#the first time i feel happy with how he looks simplified

[lost-in-hogwarts]

Tiny tiny sketch of this handsome handsome man 🥰

[joshsindigostreak]

'Tis the Damn Season

“I’m staying at my parent’s house, and the road not taken looks real good now…”

A Holiday One Shot 🎄

Josh Kiszka x F!Reader

Authors Note: Happy Holidays y’all!! Here’s a cozy Josh piece that is very self indulgent but so sweet!! Happy reading and I can’t wait to hear your thoughts! 🍷🎄

Word Count: 8.5K

Warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, 18+, unprotected sex, oral sex both m/f receiving, swearing, internal angst.

Despite the ambient noise of the dive bar you were perched in, for the first time in three days you finally felt at peace. You loved your parents, but visiting them these days could be overwhelming, especially with the revolving door of family members showing up unannounced. There was only so much small talk one could take. You had lost count of how many times you described your job, your passion, as an acquisitions editor at a small publishing house, to various family members. Eventually you had to simplify it with a curt, “I get to be the person to say ‘yay,’ or ‘nay’ on their book submissions.” 

You loved your job. As much as it sucked to be the bad guy sometimes, the benefits of being able to work remotely and at your own pace made up for it. Getting paid to read was the best thing to happen to you in your twenties so far, and even though the pay wasn’t spectacular, you wouldn’t trade it for anything. There were times you were worried that making your passion your job would burn you out of reading in your own time, but so far you still found the time to bury your nose in a new tome of choice. 

When you had packed for your trip back home, a small stack of books made it into your luggage, along with your trusty Kindle that was loaded with various quick reads that let you turn your brain off and enjoy the ride. It took everything within you to not check your work emails on your laptop, but you were on the precious few PTO days your employer had allotted everyone in your department, and you were determined to use them properly. 

The bar you had sought refuge in was a local one a few blocks from your house. It was one your dad would always go to hang out with his buddies when you were younger and he was still working that 9-5 throughout the week. 

As you sat on the wobbly bar stool, your ankles crossed and your toes rested on the metal bar attached to the wood paneling of the bar itself. A solitary glass of dark red wine sat on the bar top, inches from the book you were devouring. It wasn’t anything complicated, and many would call it a dime-a-dozen romantic fantasy, filled with magic and tall dark love interests with horrific social skills. But sometimes, the familiar nature of the plot and characters was comforting. The plot might not have been overly unique, but the curiosity of how the author was going to weave together these tropes was half the fun. How was this author going to handle the “oh…” moment between two enemies? What mundane task will trigger the main character into a flashback of a lost love that got away? 

This personal game of yours was a slippery slope, as you had to practically pavlov yourself into not going into work mode while reading, but you kept yourself in check for the most part. At least that's what you would tell yourself. 

You flipped another page in the book, eager to see how the current scene was unfolding. The imagery was building in your mind so well that you hadn’t even noticed a familiar, sweet and dimpled face, had slipped into the bar with a few friends. 

Josh had shed his fluffy, faux fur lined coat, one that was way too ostentatious for the small town atmosphere, but he wrote it off on how practical it was for keeping the cold winter air from chilling his bones. He had decided against the beanie that he typically wore with it, in favor of letting his hair show itself off as it normally did. Tonight was not the night for hat-hair, though the singer was unsure where this conclusion had come from earlier in the evening. The nagging feeling of, you need to look nice, had been lingering in his brain for the past few hours. 

In his typical fashion, he hadn’t shut his mouth the entire time he had been inside the establishment. Rattling off story after story from being on the road with his brothers and their band, cracking up at his own jokes, letting the excitement of being home and seeing the same faces he grew up with. 

The pool table in the far corner had been where his group had settled, drinks settled on the edge with pool sticks in their hands. Josh was bent over the table settling in to make his shot when a figure hunched slightly on a bar stool, turning a page in the book sitting on the bar top.

 Your profile was slightly obscured from where he was an how you were sitting on the stool, and it wasn’t until the bartender came over to refill your wine glass and your name tumbled from their mouth in conversation that it clicked for the rock star who had probably made the worst pool shot in his life at the sound of it. 

You. It was you. 

His cheeks heated in the embarrassment of his shitty shot and the memories that materialized in his mind’s eye. Sitting next to you in algebra, making eye contact and shrugging when neither of you knew whatever the fuck your teacher was talking about. Or walking past you in the hallway as you slammed your locker shut trying to book it to your next class. He’d ignored the sinking feeling he had every time it happened that had him wishing his locker was in the same hall as yours, not annoying around the corner. But other times of bumping elbows with you in the lunch line, sharing grimaces at the dry square pizza in front of you. A few of the dumb sarcastic quips he’d made in class in a hushed whisper  (well, as much of a whisper as Josh Kiszka could produce), just to make you bite your lip and try not to giggle too loud, echoed in his mind. 

He hadn’t seen you since the last week of senior year, specifically at a graduation party one of your mutual friends had thrown together last minute. His final memory of your face was how it crumpled slightly as a very tipsy Morgan Pearson had led him up the stairs. It was an image that had haunted him for a long time, because by the time he had made it back downstairs you had already left the party, and he knew you were off on your summer road trip with your parents in the morning. From there he had observed on Facebook you settling into your freshman dorm in a school that was states away, seemingly doing well. Eventually his own band took over all of his time and his internet scrolling was behind him as he saw the world with his brothers. 

Fuck. 

He needed to talk to you. 

Your eyes flitted over to the next page as you took in the new chapter heading, not wanting to be distracted from the cliffhanger the previous chapter had ended on. 

The heroine had just discovered some deep family secrets that rattled her entire being, changing the entire trajectory of her journey so-

“Whatcha readin’?” 

The fantasy world in your mind dissolved at the sound of that voice. A voice, as the cliche says, you hadn’t heard in years. If it had been anyone else, you would have bitten their head off for rudely interrupting your reading, But slowly your eyes fluttered upwards at the source, using every mitochondria in your body to not visibly react at how…different he looked. Not different in an unrecognizable way, but in a way that showed you that he had grown into his own body. That the boyish awkwardness had evolved into a strong jaw and broad shoulders. He…he had facial hair now, and briefly a memory flashed in your mind of him in junior year lamenting about how patchy his upper lip was no matter what he did. 

The sides of his head were shorn down to the skin, and the dim lighting of the bar had you almost convinced he had a mohawk until you looked closer and saw it was closer to a mullet instead. It was a look you would have never considered for him, but it fit perfectly, and he looked beautiful with it. 

And there it was, the knot that would form in your throat whenever you were in his presence. You hadn’t felt that particular sensation since the night of that god awful graduation party. The very party where you had last seen the man before you. 

Your mouth parted dumbly as he parked himself on the stool next to yours. 

“...Josh?” was all you could say. 

He breathed out your name, in a low tone that made your stomach flip. As he took a sip of whatever mixed drink he had in one hand, his other reached over for your book to get a good look of the cover. Emotional and muscle memory kicked in and you allowed him in your personal space, practically letting him take the book out of your hands. In the past, the two of you were always spatially close. Eating off each other's plates, unconsciously scooting your chairs closer together, or grabbing the same seats on the bus for field trips. You weren’t attached to the hip, but somehow whenever you would be in the same room you’d always end up next to each other. 

Josh mouthed the words of the title silently to himself, eyebrows raising slightly at your book of choice. 

“Must be pretty good, you didn’t even notice me walking over,” he said before taking another sip of his drink. 

A nervous laugh rattled through you, “y-yeah it’s pretty immersive.” 

Your eyes were trained on his face, mapping out all of the same but new features, and you wondered if he was doing the same to you as his warm gaze hadn’t left you. 

Josh was most definitely taking you in, as well. You looked so proper sitting on that stool in an oversized black sweater that fell past your hips and hid most of the skirt you had been wearing under it. He tried his best not to make it obvious he was staring at your legs and the tights that were wrapped around them that led down to your boots. But the singer flicked his eyes back to your face, and noted all the subtle changes since the last time he had seen you. You looked so…grown up now, that he felt like he had missed so much in the last few years. It was a feeling he had whenever he came back home, but with you…with you it bothered him, and that feeling caught him off guard. 

Because he was Josh, and he could never let silence linger too long, “so what made you bring a book to a bar of all places?” 

And in a matter of seconds, you began relaying to him how the trip back home had been the last few days, and how much you needed a break from it all. 

“...you remember that uncle that's technically my dads cousin but I call him uncle cause he’s a lot older than my dad?”

Josh nodded along. 

“He’s so fucking loud, dude. And he never shuts up and because of this my grandmother turns up the TV and no one tells him to quiet down so between the TV blasting and him rambling about the dumbest things…ugh and my mother wouldn’t stop hovering over me! I needed to get out of there.” 

He smiled as you hashed out your family drama, flashing his teeth as he did so. There were follow up questions on his end, asking about your parents and grandparents and how they had been. Josh had been one of your few friends who went out of his way to be charming to your parents. He had earned the, “oh Josh is welcome any time he wants…” invitation by fifth grade alone. 

You took a sip of your wine, “oh my god I’ve been talking so much about me, what about you? How’s the band going?” 

It was his turn to blush slightly as he began telling you about the most recent tour they had been on, and how this was a mini break between tour legs and that at the beginning of the year they were off to a new continent. 

He pointed over his shoulder at his friends who were still milling around the pool table, “...in fact Danny is right over there.” 

You turned and gave the drummer a once-over. The last time you had seen Danny Wagner he was this gangly awkward teenager who nervously laughed at everything. But there he was, in a red sweater with perfect spiral curls spilling over his shoulders. The sweater itself was very form fitting on him and it was easy to see how muscled out his shoulders and arms had become over the years. 

“Holy shit, that’s Danny Wagner?” You gave him a slight wave when he made eye contact with you, and he politely waved back with a shy smile. 

Josh, rather indignantly, noticed the way you were looking at Danny and a sharp stabbing feeling of jealousy shot through him. Heat reached the surface of his cheeks and he momentarily contemplated reaching over to gently turn your chin back to him. 

But before Josh could even shove that thought away, you turned to fully face him, and gave a nod to the bartender to get you another glass of wine. Something deep down felt more settled when your attention was fully back on him.

However, you could feel those big brown eyes staring at you as you glanced at Danny. It was such a fixed stare that you were all too familiar with. In the rare moments that Josh was quiet, he would be staring into space, deep in thought. More often than not you chalked it up to him zoning out, but having those unblinking eyes on you had your heart hammering in your chest. 

It wasn’t the first time he had looked at you like that. There were several small,  fleeting moments throughout your adolescence where you’d catch his eyes on you. On the bus coming home from a field trip, walking towards you at your locker, in US History, and even at various house parties you found yourselves at. Your reaction was always the same: the skin of your neck would heat up and prickle up to your cheeks as they flushed. He never called you on it, and for a long time you had convinced yourself that he just hadn’t noticed. Because he never said anything, the idea of it actually meaning something was too great to get your hopes up for. 

There it was, Josh thought. 

That flush of color that darkened your skin whenever he looked at you for too long. It had taken him an embarrassing amount of time to figure out that he was the cause of it, but when he did he would sometimes make you blush on purpose. Maybe it was an ego thing, but he also couldn’t believe you reacted that way to him. He hated the term of someone being out of someone’s league; but even after being in the spotlight for his career and knowing what it felt like when a room full of people swooned at him he still didn’t feel he was in the same universe as yours. 

You were always so poised and collected, even during your awkward stage. Whereas he was always pinging off the walls with his endless supply of energy and charm. 

Why would you even consider a little shit like him?  

The blissful silence was interrupted however, when you saw the door to the bar swing open and a new group of people rushed in to escape the cold. Josh’s back was to the door, but he watched your eyes travel to the side to look behind him, and he didn’t hesitate to whip his head around to see who you were looking at. 

Only one of them rang a bell, a dirty blonde in a bright blue winter coat. Was she in his home room? No…but her locker had been on the same hallway as his. 

“Is that…?”

“Miranda Sheridan,” you murmured  a little too quickly as you turned back to your wine and fiddled with the corner of your book. In all honesty, you didn’t have an issue with Miranda. The two of you had gotten along just fine in school. Well enough that you secured invites to her house from time to time. Well, Josh, had secured invites for you. 

“Oh yeah her parents had that huge property!” He excitedly remembered while throwing a gentle wave in her direction.

You hated the way your stomach twisted when she waved back.  

Her parents owned a couple of acres out in the county, which wasn’t very elaborate, but it was perfect for a lot of the parties teenagers would get themselves into. Josh particularly remembered her dad had an old toolshed in the back that their friends tried to hot box more than once. 

Naturally, her place had been the place to host the main graduation party. You tried to think of anything else, but your mind flooded with the memories of walking around her house with a cliched solo cup, trying to find Josh, your anchor in social situations, and coming up empty and settling on the couch. When you finally laid eyes on him, he was being led by the hand towards the stairs by another girl. No it hadn’t been Miranda, but someone else in your grade that had a very obvious crush on Josh and never tried hiding it. 

Josh looked over his shoulder, his tongue between his teeth as he laughed at something someone said as he walked by. His smile faded as soon as he saw you, sitting all by yourself on the couch. His feet were moving for him, but not towards you. He was already ascending the stairs, eyes locked on yours before the girl attached to his arm tugged at his wrist to get his attention and he followed her upstairs and out of sight. 

That had been the last time you had seen Josh before tonight. 

And by emotional muscle memory, your stomach plummeted just as it had years ago. 

Before you could stop it, you bit out, “we went to her graduation party, remember?” 

The singer’s head snapped back to face you.

That party. 

His voice was quiet, “you…you left early, didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t feeling well.” 

He could tell it was a lie. An excuse. 

“I just meant…I tried finding you after-”

“After what?” Once again your mouth betrayed you. 

The trunk of the elephant in the room was practically wrapping around Josh’s neck, and his chest felt tight. 

Even softer, he said “after I came downstairs…”

In response, all you did was hum into your glass as you took another sip, an eyebrow arching like a freshly-awoken cat. 

“I had to get home anyway. I had to be on a plane early the next morning.” 

That, he remembered. Your parents had surprised you with a trip across the country as your graduation present. 

But Josh struggled to find the words of what he wanted to say. He hadn’t even been upstairs for twenty minutes before he finally flew down the stairs to find you, only to see the couch filled with different people and one of your other friends informing him that you had caught a ride back home. 

It hadn’t been a complete cut off, the two of you still texted as normal for a few weeks and liked each other's facebook statuses. But the texts became less frequent, and eventually dwindled down to leaving each other on delivered for days at a time. With the band finally starting to take off, and you drowning in your college classes, communication became near impossible. 

“Right…”

“Plus I didn’t want to interrupt your night. You were having too much fun up there.”

This time it was Josh’s turn to twist the side of his mouth and quirk an eyebrow, “what exactly do you think I did that night?”

You scoffed slightly and tilted your head, “Josh.” 

“No, I want you to say it.” 

You stared at him. It felt dumb to get to this point but you weren’t embarrassed. But the same jealousy and adrenaline from that night flooded your system, and after rolling your lip between your teeth you replied, 

“You and…whats her name…hooked u-”

“We didn’t hook up,” he said firmly, not blinking. 

“Made out-”

“We didn’t make out, either.” 

“Well what were you doing up there?” You huffed. 

“Don’t get me wrong, she clearly wanted to do both of those things. But before she could even try to kiss me she was doubled over puking all over the bathroom sink. I spent the next few minutes holding her hair while she let it all out. Apparently all of the vodka shots caught up with her.” 

You sat there, face unmoving as you took in what he said. For years you had it built up in your head that while you were fleeing that house your best friend was hooking up with someone else. 

Now the embarrassment started to creep in. 

The quiet tone returned, “I didn’t even like her like that anyway.” 

You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you now. 

You had to get out of here. This was too much. 

“I need to get going,” you began as you started to dig through your purse to pay for your drinks.

Josh was quicker than you and he turned to the bartender and slapped his card down on the bar top and asked to pay for his tab and yours. 

“Josh you don’t have to-” 

“But I am,” he said firmly, looking at you out of the corner of his eye as he scribbled on the receipts. 

That tone…that tone was new coming from him. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t annoyed, but he was being authoritative in a way you hadn’t heard before. 

Your insides were squirming for multiple reasons now. 

After the bills were settled he faced you again. He wasn’t letting you slip away again. He couldn’t.  

“Let me walk you home.”

You slid off the bar stool, “it's only a couple blocks, Josh, you don’t have to.” 

“I want to.” 

There was again, that tone. 

Not wanting to fight anymore, you nodded and the both of you made your way to the exit for your coats. You caught Josh tapping out a quick text to who you assumed was Danny to let him know where he was going. 

Silently the two of you slipped outside and into the winter air. The icy breeze stung your face after being used to the heat of the bar. You shivered slightly, but tried not to show it as you turned toward the direction of your house. 

Josh shoved his hands in his pockets for warmth, noticing the tiny flakes that had begun to fall from the sky. Had it even been forecasted to snow tonight? In any case, he purposely walked a little closer to you, letting your arms brush together. 

“I didn’t know it was supposed to snow tonight?” You wondered out loud. 

“Mother Nature is spiteful, that way, I guess.”

He hated how awkward it felt now. How the familiarity and ease of talking to you had evaporated as soon as Miranda Sheridan had chosen that specific bar to walk into. 

Soon enough, your house was in view, and your steps picked up the pace to get there faster. Josh followed you into the driveway and to the side of the garage where there were stairs that led up to your room above it. You moved into that space your senior year after your dad had renovated it, and he had only been in it a handful of times before graduation. 

Before you could even reach for the rail, Josh’s hand flew out of his pocket and took a hold of yours, gently lacing your fingers with his. 

The sudden contact had your heart in your throat. 

“You really thought I hooked up with her?” He felt your hand stiffen at his words, but he continued, “as soon as I saw you on that couch, I knew I was making a mistake.”

The flakes started coming down harder now, growing in size as they fell. 

“But you still went up there.”

His shoulders sank slightly, “I know…I shouldn’t have though. She wasn’t the girl I liked anyway.”

Denial is a strong thing, and you were letting it win, “she wasn’t?”

“No…I liked someone else but I second guessed myself all the time around her, thinking she’d never be into me anyway.” 

“How could you be sure of that?”

Josh’s fingers squeezed your hand, “I don’t know she just…she could do so much better than me and there were plenty of better options out there. Never thought I stood a chance.”

Your jaw started trembling and you weren’t sure if it was from the cold or from what he was implying.

 

“You really think there are better options than you?” You mirrored his earlier comment back to him. 

His eyes slowly met yours, deliberately giving you the look he knew would darken your cheeks. 

“So much better…”

“I don’t think so…,” your voice was almost as soft as the snow that was accumulating on the ground around you. 

Consequences be damned, you started to lean towards his face. 

His long eyelashes fluttered slightly as he realized what you were doing, and he leaned in and gently brushed his full lips against yours.

At the contact, your heart went from hammering in your chest to exploding. Years of daydreaming of this scenario had finally come to an end, culminating in a kiss that had your knees shaky.

He pulled away slightly to look at you again, only to surge forward and slide his free hand up your jaw to cradle your face. His lips pressed against yours even harder, a sudden wave of emotion taking the wheel in Josh’s mind. 

The both of you had years of pent up feelings and the dams were breaking. 

His other hand reluctantly dropped your hand in favor of wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you closer. 

The move took you by surprise, but you relaxed in his arms and tilted your head slightly and parted your lips. Immediately his tongue ran along your bottom lip before delving into your mouth. A low groan rose from his throat and his fans flexed slightly against your cheek.

A gust of wind whipped around you, causing you to shiver against his lips. 

“N-need to get you inside,” Josh chuckled, leaning his forehead on yours. 

You took a step backwards, resting your foot on the first step. 

“Come up with me?”

He answered with a quick kiss on your lips and mumbled, “lead the way…”

With a grin you turned and hurried up the steps, trying your best not to slip in the slush. Your hands shook as you unlocked your door, nearly stumbling inside to escape the cold. 

As soon as you had shut the door, Josh pushed you against it and started unzipping your coat and planting his lips on your neck. You made quick work of his too and both outer layers were haphazardly thrown onto a chair in the corner. His icy hands started fiddling with the bottom of your sweater, and you both paused at the silent question of going forward. 

He lifted his head out of the crook of your neck to look at you, “we don’t have to if you don’t…I mean we can just hang out if thats all-” 

You shushed him by taking his strong jaw in your hands and gave him a searing kiss. He kissed you back as another wave of emotion washed over him.

 

After letting his lips warm up against yours you pulled back and stared into his eyes, “Josh…this is all I want right now.” 

His eyelashes fluttered again, and this time his cheeks were darkening at the look you were giving him. 

“You sure?” 

“Please…”

Not needing to be told twice, his hands disappeared under your sweater and swept across the skin of your sides. You jolted slightly at how cold they were, but didn’t let it deter you from kissing him again, melting into his touch. His hands slowly rose to cup your breasts through your bra, and the light squeeze had you fighting to keep the low whine in your throat. 

Josh noticed you holding back and leaned in to whisper in your ear, “it’s just me…let me hear you…” 

The low tone of his voice had your body shivering under his hands and when his teeth grazed the skin of your neck you didn’t even try to hold back the breathy whine you made. Impatiently you helped him get your sweater off of your body, flinging it blindly to the side. You stared at the hungry look in his eyes as you reached behind your back to unhook your bra. Wanting to torture him even further, you purposely took your time letting it slide off your arms and onto the floor. His eyes never left your chest as he reached to take one of your breasts into his hand, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. Before you could fully register the feeling he was bending his head down to replace his fingers with his mouth, moaning into your soft skin. He gave the other side the same attention, before reaching behind you for the zipper to your skirt. 

As he knelt down to shimmy it down your hips, you practically clawed at his long sleeve shirt off of him. The lighting  in your room was dim, but you were able to see all of the muscles on his body that were definitely not there the last time you saw him. His arms were much more toned than you thought, and his shoulders and chest were defined in a way that had your lip rolling into your mouth between your teeth. 

Josh made quick work in getting your boots off, helping you step out of them and your skirt. His eyes flicked up at you and they were so much darker than before. He rose to his feet quickly and slammed his mouth onto yours, squeezing your hips and the back of your thighs as he directed you to jump and wrap your legs around him. With a level of coordination you didn’t know he had, you were spun around while he walked the both of you to your bed. It was still in the same place it always had been, in the corner by the window. 

He gently sat you on the edge of the bed, kissing down your body until he was once again knelt before you on the floor. The sight of his blown out pupils and swollen lips sent a flash of heat to your core, and you couldn’t even squeeze your thighs together as he was rolling your tights down your legs and swiftly off your feet. 

You never could have anticipated how the night was going to turn out, so your choice in underwear wasn’t the sexiest pair you owned, but that didn’t stop your best friend from planting kisses along the waist band, tentatively dipping his finger tips under the cotton material to start pulling them down. Your breath caught as you raised your hips to help him out, and within seconds your final layer of clothing was added to the pile on the floor. 

Looking down at him, you scooted back towards the headboard with your legs shut, and he crawled up the bed after you. With your head settled on your pillow he hovered above you for a moment, bringing his hand to trace along your jaw and down your neck, looking at you in a way you had only dreamed about thus far. 

You weren’t going to get emotional, but you couldn’t help it. It was just fully hitting you, as you felt the heat radiate off his body, and the weight of him as he settled on top of you. Thankfully your eyes only welled up a tiny bit, but Josh still noticed and his brow furrowed. His eyes softened and he seemed to sense why you were suddenly still and quiet. He could always guess what you were feeling, even when you were kids. 

His thumb brushed your lips so softly you barely felt it, “I know…” 

He kissed the corner of your mouth before leaving a trail of kisses down your throat, chest, and stomach. He brushed his lips across the skin right above your core where your curls started to grow. He was so close to where you needed him. Carefully he planted a few kisses on your thighs before drawing your legs up and bending your knees, taking his time in case you changed your mind at any point. 

Slowly, he spread your legs apart to finally get a proper look at you, and his breath caught in his throat as your gorgeous core laid bare before him. He was glued to his spot on the bed, eyes sweeping your body, having his own moment of realizing that this was real, and you were actually beneath him like this. His eyes traveled back up to yours, unusually silent for someone who always has something to say, no matter the situation. 

Instead, he traveled down the soft flesh of your thigh, leaving searing kisses in his wake. Just when you thought he was going to reach your core, he turned his head to do the same to your other leg. A low whine rumbled in your throat, and you felt his lips spread into a smile against your skin. You felt the faintest huff of breath as he tried to contain a laugh. 

His mouth hovered over your core, just out of reach. He wanted to memorize you, every detail, every feature that was so uniquely you. He used his thumbs to slowly spread your lips apart, dumbfounded at just how wet you were for him and how your arousal was beginning to pool and drip off of you. 

Your hips twitched in his hands, desperate for any contact beyond his feather-light touches. The way he was looking at your body, with blown out pupils and a parted mouth was only driving you crazier. 

At last, he couldn’t hold himself back anymore before dipping his head down to plunge his tongue into your center, moaning as he finally tasted you. A years-long curiosity was answered, and it was better than anything he had tried to imagine. 

The vibrations had you involuntarily arching into his face. He wasted no time to begin lapping at your folds, swirling his tongue wherever he could. But when he finally wrapped his lips around your clit, stars exploded behind your eyelids as you squeezed your eyes shut. 

“Fuck…” was shouted towards the ceiling, and it encouraged him even more as he sucked even harder on your clit as one of his fingers circled your entrance. One of your hands shot down to his hair, tangling your fingers in his curls to hold him in place. His tongue was swirling around your clit now and the finger that had been teasing you slowly entered. Immediately your walls clenched around him, relishing the friction and slight stretch it brought you. 

Josh continued to pump and curl his finger inside you as he spoiled your clit with his tongue. He was so hard that his pants were nearly suffocating him, but he ignored it in favor of giving you all of his attention. A second finger joined the first inside you, and he curled them upwards to hit that spot inside you that had your fingers nearly pulling out his hair and grinding against his face. He could feel the muscles in your thighs tense and strain against his ears. You kept trying to close your legs completely around him, but he used his other hand to anchor you down and keep you spread so he could reach you properly. 

The spring inside you was coiling tighter and tighter, each drag of his fingertips and swipe of his tongue sent you hurtling closer and closer to the edge. 

You were past the point of moaning and could only muster pitiful whines and whimpers. You were so fucking close,  and clinging to his fingers so tightly that he could barely move them. He flattened his tongue against your clit, letting your hips grind and chase your high against him for a few seconds before closing his lips around it once more and sucked on it harshly as you shouted his name. His fingers and mouth worked you through it, letting you ride it out and prolong it as best he could. When your clit became too sensitive he peppered kisses along your thighs again, continuing to pump his fingers slower and slower until he was sure he had felt the last twitch and aftershock of your orgasm. 

He carefully pulled his fingers from you and immediately brought them to his mouth, savoring your taste while cleaning himself off. You used this moment to pull your hand from his hair and down to his cheek, tilting his gaze to you as you propped yourself up on your other elbow. The moonlight caught the shine of your arousal mixed with the matted facial hair. 

Josh quickly sat up on his knees to work at his belt, impatiently sliding off the bed for a moment to fully pull his pants down his legs and off his feet. He was left in his tight boxers, leaving nothing to the imagination as his length pulsed under the fabric. 

Now, it was your turn to crawl over to him, your mouth watering as your eyes traveled down his torso and followed his happy trail to the band of his boxers. You reached up and curled your fingers around the elastic, peeling the final layer of clothing down his thighs and let them pool around his ankles. 

Your eyes were on his cock now, marveling at just how thick it was. Tentatively you reached your hand up to wrap your fingers around it. The feeling of it twitch slightly against your palm sent a shot of arousal through your body. 

He stood stock still at the edge of the bed, his entire body tensing as you touched and felt him. His lower lip was trapped between his teeth and he nearly drew blood when you bent forward and placed a soft kiss on the head. But it was when your lips wrapped around him and your hand slid to the base that his head rolled back on his shoulders and your name escaped his lips. 

A drop of pre-cum landed on your tongue and you wanted nothing more to keep going until he was a whiny mess, shuddering under your touch. 

All too soon his hips backed away from you, pulling his cock from your mouth as you looked up at his almost apologetic eyes. 

“If you keep doing that…”

“But I wanted to keep doing that,” you nearly whined up at him. 

He closed his eyes for a second and breathed through his nose, trying to calm himself down. 

He looked down at you, dark eyes swimming in desire, “but there’s so much more I want to do with you first…” 

He kicked the boxers fully off his feet before kneeling over you on the bed again, flattening you back against your pillows as your legs spread to allow his hips to settle against yours. Briefly his cock was trapped between you, and the feeling of it radiating heat against your skin made you anticipate the next move even more. He captured your lips with his as one of his hands reached down to grip himself, running the head of his cock through your folds and allowing your arousal to coat him before he positioned himself at your entrance. 

You took his bottom lip between your teeth and angled your hips towards him, desperate to finally feel him. 

Slowly he pushed forward, trying to pace himself so this night wouldn’t end embarrassingly fast. 

The way he stretched you as he pushed all the way in had you seeing stars. You felt so full in the best way, like he was made for you. 

“S-so tight…” he hissed as he fully sheathed himself inside you, his pelvic bone resting on your clit. 

Your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips to keep him in place, wanting him as close to you as possible. 

The two of you remained still, getting used to the feeling of one another before Josh’s own needs started to creep up on him. He pulled back out slightly, before pushing back in. He buried his face into the crook of your neck as he began to move, kissing your neck and throat as you mewled at the stretch and drag of his cock. One arm of his framed your head while the other slid underneath you to grip your ass. He tilted your hips this way so that his pelvis was grinding perfectly against your clit as he built up speed. 

Your nails dug until the skin of his shoulder blades as you tried to hold onto him. You were still so sensitive from your previous orgasm that your second one was quickly building up inside you. You locked your ankles at the small of his back while your hands reached for his face to crash your lips against his. 

At this point he was slamming into you, chasing not only his own high but yours. He needed to feel it. The euphoric squeeze around his fingers earlier wasn’t enough. He needed more. He needed to feel your entire body shudder and quake underneath him;  around him. The sound of your bodies colliding with each other was driving him insane. 

The hand that had been gripping your ass slid around your hip and snaked between you and his fingers pinched and rolled your clit expertly, making your second orgasm his only priority. 

Your back arched at the contact the combined friction of his thick cock and his fingers had you flying off the edge, clamping down around him as you shouted his name again into the air. 

“God..fuck…sh-,” expletives tumbled from his mouth as he felt you shake from your orgasm. He tried to hold back but his cock twitched inside you and he bottomed out one last time as his release coated your walls. He tried his best to keep working you through yours, using every synapse in his brain to ignore his own heightened sensitivity. 

Eventually, you both came down from your highs and your bodies relaxed against each other and the bed. Your eyes fluttered open to find him staring at you, his face soft like it had been when he had first looked at your body fully. His lips were parted in awe, and you brushed your thumb across them. 

“That…should’ve happened a long time ago…” he confessed trying to catch his breath. 

“Agreed.”

His mouth formed a smile and his eyes twinkled, “but hey…this time I really did go upstairs with a girl and hooked up with her…”

“Josh!” Your eyes widened and you playfully pushed his shoulder. He laughed into a kiss before turning to look at the door on the far wall of your room. 

“Bathroom, right?”

You nodded with a smile and he slowly pulled out of you, hissing at the sensitivity and the cold air hitting his cock. He beelined for the door and you heard water running briefly before he returned with a thankfully warm washcloth to clean the both of you up. He discarded it into the hamper before crawling back into bed with you, gathering your body in his arms under the covers. 

The way his breath washed over your neck was so comforting and warm that sleep quickly overtook you and you drifted off while you felt his lips brush your skin. 

The next morning, sunlight streamed into your room. Josh was the first to pry his eyes open, and in the silence he took in just how much of a time capsule your room was. The same posters were on your walls, a couple film posters he had given you himself. An obsolete iHome sat on the top of your dresser, surrounded by a collection of jewelry and trinkets that looked familiar to him. 

You stirred in his arms, and he rasped in your ear, “Mmm…morning, lover.” 

The endearment sent a jolt of adrenaline through you and your eyes shot open. It was real. He was really in your bed, his strong arms holding you as those beautiful eyes looked at you in reverence. Your heart was stuttering in your chest. 

“Morning…” you replied, forefinger and thumb capturing his chin and pulling him down for a slow kiss. 

For a while the two of you just cuddled in silence, before a buzz from Josh’s pants pocket on the floor alerted him to a text. Reluctantly, he reached down towards the floor to fish his phone out of the pocket. His notifications were a bunch of texts from his brothers asking for his whereabouts and when he was going to grace them with his presence again. Quickly he typed out a few responses, not fully giving away how his night ended up but letting them know he wasn’t lying in a ditch somewhere. 

He sighed as he placed his phone on your nightstand. 

“I’m being summoned…”

You felt a pang in your heart, the other reality of him eventually leaving hitting you. 

He felt you tense in his arms and his brows furrowed, “what’s wrong?” 

You turned to face him fully, not wanting to sound needy or clingy, but not knowing how else to put it, “I just…I don’t want you to go…” 

“You can come with me if you want! I’m sure my mom would love to see you and Jake-”

You cut him off, “right but…what happens after that?” 

He looked confused, “what do you mean?” 

You wanted the earth to open up and swallow you at this point, but you needed to know, “what does this mean…?” 

Realization formed on his face as he connected the dots, then shyness crept over his features, “what do you want it to mean?”

“We can’t just go back to being friends now…I can’t pretend that this never happened and-.” your chin wobbled a little as you tried to explain yourself, trying to keep your emotions at bay, but remembering how he had literally just called you lover made it impossible. 

“I don’t think we can go back to being just friends either…” he started. You started to panic  before he continued, “and I don’t have it in me to even try to pretend this never happened. I can’t go back to being a stranger, or just some guy you went to school with.”

“You were never just some guy, Josh…”

He rolled over you, hovering his face above yours, “then maybe…we can see how this goes…?”

You bit your lip, “yeah?” 

He smiled, “yeah,” before slotting his lips over yours and giving you the most tender kiss so far. He relaxed on top of you, allowing himself to be wrapped up in your arms as you lazily made out together as the sun slipped behind some clouds and it began snowing again. 

Eventually you made it out of bed to shower and get dressed. As Josh donned his outfit from the night before, he couldn’t help but be a little smug at how it would be a dead giveaway to what he had been up to the previous night. But then he remembered who his brothers were. 

He looked up hastily as he tied his shoes, “I do have to warn you that my brothers are going to be really annoying about this, but just ignore it.” 

You placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “it’ll be fine, Josh.” 

He smiled and rose to his feet, kissing you again. 

Soon you were carefully making it down the snowy steps, trying to get to your car when Josh froze on the bottom step. You nearly collided with his back when you looked in the direction he was looking at and made direct eye contact with…your father. Your dad was standing on the covered porch, drinking a coffee. 

Well fuck. 

Josh and your dad seemed to be in a weird staring contest, silently communicating with each other. 

You stepped around Josh, hitting your key fob to unlock your car. 

“Not exactly what I had in mind when I told you you were always welcome at my house, Josh…” 

Your face flushed with embarrassment, “oh my god, Dad…” 

Quickly you and Josh bolted to your car, but not before Josh gave a toothy grin and wave at your dad, exclaiming, “nice to see you!” before shutting his door. 

You gave him a look as you clicked your seatbelt and started the car. 

He threw his hands up. grinning, “what? It could’ve been worse.” 

But as you pulled out of your driveway, and pulled up to the first stop sign on the street, Josh reached over the console and took your hand, bringing your fingers to his lips and giving them a soft kiss. The embarrassment from earlier melted away as he gave you that look again.

Your cheeks betrayed you and splotched with red. Inwardly you figured you’d always do that when he looked at you like that, and the thought warmed you instead of bothering you this time. 

It wasn’t long before you pulled into Josh’s family driveway. The drive over had been pure muscle memory and comfortable silence between the two of you. 

But as you got out of your car, you were met with the all too familiar voice of his youngest brother, Sam. 

“Oh my fucking god, I knew it!” He yelled from the top of the driveway. 

“Shut up, Sam,” Josh warned as he rounded the car to you and took your hand.

“Shut up, Sam,” the younger brother mocked right back at him, laughing his signature laugh. 

But for once, the holidays didn’t seem as daunting now that you had your best friend, Josh, back at your side. 

Fin

Tag List:  @dannyandthekiszkas , @readyforthegarden , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema, @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal , @myownparadise96 , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmelbourne, @twistedmelodies , @that-witchy-pan , @gold-mines-melting , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface , @childinthegardenn , @char289 , @stardustvanfleet , @sunfl0wer-power , @holdingup-fallingsky , @bladenotblaze , @gretavanlace , @lipstickitty , @jjwasneverhere , @josiee-gvf , @peaceloveunitygvf , @musicislove3389 , @gretavanhockey , @gretavanazula

[blackkatdraws2]

2nd Batch: The Janitors!

