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seungisms · 2 years ago

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🖇️📁 𝐒𝐊𝐙 … 𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: a disturbing amount of fluff, read at your own risk

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: kinda based of that one txt song where they're the most pathetic simps ever but make it skz (also lovesick girls by bp but not really, just pinching the title. sorry girls <3) went a little off with minho and hyunjin cause i’m so obsessed with the thought them liking someone to the point it makes them nauseous. reblog for a kiss, feedback much appreciated!

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍

#1 [name] stan right here ladies and gents and my non-binary friends

istg the first time he was introduced to you there was full ass hearts in his eyes

obviously he thought you were so pretty and cute

but as soon as you started rambling about your love of songwriting and hoping to one day become a producer he was officially whipped

felix had to physically hold him back from embarrassing himself

and had to do so multiple times after

he becomes such a big goof around you

like he’ll be so calm and collected when you’re not around but as soon as someone so much as mentions your name he’s suddenly tripping over his feet and sweating at the brow

sometimes it scares him how in love he is with you

literally malfunctions if you even brush against his hand

man would drop everything if you needed him

not cause he’s whipped

he just wants to be a good friend duh

(okay maybe he’s a tad whipped)

makes so many excuses to be around you alone

and once snuck into jeongin’s phone to steal your number

has you stored on his phone as ‘[y/n]🥺🤍]’ for weeks before actually gaining the courage to text you

and like you were practically waiting for him to make a move cause he’s so goddamn obvious

if any of the multiple hoodies and sweatshirts you own of his that he insists you take to remember him by were a hint

and you’re like,,, bro,,, u live across the street

and he’s like yeah,,, but,,, shut up

really he just wants to see you wearing his clothes

gives him that boyfriend/girlfriend fantasy

he’ll never actually make a move cause he’s so damn insecure of himself and thinks you deserve someone much better that’ll be around more than him and omg he’s so dumb just kiss him

it’ll make him so happy

until then he’s just happy admiring you from a distance

but you can bet your ass once you guys actually start dating he’ll be 10000% more smitten than he was before

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐇𝐎

freaked out by his feelings and shows his love for you in the form of relentlessly teasing you to the point where you think he hates you

but really all he wants more in life is to kiss that dumb smile off your face

doesn’t realise how intimidating he comes off to other people

swears he’s staring at you all dreamy and in love but literally all you can see is (ಠ_ಠ) looking at you from across the room

will rant to his cats about you

hand to *god* if they could they’d be rolling their eyes at him

will blush like a mfing teenage girl once you start easing up around him, playing into his teasing and realising he’s just a big cat loving softie behind all those bitchy side eyes

has threatened to beat ur ass on more than one occasion if you ever tell anyone though

the others catch onto his little soft spot for you as soon as they catch him letting you get away with things he’d bitch at them for

like this one time everyone was going on a small road trip

minho was driving and before you could even open your mouth jisung was already pushing past you yelling ’sHoTgUn’

only to get yanked back by the collar of his shirt before he could even reach for the car handle

and minho is just staring down at him like

🧍‍♂️ that’s [name]’s seat

lets you use the aux cord too

buys you this cute little kitty mug for your birthday

leaves out the fact that it was part of a couple set and he has a matching one back at the dorm

but one day you catch him drinking out of it while visiting the boys and you just send him the cutest little knowing grin ever and this mf is choking on his coffee

clutching his heart, falling off his seat, slamming his head against the table from that one smile

you’re the first person he goes to when he has a bad day

just feels like he can actually open up to you

and you’re just so comforting to him, it makes him love you even more

and everyone thinks you’re such a dumbass cause how have you not caught on yet??? this man literally stares at you as if you hung the stars in the sky???

he'll pine after you for a long ass time before he actually confesses to you cause he doesn’t like to be vulnerable in front of others and he sucks ass at voicing his feelings

teasing gets 10000x worse when you start dating

(if you don’t get along with his cats though it’s a deal-breaker, no matter how cute ur dumbass is)

𝐒𝐄𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐈𝐍

heart eyes

literally as soon as felix introduced you to him he’s fucking twirling his hair, kicking his feet and shit

doesn’t know how to talk to pretty girls so after you’re done introducing yourself to the other boys and turn to him he’s just like

you know that one time chan and sana from twice did a live together and changbin was just in the corner like 🧍‍♂️

that’s him all the time around you

he’s not above making a fool out of himself

does things he would never normally do

lets you paint his nails

but insists it has to be black

cause he’s a man™️

doesn’t stfu about you

like he could be talking to someone about smth completely unrelated and he’ll just randomly go

‘omg did u see what [name] was wearing today?? she’s so pretty??? she could literally pull off anything?? did you know she has a pet guinea pig?'

and the other person is just like okay changbin go home

like don’t get me wrong the other guys love you like their sister but not when they have to pull this guy away from some random trainee that he decided would be the perfect victim to dump all his [name] rants on

pays sm attention to you

will make you feel like the only girl in the world istg

like you could just be casually talking about ur day and he’ll be soso silent, staring at you with literal fucking stars in his eyes like :) go on :)

just loves to hear you talk

thinks the little twinkle in your eyes and the grin tugging at your lips when you’re ranting about smth you’re passionate about is the prettiest sight ever

will go into full on hysterics if you ever make the slightest change in your appearance

dyed your hair? heart palpitations. decided to wear glitter on ur lids? sweating at the brow. wearing that cute little skirt you recently bought? yeah he’s dying right there on the spot.

probably has a private twitter account where all he does is cry about you

pines for so long before making a move

and he’s just so nervous and can’t keep his cool at all

literally wants to punch himself in the future once you start dating and tell him you wanted him to make a move every time you saw him 😭

he’s a dumbass but at least he’s a cute one

𝐇𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍

he’s such a flirt

and you don’t catch the hint he’s basically smitten with you cause the way he flirts with you is the same way he flirts with felix 😭

normally very confident when approaching people he’s interested in but smth about you just makes him go into windows.exe shutdown mode everytime he’s able to hype himself up to finally tell you he likes you

approaches with such a pretty grin, hearing his heart in his ears and a little voice in the back of his head that sounded far too similar to jisung saying ‘u got this’

but the moment you look up at him and shoot him that damn smile of yours he’s just like

you swear to this day you could see a little buffering symbol above his head

and he really can’t think of anything to say for the first time in his life and omg you’re looking at him and doing that cute little confused head tilt you always do and he can’t open his mouth and okay now he’s walking away

you’re just like 😃👍 ok

forbids you from mentioning it to this day

will have n o problem sitting in the corner all sulky if he feels you’re paying too much attention to the other boys

and will get petty about it

‘oh why are you over here talking to me now? thought u were having fun with your bOyFrIeNdS’

and ur like oh okay i’ll just go take my attention somewhere else and now he’s running after u like nO WAIT

lets you braid his hair :((

finds your presence so comforting no matter how much he loves to tease you

sometimes he’ll just facetime you after he’s had a rough day and you’ll just both sit in silence while sketching together

loves your little doodles no matter how shit you think they are

hides the fact that most of his recent artworks are of you <333

whenever you go on day trips with him he'll always have his camera

and like a 9/10 chance most of the photos he takes that day are of you

but if you catch him he’ll become all tsundere and be like ‘yOUR UGLY ASS WAS BLOCKING THE VIEW’

and you’re just like okay then explain the blush on your face

has matching rings with you

actually gifted you the ring and just decided not to mention he also has the same one

bro grifted you

you’re dating before you even know you’re dating okay? okay.

𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆

another that makes a fool out of himself for your attention and has no problem doing so

has matching friendship bracelets with you and literally wears it everywhere

even on stage

doesn’t care about the fact that it’s bright pink with little flowers and butterflies attached to it

he cherishes that thing with his mfing life

so obnoxious but in a cute anime girl way of course

if you’re on the other side of the room his first instinct is to make a scene and be the loudest bitch in there to get ur attention

will send you good morning texts everyday without fail

but this guy wakes up at like 2pm on a good day but it’s the thought that counts !!

so whipped and its soso obvious that the others just wanna grab your head and shake it until you finally realise half the love songs on their albums are written about you

one day when you complimented his shirt he made sure to wear it every time he saw you for the next 2 weeks straight

until the point chan literally had to rip it off him

he’s a such a fool

loves when you randomly show up to the studio during the middle of the night cause you ‘had a gut feeling he was overworking himself’ and he swears he falls even more in love with you in that moment than he already was

and you just look so cute and sweet bundled up in his sweatshirt, hands carrying all his favourite foods and the sleepiest look in your eyes

lets you cuddle against him while he works away on his tracks

and has to clam himself down from squealing like a teenage girl once your head starts to slump against his shoulder and cute little snores leave you

has the most precious smile on his face

swears he sees a flash coming from the door out of the corner of his eye

and as he’s turning around chan and changbin are hightailing it out of there

becomes his favourite photo

and the rest are just like??? how tf do either of you not realise how smitten both of u are??

spoiler alert: its cause ur both dumb af

will literally do anything you ask

will drop everything to come over to ur place at like 1am just to eat cheap ramen and watch some shitty rom-com he’s already seen with you 100 times before

complains he hates them the whole way through

(lets ignore the fact that he actually loves them and can recite legally blonde word for word)

you guys both have a nightly ritual of doing face masks and skincare together when he stays

says he hates it but his skin has never felt so soft???

takes him awhile to actually realise you like him too

and everyone is just like bRO HOW SHE’S LITERALLY WRAPPED AROUND YOUR FINGER!! THIS GIRL LITERALLY WORSHIPS YOU?

but jisung :) an oblivious cutie :)

got the whole jype building frustrated af

the whole of twice and itzy 100% ship you two together on a daily basis

anyway [name] and jisung cutest couple 2023 guys get into it

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐅𝐄��𝐈𝐗

incredibly sweet but you just think he’s being nice so it’s very frustrating to everyone around you

loves skinship

in general a very big fan

but even more when it’s with you (or hyunjin)

lays his head on ur shoulder while watching some low budget movie, gives you the tightest hugs when you meet up and can’t help but brush his hand up against your own for some type of contact

no matter what it is he always has to be touching you

makes plans with you and is like ‘oh yeah, the guys are gonna meet us there!!’

and when you finally get there its just him sitting waiting for you like :)

literally goes ‘oh no !! they cancelled last minute, guess ur stuck with me <333’

and he’s so cute that you can’t even be mad when he decides to be a devious little shit

probably forces you to learn new girl group choreography with him for tiktok

and if you accidentally run into one of the twice members while visiting him during practice this guy will literally lean down and whisper 'don't embarrass me' before ditching ur ass to do the pop choreo with nayeon or some shit

buys you stuff all the time

as if you’re actually dating

once he bought you this little bracelet (for no reason other than ur cute, the bracelet is cute, be cute together)

gives it to you with the prettiest smile and is just like ‘thought of u !!’ and ur just looking at the price tag like felix this is $500…

this mf insists on holding ur hand in public and people always mistake you for a couple

and when they comment on how cute you guys are and you go to correct them but then felix is butting in like ‘thank u!! :D’

literally gets withdrawal symptoms when he goes home to australia to visit his family

will have no problem calling you at 3am just to hear your voice

his phone lockscreen is 100% a selfie of the both of you

also almost definitely has an album on his phone dedicated to you

filled with cute photos he took of you when you weren’t looking

and will scroll through them at midnight with the most lovesick grin on his face

basically becomes his nightly routine

when one of the other boys are like ‘hey, consider this. maybe felix does all this stuff cause he likes u? idk, just a theory.’

and ur just like hahaha nooo he’s just being nice :D

cue ot7 wanting to rip their hair out over you two stupid asses

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍

he thinks he’s flirting but really he’s just being an asshole

lucky for him you think he’s a cute asshole

when you first become friends with the rest of the boys you legit thought he couldn’t stand you cause he was sulking in the corner not talking to you once

but really he was just grumpy that the others were taking up all the time of the pretty girl he wanted to ask out

also struggles to look you in the eyes the first couple weeks

cause wow ur so cute

eases up around you when he realises you’re just as dumb as the rest of them

becomes ur best friend in the span of a week istg

sends you this and is like ‘omg, [name]!! someone recorded u in the shower and sent it to me!!’

and you have to resist the urge to drive to the dorms just to beat his ass into next week

extremely protective of you though

if anyone ever tries to mess with you he’s straight over like ‘hey >:( only i can make fun of her >:((‘

100% that childish schoolyard crush where the boy pulls on the hair of the girl he likes

whenever the guys ask him if he wants to hang out he’s like,,, with u losers??? fk no

and chan just goes oh okay well [name] is gonna be pretty disappointed

and this guy is suddenly all up in his face like …..😳 [name] will be there??….😳

and chan has to restrain himself from grabbing his phone and snapping a picture cause kim seungmin just fucking blushed

likes his own space but he never minds when you decide to come over and keep him company

joins you when you decide to bake at midnight

not to help

he just likes making a mess and pissing you off

randomly decided he likes seeing you in his clothes so please expect his hoodies and sweatshirts to ‘mysteriously’ appear in your room

(really just wants to see how cute you look wearing them)

literally feels his heart get soso warm when you wear his sweatshirt to the dorms one day

and will be like ‘see, [name] loves me. we’re practically dating’ to the other boys

and minho is rolling his eyes and saying ‘as if u pussy’ and now seungmin is ranting with tears in his eyes about how it’s H I S sweatshirt you’re wearing not minhos

petty af

whenever he’s being grumpy he’ll snap at you to go bother someone else

and immediately regrets it when you sulk out of the room

but he's also a dick and just sits and feels sorry for himself for a few hours

later when he goes to find you to apologise and sees you playing video game and goofing around with jeongin

him af

will make it up to you always

he’s just so in love with you and doesn’t know how to handle it :(

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍

first of all can someone save this boy cause he sure as hell can’t save himself

freezes up anytime you come into the room and won’t say a damn word to you

is perfectly content staring at you from across the room for the rest of his life if that means not embarrassing himself

cause he 100% would if he even attempted to talk to ur cute ass

the only reason you two even became friends was because hyunjin got sick of your pining and locked you in a room together

and you’re just watching like :( as jeongin is banging and yelling at the door to let you out

and you think he’s not interested in being friends with you but really he’s practically seconds away from having a full mental breakdown at the mere thought of being locked in a room with a pretty girl with even prettier eyes

notices your sad stare avoiding him and suddenly he wants to beat himself up for making you feel like that

semi-explains himself

he’s just an awkward little bitch really

leaves out the fact that he’s pretty sure he’s in love with you and doesn’t know how to act like a normal human being around you

cue to the both of you finally being let out like three hours later cause the guys got suspicious from the lack of noise

and there you two were knocked out on the bed cuddling like two cuties :(

istg it was chans lockscreen for a solid year

after that he’s even more smitten with you

if he’s ever on his phone the boys just assume he’s either stalking your insta or texting you random memes and thinking it’s flirting

but really he’s texting you the same way he’s texts seungmin so???

