#ty again to friends' very specific tags that inspired this

[hanseelie]

drew this to help me survive 24 hr patch day 💃

[wheeboo]

tell me that you love me | joshua hong {part one}

SYNOPSIS. in which you and joshua are simply different in more ways than one, yet only seem to find a common ground in struggling to chase your dreams. so why does life keep throwing you two at each other, despite your different worlds, and why does it feel so terrifyingly right? PAIRING. musician!joshua hong x deaf-artist!reader (ft. cafe owner!jeonghan, musician!seokmin, best friend!seungkwan, best friend!wheein, producer!jihoon) GENRE. fluff, slice of life, kdrama romance-esque, mild angst, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn WARNINGS/TAGS. cursing, shua and reader has some self-doubt issues :(, someone makes insensitive comments about reader, mention of alcohol (beer), mention of cigarettes, everyone ships them, kissing, terms of endearment, Softie Domestic Joshua™, it conveniently rains when they're together, this is 85% fluff and 15% plot and the brainrot was giving me an existential crisis, honestly there's not much warnings it's just a love story <3 WORD COUNT (FOR PART ONE). 20k WORD COUNT (FOR FULL FIC). 37k

notes: after 7 months (minus the 2 months i lowkey abandoned this oop), it's done! this fic could have honestly been 20k words, but the brainrot refused to do so. inspired from the kdrama of the same name and the jdrama Aishiteiru to Itte Kure. any uses/descriptions of sign language (ASL) throughout the story is researched! expressing my love to all my mooties who suffered listening to me talk abt this fic. i hope this fic being long doesn't bore you all to death <3 funny enough, this was also supposed to be a very very very belated bday fic to @slytherinshua LMFAO. ty to @bananabubble for also helping me a lot with this fic too!

part one | part two

“Okay, so to recap: the espresso machines are on the right side of the counter, just next to the pastry display. You'll get familiar with them really easily. The barista station is behind them, where all the little doohickeys are, yaddi-yaddi-yadda…”

“Aren't you supposed to be teaching me where everything is?” Joshua asks in slight annoyance after securing the apron around his waist.

Jeonghan just chugs a wet, dripping rag in his direction, narrowly missing Joshua's head and landing with a damp plop on the counter. Then he wipes his hands on his apron, shooting a small wink at the other man. “Patience, grasshopper.”

“Why did you decide to hire me again?”

“So I can finally kick you out of my apartment," Jeonghan answers, a playful bite to his voice, and Joshua only rolls his own eyes. “in a non-violent way, of course.”

“You're actually an imbecile, Yoon Jeonghan.”

“Oh, but you love me.” Jeonghan smirks, plucking the wet rag from the counter and shoving it in Joshua's hand. “Chop-chop, grasshopper, you got a whole day ahead of you.”

Joshua Hong was never one to detest helping out a friend𑁋his best friend, to be specific. He knew Jeonghan was doing this in order to help him out as he had been living under the man's roof for the past two years, with the promise of finding a new place testing his patience. Even with his nightly gigs at the busking centre in the middle of town, having a day job to earn some extra money seemed like a very good idea. 

But he seriously doesn't understand how Jeonghan managed to open up his own café in the first place. It's remarkable, actually.

The day is surprisingly slow. Even with the café being in the mere heart of the city and amidst the morning and afternoon rush, barely any pastries were taken from the display. The only sounds come from the rhythmic ticking of the antique clock on the wall, and the obnoxious screech of the stool that Jeonghan sits on not that far away.

However after some time, the familiar, soft chime of the door echoes throughout the café, announcing the arrival of a customer. Joshua finds his head immediately snapping up after fumbling with the frother, a welcoming smile dawning across his face as he smooths his apron and takes his place at the register. 

The figure in front of him is momentarily enveloped by the sunlight that seeps through the large window panes. He waits for them to step fully into the warm glow of the café, his eyes drawn to the way they hold themselves𑁋shoulders slightly hunched, hands tucked deep within the pockets of a lightweight jacket, and seemingly a book tucked under their shoulders. Their steps are slow, soft even as they approach the counter, and a smile, gentle and hesitant, plays on their lips.

“Hi, welcome in," Joshua greets politely. “What can I get for you today?”

