#that's why this isn't as... connected? as i'd like it to be tbh

[bluetiefling]

interesting how often the ones claiming that galadriel's season 2 arc was perfect and everyone who doesn't think so is just too haladriel brainrotted or something are the same folks who openly say it's fine if she were to just... fade into the background in season 3 or disappear outright. sorry I actually do think it's sexist for galadriel to be introduced as the central protagonist only for her to be gradually phased out so that gil-galad and elendil or elrond or whichever legendarium dude can have more to do.

[moonstarsunflower]

When Tangerines Give You Lemons

by moonstarsunflower

pairing : joshua x fem reader

summary : you haven't gotten over your ex when you met joshua, but his patience never falters because maybe he knows exes are not easily forgotten—especially ones you just remembered to be dead

genre : joshua fluff, joshua angst, joshua both, joshua breathing, joshua existing, non-idol!au, lawyer!au, hurt & comfort, angst first fluff later kinda; a warm rain after a heavy storm

notes: photos not mine, mostly pinterest-based, credits to rightful owners!

warnings 1 : mentions of death, memory loss; not a warning but joshua x fem reader are both in late 20s to early 30s; not much tbh, this is just a hurt & comfort fic where angst meets fluff halfway and maybe dead exes give u permission to move on 🤷🏻‍♀️

warnings 2 : on a more serious note, i'd just like to say that this may not be everyone's cup of (lemon) tea, and that's okay. i just wanted to make smth meaningful but also different than my other works. i tried to make this as unique as possible, not just for the sake of it, but bc i thought this kind of plot deserved to be explored. i'm not saying this is how it should be, but that at least this is one way of interpreting it. so yeah, this isn't a simple boy meets girl story—this is patience meets grief, emotionally available meets the unavailable, and somewhere halfway—tangerines meet lemons ✨

word count : 11.1k

song rec : maybe not the entire lyrics but yawn by seventeen bc the vibes are just 😭

a/n : joshua is a lawyer and has a sister!; also if you read between the lines u might realize this is connected to one of my earlier fics; and this also connects to another fic bc why not right? 🤭; spin-off first main story later 😉; yes, title is a play on words and the k-drama series re: when life gives you lemons & when life gives you tangerines (these are exactly why i titled it that way 😂)

The Date

Joshua walks beside you as the evening air cools, the faint hum of city life barely audible over the sound of your footsteps.

It's one of those rare moments where you're not rushing, not fidgeting with your phone, not hiding behind the wall you've built up.

He can tell you're trying.

Trying to move on, trying to find peace in this thing between you two.

It's a good night, but it's not exactly effortless.

Your smile falters for just a second when you meet his gaze, and he notices it.

He's learned how to read you these past weeks—the way your lips twitch, like you're forcing yourself to feel something you're still not ready for.

"So, what do you think?" He asks, casually.

You've been talking about this new place—your favorite dish—and you've been engaging, your usual playful banter lighting up for a while.

But now, there's that silence again.

You pause.

"It's nice. Really nice." Your voice softens, almost thoughtful, like you're not fully here. "Thank you, Joshua."

He glances at you, sensing the distance.

The usual fire is absent tonight.

"Hey, it's fine. You know you don't need to thank me for every little thing, right?" He teases, his voice easy.

He's gotten good at playing it light.

But you don't laugh this time.

Instead, you just shrug, your fingers toying with the hem of your jacket as if seeking comfort from it.

"It's just been... a lot, that's all," you add quietly, as if it's a confession you haven't let yourself say aloud in a while.

"I've been trying to keep up with everything. With you."

Joshua stops walking for a moment, letting your words settle between you.

"YN, you don't have to try. Not with me." He says it with a softness that's rare for him.

It's hard to hold back the frustration, the urge to demand you just... let go, let yourself feel.

But he doesn't.

He won't.

He knows better than that.

You look away, staring down at your shoes. "I'm just not there yet."

It's not a rejection, not exactly.

It's more like an apology in disguise.

But it stings all the same.

"Okay," he replies, his smile a little more strained. "Whenever you are."

He means it.

He really does.

But inside, there's that little bitter sting—the one that reminds him you're not here yet.

The drive to your apartment is quiet, the hum of the car echoing a little louder now.

At your door, you glance up at him, and for a second, he thinks you might say something more, might let down that wall a little.

But instead, you smile softly.

"Goodnight, Joshua."

The words are enough to warm him, but there's a hesitation in your eyes he can't ignore.

He gives you a nod, turning to leave. "Goodnight, YN."

But as he walks away, he can't shake the feeling that something's missing, something he can't quite put his finger on.

As he reaches the lobby, he can't help the small smile that pulls at his lips, even though it feels a little bittersweet.

You're still here, still with him, but in so many ways, you're not.

And no matter how hard he tries to reach you, there's something keeping you just out of his reach.

♢

The Grief

Days have passed, and Joshua still hasn't heard from you.

He's been buried in work, in the grind of his latest court case, but it gnaws at him.

The way you didn't text back after that night.

The way you've barely responded to his messages at all.

It's like you're... slipping away without even realizing it.

He's been giving you space, sure.

He knows you need it.

But the silence is starting to hurt, starting to feel like it's not just a break, but something more.

Today, Joshua's won the case.

He should be celebrating, feeling that rush of success, but instead, he's thinking of you.

He's driving, his phone in the passenger seat.

It's the third time today he's checked—no text.

It's a little ridiculous, he knows.

He's a grown man, a lawyer who can command attention in a courtroom, but when it comes to you, he's helpless.

He parks in front of your place, taking a deep breath.

He's not here to pressure you, not to force you to open up.

He just needs to know that you're okay.

Knocking on your door, Joshua stands there for a few seconds, trying to push down the worry gnawing at his insides.

When you open it, you're wearing that expression again—the one that says you're holding yourself together just barely.

"Hey, Joshua," you greet him quietly, almost a little too calmly.

Your gaze flickers away from him too quickly, and he catches it—the way you avoid meeting his eyes.

Joshua's eyes narrow slightly.

"You okay?" He steps into the hallway, already guessing the answer, but he needs you to say it.

You hesitate, biting your lip. "Yeah. I've just been busy."

"Busy?" Joshua tilts his head, studying you. "Or avoiding me?"

You wince slightly at that, like the accusation stings.

But then you cover it up with a soft chuckle.

"I'm not avoiding you. Just... things are complicated right now."

That's all you say before turning away to head inside.

But Joshua follows you, his footsteps slow as he watches your back, the way your shoulders sag slightly.

He feels the familiar wall again, the one you're so good at building when you don't want to let him see your hurt.

But he's tired of it.

"YN..." Joshua takes a step toward you, stopping you in your tracks. "I'm not here to fix you. But I'm not going anywhere."

Your eyes flicker with something—fear, maybe, or sadness—but you quickly look away again.

"I don't need fixing," you mutter, your voice small.

Joshua sighs, walking toward you.

When he reaches you, he gently rests his hand on your shoulder. "Then let me help. Let me be here for you."

You don't respond at first, just standing there, the silence stretching between you like a chasm neither of you can bridge.

Finally, you whisper, almost to yourself, "I'm sorry, Joshua. I don't know how to let anyone in right now."

There's no immediate reply.

Just the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen. The light creak of the floor beneath his shoes. And then—

"I'll put the kettle on."

You blink, confused.

"What?"

Joshua offers you a soft look.

Not pitying—just present.

"You always think better when you're holding tea," he says. "Chamomile, right?"

Your throat tightens.

He remembered.

You don't follow him at first.

You just stand there, stuck somewhere between guilt and gratitude.

But eventually, your feet move on their own, leading you into the kitchen where he's already finding the cups like he's done it before.

Like this isn't the first time he's stepped into your silence.

You sit at the edge of the dining table, watching as he pours water into the kettle, the steam beginning to rise.

The air feels heavy, but his presence doesn't suffocate you—it steadies you, somehow.

When he sets the mug in front of you, you mumble a soft thank you. He takes the seat across from you without a word.

No questions. No expectations.

Just silence.

Just tea.

Just him.

Your fingers wrap around the mug. The warmth bites a little, but it grounds you.

"I don't know how to be... normal anymore," you admit, your voice raw. "I wake up and forget what day it is. Or what month. Or whether it's supposed to hurt this much."

Joshua doesn't flinch.

"You're not supposed to be anything right now," he says. "You're grieving. That's not something you fix."

You glance at him, and it hurts—the way he looks at you like you're still whole even when you feel like nothing.

"I'm tired," you say, finally.

He nods, slowly. "Then sleep."

You stand, almost expecting him to leave, to gather his coat and go.

But he doesn't move.

Instead, he looks up and asks, "do you want me to go?"

Your mouth opens, then closes again. You hesitate.

"No," you say quietly.

A beat passes.

"Couch okay?" He offers.

You nod. "Blanket's in the hallway closet."

You don't look at him again as you disappear down the hall. But after a while, you come back.

He's already settled on the couch, tie undone, blazer folded neatly on the armrest. His phone is face down. He's staring at the ceiling like it has answers.

You place the folded blanket at the foot of the couch.

"You always forget to grab it," you mumble.

His lips lift, just slightly.

"Thanks."

You retreat again, slipping into your room. You lie in bed, but your eyes don't close.

Because through the walls, you can hear the faint sound of his breathing.

And somehow, tonight, that's enough.

That's everything.

♢

The Flash of Memory

The soft, rhythmic sound of Joshua's breathing eventually lulls you into a light doze.

The tea, still warm, sits on the counter untouched, and the room around you feels too quiet.

A perfect silence—too perfect, even.

It pulls at something inside you, that aching quiet, the kind that lingers even after your eyes close.

Suddenly, it happens.

You're standing in the kitchen, fumbling with a glass in your hands, the cold smooth surface almost comforting to the touch.

You're not thinking about anything in particular.

But then, as you reach for the cabinet door to grab the dish soap—your mind flashes.

It's him.

A memory—so sharp, so vivid it hurts.

The laugh he had when you teased him for leaving his jacket on the floor, the way he looked at you with that soft, knowing smile like he understood things even you didn't.

The warmth in his eyes that never once wavered, never once let you down.

Your fingers tremble.

The glass slips.

It hits the counter and shatters, fragments scattering across the floor like shards of something long gone.

You freeze.

For a moment, it feels like everything has just... cracked.

Not the glass, but something deeper inside.

Grief opens up in your chest, raw and unbidden, and before you can catch your breath, a sob escapes you.

The door to the living room opens.

Joshua's footsteps approach, and you can hear the hesitation in his pace.

It's not the sound of a man who knows what to say—it's the sound of someone trying to decide if they should say anything at all.

He sees you there, standing in the middle of the kitchen, eyes wide, chest rising and falling quickly as if the air itself has become too heavy to breathe.

"YN..." He calls your name softly, not demanding, not urgent.

Just—there.

Present.

You can't meet his gaze.

You turn your back to him, fingers clenched tightly around the edge of the counter as if it might ground you.

You shut your eyes.

The sting in your throat is unbearable.

You weren't ready for this. You weren't ready for the weight of grief to resurface like this.

Not when you're already so tired.

Joshua watches the scene unfold, his hand hovering at his side.

He knows what this is.

He's seen it before—the way grief comes in waves, unannounced, pulling you under like an ocean.

You don't have to explain.

He can see it in the way your shoulders are trembling, in the way your hands are clenched into fists, as if holding on to the remnants of something that's already slipped through your fingers.

He almost says something—calls you out by name, mentions the person who's missing, the one you loved and lost—but he stops.

He knows better.

It's not time yet.

Instead, he steps forward, his voice a gentle murmur, "I'm here. I won't leave."

The words aren't a promise.

They're not a fix.

But somehow, they are enough.

You take a slow breath.

The shaking in your hands subsides just a little, but the sadness—that never fully leaves.

Joshua doesn't push, doesn't force you to explain. He's just there.

In the quiet that follows, you feel a little less alone, a little less lost.

♢

Doctor's Appointment

The day has settled into a stillness that is both comforting and suffocating.

Joshua had left hours ago, after making sure you were okay, his words still echoing softly in the background: "I'm not going anywhere."

But now, as the quiet of your apartment presses in on you, you're alone.

The weight of the evening settles on your chest—grief, guilt, memories you can't fully place.

You don't remember when it started, but you've been feeling off a lot lately, like you're carrying something heavy that you can't quite name.

You walk into the bathroom, glancing at the mirror.

The reflection staring back at you seems familiar, but at the same time... not.

You're still you, but the edges of the person you see seem a little blurry, like something's missing.

You touch your face, trailing a finger down your cheek, as if somehow trying to reconnect the dots.

"You remember now. Don't forget."

The words are written on a post-it note stuck to the mirror.

You stare at it for a moment, puzzled.

Your mind drifts for a second, and then you pull away, trying to shake the disorienting feeling.

You don't remember putting it there.

Or why you'd need a reminder.

But something inside you whispers that it's important. That you are important—more than you seem to believe.

You inhale deeply and let the thought pass.

You're here, alive, breathing.

That should be enough, right?

But the confusion lingers, like an itch under your skin you can't scratch.

The whole memory thing—it's not easy.

You're still missing parts. You can feel them.

They're locked away, out of reach.

The next morning comes too quickly, and you're at the doctor's office.

The waiting room is cold, the air sterile and unfamiliar.

You've been here before, you think, but not recently.

The doctor's office, the steady ticking of the clock on the wall, the soft rustling of papers—everything feels off.

Joshua's sitting beside you, his gaze flicking between you and the doctor.