will show up at your apartment at like 2am and just be like ‘c’mon lets get food’

and now you’re sitting in some shitty ramen place and it’s cold and the lights above you keep flickering

but jeongin is sitting across from you looking so cute while trying to slurp up noodles that never seem to stop and you couldn’t be happier

uses his cutie maknae card to get out of practice earlier

just to visit you while you try to study/work

aka him annoying you until you cave and pay attention to him

will play video games with you

and claims he ‘let you win’ when you beat his ass

always makes the cute scrunchy face when you hug him and be even the slightest bit affectionate with him

and swears he hates it

but really he has to stop himself from locking himself in his room and squealing into his pillow like a 14 year old girl whos crush just looked at her for the first time

i repeat

someone save this boy

in love with you for a good two years before he even thinks about making a move

he’s just shy when it comes to his feelings but trust me when you guys start dating he’ll be the most annoying little fucker ever <333

#stray kids reactions #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids drabbles #stray kids headcanons #stray kids fluff #skz reactions #skz imagines #skz fluff #bang chan x reader #lee minho x reader #seo changbin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #han jisung x reader #lee felix x reader #kim seungmin x reader #yang jeongin x reader

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anti-endo-safe-space · 6 months ago

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Violence anon - thank you so much

Mentions of blades and inflicting violence

We have a pair of persecutors(ish) who are highly sadistic (in a literal sense, not as a judgment). They specifically want to cut into someone. They don't need a reaction or anything, they just want to see it. It's nonsexual and makes them giddy with an almost manic energy

We want to give them a safe outlet for these urges, but we're having trouble coming up with ideas. They might be willing to draw or write; they're not interested in things like exercising or listening to music. We do have fake blood and the best thing we've thought of would be getting a surgical practice kit, which is essentially a slab of fake skin to practice incisions and sutures - it wouldn't bleed, but it's the closest thing we could think of

Do you (or your followers) have any ideas for alternatives? Or anywhere else to ask? We looked around for persecutor-specific blogs that give advice but couldn't find many active ones

TW: Violence, creating fake violence, weapons

Hey anon! We do have a slight idea which is honestly dependent on stuff like funds. Though we do know one that would be much more possible because you can make it at home.

There are companies that will make stuff such as fake torsos/other body parts that are to buy but are super super expensive. There is also always the option of making ballistic gel. It's known to very closely resemble human skin, it's why in shows like MythBusters they used them.

There are also video games and such, including things like VR (again, funds) that can mimic it to help them as well.

Writing and art can also help to get it out if none of you want to do that as well.

Anyone else who reads this: if you have any ideas, please comment or reblog! And istg if any are talking shit on persecutors that's an instant block, persecutors deserve love and affection just as much as any other alter.

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appreciatingtokrev · 2 years ago

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ohh i love purple, my fav after black n blue and ngl one of the colors i’d like to dye my hair once too... but i have to bleach it first and i wanna do it myself but i’m scared of fucking it up and also my parents lol so. will stay a wish for now. anyways i bet your hair looks good still!!

yes you are right i fr do have to 💀😭😭 very understandable yes yes. avoiding screencaps like the plague rn bc i wanna be excited for when i finally watch it, but one question: what does his voice sound like and does it fit him?? that’s all i need to know

istg they already fucked up the voices for inupi and koko i really hope at least his sounds like i hc it does 😭

impulsively dyed my hair (again) last night, but the catch is: i did it cuz i wanted to! not bcuz i was going through shit!! whatttt!!

anyways i'm excited for the izana episode today i expect to start going insane 👍👍

ohh which color is it this time? 👁 and that is very great!! i’m happy for you :D

god yes expect me to go totally insane whenever i watch it.... which might be a while bc i still haven’t watched any of the s2 eps except for the 1st one help but i think my friends and i will finally watch them in three/four weeks. hopefully. anyways i will go so insane about izana aha yk i’ve been self-shipping with him for a while now so uhh yeahhh expect be not to be normal about him <3

#nod nod #sHION?? OHH #i loooove shion fr he’s like. i love him as if he was my bestie idk. babygirl 🫶#yES GAH I LOVE KAKUCHO TOO I LOVE TOO MANY TENJIKU PPL #MOCHI TOO #mochi deserves so much more love istg #tbh i’m a valhalla truther 💯💯#no bc i am (technically) working on a valhalla jacket. well inverted colors bc there’s only black ones here n i can’t order online. still #i just finally gotta paint the logo on. and somehow make that red tag #i feel like i told you abt this two months ago or smth.#.........well i still only need to do those two things and then i have a valhalla jacket with inverted colors :)#that totally isn’t a bit too big on me and makes my shoulders look stupidly broad #but welp. gotta go with what i can afford and reach #elys n taku rambles #☆—`reblog

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taegularities · 2 years ago

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I don't think I've ever mentioned that I was on anon before, so it's totally okay. I just recently came across the specific ask saved in my bookmarks (because I cherish every author interaction with my whole heart), so that's what reminded me that I had even sent it.

It took me a while to build up the courage and actually interact with anything and anyone on here, and I remember going over things so many times to make sure that everything I'm saying makes sense and it's not too much. And look at me now, rambling in every single one of my reviews lmao.

But really, the important thing that I wanted to say is that I literally squeal out loud and get the biggest smile on my face when I see that you've reblogged one of my reviews or answered my asks. I am so glad that I made the decision to reach out because I love talking to you, both about your writing and not. Sorry that I've said it a million times now, but it is how I feel 💞💞💞

WAH YOU FOUND THE ASK. omg, it sounds 100% like you haha and i remember it, too! the day when everyone had this crazy as heck theory that he might have gotten a tattoo for her or whuteva 🙄

i absolutely get having to gather courage. i can absolutely assure you though that your reviews make sense; a lot of times you think of things that didn't even cross my mind. or you throw in theories that are spot on (hence my abundant use of "you're right" lmao), but i love love love your rambling so much, istg, we don't deserve you </3

and ivi, same, whenever i see that you've reblogged a chapter or sent an ask, i get so excited bc i enjoy reading through them all so much, i'm not even exaggerating 😭 so thank you for doing everything you do. and don't apologise, i must have thanked you for everything like a hundred and million times lmao so rambling frens unite <3

#it's so sweet that you bookmark interactions btw !!#notes for rid 🌹#ivi <3

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berryunho · 2 years ago

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HI BESTIE it's san anon and IT'S BEEN A WHILE

i hope you're still enjoying your time in sk hehehe i see your posts sometimes and am like *nods* having a good time, nice

it's been a busy couple of weeks sjdghsfj HONESTLY i don't think that ppt will ever like. get there. IM SORRY DSJHGFJ i loved the idea of it but i don't think i can find the time to make you the amazing ppt you deserve SIGH i do however have reasons written down for why you SHOULDN'T k word san so bet you'll be hearing from me shortly

ANYWAY that was all i just wanted to pop by and ask how you're doing <3 i hope life is going well for you !!!!!!! love u mwah

(also this is me trying to fix my english bc you > u istg i've evolved)

WAUT SAN ANON AGAIN I JUST SAW THAT ASK ABT NOT TRUSTING SAN'S MANIPULATIVE ASS i love him i'm so sorry it's so bad but i LOVE cult freak san the same way i love hongjoongism (yes i'll keep using this name) and hongjoong's wicked little brain i love it all idk i'm just. waiting for the day you don't k word san off but instead turn him into this crazy wicked insane evil cult freak instead of the cute cult freak we've seen up until now KJHDSGFKJHSD kq please give us a dark concept. i need an actual culteez concept. don't just break that wall murder it san anon again because what the FUCK i missed so many san reblogs HELP???? it makes sense now bc apparently i had the for you page open instead of the following page wtf tumblr

HSKDJFASDLFJS HIIIIII

dont worry about being busy and PLSDJFASLKDF THE PPT LOL ITS OKY I DIDNT REALLY EXPECT YOU TO MAKE ONE E VERJKLJASFLKD PSKLJFSKLDF .... i also love cult freak san and evil hongjoong LKSJDFLASKDJF last night i was writing .... a scene that will happen in ... the next few chapters probably and i was (s)creamin-- I MEAN i was having a very good time writing it even though its like the most diabolical angst to ever come from my hands i was giggling biting my lip SO ANYWAYS thats gonna be so fun to release into the world but it has to simmer for a bit still ... not to confirm nor deny any san allegations of course mwuahaha AND ANYWAYS YES I AGREE bring back mvs where kpop boys would kill people ... or like graphic vampire concepts ... PLEASE I NEED IT SO BAD FJASLDJFSJ AND ???? NOT THE FOR YOU PAGE omg i do the same thing though like it switches and i dont realize and im like "where tf is sanchelinz rn" SKJFKALSDFJ

but anyways to answer your question ... im very good still ehehe my classes are all going well i even went up korean levels LAKJDFLASD and changing topics im not really a makeup person but i walked into olive young 2 days ago and blacked out and now i own a bunch of makeup and im trying to learn how to use it and i actually ... feel so cute KASDJLFSADJ like i have some on rn and its all pink and glittery and i did my eyelashes the wonyoung way and I FEEL SO CONFIDENT ACTUALLY its crazy like i think im pretty wo makeup lol and idk i normally feel so goofy when i try to do makeup but im actually proud of what ive been able to learn in ... 3 days lol

AND ??? you probably saw lol BUT I WENT TO IDOL RADIOAFLSJDFK;ASJ that was ... so anxiety inducing LKJKLAJSDFKJS there were SO many people and our foreign asses didnt reserve seats and didnt think to bring. idk. LADDERS BC PEOPLE BRING FUCKING LADDERS (*%)($*@)#()@ and anyways idk WHAT i was doing so wrong just by standing in one spot and not moving but i was being CURRRSSEDDDD out by ktinys like i accidentally looked at one of them for too long apparently and she turned to her friend and was like "this fucking foreigner is staring crazy bitch" I WAS LIKE (*$)(*$_)(#)(@_(#_????@$?$?@?4 and another girl saw me and was like "i fucking hate when foreigners come they never know whats happening" (*409*@)@(-#(0 I HAVE NEVER IN MY LIFE BEEN SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT I WAS LITERALLY LIKE ............................ simply pretended i didnt know what they were saying bc i wouldve started swinging and gotten deported if i engaged like ... HOOOOO DEEP BREATHS IM NOT MAD anyways yunho and hongjoong waved to me and i got so many good pictures and i was just happy to get to see them ehehehe all that matters is that THIS is hongjoong waving at me and my friend

and anyways i stay winning <3 life is amazing im so happy everyday <3 I HOPE YOURE GOOD AS WELL BESTIE !!! PLS LMK HOW YOU ARE AND DW ABOUT BEING BUSY AND HAVE A NICE REST OF YOUR WEEK AND ILY <3333 MWAHHH :]]] <33 <33 <33

#answered #san anon #this is so long omg heh

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1disappear · 2 years ago

Text

I posted 1,141 times in 2022

118 posts created (10%)

1,023 posts reblogged (90%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@everythingfox

@niallandharrymakemestrong

@matildashoney

@mistlekissy

@studentlifeproblems

I tagged 778 of my posts in 2022

Only 32% of my posts had no tags

#the better living creature - 157 posts

#kdrama - 102 posts

#nh - 84 posts

#narry - 49 posts

#hs - 41 posts

#link eat love kill - 31 posts

#one direction - 23 posts

#house - 20 posts

#flower of evil - 19 posts

#lirry - 15 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#the rest of the jihwa-dong natives will try their very best to keep up the cover other than the fish guy. piano teacher. and that one cop

My Top Posts in 2022:

I thought it was weird they didn’t show much of gyehoon’s dad other than from back when gyeyoung was still alive, but now we know he is missing and gyehoon is actually there to look for him. I feel so sorry for ji wontak, turns out he’s a victim from all of this, he only wanted to help his best friend find his sister but had to pay the price, and now he just wants to protect himself and his father. Also, I can’t believe someone managed to make lee jingeun hesitate like that, i think, i think, it’s mr. cho, he’s the guy who drove the truck in the early episodes if i’m not mistaken, and i’m highly suspicious of him (more than the others). Last but certainly not the least, eun gyehoon finally letting dahyun into his life 👏👏 yes yes everyone, give him the biggest round of applause for not letting his past hold him back from living his life anymore because he deserves to be happy just like everyone else

10 notes - Posted July 5, 2022

Wow. That was... insane! They really made us all gooey and soft by shoving the cutesy romance of gyehoon and dahyun in the first half before going wild in the second half huh. I went through so many emotions in the last hour istg. Ji wontak breaking down in his ex’s arms was beautiful, it was as if he finally let go of the burden he’d been carrying. He even accepted the fact he is part of the jihwa-dong kids at the end there, i loved that! I just wish we get to see him approach his dad after knowing the truth. Lee jingeun is so fucking mad for feeling offended that dahyun reported him to the police, like, you literally deserve to be chased down for the rest of your life and never live in peace ever again for everything you’ve done, you piece of shit. Dahyun is starting to remember things from her past and ngl i’m kinda scared to know the truth of what actually happened eighteen years ago. And just when i thought i knew who culprit was, everyone started to act so strangely again. One thing i know for sure tho, that one cop who told gyehoon about the investigation is innocent. Also, don’t forget the fact that there are more than one culprits according to the shaman.

13 notes - Posted July 6, 2022

I just hope they won't cut tonight's episode right when creepy guy shows up just because they can 😮‍💨😔

16 notes - Posted June 21, 2022

SHUT UPPP THEY'RE SO PRETTY!!!

ALSO

See the full post

18 notes - Posted April 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

park hyungsik is the man

20 notes - Posted January 9, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #my number 1 post shshhdd so valid of me tho

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channieverse · 8 months ago

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I genuinely feel so nervous and inadequate about reblogging this, because I know that no matter the amount of words I try to express my appreciation and love for this piece with, it will never be enough. It honestly feels like being able to read this, being allowed to have my mind and my heart changed by your words, is a sin so incredibly grave. Like, how dare I read this skillfully crafted piece and live on to say I experienced such beauty. How dare I?

