#threshold fic

[fushiglow]

For Satoru:

I've been such a huge fan of yours since your first album 😍😍 (remembering the twt trenches when you first birthed the term SWEETIES 😇) it's been so nice to see you slide so easily up the ranks in popularity throughout the years. I'm waiting for the Western music industry to take notice so you can do more international tours near me 😍😍😍😍😍😍

My question is: how do you stay so positive even when you're so far from your family? Normal idols at least have the other members to keep them company, but you've been paving the way all on your own! How do you do it with that perfect smile on your face?

💋💋💋💋

Aw, you think my smile is perfect? Thanks, my company paid for it!

—

'Ask Satoru' your own question or find out more.

[shanathegeekyartist]

When i first read this amazing fic on ao3 “over the treshold” by @fushiglow i immediately knew i wanted to at least draw this scene and one other scene that i will do later on

I hold this fic dear to my heart now and can’t wait to read the next chapters. Fushiglow, i hope you like my interpretation of this scene.

Went for greyscale in this cause I feel it fits the vibe well.

Here is briefly what the fic is about if you are interested in modern AU slowburn satosugu fics

“larger than life K-pop idol, Satoru, approaches introverted record producer, Getō Suguru, to collaborate on his debut Japanese-language studio album. They both get more out of the experience than expected — for better and for worse.”

[fushiglow]

IMPORTANT. I cannot stress how much this is Over the Threshold Satoru.

So, this song is much more interesting than it perhaps seems to the untrained ear. I literally had the chapter one Suguru experience watching this for the first time. That "Yeah, this is fine... Wait—" moment that makes him sit up and pay attention? That was me when this came on shuffle earlier. And when I watched the video? Literally felt my brain chemistry change in real time.

Here's how I described Satoru's music from Suguru's POV the first time he hears it:

Even through the tinny phone speakers, it was clear that Satoru had some pipes on him. The song was formulaic; but that didn’t mean it was bad. Suguru could appreciate the deceptive simplicity of a catchy pop song and, beneath the glossy veneer, there was a well written piece of music. He’d have to listen through his studio headphones to be sure, but he thought that if he stripped away the aggressive synths and over-processed backing vocals, he could detect a piano riffing extended chords in syncopated rhythms.

No piano, but literally everything else is there. First, some small things. The production is constantly evolving in fairly unnoticeable ways, just listen to the first post-chorus compared to the last one. Tons of blink and you miss it sparkles that elevate the song from good production to great production. The vocal range on display, both in terms of technique and the actual chromatic range, is really impressive, but mostly in the background, hidden behind all the gloss.

There are some really unexpected melodic choices in the pre-chorus that hit SO good, but apart from that little a cappella section at the start of the second refrain, the actual chorus is par for the course...

...or is it?

The song bounces on that Eb in the bass throughout most of its run time, giving the sense of a strong harmonic centre which puts your average listener at ease. "Don't worry, this is familiar to you, nothing amiss!" Yet, the repeated note he sings over it in the chorus is the NINTH of the chord! It's unstable! It's bluesy! The focal point of the song is built on a dissonance! And he just hammers away at it without reprieve!

Satoru had a real talent for making complex harmony palatable for the mass market. [...] He sought out ugliness in his lyrics, in his composition, in his performance — and somehow he made it work.

However, the true beauty of this dissonant yet contained chorus is the opportunity it creates for what comes afterwards. From the opening of Over the Threshold, and the foundation of the themes of the story:

Limiting is an aggressive form of compression, primarily due to its very high ratio — typically ∞:1. A limiter with an infinite ratio (a ‘brick-wall’ limiter) prevents anything from passing a set threshold, cutting rather than smoothing peaks to prevent unpleasant clipping. It is often applied in the final stages of mastering to make a track more ‘palatable’ for the commercial market.

The fact that the chorus limits (ey!) itself melodically and harmonically (and production/arrangement wise) is what makes the post chorus feel like a breakaway — like it escapes the bounds of the rest of the song. Suddenly, everything grows outwards. We're plunged into this rich sonic landscape where the bass starts moving and the main vocal line starts climbing and the harmony is fleshed out with new instruments. The whole song is given life for a moment—

When confined to such tight restraints, straining against them was natural. Pushing boundaries, testing limits, rattling your chains to see what you could get away with.

—before dropping back into place as a fun little pop song. Nothing to see here, move along.

I haven't detailed everything (even the structure is unusual!), but enough to describe how the entire track flirts with breaking the rules, straying outside of its commercial boundaries here and there, but it ultimately dances right on that line.

This is exactly how I wrote Satoru in Over the Threshold, because this is the music industry version of the strongest sorcerer keeping himself on a leash insofar as he has to, and it's a relatable concept to any trained musician trying to get along in a pop market. The most successful artists are the ones who understand and apply this lesson — but are the most successful artists the most satisfied artists?