[Blank Scripts AU (non-canonical)]

Four men walk in the cold hallways of the Parable, carrying with them janitorial equipment.

One of the ceiling lights was missing. Inside hid the mass of flesh that belonged to this building, an exposed wound. One would see it pulsating if they looked a bit closer.

The janitors, already used to the strangeness of this place, pay it no mind and continue with their chatter as they descend deeper to their next cleaning area.

BATCH LIST:

- [1st Batch: The Inhabitants] - [2nd Batch: The Janitors] - [3rd Batch: The Citizens] - [4th Batch: The Guardians]

↓ [Thoughts and Credits below] ↓

-----------⟡

The second illustration is complete! More coming soon!

Woah, this took me shorter than I imagined. After the disaster with the first illustration I'd assumed that this one would take me just as long [if not longer] but it was done in three days!

Not so fun fact: The Clip Studio app crashed just when I was hovering my mouse cursor on the 'export to png' button and no matter how much I tried to open the drawing file, it did not budge. How unbelievably convenient, the timing was too devious...

Luckily, I managed to save the majority of my process, but I still had to spend hours rendering part of the illustration again...

What a nightmare, haha!

To be honest, I'm falling into a nasty art block right now. This series will progress slowly, but surely. No OC or Self Inserts will be forgotten.

Melo by @okkistoops

He seems like a pretty chill dude! The thing I really liked drawing about him was his hair though. Since the art style is simplified [positively], I had fun translating how he'd look if I'd drawn him in my art style [which usually looks more manhwa-ish]. I'm happy with the result.

Mason Cole by @villiun

Stuck in the eternal torment of having to feed a hungry building and unable to escape, poor guy lol. I honestly liked this idea a lot! It reminds me a lot of I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream almost. Let's have him live for now, I feel like he deserves it haha.

Roland Watchforth by @reader-writer-combo

Roland!! I'd love to see this dude make it out into the big world, what a sweet man. Him copying Black is such a cute thing to imagine hahaha.

[good-vs-evo]

saw some ppl on tiktok getting SO PRESSED about polycules and relationships other than hualian and that was kind of funny so i needed to make and explain my relationship chart

i’d love to explain to them (as a polyam person myself >:3) that love is not a limited commodity and hua cheng falling for yin yu doesn’t mean he suddenly doesn’t care about xie lian at all but i fear that would be lost on them HAHA

also if you… don’t wanna see that kinda stuff… just don’t look at it… don’t hate on people who do… life would be easier for everyone… but moving on

i debated splitting yin yu x he xuan x hua cheng from the moon quartet then decided against it because it was getting waaaay too chaotic

rip to quan yizhen, either he has no manhua art or i couldn’t find it (i haven’t read the manhua yet ffjhshd)

uhhh i got a lot of inspo abt huayin from @devotedbutterfly’s tiktoks and stuff (sorry for going thru like all of ur stuff and generally being a demon on ur tiktok and tumblr ahsjdj) and xuanyin/blackmoon stuff from @ghooostbaby so. yes their stuff is very cool :]

anyways-

first chart is different explanations for everyone’s relationship with one another

the second is me trying to simplify them into categories

BUT i’ll explain this a lotttt better in text

quanyin

uh. this one feels self explanatory

hualian

if i have to explain this one it’s over

fengqing

same as the first two LMAO

xianle trio

yes, i had to break the trio and quartet into different categories

mulian: mu qing always admired xie lian for his self-assuredness, strength, and also beauty. he was a bit jealous of him for a long time, but they were able to talk about it and they both forgave each other for everything that happened in the past. he's had a crush on him since the beginning, but was bad at showing it. xie lian thought mu qing was pretty and a very interesting person; when he got older, he regretted not spending more time getting to know him, so he makes up for it later on in life! he loves when mu qing is softer and shy and more vulnerable than he is usually, and loves how mu qing is a good listener and is pretty emotionally intelligent.

fengqing: well. you get the idea

fenglian: feng xin was always loyal, the first person to have fallen in love with xie lian, and dianxia’s first kiss. he would’ve never left xie lian if xie lian hadn’t told him to. he respected xie lian a lot. xie lian loved how much feng xin cared, and felt immensely guilty about being unable to give him anything more. when they reunite, he showers feng xin with gifts and words of affirmation (he got better at expressing his emotions) and they spend a lot of time together

xianle quartet

all the other ones stay the same, so i’ll just explain the two new ones

huaqing: they were once stuck together and had to talk just out of boredom. they bickered a little but the more they talked the more they realized that there was more to the other. mu qing feels genuinely bad about what he did to hua cheng. he has a hard time apologizing but he tried his best to express his remorse, and hua cheng was pretty shocked (previously thought mu qing was a bit of an asshole) and, since mu qing was being sincere, decided to accept his apology. they hit some rough patches now and then, but xie lian and feng xin help them through it. they realized they’re pretty similar, and team up to stir up trouble with people they don’t like sometimes!

huaxin: feng xin was jealous of hua cheng because he was the one who won xie lian’s heart after 800 years and was really happy when he found out that xie lian liked him too. he admires that hua cheng was strong enough to help xie lian so many times. he also likes that hua cheng is a little cocky sometimes (read: very often), and finds hua cheng very good looking. hua cheng was jealous of feng xin for being the first person to be that close to xie lian, but appreciates how loyal he was throughout everything that happened and finds him pretty cool. he likes the way feng xin curses a lot when he’s pissed (finds it endearing)

huayin

ONE OF MY PERSONAL FAVES!!!

yin yu fell first, because hua cheng was so fascinatingly determined and also like the prettiest person he’s ever met. he was intimidating, but could be quite kind, as he was to yin yu when they broke past the employee/employer relationship and became closer

hua cheng began to notice the way yin yu came off as so meek and unnoticeable, but had a kind of poised anger and strength beneath all of that. he trusted yin yu with a lot of more important tasks, paid him well, and considered him as more of a right hand man or partner in crime than a henchman, then eventually as just a partner

e’ming also likes yin yu, and trusts him to take care of it

hua cheng finds it endearing when yin yu gets protective of him (both of them know hua cheng is perfectly capable, but hua cheng finds it sweet regardless)

yin yu cheered hua cheng on a lot with xie lian and patiently listened to everything hua cheng had to say about him

huayinlian/hualianyu

ANOTHER PERSONAL FAVE

ppl keep being like “oh but hua cheng would never cheat on xie lian” HOW IS THAT CHEATING! GOOD LORD! HUA CHENG STILL LOVES XIE LIAN, BUT HAS ALSO DEVELOPED FEELINGS FOR THE PERSON HE SPENT THE MOST AMOUNT OF TIME WITH

i digress

yin yu fell for xie lian because he heard about him all the time. how could you spend so much time hearing about how wonderful, kind, gracious, and amazing someone is without catching feelings a little? additionally, hua cheng allowed yin yu to visit xie lian’s temple and leave offerings, trusting him to be genuine in his actions. yin yu saw some of the paintings and sculptures of xie lian and found him beautiful. he knows a lot about xie lian's life, and truly wants him to find peace and happiness

xie lian loves how devoted yin yu was to hua cheng and how much he helped him. he knows those years were hard for hua cheng, and he’s glad that he had a companion (contrary to what people say about “cheating”, xie lian is incredibly happy that hua cheng managed to find love while he was waiting). i know yin yu is canonically “plain”, but xie lian loves him and thinks he’s very handsome :) he gives him a lot of compliments and words of affirmation

blackmoon (yinxuan)

taking a moment to appreciate that very awesome ship name

yin yu thought he xuan was terrifying and intense, only to discover that. he’s just a guy (/pos). but he does have a lot going on! he has urges and a complex history and emotions he doesn’t show to a lot of people and plans within plans and is generally such an interesting person with so many layers to him. beneath a lot of those layers is a guy who’s kind and smart and would’ve stayed kind and smart if his life wasn’t utterly ruined

he xuan initially thought yin yu was just kind of pathetic, but learned more about him and started to like him more. he finds his passion really attractive, loves how genuinely sweet, kind, and gentle he is as well as how harsh, cruel, and unrelenting he can be. he treats he xuan well and makes him feel human and real and knows when to leave him alone and knows when he wants attention and cooks for him and-

they feel seen around each other, having experienced similar things (such as having their destiny “stolen” in different ways though) and have experienced suffering in such a firsthand way. they’re ready to just chill together now :)

moon quartet (hua cheng, xie lian, he xuan, and yin yu)

xie lian finds he xuan cool, doesn’t have too many thoughts about him. he xuan thinks xie lian is cute and also mildly terrifying (i’m definitely editing this later on, i just don’t have a lot of thoughts about them yet)

hua cheng and he xuan have been close for a long time, helping each other out with ghost king business. hua cheng let he xuan relax and chill at ghost city when he needed to, and he xuan kept a close eye on the heavenly capital, so they met often and bonded. they’re both motivated by something and are incredibly passionate about that thing, so they mutually admire the other’s drive and courage

i have the least for them so far, but i just think they’d be sweet together :] they’d all help each other heal and be able to talk to each other. they’d love each other a lot and take care of one another when they need it and be there when someone needs someone :3 idk they’re so traumatized and deserve to recover from that i’ll form more thoughts i swear

ANYWAYS. that’s it for now i’m def gonna write stuff for all of these ships :0 they’re all very special to me 💖 i might add them to my 30 day fluff challenge :3 cuz they all deserve some nice fluff! (ill also keep updating + editing! feel free to ask me to explain relationships more, id love to <3)

[fics-by-noworriesifnot]

Chapter 10/19: "Undeniable Chemistry." now up on AO3

Hermione poked her head around the corner of the sitting room to observe Draco on the couch watching television with a glazed over expression. He’d been sat there for the past several days now, consuming the episodes of Charmed she’d painstakingly downloaded for him. 

Hermione took a deep breath and approached, channeling all her positive energy into her next sentence. “I have some exciting news that might cheer you up!” She announced, leaning with both hands on the arm rest, her leg kicking up behind her in the momentum of it all. Draco looked at her askance, raising a single brow before his eyes flitted back to the screen. “Is it about whether Piper and Leo develop chemistry at any point in this show? Because I’m struggling to believe they like each other at all… Charmed?” He said. “Hardly.” “No…” Hermione said, battling a grin. “It’s about the potion.” Draco sat up, his eyes brightening. “Oh, you’ve made a break-through to revitalise the wizarding world already?” He asked, as Hermione plopped into the couch beside him. She hadn’t meant to sit so close, with his arm still resting over the back of the couch, she felt enveloped in him. “Erm-” she swallowed. “No, not that potion… your father’s Ambrosia Elixir.” She said, shrugging her shoulders in anticipation of his annoyance. 

Draco sighed and brought his hand to his temple. “Not this again.” He said. “I told you not to waste your time on it.” Choosing to ignore his petulant response, Hermione continued to explain her discovery. 

“I’ve figured out what I need to complete it -well- your father did most of the leg work, I just connected the dots really.” She said, punctuating the air with her finger. “All we need is ash from a resurrected phoenix.” Draco visibly recoiled, but Hermione continued, undeterred. “Proteins found in phoenix ashes will bind to the reactant molecules in the elixir and catalyse the reaction. Usually catalysts only accelerate the reaction, and wouldn’t contribute to it- but this is where magic comes in! After the reaction the properties are extracted; phoenix proteins are just built differently to regular proteins. Currently the reaction is happening too slowly, but with a catalyst, this magical catalyst… Malfoy, I really believe it will work!” Draco merely blinked in response, chemical equations might well have been floating around her head for all he could make of what she was saying.

“Essentially your father has synthesised phoenix resurrection magic!” Hermione exclaimed, simplifying her explanation. “Very clever Granger, but when was the last time you saw a phoenix? Let alone a recently resurrected one.” Draco replied, guilt spiking as he watched Hermione deflate. “Well-” she sputtered. “I know they’re incredibly rare, but-” “There hasn’t been a phoenix sighting since Dumbledore's hen flew off, and before that, who knows how long?” Draco said, folding his arms over his chest. “Sure.” Hermione countered, willing herself to keep her voice level. “But I’m speaking to someone in an online forum who says they have some ashes and they’re willing to share them with me to support my cause!” “An online forum?” Draco blinked, feeling, not for the first time in this short conversation, completely out of his depth.

“A chat room on the net. They say they’re located in Egypt and if I were to visit, they’d be more than happy to help! I was thinking that perhaps I could plan a trip after Christmas?” Hermione said, her excitement building at the prospect of an academic research adventure.

‘Ah.’ Draco thought, recognising some of the lingo he’d learned over the past few months, used in association with Hermione downloading television periodicals for him to watch. “So you’re talking to a complete stranger on your computer who is promising you, what could possibly be, one of the rarest magical items in the world- for free mind you- if you just hop over to the transcontinent real quick on an international portkey? And there is nothing suspicious about this to you?” He said, raising his hands in question at her. “Erm…” Hermione shrugged, her eyes rolling backwards as if just realising this for the first time. Draco could not understand how she figured out how to synthesise phoenix resurrection magic, but remained completely obtuse to matters of her personal safety. Sighing and closing his eyes, he asked. “What about your real research Granger? Are you just abandoning it?” Hermione felt a prickle of annoyance at that, but tamped it down. She was desperate for Draco to understand her point of view, but didn’t want to descend into a chaotic bickering spiral that came so naturally to them.

“Of course I’m not abandoning it… but I can do both,” she said. “You know I can practically multitask in my sleep. Besides-  phoenixes are endemic to Egypt and the Arabian Peninsula; it makes sense someone there might have some ashes.”

“What do Potter and Weasley think of this plan?” Draco asked. Mumbling, Hermione replied, “I haven’t exactly told them…” She said, avoiding his eye. Suspicions confirmed, Draco turned to her in full, trying to appeal to her sense of reason. “Granger. I want you to stop. This is going too far.” He said, any sense of agitation leaving him as he looked at the witch now kneeling before him on the cushions, her eyes wide and slightly crestfallen. “You don’t owe this to me.” He continued. “My death is entirely Bellatrix and The Dark Lord’s doing. We’ve talked about this.” He said softly, wishing he could take her hand.

Hermione turned away from him slightly, resting on one leg while the other swung over the edge of the couch. She took a deep breath, not wanting emotion to get the better of her. “You stopped Bellatrix when she had me under her knife... I just wish I could have done the same for you.” She said, blinking against the memories of Bellatrix digging a blade into her throat. “So that is what this is about?” Draco replied. “It’s not just that, Malfoy…” Hermione said, chewing her lip. “Am I another project then? Another problem for the brilliant mind of Hermione Granger to solve?” He asked, his voice solemn. “A problem? No, how could you think that? It’s not that I couldn’t save you at the battle and I’m certainly not in this to give myself more work to do... it’s more than that.” “Then what is it?” “I- Well-” Hermione felt heat blooming in her cheeks. “I’ve grown rather fond of you.” She blurted and immediately wished she could take it back, as the corners of Draco’s mouth pulled up into a smirk. “You’ve grown fond of me?” He said, his voice carrying a note of disbelief, as he sat straighter, taking in this surprising tidbit.

“Don’t preen for Heaven’s sake!” Hermione said, her cheeks brightening further. “I care for you, and I think you’re accepting your death too readily. I just don’t understand how you can be so blasé about your circumstances when the opportunity to change them is within our reach.”

“If you do care for me, you’ll respect my wishes and autonomy over my own life, or as it currently stands, death.” Draco said.

“Why won't you let me do this for you?” Hermione asked, as Draco felt his stomach backflip, knowing he’d have to confess to the same feelings if he was going to get this witch to relent. “Have you thought that perhaps I care for you too? And that I don’t want to see any harm befall you on your feckless mission to finish my father’s potion? If you can find a solution that doesn’t jeopardize your own life or career, then by all means, carry on.” He said in one breath.

“I do think you’re overreacting about my meeting this person from the forum…” Granger pouted, her arms folded over her chest. Emulating her pose, Draco replied curtly. “I think I’m reacting perfectly reasonably… you’ll simply have to find another way if bringing me back is so important to you.” “But there is no other way!” Hermione said. “You’re Hermione Granger. There is always another way. Now. Promise me you’re going to drop this travel nonsense.” Hermione inhaled sharply, about to fight for what she wanted, to push further and make demands, knowing he couldn’t really stop her. But she felt the strength of her convictions leave her as she looked at Draco. He was smiling for the first time in days. Perhaps he was right, it was his death, as much as she wished she could change things, it wasn’t for her to decide. “Fine.” She acquiesced. “Good girl.” Draco said, stretching his arm out behind her on the couch and turning back to the television. Hermione felt her heart rate spike at his words and proximity; even though she knew she couldn’t touch him, she had the sudden urge to bury herself in his jumper. 

“Now, turn the sound back on.” Draco said, gesturing to the remote. “Chauncey has queued up Buffy for us. Even though these muggle directors got the wrong end of the stick when it comes to vampires, at least they have undeniable chemistry.” Hermione’s heart clenched upon a realisation as she unmuted the television. “Undeniable chemistry.” She repeated under her breath, feeling that she’d just understood how it felt.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I always repeat it but I truly love the way you write Leona ☹️ you portray not only his personality but also his inner thoughts and how he processes information around him so well... I love all your writings but specially your Leona related works (sorry for being very much biased)

I hold your Leona interpretation so close to my heart 🤲💛 I often see a lot of mischaracterization (and I kind of get it- he's hard to decipher sometimes), so seeing such a good portrayal that I feel encapsulates his whole being is so important to me ☹️☹️

[Not sure if this is feedback in response to a particular writing piece I did, but just in case, this Leona interaction was the most recent one before receiving this ask.]

cbjddbwkkeoqhd Thank you!! I try to do the same thing Yana did when first conceptualizing the Twst characters… I try to put myself in their shoes and wonder what it must be like to be them in a given situation. The example Yana provided in one interview was something along the lines of, The poison apple didn’t want to be poisonous, but the Evil Queen forced it to. How did that make the apple feel? I want to think about not only how someone would speak, but also about their body language, their thoughts, their emotions, previous interactions in similar scenarios, their life experiences, their goals, their strengths and their flaws, how those can color their perception of others and the world--everything that makes up a character! I also aim to make my dialogue distinguishable, even if there's no name attached to it. If you can swap out several other character's names and the dialogue still works, then the intended character's voice isn't coming through strong enough and I rewrite it from scratch. If I write "You've earned my brother's respect," that's not good enough for me. It has to be “Oh, would you look at that. You’ve gone and earned my dear onii-sama’s respect and admiration. How good for you," to properly convey Leona's sarcasm and haughtiness.

The Twst characters are all very complex and multifaceted (particularly those we're given the most detailed backstories about *stares at the OB boys*), and there's also tons of content to comb through between the all the characters, main story, vignettes, events, and additional materials (interviews, art books, mangas, light novel, etc.). As a result, it can be easy to overlook elements of a particular character or to simplify/condense characters--either making them the extreme of being too cruel or the other extreme of being too kind--to make them easier to write. It takes time to nail that characterization, so I encourage my fellow writers to keep trying ^^

To speak a little more about writing Leona! It's honestly hard because you have to balance his arrogance with his lack of motivation and his depression-like beliefs about himself without whiplashing between those components. He's also very intelligent, and those kinds of characters can be difficult to do, especially for inexperienced writers. Leona works in subtle ways to get what he wants, and you have to find a way to communicate that between himself and the reader, but not give away what he's scheming to the other characters involved, who are not in his headspace. Then, of course, there's that whole ongoing debate about whether Leona would treat women significantly "better" than men (which is a topic worthy of a whole separate discussion post; I won't get into that here since it would elongate this post by a ton)... There's several things to consider when writing him. If you enjoy my interpretation of Leona, then that makes me happy ^^ I genuinely do put forth a lot of effort to capture the characters in my writing, so it's nice when those efforts are recognized.

[rrxnjun]

blondes are done with fun ✲ h. renjun

pairing. journalism student! renjun x journalism student! fem! reader starring. huang renjun, lee donghyuck, yoo jimin, huh yunjin genre. college au, acquaintances to lovers. angst, fluff, smut warnings. alcohol consuption, swearing, renjun is a dick at the beginning, sexual content (fingering, unprotected sex) word count. 31k (31.320) a/n. awsten knight please stop making music so i can stop writing fics about your songs thanku. also this is my first smut please be gentle with it also if you're my friend please don't read the smut parts orif you do dont tell me abt it or i will literally kms

playlist. cherry red - waterparks ; fake happy - paramore ; heaven angel - the driver era ; blonde - waterparks ; disaster - conan gray ; raspberry - grouplove ; black butterflies and déjá vu - the maine ; fuck about it - waterpakrs, blackbear ; robbers - the 1975

a rumor has it that the popular couple in town broke up after years of being together. having to share your favorite seat in class with the male part of said relationship, you try to find out how to make your heartbroken project partner warm up to you— or— huang renjun goes blonde when he's sad.

✲ PART 1 OF THE SIMPLIFY ROMANCE SERIES ✲

“A rumor has it Huang Renjun and Huh Yunjin broke up,” is the first sentence that lands into your ears when your feet cross the imaginary border of the school premises one early morning, a cup of coffee in your hand as your best friend Jimin breaks the news to you, walking by your side into the university building.

Snapping your head around to look at her in shock and surprise at the news, eyes wide in question, you’re already invested in the love life of your classmates more than you probably should be, but due to multiple reasons that could explain it; one of them being the ordinary human curiosity– mainly created in your brain thanks to the fact that these two had dated for as long as you can remember– another reason being the gossip-oriented side of your personality– the part of it you like to explain through the fact that you’re a Journalism major and the love for gossip is just another part of your (hopefully) future occupation– and the last reason, the one that is probably the most harmless of them all (or maybe the most, depending on how you look at it) is the mere fact that while Huang Renjun had been a taken man for as long as you remember, he is also insanely attractive, and you’re just a simple woman. The idea of him being finally attainable is irking something in your brain, and even though you would feel embarrassed to admit this out loud, you can’t help but wonder what happened between those two after such a long time that made the legendary couple– iconic, even– break up. 

“What happened?” you ask, walking alongside the girl as you round the corner of the hall, in a rush to get to your morning class. The two of you slept in by accident, watching too many episodes of Keeping up with the Kardashians last night to notice the clock striking well past midnight, and now the journey to school was more difficult than it already is, with your dorms situated 30 minutes away and the class starting at 8 o’clock sharp. The time is now 7:58AM and while you’re already in the building and yours and Jimin’s classes are different, they are both on the fifth floor– and with the frequency of your visits to the gym, the way up there is hard not only because of the time pinch, but also because of the shortness of your breath when you rush to walk up there in less than five minutes before you have to take the walk of shame to your desk, watched by the professor with passive aggressive eyes.

“Nobody knows,” Jimin heaves out, taking two steps at once now, “I just heard from Yizhuo that Yunjin deleted all of their Instagram posts together and she supposedly stopped wearing that necklace he got her for their anniversary. Oh and also, Renjun didn’t drop her off at school on Friday, so something must be up.”

Humming in agreement, you rush up the stairs, the halls already emptied out because all of the students are hidden in their respective classroom. You manage to keep your voice down in case anyone’s listening in on your insensitive gossip, now that your voices aren’t drowned out by any other noise. “That’s weird. They’ve been together for so long, I’m starting to lose faith in real love if they really broke up.”

“No, yeah, I know,” Jimin squints as the two of you finally reach the fifth floor, the girl checking the time on her wristwatch huffing out at the sight of already being late, “something bad must have happened, if they really broke up, because the two of them didn’t seem like they’ve had any problems, you know.”

“Definitely,” you nod, pacing along the hall as you finally reach the door to your classroom, waving your roommate off with a tight-lipped smile, still trying to catch your breath. “I’ll see you after class?”

The girl doesn’t even turn around as she agrees with you, long legs striding down the hall into the last classroom on the left, waving at you with her right hand. “See ya!”

Silently opening the door to the classroom, you notice the professor already standing at the very front of the class, turning around to look at your figure once the almost unhearable noise of the door cuts through the silence in the room. Offering her a shameful smile, you hurriedly scan the space, feeling the eyes of everyone glued to your sweaty and out of breath body, as you try to find a place to sit. Your usual seat is right at the corner of the room, at the very back– it has the window in close accessibility, so you don’t have to worry about being too hot or too cold, depending on the weather, because you regulate the freshness of the air in the classroom. The window also provides a good distraction to you once the class gets too boring to listen to, so you’d say with 100% sureness that the desk you chose to sit at the very first day of your Journalism class was the best option. 

However, when you look at the usually empty desk for two– one of the chairs, the one closer to the corridor being your handy armrest as well as a place to put your coat and bag on as you sit on the other one, the one closer to the window– you notice a man sitting at your usual place, eyes glued to the whiteboard. Feverishly scanning the classroom once again, realizing in terror that there is no other empty space for you to sit at, you sigh in annoyance as you near your usual desk, cursing the intruder in your brain for breaking the unwritten seating plan. 

Taking the bag off your shoulder, you softly land it to the ground, afraid of making any noise that would interrupt your professor’s lecture again. After sitting at the chair and trying to listen to the words coming out of your professor’s mouth, trying to see what she’s talking about, you find yourself drifting off into the mess of your thoughts, choosing to daydream about the amazing lunch you’re about to have once your classes are over for the day, your eyes knowingly moving away from the whiteboard to their place out of the window. It’s a little harder to gaze out of it in the different position– you tell yourself you’ll come earlier next week so the intruder doesn’t take away your spot again and you can go back to your usual plan of watching people walking through the campus and making up fake stories about them in your brain– when your periphery vision takes notice of the side profile of your seatmate, the curve of his nose and the slight pout of his upper lip sparking interest in you as your brain finally connects the dots.

Only slightly moving your head to the side, so your seatmate doesn’t notice you staring, you observe Huang Renjun sitting at your desk. The image in front of you (or beside you, to be precise) surprises you to an extent nothing has ever surprised you before (no, not even the birthday parties Jimin has thrown you have made this effect on you– but that’s probably because she can’t keep a secret and always spoiled the surprise), and once again, there are multiple reasons for your surprise. To list a few, you’d start with the fact that Huang Renjun almost always sat at the same desk with his girlfriend Yunjin– the desk was at the very opposite corner of the room, leaving you to occasionally observe the couple as he landed a hand onto her thigh or let her put her leg into his lap, away from the eyes of the professor– but due to the news that were broken to you just a few minutes prior, maybe this is the only reason that shouldn’t surprise you with the sight of Renjun sitting by your side. Continuing the list, you’d state the fact that the boy looks lifeless– his eyes lost their usual spark and there are dark circles adorning his lower eyelids, the sick look making you feel almost sorry for your classmate. And to finish the list, you’d state the fact that takes you by surprise the most– the one that shocks you to your core, for it’s the reason why you didn’t recognise the boy when you first sat down in the first place. His hair is now bleach blond, and while the look definitely suits him, it’s something different, something new– because for as long as you can remember, not many things changed in Renjun’s appearance over the years, and you’re not so sure if you can consider this as the side effect of his breakup, or if he really just wanted change.

Blinking at the male, as if to make sure that you’re not dreaming, you take notice of the dead strands falling into his eyes, contrasting well with the darkness of his eyes. Once again noting that you’re just a simple woman and Huang Renjun is simply put, a very attractive man, you can’t help but gaze at him with a newly found interest, everything you’ve learned about the male this morning irking you with undeniable curiosity.

The sad and embarrassing reality of it all is, though, that you’re not the only one who gets that weird feeling of someone staring at you in public sometimes, only for that feeling to be true as you turn around and see someone with their eyes burning through your skull; Huang Renjun gets them as well, it seems, as he turns his head to you with his eyebrows furrowed, as if to silently ask you why the hell you’re creepily staring at his side profile in the middle of your Journalism class. The two of you were never close, despite sharing multiple classes over the course of multiple semesters, and so being caught only made you feel more embarrassed as you sharply turn your head towards the front of the classroom– so much for being subtle and nonchalant about it, erasing all the possibility of playing it off in the process– feeling heat creeping up your neck. 

This is not how you imagined your morning to go.

Trying hard to pay attention to the class instead, in order to both learn something and also forget about the events happening only a few seconds prior, there’s no use as your brain now decided to replay the moment over and over again, making sure you never forget about it and randomly think of it in the middle of the night 5 years from now, still not moving on from the shame. In the process of trying so hard to focus, you actually do quite the opposite– as if your brain decided to turn off from the essence of humiliation instead to protect you– and before you notice it, the class is over and everyone is scattering out of the classroom with their things and bags hung over their shoulders. At least it’s finally over, you think, when a voice lands into your ear, shaking you out of it.

“We’re doing the project together,” he says, and as you turn around to face the owner of the saccharine voice to inquire him on what the actual fuck he’s even talking about, before you get the chance, the man is already out of the room, leaving you standing in full dumbfoundance.

Maybe you should’ve paid more attention to the class, after all.

Next week, even though you arrive to class earlier than the last, it seems like your designated seat in the corner of the classroom is now your and Renjun’s designated seat in the corner of the classroom, and if you’re being totally honest, this is exactly the thing you did not expect to come up on your Junior year bingo card. Talking over the whole interaction with Jimin right when you got to dorms– alongside with the takeout you ordered in the restaurant that’s at the corner of the street– the both of you stared into your plates with a newly found sense of absolute, utter confusion. 

You also had to shamefully text one of the only classmates from your Journalism class whose number you have– Osaki Shotaro, who you had a thing with in Freshman year because you thought he was an exchange student and would go back to Japan after summer, surprising you with his smiley face in the class in your Sophomore year (and this year, once again) as you had to be reminded of making out with him at a party every time your eyes landed on the poor boy– about the assignment. The truth is, you could just ask Renjun when you got into class, but you also wanted to spare yourself the embarrassment of that action. Through your fling from Freshman year, you learned that you have to work in pairs on a magazine of some sort– and while the assignment still wasn’t clear to you, after Shotaro ended the text message with ‘i’m sorry tho, i already have a partner ://’, you didn’t have enough dignity in you to pry him for any more information.

Clearing your throat as you step inside the classroom with an encouraging slap to your bottom coming from your roommate walking along to her usual class at the end of the hall, you walk over to your seat and put your bag onto the ground, silently sitting on the chair next to the corridor– the thing that makes you the most furious about this whole thing– as you prepare for the next lecture. From what you’ve gathered, the assignment was 70% of your final grade, and you really didn’t feel like failing your most favorite subject, especially if it’s something you could see yourself doing in the future. Working on something like this with someone you’ve hardly ever spoken to was a scary feeling, though. 

The class starts as soon as the noise of footsteps fills your ears, your professor standing at the very front of the classroom announcing her arrival with a heartfelt smile on her face. Sometimes you wonder if it’s her cheery demeanor that makes you like the class so much, but then again, you’ve always been interested in the topic– her character is just a bonus.

“Hello class,” she greets, full of energy despite it only being 8 in the morning, “I decided that instead of following with the lectures today, I will leave you some space to plan out your final project for the class. It has the weight of 70% of your grade, so it’s kind of important, so make sure you plan it well and come up with something original and interesting. The contents are 25-35 pages and you have until the end of the semester to complete it, so I hope you all put in some effort!”

Nods and hums of understatement are shared along the class, the pairs turning to each other in soft murmurs as some even take out a journal to note down all the things they come up with. You think it’s not a bad idea to at least brainstorm a little, but with how awkward you feel at the moment with your project partner sitting right next to you, you don’t think you can start. And the thing is, Jimin told you you could just pick a different partner– but as you look across the filled classroom, you really don’t think working with anyone else is possible, since you don’t have many friends in this class and everyone seems to be paired up already. Huang Renjun is your only choice, and although it doesn’t fill you with relief, you wonder why he chose you, when in reality, he’s the popular one– he has many different choices to pick from. Maybe he was just too lazy to ask anyone else. Who knows.

Clearing your throat again, you avert your gaze from the front of the classroom and try to sneak a look on your seatmate. The platinum blonde hair neatly styled on his head doesn’t fail to make you shocked again, but you figure you must start to get used to it now, because you can’t keep living with the constant urge to stare at the boy just because he dyed his hair. Waiting for him to look at you or give you any sign of the fact that he’s willing to work on the project, you continue your little staring contest with his side profile– it seems like he’s in the mood to ignore you today, so you gotta bring out the big guns and actually talk to him instead.

“So… how do you want to work on this?” you mumble out, nervously bumping your knee up and down. Human interaction isn’t your favorite thing in the world, mainly because you don’t like things you’re not good at– this includes sports, but mainly volleyball, drawing, knitting and mixing drinks as well– but you’d say with full confidence that making friends and talking to new people is truly the worst thing you could ever imagine. 

You notice that your seatmate finally recognised your efforts to spark up a conversation– he rewards you with a shrug of his shoulders as he not only does not look at you, but also decides to lay on the desk instead, closing his eyes as if this was the perfect time for him to catch up on his lost sleep. “Dunno,” he says, “we have plenty of time, let’s not do this right now.”

Blinking a few times at the male, you are once again struck by lightning that is his weird attitude to things. If this was how he behaved with Yunjin, you can’t blame the girl for breaking up with him– everything about the smug look on his face and the fact that he chose to take your favorite seat in the classroom makes your blood boil with annoyance. 

“W-what?” you stutter out, still not quite believing your ears. 

The man doesn’t reply to you– it’s too much effort, it seems– only making you angrier. Why did he even choose you as his partner if he didn’t want to work on the project in the first place? You’re no stranger to procrastination and leaving work for last minute, and you’re also not really a fan of the feeling of stress creeping up your back whenever you give in to the inevitable action of procrastinating; so if it comes to a project that is quite literally 70% of your grade, you would rather not do everything the week before.

Seeing that you’re getting ignored again, you put on your brave face as you fold your hands on your chest, determined to do something about the issue at hand. “Can’t you just put in some effort, man? I’d rather not do this last minute. I know that you probably don’t give a shit, but I do care about my grades, y’know,” you get out, seeing as the man next to you finally straightens his back and looks at you sharply– as if he has any right to point you with the killing look in this dark eyes– before he squints in mock agony.

“Do you really have to be such a fucking perfectionist?” he snaps at you, taking you by surprise. 

This is not how you imagined Huang Renjun to be. Looking at him over the course of the years, more often than not, you always saw the boy with a welcoming smile on his face. Whenever he was around Yunjin, he was all sweet words and gentle touches, erupting laughter whenever he was around his friends. When you were a freshman, somewhere in the back of your brain, you even envied the circle of friends he had around him, daydreaming about fitting in with them when you were lonely at lunch break. That was before you met Jimin at volleyball practice– the extracurricular you lasted in only for a week with the intention of making some friends (at least it worked) – and moved in with her in your second semester when both of your roommates decided to drop out. The girl provided you with undeniable love and care, and while you no longer desired to fit into a circle like Huang Renjun’s, talking to him now makes you feel like a child with crushed dreams.

“I’m sorry?” is all you get out as you stare at him with shock. If you were in a better mood, you would’ve searched through your brain to find a snarky remark to bite back at the boy. It’s too early in the morning and you weren’t prepared for his attitude, though, so you only opt to stare at him as he sighs in what you presume is annoyance– or defeat– as he scatters through his backpack and takes you a notebook, opening it to the first page and clicking his pen he found somewhere in the depths of his bag so he can write with it.

Too taken aback from his sudden change of mind, you wait for him to initiate any other action. You really don’t feel like getting screamed at again, so you chose to play it safe as you watch the man scribble the words Final project at the very top of the paper, underlining it two times and circling it five, the weird ritual making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“25 pages. We split half and half, so you can come up with whatever you want. We can do the design together and I really couldn’t give less shit about who works on the cover, so if you really want to do it, you can. Good?” he says, not once looking at you as he writes the words down on the paper. 

“Amazing,” you bite back with irony, shuffling your chair closer to the table so you can take a look at his notes, “the magazine has to have a coherent theme, though, doesn’t it? If we work on the pages by ourselves and just do whatever, as you said, it’s gonna be shit.”

You chose to accommodate yourself to the pattern of his speech– a habit you always do with new people, but in this situation, what feels the most safe. Seeing the man sigh again, twirling the ballpoint pen in between his fingers, he shrugs at your point and offers you a half-assed solution.

“We can figure that out later.”

Biting back a chuckle at his comment, it’s now your turn to sigh. Why was he being so difficult? Is it really that hard to make an effort on something important, especially when he was the one who said he wanted to work with you in the first place? Shaking your head in disbelief at his actions, you lean back in your chair and take out your own notebook, set on the decision of brainstorming as much as you can, hopefully coming out with some solid ideas you could incorporate in the magazine.

You have no idea what direction Renjun would go with. You don’t know anything about his interests or hobbies, and you surely don’t know what would inspire him or what he would want to write about. And with his new change of persona, you find him even more unreadable than he’s been in the past– and you can’t say you like the way he treats you right now. It seems like his sudden metamorphosis managed to change his brain synapses as well, because this is not the idea of Huang Renjun that you knew until now.

Chewing on the end of your pencil, you take a glimpse of your seatmate. He is messily scribbling something down onto his paper, seemingly realizing that the sooner you start working on this, the better, and with how full his paper seems to be, you wonder if this project won’t be that hard to complete after all.

