#this is not really coherent but it's just a lil bit about how he presents himself to ppl ig

[batsplat]

more thoughts? PLEASE

okay I'm gonna assume this is about my tags on the sete post and well when I was editing I cut out a lot from a bunch of different sections so there's not necessarily... uh. this isn't going to be a coherent addition. but I have a few more thoughts I might as well rattle through

1. reinvention

idk I just enjoy what he's doing with his style changes during that time... like in 2002, 2003 and 2004 you've got a different vibe going on each year. the whole point of that brno hair colour thing was that it was almost a step back into the past, of re-embracing the fun and the whimsy and escaping the constraints and pressures of the present. very much embracing a more youthful vibe when you compare it to 2002, getting back in touch with his inner teenager, all while he's plotting his crazy move to yamaha. and then 2004 obviously he inevitably changes up his colour scheme, but he also lets his hair grow out and it ends up nicely emphasising that this is a New Era for him. not really an original point but there's just something fun and playful to how he uses his cute lil visual storytelling elements, from the hairstyles to the celebrations... he makes it fun to analyse him, y'know? always thinking about The Narrative

2. the symbolism of it all

this bit was too vibes-based to make it into the post but it's basically linked to these bits in the conclusion:

and following on from the reinvention thing, I do think there's something narratively rich to how valentino had to change his approach as a result of the switch to yamaha. you have this... I wouldn't call it a regression necessarily but maybe a recapturing of this playfulness in the middle of 2003 with the whole brno thing, but then there's something a little tougher and hardened about him in his yamaha days that kind of comes from necessity because he just didn't have that margin for error anymore. from the mat oxley reference book:

Some racers think motorcycle racing is a high-speed ballet, others think it's a petrolhead's wrestling match. Valentino always had the killer instinct, but it's significant that he only became known as a warrior rider after he left Honda. Without the technical advantage of the RC211V, he needed to find another way to beat rivals. He found that way at the 2005 Spanish GP, where he battered into Sete Gibernau at the final corner to win the race. He used similarly aggressive tactics to beat Casey Stoner at Laguna Seca in 2008 and Jorge Lorenzo at Motegi in 2010, and to deal with Marc Marquez during 2015. It has been said that Vale invented this kind of racing, although a deeper look into the sport's history reveals that this isn't true. And yet there's no doubt that he loved the thrill of the chase and the thrill of the kill.

and yeah, crucially, he did always have it in him. he was a proper menace in his rookie 125cc season, to the surprise of absolutely no one. but it's a very valentino thing, isn't it... you've got this clown prince persona, you have this exuberance and joie de vivre and all of it, and it's not like any of that is a lie. it's also not like his friendliness to other people is a lie either: the anecdotes about this are pretty consistent in telling you about how he does take genuine interest in his fellow human beings, which is hardly something you can take for granted with the kind of socially isolated egomaniacs competitive sports tends to produce. (though he does also benefit in that regard from coming up through an era in which the sport was still a little less professionalised and he was afforded somewhat more time to develop into a generally more well-rounded character, not a bad thing lbr.) but then, back against the wall, the fangs come out. and in a way that's what the entire 2004 season was about for him - this period where he was actually facing real challenges, a period of transition and transformation where the winning was a little less easy and he changed as a competitor as a result of that

and there's just something... idk, fitting, about how it was sete specifically who ended up being the victim of this, the guy who had always been seen as a little too carefree and nice and soft to cut it at the sharp end of the sport. who valentino had befriended: he'd been happy to blur that line between competitor and friend back then, though obviously that friendship started before sete became a serious threat. if you really want to go off the deep end with this, you could say valentino ended up exorcising the softness within himself by crushing sete. he wasn't going to allow any weakness in his own competitive make up, not when it could actually cost him. and in a way he really did have to understand sete really well, to know how to get to him in the way he did, to know how to play all those little moments in front of the cameras... those moments where he's cold to sete and knows it will unsettle sete, where he extends his hand and knows sete will accept, all of it. targeted cruelty, based on a thorough understanding of sete's character. again, this is a bit of a reach but you could say the two feuds where he went the furthest with his cruelty were against the two blokes who were the most similar to valentino. and, well, sometimes you do have to understand someone to truly know how best to hurt them

the whole episode also ended up signalling something to his competitors, almost like a warning. it's not like his relationship with everyone else in the paddock changed from one day to the next and he still had good friendships with other guys after that - even those he was actually competing against, like nicky hayden or loris capirossi. but inevitably, it will have also shifted perceptions of valentino. after the feud with biaggi you could say he was really young and also a lot of people had problems with biaggi. but gibernau? if you need concrete evidence people took notice of valentino's behaviour, take casey in 2007 saying to valentino that he didn't want their relationship deteriorate the same way it had with biaggi/gibernau. one feud can happen to everyone, two starts looking a little suspicious - three was where it became a pattern

3. rivalries

y'know, I've seen that casey quote about valentino and gibernau and biaggi thrown around a fair few places over the years, but the thing I've always been kind of curious about is what valentino thought about casey telling him that. if this is a pattern of behaviour, then what's happening there is valentino being confronted with that pattern, right? I think an underlying question you have to address at some point with valentino and his rivalries is how aware he is of what he's doing. like, is he consciously engineering feuds or is he doing it subconsciously? and I think it can be a bit misleading if the first valentino feud you come across is the marc one, because it'll prime you to read all the other ones in certain ways that might not be entirely accurate. I've not quite figured out how to express this yet so bear with me here - but marc is the one who valentino felt the most hurt by and continues to feel the most hurt by and as a result it's the most emotionally charged feud from his perspective. but what that also means is it's the feud where he's the least consciously aware of how he himself has contributed to this whole nightmare situation they've got going on. because from his perspective he did treat marc differently from... well, basically from any post-sete major or even minor rival. he offered marc all that kindness and generosity and good will and graciousness in defeat as well as victory and had it thrown in his face

which makes it easy to assume this is all just... well, not just twenty years of feuding but also twenty years of self-delusion. and it's not quite like that - he has more self-awareness than that I think. when you read how he talks about biaggi in his autobiography (who he is kind enough not to completely erase from his narrative), even in 2005 he seems to have a pretty good handle on what that feud really was. okay, maybe he does somewhat shirk responsibility and somewhat overemphasises the role of the media as opposed to his own malice, but there's an awareness of how stupid and silly and mean-spirited the whole thing was. it was just a kind of nasty rivalry with a guy valentino didn't like much - but who, for what it's worth, wasn't exactly going out of his way to be nice to valentino either. sure, it ended up being torture for biaggi, and sure valentino did maybe relish inflicting said torture a little more than is morally appropriate. but y'know, in some ways, it's quite straightforward, this honest mutual dislike. uncomplicated, even

and this I did not include in the actual sete post because it's just complete and utter speculation, but I wonder to what extent the sete experience did end up changing valentino's approach to his competitors. whether he deliberately embraced that side of himself a little more and was a little more considered and calculating in how he treated his rivals, more in touch with his inner bastard, if you will. even if he just had in the back of his mind that something like with sete could happen again, even if he was just a bit more careful about keeping certain blokes at arm's length. because, remember, from his perspective this was also the first time a relationship with a rival deteriorated this drastically - now you can say 'yeah but it was his fault', but that doesn't change how it was a new experience for valentino too! he was also learning stuff about himself in the process, going through an important journey of self-exploration, etc etc. love crushing my enemies on the path to self-actualisation

and valentino did learn a lot from that whole experience on-track, he did learn useful skills in terms of managing rivalries - so maybe he also looked at what worked on sete in the psychological warfare department and, y'know, consciously made a note of it. when casey delivered that little spiel to valentino about not wanting their relationship to deteriorate, I assume valentino responded perfectly pleasantly in the moment... but I do also think he was extremely ready to deliberately sour their dynamic if he had to. zero self-delusion required

he's quite calculating with casey and jorge I feel... especially with casey, he really didn't waste his time feeling emotionally slighted or coming up with reasons why casey was the devil and needed to be destroyed. he wanted to destroy casey because he wanted to win, and was comfortable enough in his own skin to use the full bag of tools and tricks to do so, no complex internal narratives to justify the whole thing needed. for him, that was all just part of the game. it wasn't for casey, which is a topic for an entirely different post, but... well, casey and jorge in particular are the ones who have spoken about this valentino desire to create enemies, to give himself someone to hate etc. and in a way, ironically I would say they're the two for who that was the least true. yeah, they gave him a helpful target and he was perfectly happy to whip up drama where needed. but I don't really think he was going to any particular lengths to invent reasons to hate them (even his 2010 dramatics were really just faffing about). he found them both kinda annoying and he wanted to beat them. that's it

4. these photos of valentino and sete at sepang 2004

idk I just like photos that have nebulously bad vibes if you know the context. it would have been quite funny if they'd consistently used the same shade of yellow in sepang press conferences over the years

5. marc

all of the stuff above does to me really emphasise how... god. this is the thing about valentino and marc, right, as a tragic narrative - it feels inevitable in many ways that this had to somehow go wrong, but then at the same time the exact way in which it did end up going wrong was reliant on so many things playing out the exact way in which they did, that it feels like if you could have just slightly changed things... like, let's say for a moment my baseless speculation about valentino is correct and he did become a little more careful and deliberate in how he approached his relationships with his competitors after the sete experience. there's so much that had to come together for him to lower his guard around marc to the extent that he did. again, injuries, ducati, how he wasn't really competitive in 2013, how dominant marc was especially in the first half of 2014... all these things that came together to lull them both into this false sense of security, spurred on by genuine interpersonal chemistry - all of which allowed them to even become friends in the first place

think about what the early marc and valentino relationship looks like if you're casey (who, bless him, certainly wasn't paying close enough attention to motogp to be aware of 'press conference vibes') or jorge (who, bless him, was unfortunately unable to avoid said press conference vibes). isn't there a little part of you that goes 'what the fuck is all this then' when you see valentino act like marc is god's gift to motorcycle racing after spending years enacting elaborate hazing rituals any time particularly promising talent had come through? casey's little 'yeah he was fucking with me in practise in 2006' line, jorge... okay in valentino's defence, it's worth pointing out that their 2008 relationship was more cordial than literally anyone had expected, and things only really soured in 2010. but still, their camps did already start up a healthy habit of sniping at each other in the press in 2009 and they did have the whole cold war cosplay situation going on, so. jorge certainly wasn't being given the kid gloves treatment

and sure, 2014 was a pretty drama free year for everyone because the general consensus was 'what would be the point', and I suppose if you're jorge you might also just assume the old man's washed and has gone soft in his advanced age. but still! I think I'd be a tad peeved myself, especially given valentino immediately fell into a lovely little habit of taking marc's side in controversies from the very start of marc's rookie season. but that's kind of the point - valentino's entire approach to marc required that past history of feuding for him to fall back on, for him to imitate/echo when the moment arrived (as I talked about here)... but it also required valentino to have gotten enough distance from all of his past misadventures for him to not have that sort of mindset from the outset when it came to marc

which, another thing I feel like maybe can get obscured a little if you're looking back on past rivalries with the marc-lens - this concept of valentino 'switching up' towards his opponents. because I do actually think there is something categorically different between the sete + marc rivalries when compared to any of his other ones - and it's how deliberate that switch-up is from valentino's perspective, vs to what extent it's driven by 'genuine' emotion. I just think there were rivalries (for a given value of the word if we're including melandri here) between sete's era and marc's era where valentino decided he was going to create a little distance there - but it was all part of the game. he didn't hate those guys. he just wanted to win, and understood as much about himself

but he does hate marc, because that rivalry was never supposed to be like the other ones. which, in the end, is what made it far far worse

6. che spettacolo

'he was so happy after sealing his first yamaha title :)' I go, knowing he had just pulled off a pretty fucking nasty spite win against a bloke he'd recently put a curse on. he really did risk quite a lot in the penultimate round of the season, just because he could not bear to see sete win that race. revealing, isn't it? obviously he'd always try to win the race, but... at times he just couldn't help himself in how far he went

anyway, it's my favourite of his title-winning shirts. a deliberate departure from tradition - he told his team he didn't want logos or any other decoration or even any mention that he was world champion again. the reasoning he gave was that nobody would expect it from him, which... well, yeah, it's what that whole year was about, wasn't it? about doing the unexpected, about proving everyone wrong - and, in the end, about putting on a show. like all the best valentino celebrations, it gets the message across and explains to you quite clearly what he thinks the story of his victory was. memorable in its simplicity but tells you everything you need to know

one of his career highlights <3 it's in character that the whole thing was just a little bit evil

7. film

I cannot for the life of me remember when this was except it was post-2015, but one time in a presser valentino was asked which rivalry of his he'd make into a movie and his answer was biaggi. obviously it's hard to argue with the dramatic appeal of that particular story and it's certainly got a lot of very memorable moments, but my hot take is that the sete rivalry has got it beat by virtue of having a far clearer narrative arc. it's a slightly unusual, slightly odd story for a sports rivalry... like I said in the sete post, people aren't typically all that compelled by sports rivalries where you know from the outset which one of them is better. what's the point then, right? very much the indie flavour rivalry, a little more niche and philosophical and inscrutable and, y'know, darker. this is a feud that centres around a curse, after all. this one's for the girls who get it etc etc

valentino's erasure of sete is interesting for a lot of reasons, but it's a shame because it really is such a good narrative arc that adds so much to the transition to yamaha. the transformation valentino himself went through as a competitor, how he responded to real threats emerging, revealing your true nature in extremis and all of that... I'm not entirely convinced by how sete says valentino didn't need to do what he did against sete - he said it specifically about jerez, which I suppose is debatable, but I imagine he meant it more broadly too. there was a moment valentino could have lost that 2004 championship. and he'd already decided he would do anything to stop that from happening, which things like that assen last lap nicely symbolised. the thing about judging valentino for the foibles and the spite and the dishonesty and the competitive paranoia and all of it - well, at the end of the day they are key aspects of his make up as a competitor for a reason. you can judge him as a person... but as an athlete, more often than not they worked out in his favour. that's what's so interesting about sepang 2015 in a way - it's the only time the whole thing well and truly backfired

(I know casey has drawn the comparison between himself and marc before and argued valentino's biggest mistake was in making enemies but... well. was it? it wasn't against casey - valentino did not lose anything by making an enemy out of casey and he very well may have gained a lot, depending on what your read of the 2008 season is. very much a topic for another post... but this is the thing right, I think it's perfectly reasonable to object to valentino's behaviour on moral grounds, less reasonable to ignore why it was such a big part of who he was as a competitor and how it helped him succeed. I completely understand why casey wants to draw that comparison, but - perhaps unfortunately - it's a little too nice to be true that valentino's malice cost him as much as casey suggests it did)

valentino learns a lot from the sete rivalry in terms of his storytelling and self-mythologisation, not least in how he plays up the theatre of the sepang presser. one aspect that really stands out to me is the pointed cruelty of his celebrations after sepang. from the sete post:

revisiting his whole 'character arc' from the 2003-05 period here, you've got this reversion in 2003, right, this throwback to the antics of his teenage years, and then you've got him getting meaner in 2004... and these things are married here. the whimsy and fun inherent to his celebrations is being wielded in the name of humiliating his competitors, of making a joke out of them. there's this thin line between joy and malice, where throughout his career he seems so endlessly capable of both - even at the same time, clearly. he's obviously already shown himself capable of mocking his opponents in the biaggi days, but, I don't know, it really does feel like there's something to how deliberately the humiliation is incorporated into the theatre of victory here. what a spectacle indeed

8. rage and panic

but then again, I really don't want to pretend like valentino is perfectly rational or calculating in what he's doing here. remember where all this started - in qatar, a race where he well and truly lost his cool and he knows as much. I included the relevant autobiography section in this post, but just to put the bit here that's bit about qatar itself:

he knows his brain fucked him over! I also think it's interesting that this reads slightly differently from his immediate post-race quotes, which I included in the sete post:

was he angry or was he relaxed or, somehow, both? was that unfortunate moment of relaxation caused by the inevitable letdown from the anger - was it unsustainable to ride like that? either way, the key bit to me is the heightened emotions involved and how usually he has it under control, usually he can use all of this in his own interest to spur himself on... except when he can't. as I pointed out in the tags of the qatar post, there are elements of that race that do remind you of another 25 year old rider who had received a penalty he felt was unfair and was working his way through the field while running hot on emotion. it's all fun and games and smiling assassins etc etc, but if you get them really angry...

and, y'know, in a way there's an element of panic to his post-qatar media rampage. okay, sure, he was clearly furious and the whole thing did end up working out in his favour, but in the moment he must have also been scared he was going to end up losing a championship he'd thought he basically had wrapped up. it's funny because if motogp were a sane and normal sport, valentino (allegedly) vowing his title rival would never win a race again on live tv should have been a moment of foolishness and hubris and should have been remembered as such. it should have been him losing it for a moment there and saying a bunch of stuff he'd need to gloss over and hope everyone moves on quickly from. it is absolutely bonkers that it all played out the way it did post-qatar and it just like... all went in his favour. it could not have gone better for him. there's a world in which 2004 is remembered as the title valentino squandered. but sometimes hubris gets rewarded, I suppose

9. margin

sane and normal sport, huh? the thing about sports is that none of it is sane and normal. if you actually go through the races one by one and look at all the instances sete could have won a race post-qatar, it does feel just incredibly improbable that sete never won a single one of those damn things. I mean, there are five races where he's literally going into the last lap(!!) with a chance of winning. (in the name of journalistic integrity I do have to point out sete's fuel ran out in the last lap of brno so he didn't really have a chance of winning, but that just brings us back to the 'does motogp exist in a parallel universe where black magic is real' question.) in three of them, sete is ahead of valentino at some point of that final lap

one of the worst things about sports is that sometimes it can trick you into thinking the final outcome is in doubt when it actually kind of isn't. the fact that these two blokes are arriving at the last lap together fools you into thinking that both of them have a decent shot of winning. but obviously it doesn't actually work like that. call it skill and the extra margin of error a decisive performance edge will provide you, call it a clutch factor, call it how 'broken' sete was - it really was just the illusion of proximity, the illusion of tight margins. maybe it really was a test of wills. in two of those races, valentino risked quite a lot to win. phillip island for obvious title arithmetic reasons, jerez because he's literally throwing his bike against sete's in his desperation to prevent sete from beating him. in some ways, it feels unfair to judge sete's mentality too harshly - firstly because this is an insane person sport and I do think he has a point when he says it's maybe not a great idea to laud crash-happy riders for their 'bravery', and secondly because he was just fundamentally the worse rider, which obviously means it was always going to be harder for him to beat valentino than vice versa. but, and this is without any judgement, sete's problem was that valentino always would have been willing to go further than him in his desire to win. to be good at the insane person sport... you do unfortunately have to be insane

10. momentum

I'm not going to be able to do this justice here so I'll only address it very briefly. but I've referred quite a few times to what valentino 'learned' from those years and the sete rivalry and how it helped him acquire tricks he'd be able to use for his other rivals in the future, and there's one aspect of this that kind of stands out to me. you know this bit, right:

this is the thing to me, he becomes so much more proficient at managing momentum. take his 2001 season, he was just kinda doing stuff... panicked a little bit when he had a bad race at the sachsenring until jb talked him off the ledge and reminded him that neither him nor the bike were all that great there. poor thing. and then 2002 and 2003 didn't really have title fights, though I guess 2003 did have a mid-season turning point of sorts when valentino just decided he'd had enough of losing races. which is a nice thing to be able to do, I suppose

but yeah, obviously I already addressed at length how valentino did his whole show at sepang to stop sete's momentum cold, and then how he fatally undermined sete's self-belief and hope and conviction in jerez a few races later - basically stopping that title bid before it even got started. which is all well and good, but... okay, how do you actually manage to make your three most famous overtakes so meaningful? obviously the cause and effect relationship is a bit muddled here - just because they're his most famous overtakes, they're not necessarily his best, and we remember them particularly strongly because they had such a strong impact on his fortunes. but still, when you think about it... sepang was only a turning point that season because of the theatre and not because of the race itself, his overtake in jerez was 100% last minute desperation... but laguna and catalunya? he literally could not have scripted those races more perfectly

both happen at a time when he really, really needs a big win. in 2008, he might have had the points on his side but he sure didn't have the momentum, with casey's three consecutive wins on a ducati that finally seemed well-settled enough to fight for the title and with a lot of strong casey tracks to come. like, he basically wasn't the title favourite any more going into that race - even at the end of laguna one of the commentators still referred to casey as "the man to beat" for the rest of the season. in 2009, the situation was similarly dire. from here (I say like I'm citing something more substantial than my own tumblr posts):

they were both races that valentino went into at a time when he was in serious trouble - but on the flip side they also presented a serious opportunity. both laguna (a race casey must have felt completely certain he would win) and catalunya (jorge's home race) were ones where he could really hurt his rivals. at some point that weekend, whether before the race for casey or before the final corner for jorge, both of them would have been 100% confident they'd win... and valentino stole those victories from right under their noses. and the thing is, right, he couldn't have planned exactly how those races went. first of all because, contrary to whatever the italian public may believe, he is not literally a god. and second of all, the specific overtakes everyone remembers are also ones that inherently had a lot of risk attached to them you'd obviously prefer to avoid. at laguna you have the excursion into the dirt where he needed skill and also quite frankly luck to not crash. catalunya was a last corner overtake - and as we've established, valentino by this point had learned his lesson about leaving it that late if he had any choice in the matter

still, it's not like it was just fate or coincidence or any of that. obviously, he did get lucky that these races unfolded in such a perfect manner for him... but athletes do have a hand in creating their own luck. for laguna, and this is so very much a topic for another post, valentino deliberately deployed tactics to fuck with casey in a way that ended up generating that overtake - without getting into it too much, he basically knew he couldn't allow casey to be ahead going into turn 10 (the corkscrew's turn 8). so if you've decided in advance that come what may, you'll stick your bike in front of your rival's bike in a certain corner... well, if you get lucky, then maybe you can create a little magic. with catalunya, he said afterwards that he'd been imagining that overtake for the whole week before the race. incidentally, according to the commentators jorge had told them that if you're ahead going into the last two corners, you've won the race (which is obviously the kind of thing you should never say, are you insane??) - and that's the key, isn't it. here too, there's a meeting of skill and luck and jorge maybe not being as diligent in protecting the inside line as he should have been (a fact that casey, always polite, full of tact, ever helpful, was willing to repeatedly point out to jorge) and it could have very much ended up with two bikes in the dirt and some awkward conversations within yamaha that evening... but still, at the end of the day, you've got to "invent something" as the commentators put it, you've got to come up with that move and decide it's possible and visualise it again and again before eventually turning it into reality. both of those wins and both of the overtakes everyone remembers were at least to some extent built on tactics and prior planning and valentino deliberately producing something special when he really needed to

the other key bit is, okay, obviously it's not that remarkable that valentino immediately clocked they were important wins, given he'd intended them to be important wins going into the respective races and he knew full well how dramatic the duels had been... but he was still very adept at leaning into the theatre of it all. the idea that valentino came up with the idea of kissing the corkscrew during the race is very funny to me, but it is pretty plausible given he will have had time to do so while coasting at the front after casey's fall. and it's just very memorable, isn't it? sure, that corkscrew overtake helped him win the race, but so did the first lap move into turn 8 or that nifty move on the outside of turn 3 on the lap casey went down. the battle still continued for another twenty odd laps after that corkscrew overtake, but valentino had the shrewd showman's acumen to immediately pinpoint that as the moment of the race, the thing everyone would remember, the defining image, and paid tribute to it in his celebrations to ensure the association would stick in everyone's minds

obviously, he also goes for all kinds of over the top celebrations in catalunya, including wildly ecstatic fist pumping on the bike and breaking out of parc fermé to soak up the adulation of jorge's home fans and all that stuff. and he's a huge fan of the fact he got his 99th career win beating the number 99, because of course he is

also obviously he does that annoying thing where he goes up to both of them while they're doing their interviews so their reactions will be recorded for posterity. so yeah, that's the thing, right... it's about knowing immediately the wins are special and meaningful and signalling with your overblown celebrations how meaningful they are to everyone else so that everyone else is extra sure to remember them and talk about them forever and ever... obviously he got lucky here, obviously it's a little crazy that both those races worked out that well from his perspective. but, y'know. got to hand it to him, I guess. something pretty neat about how both times he went 'yes I am going to change the momentum of the season today'... and he did. plus you've got to give him credit for the fact that he actually capitalised on his momentum, which isn't always easy, and basically took control of both seasons from that point onward (if in different ways and to different extents). he knew he had to take advantage of how his rivals were on the back foot after his daring victories, and he did. you could almost say, right, he knew he had to bite harder when his opponent was already bleedi- *gunshot rings out*

bonus: valencia

so the thing about this whole 'back to back wins with different manufacturers' business is that, understandably, everyone focuses on the welkom side of the equation. very spectacular, very unlikely win, really shouldn't have been possible and somehow valentino did it anyway. but, y'know, that other side of the equation is noteworthy in its own right! he really was crap at valencia. eighth place in his 1999 250cc campaign, his worst result all year when he finished the race (1 dnf that season)... his 2000 title campaign died there when he crashed... eleventh place in 2001, his worst result all year when he finished the race (1 dnf)... in 2002, he got second place there, one of only five races that season he didn't win

but he really, really wanted to win that race in valencia. now, personally, my assumption has always been it was kind of supposed to be a 'fuck you' to honda, which I still completely believe btw. but this is how he himself frames it:

I was the one who worried. Saturday night I took pictures of myself hugging and embracing the RC211V. I wanted to say goodbye to my bike because I knew that tomorrow we would race our last race together. Leaving the RC211V was what hurt most. In fact, I now believe the reason it took me so long to say yes to Yamaha was because I was so attached to that bike. As I looked at the RC211V and thought that we would soon be separated, I genuinely feared that it would take a very long time before I once again tasted victory. That's why I decided I had to win that last race of the 2003 season. It would be a great way of saying goodbye of course, but also I wanted to stock up on victories, I wanted to have the taste of triumph fresh in mind because who knew when I would win again with Yamaha?

which, okay, setting aside for a minute what a freak he is about these bloody bikes, there's two underlying reasons he expresses here for why he's so desperate to win this race. first of all, yes, he really loves that bike and wants to give it the farewell their partnership deserves. and second of all, more poignantly (for the non-bike fuckers anyway), he really did not know when he'd win again. I don't know, it's something that stuck with me... I think we can talk all we like about how big a risk it was and what a step into the unknown it was and nobody believed he could do what he did etc etc, but to me this is just the most straightforward way of capturing that uncertainty. valentino wanting to remember the taste of victory, because he knew he might be giving it up for a long time. he loves winning so, so much, he's done so much over the years to win, he's never been able to stop chasing the high... and yet he walked away from that bike

"I decided I had to win that last race" is in itself funny because obviously a lot of people can't just 'decide' to win races. which, yes, it's just a thing people say, but it does capture the essence of that type of valentino win where it feels like he's won it through sheer force of will. a lot of the times, these are his spite wins - the phillip island 2004's and jerez 2005's of this world - hey, speaking of sete duels, we should include le mans and sachsenring and brno and qatar 2005 as well. various biaggi wins, perhaps most memorably the middle finger race in suzuka 2001 and his last lap overtake in phillip island 2001, where he won his first premier class title. when he beats spaniards in dramatic battles at catalunya like 2004, 2005, 2009, 2016. his fury at his penalty at phillip island 2003 that results in that spectacular fifteen second margin over the field. his desire to fuck with jorge in motegi/sepang 2010. let's throw in his dominant win in jerez 2016 in enemy territory, the first race win he'd had of that nature since... oof, let me have a think, maybe assen 2009? (incidentally, the race that directly followed catalunya.) like, man, this is not how he was winning races post-prime, it was always one hell of a struggle - with one glaring exception

which makes it worth pointing out that the second and indeed last time he won in valencia was in 2004, when he was in the process of dismantling sete. now, given sete ended up finishing fourth, it wasn't strictly necessary to get the win to ensure the curse continued doing its thing. but, y'know, there was a point where sete was in front of valentino on-track. then sete tries to overtake biaggi, pretty firmly it has to be said, and pushes them both wide allowing valentino to sweep right on through, which I found pretty funny icl. anyway, the best way to ensure your rival doesn't win a race is to win it yourself, right? after the frustration of qatar, he reacted by winning the last three races of the season spurred on by sheer spite. no wonder he took notes and learned a little something about how to best motivate himself

bonus 2: things that aged badly

october 2003, mind you. he really got those guys good

bonus 3: dovi

I mean, come on. it is a little bit funny that both valentino and marc acquire a new rival at age 24 seemingly out of nowhere who was their main rival for three years. (I don't care what the championship standings say, marco melandri was not valentino's main rival in 2005 - sete might have been extremely cursed but those were still The Battles that year.) said rival was 6-7 years older than them, known for being a particularly smart rider and a wet weather specialist, and announced themselves as a major threat in large part through winning two dramatic last lap duels against the all time great in the first year of that rivalry. both rivalries were (well, initially in valentino's case) notable for being significantly warmer on an interpersonal level than the ATG's previous major rivalry

both had previously been hrc riders but had been fired by the team. gibernau had one premier class win before 2003, dovi had two before 2017, and all three of those wins came in the wet. ofc dovi did have a bit more pedigree - the 125cc title, stronger results in the premier class, considerably more podiums. but both dovi and gibernau weren't really supposed to be the main rival to the ATG, not even within their own team - though, obviously, the reasons why they ended up assuming that mantle couldn't have been more different. with both of them, people said they'd changed their approach to riding, mainly in terms of their mentality - and that it had helped them grow into their new role as the primary challenger

there's not really a point here... I just think it's neat. obviously it is a little funny how differently those respective relationships unfolded, but I also wouldn't say it's fair to entirely pin that on the personalities involved, as opposed to circumstantial factors. that being said

[kerorowhump]

sorry crime of reposting screenshot but i wanna talk about this a lil bit just based on the scene itself without yet the full ep context. nothing coherent, but something about how dying is just an implicit part about the mission that has to be accepted, but also something that's just inevitable in general, and in this case it just makes me think of... there is only one outcome to this. it makes me think, you know, your escapism can only get you so far, but in the end, it won't save you from your faith. and with the precarious position that keroro is in, it may as well be death. and the fact that it's kid keroro saying this to him, it also gives me a vibe of... you did this. you did this to yourself. you wanted this, remember? it was you

you asked for this.

kid keroro wanted to invade pekopon, and so... what are you escaping from? the walls of gundam in your life, what are they sheltering you from? you're only buying time. but in the end, there is only one outcome!! he has this vision right after calling himself a shameful invader for failing to reach the bathroom (afaik). it's a sense of guilt and blame towards his younger self, feeling of letting him down, yet also resenting him for putting present him in this situation. i think. (i dont know. I don't wanna spoil myself. I only skimmed, but I had thoughts.)

it's also that afaik that's his second day of being trapped there? alone? keroro suffers solitude greatly. is this why? the voices in his head get too loud

by self admission, building gunpla calms him down... so what is he anxious about that he's constantly surrounded with them? well. i mean yeah we know

and it really is an anxiety that he can only deal with on his own, or i mean, because he's so entrenched in escapism, it only bubbles up when he's alone... i think!! and !!!!! the way he answers to this screenshot with a non-answer!!!!!! that hes not willing at all to even entertain that!!!!!! yea. ����‍💫 um...

[heesulovebot]

tay i want to know all your observations and theories and thoughts and headcanons or WHATEVER about the eighth sense (i know there’s a movie version and that reaction video out there but i haven’t watched it so please humour me if you already have lololol)

crista my love!!! 🥹💕 omg i'm so glad ur also watching t8s i need everyone to watch it, it's just sO good. i'm also blushing twisting my feet twirling my hair that u want to hear me cry about this show because lmfaooo i'm the least coherent person to do this and so many wonderful things have already been said but i'll just reiterate some thoughts here since i just finished re-watching episodes 1 & 2 for the third time. this is way too long i’m so sorry bare w me pls:

i feel like the beginning sequence (before we are drawn to the present story) tells us everything and absolutely nothing at all. jaewon and jihyun sit on the beach, there’s a sound of a heart beat, their hands are touching, and then there’s a fading superimposition shot of the ocean waves. first of all, i love a good superimposition shot, not just because it’s nice to look at, but because these types of shots play with time and space. we then get that black and white shot of someone surfing, and then a cut to someone being pulled out from under the waves. another superimposition shot from the ocean to that scene back on the beach but jihyun is no longer there and we can hear the sound of sirens. i can see why there were death theories flowing around on twitter lol. from the shot of jihyun to no-jihyun it can allude to something like that but remember what i said about superimposition playing with time and space? the first shot is the future (or present, depending on where you’re looking at the story—perception is everything). the black-and-white shots were deliberate, though. those were in the past. and judging from the later conversation where jihyun trails off about a younger brother, it’s most likely jaewon pulling this younger-brother type person out of the water.

after the credits we get one of my favourite shots so far: a fish tank, taking up nearly half the screen in the foreground, and a blurry vision of the back of jaewon’s head in the background. as we get to know more about jaewon i’m really curious to know what this could be a metaphor for, but the most cliché metaphor for now is “fish out of water.” that seems to fit jihyun more, being a lil’ country kid in seoul, but i feel like for jaewon it’s more about the fact that he wears a mask of a confident person. and he’s damn good at masking. he let’s his friends carry on their double-edged conversation about how oh-so-easy his privileged life is and only gets angry when his friend crosses the line and pushes him over (because although jaewon might be easy-going, he is not a pushover).

jaewon and jihyun’s first exchange outside the pub is so good 😭 there’s banter—i love how sassy jihyun is and how it comes out in front of jaewon—but one thing is established in this scene: their interest in each other. for jihyun, it’s the fact that he was eavesdropping on jaewon and co.’s conversation and congratulated jaewon on completing his military service. jihyun also seemed a bit annoyed initially but he could’ve easily directed jaewon to the nearest convenience store to buy his own cigarettes, but jihyun brings jaewon two (which jaewon seems surprised about) and lights it for him. jaewon’s interest is solidified the moment jihyun slips him a lighter before he leaves. i went absolutely feral at the way their fingers lingered—far too long to be written off as just a small exchange. if a lingering touch isn’t the queerest thing you’ve ever seen, idk what is 😩

my favourite scene so far is their third encounter. i will never shut up about it tbh!!! pissed off by his friends crossing his boundaries and inviting his ex-gf to the pub (where he’d dragged them in because he was lowkey looking for jihyun 👀), jaewon goes outside for a smoke. jihyun follows him out and attempts to be brave: he tells him “my name is jihyun. i thought we should know each other’s names if we’re going to be friends” [cue tay screaming in the background]. the way jihyun looks at jaewon, the sincerity in those doe eyes, and jaewon’s shocked but absent expression is everything. i’ve already screamed about this in the tags but like i’ve said, jaewon is constantly putting on a mask for everyone around him—he’s nice, he’s got everything handed to him; he’s the quintessential golden boy. in all their encounters so far jaewon has been cheery and extroverted, but the fact that he doesn’t have the energy to put on a mask and doesn’t hide his expression from jihyun says a lot. jihyun will slowly become someone who jaewon can be 100% himself around and there is something so *sharp inhale* about that.

jaewon asks jihyun his name again on the bus to their surfing trip, and the little smile that is threatening to curl up on the corner of his lips absolutely killed me. sufa @heart-ming​ said it perfectly: jaewon knows his name, of course he knows his name. he’s been thinking about him (when he’s outside his family home as he smokes the second cigarette, or going into the bar to see if he’s working). jaewon’s obvious disappointment in seeing their sleeping arrangements is also funny, but that doesn’t stop jaewon. he practically begs the club president to let him teach jihyun, and the two continue whatever the hell it is they have going on on the beach; alone.

(also i could talk forever about the scene where jaewon helps jihyun into his wetsuit like—the way jihyun looks SO nervous and bare in front of jaewon, and the way jaewon puts on a soft and reassuring smile when they’re face to face, but the moment jihyun turns around, jaewon’s mask crumbles and we can see that he’s also nervous from their proximity. the intimacy of helping someone put something on is insane).

i’m fairly certain that kim jihyun is well aware of his sexuality (the boy is a girl group stan i mean c’mon). he might not be out, of course, but he’s been more straight forward about his intentions in pursuing his crush. jaewon on the other hand seems to be doing things not because he’s aware of his attraction to the same sex, but because he’s attracted to jihyun and a bit impulsive about this new-found attraction. there’s this magnetic pull the younger seems to have on the older, and for now, he’s kind of fallen into that trance. but from the synopsis we know that they will be sharing a kiss, and that jaewon will proceed to act as if nothing happened. i’m not ready for that angst next week 😭😭 but i’m actually curious if jaewon really isn’t aware, or he’s just afraid and in the closet??? is the “younger brother” he trailed off about actually his younger brother, or someone who he used to like????? i have so many questions about jaewon’s past that i need answering is it wednesday yet??????????

ok i’m talking too much about jaewon—that’s my blorbo, my baby girl, my cinnamon apple—but i also adore jihyun. he tells jaewon he’s trying to not be scared and he’s been doing some brave things the last two episodes i’m so proud of him :’) his braveness is quiet, like him. there’s something that was said to him by two different people that was pretty similar:                            

“at first, you’ll be clumsy and scared of everything, but that’s because you aren’t familiar with it.” “then are you afraid of many things? that’s just because you have many things you don’t know” 

the first quote was said by his boss when they were drinking, and the second was said by jaewon on the beach. i love these quotes and the fact that we heard them twice because besides being a romance, the eighth sense is very much a coming-of-age and about both of these young queer men coming into themselves. it's just uGH so great.  

icb i wrote so much and i didn’t even mention the surfing lesson or shower scene like........ there are just so many layers and nuance to this show and the storytelling, dialogue, and cinematography are all so good. i feel like the director captured the queer experience so well and i can’t wait to see what else is in store for us!! the korean theatrical release was heavily edited and cut down so i can’t wait to see it in it’s full form, how it was intended :’)

[longeyelashedtragedy]

gimme a whole speech on the writing of visited upon the sons, pls

ok! i hope you mean this for real and aren't going to laugh at me for giving a whole long serious answer (omg sometimes the 'i was a weird kid' instinct kicks in) but i assume your kindness 💙🤍

random trivia: i almost never write with music on, cause my head is so wild about music that it's too distracting, but i wrote this with "money" by pink floyd on repeat and i'm honestly not sure why? (i also wrote "digestif" listening to motorhead...not sure why either but u gotta roll with it)

where to start...

i wrote a really big chunk of the beginning while standing under some scaffolding waiting for a freak summer downpour to end so i could go get iced coffee. that's my favorite way to write--in a weird place on my notes app full of autocorrect mistakes and other things like that because i'm so in the zone that my brain is going way too fast for my fingers to keep up.

i was sooooo Absorbed in fact that i didn't realize until a couple days later that i had written it really oddly without realizing? You know how in 3rd person pov even if you're writing one person's perspective and you're in their head so you know their emotions, thoughts etc, you still narrate with the character's name? Like...Mason chokes on the the sip of water he was trying to take.  “Uhhh…that’s kind of fucked up?” he manages to squeak out in between coughs.  This is making him think things he doesn’t want to think doesn’t want to think doesn’t want to—He coughs again and runs his fingers nervously through his fluffy hair. that kind of thing? what i realized is that i had written this POV really strangely and tho frank is the POV he never refers to himself by name? is that a thing? i was like "well that's weird" and tried to fix it but the fic refused...it made the POV feel too distant when the point of the fic is that he's increasingly lost in his own mind. the closer you as the reader are to that, the better. i trust my writing instincts like--if i instinctively wrote that way then it must have been for a reason! (note that the middle section is written in the "traditional" 3rd person way which again just--felt way better because that section is soooooort of a coherent narrative--which is also kinda done for a reason)

however this meant i had to repeat mason's name WAY more than sounds natural so it wasn't confusing, and if i just Did that with no explanation, that's the kind of thing i'd pick up on as a reader and would consider to be unforgivably bad writing. so, i called it out directly in the fic, and gave it an in-world reason, which then actually became the fic summary 😂 (Mason, his Mason—It’s the repetition that dulls the emotions (some people would call that repression, wouldn’t they, but that word implies something wrong with one’s mental state and there’s nothing wrong at all) My fic my rules!

this fic was written really in like, 2 or 3 days of writing. it was nearly impossible to just write little bits here and there. this pov was very demanding of my full attention because i also had to disappear into franko's mind to write it and it's hard to just like, do that when you have 10 spare minutes. because of this i almost gave up on it because it felt like i'd never be able to regain the momentum of the first writing day and also--also--i struggled with the structure SO HARD. my initial plan was to have the fic start out normally, and then intersperse frank's memories with the present, and each time he re-joins the present from a memory he gets more and more fucked up. (and of course, mason is clueless to it at first, and then he's all ?????) you can see lil remnants of this throughout--i think mostly in the beginning when he pours the rosé. (His fist clenches around the bottle as he pours and Mason catches that too. For fuck’s sake, he’s not supposed to.) Initially, the first section of the memories section--Dad getting too worked up about young!frank wanting to drink something pink--was going to come right before that, so there was a direct context--oh, he's remembering that while he pours. BUT--

that happened to work there, but i realized if i kept doing it like this i was going to be imposing something way too restrictive on the rest of the fic. i'd have to create each bad memory and then make the corresponding "present day" section relate to that memory and there'd be no way to make that happen naturally without seriously forcing some part of the story, and who wants that? this got me so stressed out especially as the (self-appointed) King of the Flashback that i wondered if i should just leave them out altogether. somehow i decided to write all of the flashbacks i would want to have in an entirely separate document, and then just write the "present" parts all at once, and then decide how i'd want to combine them.

2nd trivia point: because of this, this was one of the only fics in recent memory i've ever written relatively in order from start to finish. usually i write a beginning and an end and then fuck around in no order in the middle till it's done.

i can't quite remember what happened next, but i think i then did skip a bit to writing the end, and suddenly my mind wanted to develop something that came up earlier in the fic, at the beginning, where he refers to the feeling of something pursuing him. i think i meant that more in a vague sense at the time, and wasn't going to explore it, but (maybe something from @new-berry inspired me? possibly?) considering how fucked-up i wanted him to be at the end vs the beginning, and how coming out of a dissociative episode your relationship to yourself and to the world around you can be really wonky and fucked up--at least in my personal experience--i realized what if i could make that concept a lot more Real, and put in the imagery of a ghost in the room. but what kind of ghost? well, obviously not an uwu scary ghost, but you can come to your own conclusions as to what he thinks is "haunting" him.

this meant that i could write that last paragraph, which sincerely is one of my fav endings i've written in a long time, and as often happens when i write endings, the whole fic then made sense to me. and i realized instead of writing scattered memories and having frank's behavior in the present Escalated, i was going to drop the entire memories narrative into the fic in one big chunk, creating a story within a story, and have it be so all consuming that he completely loses track of what is happening. (which i feel like is an especially wild thing to do while you're having a Sexual Encounter and thus leaves mason rightfully disturbed--love me some Wretched Sex!!! sorry!)

i had a couple people tell me they completely forgot what was supposed to be happening while they were reading it, which made me so happy because that was what i wanted!

when i see this mf i see a dude who is so tormented and repressed and shaped by how he was treated as a kid. his dad made football his life so oppressively (in some ways) that he has, as he's said, no hobbies other than football and reading and now that football is no longer a good place for him there's just nothing left. add that to the fact that he clearly has never ever really healed from his mom's death in 2008 (and you can say a lot about his disingenuousness and lack of accountability as a coach, but the extended part about how he dealt with grief and loss on the diary of a ceo podcast was so fuckin real and it was a bit wild to see a famous person be so open) i feel like someone like this has a mind like a haunted house and can't quite go about things "normally." i wanted to create this feeling in the fic.

the best writing experiences turn into therapy sessions and when i was done writing i realized that i was expressing something about myself through it, which is how uncomfortable i feel in situations with a lot of very cishet expectations, as someone who is VERY not het and stealthily very not cis. i had already known this of course from conversations with coworkers, but this fic made me realize how much i fucking resent it--how much anger i feel toward it really--which was...interesting to learn about myself i guess.

anyway that's visited upon the sons for ya. i'm sure i left something out, but i feel sad that i'm no longer writing it, cause it was one of those experiences that make me think writing is fun. i always think writing is fun, but you know what i mean?

(footnote: my fic that i've been referring to as 'bitter mutual cheating' takes place around 2 months after this one, and it's from mason's POV and he reduces the whole upsetting experience to one line (Frank sounds panicked, and there’s only one other time that Mason can remember hearing him sound like this–that night with the West Ham jersey where Frank seemed to go kind of crazy and he had to tell the guys in the dressing room that it was his sister’s cat who had scratched the shit out of his back) which is just kind of a fun mindfuck for me. 7000+ words of agony but all mason even was aware of was...that, lol.)

(OH, i forgot! in the last line: Holding his Mason tight like it loves him, that word "like" is important. is he realizing--just for a moment--that his "love" for Mason is just kind of a placeholder for something else? someone else? we'll see...)

[dongfangxunfeng]

hi xin!! im not sure what youre up to in succession but what do you think so far? like do you have any characters or themes or anything thats really intriguing to you/that you think has been explored really well etc? i think theres sooooo much there but i get a bit too 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 to really articulate it well BUT i love hearing what other people are thinking abt it. mwah hope youve been well too 💜

HI VAL <333333 I LOVE SUCCESSY!!!! so im on the s2 finale (havent watched it yet but thats the today plan) and i have many. vibe related feelings not super coherent but yeah :)

first off its just soooo embarry that i understand wtf theyre about all the time <- businessmajorisms 😭 its genuinely so embarrassing when theyre saying shit like 'we need a poison pill white knight defence' and i know exactly what theyre referring to

my real 1st thought is that u def need to like. care about what they're parodying bc otherwise (1) to me its not as interesting if not, bc otherwise ur just glazing thru a lot of important context - probably why among other reasons i couldnt get into it the first time around when i watched like 2 eps (2) just based on brief observations it can make you a lil weirdinsane abt the characters when you treat them like. a regular guy from your shows (hence shit like tomgreg 😭😭😭)

the familial abuse dynamics. insane btw. logan @ his family vs logan what he presents to the world/people he wants things from vs logan what he presents to his employees..........and then you can see connor&willa and go ah yes . different flavour of abuse . insanity

UNRELATED BUT. tom & greg's voices are kind of in my head now i had an argument w myself this morning but in their voices and then i was like oops ive been watching too much

speaking of watching too much so /i/ am also a businessguy(ish. its complicated) who is . at this point running a newspaper (ish. we havent rlly started but ive been doing so much interviewing i am actually writing this in a break btwn them) so im like. omg what if im commiting mediacorporate crime and its like no. youve just been watching succession

ANYWAY CHARACTERS. shiv fascinates me. like yes her family esp logan doesnt really respect her opinions but also she is sooooo slimy. smth abt how ur sympathies for her get played with incessantly < shiv enjoyer

i hate tom sm but i cant hate hate him....actually i think that describes most of the characters. lol

the way theres so much dead air in this show is like. gweoifjiewjfoiwjefiw the awkwardness of it all. really adds to it

I WILL BE BACK I NEED TO FINISH MY INTERVIEWSSTAYTUNED

[cuorepietoso]

-004. MASKS

     The day-to-day.