You find yourself gazing at the unfamiliar barista in front of you with meticulous curiosity, before letting your eyes drift to the nametag on his shirt: Joshua. His eyes immediately dart down to your hands that you lifted up on instinct, then hesitation gnaws at you, and suddenly you drop your hands back to your sides again.

“Our menu is up here.” Joshua motions above his head. “and our pastries are over here, if you would like to take a look.”

You wave your hand dismissively, then fumble for your phone, showing him an order written on the screen.

hot vanilla latte - extra foam - name is y/n

“Hot vanilla latte, extra foam?” Joshua repeats, confirming the order with a friendly smile, and the response he gets is a pair of thumbs-up. “And the name is... Y/N?”

Your face lights up, feeling some heat threaten up your neck as you offer a small nod to confirm.

There's something endearing that blooms in Joshua's chest as he punches the order down on the register. The moment is stretched with long silence before he watches as you quickly turn around to head to the outdoor sitting of the café. He sees you place yourself down at one of the seats, back turned towards him, and all he could do is let his eyes linger for a beat longer before realising that he actually has to make your order.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the air as he sets to work. He fumbles slightly, steaming the milk for your latte and carefully (and clumsily) creating a cloud of airy foam.

When he places the mug on the counter, his eyes drift back to where you sat outside, the slight breeze and midday sun casting down on the patio. He notices that you're hunched over, seemingly concentrating on something, and he can't help but wonder what occupies your thoughts. With the latte in hand, he heads towards the door, the bell above the door softly chiming. 

The sun paints the city in dappled gold, and a light breeze sways through the air and catches a strand of your hair that floats like a wisp. It's a picture-perfect scene, and Joshua thinks you fit right into it, all while hunched over a small sketchbook and pencil in your hand flying across the page.

He hesitates right behind you, unsure how to get your attention without startling you. Every option that he mulls over seems intrusive and jarring.

In the end, Joshua decides on a gentle tap on your shoulder. As his fingers make contact with your shoulder, a sudden jolt runs through your body, and you visibly startle, your hand flinching involuntarily and coming in contact with the mug in Joshua's hand.

The glass mug slips from Joshua's grasp, crashing down to the floor in thousands of tiny shards. Hot coffee splashes, hitting the skin of both of your hands and splattering on your sketchbook. Gasps fly from both your lips, echoing throughout the quiet patio. You wince in your seat, nearly causing you to stumble off but you manage to catch yourself.

For a long moment, Joshua could only find himself frozen, yet when he notices the pained look on your face, he instinctively reaches out, grabbing your hand without thinking. Your fingers curl around his in a startled reflex, your skin warm against his own. He cradles your hand in his, pressing his palm against your skin, as if trying to shield you from the worst of the heat and the glass scattered around the two of you.

Adrenaline courses through him as he pulls your hand back, examining it frantically. A thin red line crosses near your thumb, a tiny bead of blood sprouting at its edge. Panic claws at his throat, but he forces himself to stay calm. You're watching him, eyes wide with a mix of shock and pain, and he sees his own fear reflected in your pupils.

“Crap, I-I'm so sorry!” he blurts out, voice rough with regret. “Are you okay? I shouldn't have... I should have been more careful…”

You watch as Joshua's eyes scan your hand, the features of his face noticeably soft and etched with concern. The warmth of his hand cradling yours sends a jolt through you, something unfamiliar yet strangely comforting.

When you look back up at him, he asks if you're okay again, your gaze focusing in on his lips then back up at his eyes. You can tell he's worried𑁋he even seems breathless from all the panic too. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you silently answer with a nod.

The air seems to thicken with awkwardness. Joshua's gaze lingers down on your hand cradled in his trembling ones, the sight of a tiny cut on the flesh between your thumb and index finger sending a fresh wave of shame to come crashing down on him.

When you both lock eyes once again, you feel a flutter in your stomach. Then Joshua clears his throat, a million apologies tumbling over each other in his mind.

“I, uh…” he begins, then stops, unsure how to proceed. “Does it hurt a lot?”

You realise he's asking about you, and you peer down at your hand, the sting of the burn momentarily forgotten in the face of his genuine worry. It's just a small red line, a minor burn that will fade in time, and a tiny cut where the glass had scratched. But the warmth radiating from his hand cupped over yours feels oddly... comforting.