And we haven't even got to the video! Honestly, this man has got it all. This is a star. The casual swagger, the confidence, the artistic flair, all on top of a brilliant song. But the dancing! As @bearhaviour put it (we're being so incredibly normal about this), "the dance is so nonchalant when it counts and so sharp when it counts". Just watch.

Effortless star power. Satoru.

*drops mic and dies*

[fushiglow]

I'm back baby >:3

For Satoru: what was it like doing pair/collaborative choreography on stage for Sugar?

It makes a nice change from dancing alone! I mean, yeah, I always have my dancers around me, but it's different when you're actually moving with someone, you know? It isn't just going through the motions. You're taking the lead or following theirs, feeling the push and pull in the places your bodies are connected, setting a rhythm together.

It's a lot more fun when you're doing it with someone else. And it turns out Utahime [Satoru's performance director] is surprisingly good at partner choreo!

—

'Ask Satoru' your own question or find out more.

[generic-sonic-fan]

I'm not really a believer in "OOC".

Rather, it's a challenge to persuade me to your idea of a character/relationship. Some ideas only take a short-form post for me to be like "yeah they'd do that!". Others require a 3,000+ word fic. Others still require a solid 100,000+ words, but those are usually the ones that change my entire brain chemistry along with it.

[fushiglow]

FOR ME?? CAN YOU BELIEVE???

i wish you guys knew just how much @kymsys has spoiled me over the last month, i can't scream my love loud enough 🥺 kim provides endless inspiration and constantly hypes me up with amazing art, so anyone who enjoys over the threshold is at least partly indebted to kim's beautiful brain!!

i love you, kim ♥️ i'm forever thankful for our serendipitous meeting, brought together by a shared unhealthy interest in these dorks ♥️

(but seriously, i'm so glad we met 🫶)

FOR @fushiglow ♥ not me imagening stsg from their fic 😩pls go read it !!

shop.

[marimbles]

It seems to be pretty well established that most fanfic authors don’t mind when readers leave comments on old fics and in fact welcome it. But what about authors replying to old comments?

Do readers care in general whether an author replies? Is it expected and seen as rude if they don’t? Is it nice when they do but not expected? Is there a time limit to the welcomeness of replies? Like is it nice if they respond within a few weeks but if it’s been months or years it feels awkward because you don’t remember the fic anymore? I’m curious!

[fushiglow]

Introducing: Ask Satoru 🎤

Got a burning question you'd like to ask idol Satoru from Over the Threshold? Now's your chance!

To coincide with the release of chapter 12, I'm pleased to announce that Satoru is now taking questions via my ask box! Query to your heart's content, but bear in mind that Satoru's team won't take any questions that are likely to outright threaten his career — so word them carefully!

Thank you to @hugbin for the idea and to @bearhaviour for the adorable chibi Satoru! Cutest thing I've ever seen and far beyond my expectations when I asked about a chibi idol Gojō — bear spoils me to death ♥️

P.S. Please make it clear that your question is for Satoru so I can distinguish it from regular asks. Thank you!

[massivelyanerd]

Threshold

Tetaaa

The gojitos were made by @bearhaviour

[forfuckssakejim]

In honor of threshold day; have some ramblings I wrote yesterday about me finally getting an idea on what to name the salamander triplets

[bumblingbabooshka]

Happy Birthday to the Threshold Ba- Wait... [Patreon | Commissions]

[pureanonofficial]

I know Threshold Day is all for fun and memes, and I truly adore that, and I love engaging with it! But I also love fanwork that takes it seriously, and my favorite example of that is there is water (at the bottom of the ocean) by @cicaklah on ao3. It's a beautiful, wonderfully written character study from the pov of Tom Paris in the wake of Threshold. It deals with the strangeness of being crammed back into a human shell after having seen EVERYTHING--of being undeniably connected with the one person to have shared that with you. It's just lovely.

My favorite quote from it is--

He’s the only being in history to have occupied every space simultaneously in the entire universe twice, and everyone is fixating on that he fell for the one person who knows what that feels like? Surely the gods fall for each other all the time. It can’t be that strange, if you think about it for a fucking minute.

I definitely rec giving it a read this Threshold Day!

[fushiglow]

Kou just saved my day 🥹

Look at him. Look at him. This is a public declaration of my love for Kou who has been spoiling me half to death with art of my precious babies from the big precious baby that is Over the Threshold over the last couple of days. And now this?

I'm holding him so close to my heart. I love you, kou ♥ Thanks for feeding my brain these last few days! I'll feed it all back to the baby, I swear!

Fancam at Seoul Olympic Stadium.

I haven't moved on. I don't want to. Still here.

[baylardian-1]

bunch of threshold au pen doodles im scrapping :)

[alectoperdita]

A little late for WIP Wednesday but what is time but an illusion?

Anyway I began messing around with a possible third chapter for Meeting upon the threshold since I was talking about where Kaiba goes from there and ended up with this. Not sure if I'm gonna keep it or what.

Some smut under the cut but it's pretty mild.