     The wraith that skulks about in the city on the average day is a creature of few words and even fewer smiles. He seems restless and serene in equal turn, always watching with a strange sort of stillness interrupted by the occasional fidget, thoughts spilling silently out of him like blood. He’s a chameleon-- average height and nondescript clothing, sunglasses doing little to hide the sleepless nights written into the lines in his face and the bags under his eyes. Crowds swallow him, and the individual eye skips over him completely. Unrecognized by all but a few.

     The neighbors.

     To Sana Jamshidi, to Marco Rivera, to Flavio, to Giuliana, Battista is a strange but helpful lone wolf. Seemingly existing in a state of constant exhaustion and quiet bemusement, rarely speaking, always willing to fix a pipe or some lighting, to patch a hole. Willing to babysit the kids of the single mother down the hall, and tolerate the landlord so they don’t have to. The reluctant recipient of whatever recipe the culinary student on the first floor is testing, of baked goods from the old crone the floor below him, of hard cheek pinches and cooed concern over how skinny he is. The veteran with a habit of feeding stray cats. 

     The lovers.

     Broad grins and clever fingers, smooth euphoria only ever lasting for a single night. A charming smile, cool hands in the heat of the moment, and a warm silence as he cards his fingers through their hair. Unexpected tenderness in the feeling of cold fingers on a cheek, loved and lost. All he ever is, bits and pieces of what he used to be stitched back together for a quick fix of something he only allows himself to indulge in with strangers. They’re lucky if they know his name.

     The Capulets.

     A mystery, new to the city, a man with a face and demeanor so unassuming he can walk unrecognized by all but a few. A cold-blooded creature from the unknown depths, always shooting to kill, a holy terror in a city that only claims to play for keeps. Little more than a black pit himself, leading a life so redacted that even the best of hackers can’t get any useful information on him. Benedick. Captain Tahan. Where does he live? What, who does he love? Is there anything to him other than rumors of missing people and bodies buried so deep they may never again surface? Hard to say, impossible to know. 

     The Montagues.

     Only ever answering questions about himself with clipped, bare bones responses, and never otherwise volunteering any information, to his coworkers Benedick ever remains a question mark. Faded into the background by design, motivations unknown and unseen. Controlling and cooly polite and almost always infuriatingly right, voice and hands cold but gentle as he talks his way through a concussion protocol. The scraps of kindness he allows himself to dole out come often from left field, when he sits quietly with a young soldier after their first kill, or wishes someone’s sick relative well, or as he keeps his tone low and even as he clamps the artery of someone bleeding out on a steel table in a cold warehouse. Blink and you miss them, miss him.

     The Reality.

     There’s a patchwork quality to the truth of him, pieces of who he was and what he wants himself to be sewn together with a shaky hand, worn thin in some places. He is a Golem. Silent and cold and formed of clay, perfectly obedient, perfectly monstrous. Never truly alive, victim and villain in equal turn. His is a Thief, silent in the night, sticky fingered and clever. A Healer, careful kindness rationed lest he run out, and a Killer, meticulous and cold. A Man. A Ghost. A lost soul, rudderless in a stormy sea. 

     Battista Tahan is a man of many names and many faces. A cool-head, a humorless gun, a logical planner, a goddamn comedian. Familiar but distant as the cold light of a star in the night, to those that knew him before. The arm’s distance he tries to hold others at. 

     There’s something left of him, there has to be, but he doesn’t know what exactly it is.

[mellowyandere]

You’re Ours to Protect

Had a weird dream last night. Thought you might enjoy it. 

Reader: F

Characters: Toshinori Yagi (All Might), Aizawa Shouta (Eraserhead), Yamada Hizashi (Present Mic)

Summary: Your time as an anti-hero might finally be coming to an end. With three pros on your tail it’s a miracle this didn't happen sooner. (Reader has a quirk but it’s not very important to the smut.)

Length: 4.5 K (I have come to the conclusion that I am incapable of writing below 4 K)

Warnings: non-con, yandere themes, slight bondage/restraints, voyeurism, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, anal fingering, anal sex, M/M/F, mostly clothed male, naked reader, slight cum swallowing, Eraserhead and Present Mic are in an established relationship in this fic. 

Hands were on your body, hands that shouldn’t be there. Your mind was stuck in a fog, your limbs so heavy you could barely move them. What was going on? You strained to remember, thinking long and hard about what might have led you here as calloused fingers blazed trails along your exposed thighs. You managed to wiggle your limbs a bit, shaking off the haze that muddled your brain.

You groaned, trying to open your eyes so you can get a better understanding of your surroundings. Your hands were restrained behind your back but it seemed your legs were free. You'd murder who ever had their fucking hands on you. As your eyes adjusted to the light you couldn't help but groan again as the figure in front of you came into view. You tried and failed to subtly use your quirk, this didn’t look good.

“Eraserhead. Didn’t realize you were still wasting your time looking for me. Not my fault I beat you to that criminal. Hero’s leaving trash like him alive is such a stupid concept. He was a murderer you know.” 

You looked around to the best of your ability as you spoke, you were sitting on a plush dark green couch in what appeared to be a relatively empty basement. You had been stripped of your gear, leaving you in your underwear and an oversized t-shirt. Two men were flanking you on the couch. The one to your left you didn't recognize. He was ridiculously tall, as well as skinny. Blond hair a mess as two long bangs hid his eyes from view. To your right was a pro you did recognize. His emerald green eyes sparkled in delight behind his civilian glasses as he grinned down at you. So it was their hands on your body currently. They’d die first then. 

“So, what does that make you?” the dark haired pro murmured, leaning forwards and somewhat regaining your attention. 

You ignored his question, opting to look about some more. There wasn't a one-way mirror or any recording device in sight. Were they interrogating you off the books? This whole situation seemed off, these were heroes right? They’d convict you and leave you to rot in a dingy jail cell somewhere.. but this didn't look like a normal interrogation room. 

“I know this is my first time getting caught and all but this doesn’t really seem up to protocol. Gonna haul me away after having fun or something?” You shifted your gaze to the obsidian eyes in front of you, leaning forwards to mimic his posture. 

Present Mic barked out a laugh, hand squeezing harder on you thigh much to your annoyance. “Sorry babe but prison won’t be your final destination! I mean after all y’aint evil, just a lil misguided is all, nothin’ three pros can’t fix.” He ended his sentence with a pinch to your leg. 

“If you don’t get your fucking hands off me I’ll kill you!” You snarled, turning and getting up in Present Mic’s face. The tall blond to your left pulled his hands back, scooting away as Present Mic continued to leer down at you. 

“HAH little girls got some bite, but we already knew that. Don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to use that quirk. I’m hurt now! You really would try to kill me huh?” he mocked with a fake pout, but you could see the amusement in his eyes. 

“I’m sure you’ve already realized by now you can’t use your quirk. It wasn’t easy making a device to cancel it out, but thanks to our newest colleague here the hardest part was collecting your DNA and picking what color collar we wanted.” Eraserhead leaned forward, fingers tugging on the collar you only now just realized was around your neck.

You tried to bite him, but he pulled back. If only you could wipe that stupid smirk off his face with a heart attack. Your quirk was the ability to clot blood after all. A handy trick if you found yourself injured, but even more so for killing once you learned how to properly control it. No one really batted an eye at an ischemic stroke due to the clotting of an artery to the brain. Well.. almost nobody.. 

“You have a very impressive ability,” the tall blond stated, “in all honesty we probably wouldn’t have caught on if we hadn’t watched you kill. You’ve induced countless of natural looking deaths, but upon closer inspection you target people whose crimes would have landed them in jail. Noble, but very misguided. You’re pretty reckless though, what if you had gotten hurt?” 

“So fucking what if I did.” You kept your eyes glued to Present Mic as you responded, trusting him a lot less than the man behind you. His eyes narrowed dangerously at your snarky rebuttal.

“Language young lady, and that’s no way to talk! What would compel you to risk your life, why don’t you trust your hero’s more?” 

You clenched your teeth in frustration but didn’t respond. You were done cooperating, not like you were doing much to begin with though.

The scrapping of a metal chair on concrete drew your gaze as Eraserhead stood up. 

“Back up Zashi, I’ll take over from here. Toshinori you’re fine where you are.” 

You couldn’t help but struggle a bit at his words. “What do you mean, what the hell are you going to do!? You insane or something? Just turn me in to the police!”

“You really don't pay attention do you. Hizashi already said you’re not going to the police. I don’t know what skeletons you have in your closet, or why you started killing people, but that will come out in due time. For now you don’t have to kill anymore. The three of us will take care of you, without the law sentencing you to life. We’ve been hunting you down for so long. We’ve been very patient, but right now you need us to help show you what you’ve been missing. Running around all by yourself, you must have been so lonely.” Eraserhead finished up his little spiel as he stalked forwards, looming over your sitting frame. 

“Don’t fucking TOUC-gah!” You had been so focused on Eraserhead’s approach you hadn’t noticed Present Mic coming at you with a gag until it was too late. 

“Yagi already asked you to watch that dirty mouth of yours, don’t worry though babe once you simmer down a bit we’ll take it out.”

“Ple-please Hizashi call me Toshinori we’ve been over this.”

You gave Eraserhead your best glare as he stopped in front of you. He smiled softly at your defiance before wedging his knee in between your legs and slamming his hands onto the couch, caging you in. Wait by show you what you were missing.. these hero's were going to..?

You tried to talk reason, but all that came out were muffled pleas. None of it coherent. 

“We’ve been watching over you for 5 months now kitten. Trying to find the best way to approach you but in the end taking you somewhere safe seemed to be the only logical solution. While getting this house ready for your arrival we all started to feel as if you belonged here all along. I know it’s not fair, we’ve had so much longer to get to know you, but you’ll know us just as well soon enough.”

It was official. These pros had lost their damn minds. They actually figured out how to justify what they were about to do to you. Your promise to only kill criminals was really coming back to bite you on the ass. 

You brought your legs up and tried to kick him off, but were quickly thwarted by two pairs of hands grabbing them and pinning you down. 

“Now now sweetheart none of that, Shouta here is just going to show you our conviction. No one will ever hurt you again now that we are here. Now that I am here” The last part was mumbled more to himself than the group. 

Something must have happened to these men to cause their hero complex to grow into something so twisted. But that was no fucking excuse for their actions. They needed therapy, not someone to play damsel in distress with.

Shouta lowered himself between your legs until he was kneeling on the floor in front of you. You tried to plead with your eyes, beg him to stop, but he met your gaze with something bordering love. That wasn’t good. Breaking eye contact he looked down at your underwear, bringing a hand up you held your breath as he gently brushed against your core. 

“You can’t even begin to imagine how much I’ve dreamed of this moment. You truly are something special, and yet you treat your life with such little regard it’s maddening.” He trailed his knuckles against the thin fabric as he spoke, your traitorous body sparking heat in your lower abdomen in anticipation. 

Pulling your underwear to the side he slowly began to slide his fingers up and down your progressively wetting folds. 

“Well now, someone secretly enjoyin’ themselves baby,” Hizashi all but purred, his hand squeezing your flesh while his gaze was transfixed on where his partner was violating you. You couldn’t help but let out a pitiful whine. It was absolutely humiliating being spread out before these three men. 

The noises your wet cunt were making were no help to your embarrassment, and they only got worse once the dark haired pro rid you of your last line of defense and began to insert two of his fingers. 

“H-how does she feel?” Toshinori couldn’t help but ask. His face was flushed red, along with the tips of his ears as his vibrant blue eyes watched Shouta’s fingers slowly sink inside you. 

“Tight, shit she’s tight. She’s perfect, so fucking wet for her hero's. I’ll work you open kitten don’t worry.” You couldn’t help but clamp down on his fingers at his words, earning a deep chuckle in response. 

“See now, such a good girl aren’t you. Prison is no place for you kitten, though if you want we can always role-play your wardens.”

Role-play my ass we’re already living it, was all you could think bitterly. 

As if he read your mind Shouta couldn’t help but continue to antagonize you, thumb beginning to make light circles against your clit as he pumped his fingers, adding a third and quickly burying them knuckle deep. Soft whimpers slipped from your mouth as you tried in vain to wiggle away from Eraserhead’s deft fingers. 

Hizashi was getting impatient, removing one of his hands to grasp your breast through the t-shirt you had on. His slim fingers began to pinch and rub your nipple, though his eyes never left your cunt. 

Toshinori was struggling in his own way. Raspy breaths with slight coughs as he grew more and more aroused. He too removed a hand from your leg, but instead made quick work of the zipper on his pants. Taking his semi hard cock in his hand he began gently stroke himself while watching your display. 

You truly were everything they had ever wanted. But you didn’t want this, despite your bodies responses to their ministrations. You could feel it, Shouta seemed to know exactly where to stroke as he worked you up tighter and tighter, velvety walls clamping down at your approaching climax. 

You found each man murmuring their own words of praise, anywhere from “That’s it baby girl, take all of Sho now,” to “Such a perfect princess, do you want to finish?” The man between your legs even adding to the mantra of soft words spoken to you. “So close kitten, see what good girls get. You’re going to cum for me okay?” 

He posed it like a question but you knew it was far from it. It was a statement, a matter of fact statement that you couldn’t deny even if you had tried. Your back arched, moans and mewls intercepted but not completely blocked out by your gag as you rocked against his hand. He gladly continued to finger you, watching as you came down from your high and only then removed his hand. 

You were panting hard, shame quickly washing away the pleasure from your orgasm. Sensing the shift in your demeanor Hizashi was quick to pounce, peppering your face in kisses despite your shifty protests and groans of despair. “None of that now babe, after all we’re just gettin’ this show started!” 

Shouta stood and moved out from between your legs, licking some of your slick off his hand before he wiped the rest on his black pants leg. “You got lube Zashi?” Hizashi paused his attack and shot the dark haired pro a million dollar smile. “You bet our babes cute ass I got it! Lemme find it, hold her Toshi.”

Toshinori floundered a bit, cock in hand as Hizashi shoved you closer to him, before jumping up from the couch. Eyes trailing down to his hand you couldn’t help but freeze in shock. Not only was this man stupid tall, his dick was frighteningly large. The older hero noticed your stare and couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at your expression. “Don’t worry princess, Shouta and Hizashi are going to help you today. My sides acting up so I’ll only be watching.” 

As if on cue the man was hit by a coughing fit, and much to your surprise he even coughed up some blood. Eraserhead was still looming over you, leaning over he gently rubbed the older blonds back as he tried to ease him through the pain. You didn’t dare move as all this transpired around you. What good would it have done you anyways? You were effectively quirkiness, and your fighting skills would be severely lacking against the two heroes you knew. You had no idea who this Toshinori guy was, but if he was close to Eraserhead and Present Mic you doubted he was weak. 

You heard Hizashi rummaging behind you through a dresser you hadn’t noticed earlier. Craning your neck, you peered over and cried out in frustration. 

“Tada!” He sung triumphantly, a small bottle of lube in his hand. “Act two can now officially begin!” You could only yell and wiggle about in protest, your arms still tied behind your back. Toshinori’s hand on your thigh moved to gently pat you on the head. 

“Behave now for them okay? If you’re good we can show you the rest of our home after this.” 

You jerked your head out from under his hand and yelled more incoherent nonsense out of frustration. You had expected anger to replace the adoring look in his eyes but you were only met with fond amusement. 

He stood up with a hearty laugh, erection still in hand as he grabbed Shouta’s discarded chair, sitting down facing the couch. Shouta was quick to take Toshinori’s place on the couch while Hizashi took up residence behind you. 

“I have a feelin’ this star ain’t a fan of the spotlight, no need to be camera shy babe.” You watched Shouta roll his eyes at his partner in crime before he began to manhandle you. Hands under your armpits he pulled you up and wrangled you onto your knees facing him on the couch. 

Hizashi slid one knee between your legs so you couldn't close them. Your tied hands couldn’t help but brush up against his clothed hard on, causing him to rut against you a bit in anticipation. 

Without warning he took a solid grip of your t-shirt and ripped it off. You squeaked in surprise, your face heating up as you realized you were the only person fully naked in the room. 

“Was it really necessary to rip my shirt?”

“Sorry about that Toshi! Didn’t want to delay the show with takin’ off her bindings yah dig? You rip them a bunch anyways so what’s another to the pile? But ain’t this just so much better, our baby girl on full display it makes my heart swoon!”

“Just get her ready Hizashi, and no rushing it, you don’t want to hurt her.”

“Aight aight sorry I’ll get to work, you keep her happy.”

Both men moved closer, pressing your body between them. They had propped themselves up on their knees and had you effectively stuck. Shouta gently placed one hand around your neck, giving your collar a tug, while the other trailed down and began to gently work your still wet pussy. 

You stared into his chest, trying your best to space out but jerked back to reality when you heard the pop of a lid behind you. 

“Don’t worry babe I’ll get you ready, I’m somewhat of a pro yah know?” 

That was when you felt his lubed finger gently prodding your other hole. You jolted forwards into Shouta who didn’t even budge in response to your full body weight. Hizashi simply shuffled closer, continuing to push until finally he breached you. You whimpered at the uncomfortable intrusion. 

Shouta's fingers lazily worked your cunt as he rocked his erection against your lower abdomen. Despite the fact that you hated the feeling of his growing arousal you couldn’t help but lean into him to try and get away from Hizashi as he slipped another finger inside. Tears slowly rolled down your face in frustration as the two heroes prepared your body. 

“There we go kitten, you’re doing so well. Just be patient alright and it won’t hurt so bad.” Shouta removed his hand from around your neck and placed it on your head, angling your gaze to the third member of the group you had almost forgotten while pulling you flush to his clothed chest so you couldn’t freely change your field of view. 

Toshinori was leaned back in the metal folding chair, which looked comically small with him sitting on it. His eyes were clouded with lust as he stroked his thick cock. His own pre-cum and spit adding obscene noises to his ministrations. He gave you a lopsided smile as you made eye contact, causing you to quirky avert your gaze. 

By this point Hizashi had worked three fingers knuckle deep into your tight hole, but coupled with Shouta’s work the line between uncomfortable and pleasurable began to mix together. A breathless moan escaped you as the two pros finally got their desired reaction. 

“She’s as good as she’s gonna get Sho, let’s say you and me start the finale I can’t take feelin’ her tight lil hole clamping down on my fingers any longer. Not when I got somethin’ much better for her.”

Your tears flowed a bit faster at your impending fate. This was fucking insane! You might have been a murderer, but you weren't expected to be a good person unlike these men. These heroes who were now violating you.

Since Shouta was in black sweatpants he merely leaned back a bit and pulled them down, cock springing free. He had a solid girth to him, red tip dripping pre down his shaft to his unruly black pubic hair. You heard a zipper behind you as the blond freed himself, though due to being squashed between the two you had no idea what to prepare for. 

Hizashi hummed in contemplation at your tied hands, currently in the way of his objective. “Bonds might have to go Sho, you get her hands?” The sleepy hero merely nodded grasping your wrists as Hizashi swiftly untied them. 

“Ready now primadonna?”

“Ha ha you’re soo funny Sho... but yes, shit, I’m fucking ready.”

You kept quiet this time, head pressed against Shouta’s chest as you listened to his rapidly beating heart. You gave one last pleading look to the lean blond watching intently from the sideline, but all he did was shrug his shoulders with a small smile on his face. 

“You’re going to do great princess don’t worry.” 

You felt the tips of each man at their respective entrance, Shouta's teasing your soaking cunt while Hizashi lightly probed your lubed ass. You closed your eyes and accepted defeat. They gently began to rut their hips, cocks sinking deeper with each thrust. You felt uncomfortably full as they breached you. 

“Oh fuck oh fuck I can feel you through her.” The blond quickly grabbed your breasts, tweaking your nipples like he had earlier. 

“Easy does it kitten, we got you,” Shouta groaned out. 

You weren’t a fan of Hizashi behind you, rocking forward into Shouta as they continued to fuck into you. He squeezed down on your wrists in warning, hot breath fanning the top of your head. It didn’t take much longer before they both had finally bottomed out. You groaned in distress while they groaned in bliss. 

“I’ve got her wrists you help her out alright, and take it easy.”

“Sheesh I heard yah the first time, I’ll help our lil girl out.”

Hizashi snaked a hand in between you and Shouta, finding your clit. 

They both continued fucking into you, Hizashi matching Shouta’s pace as they stimulated your body. You were angry, humiliated, and yet somehow you were so turned on it was embarrassing. You should be thrashing about, snarling into your gag, but instead all you could do was rock your body to their salacious tempo. 

Peeking your eyes open at a particularly hard thrust from Hizashi you saw Toshinori on the edge of the chair. You could just barely make out his raspy breaths and small moans over Shouta and Hizashi’s groaning. His brilliant blue eyes bore into your own. One of his hands worked his long shaft while the other was death gripping his clothed thigh. It almost looked as if steam was pouring off of him. Was he always that muscular?

You didn’t have long to contemplate Toshinori though, with a pinch to your clit Hizashi made sure to regain your attention. He had picked up his pace, throwing Shouta a bit off balance. He leaned down sucking and biting at your neck while rolling your perky nipple. Shouta felt your velvety walls clamp down around his cock, picking up his tempo to match Hizashi’s.

By now you were a mess. Traitorous moans fumbling from your mouth as the two heroes played your body. They had picked up an alternating tempo, never leaving you without a cock inside your body. The pleasure had you throwing your head back, leaving your neck exposed and making room for Shouta to join Hizashi in leaving little claiming bites all along your delicate skin. 

“She’s getting close Hizashi, we’re gonna fuck her through it alright?”

The blond pro behind you only moaned out something that sounded vaguely affirmative, eager to feel your tight walls clamp down on him. 

You were beyond fighting them, on the brink of orgasm all it took was one pointed thrust from Shouta to have you crumbling apart. You pushed back into Hizashi’s chest, his t-shirt sticking to your sweat soaked skin as you clamped down on both of them. Hizashi moaned into your neck, his quirk picking up a bit as he lost his composure. Shouta had released your hands, ripping off your gag so he could grab your face and crash his mouth to yours, swallowing your moans as your newly freed hands grabbed fist fulls of his shirt to stabilize yourself. 

As stated they continued fucking into you, dragging out your orgasm as your walls spasmed around them. Shouta’s tongue delved into your mouth, his own deep moans rumbling into you. 

“Go-gonna fuckin’ cum Sho, n- not much longer.”

In response Eraserhead reached behind you, grabbing a fist full of the blonds hair and giving it a firm tug which was enough to push him over the edge. 

“Sh-shit,” he wheezed, hips stilling as his cum filled your sore ass. “You fu- you fucking dirty cheater makin’ me finish first like that.” In kind Hizashi grabbed some of Shouta’s hair, pulling his mouth away from yours and up to his own. 