He's been with you to every appointment since it started, this thing between you two.

It's the one thing he doesn't let go of. Not that you mind.

The doctor enters, his expression calm, professional.

"YN, how have things been since the memories came back?" His voice is a little too calm, too clinical, like he's asking about a headache rather than the intricate mess of a fractured mind.

You glance at Joshua, then back to the doctor.

Your fingers twitch, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve.

You don't want to admit it, but the truth escapes before you can catch it. "I wish they hadn't."

Joshua's gaze hardens just for a second—he knows the weight of those words, the truth behind them.

It's not just about the memories returning, it's about what you've lost in the process.

It's about the grief that has no place to go.

The memories are there, but they don't fit. They don't line up like they should.

The doctor takes a note, his expression unchanged. "It's normal to feel that way sometimes. Reconstructing memories can be painful. We can continue with the therapy to help you integrate them."

You nod slowly, the words lost in the fog of your mind.

You want to ask about the note, the one you saw in the mirror.

You want to know if it's connected to everything else you can't remember—but you don't.

Instead, you glance at Joshua again, and for a brief moment, he catches your eye.

There's something soft there, a depth of understanding he doesn't speak.

He knows what you're going through.

As the doctor talks about follow-ups and more appointments, your thoughts wander.

You keep your eyes down, tracing the seam of your sleeve, the rhythm of your heart quickening as you think of the gaps, the emptiness.

But Joshua... he's here.

That's the only thing that makes sense right now. And that's all you need to hold on to.

♢

Fragments of the Past

The evening drags on the soft hum of the world outside, just a reminder of how still everything is in here, inside your apartment.

Joshua stays with you.

Not because he has to, but because you've let him.

You're not sure how to explain it, but you're not asking him to leave.

It's easier this way—his presence a comforting weight, like a blanket you can curl up under when the night gets too cold.

You're sitting at the kitchen table, your fingers tracing the rim of your mug, steam rising from it, but you're not really drinking.

It's more of a distraction than anything.

He's been here for hours now.

You've had dinner, or at least you tried to eat, but now it's just the two of you in silence.

Joshua hasn't pushed for conversation.

He's been quiet, but in a way that makes you feel like he's giving you space—waiting for you to open up if and when you're ready.

You don't know how it happens, but the words slip out before you can stop them.

"That jacket used to be his," you say suddenly, your voice distant, almost as if you're talking about someone else.

The words hang in the air, heavy and uninvited.

Joshua's gaze flickers to the jacket you've left draped across the back of a chair.

It's faded, worn at the cuffs.

A faint memory of someone who isn't here anymore.

The silence stretches, thick with unspoken things.

You take a slow breath, setting your mug down on the table.

"I forgot he died. Until I remembered."

You try to shrug it off, but the movement feels too heavy, too loaded.

Joshua doesn't say anything.

He just watches you, his eyes soft.

His silence is enough—it always has been.

He doesn't rush you, doesn't try to push you to explain. He just listens.

You can't look at him right now.

You focus on the jacket, then the window, the way the night outside feels too big, too dark.

"The worst part was waking up and losing him again."

Your throat tightens, but you force the words out.

You never realized how painful it would be to remember the things you've lost.

To know that you once had them—and now you don't.

The ache in your chest is almost unbearable.

You clench your hands, trying to ground yourself.

But Joshua stays still, like he's waiting.

You don't need him to say anything right now.

You need him to be quiet.

And he knows that. He always knows what you need.

It's funny, in a way.

How grief isn't just about the loss—it's about how it changes you.

How it's not just a moment but a slow, seeping shift in the way you see the world.

"I don't even know how to miss him anymore," you whisper, the words slipping out like a confession. "I didn't even realize I'd forgotten... until everything came rushing back."

Joshua doesn't speak yet, but you feel the way his presence shifts.

He's not interrupting, not trying to fill the silence.

He's letting you speak. Letting you say these things.

Finally, you look up at him.

There's something in his gaze—understanding, pain, maybe even some quiet sorrow—but mostly, just... patience.

You inhale, steadying yourself, and when you speak again, it's with a kind of resolve you didn't know you had until just now.

"Some days... I think I'd rather not remember at all."

Joshua's heart aches at those words, but he doesn't say a thing.

Because he understands.

He knows this grief is bigger than both of you, and no words can undo it.

Instead, he just reaches across the table, his hand hovering for a moment before he gently places it over yours, a silent gesture of support.

You don't flinch, not this time. You let it be.

For now, that's enough. Just being here, together.

♢

The Case

The morning light filters into the office, casting long shadows on the polished wooden floors.

It's a typical day for Joshua.

He's used to the rhythm of the courtroom, the fast pace of his career, and the precision that his job demands.

His reputation is built on being flawless, sharp, and in control.

Today, though, things feel off.

He's been waiting for a critical case to start, but his thoughts are elsewhere.

His phone buzzes again, the screen lighting up with a text from you.

"I'm fine. I just... need some space."

He reads it again. The words don't sit right.

There's an ache in his chest that only deepens the more he thinks about it.

He sighs, shoving the phone back into his pocket and standing up.

He's never missed the opening of a case—not once in his career.

But today, the case will have to wait.

When his assistant, Laura, walks into the office, her eyes flicker to the clock on the wall.

"The trial's about to start," she says, confused. "You're not in court yet?"

She takes in the briefcase still sitting on his desk, the jacket slung over the back of his chair, his hand already on the doorknob.

"You're leaving, sir?"

Her tone is polite, but there's a sharpness beneath it—a quiet expectation that Joshua will act like he always does: efficient, precise, never distracted.

He hesitates.

"Yeah. I... I'll be back for the afternoon session."

Laura raises an eyebrow, catching the tension in his posture.

"You don't mess up, sir. Not unless it's something you care about."

Her voice is steady, but there's a knowing look in her eyes—the kind that implies she sees more than he lets on.

Joshua looks at her, feeling something twist in his chest.

"I know. I just... need to take care of it."

She nods. No more questions.

She's seen him walk out of more courtrooms than she can count—but never like this.

As he steps into the elevator, he catches his reflection in the doors.

For a moment, he doesn't recognize the man staring back—the lawyer, the perfectionist, the man who's always in control.

All of that is slipping away, little by little, because of you.

The elevator dings as he steps inside.

His heart races, not from the usual adrenaline of a court battle, but from the knot in his stomach as he heads to you.

Not to fix this.

But to be there for you, even if it means letting down everything he's worked so hard for.

♢

Late at Night

After leaving the office, Joshua doesn't head home—even though he has court in the morning.

His mind is too consumed with you, with the unread messages, with the feeling that something is wrong.

He knows he can't fix everything, but he can't walk away either.

He arrives at your place, as quietly as he can, not wanting to disturb you if you're sleeping.

You'd given him the spare key months ago—sometime in between your grief and his quiet patience—but he's never used it until now.

The apartment is dimly lit, a soft glow from the kitchen light flickering on the walls.

He finds you on the couch, curled up with a blanket barely covering you, the rest of it tangled around your legs.

You look so vulnerable, and Joshua's heart tightens.

He stands there for a moment, watching you sleep, knowing he shouldn't, but he can't stop himself.

This quiet, peaceful version of you is a stark contrast to the guarded, aching person he's been seeing lately.

He grabs the extra blanket folded across the chair and carefully drapes it over you. The soft fabric brushes your skin, but you don't stir.

Joshua's eyes linger on you for a moment too long, something painful flickering in them as he watches your expression soften in sleep.

Then, in the quiet of the room, he hears it.

"Mingyu..."

The name slips from your lips like a whisper in the night.

Joshua freezes, his breath catching in his throat.

It's not the first time you've said it, but hearing it this close—when he's so near you—feels like a gut punch.

He knows about Mingyu.

Your ex.

The one who died in the car accident.

You survived. Just barely.

You forgot... until your memories came back.

Hearing you say his name like that—so fragile, so haunted—sends a wave of devastation through him.

A reminder that he's still a distant second in your heart, and that part of you might never be fully his.

He stands there for a long moment, fighting the urge to say something, to break the silence.

But he knows it's not his place to comfort you in that way, not yet.

So, he just stays.

The hours pass, and the stillness between you two fills the room.

Joshua doesn't leave. Doesn't move, even as the night presses on.

Eventually, exhaustion tugs at him. His head dips slightly, eyes closing as he slumps a little in the chair beside you.

But his sleep is light—barely there.

So when you shift under the blankets, when your breathing changes ever so slightly, his eyes flutter open.

You wake up around the same time, disoriented, the remnants of the dream still clinging to you.

Joshua straightens up the moment your eyes open, his voice soft in the stillness.

"Hey, YN."

The weight of his presence fills the space between you.

And for the first time in a long while, it doesn't feel crushing.

It feels safe.

Almost.

Your eyes flicker to his hand resting on the arm of the chair—so close, yet so far away.

You feel the pull to reach for him, just the smallest gesture, a lifeline in the suffocating quiet.

Your fingers twitch, reaching toward him.

But then the old walls you've built come rushing back.

The grief, the loss, the confusion.

You pull your hand back at the last second, turning your head away as if the very thought of accepting comfort will unravel something inside of you.

Joshua watches the entire movement, his heart aching as he sees the hesitation in your eyes.

But he doesn't push. He doesn't make you do anything you're not ready for.

He just stays, as he promised.

♢

The Meeting

Joshua had noticed you before you even realized you were noticing him.

The first time was in the café, the one he always went to for his morning coffee.

He sat by the window like he always did—and there you were, across from him, reading a book, barely glancing up when the barista called out his order.

Then, he noticed you again the next morning.

Same time. Same table.

You were alone, as always. He told himself it was just a coincidence, but it happened again.

And again.

At first, it was nothing more than a casual observation.

But there was something about the way you carried yourself, the subtle curve of your lips when you sipped your coffee, the way your hair fell just right around your face, that pulled him in.

One day, he was driving down the road to work when he saw you crossing the street.

He slowed as he approached the intersection, and for a brief second—there you were, stepping onto the pedestrian lane just ahead of him, as if the universe was pulling you into his path.

He almost missed the light because he was staring, wondering why you were always there.

He couldn't shake the feeling that it was more than just chance.

Weeks passed, and it became routine.

He started noticing you wherever he went.

The café. The pedestrian lane.

Eventually, he realized you worked in the same building, just different floors, different departments.

You both seemed to be following the same pattern, like you were in sync without even knowing it.

One morning, you were standing by the elevator and Joshua noticed you from across the lobby. You were holding a folder in your hands, staring absently at the floor, and he felt a strange tug in his chest.

He walked up to you casually.

"Morning," he said, offering a smile.

You barely met his eyes, but managed a faint nod in return. The air between you both felt thick, almost heavy with unspoken things.

Joshua wondered if you were the type who didn't speak much. He couldn't quite figure you out, but it didn't stop him from wanting to.

After a few more accidental encounters, it stopped feeling like an accident.

Something about you pulled him in deeper than he expected.

Joshua doesn't believe in fate. But maybe he believes in patterns.

And you... you've been showing up like a heartbeat.

♢

The First Coffee Date

You'd spent most of the afternoon inside the café, but now you stood outside, looking at the street, letting the cool air clear your head.

It was quiet out here, the soft hum of the street filling the space, but it was peaceful.

Joshua had stepped out too, a momentary break before the world picked back up.

The late afternoon sky was softening to gold behind scattered clouds, the light casting a muted glow over everything.

The café had emptied out hours ago, leaving only the distant sounds of footsteps and the faint murmur of the world moving on.

Joshua stood a few steps away, his eyes on you, but not quite close enough to interrupt your quiet.

You were standing there, your posture distant—like you were somewhere far away in your thoughts.

He hesitated.

The weight of the silence was different this time, charged in a way he hadn't anticipated.

He wasn't sure if it was the right moment, but something urged him to step closer.

"Hey," he said, his voice tentative as he approached. "Mind if I join you?"

You didn't flinch or move away.

Instead, you glanced at him, your eyes holding something softer, almost like recognition.

He wasn't sure what it meant yet, but he didn't back away.

And neither did you.

You didn't leave, and Joshua took that as something—an invitation of sorts, an unspoken acknowledgment.

It felt like a door opening, even if it was just a crack.

For a few moments, neither of you spoke.

The silence was comfortable in a way, like it wasn't about saying something right—it was just about being there.

With each other.

Finally, he broke the quiet, his voice soft. "Would you want to get coffee sometime?"

His words felt gentle, like he was asking for more than just a casual yes.

You met his gaze, not quite smiling, but there was a shift in your eyes—something behind them that told him you were actually considering it.

Joshua smiled, trying to hide the fact that he might've been keeping track of your café visits.

"I know a place," he added, "a little quieter, if you'd like."

You huffed, maybe a laugh, maybe not, but there was a shift in the air.

A moment of something real.

And you nodded.

That was the start.

Not a relationship.

Not yet.

But something quiet, something that didn't need to be labeled yet.

An orbit, slow and steady, but undeniably present.

♢

The Ex

Coffee dates happened—quiet ones, simple.

You never called them dates, and neither did he.

But Joshua showed up each time with a steadiness that felt like something close to care.

You talked about books sometimes, or the weather.

Mostly, you just sat in the same space, and that was enough.

He didn't mind.

Joshua had the kind of patience that didn't need to name things to believe in them.

One evening, after leaving the café, you both wandered off to the nearby park.

The quiet, open space seemed to settle your restless thoughts.

You found a bench under a tree, the branches swaying gently overhead as moonlight filtered through the leaves.