---

Plumes of smoke curled toward the heavens, ethereal hands grasping and plucking at the stars in the night sky. They wreathed a head of canary yellow, a lover's fingers combing through the mussed strands.

Kaiba was not this man's lover. He was most definitely not his friend. If they were lucky, they'd be no more than ships passing in the night.

Yet when the thin sheet draped across Jounouchi's shoulders slipped, unveiling tan skin sheened by moonlight and freckled with constellations, Kaiba fitted himself against the broad back and clasped the nape of his neck. Beneath his palm, skin contracted, muscles flexed as Jounouchi inhaled, then exhaled more smoke.

Up close, the acrid smell slithered up Kaiba's nostrils and settled in his sinuses. His discarded clothes already stank of smoke and charcoal. The last thing he needed was to take more reminders of Jounouchi with him when he left.

"Smoking's a disgusting habit. Good manners dictate you shouldn't do it around guests." Instinctively, his hand squeezed. Not enough to hurt, but it made its presence known.

Craning his head back to meet Kaiba's eye, Jounouchi took another hit, cheeks hollowing. His eyes glittered bright with a challenge in the darkness. "Bite me. You ain't no guest of mine. I didn't invite you to come in."

But Jounouchi had. He was the one who suggested they went upstairs. He was the one who went down and sucked Kaiba's cock without prompting. Much as he currently suckled on his cancer stick.

Kaiba opened his mouth to argue but found himself sinking his teeth into Jounouchi's trembling shoulder instead. For a beat, salt was what he tasted. If he bit harder, he was sure he'd draw out an iron flavor, much like the chicken hearts Jounouchi served to him downstairs.

The rest of him sank into Jounouchi, too, hard cock buried inside his tight heat once more. No condom, merely skin against skin. Kaiba's claws dug into the windowsill for leverage, while Jounouchi's nails scored the back of his hand.

Jounouchi's head lolled forward, a pretty crown of teeth mark astride his shoulder and half-hanging out the open window overlooking the sleepy street below, as Kaiba thrust. When he moaned, low and quiet, he expelled puffs of smoke from his flared nostrils, his open mouth as if he nursed a live furnace inside himself.

With a firm yank, he pulled Jounouchi's head backwards and claimed his mouth. Kaiba would draw out the fire from his ribcage and swallow it. Devour it. Let it light and fuel the cold, neglected hearth within his chest.

"Kaiba," Jounouchi gasped, arching into him.

The blanket fell away completely. Their bare skin pressed together, dotted with sweat. Funny, Kaiba didn't remember taking off the rest of his clothing. He didn't remember Jounouchi getting naked enough in the first place to warrant the modesty afforded by that thin blanket.

Moonlight cascaded over the sinuous curve of Jounouchi's puffed out chest, highlighting his stiff brown nipples. Silver pulsed between his breastbones as if some holy inner light leaked from him. But it was merely Jounouchi's necklace catching the light.

For a heart-stopping moment, he mistook it for a ring, another man's gift of devotion. But the metallic clink sounded cheap. They were Jounouchi's dog tags, the same ratty ones he wore through high school, beating against his chest.

Kaiba fucked him harder. Faster.

Time moved, inextricable, skipping and stopping between each stutter of their hips, each hitch of their breaths.

The night stretched on. It seemed the sun would never rise, so their ships would stay moored to each other's shores. Rocking, swaying in an isolated sea of pleasure.

Maybe Kaiba didn't have to leave. What world existed beyond the warmth of Jounouchi's body and his breathless gasps of ecstasy? They could be a dimension onto themselves, cut off from the rest.

"I'm close. I'm coming," moaned Jounouchi.

Kaiba grunted and closed his hand around Jounouchi's heavy erection. It jumped. Jounouchi clenched so tight, wetting Kaiba's palm with his release. He stroked him through the orgasm, which felt as drawn as long as the neverending night, and at the end of it, Kaiba was there with him, spilling deep into his pliant body.

But the night was over. The scent and weight of Jounouchi faded from his arms, a ghost banished by the sobering day. Kaiba lied alone in his bed in his mansion, curtains drawn and half-erect in his sleeping pants. He resisted the urge to drag a hand over his haggard face or pull the covers over his head. He most definitely wasn't going to touch himself.

Today marked the third day since his ill-advised tryst with Jounouchi Katsuya in his sad, thin futon in his shabby, tiny apartment.

Of course, Kaiba hadn't been back to see him since. Why would he? The experiment was already proven a failure. No matter what his unconscious mind may dream of.

(Jounouchi had, thankfully, not hounded him either.)

Right?

Right.

Just two ships passing in the night. Nothing more.

[fushiglow]

Question for Satoru: What is your most cherished musical memory before stardom?

Jesus, SWEETIEs are relentless.

My most cherished musical memory? Uhhh, I don't know, that's... There's a lot. Maybe it's—no, no, no, let me think about it.

Man, I don't know. Probably my first piano recital. My mom and dad came to watch me play.

—

'Ask Satoru' your own question or find out more.