“Go ahead and cum in her Sho you know you want to,” Hizashi taunted between kisses. The familiar sound of metal against concrete drew your gaze as the all too familiar symbol of peace stood at his full height. Holy fucking shit it was All Might. 

The two pros ignored his approach, Shouta’s hips becoming a bit more deranged as he fucked into you. All Might reached in between the two and gripped your lower jaw, dazzling smile almost blinding you.

“Be a good girl now and open for me, you don’t have to swallow it all but I’d appreciate the effort.” He didn’t leave you with much of a choice finding it impossible to close your mouth with his grip, which at this point was very sore from the gag. The tip of his large member gently brushed against your lips as he shuttered at the feeling of your soft flesh. 

By this point Shouta was thrusting aggressively against your battered cervix, mouth locked with Hizahi’s as he finally reached his own release. His hips stuttered as warmth filled your cunt. 

Now all that was left was All Might. Your jaw strained to accommodate him, but he seemed to be more than aware of your limitations. He simply pushed the tip in, one hand stroking his shaft while the other gently pet your head. 

“So pretty,” he cooed down at you. “Just like that princess, I’m gonna cum now okay?” 

You simply kept your mouth open, tongue flat against the underside of his still cock as his cum filled your mouth. The bitter taste made you sputter, cum running down your chin as more took its place. After a couple more spurts he gently pulled away, some of the bitter substance sliding down your throat while the majority ended up down your chin and onto the couch below. 

All four of you were panting, frozen in time until finally All Might disappeared in a large cloud of smoke. The man you had originally believed to be some unknown hero named Toshinori now stood in his place, shyly looking down at you. 

“I guess that’s one way to show her huh big guy.” Hizashi jested. 

“I-I know probably not the most ideal but I couldn’t help myself,” he murmured a bit embarrassed. 

Hizashi and Shouta pulled out, their cum immediately running down your legs causing you to cringe a bit at the sensation. 

“You guys.. fucking suck.” was all you could think of at the moment. You waited for the rage, for them to berate or attack you, but instead all that met you was a chorus of soft chuckles.

“Figured you wouldn’t be easy to convince kitten, but don’t worry. Between the three of us you’ll come around.” 

These three men must have some thick fucking skulls to dismiss you so casually, that or their obsession was a lot deeper than you could even begin to comprehend. 

“Some fucking heroes you are,” you grumbled lowly.

“Some fuckin’ heroes we are indeed cutie! HAH get it? Cause we just fucked yah?” Hizashi laughed at his own joke while Toshinori and Shouta groaned. 

“Alright don’t make me gag you next, let’s just get everybody upstairs and clean up. We’ll do the house tour later kitten, for now we’ll just show you to your room.” 

[hhjs]

forget me not.

♡ based on — "During times of war. I want to say: I only love you, And I cling you, Like the peel clings to a pomegranate, Like the tear clings to the eye, Like the knife clings to the wound." and the song nightlife by daydream masi.

♡ summary  —   Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

wherein, putting your heart on the line for the sake of doing favours isn’t a frequent component in your schedule. But what happens when this favour is asked for by the boy you may or may not have fancied for far too long?

 You accept it. 

 For a very embarrassing reason, really, which is — you think Hwang Hyunjin needs you.

♡ pairing— hwang hyunjin x reader

♡ word count— 8.8k whoopsies

♡ genre and alternate universe — angst, fluff + hanahaki au.

♡ author's note— this was supposed to be a drabble and then i sort of lost my fucking mind ehe...also this is easily the worst thing i have ever written im so sorry aaa but this is a lil present from my end hahaha

♡ warnings— suggestive content, vomiting, mention of blood. allusions to depression and heartbreak.

Amongst other things, you're extremely bad at saying 'no'. You don't mean the word per se...but the underlying connotation of this very monosyllable which may come at the expense of letting another person down.

It's sort of stupid, you understand, your friends have constantly voiced their worries for your extremely complacent nature more often than you'd think actually. But it all goes over your head. See — old habits really do die hard.

When you're eight, this very defect takes you to dreadful saxophone lessons your mum spoke so highly of. When you're 15, it gets you called to the principal's office for flashing Jeongin trigonometric functions in Mister Choi's pop quiz, when you're older, things are definitely no different.

The passenger seat is occupied, Hyunjin's holding a tangled muffler to his suede jacket clad chest. At 21, he's become someone you used to know. A friend of a friend, Felix's to be very specific. But the man in question, who was supposed to be his ride, passes off this duty for kegstands and you just happen to be the designated driver for the night, shuffling Jisung beside Changbin and Chan, who claims to be 'sober' even though he's half asleep.

Hyunjin is uncharacteristically quiet.

There's a polite smile on rendered your way as your eyes meet. A small curvature along his plump bottom lip, tighter around the edges. Still this simple formality is so beautiful that you feel something inside you come alive.

When Jisung starts snoring, you flip on the radio and Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here comes on.

Your fingers feel numb when they come to tap out a rhythm to the track. It's nice. Tingling guitar riffs swelling, David Gilmour's gruffy voice pours in from faulty speakers. The more the song progresses, the more you find yourself attempting to think about anything that will distract you from the boy beside you, in the flesh no less.

So late at night, the main road is eerily silent. Cobblestones reflecting the sound of tires thumping against its layout, streetlights blinking at you from their drooping heads. Across the street, a baker is tucking away leftover bread and buskers are packing up their beat up guitars, a man in his late 50's pulling his blanket to his nose as he rests a head full of gray hair on the cold pavement.

You glance at Hyunjin from the corner of your eye and find that his staggering smile has completely disappeared. Now there's a distant glaze in his eyes. It's like he's here, in this moment, with you, but at the same time, he's somewhere else.

Under the impression you've done something wrong, you immediately begin to panic. But the thing is, you don't actually know if you should ask. Would it constitute as crossing a line if you had anyway?

Hyunjin covers his mouth with a sleeve, muffled retching building beyond fabric.

The reasonable assumption is obvious. It's not abnormal to be nauseous when you've got one too many drinks in you. He motions for you to pull over, incoherent sentences practically melding together, words forming and dissipating between choking fits.

You scramble to dig out a bottle of mineral water you habitually deposit in the glove compartment, offering him the tissue first. Ears perking up in satisfaction when a garbled thanks escapes his parted lips. But then... something weird happens.

As your eyes flicker to unintentionally glance at the contents discarded on the pitch grey sidewalk, you freeze in your seat.

You were never a big believer of superstition, not someone who buys into myths only meant for the fiction genre. Sure, you can be gullible sometimes...but what's happening falls no way under the realistic category.

The lethal Hanahaki disease, only inherited by some unlucky descendants, every moment in your head prior to this one, was something that's obviously non existent.

Yet... there's so much blood, too much blood attesting to your blatant ignorance. The petals are of a white rose, smudging together in swirls of grotesque crimson in mimicry of a sheen of red sticking to the inner corners of his lips. It has happened before, you can tell, from just how unsurprised he looks.

Hyunjin's stare flits to commit every detail of your to memory, in what only seems a quick study of gauging your forthcoming reaction, though even before you can produce a coherent thought, he says,

"You can't tell anyone." His voice drops a few octaves as though he's afraid your snoring friends in the back might've noticed. "Please."

Hyunjin's face softens by the slightest, contrary to his firm demand, there lies a desperation you couldn't overlook.

In retrospect, what you're about to tell is ultimately a promise that'd come back to bite you in due time. However, see now, you're extremely bad at saying no. Somehow you're even worse when it comes to Hyunjin. So you blink, turn the radio off and say,

"Okay."

—

The pool is preheated. For that you're most thankful.

Frankly, you couldn't imagine what it'd be like being pushed into a chilly body of water mid winter. Not that it's pleasant otherwise, you can't swim.

Well at 15, you hadn't quite learned to. The other kids have scurried inside to hog freshly baked Snowman biscuits Seungmin's mum is renowned for.

Then and you think you'll never quite forget it, Hyunjin's wearing an orange power ranger t shirt, it's darker now that it's wet, his glasses are marked with uneven splatters. His face scrunches up at the sudden splash of wetness engulfing his body. He wasn't planning to get in the water.

"Hold on tight." He says, wounding your arms around his neck, your calves tighter to his sides to support your shivering body. Back then Hyunjin's hair was black, cropped short and swept to the side, he smells like fabric softener and skittles. A water donut is discarded in the middle of the pool.

Everybody you know and don't know, from the birth of superheroes stuck in comic books to valiant protagonists behind fuzzy television screens, has this inherent desire to be saved. From the world, from themselves. No, no, it doesn't have to be a grand gesture, swooping them off of their feet from the grasp of surly men in dark alleys, sometimes it's really just simple. Sometimes people save you in the most ordinary way there is.

The weight of your form on his bright pink water donut while he stood on his toes to merely rest his elbows so the item wouldn't flip, a small act, certified this very claim, had not the nimble touch of his cold fingers, brushing away wet hair from your face, to anxiously ask if you're okay met the purpose. He talks to you like the sound of his voice has the power to injure you.

You nod slowly. Like this, it feels like you're going to be.

Hyunjin pouts, looking perfectly unconvinced. He paddles the pair of you to steel stairs spiraling into the pool, so he can stand without just his nose peeking out of the water, he looks at you once again, a wrinkle between his dark, arched eyebrows and says solemnly, "Jisung's such an idiot sometimes, isn’t he?"

But isn't he your friend? You want to ask. Something stops you though —his tone tells you you aren't the only one to fall victim to Jisung's practical jokes. Not that they were offensive or anything. Han Jisung, the same person who twiddles his thumbs when he wants the last chicken nugget and cries every time you watch Howl's Moving Castle together, genuinely doesn't mean any harm. It's just that...when he's comfortable with people, who aren't many, he tends to do a lot of dumb things. Dumb, endearing things that Minho will kill him for someday.

"A little bit," You mumble under your breath. Heat rising to your face at the possibility of Hyunjin being concerned for you. He sounds almost angry. "Thanks by the way."

It's rather pitiful to remember. Because with time, Hyunjin's world becomes so big that your interaction stands to be too insignificant to not forget. Before you know it, he's the shooting guard of your school's basketball team, just a handsome face who dates better girls, makes better friends. It's superficial and a little sad.

No, no, a little sad is an understatement actually.

To see someone you understood intimately, a boy who always described details too much just to stray from the main story, a boy with too many emotions bubbling to an awfully animated surface; someone who was passionate, sensitive and so nauseatingly big hearted...change into a man who is indubitably untouchable...is tragic. At least.

Yet funnily enough — you can't quite imagine a world without Hwang Hyunjin. His ringing laughter rippling through loud ambiences, his distant humming of Christmas carols whilst he absently skimmed through spines of children's novels and his eyes glimmering in adoration whenever he spoke of something he loved — Without him, you imagine, there would be a massive deficiency in your world, in the world. Like if birthday cakes came with the biggest slice carved out.

Hyunjin grins, a big sort of candid grin that turns his eyes into upturned crescents. His previous temperament long forgotten. Suddenly, this utterly atrocious happening seems to not be so bad. Suddenly you don't mind that Jisung is an idiot sometimes.

"Of course."

—

Hyunjin is not perfect. Hyunjin is no prince charming.

People don't know this. They don't understand this.

He ends up paying for dinner when he's out with a big crowd even though they were supposed to split the bill, he ends up crying when he gets angry and he is an abysmal liar, in every sense of the phrase. Hardly ever succeeding to hide his emotions when he should. When he was a kid his parents reminded him that it's a good thing to be unapologetically himself, that being honest is a good thing.

But as your eyes meet from across an ocean of people quagmired by crunchy leaves, sticky remnants of rain and his ex girlfriend who he now claims to be okay with being friends with, on her toes to poke his cheek whilst Chan's arm wraps around her waist, the soft white roses ornamented on a bow she loves wearing all the time, he thinks it's far from an agreeable trait to have.

Actually whilst you balance a newspaper under your arm and bring your coffee to your lips, it's like you're looking through him, past his skin, his flesh, something secret inscribed on his bones, embedded into his soul. You know everything, you know everything, you know everything.

The thought itself... surprisingly enough, doesn't appal him.

Hyunjin raises his palm in the air, feeling the autumn prickling against his skin. He waves at you.

—

Working at a library can be taxing. But it sure has its perks.

You can just about turn the place upside down and put it all back together without getting in trouble. Albeit another reason, besides your profession could be that Minho owns the place. Frankly, he may or may not have been the only cause behind your employment. It's hard to tell now that your co-workers really do recognise you've a knack for arranging things.

But to you, your job is very personal. A precious thing which relieves you from various worldly tensions. Velvety spines under your roughened fingertips, the burst of minted pages hitting your face every time you walk in, your love for reading, for a world of stories is so immense that you think you wouldn't have traded it even if your life depended on it.

For a disease that's not very well known, it's ironic how an entire section of mythology is dedicated to it. Past closing hours, amongst many novels mounted on your desk, you fixate on the one that made most sense. There's a few things you've picked up in common from all of them though — the hanahaki disease is extremely rare, it doesn't affect all those who suffer from the qualms of unrequited love.

Possible remedy according to findings entail

growths can be surgically removed, if the patient consents to eradication of memories of their loved ones.

Clanking of keys alerts incoming and you pause your tapping pen to look up.

"Burning the midnight oil, are we?"

Minho leans against the doorframe, he's half yawning, half talking and fully concerned for you.

"Yeah, looks like I'm gonna be a while." Your monotonous tone provides that you are not paying a lot of attention. You blurt without looking up. "Are you leaving?"

"No, still haven't finished archiving for that Pfizer project...But I'm going to get a bite to eat..." His inky eyes remain on you as his tone falters, "You want anything?"

"I'm fine. Thanks."

"Wow you're like...really uh invested." He tilts his head in thought, "You seeing someone again?"

You know Minho long enough to know he has a teasing side to him, from diaper days to play dates ending in pillow fights because he kept offering you his last Pringle just to pop it into his stupid smirking mouth — but you have no idea where he's going with this.

So you look up, finally. Furrowing your brows.

"No. What does that have to do with anything?"

He shrugs, "I haven't seen you concentrate so hard since you dumped Jeongin."

Your right eye twitches. Because you know exactly what he's referring to, and simultaneously, for the sake of your well-being, you much prefer being in denial. "What?"

"C'mon. Remember how you always ended up doing his homework?" He reminds you. "It's like when you like someone, you go out of your way to do charitable stuff for them. But...this? Too much. Even for you."

You ignore Minho's comment. To the world, Hwang Hyunjin's place in your life is not significant. After all this is the most natural undulation in the vicissitudes of life — for someone who once was your friend to eventually drift apart, to become a has been. It's too hard to explain why you care. After all this time.

"I was just being nice." You narrow your eyes, unimpressed. "Clearly this concept is lost on some people."

"Sure you are, bud. If being 'nice' is synonymous with whipped." Of course, there's a smug grin gracing his pouted lips that tempts you to fling something at him. Not that you can though. Seeing as Minho breaks out into a full fledged sprint, his singsongy voice a thinning echo bouncing off of shelves and windows and doors.

Still somehow his footsteps manage to travel through walls, permeating into your office with such great amplitude that you could be bamboozled into thinking he hasn't left at all. Or maybe you've stopped paying attention, your eyes zoom in on any other helpful detail you can put to use in wrapping your head around what you have witnessed firsthand.

At the same time, you can't really ignore how hungry you're feeling just from the mention of a bite to eat. So when Minho's shadow forms again on the page you've been 'reading' for the last few seconds you sense a gigantic wave of relief washing over you.

"You know what I changed my—" slamming the book shut, you blink against scanty provision of light, with raise your head and a bleary vision, recognise him in an instant. Except...it isn't Minho. "mind..."

The only source of brightness is a small emerald lamp perched on the corner of your desk, light green catches onto one of the ornamented corners and speckles of golden caress his supple skin gently. You hadn't realised how cold it might've been outside until you see how heavily dressed Hyunjin was, a long overcoat worn over woollen sweater, a Santa hat and muffler pulled to his chin. It's no one other than your boss himself who has given him directions to your office, you know this, Hyunjin has never been inside before.

So when he marvels absently, you sense yourself feeling a little self conscious about not cleaning up. All around you, a comforter and love seat pushed against the window, cigarette butts discarded in ashtray and then...the books strewn before you tell him you practically live here.

For some reason, Hyunjin only seems to loosen up at the spectacle.

"Hi." He says finally.

"Hi..." you arrange the reading materials quickly to one side so you can rest your elbows. A small (successful) attempt made to hide your research. "Something up?" You say, but what you really mean is, what are you doing here?!

Did he suspect you were going to tell on him? Right that's it, that must be it, you tell yourself, believing, knowing, of all the years Hwang Hyunjin has known of you he has never been one to care about your whereabouts.

"I just...um," He starts, forwarding his mitten clad hands. It's the back of a crumpled coffee cup on which straight handwriting reads a bucket list...of sorts. You immediately understand that his coming is an act of impulse. Urgency of living every moment like it's slipping through it's fingers, that he just needed to tell the only person who knows, be it by accident.

Hyunjin clears his throat. "I wanna do all this before I die."

In lieu of giving an instant response, baffled, you gawp at him. Despite knowing, hearing Hyunjin say it out loud somehow makes everything...too real.

It's as though someone's reached inside your throat, pulled your heart out and crushed it with their bare hands. Hyunjin, the boy who smelled like fabric softener and skittles and wore power ranger shirts, the boy with the fantastic smile and cold fingers, is dying. You won't let him. You can't let him.

You thumb along the numbers scribbled in hasty penmanship, look up and blink rapidly, "Okay," you say, a small whisper, barely there words. "That's okay."

Even with the hat covering tips of ears, you could tell the same faint blush coating his cheeks had rushed to that particular area. His eyes drift off to the sight of pens discarded inside a wooden holder because he can feel your gaze on him. "and I...I need your help."

"Alright."

Hyunjin's eyes widen to a great degree, he sits straighter, as if he hadn't expected you to comply so quickly.

And honestly? Neither had you.

It's quiet. Awkward.

"You know it's not like I haven't thought about dying. I just figured I'd get to grow old first, settle down, have kids and all that," A wry laugh escapes his parted lips. "Everything's happening too fast."

You hesitate, thinking he's making a mistake. Frankly he shouldn't feel obligated to give you an explanation.

"You...you don't have to tell me."

"No—I mean...can I?" He gives you a sheepish look, disliking his own whimsical tone, somehow endearing still. You find yourself wondering how long he had to keep his burdens to himself, not just pertaining to his illness, but everything. His dreams, his hopes, his fears. Anything which requires a certain amount of depth. And you almost ask him, the question sitting at the tip of your tongue, yet the realisation rather simple, stops you. Maybe you've mistranslated 21 year old Hyunjin all along — moulding himself into someone who's convenient around people who only liked him for who he appeared to be, maybe even with all that popularity, parties and glamour, he's just...lonely.

You push your reading glasses into your hair, press your knuckles under your chin and hum in consent.

He shifts in his seat, "Have you ever... been in love?"

You release an amused huff. Let your eyes linger on him for a long minute.

"Once."

Hyunjin half expects you to laugh. Poke fun at him for his melodramatic backstory. That's the sole reason why he doesn't tell his friends (funny, for people he considers close, they seem to know not much about him or care to know, that is. ). But you... you look at him with something in your eyes that tells him the rubbish reasons he posited makes all the sense in the world. Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

—

 Midnight rendezvous.

As someone who has lived a fairly extraordinary life, Hwang Hyunjin's bucket list is bafflingly ordinary. He's more of a finding joy in small things kind of a person, punctilious at best.

Things change. People notice. They hesitate, whisper about you and last night while you were out on last minute cheap wine run, the grocerer, a girl who looks around sixteen asks you if you're dating Hyunjin. Underneath the thinly veiled curiousity, there's something like anger dripping from her words.

You furrow your eyebrows in simple insinuation that it's weird for a stranger to take interest in your life. Maybe it was written on your face, the fact that you're a dying man's beck and call is for reasons far more complicated than it looks.

You go to his parties. Greet him as a friend would and not just for the sake of maintaining formalities. He comes to the library more times than he does, waits for you to get off work so you can check something off the list at least. People notice. People understand. Hyunjin's different around you. He's bright, talkative when he forgets to contain himself. You sense your heart swelling with pride just at the understanding that he can be himself around you.

You drive to the beach, sit in your trunk and drink straight out of the bottle.

Hyunjin laughs a little. Suspends his feet in the air. With time, he's gotten paler, exhausted. "Rough day?"

You hum.

"Very. Our children's collection is usually low in stock around the weekends."

Hyunjin crosses his arms over his chest. Curious.

"And?"

"And if I say I got yelled at by a toddler would you believe me?"

Hyunjin feigns contemplation, even with the realisation that his body is becoming less and less cooperative, he manages to remain perfectly cheerful.

"I can actually," he grins, "At that age, I was a real pain in the ass."

"Were?"

Your smile is just a slight curl against the bottle's mouth as he grumbles under his breath about your 'insensitive' remark.

You think of your life after Hyunjin, think of his absence like a gaping hole you'll never be able to fill out. It makes you sick to your stomach.

—

Bake something from scratch.

Hyunjin's face twists in apparent thought, eyebrows rising. A pink tongue poked against his cheek, whilst he chews carefully, trying really hard not to flash an accidental reaction whilst you clasp your butter and oat flour soiled hands together, some of the batter on your cheek, neck to anticipate his answer like your will to live depends on it.

You ask yourself how it got to this. Why you didn't care that you were awake so early on a Sunday morning with flour powdering every kitchen appliance in sight in spite of being awfully restrictive about who you let into your kitchen. But it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter because it's nice like this.

Hyunjin has his hair pulled away from his bare face, a mole under his eye, a small birthmark on the back of his ear.

When you first met, you thought he was a kind of handsome that couldn't be real. Something formidable about it. Only destined to exist behind fuzzy television screens and flashy magazines.

But in retrospect, you realise, that that's not true at all. 

If you look close enough, if you really pay attention, there's a softness underneath, something goofy, something warm, the sharp jut of his nose circling into a soft button, his eyes are big, black and his mouth jutted out into a natural pout, he looks innocent, like he doesn't quite realise the extent of his charms.

"It's..." His soft voice pulls you out of your reverie, and you look up to find his eyes glimmering jovially. Every time it surprises you, the lack of regret in them and the abundance of nonchalance. You wonder what it means to love someone like that, to love someone to the point of martyrdom. It shouldn't be like this. "perfect,"

"This is like, the only batch we didn't burn, right?"

You snort, "Yeah." Fully turn to him, "You know what they say, fifth time's the charm."

Hyunjin's laugh, you think, is so contagious that it makes it an imperative to smile in return. In shaky compartments the sound comes, like being 8, laying wide-eyed in a paddling pool and staring up at a crayon blue sky, raindrop rippling beyond all that noiseless water. His eyes curve to upturned crescents, an unconscious hand covering up the seams of his lips whilst he shakes his head. You don't even notice when he starts speaking again.

"Huh?"

"I said you got a little...something..."

You almost lose a fraction of your sanity when his nimble fingers come to wrap around your wrist while you hold onto the spatula employed into the whole snickerdoodle batter mixing business, a liberated hand coming up to gently wipe your cheek. It means everything to you. And nothing to him.

Later, when you're alone at night, really alone, you put your palm to your chest and feel the unsteady beat of your heart. A warning, a reminder. I can't. I can't. I can't.

—

You hold Hyunjin's hair up. His hands resting on the cold toilet seat, he's whimpering and bleeding. It happens every time he sees Haseul, or something which reminds him of her. Like the song.