You sat down without a word, so quiet, lost in your own world.

Joshua followed without hesitation, sitting beside you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The silence stretched between you, not uncomfortable—just waiting.

After a beat, your voice broke through.

"I had a dream last night. About someone I lost."

Joshua stayed quiet, watching you carefully.

He didn't push, didn't ask.

But the way you spoke—so softly, like the memory weighed on you—made him want to know more.

"He died. Car accident."

You pause, your voice catching. "I was in it too. I hit my head—woke up in the hospital, and I... I didn't remember. Not him. Not what happened. Not for a whole year."

Joshua just nodded.

"Then it all came back. Just like that. All at once. It was like... losing him twice."

His chest tightened at your words, the pain in your voice cutting through the quiet like glass.

He didn't know what to say, but he stayed still, listening.

"His name was Mingyu," you added.

"I remember he loved tangerines. I used to peel them for him," you murmured, a sad smile tugging at your lips. "He said I did it wrong but ate them anyway."

Joshua's breath caught at the softness of your confession—the quiet reverence in the way you clung to small, tender details.

There was something in the way you said it—so casual, yet quietly full of sorrow—that stayed with him.

He didn't try to fill the silence.

He was just present, letting you share your grief in your own time.

And in that moment, Joshua realized something: he wasn't here to fix you.

He wasn't here to take away your pain.

He was here because he saw you—standing, broken and bruised, but still trying.

And in that, he found something quietly, irrevocably beautiful.

♢

Almost There

You don't know when it started feeling easy again.

Maybe it was somewhere in the quiet between sips of coffee and shared silences—when the conversations stopped circling grief and started brushing up against something lighter.

He never pushes. He never pries.

He just shows up—steadily, patiently—like he's willing to wait as long as it takes.

It should scare you.

But it doesn't.

One afternoon, the weather was too kind.

The building's glass doors swing shut behind you, and the air outside is the perfect blend of warmth and breeze.

Joshua's waiting by the curb, a coffee in each hand, smile soft like he already knows you'll say yes when he asks.

"Want to walk a bit?" He says.

You nod.

The city feels quieter than usual.

Cars hum gently in the background, and your footsteps fall into sync with his without effort.

You're not thinking about the weight you usually carry.

You're not thinking about Mingyu.

Until you are.

"I used to walk this road with him," you say quietly.

Joshua glances at you, gentle and unassuming. "Mingyu?"

You nod, but the ache doesn't rise.

Not like it used to.

"He always said I walked too fast. Said he couldn't keep up."

Joshua grins faintly. "You do walk fast."

You bump shoulders with him. "You're just slow."

He laughs, and for a second, the world is okay again.

You keep walking.

The air smells like bread from a nearby bakery.

There's a dog tied to a street post chewing a leaf like it's a delicacy.

Someone's playing a mellow jazz tune on an old speaker from an open apartment window.

None of it feels sharp.

None of it cuts.

For the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe—just maybe—you could be happy again.

♢

Citrus

You were so close to giving in.

So close to letting yourself feel something.

It’s been a long day—too long.

The exhaustion from work weighs heavily on your body as you lie beside Joshua on the bed.

You let yourself sink into the softness of the mattress, the quiet hum of your apartment filling the space.

Joshua has his arm loosely around you, his warmth a quiet comfort as you both settle into the stillness.

It’s not the first time you’ve shared this kind of space, but tonight feels different—more intimate, yet without any expectations.

He knows you’re not ready for that.

He even seems to sense the shift in the air, the quiet tension that wasn’t there before.

His arm tightens just slightly around you, and he shifts a little, as if giving you the space to decide what you want.

“Do you want me to let go?” He asks softly, a gentle question with no pressure.

You shake your head slightly, not trusting your voice enough to speak. "It’s fine, just hold me."

He doesn’t hesitate. He just pulls you a little closer, his presence reassuring and warm, and that’s all.

No rushing, no pushing.

Just the simple comfort of holding each other, nothing more, nothing less.

His grip tightens ever so gently, pulling you closer, and you rest your head against his chest, letting the rhythmic rise and fall of his breath calm you.

It's easy to lose yourself in this moment, easy to pretend there's nothing else you're holding onto.

But the weight of Mingyu, the guilt of moving on, presses against you in the quiet.

Joshua seems to sense it again.

There's another beat of silence before his voice cuts through the air, lighter now, almost as if he's trying to shift your focus.

"I told you about my sister, right?" His voice holds a vulnerability in it, like he's waiting for you to remember.

You nod, only half paying attention, your thoughts still tangled in the air between you.

"She's always called me 'too sweet.' Said I needed something to balance me out."

You turn your head slightly, furrowing your brows in confusion. "Balance you out?"

"Lemons," he says, laughing softly. "She says they keep me from being too soft. Too sweet."

You stare at him for a moment, surprised at how genuine he seems, at how something so small is so important to him.

"Lemons?" You repeat, still not quite grasping the connection.

Joshua nods, almost fondly.

"Yeah. She buys me bags of them—always tells me to eat one whenever I start getting... too much."

He chuckles, a hint of a private joke dancing in his smile. "I don't really like lemons, but I keep them around. Because it's what she gives me."

You smile at his quirk, the subtle affection in his words.

The way he talks about his sister—it's like she's not just his sibling, but someone who's a constant reminder of balance in his life.

He looks at you carefully, his eyes soft.

"She said I need to learn to keep things balanced. Sometimes I think I get lost in trying to make everyone happy."

His voice dips low, quieter now, but still with that edge of honesty that's almost disarming.

You tilt your head, letting the conversation simmer in the air between you.

He's still waiting for you to understand, to absorb the way he carries these little, private pieces of his life with him.

"I don't think you're too sweet," you say softly, almost without thinking. "I think you're just..."

You pause, searching for the right word.

"Genuine. Real."

Joshua's smile stretches a little wider, a knowing glimmer in his eyes.

"Maybe. But a little citrus never hurts, right?"

♢

A Kiss?

Something feels different today.

You're lighter.

Like you're not holding your breath anymore.

The car ride is quiet, but not heavy.

Joshua doesn't fill the silence with idle talk—he lets it exist, lets it settle.

The streets blur past in dark blue, the moon peeking just enough to paint the world in a soft white light.

He pulls up in front of your apartment building and shifts the car into park.

Without a word, he gets out, and you follow his lead, stepping out of the car.

The weight of the quiet is comfortable, as though it's something familiar between you.

You both walk up the steps together, and Joshua stays a little behind, but close enough that his presence is a constant warmth.

It's the kind of silence that fills spaces, yet feels natural.

At your door, you turn to him, a little surprised at how quickly the moment has arrived.

"Well, this is me," you say, voice softer than you meant it to be.

Joshua offers a small smile. "Yeah."

But neither of you moves.

The hallway is hushed, lit only by the soft, yellow glow of overhead lights—dim, steady, and humming faintly above you.

And within it, the silence stretches, but it doesn't feel awkward.

It feels like something waiting to be named.

He stands a little too close—but not close enough to cross a line.

Not unless you step into it.

You glance up at him. He's already looking at you.

There's something unreadable in his eyes.

Something open. Something patient.

The kind of look that doesn't ask, but offers.

A silent question in the way his gaze flickers—just briefly—to your mouth, then back to your eyes.

Your heart stumbles.

The space between you feels suddenly electric, charged with something too delicate to hold and too heavy to ignore.

You don't speak. You don't need to.

Everything unsaid is already there—in the air, in the breath you hold, in the way his fingers twitch like he's thinking about reaching for you.

The pull is quiet but insistent.

The kind of pull that makes your stomach twist, makes your lips part without realizing it.

You almost lean in.

Almost.

And then—

Tangerines.

The memory hits too fast, too vivid.

Peeling them for Mingyu, the juice sticking to your fingers, the way he always laughed and told you you did it wrong.

The way you swore you'd never forget the weight of losing him.

Your chest tightens. The warmth drains from your fingertips.

You take a step back.

"I—I should go," you murmur.

His expression doesn't falter, but something in his eyes softens.

Like he already knew.

You don't look back as you turn away.

You don't want to see the disappointment.

You don't want to feel it.

But when you're alone in your apartment, staring at the untouched tangerine on your counter, you think about the way your hand almost moved.

About how, for just a moment, you let yourself want something again.

You didn't reach for it, but you almost did—and that's what scares you more than the grief ever did.

Because that would mean letting go of the part of you that still clings to Mingyu's memory.

♢

The Relapse

You feel like you're suffocating, like every breath is heavier than the last.

It's been building for days now, this pressure in your chest, this thing that's always lurking just beneath the surface.

And today, it's worse.

You walk past a fruit stand on your way home, the scent of fresh tangerines hitting you first, and it's like the world suddenly spins too fast.

You freeze, your hand instinctively clutching at the strap of your bag as the memories hit all at once.

Mingyu's laugh.

The way he would tease you about peeling them "wrong," but he'd eat them anyway, because it was you.

His voice echoing in your mind, his touch, the warmth of him next to you.

And then... the crash.

The accident.

The time lost, the year you can't remember.

The pain of waking up and realizing you'd lost him twice.

Your vision blurs, and you find yourself stumbling, gripping the nearest lamp post to steady yourself.

You can't breathe.

The world seems too loud, too overwhelming.

You try to shake the memories off, but they cling to you, the grief so raw and unbearable.

You don't know how to make it stop.

You make your way back home, your mind swirling in the chaos of it all.

You can barely think straight, your heart heavy and full of longing for someone you can't have, someone who doesn't belong to you anymore.

The phone buzzes in your pocket—Joshua.

You glance at it for a second before shoving it back in your bag.

You don't have the energy to deal with him.

Not now.

Not when you're drowning in this endless, suffocating grief.

♢

Joshua presses his phone to his ear again.

It rings.

And rings.

No answer.

He exhales slowly, thumb hovering over the screen like calling again might change the outcome. His brows furrow, jaw tight.

"Sir," Laura says gently from the doorway, clipboard in hand. "They're waiting for you in the meeting."

He doesn't look up right away.

He just stares at your name on the screen, the call finally cutting off.

"Right..." he says, slipping the phone into his coat. "I'm coming."

But he walks a little slower than usual.

And when he enters the boardroom, his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.

♢

The calls keep coming, one after the other, but you're too consumed in the spiraling mess inside your head to even check.

Every message, every buzz feels like an intrusion on your overwhelming thoughts.

You just need to be alone.

You need the silence, the space to just breathe and fall apart.

But the silence only makes the memories louder.

You don't know how many hours pass like that—curled up in the quiet, phone facedown, grief sitting heavy in your bones—until the world moves on without you.

And when you finally look up, it already has.

Days slip by.

Maybe a week. Maybe more.

The sky outside shifts from gray to black to gray again. The untouched food spoils. The messages pile up.

You sleep too much and still feel exhausted. You shower once, maybe twice.

And somewhere in the stillness, the calls stop.

The texts slow.

The silence begins to feel different—emptier, colder.

That's when you notice it.

Joshua has been distant lately.

The messages have stopped coming as frequently. His smiles feel less warm, like they're forced.

And you can’t figure out why.

You know he’s always been there—constant, reliable—but something has shifted.

Maybe he’s giving you space. Maybe he’s waiting for you to reach out.

But you can’t help but feel that something has changed.

♢

Let Me Meet You There

You walk into the lobby, mind preoccupied, when you spot him standing by the elevator.

His eyes find yours immediately, and you instinctively look away, not ready to face the quiet disappointment you can sense in him.

But he's already moving toward you.

"You've been avoiding me," Joshua says, his voice quieter than usual, edged with something you can't quite place. "Why?"

The question hangs between you, thick and unspoken.

Your throat tightens, and you don't have an answer.

You want to say something, anything, but the words aren't there.

The silence stretches long enough that it feels suffocating.

You try to shrug it off, but he's not buying it. You see the way his eyes flicker with frustration, a flash of hurt that stings more than you expected.

"Why are you ignoring me, YN?" He repeats, and it feels like a weight pressing down on your chest.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

You can't explain why.

You don't even know yourself.

You just keep pulling away, and it's easier to do so than to face whatever this—whatever he—might be.

He doesn't say anything else.

He just turns and walks into the elevator, leaving you standing there, your heart heavy in your chest.

Later, you realize he hasn't sent you any more messages.

No more check-ins, no more casual hellos.

And it bothers you more than you care to admit.

♢

Another few days pass, each one dragging you further into the quiet of your own thoughts.

You're exhausted, not from physical fatigue, but from carrying this weight of grief you can't shake.

It's as though your world has been on pause, and everyone else has somehow moved on.

One day, you find yourself facing him again.

It's in the lobby again—your elevator doors sliding open just as his do across from you.

"YN..." He calls out, and you turn to him.

He glances at you, his gaze holding a certain quiet intensity, like he's been waiting for the right moment.

But he doesn't rush to fill the silence. He lets the space between you breathe.

Finally, he speaks again, his voice soft.

"I'm not asking you to open the door, YN. Just... crack it. Just once. Let me meet you there."

There's no urgency in his words.

No desperation.

Just a quiet plea.

His eyes, though, stay steady on yours, unwavering.

"You don't need to go back to who you were. I love who you are now."

His words linger in the air between you, and for a moment, you think you might say something back.

But then the tightness in your chest returns, the grief that holds you captive.

You can't move forward, not yet.

You want to, but the weight of everything stops you.

And so, you leave before Joshua sees your tears.

♢

The Visit

You didn't plan to go today.

It just... happened.