You shake your head, then motion to his own hand, as if asking the same thing.

Joshua blinks in surprise. He examines it, a small line of red just starting to show from a small cut, and a tiny calloused area from the burn of the coffee. It was barely noticeable, and it admittedly stung with a dull ache, but he wouldn't acknowledge that𑁋he didn't want to make you worry. It's not that bad, he thinks, but his thoughts are instantly replaced with concern for you.

“Here, let me... I'll get some bandages for you.” He gently releases your hand, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary, and rises to his feet. “And a new drink, of course. On the house.”

Before you can give him a nod or anything, you watch him walk towards the café, the sunlight reflecting off his dark hair. He turns back once inside, and your eyes meet across the wall of glass. You offer a smile, and raise your hand in a small wave. He returns one sheepishly, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes just slightly, before disappearing to the side.

You stand up as well, shooting a glance down at your sketchbook, the brown splatter bleeding across a corner of the paper. It didn't look like a lot of it was damaged luckily𑁋you could probably incorporate it into the drawing somehow. The thought seems to soothe you.

Joshua mutters curses to himself as he struggles to find the first-aid kit underneath the counter in the employee's only restroom. He rummages through a drawer, tossing aside spare toilet paper rolls until he finally lays eyes on the small white box labeled First Aid.

“Knew you wouldn't be a great match for this,” Jeonghan's voice rings out suddenly as Joshua retrieves a few pieces of bandages, the man finally emerging after what seems like a long ass hour of a break.

“You finally regret hiring me now?” Joshua scoffs playfully, waving the bandages in front of Jeonghan's face. “They haven't spoken to me at all, so I have no idea if they're okay or not.”

Jeonghan lifts up an eyebrow. “They aren't speaking?" Some silence passes. "Is their name Y/N?”

Joshua looks back at him. “Yeah, why?”

“They come here a lot, like a regular, usually just drawing and stuff, I think,” Jeonghan points out, pursing his lips together. “and… they’re also deaf.” 

The age of seven was the last time you heard your voice.

You went to bed ill with a high fever that night, only to wake up the next morning in a muted world. The change wasn't a gradual muffling or a sudden pop like a balloon bursting. It was all simply... gone. You didn't hear the pitter-patter of the morning rain against the window, the rumble of the air conditioner, or even your own heart beating in your chest𑁋but you could feel it. 

At first, you thought it was a trick, perhaps a dream that had somehow bled into reality. You screamed, but no sound escaped your lips. You shook your parents awake, but their worried questions were met with your frustrated silence. Tears streamed down your face as they rushed you to the hospital. Then all the tests, scans, diagnoses𑁋they all came to the same the same result: a sudden, inexplicable loss of hearing.

Learning to navigate the world growing up without sound was a slow, exhausting process. You learned to read lips, got used to communicating with sign language, understand the subtle cues of body language, and rely on written words. Your world shrunk, confined to the walls of your home and studio, the familiar faces of your family, the lens of your camera, and the canvases that could speak for you.

You got used to this world of silence. You got used to the fact that you have to live in harmony with those around you, to put in that extra effort to understand them so you could simply be accepted and heard, for once. At a young age, you became adept at expressing yourself through art𑁋capturing the beauty of the silent world you inhabited, the emotions that flowed through your fingertips onto canvases and photographs.

Honestly, the world is so beautiful. Even though you can't hear the bustling city around you, the distant conversations, or the groans of traffic, you've learned to see and appreciate the world in a way others might overlook𑁋finding beauty in the stillness that surrounds you. The way sunlight dances on the leaves, the gentle sway of trees, the vibrant colours that paint the sky during sunset, the look of love between two lovers. 

The city is especially colourful at night. Neon store signs burning bright against the dark canvas of the evening sky, people around you moving in routine patterns, and cars flying down the streets. You've perfected the art of capturing these moments, freezing them in time with your camera, and bringing them to life with just a simple brushstroke.

You can't hear the laughter spilling from a nearby work dinner or the murmured conversation of a couple walking hand-in-hand, but you see it all in the tilt of their heads, the curve of their lips, the spark of their eyes. You watch the way their bodies move, the sway of their hips, the swing of their arms, and their stories unfold before you like a silent movie on a grand screen. And that in itself, is beautiful. 