When I was reading this, a profound sense of guilt settled in me, the kind of guilt when you cut into a cake that's so beautifully decorated and you just can't bare the thought of eating it, or when you light the wick of the prettiest candle you own, or when you open a new album and the pretty photocard gets marked up by your finger prints. It's a hard feeling to describe and those examples might be so subjective lol. But I felt genuinely inadequate(?) reading this... like, how dare this piece be tainted by my gaze... ahhh I think I'm waffling lol, I think the emotions of reading both parts of this ingeniously crafted fic are still too raw and visceral. (Raw and visceral in the most beautiful way that I genuinely didn't deserve to experience... ahh, yes, deserve is the right word. I don't deserve to indulge in your excellence, honestly).

Despite the praise in the amazing reblog I saw this fic already garnered, I will try to share my appreciation as best as I can since it's the very, very least I could do. (wah this is saur hard I'm so nervoussss)

I can confidently say that I've never read something that touched my soul the way this piece did. It felt like your words permeated my being and changed everything I ever knew about feeling and love and patience. I genuinely cannot fathom that I've read this, haha, it feels ethereal, really.

This rollercoaster of a fic kept me at the very edge until the absolute end, I was greedily inhaling every word... and it really felt like I was committing a crime by doing so 😭 istg my thumb hovered over my screen above the link to the second part, not because I didn't need to know what more you graciously had to share, but because I was questioning if I'm really allowed to read more. (lol I really don't know what I'm even saying anymore)

I was so immersed in the story and I cried so many times. You wrote both characters' thoughts and emotions so perfectly and so vividly. Admittedly, I guiltily indulged in the way both of their perspectives were so real and incredibly well-depicted. The reality of it all was like a punch to my chest. It genuinely feels like something one can only write after experiencing it. How do you do it, and so beautifully too?

I loved the element of muscle memory you'd added close to the end, I thought it was so smart and it never crossed my mind that even though conscious memories can be erased, you can still hold onto said muscle memories. And please don't get me started on the pudding part and the tracing of his scar and how you personified the house and its walls-- my heart can only handle so much.

I usually try to avoid angst at all costs lol 💀 because it will genuinely affect me for the next few days. But I just dove into this piece and it got to the part of Minho wanting to leave. And then I physically sucked in a breath and thought that the end would be tragic and sad and will leave the population heartbroken beyond repair and that I made a mistake by choosing to read this. But. BUT. The ending so expertly waltzed along and soothed my soul. Yes, I'll probably be thinking and dreaming about the emotions and images you placed into my brain for the next few months, if not forever, but the ending was so perfect. I genuinely cannot explain it in words and it's so frustrating. I adored the imagery of the stars.

I must say, I think my favorite line was "It is a rare fortune to be chosen by you not once, but twice..." If I had to explain why (lol wow I apologize in advance for more waffling)... it's like the fic up until that point was an open wound and this line came along, caressed the reader gently, applied a hello kitty plaster onto said wound, and kissed it better. It settled my aching heart so well and it felt like I could breathe again because no longer is Minho grieving the loss of someone who's still very much alive and breathing. Instead, it seems as if his perspective of this situation has changed and there's more beauty to this situation than pain because Minho experienced y/n falling in love with him twice. I don't know what love's like, but once sounds as lucky as finding your twin flame, so what must twice feel like?

and you write Minho and his kind and gentle yet teasing personality so incredibly well. When he said "that obnoxious orange," I stopped, gasped and went, "THAT IS SAUR MINHO STFU" But really, the image of him in my mind never faltered once as I read, I clearly pictured him in every scene with ease, purely because of how expertly you pieced him together. And it's all the little things that makes the difference, right-- his moles, his scar, his teasing nature, his sparkly eyes and his jet-black hair, his cats and his gentle yet stubborn stance. I feel like if I personally knew Minho, this is exactly who he'd be. ( wow honestly at this point, I don't even know who's my bias anymore??? what did you do sahar 😖)

Lastly, I want to say thank you, Sahar. Not only are you talented, but you are indeed beauty personified.

P.S. (thought I'd leave some songs...)

끝나지 않을 이야기 (Neverending Story), Stray Kids Zombie, DAY6 She's In The Rain, The Rose Renee's Song, Bazzi

I feel like the words in these songs are so... obvious... like you don't have to decipher their meanings to link it to your story, which seems kinda shallow(?) on my part 😭 but listening to these songs after reading your work just brought me this sense of solace...? idk it's hard, to comprehend and even more challenging to explain. But I'd thought to leave these songs here since your work resonates with these songs for me... and it's so crazy because these are some of my ALL TIME favorite songs (especially 끝나지 않을 이야기 😭 istg it's my favorite song and i'm going to have this song carved into my headstone and tattooed onto my skin). So, for me to experience the same feelings these songs provide by reading your piece... I was genuinely speechless.

I hope you are well, happy and healthy. 🩷 with love, channieverse

Echoes of love

"to love someone is firstly to confess; i am prepared to be devastated by you."

Chapter ii. to remember

genre : memory loss trope. angst. slow burn. unrequited love except you were in a loving relationship and everything changes overnight.

pairing : minho x reader. (3racha cameo)

summary : if given the choice would you love minho again? yes, you would've once said in a heartbeat. but now, you aren't sure of your response anymore.

cw : depiction of a nightmare and anxiety attack. allusion to mc having a bad family history with alcohol. suggestive in the end (allusion to sex but no smut). reader had she/her pronouns.

word count : 11k words.

song recs : the night we met/terrible love/black friday/cover me/already gone/enough.

chapter i. skz quotes series masterlist.

A.N: PT. 2 IS HERE!!!! i hope you'll enjoy this one, she's my baby and i put so much work and thought into her, so feedback is highly highly appreciated!!! thank you to my @forlix for being with me every step of this journey, i love u the most<33

Day 33.

With a gentle, absentminded sweep, your fingers trace the delicate contours of your wrist, a faint dance with the pulse beneath your skin– the cocoon of the soul you’re gradually growing accustomed to. It is a trying task, you've found out, to no longer yearn to flee from your body, leaving the weight of your worries for your bones and flesh alone to bear.

A subtle fragrance floats in the air surrounding you- the familiar gardenia and honey tones of your sweet perfume. It is a scent you reserve for special occasions, such as this one- your first date, in three months according to the world, in more than a year for your memory.

You swiftly retrieve a mirror from your pouch, checking your appearance for the tenth time in mere minutes. Your nude lipstick is still, unsurprisingly, in place, and you smile reassuringly at your reflection. She smiles back, though sometimes you half-expect her not to. In defiance, perhaps, maybe even repulse.

The melodious chime of the café's bell captures your attention, and the man you've been awaiting finally enters. He confidently strides in, clad in a blue polo and black slacks, an evident effort poured into his appearance.

Standing before you, his warm, gleaming eyes meet yours, effortlessly melting your lingering worries. You smile at him, he beams at you.

“Did I keep you waiting?” Changbin, your date, asks as he pulls the chair adjacent to you.

“No, just in time.”

Two weeks ago.

Day 17.

“Use me. Use me to remember,” Minho whispers, the distance between your lips resembling the thin edge of a blade.

You close your eyes, the world narrowing down to the sound of your heartbeat, a rhythmic drum drowning out any attempt at coherent thoughts. Kiss him, your heart chants, kiss him and all your memories will flood back. But what if they don't? What if the abyss persists before the brightest beam of light?

A tender kiss lands on your forehead, gently interrupting your tumultuous thoughts. Minho’s lips are as warm, as soft as you remember them. They're now imprinted into your skin, no longer a hazy memory beyond your reach.

His hands cradle your hair, smoothing it down, making the ringing in your ears soften. You surrender to his gentle embrace, to the soft tide of emotions rippling from him to you, pulling your wounded soul to safe shores.

“You need to forgive yourself,” he whispers, his words echoing against your skin, lips still pressed to your forehead. A rush of warmth overwhelms you, all your senses coming to life, ringing the alarm- he sees you, he sees through you.

“None of this is your fault,” he assures, a sudden cooling balm against your scorching wounds. These are the words you've been aching to hear. You didn't know, but Minho did, reading between the lines of your quivering lips and your reluctance to look into his eyes.

He knows you better than you know yourself.

“Don’t blame yourself, please.”

“But all I do is hurt people,” you confess, tears streaming down your face like a relentless downpour, soaking Minho's hands.

You expect punishment to strike you, bolting lighting aiming straight for your heart as you finally admit to your biggest sin- the shadow of sorrow that trails your every step. It is the way it has always been since you were a child. It is what you fled from.

What you don't expect is for tenderness to cradle you instead— in Minho's warm hand as he gently guides you to his chest, your ear resting above his steady heartbeat. Its rhythmic cadence akin to a lullaby- you shouldn't apologize for existing, you hear it sing to you.

“If you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you. you’re forgiven, okay? I forgive you. Today and tomorrow. I'll forgive you until you'll forgive yourself.”

“Okay,” you nod, muffled words against the fabric of his shirt.

“Now, will you please come back with me? The cats will miss you a lot if you don’t,” he suggests, pressing his cheek onto the crown of your head.

“I don't want to leave them,” you reply in a small voice, dewdrops gathering in your eyes at the thought of running again.

“You don’t have to. It’s your home too.”

“Okay,” you sigh in acceptance, relief, encircling his waist with your arms. He is all inviting, like an open book, and you're resting between his pages, scribbled with love confessions for you.

The world stills, waves slowing their relentless crash against the shore, as you draw in a deep breath from the pits of your soul. You don't remember all you’ve once felt for Minho. But you know it must have been safe, like stumbling upon a haven and then learning it was specially carved for you.

“I miss you, Minho.”

“I know, I miss you too.”

Day 19.

“Minho, can you come to the kitchen please?” your voice reverberates through the house, weaving through the air and reaching the bedroom where Minho has been ensnared, his less-than-graceful complaints echoing loudly for the past hour. You had sealed him within without explanation, only making him promise not to leave the room until you told him to, much to his dismay, and deep down, amusement.

He chuckles lowly to himself as he rises from the bed, before making his way to the kitchen. There, he finds you near the doorway, hands concealed behind your back, dusty flour adorning your cheek like an artist’s absentminded paint stroke.

“So…,” you trail off and Minho smiles, crossing his arms before his chest.

“So?”

“A situation may have happened.”

“Which situation?” he inquires amusedly, attempting to peer past you into the kitchen. Your extended arms block his view.

“You know how I got a concussion from the car accident,” you ask.

“I do.”

“I think it may have affected my cooking abilities.”

“But you didn't have any to begin with?” he muses, tilting his head to the side innocently.

“Shut up,” you playfully admonish before clasping your hands in a silent plea. “Will you help me?”

“Mm, what are you making?” he inquires, leaning against the doorway.

“Pudding.”

“Pudding?”

“For you.”

“Oh.”

A blush creeps up Minho’s neck as he grapples to find a reply, his surprised gasp hanging into the air. You giggle faintly, entertained by his sudden speech impairment.

In response, Minho takes a step forward, delicately brushing away the flour on your cheek, his thumb hovering near the corner of your mouth. “How did this get here?”

“Huh?” you sputter, pink splashing across your cheeks like spilled Rosé.

Minho is testing your waters, dipping one toe in, hoping he’ll find your reassuring embrace lurking beneath the surface. Did you blush from the heat of the stove or his touch? Minho doesn’t know. Minho needs to find out.

“And you also forgot this,” he lightly pouts, reaching over your head to the hanger behind you, caging you between his arms.

He’s sacrificing his heart, placing it on the frontlines of hurt once again. Yet, when you look up at him, dewy eyes flickering to his lips, Minho feels a single match lighten up in his core, not enough to burn all his doubts. But enough to signal hope.

Hope is a perilous possession, akin to cradling a fragile glass that threatens to shatter at the slightest tremor. Hope is the only thread Minho can now hang onto.

“You forgot your apron,” he finally says, withdrawing two aprons from the hanger. He drapes one over your head before placing a hand on your shoulder, gently turning you around. He silently ties the strings into a ribbon, his fingers brushing against your spine. He can distinctly remember the feel of your bare skin beneath his fingertips, silky, smooth, intoxicating.

“There, a pretty knot,” he whispers, not moving back an inch, waiting for you to swivel around. Yet, you remain silent, undoing your hair from its loose ponytail. Your hair cascades over your shoulders, resembling the unveiling of curtains, and Minho senses something unfurling in the depths of his stomach.

“Tie it for me?” you whisper, handing him the hair tie without looking back. Your fingertips brush against each other, and Minho inhales deeply.

“Sure,” he says, voice thick with emotion, he needs to drink water. He needs to drink you in.

He gathers your hair strands in another low ponytail, trembling hands as they brush against the nape of your neck, akin to powerless leaves before the autumn breeze. He’s close, so close to you, so much his chest almost brushes against your back.

As soon as he’s done, Minho swiftly steps back before doing something he’ll surely regret, like placing a tender kiss on your shoulder, or worse, confessing that he misses the simple act of brushing your hair at night.

“So, pudding,” he clears his throat, rolling up the sleeves of his white hoodie. your eyes follow his movement, lingering on the veins protruding on his forearms. Minho feels a bit foolish for wanting to flex for you.

“It’s really easy actually. bring me two eggs?”

“Sure,” you grin, heading for the fridge as Minho retrieves sugar from the cupboard, throwing away the odd liquid mixture you managed to conjure.

You stand beside Minho, eyebrows furrowed as he explains why the milk needs to be brought to a boil before adding the cornstarch, or how adding the vanilla at the very end will help preserve its flavor. You listen intently, nodding along, and the tension between you dispels, leaving place for something comforting, familiar– you’re erasing the remnants of his sobs, the sight of him crumbling over the green kitchen tiles.

“Let's leave it to chill,” he finally says, closing the fridge’s door.

“Okay,” you nod, packing away the butter. Minho leans against the countertop, an ember of curiosity ablaze at the tip of his tongue

“Why did you want to make pudding?” he asks and you freeze in place.

“To see if I’m capable of not being a lost cause,” you respond playfully but the undertones of your voice indicate otherwise- laden, charged. One more match that you could light up?

“Really?” he says softly, taking one step toward you.

“No,” you giggle faintly and he nods, a gentle smile unfurling on his face, gradual as the eclipse of a moon.

“It was supposed to be your birthday gift. That's why I locked you in the room. I even bought little birthday hats for the cats, silly I know, and very late, but, turns out I’m a horrible-”

“I wanna see the birthday hats,” he cuts you off.

“Really? They’re really ugly.”

“It's my birthday gift, right?”