You found yourself standing in front of the door you hadn't crossed in what felt like a lifetime.

Mingyu's mom answers, the same warmth in her eyes, though there's a hint of sadness there.

She always greeted you like you were family, even when you felt like a stranger.

"YN," she says softly, her voice holding so many unspoken things.

She steps aside to let you in, as she always did.

It's different this time.

The silence feels heavier, the weight of the years without Mingyu filling the spaces between you. But as you sit across from her, there's a strange comfort in the quiet.

She pours you tea, and for a moment, you both sip in silence, the clinking of the cup the only sound.

You're seated outside, a simple table and chairs arranged just beyond the sliding doors.

The breeze stirs the air, and the faint rustling of leaves fills the space, while the sound of tea settling in your cup lingers.

It feels peaceful here, as if time has slowed for just this moment.

Finally, she speaks. "How have you been, dear?"

The question isn't just about today.

It's about everything.

The time since Mingyu's passing. The time since you were lost.

You manage a small smile. "There's... someone. He's been waiting for me. He's kind. Patient. He never pushes—but he stays."

A quiet hum leaves her lips, something between understanding and sadness. "That sounds like someone who really cares."

You nod, eyes beginning to sting. "But I haven't been able to let him in. Not really. Not when I still think about Mingyu every day."

She doesn't speak, so you continue—softly, like a wound you're still scared to touch.

"I miss him. So much. But it's like I'm lost in that grief, and I don't know how to move on. I don't even know if I should."

Mingyu's mom looks at you with the understanding only someone who's been through the same grief could have.

"I know you miss him," she says gently, "We miss him too. But it's okay, YN. It's okay if you want to let go."

Her words hit you harder than you expected.

You blink back the sudden tears, the weight of it pressing down on your chest.

"It's not about forgetting him," she continues, her voice a soft anchor in your storm of emotions. "It's about living with the love he left behind. And... I'm glad there's someone else now, someone who can make you smile again."

You meet her eyes, and the vulnerability in them makes your chest tighten. "I don't know how to let go of him. It feels wrong."

"It doesn't have to be wrong," she reassures you, her hands folded in her lap, calm and steady. "You don't have to forget him to move on. You just have to allow yourself the chance to feel something else, too."

You take a shaky breath, her words circling in your chest—unfamiliar, uncomfortable.

They don't erase the grief, but for the first time, they make space for something to sit beside it.

"I'm not saying you have to be ready," she adds, "But don't let Mingyu hold you back from what might be waiting for you. He would want you to be happy."

The weight in your chest lessens, the tears that had once seemed endless now falling in soft, quiet waves.

It's hard, but somehow you understand.

You understand what his mom's words are.

And she's saying that you can love him and still move forward.

You can keep him in your heart without letting him define your every step.

The thought of Joshua surfaces slowly—his quiet patience, the way he never asked for more than you could give, the way he waited.

And for the first time, you let yourself sit in that thought.

You don't run from it. You don't shove it away.

It lingers.

You don't say anything.

But you start to cry.

Mingyu's mom doesn't rush you.

She doesn't fill the silence. She just reaches out, wrapping her arms around you like she's done before, like a mother would.

You crumble into her.

And when the tears slow—just enough for breath—you whisper into her shoulder, "Can I please let go now?"

It's not really a question.

It's a plea.

An apology.

A confession.

She pulls back, tears in her eyes too. She cups your face in her palms, gently, like you're still fragile.

"Yes, it's okay, YN. You're not betraying Mingyu for loving someone else. In fact, he would want you to do that. He would want you to find love again. So yes, YN... you can let go now."

For a moment, you just stare at her. Her words hang in the air, and something stirs deep inside you.

It's like she's asking you to let go of a part of yourself, but also giving you permission to free it.

You blink, the weight of it all pressing down, and you look at her the way you would look at your own mom—seeking the permission you didn't know you needed.

The tears come again, soft at first, and then they overwhelm you, flooding your vision.

Before you can stop them, your shoulders shake, and you cling to her like a child, feeling the comfort of her embrace envelop you.

Mingyu's mom holds you tight, her own tears mingling with yours, as if she's also letting go of a piece of her son in this moment.

She had always hoped you would become part of the family one day, especially when Mingyu was planning to propose, but now she must let go of that dream too.

The realization hits both of you at once—you will be someone else's daughter-in-law one day, and she will have to step back, just as you are stepping forward.

In that quiet space, there's a release for both of you.

"Okay," you breathe.

When you part from the hug, you let out a soft chuckle—wet and a little cracked.

Embarrassed, maybe, for unraveling like that in front of his mom. But it's the first laugh you've let yourself have in a while.

It makes you feel lighter somehow.

Like something in you is finally releasing.

"Thank you," you say, voice steadier now.

She gives you a small, knowing smile. "You've always been strong, YN. And I will always be proud of you, just as Mingyu will be."

You hold her gaze for a moment, her words slowly soaking in, not just in your head this time—but in your heart.

"Okay."

♢

You leave the house of Mingyu's mom later that afternoon, the weight on your shoulders lighter than when you'd arrived.

The clarity you've been craving has finally arrived, but there's something else, too.

Something unexpected.

You think of Joshua.

Of his quiet patience.

Of the way he's been waiting—not for you to be the same, but for you to meet him halfway.

Just a crack in your door. Enough to let him in.

And he'll be there.

♢

Meeting Halfway

The office door opens with a soft creak.

Joshua glances up from his desk just as a girl steps in—a cozy cardigan draped over her shoulders, paired with a sleek blouse and dark jeans. Her long black hair flows naturally, and a tote bag hangs lazily over her shoulder.

There's something familiar about her energy: unbothered but observant, like she's used to moving through people's spaces and quietly collecting the things they miss.

"Hey, kid," Joshua says, his voice softening in a way you haven't heard before.

Not the softness he gives you—something older, something threaded with a long stretch of shared time.

"Thought you already left."

She rolls her eyes. "Needed to grab my tablet charger you keep stealing. Seriously, Joshua, can't you buy your own charger? Where does all your lawyer money go?"

Joshua just chuckles. "Right. I'll buy one soon."

"Buy one today, please. Or buy me one, and you can keep my old charger. Deal?"

"Alright, alright, I will. Isn't your boyfriend waiting for you already?" Joshua deflects, changing the subject so that the girl would already be done with her business.

It works, because the moment Joshua brings up her boyfriend, she turns pink and rushes off to grab her so-called stolen charger.

You blink, startled by the easy banter, by how quickly the room shifts in tone.

It's his sister—the one who buys bags of lemons for him. You've seen her in photos, the ones Joshua had shown you.

He stands, moving to the side of the room as she ruffles through a drawer. She doesn't glance at you until she's already at the door again.

But then she pauses, turning back.

Her eyes meet yours, curious.

Not in the way people tend to be curious about pain or rumors—but curious like she's heard things.

Her gaze is kind, steady.

"I've been hearing about you," she says casually, the edge of a grin playing at her lips. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Then she lifts a hand, gives Joshua a mock salute, and disappears around the corner with a muttered, "Don't screw it up, old man."

Joshua exhales a laugh under his breath.

And then you're alone, with him.

Again.

But something feels different.

Not because of the girl—though her presence lingered longer than she stayed—but because Joshua doesn't fill the silence with reassurances or affection.

He just... sits.

Quiet. Waiting.

You don't even know why you came.

You're standing there with your hands in your coat pockets, unsure of where to look.

The carpet?

The light filtering in through the window?

The man sitting a few feet away who never once stopped waiting?

You sit.

You don't say anything at first. You're scared to.

Because once it starts, it won't stop.

Your voice, when it comes, is brittle. "She's funny."

Joshua glances up, surprised. "She is, that kid," he says, smiling despite himself. "She's very strong, though. I'm proud of her."

You nod, a ghost of a smile on your lips.

Then a pause.

"She loves you," you add, quieter this time. "I can tell."

He doesn't respond to that. Not with words.

He just watches you, and it's not with hope—not this time—but with patience.

And something else you can't name.

Maybe faith. Maybe quiet grief of his own.

But then he speaks.

"How have you been, YN?"

You take a deep breath, trying to ease the tightness in your chest.

"I thought... I thought once the worst was over, it would feel lighter."

Joshua shifts in his chair, leans forward just a little. Not enough to crowd you. Just enough to listen.

"But the grief doesn't disappear," you continue. "It just... changes. Some days it hurts like a knife. Other days, it's just this—" You gesture vaguely. "Weight. In my ribs. In my throat."

Your hands tremble. You look down at them.

"I want to love you, I really do. But I don't know where to put this grief."

There it is.

Everything that's been clinging to your skin since the memories. Since the silence.

Since the last time you heard Mingyu's voice, and how it still echoes in the quiet spaces you can't escape.

Joshua's voice breaks through, quiet but steady.

Like a breath of fresh air after being trapped in a stuffy room.

"You don't have to put it anywhere."

You look up.

He meets your eyes. "You don't have to get rid of it to love again. You don't have to tuck it away or hide it or make it smaller for my sake."

You blink.

He takes a breath.

"I'm not here to erase what you had with him. I never was. I know he meant everything to you. I know part of you is still holding his hand."

Your throat closes up. The tears come faster than you can stop them.

"I'm not asking you to let go," he says. "I'm just asking if you can let me hold the rest of you."

You don't answer right away.

The grief still sits heavily, but now it's different.

You've already whispered those words to Mingyu's mother, and her quiet reassurance is still fresh in your heart.

It's like the weight has lightened just enough for you to breathe, to feel that perhaps, just perhaps, it's time.

Joshua doesn't push.

He just waits, his presence steady and calm, like the breath of fresh air you've been needing.

"I know it's not easy," Joshua says, his voice soft, "but you don't have to let it all go at once. Just... let me be here. Let me hold the pieces of you that are ready to be loved."

You finally meet his eyes, and for the first time in so long, you feel the tightness in your chest ease.

You've been afraid—afraid of forgetting, of dishonoring what you had with Mingyu—but now, you see Joshua's quiet sincerity, and you know it's safe to trust him with what's left of your heart.

"I..." You swallow, your voice barely a whisper. "I'm scared. I don't want you to think that by letting go of him, that I'm... forgetting him."

His gaze doesn't waver. "I know you're still grieving. And I don't love you despite that. I love you with it."

You blink, caught off guard.

"I want you," he says gently, "not just when you're ready. Not just when the weight is gone. I want you in your joy, your hesitation, your ruin. All of it. I want the you that's still healing. The you that still hears his voice when it's quiet. I want the you who came here even when she didn't know if she could."

Joshua's eyes soften, then, quietly, he rises from his chair.

He steps around the desk, past the armrest of the visitor chair beside you.

And kneels—slowly, purposefully—in front of yours.

He doesn't reach for you right away. He just looks up at you, waiting, offering.

When you don't pull back, he gently takes your hands in his.

And for once, you don't flinch.

You let him.

"I'm not waiting for a lighter version of you, YN," he says, voice steady even from the floor. "I'm here because this version—grief and all—is worth loving too."

You look at him, and see the sincerity in his eyes.

And that's what does it.

Because for the first time, it doesn't feel like you have to shed something to be loved.

For the first time, the grief doesn't feel like a wall—it feels like a bridge.

You breathe in slowly. Then out.

"I'm still scared," you say, voice trembling. "But I want to try. I want to meet you halfway."

Joshua's fingers brush yours.

"Then that's where I'll be."

And maybe that's what love is, after all—not the absence of pain, but someone willing to walk through it with you.

♢

When Tangerines Give You Lemons

The cemetery is quiet again.

Same winding path. Same rustle of trees. Same soft morning light threading through the leaves.

But this time, you're not alone.

Joshua walks beside you, steps slow and steady, a respectful distance kept until you stop at the headstone. He doesn't say a word. Just waits, hands tucked in his coat pockets, gaze lowered.

You crouch down, brushing a few fallen leaves off the stone.

His name is still there. Still weathered. Still real.

You set the paper coffee cup beside it—same brand, same blend. His favorite.

And maybe this time, it's not a ritual of holding on.

Maybe it's a ritual of remembering.

Of honoring Mingyu.

You sit there for a moment, fingers brushing the rim of the cup, heart beating steady in your chest. The grief is still there. But it no longer swallows the whole sky.

Then slowly, you rise.

You don't look back.

Instead, your hand reaches out.

Joshua takes it.

No hesitation. No words.

Just warm fingers folding around yours.

You glance back once, not out of doubt—but gratitude. You smile at the grave, soft and certain.

Then you turn to Joshua.

And smile again.

Not because the pain is gone.

But because it's no longer all that you carry.

Later that night, Joshua moves quietly around the kitchen.

The soft clink of porcelain, the hush of the kettle.

He doesn't ask questions when he sees you with that faraway look again.

Just brews the tea the way you like it—not too hot.

You're lying in bed with your phone face up beside you.

You scroll back through old messages.

You know which thread you're looking for before you even start typing his name.

Mingyu.

You open it.

There's laughter in those texts. Playful teasing. Good mornings and I'm-on-my-ways. A love that bloomed like spring and died like winter came too soon.

You don't reread them all.

You don't need to.

You know what they meant.

You press and hold the thread.

Delete.

A long breath leaves your lungs.

Not relief. Not yet.

But release.

You roll over and see another name at the top of your notifications.

Joshua.

The message is simple, sent earlier in the day.

No rush. I'm still here.

And he is.

In your kitchen.

Making you warm lemon tea.

Life has many ways of teaching you how to feel.

Happiness, sadness, grief, love.