“We’re doing the cover together,” you mumble out, seeing as the boy tears his eyes off his paper, glaring at you instead.

Almost expecting him to snap at you again, awaiting his suggestion that you will be the one doing all the work, you’re left with an answer that satisfies you with yet another surprise. “If you really insist…”

“Are you really sure you want to do this right now?” Jimin asks you as you put on your shoes at the door, slinging your backpack containing not only your laptop and notebooks, but also snacks just in case you get hungry. Looking at her through the hair falling into your face that you efficiently get out of the way with a poof of breath coming out of your mouth, you chuckle at her distress. The girl’s been watching you get ready for the last 15 minutes, with her robe on and bowl of guacamole in her right palm, eating up on the tortilla chips every once in a while as she squints at you with disbelief.

“Yeah, why not?” you shrug. “If he’s initiating this, I don’t see a problem. Besides, I think that if I don’t take every chance I get, I’ll end up working on the project alone, and I really don’t like that idea.”

Humming in agreement for the first time since you told your roommate that Renjun texted you if you wanted to work on the project today, Jimin motions to the phone sitting at the entryway table next to the front door. “Well, just make sure to text me if anything goes wrong and I’ll come pick you up,” she suggests, making you giggle at her noticeable worry. 

“Okay, mum,” you shake your head in disbelief, finally slugging the backpack over your shoulder and walking out of the door of your apartment. 

The truth is, you can’t really blame Jimin for her over-protective behavior. Ever since you retold her everything that happened that one time in Journalism class, she’s been wary of Huang Renjun. You would agree with all of her arguments of how much of a dick he is when acting like that, but you also don’t really think you have to put more energy into hating him at this moment, since it won’t really help you with your assignment and you don’t have any other choice. You are stuck with a grumpy project partner and that’s how the rest of your semester will go– you just have to learn how to live with his annoying remarks and snarky comments at whatever you say. Who knows, he may be in his ‘hating all women’ era, considering the breakup and all…

You can’t say you weren’t surprised when he added you on Instagram and messaged you about the project this afternoon, though. Considering that you were always the one initiating the talks about the final assignment over the course of the last few weeks, you weren’t expecting him to finally be the one reaching out. You would be stupid to not take him up on the offer, since you don’t know if it will happen ever again– who knows, he might have accidentally smashed his head into something and get a sudden revelation that is only a one time type of situation– and that’s exactly why you responded to him almost immediately (to which you admittedly, got a bit of an ick from yourself) and agreed to meet him at 6 in his apartment.

You were pleasantly surprised to learn that his place was only a 15 minute walk away from yours when he texted you the address, and after a few more minutes of scrolling through his Instagram that was private– and therefore hidden away from your eyes until now– you set yourself on the difficult journey.

Upon arriving at the apartment building, ringing the door bell and texting him to let you in just in case, so he knows it’s you, you start to feel a bit nervous, though. The truth is, you don’t really know what you’re getting yourself into as you walk into the elevator and press the button that takes you to the fourth floor– as he texted you the moment the door to the complex opened– and you think it’s safe to imagine you could be running out of that apartment at any given moment. Maybe Jimin was right and you should’ve taken at least some self-defense tools with you. You never know these days.

Once the elevator door opens and you step outside of the small space, you get prepared to take out your phone again to text him and ask which door leads to his apartment– the right or left– when you’re surprised with the sight of Huang Renjun already waiting for you in the doorway, loose sweatpants, messy hair and all, expecting your arrival.

Clearing your throat, you tightly smile at the male. “Hello.”

“Hi,” is all he responds as he moves away from the door and disappears into the apartment, seemingly thinking you're going to follow him and get inside, no questions asked. You expected at least an invitation to his premises, even a wave of his hand would be nice, you think, but you guess you can’t really have expectations that high when it comes to men– especially if the man in question is the insufferable Huang Renjun.

Taking your shoes off at the entrance– because even though your host doesn’t have good manners, you still do– the figure of Huang Renjun suddenly appears in the doorway of one of the rooms, watching you put the sneakers into a corner that seems to be designated for footwear. Looking up at him with expecting eyes, he finally breaks the awkward silence as he takes a step inside one of the rooms, calling you to go after him.

“We can work here, I guess,” he mumbles, leading you into what you presume is a living room connected to a kitchen– the place is not that big, but you are a broke university student too, so you don’t have it in you to judge. The place is surprisingly clean and adorned with multiple plants all around the corners of the room and windowsills, the only thing out of place being some dishes at the kitchen counter, waiting to be either used or put away, since they look washed. There’s a sofa in the shape of an L in the middle of it all, a TV sitting right opposite of it on a small TV stand, and when you notice an opened laptop on the coffee table, you presume that this is your work station for the day. You half expected him to invite you to his bedroom, but you guess that you can’t really complain– this feels much less awkward anyway. 

Nodding at his words, you move to the sofa and rest your backpack against the foot of it. Taking out your laptop as well, you sit crossed-legged at the soft cushions as you watch Renjun walk over to the kitchen side of the room, opening up a cupboard and taking out two glasses, bringing them to the crowded coffee table alongside with a bottle of soda. You think this is his way of welcoming you in as your guest, but you don’t have it in yourself to thank him– he’s the one being silent all the time anyway. You won’t put effort unless he does.

The boy silently takes a seat opposite of you, but chooses the carpeted floor instead of the sofa– a sight that almost makes you chuckle in amusement when he struggles to fold his legs in the small space– sighing and bringing the laptop closer to himself, rubbing a palm across his face in presumed tiredness. 

“Did you work on the ideas for the articles?” you ask, voice low, as if you were afraid to speak first, now that you’re in his space. “If they’re too different from mine, we can make like… sections… in the magazine… or something like that. But I think it would be easier if they correlated, you know.”

Renjun hums, not giving you many words this time either. He’s always difficult to work with, but today, it irritates you twice as much– maybe because you’ve gone out of your way to meet him at his apartment, when it was all his idea to work on the project today in the first place. Sighing in disappointment, the boy takes it as a hint that you expect more of him than tired hums and silent nods, and so he opens his mouth to speak, soft voice echoing through the silent apartment.

“I did,” he says, “don’t really know what you’re going for, but I have a short list.”

Satisfied with his answer, you nod. “Can I see it?”

Shrugging, he looks around for a while, eyes searching through the place as he finally finds the paper peeking out from the bottom of the coffee table– so much for the seemingly clean space– and offers the A4 format to you, scribbles in blue ink almost unreadable as you squint onto them, bringing them closer to your face. Once your eyes finally get adjusted to his handwriting, you manage to decipher a few of the words he’s written down; some of his ideas are neatly described, yet, some of them are just a simple word that barely gives you any idea of what he truly meant to say.

The difference between more thought-out ideas like ‘Karaoke songs (history, questionnaire of favorites across the campus…)’, ‘The importance of art in education’, ‘How to really use wikipedia’ and simple words like ‘campus’, ‘festivals’ and ‘soccer(?)’ almost makes you laugh out loud, but you note that the boy actually took the time of his day to work on the project like he promised you he would the last time you spoke about it in class, so you can’t really say anything mean to him, for you truly think it would hurt his pride. Nodding as you finish reading over the list, you offer the paper back to him, noticing him watching you with eyes full of undeniable expectancy.

“Satisfied?” he asks, irony seeping through his voice. 

Rolling your eyes at him– because of course he has to be annoying about everything– you choose to not play by his rules, opting to nod instead and let the tiniest bit of irritation show only through your ironic smile as you reply to him. “Very, actually.”

Seeing as he’s satisfied with himself, you choose to continue to lead this meeting with the same energy as to this moment. You think it’s the safest choice, and it’s also what he seems to be comfortable with, so you don’t beat around the bush and speak up again. “I think it won’t be that hard to combine our lists, since our ideas aren’t that different,” you note, cringing at the suggestion that you and the man in front of you actually kind of think alike, “but I think it would be nice if we chose a few topics and wrote about them together. I bet the professor would like to see some articles written by the both of us, so it shows that we actually worked on it together, don’t you think?”

“Not really,” he mumbles under his breath, taking you off guard. See, maybe you got ahead of yourself when you thought that this afternoon might go by smoothly– you forgot for a moment that Huang Renjun enjoys the idea of being a total ass to the people around him (or you, at least) these days. Huffing at his response, you furrow your brows in disbelief.

“Why not?”

“Just… don’t wanna,” he answers shortly, shrugging in nonchalance.

The sight of him in front of you, not even sharing eye contact as he points his gaze towards his laptop, makes your blood boil. What does he even think of himself? You were starting to think that Jimin was right– you should’ve rethought this interaction over and spared yourself the trouble, because this was surely not going anywhere.

“Look, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you were clearly the one that told me we were project partners, so I don’t know why you’re being so difficult about this-” you huff, but are instantly cut off by your partner.

“I’m being difficult?”

“Yes,” you jump in, “yes you are! And I don’t get why you even invited me over to work on this, when you clearly don’t have the slightest intention to do so in the first place!” you complete, almost ready to stand up from your place on the light-brown sofa and storm out of his apartment. 

He chuckles at your outburst, rolling his eyes. “Well, I’m sorry I’m not in the mood to work on a stupid project after arguing the whole day on the phone with my cheating ex-girlfriend,” he mutters.

The moment those words come out of his mouth, it seems like the already silent apartment gets even quieter. Staring at him in dumbfoundance, the spark that ignited the anger in you suddenly dies out as you ponder on your next actions. Because what does one do when your project partner suddenly overshares possibly one of the most traumatic and heartbreaking facts about himself so casually, in between snarky comments and a petty argument? Sure, you do feel sorry for him now– because no matter how shitty a person acts to you, nobody deserves to get cheated on– and you suddenly wonder if the whole change of atmosphere in his character isn’t the direct result of this very fact. 

You can’t tell him that you’re sorry– because frankly, you know that Huang Renjun doesn’t want your pity. He doesn’t want to hear that you feel sorry for him and what happened, because you’re not friends and you’re not close enough for you to express such feelings towards him. A question arises in the very same essence, though, making you wonder why he even chose to share this information with you in the heat of the moment in the first place, and even though you could excuse his lack of motivation to work on the project by this fact, it still doesn’t change the reality that he was the one initiating the whole thing, and suddenly, you feel confused. 

He invited you over to work on a project, even though his mood was shitty and he didn’t have the motivation to do so. One would find that ridiculous, but if you really look past the sharp eyes and the bleached mess on his head, you could see the true intention behind his actions– the poor boy just wanted a distraction. And with how empty his apartment seems to be right now– his roommate, Donghyuck (a person that Jimin shares a Finance class with, as you learned this very afternoon) is nowhere to be seen– you only bet you were the last option he had instead of wallowing himself in pity and terror. 

Jimin would argue that you’re stupid for your next actions– you would even agree, because this truly doesn’t feel like you– but still, despite going against yourself in a way, you close the laptop sitting in your lap and reach over to the soda he placed in the middle of the coffee table, pouring yourself a glass. You don’t leave his apartment like you fantasized of doing just a few minutes ago; instead, after downing the sickeningly sweet liquid, the bubbles hurting your throat, you rest your back against the sofa and watch the boy in a new light.

“Okay, let’s not work on the assignment, then,” you calmly say, “wanna watch something on Netflix instead?” you ask, seeing him staring at you with confusion in his expression.

“I don’t-”

“It’s okay if you don’t have it, I can log in with my roommate’s account. She’s probably watching Single’s Inferno right now, but I’ll text her to find something better to do instead,” you don’t let him finish his sentence– because you already know that he’d try to protest to your suggestion– shrugging in nonchalance as you reach over to the TV remote you find sandwiched between the sofa cushions.

Turning the TV on, not even sparing a glance to the grumpy-looking boy sitting on the floor opposite of you, the shuffling of clothes and socked-feet on the ground lands into your ears, a figure taking the remote out of your hand when you can’t figure out how the TV works, a low mumble full of fake offendance masking the shameful, yet clear gratitude in his voice.

You don’t miss it as you look over at him with a tight-lipped smile, though, seeing the Netflix app suddenly come up on the TV, his shoulders relaxing as he settles into the cushions of the sickeningly colored sofa. 

“Of course I have Netflix, what do you think I am, poor?” he grunts.

…and the old Renjun is back.

Arriving at class the next week, you’re finally met with less nervousness than the last few times. After interacting with Huang Renjun more and seeing him break his stone-cold demeanor in front of you as you two watched Netflix– he even made popcorn after the second episode of Unsolved mysteries you decided to watch when you saw the show in his ‘continue watching’ list and gushed about how it’s your favorite (to which he told you that you’re weird, but he’s the one binge watching it too, so you really don’t know why you’re the problem and he's not). Thankfully he doesn’t seem as smug and insufferable as he did before. It’s not like you’re suddenly best friends or anything, but you can feel the ice between you melting with every word he sends your way that isn’t laced with irony– not that there's many of them, since Huang Renjun loves his sarcasm– but it’s progress in your book.

Walking over to your usual seat in the classroom, making your backpack fall to the ground next to your desk with a soft thud, you sit at the chair and take out your things for the class when you notice something standing in the way of your notebook and pencil case in the middle of the table. 

Furrowing your brows in confusion, you move the cup of coffee out of your way, closer to your seatmate’s side. Sighing, you mumble under your breath. “Don’t you have enough space for your things on your side of the table?”

“That’s yours,” he deadpans. Gaze switching between the cup of iced americano from the coffee shop at the corner of the campus (you know it by the plastic cup with their logo on it– it's too tacky for your liking and you even gushed about it to Jimin the day the café opened) and the blonde boy next to you, confusion doesn’t seem to leave your insides as you let out an unfocused hum, showing him that you’re still not following. 

“Do you not like coffee or something?” he hisses, seemingly annoyed at your expression. If you saw yourself in the mirror, maybe you’d understand his frustration– your brows are furrowed and there's a crease in the middle of your forehead from how hard you're racking your brain to come up with answers– but now, you’re just in utter disbelief. Maybe you are a little slow– it’s only 8 in the morning, to your defense– but you really don’t remember bringing coffee to school today. Especially not an iced americano– you don’t like the bitter taste, opting to choose a sweeter drink like a caramel macchiato or the infamous pink drink that Jimin teased you for the last time you got it. So how did this strange cup of coffee end up on your table?

Looking around the space, noticing another half-empty cup of coffee on Renjun’s side of the table, the label on the plastic the same as the cup that was waiting on your side, you finally connect the dots. “Did you get that for me?”

“Yeah,” he nods, not even looking at you as he agrees, taking another sip of his coffee instead. 

Now, you do finally know where the strange cup of coffee came from. Why did Renjun buy you coffee in the first place, though, is still a mystery to you, but you guess with how he’s avoiding your gaze, eyes glued to the white board and an uninterested expression sitting on his face, you think it’s better to not ask him any other follow-up questions. He did something nice for you, and with how your thoughts and rationalization are the only clues you can use in figuring out the reason behind it, you wonder if this was his way of apologizing for being rude to you and thanking you for hanging out with him last week.

“Thanks,” you mumble out instead, smiling at his humming figure that barely acknowledges your spoken gratitude. Taking a sip of the drink, while trying really, really hard not to scowl at the bitter taste, you shift your focus on the class instead, taking notes from time to time. Drinking the coffee as if it was a disgustingly tasting medicine your mother forced you to take when you were little– you hated the taste, but had to get through it anyway– you eventually finish your iced americano somewhere in the middle of the lecture. You feel kind of proud of your acting skills, but there’s also an annoying voice somewhere in the back of your head asking you why you even forced yourself to get through that drink anyway and why is it that you didn’t want to hurt Renjun’s feelings by refusing it in the first place. 

But like anyone in your position would, you shush that voice out of your head.

“Did you finish watching the whole season last week?” you ask instead, suddenly interested in having a conversation with him. After you told Jimin about how your weird hang-out with Renjun went, she practically scolded you for not going home right after he let out the first snarky comment out of his mouth. And maybe she’s right and the whole thing you’re trying to do– but what are you even trying to do in the first place? – makes you seem like you’re out of your mind, but at the end of the day, you did finally progress in watching the TV show after putting it on hold for multiple months because your dear roommate wouldn’t stop begging you to watch all of the seasons of Too hot to handle with you instead, so it’s a win in your book.

“I didn’t,” he replies, his voice quiet enough only for you to hear, not interrupting the rest of the class, “Hyuck, my roommate, didn’t come home until like 11pm and I got too creeped out to watch it alone after you left,” he completes, his face completely serious as he utters out the laughable words.

Chuckling at his response, you see him crack a smile from the corner of your eye. The sight is a rather pleasant one, for you think you've  forgotten how it looks in what seems like ages since the obvious breakup with his girlfriend happened, the reminder of his squinted eyes and full cheeks making you feel accomplished, in a way. “Didn’t think you were the type to get scared so easily,” you tease him.

“Not scared,” he huffs out, offended, “just creeped out. That’s different.”

“Did you wait for your roommate because you were too scared to go to sleep?” you test the waters with more teasing, your tone light and playful.

“No, I waited for him because the last time he got home late and I was asleep, he came home drunk and broke down the door to his room and we had to get it replaced,” he announces, making you cover your mouth with the palm of your hand as you almost burst out into a loud giggle. 

“You know what? Yeah. Valid.”

Your conversation falls silent after that, and it makes your spirit fall for a split second. You don’t even know why you wanted it to continue– you don’t know your seatmate, and frankly, you shouldn’t have the desire to do so in the first place. But the sudden act of service thrown your way, although the coffee was disgusting and he could’ve presented the gift to you in a different, more welcoming way, made you get your hopes up– about what exactly, though? 

Jimin always told you that desperately wanting to be everyone’s friend (despite being socially awkward and kind of nervous around new people), is one of your best and worst qualities at the same time. Best, because it means that you’re nice to people– worst, because you’re nice even to people that don’t deserve your kindness; and you also get too disappointed when people don’t share the same enthusiasm with you. Maybe some friendships are meant to keep at surface level, and if this was the type of relationship you and your project partner are about to have, you’re going to have to let go of that annoying voice in your head that keeps telling you to get deeper than that level.

“Why did you dye your hair, by the way?” you ask him nonetheless, after a few heartbeats of silence, curiosity getting the best of you. The moment this question leaves your mouth, you regret it– thinking you somehow could’ve made the boy uncomfortable, your words annoying to his ears– but instead of rolling his eyes at you or telling you to shut up, he replies instead. The reaction surprises you– he really conditioned you to think that every question of yours is going to be met with spite and tantrum, didn't he?

“Dunno,” he says, shrugging, “they say blondes have more fun, so I think it’s only natural to go blonde when you’re sad. To cancel it out, or something,” he snickers as he looks at you, realizing the implication of his words makes the whole statement kind of embarrassing, his tight-lipped smile being the proof of his internal battle not to cringe at his explanation.

You understand, humming in acknowledgment. You’re just a simple woman, after all– you very well understand the urge to change your hair after a breakup. While it is a visible proof of his mental breakdown, you guess you can’t really blame him for trying to feel like there are things that are under his control; even if it’s just the color of his hair.

Walking along Renjun, the atmosphere is thick and a little awkward. Your bag is heavy on your back and you’re slowly starting to feel a bit of an ugly sting in your bones from it; you mourn the fact that you decided to ask Renjun to walk there with you instead of having to take the bus by yourself, too afraid of getting the address wrong and getting lost along the way. You’d love any kind of transport instead of your own two legs right now, since the walk seems to be never ending and you’re pretty certain that the backs of your feet have calluses from wearing your new shoes that you got from a clearance sale from the Nike store at the corner of the town. 

Clearing your throat, you decide to spark up a conversation. It seems like you always have to be the one to initiate things when it comes to Renjun– it’s kind of ironic, though, when you think of the fact that he was the one that made you be his project partner in the first place.“Why did you wanna do the article about the shelter? I didn’t know you were an animal person,” you hum, testing the waters with a casual question. 

Looking up at you, furrowing his brows, the man offers you an indifferent shrug. “My friend Taeyong works there and he wanted to advertise the shelter a little, so I offered to take pictures for his Facebook page in exchange for me writing the article about it,” he mumbles, “he thinks that would give the shelter more exposure too, but I doubt it. Nobody’s gonna read our fake magazine anyway, it’s just an assignment…”

Humming, you kick the rocks on the pavement, a tight-lipped smile appearing on your face. Huang Renjun must do a lot for his friends, you think. You remember him taking pictures for his friend Xiaoting once– she’s an influencer (a model, if you want) and well known around the campus. When you saw his instagram username in one of the picture descriptions one day, you were surprised at the quality of those shoots (and it also led you to stalking his instagram for a bit, but that’s not the main point of this conversation). You also remember seeing him with his friends Shotaro and Yangyang in a team when it was your school’s annual Sports day (you’d argue that you’re not high schoolers anymore and this day is useless, but your classmates seem to think otherwise) trying his best, despite not really liking sports in the first place– or so you heard and seen from how badly he did in most disciplines except from running– and if that’s not a sign of him doing everything he could just to make his friends happy, you don’t know what is. So to see him doing an article about the animal shelter Taeyong works at, despite being more of a plant person himself, you’re not as surprised as you thought you’d be. He does show affection to his friends, after all– you’re just not one of them to see that side of him often.

Walking some more, you eventually end up in front of a big building painted a light tangerine color, windows decorated with pretty curtains on full display to you. Renjun chimes in like a regular, crossing multiple halls and taking sharp turns before you’re met with the image of a taller man with dark brown hair putting small, pastel colored collars on necks of a few little creatures running around the room, despair clearly written on his face.

“No! Don’t run away, oh god-”

Chuckling at the view of yet another kitten running away from his hands, you admire the fluffy little cats crawling all around the place, your heart quickly softening at the sight of them. It’s been a while since you were around animals yourself– the dog you had back home died the summer before the semester started and you weren’t really in the mood to get a new one, since you weren’t going to be around much anyway. 

When yet another kitten escapes the man’s hold, you find yourself watching Renjun as he crouches to the floor and swiftly takes one into his hands, walking closer to the man with collars in his hands, grinning to himself. “Here you go.”

“Man, the cats hate me… where did you two get here?” he shakes his head in disbelief, putting a collar onto the small cat before he pets it on its tiny head.

“Just a minute ago,” Renjun says, “is that one Poppy?” he asks, reading the name tag dangling from the little band around its head, affection filling his words.

“Now it is. I got confused when they all started running around,” he shrugs, sighing as he looks around the room, counting the last few kittens that needed their collars. His eyes soon land on you, a welcoming smile spreading on his boxy lips. “Hey! I’m Taeyong. You must be Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you,” you smile, trying to make yourself seem as nice as possible. You don’t know what Renjun told him about you, but if they were bad things, you only hope to undeceive the man with your warm attitude. 

Renjun then puts the kitten down, and while you’d expect it to run away from him and join its siblings in the corner of the room, the creature does quite the opposite– it stays by his side and lays on the ground close to him, making even Taeyong himself gasp at the image. “Wow,” he snickers, “you should start coming here every time I need to put these on them, you’re like a cat whisperer.”

While the two of them chat, you stay a little behind, not really wanting to intrude. You take off the heavy bag and take out your camera, deciding to take a few pictures of the shelter instead, so you can say you worked on the interview with him. You think it’s expected of you, since he asked you to come along despite being absolutely fully capable of doing the interview with his friend alone, so you do your work and zoom in on the two of them talking, snapping a few quick pictures. 

After a while, you take a seat on the ground– being the infamous enjoyer of sitting on the hard surface of it, earning yourself a lot of scolding screams from your mother growing up– and fully take in the interior. The walls are the same light tangerine color as the outside ones, and there’s a little enclosure in the corner of the room that would surely make Taeyong’s job much easier if only he had used it. There are bags of cat food in the other corner of the room, and while the shelter doesn’t look very modern or fancy, you think it’s kinda homey and welcoming. You bet kids would love it here– with the colorful atmosphere and the smiley worker running around catching kittens, and after a while of taking pictures of everything your eyes land on, you find your inner child healing, little by little.

The truth is, you always wanted a cat. But you were never able to get one, because your mother hates them. No matter how hard you tried, no matter how many times you petted strays on the street and begged her to take them home, you never won this battle– so you had to settle on a dog. And don’t get me wrong, you loved your dog, but at the end of the day, you knew you were more of a cat person anyway.

Reaching forward a little, noticing the kitten waddling your way, you think of petting it– it quickly jumps out of your reach, though, too scared of your touch, and you’re left frowning, the bubble bursts at the rejection from the small ball of fluffiness.

“Taeyong?” you hear a voice of a woman call from the door, the man swiftly turning to her with brows raised in question. “They need your help with the big dogs. They keep dragging Yeri on the leash and she’s too weak to get them to their cages.”

“Oh,” the man deadpans, scratching his neck for a bit before he turns to Renjun again, escaping the room in one swift motion, “I’ll be right back!”

The room falls silent after that, no longer having the background noise of their conversation playing as you observe the animals. You feel the atmosphere growing thicker again, and as time passes by, you find yourself taking short glances at your project partner, wondering what’s on his mind. One moment, he’s crouching down and petting the cats that come his way, the other, he is gazing out of the window with a soft frown that takes over his features like a dark shadow, and you wonder when this expression really settled into his face and made itself the default, and why is it not willing to leave. Not really knowing what to say or what to do to make the boy that’s still so out of your reach feel any better, you opt for silence, even though it does get quite heavy and thick over time– and the truth is, you don’t even know why you notice yourself feeling this way so often around him, when all he’s done was give you the cold shoulder so often and then offer you an iced americano you don’t even like in the first place.

Minutes pass and the silence slowly makes your ears ring; you desperately try to find a good solution in your brain– create a script where hanging out with Renjun is easier and less nerve-wrecking– but still, there’s nothing and you’re left with the awkwardness and hesitance. Sighing when another kitten escapes your grasp, you put your hands into your lap and give up on the task, settling on just watching them instead– there was no use in you trying to pet one when all it wanted to do was run away from you.

Watching the group of fluff jumping at each other and sleeping all around the room, your focus only shifts when there’s a kitten suddenly thrusted into your point of view, its big blue eyes staring you down making you awe. You wonder how it got there in a moment of full stupidity before you look up and see your project partner, the cat magnet himself, holding the cat up to you, waiting for you to take it into your hold and pet it. Gazing at him with mouth agape in confusion, he slowly puts the cat into your lap, petting the creature when it settles, and takes a seat opposite of you all in the span of a few seconds, the action making you smile uncontrollably.

“They’re adorable, aren’t they?” he mumbles, watching as you pet the kitten in your lap, cooing at the soft fur. There’s a hint of you that desperately wants to adopt it once you finally pet the small cat, but you know that it wouldn’t be a smart idea– animals are banned at dorms and you don’t think you’d have enough energy to take care of another living creature right now anyways.

“They are,” you hum, “I always wanted one.”

“Why didn’t you get one, then?”

“My mum doesn’t like them very much,” you mumble, pouting at the small creature in your hold, as if to apologize for the words coming out of your mouth.

He hums in acknowledgement, picking up another kitten that waddles his way, putting it up on his thigh– his body now sitting cross-legged on the floor. Watching as the animal crawls up his body and tickles him with its claws, soft laughter erupts out of him, making you smile unconsciously at the boy. 

“I’m not really into animals that much,” he says, further proving your earlier claims. See– in some ways, Renjun is easy to read. Just by looking at him, you could tell he’s not a fan of sweet beverages; you can tell he enjoys black coffee– just like the one he brought you that day– and herbal teas, perfectly matching the image of him in your head that’s surrounded by plants rather than animals, just the bit of greenery you saw around the kitchen very clearly still alive and thriving making you believe you are correct in this assumption as well. One can say a lot about a person by the way they dress, and with Renjun’s casual, yet cozy attire, you can tell he dresses for himself, choosing comfort over style, but still looking effortlessly put together at the same time. You would never strike him as someone that makes spontaneous decisions, rather being more focused on a plan, so to see him dye his hair so randomly is a sign of the fact that there’s something crumbling inside of him– a sense of security, maybe a feeling of stableness– that he tries so hard to grasp. 

“They are into you, though,” you giggle when the kitten purrs at his touch, pointing at the cross-eyed creature. 

“What can I say,” he shrugs, “I guess I’m that irresistible.”

There aren’t many opportunities for you to laugh at his jokes. Mainly because he doesn’t make many, but also because you always notice them being self-deprecating, and you don’t want to support that idea in his head. At this one, though, you send him a soft chuckle and a roll your eyes, showing how you seemingly think the idea is ridiculous and his joke is corny, but deep inside knowing that you resonate with his words.

In a moment of selfishness– an indulgence you try to mask by the fact that you came here because of the assignment and this was your job in the first place– you take your camera and snap a picture of the boy in front of you, his hands holding the small kitten up in air and snickering when he sees you pointing the lens to him in order to capture him playing with the creature. You don’t know what it is that makes your heart warm up at the image that comes up on the screen shortly after, but you figure that’s a problem of future you and there’s no use in pondering about it now.

You don’t know how many minutes pass with just the two of you playing with the kittens, but when Renjun takes his phone out of his pocket and checks the time, you furrow your brows before he hums. “He’s taking so much time,” he says, sighing. 

All while playing with the fuzzy small balls, you didn’t even notice the time passing by so quickly. You don’t know how much time it’s been, but you assume it could be more than 35 minutes of the two of you left alone in the room, Taeyong seemingly too overwhelmed with the shelter responsibilities.

“Maybe we should go,” he offers, catching you off guard.

“Oh,” you hum, “well, maybe. But you haven’t even done an interview with him yet,” you mumble, your hands lost in the soft fur of the kitten still laying in your lap.

“I can just send him the questions to his email. Perhaps, I’m sure you’ve taken more than enough pictures of the kittens for his Facebook page,” he snickers, shrugging, “I don’t see why we should be staying here if he’s busy, we’re only putting more work on him.”

“I- I mean…” you mumble, trailing off at the end. You don’t really wanna say goodbye to the kittens, the healing in your heart not quite done yet, when the boy next to you laughs at what you presume is your emotions showing clearly on your face.

“Unless you wanna play with them more, of course. We can stay a little longer, then.”

The autumn season slowly fades into winter, time passing by quicker than you could even grasp. The shock and surprise of having to work on the lengthy project with Renjun morphs into a feeling of ordinarity, getting used to his mood slowly shifting from reserved and irritated to a one more pleasant, full of hesitant smiles and soft words when he notices you feeling down or disappointed with yourself, and a one more close to a brother-like teasing when he watches you arrive to his apartment to work on things. One would say you hit it off, your energies matching as you slowly get to know the boy, but still, there’s a hint of something inside of you that makes you grow nervous around him whenever he is too close to your figure, your body falling limp and your brain working on overdrive. You wonder if it’s the sheer fact of simply not being fully used to his presence; while Jimin says you’re down bad for the man. She’s wrong– or at least you’re convinced that she is– and that’s why you simply think the uncertain feeling of uneasiness that settles in your bones sometimes is the effect of the fact that you never truly know what to expect when you arrive at Renjun’s place.

Some days, when you arrive, there’s a mess waiting for you in the living room, where you usually work on the project with Renjun. There are pots and pans with dried food everywhere and your partner’s hands are foaming with washing liquid when he opens the door for you, and you giggle at the sight. Other days, the apartment is full of people you don’t know and Renjun has to throw them out with a scream saying that the group was supposed to leave two hours ago, and when you come on weekends, he lets you in wearing sweatpants and bed hair, as if he spent the whole day in his sheets. Dare you say, this is your favorite version of him– his eyes are half-lidded and he moves slowly, even his remarks aren’t as harsh as they tend to get. Jimin once argued and told you that you two don’t even need to meet that often for the sake of the project– and on a weekend as well– but you’d say it adds to the value of the magazine if you two can get opinions out of each other and review each other’s writing in real time. 

Some days, his roommate is home, and that’s when you join Renjun in his room so you two get a bit of privacy (not that you’re doing anything that requires privacy. His roommate Donghyuck is just very nosy and he keeps asking you questions you don’t have the time and energy to answer). 

Today is one of these days, with his energetic roommate roaming the halls of the apartment, but this time, you two don’t hide away in the comfort of Renjun’s small, yet very organized room. Sitting in the living room of his and Hyuck’s shared apartment, your bottom meeting the carpeted floor instead of the cushions of their couch, your laptop screen darkening when you don’t work on the device for some time and it puts itself to sleep mode. The reason for said action is your attention being somewhere completely else– on Donghyuck’s figure trailing in and out of the room, each time wearing a different outfit than before.

“What about this one, Y/N? Do I look good?” he asks, posing like a model that didn’t pass an audition in any modeling agency, their dream of flashing a smile on the title pages of Vogue fading out of their sight.

You burst out laughing at the weird combination. You don’t remember Donghyuck ever being bad at fashion from the few times you've met him before he left their apartment to attend a party or go to class– you’re quite certain that his habit to always tuck in his shirts into his skinny jeans, the stylistic choice showcasing his long legs making not one, but many girls, boys and others salivate over him. But when seeing him in a tragic combination of cowboy boots and a cow-print shirt, you can’t help but giggle.

“Hyuck, now you’re just taking the shit. That’s your Halloween costume from last year,” the boy next to you on the ground whines, running his hands through his hair in despair.

“Okay, but what if I really want to wear it?” he asks all innocent, his roommate now faking a cry in response, “besides, I was asking Y/N, so you shut your mouth.”

“I think it’s great,” you nod, wiping the corner of your eyes from the stray tears that fall off from the laughter you’ve been doing at the interaction. Your assignment was long forgotten the first moment Donghyuck decided to pay you a visit in the living room, starting with shitting on his professor for making him study on a weekend (which you argued that he could’ve started with earlier in the week, to which he glared at you and asked if he looks like a nerd), and then proceeding to do everything but study– starting with making a smoothie in the living room– while efficiently making so much noise with the mixer every time Renjun spoke up, annoying the short male– to giving you a make-shift fashion show.

“Do you want me to embarrass myself? See, I wore this to test if you were being genuine, but I see now that you’re on Renjun’s side,” he scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief and escaping the living room, making you burst out laughing even more as you hear the door to his room shut with a loud thud.

He’ll come back soon– you’re sure of it.

And you’re right. After Renjun manages to let out a loud noise of despair at the fact that he has to live with someone like Lee Donghyuck– not only now, he complains about it every other day, when the latter drags him to parties only for him to be the designated driver for the night and get him home safely, or how he makes him pay for dinner he orders for the both of them without asking– the other man joins you in the living room again, now dressed casually in sweatpants and a loose shirt.

“Okay, the fashion show’s over. I think I’ll go with the first outfit, just by the way, because it matches my eyes,” he says, quite seriously, to which Renjun only sighs.

“Hyuck, your eyes are brown.”

“Okay and?”

“That what you wore was– you know what, never mind…” Renjun shakes his head as he stops himself mid-sentence, making you snicker at the mental image of the outfit Donghyuck’s talking about, because frankly, Renjun is right with his frustration. The shirt his roommate wore was blue, and while it didn’t clash in the slightest, it surely didn’t match the brown depth of Donghyuck’s orbs, and that’s what makes the whole thing that much funnier.

Turning your head around to watch Renjun’s roommate moving through the kitchen area, opening up the fridge and pouring himself a glass of milk– you don’t even dare to question him anymore– you ask. “What is the occasion anyway?”

“Jisung’s birthday party,” he mumbles, taking a sip, “you know Park Jisung, right?”

“Never heard of him,” you shake your head, seeing as the man widens his eyes at you with surprise.

“No? Well, you’re gonna get to know him soon, then,” he says, shrugging.

“That sounds like a threat,” you giggle, “what do you even mean?”

To that, Donghyuck shifts his eyes to his roommate sitting next to you on the ground, shrugging. “Well, I assumed you were invited…” he says, grinning to himself.

The man next to you audibly sighs– what is the reason behind his frustration this time, you truly do not know, but with Renjun, there’s always something getting on his nerves. He has a problem with having his anger in control sometimes.

Furrowing your eyebrows at the proposition, you shake your head. “Why would I be invited to Park Jisung’s birthday party?”

“Because it’s quite the event! Park Jisung’s turning into an adult, and to that, he’s throwing a big party, which means friends of friends of friends are invited,” he says, as if it was the most matter-of-fact information you’ve ever heard, “and since you’re a friend of a friend, I’d assume you get a pass.”

Shrugging, you mutter. “Well, I wasn’t invited,” you add, not paying the whole party much thought. 

The man squints his eyes at the two of you, eyes drifting from one figure to the other, humming to himself as if he was lost in thought. “Okay, then…” he mysteriously mumbles under his breath before downing the glass and putting it into the sink, completing his visit by exiting the living room.

“Would you come back and wash your dishes after yourself?” Renjun yells into the depths of the apartment, a sneaky remark being thrown his way almost immediately.

“No, thank you!”

And after watching the interaction, you come to the conclusion that if you were living with Lee Donghyuck, you'd turn kind of crazy too. You can’t even blame Renjun anymore. Truth be told, though, you didn’t get much work done that Saturday, and you think his sheer presence might be the reason why.