Five minutes later, you and Minho are seated on the floor, legs crisscrossed, three perplexed cats before you, and on their heads, obnoxiously neon green hats.

“They look so…” you tilt your head, assessing the view before you.

“Stupid?” Minho suggests, eliciting a startled snort from you that swiftly transforms into an almost maniac cackle, which in turn, catches Minho off guard. He gazes at you bewilderedly before succumbing to a fit of giggles, which intensifies your laughter, as you punctuate his shoulder with light hits, tears streaming down your face in an attempt to regain composure.

One hundred matches light up in Minho’s heart at the sight, all at once.

“My God, they look so stupid, I’m so sorry,” you laugh harder, your body collapsing to the ground, hands tightly clutching your stomach.

They can laugh again, the house sighs in relief, something other than sobs can still echo within my walls.

Day 22.

“I miss the sea,” you sigh softly, cradling a cup of chamomile tea between your hands. Minho, absorbed in his book, glances up to find a melancholic expression etched on your face—a poignant blend of sorrow and longing that he knows weighs heavy on your heart.

“We saw it over at the bridge, no?” he ventures tentatively, setting the book aside on the living room table.

“Yes, but I miss the sand, and the waves lapping at my feet. I miss feeling the sea, not just seeing it.”

“I’d take you, in a heartbeat,” he says assuredly, ready to bring you the moon if only you dare ask. “But it's far, and you can't get into a car.”

“I can try.”

“You can?” he questions, hope budding in his eyes.

“I mean- I want to, it's just… I don't know,” you retract, nails drumming anxiously against your cup, gaze lost into the amber liquid.

“Talk to me, yeah?” he smiles softly, draping a reassuring hand on your arm. His thumb swipes across the slate of your shoulder, and an impossible knot in your throat untangles.

“The accident took a lot from me. My health, my memories, a year of moving forward.” You quiet down, eyes meeting his in a barely veiled vulnerability. Silence speaks of your hardest loss— him.

“Can you help me get the sea back?”

Minho’s radiant smile is louder than any spoken agreement.

…

Thread by thread, drop by drop, your fears unravel as Minho lowers all the car windows’ before gently guiding you into the car seat, dispelling any prospect of feeling confined within the vehicle.

He remembers everything, even the panic that gripped your being when you went into his enclosed car, nearly a month ago.

“Can I blindfold you? It might help, so you wouldn't see the car lights since it’s night,” he suggests.

“Yeah, that'd be nice,” you agree, your hand lightly gripping the car seat.

“Hey, hey,” he calls out gently, “I'm here, okay? The second you feel overwhelmed I'm stopping this car.”

“Will you drive safely?”

“Of course. I promise you.”

Your nod is met with the softening of Minho's eyes, as he delicately tucks a strand of your hair behind the curve of your ear.

“I'm proud of you,” he whispers, tone laden with so much tenderness, love, that your throat becomes a garden, vocal cords bound not by thorns but the delicate blossoming of flowers.

With a gentle touch, Minho wraps a tie around your eyes, cocooning you in a tranquil darkness. His hand seeks yours instinctively, fingers intertwining with yours akin to the wind weaving through the strands of your hair.

In this moment, every fracture within you is delicately filled by Minho.

He starts driving, a soothing piano instrumental playing out of the car’s speakers- his hand still in yours. “Breathe,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing a soothing path across your palm.

“Follow my touch.” A gentle sweep to the right, an invitation to inhale slowly. “In,” his voice guides, and you draw in a deep breath.

Another caress to the left, a silent directive to release your confined breath. “Out,” he whispers, and you exhale, surrendering to the rhythm orchestrated by his thumb.

He raises the music’s volume, his touch becoming a maestro, speaking silently to you. You’re grateful for it, for the way in which he’s driving- avoiding curbs and speeding, safely, making the wheels float across the road.

Your heart still constricts in your chest, anxiety squeezing your veins, bleeding them dry, but you focus on Minho’s thumb, you let it guide you, like a compass navigating the dark tunnels of your heart.

“We're almost there,” he reassures as he stops by a red light.

“I look silly, right?” you reply, giggling a bit.

“What?” he asks, confused.

“I can feel you looking,” you clarify.

“How so?”

“My right cheek is tingling.”

Minho snorts incredulously. “What does that even mean?”

“You have a piercing stare. You're like melting through my skin and vibrating my bones.”

“Idiot,” he chuckles. My my my idiot, Minho grieves to say once again. The human heart is peculiar, he learns day after day, mourning the loss of a myriad of minuscule things, even words.

“And, you don't look silly,” he clears his throat minutes later, as he finally parks by the beach.

“You look pretty,” he utters, unraveling your blindfold, and you blink, caught between the sudden light and the weight of his words. “You always do,” he concludes, a whispered confession that lingers like the afterglow of a sunset, painting your world in golden hues.

“Minho, I…” you trail off, eyes landing on the vast sea ahead, blending into the sky in an alluring shade of turquoise. “We're here!” you shout bewildered, a magnificent grin on your face.

“We are,” Minho smiles, drinking in the delight in your expression.

“Oh my god I missed the sea!” you giggle as you undo your seatbelt, quickly opening the car’s door and taking off running.

Minho follows closely behind, captivated, as he watches you glide across the shore, the sand ricocheting off the soles of your shoes. You look like a fairy, bending the wind to your will, coaxing it into a choreography that mirrors the rhythm of your movements, your messy footprints marking your pathway to happiness once again.

Upon the sand, you finally settle down, and Minho walks over, sitting beside you. Both of you quietly gaze ahead, entranced by the moon's silver glow caressing the water’s surface. Each shimmering wave resembles glistening diamonds, a celestial mirror reflecting the lights in the sky.

“Have I ever told you why I love the sea?” you speak after a while, tone softer, more content.

“You did.”

“Can I tell you again?” you say. Can I tell you what I still remember? He understands.

“Of course.”

"There was a beach near our home, back then," you reminisce, a nostalgic aura enveloping your words. “And whenever I felt lonely I used to go there and watch the waves, to calm me down. But, one time, I was really overwhelmed so I ended up crying. And then, coincidentally, it started raining too.”

Your eyes widen slightly, a hint of amusement in your voice. “At that moment, I chuckled at the timing, how the sky was crying with me.”

“Ever since that day, I liked to believe that the sea is made up of the sky’s tears, the ones that fell in sync with those of humans, so it'd comfort us. And the tears grew from a pond to a river, to a vast ocean, as humans cried more and more. That's why sometimes the sea’s waters are gentle because those are tears of happiness falling somewhere. Sometimes they're stormy, since someone is crying out of anger. Sometimes they're melancholic, just relentlessly crashing against the shore, because someone is in pain. Like we are.”

A tranquil hush falls over the night as you quiet down, before turning around to meet Minho’s teary eyes, mirroring yours.

“And if the sea persists through tempests and tranquility, if it goes on despite the myriad of emotions it holds within, then so will we.”

Hope isn't fragile, as Minho once believed. Hope scrapes its bloody palms against the rough surface as it climbs defiantly to the pinnacle once again. Hope picks out rugged stones with weathered hands and builds a home out of them. Hope is strong, it clutches onto the thinnest threads so we’d endure and endure once more. As many times as we need to.

“Well, the sky isn't crying right now,” Minho notes.

“I know,” you smile softly, “Because we're holding on to hope.”

Day 26.

Under the soft glow of the TV, Dori settles comfortably on your shoulders, nuzzling her tiny nose onto your face every now and then. Soonie and Doongie are a bit far away, playing with a piece of yarn, captivated by its vibrant red threads.

It is an ordinary, comforting setting to watch a movie with Minho, on a Sunday night, a bowl of popcorn nestled on his lap while his cats lounge around. So familiar that the world around you blurs, like the vague brushes of an impressionist painting— a vivid déjà-vu sensation clinging to your body. You’ve lived this scene before. You want to live it again, now and in the future. More and more.

However something is different— your skin tingles, a buzzing sensation that travels from thigh to knee to hand, as if your body knows that something’s amiss. Minho’s touch perhaps, his palm casually resting upon your skin.

You don’t know where this urge is coming from— to lay your head on his shoulder, to have him run his fingers through your hair. Even more, to lose yourself in the nutmeg and peppermint notes of his cologne, to disintegrate your worries into his hold and rest.

“Would you mind if some of my friends came over?” Minho speaks up suddenly, cutting off your trailing train of thought.

“Hm?” you hum absentmindedly before clearing your throat. “I mean, no, I don't mind. Who are they?”

“Han and Chan. They’ve been asking about you for a while now.”

“Sure, this is your home.”

“It is yours too,” he says, gaze locking onto yours. His eyes are like a dark tapestry woven with threads of stardust- you’d never tire of looking into them, into the universe they seem to cradle within.

Do you know that there is a galaxy inside you? You almost slip out, words in an urgent race against your mind. You barely stop them at the tip of your tongue, before smiling and peeling your eyes away from his, painfully, like scratching a burn scab long before it heals.

…

“They’re here,” Minho announces as someone knocks on the door.

“Okay,” you smile, a tad nervous. You’re not even sure what for.

“If they annoy you too much tell me, I’ll kick them out,” he reassures, raising his brows playfully at you.

“That's mean,” you giggle, albeit soothed by his words.

“They already love you,” he grabs your wrist, his thumb gently swiping over your pulse. “No need to be worried.”

He drops it, as though a countdown is ingrained into his brain— never to touch you for more than ten seconds. Wouldn't it be selfish, pathetic even, to ask him for more?

As Minho heads to open the door, you linger in the living room, idly fidgeting with the hem of your sweatshirt. It is a weird circumstance to greet strangers who know you— you may have brushed against their shoulders in an alley and not known who they were.

Your thoughts dissolve as two men saunter into the living room, stopping in their tracks once their eyes land on you. They’re both beautiful– that is the first thing you note, closely followed by how relieved they seem to see you. Simultaneous soft sighs escape them, gentle smiles blooming across their faces. Tentatively, you return the gesture.

Minho takes the initiative to introduce them. “Yn. This is Chan,” he points to the man on the right, clad in black from head to toe, his smile grows wider, his eyes disappearing into moon crescents, two dimples peeking gleefully on his cheeks.

“And Han,” the younger man, sporting a Supreme t-shirt despite the cold, beams at you, highlighting his round cheeks, and an adam-apple that weirdly resembles a heart.

“I want to hug you but Minho put us on a strict no-touch notice because of your ribs,” Han speaks first, a small pout tugging at his lips as he glances at Minho, who simply rolls his eyes at his words.

“You can never keep something for yourself,” Minho sighs, rubbing the space between his eyebrows. You stifle an amused giggle.

“And she technically doesn’t remember us so it’d be weird for her to hug a stranger,” Chan notes, offering you an understanding smile.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it in a creepy way! more of ‘Oh my god I’m so happy you’re alive, thank you for still being here, I was so worried about you’.”

“But were you worried?” you ask, tilting your head to the side.

“Of course, I-”

“Then why weren’t you at my bedside?” you question, an eyebrow raised, and Minho chuckles at your words.

“W-what?” Han asks, glancing worriedly at the two men by his side.

“Why weren’t you there sobbing when I woke up? It doesn’t look like you were worried,” you muse, throwing a wink to Minho who walks over to you.

“Right, you should’ve sent her a pic of you crying,” Minho adds, as you drape a hand on his shoulder.

“A picture for every day you didn’t come see me,” you say solemnly as Han’s face grows paler by the second.

“I-I didn’t, I really was worried, I swear, I kept asking Minho every day about you and…” he trails off as giddy smiles break out on your face and Minho’s before you both burst out laughing.

“You guys are evil,” Han laments, as Chan pats his back in faux sympathy, a string of giggles falling from his full lips.

“I’m sorry. we made you dinner to make up for it,” you grin and Minho looks at you pointedly.

“He made you dinner,” you correct with a huff, and Minho smiles, satisfied, raising his brows smugly at his two friends.

“Let’s choose a movie then!” Han claps, turning to the TV as Minho sidles by his side.

“I’ll set up the table,” Chan announces.

“I’ll help you,” you offer, and he nods, clearly grateful for your assistance.

You’re taking out four plates from the cupboard, Chan effortlessly bringing out the glasses, clearly familiar with the nooks and crannies of your home, when he suddenly speaks.

“How are you, Yn?”

“Do you want the truth?” you ask back, and he grins. “Always.”

“I’m okay. Right now. I don’t know if I’ll still be tomorrow, you know? It all fluctuates so much.”

“Mm, I understand,” he says, and something about his tone indicates that he isn’t saying this just to comfort you. “And that’s okay too. What you went through wasn’t easy, but good times will come again. They always do, you know, just like the sun always comes back after the rain.”

“The sun,” you repeat, as you glance out at the living room, where Minho is laughing at something Han just said, his head tipped back, bunny teeth peeking out.

Perhaps the sun rays were by your side all along.

“Thank you, Chan,” you beam at him. “Truly, for being worried about me too.”

“It's nothing to thank us for. We care about you, even though you don’t remember us,” he pouts, a hand on his heart in mock offense.

“Hey, it’s not my fault I got amnesia!” you chuckle.

"Excuses!" he drawls with a playful tone as he exits the kitchen, and you can't help but laugh quietly to yourself. You recognize what he's doing—making light of your accident to alleviate the weight on your heart.

The night blurs in your memory, but this time it is tinged with happiness and laughter. The three men recall fun stories of their time together, a seven-year bond rooted in love and care, albeit silently. You witnessed it in the details—Chan ensuring the food was on their plates first, Minho peeling shrimp for Han, the latter rubbing Chan’s arms when he complained of being cold.

Then you saw it directed towards you– how they put on the movie you wanted and watched in anticipation as you took the first bite of food, draped the fuzziest blanket around you, and rushed to your side simultaneously when you stumbled on your feet.

You were loved, although you didn’t know of it. The accident took away your memories but it didn’t plague theirs.

“Thank you,” you beam at the two men as you walk them to the door. Opening your arms wide, you invite them in for a hug. Han embraces you first, a large smile on his face, and you gently beckon Chan in too. “Easy,” he whispers in Han's ears, careful not to put any pressure on your ribs. They both pat your back as you wrap an arm around their respective shoulders before leaning away.

“I’ll call you,” Minho bids them farewell, tipping his chin forward. They wave to him before finally leaving

You close the door, leaning against the auburn wood. Minho watches you, a soft smile playing on his face.

“Good?” he inquires, closing the distance between you.

“Mm, good,” you reply with a smile as he halts just an inch away. His intoxicating scent envelops you, permeating your bones and flowing through your veins like liquid warmth.