It's made you forget, and made you remember.

It hurt you, but it healed you.

With time, and with the right person.

At the right time.

Even if you didn't see it before, even if you refused to before.

But now you do, and he's staring right back at you, waiting.

Always waiting.

Always there, never pushing, just steady.

Because life has many ways of teaching you how to feel.

And you learn that when tangerines give you lemons?

You don't forget the tangerines, you just learn to love the lemons.

just imagine ; svt | masterlist

🌻

a/n: this was so difficult to do! i only had one idea in my mind and that was to make yn from my mingyu fic the very same yn in this joshua fic hahaha!

so anyway, this is me confirming that this is kinda like part 2 of déjà vu but differently. i've had this idea since march of this year bc i kept getting joshua reqs and i said "eh, why not?" but in a way that connects my own fics with each other, like my very own cinematic universe 😂 i've done it before in my nct fics and i wanted to do it again in my svt ones and tbh, this isn't the last one bc who said i should stop at one connection? 😉

fun fact: i first decided the title would be that, then decided i want the same yn from the mingyu fic to be in the joshua one—but i wasnt sure how to tie everything in hahahahah! but it worked, i stuck to it, adapted to it, and made it make sense as long as the title stayed 😂

anyway, i hope u enjoyed this story! i'll see u in my other stories bc i have a lot planned out for this year and all are svt fics ☂️

questions? send your thoughts! feedbacks are much appreciated!

🌻

©️ 2025, moonstarsunflower. All rights reserved. Do not copy, repost, or use without permission.

[somewhereincairparavel]

The fandom's bias and tendency to wanting to agressively associate EVERYTHING with Percy and getting upset when a character isn't associated with him really taints their view on actually significant relationships, and it ruins Percy's canon character tbh.

I came across a video edit appreciating Jason and Nico's friendship, and the comments were just filled with people raging on how Percy should've been included instead of Jason because he was "much closer friends" to Nico than Jason was. It's appalling how much ppl can turn to a blind eye when it comes to Jason.

People hate Jason SO much in this fandom that they literally refuse to admit that Nico canonically considered Jason as his first ever friend, not Percy (this is literally said in Tower of Nero, by the way)

You guys are seriously so hell bent on wanting to take away every little thing jason had that makes his character meaningful, simple to give it to percy when it isn't even necessary. Doesn't percy have enough good characterization already? Why deprive Nico of a genuinely good friendship? Jason spent time and effort to make Nico comfortable and succeeded in earning nicos trust. He taught nico to never push people away and not to be ashamed of being himself, Isn't that beautiful? Why do people get salty abt that so much? Because of course, it's about appreciating Jason for once, and not Percy, isn't that it?

My perspective on Percy and Nico is that, they were never really "close" to begin with and never ended up being close either, and that's okay. Percy tried his very best to be a brother to Nico, but they somehow always had tension with eachother because of Nico's internal turmoil of idolizing and crushing on Percy whilst simultaneously associating him with Bianca.

Sure, they talked it out a little in the end, but I'd like to think that some tension would always be there, because they started off at the wrong foot, and there was too much bitterness and resentment to come in their dynamic. And them never actually being close "brothers" makes their dynamic very significant and authentic. In the end, Nico acknowledged that Percy was a good person, and I like to think that's the farthest they've ever gone in their dynamic. They both are on amicable terms but the awkwardness still being there is very realistic, the weight of Bianca's death would always be associated with Percy to Nico, and it's neither of their faults. That adds SO much to their angsty dynamic, why get so upset about it when it's such an integral, and meaningful part of the story? Nico and Percy not being close friends shows how complex character relationships can be.

Percy doesn't have to be close with everyone just because he's the main character, it really deprives him of actually meaningful connections. The fandom forcing him to be buddy buddy with everyone simply because they HAVE to associate Percy with anyone and everyone, and getting angry that Jason is closer to Nico than Percy is, is just really weird.

Why do people feel SO threatened about Jason all the time that they have to get all defensive and suppress his connections by dragging Percy into videos that doesn't even have to do anything with him? I swear y'all are creating this whole Jason/Percy rivalry thing because you cannot bear to see someone rival Percy, and you want Percy to be the only powerful/good person in the books.

Let other characters befriend eachother without trying to insert Percy in there all the time.

Percy and Nico would never be like Reyna and Nico, or Jason and Nico, and that's completely fine. I like them better that way. You can't be best friends with everyone. That's just how life works.

[creatingblackcharacters]

if this is the wrong blog to put all this in please direct me to the right one :3

So first of all I wanna know if it's bad that I just made my character Black on a whim. I just really like Black hair and curly and it has so many styles and braids and all of that makes me so happy because they're so intricate and so much effort is put into it.

The second thing is that I based her off of myself (white+rich(double whammy D: )). So I gave her two white adoptive parents who are very racist in the way thats like "I don't see color" and views any mostly Black gatherings as ghetto or hood. They also don't have any products or want to care for her hair so it's very damaged and tangled for the first parts of her life. She buzzes her hair twice a year out of convenience, but this stops once she meets her birth mom (which her parents don't like because they think that Black neighborhoods are dangerous and gang territory or whatever) and then she gets flat twists that help her because she is 1. Access to a Black barber with hair products that help and 2. She gets into a lot of battles that her hair down would get in the way.

Lastly: I based her off of myself but I'm trying to write her connecting back with her culture but I'm not sure if I can do it right because my area has very few POC and I'm not friends with a lot of them because I don't know how to make friends with anybody, so if you have anything that I could touch on when she's maybe hanging out with her birth mom that white people maybe not know about because it's stigmatized negatively so I'd be sheltered from it.

Again, thank you if you can help, and thank you for reading it even if you can't !

I got two suggestions here for you, friend:

Either 1) make a white self-insert with a different story instead

Or 2) accept that this Black character cannot be based off of you.

There's nothing wrong with deciding you want to create a Black character off of a whim. What is the problem is not knowing anything about them. So you were on the right track asking. However, from what you've said here, it... It feels like you want to put yourself in a position of specific experiences you've heard of that you do not have. Writing this character will not allow you to experience racism or Black cultural disconnect, it's not roleplay. Experiencing racism, especially from your own family, isn't a drama plot point for funsies, it's a serious topic!

Not having any friends of color, specifically Black friends, or really any sort of relationship to the community is also going to be a problem. Before you start writing about topics that are important to my community, perhaps you should get to know the community itself. Because your goal here is audacious 😅 you're going from 0 to 100 and I need you to pause. Ask yourself a couple questions. Why do you want to write this? What is motivating you to write, out of all stories, this one in particular? How do these experiences that you do not have and know nothing about, connect you to a character that you have based off of yourself? What is your goal?

I need you to start reading, both fiction and nonfiction, on the experiences you want to cover. I have two lessons on this topic in my syllabus as well; please take a look at those resources contained! Tbh, I think you should read my entire syllabus, to make sure there aren't some things you've internalized yourself. 🙏🏾

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Thank you so much for your posts defending Sirius. 🙏🙏🙏 It's so refreshing to read! I'm always a bit taken aback when people say that Sirius' projects James onto Harry tbh - or even that Harry was looking for James in Sirius. I mean, he was the connection, but that's it. They were always so clearly precious to each other (at least to me lol). Honestly, it reads to me like Harry has the least in common with James, on a deeper level. Like, sure, the surface stuff is there but their childhoods, lives and values were so fundamentally different. It's rather sad.

You're welcome and thank you for the kind words! 😊

Yeah, I love Sirius and Harry as individuals and their dynamics with each other. Like, I made it no secret that Harry's my number 1 favorite precious son, but Sirius is a close 2nd most favorite of mine. I just love Sirius a lot, especially in my more recent rereads.

Sirius isn't the image of perfect mental health (how could he be after 12 years in hell?), but he is clever and sensible and much more mature than I'd expect him to be. He so clearly has Harry as his first (and really, only) priority.

Sirius and Harry don't neatly fit into a father-son dynamic, and it's a result of both of their lives up to this point. Harry never had a parent or adult he could look up to as a parent. He was abused all his childhood, and he learned not to trust adults, and yet he trusts Sirius with everything, and he does so easily. But Harry isn't exactly looking for a father, he thinks he is, but he is too independent for that, too uncomfortable with authority of any kind. I think he trusts Sirius as much as he does because their dynamic isn't a neat parent-child one.

And Sirius was sent to Azkaban when he was 21! (younger than I am, which is insane to me) Like a 21-year-old isn't that different from an 18 or 19-year-old in behavior and development, and sure, the war matured him, I'm sure it did. But the kind of maturity war brings is not the same as being allowed to age and grow up. This means Sirius, in his head, is younger. Yes, he is an adult and he can and does act like one, but it is easier for him to connect to Harry and his friends as equals than to the older members of the Order. Like, we see him having fun talking to the younger members more than the older ones (except Remus who's an exception due to their shared past), as Azkaban did stagnate Sirius' development. He was probably quite mature even before Azkaban in ways, war does it to people, being an eldest child with a younger sibling can do it. Even before Azkaban, he was willing to lay down his life for James, Lily, and Harry with no hesitation. But he still has that early 20s behavior to him, especially in OotP when Grimmauld Place brings back all his worst and best memories while being locked there:

“Speaking of dogs,” said Snape softly, “did you know that Lucius Malfoy recognized you last time you risked a little jaunt outside? Clever idea, Black, getting yourself seen on a safe station platform . . . gave you a cast-iron excuse not to leave your hidey-hole in the future, didn’t it?” Sirius raised his wand. “NO!” Harry yelled, vaulting over the table and trying to get in between them, “Sirius, don’t —” “Are you calling me a coward?” roared Sirius, trying to push Harry out of the way, but Harry would not budge. “Why, yes, I suppose I am,” said Snape. “Harry — get — out — of — it!” snarled Sirius, pushing him out of the way with his free hand.

(OotP, 520-521)

Harry, the 15-year-old, needs to be the adult for two 36-year-olds in the above scene. It shows their dynamic isn't a neat one, it's messy and it's between two traumatized individuals who are both trying to protect each other because they are the only thing close to a family that either of them has. They both know what it is to be completely on your own, and they try to be there for each other in their own way.

Honestly, their dynamic kinda reminds me of the one I have with my mother, tbh (if less intense and with way less trauma, lol). Like, yeah, she's my mother, and she would make huge sacrifices for me, but we talk more like we're best friends and not like a mother-daughter. We go shopping together, we gossip and talk shit together like friends do (like, I'm an adult now, so it makes sense, but it was like that when I was 14-15 too). So, like, I know how a dynamic of a parent-child where the child is really mature and independent so they're sorta treated like a friend can be. And it's a lot of fun, I mean, I love my mom and we're still really close friends (although this style of parenting isn't necessarily good for everyone).

And Harry is that. An incredibly mature and independent child who doesn't actually know how to have a parent. And Sirius is not trying to be his father, he isn't trying to be James, which results in their something between a parent-child to close friends dynamic we see. But even with this, Sirius doesn't really see Harry as James, nor does he treat him as James. He sees their similarities, that do exist, but he sees Harry as Harry. Harry who is younger than he is, who he is responsible for, and who he needs to teach and protect. With James, I think it was the opposite. James was kinda the unofficial-official leader of the Mauraders, Sirius usually followed him around (so did Pettigrew and Remus) so their entire dynamic was different. As peers, yes, but, peers where Sirius would defer to James in a way he doesn't with Harry. With Harry, he listens carefully without the friendly shit-talk I'd expect him and James to have and is willing to give out advice that James likely wouldn't have asked for. He'd move heaven and earth for both of them because that's how Sirius is like when he cares about someone.

In my headcanon, how Sirius treats Harry is closer to how he treated Regulus than how he treated James. He is half in denial about it, but this half-parental half-friendly dynamic is probably close to what he had with Regulus. Like, older siblings tend to be the more responsible ones, but it's exaggerated when the parents are absent, neglectful, or generally not overly involved, even when the age difference isn't a large one. I think when they were younger, Sirius, as the heir, got more attention from his parents than Regulus who was a bit overlooked as a child. I honestly think that as children, Walburga and Orion raised Sirius and Sirius raised Regulus (in a way. And in a joint guardianship with Kreature). Baby Regulus looked up to baby Sirius and followed him around constantly and it hurt Regulus so much when Sirius left. I'm sure when they were younger, Regulus would come to Sirius with his issues and Sirius would sit and listen and try to give his advice the way we see him do with Harry.

As for Harry and James being very different on a deep level, yeah, that's definitely the case. Like, they have some surface similarities, besides their looks, but at their cores, they are very different people. I think James' priorities near his death were closer to Harry's, but they had such drastically different experiences growing up and just existing. I think Harry's anger is James' though. I mean, we see Lily when angry, she doesn't curse anyone, or get volatile, instead, she removes herself from the situation (or gets sad in some instances, like with Petunia). Lily is cold when angry. James, on the other hand, is more volatile, we see him curse in anger, cursing Snape after he calls Lily a mudblood. I think this is something Harry shares with James, his volatile temper. But his values, his priorities, his compassion, and his self-sacrificing tendencies are much more Lily than James.

[covenofthearticulate]

as the quintessential Louis understander, what do you think his reaction was to reading PLRoA and Lestat's demented aside that he was jealous of any blood -- even a victim's -- in Louis's vein that wasn't his, Lestat's?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

God, you KNOW I think about this all the time because like!!!! Even before that line about him being jealous, there's that bit where he watches Louis feed and gets so intensely jealous of the victim that he slips into her mind because he's so obsessed!!