You click through the photos you've taken throughout the day on your camera carefully, biting your bottom lip in concentration. There's a photo of a child chasing pigeons in the park, a flock of birds flying through the cloudless sky, a cat lounging in a window sill, and a smile breaks across your lips.

However, you find yourself accidentally bumping into something, or someone. Hastily, you bring your head up to the stranger to apologise, yet they walk away before you even could. Letting out a sigh, you bring your attention back to your surroundings, and your eyes widen to the crowd of people gathered in the small square you hadn't noticed before.

Your eyes dart around, trying to scan through the sea of faces while slowly pushing through the crowd as your curiosity gets the best of you. And when you get yourself to nearly the core of the crowd, you could only freeze to the sight in front of you.

There's a man perched on a wooden stool in the middle, a guitar entangled in his grasp and a microphone stand standing idle in front of him. You can hardly make out his face since you're standing to the side, but for some reason, all you can do is watch in awe.

You can't hear his words, of course. But you feel them. You feel them in the way his fingers dance across the strings, in the way his head dips with the melody, in the way his chest rises and falls with each breath. You see them in the way the light catches his hair, in the way the shadows dance on his face, in the way his eyes flutter open for a fleeting moment.

Then a sudden urge makes you reach for your camera, quickly turning it on and bringing it up to your eyes. And with a simple click of the shutter, you capture the moment in a perfect frame, before weaving through the crowd once more and back into the fresh air of the city.

You look down at the photo, and it tugs at your heartstrings. The nearby lighting catches his face just right, highlighting the sharp lines of his cheekbones and the gentle curve of his smile. He's lost in the music, his skilled fingers dancing across the strings of his guitar, eyes closed as he seems to pour his soul into every note. You zoom in on the photo, admiring the way his dark hair falls across his forehead, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles.

He looks familiar, somehow. You rack your brain, trying to place him, but your mind draws a blank. You've stumbled into the busking area by accident countless times and captured endless moments through your lens, but this one feels different. 

The vending machine swallowed his dollar. Literally.

Joshua pounds his fist on the lousy machine a few times, wraps his arms around it like a koala hug and attempts to give it a few shakes, hoping that the drink would somehow drop to the bottom, but nothing happens. Letting out a groan, he takes a step back and runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. Great.

He glances around the area, scanning to find some sort of alternative solution, and his eyes set on a convenience store just a few blocks down. He takes a few steps in the direction, before something brushes past him and causes him to stop.

“Hey, the vending machine doesn't work…” Yet when he turned his body around, he didn't expect to see you making your way to the machine, tapping on the keypad and inserting a dollar, all for the machine to spit out two cans of sodas.

Joshua watches as you bend down to retrieve the cans, peering down in confusion at the second one in your hand. Then when you straighten and look back up, the two of you suddenly meet eyes. 

There's a brief pause, and you can't really tell if Joshua is staring at you like you've grown a second head or something else. Then you glance down to the extra drink in your hand, and ah, it clicks.

Your lips move in a silent question, and Joshua realises you must be offering him the extra can. He waves his hand, signaling that it's okay, but you insist, gesturing for him to take it. With a grateful smile, he steps up to you and reaches out, accepting the cold can from you, his fingers brushing over yours briefly.

Joshua watches as you click open the can and take a sip. When you glance back at him, his lips part, then close again, his brow furrowing together like his mind is cluttered. You can't hear his thoughts, of course, but the way his eyes dart from your face to your hands and back again seems like he's trying to ask you something.

“Is your…” he starts to ask, pointing to your hand, noticing that your hand appeared bare of the bandages he gave you more than a week ago. “Is your hand feeling better now?”

You catch his words by reading his lips, and you nod with a reassuring smile. Relief washes over Joshua's features, his eyes softening, and he gestures again towards your hand as if to make sure it's healing alright.

“Wait, I... Sorry, let me start this over.” Joshua seems to mentally take a deep breath. “I'm Joshua, by the way. I should've introduced myself properly first.”

You know that already, but hearing him formally introduce himself ever since your little mishap at the café brings a strange flutter to your chest. You notice Joshua shift from foot to foot, the smile to his face faltering just slightly.

