrast to other scenes that signifies the state of dreaming as well as Dream as a nonhuman entity.

The coming of death. Death is inevitably coming, as she says later in the series, she is the future. Dream’s decision to go to hell does, even if not in the way he assumed, begin a series of events that leads to death and grief.

As for Hob, I think it emphasizes his role as the everyman – Dream’s window to humanity, a familiar vessel to the viewer to insert themselves in. 

Most significantly: change. It would be insane to ignore this meaning of the colour, given the broader themes of the whole series. Change or die. In nature death and change are inseparable and part of the other. Take that as you will.

Thank you. I feel kinda insane.

Sources: https://slowburnhorror.com/2021/11/22/the-meaning-of-green-in-horror/ https://academic.oup.com/edited-volume/28372/chapter-abstract/215252927?redirectedFrom=fulltext https://www.medievalists.net/2024/06/colour-middle-ages/

[reinbouxsworld]

Soooo hypothetically... Would Trey be Kanae???

In a short version?? YES.

But I planned to makes him the brother figure for both Cater and Riddle (as if both Shinobu and her own younger version). The butterfly state is ruled more like a merit position than a heirloom, so after the passing of its previous owner (by age), Trey would assume it and train Cater and right after his childhood friend, Riddle.

They had a lot of differences, but both started wearing a mask after Trey passing, and Cater being promoted as a hashira would make riddle tone down and revert his "rule obsession" (phrasing, is more like a ptd in here than a childhood originated trauma like in canon) over other things. Althrough Cater was not very open them, now he turned completely into his cheerful act.

[icantbelieveitsnotbutler]

Why Did Ciel's Asthma (Briefly) Disappear?

Mild manga spoilers below.

Ciel was sick with exacerbations of his asthma off and on for the first 10 years of his life, up until when he was kidnapped. He didn't get sick at all during his captivity and had no asthma flare-ups for the first three years Sebastian served him.

One theory that could explain this is that the (original) manor house had mold or some other asthma trigger. By keeping him inside so often, his family might have been making his illness worse.

While it's possible Sebastian deep-cleaned the house after restoring it, I think it's more likely that he somehow recreated it without the asthma trigger.

This leads to another issue: when Sebastian restores something, be it the manor house or Ciel's ring, what exactly is he doing to it?

Is he simply repairing it or is he reverting it a previous state, essentially forcing it back through time? How does he know what it was like before, including the details and objects inside? Is he actually changing it or is it just an illusion? Is it an extension of his demonic tendrals? If something happened to him, if he left or died, would the manor house immediately fall back into ruin? Would Ciel's ring shatter on his finger?

[ellaspore]

The last episode of The On1y One laid me on the floor and the only thing I can think of is this saying in Neapolitan which goes “Nun aprì ll'uocchie a li gattille” which roughly translates to “Don’t force open kitten’s eyes” which has the meaning of rendering someone conscious of possibilities he wasn’t aware of before.

And that’s exactly what the teachers’ kiss caused in Sheng Wang. He became aware of the possibilities of his feelings for Jiang Tian, opened the curtains on what really he was feeling, the reason behind his behaviour, his beating heart. it was like suddenly light shed on something he hadn’t seen before. He was in too deep, drowning in his feelings before he even knew what he was doing.

Sheng Wang fell in love slowly, unconsciously unaware, eyes shut, closed and unseeing.

And the problem is

You can’t force someone’s eyes open too soon when they’re not ready, the sudden light will make them blind, panic because they weren’t ready to see what’s in front of them. 

And that's exactly what happens to Sheng Wang. Suddenly he knows he is in love, he’s not ready for it, he hasn’t come to terms with what it all means.

He’s drowning and he doesn’t know what to do, so the only solution is to sit back, put space and understand and that’s exactly what makes him bomb his exams.

But Sheng Wang is still unseeing, he’s still blinded by the light, he thinks he can revert to a previous state, cut the stalk of his feelings and make something else grow anew, he can lie and no one will be wiser.

What makes this all the more devastating is that Jiang Tian’s eyes have been wide open right from the start, he took the plunge consciously, he surrendered knowing exactly what he was doing. Yes, his capitulation was not without fight. Jiang Tian has been fighting his feelings since the start and his surrender happened only when he finally laid in bed with Sheng Wang.

And he knows and he sees exactly what’s happening to Sheng Wang, he knows about the aborted kiss, the panic, the fear but he can’t do anything about it. He knows they’re on the edge of the cliff, but this is not something he can force, he has to wait for Sheng Wang to decide whether love is worth it or not.