I stood watching as [Louis] drank from her, slipping into her mind now to find him and what he was feeling as all that sweet salty blood flooded his mouth and his senses, as the heart of the woman weakened and slowed.

THAT'S SO HOT LOL

And like, for me, I think the real kicker when I think about Louis reading this whole narrative from Lestat's POV in-universe is that like!!! In an earlier era, he would have been APPALLED at the idea of Lestat wanting to dominate the very blood in his veins. IWTV-era Louis would have read that line and gone into an absolute fit.

And like, I tend to view Louis in two eras— pre-Merrick and post-Merrick for obvious reasons. So like, thinking about Louis trying to end his own life but then being rebirthed by Lestat, and being almost purified by his blood, it kind of makes sense why Lestat would feel so connected to him in that way!! Even before the suicide, David mentioned how Louis would never drink from any of the elder vampires, infamously Maharet, and so there's all these other layers to Louis, as well, that point back to his purity, almost his virginity in a sense, because the blood in his veins is the very same blood that was in his veins the night he was turned, and that is a rare thing.

But current-day Louis?? He’s been through some shit! This is the same Louis who turns around and pledges that "You shall be my god." so if anything, I'd argue that actually this entire scene is a really great exploration of how terribly, toxic-ly in love they are LOL like the insanity is very much reciprocal!!

Like, I was chatting with Jess the other day about how Louis' line of "I’m tired of fighting it; I give up; I’ll come.” is lowkey really depressing because it feels uncharacteristically submissive for Louis. But ACTUALLY now that I'm reading the entire scene through again, I feel like Louis' "surrender" is less of an act of submission and more of an acceptance of his own desire to allow his life to be transformed again by Lestat.

Because that's what he's been fighting all along, if we're being honest. It isn't Lestat himself that he hates— it's the chaos that Lestat brings, it's the way he overpowers everything and sucks it all into his orbit and leaves no other pathway for Louis to live his life in quiet solitude. It's the strength of his blood that slowly changes all vampires over time, and removes the option for self-harm. It's all the ways that Lestat has permanently changed him, from the inside out.

But Louis is a man who has never known the meaning of temperance, never understood how to moderate anything in his life. And so when he "gives up" to things, he fully and wholly gives his entire being. When he says You shall by my god, he means it with every fibre of his being. I think if he had it his way, he would meet his end at the hands of Lestat— he'd want to sacrifice himself and be consumed completely, and Lestat would finally have all the blood from Louis' veins, entirely to himself.

and so ANYWAY TO FINALLY ANSWER YOUR QUESTION i think Louis is finally, finally in his era where he's able to match Lestat's freak, and I think he would love the idea of Lestat getting jealous of Louis taking any other blood into his veins. I think he would use it to his advantage and make Lestat so jealous until he simply HAS to take Louis and utterly ravage him and keep him all to himself :)

And tbh that's the crux of why I love this ship so much— they're terrible for each other!!! Lestat is jealous of the very blood in Louis' veins. Louis worships Lestat.

They are their own ouroboros, devouring each other from start to finish, over and over and over again.

[venigni]

"Klaus is Medoro" Theory

This is a very popular theory that everyone is talking about. YouTubers are even making videos on it like it's fact, and while there's blatant evidence, there's stuff that's confusing me about it, too, so I wanted to talk through it all.

Identity

"Klaus" -> "Medoro"

Of course he would have to make up a pen name for himself, given the controversial topics he was reporting on, so it makes sense that their names are different.

Animal Motifs and References

Klaus is clearly meant to be a reference to the cowardly lion from Oz. Medoro was a regal poodle in Pinocchio. I know the references don't end up meaning much since we know, characters like Lumacchio end up nothing like their Pinocchio-counterpart, but I just feel like it's worth mentioning anyway.

Hotel Krat Review

At the end of the DLC, Klaus leaves a letter at the hotel with a review ranking it 4/5.

He adds that it's like a proper Monthly Landmark Guide...but the Landmark Guide wasn't created yet, and the hotel wasn't open to be reviewed, so it's impossible he's referencing Medoro's writing here, since it wouldn't exist.

The very first published Monthly Landmark Guide by Medoro also ranks the hotel the same 4/5. Antonia also specifically says the guests are "brave like lions."

Pretty on the nose. She's definitely referencing Klaus here and this is very difficult to refute honestly. BUT!

Occupation

Klaus is a merchant, not a journalist. Secondary to being a merchant, he's a collector. And third to all of that, he's interested particularly in horology.

Of course it's not as though people can't have career changes but Medoro is a very well-known journalist in-universe who had a reputation and was very good at what he did. It just seems odd that Klaus doesn't show any aptitude or interest in journalism at all, besides asking P for what's going on around the city (which is a normal thing to do when it's all gone to hell and you're stuck alone inside. We know how that is.) Until the Hotel Krat review…I guess it could've been his journalistic awakening, but...?

Demeanor and Personality

It honestly doesn't seem in his nature? Medoro is absolutely fearless and isn't afraid to go up against the most powerful people in Krat with his pen, yet, Klaus can't even talk to the guy next door? I'd argue that someone could be a lot more brave hiding behind the pen than they are in person, but don't forget that Medoro went to wild lengths to get his scoops, like going undercover for months.

Friendship with Alidoro

Medoro and Alidoro are such good friends that even Hugo mentions it.

Yet, Klaus and Alidoro have no interactions in the hotel.

Though, I think we can deduce that Alidoro ("H") was the ex-Alchemist informant from the Far East that reached out to Medoro. Medoro then spent months with him to learn the truth about everything?

So, this would have had to have been after the DLC. Yet, Alidoro would've only reached out if Medoro was already a trusted and established journalist, right...? (Cont. in Timeline section)

Also, based on what Hugo said, they had to have been friends before the Workshop Tower falls (the incident that kills a bunch of Stalkers, Alidoro loses his finger, and Eugenie is saved).

Parrot

Parrot mentions he once didn't give Medoro the antique he wanted, and their relationship soured.

Now, why would Parrot give Medoro an antique? If he was a collector......

....which Klaus certainly is! Finally, a connection between Medoro and Klaus and their aptitudes! I think this is pretty solid evidence, tbh.

Friendship with Lumacchio

Not much is changed after playing the DLC and returning to the base game. Very little is added, which makes the little that is added seem rather important. So the addition to Medoro's notebook feels like it should have a lot of weight.

Medoro considered Lumacchio a friend enough to write about him in his very last moments, yet Klaus not only does not know Lumacchio in the era of the DLC (which supposedly isn't too long before the events of the base game?)--

--and Lumacchio does not know Klaus--

--Klaus is outright SCARED of him?

Which I always found weird off the bat, tbh, but they're clearly strangers to one another.

The fact these two don't know each other seems so intentional that I actually thought, when first playing the DLC, that they were just pretending not to know one another and were actually partners of some sort, but that didn't turn out to be the case at all. So I still find this dialogue suspicious, but all we can do is take it at face value now. Like, did I miss something? Why do they make such a big deal about not knowing each other?!

Now, there might have been time for them to meet again and become friends later, right? Except, we kill Lumacchio before they ever have a chance to meet again.

In the same timeline, we get that additional page added. We can assume that Alidoro, the mutual friend (we know he was friends with Lumacchio), must've told him about it (because P had told him about it in this timeline).

So, when did Klaus (Medoro) and Lumacchio have time to become such good friends????

Interestingly, in the pre-DLC timeline, Lumacchio is "ill" but definitely still alive to Medoro (or he would've said 'dead' like he did "H"), and he never knows of his betrayal. Does that mean, if we don't do the DLC, Lumacchio survives to a much farther point in time, hypothetically befriends Klaus/Medoro, though eventually still succumbs to PD without ever taking the alchemist's medicine and his sins never coming to light?

It's curious, but regardless, Medoro and Lumacchio were friends in both timelines.

Timeline

This isn't necessarily canon, but if you want to take into consideration this trailer for the game that's presented in the style of Medoro's journal, he has been around and reporting (or at least recording all of this) since the very beginning when puppets were first being put into "every home."

Since Medoro seems to be such an established reporter, rather than an up-and-coming one, I think the only way this is possible is that he was secretly working as "Medoro" during the DLC era.

Secret Identity

Now we get into pure speculation, but if he's lying about his occupation, who's to say he's not lying about also being friends with Lumacchio? Hence why it comes off a bit strange that they act so much like they're not friends. That, or maybe Medoro and Lumacchio were only friends through letters or something, and Lumacchio never actually met him, so he genuinely didn't think Klaus was Medoro?

Also, this could explain the discrepancy in Klaus's personality compared to Medoro's. Like, it's all just an act. Since we've seen that before...(Giangio).

Conclusion

I spent way too much time thinking about this. I guess he's Medoro? Feel free to add anything you find relevant!

[maliaelise6]

Ikepri Disney songs

Okay so I like finding songs of one artist or genre and finding one to dedicate to each ikepri character but I keep struggling trying to come up with ikepri characters connecting to (specifically) Disney love songs. I'm cool with leaving the love songs area but here's what I have so far if anyone wants to suggest songs or changes I'd love to hear it :3

Spoilers obv

Jin: Strangers like me from Tarzan - because I think the theme of him learning how to love and actually accept himself is kinda connected to the song. Also I just love him sm

Chevalier: Evermore from Beauty and The Beast (liveaction) as much as I hate live action, this is so good. It screams Chev. He knows Emma is always gonna come back and he doesn't know why but it makes him happy 🥺

Clavis: I won't say I'm in love from Hercules. Is it my favorite song? Yes. Is he my favorite character? Yes. But its so 'Emma being totally in love without realizing it and feeling horribly conflicted about her feelings because of her duty' coded. This is her song to him 1000%

Leon: a whole new world from Aladin. Man. Play the first chapter of his story if you don't already see it lmao. Mr. "Take my hand and I'll show you a whole new world/life" sounding ass

Yves: kiss the girl from the little mermaid. Just the sweetest boy, man. Licht, Jin, Leon, and Rio are DESPERATELY trying to make him make the first move.

Licht: Thats How You Know from Enchanted. Idrk enchanted very well and I don't know licht very well but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ just silly Yves and nokto trying to get him to make a move

Nokto: a girl worth fighting for from mulan. This is where the "not a love song" problem comes in. I do think that if you take away the actual context you can make a connection between the beginning when all the guys are talking about what they want, that's just him messing with other women, but when things get serious its him realizing he doesn't actually want any of them, and that he has feelings he doesn't truly understand for Emma. Kinda a reach but I've never been one for accuracies in things like this lmao.

Luke: I see the light from tangled. Omg. "All those days, chasing down a daydream. All those years living in a blur. All that time, never truly seeing things the way they were." HIM REALIZING THAT HE SPENT HIS WHOLE LIFE WITH NOTHING BUT REVENGE AND HATRED AND AHHH. HIM CHANGING FOR EMMA. HIS WHOLE LIFE HAS TO CHANGE AND ITS SCARY BUT FOR THE BEST

Rio: so this is love from Cinderella? I really don't know for him tbh

Sariel: ma belle Evangeline from the princess and the frog. Idk it has old lovers vibes and thats what Sariel gives. Maybe it'd fit better for Rio? Idk I'm iffy on this one

Silvio: colors of the wind from pocahontas. Not exactly love but it fits well. Teaching him that value isn't purely monetary.

Keith: another one I really don't know. I love him sm but I really got nothing man. Please recommend something 🙏

Gilbert: once upon a dream from sleeping beauty. HE WANTS HER TO KNOW HIM. HES BEEN DREAMING OF MEETING HER FOR SO LONG. SUCH A 'we might not know each other now but I knew you once in a place so far back in my mind that it escapes me.'

Please give me ideas for Sariel, Keith, and Rio 😭😭

[elainsgirl]

"it also proves how sensitive gwy/riels are and how they’re the issue 89% of the time." Omg yes, someone said it.

Kind of feel for Eluciens having to be shackled to Gwynriels. That's a bond that should have been rejected! But it seems like Euciens have grown sick of Gwynriels too, at last. Bravo! At least Elucien is a ship based on canon since Elain and Lucien are mates. If I were an Elucien, I'd never tolerate Gwynriels dragging Elucien down to the same level as a literal crackship and then disrespect Eluciens by degrading Elain and literally only using the Elucien ship to validate Gwynriel, literal fanon. Gwynriels have ruined the Elucien tag. I miss the days when it was just Eluciens and Elriels coexisting and discussing canon without a third group mixing in a random crackship and screeching loudly, demanding everyone accept it as canon while they disrespect everyone and their mother. Kindly fuck off.

I mean, I think it's blatantly obvious Elriel is endgame. But at least Elucien isn't pulled out of someone's ass the way Gwynriel is, like anon said. I'll be using that one now btw, that's hilarious.

LMFAO, You had me laughing for a solid minute with “thats a bond that should’ve been rejected!” - im officially going to use this everytine when describing elu/iens and gwy/riels.

Yh, I feel elu/iens are getting over how petty gwy/riels can be. I mean they’re so adamant that a gwy/riel book is next - not even entertaining an elu/ien book, its like elu/iens are getting the short hand of the stick and having to follow along/agree with whatever gwy/riels say bcs how dare they think for themselves and might wanting something different then what gwy/riels have in mind. Its been entertaining to say the least.