This time she's drunk. And it's because she impulsively rises to her toes and presses a tender kiss to Chan's lips.

Hyunjin's just a feet away, across students and solo cups and streaks of neon falling irregularly through his line of sight.

He can never confess, not to her. The last thing Hyunjin wants is for her to feel bad for him. To say she feels the same as an act of service. He tells you. You understand. Somehow... you always understand.

They met in college, Hyunjin and she. And Chan was an upperclassman who seemed to be good at...well everything. At first, he couldn't figure out why it never occured to him before, the fact they were getting together maybe before, after or during the length of their relationship.

Though the answer is simple.

Hyunjin thinks the pillar to good relationships is trust. Call him a sappy romantic or whatever but he had seen true love manifest from it through generations before him and his parents and their parents. To think a different fate was woven for him...used to be unimaginable.

How ironic is that?

Hyunjin presses his cheek against your chest because he doesn't want you to look at him when he cries.

Then for the first time....he tells you he's scared. He's scared of what will happen to him. Of what is happening to him.

He's falling apart.

You cradle him, press him closer to your body like you're trying to put him together. People can't fix each other. Not really. But sometimes... they're worth the try.

"Hey...hey...it's alright," You shush him, run your fingers through his hair. Your voice almost breaking, faltering. Still this, this you mean it with every fibre of your being. "It's okay to be scared."

—

Self bleach hair.

It's Christmas and you're late for a late night dinner he's putting together. (As reluctant as he was about getting along with Hyunjin, he seems all too eager to make invite him whenever a get together takes effect.)

His apartment smells like floor cleaner. There's a queen sized bed pushed against an electric blue wall, a Fleetwood Mac poster taped to his door, small reading desk where Canon EOS New Kiss rests, polaroids of things checked off the list littered all its wooden surface.

You pick up the only photo he hasn't labelled, it reminds you that your friendship isn't just based off a pursuit. This is natural. Pizza box discarded between you two, on your roof top. It's a little too dark, you're holding a cigarette between your fingers, you're laughing and Hyunjin looks like he's going to complain the minute he's done taking the picture. (And he does.)

You smile, pressing your fingers against it like the touch could transport you to a simpler time.

"Ready to go?"

Hyunjin rakes a tentative hand through his newly dyed hair, grey (a suitable colour he says.). You can tell he's put a lot of effort into cleaning up, his usual hoodies and sweats alternated with a red satin shirt tucked into dark dress pants and a coat of the same colour.  Hyunjin is beautiful. Perhaps even more like this. In fact, the extent of this quality is so Goliath-like that it obliges dolled up attendees to marvel up in awe.  While you fully agree with their unsaid ponderings, you really do, you find yourself missing a less sophisticated version of him. 

"Yeah, but first..." you fish out a wrapped squarish material from the depths of your pocket. Hyunjin's eyes widen, two bunny-like teeth showing for the extent of his grin.

"You got me a present!" He all but rips it out of your hand, shaking the material eagerly. He’s a Christmas person, a supreme holiday enthusiast if you will. The sheer excitement in him projects itself in every physical aspect possible. Slight jumping on the balls of his feet. "It's a cassette...?"

You speak too much, nervous he doesn't like it. "It’s a Christmas mix. I thought...since you like carols. I know it's a little old school, I'm sorry if that’s not what you were hoping for—"

Hyunjin pulls you into a big hug, wrapping his entire body it feels like; his arms around your waist, he squeezes you tighter against him, "Thank you." He whispers into your hair, it's not just about the cassette, you can tell. 

There's a small light bulb dangling from his ceiling, he hasn't fixed it since the first time you pointed it out. You can tell with your eyes closed, you've begun to know more intimately than your own home. It's safe here. A place that deludes you into thinking that he's not running out of time, that even in his absence in the world, whenever you should walk into this room, it would be an imperative to find Hyunjin lazying about in its confines. Familiarity can be quite tricky, can't it?

His gratitude is not unknown to you. It's in the guilty smile that threatens to show every now and then, it's in this and it's in that. In many ways, it is not something you're a stranger to.

And yet the words manage to tears your heart at the seams. Just a little.

—

 Make a snow angel.

From above, he imagines, he may appear to look like a chunk of cookie dough in an ice cream pint.

The snow is not as comfortable as it appears, its frigid temperature seeps into Hyunjin's clothes (and what feels like his internal organs, if that's even possible). He waves his hands and legs inward, outward.

Your head tilts towards him. Face twisted in annoyance. "You're getting on my wing!" You say. "Have you no respect for personal space?!"

Hyunjin narrows his eyes jovially. And people tell him he's the one with a penchant for theatrics. He leans closer in rebuttal, waving his leg around your design with more purpose.  You give up. Sit on your knees, fumble with the snow. He’s still in the same position. Smug as ever...

"This is what happens when you disrespect your elders." He fake-warns. "Oka—"

What he doesn't anticipate, however, is the snowball you launch on his stupid grinning face. Now it's your turn to laugh. You clutch your stomach and point at him whilst he glares at you having barely managed to blow the snow off of his mouth.

"Oh, you're gonna get it now!"

You let out an animalistic screech, Hyunjin’s already trapped you under his weight, his thighs wound around your waist, hamstringing your plan to escape, now you're merely squirming. His fingers come down to attack your sides, digging into the flesh so mercilessly to the point you’re not sure if you’re laughing or crying. It's like there's a wildfire inside your lungs.

For a moment you forget, you let yourself forget what's to come.

“Alright, alright I’m sorry!” you press your palms against his chest in an attempt to push him off, Hyunjin has a dumb smile on his face that seems to give the impression of a hanger  stuck inside his mouth. But... there's something behind his entertainment as the sound of his laugh dies down, chest heaving with exercise. His smile drops.

You can count each lash, each freckle and line on his face. The dark in his eyes. The pink of his lips. Your sweater's ridden to your ribs. And the warmth of his fingers shifting against your bare skin hits you with an earthshattering force.

Hyunjin kisses you. For a fleeting second, you freeze. Rigid with shock. Then it passes as soon as it comes.

 You let out a noise of content,indubitably grateful that your neighbours forgot to put on their porch light for the night.  See it’s like this, the act of kissing is not as special as is the person himself, you muse, you can kiss anyone, you can touch and be touched by anyone. But none of that truly compares to this. Not when they aren't him.

You’d be lying if you said you never thought about it. Just like you’ve thought about a lot of things. But just the realisation that the boy you’ve harboured in your heart for more complicated reasons than you disclose, to yourself even, touches you with so, so much care...it’s tearing you apart. 

It’s too good to be real.

You suddenly push him away. The tugging and pulling at your heart too much to handle. For the fact remains — Hyunjin doesn't love you. He doesn't even like you. You never expected him to. Actually, you've never felt what you feel with that condition in mind either.

See when the feeling of having everything you could ever want is cradled between your palms...it ought to be hard to let go. (Maybe he’s just doing this because he feels bad for you, the little voice in your head says. You listen.)

Hyunjin speaks up first.

“I love Haseul.”  he tells you, but it sounds more like he’s telling himself. “That’s why...that’s why, all this...I love her.” Not you.

You swallow, “I know.” Your hands come up to dust your pants. Hyunjin’s still on his knees, as if the answer to his conflicts are deposited under all the snow. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have done—”

Now you hear it, the hint of pity in his voice. You don’t mean to sound as bitter as you do. Seeing as you’re usually very good at keeping calm , breaking that very reputed front frustrates you even more.

“Look just forget about it, okay? We don’t have to talk about this.”

Hyunjin looks like he didn’t expect this side of you to exist. At least, you think, at least it got him to stop talking.

—

Learn to skate.

"If I fall, I'm taking you with me."

"You say it like I have a choice."

Hyunjin shoots you a warning glare even though you can't see. His choppy skidding steps supported by the vice grip he has on your arms. You haven't skated since you were in highschool. But when you're pretty good at it still, the smooth blade of your beaten skates gliding through ice with much dexterity, it's like floating, freeing, the wind hitting your faces, snow catching in your lashes. It's peaceful, you try not to think about the warmth of Hyunjin's arm circling around body, the vague rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. His laboured breaths on your neck. It's torturous. But spending so much time with him has taught you to hide your feelings better.

The park welcomes a large crowd around holiday season, children with toothless grins, tugging onto their mum's coats, small chin resting onto a parents' head, teenagers moving in together in school uniforms. It's the happiest time of the year. When you move past an elderly couple, they smile and tell you make a wonderful couple.

You're just about to make a correction. This puts you in an awkward position... doesn't it?

But then Hyunjin grins toothily and says, Thank you, like it's the most amusing thing in the world. You ignore the wrenching inside your chest.

Hyunjin leans forward, his plump lips brushing against your ear. "Where did you learn to skate so well?!" There's something like excitement in his kiddish laugh aside from admiration. It's not much of a question as it is an exclamation.

"I am pretty good, aren't I?"

He laughs, doesn't let you go. "Yes, yes...really good."

Out of breath, you slow down, move your feet steadily, careful not to lose balance.

"Oh my God! It is you!"

You raise your head, blink against flakes hindering your vision. Jeongin's voice used to be thinner before. As far as you remember. Now it has a weight to it.

You let out a nervous laugh.

"And it's you..."

Jeongin's eyes travel to the arms around your waist, to the stiffened figure behind you and you immediately liberate yourself. Moving to let Hyunjin use your arm as purchase, you don't fail to notice the pinch in his forehead, a frown on his mouth.

"This is my friend Hyunjin. Hyunjin, this is Jeongin—"

"We used to go out." Jeongin smiles, forwarding his hand, which is returned with an unenthused shake and a demure reply. Hyunjin never speaks to anyone this way, not even people he claims to hate.

The former male looks to you again, "I was, uh... wondering if you'd like to go out for a cup of coffee sometime."

Things between you and him ended amicably at the event of his departure for further studies, which deprives you of awkward tension which is expected when exes meet.

Besides, a cup of coffee never hurt anyone.

Right?

Without thinking, you nod slowly, "Yeah that sounds good,"

"Text me anytime."

"Sure."

 “I'll be out of your hair then," he beams. "It was very nice meeting you too, Hyunjin."

"Right."

Hyunjin, you realise, has released your arm. He leans on barricades fencing along the skating area, smiling briefly. You know it’s wrong...yet you sense that you almost need him to be upset.

Then he tilts his head back towards you, "He seems like a really nice guy," he whispers, genuinely meaning every word. Your heart sinks. "I see the appeal." Underneath the lurid glare of fairy lights brandished overhead, Hyunjin's ash hair glints like it's threaded out of silver. You wonder what he's thinking.

—

 Watch every Disney movie ever made.

You never end up texting Jeongin back. Just stalling for when you're ready, you tell yourself. Even though that's not true at all.

"This brings back so many memories. My parents used to belt out A Whole New World with me, like every time we watched Aladdin."

Hyunjin wipes his face with the back of his hand, technically you’re not very sure what he’s saying exactly because he’s mumbling into a paper napkin you've  passed over for the umpteenth time. You find yourself picturing a small but happy family of three, of Hyunjin in Scooby Doo pajamas and gap between his teeth. (Contrary to your previous convictions, he hasn't changed all at much, save for the teeth bit. ) It's cute.

He looks to you expectantly. Can't be the only one telling embarrassing stories.

You shrug, "I had a thing for Simba. Let's just say my mum and dad were nice enough to indulge me."

Hyunjin reaches for the remote and pauses the ending credits of Lady and the Tramp. He turns to you fully now, gives you a judgemental stare. "Simba...?" He says, "Like the...lion?"

"What? It's normal to crush on fictional characters, okay?!"

"Okay,sure," Hyunjin snorts, putting a pillow between you and him so you can't kill him. "furry."

A part of you is tempted, obviously. But the much bigger part is more invested in how he looks happier, healthier. You want to think that means something.

—

Hyunjin invites you over for movie night. It's getting colder and you keep poking him with your cold feet. There's an extra set of blankets in his cupboard, he informs you, he isn't sharing his with you — and that's when you see it.

The deflated pink donut folded to the side, his and yours sharpie inscribed initials on one side. 

"Found it yet?"

You don't even notice when he comes to stand behind you. So the question effectively makes you jump out of your skin. Hyunjin has a bowl of popcorn pressed to his chest, there's a pink hair band holding his hair away from his forehead. For the lack of a answer he takes it on himself to find the source of your silence. As if you've been caught red handed.

You think this is where he'll ask you to leave, that or he'll least scold you or something. You prepare for the worst.

Hyunjin just smiles, it's a big smile that succeeds in bringing out the small dimple indented on the side of his cheek. You've never noticed before. It's kinda weird. Because when it comes to him, your attention hardly ever falters.

"You probably don't remember. That’s from Seungmin's 15th birthday,"

You want to scoff under your breath. All this time you had told yourself that you were the only one to be affected by your estranged friendship growing up. Now...the same logic colours you every bit of ridiculous. 

You blink away, swallowing. Voice solemn.

"I remember." Hyunjin's gaze is heavy on your shoulders. An emotion you can't quite put a finger on crosses his delicate features. It's something between surprise and relief... something else too. You don’t understand it. 

—

It's disconcerting that he can’t remember the last time he got sick. Not the usual discomfort inside his chest, not the blood, not the thorns or petals. Hyunjin's just gotten so used to it, you know? What if he gets his hopes up for no good reason? What if it just comes back?

There's no possible explanation, he explains over a hasty 3 A.M message he had to leave on your answering machine because he's freaking out.

Then Haseul texts Hyunjin, tells him she misses him. Everything's adding up. Everything's falling into place. This is what he wanted, isn't it? She loves him, she finally loves him back. That must be it. He doesn't know what to say. 

But he tells you, and when he does, it sounds a lot like an apology.

— 

Kiss underneath a mistletoe. 

“Chan and I broke up.” She says it like it’s something he should be happy about. So when he remains quiet, it only prompts her to speak more, fill up the big mighty silences. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Look Jinnie, I know I made a mistake, but...can’t you give a second chance? Just this once?”

Hyunjin has thought about this particular moment a lot. Kissing her instead of producing a response, pulling her off of her feet and mumbling of course, of course, of course. Back then, there were little doubts in his head pertaining to her, back then he believed that she was the only one for him. The love of his life at the wrong time, in the wrong place.

Now...something doesn’t feel right. 

The thing about wounds, sometimes, of the heart in particular, is when they close up, it’s hard to make head or tails of the kind of person you become in their wake. Hard to adjust. Like when he suddenly shot up 7 inches in ninth grade, a late bloomer at that, and the weight of his new sneakers felt..odd.

He glances at her and also understands what it’s like to be lonely, the constant need to compensate for it by grasping at the last straw. He used to be in her shoes too. This isn’t any different.  Albeit, he isn’t exactly taken by her presence. Just that he doesn’t know if what he’s doing is right. He looks over your table a few feet away from where he’s standing. Having gone out to take a call. You notice his absence and then from your seat, do your best to locate him. (he thinks of kissing you on a bed of snow, thinks of the sizzle of your skates against ice, thinks of his list on a coffee cup and his pink water donut and it’s okay to be scared. Why did it have to be you of all people, through everything? It’s not really a work of coincidence. Not at all actually.

  Maybe he just wanted it to be you.)

When your eyes do lock...seeing him with his hands in his pockets, her standing beyond the barrier as she tries to say something, you smile, even if it’s a little sad. Hyunjin thinks to the conversation some nights before. Thinks of you reminding him that there's nothing to lose at this point, that he should do what his heart tells him. That it’ll be alright, if he just takes a leap of faith. Hyunjin smiles back. Through the glassy exterior and mini water fountains running down its slanted form. The realisation is not as dramatic as he thought. It’s just late.

 He tears off the false mistletoe decoration glued along the periphery of an arch.

And like always.

He takes your advice.

— 

Cohorts of guests pour into the colossal hotel, heads turning in quiet admiration for bejeweled arches breaking out against buttery white architecture, the roof is impossibly naked, translucent glass baring a starlit sky to your watchful eyes. Showing little mercy to a frail chute held over your head,costumed characters wade through oceans of gossamer, twinkling silver and swaying movements to slow jazz. You prop a heeled foot up on the bar platform, which strangely resembles a pedestal, in a futile attempt to catch your breath, with clammy digits settled atop the risky surface of a marbled counter. A soft voice speaks over the ambience, uttering your name with much care. You lift your head. And there he is.

Jisung is scouring through the Spotify playlist you’ve put together for New Year’s Eve. He’s complaining about the lack of Beyoncé while your friends go around the buffet table. When he calls you, you’re sipping your drink, laughing at something Changbin is saying, his eyes brighten just at the sound of your laugh.  Hyunjin isn’t surprised to see his friend taking a liking of you even though he hardly knows you. That’s just the effect you have on people.

Excusing yourself, you allow him to walk you to a less densely populated area where a stone pillar faces expensive paintings of nameless painters. With the effect of alcohol settling in and your inhibitions effectively lowered, your steps sway a little. You lean against the massive build rising from tiled floor. “So what’s up?” you murmur, the lump in your throat thickening just at the thought of him speaking the good news into existence. “I take it went well?”

 Hyunjin doesn't answer. He looks distracted for a bit. Then in an instant he snaps out of his daze. “What did you mean when you said ‘once’?”

Your brows come together in inquiry.

“What?”

"When I asked you if you have ever been in love, you said ‘once’." He persists, his fingers come up to your shoulder, grazing slightly as if they’re trying to carve out words against the skin. "You weren’t talking about Jeongin.”

He knows. He’s always known. Hyunjin can’t believe he’s been so stupid.

“Took you long enough.” You let out a sardonic laugh.“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

"It matters to me..." Hyunjin sounds offended, you gather, but he manages to quell his temper for the sake of coaxing your confession. Is he purposely embarrassing you?  "I don’t think...I love Haseul anymore...I didn’t realise...I haven’t for a long time."  

A big chandelier beams over withering plants pushed against the ceiling, in this poor supply of light, you can tell exactly how he looks, eyes glimmering adoringly, you've spent something-teen years of your life wondering what it's supposed to mean. And it still manages to confuse you.

"Why are you telling me this?" you ask, albeit you already know.  Because funnily enough, before he got his braces removed and dyed his hair a scandalous blonde, before bucket lists and heartbreak, he was just the boy who told you he liked your stupid reindeer sweater even though it had officially made you the 7th grade laughing stock. You remember being fifteen and in love with Hyunjin. And you've never actually stopped. You need to hear it to believe it.

It drives you crazy. The way Hyunjin brushes his fingers against your cheek, shifting strands away from your eyes. But you can't help it, you've always wanted this. You lean into the caress, peering up at him as his large hand cups your jaw, thumb traversing from your tilted chin to your glossy lips like he's trying to smooth out all the creases. His voice is small, a whisper.

"Because I need you to know I think I’m falling in love with you.” he says. His palm opens and there’s a plastic mistletoe nestled between his fingers. You’re smiling and sniffling whilst his forehead comes to press against yours. Hyunjin grins. “And there’s still one last item on my list.”

“Are you seriously asking me to land one on you now?”

“Oh hell yeah.”

— 

"Move."

You press your fingers against the slick, sweaty skin.

In rebuttal, Hyunjin grumbles under his breath. Only half awake, half aware that he was mumbling in his sleep. His naked chest seems to be, if it’s even possible, glued to your bare front as he sprawls out like a starfish over your body, using his gangly arms to accommodate the strange position.

Though and you know he knows it too — it’s anything but uncomfortable.

See by now, you aren't exactly a stranger to Hyunjin's sleeping habits. Or really, any habits of his.

All the windows are cracked open, moonlight percolating through a thin sheet of curtains in rendering evidence that it’s still night time. You can make out the faint sound of  honking in the distance, a few stray dogs here and there, probably producing strings of complaints about the blatantly unbearable heat.

The strong stench of sweat and an aftermath of what happened before is a quick reminder of where you are, what you’re doing and that your arm’s going cold for a lack of circulation under his weight. Beads of sweat collected against his skin and trickle down the side of your face, the crook of your neck, which only prompts you to apply more force to the pads of your index and pointer — albeit it did nothing to move him, "Gross." You groan. "You're sweating like a pig!"

This comment, of all the things you've tried to get him to sleep on his side, succeeds in making Hyunjin raise his head, his grey hair matted down, a few rogue strands pushed out to fall over the unamused look in his eyes.

In an unprecedented minute of absolute clarity, something inside your stomach started to churn at the shocking sight. You’re impossibly, absolutely and nauseatingly in love with Hwang Hyunjin and the funny thing is, you don’t have to think twice to know he is too.

"Gross?" Hyunjin lowers his face to brush his pouted lips along your jaw, grinning when you let out a shaky but involuntary breath and as if he is looking to make a point with his digits traversing from your bare stomach, just along the hem of your underwear,   "After all that?"

"I hate you." You say — but more like, stutter. The sound of his giggles eliciting a strange sensation in you, reverberating against your chest, knocking against his ribs and your skin, like it’s trying to reach out to you, like your bodies insist on melding into one.

"I don’t think you’re being honest, baby." He laughs, squeezing your side, coming up to plant a warm palm to your butt to repeat the action, which in turn, drew a mewl from you. “Because you looove me.” Hyunjin smirks, his finger thumbing along your throat to your chin. You think this is what all those great poets meant in endless litanies of lovers torn apart by time and war woven together in a simple caress, like a longing, like a secret. Guarded from prying eyes, greedy hands, and you keep it, you keep it. For him. With him.

[jeonqquk]

i think i love you | pjm

pairing- jimin x reader genre/tags- fluff, a lil bit of angst, jimin doesn’t know he loves yn, yuna being the cupid she is rating- 13+ word count- 2k words

Your sullen gaze meets Taehyung’s, his hazel eyes slightly widening in shock and- you spot- worry. You’re sitting at one of the round tables covered with the silky white cloth, plum coloured dress starting to crease from the lengthy amount of time you’d been sitting. At the party. Jisung had wanted to celebrate his graduation with his close friends and family too, so him being your colleague at the bakery you worked at had invited all of your limited staff members. You had thought that it was going to be held at a bar but he had surprised all of you by saying that you would be celebrating in a nice restaurant. Hence, you were wearing the velvet dress with the matching heels Jimin had gotten you for your second anniversary.

Jimin. 

Your heart hurt thinking about him, his sweet smile, chocolate eyes and all the other perfect traits about him filling your head. You missed him, a lot. But knew that your break up was good for the both of you. The two of you had dated for 4 years before something just seemed off, it gradually increased and soon, the two of you were just barely having time for each other. The relationship wasn’t healthy, but don’t take it the wrong way! You really loved Jimin and were very satisfied with him for a long time but then, because of your jobs and other work, you just weren’t having time for Jimin. He never abused you or anything. Oh, heck no. 

The break-up had been better than your previous ones, honestly. It had occurred at your doorstep- not the best place- but Jimin hadn’t thrown a fit, unlike your previous partners and gotten angry about your decision. In fact, he had acted maturely, one of the things you absolutely admired him for and had said “I had been thinking about this too..” There had been no crying and you were glad that Jimin and you were still on good terms despite being exes. He was dating Yuna now, and really, you were happy for him. She obviously made him very glad and you had never wanted anything other than happiness for Jimin, even if it meant sacrificing your own. 

Suddenly feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes, you get up hurriedly. As you run out, you even ignore Jimin who confusedly reaches his hand out before you’re disappearing outside. You reach the small lawn outside and breathe in, trying to relax yourself.