A torrent of memories floods your mind—images of you pressed against this same door. It is dark, a stark contrast from your first memory, a lone lunar beam of light slashing through the night. Minho’s hands grip your waist with a fevered urgency, while yours entwines around the nape of his neck, in passion, in hunger, almost as if you were deprived of him for so long.

You angle his mouth closer to yours, his lips pressing against your own repeatedly, a desperate attempt to brand the contours of his mouth into your soul. His hair, a cascade of midnight silk, tickles your fingers with an electric charge, like the crackling of the air before a storm. His tongue sweeps across your lower lip, seeking entrance, one you willingly surrender, white flag easily thrown to the ground. With every kiss, your bodies meld together, so much so that you could merge into the door, disappearing into the shadows as one.

“What's wrong?” Minho breaks your trance and you snap out of your reverie, a bright flush adorning your cheeks.

“N-nothing,” you stammer.

“You’re all red, do you have a fever?” he asks, coming closer, his hand pressed to your forehead. His woody scent envelops you once again– everything about him is enticing— his cologne, his lips on you, his fingertips dragging underneath your shirt, his eyes piercing yours, undressing you before his hands ever could.

“Yn?” he questions and you grab his jaw, angling his face away from you.

“Stay like this, don’t look at me for a moment.”

“What?”

“Just… please,” you say and he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief, and yet he complies, his side profile now facing you.

How does he live with these memories each time he looks at you?

You take in a deep breath, focusing on his silhouette. It might seem counterproductive to fixate on the same man consuming your thoughts, but how could you not when he was mere centimeters away, his eyes averted from yours?

You exhale softly as your gaze glides along the graceful curve of his neck, a solitary mole resting just beneath his sculpted jawline, leading the way to his plump lips, a cupid's bow delicately carved by the hands of the divine archer himself — crafted to be kissed, to be adored.

Your eyes trail up, tracing the high bridge of his nose, another mole perched at its pinnacle, sharp and smooth as if chiseled by a master sculptor, one who dedicated months to perfecting his artistry. His eyes are a mesmerizing brown, punctuated with long lashes that flutter like the delicate wings of an angel with each slow blink.

Minho sweeps aside strands of his hair, his fingertip delicately fluffing them upwards. It dawns on you, a sudden revelation of the necessity of art — to immortalize such beauty for generations to come.

You imagine admirers gazing upon Minho, sighing in sheer amazement, their hearts tightening with emotions that words struggle to encapsulate in the face of this epitome of beauty. Inside and out, you reflect, inside and out.

“You told them not to drink around me, right?” you ask softly.

A blush grows from the base of Minho's neck to the tip of his ears, like roots expanding into the soil. He sighs before finally looking at you.

“I did. How’d you figure it out?” he wonders.

“I asked Han if he wanted a drink, but he refused so categorically that I assumed he didn't like alcohol. But most of his stories were of him drunk,” you chuckle quietly, and Minho shrugs sheepishly.

“We get loud when we drink. You don’t like that,” he says simply as if it’s a given, an absolute certainty that he’d do anything but make you uncomfortable.

He's beautiful, the light of his heart basking his face in a glow that even Michaelangelo's skillful hands wouldn’t be able to replicate.

And he loves you.

Till when? Your heart sounds out in alarm. Till when will he love you? What if the grains of sand slip away from the hourglass before you can reciprocate his love? Two stars colliding at disparate speeds, never converging into a singular entity, destined to erupt and scatter into cosmic dust.

How long do you have left? How many more days will he love you for?

How many more days do you have to love him back?

Day 30.

Minho is sick.

He tried his best to conceal it from you, as he came back from his dance studio, strands of his hair clinging to his forehead, a thin sheen of perspiration above his right eyebrow. Yet, his uncharacteristic silence betrayed him, as he quietly retreated into the shower, emerging with a solemn expression on his face.

Seated on the bed, book long forgotten by your side, you bit your lip tentatively. “You're okay?” you inquired, perched on the edge, concern etched in your gaze.

“Mm, just tired,” Minho responded, his attempt at reassurance falling short as he laid down on the floor mattress. “Can you turn off the lights?” he softly requested. “Hurts my eyes.”

“Yeah, of course. Will you sleep now?”

“I think so.”

“Okay then. Good night, Minho,” you uttered gently, the veins in your heart tangled with worry. “Good night,” he whispered in return.

In the stillness of the night, you were roused by soft whimpers escaping Minho's lips. He writhed in apparent discomfort, his features contorted with an unseen anguish. His pupils moved furiously underneath the thin layer of his eyelids, betraying the tumultuous thoughts raging in his mind.

You've never seen Minho so disrupted in his sleep, mouth slightly hung agape as if he struggled to breathe in the depths of his dreams. Your worry for him came back to haunt you ten times fold.

You lean over the bed, gently shaking his shoulders. “Minho, wake up.”

“No... no-no, don't-don't go,” he whispers, caught in the vines of a restless dream, seemingly wrapping around his mind, trapping him in. “Minho, come on wake up,” your pleas grow more insistent, but so do his. “Don't go, s-stay,” he implores, voice broken, prompting you to abandon your bed and join him on his mattress.

“Minho!” you call out, shaking him until his eyes finally flutter open. He gasps for air— as if inhaling his first breath on this earth, shooting upright, wide-eyed and disoriented.

His gaze locks on yours and he instantly cradles your face in his sweaty hands, bringing you closer to him until your noses bump into one another. “You didn't go,” he whispers, and you shake your head. “I'm here.”

“Fuck,” he swears, releasing his hold on you and sinking back into the pillow.

“Minho, what's wrong?” you ask softly, afraid you're treading on stormy waters.

“I… I don't know. I don't feel good,” He admits, fingers tugging at the collar of his shirt, as if the fabric morphed into a vise around his throat. A flush creeps up his neck, red dots splashing across his ivory skin. A droplet of sweat traces a slow path down his temple, as the white fabric clings uncomfortably to his warm skin.

“Do you have a fever?”you ask, placing your hand on his forehead, sensing an unusual heat radiating beneath your touch. “Minho, where is your thermometer?”

“Bedside drawer,” he breathes out.

Fetching the thermometer, you gently tug at his chin, opening his mouth to check his temperature. “Stay still”" you instruct, watching anxiously as the numbers climb steadily.

“40°C, fuck Minho, you have a really high fever,” you exclaim as he shuts his eyes, an unmistakable weariness claiming him, rendering him malleable, akin to the silk pillow he's resting on.

“I feel dizzy,” he admits, burying his face into the covers.

“You need to take a cold shower now,” you urge a sudden lump materializes in your throat at the sight of his suffering.

“It's okay, I'll just sleep.”

“No, no, it's far from okay!” you almost exclaim, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes as if you were peeling an onion—your own emotional layers unraveling, exposing the depth of your concern for Minho.

“Minho, please, you have a really high fever,” you plead, feeling an unexpected surge of panic at his unwillingness to cooperate.

“Yn… are you worried about me?”

“I am.”

“It feels nice. Please be worried about me more,” he mumbles, eyes still closed, eliciting an incredulous laugh from you.

“You are so unbelievable, my god,” you pull him up and he doesn't resist, nearly stumbling on his feet.

“Okay?” you ask, running your hand through the nape of his neck.

“Mm,” he hums, burying his head in your shoulder. “Sleepy.”

“I know, you'll sleep after the shower,” you reassure softly, guiding him to the bathroom, his entire body weight leaning onto yours. There, you turn on the light, your right hand holding Minho's waist tightly as you lead him to settle atop the toilet.

“Can I take off your shirt?”

“Are you planning to undress me?” he smiles lazily, hooded eyes locked onto yours.

“No, I just-” you stammer, but he’s quick to cut you off.

“Because I don't mind.”

“I can't believe you're flirting with me while you're sick.”

“I always am, I can't help it,” he says, raising his hands as a silent signal for you to remove his shirt.

“You're awfully candid tonight,” you observe, seizing the edges of his shirt and drawing it over his head. His tongue glides across his lips, his gaze drawing tantalizingly slow over your form, and you clench his shirt tighter in your hands. He's the one with the fever, yet it's you who feels ablaze, flames of longing licking at your every sense.

“Come here,” you beckon, the icy water now flowing as you turn the knob. He reaches his hand out to you, and you grasp it, guiding him under the frigid cascade, soaking you both.

“C-cold,” he stutters, and you nod, your breath escaping in short, visible puffs.

“I-I know, just a little longer,” you reassure.

2 a.m. is a peculiar time to shower, the water droplets echoing against the tiled floor is the only sound that can be heard. That, and your labored breaths in tandem with the chilly embrace of the water filling your bones. The quiet makes way for other unspoken sentiments to surge forth, electric and palpable, heightened by the way Minho gazes at you through the liquid curtain, his hands clinging tightly to your arms for stability.

Droplets of water weave seamlessly through his hair, and an unexpected pang of jealousy grips you— you envy the liberty of those water beads as they thread through his locks, tracing the contours of his broad shoulders, nestling in the enticing recesses of his collarbones, without fearing the consequences of such acts. You don't dare look further down, wary that the rivulets on his skin may lead to your own undoing. Instead, you close your eyes thanking the stars that you weren’t wearing a white shirt, which would have turned translucent by now. You don’t even want to contemplate the consequences of such a premise.

After a few minutes, you turn off the water, stepping out of the shower and swiftly enveloping Minho in a towel.

“Go change, I have some spare clothes in here. Oh, and don't wear a top,” you instruct.

Minho chuckles quietly and you roll your eyes. “Shh. Make sure to dry your hair too.”

Taking your time in getting dressed, you peel off each wet layer, depositing them into the washing machine, before donning a spare pajama from a cabinet. You stroll to the kitchen to pour Minho a glass of water and retrieve medicine from the drawer, lingering at the counter long enough to ensure he'd be dressed by the time you return to the room.

You knock softly before opening the door, and the sight of Minho freezes you in your tracks. The room basks in warm, orange hues from the lamp's glow, playing upon Minho's skin and casting enticing shadows on the contours of his muscles—a masterpiece created by the skilled hands of light. His toned arms rest between his legs, back against the headboard, and an inexplicable urge to flee washes over you, your heart sinking to your knees in the face of his long-avoided vision of beauty.

You swallow the tumultuous thoughts raging within you before handing him his medicine, which he drinks diligently. Pressing your palm to his forehead, you're relieved to find a slight reduction in his temperature. “It will go down more once the medicine takes effect,” you assure.

“One of my students had a nasty cold. I think I got it from him,” he explains, and you nod, your hand lingering near his. Your fingers twitch as his pinky brushes against yours—akin to birds fluttering their wings in anticipation, awaiting, aching for a release from their cage, at last.

“I'm tired,” Minho sighs, closing his eyes. “Lay down,” you gently instruct, and he complies, resting his head on the pillow.

“It's cold,” he whines, swaying like a child throwing a bedtime tantrum. He's endearing, melting the frost that had gathered in your heart.

“You have a fever, silly,” you chuckle, pushing strands of his hair from his forehead, twirling them around. “Your hair's gotten longer,” you muse as you braid a tiny section of his bangs, only to undo it again.

“Can you play with my hair some more?” he requests softly.

“Of course,” you reply, threading your fingers through his locks, jet black as if all the stars in the sky collided, leaving behind nothing but a dark abyss.

“Please stay healthy, Min. Take care of yourself too.”

“But I like it more when you take care of me,” he pouts, before sighing shortly after. “I'll probably regret a lot of my words tomorrow, right?”

“Why is that?”

“Because you don’t feel the same for me,” he confesses, leaving you silent, grappling with the echoes of his words. What do you feel for Minho?

The question jolts the breath from your windpipe violently, an unyielding force crashing against your lungs till the answer finds its footing on your tongue.

“Can I ask you something?” you finally speak, cringing at the sound of your voice disrupting the fragile quiet.

“Anything.”

“Where did your scar come from?” you inquire, gesturing towards the mark just below his belly button.

“I got surgery a long time ago. I’m kind of self-conscious about it,” he confesses, a bit shyly.

“Really? But it’s beautiful, it looks like a strike of lightning,” you sincerely remark, coaxing a tender smile from Minho, unfolding like the gradual sunrises of autumn.

“This is exactly what you told me months ago.”

“Did I?”

“Mm, and then you traced it with your fingertips,” he grabs your hand, hovering it over his stomach. You can easily slip out of his grasp; you choose not to.

“Like this?” you murmur, tracing his scar gently, fingertips grazing his skin like a lit fire, subtly enough not to scorch. His flesh tenses beneath your caress, muscles constricting as you navigate from right to left—a trajectory of dusty stars akin to the Milky Way, his skin soft to the touch, rippling beneath you with thinly veiled goosebumps.

“Yes,” he breathes out, his gaze wide, running furiously over your face. Yet, your attention lingers on his skin, shadows dancing across its surface, its honeyed hue a shade you wish to sear behind your eyelids. Your hands ascend and descend, mapping his body which blushes in response, as if his very being memorized your touch, imprinting your fingerprints onto its memory. You slide down his forearms, pausing over his fragile veins, seemingly offering you his life.

Silence envelops you, punctuated only by the weighty exhales escaping you both, for there are feelings that words cannot encapsulate, no matter how much human languages strive to, ultimately succumbing to the profundity of silence— the one language only souls comprehend.

Your hands ascend to his neck, thumb grazing the tender skin cradling his pulse. It resonates throughout your bones, echoing from his being to yours as if you’re harboring two lives within you.

“You… you could've kissed me over at the bridge,” you whisper, bringing to light the question that’s been lingering at the back of your mind. “Why didn't you?”

“I wanted you to kiss me because you wanted to. Not because you longed for our past or our future. I wanted you to want me in the present,” Minho explains, vulnerability seeping into his words, like honey melting into a warm cup of tea.

“I’m scared,” you admit, your voice a fragile murmur, even as your head leans forward, hair cascading around Minho’s face, enclosing him in an intimate curtain. Minho gently grabs your hand and cradles it against his cheek, pressing a tender kiss to the center of your palm.

“Right now. Do you want me?” he asks simply, offering himself openly to you.

Do you want him?

After a momentary pause, you tentatively lean in, planting a gentle kiss upon his forehead. A resonant exhale escapes him, as your lips trace a path along his cheeks, leaving behind a trail of tiny kisses. Moving to the tender skin beneath his eyes— as easily bruised as your emotions—you bestow soft pecks to it as if seeking forgiveness for every tear he shed in your name.