“What do you think?” you ask, turning your laptop towards Renjun, the two of you currently sitting in the library, working on your project. Originally, you had planned to go to your place– but Jimin texted you last second that she has a guy over, and Renjun said his roommate has a gathering of some sort at his apartment, so you settled on the comfort and silence your university library provides. Not a lot of people are here during this time of the year; the exam season isn’t that close yet and no one’s panicking about last-minute studying, so only a few responsible students are currently scattered across the spacious room on the second floor, working on their essays. You bet they’re humanities students– they always have the most shit to do when it comes to essays. You study Journalism, but your roommate is a Sociology major, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone write as many essays as Jimin in a single semester.

What you’re showing Renjun is an opened Microsoft Publisher document, your shared magazine shining from the blue light of the screen. Renjun sent you his copy of the pages he’s done with the animal shelter interview, and as you were looking at the columns of text and off-centered pictures, the perfectionist in you woke up and forced you to fix the tiny mistakes that didn’t escape your eye.

“It’s different,” he hums, eyebrows furrowing as he examines the two-page spread, resting his head on his hand, plopped up on his elbow, and pushing his rimmed glasses further up his nose bridge. “Did you change anything?”

“I just… played around with it a little,” you mumble, afraid of what he thinks. As far as you know, he could flip out any second and scream at you for doing his work when it was perfectly fine the way he sent it to you– at least the Huang Renjun you met a few weeks ago would certainly do that– and so you don’t think it’s that unexpected of you to be so nervous about his opinion.

“This picture wasn’t here before,” he says, pointing to one of the pictures you neatly slotted into the corner of the page– it was one of your favorites, you must admit with severe embarrassment– with Renjun holding up a baby kitten, looking at it with softened eyes. When you looked at the page spread he sent you the other day, you couldn’t believe he didn’t add that picture. Something about it being your favorite– finding yourself admiring it when you look through the pictures on your camera’s SD card– was enough to make you think it’s surely his favorite as well. It didn’t matter that it didn’t really fit the professional aura the whole spread radiates. For you, the magazine wasn’t complete without including it– think of that what you will.

“It was asymmetrical without it, so I had to add it…” you say, scratching the back of your neck. That’s a partial lie– you could make it work if you moved the pictures around a little bit, but Renjun doesn’t have to know that.

He hums, eyes scanning over the text, shrugging. “It’s nice. As long as you didn’t change the text part, I don’t mind,” he says, relief making your shoulders slouch down, not even noticing how tense you’ve become, “I actually got bored while working on this, so I get that it didn’t really look nice before. Thanks,” he completes, offering you a soft smile as he takes a sip of the black americano sitting on the desk.

“Good,” you nod, shaking off the nervousness from before, “okay.”

Scrolling through the document, moving a few things around, adding better punctuation here and there, the number of pages is still not hitting the criteria for your final grade. That’s okay– you still have a lot of time to complete the magazine and you still have plenty of ideas. To execute them is another thing, but you’re sure you’ll find a way.

“What about your interview?” Renjun suddenly asks, almost making you jump up from the surprise that is created by his voice suddenly cutting through the silence of the library.

“What about it?” you hum, looking at him. His hair is a little tousled– he’s been putting in way less work than you today, laying on the table occasionally when you don’t show him anything on your laptop for a while, acting more as your company than a help. It looks like the coffee on his table is the only thing keeping him awake, and you suddenly feel a little bad for insisting on working on the project even though your initial plans of doing it at your place fell through, because he seems to be exhausted.

“Well, I did the shelter, so you should do something too,” he says, shrugging, “or do something similar, you know… I think it would be nice to have you write about something from a reporter's perspective.”

“Oh,” you nod, “well, I dunno… I had a few ideas, but it’s…”

“Hm?” he motions for you to talk when your voice drifts out, eyes looking at you with patience and genuine interest. The change of demeanor that’s been happening with him lately slightly shocks you, but you welcome the new character in him with open arms. Still, it doesn’t mean you don’t get a little hesitant around him whenever he shows you this side of him– you don’t really know how to react, or what to expect of him anymore. It’s like walking on eggshells, but you can’t say you hate the strange anticipation.

“Well, it’s stupid, but…” you start, seeing him roll his eyes at the beginning of your proposition, “my favorite writer is doing some sort of a fan sign slash q&a thing in the local library next week. She’s coming out with a new book, and I think it would be nice to get an interview with her, but she’s probably very busy and everything, so that won’t work out.”

Looking at Renjun, feeling shy of the sudden revelation of hopes and dreams, you chew on your bottom lip in anticipation. The range of answers he could give you is truly big– he could laugh at you, tell you to go alone, or he could tell you that it’s a stupid idea, a boring one, even, or he could be supportive– the least likely response, you think. Sharing your idea with him makes you a little hesitant again, feeling a little naked in front of him, and you even avert your gaze towards your laptop and aimlessly scroll through the document to avoid his gaze, to seem more nonchalant and not at all bothered by his lack of words, when he gives you a tired hum.

“Well, you could at least do an article about the library, then. To advertise sustainability, and all… And kids these days don’t read much, so I think it’s nice to talk about it,” he says, once again folding over the table and burrowing his face in the space between his folded arms and his chest, half sitting, half laying down on the furniture, “wanna go next week? Maybe we can catch that writer of yours.”

Allowing yourself to look at him, relief once again washing over you at the acceptance, you can’t help but smile at his slurred words of affirmation. “I mean, I’m down…”

Doubting you could get the interview– not even trying to reach out to the writer, already setting yourself up for the expected failure– you make plans to visit the library the said day with Renjun anyway. You’ll get your camera and maybe get some nice shots, maybe ask around for an interview from one of the nice, old librarians instead. It’s not a bad idea, and it fits the vibe of your magazine quite nicely.

Who knows, maybe you could even get your book signed. Doesn’t hurt to try.

You think it was safe to say that you didn’t expect to see a text message pop up on the screen of your phone one afternoon, the black letters shining darkly on the bright screen with a hesitant, yet a little hurried invitation to Park Jisung’s birthday party. The whole interaction you had about it with Renjun and Hyuck was awkward, and so to see getting an invitation for yourself the day of the said event was a shocking concept, leaving you scrambling your things from various places of your apartment and putting them into a handbag before getting dressed for the occasion. 

Quickly learning that Lee Donghyuck is a man of his word– meaning that he never lies, especially when it comes to big parties– your mouth hangs open when you arrive to the address Renjun texted you in the afternoon, the big mension-like building full of people you’ve never seen before, leaving you to acknowledge that friends of friends of friends must have been invited to fill up the whole place, since it’s not possible for poor Park Jisung to know everyone at his birthday party. The fact makes you feel less special; the invitation not really making you feel like you were wanted there, the place breaking in its seams making you internalize a thought that you were there just to fill up the blank spaces and Renjun invited you only for the sheer fact of needing a lot of people for his friend’s party. A little disappointed, yet, still kind of amazed at the size of it all, you walk out of Jimin’s car– she offered to drive you there– and hesitantly set your foot to the  grass that divides the land from the sidewalk. 

Feeling a little lost, turning your head in various directions to try to find anyone you’d know– Huang Renjun being the best alternative, since he was the one who invited you, after all– you start to feel a little out of place when no one pays you any attention and the loud music filling your ears only acts as a distraction that slowly makes you oversaturated with stimulus. Just when you go to take your phone out of your bag to call either Renjun or your roommate to come back to pick you up and drive you to the safety of your apartment, a hand lands on your shoulder and makes you turn around in your tracks, a strange sense of comfort enveloping your insides when you see the short blonde peeking at you from under his carelessly styled bangs, a grin sitting on his face. “You’re here!”

“Yeah. I told you I’d come…?” you mumble, observing Renjun’s sudden enthusiasm at your arrival, letting the man drag you inside of the building. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel all the eyes of the guests on you. While you were a stranger to all of them, you are almost certain the popular Huang Renjun was one of the more known people of the bunch, catching attention of multiple friends of his and also friends of their friends, and suddenly, the feeling of his touch on your wrist as he drags you inside makes your skin burn, your brain almost overheating when you realize this might as well be the first time you’ve had any sort of physical contact with the male. Fixing your gaze on his back, enveloped in an oversized leather jacket, you start to wonder if he’s drunk.

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asks, finally turning back to you when you arrive in the spacious kitchen. You wonder if this house is rented, or if Park Jisung’s one of the wealthy kids in the town. You truly have no knowledge on the man, and when you hesitantly look around the room, trying to sort out what alcohol they have in store– while mentally thinking of what would make you the least hammered, considering your low alcohol tolerance– you feel Renjun’s eyes glued to you, heat inevitably rising to your cheeks. “What’s that in your hand?” he asks, making you jump out of your haze.

“Oh,” you stutter, “I brought a birthday gift for Jisung,” you mumble, seeing Renjun’s glossy eyes blink at you a few times, his lips suddenly twitching up in amusement. In this moment, you think he truly must be drunk, his fingers reaching towards the gift bag in your left hand as he peeks inside, noticing the handwritten card and a box of chocolates you brought to the boy you’ve never seen before. Your project partner cracks up as he puts the bag away to the corner of the room.

“You’re too sweet for this world,” Renjun giggles as he looks back at you, making you widen your eyes in surprise at the affectionate words falling off his tongue.

“Why?”

“Nobody actually expected you to bring a gift, you know,” he says as he walks through the half-empty kitchen, eyes roaming over the solo cups filled with alcohol, “you don’t even know him. Half the people here don’t know him and I’m pretty sure half of his actual friend group didn’t give him anything.”

“Oh,” you blink, suddenly feeling stupid. “Well, I didn’t want to seem rude…” you sheepishly mumble, scratching the back of your neck in hesitance. Maybe you did go a little overboard– nobody can really blame you, though. You’re not a big party goer, and since it’s someone’s birthday, you only assumed it’s socially expected of you to bring a gift. And it’s Renjun’s friend, on top of that– one would say you wanted to give off a good impression, as his plus-one to the party, whatever that means. If you were considered that, to be exact– with the amount of people here, though, you were starting to feel a little lost in the situation.

“See, you’re too sweet,” he says, shrugging,  eyes still fixated on the kitchen counter as he seemingly searches for a specific drink. Arm motioning towards one of the red solo cups, he suddenly turns to you and offers you the contents, smiling. “He loves chocolate, though, so that gift’s gonna be his favorite. Well, if it even gets to him in this whole mess… rum and coke?” he asks, and without much thought, you eagerly take the cup from his hand, nodding.

“Thanks,” you say, tasting the alcohol on your tongue. You don’t tell him that rum and coke is your biggest enemy– not because it tastes bad, quite the opposite, actually. You enjoy the mixture too much for you to control yourself sometimes. You can only pray that you don’t get too loose tonight.

The man’s eyes stay strangely glued to your figure as you sip from the cup, and you almost open your mouth to tease him about it– or ask if there’s something on your face, either or– when there’s a chant coming out of one of the rooms outside, incoherent screams slowly forming into one recognisable word– a name, to be exact– the voices calling Park Jisung, tonight’s birthday boy. Renjun’s eyes widen at that, his body moving fast as he tugs you by your hand again, almost spilling your drink in the process, your figure suddenly standing in a living room seemingly bigger than your whole apartment, the sight in front of you making you laugh.

A tall, lanky boy is thrown up in the air by the arms of multiple men– one of which you recognise to be Hyuck– as the whole room chants Jisung's name, the sight  a little comedic in your eyes. Rose tint settles on Park Jisung's face as the whistling only gets louder, a few phones with the flash turned on pointed to his face, the moment captured in time. You wonder what the boy did in his life to get this amount of popularity, but you can only imagine that, as one would say, this could very well be a core memory for him. You only turn adult once in your life, and for some reason, the thought of Park Jisung doing so surrounded by his friends that threw him perhaps the biggest birthday party in the history of your university campus, you get a little emotional for him. Maybe Renjun was right with you being too sweet for this world– in this moment, though, you think you’re too soft instead.

After a while, the men get tired of holding up his weight and the boy slowly comes down from the high, the hollering getting more quiet as it turns into the birthday song, making you join in with the singing. The thought of being an outcast, just a random person in the crowd slowly seeps away when you feel included in the moment, worry leaving you as you watch Donghyuck– the biggest hype man of his friends, or so it seems– shake the birthday boy vigorously by his shoulders before he lets go and plants a sloppy kiss to his cheek, which leads to the two of them chasing each other around the crowded place.

Watching the whole scene unfold right in front of your eyes, you find yourself gazing at Renjun from the corner of your eye, the bright grin on his face making your heart squeeze in a weird way. He seems so happy in this moment, dragging you from room to room excitedly as if he was a regular in this place, the joy of celebrating his friend making his flushed face glow in a healthy way. You got used to seeing his face clouded in a shadow; the worried crease in between his eyebrows and the darkness under his eyes regular visitors in his expression, so to see him seep in the ugly orange lights of the luxurious house tugs at your heartstrings in a way you choose to not recognize or name. 

“Y/N!” you hear your name screamed from somewhere in the room, making you tear your eyes away from the man standing by your side. Looking at the source of the yell, you find Lee Donghyuck striding towards you with his long legs, the action almost threatening, yet, his face beams in an excited aura.

“Hyuck!”

“You came!” he yells back in the same energy as last time, although his body is now only a few steps away from you, making you giggle. You recognise his outfit to be one of the multiple he showed you back at their apartment before he started acting all silly, the memory making you laugh in fondness.

“I did!” you nod, “I got invited,” you say, voice almost sounding proud of the achievement. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says as his eyes drift from you to Renjun, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively before he earns himself a punch to the shoulder from his roommate, a sharp, over-exaggerated scowl escaping his lips at the motion. “Come meet Jisung!” he quickly switches up the topic, dragging you along with himself like a rag doll in an instance. He must be drunk; you think. 

You wonder why you keep being dragged around the house– maybe it’s a sign that you’re too weak and should probably start working out more so you can stand your ground. Nonetheless, you follow the man as you look around, as if to apologize to Renjun for leaving him, when you see the blonde following you to the small group in the corner of the living room, recognising them to be the ones holding up Jisung just a few minutes prior. 

“Jisung! This is Y/N!” Donghyuck utters out as soon as you get to the small gathering, all eyes suddenly glued to you. You wouldn’t say it made you feel comfortable or even invited– quite the opposite, to be honest– but the man that was addressed cutely turns to you, a shy smile plastered on his face when he greets you.

“Ah! Hello!”

You doubt Park Jisung even knows who you are. You doubt any of these people do– with how they’re looking at you in examination, but you still bite through it as you force a smile on your face. “Happy birthday,” you say to him, earning yourself a bright smile from the recipient.

“Thanks!” he beams. “You’re Renjun hyung’s friend, right?” he asks  in response, almost making you choke on your spit in surprise at the fact that the boy knows who you are, which leads you to believe that you were talked about in this circle before.

“Sort of,” you nod, forcing out a giggle.

“Sort of?” the annoyed voice of Huang Renjun himself fills your ears from your right, making you jump up at the proximity of him that you weren’t aware of before, the mock offense on his face making you giggle when you think of the remorse he treated you with when you first met. He looked like he never wanted to speak to you in his life, and now he’s acting offended at you not fully calling him your friend? Yes, you did that to spite him– because if you weren’t friends, you truly don’t know what you were even doing here in the first place– but you still think the whole thing is a little ironic. “You’re at our house at least once a week and we’re not friends in your eyes?” 

“Well, that’s only because I have to,” you argue, when the man only shakes his head at you in disbelief.

“Okay, you’re not allowed to eat our snacks when you come over anymore,” he says, shrugging in nonchalance. Laughing, you find yourself looking over the group you’re standing with, the discomfort slowly fading away when you engage in conversation with Renjun. You catch a few names you can’t really place to their respective faces– mainly because Jisung was the only one formally introduced to you– when you notice a girl staring at you in examination, her figure not noticed by you before. 

The longer you stare at her, the longer you start to recognise her, and before you let panic overtake you– in all honesty, you don’t even know why you’d panic at this fact– you realize it’s none other than Huh Yunjin, your friend’s ‘cheating ex-girlfriend’ looking at you with something resembling spite in her eyes, her jaw clenched and her look glazing from your outfit to your face, as if mentally scoring you on your attractiveness, judging every detail of your body, all while a tall boy hugs her to his side– whom you presume is her new boyfriend.

He looks nothing like Renjun– he is quite the opposite, if you really think about it– and even though you tear your eyes away from her figure, your brain still screams at you with arguments that you look nothing like her; even though it shouldn’t really matter. You’re not Huang Renjun’s new girlfriend– not even the object of his desire, or the new girl by his side– you’re just his project partner, a classmate he’s grown to calling a friend, but still, you can’t help but notice her radiating beauty, the outshining features on her face and the charismatic aura she radiates– the polar opposite to everything you’d describe yourself as; and the comfort you felt while talking with Renjun’s friends is suddenly swept under the carpet, long forgotten when you still feel her eyes burning through your skull, her gaze making you like an intruder, someone who’s not supposed to be here, someone who doesn’t belong. 

And to make things even worse, you suddenly feel Renjun’s hand around your waist, and when your eyes lock with his you swear you see a hint of understatement in them, something that lets you know that he’s aware of his ex girlfriend’s burning stare; his protective side kicking in, yet still making you question the matter even more.

You bet he did it to soothe you. You can even clearly read his intentions in the warm smile he sends you when he squeezes your side, hugging you closer to himself, but the more you’re aware of his burning palm on your flesh, the more uncertain you become, the less engaged in the conversation you get, and the more uncomfortable you feel under the orange lights of the living room.

“Wanna go outside? I’m pretty sure they have a karaoke machine there, if you wanna play,” you feel Renjun whisper into your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin, the hint of vodka in it supporting your earlier claims and that he was at least a little tipsy after all. 

Nonetheless, you nod and find him leading you outside, not before you turn around to look at Yunjin for one last time, though, seeing clear jealousy shading her expression; making you wonder if you were invited just because she was too, and if you just fulfilled your designated role for the night.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” you ask, looking at your companion as the two of you sit on the stairs outside of the university building, your bags carelessly placed at your feet. It’s getting quite dark out, the winter days still being insanely short even though it’s the middle of February and spring is slowly approaching the town. The two of you had worked on your assignment in the library before Renjun told you that he has to wait for his friends Jeno and Donghyuck to pick him up, since they are meeting up with their friends from high school, their friend group living out of town requiring the two of them to take a drive there.

“Of course not,” Renjun shakes his head, “I offered to drop you off, so why would I mind?” 

“What about your friends–”

“If they have anything against it, I’ll make sure to choke them, so don’t worry about that,” Renjun softly laughs at his own joke, trying to ease you. Still, there’s something inside of you that makes the atmosphere heavy and thick, having you crack your knuckles as you sit in silence, chewing on your bottom lip from nerves.

“What’s up? You’ve been acting weird lately,” Renjun hums, looking at you from his place on your left. 

You tried hard to mask your hesitance, especially because you think the worries inside of you are stupid, but you can’t help but feel a hint of discomfort whenever you think of Jisung’s birthday party. Sure, you had a great time– his friends were nice to you, Hyuck even dramatically sang a song at the karaoke with you when Renjun got tired, the two of you taking shots together when you were done. You danced with Renjun after, the music keeping you close, and when you got tired, he walked you home. Everything felt normal between you– except from the weird closeness and occasional touches he sent your way– but you presume that was the effect of alcohol, so you didn’t ponder on it that much.

The eyes of his ex girlfriend on you the whole evening is what made you feel a bit itsy about the situation, and even though there was no hint that would further prove your previous claims, you can’t help but think about Huh Yunjin from time to time, and that’s what makes you feel at least a bit awkward about the whole thing.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you say, trying to play it off.

“Come on,” Renjun sighs, “tell me. Is it something I did?”

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes at his insisting. The shift in dynamic is ironical, to say the least– 4 months ago, he wouldn’t care about what was making you feel so down, he wouldn’t even care about you walking home from university alone in the darkness of the evening hours, but now, the crease between his brows almost makes him look worried about you, and you can’t say you hate it– even though in this moment, you’d rather have him not care at all.

“Okay, so I’ll just play a guessing game, then,” he scoffs, humming, lost in thought. “You’ve been weird since the party. Something happened there?” 

“No,” you disagree, tone of voice almost sounding desperate and harrowing, not really wanting him to keep asking about the reasoning behind your mood.

“Okay, so that’s a yes. Did someone make you feel uncomfortable? Do I need to beat somebody up? Oh god, was it Hyuck? That fucker said something to you, right? I’m gonna lock him out of the apartment, I swear to god–”

“It wasn’t Hyuck,” you giggle at his outrage, deciding to save his roommate’s life.

“It wasn’t?” he asks, seemingly genuinely surprised, expecting his devilish roommate to be the reason behind all the bad things in the world. “Okay, so it must have been me, no? What did I do?” 

Sighing and shaking your head in disbelief at his insistence, you grunt. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Jun, can you just stop asking?” you say, the nickname rolling of your tongue automatically, without much thinking. 

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you. It does nothing to help you relax or feel better about the situation, but at least you think Renjun finally dropped the topic and won’t ask you about it again. You’d rather have the ground swallow you whole than to admit what’s been bugging you, especially when it’s Renjun himself you’re talking to about the matter.

You were, once again, wrong in your assumptions. Renjun did not drop the topic– no, he just took his sweet time to hit the nail on the head.

“Was it because of Yunjin?” 

The question opens a pit in your stomach, the embarrassment creeping out of your body and making you heat up not helping your case. Hands clammy as you shake your head and gesture, trying to prove your disagreement with the question to the best of your abilities– but only making yourself look stupid and like you’re trying too hard– your words come out weirdly high-pitched, only further proving Renjun’s point.

“No, it– it’s not that, I– I–”

Renjun scoffs at you, shaking his head. “It’s okay. Did she– did she make you feel uncomfortable? I know she’s been staring a lot the whole evening, I’m sorry about that…”

His words do a little to comfort you. You wouldn’t say you were perfectly fine with the fact that he knows that it was his ex girlfriend that’s been on your mind the past few days– because you two aren’t dating, and realistically, this shouldn’t matter to you– but his understanding eyes bearing into yours make you calm down a little when you sigh and avert your gaze, chewing on the inside of your cheek before you speak back up again.

“It’s okay,” you hum, “I– It was expected, I guess?”

Renjun hums, eyes focusing somewhere into the unknown. Picking at the skin on your cuticles, you think the conversation is over and you’ve done a good job at playing it off, half of your worries now soothed, but Renjun is a man full of surprises, it seems, when he looks at you again, licking his lips in hesitance.

“But that’s not all, is it?” he asks, but he gets no answer from you. It doesn’t matter– your silence is enough of a conformation. “Look, I didn’t… I didn’t invite you to make her jealous, or anything, if that’s what’s running through that brain of yours, okay? I didn’t even know she would be there.”

Blinking a few times at him, not expecting him to read you so well, you let out the breath you didn’t even know you’ve been holding, nodding at his reassuring words. “Oh…”

“I invited you because I thought you’d have fun… and because I kind of wanted you there. And so did Hyuck, actually, he thinks you’re his platonic soulmate, or something–” the man rambles, explaining his intentions to you, the frantic words coming out of his mouth making you giggle. Relief washes over his face at that, noticing the ease in the atmosphere, his hand gently squeezing your knee when your laughs get quiet. “Everything’s good now?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “thanks. It was silly, but– you know,” you shrug, awkwardly grinning to yourself.

“Yeah,” he sighs out, looking back in front of him, the moment of silent sincerity between the two of you having him open up to you, “it wasn’t like that. me and her… it wasn’t quite the same for a while, you know? Like, I knew it was over before it really happened, but nonetheless, I didn’t expect her to… to do what she did to end it.”

You hum, not really knowing what words you could offer him to console him. Not really wanting to ask any more questions, you wait for him to talk by himself, to assure you’re not insensitive or prying too much. You’ll let him tell you how much he wants, and you’ll silently thank him for the trust he has in you when holding up his feelings to you on a silver platter, naked and vulnerable for you to see and examine. 

“It’s like… I wanted to end it, but not with her cheating on me. That– that hurt more than the actual break up, I think. And maybe it shouldn’t matter, because I wasn’t in love with her anymore anyway, but it still… left a scar, I think,” he hums, and by the way he plays with his fingers in his lap, you can tell he didn’t expect himself to open up to you like this– maybe this is the first time he’s even sharing this with anyone, and the urge to protect him and his heart is suddenly stronger than ever before, even though it’s been somewhere there, deep inside of you, all along.

“That’s valid,” you say, “nobody deserves that to happen to them, no matter how your relationship looked at the time. You were still together, and she shouldn’t have done that,” you mumble, hoping to provide comfort to him, but also hoping your words aren’t unwelcome at this very moment.

The blonde looks at you, an appreciative smile appearing on his face. “Thanks,” he says. There’s nothing to thank you for, you think, but perhaps those are the words he needed to hear for a while now. Perhaps your sentences just mended something in him, perhaps you were the voice that finally made him admit that what he’s been feeling about the situation wasn’t stupid or irrational.

In a moment of weakness, a selfish masochism, even, you let out a prying sentence slip out of your lips– a sentence that could hurt you, have you not been prepared for the outcome. And maybe you were going too far, maybe you should’ve stayed quiet, but you can’t turn back time and the words were already spoken. “Do you ever miss her?” 

Renjun thinks for a while– a heartbeat of a second that makes you feel like you’re falling into a deep abyss– before he shakes his head. “Not really. Not her, I don’t miss her. I think that sometimes, I just miss what we had, but… that’s long gone.”

Humming indifferently, you accept his response in a quiet solace. 

You don’t know where this conversation brings you, but you bet it’s a step in some direction.

After a while, with Renjun’s head soundly resting on your shoulder when the silence gets too long, yet a comforting aura still shades the two of you sitting at the stairs, there’s a black Ford Fiesta honking at the parking lot, the two of you jumping to your feet. The boy drags you to the backseat, your bags hitting the floor of the vehicle, as Jeno looks back at you from the front, smiling at you with moon crescents in his eyes.

“Hello!”

“Hi,” you breathe out.

“Is Y/N tagging along?” Hyuck gasps from the passenger’s seat, turning towards you two, a face of a pleasant surprise written all over his face. You know what, maybe Renjun was right and you and his roommate are platonic soulmates of some sort. Or at least that’s how Lee Donghyuck’s been acting ever since the day he met you.

“I’m not,” you giggle, shaking your head in disapproval.

“Jeno, can you drop Y/N off at her apartment?” Renjun hums, and suddenly, the previous worries leave you as soon as the tall man nods and tells you to navigate him to your place. There was no reason why you’d be rejected by Renjun’s friends– for more reasons than one, you just aren’t aware of them yet.

The ride to your apartment is filled with laughter. Squinting at your project partner sitting next to you at the back of the car, you notice that he’s glowing brightly in the reflections of the lampposts shining through the windows of the car, a stolen galaxy swirling in his eyes when your eyes meet when you pay your goodbyes to the guys while getting off at your driveway a few minutes later.

And it’s quite funny. You don’t even live that far.

–

Clapping when your favorite writer completes the little interactive Q&A at the local library on a Monday afternoon– all throughout you didn’t have any courage to ask any questions yourself, even though you had plenty– you stand up from your place at one of the little, lanky folding chairs in the back of the room and smooth your hands over the skirt of your dress, getting the creases out. You’ve learned a lot about the author today– all from how she started writing, what inspired her to write your most favorite novel, and where she finds her inspiration for writing. You have a lot of information, yet, you still bet you could master more questions, if you were to do an interview with her– you wouldn’t even have to try as hard. 

Reading is one of your passions, it’s something that brought you to the love you have for writing, and although you didn’t stick with fiction for long, finding that the world building and creating plot and characters got boring for you after a while, you found your love for writing shining through when you type articles; making sure your headlines are captivating, that your articles are well-structured and bring something new to the table. It’s a completely different branch– some would say a less creative one– but it’s undeniable that the love for it started in you when you first started reading books, when you were little, in the quiet and comfort of your room.

Glancing back at Renjun, the boy follows you like a lost puppy (you bet it’s his first time at the library, despite him owning quite a few books himself– you noticed so while examining his room one time and found classics in his bookshelf), he offers you a soft smile, nudging you to keep walking. There’s a line forming towards the head of the room, where the writer is still sitting, numbers of passionate readers and fans of her work waiting to get their books signed. There’s a little stand in the middle of the far right wall, containing numerous books written by the person currently sitting in the same room, breathing the same air as you two, and you don’t hesitate to buy the latest one, the one you haven’t had the chance to read yet, with the intention of getting it signed.

“Which one’s your favorite?” Renjun asks, standing close to you and pointing towards the stacks of books on the stand.

“That one,” you hum, bringing his attention to the paperback cover at the very corner of the stand, watching as the man takes it into his hands and flips it over, reading through the summary. He looks like one of those Pinterest boards you’d title ‘Dark academia’ with a series of emojis that fit the ‘aesthetic’, with his plaid coat layered on top of a knitted, light brown sweater, the blonde fringe slightly falling into his eyes. 

“I’ll get this one, then,” he looks at one of the ladies behind the stand, smiling at her as he gets his wallet out.

“Don’t you want the latest one?”

“Nah,” he shrugs, smiling at the lady once again when the book is back in his hold, paid for and now in his ownership. His eyes are back at you when he offers you the explanation. “You said you liked this one, so I wanna try it. And you don’t know if the latest one is any good, so at least I’ve heard a good review on this one and don’t have to be afraid of buying a shitty book,” he snickers, making you roll your eyes at the tone of his voice, but still, there’s a little man in your brain screaming at the top of his lungs– screeching, even– at the action, the gears in your brain turning faster and faster as you let yourself indulge and overthink his words. He bought it because it’s your favorite– so he said– and in a split second of delusion, it doesn’t matter to you if it was just because he wanted to be sure the book is good, or if it was just him wanting to read your favorite book as a way of learning more about you.

“As if any of her books could be bad,” you mumble, moving slowly through the line. You’re the last ones waiting for the autograph, and while there’s still a lot of people in front of you, you can’t help but feel a little nervous at the promise of an interaction with the author.

“Well, you can never really know. Everyone has bad days.”

Snickering at his argument, you shake your head in disbelief and move a few steps forward again. You’ve taken a few photographs of the library while you were sitting and listening to the talk; a few of the author– to capture the nice memory– and some of the interior as well, showcasing the numerous shelves filled with books of different genres that the library provides. Still, you take the camera into your hands again, taking a few more– you were sure to get permission from the smiley and welcoming librarians when you arrived– trying to capture the atmosphere and the heartwarming aura of it all. A little selfishly, for your own memory, you turn to your companion and point the lens towards him, seeing as he poses with the book, acting a little silly when you take the picture, and when he breaks into an amused grin after, you take another one– a moment captured in time, his toothy laugh on full display. When you look at the picture again, your heart warms up a little at the image. Maybe you could get it printed out and add it to your memory book alongside the pictures you have from your first university parties and moving into the new apartment with Jimin– just so you have something to look back to.

Soon enough, you reach the front of the room, your bodies only a few steps away from the author. When the last guests in front of you leave, paying their goodbyes, you take a step forward with a little sigh, trying to encourage yourself and also calm down the erratic beating of your heart, ready to face the idol you’ve been looking up to since you were 11. With Renjun on your side, you put on your most picture-worthy smile, clammy hands offering the book to the writer when you reach the long table, choking on your words.

“Hello,” you greet, not really knowing what to say. You would be lying if you said you didn’t rehearse this in your brain seventy different times ever since you talked with Renjun about going to the library last week, trying to make up the perfect scenario and find the best words to use when you finally meet her, but in this very moment, the whole script flies through the window and you’re left silent and hesitant, heat rising to your cheeks when you can’t seem to find the right words to say.

“Hello,” you hear Renjun greet shortly after you, bumping into you a little with his hip when he stumbles to the table, seemingly more calm than you, trying to save the day, “my name’s Huang Renjun,” he says, and you want to kick him in his shin– because who even does that? Who tells their full name to a stranger, an author he’s never heard of before actually attending this meet and greet, acting as if he was an old friend of hers, meeting the famous writer after a long time? You almost thought he’d save you from the embarrassment and lead the way, from the way he approached her, but after hearing those words come out of his mouth, you almost go to scold him for his behavior.

To your surprise, though, the writer’s eyes widen in what seems to be realization, nodding to herself. “So you must be Y/N!” she says, looking back at you, a welcoming smile appearing on her lips. 

“I- I-” you stutter, suddenly feeling really confused. Is this a dream? Are you asleep? Or is your favorite writer suddenly a psychic too? What are you missing?

“Yeah! She’s just a little nervous right now,” he grins, taking a short look at you before he turns back to the author, “so… I take it as you haven’t changed your mind about the interview?”

“Not at all! I’m actually really happy to hear that students are taking interest in my writing and that they want to interview me,” she says, quickly signing your books on the front pages, offering them back to you, “I usually don’t give interviews just to anyone– you know, it would get a little too busy if I did that– but your passion really caught my attention.It reminds me of myself when I was your age… Just give me a few seconds, I have a phone call to make right now, but after I’m done, I’m all yours!” 

“Of course!” Renjun nods, watching as the author stands up from the table and disappears in one of the back rooms, seemingly to take care of the call. Turning back to you, still finding you dumbfounded from the interaction, he can’t help but let out an amused laugh. “Are you okay over there?”

“I- What-” you stutter, shaking your head as if to make your brain reboot, dragging your hand through your hair to get it out of your face, “how did you even manage to- she doesn’t even-” you fail to create coherent sentences, shock and surprise overshadowing your otherwise good choice of vocabulary, confusion spreading over your face like a shadow.

“I have my ways,” he shrugs nonchalantly, as if this was the easiest thing to accomplish, once again breaking into a grin when he sees your stoic face, “maybe try to smile a little? She might think you’re terrified of her if you keep frowning like that.”

“I am,” you mumble, still not quite comprehending the situation.

Rolling his eyes at you, he snickers. “Come on,” he says, “I bet you have plenty of questions for her up in that brain of yours,” he points to the middle of your forehead, shaking his head at your frozen figure.

“I do, but-” you mumble, catching yourself mid-sentence, “how did you even-” the words stream out your mouth, a puzzled expression not leaving your face.

“You can thank me later. Now focus on your job,” he says, turning you by your shoulders and pushing you a little towards the author that has now emerged out of the back room, a welcoming glint in her eye when her eyes land at the two aspiring journalists.

On that Monday afternoon, with sweaty palms and tongue-tied as you stutter out the curious questions, making an interview for your imaginary magazine, you learn that contrary to the popular demand, Huang Renjun is quite full of surprises. 

The longer you know Renjun, the more you hang out without the purpose of working on your assignment together. Truth be told, you started working on it pretty early into the semester, and while others were now aimlessly pulling all nighters to complete the magazine, you and Renjun were pretty much done with it already by now, since you forced the man to start working on it as soon as it was possible. He didn’t say it out loud, but you can tell he was thankful for that– it would kill the both of you if you had to focus on the project now, when exam season is slowly, but surely in reach and you’ll have to start studying soon.

It was a little awkward at first– you still remember the first time you watched Netflix with him in the silence of his apartment, with his mood very apparently below zero– starting with the two of you taking breaks in between working on your assignment, talking about the latest episodes of the anime you two have, coincidentally, chosen to watch at the same time; later progressing into full on sessions of gossip with his roommate Donghyuck joining the two of you at the comfortable couch. You’d say your friendship started a little this way, with you and Renjun running to the convenience store when you ran out of snacks in the middle of your study sessions and the two of you randomly laughing at something in your Journalism class, earning yourself scolding looks from the professor. It was unexpected, but you grew familiar with the antics, flowing through the days together, filling the boring days with texts full of TikTok links and Donghyuck sending you random pictures of your project partner all zoomed in on Snapchat. You even invited Renjun over a few times, Jimin accepting the new man in the comfort of your home when she realized he’s not as bad as he used to be before, as you ate up all of your snacks this time around instead, having impromptu karaoke sessions in your room, trying to quiz each other on the lyrics of your top tracks of the last year on Spotify. 

Everything felt casual, growing more in tune with the man he was, learning his antics and all about his character. You quickly learned that when he’s feeling down, he gets a little snappy– a bad habit you made him recognise and try to eliminate, at least when you’re around. You found out that when he’s nervous, he bites his nails, and you choose to slap his palms from the proximity of his lips whenever you catch him in the act. When he’s annoyed– much like when you prevent him from the action of gnawing at his fingernails until the skin around them  bleeds– he rolls his eyes and sighs, sometimes even shakes his head at you in disapproval. He looks adorable while doing so, but to save both of you the embarrassment, you’d never tell him out loud.