“Is it okay if I ask if you're…” Joshua motions to his ear, then shakes his head, seeing that it might come across as insensitive. Instead, he points to his own mouth and then makes a questioning gesture with his eyebrows, hoping you'll understand what he's trying to ask.

You nod, understanding his question perfectly, raising your hand and making a simple sign, tapping your ear and then shaking your head. You've had this conversation countless times before, with strangers and acquaintances alike. But there's something different about the way Joshua asks𑁋something softer, more genuine.

“I should've realised sooner,” Joshua says. "I'm sorry if that came off as rude.”

You wave your hand dismissively and tap your temple, then point to his mouth, conveying that you could read his lips just as you've been doing this entire time, and Joshua could only watch your movements carefully. Though relief mixes with a tinge of embarrassment in his limbs. He hadn't meant to pry, but curiosity had gotten the best of him, and he didn't want to make you uncomfortable by putting you on the spot like that. He could tell you've probably heard this conversation many times with other people, yet you seem to handle it with such patience.

With a wry smile, you secure your can of soda under your arm before bringing your hands up, signing heartedly, “It's okay,” and Joshua watches your movements with awe and also... a little confusion.

“Can I ask what that means?” he asks slowly, curiously.

You wave a dismissive hand in front of his face, pulling out your phone, quickly typing out something before showing it to him.

It means that it's okay

“Ah, I see,” Joshua responds with a sheepish smile, attempting to clumsily repeat the action with his own hands, but he quickly brings it back to his side. “If I'm speaking too fast, feel free to let me know. I'll try to slow down.”

You shake your head, typing on your phone once more.

Thank you, but you're doing just fine, I promise

A blush creeps onto Joshua's cheeks as he reads your message. He's relieved you're not bothered by his questions, but the awareness that you've been understanding him all along makes him feel a bit silly. In a good way, of course. He takes a hesitant sip of his soda, the silence between you stretching just a bit too long. He wants to talk to you, really talk, but he's unsure where to begin.

As you both stand there, with the city's sounds humming around, Joshua feels the nerves crawling up his skin. He gestures towards the convenience store nearby, silently asking if you need anything. You shake your head, indicating that you're good, but then motion down the road, pointing at something down the street.

“Are you heading somewhere?” Joshua asks, and he feels his heart jump once he sees you nod, feeling proud for understanding what you're trying to say.

You pull out your phone again, typing:

The museum

“The museum?” Joshua repeats, picking his head back up to squint down the street. He feels the hesitation at the tip of his tongue, as if considering something. But then, the intrusive action takes over, and he points in the same direction. “Would it be okay if I walk with you? The café is near there. I was about to head there myself.”

You notice the uncertainty in his eyes. Joshua watches your face for a moment, searching for any sign of discomfort or rejection. However, you simply offer a warm smile and a nod in response, which makes Joshua feel a surge of relief. A small smile plays on his lips, and he falls into step beside you as you both start walking towards the museum.

The late afternoon sun dips below the city skyline, casting long shadows across the pavement as you and Joshua walk side-by-side, your steps falling into sync. You steal glances at him every now and then, captivated by the way his hair catches the golden rays and how the lines of his face soften. He catches your eyes a few times, which makes you both look away at the same time. It's a bit awkward admittedly, yes, but there's a certain charm to it when he's right next to you.

Joshua tries to find ways to bridge the silence, but his words tangle in his throat.

Instead, he waves a hand in front of you, earning your attention back on him.

“Do you like art?” he asks. “Back at the café, I noticed... you were drawing?” Then he does a scribbling motion with his hand.

The question hangs in the air, and you find yourself pausing to consider it. A thoughtful expression settles on your face, and Joshua watches as you take a pause to grab something from out of your bag𑁋your sketchbook𑁋before handing it to him.

He shoots a brief glance at you, as if asking for permission, but your trusting gaze encourages him. He gently opens the sketchbook. His breath catches in his throat as he takes in the first page.

It looks to be a sketch of the beach, capturing the vastness of the ocean, the setting sun in the horizon, and the small details of people walking across the sands. Joshua can almost feel the warm sand beneath his bare feet and the salty tang of the air on his tongue.