His eyes remained closed, his trust evident in the surrender of his being to you. The answer to your internal query is written all over his features— the hushed exhale escaping his body, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the tranquility nestled between his eyebrows.

Yes. Yes, you do.

Your lips finally meet Minho’s in a delicate union, unmoving like rose petals folding onto one another. A surge of warmth emanates from the depths of your heart, coursing through your entire being like sunrays, submerging your soul in a tranquil white glow.

Leaning away ever so slightly, you press a tender kiss on his lower lip, enclosing it between your own. Your hand cradles his jaw, running gently through his damp strands. Your lips move against his slowly in a saccharine kiss, parting, only to meet again, in the same tenderness, perhaps a growing one as you become accustomed to the contours of his lips, to the languid moves of his mouth, following your rhythm. You were leading the dance, his lips mere puppets to your heart’s wishes. He didn't rush you, only allowed you to kiss him, whichever way you wanted.

A pause, a moment suspended in time, your hands trembling as they rest upon his cheeks, his palm hovering above your own, offering a comforting press. The gesture reassures you in your curiosity that won’t be satiated, urging you to seal your lips on his with a tentative fervor. The world outside dissolves into a distant murmur, the seconds blending into a timeless run, you slamming the door before your worries protesting at the entrance of your mind. Tomorrow, you’ll find the answers. Tonight, you are kissing Minho.

As you press a final, lingering kiss to his velvety mouth, visions of you at peace flood your being. You see yourself sinking into the warm pool of your aunt’s country club, you see yourself walking on the beach with sand molding to the contours of your feet, you see yourself laying on the grass while observing sunrays weaving through the trees. And then, amidst your most serene memories, the act of pressing your lips to Minho stands out, the warmth of his mouth against yours eclipsing all other sensations.

Leaning away, you rest your forehead on his shoulder, and Minho's hands cradle your hair.

"Which lip balm do you use,” you giggle against his bare skin, relishing in the sweet taste of his lips.

“Yours.”

Day 31.

Minho’s nose is buried in the crook of your neck, his arm draped across the expanse of your stomach. He sinks further into you, binding himself to your body, anchoring his hold on your being. You are warm, your skin is soft to the touch and Minho doesn’t want to wake up from this tender dream, akin to plummeting into a sea of silky pillows, falling into a blanket of clouds.

Except, he's awake, Minho realizes with a jolt. He blinks repeatedly, allowing the sunrays to stream to his eyes, his pupils dilating once they settle on you— so much their obsidian depths swallows the brown of his irises whole. You stir beneath his touch, making your cheek press upon the crown of his head. He's fully awake now, snatched from the velvet threads of his dreams made up of you, thrown into your arms once again after thirty-three days.

A soft gasp escapes Minho’s lips, the air stolen from his lungs as if it was yours to claim. Echoes of the night replay in his mind— a fever, you tending him to me, a cold cascade of water, you tracing his scar, and then, the kiss.

You kissed him. A long shiver runs down his spine at the memory, a subtle twitch that stirs you from slumber once again.

What does one kiss mean? The question dances wildly in Minho’s mind. More importantly, what do you want it to mean?

Minho whines softly, closing his eyes for a few seconds, relishing in the fragrance of your hair, in the serenity that floods his being each time he’s around you. This was his most restful slumber in weeks, because you were near, his mind recognizing you, relaxing underneath your touch, drifting to a mindless sleep.

Reluctantly, he untangles himself from you, a bittersweet departure from your arms. Work was calling his name.

He prayed you’d call his too soon.

….

You wake up to an empty bed, the only lingering trace of the night you spent being the tingling of your lips, as if aching to be kissed once again. You sigh, running a hand through your face. It was much easier to succumb to your heart’s wishes when it was late at night, when minho laid bare beneath your touch, so enticing in the gentlest of ways. When you were cradled by the moon’s soft glow, blanketed by the night’s cloak of darkness.

But it was light now, the sun was glaring as it streamed through the windows, exposing all the flawed ways of your mind.

What does one kiss mean?

Nothing, if it wasn’t minho who you had kissed. If it wasn’t as tender as the meeting of your lips.

The tomorrow you believed far quickly came, and you still beheld no answers. A few hours drifted by and you still knew nothing. What does this kiss mean? It's late afternoon and you’re strolling through the park nearby and you can't find an answer. The question rings in your mind as you sit by a bench, and you still don’t know.

“You seem preoccupied,” a voice quips up nearby and you startle. You hadn’t even noticed the man sitting by your side. His arms crossed before his chest, making impressive muscles constrict beneath the snug fabric of his black shirt, a cascade of fluffy black curls sat at the top of his head, a slight smirk etched on his lips.

“Pardon?”

“I said you seem preoccupied.”

“No i heard that,” you roll your eyes subtly, “do i know you?”

“No. You just look worried, that's all.”

“You really don’t know me?” you ask, a tad apprehensive, unsure if this was someone else your memory faulted you of.

“No? Are you a celebrity of some sorts?” he inquires, tone much more cheerful, angling his body towards you.

“No, i’m not,” you giggle, before quieting down, an exhausted sigh escaping your body. “Is it that obvious then?”

“Yeah. I’m afraid so,” he pouts sympathetically, tone almost desolate and you huff, burying your face in your hands.

“Do you need help with something?” he offers after a while, his concern evident in the frown of his brows. You are comforted by the anonymity of talking to a stranger, you were but a blank canvas to him. You wouldn't see him again, anyways.

“I feel lost. I can't seem to find the answers I'm looking for.”

“Maybe you’re just not asking the right questions.”

Oh.

The guy claps his hands suddenly, long before you could dwell on his words and their implications

“I actually have a question for you!”

“Ask away.”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“No?” you chuckle, amusement dripping from your voice. “I don't know you?”

“That's the point of a date.”

“Are you this bored?” you smile, arching an eyebrow at him.

“I'm not bored. I just need to take my mind off things,” he shrugs, a slight smirk on his face. but you somehow see beyond it, right into the dull twinkle of his eyes. Maybe he also couldn’t find the answers he was looking for.

“So you're using me?” you fake outrage and he giggles, a high pitched sound that reverberates through the playground, making some kids nearby stare at you. You stifle a surprised laugh.

“I'm not using you if I tell you upfront why I asked you out.”

“You are right, but i decline your kind offer,” you say solemnly and he nods, shaking his head in defeat.

“Here is my card, in case you change your mind. Or need a little escape, call me,” he smiles, handing you a sleek black card before getting up and dusting his pants. “See you,” he says, as if he was sure you'd call him back. you stare in disbelief at his retreating figure, before glancing down at the card.

Mr. Seo Changbin, you read, CEO of Gold’s Gym— the largest gym branch in the country.

Oh wow.

The amused smile lingers on your lips as you gaze ahead, lost in thought, contemplating the words spoken by Changbin. Maybe he was right; perhaps you are afraid of asking the right questions. Sucking in a deep breath, you decide to take the longer route home, eventually finding yourself outside your favorite bakery; the one you discovered on one of your many walks with Minho.

You go to open its door when an unexpected tingling at the back of your neck freezes you in your tracks. Your heart tightens in your chest as you turn around slowly, greeted by the sharp eyes of two familiar faces—Lia and Mari, your coworkers from before your accident. A tentative smile graces your lips, but the alarms of warning in your mind intensify.

“Hey, yn!”

“Hey, guys,” you greet back, taking a step backwards from them.

“How have you been since… You know, your accident,” Lia pouts, but the question lacks sincerity, as if they were wearing masks before you, concealing their true intentions. You wonder which one they'll put on next.

“Good, i’ve been good,” you force a smile, as their eyes move up and down your body, judgment dripping from their gaze.

“We wanted to come see you but we didn’t know if you were still at your listed address. Since your boyfriend lives there.”

“Oh, um, yeah, I still live there.”

“But didn’t you forget about him?” Lia feigns ignorance and you feel anxiety picking at your skin like relentless protruding needles. You want to run.

“Lia that’s rude. I think he's her ex-boyfriend now," Mari chuckles, mockery palpable in her tone.

“Poor Minho, he must suffer a lot. Say hey to him from me,"Lia smiles, a chilling feline grin, her eyes narrowing down like a hawk peering at his prey.

“I will.”

“We’ll see you at work. If you’re still able to keep up with the tasks,” they leave, ugly laughs echoing after them, and an urge to throw up overtakes you, the scent of pastries furthering your nausea. You hasten your steps toward your building.

You’re almost safe, almost, keys trembling in your hand as you struggle to enter your apartment, when the door adjacent to you opens. Your neighbors smile at you, although it is a gesture tinged with pity. You painfully smile back before slamming the door.

Yeart hammering in your chest, you press your back against the door, hand clawing at your throat.

“Did you know she got into a car accident, and apparently she forgot her boyfriend?”

“Really? They were so cute though.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame.”

Their words suffocate you, stepping atop your lungs, syllables choking you from within. Is this what everything thought of you? Did they all pity you for the accident? For forgetting your lover? Did they see you as a burden, a parasite plaguing his life? Is this what Han and Chan saw when their eyes lingered on you? Is this what the librarian and florist whispered to each other each time you passed by?

You didn’t know these people and yet they had their minds set on you, fixated storylines you couldn’t change, no matter how much you tried to rewrite them.

Your thoughts spiral like the unloosened screws of a ticking clock. Minho, the unanswered questions, the expectations of others—everything converges in the base of your mind, making your ears ring cacophonically within your skull.

You slide down the door, fingers trembling as you take out your phone then Changbin’s card from your pocket. You dial his number with haste. You needed a breather, to talk to someone who knew nothing of you, of who you were, of who you could be.

“Hello?” his voice booms clearly through the phone.

“Changbin,” you breathe out. “Let's go on a date tomorrow.”

You were asleep when minho came back from work, your back turned towards him, soft exhales escaping your body. He didn't want to disturb you, so, he made sure to come earlier the next day, a strawberry and cream pastry in his hand that he knew you loved. Perhaps, you’d both talk about your kiss today, what it meant for you both.

But, he doesn’t find you home. The only indication that you had just left was the lingering scent of your perfume, tickling his nose as if to mock him. Poor minho— the gardenia and honey tones spelled out in the air; the one fragrance you strictly reserve for dates. The one you used to put for him.

It looked like you found your answer after all.

Day 33.

“Did I keep you waiting?”

“No, just in time,” you smile as Changbin pulls the chair in front of you, settling down with ease, a pang of confidence coloring his movements.

“How are you, today?”

“Better, i think,” you falter under his scrutinizing gaze, your facade cracking. “I don't know, it’s all complicated,” you sigh and he nods, signaling for the waiter to take your drinks order. Chai latte for you, hot chocolate for him.

“Spill, what’s preoccupying you?” he leans forward, arms crossed on the table.

“You don’t even know my name,” you giggle, looking around at the warm interior. Cozy, faint music playing in the background, taupe chairs and amber tables, the smell of cinnamon rolls wafting through the air. Minho would like it here.

“What's your name?”

“Yn.”

“Okay, Yn,” he emphasizes, a slight smirk on his face. “Spill.”

You shake your head as the waiter places down your drinks, wrapping your fingers around the heated cup, hoping the warmth would seep into your being through your palm lines.

“Did you want to become a therapist by any chance?” you muse, arching an eyebrow at him.

“No, it’s just fixing others' problems helps me forget my own,” he winks and you snort at his honesty. it was admirable, how frank he was to a complete stranger.

“Fine, it’s a long story, but basically…” you lick your lips, wondering what’s the best way to go on about this. “I got into a car accident and I lost my memory of the past year and so.”

Changbin winces at your words and you sigh. “Yeah. Except I was in a relationship before…”

“And you totally forgot about it?”

“I did. It hurt him a lot.”

Changbin nods in understanding, taking a sip of his drink. He places his chin on his palm, carefully eyeing you.

“But how does that make you feel?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You're the one who lost your memories after all.”

“I feel guilty for forgetting such a relationship.”

“Why is that?”

“Because everyday i can see why I fell in love with him.”

“And you don't love him now?”

“No,” you quickly say before pausing, shoulders dropping under the weight of your questioning. “I don't know. It's complicated.”

Changbin absentmindedly tugs at the charms of his bracelet, gaze flicking down to his wrist for a couple seconds, before locking on yours intently.

“Describe him to me in one sentence.”

“You sound like my annoying French teacher,” you roll your eyes and he huffs, not offended in the least. “Look, I just want to know my competition.”

“Do you have a retort for everything?”

“What can I say? I'm witty and all that,” he shrugs confidently and you giggle before quieting down, muling over his question. “In a sentence…” you muse, fingers drumming along your cup. You don't even realize that a fond smile has unfolded on your lips, but Changbin does.

“He's the light rain that falls during spring, that makes the flower bloom and the smell of earth waft through the air. He brings things back to life, in a way.”

Changbin smiles softly, tilting his head to the side. “Can you really not see it, or are you hiding the truth because you're scared?”

“What do you mean?”

“Yn, he brought you back to life.”

“I… no.” you pause, voice faltering. “Did he?”

You see Minho pushing you on a wheelchair to your home. Minho protecting you from your mind. Minho washing your hair. Minho making you tea. Minho baring his soul to you. Minho helping you cook. Minho bringing the sea to you. Minho holding your hand. Minho comforting you before comforting himself. Minho forgiving you so you'd forgive yourself. Minho devastating himself so you'd piece your heart together. Minho, minho, minho.

“Fuck, he did,” you whisper in realization, as a grand feeling swells in your heart suddenly, pushing your heart against the confines of your ribs. Flowers bloom into your entire body, petals melding into the coursing blood in your veins, butterflies fluttering their delicate wings across your chest, an effulgent light flooding in like the sun was spilled inside your very core.

“Aren’t I so smart,” Changbin grins, satisfied at the awestruck expression on your face.

“What should I do?” you ask anxiously, gripping the edges of the table.

“Go talk to him. Don't waste any more time.”

“You are right, oh my god,” you grab your purse, standing up abruptly. “I have to go, I…”

“It's okay, don't worry about me, I'm always the side chick,” he sighs in faux sadness and you giggle, swatting his shoulder.

“Thank you so much. I'll repay you for this, I promise!” you start walking before stopping and turning around.

“Oh and Changbin?”

“Yes?”

“You know what to do too. They made you that bracelet right? You haven't taken your eyes off of it.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, “those are my lines.”