And you’d even dare to say he learns about you too. He’s an observing individual, and you’d even argue that he cares about you at least a little. For one, he’s not rude towards you anymore, the way he was when you two first started talking, and also, he shows his affection towards you in the most Renjun ways possible. He’d argue that he’s not good with words, but he’s always there to affirm you with them in his true love language whenever you’re stressed or overwhelmed with responsibilities. He also remembers your favorite drinks and snacks, opting to save them for you whenever you come by his place, and even slipping some into your bag before you leave his apartment. He’s a caring individual, a big hearted man, delicate in all directions.

You believe it’s impossible not to fall for him at least a little. Not when you really know him– the way you do, from up close, in his most joyful moments and the ones where he tries to battle you away when the ghosts in his brain try to make him shelter himself away from everyone too.

But you wouldn’t tell him that. Never in a thousand years.

“I hate all this fucking snow,” you tell him instead, when you walk by his side with your groceries in hand, the tips of your fingers brittled from the cold. “Why is it even snowing in the first place, it’s the end of February, for fuck’s sake!” 

The two of you decided to go for a grocery run together, and while some would say it’s not a fun activity to do, you think you like experiencing mundane things with your close ones the most. If you enjoy someone’s company, you truly do not care what you do together– you always go pick up packages from the post with Jimin, or drive your little sibling to the store when you’re back home, even though the action itself doesn’t provide you any conventionally ‘fun’ experiences, most of these are a fond memory in your brain, because you got to spend time with someone you love. It’s the same right now– even though it’s snowing heavily and you can’t feel your feet from the cold– you went to buy groceries with Renjun when he texted you about it, realizing you could buy some things you ran out of as well, opting to walk there together.

“I thought you liked winter?” he snickers, seeing your grumpy expression. 

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you said you hated summer,” he says, matter of factly, making you giggle to mask the warmth spreading on your insides from the knowledge that he remembers the random fact you once told him when you were working on your project together.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I like winter either,” you say, shrugging.

“Do you even like anything?”

“No,” you shake your head, totally serious before you burst into laughter, “kidding. I like spring,” you smile at him, eloquently, shuffling your legs along the snowed-in ground, moving closer to the campus, near to where you both live.

“I like spring too, actually.”

“Because your birthday’s in spring?” you snicker, teasing him.

“Maybe,” he admits, laughing with you. “No, but I think spring’s neat for a number of reasons. It always feels… like a new beginning, perhaps? After months of silence, you can finally hear the chirping of birds in the morning, and the sun sets later too, so the days feel longer…” he says, and you find yourself observing him, admiring the love he has for the season.

“Exactly,” you nod, pointing your gaze towards the ground when you notice that he caught you staring, embarrassment creeping up your back before you shudder from the cold, heavy snowflakes falling on top of your head, drenching your freshly washed locks and making your cheeks burn with cold. You can’t remember the last time it snowed so hard– you were in for a couple of warm winters for the last couple of years– and as much as you hate to admit it because of your noticeable aversion towards winter, you must say it looks quite magical.

“Look, I know you hate winter, but you do have windows in your flat, right?” he jokes, making you roll your eyes at the nagging you know you’re about to hear. “Maybe look out of them before you go out, so you could dress for the weather the next time.”

“Very funny,” you snicker, “I’ll let you know, it wasn’t snowing when I was getting ready.”

“Okay then, maybe start using the weather app. It’s great if you want to know how cold it really is outside, and you’re quite good with technology, so maybe you could-”

“Oh, fuck off,” you snap, but feel yourself grinning at the teasing.

The man lets out a sigh– a habit of frustration he does a lot whenever you’re around– before you feel him tugging something onto the top of your head, your ears suddenly shielded by soft fabric. Looking up at your companion in shock, you notice that the beanie that had been sitting on his head until now is covering yours instead; and although you appreciate the gesture with a giddy clench on your insides, you find yourself protesting.

“Jun! You’ll get cold,” you pout.

“Okay, but so will you, and as far as I’m concerned, I have more layers on than you right now, so you need it more than me,” he shrugs, all nonchalant, making you hesitantly smile at him and shut up, keeping the warm wool over your head. 

Next time, you’ll look at the weather app to save your heart some trouble. 

Or maybe you won’t.

Walking closer to your apartment complex, naturally accepting the fact that Renjun decided to walk you home– or just hasn’t realized he’s doing so yet– you fall into comfortable conversation, mostly consisting of you complaining and Renjun finding your tangent amusing.

“My groceries will get all wet! Fucking hell, Renjun…”

“I didn’t force you to come,” he laughs.

“Well, but you have the weather app, as opposed to me, so maybe you could’ve predicted the fact that it was going to snow soon,” you pout, shaking your head in disbelief. 

“And if I did?” 

“Then why’d you drag me out?” you huff, nearing the steps that lead up towards the front door of your building, being careful not to slip on them as you stand on the first one, towering above the man that takes his position opposite of you while you say your goodbyes. 

“Okay, next time get your groceries alone, if you’re just gonna complain the whole way,” he giggles at your fake offendance, looking up at you from under his eyelashes. Snowflakes settle on the tops of his cheekbones, the rosy tint in his face taking your breath away, something in his eyes captivating you and hypnotizing you into doing things you would’ve never dared to do as you reach out towards his hair, now wet from the snow that manages to melt away on his body, brushing your hand through the locks.

“It’s gotten so long,” you muse, “the blonde’s all grown out now.”

He hums, the eye contact making you heat up despite the coldness that’s been trying to seep into your bones. “Maybe I should dye it back to black, then.”

Grinning, you shrug as your hand escapes his scalp. “Yeah,” you nod, “maybe you should.”

“It’s a plan, then,” he says before he grins, poking you in your forehead with his pointer finger as he takes a step back from you, heading towards the direction of his apartment. “I’ll text you,” he adds.

Paying your goodbyes to him, you stumble inside and reach your flat, your whole body on fire even though you’ve been freezing until now as you take off your wet shoes and tug the borrowed beanie from your head. Putting away the groceries, you wonder if there’s a significance in his decision, if the change of hair is the same as the reason why he loves spring; if new things are beginning, or if you’ve just tricked yourself into falling for him too hard.

“You have to mix it together with this first!” Renjun whines, sitting at the edge of the bathtub as he watches you open the box dye you bought together at the drugstore a few hours ago, pointing his finger at the white pack containing the mixing solution.

“Oh,” you mumble, clammy hands flying around and trying to read the instructions instead, too worried to mess up again and accidentally burn Renjun’s hair off. After a few moments of you silently turning the big sheet of paper around in all directions, you hear your companion snicker under his breath, standing up from his position at the edge of the bathtub and mixing the dye with the solution in a little plastic container he got from under the sink himself instead.

“Let me do it,” he shakes his head, “didn’t know you were this useless.”

“If you didn’t want me here, you could’ve just said so,” you put the instruction paper down, crossing your arms on your chest as you take a step back and look at him with an offended pout, watching as he gets everything ready. His hair is sticking all over the place and the shirt he has on is stained with bleach– you suspect he wore this exact outfit a few months ago when he dyed his hair blonde– the fabric hanging loosely down his shoulders. 

“I’m perfectly capable of dying my hair on my own, if you didn’t notice,” he says, “me wanting you here is the sheer reason for your presence.”

Heart skipping a beat at the sentence, masking it off with a fakely annoyed sigh, you watch him take a seat back at the edge of the bathtub when he’s done, motioning for you to take matters into your hands and start dying his hair. “Don’t fuck it up.”

“I’ll do so just to spite you,” you argue back, taking the plastic container with the dye into your hand and standing close to Renjun, parting his hair down the middle as you get the chemical-smelling mixture into his growing locks. Focused on the task at hand, trying really hard not to get the dye all over the place, you almost get lost in the motion of playing with his hair and pay too much attention to each section, your touch gentle not to tug at his hair. It  makes you not notice the way you’re suddenly standing in between Renjun’s opened legs, your skin covered by fabrics of sweatpants touching.

His head suddenly moves, making you almost dye his whole forehead black, when he plops a gummy worm into his mouth and regains his previous position. 

“Stop moving or else it’s gonna look bad!” you scowl, frustrated with the fact that he made you lose your focus.

“Want a gummy worm?” he asks, looking up at you with an innocent smile instead– as if to make you forget all about his actions from before– and you reward him with an annoyed shake of your head that shows him disapproval which he seemingly chooses to ignore as he reaches into the pack of gummies again and holds one up to your lips, fingertips brushing against the skin of your mouth making you feel heat in your cheeks. You didn’t want a gummy worm, but with the proximity of his hand to your face and the starry gaze he offers you when you meet his eyes, you don’t hesitate to take the gummy into your mouth and chew on the candy, earning yourself a satisfied smile.

Turning towards his hair again, the last few strands left undyed waiting for your attention, the man suddenly squeezes your thigh, making you wince. “How is it going up there?”

“Good,” you choke out, suddenly hyper aware of his hand resting on the skin of your leg, as if to hold you in place, his other hand working almost on auto-pilot as he completes the symmetry and grazes your other thigh, his touch on you so gentle you could almost miss it if you didn’t pay enough attention.

“If it’s patchy, I’m blaming you and not the dye,” he teases, drumming against your leg with his fingers, each little gesture making you less and less focused on his hair and more on the way his eyelashes fan over his cheekbones from above, biting down hard on your lip to keep yourself from making any sound close to frustration or the sound of perhaps losing your mind. 

“Well then, maybe you shouldn’t have bought the cheapest one.”

“I’m staying on budget,” he says, making you snicker.

Forcing yourself to focus back onto his hair, you finally complete your task of dying the man’s hair back to its original color. Taking a step back from him and putting the plastic container onto the sink, you start to miss the feeling of his hand on your skin; his hair slicked back by the dye makes him look oddly amusing, though, so you let a grin slip out at the sight of your companion sitting at the edge of the bathtub like a scolded child, his legs outstretched right in front of him and a pack of gummy worms once again firmly gripped in the palm of his hand.

After cleaning up the mess you’ve made on the bathroom sink, with Renjun singing to himself as he put up a timer on his phone for 20 minutes, you find yourself in his kitchen, walking around and finding a pot in which you could cook some ramen for dinner. It’s getting quite late and it’s rare that you find yourself alone in Renjun’s apartment with him, his roommate finally getting out after the dreaded exam season to celebrate, and you can’t help but find the domesticity of sharing his space with him– although this is not the first time– overtake you in a deep feeling of intimacy.

Stirring the noodles around with a fork you found in one of the drawers, listening to the low hums of Renjun singing in the bathroom as he cleans up the skin on his forehead and behind his ears with a wet cotton pad, you wonder how you managed to get used to this– how you even managed to find yourself in the presence of Huang Renjun so often, after only hearing about him from gossip around the school halls and hating his presence when you first had to work with him. It’s ironic, but you don’t hate it quite as much as you would think. 

“You’re making ramen?” he asks as he finally reaches the kitchen, big eyes full of thankfulness meeting yours when he notices you getting out some plates to transfer the meal into, since you’re close to being done.

Humming in agreement, you see him lean on the kitchen counter from the corner of your eye, a satisfied smile reaching his lips. “I should invite you over more often.”

“I’m here like twice a week, Jun,” you mumble, focused on not spilling the meal all over the place.

“Well, if it means you’ll cook all the time, you can even move in, if you want to” he jokes, making you shake your head in disbelief as you take the plates and move them to the coffee table you are so used to sitting at by now, since the boys don’t really have a dining table in their apartment, making them (and sometimes you joining) eat all the meals at the coffee table, sitting on the ground.

“And where would I sleep? On the couch? No, thank you,” you shake your head, digging into the noodles and blowing on them to make them cool faster.

“I’ll kick Hyuck out, so you can have his room,” he mumbles in between bites, following you. 

“So you just want me to be your maid, got it,” you nod.

“That’s not what I said,” he looks at you with offense, before digging into the noodles again, mumbling under his nose before taking a bite, “although you would look nice in a maid dress-”

Kicking him in the leg, seeing as he chokes up on the food from laughing, you shake your head in disbelief at his antics. You think it’s the hair dye getting to his brain, so when his timer goes off in a few minutes after you’re both done with the food, you thank god for bringing you out of your misery. 

Listening to the sound of the shower as he washes the hair dye off, you take it upon yourself to clean up the dishes. You’d feel bad for leaving a mess in his kitchen, and you also think it’s a nice thing to do. It only takes a few minutes before he’s out of the bathroom again, hair damply sitting on his forehead, his figure twirling like a ballerina– reminding you of the way you did little fashion shows for your father whenever you came home from shopping with your mum– waiting for what you have to say about his new look, although in true reality, he looks just the same as a few months ago. 

“Does it look good?”

“I can’t tell ‘cause it’s wet,” you say, squinting your eyes at the mess on his head, “go blow dry it.”

“Fuck no,” he shakes his head, protesting, “I hate blow drying my hair.”

“Why? I can’t tell if it’s patchy this way,” you say.

“My hands get tired and I get bored and I just really don’t enjoy the experience,” he simply states, and he wins– whether this was his intention or not– as you drag him back to the bathroom and get out of him where he keeps the blow dryer, plugging it in and moving to do it for him. 

There it is again– that funny feeling in your stomach as you move your hands through his hair, brushing his bangs away from his forehead as you blow dry his locks. The feeling makes you weak in your knees as you look at the boy who now has his eyes closed, seemingly enjoying the motion of your fingers threading through his freshly dyed strands, and when you finally turn the device off and watch him open his eyes, looking at you half-lidded and seemingly a little tired, you once again notice his hands on your thighs as he sits at the bathtub, although now the touch is more firm, pulling you close to him. 

“Are you happy now that your hair is black?” you find yourself asking, your eyes bearing into him as you reference the dialogue you two had when he dyed his hair blonde, when you two didn’t know each other well just yet and he told you the wishful secret of wanting to have more fun as a blonde since he was sad when his hair was black. 

His smile looks a little drunk, despite the both of you being completely sober as he replies, acting as if he was getting tipsy off your proximity and gentle touch. “My hair’s black because I’m happy, not the other way around,” he mumbles, your eyes momentarily drifting to his pretty lips as he talks, their rosy plumpiness making it hard for you to unstuck your gaze from the curve of his smile and focus on other features of his face.

“Good,” you nod, your hands finding their place at his shoulders, almost going for a hug, but never really completing the action. 

“So how do I look?” he asks again, your conversation growing quiet in the intimate atmosphere, voices not wanting to interrupt the calm, yet tense harbor. 

Examining him, you find yourself once again attracted to the boy you see in front of you. He looks exactly like he did before his break-up– yet now, you’d argue and say he looks even better; healthier and more radiant, his features gentle, hair a little longer and his smile reminding you of an angel. Humming to yourself, you brush your hands through his black strands again, letting yourself indulge in your growing feelings for the man for just a second, before the moment is gone. “Really pretty,” you mumble, watching as his smile grows for a mere second before his eyes drift from yours down to your lips, making you forget how to breathe.

Your hands continue to get lost in his hair as you stare at each other for a while, silence in the bathroom making you listen in on each other’s breathing, before your brain fails you and you let yourself operate on auto-pilot, leaning down to his face, surprised to see him meet you in the middle. You kiss him as if you’ve been waiting ages to do so, your lips molding in with his in a perfect harmony, firm, yet still unmistakably gentle contact making you shiver. 

It feels like a century before you pull away, ready to face the consequences of your actions, when he captures your lips in another kiss, drunk on the action. Feeling him standing up from the edge of the bathtub and moving his hands to firmly grip your waist before he walks you backwards against the tiled wall, the coldness of it mixing with the heat spreading across your body makes you gasp into the kiss and invite his tongue into your mouth.

Your hands fall from his hair and find their way around his neck, tugging him close, while one of his gentle palms rests on your jaw, angling your face in a way that lets him take control and have you even closer, two bodies seeking each other’s presence.

“Renjun…” you gasp when his lips move away from yours, leaving kisses down your jaw, slowly reaching the delicate skin of your neck and the conjunction of your shoulder. 

He hums into your skin, a cold hand sneaking under the hem of your shirt making you wince, all of his actions making your senses hyper aware to the touch and feeling of his lips pressed against you, especially when he finds the sweet spot behind your ear and makes you squirm under him, the feeling of his smile against your skin turning you crazy.

Finding yourself tugging his face back to yours, taking back his lips, his hand travels up your side, leaving goosebumps all over your skin with the cold motions of his fingertips, you shiver under his caring, yet teasing touch. The kiss feels as if it’s one step away from heaven, letting out a satisfied sound when he softly brushes the underside of your breast.

Pressing him closer against you, leaving open-mouthed kisses down his neck, you feel him hard against your thigh, neediness overtaking you as you lightly move against him, hearing him choke out a breath. “Is- is this okay?” he asks, voice not louder than a whisper before you continue with your motions, answering with your actions before using your words, breathing growing quicker with the way the friction makes you feel.

“More than okay with me,” you mumble, seemingly encouraging him as he presses you firmer against the tiled wall, helping you guide your desperate movements. Foreheads pressed against each other, breathing mixing in the silent room, you can’t seem to find it in you to stop, completely losing yourself in him and in the way he makes you feel, selfishly chasing down release from all the butterflies and electric stares he’s been sending your way.

Grunting when you press up against him in a way that sends sparks down his spine, his hand reaches up under your thigh, almost on the skin of your butt, holding up your leg to make more room and get you even closer to him, before he heaves out a sigh. “Let’s go to my room?” he asks hastily before you nod and let him plop you up against his figure with your legs entangled around his middle, escaping the cold tiles of the bathroom and walking over to the his room smelling of fresh laundry detergent and vanilla, soft sheets enveloping your body when he lightly drops you into his mattress.

A giggle escapes your lips at the contact of your body with the bed, earning yourself a playful roll of Renjun’s eyes as he leans over you, plopping himself up on one elbow above you, caging you in his embrace. Maintaining eye contact with him, blissful smiles stretching on your lips, you almost think the moment is over, but he quickly brings you back to the neediness you felt before as he leans in again, kissing you painfully slowly while his hand reaches under the hem of your shirt, letting his palm travel against your body. His actions make you shiver as his fingertips softly tickle your side, moving towards the dip of your waist, then back up across your stomach as he traces mindless shapes against your skin, occasionally letting himself travel up towards the fabric of your bra. Cupping one of your breasts into his hand, you let out a soft grunt when he squeezes the flesh softly enough to make you yearn for more.

Mirroring his actions, your hand moves under his loose shirt, hypnotized by the heat of his flesh. Enveloped in his warmth and the smell of him in his bedsheets, you let yourself roam up his abdomen, embracing the way his muscles jolt a little under your touch, before your hand settles onto his back, fingertips dancing up and down his spine.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he mumbles, making you break into a blissful smile, before his hand lazily dips down your belly, seeking approval in your eyes, “can I?” 

Nodding, afraid of seeming a little too eager– although maybe he would welcome that with open arms– you feel his fingertips messily dragging down the waistband of your sweatpants a little by little, leaving you in front of him only in your underwear, his lips swallowing your sighs when he hesitantly brushes his thumb against your clit. 

His movements get more confident as he adds more pressure, making you let out a few more muffled sounds he welcomes with a cocky smile, demeanor shifting as he presses a wet kiss against your cheek when he drags your underwear down and gets back to where he was before, but now acting more gently– as if the contact of your bare core with his fingers made him afraid you’re gonna break in his hold. Softly nudging your thighs, opening up your legs and softly tracing his pointer finger down your slit, he makes your cheeks flush from the contact and the feeling of air against your naked bottom half.

He doesn’t say much as he tests the waters, dragging his digits along your folds, examining your reaction when he circles your sensitive bud and sees you crumble under his touch. Your hands grip his pearl white sheets, not really knowing what to do to ground yourself back to reality, the man above you finally finding enough courage in him to insert one finger, then two inside of you, watching you react to his actions.

“Feels good,” escapes your lips, and truthfully, you didn’t even catch yourself saying it. It left your mouth on itself, your tone a little fragile but full of eagerness, wanting more– and seemingly understanding, he moves inside you with more reason now, hitting the right spot that makes your eyebrows crease and your breathing hitch in your throat.

“There?” he asks, as if to tease you. In any other circumstance, you’d find it in you to bark back something full of sarcasm and irony, but now, vulnerable and sensitive to his every move, you only nod eagerly and meet his eyes which are now clouded with lust, a view you’ve never experienced before, but welcome with undeniable curiosity.

Angling his fingers inside of you just the way you need them, you quickly feel yourself reaching your high, one of your hands flying to his forearm as if to let him know or warn him, somehow. Judging by his actions, he got the memo– showing his experience when he continues with the same speed and pressure, keeping still– before he slowly trips you over the edge, having you clenching around his fingers as you let moans slip out from your lips, euphoria taking over your whole body.

His figure leans into you, holding you close as your breathing comes back to normal, his lips press soft kisses to your temple. It’s almost a hint that the act is over, his actions growing more tender as opposed to the way he had you just a few moments prior, but you find yourself not wanting it to end, tugging his shirt up and earning yourself a questioning look.

“More?” you mumble, looking at him, grabby hands helping him take his shirt off. Your please sound almost like a question– they may as well be, for you don’t know if he wants this too– but he reacts to you positively when you have your eyes roaming across his bare torso, hands flying towards your own shirt, taking it off before you chastly press against him, both of you sitting at his bed, meeting him in a kiss as you settle yourself into his lap. 

In this moment, there’s nothing but him. Your head spins with his essence, your brain painfully aware of everything; of your hands holding his cheeks when you tug at his bottom lip with your teeth, chasing after his neck in a desperate need of leaving a mark, wanting evidence of you being there the next morning, so you could remind yourself that this wasn’t just a dream or a product of your own imagination. When you press down against his lap, dragging your naked core against his hard on, his hands grip your sides, sneaky fingers trailing up after a moment as he tugs the straps of your bra down before slipping it off completely, leaving you naked in front of him.

Lifting you by your hips and moving you back against his pillow, laying you into his sheets, he lets you drag his sweatpants down, your fingers dipping below the waistband of his boxers and gently dragging along the sensitive skin, feeling needier at the sounds of satisfaction escaping his lips. Bringing him closer with your other hand, he takes a moment to confirm with you one last time. 

“Are you sure you… want this?” he doesn’t seem to find the right words, leaving you softly laughing at his puzzled expression.

“I am,” you nod, assuring him, “I- I want you,” you mumble, still loud and clear, and he wastes no time in freeing himself of his underwear and aligning himself with your entrance.

He slowly pushes inside of you, his whole length filling you up. He leaves you some time to adjust, checking in with you with a look to your eyes, fingertips gently dragging your hair out of your face before you confirm with him that you’re okay with a soft nod, making him move and gently thrust inside of you; painfully slow at first, but reaching deep, taking in every inch of you. Pleasure builds inside of you as his thrusts become more quicker, finding a rhythm that makes your toes curl and your hands fly to his back, scratching down along his skin when he hits your spot and your eyes shut in a spell of satisfied sighs.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss against your lips, a sentence sweet enough to make your cheeks flush under him– yet you think the heat you feel is more than shyness from his words, but from the contact of his skin on yours, driving you absolutely crazy.

His finger gently plays with your clit, slowly, but surely tipping you over the edge. You hold back a moan, head falling to your side on his pillow, Renjun’s lips pressing kisses into the now exposed areas of your neck, still going at a steady rhythm. 

“Fuck,” you let out when he picks up at speed, the imaginary glass of pleasure in you getting fuller and fuller, making afraid of it spilling out when he keeps going, your hand flying into his hair, tugging at it in a desperate attempt to ground yourself, “I’m close.”

He hums against your neck, softly biting a bruise into your flesh. He doesn’t say much, again– his loving is quiet, only occasionally letting out needy noises out past his lips here and there, grunts slipping out when you feel just right around him. You find it hard to keep up with the silence, blissful sounds escaping you when he takes you over the edge. Your walls clench around him as he’s still thrusting into you, chasing down his climax and making the most out of yours. You swear you can see stars, the tips of your fingers starting to tingle when you get a little too overstimulated, but before you can do anything about it, he slips out of you and warmth spreads on your stomach, his body crashing next to yours.

He doesn’t say much after either. The room falls into silence, your bodies heaving with deep breaths as you try to calm down the erratic beating of your hearts. Mindlessly threading your fingers through his hair, you stare at the ceiling, his arms draped over your middle, occasionally playing with the flesh of your hip, squeezing it with his palm and dragging his fingertips across the soft skin. Looking down at him, not seeing much other than the raven locks falling into his forehead and his closed eyes, you try hard to appreciate the closeness of his body, just in case you don’t get to experience it ever again.

Feeling his nose nuzzling into your skin, you wonder if he’s happy.

Dark, wallowing pit opens up in your stomach, the harrowing feeling you didn’t know you could recognise fills you up to your rim; your vision goes a little blurry at the sight in front of you and after a few seconds of torturing yourself by watching, you feel the bitter taste of blood on your tongue from gnawing at the gentle skin of your bottom lip too hard. That alone wakes you up from the weird transe you’ve been put in, making you turn on your heel and chime outside of the building, the iced americano in your hand thrown in the nearest trash can as you take the short way home, suddenly wanting to hide away from everyone and everything, too fragile to deal with the outer world today.

You open up the door to your apartment with a little struggle, your hand shaking not making it easy for you to put the key inside the keyhole, and when you finally get to the comfort of your little place, you’re met with Jimin’s concerned eyes waiting for you in the hall, her figure hesitantly walking over when she heard you struggle with the door.

Closing the door behind you a little too loudly, careless in your actions from how hard your heart is hammering against your ribcage, your roommate approaches you with gentle words. “What happened? Weren’t you meeting up with–”

“No,” you shake your head, cutting off her sentence before his name manages to come out of her mouth, your throat closing as you choke out the response; the soft gaze she offers you at the stern words of disapproval makes your eyes water even though you already promised yourself you wouldn’t cry over this.

“Oh, sweetie,” Jimin mumbles as her long legs make their way towards your shrunken figure, enveloping you in her arms. You let yourself be comforted, almost yearning for the slow strokes she gives your back, her long fingers threading through your hair. There aren’t many instances where you two had to hold each other in the entrance hall, too afraid of letting go before one of you breaks. You remember her breaking up with her boyfriend Jaehyun– they dated for a couple of months last year before he had to move away and a long distance relationship wasn’t something either of them was willing to put each other through– but that time, it was in the comfort of her bedroom and you watched the first season of Too hot to handle together after it was done to take her mind off things. You, however, don’t have much dating experience. Not a significant one anyway– you only dated in high school, and even though the boy you crowned your first in many things was sweet, you simply fell out of love with him after a few months and called it quits, with no tears shed and no hearts broken.

“I think I was just a rebound,” you get out in between your quiet sobs, the image of Renjun sitting at the cafeteria with Yunjin, his soft gaze offered to her as she leaned over the table and said something quietly to him before pressing a kiss to his cheek only further proving your claims.

And you guess you were the stupid one– you guess you were silly for thinking he was over his ex already, even if it’s been a couple of months since they broke up, even if he told you he didn’t miss her, but was sad to let go what they had– because the sweetness in his eyes when he looked at her hurt you more than you could’ve ever imagined, because you think you remember him looking at you like that the evening you dyed his hair black; you remember him looking at you like you hung up the stars on the sky, and you believed the gentle gaze– you believed there was something more than sex to it, you believed he felt the same feelings as the ones you’ve been harboring for the boy ever since you first hanged out at his place and watched Netflix with him to take his mind off the said girl.

Jimin doesn’t ask any questions– she knows you’ll tell her eventually, you just need comfort right now. Sniffling as you try to come down from the heartbreak you’ve caused yourself, you groggily get out a sentence that hurts to say out loud perhaps the most from the feelings freely roaming around your brain. “I don’t think it meant anything to him– I– I don’t think I meant anything to him.”

As if to torture yourself even more, the images of you two getting closer over the time flash through your brain– and you wonder if you were just lying to yourself the whole time. If his words weren’t what he made them out to be, if his gentle nature that overtook him when you were around was just him treating you as one of his friends. If he hooked up with you only because he was horny, and not because he cared for you enough to want to explore you further, deeper– if you were the only one in it for something more, if he was just keeping himself busy while trying to get over his ex.

And much like that time at the party, where he held you close and spent the whole night pretty much glued to your side, right in front of everyone’s eyes, you wonder if you just fulfilled your purpose in his life. 

“Shh,” the girl shushes you out of your self-destructive thoughts, still not getting any context on what happened, but being there for you anyway, “let’s just watch something, okay? We have the whole day off to ourselves, let’s watch this new anime I’ve been eyeing, what do you say?” she mumbles, seeing as you tiredly nod and she affectionately squishes your cheeks together, leading you towards the living room.

If you weren’t so numb right now, you’d even giggle. Jimin doesn’t watch anime– the amount of reality TV she watches is quite concerning sometimes– and her effort to aimlessly search through the internet for the first episode of an anime she randomly saw on Tiktok one day and thought would suit your watching style both amuses you and makes your heart warm just a little. Indulging in TV series is one of the only coping mechanisms either of you can ever come up with, it seems.

When the opening credits roll, you hear your phone’s notification sound pop up, your hand reaching for the device. You don’t even get an opportunity to look at who is texting you before your roommate snatches the phone out of your hand, swipes across the screen and turns it off with one swift motion, forcing you to focus on the animation going on the TV.

Sometimes, all you need is your caring roommate to take over everything. Today, more than ever, you’re more than willing to give yourself into her hands.

After that, you do what you think anyone in your situation would (or wouldn’t do, to be precise). You don’t text Huang Renjun random things throughout the day like you used to– you no longer laugh at weird memes he finds funny with him and you no longer read his texts that are full of random complaining, mostly about his roommate Donghyuck, throughout the day. You don’t meet him to work on the project together. It’s almost done and you still have time– you are planning on just finishing it by yourself and turning it in on the day it’s due, with no contact with the male. You also don’t call him when you’re walking home alone in the late hours of the evening, scared and yearning to find comfort in his saccharine words. You don’t even look at his messages– he sent you multiple– only letting yourself to check the contact name before you swipe the notification away without giving it much thought, making yourself ignore all of his calls the moment you hear your ringtone go off. Worst of all, you don’t even attend class anymore. You’re glad for the past you that managed to attend every single class, because now, you have more than enough absences to use up before the semester ends and you go on spring break.

You do everything in your power to erase him out of your life. It takes an admirable amount of self-control, you must admit.

And sometimes, it even feels silly. It feels stupid to react so much to seeing him with his ex girlfriend, because frankly, you two weren’t dating. No amount of touches, gentle words, hang-outs after the sun sets and intimacy means that you are a couple; it didn’t matter that you opened up to him so much when neither of you confirmed to this being inclusive. The day before you dyed his hair back, you two were just good friends, after all. Sex didn’t change anything– even though you thought it would. 

And maybe that’s what’s making you feel even more angstier about the whole thing. You gave him every last ounce of yourself you had, every inch of your body, from the inside out– so now, you feel thrown away, as if you were useless.

The cold nights slowly turn into warmer evenings, birds chirping outside waking you up in the mornings even more reminding you of the man you lost somewhere along the way. Spring was the favorite season of you both, but somewhere deep inside of you, you’re starting to dread it. Maybe it’s the fact that you were yearning for a new beginning for yourself in spring; for something to be born seemingly out of nothing– but it seems like you are supposed to bloom by yourself now, and you’re finding it harder than ever. 

It’s the beginning of the second week of March. Warm sunlight makes your feet spring up from your bed in the early morning, forcing you to take a walk. You’ve gotten used to going on these, as many call it, ‘mental health walks’ lately– you read on the internet that they help your mood, and even though it’s a slow progress, you’re willing to try anything, at this point. 

You chose a fixed destination you walk to every other day. It’s on the opposite side of the campus– where the Science buildings are– and you would be lying to yourself and everyone if you said you didn’t carefully craft the journey so you wouldn’t get in contact with the man you’ve been trying to avoid for the last two and a half weeks. It’s far away from your apartment, and even further away from his. There’s no reason for him to visit those parts of the campus, and you find comfort in the fact. 

Finding a bench under a cherry blossom tree– it’s slowly starting to wilt these days– you sit in silence for a while on some days, and on others, you put in your earphones and watch the world around you go by without you moving a single finger, trying to find comfort in the fact.

Listening to the playlist you made in the crack of dawn last night– Renjun always made fun of you for the fact that you once listed ‘making Spotify playlists’ as your hobby– you fall deep inside of your thoughts. When this happens, it’s hard to control your mind and think of something positive. The only thing left for you to do is to hope and pray you don’t spiral.

Why did it even matter so much to you anyway? It was just a kiss to his cheek. It’s not like you caught them in the act…

However, still, the image of them looking so comfortable together broke your heart; because somewhere along the way, you thought he’d always feel resentment towards the girl. She broke his trust, she made him feel worthless, and it was left for you to take all those broken pieces of him and glue them back together. You didn’t realize it back then, but just the fact that you didn’t give up on him back when he was being difficult was enough for the boy to feel at least a little better again. Your nagging, yet silent acts of meeting him somewhere in the middle, even on his worst days, was a source of comfort for him. And after a while, you started noticing that– you started noticing him warming up to you every time you met, you started noticing his gratitude towards you in the little acts of service he brought with himself when he bought you snacks or texted you if you came home safely after your meetings. 

You guess that seeing Yunjin talking so freely with him, seeing her kiss his cheek with such tenderness, made you feel so deeply, easily replaceable in his life. You guess you always feel like that with everyone anyway. It’s a bad habit you find hard to break– maybe you too, just need someone to be patient with you while you heal.

“What are you listening to?” you hear a voice, tone close to honey, ask from the place next to you. It makes you jump in terror, both from recognising it so easily and from not expecting him to find you here, so far away from everything, as you look at him with surprised eyes.

You don’t know what it is that keeps you silent. Perhaps it’s surprise. Perhaps it’s pettiness. Perhaps it’s shame. 

The feeling makes you stiff in silence, everything in you refusing to respond to his sudden casualty. “Okay, I’ll just stalk your listening activity on Spotify when I come home again, then,” he shrugs, his uninhibited demeanor making you boil inside. You feel like your insides are on fire, you feel like the whole world came crashing down on you because of mere seconds of seeing him with someone that he once held so dear to his heart, making you  feel replaced and forgotten, and yet, he comes to you so easily and doesn’t even acknowledge your hurt?

“What are you doing here?” you ask, voice soulless as you turn your music off and put your tangled earphones into your jacket pocket, finally choosing to recognise his presence. 

“Talking to you,” he shrugs, “I… brought you coffee,” he smiles, showing you the Starbucks take-out cardboard holding two drinks together, one iced americano and one caramel latte, the sight making your heart warm up quite dangerously at the thought that after all this time, he got your coffee order down, he noticed you sweetening your drinks, and he remembered.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you scoff. “How did you know I’d be here?”

The man shrugs. “I didn’t, at first. I… I came to your apartment to talk to you, but Jimin said you weren’t home, so after a few minutes of begging her to tell me where I could find you, she gave up and sent me here.”

You guess you’ll have to have a serious talk with your roommate when you come home.

“Why… why are you here, then?” you ask, still feeling the bitter pettines on your tongue when the words escape your mouth.

“Well,” he starts, taking a deep breath in, collecting his thoughts, “at first I thought I’d give you space. I thought you didn’t want to talk with anyone and you kept ignoring my texts and calls, so I texted Jimin to ask if you were okay, and when she told me you were doing fine, I figured it had to do something with me. And then– and then I thought I’d give you some space, since you looked like you needed some, but… but I think I need to face the problem now, since it’s clearly… something big, you know…” 

It’s undeniable that Huang Renjun is quite the smart individual. His ability to instantly sense your emotions and decipher the meaning behind them never fails to catch you off guard, though.

Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you suddenly notice the nerves he tried to mask by fake casualty. He keeps chewing on his bottom lip and he’s picking at his cuticles so hard you think they’ll bleed at any minute, his frame small and hesitant as he turns away from you, afraid to meet your eyes. He looks so, so guilty, and you suddenly feel stupid for making such a big deal out of something that shouldn’t have mattered to you in the first place.

“What… What did I do to hurt you?” he asks, voice barely louder than a whisper. “Because you must be hurt, if you’re avoiding me this much.”

Taking a deep breath in, you shake your head at the whole situation. He’s right, though– perhaps it’s time to finally face your problems now, so you can move on. Maybe this closure is what you need, maybe you need to hear it from him– to hear that it didn’t mean anything to him, to hear that Yunjin apologized and he’s gonna get back together with her, because somehow, your brain convinced you this was the case– to finally let him go and stop mourning something that was never there in the first place. “I–” 

Your words fail you.

“Do you… regret it?” he asks, voice so small you almost don’t hear him. 

The sentence takes you off guard. Looking at him, you can’t even bring yourself to speak, confused eyes roaming over his tense features. Opening up your mouth to ask for clarification, he mumbles again before you get a chance to speak. “Do you regret sleeping with me?”

Blinking at him a few times, a crease appearing in between your eyebrows, you shake your head. Is this really what was running through his brain? Is this why he left you alone for more than two weeks? Because suddenly, it makes sense– the way he gave you space and let you avoid him for two weeks before he came to find you in person– but again, this is not at all what was running through your brain all these days. Never once did you regret what you two did, no matter how shitty you’re feeling about it now after your brain convinced you of things that weren’t even real in the first place. “No,” you simply say.