You hated yourself, the lone reason being that you still had feelings for Jimin. You didn’t know why, how or when. All you knew was that you still loved Jimin, even if the end was 50% of your decision. But knowing that you couldn’t do anything about your unwanted feelings for your ex, you had always kept this to yourself. Just after you officially let him go, you instantly began regretting your decision.

We may have been going through a rough patch but we could work it out. 

No amount of bars you drank at helped you forget about your stupid decision but your mind still kept going back to when he said that he too thought that you should break up. He wouldn’t have been happy in the relationship. 

Sighing loudly, you’re too lost in your own thoughts consuming you that you don’t notice someone walking towards you. The feeling of a jacket being draped over your shoulder makes you realise that with a jolt and you identify who the clothing belongs to even without looking at it. The smell gave it all away.

Jimin.

Turning around with wide eyes, you see Jimin standing behind you with his hands in his trouser pockets. His gaze is curious and you quickly run over all the lies you could tell him to get out of the situation. The situation being him asking you why you had run out of the restaurant without any words and even ignored him You feel a pang of guilt in your gut- partially from the fact that you know that you’re now gonna lie to him. And hopefully, even get away with it. 

You’re in the middle of opening your mouth to tell him that you were suddenly feeling dizzy which is why you headed out without informing anyone but a certain song reaches your ears. 

It doesn’t take you even half a second to realise which song it was and before you know it, your eyes are welling up with tears threatening to spill out of your eyes again. The emotions all suddenly burst and a tear slides down your cheek. 

Jimin stares at you in shock, before immediately springing into action and pulling you into him. His arms tightly wrapped around you, your head is buried in his chest, and this certain feeling has you pressing yourself closer to him.

As much as you’re enjoying this, you know that Jimin is dating someone else and although his intentions are obviously very innocent, you don’t know if you can hold yourself back from confessing your love for him right now. 

Unwillingly and reluctantly, you break the hug, the melody of the song that had been playing when Jimin first kissed you at prom still filling your ears. “Our song..” you mumble and he nods, “I thought they didn’t play anything other than The Police.” he chuckles at your words and his lips part softly, “I had to pay them 20 bucks.” your eyes widen at his words and you lift your head to meet his gaze.

“Will you dance with me?” the memories of all the other times he had asked you to move rhythmically to the beat of a song come flooding back in and you almost nod, before stopping yourself when you remember that a Yuna also existed. 

“Jimin..” his pleading eyes make it specifically tough to reject his very tempting offer. “No, we can’t. You’re dating Yuna..” you trail off at the mention of her name and Jimin immediately rushes to speak, shocking you. 

“I broke up with her.” He himself looks surprised that he said this but after a few second of the two of you just staring at each other, he closes his eyes for a split second. “Y/n, will you dance with me?”

“You broke up with Yuna?” you completely ignore his question and settle for asking him another one instead. Making no effort to hide the astonishmnet in your voice, you look at Jimin expectantly, and he keeps his hand on your waist, the butterflies in your stomach becoming unbearable at this point. “Yeah, we broke up with each other, to be completely honest.”

2 hours ago

“Do you still have feelings for her?” Yuna had never been one to beat around the bush- and Jimin was well acquainted with that- but the sudden straightforwardness she confronted him with left him breathless. “W-What?” he hated stuttering, but this was so out of the blue, he couldn’t help it. They had been cheerily talking to some friends when Yuna had asked Jimin if she could ‘have a moment’ with him. He had agreed and looked at her in worry for any problem she may have been having. 

Instead, she had roughly kissed him. Desperately. Her fingers tangled in his hair and Jimin had responded, grabbing her waist but something about the kiss just seemed off. He tried brushing it aside and leaned into her, pressing her into the wall of the small room they were in. Yuna quickly broke the kiss and looked at Jimin for his reaction, his fake smile not convincing her. Don’t get him wrong, Jimin really did like Yuna but just couldn’t picture a future with her. Whenever he had thought about waking up next to his future wife and smothering his children’s faces with smooches- the woman had always been you and their kids had acquired your pretty eyes. He didn’t know why, but supposed that it was because he had spent most of his dating life with you. 

Coming back to the present, Yuna let go of Jimin’s black tie and looked down at her feet, gaze not meeting Jimin’s. Looking at her in confusion, he tried lifting his girlfriend’s face to meet his and was met by the one question he had never expected her to ask.

“Do you still have feelings for her?” Jimin was taken aback and scrambled to form coherent sentences as Yuna looked at him in disappointment. She knew all about you and how Jimin and you had shared a very special bond before breaking off. She also knew that somewhere deep in his heart, where Jimin had buried all of his feelings for you, he was still in love with you. One might ask why she had still agreed to date him and her answer was simple. To make the stupid boy realise that he still loved you. It was true that she liked Jimin but similar to him, she just didn’t think he was the one for her. 

She tells him this right now, and he’s left astounded once again, this thought never having crossed his mind. 

“R-really?” Yuna nods with a sad smile on her face and watches Jimin’s face lose all colour. “Hey, hey. Jimin, look at me. I’m sorry okay? I know this was stupid but I know that you still love Y/n.” Jimin sighs loudly and tugs at his hair, a habit many people around him had gotten accustomed to. 

“I think I still love her..” Yuna laughs at Jimin’s obliviousness at his own feelings and puts a hand on his shoulder as he resolutely nods to himself before meeting Yuna’s eyes. 

“Okay. So, I’m going to have to break up with you..” his voice falters at his words that didn’t sound so bad in his head but continues anyways “A-And then I’m going to tell Y/n how I feel.” the plan sounds terrible but he has to confess as soon as possible or he might lose his mind. Yuna just nods along with a pitiful smile on her face, she obviously knows that Jimin’s plan was messed up. 

“Go get her.” she whispers and Jimin is instantly running off to where he saw you walk out.

“Oh..” you’re at a loss for words and it takes you a full minute to regain your composure before your tongue darts out to lick your dry lips. Hugging Jimin’s jacket closer to your body, you revel in the amazing scent. Jimin opens his mouth but no sound comes out and he ends up closing it. A silence falls over the two of you. 

“Dance with me?” this is the third time he’s asking you and this time, you waste no time in nodding, the coat he had so graciously given you almost falling from your shoulders in the hurry.

Jimin’s hands land on your waist and yours find purchase on his shoulders. He moves both your bodies to the slow tune and you muster the courage to lean in closer. He smirks and you just look at his godly features, plush lips inviting and brown orbs piercing directly through your soul. 

You don’t know who initiates the kiss but before you can comprehend it, Jimin’s lips are meeting yours. His arms move to wrap around your waist completely, walking you backwards to someplace you didn’t know.

“Ji-Jimin..” he breaks off with a sweet chu and you simply stare at the beautiful boy in front of you, unable to believe that what was happening was real. “Be my girlfriend again?” his cheeky smile makes it hard to resist pinching his cheeks and you nod with a shy smile. 

You both decide not to go back inside and just spend time with each other for now. You try returning his jacket but he doesn’t take it. Instead, he makes you wear it again and hugs you from behind as the two of you walk on the silent street back to his house. 

His ‘I love you’ is muffled by your hair but you still hear it, smiling and replying with a short kiss to his lips. “I like how your chapstick tastes.” he snorts in response, but the sides of his lips still curl upwards.

“It’s strawberry flavoured, I’ll buy you one too.”

thanks for reading! please send in feedback through asks or dms :)

pReSS dIs gReen ReCyClE BuTtOn. iT WoNt hUrT, pRess dIs bUttON. thE HuRt bUttOn aNd TheN ThE GrEeN ArrOw bUttoN. 

[oatmilkslytherin]

ruin me 1/? (d.l.m)

description: draco becomes inexplicably infatuated by the new transfer slytherin!reader and would do anything to win over her seemingly cold heart. part one of ??

requested: yes / no

warnings: cursing, mention of sexual situations, mentions of alcohol

a/n: starting a lil mini series, let me know what you think:) also i’m sorry i’m horrible with including my tag list i still love and appreciate u guys i’m just dirt stupid<33

draco’s pov:

it didn’t make sense. absolutely no part of her presence made the slightest bit of sense in my brain. she was so effortlessly captivating, so careless yet careful. she had only graced the halls of hogwarts for one week, and she was already all i could ever think about. 

granted, i have yet to share an actual conversation with her. nothing more than a mumbled ‘sorry’ coming from my mouth as i bumped into her in the dining hall, to which she responded with a deathly glare and devilish smirk. she made me nervous; i felt my hands get clammy and my breath catching in my throat whenever i caught a glimpse of her. 

i wanted ever bit of her. i wanted her writhing under my touch, begging for another stolen kiss against plump, swollen lips. to have her lips spilling my name out like a mantra. but more than that, i wanted her in my bed, curled up under soft sheets with her hair sprawled messily against the pillow while she slept the day away in my arms. i wanted her in the most vile ways, but i craved her in the most innocent forms. 

my friends thought i was insane. blaise deemed me whipped out of my mind for a girl whose favorite color i didn’t know. pansy wrote me off as purely idiotic, preaching that i only liked the idea of her because she was dangerous like me. 

and perhaps i did. she reeked an aura of danger and mischief, of excitement and adventure. sometimes i thought that this little infatuation was purely for the reason of my inability to win her over at first glance. the more i thought about it, the more i realized it was more than that. theoretically speaking, i could have any girl i wanted. up to this point, the girl wasn’t the prize but the adventure. once i had reached the end goal and exhausted my defenses, the game was no longer fun. 

for her, it was different. watching her, admiring her from afar, i realized she was much different than my previous endeavors. she was the adventure, the prize, and the end game. 

“looking for someone?” blaise piped up from beside me. his sudden presence startled me, making me jump out of my daydreams into the present reality. my hand gripped around the plastic cup as i rolled my eyes, bringing the cup to my mouth to avoid his question. the liquid pooled down my throat, burning every crevice of my body as i swallowed. 

it was the annual house-welcoming party the first saturday after the beginning of term. my housemates littered across the common room, many of them gathering in the center in a drunken, dancing state. the room smelled of alcohol and hormonal teenage bodies; i wondered why i even came in the first place.

deep down, i knew the reason.

“don’t look now, but your princess is over there,” blaise teased from beside me. i nearly choked on the burning liquid as my eyes followed his gesture. he was right; she was standing amongst some other vaguely familiar faces with a wide smile on her face and a plastic cup dangling from her grasp. her head was thrown back in laughter, and i couldn’t help but hopelessly stare as her hair cascaded down and around her figure. 

almost as if she sensed my helpless stare, her neck craned and her eyes met mine. my eyes widened, darting away to another part of the room. suddenly i was thankful for the dim lighting in the common room, or the red hue on my cheeks would’ve been another thing for her to throw her head back in laughter. 

blaise retreated from my side suspiciously quickly, and i didn’t understand the reason until she was standing right in front of me. it took every bone in my body not to drunkenly slur every desire and craving i had for her in that moment. she looked so beautiful even in the shallow common room light. she had a wicked smirk plastered on her features as she daintily held her cup in both of her hands. 

“malfoy, i believe?” she asked, her eyes never leaving mine. my heart thudded out of my chest as she spoke. her voice was soft and silky, and sweet as honey. i wanted nothing more than to press our bodies closer and taste the honey-sweet words dripping from her lips. i swallowed back my fear with the aid of liquid courage, attempting to replace my seemingly nervous expression with one of confidence.

“my friends call me draco. you’re y/n, correct?” i cursed my childish attempt of flirting back with the beautiful girl standing in front of me. she, however, seemed surprised that i knew her name. 

“i can tell parties aren’t really your thing, draco,” she spoke, sipping at the dark liquid swirling around in her cup. i nearly melted at the sound of my name leaving her lips; it was just as beautiful as i imagined. instead of crumbling entirely in front of her, i only nodded smugly. 

my cool façade nearly evaporated as she took a step closer to me, her body nearly pressed flush against mine. she stood up on the tips of her toes as she brought her lips up to my ear, one hand lingering on my clothed shoulder. her touch was absolutely igniting, the entirety of my left shoulder feeling tingly as she grazed her fingertips across my collarbone.

“then how about you take me somewhere more... private?” her words were dripping with lust, making my breath hitch in my throat. maybe it was the warm liquid kicking into my coherent senses, or maybe it was ever desire for her i’ve been suppressing suddenly surfacing as she spoke. whatever it was, it prompted me to take her hand softly in mine and lead her towards my single dorm.

she trailed behind me, giggling softly as we wound around the mass amounts of our housemates. my cheeks burned with a pink hue and i couldn’t bite back the smirk that made its way onto my features. i didn’t even try to be discreet about our leaving together; i was much too excited to be with her alone. 

soon, we were stumbling inside my prefect dorm, the door slamming shut as we fumbled to set our drinks down on any open surface. her hands reached for the collar of my button-up shirt, pulling my lips down towards hers as my hands grasped desperately onto her hips.

our lips moved carelessly and messily against one another’s, the cold of my rings digging into the fabric of her skirt. i could feel her shudder against me as i pressed her body into the wooden door, my lips never leaving her’s. her hands trailed up to tangle in my hair, pulling me even closer to her if it was possible. my heart was beating rapidly at this point, every conscious thought i had becoming riddled with the question if this was real or not. 

much to either of our liking, i pulled my lips away from her’s lightly, our plump and swollen lips brushing against one another’s as we caught our breaths. her eyes were dark and clouded with lust and desire; i was almost positive mine matched. 

“i don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” i stated, my voice low as i longed for her lips on mine once more. she only shot me a devilish smirk once more as she fiddled with the baby hairs on the back of my neck. she pulled my head back down towards hers, her warm lips brushing against the skin of my ear.

“ruin me, draco.”

taglist: @potatothingsz​ @killiansawyer

[dawn-of-tomorrow]

Pollux & Castor : Dioscuri (Voicelines)

Construct Acquisition:

(Pollux): Hallo, Commandant! The name’s Pollux, and this here’s my little brother, Castor.

(Castor): Greetings to you, Commandant. Pollux and Castor of the Aegis squad shall become the claws that protect you and the gun that will kill your enemies.

(Pollux): Mhm mhm~. So long as we, the Dioscuri, are here, you have nothing to fear!

LVL Up:

(Pollux): Level up~! Hehe.

(Castor): We extend our gratitude to the Commandant.

Promotion:

(Pollux): Transform!! ...Just kidding~.

(Castor): Brother, we are not mechas.

Evolve:

(Pollux): Ooohh~. Not bad, not bad~.

(Castor): It appears we’ve grown a bit more.

Skill Enhancement:

(Pollux): Hehe, I can feel power coursing through me!

(Castor): It would appear I still have more to learn.

Equipment:

(Pollux): Mhm, not a bad choice. Can’t wait to test them out soon~.

(Castor): Weapons are weapons, nothing more, nothing less.

Added to the squad:

(Pollux): Alright! Let’s do our best, Castor!

(Castor): Naturally, brother.

Appointed as captain:

(Pollux): Oh? Leader huh, hehe. Can’t help it, follow my lead Castor!

(Castor): Brother, take care to not get too carried away.

Mission Complete 1:

(Castor): Commandant, I advise you to take notice of your completed missions. Please do not forget to claim the rewards.

Mission Complete 2:

(Pollux): Oiiii~! If you don’t claim these rewards, I’ll gladly take them from you~! Hehe.

(Pollux): Yo, Commandant! If you need anything, let us know~.

(Pollux): Yo, Commandant! If you need anything, let us know~.

(Castor): Indeed. We’ll do our best to accomplish the task.

Daily Conversation 2:

(Castor): Commandant, we are not children. Please stop treating us as such.

(Pollux): That’s right, that’s right! We’re bonafide soldiers, ya know~.

Daily Conversation 3:

(Pollux): My hobbies? Hmmm…. How about, doting on my adorable baby brother?

(Castor): I highly suggest that brother learns more on the ways of how to be funny. You need more guidance on that.

(Pollux): Hehe, just kidding, just kidding~.

Daily Conversation 4:

(Castor): Brother and I are two in one. One half of a Construct.

(Pollux): But Castor is not Pollux, and Pollux is not Castor. We are simply--

(Both): --The [Dioscuri].

Daily Conversation 5:

(Pollux): Wah! ...Hahaha~ were you surprised? You were, or were you not?

(Castor): (sighs)... Please forgive my brother for his harmless prank.

Daily Conversation 6:

(Castor): Humans truly are fragile beings. Even if we were to take caution in handling them, they can easily break.

(Pollux): Right~? I wonder, since the Commandant is also human, are you like that too? ...Haha, relax, relax, we swore to protect you and kill your enemies. We, the Aegis squad, always keep our promises.

Daily Conversation 7:

(Pollux): Hm….. hhmm….. HMMMM….

(Castor): ...May I inquire as to why you’re staring so hard at the Commandant, brother?

(Pollux): Ah, it’s nothing really~. I was just trying to understand them better, that's all, hehe~.

Daily Conversation 8:

(Castor): The Commandant reminds me of Teacher somewhat.

(Pollux): Hm? How so?

(Castor): ….I cannot explain coherently. It is… just a feeling.

(Pollux): Hmm… is that so. Hehe, that might not be a bad thing.

Daily Conversation 9:

(Pollux): That wichser Mercury…. tch.

(Castor): Hm? What’s the matter, brother?

(Pollux): Ah, eh, it’s nothing Castor~! It’s just that I had a bit of a slightly annoying encounter earlier is all, hahaha.

Daily Conversation 10:

(Castor): ……Mhm. I finally understand.

(Pollux): What do you mean, Castor?

(Castor): The Commandant isn’t like Teacher and will never be her, and vice-versa. But that is what makes the Commandant unique and special.

(Pollux): ...That’s true~. Teacher will always be Teacher, and the Commandant will always be the Commandant.

Daily Conversation 11:

(Pollux): Com-man-dant~. Make a pinky promise with Castor and I~.

(Castor): P, Pollux-- er, brother, that’s a bit too… childish…

(Pollux): But you said you wanted the Commandant to swear by us, didn’t you~?

(Castor): ...My apologies, Commandant.

Daily Conversation 12:

(Castor): Commandant. Brother. Thank you, for being by my side.

(Pollux): ……

(Castor): Ah, I… I just…… I’m sorry for blurting that out, I--

(Pollux): No, it’s alright Castor. ...Thank you, then, for being my brother. ...Thank you for being our Commandant, Commandant.

(Castor): ...Yes. I feel the same way.

Increased Trust 1:

(Pollux): Hmm~. You’re the Commandant, huh. A bit shabby-looking, but you’re decent enough!

(Castor): Sincerest apologies for my brother’s remarks. We entrust our fates in your capable hands, Commandant.

Increased Trust 2:

(Castor): Commandant, no need to fret and worry about us. Us Constructs are far more durable and resilient than you can think of.

(Pollux): Well, we’re technically Corrupted too, so exercise caution when handling us~.

Increased Trust 3:

(Pollux): Is it just me or is the Commandant really lenient in dealing with us?

(Castor): I’ve noticed it too, brother. Commandant, we are your weapons, use us as however you see fit.

(Pollux): Indeed~. That makes things a whole lot easier for all of us, really~.

Increased Trust 4:

(Castor): The Commandant is quite a peculiar human. You treat us as if we were almost like real people and even give us presents with no ill intent behind them.

(Pollux): Right? A human like you treating us this kindly? Wow, we’re blessed~.

Increased Trust 5:

(Pollux): You… are quite a strange person, aren’t you. ...But I suppose it’s due to this that Teacher and “that guy” are interested in you.

(Castor): Mhm. Even though I don’t know what exactly it is yet, the Commandant has something to them that catches people’s attention.

Increased Trust 6:

(Castor): You really are a nice person, Commandant. I can say that for certain now.

(Pollux): ...Ja. A little too nice is what I think, but I suppose this kindness just comes all too natural to you, hm~?

Increased Trust 7:

(Pollux): You know, I think I get it now. Why the guys from Strike Hawk, Cerberus, and all the others are so utterly drawn to you, is what I mean.

(Castor): … Is it what I’m thinking about, brother?

(Pollux): Yeah. …(sighs) The Commandant’s magic is too strong~.

(Castor): ...Fufu.

Increased Trust 8:

(Castor): Someday the Commandant too will die before us, won’t they?

(Pollux): ...That is the fate of all humans compared to us Constructs after all.

(Castor): Indeed. … But until then, Commandant, we promise to always be by your side no matter what.

(Pollux): In sickness and in health, even if death claims you, is what they say~.

(Both): --We, the [Dioscuri], swear to always be with the Commandant until the end of time.

Idle/Ignored 1:

(Castor): Commandant, if you are tired then please rest.

(Pollux): Or if you’re busy, then quit ignoring us~.

Idle/Ignored 2:

(Pollux): … (yawns)~

(Castor): Brother is bored.

(Pollux): Hehe, was it that obvious~?

(Castor): Very much so.

Idle/Ignored 3:

(Castor): … Commandant, is there something wrong? Are you okay…?

(Pollux): I’m sure they’re fine, Castor~. Probably a bit too busy to give us the time of day~.

Idle/Ignored 4:

(Pollux): ...Hey, Commandant. If you’re not feeling alright today then quit stalling and make your mind up already~. O-K-A-Y~?

(Castor): Mhm. It’s fine, Commandant… we’ll wait here for you.

Long time spent online 1:

(Castor): Please disconnect from the link, Commandant. Staying up too late will do no good for your health, considering you’re a human.

(Pollux): Hear that? Quit making my baby brother worried about your health and go rest already~!

Long time spent online 2:

(Pollux): Jeez, you’re still up? Can’t be helped then. ...Castor!

(Castor): ...I see. Understood.

(Pollux): Since you’re so keen on spoiling us rotten, we’ll also spoil you until you fall asleep, Commandant~.

Login 1:

(Pollux): Guten tag! Welcome back, Commandant~.

(Castor): Welcome back, Commandant. We’ve been expecting you.

Login 2:

(Castor): Ah, greetings, Commandant. We’ve been waiting for your arrival.

(Pollux): (yawns)~ Ah, Commandant, g’morning~. Is it time to sortie out?

Login 3:

(Pollux): Looks like the Commandant’s arrived early. Or actually, late~? Haha.

(Castor): In any case, please tell us when you’ve finished preparing so we can head out now.

Login 4:

(Castor): Guten tag, mein Kommandant.

(Pollux): Oh? What’s this? Castor’s feeling all lively just seeing the Commandant~?

(Castor): …It’s merely brother’s imagination.

Long time offline 1:

(Pollux): ...Oh? You’re back now Commandant? That took a long time didn’t it~.

(Castor): Indeed. Brother was worried about you making it back.

(Pollux): But I wasn’t though~. Not, one, bit~.

Long time offline 2:

(Castor): (dozing off)…

(Pollux): Ah, Commandant. Sshh, be quiet. Castor was waiting for you to come back to the point he fell asleep upright. He’d be embarrassed if he knew you saw him like this.

(Castor): … (light snore) …

(Pollux): Fufu, he looks cute like this doesn’t he. But I guess we have to wake him up now. …Castor, wake up, the Commandant’s back.

(Castor): … Hm? …!!! Ah, C-Commandant… I, uhm, er… (coughs) …W, Welcome back, Commandant.

Shake phone 1:

(Castor): !! ...Commandant, what was that about?

(Pollux): Wah~, that was a bit startling, haha~.

Shake phone 2:

(Pollux): ...Commandant~. That joke just now wasn’t funny~.

(Castor): Please exercise more caution.

Continuous tap 1:

(Castor): Commandant, please stop that.

(Pollux): Hahaha, the Commandant really is something~.