Their partnership works because through their ships, Elain & Azriel are seperated from each other therefore there isnt a possibility for elriel but once you get past that - it becomes pretty obvious elu/iens and Gwy/riels are at a odds with how the plots of the books will go, which couple will do what etc. I actually have respect for the elu/iens calling out the gwy/riels that are simply hating on Elain to be petty and whatever else, above everything- I love Elain so to see elu/iens call out other gwy/riels for their treatment of her was nice. You’re so right, most gwy/riels only ship elu/ien so Elain can be away from Az & so she doesn’t pose a threat to their ship. I can imagine how annoyed i’d be as an elu/ien entering my ships’ tag only to see others mock my favourite character, tell me why my ship isn’t possibly next, how unimportant my character is etc. Thank god tho, we dont have to experience that.

Most gwy/riels have genuinely ruined the fandom and they’re always so forceful with their takes and bully those that disagree. I wasn’t here pre-acosf so I dont rlly know how peaceful elu/iens and elriels were before - but tbh, I can imagine us having civil conversations bcs unlike Gwy/riel - at least elu/ien is actually based in canon. There is something tangible connecting elain and lucien together no one can deny or ignore. Also elu/ien at least makes some sense and they have a stronger footing to argue on where gwy/riel dont.

Same. To me elriel is obviously endgame - but I fully understand elu/iens stance and think - if you ignore the last 2 books then their ship has some chance of happening.

[meanderfall]

What are your headcanon for the boys usually?

Hi!! This is about that post the other day about how I don't think the brothers have favourites, and then in the tags mention that the "raph and Don are twins" headcanon isn't really one I have, right? To be honest, I don't really have concrete headcanons per se, it's just easier to use that instead of "vibes and impressions that I get". But!! I don't mind going over it, if you're interested in hearing about it.

I said that I don't think they have favourites, and I stand by it lol. We usually see them all together, or alone doing their own thing, and on rare occasions, they get paired off for an adventure, with the other two hanging out together on the sidelines usually. I'd be hard-pressed to say which duo we see the most often together unless i started keeping a tally, so I don't really see any of them necessarily favouring a brother over another? or spending more time with one of them over others? The only reason I singled out the Mikey & Leo connection is just bc Leo is the only one to not get annoyed with him to the point of smacking him upside the head or calling him names.

I'm honestly pretty neutral about the idea that Raph and Don are twins. Same thing actually for Leo being the oldest and Mikey the youngest! I think it's bc I've never really noticed them jockeying for position or respect like I remember doing or seeing with my siblings lmao! There's also something to be said about how Splinter used to be an actual rat, and the turtles were actually turtles, so the human idea of how families work might not even be a thing that happened. Like, it's entirely possible to me that they never once heard things like "you're older so you need to be more patient with them" or "he's your little brother be nice" and so on. So I think who is eldest and who is youngest is sort of just a non-issue for them that they never really considered. Leo could be the youngest or middle child and any of the three of them could be the eldest, and I still think the dynamics would stay exactly the same bc any implications of what that would mean would just fly over their heads. But! I know people have fun playing around with that stuff and it's fun to read and experiment with. And I'm also unclear on how much the age order I see floating around is canon so like. This isn't really a hill I'm going to die on.

This ask got me thinking about my impressions of all the different duos and i like talking so imma just add that under the read more

Raph & Mikey

Cain instinct personified

i actually had vague memories of seeing a couple of episodes way back when it was airing so it actually caught me completely off guard how they would snipe at each other! I did not remember this! Sometimes they take potshots at each other when they werent even part of the conversation or the topic at hand!

I like to think this is Enrichment for both of them tbh

Like Mikey enjoys being annoying and Raph is fun to annoy

Raph gets to let off steam on his temper by getting annoyed with Mikey

Though sometimes I think both of them cross the line. However!!! I think if either of them actually legit had a problem, they would say something and it would stop

Raph & Don

The Besties

I don't see them as twins but I totally understand why people do! They mirror each other a lot! And I think have a similar sense of humor

Common interests too with Raph working on his bike and Don working mechanics in general

I still think about Raph going "watch your back!" and Don being like "That's what you're here for" or something to that effect ;;w;;

Definitely the chillest relationship Raph has with a member of his family and probably who Don usually goes to for like, video games, and stuff

Raph & Leo

Low-key think the two of them have some sort of symbiosis, two sides of the same coin, thing going on

Like, the two of them actually think and feel pretty similarly about most things, it's just that how they then deal with that information/feelings, they diverge. Raph gets angry and impulsive, Leo goes more stoic and controlled.

It's why they Get each other really well, but when they don't it can get.... explosive......

Also think Leo is actually pretty fine with Raph's temper and kind of appreciates it. Raph getting mad works as a pressure valve for Leo's own worries. And it's easier to stay cool and collected when someone else is stressing out.

Don & Mikey

Considering how i remember the two of them having side plots together more than other combinations, it's actually kind of weird how little vibes i get from them

Though whenever they do work together, even though Don might complain about Mikey's antics or crazy ideas, he doesn't really say no lol

Chaos creator and willing bystander lmfao

also fun to imagine don fixing something and mikey heaping praise on him for it afterwards

Mikey & Leo

I think i covered how i felt about the two of them pretty extensively in the other post XD

Indulgent brother and brother who is well-behaved for one (1) person

Reading comics with Mikey is how Leo started to love puns and one-liners and this IS a hill I'm willing to die on actually lmfao

Don & Leo

UNDERRATED DUO OF MY HEART

the fact ive yet to see them really interact or have an adventure together is a fucking crime

I genuinely think since Don is who everyone turns to for answers, he is the one most likely to understand the pressure Leo is under to keep everyone safe

they should have talked after SAINW and after Leo came back from the Ancient One. They would Understand so well.

i think constantly about how Don keeps such a kind tone even when he's when annoyed with Mikey, but Leo getting poisoned during the battle nexus tournament is the one time it changes.

(i also think that would've happened for any other brother btw it's just nice bc the two dont really interact unless they're asking the other for solutions)

also think constantly about how Don probably unintentionally echoed Leo in SAINW. "Your reign of terror is over!" is the same thing Leo said to Stockman in Attack of the Mousers. Was he trying to emulate his Leo when leading them.....?

They don't really talk but they do silently communicate

I like to think the two of them can sit together in silence, doing their own thing, before one of them suddenly starts talking about something. It is unclear if they're picking up from a previous conversation, they started just speculating out loud to get a second opinion about something, or just randomly started a train of thought that the other somehow almost immediately knows what they're talking about.

On that point, Leo is Don's favourite rubber ducky lol he can actually sit still and somehow knows exactly when he should stay silent or actually ask a question about something

[juniperdugong]

Hi again!! Thank you for the choso headcanons on finding his little sister, I hope it continues! I was wondering if you could do a multiple headcanons for teen gojo, geto, Shoko and nanami getting an American transfer student to Jujutsu high.

A/N: Yep yep yep, I can do this for sure! +bonus Haibara bc he's my baby

When an American student transfers to Jujutsu High!

incl: Teen Gojo, Geto, Shoko, Nanami, and Haibara

GOJO - Nonchalant but curious - The only questions he asks the first couple of weeks are about why they're soooo special that they had to come all the way from America to Japan - Lowkey...jealous, seriously doesn't understand how someone from outside of Japanese Jujutsu Society can be inducted into the school - "Must have some really special technique or some serious skills to be able to make it here...let's test that, huh?" - Get's told off for picking on you, Yaga basically smacking him to get him to stop - Once he finds out they have a few similar interests (*cough cough* Digimon *cough cough*) he's all over them! - Woah when did y'all become so buddy buddy?? - Teaches them Japanese through anime for suresiessss

GETO - Mildly curious but very friendly! - Doesn't poke or prod too much into their life but asks the basic questions - "What's America like? I've never been." - Finds it very interesting that curses don't appear often over there (In this AU I'd like to think this is how he found out about Tengen) - Gets annoyed when Gojo starts hanging around them more...not out of jealousy but because he's extra annoying due to their shared interests now - Spars with them often to give himself a challenge that isn't Gojo's powerful ass - Asks really philosophical questions about their opinion on the Jujutsu World - "Curses are really powerful here, how were they over in America? Wouldn't it be strange if the whole world were filled with sorcerers?" - Get's super invested if they divulge any sort of information about American Jujutsu - "Do you know any other American sorcerers?"

SHOKO - I'm gonna be so real - her reaction depends on if they're more masculine or feminine - If they're more masc leaning she's SO OVER IT! Get her out of this hell hole of testosterone. - 100% wouldn't be bothered in that case either - she has Utahime but other than her, nada - If they're more fem, THANK GOODNESS! - Finally, she has someone else to help her pick out clothes and go shopping with, y'know someone who WON'T drag her to KFC or the nearest game store - "What's trending over in the States right now?" - Would be so intrigued by the American experience but always voices her shock at how different the cultures are - "It's so weird that people don't take off their shoes in the house, how do you guys live like that?"

NANAMI - Not at all interested - Doesn't ask questions and honestly is slightly irritated because the others start asking him questions about if his family is from America - Treats you just as he would anyone else, trains with you, and goes on missions with you occasionally but other than that doesn't try and create any meaningful friendships there - When they start getting close to Gojo he distances himself even more - While on a mission together he asks, "You actually like that guy? Isn't he a bit annoying?" - When they respond with, "He is, but at least he brings a bit of normalcy when I'm far away from home. Nice to find someone who shares a hobby with me" - From then on he would soften a lot toward them, making the smallest effort to connect - "Here, I got these for you. They're from America." (It's Hot Cheetos)

HAIBARA - The most curious and most intrigued - Never runs out of questions to ask and tbh they can get a bit invasive - "Where'd you live? Oh! Why are you here? Oh! Are you on the run or something? Oh oh! Is your technique super crazy good?" - Always tries to drag them into his plans because he doesn't want them to feel left out - Sends encouraging texts every morning - "Good morning! It's Haibara! You did great yesterday! You're Japanese is really improving!" - Would take them out to all his favorite restaurants and introduce them to Japanese snacks and childhood games - If they're ever feeling homesick he's the one to immediately start researching to make them feel better - Makes chicken noodle soup to try and help but doesn't really know how :/ Ends up putting ramen noodles in it

A/N: Got to this a bit later than I wanted to because I was writing perfection but thank you for the request @broad-strokes87!! This is so funny, I feel like this is how they would react if I was transferring to Jujutsu High frfr Please Reblog and Comment if you enjoyed ! (They act as power-ups for me)

Taglist (OPEN): @iluvmattyb

[musicalherbalist]

"Witness me now! Come, Caress me now!" "These translucent clothes I'll now adorn!" "Break from my cocoon, butterfly born anew!" "I'll show everything in all it's glory for you!" "This stage, bitter cold, performs not a soul." "So, I'll step to the beat with a 1, 2, 3!" "Not a puppet at all, just dancing along!" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This isn't really my usual kind of art, and I know I promised oc stuff, but I've been lowkey blitzing through Vrains while working on commissions, and tbh, I am absolutely loving it so far! I'm uh...kinda on season 3, so I figured I'd post this art I did of my favorite character! I'm not finished with it yet, but I stumbled across MICCHI's cover of "Abnormality Dancin' Girl", and it kinda fit where I think his character is gonna go. Possible spoilers below the Keep Reading for my thoughts!

I think it's going to be a "Live long enough to see yourself become the villain"-type scenario. He was the survivor of the Hanoi attack on the Cyberse World, was a refugee for 5 years, a hostage for a while, and even though he found friends and support, after things were finally safe enough for him to go home, it was destroyed, with nearly everyone he knew lost. Then, he gets to slowly regain those friends and grow closer to Yusaku and everyone else, only to find out someone he admired as a leader was the one who ruined their world, one of his friends is dissected alive, the rest are picked off one by one, Yusaku and everyone else has to suffer through fixing a problem that should never have happened, all because Lightning had an inferiority complex… So yeah, it makes sense that he'd be angry and vindictive. Everyone sees him and his kind as evil, and he'd just want he and the few friends he still has to be safe, so of course he'd go after the head of SolTech after leaving behind his smaller. The "Lazy and annoying Dark Ignis" is finally the big, bad monster others would make him out to be. This isn't something that he wants, though. It's clear that a lot of it is a front for something else. Hell, in his calling card to Akira Zaizen, someone who he seems to respect, at least, he reveals himself and tells him when he'd be coming for him, and waits until Yusaku is there to start his attack. He doesn't kill Queen either, when he honestly could. I don't think he actively wants to hurt anyone, but it's like he's just trying to... burn himself out in the most spectacular way he can, while getting back at who he can. Vrains is really, really good at depicting a good potential downward spiral for it's characters. Yusaku's story is gradually working himself out of one he'd been in since the Lost Incident, Takeru goes through one before we meet him and nearly goes through one when he has to work with Revolver. We see a potential one for Aoi, too, when she comes in contact with the Knights of Hanoi. Hell, I'll actually kinda defend the direction Go Onizuka's character went, too, because of course the guy obsessed with being "The Strongest" would crash out after finally realizing that he can be strong for just himself, only to get wiped out by Revolver with his Boomer Traps, and Playmaker for the umpteenth time later on. Hell, Season 2 is just everyone dealing with the end results of Lightning spiraling when he finds out that he's fundamentally worse than the other Ignis, and is the most likely one to cause them all to fail to connect with humanity. We see Windy mid to the end of his corruption-induced spiral, too. Why would Ai be any different? He's been through hell and back, and what's he got to show for it, ultimately? He failed. He couldn't save any of the other Ignis, Yusaku had to be put through hell, Takeru lost someone he leaned on for emotional support, Spectre didn't even have the chance to meet Earth(which could have done him some good, tbh), Aoi and her friend lost Aqua, Windy was driven to insanity, and so, so much more. Why wouldn't he want to lash out with the help of his only other ai friend? ...And why wouldn't he want someone to stop him? "Ai" does mean "Love", after all. And hell hath no mercy than that of love scorned. Also, I realized while drawing this that he made himself into a gay pirate twink, and I couldn't be happier for him looking fabulous during his possible crashout! Thank you for reading, if anyone did!