A hint of relief washes over his face, his shoulders relaxing just the tiniest bit– it looks like this was what he’s been scared of the most; it looks like he feared he hurt you in this way. Still, he insists on talking it out once and for all. “What is it, then?”

Shameful to meet his eyes, you point your gaze towards your feet. Convincing yourself that your feelings are valid and that you were right to feel the way you do, the same way you did to him all those weeks ago at the stairs in front of the university building, you confess to your worries. “I saw you with Yunjin the other day.”

Now it’s his time to stay silent, and somehow, your brain can’t find a way to deal with not getting a response from him, so you ramble to cope. “At the cafeteria, I mean. I– I wanted to surprise you, and you said you were getting lunch alone and I was at the campus, so I thought I’d come to keep you company, but then… then I saw you with her, and you two seemed so comfortable together, so close, and then she kissed your cheek and it made me… it made me feel like… like you maybe wanted to get back together with her, or something…?”

“And really, it’s fine, if you want to do that, I guess I just… for the sake of both of us, or maybe just me, I think… I think it’s better for me to keep my distance from you, then.”

Watching as his expression shifts to one full of disbelief, you swear that what you want the most in this moment is to disappear. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me those past two weeks?” he asks.

Pressing your lips into a thin line, suddenly feeling insanely silly and unreasonable when you say all of those things out loud, you avert your gaze from him, pointing it somewhere into the distance. 

“Is this really it?” he asks again, insisting, full of disbelief. “You made me feel like you regretted having sex with me, and this is it?” he chuckles, and you don’t know if it’s because he’s looking down on you, or if he just truly finds the situation funny. 

“Look, I–” 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he gets out, looking as if every nerve and stress in his body finally let go, relief washing over his face like waterfalls, “I was so scared, and this is what’s been bugging you?” he asks, shaking his head in disbelief as he runs his hands through his hair. “She came to apologize to me. Not that it mattered something to me, and not that it made any difference, but I didn’t have it in me to tell her to fuck herself, you know? That’s what you saw. She told me she wishes me well and that she hopes I find joy in someone else too. She didn’t even– she didn’t even sit with me at lunch. She went to eat with her boyfriend.”

And here it is– the inevitable notion of shame intensifies. Finally having the explanation you’ve been wanting to hear, but purposefully avoiding for two weeks; finally feeling relief in your chest, your worries escaping out like the summer wind, and even though you should be happy, you can’t even bring yourself to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

“No, I mean– it’s just… I’m sorry too, it’s just…” he trails off, making you look at him with examining eyes, eyebrows raised in question. You don’t really know what he’s apologizing for. Maybe for leaving you space even though he was convinced that’s what you needed– had he approached you earlier, you wouldn’t have to avoid him for two weeks.

“It’s just…?”

“I find it ironic how you thought I wanted to get back together with her, when in reality… you were the one I wanted to get together with in the first place, you know?” he asks, and if you squint hard enough, you could still see hints of nervousness in his body when he asks the rhetorical question, soft eyes scanning your face when your eyes meet.

“Oh,” you hum, mouth agape in surprise.

“Yeah,” he nods, lips pressed into a thin line, “cause I like you… like, a lot, actually, so…” he mumbles, the confession reminding you of your first weeks with Renjun– tense and awkward, but with a promise of something new the more you got to know him.

“Oh,” you repeat again, your brain still not catching up to the situation.

Suddenly, the two weeks of avoidance feel even more silly. You don’t know what happened in you to cause this much distress for the both of you, but you’re filled with delight with the fact that even though you expected him to get mad at you– to call you unreasonable, maybe even a little stupid– he seems to be understanding of your emotions. He seems to accept them, willing to put up with them and everything that requires of him; he seems to be willing to find you even at the end of the world and try to get you back into his life. Because only god knows how much he appreciates your presence in it. 

“So…” he mumbles, a silent question hanging in the air, making you realize you were too caught up in your thoughts to really give him an answer.

“I… I like you too, if that… wasn’t obvious,” you snicker, shrugging as a wide smile spreads across your cheeks. The words fall a little bashfully off your tongue, the confession ringing strangely in your ears, but you don’t mind the little uncomfort the shyness in your demeanor brings you.

There are no long confessions, no deep words of love. Once again, Huang Renjun is a man of few words– he shows you his care through actions. 

He finds you when you’re avoiding him. He makes sure you get home safe. He tries hard to work with you on a project he originally wanted to avoid, only because he notices you finding interest in it, your passion slowly sparking up his. 

He keeps annoying the publicist of your favorite author for a week straight to let you make an interview with her, even though he got declined twice over an email with messages filled with bitter and annoyed words. He remembers your coffee order and he invites you to hang out with his friends to show you that you are now a part of his circle, that you are one of his close ones. He lets you make fun of him with your roommate, but doesn’t give you the same treatment he gives Donghyuck when he tries to bully him. He sends you all the cat pictures he gets from his friend Taeyong, sometimes even asking for some when he hasn’t sent you ones in too long, and he also thinks of you any time he sees the snow– because he gets reminded of the walk you two had in the midst of the snowflakes, even though you hate the cold. 

He reads your favorite book and finds pieces of you scattered all across the pages, he feels his love for you in the poetic words and metaphors hidden in the plot. He lets you dye his hair to signify that a part of his life is now over and a new one started– with you being the main actor of the subtle metamorphosis as he slowly shifts back into his old self, yet now a little wiser. 

He is a man of few words, affection coating them only sometimes, when he reassures you over a mug of hot tea in the evenings before you present your assignments in class and when you get too scared of crowded places; but somehow, the words he keeps to himself translate to you despite not being spoken.

In the beams of the warm sun, you gravitate to him like you’re two planets in the solar system, always sharing the same space. And when his smile meets yours in another kiss, you think that after all, you get the kind of new beginning you wanted in spring.

You and Huang Renjun may be the prime example that love, just like cherry blossoms, always blooms in patience. 

[ranticore]

selected pages from Shapeshifter Problems, a small exploration of old old concept art & thoughts on shapeshifter tropes (specifically the question of the 'true form') i posted to patreon earlier this year. there's a bunch more haha. here's some OLD art and bg process for writing said the black horse. I don't like my old art but looking back at it I'm really happy how I've developed since, I used to make everything too sharp, straight-sided, or skinny. I had to make a conscious effort to change that and now it's so much better.

image transcriptions under the cut (just the text sorry)

Image 1: "These are more of those older designs - the horns were a deliberate play into devil imagery on Puck's part while giving Félix this form (all to cause more torment of course) but again I couldn't vibe with it. Such clear statements of intent didn't work for me.

The scars remain canon but not quite so stark, more a difference in texture (again, moving away from visual details). His forehead scar is ALWAYS there."

Image 2: "Félix. These are really old - from 2019-2020. They're the first attempts at Félix's horse form. At the time I was leaning into some goat-like attributes. I liked the idea of something that looked like an emaciated amalgam of many familiar creatures but if you look closer, it actually doesn't look like any animal at all. The original body shape and proportions were inspired by moose. I didn't know how to draw convincing horse shapes which is why he had these hands and claws for so long. I still draw the little flower wheel pattern on his sides sometimes... a secret just for me. His belly fur, squared off ear shape, and beard are still defining characteristics"

Image 3: "More old art from 2020. Bottom left is my first ever painting on my iPad using Procreate. I still prefer SAI for creature drawings, or at least the original sketches underpinning a lot of my art. Below on the bottom was my attempt at a scarier form for the character but I ultimately decided that it ran contrary to the atmosphere I was trying to create. Top left is my first 'real' horse painting and it includes the tail shape which has not ever changed, and feathers, which I nixed because I wanted to learn how to draw the feet and legs properly and not rely on covering them up with flowing hair (my favourite thing to draw)"

Image 4: "Like the black horse designs, these humanoid designs for Félix (circa 2019 - OLD art!) started very complex and simplified over time. I decided to avoid visual complexity, but made the mistake of solidifying specific 'rules' for how the Púca servants' bodies work, and I deeply regret this. Because I wrote Said the Black Horse in 2021, I was still operating under the old mindset and that caused it to become somewhat established canon.

In his original iteration his tattoos represented magical contracts between him and various faeries, so they were supposed to be always visible as a reminder of that contract.

<- a really early furry version, I was playing with the eye on the neck as a design feature. Ultimately I feel that although it looks cool, the medium he exists in is proser. So I needed to move away from visually complex designs and towards designs which were interesting to different senses instead."

Image 5: "As time went on the design simplified. I enjoyed making fun textures using procreate brushes. These designs lack his forehead scar but do include his impalement scar. If you've seen my Hanged Man card you'll know how he got that one. But when I made the charts like this about how his body 'worked' in 2020, again I ran into the same issue I always do when writing about faeries... the more I explain it, the most 'logic' and 'science' goes into it, the less it feels like a faery story to me. Overexplaining is anathema to the faeries of Inver. so even though I like these design notes they just don't fit in this setting."

[blackheart-6]

dess-ember day 31/31

very long thoughts below the read more!

hi yall

woo-hoo, ive finished another month of dess-ember!! it really has been fun, if very time consuming, but ive made many pieces over this month ive loved and had a great time sharing them all with yalls 😄😄😄

but anyways, lets get to the final entry! its a bit of an unusual one :D

its some pixel art!! i have only done 2 other pixel things this month (i originally wanted to do more, but i am very slow at it 😔), so i felt like ending with it wasnt a bad way to go!

i took dess, noelle, berdly, kris, ralsei, and susie and made some different sprites of them, which were taking the way i draw them and making them into sprite version, and also me making omori style versions as well

i had a couple different versions of the art, layed out in different ways, but stinky tumblr only lets me have 10 images. unfortunate 😔.

but anyways, now weve got the main part, each individual character! you can skip past this if you dont want to hear my thoughts i had while doing the individual drawings, its kinda alot :/

i put them all in a format like this, hopefully it isnt confusing!

we can go in order of how i have them in the very first image, so we can start with kris :D

kris was a very fun one to do, they were actually the second one i made, and them turning out so well is what led me to making even more. i feel like im pretty much entirety happy with them, the omori style turned out cute, and the deltarune style isnt half bad either! i did forget to give them bangs though, like i normally give them in my art, but i was too much of a bum to go back and fix it after i finished :|. i feel like they translated very well ❤️

next would be ralsei, but im doing him last actually, because he has the most to talk about 😤😤

now weve got susie! her hair in her canon form was tricky to translate into the omori style, but i think it was worth it, cause it turned out well! and i think her canon dark world omori sprite might be my favorite i made, her outfit turned out great!! im not as fond of my versions of her design, they didnt translate that well into sprites, but it could be worse lol. her face was a bit difficult to do, since the omori head shape is meant for a human, but i think she turned out good regardless 💜

next is berdly, and im so sorry for him, he turned out roughhh. if i thought someone like susie, with her head, was hard to translate into the omori style, it was nothing compared to trying to turn berdly into it. with his beak and his head feathers and wings and his legs... yeah, it was not a fun time 😔. i tried though, and i dont think its entirely bad! the legs are probably the worst part, they are kinda hard to see, but the rest of it came together... kinda. dont get me started on turning my version of him into a sprite though, i dont wanna talk about it 😫. sorry berdly, if i ever sprite you again ill make it up to you 🩵

next is noelle! she was the first i did, and i feel like she turned out so cute 🥰🥰🥰. her dark world, my version, deltarune style sprite might be my second favorite one i made, i think it actually translated well to sprite art. her fur is a bit rough, gradiants are tough in pixel art, but i dont think its that bad overall. but yeah, im pretty happy with her 🤎

penultimatly, weve got dess! gotta have her, its dess-ember after all!! hers was hard to do, trying to take my own design and alter it to make it more canon (mostly, i just simplified some things, but i dont think it looks enough like a canon sprite :( ill keep trying with it), but i think she turned out cute as well! im not entirely happy with it though, as i said, i might go back to fix up the deltarune styled ones at some point 💚

lastly, weve got ralsei. ohhh ralsei, how cute you are, but how difficult you were 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫. to start off with, i had a goal in mind for the deltarune style sprites. normally, when you look at the canon ralsei sprites, you might notice they look a bit different. obviously theres the hat, and the fur color, but its more than that.

theres so many differences, and yet my goal was to make the sprites lose all those differences, and be more consistent with each other. i didnt think it would be too bad, but it was a rough time. i made his hatless version easily, and i was like, oh, ill just add a hat, change his color, itll be easy!! ...it was not easy 😶‍🌫️. i did that and he looked so wrong, it barely even looked like hat ralsei at all 😖.

i mean, that doesnt look right, right?? so i had to keep editing, and changing both versions, trying to make them better. i spent so much longer on him than anyone else, but at the end, i think it was worth it! i feel like he ended up adorable, but boy was it work 😂

the omori sprites of his were pretty easy though, once i had all the deltarune sprites down i just omori-fied them, took barely any time. i did make his outline purple though, like the headspace denizens, since hes a darkner 🩷

but thats it for that! this is where youd wanna skip if you didnt wanna read all that lol. now for me to yap about this month, and dess!

i feel like this was a pretty productive dess-ember!! i definitely ramped up my art from last year, trying to do as few small drawings as possible. was that a mistake? maybe lol. it was certainly difficult, and led to pretty much every drawing being late because most of them took like 8 hours or so, but i suppose a couple hours late doesnt affect much, and i still did all 31 entries!

and id say while it was a struggle, it was a good thing i did it! i enjoyed my time drawing, and sharing all my art with yalls is always a fun time for me ^^ and i really do like drawing dess, i think i made a pretty good design for her all those years ago (like 2) 😊

there is the question though, of 'what about next year? will you do this again??' and to that i say... i dont actually know haha. i would want to, even if im busy i could always do a smaller one, but the real thing that could affect it is that, in 2025 we are getting more deltarune!!! im more excited than i could ever say, but if we see dess in canon, then i dont know if ill do another dess-ember. there would be my design vs canon design, which would be strange to reconcile with, and i imagine someone would probably do an official month for her of art prompts.

but thats all if she even appears. if she doesnt, well, expect me back next december to do this! if she does, ill have to think about it, so we will see then ^^

anyways, ive had a good month doing this! it may be a bit before i post new art, to give myself a break, but ill be back 😄

bye yall, and happy new year 2025!!! 🥳🥳🥳

[dufferpuffer]

Dude, I need someone to simp over David Thewlis with and I have no one to go to. I have a feeling I know your opinion about David Thewlis as Remus Lupin (and I think it's a positive one? correct me if I'm wrong, I know some people don't think he did the character justice).

To be honest, I don't think the movies did his character justice, but I think David Thewlis was THE cast for him. The movies made him too soft, too gentle, too perfect. Book Remus is a lot more polarized than that. For every soft quality, he has a YIKES counterpart that is never shown in the movies. The only time we truly see this "yikes" counterpart is the Shrieking Shack scene when he smirks menacingly at Sirius and you think he's a villain. David pulled that off really good. I saw the movie before reading the book (I was a young kid at that time and PoA was too much to read for me) and I felt cheated, I suddenly didn't think I could trust him anymore.

The thing David Thewlis pulled off best, imo, is the fatherly quality of Remus. I know, Remus is a pathetic man with an avoidant personality, but we can't deny he is fatherly. And I feel that, no matter what movie I watch with David in it, the fatherly vibes just radiate from him. In a way I am glad it is like that in the movies because I use PoA as a coping mechanism in life. Stressed? PoA. Sad? PoA. Crisis? PoA. David absolutely nailed the comfy professor aura. Everything about him in PoA is inviting, it draws you in. His voice, his smile, the way he carries himself, his quiet strength. Who could've done it better? I love him.

Enjoy this young David Thewlis edit that I'm obsessed with. Cheers my tumblr friend <3

https://www.tiktok.com/@.dearlupin/video/7410813583577091334

David Threwlis is a fucking GEM and the PERFECT pick for the character in every aspect, yes. I can't think of how anyone could actually think otherwise. He looks perfect and acts perfect.

To the point where I would actually be happy if he played Remus AGAIN for the TV series or whatever - even though he looks so much older. Play up the fact he looks 'older than his age' or do some makeup, I dunno, I don't care. I would be alright with it.

I don't think any of the movies do anyone justice, TBH - ignoring the fact that of course things will have to be trimmed and simplified. I think most people agree though that the way they chose to do so was destructive and missed the point of the overarching story.

OotP and HBP were enjoyable as individual movies - but cut out so, so much that it damages the series as a whole. OotP especially should have been two movies, to REALLY get to know the Order Members, the adult world harry desperately wants to enter - revisit Lupin and Sirius, get attached to the real Moody - set up Tonks... maybe end the first one with Dumbledore leaving...?

But some actors pulled through wonderfully with the limited time they were given to portray their role, Alan Rickman of course being one - and I think David Threwlis is an underrated other. He did fucking BEAUTIFULLY and it made up for imo a half-assed performance from Gary Oldman as Sirius. He has perfect aesthetic and his fatherly moments with Harry were gorgeous... but most of the time he felt like his heart wasn't in it.

Remus, in the movies, HAD to be soft... but always carry a touch of coldness. A comfortable room but the heater isn't on. A cup of tea but you're asked to leave right after. Gentle eyes that pierce. Slightly odd expressions that feel kind, but also... off. He nailed that. Absolutely. That softness that makes you want to cozy up close, but a constant distance that makes you wonder why. Also the mustache was absolute genius. If only they gave him greys...

THIS LOOK? Underrated. SO MUCH PACKED INTO IT. Displeasure, surprise, 'oh shit im in danger' - but then forced innocence, a bit of weariness, a cheeky idea...

How he came out of the darkness, too - Snape specifically calling Lupin to show him the map was meaningful in the books, but Remus walking out of the pitch black was symbolic in the movies. It was a decent change. THIS is when I felt a 'Hm...' about Remus. (I saw it as an adult though, first time last year. I had no idea I'd love him so much.)

I LOVVEEEE going on and on about Remus being a wet tissue paper - because he is so often mischaracterized in so many different ways... but he IS good. He IS strong, compassionate, wise, clever... Fatherly. He will put himself aside to comfort someone in need. He just can't do that for himself. He will punish himself for the things he is gentle with in others.

"His voice, his smile, the way he carries himself, his quiet strength. Who could've done it better? I love him." YEAHYEAHYEAH David can pack layers of depth into every movement he makes. His little head bobbles, the ways his eyes pin on something and stare, his control of exactly how he smiles... ITS SO GOOD AHH

Normally a link to tiktok earns an instant vaporization but you get a pass aight I wont kill you God he's so wonky looking, look at him, he is delightful, I am going to spread him on toast with my vegemite

[hopefull-mindset]

A Much Needed Overview

I’ve been brought to a point of feeling the need to discuss the abuse depicted in Bungou Stray Dogs. This isn’t the brightest topic to speak about and I understand why people are reluctant to speak in detail about something as serious as this. It’s not easy, so I’ll be the brave face today because I feel disappointed about the lack of deep discussion beyond the popular topic of “The Abuse Cycle”.

I’m happy that it’s at least brought up amongst everyone as something that exists, I’m happy that people feel as though it’s something to talk about, but I don’t think most understand how to act about it. It’s never as cut and dry as how it’s depicted in most other pieces of media or how people speak about it in general. That is why I am thankful for its depiction here. Not saying that nobody speaks about it with clarity, but it’s not the majority, unfortunately.

I especially felt this was a good time to address this because of the reaction towards Asagiri’s thoughts on Dazai and Akutagawa’s relationship in the recent magazine interview. The outrage is not from nowhere, I was also taken aback at first, but to claim Asagiri “doesn’t even know his own story” is incredibly self-entitled considering the story isn’t done, nor are you the one writing this. If you read the story, no way is Asagiri justifying anything that happened. Please look at the question that is being asked, does it say “Do you think what Dazai did is morally right?” Of course, it isn’t.

Not to be rude but before you start questioning the writer himself if he’s read his own story, have you read it? Please keep in mind the fact this is only a magazine interview and doesn't reflect every nuance. Asagiri doesn't need to go “Oh yeah, this thing that’s bad is bad” every two seconds to explain himself. Asagiri’s writing decisions can be questionable and cannot be uncritiqued, but I’m going to have to defend him on this account.

I’m not sure if any warnings are needed concerning the subject matter considering most BSD fans know what I’m about to go over, but to be clear, please only read this when you’re in a well enough headspace for heavy matters such as this. I am not going to be talking lightly in any of this or dance around what’s happened between any of the characters, abuse is harder to talk about compared to other acts of violence that are objectively worse because it’s a more personal act that too many can find themselves in.

Finally, I do not want to speak about my own experiences online because I’ve only come to terms recently with it and they do not reflect everyone’s response to depictions of abuse in all media. Some things are very uncomfortable to admit about me that I haven’t told anyone, that no one would be able to take well even if they were my closest friend. This isn’t about me at all and there is no point in saying more about my reality, but I think my perspective might help people enlighten themselves on how truly complicated situations like this are.

What is Abuse?

Surprise, we need to go over this before any discussion about BSD happens because a lot misunderstand what abuse is. It's disheartening that the term has been so simplified that nobody knows what it means anymore. Don't substitute words for abuse or use abuse as a substitute for other terms. Abuse as a concept is quite hard to pin down with words and there are many ways to describe it, but by definition in the context that it’s directed to another person, abuse is:

To target and mistreat someone, causing them harm or distress in a repetitive manner

This by itself does not describe the grand scope of everything and probably might make you more confused, but it’s a great place to start and does describe what is directed to the victim. Many sources will use varied wording, but it’s the general knowledge that someone is being hurt to a fundamental level that makes it abuse.

Does the abuser need to intentionally hurt someone for it to be abused? Yes, but not in the way you think. Most abusers are not hurting their victims for the sake of just hurting them, that’s illogical, they’re doing it for something. Some examples include either for themselves in some way or what they think is for their victim’s “own benefit”. Even worse is when they genuinely believe it because they’ve also grown up in an environment that has that same mentality and reflects on themselves.

So yes, it’s intentional in that they’re doing it for a purpose. No matter their intention though, “selfless” or not, it’s still a selfish act in itself that they think that imposing their own will through harmful methods is what the victim needs. The abuse doesn’t need to be physically harming another for it to be abuse. As long as it’s harming you emotionally or otherwise and making you raise flags in your head, it’s abuse.

It sounds strange, but I'm saying it’s intentional because you’re still an intended target of their abuse whether they realize it themself or not. Abuse needs to repeat a form of distress in you to be abuse. For example, does one instance of physical violence against you count as abuse when it never happens again? Well, you need to think about the context. Usually, this would just be assault and that’s it, but is it left hanging in the air to happen again when you interact with them? Do you feel afraid for your well-being, even though it doesn’t happen again?

That’s still abuse, the psychological kind. Typically when abusers resort to physical means, it’s gonna happen again eventually. In this hypothetical instance, however, the point is that repeated distress does not mean repeated actions. It does not need to happen the same way for you to feel unsafe, it just needs to have power over you. Manipulation does not always equal abuse either. It’s a tactic used by abusers, but unless paired up with other actions, it doesn’t fit the criteria of abuse. Context matters when you examine what abuse is.

Here comes the tricky parts that are acknowledged less: When the abuser is someone you’ve relied on in your childhood, in a detrimental part of your life, or someone you care about that you put importance in, and it makes it hard to fully hate that person. What the abuser has done to the victim does not entirely reflect them as people, even if it’s still an important part of them that needs to be addressed.

Abusive people are not only defined by their awful actions, they’re not pure monsters like most love to pretend they are. It’s just easier to think that because accepting that they’re just a multifaceted human being hurts too much when you’re on the receiving end of their worse behavior. But what happens when you’re on the receiving end of both? You try to justify it the way the abuser is because you can’t accept that what’s happening is bad and not something everyone goes through. After all, they treat you decent enough sometimes.

Something so many people need to get into their heads already is that abusers can be victims and vice versa, but just because your abuser went through something themselves or is important to you, doesn’t mean you have to forgive them. Abuse is not forgivable just like that, you can rebuild a relationship beyond that if you’re able to, It’s not a “forgive-and-forget” thing.

Not everyone experiences and responds to abuse the same way, some hate their abusers fully, some can’t bring themselves to, and some don’t even know what to think, but there are so many who don’t feel one way that regarding all abusers as heartless monsters completely invalidates so many stories and their difficult experiences. I have a huge grudge against people like this who restrict abusive situations to just looking like one thing, this is why so many don’t even know that their situations are abusive.

Portrait of a Father

Chapter 39 reflects my points the most, and at the same time, it also turns out to be one of the most controversial chapters. It surprised me that it is, but maybe I shouldn’t be considering how most people on the internet act about abuse. It’s a lovely chapter to me personally and one of my favorites.

If you need a refresher, this is the chapter the Orphanage Director died in and leaves Atsushi in an emotional frenzy about what to think and believe. I know that the underlying message of this chapter is confusing to some, but it hit me in the face point blank on how this is about facing your abuser’s death without any personal conclusion with them.

Being sent on an investigation, Atsushi, after finding out the body was the Director, is stunned and scared because he knows nothing of the director other than his cruelty. He immediately assumes the worst and that he was coming after him again. Atsushi’s thoughts against him are entirely… on purpose in the director’s intentions because we find out that he has gone through so much violence and loss himself that he’s projecting his own will onto Atsushi and making sure he’d “survive in the real world”. So he became his first figure of hate and violence earlier in his life so he’d be “prepared for what comes next”.

I know so many take the backstory for the director as a way to justify what he did to Atsushi in the narrative, but it was just to put into context why he was so cruel. Abusers are never cruel for no reason, that never makes it right, but it’s reality. Atsushi was not the only one in the orphanage who was treated badly, he was singled out by the director most likely for an ability he couldn't control because the headmaster knew he’d get the most trouble for it, and unfortunately… he was right.

Akutagawa being his informant in this chapter makes perfect sense. He can see that what the director was for Atsushi is what Dazai is for him. No matter how terrible their actions were, it’s what kept them alive for so long. It’s not pleasant to confront, is it? Atsushi agrees because when he gets the information that the Director was going to congratulate him with the flowers he was going to buy by selling the gun he had on him, he freaks out. No way the guy he was raised so long to hate, the guy who put him through so much suffering, was going to congratulate him.

I know to some, Dazai’s talk with Atsushi sounded like he was justifying what happened because “it made him a good person in the end”, but that’s not what’s being said. This conclusion I’ve seen some people come to about this conversation confuses me. Dazai is just saying the obvious, you guys get all shocked and it weirds me out how easily it’s been glossed over that the reason Atsushi is so self-sacrificial and trying to do the good thing is because of the director. The reason he puts himself so much on the front lines is because he needs that worth in being good to live and prove the director wrong, he was raised to see that type of person is the most ideal person to live in this world.

After everything that’s been dumped onto him in such a short time, so much inner conflict of what to think of a dead man he no longer can have any personal closure with, he asks Dazai what face he should make, what he should think at this moment. Dazai tells him that they’re his emotions and he can think however he’d like, but commonly someone cries when their father dies. So he cries, because ultimately no matter his treatment, no matter the intent and its effects, it’s still the man who raised him. It’s flawed, but that’s what a father is stripped bare at its core definition and that won’t change no matter your feelings.

Now that I’m done summarizing this chapter and making sure you guys understood the point and how it spells out their relationship, I can finally talk freely about what was happening between them. When it comes to familial abuse, generational trauma is so prevalent it’s hard not to talk about. The director is quite reflective of so many parents who were raised to grow up too early in harsh environments, that they think they need to prepare their children for it too, even though it’s no longer needed.

You don’t need to like someone for them to be important to you, especially if it’s a parent in your life or someone close to that. That’s why Atsushi cries. He cries for the director, he cries for himself, he cries that it’s finally over, he cries for the kindness he could’ve gotten even if it wouldn’t have fixed anything, he cries for the father that never was, he cries because his father is dead. It’s perfectly normal to keep someone close in your heart that wasn’t perfect and to grieve their death.

Was the director successful in what he was aiming for? I want to say no, but he did. He succeeded in making Atsushi think of others in a good light and do good for them, making Atsushi resent him, and giving him the ability to keep going. Hell raised him right, but it was still hell. The problem is that his teachings were based on degrading Atsushi into being nothing but a life he should put aside in favor of others. Even if he continued hating the director like he wanted, he would still degrade himself for being a coward who didn’t hold himself to those standards. The result is not perfect because the director is not perfect, but in his position, this is a success.

The director for a while was his shadow of negative encouragement when he joined the agency, what kept him going in those moments, because he was what defined good, bad, and justice for him in his entire childhood. Even if he was dead, he’d still linger in his mind. I can’t parse out what to think about these hallucinations forming Akutagawa and Dazai to guide him later on, all it tells me is that he still can’t rely on or trust himself and he needs more development in his self-image issues.

I see why fans are confused, hell raising us right is a bizarre thing to say to a victim, so let me show you a perspective you're not seeing. Let's imagine you have an abusive mother who only wants you to be prepared for the things you're undoubtedly going to experience because of what you can't control. What she did does help you, but all that goes through your head is “Why couldn't she have done it differently without my own suffering?” The only thoughts that come rushing back when you think of those memories are the unnecessary pains. It takes a lot for a victim to acknowledge this on their own, they want to push back at the past so they don't have to see this plain reality.

Like anyone else that I’m going to bring up in this post, just because the abuse made them who they are or affected who they became, even when it keeps us going through life and benefits us in some way, does not make the abuse justified. Abuse is still abuse, I addressed this already and I hope not to address this again. I needed to detail an explanation because it’s quite easy to hate a man you know nothing about and has been painted in nothing but a bad light. The anger against the director is undebatable because abuse is not debatable, but to pretend the cruelty was nothing but for cruelty’s sake is mischaracterizing both him and Atsushi.

You can’t pick and choose what’s been told to you in the text just because you don’t like a character and lack the maturity for it. It gets quite hard to do that sort of thing when it’s a character you‘ve grown to care about, it’s no wonder Dazai is divided between so many. Speaking of Dazai, his involvement in this makes as much sense as Akutagawa’s. He’s currently in a mentor position for Atsushi, no matter what Akutagawa says, and shows interest in his development. So of course he’s going to purposely stick his head into something that would affect Atsushi greatly. Both Akutagawa and Dazai are viewing this through their lenses as people who grew up in the darkness of society, and it’s not that Dazai thinks what happened to him wasn’t terrible, you should have eyes to read the panels provided, but he’s generally unfazed and able to sound neutral because he’s used to that cruelty.

The Port Mafia’s Environment

(Aka: is it really “all Mori’s fault” or is it just the product of being literally in The Mafia™?)

I’ll go over the “Cycle of Abuse” in a second, but please keep in mind that you can’t just blame everything on Mori. Just like the Director, it’s so easy to pin the guy who’s just been the worst for every problem there, but it decimates the other characters involved as well and makes what they’ve gone through go flat because you’re restricting it to a misinformed presumption.

To make a bold statement, I need you to completely throw away your idea of what the abuse cycle is. The Mori to Kyouka pipeline being the singular “Abuse Cycle”? Garbage, needs to go away too. I've seen many fans use the term “Cycle of Abuse” too carelessly, and while from afar the way they're using it is not technically wrong, they have the wrong thought process behind it.

The Cycle of Abuse is simply the patterns of what keeps us in an abusive dynamic and negative mental state, either with an individual or environment, and makes it incredibly hard for anyone to leave. It’s not the actions you take that make it the Cycle of Abuse, and it's not just one straight line of people going through similar motions. You don’t have to be someone’s abuser to be the one who keeps them there, if you feed into it you’re still a problem. Even if you don't actively add to it yourself, just staying there as a bystander and not trying to do anything to change it or speak up for the victim when you clearly could also still make you responsible. Just with your presence, it validates what they've gone through as normal.

If you need more of an explanation, two opposite examples include Higuchi & Akutagawa and Beast Kyouka & Atsushi. Higuchi is a traditional example in that she stays in the mafia because of her relationship with Akutagawa, and stays by his side for reasons unknown. What we do know is that she’s incredibly indebted to him enough to care for him to an extreme extent, but their relationship is abusive all the same. Beast Atsushi and Kyouka sounds strange for me to bring up, but this is an example of a non-abusive person contributing to the Cycle of Abuse. Instead of taking her out of an abusive situation, he brings her back in.

Many characters are a part of this main narrative of abuse in BSD, so it's not inaccurate to say Mori, Dazai, Akutagawa, and Kyouka are a part of it as well using this definition as all of them are the reason or contributed to why someone was stuck in a negative, abusive situation or the victim themselves. I’m guessing none of you are genuinely referring to this though and are referring to intergenerational abuse, a repeating cycle of younger generations taking after their abusers when they're older, which is a completely different phenomenon. Both are referred to as cycles and have many commonalities, but it’s not the same. Not to sound like a total dick, but this barely even applies to them.

Not because the concept is based on familial relationships, it can happen with older figures in your life too, but because our oh-so-famous Abuse Cycle gang does not have that commonality to make that claim. They have narrative parallels, but that’s pretty much it. I will save what I have to say in their sections, but Mori and Akutagawa did not abuse Dazai and Kyouka respectively for this type of claim to have any legitimacy. Kyouka certainly broke a cycle, but not that kind since that would need her to continue it in the first place and then prevent her own experiences from even affecting the next child.

What do all Mori, Dazai, Akutagawa, and Kyouka actually have in common? They are/were in the mafia, using their natural talents of cruelty for the underworld.

The Port Mafia resembles something of an abusive household or community that sees so much of what’s done to others there as normal, and constantly compares it to how it was with their old boss and thinks, “At least it wasn’t as bad as that.” It’s quite like the Orphanage Director’s thinking but on a larger scale. Does that make everyone in the Port Mafia abused? Nope, unlike most abusive communities, the Port Mafia is quite literally the mafia. Everyone is there for different reasons, at different ages, and different experiences. Everyone is taken advantage of in these situations, no matter the circumstances, but it doesn’t make them abused automatically.

So it’s hard to have a stance on anything about them being abusive other than the mentor situations in the Port Mafia don’t see abuse as abuse and just another way to teach their subordinates to survive in their world if they deem it necessary. Was Chuuya abused, either by Mori or Kouyou then? I’m going to have to say I can’t tell you that. We don’t have enough information on either of his dynamics with them to say that they’ve directly had any repetitive behaviors of direct harm against him specifically, and there's no reason for them to do so either. I’m not going to use the argument that “Chuuya doesn’t hate or fear them, so that must mean he wasn’t” because again, that type of response does not reflect so many situations.

Chuuya was still harmed by being in the Port Mafia as a teenager because nobody should have been surrounded by this much cruelty at that age. It doesn’t matter if he shows visible distress or not about the Port Mafia, he was just desensitized to it since his sheep days. So was he an abuse victim under the idea that being a child in the Port Mafia is abuse? That depends on who we’re speaking of, but in Chuuya’s situation, I'm going to have to say no as he's already internalized their mindset from his own experiences separate from the mafia. Keep in mind that it also still holds true that you can find family in situations like this, it’s not mutually exclusive. Some just find more comfort in what they’re used to than what would be better for them. Kyouka is a better example of someone being a victim of an abusive community.

A false claim I've seen made many times are the ones where they have it as if Mori is the mafia itself or that he made the mafia what it was. It shouldn’t be too surprising, but it’s the opposite. Mori already held flawed, heartless, calculative methods when in situations he thought required them. We’ve seen him as a soldier and an underground doctor, but we know nothing else about him outside of his cruelty, just like the headmaster. What he does is never for what he thinks is for his benefit, but for the sake of something larger. Whether it’s for the city, the country, or eventually, the Port Mafia.

The mafia is the first time he’s been put into a position of absolute leadership and is not yet accustomed to that at the beginning of Dazai, Chuuya, Age Fifteen. He’s able to quickly fit the mold of a mafia boss, but there’s that bit of honesty that peaks through in this light novel in the first and last sections that’s ignored too quickly. First Mori complains about nothing going immediately right, questions himself about Dazai, and becomes genuinely stressed if it was the right decision to involve him, then confesses that he sees himself in Dazai to him (and him and Fukuzawa in Soukoku in private), and finally gives his honest take of leadership to Chuuya.

I already go over Mori as a character in one of my other posts and will speak more of him later on, so I don’t want to reiterate the same points, but here we have proof he has (albeit poor) humanity. He did not become the Port Mafia boss for his own selfish gain of power if you’ve forgotten, but because Natsume introduced him to becoming part of the Tripartite Framework to protect the city he loves, it’s where he’d excel best in this plan. The Port Mafia was already a shithole, Mori just made it livable again by becoming what an organized crime group needs.

It’s what makes the dynamic between Kouyou and him so intriguing because you have an abuse victim who has embraced the environment she was forced back into, but won’t let go of someone who’s proven to be more of a decent leader than her tormentor and can be relied on. For victims who couldn’t get help or realize they needed help, the easier path is to accept this is your life through some justification. While I said the Port Mafia resembles an abusive community, communities as such aren’t purely terrible and that’s what keeps them justifying it in their head. The family you have for yourself, whether it's a made one or the one you're born with, is what sticks for you.