“They are mine now too,” Laughter dances from your lips as you flee the café, taking off running to your home. It was near, merely a five-minute walk, nestled beside the playground where you encountered Changbin. Yet, urgency propels your steps, a fervent need to reach Minho swiftly. You had wasted thirty-three days, three million seconds that could’ve been spent with Minho. You don’t know how many more breaths the universe might extend, what if the stars tire of your reluctance and blow the winds of his love to another soul? You couldn’t stomach it.

You climb up the stairs, chest heaving, breaths escaping your being in an erratic rhythm. you didn't even know what to say, your words remained unscripted, unsure of what confessions will spill forth when your eyes will meet Minho's. Yet, you're not worried. You know that whatever surfaces would be surging from your heart.

What you don’t anticipate is for an uncharacteristic silence to find you at home, the scent of your perfume faintly wafting into the air. Minho sat in the living room, a bag by his side, his head downcast. The cats watching you from the corner of the room.

A desert- dry sensation clings to your mouth, your tongue heavy as if crafted from lead. Your once vibrant excitement extinguishes, much like a match blown out, leaving only a lingering stench behind.

“Minho?”

“Yn,” he responds, eyes actively avoiding yours. “I was waiting for you. I... I'll be gone for a few days, a week at most.”

“What? Where to?”

“I already told my parents to come pick up the cats so you don't have to worry about feeding them. The fridge is stacked, so you-” his voice falters, “so don't worry about that either.”

“Minho... what-what are you saying?”

“I need time away, alone. I'm sorry, I tried, I tried so hard, Yn, but there is only so much I can take,” he whispers, and your heart shatters, tiny million pieces blown away by the wind.

“Minho, look at me,” you crouch before him, your hands resting on his knees. He still avoids your gaze.

“Minho, please,” you plead, and his eyes finally lock on yours. They glisten with tears, reflecting light akin to a celestial mirror.

“My heart hurts so much, but it's not your fault. Loving me once doesn't mean you'll love me again, and it's okay if you want to see other people. I just... I need to go somewhere, for a little. I need to make room for the pain because it's overwhelming me,” he confesses, his words eating at your insides. Was it too late? Have you lost him?

Minho gently takes away your hands before standing up. Fear overwhelms you as you watch his shoulders drop, his eyes glazing over the walls one last time. He will come back, but not here, not to you. He's bidding goodbye to the home and you because you killed his hope. He would leave everything behind but echoes of him that you'd be sentenced to hear alone, every day, every night.

“Minho,” you seize his wrist, “Minho, don't go.”

"Why?" he asks in the smallest voice you've heard from him. He's like a river cut off by a dam, yearning to run back home, to flow the way it used to, back to you. His heart rings loudly in his ears, pain overwhelming him, yet your touch calms him down. You are the knife and the medicine, the scorch and the cooling balm; you are everything at once.

“I'll make room in your heart, I'll take out all the bad weeds and start again. Just don't go.”

“What do you mean?” He's breathless, hope inflating in his heart, clouds parting to reveal the sun.

“I know things won't go back to the way they used to. I don't think I'll ever remember everything, but I want you to tell me,” there is a lump growing in your throat, but you push it away. Your voice breaks and cracks, yet you still speak. You need him to know.

“I want you to take me to all the places we've visited and then tell me how we fell in love in them. I want you to show me how I loved you,” your hand trails down his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, pulling him closer. “I want to learn you, what you like, what you hate, what makes you angry and what makes your heart flutter.”

“And I want to love you, not because you love me, but because my heart chose you," your hand travels up his arm, settling right down at his cheek. Your thumb swipes across his tender skin. “I choose you over and over again. It's you, Minho, it's always been you.”

“You want me again?” he says tentatively, eyes wide, pouring onto yours—your galaxy to love, to admire, to peer into for the rest of your life.

“I want you. Please don't go.”

“Swear it, please.”

Instead of ephemeral words, you softly press your lips to his, as you did last night. “I swear,” you whisper against his mouth. “I'm falling in love with you,” you peck his lips, hand snaking up against his neck, moving his mouth closer to yours. “Not falling,” you say, pressing your forehead to his, nuzzling his nose against your own. “I'm coming back. I'm coming home.”

“You came back to me,” he whispers, voice hoarse.

“I'll always do,” you promise, a grin overtaking your mouth. “Can you kiss me, Minho?”

Minho blinks in amazement, his eyes darting all over your face, each blink resembling the capture of an image. He's stitching this moment into his mind, the hue of your cheeks and the gleam in your eyes. He missed the way you're looking at him, the slight shiver running through you as he brushes his lips against your own, slowly savoring the feel of you so near. His hands find your jaw, cradling it softly, and then he kisses you, just like how he dreamed of doing for the past month.

The kiss is dizzying, far different from your previous one. You’re no longer grasping at elusive cigarette smoke, fleeting through the gaps between your fingers. You are no longer awaiting a beacon of remembrance to shine upon your mind. You have minho, and he's delicately nibbling your lower lip, eliciting a soft gasp from you. His tongue glides across the tingling expanse, soothing down the pang of hurt, asking you for more. You willingly give it to him in a fervent, whirlwind kiss, his hands finding solace in the curve of your waist, while yours become poets, weaving tales in his hair, tugging at his strands the way you've always yearned to.

It is muscle memory, to press your body against his, to gasp into his mouth, to match the rhythm of his tongue, the way it circles tantalizingly around yours, the way you groan against his mouth, as he briefly parts from you, his giggle a sweet prelude to meeting your lips once again with increased fervor. His tongue weaves words against the roof of your mouth— I missed you, I want you, I love you.

Minho snakes his hand around your lower back, guiding you back until his legs find the couch. He eases you down, fingers hooked through the loop of your jeans. You kiss him again, a cadence as natural as breathing. Time unravels, rewinding to mend the fractures in his heart, erasing thirty-three days of heartbreak in mere seconds. You kiss him, again and again, thirty three days of longing exploding in your touch.

“Are you crying?” you whisper against his lips, your thumbs delicately swiping across his damp cheeks. Unaware of his flowing tears, he closes his eyes, embarrassment coursing through him. “I'm here,” you reassure, peppering his face with kisses – from his ear to his nose, cheeks to the corner of his mouth. “I'm here, honey. I want you.”

“Only me?” he questions, tone fragile.

“Only you,” you kiss him again, tenderly, inhaling life through his lips. “Let me show you how much, hm?”

Your lips trace a path down his neck as you draw his shirt over his head. An ivory canvas, he is meant for you to mark, to touch however you desire. Your lips graze the scar on his stomach, kissing it in the way you've ached to do since two nights before.

You're sinking to your knees before him and yet you’re the one in control, rippling shivers all over his skin. He’s impatient, needing you close, so he quickly pulls you up, before hovering over you, his hands drawing everywhere, running wild across your body. He missed the plush feel of your skin, the contours of your body that he yearned to explore once again. He's a prisoner deprived of the light for so long, sinking into the sun once again.

Minho's eyes never leave yours, as he touches you, moves in you in ways your soul seems to remember. He's gentle, removing strands of your hair out of your eyes, smoothing down the side of your head. All encompassing, drinking in your moans and groans, burning you up and soothing you all at once. “Good?” he asks, again and again, waiting to hear your affirmation before picking up speed again. Your answer is yes each time he asks, as he seals the void in you, the one he's been carefully stitching up for the past weeks. You store his glazed eyes and scrunched eyebrows in the gallery of your mind, you make room for new memories with Minho.

You're overwhelming him, in the most beautiful ways, contradicting feelings coursing through him like a rain flood. He's aching yet relieved to have you beneath him, lost in waves of pleasure so he grabs your hand to anchor himself, entwining his fingers with yours, before bringing it to his mouth, placing a tender smile on your palm. You beam at him, trust reflecting in your eyes as you bare your being to him. It is a rare fortune to be chosen by you not once, but twice, he can't believe how lucky he is to have you as his guiding star.

Your eyes never leave Minho’s, a shimmering pool mirroring your emotions. You see everything you feel in him—your better reflection. You had missed him, you were home now. “Miss you,” he whispers as he buries his face in your neck, seemingly hearing your thoughts. “Missed you so much,” he mumbles as your hands tangle in his hair, tears descending gently upon your cheeks, as they are on his. “Please don't leave me again.”

“I won't- I won't,” you promise, as light floods your vision, reaching the pinnacle of your pleasure. Colors burst before your eyes in a kaleidoscope, resembling shades of Minho— the warm brown of his eyes, the honeyed hue of his skin, the pink tint of his ears whenever he's embarrassed, the red of his lips, swollen as they kiss you. Tonight and tomorrow and every day after this one.

Day 1.

In the hushed aftermath, your head rests upon Minho’s bare chest, listening to the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat, calming down as the seconds trickle by. His arm curls around your body protectively, keeping you from slipping off the couch. Your knuckles trail up and down his shoulders, soothing the places where you had scratched too hard. His hand seeks yours, delivering a kiss as tender as the silence enveloping you—quiet and secure. The forgotten past doesn't matter; you will rewrite your story once more.

“Do you think our designated stars are sad somewhere far away?”

“Why would they be?”

“I don't know. Don't you think it's bittersweet how they missed out on so many days of loving one another?”

“I don't know, did they?” he muses, planting a tender kiss on your shoulder. “I think mine loved you all the same.”

#my brain chemistry has been altered #i'll be thinking about this forever #and I couldn't be more grateful #thank you so much for sharing this with us #here's a virtual hug and forehead kiss #you can pretend it's from lino :)#channieverse.reblogs #channieverse.reads #💜

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yonemurishiroku · 2 years ago

Note

Heyyy what are your thoughts on the title of nico's book and the plot in general (pls i want a rant

I love you conteud btw

Omg this ask akxhakdhsksj hold on just let me show you this. So, this is my post:

And the reblogs:

LMAO believe me this is so funny istg. Why? Because that is exactly how I feel about the title.

- First, I’m gonna be perfectly honest here, I’m NOT comfortable with the Adventure part.

Because the same as @gods-nico, I don’t like how it downplays Nico’s physical and mental trauma as a… field trip. Yeah let’s just go with that.

I’m aware of my enthusiasm for angst materials, but this is just a little too much for me. I have always seen Tartarus as a forever deep, unfixable, indelible scar to Nico’s body and mind (i came up with a disable Nico AU based on that. like, srsly). He suffers from it and never manages to fully escape. It’s terrible. It’s nightmarish. We’ve all seen how difficult it was for Percy and Annabeth to trek through it. Tartarus is not, by any mean, someplace one would wish to explore in a freaking adventure.

It’s like saying all the horrors they’ve gone through down there are actually magical wanders. Or tourist attractions. Something along that line. Please, just. No. Don’t do that to me.

In fact, the sole reason Nico wants to come back to Tartarus is because he loves his friend Bob too much to leave him. It’s a rescue mission. They’re jumping head first in a hellhole to save Nico’s friend, not go sightseeing and definitely not a picnic. 😦😦💀💀

I’m saying this with utmost respect: the fact that the title practically sugarcoats Tartarus and dismisses Nico’s dedication to his friend upsets me.

- However, as much as I ‘value’ Nico’s trauma, I’m also amazed by his strength and ofc, eager to see more of it. That’s to say, I wholeheartedly wish to see Nico conquer Tartarus.

I’ve said it once and I’d say it again: I love both Nico’s sufferings and toughness.

Nico would be powerfully beautiful standing up against one of his deepest trauma, all resilient, unafraid and unrelenting. He manages to overcome his fears and thus, is finally able to heal fully. (Nico di Angelo deserves to goddamned heal)

This is the only scenario in which I indulge a less terrible Tartarus, not because the hellhole itself is any more lenient, but that Nico has become much, much stronger. And with the help of his boyfriend, they’re enough to fight it and win.

It’d be absolutely splendid. And I’m nothing if not a powerful Nico enthusiast.

It’s many things coming at once. Nico’s resolve. His resilience. Will’s support. His love. Their love. All of them get Nico another step closer to his happy ending. And what kind of Nico’s self-proclaimed mother would I be if I’m not forever grateful for that?

When I see Nico win over Tartarus, it’d be thanks to his inner strength and everything he’d managed to gain by himself, NOT because the hell itself is ridiculously nerfed weak.

That’d be the true prove to Nico’s astounding character development.

- Regarding the Sun vs Star part, we’re probably talking pretty lively about it so I’ll just skip it lolol it’s 1:30am.

Moving to the plot.

- I’m genuinely excited to see Bob again, not only because I adore his and Nico’s friendship but also I want to see how his character development would progress, provided that Iedeptus’ memories show signs of coming back. And ofc, how that would affect the friendships he’s made with the demigods.

This is the closest, most detailed I get to see of Nico interacting with a side-character. Exactly what I’ve been harboring a special liking for.

Bob isn’t a popular character. And when some beloved unpopular character of mine gets the spotlight, I’m more than thrilled.

- But again, the title “Adventure” does dump a bucket of cold water on it. I’d be extremely disappointed if Nico’s rescue mission turns out to be a children’s walk in the wild park. Hopefully not.

- Ofc, Will Solace. How a healer like him is gonna fend for himself and keeps Nico from physically/ mentally deteriorating at the same time really intrigues me.

I don’t have specific expectations for Will like plague abilities etc, but still I’m genuinely looking forward to see how Rick and Mark would work it out for him. A well-built background for him would be nice, too - I’m aware a lot of us love Will on a spiritual level - but I’d have no problem to be sufficed by a Nico-centric story.

It’d be lovely if through Will, we have the connection to Apollo/ Lester as the protagonist of the previous series, as well.

- Frankly, Will Solace and Solangelo practically have the most potentials LOL. They are both unexplored/ poorly-portrayed fields that hold a lot of materials to work on. And I know for a fact that a large number of loyal fans would want to feast in it.

I only hope they’re well-written and logical. If Solangelo turns out to be forced and poorly-written I might just bury myself.

That’s all I’ve got to say at the moment, I guess.

For the outro, just let me establish that, while I may have some qualms with the title, I’d refrain from commenting on and spreading information about the book itself - as long as it isn’t published yet.

A title doesn’t say everything about a book, so I’d like to keep the expectations/ worries in check while everything is still veiled. What I rant about the title does not stand for how I judge the book. We’ll get to it when I’ve actually read the final work itself.

Lastly, sincerely thank you, anon, for this ask!!! 🥺🤩👍 I get to rant freely lol. Even when you might have opposing opinions to mine, please feel free to send more asks if you want to discuss more! (´▽｀) I’m open to everything except hate, really.

Have a nice day, and I hope none of us would be disappointed when the book comes out.