He flips through the next few pages. A bustling city street, a lone bird perched on a branch, its feathers so finely detailed they seem to shimmer in the sunlight, a child's laughter echoing through a park, portrayed in a burst of joyful strokes.

Joshua feels a lump rise in his throat. He looks up at you, eyes wide with admiration and something else he can't quite define.

“Wow, these are incredible,” he manages to say. “You're so talented.”

You smile shyly, feeling the heat crawl up your cheeks as Joshua flips to the last page. In an instant, he feels his heart drop, but not in a bad way𑁋it's a page significant with the brown stain at the corner, but it's the way you seem to use the stain as a part of the sketch, blending it into the colours of the sky and the warm tones of the café.

“I was worried about your sketchbook,” he confesses, looking back at you. “I thought I would have to buy you a new one. But... I'm glad it's okay.”

He hands you back the sketchbook, his fingers brushing yours once again as the exchange is made, and you both continue your way down the sidewalk.

And then, you reach the museum.

Joshua turns towards you, and you're already looking at him. Then you pull out your phone once more, typing in a message, before showing it to him.

Thank you for walking with me

“It's𑁋You don't have to thank me,” Joshua acknowledges, his eyes reflecting sincerity. “I enjoyed it. Besides, it's the least I could do after the, uh... incident.”

You both stand a distance away from the museum entrance, knowing that you have to part ways, yet there's some hesitation in there. Joshua peers at the museum building, taking in its appearance, trying to ignore the bubbling reluctance in his chest.

“Maybe I can see you around…” But when Joshua brings his eyes back to you, you're already trailing towards the museum entrance. The embarrassment catches in his throat. He stands there for a moment with his gaze following you, clutching the can of soda, feeling the warmth radiating from it seeping into his palm.

Joshua sees you stop short in front of the entrance, turn back to him, and offer a small wave of your hand, your eyes locked with his for a brief moment. He reciprocates with a reluctant wave of his own, watching as you disappear into the museum.

He lets out a breath he didn't notice he was holding as he turns away, drinking the last sips of disappointment down his throat before throwing the empty can into a recycling bin nearby.

And while on his way to the café, the thought of you tugs at the corner of his lips.

Joshua pulls one more time on the door to the café, the keys dangling in his hand clinging loudly together as he makes sure it's all locked. When he does, he adjusts the strap of his bag over his shoulder, letting out a deep exhale coming straight from the core of his chest. 

The sounds of fallen, dried-up leaves crunch below with every step he takes. Joshua wearily casts his eyes around, watching as surrounding local shops and other cafés switch their lights off for the night. A bus rushes past him as he continues walking down the street, bringing with it a gust of wind that ruffles his hair. The city is slowly settling into its nighttime rhythm, and Joshua can feel the shift in energy around him.

As he walks, his attention is drawn to a figure up ahead. It appears to be an elderly lady, a large box in her grasp, her movements slow and careful. The box looks heavy, with whatever inside threatening to spill over the top with every wobbling step she takes. Joshua quickens his pace immediately, concern knitting at his brows.

“Wait, ma’am! Let me help you.” Once he arrives at her side, he shifts his backpack down to the ground and reaches out to steady the box. The elderly lady looks up at him with surprise and relief. 

“Ah, thank you, young man,” she says, voice quivering slightly as Joshua hoists a hold of the entire box, a groan leaving him at the unexpected heaviness.

“Where are we heading to?” he asks.

“Just… into there.” The older lady motions with a slender finger to the tiny store tucked between a closed dry cleaner and a flower shop.

He can’t really see where he was going, but he hears the ding of a door opening and the old woman’s voice gently guiding him inside. He carefully navigates through the narrow doorway as the smell of old books, musty paper, and something faintly sweet hits him as soon as he steps inside. When he feels his foot seemingly hit the leg of a table, he cautiously sets the box on top of it, making sure it's stable before straightening back up.

“There we go,” he mutters, huffing out a tired breath. “Is there anything else that you need help with?”

“Oh, no, thank you.” The elderly woman shifts past him to examine the box, before reaching over for a pair of scissors to begin tearing into it. “These old bones can’t do much anymore these days.”