Continuous tap 2:

(Pollux): Oi oi, don’t you think you’re getting a lil’ too carried away~?

(Castor): (sighs)... Commandant, honestly…

Continuous tap 3:

(Castor): … You really do often remind me of brother sometimes, especially when you act like this.

(Pollux): Ehhh, I’m not this annoying aren’t I? Hey, Castor?? HEY???

Activity MAX:

(Castor): Activity level is at maximum capacity, Commandant. It would be the best option to claim it all now.

(Pollux): Yeah, yeah! Would do no good to just leave such nice things lying around all willy-nilly after all~.

Battle start:

(Pollux): Alright!! Time to pulverize everything!

(Castor): Entering battle mode. Begin as instructed.

Battle 1:

(Pollux): GAHAHA! You can’t escape!

(Castor): Target confirmed. Engaging.

Battle 2:

(Pollux): Just! Die! Scum!!

(Castor): Aiming. Execution.

Battle 3:

(Pollux): NONE OF YOU DESERVE TO LIVE! HAHAHA!!!

(Castor): Objectives. Elimination.

Ultimate:

(if Pollux is on the field)

(Pollux): Tch… Castor! I need backup!

(Castor): Understood. …Brother.

(Pollux): Thanks! Time to finish you off!! Aha, AHAHAHA!!!

(if Castor is on the field)

(Castor): Brother. Assistance required.

(Pollux): Leave it to me! ...Take THIS! Castor, now!

(Castor): Affirmative. Target lock-on. Schießen.

Hit:

(Pollux): Aha, is that all you can do?

(Castor): This is not a problem.

Serious injury:

(Pollux): Tch… [DU SOHN EINER HÜNDIN]!!

(Castor): Hn… I’m fine. I can still go on.

Unable to fight:

(If Pollux gets downed): Damn...it… sorry, Castor… I failed to protect you… please… run away quickly...

(If Castor gets downed): Brother… where...are you… don’t… leave me alone… please…

Support:

(Pollux): The [Dioscuri] has arrived--

(Castor): --to provide needed backup.

QTE:

(Pollux): One, two~!!

(Castor): Confirm support.

Victory:

(Castor): Mission complete. Let us head to the next one, Command--

(Pollux): Absolute, complete, great victory for Dioscuri~! Like we told you Commandant, we’re invincible together~!!

(Castor): …Indeed brother.

[botwstoriesandsuch]

Kip v Age of Calamity

For someone who writes tough shit on Age of Calamity, you sure don’t see me writing a better story. So maybe I should stop complaining and be satisfied with what was given to me. 

...or...

...maybe we can dedicated a few hours of my time to spite an ask. 

Even though the entire argument of “why are you mad if you can’t write a story yourself” is inherently flawed and pointless considering that’s the equivalent of telling me I should chug spoiled milk because I’ve never milked a cow, I’ll fucking step up to the plate here, I’ll put my money where my mouth is. 

So here is Part 1 of your residential Kip approved rewrite of Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity. Or as I like to call it: 

Ok so before I get into it, a couple things I wanna establish. First, I know I just said I’m doing this out of spite, but I’m actually also doing this for fun. I really enjoy and am passionate about the writing process, so if you were looking for an angry rant about how terrible everyone’s opinions are about everything, this isn’t that. I don’t think that I am a better writer than anyone, or than the professionals that made this game, or that I am somehow superior to Nintendo. I am someone with the benefit of hindsight, I don’t have the constraints of producers and mandated directives and executives rubbing their hands in the story to make it more marketable or dumbed down or any of the other chaos that goes into crafting a videogame. So while obviously I think the people involved in this could have done a much better job, this isn’t a bash to say, “look how easy it is to make a story” because there’s a ton of unseen drama that goes into development that I have the luxury of avoiding, and it’s a miracle that any games are coherent and enjoyable in the first place. I’m just a lil Kip doing a fun lil exercise. 

This little series is also not going to be a fanfic. I’m going to be telling the story chronologically as if you were playing for yourself, but it’s going to be from my omniscient perspective because 1) I need to relate the story to the gameplay 2) That would take way too much time to actually make this into a fanfiction as it already takes a hell of a lot of time to even plan out the beats of this rewrite and 3) This is less going to be a telling of a story, and more of a fun little exploration on the Three Act Structure and The Hero’s Journey. In fact, I am going to try and keep the given story of Age of Calamity as intact as possible. 

The general ending is going to be the same, the characters used are going to remain roughly unchanged, (there will be no new characters, or removal of characters) and characters that live or die and where they end up are going to be mostly the same with how the original game is written. I know, I know, we all would love to see the Champions die brutally or to get us that sweet sweet Link angst or to have a game with multiple endings. And even though I personally would change some of those premises in Age of Calamity, I’m going to strive to keep it all as intact as possible, just to prove wrong the misconception that the story was only bad because of the writer’s choices for the general arc. I am a firm believer that biggest weaknesses of this game are in its methods of conveying its story, a problem in the storytelling process, and not (necessarily/only) the story product itself. 

If you want to use any of the ideas that I present, go for it! I release them into the public domain, I have no plans whatsoever to write a fanfic for this myself, in fact I already have my own separate Pre-Botw fic story that I am pouring myself into, so I give the people full permission to take these ideas off of me. 

Alrighty! With all that out of the way, let’s get into:

HERE IS THE VERSION IN A GOOGLE DOC FORM BECAUSE TUMBLR HATES YOU MOBILE PEEPS

Spoilers! Obviously. I’m going to act on the assumption that you know the full story of Age of Calamity to save myself some time, capiche?

Ok so we start out the game roughly the same, with eggbot being chased and forced to time travel into a portal. But, there is going to be some important differences in details. 

We have the part of the scene where Zelda awakens her powers, and at the same time, something else in Hyrule Castle glows with the same aura. However, this glow is not coming from the Princess’ Tower, but instead, the camera pulls back from the fields of Fort Hateno, sweeps over Hyrule (where you can see the Guardians and the sense of destruction and all that) and the camera eventually flies over Castle Town, then within the Castle, weaving through the halls, until the camera stop and focuses on the entrance of a destroyed room, slowly creeping in. It’s a room that’s been demolished, stone rubble from Guardian blasts ruin the floor and cave in from the ceiling, there’s a small fire in the corners of the room, and from the props that you can make out, it seems to look like some study or office of some sort. The room is small, but domed and circular, signifying that it’s of a bit more importance than you might think . The desks and books and all buried beneath this collapsed stone brick. But as the camera focuses on that pile of rocks, from within that rubble, you see that same glowing aura that Zelda has, glowing brighter and brighter until finally out pops, eggbot.

Now, you can have that same sequence within the game where he runs around all cute, the outter wall of the room is broken so eggbot can look outside and see the Calamity’s destruction. Then that cut to Zelda saying “I want to save...everyone,” and this is important because I need the fade in between Zelda’s line and the fade back to eggbot to wordlessly imply that he is hearing these words, something that’s already done pretty well in the original cutscene. Anyhow, then the Guardian Stalker pops from behind, prepares to shoot, and eggbot can escape into its little time portal, and then the malice follows or whatever.  

However, I’m not gonna immediately cut to the title, but instead, we have the music build to eggbot’s little jump in a pretty climactic way. But then the music still lingers slightly, and rests in suspense, camera is still looking out the window where eggbot jumped. It pulls back, turning back into this room that eggbot emerged from. Music is still relatively silent. Then, from the corner, you see some of the fire suddenly catch onto something. Flattened between the rocky rubble, just a few feet where eggbot emerged, is a purple cloak, trimmed with gold, flapping just slightly in the wind. [Said flapping being what causes it to catch] The fire catches, burning through the cloak, and underneath it, is a fallen copy of the Sheikah tapestry of 10k years ago. Camera zooms into that art of the Calamity, music suspends, merge to title card, then the music hits that climax and BOOM, “Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity.” Main Theme plays. Let the opening title roll.

Now the reason I changed this slightly is because 1) I wanted to earlier set up some of the plot points that I have planned for this (some of which you might already guess or maybe not who knows *wink wink*) and 2) I think that the original opening could have been much stronger with its hook. Yes, the element of mystery is established with eggbot’s existence and that element of time travel, but then the opening immediately goes into saying “This is the tale of champions, a diminutive Guardian who traveled backwards through time, and the Great Calamity they faced.” So...you just dampened that hook you established two seconds ago because you explained it all. Sure, it doesn’t completely ruin it, but I think the impact would be much stronger if that text wasn’t there at all, and the music and hype of the tapestry moving and coming alive is all there was. I’d much rather that element of time travel just be explained through the cinematography itself, because you can already understand that perfectly with that scene where you see the portal lead into birds flying around a beautiful Hyrule Castle.

Also, the music in this game is fantastic! So letting moments that really let you soak it in, I think would be very beneficial. So now this scene serves as a much more effective hook before we get into the actual plot. The mystery of eggbot’s identity is heightened and left a bit more unexplained, you have this mysterious circular room that you’ve never seen before, and the set up of details that will eventually serve later revelations in the plot, cough cough. 

Then you hit Chapter 1, Link gameplay, eggbot and the tower, that’s all the same. I got no changes for the story there, it’s a great introduction. However! I know my strength here is writing and I am by no means a game developer or designer, but I need, I absolutely need to add one aspect to the gameplay.

Near the end of the first stage, where there are those three moblins at the end, I want to add something that I’m going to call, a gambit. The game already introduced you to the special meter and “press a to use special attack” thing, but I want Impa and Link to use a gambit to defeat this last horde of moblins. Essentially, you press A to use your special attack, BUT, if another character is in proximity, the attack is even more powerful. Every pair of characters has a special little attack, that does tons of damage, and during said sequence, there are voiced lines, or at the very very least text boxes that comment on it. And with this gambit, while a regular solo special attack still does a lot of damage, I’m gonna nerf it slightly to encourage players to use this gambit feature. 

Now, why did I add this? Because I need to better connect this gameplay to the story on more than an external “lets defeat this and go from point A to point B” type of way. I need something in the gameplay to better serve to the game’s main theme of “teamwork makes the dreamwork” and all that. The CURRENT gameplay, although absolutely fun and fantastic, just doesn’t do this. I need just one element to serve this theme while ALSO having the dual purpose of serving as character interaction. The current structure of Age of Calamity works where the sidequests and battle serve as your character interaction, development, and banter, while the cutscenes serve the main story beats, and important plot revelations. The cutscenes just aren’t crafted to support the weight of these dozens of characters while also giving them all interesting interactions, and that’s fine! So I’m just adding this feature to the gameplay, because being able to customize different lines for different characters for different stages that are voiced will go a long way into making the character development seem more fleshed out. And this gambit feature doesn’t necessarily change the way you play the game drastically, as you can still have four character slots and have them split up to take on the battlefield, but now you can split them off into groups of 2. And also, because I’m not completely blind to game design, the damage percentage boost of these gambit attacks will not increase as much, just slightly lower, than the damage boost of a solo attack when you level up. So what I mean is, when your character is weaker level, you are forced to rely on others in order to defeat your enemies, but, with the way the leveling up percents work, your characters can still reach a point where they can defeat big bosses all on their own without gambits. THAT way, when certain events happen in later chapters, when your character is all leveled up, (and maybe they awaken a sacred power or two) it feels all the more powerful when you can go off on your own. You can feel how your character has grown in strength because you can contrast it with your teamwork gameplay of earlier levels. AND it still highlights the importance of that theme of companionship, because you would never have gotten to this level of strength had you not relied on your friends. 

OK, so the stage 1 ends with a gambit attack, Impa compliments Link’s fighting style or something that shows her admiration or respect for him. And then stage 2 for the Road to the Royal Lab is the same, but gambit dialogue for that stage is Impa complimenting Link, Impa being protective of Zelda, and since this is Zelda’s first playable area, Zelda’s gambit lines can be about kinda brushing Link aside like “I want to capable to hold my own in battle but thank you” to Link (cause I never really got that same “I don’t really like you” vibe that is established in botw for this game) and then to Impa Zelda’s gambit lines can be like “is this thrill what you always feel when battling?” and Impa is like “yeah isn’t it great we should do it more often!” and then you can allude to that with a sidequest for Zelda’s training or something. I just want to better connect sidequest stories with this stuff. And also, gambits are obviously optional so that’s why this is all just banter and character development and not actually plot points, and I’m going to stick with just one-on-one dialogue, although it should be theoretically possible to have gambit boosts of three and four, but I feel that would be too much as I don’t want to ruin the gameplay balance and encourage you to keep all four character slots close together, because splitting them up is an important part of the game. Anyhow!

So Chapter 1 is done, my changes being almost purely in the gameplay because this is the start of the story and the character set up is important. Chapter 1 to Chapter 2 is basically the establishment of the ordinary world, and in the Three Act Structure it’s basically Act 1. Act 1 is all about set up. I need to really focus this chapter on both introducing the player to the mechanics of the game, having them connect to the characters and the characters connect to each other through the gameplay, and I need to establish this tone so that when I rip it away, and change the tone during the threshold, it feels more meaningful and suspenseful. 

As you can see from the diagrams, Act 1 has something called the Inciting Incident. The Inciting Incident is going to be the Yiga attack in Chapter 2, where our heroes first experience the true dangers of their journey, and there is no turning back. BUT I’m getting ahead of myself.

Chapter 2 is also exactly the same. I would literally change nothing about the Champion’s sections (other than my addition of gambit interaction of course) because they’re all pretty great. For the record, yes, evil egg is still a thing, and yes, Zelda and the gang can still discover those pictures of the Calamity in eggbot, yes you beat up Revali, and the Divine Beast sequences are the same. I just really need that gambit dialogue to help establish character relations. Revali quips at Link, Mipha protects him, Daruk is his buddy [I thought a cool gambit attack for Link and Daruk to better show that they are old friends could be them both chewing down on some rocks, before striking an enemy simultaneously. Because they never eat rocks together and I just want this ok] Kohga is the same, Sooga is the same, BUT, for that scene when you first meet Astor in the Yiga base, I need two things to happen. 1) The camera reveal for Astor starts at his cloak, which is intact and NOT tattered like how his design is in game. It’s a deep purple with gold trim, the camera pans up to the back of Astor’s head. Now 2) When the camera moves to look at Astors face, I need him to be standing in front of and staring solemnly at the evil eggbot. He’s frowning, and his eyes suggest something like he’s deep in thought of something in the distant past. That’s how the scene starts, and in the background is Kohga recounting the events of his failure to beat Urbosa and the gang. Then, Kohga can say something funny to annoy him, Astor’s face changes to your classic villain disgust. Then, he can get a bit pissed and go on his little rant about how pathetic the Yiga are and how the Calamity is trapped within the evil eggbot and how he will use his powers to end the Kingdom of Hyrule. Then he can take his little astrolabe and be all “My harbinger, show me the future!” and all that. IMPORTANT LINE CHANGE,  Astor’s motivation here is not “The future, as it will and must be. I will not allow anyone to alter its course.” Instead, I need to tweak it slightly to be, “The future, as it was fated to always be. The pathetic stories and legends of children and false kings cannot waver this course. I will not allow it, for my sake…” camera pans to the broken evil guardian, Astor’s voice lowers just slightly. “...and yours.” The slightest, almost silent bits of the harmonies (not the melody) of the Hwaoc Main Theme play before fully fading back to Astor’s theme. And the final shot of that scene is Astor, looking down at the heap of Sheikah tech, with a neutral expression, but then looking back up at the malice stars, and the future visions of the Calamity. He just ever so slightly smiles. 

[Also I JUST realized that the harbinger is actually slightly above Astor, because it’s supposed to show that the power dynamic is really Calamity Ganon is in control, so ignore the “looking down” parts I talked about, and just think in the broad direction of Astor looks at the guardian, and then looks further up at the ceiling with the Calamity and the future and then he smiles]

For that scene, I also need to remove any characterization where Astor is laughing and being joyous at the impending destruction, I only need that smile at the end. There is no villainous cartoon laughter, at least, not yet. Also the part where Sooga calls Astor a fool for thinking he can control the Calamity is GREAT I need that, that absolutely needs to stay in.

And then Chapter 2 closes off with that Yiga ambush. That’s the inciting incident, so I need the tone at the end to be slightly different. Instead of ending on that cute little thing where eggbot points angrily at Link, (like that part can still EXIST in there BUT) I need it to end on a more serious note. 

Referring back to the Hero’s Journey, the Call to Adventure is the parts of each of the Champion’s recruitment. They each have their initial reasons for joining the fight, whether to protect their people, to feel validated for their skill, to get closer to the ones they love etc etc that’s all established in their respective stages.

This Yiga stage, however, serves as the official barrier between Act 1 and Act 2, the threshold between the known world and the unknown world, where the heroes prepare to seek out the obstacle that stands in the way of their goal. It’s important that this threshold establishes a sense of urgency, because that better gets you invested in the stakes, and helps the story's momentum to move forward. IT shows that the journey and adventure that these characters want/need to take is outside the safety of their home/known world.

In the original game, the threshold ends with that cute scene of eggbot and Zelda and Link and the Zelink vibes. That’s not bad, but it’s also not good. The momentum towards the later confrontation in Korok forest needs to feel more important, because this is a major turning point in the story. SO, I am going to add one more scene at the end. It’s just after the ambush, after the fires have died down, and Zelda (and in the back the Champions) discussing the events with the King. I want King Rhoam to a few things. First, I need him to kinda berate the Champions for falling for the Yiga’s “splitting them up trick” and leaving his daughter vulnerable. This 1) establishes doubt within the party, which makes for better uncertainty for the future and later internal conflict. This was supposed to be the dream team but the King is already kinda telling them off. 2) This also still characterizes the King as someone who cares for his daughter’s safety. That care for his daughters safety is layered in the subtext of him saying something like “Your priority must be to protect the only person capable of sealing the Calamity. You were so concerned with victory and glory in battle that you forgot that the fate of this kingdom lies on my daughter’s survival.” and blah blah blah. The King can also congratulate Link for keeping Zelda safe, and this is GREAT because that can add further to Zelda’s slight resentment for him, as he’s getting the approval from the King that she has yet to receive. But like overall the King is like “don’t leave my daughter alone cause she almost got killed if it weren’t for Link wtf.” and then that can also be a further excuse to hurry to korok forest to find the wielder of the sword so that they can better protect “not just the Princess, but the entire world,” something something fancy kingly dialogue. 

Also when the Champions leave THIS can also be the time where Zelda gives that Sheikah device thingy to Rhoam and also where he sees eggbot. I know that happens a bit later, but for pacing purposes and for the sake of the story changes that I made, it better serves to place it here. That interaction itself can stay mostly the same as it is in the game.

So now, the threshold ends with a bit more tension. The Champion squad is powerful, but also has flaws in how they were split up by the Yiga, (cough cough I wonder if that serves the themes of the game in some way cough cough) and it’s not just “smooth sailing” into the search for the Master Sword, and the stakes are a bit rocky as we finally enter into the story’s Act 2.

= = = = = 

And that’s Part 1 of my rewrite. Not really a lot, cause again this is mainly character set up, and establishing stuff, but personally I think it’s already a bit stronger than how Age of Calamity did it. Stay tuned for Part 2 either tonight or tomorrow, mwahaha. 

Predict the future if you can...

[gayspock]

I see you posting Odo and I'm curious: What do you think about Odo autism? I've heard a lot of autistic ppl relate to him and I was sceptical but now watching ds9 I'm kinda relating to him in that way soo. Julian and Odo autistic kings? (And honestly everyone else on ds9 as well but we'll leave that analysis for later 😳) sory for the long ask

i say autism bc im autistic and i like him and thats what happens to any fictional cunt i like 😁 but ehrm here's my lil strings of thoughts

BUT fr! no, no, no- i see it. granted, it still does feel like super early days for me to write anything truly indepth on that - not to mention, that kinda thing isnt my forte (i just talk to meself a lot innit<3 and those thoughts arent always so coherent or wonderfully put) but i think its like...

well, tip of the iceberg: he's an alien, yah? and quite specifically, one not amongst his kind - and therefore kind of an outsider, who doesn't have a blueprint on how he's supposed to be. and instead, he has to try and integrate into a predominantly humanoid society. and that setup really lends itself to, like, being analogous with autism narratively. LIKE... it's kind of a thing, isnt it, honestly, where aliens (and androids/ai too!) are often incidentially read as autistic. which sometimes that's- yknow. i'll drop a thought on that at the end. BUT, spock and data are the obvious examples - even if u strip back some of their more "stereotypical autistic mannerism" or whatever. bc this idea of, like... learning social standards, as odo would have had to, yeah.

but furthermore. he's quite lliterally being taught to redefine his existence, to present as humanoid. you can read that as a metaphor for masking, easy. and granted - i havent even finished this ep yet - but with how The Alternate elaborates a bit more on his past... i know a lot of autistic people (myself included) have had a traumatic experience with being forced to mask in certain ways. being pushed into it, because it's what's best for us as Dr Mora says - even though the "best" is just the expectation of how a person should act, which is totally arbitrary.

and with Dr Mora, also, you can extrapolate more parallels: with how he insists that Odo wasn't ready to be let out into society, that he wouldn't cope on his own, that he wasn't yet meeting this necessary standard, that he won't be accepted and accomodated for... and again lotsa ppl ik have that experience!

and it's not just that. i think... ok, going back to data and spock: again i say they're very "stereotypically autistic" in their mannerisms. yknow how it is. odo doesn't always read so overtly, but there's some habits he has? that i think also apply.

cant remember what episode it was. but it was, ehrm.... he was talking about lying and how he could tell ppl were doing it- and the way he analysed ppl was, like, by cataloguing very specific movements. not emotions or expressions. instead he methodically deconstructed it.

and... with justice. ok. personal fave there bc he does have a fixation on it? and idk- I GET THAT TOO, YAH? unsure if one track minded is the most appropriate term, bc its not like a lack of nuance even if it sometimes feels like tht to ppl... but that kinda thought process.

and just general social mannerisms. some detachment tht i also kinda vibe with. and when lwaxana came onto him and he LITERALLY had no clue what to even do, bc he was so outta his depth like - OKAY, SAME BESTIE? SAME, SAME, SAME... and again these lil bits at the end are all more, like. small lil things that i dont think are indicative full stop but i do find they RESONATE, yknow!!!!!!

SO YEAH LIKE. MY POINT IS. i see where ppl are coming from!! me too<3 i'd like a lil autstic reading of odo 😁

(BUT: as i did briefly say earlier... i am verastile with, like, autistic readings when it comes to inhuman characters. and the same applies to gender/sexuality, actually - although i find it easier to explain why with the latter as thats a lil different for sure. basically im v much of the omg yesss soooo true bestie when it comes to my own projections and most other ppl's but also there are . yknow . sticking points when it comes to using inhuman behaviour as a parallel for autism that makea me go 🤨 which i mention in PASSING bc idk if i can unpack that whole moving van of stuff by myself in a silly little aside but YOU KNOW. just feels like some comment on tht has to be said here since im going on a big long rambley anyways 😁

[curious-menace]

Hey can I get a headcanon of any riddler of your fancy finding his partners hidden treasure trove of sex toy goodies after stooping around their home, probably while they're out and how they'd react?

oh ho! any riddler?! this is a blank check for mayhem! 

i have naughty hands and no self control so ima do all my riddlers hahahah

this is only a lil ns fw so no below the cut this time 

Arkham riddler

oh.

OH.