Like it or not, Mori isn’t stupid. He takes risky gambles that backfire on him sometimes, but he’s good at his job. He’s brutal enough to prove his own against the people who didn’t think he should’ve been boss and outsiders who want to go against the Port Mafia, but he’s considerate enough towards his people and shows enough competency to be perfect for the job. He’s not a great human being, but what did you expect? He no longer had any room to express that humanity, he never had; there was no benefit from being a good person in his line of work.

The Heartless Cur

That looked like a great segue to talk about Dazai and Mori’s dynamic, but it’d benefit to go over Akutagawa first. For those who do acknowledge it as an abusive situation, Thank you for at least taking that step. Numerous don’t and it worries me at the state of what’s considered abuse vs. training. It may be both at times but don't excuse one for the other. Training needs formal consent and communication at some point during a session. Akutagawa is learning, but it’s the same as getting yelled at as a child for not doing your homework right, when again, you’re still just learning.

It might’ve been easier to see for those who do acknowledge it because of the visible physical abuse that happens, but let's not undermine the psychological abuse happening as well. Dazai has messed with his psyche on an abhorrent level through his degrading and threats, making him reliant to hear a single word of acknowledgment from his mouth. What happened to Akutagawa is beyond the mafia’s environment.

Akutagawa does not hate or want Dazai dead for what he’s done to him, but he does hold anger at the seeming abandonment he’s been put through… and at himself as well. Anger that he couldn't get to what Dazai wanted him to be before he suddenly left. So he proves himself by climbing the ranks and becoming someone feared. Spectacles of violence not because he enjoys the feeling of other’s suffering or the power over them, but to show Dazai that see? He's still worth looking at!

He stays in the mafia because he’s found a place there. Even if he could, there was no point in leaving the mafia after he disappeared because what would be left for him if he did? He will always be an unchangeable, horrific hound of the dark and there's no changing that in his mind. From an inference of his actions in the dungeon when they finally reunite one-on-one, he wanted to believe that he was above Dazai after all those years, but Dazai doesn't act impressed or scared or anything. After all that effort, he gets nothing but ridicule and mockery like he's back to being that little kid with an oversized coat too big for his body.

Worse is that he gets told that some new kid Dazai picked up, who didn't train to the extent he did to refine his abilities, is better than him somehow. He gets riled up and at first, takes out on Dazai, but all those threats about killing him and how he went against the mafia were empty. Even now he can't bring himself to hate Dazai, he needs his mentor to acknowledge him no matter what side he's on. He never let go of Dazai, his coat is proof enough of that. So he takes it out on the party that isn't responsible and is convinced he needs to overcome Atsushi to prove something to Dazai.

He doesn't hate Atsushi, not genuinely. He does the same when he’s told he’ll never compare to Odasaku, someone who objectively should’ve been the weakest member due to his status. He gets angry at Dazai’s words, gets angry at himself, then takes it out on the person mentioned, rinse and repeat. I’m not sure if I’m the only one to notice, but he genuinely believed that the meaningful life Dazai gave him laid in the mafia and being useful to its cause. He has no reason to be as loyal to the mafia if he didn't think this.

Dazai’s acknowledgment means more than just appreciation for his skills and strength, it means his life meant something by striving for being the strongest. It’s not about the acknowledgment at all. Whenever he critiques and shames Atsushi for how he lives his life, it just feels like he’s unknowingly shaming himself through him without having to acknowledge his wrongs. It makes me curious about how much the acknowledgment itself even matters to him and the validation it gives him to strive for this is an excuse to keep living so what he’s doing in the mafia even matters in the end. What counts as acknowledgment to him?

He's convinced his faults are what made Dazai turn away, he just doesn’t know how to do anything to fix it and can't fix it this late into the game. What does Dazai want from him other than being stronger? When Dazai directly asks him to do something important involving Atsushi, he’s confused. He has no reason to trust him to do these missions. He’ll take the chance to prove himself once and for all, but to be included means he's being acknowledged, so what gives? The number of times he visibly self-reflects can be counted on one hand because as soon as it shows, he goes back to justify his violence and ignores his faults.

As someone whose favorite character is Akutagawa, I’m disgusted that all people can take away from him is “Akutagawa is an obsessive fanboy that deserves no sympathy because of what he did to Kyouka” or “Akutagawa is a poor, miserable man that didn’t deserve what Dazai made him into and should be absolved of responsibility because it’s all Dazai’s fault”. Both are very shallow and very harmful to perpetrate as they continue the idea that a person can only be the abused or abuser. He's both and it's okay to admit that.

Quickly let’s clear up this: He is not the way he is because of Dazai.

What Dazai IS responsible for:

Akutagawa’s need for his constant approval and recognition

Akutagawa learning to hone his ability

Akutagawa’s toxic views of being useful

The reason Akutagawa’s still alive

The reason Akutagawa is the Mafia’s dog

What Dazai is NOT responsible for:

Everything else

Akutagawa’s lean toward violence, his one-track stubborn mindset, and his lone-wolf attitude are not a product of Dazai’s treatment, he’s always been that way because of his time in the slums. He got beaten down by adults frightened of his empty gaze, had to learn to protect himself and find something to eat to survive, helped take care of his sister Gin and his friends by himself, and everyone constantly dying around him. That’s the real reason his personality is like that. He is a victim of his circumstances in a society that deemed him worthless, so he also thinks of his life as worthless. That’s why Dazai means so much to him.

Dazai did not trick him into joining the mafia, Dazai expressed what he was going to go through was worse than what happened in the slums and gave Akutagawa an out that he could live a normal life with enough money, but he knew Akutagawa would not refuse because he still needed meaning in living, just like him. Gaining enough money to get by so he and his sister could get out of the slums would do nothing for him, he already felt that his life was worthless. He has no problem throwing it away at any time, he was gonna die young regardless because of his lung disease. It has manipulative undertones, but that's how Dazai usually is with even the people he cares about.

Akutagawa knows too well that a person needs a sign, someone to tell them it’s okay to keep going, and so does Dazai. Part of Dazai’s goal is to save Akutagawa from dying and give him a reason to live like he promised that day because he sees the potential that could come from his development. I don't want to sound like a dick again, but you’d have to be dense to think Akutagawa would still be dead by the end of this arc. He isn’t sending him off to his death, Dazai doesn’t know everything.

Even if he knew Akutagawa might die there, it's better than both Atsushi and Akutagawa dying at that moment. If Akutagawa didn’t want to die for him, he wouldn’t have, he chose to save Atsushi’s life. This is why I have to defend Asagiri. Let’s reread the interview together, to make it get across already.

(Twt link)

Q: Just like how Akutagawa and Atsushi's relationship has changed, I could feel the relationship between Dazai and Akutagawa moving forward too. Is it like what Akutagawa has said in Episode 3 of Season 5, that every order he has received from Dazai so far has been "a trial", "a part of a meaningfull life"?

First, the question being asked. They’re asking Asagiri about their relationship in the present, and how it’s developed. Akutagawa is no longer thinking he was abandoned by Dazai for a new, better student like he was made him believe, that was just to rile him up and interact with Atsushi more. Instead, he realizes that he’s not supposed to work against Atsushi, he’s supposed to work with him. How he decides to go about that battle with Fukuchi and whether or not he works with Atsushi like a partner is his trial. If this was Akutagawa before he met Atsushi, he would’ve no doubt escaped or might’ve thought defeating Fukuchi would prove himself to Dazai. He's not an obstacle to his meaningful life, his quest for a meaningful life lies with Atsushi.

Asagiri responds with:

Asagiri: Needless to say, Dazai is the most qualified person in this world to help Akutagawa grow. Dazai has a vision for Akutagawa's development, and he completely understands what it takes to achieve it. We, as obsevers, can only see bits and pieces of that vision. But I can at least say that Dazai's training plan has never been wrong.

Many find this answer questionable, I was stunned reading it myself. Asagiri is not wrong at all here though, Dazai is objectively the only person in this series who can find a way to help him. Atsushi is the endpoint, but Dazai has been guiding him to this point. Dazai himself said that he was planning to team them up the moment he met Atsushi, he was still thinking of him even after all these years. There are much scarier implications than thinking that Asagiri was wrong. It's that Dazai was doing everything intentionally to get Akutagawa’s mindset where it was. He didn't mess up with Akutagawa, he just couldn't personally teach him the skills he needed and chose a different route until he found something that could.

Asagiri is not saying the abuse was morally justified, but the intention behind it was not wrong in an objective stance. Dazai would know what to do the most because of his understanding of wanting to find meaning in living. Teenage Dazai couldn’t have achieved much by himself, even if he could understand since he also could not find meaning in life. That’s why he made him hang on to his every breath of validation so he would keep his faith in Dazai long enough for him to find a solution to this dilemma. The moment in life when he found Akutagawa was not ideal and he still did what he thought he had to do for him to survive in the mafia. Without his ability, he's incredibly weak and needs to be able to defend himself. A violent person could not have made another violent person unlearn their violence.

You could say he just wanted a weapon, but that’s not it, not even close. Many of you are stuck on the part that it was a suicidal teenager that picked Akutagawa up from the slums and that no way someone like that could teach another suicidal teenager anything, so it’s “comical that Asagiri thinks as though he’s the most qualified”. You’re not wrong in some sense, but this is still incredibly intelligent, “Black Wrath of the Port Mafia”, Osamu Dazai, and not just some suicidal teenager.

He’s also no longer a teenager. Right now we’re talking of Dazai in the present who’s grown and no longer needs to be how he was in the mafia, he has Atsushi now, someone who can help Akutagawa see what’s wrong in his outlook. The only thing he could’ve done back then was to shelter Akutagawa so he wouldn’t kill himself. It's horrible, but Dazai validating where he is now would do no good for either of them and fix nothing.

Q: What kind of person is Dazai to Akutagawa?

Asagiri: Actually, at the time of "The Dark Era", Dazai already spoke very highly of Akutagawa, as someone who would "become the Mafia's strongest skill user in the not-so-distant future". He just doesn't say that in front of Akutagawa himself. The reason he doesn't say it is that Dazai has to be "the presence that continues to give meaning to life" to Akutagawa. So far, that trial has been completely successful.

None of what Asagiri brings up is new information. He doesn’t say it in front of Akutagawa not to spite him, but if he gives these praises out too freely, he loses his distant, almost god-like presence in Akutagawa and will go back to being just a lone wolf with no exceptions that will carelessly get himself killed. Without any goal, he’s lost. Just like Atsushi and the headmaster and how Atsushi hinges on proving he can do a good thing to motivate his life, Akutagawa similarly hinges on the fact that if he fails, he won’t get Dazai’s approval.

However, his death was not fully about Dazai’s approval in the way he's been preaching. In chapter 87, he mentions Dazai’s approval like always, and when they fail the first time even after trusting and working with each other as Shin Soukoku should, It hits him. What came into his head I cannot parse out at the moment, but his actions speak so much louder than any explanation we could've gotten. Of course, he's helping Atsushi escape, but what does he do for that? He used his ability on his shirt, and not just on the coat like he typically does.

It doesn't seem like a big deal at first, he could've always done that, but when was the last time he used it on something that wasn't the coat Dazai gave him? The coat means many things. His new beginning, his path in being Dazai’s student and successor (as that was also Mori’s coat), but it also conveys Dazai’s will that keeps him alive and that he's only strong with his coat. Without it, he's defenseless, so he clings to this coat the exact way he clings to those orders. It's his encouragement to keep going when Dazai isn't there. This overwhelming, suffocating responsibility, an oversized coat, is a lot to give to a kid but it's comfortable and he’ll grow into it eventually.

It was already a huge step in his development that he gave Atsushi his coat, but to use his ability not on his coat means he's making an effort to overcome his fixation and do an action unrelated to Dazai for the sake of Atsushi’s life. His whole life after the slums, everything he's ever done was with Dazai in mind. Him saving Atsushi’s life was not because he was doing what Dazai wanted him to do, that he'd finally get approval for doing It, and in turn give his life meaning before he died. When he saved Atsushi, it would give his life meaning in just that. He shouldn't let himself be defined by the past the way he criticizes Atsushi for, so he’s going to choose his meaning. I wouldn't say he's moved past Dazai yet, but he's getting there.

Dazai and Akutagawa’s relationship is not healthy in the slightest, and Dazai’s crueler actions and words against him are not right, but they’re still growing and not stagnant characters. Atsushi and Akutagawa learn from each other and that's what's pushing them to change. Nobody will pretend those past means weren’t just abuse, they were, but there's so much more to it. Like I asked with the director, was he successful? Well from what I’ve said, yes it so far has gone the way Dazai hoped for in the best-case scenario.

In the main universe at least, this is one of the better ways it could’ve gone. Beast is a different story. Teenage Dazai of the main universe was unsure of Akutagawa’s future and did only what he could’ve done at that time, but Beast Dazai does have that knowledge and he decided that it would be best for Akutagawa to not be in the mafia, instead bringing in Atsushi. It wouldn’t have been good to let him pursue his violent tendencies more than necessary in the mafia in this universe when he knew there was a better option, especially with someone like Oda, who would take the time to care for him properly.

Even if he didn’t bring him in, he still gave him the motivation to keep living for something. The prologue of Beast is a mirror to The Heartless Cur, with instead it’s a distant relationship of hate Akutagawa has for him for taking his sister. For those who argue that since Beast exists, that means Asagiri was somehow “wrong about Dazai”, but it’s still Dazai from the beginning that’s the source of this motivation. Dazai, who's still guiding him. If we’re gonna be honest, Dazai was putting their development/capabilities in speed run mode with the logic and future information he had access to prepare them for a timeline he won’t be alive for. There are many factors for what he did in Besst, but that’s not the conversation.

What does he get from helping him? Who knows, Asagiri wasn’t being cheeky when he said we only see bits and pieces of his vision. We barely have any clue what’s going through that man’s head, so don’t act like you do. He wasn’t always planning for the next Soukoku. Maybe it was a thought that came up sometimes, but he’s only met Atsushi recently. What about Akutagawa was so different from any other powerful ability-wielding orphan? Well, we’re not gonna know any time soon.

The point is that Dazai is thinking about their future, even if the abuse or manipulation makes that hard to see. Please do remember that abuse is still selfish no matter the intention, but non-selfish intentions make it all the more complicated to process. Their relationship is not misunderstood by Asagiri himself, it’s just clear to me most don’t want to face the unpleasant truth that there is more to their dynamic. When I first realized what was going on, I couldn’t help but get unnerved and awkward when someone would ask me about these two. These are both characters in the spotlight that you’re supposed to care about, but what happened between them is rotten.

You’re not supposed to pretend it didn’t happen because Dazai still contributed to who he is and it shows whenever it’s on screen. Abuse doesn’t make us stronger, don’t make it as if that’s a message that Asagiri is spreading. What happened to him motivated his development, but with Atsushi, that’s the opposite. Their circumstances are different and victims process what's happened to them in various ways. Depicting it in a form less common than usual doesn't mean the author thinks in the same way the victim does, it's just nuance at work.

I did not add Akutagawa’s attitude towards his subordinates and newer members as Dazai’s responsibility because Dazai is not the one controlling his hands when he hits Higuchi. Dazai’s mentoring contributed to his toxic views of being useful, but it’s only Akutagawa’s responsibility once he raises his hand. Instead of thinking of this in the context of the most typical abusive situation you can think of, how about this:

Your parent was raised in an abusive household, but they think they came out of it just fine and that there was nothing wrong with how they were treated. They treat you almost the same way, and all you can take away from that when you find out is, “At least it’s not as bad as it could’ve been”. You still hold anger at the standards they’re forcing you to reach, but if that’s what it takes to get that approval, then you’ll keep going anyway. Even if you get yelled at and you know you shouldn’t be treated like this, it’ll feel nice when you finally get on their good graces, right?

Then you get a new sibling, and all of that comes crumbling down. They don’t treat your sibling anywhere near the same when you were that age. Years go by and you get angrier and angrier. Why is it only you that was put to that standard? Even worse is that they treat you differently now too. You finally got to those standards, but now what is it worth? They’re so much nicer now and you want to curse them out for only changing now. Why couldn’t have had that parent from the beginning? It’s so unfair, but you can’t take it out on them because you still need them, they mean so much to you. As angry as you were, they were doing it because they cared about you in their way, you think. It was what your grandparents did to them at least. So you start treating your sibling similarly to how you were treated because you can’t take it that they didn’t experience that hardship without destroying yourself first.

Question: Are you right in what you did? Was the parent responsible for what you did to your sibling?

Nobody in their right mind would say yes to that first question. It makes sense why it happened, but continuing abuse will never be the correct answer. You’re doing the same thing your parent did. The second question needs more exposition to answer, however. How responsible is responsible?

In the end, even if it was the parent who influenced it, you’re only responsible for what you’ve done on your own accord. The parent did not tell you to take it out on your sibling, you decided that yourself. The parent is still responsible for what they’ve done to you, never get that wrong, but if you say that your guilt is absolved because it’s all their fault, you sound no different from any other abuser in denial. Are you saying now that the parent is also absolved from guilt because it’s all their parent’s fault too? Listen to yourself, You hurt someone but it’s not your fault, but the person who hurt you is also somehow not at fault? If someone came up to you and said that, you’d be fed up.

For those who do the same thing with Mori, rethink what you’re saying. Is it that painful to admit your favorite characters are at fault and that they’re changing? This comparison isn’t perfect and ignores some key factors: Dazai isn’t Akutagawa’s or Atsushi’s father and is not much older than them, the Port Mafia is a violent workplace environment and requires you to be able to navigate it a certain way, and all three of them at adults in present time. I used this comparison to be more real to earth and something a larger audience could process themselves to truly get that the emotions here are not straightforward even in a realistic situation.

Re: Portrait of a Father

Just like the prologue, in chapter 3 of the Beast light novel, Portrait of a Father is mirrored and retold in brutal upset that does not hold the hopeful bittersweetness at the end of it unlike its original. Before the present day, against all orders Dazai gave him, Atsushi attacked the orphanage on the day of his birthday. On his birthday, he would be reborn from the ashes of his past being burnt away, and kill the director inside to release himself from the fear of those memories.

It’s what he says at least.

Playing out, the director was expecting him. There might have only been one person in his mind who would’ve attacked a rundown orphanage on this scale. It frightens Atsushi after all that planning and fear of losing to the director, he could still see through him, but confusion takes hold when he’s told that he was late for his graduation.

Graduation? Atsushi is in fight or flight mode, why is he approaching him with this box? He can’t imagine it being anything other than a weapon, nothing else would make sense for this cruel monster. The director won’t give him any straight answer, just repeating words he’s heard over and over growing up here. He uses his tiger hearing to glean what could be inside.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

There’s the proof, it had to be a bomb. He needs to protect himself before anything happens or he’ll die. He’s scared, he can’t move, but he has to fight. The director opens his arms for the embrace of his child… and death, plummeted into a bloody mess on the floor. Only out of the corner of his eye, only when Atsushi stopped, he saw what was in the box. It was a watch, brand new and high-end. Happy Birthday was what was written on a sheet of paper next to it.

His last words, whispered into his ear, were words of encouragement: “Yes… just like that.”

I was not kidding when I said this was brutal. Just like in the main universe, Atsushi learns why he did what he did and can’t place any of his feelings, but overwhelmingly guilt crushes him to keep protecting people with his life rather than just fear because he killed him. He finds out much earlier about what happened with Shibusawa, and how the director protected his identity as the tiger.

The director’s intentions are draining when you let your mind wander. As we’ve established, the headmaster as a figure of hate for Atsushi is intentional on his part. He doesn’t explain anything on purpose here to probe him into killing him. He bought that watch for Atsushi as a congratulations for growing up and becoming a new independent individual.

In the split minute before Atsushi took the first swing, he said his usual, “Those who fail to protect others do not deserve to live.” I have to question now if he was so willing to die there, even encouraging him to kill him, then has it been this whole time he still can’t live with himself for what happened to his friends… or is it because he couldn’t protect Atsushi anymore? Maybe I’m overthinking it and it was just that the headmaster thought Atsushi needed to kill him to remove an obstacle in his growth as an individual, to be a necessary sacrifice for his benefit.

It's too flawed though. The director will never leave him, not after all that he's engraved into Atsushi. The watch has become not a symbol of a person who's found himself, but a child that's latched himself onto his father's cold corpse that won't ever respond, but that child would do anything to have him wake up and say "Good job, Atsushi". The director also has a clock, but can he call himself a strong individual when he hasn't let go of the past either?

Time stopped for Beast Atsushi when he picked up that watch. If he had just followed orders, none of this would’ve happened. If he isn’t his father’s child, if he doesn’t uphold his last wish, then who is he? When he’s no longer in the mafia and has time for himself to think, he wanders.

He failed in becoming someone he could be proud of, he deserved to die for that but doesn't want to be dead… because It wasn't truly about the Director, just like how it wasn't truly about Dazai’s acknowledgment or saving his sister for Akutagawa. At first, that was the motivation, it's the reasoning they keep going with, but in the end, it was to save their own life and give it purpose to validate why they're still around. If they can die like this, then it's all the same. If they have their own life in someone else’s hands, then they no longer have to be responsible for their own heavy-hearted weight.

Beast Atsushi is given neither and is taken of his reasoning, but he keeps going. Aimlessly.

Luckily, it’s not where his story ends.

He wakes up in his old orphanage, and it’s no longer the dreary place it was when he was younger. Kids laughing outside, no chains on the walls or bars blocking off the windows, and the new Orphanage Director greets him. He tells him that he will go back to being a student of the orphanage until he can become independent again, under one of Dazai’s last requests before he died.

Still, there’s one thing he needs to do. The new director takes out the watch and tells him to break it. Atsushi is distraught by this notion, but he won’t let Atsushi leave if he doesn’t. The new director has good reason, there is no point in becoming someone the past director was proud of and this is what’s holding him back. Atsushi, eventually, tells him he will not break the watch. He can’t move on just yet and this watch is still proof he’s himself, yet…

He’ll keep going and move forward, just like Akutagawa told him after he spared his life. The new director finds those words to be enough, saying he can’t leave until he finds something else to define himself with, but he can keep living here as his son. He went there to burn away his past and came out of it not able to let go of the past, but now he can redo and process it healthily with someone willing to hold him like a father should.

The Man Who Raised Dazai

Everyone who’s read Beast has questioned it: Why did Dazai in his right mind have Mori take care of an orphanage? Why did he save his life? Better yet, why is he so nice?! I have come up with some speculation on why Dazai would.

“Beast Dazai recognized this potential of change either from the multitude of universes he was able to witness or recognized it in his own considering canonverse Dazai never does anything against Mori (even if he visibly dislikes him).”

“Possibility is one thing, the why is another. It was either that he saw potential and good that could come out of this in the long run, Mori’s intelligence and expertise still proves usefulness, less dangerous for Oda in the long run if he let Mori stay there instead of the Mafia, or all three.”

(Didn’t feel like rephrase them)

We can’t know anything for sure about his decision, but I do know Mori is the type of character to sacrifice his feelings for what he thinks would logically benefit the sum, and there’s no better way to release yourself from that too-calculative responsibility than to remove yourself from it and to be in a place where you’re allowed to care for others and express yourself when there is no greater purpose than to just grow.

What happened with Yosano is undoubtedly wrong, but Mori had put away any sympathy in those situations because he needed her to do what he brought her in for. I was confused by his declaration that violence should never be used to educate children when I read it, especially out of his mouth, but now I understand. He would know with certainty that it’s not the right way to educate children, particularly because this is a Mori that hasn’t been in the dark for these past years and has grown to care for these children at the orphanage without any greater intention for them.

He’s not like the Old Director because he has no reason to think these kids would end up the way he did. They’re just kids that need someone to raise them with kindness, kindness will be what gets them through life as functional adults. Abuse has too many drawbacks to be called an optimal solution here. Is it surprising that all it took to change Mori was the kindness and salvation Dazai offered to him when he took over? Can you believe it was that simple to treat someone like a human being instead of a figure of hate?

What sticks out to me like a sore thumb is that when he’s introduced in Beast, he’s referred to as the man who raised Dazai. He is, regardless of what you think, the closest thing Dazai has to a father figure. In regards to how the fanbase speaks of their relationship, it’s hard to think that he cared about Dazai, but he did and the extent of how bad it got between them is grossly exaggerated.

As many comparisons Dazai gets with Yosano, their relationship with Mori is very different. Unlike Yosano, he did not need to be forced to do anything with psychological abuse and he did not need to be torn down to do what Mori asked him to. We don’t know what happened to him to become like this, but it wasn’t because of Mori. Yosano had light in her and a motivation to do the right thing, but Dazai didn’t. Dazai is no stranger to any violence or using violence himself even before Mori if he's this desensitized.

It’s useful that Dazai is like that when he meets him, up until it isn’t. He’s moody and actively looking to die. Mori can’t predict him that easily and Dazai can see right through him. There’s another huge difference between them though: Mori sees himself in Dazai. We don’t have enough insight in his head to make conclusive statements, but I think this is why he cared for Dazai. It’s not because he saw a child struggling that he cared, but grew some fondness because he saw a little mini-him. When he drove Dazai out of the Port Mafia, he expected him to come back and take back his vacant seat.

Eventually, Dazai will come back and realize that petty anger about someone dying is illogical in somewhere like the mafia. But because of him not being able to see through Dazai and seeing himself in him, he also expected him to eventually usurp his seat if he stayed any longer. That is why he had invited Mimic at the time he did and manipulated the situation so Oda, someone he knew Dazai cared for, would go and take care of the situation flawlessly. He’d be sacrificed and Mori could get something out of it, a Skilled Business Permit. A perfect plan… in theory, but Mori was wrong and miscalculated on many levels because of how many assumptions he made about Dazai.

First, he wouldn’t have known that it was Oda who held the words that would convince him to leave the mafia and go into the world of light. Dazai will never come back to his own volition. Second, as those panels quite literally tell you, Dazai was never planning on killing him. He saw his place in the mafia and saw that he was needed there. When Mori finally realizes his mistake with Dazai 4 years later during the Guild Arc, he can’t go back. His plan was still perfectly sound and he still got what he wanted out of it. He shouldn’t regret it, but…

Now that’s been paved out, where does wanting to save Dazai fit into this? If I had to assume, it’s the same reason he didn’t shoot Dazai for leaving his office during Dark Era. He cared about that boy, for 4 whole years he left him and his seat alone when the logical thing he should be doing was replacing him, but as much as he might’ve cared, he needed to put the mafia first. He didn’t let him die because of his use, but also because of their so-called “common destiny” in his eyes, a diamond in a rough he might’ve disposed of otherwise if he didn’t see his potential. There’s not much he could’ve done for Dazai here except keep him healthy and alive. Mori gets tons of flack for not trying to help him, but there's nothing he could've done, not in their position.

He can't cultivate his potential if there is abuse involved because there is no logical reason for him to do anything to Dazai. You guys have to stop assuming the worst when it comes to Mori, you’re missing huge character details that are right in front of you. The difference between Mori, the Boss of the Port Mafia, and Mori, the Orphanage Director is that he had time to rekindle his humanity so he’s able to care about him like a normal human being, feel guilt, and admit regret after Beast Dazai has died. Mori at most was responsible for ingraining tactical strategies and theories and molding him into the perfect Mafioso and right-hand man.

Not to say any of those aren’t a bad thing. He’s still a child and having him use his desensitized, intelligent mind to build the potential in what he could do for the mafia, it’s just that he’s responsible for very little in Dazai’s personality. The only answer I could give about Dazai being abused by Mori or being abused under the credentials that he’s a child in a violent, unsafe place is the same answer given earlier for Chuuya: in his case, not really.

Regarding this, I retract my statement about anything I’ve said about Beast Atsushi not being a victim in his time in the mafia, but I still hold my stance that he’s not the victim of the port mafia. I want to say the same thing about Beast Dazai and Atsushi that I do here, but considering he picked him up and trained him like how he trained Akutagawa, there’s a great chance Dazai emotionally abused him when you read their interactions. Not physically as that would make him too much like the headmaster, but just enough emotional distress in bringing up traumatic moments to manipulate him into doing what he needs of him.

It’s not a good relationship, but Mori wasn’t targeting Dazai in any real way like the Director and Atsushi or Dazai and Akutagawa. Unlike every other section, I have to conclude that he didn’t do anything to Dazai in that regard other than treating him like another adult when he shouldn't have. I don’t have much to say negatively about their dynamic otherwise. Just a weird, terrible son with his weird, terrible father. It’s more like someone who's taking after their mentor’s teaching and methods rather than an abuse victim echoing their abuser. This is why I don't accept the “Cycle of Abuse” as how the fandom understands it. It tells me a lot that people resort to the blame game.

I wonder what Dazai and Mori’s relationship would've looked like without any of this in the middle. Maybe something in cadence with Ranpo and Fukuzawa, but I can't help thinking that accepting Atsushi as his son in Beast instead of a student wasn't just for Atsushi’s sake. He was about to call him his student too, but immediately changed his mind. He already admitted he was helping him because of what happened to Dazai, so it can’t be a huge jump to think that in the same way this is Atsushi’s redo in building a relationship with a father figure, this is Mori’s redo to give him some atonement for the boy he failed.

A Mother’s Love

Kyouka, when we first meet her, appears as a force to be reckoned with. With skills a young girl shouldn’t have, and a demon shadowing behind, she’s a terrifying opponent. Quickly though, that appearance falls short in tragedy when the bomb Atsushi’s after is found on her own body and when he asks if she truly wants to kill... She has no answer, but her actions speak clearly. She gives him the defuser because she doesn’t want any more people to die, but the man behind the phone will not let it defuse.

So Kyouka does the next best thing to save more from dying: falling off the train with the bomb that’s about to go off. As long as she dies with it, nobody can use her and her abilities to massacre the people on the train when the bomb eventually fails to do what is necessary. Because that’s when Atsushi realizes that she cannot control her ability herself. No matter what she genuinely wants, she will never have the ability to obtain it because of this one fact. She can only be what people tell her she is.

We all know this story well, she gets saved by Atsushi and the man behind the phone is Akutagawa. Atsushi offers her the same kindness Dazai extended to him regardless of his reputation and destruction because it’d only be the right thing to do. He knows her incoming fate of eventual death for her crimes, he can’t do much, but she should at least experience normalcy this one time.

When she’s about to turn herself in, Akutagawa stops her and tells her she did her job well as a decoy for him to capture Atsushi. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s a peculiar oddness about Akutagawa here in his attitude towards Kyouka. In all logic, even though she is a strong tool to the mafia, she’s a low-level member, a disobedient one at that, and should’ve been killed on sight for her betrayal considering how quick he is to violence, but he talks as if nothing even happened. He brushes off any thought of her dying as she’s spouting nonsense and that she’s going to go back to the mafia as normal.

But then he spouts off about how she’s better off dead on the ship if she stops killing. What’s up with that? It’s not completely obvious at first, but he’s projecting his own experiences in the slums and beliefs formed from Dazai’s mentoring onto her. From his time when he wasn’t in the mafia, he tells her there’s nothing left out there for people like them, there’s only rock bottom. He can confidently say that there is nowhere that would accept her for her ability, demon snow, because it’s the same for him.

The only way her life can have value is to kill to be useful, just like any good mafia member. It’s exactly why that flashback with Dazai happens here. He’s the one who fed him these thoughts he’s lived with for these past 6 years, and what she’s been believing for 6 months. He doesn’t loathe her, he sees it as doing a favor for her. What else can a little girl who can kill be use of except to kill in her circumstances?

Contrary to popular belief, he is not her abuser and is not the same thing Dazai was to him. He neither trained her nor did we have information on their relationship to come to that conclusion. The only thing we know is that he was the one sent to pick her up by the Port Mafia. We can prove she is not the way she is because Akutagawa since Beast, well, exists. She is one of the few characters I can confidently say was a victim of the Port Mafia itself and not just a person of the Port Mafia specifically.

Akutagawa was trying to be what Dazai was to him, but he is selling a bastardized version of it to her. The person who was her Dazai was Atsushi, the same person who was given Dazai’s act of kindness. Someone who has experienced the same things Akutagawa has and is living proof that she can hope for something better.

He could see that the same revenge and lack of regard for her life in her eye was the same kind he met Dazai with. Despite that, these lessons he’s internalized have helped no one, not even himself. She can’t find meaning in something that is the root cause of her suicidal ideation. This life is unfulfilling for people like them who need meaning in life. Akutagawa doesn't realize this because he still has Dazai to be his motivational goal. That’s why he failed to help Kyouka, Dazai’s efforts would’ve been considered an utmost failure too if he wasn’t actively trying to fix that misunderstanding. Kindness is what actively saves us and helps us grow, the harm in abusive environments will only stunt us. But what happens when kindness is offered to us, but nothing comes out of it except proving us right that we’re unsavable? Then you have Kouyou.

Kouyou is the second person I could say was a victim of the Port Mafia. She has the same belief Akutagawa had about people like them being unable to be saved, so the only thing they can do is embrace it. I can’t claim she was Kyouka’s abuser either as we again don’t know enough, but that doesn’t change that her behavior is emotionally abusive, and is a much better contender than he is.

She’s doing the same thing Akutagawa was doing himself. Seeing themselves in this child and doing what she “needs” instead of what she wants. Just like him, she views this as saving her from the hands of light that will never make room for them and will ignore everything else she says. When Akutagawa is faced with her “disillusionment”, he… accepts it when she refuses his will and chooses another path, but almost kills her to spare her from that decision that would “doom” her.

Kouyou is much less accepting, opting to kill the root source of this hope itself, Atsushi, because her fondness for Kyouka prevents her from leaving her for dead. In contrast to Akutagawa’s attempt at being what gives her life meaning, Kouyou wants to stop Atsushi from being like the same man who also gave her hope that they could escape to the world of light. She can’t bear to see Kyouka go through the same realization she did far too late.

I can see what you're thinking, why am I reluctant to call either of them Kyouka’s abuser? Even if Akutagawa doesn't count, shouldn't Kouyou count because she seems to have an actual relationship with her and her effects are prevalent in Beast, the same points I mentioned to debunk accusations against him? Sure actually, but think about it like this. What the Port Mafia does have in common with real situations is that this is a community that is full of victims who refuse to process their traumatic experiences for any reason, and bring down others to their level when they don’t fit in their narrative to justify what’s happened to them.

There isn’t just one abuser weighing over you, there's this collective pressure from so many who aren't your abuser but they still contribute to your abuse with their presence itself. If Dazai wasn’t there in the mafia, would Akutagawa's situation have changed? Yes. Now if Akutagawa or Kouyou weren’t in the mafia, would Kyouka's situation have changed? Not at all. She’d have fewer examples to refer to, but she’d still be abused. If it’s easier to imagine, think of it similarly to cult mentality and how they keep you in cults. That is the reason I emphasized being a victim of the Port Mafia instead of an individual. Kouyou, Q, and Kyouka, while you can pin their main perpetrators on certain people, their overall situation doesn't change.

Now why doesn’t she just use the phone herself instead of letting people call Demon Snow for her? Wouldn’t she have more agency that way? Atsushi proposes this, but she rejects it instantly. It’s a very simple answer, it’s the same reason she can’t bear to look at it outside of when she’s forced to use it in combat. It’s her ability that killed her parents and why she was forced into this position.

It’s not hard for a little girl to believe she’s nothing more than a killing machine when she sees that night her ability would mercilessly kill her parents. She eventually caves when Kouyou points out how quick she is to vindicate violence to protect that hope she desperately wants a part of, and how she will never change. Her first mission with the Armed Detective Agency is proof in itself. Was Atsushi going to keep extending his kindness after hearing what she could only blame herself for?

Kouyou is a character I’ve seen that gets a lot of double standards compared to all of the other characters I’ve mentioned with abusive tendencies and is almost purely liked. She’s not seen as an absolute monster (The director, Mori) or controversial with one side containing pure dislike and another pure love (Akutagawa, Dazai), it’s only that she’s a well-written, sympathetic badass girl boss. It’s either because she’s a woman, that she doesn’t use an overt intimidation style, that her motives are more obvious in their emotional influences, or all of the above that she’s not treated the same.

Kouyou’s motivations are not special, as I’ve said. The only thing that differentiates them from the others is that they’re not covered by a mask of indifference. As fond as she is for her, she’s not much different from anyone else who holds the mafia up in high regard. She weaponizes her words in where they’d hurt the most so Kyouka would come with her. The entire last section of their battle sums up with her saying, “Kyouka come with me, they’ll only use you for your Ability when they get a hold of it. Even if the mafia did the same thing, at least they’ll accept you for who you truly are: a natural-born killer. You don’t have to fight anymore, I’ll protect you.”

When Atsushi finds Kyouka once again subsequently in her disappearance, she chooses to embrace her violence to help the Armed Detective Agency in this fight with the Guild. After her walk in where she used to reside, she comes the the conclusion she no longer belongs there. Against Kouyou’s wishes, she will brandish her blade for a home. That blows up in her face the moment she starts. Atsushi gets taken, and it’s just as Kouyou said would happen. If even her violence doesn’t get her wish, then what can she do besides leave herself to her fate?