Joshua laughs faintly at that, setting his hands on his hips as he takes a look around the bookstore. It’s noticeably tiny, with only a few tall shelves taking up more than half of the space and a cluttered counter at the front with stacks of books waiting to be set out.

He swipes a random book off the shelf, some dust particles hitting his nose and causing him to sneeze. He chuckles softly, feeling a bit sheepish. The elderly lady looks up at him, a warm smile spreading across her face.

“Bless you,” she says kindly. “Not many people find their way here these days. It's nice to see a young face.”

“Really?” he questions. “It’s very vintage. I bet there’s a lot of history here.”

“For sure,” the lady responds wistfully. “You should head home now. Sleeping early is good for your health.”

Joshua places the book back on the shelf before heading his way back to the front. The elderly woman hands him back his backpack, wiping away some grime and dust that may have settled on it in the meantime. She continues to shower him with thanks even after he steps past the door. He bids her a wave and a good night before beginning to head his way back home. 

However, a sudden thought crosses his head, and he doesn’t give the way his feet turn back around much hesitation at all. 

He pushes the door open to the bookstore, swallows a lump in his throat, and lets his eyes meet back with the curious old lady. 

“Actually,” he starts, smiling somewhat bashfully. “Do you happen to have any books on sign language?”

“Did you finish totaling it up?”

“Hmm, yeah. Give me a second.” Joshua quickly flips through the bills in his hand, splitting it up as evenly as he could, before handing the rest to Seokmin. “294 dollars.”

Seokmin chuckles, grabbing the money from Joshua before unplugging the microphone. “Not too bad, to be honest, and it's on the worser days of the week.”

“It did help that you were here today. I owe you for that,” Joshua admits cheekily, packing up his guitar inside the case and zipping it up. “Got time for a meal later? My treat.”

Seokmin clicks his tongue, shaking his head while wrapping the microphone cord around the stand. “Maybe next time? I have plans.”

Joshua raises an eyebrow, picking his head up to look at Seokmin. Oh, he knows what's going on, and Seokmin isn't really the best at hiding his facial expressions, or anything really at all. The older man just rolls his eyes, chucking a small pebble in his direction, making Seokmin let out a loud yelp as he dodges it.

“Alright, alright. I get it. Go enjoy your date.”

Seokmin's face reddens, and he huffs, “It's not a date! We're just getting dinner, that's all.”

“Sure, sure,” Joshua continues to tease, standing up and slinging his guitar case over his shoulder. “Whatever you say, buttercup. Have fun, though.”

Seokmin just shoots him a playful glare, grabbing a bag of his own belongings and the microphone stand before heading off, promising another day to catch up, and leaving Joshua alone in the quiet square.

Letting out a sigh, Joshua glances down at his watch, noticing the late time displayed. He contemplates whether he should head back to the café to help Jeonghan with closing, head straight back to the apartment, or stop by somewhere to grab some food, and the thought of food makes his stomach rumble𑁋he decides on making a quick stop at a convenience store.

The convenience store is a familiar sight, one that he goes to often and tucked away in a quiet corner of the street, its bright lights illuminating the surroundings outside and the wet streets. There's a slight drizzle that starts as Joshua enters inside, the door letting out a soft chime. The cashier welcomes him with a nod as he starts to stroll through the aisles.

Joshua wanders through the narrow aisles, scanning the shelves for a quick bite to eat. His gaze lands on a shelf filled with instant noodles, and he grabs a couple of cup noodles (and a can of beer for good measure), figuring they would be enough for a simple dinner. As he makes his way to the cashier, the door rings once more, and he turns to spot a familiar face entering inside𑁋you.

Your eyes meet in an instant as Joshua fumbles with the stuff in his hands, the cup noodles and can of beer suddenly feeling heavier than a sack of bricks. His guitar nearly slides off his shoulder too.

You stare at him for a moment as if in confusion or contemplation. Joshua thinks he sees a flicker of recognition in your eyes. Then your lips curve into a hesitant smile, and the world seems to tilt on its axis. You hadn't expected to see him again, not so soon, but the sight of him fills you with a sense of... comfort, perhaps.

A bashful look washes over your face, and you offer a small wave, your fingers curling into a silent hello. Joshua returns the gesture, his own smile hesitant but clearly genuine.