[acracana]

Spoilers for Book 7 Ch. 13

my coke filled thoughts

Considering that twst is a Disney game rated for 4+, I highly doubt they will kill any major characters (any of the boys). I'd even wager that no permanent bodily harm will happen at all (Malleus's horns are insured for $7 billion. There is no way they actually chop them off).

I liked this chapter, and I am actually surprised at the way they decided to approach it. It's proceeding faster than I expected, but maybe they're in a hurry to get book 7 done (real).

I'm shocked that Malleus decided to dispel the dream because like,,, really? After over 100 episodes of jumping through the dreams and being like, "We need to escape to reality, guys!" they're just out of it? Just like that? I don't buy it. I think they'll pull an inception on us or something, and they're all still in a dream. It would make sense why Lilia can't be woken up, and imagine the revelation when the boys realize "it was all a dream" again (this will likely not happen). If it's not a dream, does that mean Lilia lost in his own dream against Malleus? I 100% believe that if there is a fight between Diasomnia and Malleus, Lilia will be there because every fight with the OB so far has had the rest of the house there... I think...I don't remember tbh.

I saw some people upset that Lilia's magearm will be used to fight Malleus with Silver wielding it, and I understand it, but maybe I'm thinking too optimistically. Yes, it parallels KoD's fight with Maleanor, but it also flips it by having Silver as one of the only cast members who understands where Malleus is coming from and still wants to save/protect him. At this point, Malleus is considered an enemy of mankind, and he's being treated as such by literally everyone else. Silver and, of course, Sebek understand that Malleus's actions come from a place of hurt and loneliness (Silver mentions it in the summon line…I think. It was Google Translated). Silver isn't wielding the sword to harm him; he wants to make sure Malleus stops his OB so he can understand that he isn't alone. Idk. I'm still hopeful that Silver doesn't fight Malleus and instead uses talk-no-jutsu to convince him to return to reality. As I said before, Silver is likely the person who understands Malleus's feelings the most, and he did say that it was his own tears that helped push Malleus to the edge; maybe if he cries again, he can convince Malleus to stop or something.

Malleus being considered an enemy to the world parallels the negative stigma surrounding Maleanor and Briar Valley with the humans and Silver Owls. Which… ouch. It hurts to see since we, as the players, understand Malleus's feelings, but the rest of the NRC boys (sans diasomfam) definitely do not. I don't necessarily blame them because, let's be real, empathy and foresight are not these boys' strong suits.

I am hopeful that they don't repeat history, though. I was kinda worried at first about Silver's and the Knight of Dawn's armor being identical and, thus, a reenactment of the war, but I think it said that Baul is helping the Shroud parents make the armor. There is no way in hell Baul lets them make a replica of KoD's armor. I hope it's similar to the Briar Valley royal guard armor but, y'know, silver.

Also, Sebek being the shield and Silver being the sword!! I think we all figured this, but I was so excited to see it in game. It reverses their personality and kind of signifies their growth throughout the book. Sebek, who is hot-headed and tends to attack first with words, wields the shield to protect his prince and his friends classmates that he gained through his experience. Silver…tbh I'm too tired to think about how it would connect to his character development, but I feel it in the back of my brain that it does.

That's all until the 10th. I'm excited to see Silver's SSR since he has, like, what, six or something? I'm also excited to see Malleus's upcoming breakdown because god knows the amount that he bottles up.

[xserpx]

morse for the ask game?

How I feel about this character?

(Caveating this with the fact I haven't yet watched Inspector Morse, so this is only about Endeavour.)

Normally I'm not at all a fan of whump and I don't like feeling sad for well-meaning characters who are hurt repeatedly through (mostly) no fault of their own, but I really love Morse's brand of melancholia. The way he struggles to deal with change is too damn real, I'm a sucker for characters who struggle to voice their feelings and whose anxiety causes them to say nothing, because bitch me too. I also like that he's shy but it's kind of a selective shyness? Like if you catch him at the right moment or say a certain thing, he can be very snappish and outspoken and even funny, but then in those (incredibly important!) moments where he feels truly vulnerable, he just clams up, and it's heartbreaking and delicious to watch.

It's also undeniable that he is a massive prick sometimes. His treatment of women, his pretentiousness, there are moments when I want to slap him upside the head and I'm like you deserve this shit buddy! Monica my beloved, she deserved so much better from him. As much as he craves deeper connections with people and as much as I really want him to find a place to belong and settle down, it's so clear why he can't, why he shouldn't, and it's so deep rooted that in a way if he actually made a more concerted to change and do better he'd pretty much be a different person. And I like that the show never compromises on providing answers or catharsis for his struggles. Change happens, that's life, and there's often no way to deal with it that doesn't hurt.

I also love his dark academia style and the way it's grounded in finding meaning/belonging. It's not that it doesn't give him a sense of superiority at times, but like... that was his rebellion in the face of anti-intellectualism and abuse at home, and in a way I feel like he's earned the right to that pretentiousness. I think it dilutes some of the intimidating effect that opera and classics and poetry can have - some people listen to the Beatles, he listens to Wagner, one thing isn't "better" than another - but without binning it off entirely so that we still get to enjoy the commentary on classism. Plus watching him school the Oxford dons is always fun :P.

All the people I ship romantically with this character?

Romantically, hmm... The trouble is I end up feeling sorry for either Morse himself or whatever woman he's got his eye on at the time!

I love Joan and Morse, and I'd love for them to work things out, but the more time passes the less and less suited they seem to be. It's one of those relationships that's more about yearning than it is about getting together. They struggle to communicate and they're constantly miserable. He puts her on a pedestal because of her family, and Joan likes him because he's an enigma, and they can't move past that. But at the same time, fanfic exists for a reason, and I still love the yearning despite it all.

I'm not sure if I ship it romantically per se, but Max is another one where I feel like they could be more than friends, they're very Sherlock and Watson (and this fic by gaytobymeres is so good I love it). That scene with Morse and Max having tea in Max's garden is one of my favourites in the series, and I want that life for Morse so badly! Literalllyyy at the end of Exeunt I was like dude just move in with Max!! He'll never leave Oxford! He'll come along to your choral recitals! You have way more interests in common than any of your girlfriends have thus far! And he's lonely too, bless him ;w;.

My non-romantic OTP for this character?

I don't think there's a single character I don't ship Morse with platonically?? All I want in the world is a pub quiz fic featuring all of Cowley CID (and Trewlove) but I'm not clever or patient enough to write it. I wish we had more teamwork episodes tbh, and I think that's the best thing about seasons 5 & 6 (as dissipated as CID is at the start, that just makes them coming back together all the more heartwarming).

Morse & Thursday are of course the freaking bedrock of the show, they're just insanely good and I genuinely want them to be together forever. As much as he misses Joan at the end, I really want a happy ending where Thursday and Morse can stay together. At the same time, what with the whole men in the 60s reinforcing one another's emotional repression, I kind of wonder what would've happened if Thursday had been able to steer Morse in a different direction, and if it would have had a knock-on effect with helping Morse express his feelings for Joan and maybe end up somewhere better. But their characters are so intertwined it's hard to separate out the what-ifs. I do think Thursday had more of an impact on Morse than Morse did on Thursday, but you could maybe chalk that up to age. Leopards don't change their spots, etc. Still... lamenting lost potential is what grief is.

I'm also a huge fan of Morse & Trewlove tbh, he's so relaxed around her?? He tells her stuff he never tells anyone else?? They fake marry?? Ridiculously sweet. They share the trait of being incredibly dedicated and detailed in their work, and it bleeds over into a genuine appreciation for one another that they don't really have with any of their other colleagues (save for maybe Trewlove & Bright, another fantastic platonic OTP in my book). I also can see them being friends w bennies but I def don't ship them romantically.

My unpopular opinion about this character?

Not sure if I have one tbh. I haven't been here long but I generally think the wider fandom has it right about most things. Maybe not including Jakes as some brand of OTP? I feel bad because I love Peter, I just don't see him and Morse being particular friends any more than Morse and Jim are tbh.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

Um, happiness. Just, all the happiness. I wish he could communicate better. I wish he'd had a better childhood. I wish his house hadn't been burgled and that he could still listen to Rosalind Calloway without taking emotional damage. I wish he hadn't been beaten down and that he could feel secure and safe, and have a fulfilled life outside of work. Great tragedies always keep the happy ending in sight, and Endeavour does that incredibly, painfully, well.

If I had to choose something specific to have happened in the show, I guess I would have liked to see more of Joyce. I'm fascinated by their relationship and I really loved every cameo from Morse's past that we saw, plus episodes like Cartouche with cousin Carol. Tbf I have heard that Joyce shows up more in Inspector Morse, so... 👀

[creatingblackcharacters]

hello and happy Juneteenth!!! i have a character question for a series i'm making, but i'm not sure i'll end up posting it anywhere anytime soon to be honest. there also is not a lot of overarching story yet since i've been working on it when i get ideas

one the main characters was adopted at 15 by a Black woman named Tamica in 1957, georgia. her adopted son is white. i also tied her story to a real-life event that took place in 1912 forsyth county, georgia since i realized her birth year, 1911, would have lined up. she doesn't talk about it explicitly in the story partly because she was one, but also because she doesn't like to think about it. she also becomes very wealthy as an adult.

i'm not sure if Tamica should still be living in georgia as an adult due to the event or if she would have moved to a different state. i also don't want her role to just be 'Black mother to white main character', but almost all of the story is while he is living in texas in 1979. he doesn't mention her very often at work since it would be too personal (workplace story) but he does call her to update her on his 'success' that isn't happening when he gets home.

most of the characters are just kind of sucky people, her son included. once some loan sharks force him to go back to her house after driving him out of texas, Tamica finds out what his job actually was and forced him out of the house after coming back home because she was upset with the actions he took and the fact he was lying to her the entire time. he had also went hopping through motels and one-time jobs when she thought he was going to college (he goes directly from college to crappy/unsuccessful business)

i'm not sure if i should tie her personal story to a real-life event since this is one of the few times i'm connecting a story directly to real life. and i am worried that Tamica will come across as an afterthought for story and design. i've also been trying to figure out why she might adopt an older white teen instead of a Black child/baby, but i know her character would feel bad for a teen in the adoption system.

my main questions: should i keep Tamica as the adoptive mother to a white child, or should i change her to a different character entirely? and if i keep Tamica exactly the same as she is, would it be inconsiderate to connect her to a real life event?

hope you're having an amazing day/night/whenever this comes through!!

Forsyth County Georgia in 1912; yeah I wouldn't wanna remember what happened there either 😅 it's still a sundown town!

Gotta be honest, it sounds very Imitation of Life-ish. Why would a Deep Southern Black woman born in the early 1900s, after being forced out of her home, after becoming wealthy, choose to adopt a white child? And then, after that, I gotta swallow that he treats her terribly (which, read the time period, probably includes racism)? Can't say I'd want to suspend my disbelief enough to want to read this.

Like, there are so many Black children that could have used that opportunity to go to school and be raised well and she would know that 😅 I don't even know if it would be legally allowed in the 1950s, tbh. That might put her in a significant amount of danger 😅 They'd certainly treat her like his Mammy and not his Mother if it did get accepted; there's an imbalanced power dynamic even when this white boy is a teenager.

What I want to ask you in return is why this is the storyline you came up with? What was it that led you to create Tamica and this white child? What dynamic were you looking for? Because from my view, having her go through something like being chased out of her home (which is what happened in Forsyth at that time; refer to Lake Lanier as another famous example) to then turn around and say "well I want to be a better mother to white people" just feels.... 😬 She could be a foster mother to a lot of multiracial kids! That might make it a little better, that she has a history of generosity and this one child is awry. This one time she decides to reach outside her comfort zone and it's not going well.

[66sharkteeth]

ok but why not both comedy AND horror? Black comedy, horror with a splash of silly, or characters just plain trying to crack jokes in an attempt to cope with The Horrors are all so fun to read imo. idk I feel like sometimes, juxtaposing horror with a little bit of comedy (or the other way around) can make the horrific parts feel more horrific, helps people connect to the characters better. anyway, what kind of horror story do you think you'd create?

i don't really pick my genre. i just come up with a story and it goes into whatever genre it ends up being. basically, when i come up with a story, i don't start it by going "i want to write a horror," i come up with a story and as the story comes along, it falls into that genre. if i purposefully chose certain genres, i'd probably would have never made my big magnum opus a scifi (probably my least fav genre if im being real LOL) but that's just what CoB ended up being the more i wrote it. tbh if i were to actually pick a genre for my next series, i'd probably do romance, since believe it or not, i love me some fluff and it's generally the most profitable. but every story that has come into my head the past few years has just not ended up as a romance as more than maybe a sub-genre

that said, i think ANYTHING i write will have SOME humor in it. one rule i have in my writing is never make a character who isn't an idiot in some way. even my more stoic bad ass characters like stella have some aspect of them that is always socially awkward or flat out dumb. so yeah, the horror i have an idea for is pretty dark, straight forward horror that wouldn't have a comedy subgenre, but even then, I already have a few gags planned.