As someone who’s seen another with a talent for killing walk the path of good and is on that same path himself, Dazai talks to her. He tells her about how she hasn’t gone through her entrance exam yet, how she isn’t an official member because she hasn’t proven her will or life on the line to help people she doesn’t necessarily know. Kyouka doesn’t believe she could’ve passed if that’s what it takes, but Dazai doesn’t agree with the points she’s brought up. So what if she’s killed or considered dangerous? That doesn’t make her less qualified to be a part of the Detective Agency, everyone there is from different backgrounds.

She can’t know everything, not even about herself. Nobody does, but it takes others to see more of yourself. Excelling in one area doesn’t prevent you from nurturing your potential in another. What would that make someone like Atsushi, a person who’s been her guiding figure throughout—but was never seen as anything more than a threat or a beast because of his ability before he joined them? The truth is, our lives aren’t defined by one purpose the moment we’re born, it’s only something you can make for yourself. We’re not the places we’ve been raised in, not the ideas people apply to us, and we’re especially not defined by the traumatic experiences we had no control over.

All of it accumulates the person we are today, and we can’t change that no matter how much we resent parts of our image that don’t hold up to what society deems as right, but it shouldn’t take control over what we want for ourselves. It isn’t fair for the victims who were forced into a life where they had to fend for themselves, the children who had to navigate an adult’s messed up world that didn’t have room for them to grow as kids should. Forced into a box where they stay unaware that they’ve ever left their mother’s womb, break out in fury with eyes that grew up too early—only to become lost and thrown away, or rot in that box without a single person knowing they were a breathing, living human being.

I deem abuse selfish for this very reason. Kouyou is wrong for this very reason. If she finds comfort in her reasoning, then I can’t critique her for her own choices and will have to respect her for choosing to stay in the mafia even when the old boss is dead, every abuse victim is different, but not a single person is born evil or good, in the dark or light. Not a soul has to stay in one place because they started there. It’s going to be a hard journey to truly achieve what you long for, results aren’t immediate and not everyone gets there no matter their effort, but still try. Try because it’s still worth trying, because you’re still worth more than you think.

In parallel, you can only get there as long as you’re seeking it. Too many see the Armed Detective Agency as something that will automatically save characters just by working there, but the only way it can help them is if they seek out their help themselves. The ADA is not the right place for every character, but Kyouka does want a place there. After her conversation with Dazai, she knows what she wants to do now. She will smash the drone she’s in into Moby Dick so nobody will have to die, but sacrifice her own life in the process. She’s chained to this place, but her choices aren’t.

She doesn’t have to die with regret, with this she can pass the entrance exam and become an agency member like she wanted. She made a difference for herself just by this act. It’d be a pretty melancholy arc if it ended like that, thank god we know it doesn’t end like this. When you become a full agency member, you gain more control over your ability, meaning—

She’s fine.

The exposition is over, let’s talk about Kyouka. Her arc is beautiful and the neglect to talk about her when it comes to her abuse story besides saying, “She’s the one who stopped the abuse cycle” and then nothing else is heartbreakingly superficial. She didn’t stop it, it’s impossible to, but she did break out of it. Kyouka’s section has more exposition than the others but I expected that. I wanted to save her for last because she’s the only one whose arc has come to a peaceful conclusion and not unfinished, and the lighter message felt nice to leave off on.

I shouldn’t berate Kouyou too much, the only reason she stayed in that room after being captured by the ADA is because she did want Kyouka to experience what she never had, and speaking with Dazai helped reassure her that Kyouka would be able to achieve her dreams. It’s no longer the age of the old boss. As well as her shedding the truth about her parent’s death so she wouldn’t have to resent her ability as not an avatar of massacre, but a product of her parents’ love that will always stay with her. She didn’t let go of the phone she’s had this entire time because her mother told her not to let it go.

Me going over Kouyou in this fashion is not me saying you shouldn’t love her character, I like her too. It’s just that it’s passed over so fast what she did, but somehow Akutagawa is more at fault here is mind-boggling. I’d get it a little more if this is because she redeemed herself by wanting the best for Kyouka over what was best for the mafia, but I doubt that’s the case when that moment is talked about so little as well.

I genuinely need you all to understand that not every character is going to have a satisfying, clean conclusion like this. Akutagawa’s story is most likely not going to have a conclusion that satisfies everyone and you should respect it when it comes. There’s no perfect way of writing abuse, but there’s no correct way of doing it either. I don’t think Dazai is going to have the repercussions you want him to have any time soon. If you got the message from Beast, getting revenge on an abuser doesn’t make us feel better or let us process what happened to us. Total resentment keeps us stuck.

The only thing that will heal us is the kindness so many offer in this series. You in no way need to extend that kindness to an abuser, you don’t need to forgive them or let them into your life again, but be kind to yourself and don’t let resentment prevent you from focusing on yourself. Forgiveness and reconnection are not the same thing. Don’t be angry when a victim does want those things. Unless it’s character inconsistent, that’s not something we shouldn’t have any opinion on as the right or wrong way to go about their lives. What if later they do change their mind and want something different from what they originally planned? That’s fine too. Everyone is different. Don’t give unsolicited advice to people who do not want it, let them decide for themselves. It is the best thing you can do.

The worst abusers are the ones who refuse to change and see wrong in what they’re doing, but what about the ones who do want that? Then also let them heal. They did something awful, why isn’t it a good thing they want to stop it now? You don’t have to let them in just because they changed though. Apologies don’t fix the damage already done, but to some victims, it feels nice to feel that what’s been done to them is acknowledged. You don’t want them to hurt others the way they’ve done to you, and neither do they. It hurts to let them forgive themselves when you haven’t and never will, you want to see them suffer, but that’s the only way things can change.

Dazai has changed, is he a good person even after what he’s done? I despise this question for any character of this series. He’s grown so much, and if you don’t think so, reread his conversation with Kyouka I beg of you. It is a far cry from his mindset in the mafia. A better person for sure, but a good person is hard to define for anyone in this series. The mafia is still the mafia, do any of them qualify as good people? The government, even if it’s the position of the right in society, is still an unjust system.

What a good person is cannot be an objective answer, people think there is but it’s not. A good person is how much we know about them and where our position in life affects our viewpoint. Prejudice values don’t make you correct in what you think a good person is, being convicted of a crime, one you might not even have committed, doesn’t automatically make you a bad person, being associated with a group doesn’t mean anything about who you are, etc. It’s all subjective in the end.

Meaning someone like Odasaku is essential in a story like this. He still has a presence in this narrative, even if he died in a light novel, because his existence pushes the boundaries of a “good person” in the fact his contradictory existence establishes itself. He failed in walking the path he wanted, but he doesn’t regret it even in his dying moments trying to.

Afterthoughts

The themes of morality and humanity go hand in hand with the abuse present in Bungou Stray Dogs, so it was hard avoiding talking about this when it was necessary. I don’t think it’s right of us to judge a character’s path that isn’t finished, in a story that’s nowhere near done. Ultimately, I’m only talking in a place of experience but never will it make me exempt from any personal bias. I tried to be as objective and nuanced as I could about this, and I hope it shows.

Abuse isn’t one of those things that I can analyze from any logical stand point or take resources to back my statements up about abuse. Of course everything I say can be backed up, but abuse is a personal, human matter and we’re just human being trying to figure out more than we can handle. I just couldn’t be comfortable with how people are now choosing to talk about Asagiri and needed to shed some light in what you’re missing.

Now I could’ve gone over Higuchi or Lucy because their stories also involve abuse, but I don’t think I could say anything new about them without repeating points I’ve already said. We know very little about Higuchi and what made her so devoted to Akutagawa, and Lucy is pretty quick to summarize considering her story is just like Atsushi’s. Q is also a character to be brought up but I don’t have enough information on them to say much about any abuse itself that happened.

Yosano was also an option but I don’t think anyone had any trouble understanding her backstory. Well I was only really aiming to speak about what’s not been spoken enough. Thank you for reading haha, god this thing is monstrous. Already got to 14k words by the time I was officially done…. I didn’t know if I wanted to lean into character analysis or just exposition, I hope it’s a good enough mix of both. This took way longer than the 4 days I was planning to write this in.

I was later reminded that I could do a post on how their abilities functioned and reflect on their abuse/traumatic events, but I didn’t think I’d have enough room for that here. It could be a bonus post eventually? I don’t think I did Kyouka enough justice in that aspect, but i’d just be beating myself up again about not making this perfect.

I hope I don’t come off scary or a very serious person? I’m very open to requests or discussions people want to engage in. Oh jeez, I’ll just embarrass myself if I keep talking. Writing this was a bit much, never really liked writing stuff myself. Sorry if glossed over anything, I wanted to stay on topic and not detail into something unnecessary.

The message BSD has is a pretty normal one, but there’s something very special about how it’s written here and I’m happy it exists. Maybe I shouldn’t have made this so long? But there’s so much to express sigh……

[luckytohavebucky]

Why I Know Bucky Is In Love With Steve:

So, this is something I guess I had to find Bucky before realising, but oh, my goodness is it obvious now, and I do wanna like point out before I continue with the plethora of evidence on Bucky's more than platonic feelings for Steve, that although of course Steve has respected how Bucky feels, it was never reciprocated, which, obviously, Bucky respected that too, so, now, here we go:

Point 1: The Eyebrows raise.

So, something that is often an involuntary physical response to attraction is that when someone sees the so-called object of their affection, said someone's eyebrows move up almost indiscernibly; it's likely a way to open the eyes wider to get a better view of the subject (at least until the pupils dilate enough), and guess what? Bucky does this every single time he looks at Steve, and like I said, it's subtle yet unmistakeable once it's observed.

Point 2: Bucky would "forget himself" around Steve.

No pun intended, but the fact remains that Bucky could sometimes act like a schoolgirl with a hopeless crush when Steve was around; just a sample of Examples: Bucky gazing at Steve while ostensibly on a date with a girl at the inaugural Stark Expo during Captain America The First Avenger, Bucky, while drunk, maybe not so subtly flirting with Steve following Bucky's rescue by Steve, also in Captain America The First Avenger, Bucky reaching for Steve in a very loving manner during said rescue in Captain America The First Avenger, Bucky trying to distance himself from Steve with the whole patting on the back while hugging thing, only for Bucky to straight up caress Steve's waist during the like proper reunion in Wakanda scene from Avengers Infinity War, and even ultimately Bucky's real/heartfelt reaction to Steve saying goodbye (in so many words) at the end of Avengers Endgame; Bucky, even in spite of himself, can't help showing how he feels for Steve.

Point 3: Bucky has always prioritised Steve.

Bucky is about Steve's wellbeing and happiness, from Bucky protecting Steve near the beginning of Captain America The First Avenger and his trying to stop him from attempting to enlist a short while later (while ultimately respecting his tenacity) in the same movie, to Bucky stating "I'm with you 'til the end of the line" in the flasback scene right after Steve's mum's funeral in Captain America The Winter Soldier; Bucky supporting Steve during Captain America Civil War, and ultimately being there for him/understanding his decision to (in simplified terms) go back in time and be with Peggy at the end of Avengers Endgame, Bucky has been there for Steve in a way that Steve just wasn't for Bucky, and that is in no way to imply that Steve hasn't been there for Bucky, on the contrary, I mean... That's the reason Steve is my 3rd all-time favourite person (after Sebastian, just to confirm), and of course Steve echoes Bucky's words from so long ago during the climax of Captain America The Winter Soldier in order to bring Bucky back, but make no mistake, Bucky's loyalty to Steve is on another level; Bucky always paid more attention to Steve than anything or anybody else, and while Bucky's drive to help his country led him to haved "joined up" (as of course Steve did too) in Captain America The First Avenger and left him for a time, I've no doubt Bucky thought about Steve on through to his rescue by the latter also during last said film; then obviously in yet that same film, Bucky stayed by Steve's side while fighting Hydra agents and Nazis with the Howling Commandos, a decision that would cost him over 70 years of his life...in fact... It could be said that, in a way, Bucky sacrificed himself for the man he loves.

Point 4: Bucky remembered Steve.

As shown in Captain America The Winter Soldier, Bucky literally forgot himself, his family, everything and nearly everybody from his past, but he remembered Steve, and of course Bucky didn't understand why he remembered Steve; Bucky couldn't recall exactly who Steve was and had to learn further by visiting his Smithsonian exhibit but that like, impression; Steve, even initially, reached Bucky just a little bit, that is until Hydra callously subjected Bucky yet again to torturous memory manipulation, 'though of course Steve would ultimately make sure Bucky was safe in that harrowing and iconic scene around the finale, with Bucky, still not sure of much of anything at that point, dutifully returning the favour, and sure, it could be said that in this case anyway, Bucky's recollection of Steve to a degree could be solely from their friendship, but it does feel like more than that given how long it took for Bucky to remember much of any other part of his, at that time, former life.

Point 5: Bucky has continued to defend Steve's legacy.

Bucky is determined to keep his man's reputation intact, and that's perhaps examplified best in The Falcon and The Winter Soldier; Bucky was so adament about making sure Steve's shield and the mantle of Captain America went to Sam that not only did he despise US Agent when the government labeled him as the new "Cap" in the opening episode: New World Order, but Bucky so highly resented Sam's decision to donate the shield to the Smithsonian that it was impossible initially for Bucky to respect Sam's part in that, which nearly cost their friendhip, however, of course Bucky ended up encouraging Sam in episode 5 (a favourite of mine): Truth, realising why he was hesitant at 1st, and Bucky then apologised to Sam, marking something of a breathrough from the underlying tension which had preceded that moment; then obviously Bucky forgave US Agent, but the fact remains Bucky's anger at how messed up things were to begin with, how passionately Bucky decried Sam's reluctance to take up the mantle, how upset that made Bucky, wasn't just from the place of Bucky being frustrated for a friend, even a best 1; Bucky had just lost the man he loves, and that man's honour was being compromised, so it's apparent why Bucky had a hard time at 1st with managing his hurt to bring out a better way, and like I said, that has really been due to Bucky's love for Steve.

Point 6: I can see it in his eyes.

The intensity, the passion, the, dare I say, longing, that Bucky has for Steve is right there in those eyes (my lord, those eyes, but I digress, and still about Bucky, as I only can); When Bucky would look at Steve it's like his soul lit up, and everybody knows what is said about the eyes and the soul, so, yeah; it stands to reason that Bucky's have reflected how in love with Steve he is.

Point 7: I can feel it.

So, this is where it maybe starts to get particularly "controversial", but here we go: Okay, for context, I'm an empath, and I think most people are familiar with the fact that means I can feel others' emotions, but this is none more blatant, more unquestionable than with Bucky, and I feel Bucky's love for Steve now that I've become open to that emotion, and when Bucky has talked to me about Steve (when I've been with Bucky in the MCU through a process called dream-walking that I'm sure is also known well enough about and by the way, realise how seems but is how it is), even though Bucky's feeling for me is even stronger, I could never deny (nor would I want to) the geniune love, even devotion that Bucky has for Steve; it's so pure and special really, and it makes me feel that much more for Steve for making my Bucky feel that way, for how he's been making him happy.

Conclusion:

For the record, Bucky probably considers himself mostly straight with exceptions (even while those mean the most to Bucky), and clearly Steve was meant to be with Peggy while Bucky is mine (no, I can't believe it either), but the bond that Bucky has with Steve, how Steve was there for Bucky even way before and how Bucky responded to that with such heartfelt, romantic emotion, I just... I had to comment on how meaninful that is, the truth of it.

[hoboblaidd]

Solas’ Name when he was Wisdom

I wanted to figure out an elvhen word for Wisdom so we can use what Solas' name would've been prior to twisting into Pride. I turned to the smartest person I know, the pinnacle of languages, @weptduty .

We decided on Sabahn. The pronunciation of the B is soft, almost like the Irish "Bh" or a soft "V".

So Solas' name before becoming Pride was Sabahn. Only Firstborn elves would really have known this name, since it changed at the end of the Titan wars. Like many elves, his name change is not a big deal. Happens all the time when circumstances/feelings change. With his twisting from Wisdom to Pride, the name change is not a happy one, but it is natural.

Elvhen is a loose language - it's designed to be more lyrical and interpretive than a hard 1:1 with Common. As such, there may be other words for "Wisdom", but in Solas' case on this blog, it’s Sabahn. Analysis below.

Please read below the cut for Pal’s' unbelievable analysis that led us to this word. This is entirely Pal’s work. I was just a cheerleader. This is incredible, thoughtful work that needs to be shared in its entirety.

Pal is a god.

They did a deep dive in Latin and Irish. They hit on the latiin word for wisdom - sapientia (noun) and sapio (verb). Obviously we wanted an S name for the ~symmetry~.

"Sapio" is where "sapiens" come from, and we just thought that was too cool to pass up with the link that this is Solas first becoming a person. The connected word "sapere" can also be used as "high-minded or proud" - so the connection is doubly awesome because Pride. The word is also not just "to be wise / knowledgeable / prudent", but includes "to taste / to resemble / to suggest or be inspired by." Again, a wonderful parallel to Solas' journey from spirit of Wisdom to person of Pride.

Then Pal dove into the conjugation of "sapio/sapere", because again, they are a god. Pal thought the subjunctive was sexiest - and they were right.

So now we had to play with how it sounds/jives with Elvhen. We hit on the issue of Elvhen not having hard consonants, or indeed, many Ps at all. Pal thought switching Ps out for Bs, a softer sound, would jive with Elvhen. "Hah" can mean "to be wise" (think hah'ren), so we started to build off of that sound in the conversion of Latin to Elvhen. Almost immediately, Pal hit on "sabhah or sabhahn." Sabhahn immediately jumped out to both of us. That's a lot of consonants though, where Elvhen loves its vowels. But we didn't want to lose the "sab" but it slapped. So Pal suggested Sabahn. This could've originally started in Elvhen as Sabhahn and got slightly simplified to Sabahn as the centuries went on, but with a similar pronunciation.

We really, really liked Sabahn. It stuck with us after giving it time to settle in. The B could sound soft, almost like a very soft V, like you get in the Irish pronunciation of Bh like in Siobhan. Sabahn also looked like it could fit into the Elvhen dictionary.

So that's where we landed. I cannot cannot stress enough that this is Pal's work. They are a god, this is so clever, and this is what it is.

[lostinforestbound]

Hello! This might be a bit long of an explanation so I apologize in advance, but I've been toying with the concept of a wizard tav that makes and uses plush dolls of their allies and friends as spell focuses (like in the place of staves or similar items)! So I was hoping you could write some headcanons of Rolan (and perhaps one or two of the companions if you'd like to write about one of them!) reacting to seeing Tav with a plushy of him (after theyve become close of course, so its not creepy xD) please? Tysm!!

You asked for Rolan and I'm happy to write about Rolan!! What a fascinating concept! Hopefully this is what you're looking for!

Rolan and the Wizard's Plush

AT FIRST, and only at first, he's weirded out by it. He has never experienced anything like this before, no one has ever made a plush with his likeness on it. It's odd for him.

He only becomes a little flustered when Tav explains that they make these of all of their closest friends, using them as a spellcasting focus.

It helps them concentrate and make them feel confident in their spell work, knowing that their friends are always with them, even if they're in the form of a plush. They made one of him recently since they became a lot closer.

He apologizes for making quick assumptions and asks to see it more closely, only if they would allow it. He's shocked by how accurate it is, they seem to have captured his likeness fully and even angled the plush horns right. Wait, they even added his freckles?!

At a loss for words, he traces the plushy with his fingers as Tav goes on to explain their process. How they managed to put it together, how they got a little stuck on the mantle but managed to simplify it, and how they almost forgot his tail!

As they show off Wyll's and Karlach's plush, they didn't even realize how Rolan wasn't paying attention, completely enthralled by the doll. He's thumbing the little arms, feeling around the softness of it.

When they notice it, they ask if he would like to keep it. Gods, he becomes so embarrassed, but reluctantly agrees. "Well, I suppose if you do not have any other use of it, I will take it off your hands."

When he gets back to the tower, he puts it up on display in his room next to the books he has on his desk. He now has a little study buddy with him when he practices his spells or read through book.

Tav eventually gets invited to the tower, and they present a new plush Rolan they made. "It's more accurate! I can take the old one if you'd like, and you can have this one. This hasn't been tainted by my magic yet." They would joke.

He would reject the offer instantly, because, believe it or not, he got attached to it. He can't imagine himself without it now. They find the doll within his room, resting on the bed, and gods do they find it adorable.

The next time they come to study the weave with Rolan, Tav presents a little plush of themselves to him. "Now he won't be alone." They would say, placing it next to the Rolan plush. He's unsure where he and Tav stand with each other in that moment, but he knows for sure that he's cared for by them. Those plushes are never apart from each other now.

In the romantic sense, this may be the exact moment they would have their first kiss!

[madaqueue]

playlists

such a pretty house | "no surprises" x radiohead

synopsis: walking through the empty halls of what should have been your home, you reminisce on the life you could have had with gojo

pairing: satoru gojo x reader

themes/content: semi-canon curse au. angst. language. mentions of death/loss.

word count: 2.5k

a/n: thought of this mini series idea since i found this song and literally could not stop thinking about a tragic backstory to it with gojo, so if you wanna get the "real" experience listen to it while you read ! this is like...not conventionally happy lmao but here it is anyways :) i'll get back to the regularly scheduled series tomorrow but i just had to write this one

a sigh leaves your lips as you walk up the familiar stone path, now overgrown with long grasses, tickling against your bare ankles. the cool autumn air bites at your skin, dead leaves falling from the old maple trees and crunching under your shoes as you make your way up to the house.

this house.

reaching the front door, you turn the now-tarnished gold handle and step inside. the old wooden floorboards creak under your weight; it’s likely been years since anyone has been here, further evidenced by the thin layer of dust settled over the empty space.

the space that was supposed to be your home.

your eyes gaze to the right and your legs follow, taking you into the living room. the bay windows overlook the front yard, the wooden bench beneath them bare. it was supposed to have red pillows, a reading nook for you. he always knew how you loved those books, consuming knowledge like it was the only type of nourishment you needed. the stories, the worlds that let you forget time while he was away on missions. but now, every word you read feels baren. you haven’t picked up a book since then.

continuing your journey through the empty house, you find yourself in the kitchen. the cabinet doors are now falling off, and surely the stove wouldn’t turn on anymore - not that it really worked in the first place, but the two of you made do. you’d bring in pizza on nights when the shitty electricity died out, sitting on the floor lit only by candles, talking about your futures.

well, what was supposed to be your future.

the window above the sink looks over the backyard, the remnants of the flowers you planted now overgrown with weeds. what a pretty garden it could have been.

“can you plant me the blue ones?” he asked, his arms wrapped around you as you stood outside under the heat of the summer sun.

“you only like those because they match your eyes,” you tease, turning your head to face him.

“maybe so,” he grins. “how ‘bout this, let’s find ones that match your eyes too, so it’s like i’m lookin’ at you every time i see ‘em?”

“deal,” you giggle, leaning against him.

you find yourself at the stairs, slowly making your way up as your hand traces along the railing, dust collecting on your fingertips.

you aren’t even sure why you came here, after all this time, back to this house, the physical tomb of your past.

it was supposed to be for you and satoru.

–

you were just kids, stupid, young kids. when you met in your first year at jujutsu high, the two of you were inseparable. every class, every meal, every mission you did together. it got to the point where you practically lived together, trading off which dorm room you slept in so you wouldn’t have to be apart. the two of you were attached by an invisible thread that kept looping itself around your necks until it became too tight.

the mission was supposed to be easy: exorcise a grade 2 curse and save the family it had kidnapped. you’d done it before a hundred times, and having gojo by your side only simplified the whole thing.

that is, until you got hurt. until you were unconscious, at the brink of death. until you found out why they had sent gojo with you - you didn’t think much of it at the time, but this was the lowest grade curse he’d been assigned to for a while.

it was a test. the higher ups wanted to see what gojo would do when he lost someone. they needed him to prove that he was what they thought he was: the strongest.

except, like always, he never failed to surprise everyone. he wouldn’t let you go that easily; not you, his world, his love, his everything. they picked the wrong person to sacrifice.

by the time you awoke, it was too late. you couldn’t quite place it, but something was different inside you, inside your very essence. as your eyes fluttered open, all you could feel was the warmth of his embrace around you, his hair hanging forward as he clutched your body. hot tears streamed down his face and landed on your chest.

“i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry,” he muttered over and over, softly rocking on his knees as he holds you.

“s-satoru,” you manage to croak out, the taste of blood in your mouth.

his eyes shift up to yours, a darkness and fear in them you’ve never seen before.

“it’s okay, it’s okay now, i’m here,” he whispers, his voice shaking, pulling you into him.

–

reaching the top of the stairs, the empty hallway looms before you. you turn into the first room on your right, what should’ve been the library. empty shelves line the walls as you stand in the middle of the space.

“y’know,” his voice smooth as he sits across from you, “eventually i’m gonna get promoted, and i’m gonna need a big office.”

“oh yeah?” you respond, shifting so your head rests on your open palm, propped up against the table between you. “what makes you so confident about that? you know the higher ups literally hate you, right?”

“psh, they love me,” he pauses, reaching across the table to shut the book in front of you so your full attention was on him. “and then, i’m gonna fix up this house, and i’ll build you a library and an office for me, and we can spend every day in there together.”

you pretend to consider the option for a moment. “fine, but it’s still gonna be my library. i’ll let you put a desk in there but don’t you dare forget that it’s mine,” you joke.

his hand reaches up to the side of your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “as long as i’m with you, sweetheart, it can all be yours.”

you sigh, leaning against the wall before sliding down to sit against the old wood beneath you. he would’ve given you everything, he would’ve done anything for you.

–

it didn’t take long after the mission to figure out what had really happened: the grade 2 curse was actually a special grade, something you were woefully underprepared for. however, the higher ups had planned for that, even wanted it - they needed you to die. not because of any inherent value you had, no, but for satoru. they needed to see if he could handle a special grade curse on his own, something he had already proven he could do, but with a new challenge: loss. could he control himself, his emotions, his power, when he was forced to confront your death?

no. he couldn’t.

the only good thing about this being a special grade curse is that it was smarter, more cunning, than an average curse. not smart enough to beat gojo, but still.

when satoru saw you, your body slumped in the corner of the room, blood covering your face, something happened inside him. he snapped.

so, he did what any completely irrational person would do: he made a deal with the curse.

if it would heal you, it could have your cursed powers. this sounded like an exceptional deal to the curse, thinking that surely with your cursed technique it could easily kill gojo and leave the ordeal more powerful than when it began.

but, like always, gojo surprised everyone. even with your cursed energy he managed to exorcise the monster. he was glad you weren’t there to see it, the way his body took over as he pulled it apart limb by limb, eviscerating any remnants of the thing that dared to harm you. he didn’t even use his cursed technique, he needed to feel the life draining from it in his own hands.

when it was done, he ran to you. he held you. he cried over you. until you opened your eyes, whispering his name.

–

stepping out of the library, you continue down the hall and into the next room. the bedroom, the one you and satoru spent weeks planning.

“okay, what about purple?” you ask, holding up paint swatches to the wall.

“bleh,” he stuck out his tongue. “no purple. what about a nice green?”

you rolled your eyes at his theatrics. “honey, we have too much green already. by the time you’re done with it this entire house is gonna be green.”

his eyes light up. “what about honey?”

“what about it?” you ask, tilting your head.

“that’s it, that’s the color! it’ll be perfect, it’s warm, and sunny, and it’ll make me think of you whenever i’m in here,” he explains, nearly running over to you and picking you up, spinning you around. your arms wrap around his neck as he holds you in the air, both of you smiling with joy.

as you look at the room around you, the unfinished grey walls feel more empty than any other part of the house. it’s like looking at a skeleton, the raw, old bones of something you once loved.

–

of course, after you lost your cursed technique, you weren’t allowed to continue at jujutsu high. they had no purpose for you there, and you felt out of place with everyone anyways. gojo begged them to let you stay, offering to let you live in his dorm so they wouldn’t even need an extra room for you, but his request was repeatedly and ubiquitously denied.

“fine,” he huffs, pacing around your room as you sit on the bed, all of your belongings stuffed into boxes around you. “if they won’t let you stay, then i’m going with you.”

“gojo, you can’t. you know you can’t,” you explain calmly yet sternly.

he stops momentarily, looking over at you. “i have to,” he murmurs, “this is my fault, anyways.”

you stand up and walk towards him, reaching a hand up to his face, cupping his cheek in your palm. “the only thing that’s your ‘fault’ is the fact that i’m still here, and you better not be blaming yourself for that.”

“but-”

your lips press into his, the only way you could think of to get him to stop talking. he’s soft against you, his arms lowering to loosely hang around your waist. for a moment, you stay like that, just the two of you in your empty room.

pulling apart for a moment, you just stare at each other. finally, he breaks the silence. “okay, but if you won’t let me officially leave with you, can i at least sort of leave with you?”

“gojo, what the hell does that mean?” you smirk, not understanding what he’s even asking.

a smile breaks through his lips as he looks down at you. “i have something i want to show you.”

the house.

he holds your hand, pulling you up the stone pathway next to him, leading you to the freshly-painted front door, gold handle practically glowing in the sunlight.

“ta-da!” he shouts, throwing the door open and allowing you to see inside.

“it…it’s an empty house?” you ask jokingly.

“no,” he turns to you, holding your waist, “it’s our empty house.”

“what-”

“i got it for us,” he cuts you off, beaming down at you. “when i first heard that you might be asked to leave jujutsu high, i bought it, thinking we could move in here together.” you don’t say anything, stunned by his kindness, tears beginning to form along your waterline as you think about just how much you love him. “i wanted to give you a home. i hope we can make it one, together.”

leaning up, you kiss him again. finally, together, in your home.

–

why did you even come here? the cold, stale air stirs around your lungs as you rest your head back against the wall.

despite everything that happened, you had to see it one last time. you overheard someone at the store saying how they were finally going to be tearing this place down, putting in some new luxury apartments or something. it’s not like anyone lived here anyways, maybe it’s for the best. give the grave of your past a new life.

it had been nearly ten years since you were here last. a part of you wanted to move on, to forget it, but it hung in your mind like it had been nailed there.

you finally stand up, dusting off the grime that clung to your clothes from the floor. every step another memory you had here, another painful reminder of the life you never got to have.

–

it started slowly, at first. gojo kept getting tasked with harder missions, and he kept handling them with ease. even the higher ups were at a loss with what to do with him, his raw power developing into something they had never seen and had no idea how to control.

as you sat in the empty house, alone, you tried to not let it get to you, but the feeling ate away at you all the same. the glares you’d get when the two of you went out together, the whispers from other classmates or the higher ups, they clung to you.

you knew you were less than gojo - you always were, and it never bothered you. but now, with no cursed energy, you felt like nothing compared to him.

the words replayed in your mind, reminding you what you were.

failure. broken. fragile. useless. a burden. a hindrance. a flaw. a weakness.

of course, satoru never said any of these things, going out of his way to make sure you never heard the insults his so-called colleagues muttered about you, but it wasn’t enough. it ate and ate and ate away at you until you were empty.

when you left, his world collapsed. he begged you to stay, pleaded to let him come with you. he’d leave jujutsu, all the sorcery, all the hierarchy, all the bullshit behind if it meant he could be with you. but you knew he couldn’t; if he left with you, you’d just be proving them right. you’d be dragging him down with you.

“i love you, satoru,” you whispered, your thumb wiping away the tears that fell slowly down his cheek as you stood in the doorway of the house you promised would be your home. “that’s why i have to leave.”

–

making your way back down the steps, you sigh again, a single tear rolling down your cheek, your heart heavy with loss, the loss of the life you should have had. you and satoru, making breakfast together in the morning, falling asleep next to one another, planting flowers in the garden. the simple, quiet life. but instead, you’re here, alone.

your steps are heavy as you trace back through the rooms, the last time you’ll likely ever see them.

the floor creaks in the entryway.

slowly, your eyes follow the sound.

white hair, black uniform, and those bright blue eyes. he has a few more wrinkles around his cheeks, but it is absolutely, unmistakably, him.

“satoru?” you whisper.

he smiles at you.

[blueikeproductions]

So with TFONE attempting to simplify the Primes and some recent cartoons trying to theme some shows around them, it has led to a thought how this could work.

The biggest problem the Primes have is that nobody really knows or cares that much about them. The only one most actually care about is The Fallen because of the Bay film. Vector Prime via Galaxy Force is fondly remembered by TF fans, but that version also predates the modern Prime mythology.

Transformers Prime was intended to look more into what it means to be a Prime, but never truly does so. It also introduced the modern 13 Prime lore, but also does very little with it. It’s mostly limited to Solus’ Forge being a reoccurring weapon, Megatron grafting a Prime arm on to him, with creatives unable to decide who it’s supposed to be, and Alpha Trion making a cameo (more so to reference G1 than do much with the Primes).

RiD15 also uses the Primes, with Micronus (the main rep and Optimus’ life coach) and The Fallen (the first season’s main villain) as the stand out ones. Despite Micronus being the first Mini-Con, he has no influence on the cartoon’s Mini-Con gimmick it adapted later in its run. Liege Maximo appeared in chapter books and is the only (not Fallen) one who got to properly do something. I still greatly insist Onyx Prime should’ve been the rep due to the Beast theme instead. Also Thundertron, but that’s a different problem.

Cyberverse used Alchemist Prime specifically, but while being one of the better characters, he’s not very memorable. Onyx and Alpha Trion have minor roles, with Alpha Trion getting a toy… that nobody bought. He was also there for G1 ‘memberberries, in a role similar to the old cartoon. The Cyberverse staff were not shy admitting to only writing the show for themselves and like minded fans and not actual children.

And now EarthSpark uses Quintus in a major role… but it feels like there’s some conflicting ideas about who he is. Storyboards suggest he’s more benevolent having everyone’s best interests in mind, while the show keeps insisting he might be shady and a dead beat dad.

And like the aforementioned Onyx, the series isn’t great about using Primes better themed to a show. Combiner Wars opts to NOT use Nexus Prime, when instead perhaps they could’ve made him into the evil leader of the Combiners, forcing them to wipe out non Combiners so Cybertron is theirs to rule. Vs the show just having them fight… because reasons. He also never got a toy in the Combiner themed line. This could’ve also been tinkered with once more in RiD15 for its Combiner Force, casting him as a neutral who gifts power of combination to the Bee Team and the Pack, seeing who’s more worthy to use the Enigma for an upcoming problem involving an ancient Combiner unique to the show. (Also having Chop Shop as a minor villain again.)

I think the problem is largely NOT letting the other Primes being proper characters. Vector Prime and The Fallen are allowed to be characters, with Vector allowed to be part of the Autobots, make bonds with them and the kids, and have a little arc of his own, remembering the value of life throughout time.

I think if we went back to that, having a surviving Prime join the Autobots and find their footing in the modern era on Earth during the battle against the Decepticons would help.

It’s actually kind of shocking in the current “DEI” era that they don’t have Solus Prime in such a role, working alongside Optimus. The downside to this is current writers would probably make her into a more arrogant Captain Marvel type, but ideally Solus should be cast in a role similar to Vector in Galaxy Force. I feel like it’d be funny if she especially bonded with the kids, a loving but firm grandma, who drives them around, with the gag being the kids are ferried around in a big purple construction vehicle. Solus is also happy to fix things with a gentle tap of her Fixit Felix hammer, usually the kids’ phones, but an episode sees some repercussions, where the phones and other gadgets start Transforming into semi sentient-semi automatic weapons.

Think the Appliance Bots from ROTF.

Amalgamous is really the only one that’s too abstract to use as he is. I feel like the trick is to create an in-story reason why he can’t infinitely Transform, limiting him to being a Six Changer like Sixshot. This way the writers and artists can be more creative, and have a character arc where Amalgamous learns to be one of the Autobots with a running gag he forgets he can’t change into whatever he wants anymore and turns into a car or dinosaur that isn’t appropriate to the situation.

Liege is easy enough. He’s the Sideways trying to nudge the Autobots, Decepticons and humans into doing what he wants for nefarious reasons.

I feel like Prima would be a hybrid of TFA Ratchet & TFA Ultra Magnus, a cranky foxy grandpa that means well and tries to guide Optimus and the kids, but he’s quite literally an overbearing helicopter parent trying to dictate what Optimus should be doing. While still powerful in his own right, Prima does get overwhelmed by Megatron’s sheer rage.

The 13th Prime is up in the air. It could be Zeta, Rodimus, Adaptus, Mortilus or a brand new Prime for the scenario. I got nothing.

I am a bit concerned about Vector. He was already used effectively, but his schtick is time travel and manipulation, and to move the story of TFONE along that didn’t help him against Quints or Sentinel. Can you even use time travel effectively anymore? Maybe if Vector was more in line with Time Patrol Bon, not that anyone watched the Netflix reboot of it.