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lunanoc · 25 days ago

Text

Reblogging to add @tiesanjiaoshenanigans's tags because they get it actually! More things I forgot to mention! Several important points were made that deserve to be read I also agree Zhang Haixing was made into a compelling character that at least fit whatever was going on in this

#the scars thing is what really bothered me tbh#like i love aus and canon divergences more than the next person and i forgive many things but nothing makes me close the tab faster than#taking away a characters fundamental and defining moments/arcs/actions from them#like sometimes its extremely cool to explore 'oh what would happen if x had been done differently'#but we have to acknowledge that for some things 'doing it differently' requires someone to flat-out be a completely different person#one of my fave book zzh moments is wu xie getting so pissed off at himself for being betrayed by zhang haixing#that he goes 'fuck this /no one/ is going to trick/lie to me again' which is what allows him to become who he is in sha hai#and taking that away and giving his scars a completely different reasoning straight up erases everything that makes sha hai wu xie#so compelling and interesting#and like comparatively zhang haixings drama character is something im not actually bothered by#i actually liked her i feel she made sense for the story they had her have (and shes so pretty) and the actress supported that very well#but i think i spent a good 1/3 of this drama going 'oh this would be a good moment/way for the zhang haixing is a wang/traitor reveal'#but the way they all but completely erased sha hai and made it only a footnote at the very end when the entire zzh book is meant to be#the wangs exist reveal... smh some choices i cant forgive#and THE WIVES istg. zhang nian especially just. no ❤️#onions headline: exes of a man has who has been missing for over a decade feel so betrayed they start several plots to kill his husband#i can forgive assassinating zhang haikes character but at least do that interestingly#zzh drama fails to reach the 'it makes no sense. compells me tho' bar for me#also zhang luyi... ive never seen him in anything else aside m9 but if watching this drama did anything for me actor-wise was to make sure#that i never want to see anything he plays in ever again#like im sorry if there are people out there who genuinely like him tell me what im not seeing but this guy is just. a bad actor to me#every time he had to look sad about xiaoge or smth the only thing he did was make a blank face and widen his eyes#literally every single time a scene required an Emotion he would just widen his eyes like im sorry im not convinced youre Going Through It#Emotionally when every time you are 'sad' you look like youre thinking up your grocery list#he Did Not compel me At All#everything is bugs drama logic was at least consistent tho#i still think xiao yuliang did the 3 days of silence scene better tho even if this xiaoge was very decent actually#actually i think he and chen minghao (and dare i say janice man?) carried this entire thing on their shoulders#i cant even explain its just. the vibes were off in so many scenes#at no point in this drama was i emotional when i expected to be and i cant actually pinpoint why

Tibetan Sea Flower (藏海花) Drama Review or Why I Think It’s a Laundry List of Crimes Actually

Because somebody had to do it

So the Tibetan Sea Flower (or 藏海花, or Adventure Behind The Bronze Door) drama, meant to be adapting the Tibetan Sea Flower novel, first sequel following the main eight volumes of Daomu Biji, has been out for a while now, and I finally got around to actually finishing it. And I have Many Things to say about it

That I can tell, a lot of people in the English-speaking part of the fandom have praised it for various reasons, and while I’m glad there are people who enjoyed it, I’m not one of those people, so for the sake of variety of opinion I thought I’d share my thoughts about it. I could honestly write an essay because that’s how many crimes this drama committed in my opinion, but no one wants to read All That so this is going to be an attempt at a highlight reel

TLDR; Tibetan Sea Flower is firmly at the bottom of my list of DMBJ adaptations with Lost Tomb 2.5. It’s only slightly above that because unlike Lost Tomb 2.5, Tibetan Sea Flower has a few redeeming qualities at least

First off, some things I did enjoy, or if not enjoy, that I can appreciate in a “there was a vision” sense

My favorite part of this drama was the first 4 or 5 episodes, and the choice to start with the tail end of volume 8 of the main story was a smart decision in that it gave a lot more emotional impact leading into ZHH proper. The start of the drama is fast-paced without feeling rushed, and while my opinion on the ZHH drama isn’t entirely based off of doing a one-to-one comparison with the book (mostly because adaptations inevitably change things to adapt to a new medium so they can’t and shouldn’t be one-to-one copies), the fact it followed the book to a T was a touch I appreciated. The cinematography, directing, and music for the most part are also a strong point this drama has going for it. I can also appreciate that the PingXie married vibes were off the charts to the point where every single time someone said “you’re the patriarch’s chosen one/friend” they might as well have been calling Wu Xie ‘Zhang furen’ it would have been the same thing. The addition of Ten Years Later (and the Fishing King extra which isn’t really an extra anymore since it’s been published as part of Ten Years Later) is also a decision I can appreciate in theory, and from a storytelling perspective makes for a fulfilling and thematically relevant ending. Chen Minghao as Pangzi also almost single-handedly carried the entire drama, iconic, thank you for your service king

Now that that’s out of the way, I can get into the meat and entire point of this post, that is some of the multiple crimes the ZHH drama committed because trust there are Many

I think the fact it started out so strong to me is what makes the rest of it worse. I’m not even sure if I can actually coherently explain the extent of the psychic damage this drama gave me by the time I finished it. There are sometimes significant differences between the drama and the book, which is something I expected because it’s an adaptation, and departures from the source material aren’t necessarily a bad thing. So it’s not that it’s different from the book that’s fundamentally a problem for me. What is a problem, however, is when an adaptation decides to make choices that fundamentally compromise the integrity of both the characters and the overarching plot. I don’t tend to expect anything from DMBJ adaptations, mostly because in general their quality varies, and they’re the main source of the misconception that DMBJ canon is a mess of inconsistencies and lack of cohesion when the original source material is by opposition generally both consistent and cohesive. The ZHH drama is one of those drama adaptations that decided to take the equivalent of a sledgehammer to everything from characterization and lore to any hope of cohesion between it and either the other drama adaptations or the books

The Zhang family lore takes the biggest hit. The casual obliteration of it is probably my biggest beef with this drama, and I can already hear people saying “but it’s not obliterated if it’s thematically adjacent, it doesn’t have to copy the book!. Now listen. It can be thematically relevant and not need to copy the book without creating completely unnecessary plot contradictions with the rest of the story, and as far as the Zhang family lore reworks are concerned, some of them aren’t even thematically appropriate, and sometimes are done in a way that’s?? Honestly baffling to me. Zhang Nian’s entire arc and existence is one of those, because he manages to make himself and the entire subplot that stems from him completely irrelevant by episode 20 where the drama just goes “...so anyway!”

There’s also the choice of having the tianshou (or the heavenly gift) be some sort of bug poison/disease that’s implied to be the only thing holding the Zhang family back from being “free” and living a normal life, and so from the moment Xiaoge decides to take on the mantle of Zhang Qiling for his own personal reasons (which is another issue I have), he alone bears the weight of the heavenly gift, and the rest of the family either disperses into living perfectly normal lives, or is at a bit of a loss as to what to do, which while this last bit is true to some extent for the overseas branch in the books, it stems from circumstances forcing them rather than a goal they wanted to achieve. I’m going to be very generous in blaming this change on censorship, but this alone, surface level as it is, is already contradicting the Zhang family’s most important thematic relevance in the story beyond the lore itself: the fact that they’re meant to be a family led astray by their own hubris and isolationist elitism, eventually switching gears from re: Queen’s Banquet an ancient people likely cursed by primordial entities beyond human understanding into becoming Other and seeking a cure for that, to a widespread and powerful clan pulling the strings of an entire empire for centuries upon centuries seeking a way to achieve true immortality

In the books, the Zhang family’s downfall is their own hubris that blinds them to their own failings to the point that eventually they lead themselves to being wiped out entirely by the Wang family, at least as far as the main branch is concerned. In the ZHH drama, their downfall isn’t even a downfall so much as it’s like they decided to retire and are having post-retirement depression. Zhang Nian is a pawn for the Wang clan, and in that sense he’s “relevant”, but his story is long-winded at best and undermines the impact and importance of the Wang family itself that ends up becoming a barely relevant footnote much like Sand Sea itself

The only thing I’m willing to believe is that Xiaoge either suffers from a more powerful version of the tianshou or is the only Zhang family member at present that suffers from it, mostly because we have no other living members of the main family alive to know if the tianshou ever became a burden Zhang Qiling alone carried for the rest of the clan. I’d be here forever if I started getting into how the ZHH drama somehow managed to lowkey retcon the Zhang family lore that was hinted at at the end of Queen’s Banquet, but it’s impressive how it managed to do even that. By the time it reached this point in episode 31 I was honestly just head in hands

Characterization issues in this drama also exist, and the three characters who suffer from it the most are probably Zhang Haike, and to a certain extent both Xiaoge and Wu Xie. Zhang Haike’s character is changed to the extent he might as well be a different character altogether so I won’t bother going into detail or I’ll be here for a while (TLDR; more or less erasing the fact he wears Wu Xie’s face permanently erases the somewhat antagonistic and overall complicated relationship he has with Wu Xie), but Xiaoge and Wu Xie have smaller changes that create contradictions down the line

Despite the drama mostly (but not entirely) disproving that Xiaoge specifically chose Wu Xie to carry on the task of tending to the tibetan sea flowers, it doesn’t discard the possibility entirely, which creates a number of problems, namely the fact that Xiaoge’s entire reasoning for going behind the bronze door in Wu Xie’s place and pushing him away the whole way up Changbai Mountain was to try and push Wu Xie out of tomb robbing and conspiracies altogether. Xiaoge sets up contingencies to help Wu Xie if he reaches specific points of no return, but going behind the bronze door is essentially Xiaoge doing the exact opposite of choosing Wu Xie to do a task, he’s aggressively unchoosing him. He also doesn’t ever relegate his duties as Zhang Qiling to other people

The same goes for the reasoning behind Xiaoge becoming Zhang Qiling being a deliberate move to help him find out who his parents are. This I can’t entirely discredit simply because the Three Days of Silence extra (the story of Xiaoge meeting Baima) gives no specific timeline or indication of his reason for going to the Jila temple besides that he was looking for a woman but he didn’t know who she was, and ZHH the book itself never talks about the circumstances behind Xiaoge becoming Zhang Qiling. The early main books place emphasis on Xiaoge’s driving force being discovering his identity and by extension his place in the world, so it’s not impossible to consider that might have been the case when he was a child as well. This is mostly vibes and not so objective, but the vibes are different, and to me Xiaoge becoming Zhang Qiling carries something more akin to a lamb offered as a sacrifice that accepts the role it’s been given, coupled with stepping up to a duty the Zhang family had essentially abandoned by that point, as opposed to doing it for strictly personal reasons. The same goes for the entire reasoning behind the tianshou wanting to kill Zhang Haike’s wife and taking control of Xiaoge to do so, because there’s irony in making Xiaoge, historically the least traditionalist Zhang alive outside of his actual duties as Zhang Qiling, Zhang family traditionalist number one via tianshou as if tianshou ever cared about the Zhang family’s isolationist politics or other earthly forms of power or symbols

Wu Xie is more complicated in that part of the problem for me is that I don’t particularly like Zhang Luyi as Wu Xie. Or in general as an actor. I’m aware this is a personal preference, but a lot of the more emotional moments were lost on me because to me he simply wasn’t conveying whatever emotion was meant to be conveyed convincingly. The biggest issue I have with Wu Xie’s portrayal outside of that is the subtle erasure of his character development. Reducing the Wang family’s relevance and impact cheapens their importance in the overarching story, which in turn cheapens the Sand Sea plan and its extreme difficulty, and the heavy personal cost of it for Wu Xie, which takes shape in the changes to the origin of his self-harm scars. Again, changing things from the book is fine, but when it alters what I consider to be a fundamental element in a character, it becomes a problem

The ZHH drama makes a point of showing that the first two scars that Wu Xie gives himself stem from what’s basically survivor’s guilt. He failed to protect the Zhang family, like he failed to prevent a situation that forced the Yinshaluo (I’m not sure that’s the name of the tribe considering all the place names in this drama are fake) warrior to sacrifice himself to stop the storm. Wu Xie punishes himself because he feels he failed, because he felt like he could have and should have done better. There are elements of that in the reasoning behind his scars in the Sand Sea book where their origin is explained, but the fundamental difference is that ZHH drama Wu Xie’s actions and reasoning come from a place where survivor’s guilt aside, he’s not objectively to blame for situations beyond his control, and in that sense, he’s “morally good”. Sand Sea book Wu Xie’s actions and reasoning come from the perspective of a man who deliberately orchestrated events in which he manipulated various people into becoming his pawns on a very high risk chessboard. Each scar represents a bad choice of move of the pawn that resulted in the death of his chosen sacrifice, so the element of failure is there, but the difference lies in the fact that contrary to the ZHH drama where he fails to save people, in the book, the people behind the scars are his victims that he willingly led to their deaths. He punishes himself because it’s his way of tolerating the intolerable from himself. Wu Xie’s amorality for the greater good in Sand Sea is such an important facet of his character, and by shifting the origin of those scars, it takes away from that element that the ZHH drama doesn’t hint at at all, or barely

There’s so many more things I could get into about this drama, like how paralleling Wu Xie and Xiaoge as being similar feels like a fundamental misunderstanding of their characters because them being different is the entire point. It’s doubly ironic when NPSS said recently that the entire point is that they’re entirely different people who only after the ten years have passed meet in the middle where their trajectories truly parallel each other: one of a man who went from a god to a man, and one of a man who went from man to god. I could talk about how Mama Bear Pangzi is a carry-over from the Reboot drama that doesn’t accurately reflect either what Pangzi is like in the books or how his dynamic with Wu Xie functions in them. I could talk about how despite there being good intentions in adding those scenes, shoving in as many impactful moments from the main story and Ten Years Later + Fishing King as they possibly could ended up feeling like boxes were being ticked off a list and it took away from their impact to the point some of those moments felt off or bland. It didn’t help that whether it was a directing issue or a filming issue (not an acting issue because Zhang Kangle was overall a good interpretation of Xiaoge), Xiaoge had practically no actual chemistry with either Wu Xie or Pangzi. I could talk about this drama’s pacing issues where it yo-yoed between going fast then excruciatingly slow. I could talk about the irony of an adaptation managing to both take a sledgehammer to the source material in a way that’s honestly criminal, yet ironically also being one the least newcomer friendly DMBJ adaptations

It’s safe to say I won’t be watching the ZHH drama again. This post exists mostly for the purpose of expounding on why I didn’t like this drama despite its strong start instead of just saying “it was bad”

#dmbj #truly this drama is the gift that keeps on giving (derogatory)#it could have been incredible #and yet #tibetan sea flower

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