First response is he goes BRIGHT RED. H-He was looking for something else, like an allen key or a pack of batteries or something! He didn't mean to snoop! He’ll throw all the toys back in the drawer or box and hurry away like nothing happened. he did find batteries but was to embarrassed to use them.

his face is going to be bright red for hours, you’ll easily be able to tell something is up but he wont tell you what.

but that being said, hes not going to be able to stop thinking about them. he feels a little naughty for doing it but hes imagining you using them, on him, on yourself. the idea is filthy to him but very intriguing.

Don't expect him to EVER mention it again but if YOU brought up the idea or told him you had some toys to play with, he’d have a hard time hiding his excitement. He hasn't stopped thinking about them since and he has some IDEAS. 

Blacklight Riddler

oh ho! rubbing his little fingerless gloved hands in glee. treasure trove is the right word to use, all his christmases have come at once when he finds this gold mine. 

He knew you were kinky but he had no idea you were THIS kinky, why would you keep this from him??? 

hes like a child in a candy store. what does this one do??? ohh this one vibrates! ooh a purple and green one, did you get this specially for him?

Don't be surprised if you come home and find him elbow deep in your drawer or box still rummaging and exploring, possibly with condoms scattered around him like confetti and bondage rope around his neck like a scarf. 

He’s going to ask right away to play with some of these. he might even sneak off to use them by himself but he will GLADLY let you do the hard work. 

He’s going to want to go to the sex toy shop with you. can you get some couples toys? will you peg him?? OH! what about some of those cool remote control toys??? he can make some custom ones for you both to use if you want! Man is going to be bouncing off the walls, you're going to need to get him to calm down before you can do anything. he’s enthusiastic to say the least.

BTAS Riddler

oh? what on earth is th-AGH! *flings a wobbly pink dick across the room in a panic*. Que overdramatics . lots of “my eyes are SOILED! MY HANDS WILL NEVER BE CLEAN AGAIN!” 

Will probably screech “WHY DO YOU EVEN HAVE THIS?!” into an empty house.

i think its the shock more than anything. he’s a germaphobe and he wasn't wearing his gloves while he was rummaging and he wasn't expecting to touch something so...intimate with his bare hands. this has ABSOLUTELY been inside you and it feels...off for him to touch it. He hopes to god you are as particular about cleaning these as you are about the rest of your cleaning.

once the initial fright wears off, he probably feels a bit guilty for nosing about. He wasn't looking for your intimates specifically, he was just being inquisitive, maybe looking for birthday or christmas presents. I think like arkham riddler, he’d probably be unable to get the image out of his head. he'd probably have to go back for another look. 

he has to work up the courage to talk about it. he’s probably expecting to get yelled at, he shouldn't have been rummaging through your things in the first place.he doesn't REALLY need to confront you about this. but he’s insecure as all hell and he needs to know, is he not good enough? is he not satisfying you? why do you need these toys if you have him? please be gentle in explaining, whatever your answer is. 

Original riddler

so freaking blase about the whole thing. you could leave them in the fridge or something and he’d be like “hmm, cheese, ham, dildo....hey y/n we’re nearly out of milk!” 

he doesn't exactly want dicks or fleshlights left out around his apartment but he’s not so insecure about you having them. he knows he cant be there for you 24/7. maybe your schedules are conflicting, maybe you just want some quite alone time, he’s not judging, he does it too.

might tease you a little about your taste in toys. like if you have massive dicks he’s going to call you a size queen, regardless of your gender. or if you like weird ones like that windmill oral thing he’s going to call you a kinky lil freak .

i don't think he has any of his own but he’d be quite happy to use yours on you if you wanted.

unlike the others, he probably respects your privacy enough to not go looking for them or even rummaging through your things. but he is childish as all hell. if you left them out in a shared space he’s going to mess around with them, like pretending to give you a neck massage only to bust out a hitachi wand or something.

despite his bravado and not really minding that you have them, his mouth will go a little dry if you bring up the idea of domming him by using them on him . that's....an intriguing idea. 

Telltale riddler 

well. hes not THRILLED about this discovery. But given how often he’s gone, either for work or running from the law, he cant exactly blame you. you have needs he’s clearly not meeting.

he’s pretty tempted to take your batteries away from you for badness. 

he gets a devious idea looking at your toys. He’s offended! how could you replace him with plastic and silicone?! he’s much better than any toy. guess he’ll just have to prove it to you. 

he’ll probably confront you as soon as you get home. something like “been keeping secrets from me?” but like. in a sexy voice, not an angry one. 

He’s obviously a little ticked off but tries to keep it playful. you can definitely expect him to spend the day making it up to you. he’s going to tease you, hes going to ask if you think of him while you use them , maybe even use some of them on you himself but pulling away at the last moment as punishment . if you want relief you’ll have to ask him nicely.

he’d be absolutely speechless if you flipped the script on him. listen he might be 60 but suddenly he’s a teenager again, embarrassed and unable to form coherent sentences in the face of your exuberant confidence. once he gets his footing back however you two are going to be playing hella games. he’s going to want to sext while he’s gone, send you naughty photos and get some back. maybe the toys aren't such a bad thing after all?

Zero year riddler

you’ll for sure know if this riddler has found your stash. you’ll come home and he’ll be drinking out of a dick shaped straw, wearing those dumb penis glasses you see at bachelorette parties. he’ll have decorated with rope or feather boas , taken polaroid photos of him posing with your toys and stuck them to the walls. he’ll have  a smug look on his face but play totally innocent like “something you wanna tell me, y/n?” Shame is not an emotion this riddler is capable of. 

he was looking through your things on purpose because he’s a nosy shit. He likes knowing your secrets to mess with you later. He wished he had a camera to record his reaction upon finding THIS secret.sheer unfiltered joy  .He’s for sure recording your reaction to him putting you on blast so you two can laugh about it later.

 he might feel a LITTLE guilty depending on your reaction. if you react badly or really embarrassed he might feel bad for crossing a line and apologise . He’s still a little shit about it but he’s an apologetic little shit. 

all of these riddlers pretend they're the most confident person in the room but , like the others, if you turn your charm and confidence on him, he’ll crumble like a dry sandcastle. 

He doesn't want to admit he has NO clue what any of these toys do. like why is this one shaped like an egg?...it goes WHERE?!

rare moment of nervousness from him if you ask him to use them on you/ on him. again, he doesn't know what the heck he’s doing with toys but he’ll be damned if he admits that. feel free to mess with him as payback. this is what he gets for running his mouth and poking his nose into other peoples business 

there you go nonnie! i actually got this one out pretty quickly, i wasnt expecting to do it that fast hah. i like doing asks like this, that are a little nsfw but not so much i have to hide them under a read more.

that being said, full nsfw asks are my jam XD

Got something you wana ask me? feel free to send me an ask or a dm! im always game to talk about our favorite curious menace 💚💜

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Eight | Dating Start! (Part 3 of 3)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

Thankful he seems to be taking this just as seriously as you are, you begin with, "Back at that restaurant, you mentioned you could've most likely hurt anyone who passed beyond the Ruins, regardless of who they were, right?" He nods, so you add, "Why did you choose not to hurt Frisk, if that's the case? What…. What stopped you this time around?

"It used to be like that, yeah," he says, blunt. "But I made a promise not to do that not long after I was assigned to the job. Not that I even, well, favour killing innocent people to begin with, but that was the job assigned to me back then."

"And couldn't you have searched for another solution?" You're left in disbelief and think on how closely his words match with the rumours beginning to rise about monsterkind, most of it leaked by people like the man on the bus after your hospitalization -- through clips and videos of your incident at the bus, all of these posted on social media. "Just how many lives did you take before you made that promise?"

Your initial, more tolerant view of Sans diminishes the longer you give thought to that interrogative. 

Monsters were said to be merciful and kind, yet the first rumour you unmasked as true since that day at the restaurant was that of Asgore having ordered to kill seven humans for their souls?

"You-" you stutter, ire clouding both coherent thinking and structure alike. "You're just another hypocrite, aren't you?"

You peer down at him, his shorter height helping you maintain authority from within. 

"Frisk talks all about how kind, nice, and friendly you monsters supposedly are, but in the end, you- you've spilled just as much as blood as any other human being." Your voice breaks, the thought of Frisk passing away in the hands of a monster sending further ire down your body. "Frisk could've died in the hands of people like you, so I have no right to listen to how you deserve seeing them again, let alone a goat lady who claims she sees them as her child instead of mine." The thought of Sans being more guilty of a person than you once thought crumbles whatever kind view you had since meeting him. "I… I refuse to let Frisk see any of your kind again!"

A near foreign expression reaches his face just then -- almost hurt weren't you so used to him being all chill and unbothered a solid ninety-nine point nine percent of the times you've been around him. You refuse to believe he's been hurt by your words, though that changes when you see him recover from that expression once you don't show any signs of backing away from what you said. His irises turn dim, though he tries to recover with a soft breath out.

"And then... That's it?" he asks, masking whatever emotion he was feeling just a second ago. "So even those who haven't done anything bad get repercussions for it?" The patience in his tone snaps, though his expression remains the same, mellow and waiting for you to regain some calm yourself. "Humans have done more harm than we ever have. Asgore did that just so we could be set free."

"And you think that makes you guys doing it justifiable? Maybe six deaths seems trifling over your freedom, but did you consider those people before ending their lives?" You're quite frankly pissed now, incapable over -- and unwilling of -- hearing him speak without wanting to snap at him with every response he gives you. "Did they willingly sacrifice themselves for your kinds' freedom, or did Frisk have to fall down here and make you understand none of this was ever okay?"

The monster tries to reach a hand out for you, yet you avoid him, only realizing why he does that when you trip, hitting the edge of the river. He grabs your arm to make up for it, though you prove to be too heavy for him, sending you both to the water. A loud splash accompanies your fall, yet the strangeness of not feeling wet prompts you to open your eyes then, these having instinctively closed the second you tripped. Limbs left uncovered sting with the strength of the fall rather than over water splashing you, and that observation finally makes you look around to witness a thin veil of blue magic keeping you from falling into the water.

"I get that, as a parent, you're overreacting right now, but I'll stand by what Frisk's said about you and what I've learned about you since we've met." A beat of silence passes as he waits for you to calm down. "I know you're still a patient person underneath all that you're pullin' off on me."

"All that what, exactly?" you ask, a glare returning to your face. "And you think I'm overreacting? Didn't you hear what I said?"

"I heard you, and I know my kind's gonna pay for the damage they caused to other people." You try not to wiggle away and stay under him with how fragile his magic seems, so you're forced to look up at him as he stays hoisted over you. His hands are kept suspending the faint, magic veil, preventing the two of you from falling into the water. "If it makes ya feel any better, I'll let you in on a weakness I've got." 

He sits up on the veil and takes your arm again, trying to sit you down with him. You resist, waiting until he stands up and walks back to firm land for you to do the same. 

"My magic relies on Karma, meaning I couldn't possibly do you nor your kid any damage, if I even tried."

With him sounding so tired now, you can't decipher much over his change in tone. He has his back turned to you all the while, though his magic remains underneath you, still keeping you from falling into the water. His hands slip into his pockets and his veil disappears only after you climb out of it and make it back to stable ground. 

"If nobody does any damage, then nobody gets hurt. Simple as that. Your kid didn't hurt a fly goin' through the Underground, so even if I would've attempted to hurt them in any way, it wouldn't've had any effect."

You find it hard to believe him, yet follow along for the moment, eager to see where this would lead on to. "...So that means it doesn't work the same for all monsters?" You pause, considering his words and the abilities his younger brother had shown when play-fighting with Frisk the last time you picked them up at Toriel's home -- the day Frisk managed to convince you over continuing to be tutored by both Toriel and Sans alike. Thinking back on that day also brings back the memory of the gift Sans had given you, though you brush it off as quick as it comes to avoid being influenced by any of it.

Clearly, Papyrus was capable of attacking no matter what the circumstances were if he could use his magic to simply play around with Frisk, but then what about him?

What made Sans the exception?

"What are you supposed to be, then?"

"That's a bit of a rude question, don't ya think?" He turns back to you, an amused glint present in his gaze and grin. "No offense, pal, but I'm tryna be patient with ya here. And you're makin' it hard by being so stubborn." He chuckles, winking at you. "Though I guess that makes sense, considerin' how determined Frisk is. Like parent like child, huh?" His gaze lingers on yours as he says that. "We'll hafta go to Hotland now to make that fiery attitude and hotness of yours match with the climate."

"...Did you just wink at me?" You tense up, the lilt you catch in his words worsening your assumptions over that action. 

Of course, you'd seen Sans do that countless times before -- regardless of family, friend, or even yourself at certain times -- but his current tone and the subtle and upward, goofy curve to his grin makes it feel as if he's far from being friendly about it. "Oh, God. Are you hitting on me for real now, Serif?"

Finally, for what once seemed like a skeleton too laid-back for his own good, he shows shock through the tense of a smile and the flicker of his irises. His posture turns awkward and confidence vanishes from it, only masked surprise remaining. 

"...What?" That's the only thing he manages to say, gaze landing on your hand, a ring found on it. "Whoa, whoa, whoa there, pal," he blurts out, a chuckle bursting through, more nervous than humoured in comparison to past times. "Don't, uh, jump to conclusions so fast. I know Jerry's not in the picture anymore, and I dunno if you're seeing someone else right now, but..." He falls flat on his words, a hand going to the back of his skull, scratching it as a befuddled look overcomes him. "Are you? 'Cause ya found me out, if ya really did think I was flirtin' for real now."

"I'm not seeing anyone," you reply, letting out a sigh as you bring a hand to your nose, massaging the bridge in search of calm. "But what made you think it was okay to try and flirt with me now of all times, if I'm here barking at you like this? Sucking up to me won't erase my anger." You let go of your nose, forehead creasing as you take a quick breath in and chest tightening when you try to let your pride and grudges go, needing more humility for your next statement. "I'm eternally grateful your kind looked after Frisk while I wasn't there, but I just... I simply can't let things like what Asgore ordered to be done to my kind or even what Alphys supposedly did to her own kind slip by. I know I'm still only just figuring stuff out, but if these rumours have some truth in them, I… I don't think I'll be able to let this go so easily."

"So you acknowledge you're overreactin' a lil'?"

"I'm not. I'm simply calling your kind out on their hypocrisy." 

Sans returns his hand back against his neck and stretches it; how restless he looks makes you believe he's close to running out of ways over getting back into good terms with you.

When he lets go and huffs, patience returns, though not nearly at the same level as when he first approached you about the subject. "Even so, I... I'd say you're still overthinkin' some stuff up. Tori didn't even say she wanted to keep Frisk's custody all for herself. She just wants to see the kid every once in a while -- like she's doin' right now."

Notwithstanding, you place your hands on your hips and refuse to let your scowl fall, your display of gratitude from earlier ago seemingly nowhere present anymore. "Say what you want, but I still think it's ridiculous I have to let this matter go just like that."

He rests his back against a nearby, rocky wall, gaze facing down and focusing on a puddle. "Have it your way, then. I still think Frisk should decide if they want to see us or not again. 'Cause at the end of it all, they proved themselves capable enough to free us from the Underground all by themselves, and that's enough for me to give them merit over their capabilities for a lifetime."

You don't say anything back and lay against the rock next to him, eyes landing on the waterfall and the river bubbling with its force.

While you knew it was unreasonable to prevent Frisk from seeing every monster around rather than a few of them, you refuse to give in anymore. Pride over being right in your judgement drowns every other sense of amiability. You had to stand your ground now that you'd gone this far; backing away would only show your weakness.

Silence keeps itself between you for some time, broken by him not long after your mind comes up with the idea of exploring the Underground on your own. Having him show you around didn't seem so fitting anymore. "So... You're really not seeing anyone else? But then why the ring?"

His question takes you off guard, until you think back as far as three whole years ago, back when Frisk was still a toddler. They'd used two quarters to buy you a faux silver ring rather than the bubblegum they mentioned they wanted to try out; they gave it to you with as much pride as they did when telling you about a good grade or deed, and to quote, "It's to replace the one you had before!" -- 'one' referring to the one you stored away for emergency funds not long after ending things with Jerry. To this day, it's still right where you hid it -- and thankfully so. You hoped then and even now you still hope over never having to sell that ring away for funds; not because of any emotional attachment whatsoever, but due to you wanting to strive your best in order for Frisk to live a good life.

It's almost a vital part of you now, and -- hadn't Sans asked you about it -- you wouldn't've acknowledged it to such an extent.

You quirk a brow as you give thought to his question -- sounding genuine despite how blatant it is -- and find it difficult to answer despite how long it's been. Caught on a weak spot, you cross your arms and look away the second you meet with his irises, beyond embarrassed. "Frisk, um... Frisk gave it to me as a gift -- some time after my divorce."

"Ah." It's almost as if you can feel when his posture tenses again, a strain present in that sole sound he lets out. "Sorry 'bout asking."

Again, he sounds earnest, though you're not about to befriend your antagonist. "It's alright. But please don't try to flirt my anger away ever again."

A more brazen look takes him over, and you can only brace yourself for whatever he plans to say next, his intent on pissing you off clearly set on high. You engage in a staring contest as you wait, arms now crossed in a more defiant manner -- firm over your chest. If the monster said you were stubborn, by the Sky above, you would stay true to it. If he was set on teasing you to such an extent, you would do the same, multiplied by ten. An easy fight was in no way an honourable one.

"Enemies to lovers is a thing, though."

"Only in low-quality romcoms."

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@the-simp-express

@nektotersh

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[ofwolvesandbutterflies]

like that

Pairing: Mark Lee x Reader

Genre: humor, fluff

Tags: roommate!mark, fakedate!mark

Warnings: none 

day 19 of 30 days with NCT

Synopsis: in which mark lee is the superman you never thought you needed

// how can i resist when you look at me like that? // (x)

--

[18:15]

“So… you’re saying your family has been bugging you about bringing home a man ever since you broke up with that one engineering major a few years ago?” There was something so agitating to you about the calm way your roommate spoke, rolling the words over in his mouth a few times before they actually fell in a slow drawl from his lips. Auburn hair pulled out of his cocoa colored eyes with an old snapback, bottom lip caught between his teeth, and a playful smirk tugging the edge of his lips… Mark really was the perfect choice for a fake boyfriend. Not that you’d ever admit it to his face. 

His eyes fell back down to the screen of his phone and he let out a long exhale, knowing full well you were stewing in nerves beside him. “Hmm… And you don’t want them to bother you about it again this time, so you want me to be your plus one for your cousin’s wedding? In two days?” 

“Y-yep,” you stuttered, avoiding his teasing gaze. Toying with the edge of your shirt, you ignored the way he leaned closer, slipping his phone into his sweatpants pocket to give you his full attention. A large, large part of you wanted him to say yes because he was… Mark was everything your family could ever want in a guy for you. You didn’t blame them, after all, he was everything you could ever want for yourself. 

“And I completely understand if you don’t want to,” you continued, motioning frantically about you to emphasize whatever the point was that you were trying to get across. “That was a lot to spring on you when it’s in a couple days. I just- you’re like the ideal guy. My parents would love you. You-you’re smart. You’re respectful an-and polite and pretty damn good looking- I mean-I…yeah. I-I’ll pay for your rental suit if you come?”

The remainder of your words trailed off as the weight of what you had just said hit you like a ton of bricks. Burying your face in your hands, you groaned. Loudly. Great, Y/N. Way to sound like a sad, single, desperate old lady. The good natured chuckle coming from your roommate didn’t do anything to assure you either. It wasn’t as if this was the only favor you had ever had to ask of him, and it wasn’t as if you liked him like that. No. You didn’t like him at all. Your heart never ever sped up when he hugged you or looked at you with that adorable half smile. You never found yourself daydreaming about those silly things, like his laugh or the way his brows furrowed when he was concentrated… more than way really necessary anyway. 

“What would you like, Y/N?” His voice was soft, reassuring in a way that didn’t quite match the mischievous smirk on his face mere seconds ago. With a sigh, you peeled your hands away from your eyes, a squeal jumping to your throat when you saw just how close Mark was to you. 

“I-...” Somehow, all coherent thoughts vanished from your mind, leaving you to stare, lips parted, at the brown haired male gazing just as intently at you. Your eyes made quick work tracing every detail of his cherubic features. From the slope of his forehead to the shape of his eyebrows, the angles of his cheekbones and the gentle curve of his smile. It took all your might to tear your eyes away from his. When you spoke finally, there was a timid tinge to your words. “I’d like you to come.” 

Although the silence between the two of you had never before been awkward, the weight of this unnatural quiet set a deep tension in your bones. 

“Sweet. That’s that, then.” He stood suddenly, reaching up to stretch his arms above his head. In a flash, he turned, heading towards his room without any explanation.

“Wait- what?” You scrambled up after him. “Mark, wha-where are you going? Was that a yes?” 

“To my room, dummy.” Mark paused, waiting by his door for you to catch up. A hesitant glance towards his unkempt living quarters had him rolling his eyes, smile still very much present on his lips. “Come help me choose a suit.”

“No way- are you serious?! You-you’re coming? And you already have suits?” The excitement in your voice rose to a squeal and relief flooded your body. Within mere moments, your arms had found their way around his neck, pulling him down to an overjoyed embrace. “Thank you so much!” 

If only you had pulled away to see the light dusting of crimson settling in on his cheeks, if only you had stopped your mantra of ‘thank you’s’, if only you had stopped in your jumping up and down to get a good look at him… You would have felt the presence of his arms resting around your body. You would have seen the longing in his eyes when you stumbled towards your room to retrieve the cute dress you had chosen in the hopes he’d agree. You would have heard the mumbled, “how can I resist when you look at me like that.” 

Mere days ago, you were beyond nervous. The idea of going to a wedding with a plus one - and a fake one at that - sent your mind reeling. Even just going through Mark’s closet with him, watching with pink cheeks as he modeled suit after suit for you had your stomach chock full of butterflies in no time. But now that the suit had been chosen, now that you had seen the look of pleasant surprise on your mother’s face, now that you had introduced him to each and every one of your extended family members…  it was already half-way through the reception and the flipping and twisting within you still had yet to calm down. 

Perhaps alcohol would help. The two of your had planned on calling an uber anyways. But here you were, leaning lazily against the bar, fighting to push the sound of trashy music out of your mind. Why would that play Lil Mosey at a wedding? 

“Hey there, stranger.” Fingers danced along the line of your waist, running up and down the seam of your moderately slinky dress. A familiar warmth settled over your body when Mark’s voice sounded low by your ear, husky from the few sips of champagne he’d just had. “You look a bit lonely.” 

The sweet sound of your giggles sent a rush of heat to his cheeks within seconds. “No,” you murmured, spinning around in his arms to rest your hands on the lapels of his suit jacket. “Not lonely. Just a little disappointed.” 

They say drunk words speak a sober mind and immediately, Mark’s grin faded. From your waist he took one arm, reaching up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Why disappointed, darling?” A wistful sigh left your lips as your hazy eyes gazed adoringly up into his. ‘Darling’ sounded heavenly coming from his lips. All the breath escaped his lungs when you pouted, resting your cheek against his hand that had yet to leave your skin. Mark really would be the best boyfriend.

“You haven’t asked me to dance, yet.”

“Oh, was that all?” When you nodded, the smile returned to his lips within less than a second and he bent down to press a light kiss to your forehead. “Then, Y/N... My dear roommate. My lovely date, my beautiful fake girlfriend... Would you like to dance?” 

And the moment the ‘yes’ left your lips, he gathered you up into his arms and swept you off to the dance floor. 

-

continued in like that | ii