The silence hangs between you, awkward but strangely filled with something, both of you seemingly unsure of what to say.

Joshua shuffles the abominable weight in his feet, the cup noodles in his grasp feeling like ridiculous boulders.

“Hey,” he mutters out, struggling for words, mentally slapping himself in the face. “I was just about to grab some dinner.”

You watch him, gaze tracing over the lines of his face, the gentle curve of his lips, the nervous glint in his eyes. You feel a sudden urge to reach out and somehow wipe away the worry engraving his features, but your hands remain clasped at your side. 

He catches your gaze, and his cheeks flush with a faint blush.

“Would you like to join me?”

The offer floats in the air, hanging between the two of you like a question mark. Your eyes widen slightly in surprise, and Joshua fidgets nervously, almost regretfully, while waiting for your response.

Yet unusually, there's something about this that feels... right. Perhaps it's the familiarity of his presence, or something else entirely. You've never really been asked this before, and it feels weird and a bit intimidating, but for some reason, you don't exactly want to step away. The thought of sharing a meal with someone𑁋with him𑁋shoots a bullet of curiosity through you.

Whatever it is, you want to trust it. 

Taking a deep breath, you raise your gaze to meet his. Then you give him a shy smile, one not quite reaching your eyes, and nod ever so slightly.

The cashier looks between the two of you as Joshua places the cup noodles and can of beer on the counter. The chime of the cash register rings out as he pays, and you soon follow after with your own food, placing your own items on the counter, then you both head towards a nearby seating area together.

A growing tapping of rain hits the earth outside as the two of you pick a spot in front of the windows. Joshua sets down his leather bag and guitar, and you place your own painter-splattered canvas tote right next to it.

Joshua feels a tap on his shoulder while aimlessly stirring through his ramen, and he watches as you sign him something with your hands. He doesn't entirely understand what you were signing, but he picks up the motion of a guitar, and he brightens up.

“Guitar?” He gestures to the guitar case nestled at his leg, and he watches as you nod and point at him. “Me? Guitar?”

You give a thumbs-up, and Joshua chuckles, feeling proud for picking up on your words.

“Yeah, I... I've been playing since I was young,” he answers, and you read his lips carefully. “Just as a hobby though, not professionally.”

Your mouth opens in awe, then you lift your hands up again, making a swinging motion with one arm and motioning at him, and Joshua tilts his head curiously.

“Book?” he questions, and you shake your head. He thinks again, repeating your movements. “Oh! Music? Do I make music?”

When you nod again, his heart flutters with victory.

“I play and sing sometimes. Just... small gigs and stuff, nothing too fancy,” he admits meekly. “I've written a few songs too. I guess it's a way to express myself, you know?”

You soak in his words, your eyes focusing on his lips and the subtle shifts in his facial expressions. Joshua swears he feels himself shrink under your gaze, but it feels almost relieving to tell this to you.

You bring your hands up, signing something, and Joshua watches intently, attempting to replicate your movements himself while trying to catch the meaning behind the gestures.

“You... like music?” he ventures, and you give him a small nod.

Joshua smiles at this, before it falters slightly. He opens his mouth up to speak, and you perk up, but then he closes it quickly. He feels the anxiety blooming within him, not knowing how to approach the question without making you uncomfortable.

“Can I…” he starts, feeling regretful already. “Can I ask... how do you…”

You notice the hesitation in Joshua's eyes, seeing how he's trying to ask as delicately as possible without crossing a line. But you already know what he's trying to ask, and you feel yourself willing to answer.

You reach for your phone, and Joshua observes as you type out your words, eyes lingering on the features of your side-profile for a few moments. You show him the message:

Sheet music, song lyrics, vibrations, chords, memories of sounds

“Vibrations, chords…” he leisurely reads out aloud to himself, feeling a mix of understanding and admiration course through him. And when he pulls back to look at you, his eyes widen and seem to burn brighter than the city lights outside. He understands. He gets it.

Silence stretches between you again, but it's no longer awkward; it's more comfortable now. Joshua finishes the rest of his ramen, his gaze occasionally darting towards you, and he catches the way you seem to be staring outside as the rain pours down.

He stares outside too, listening to the rain crashing loudly against the window and the occasional burst of thunder that rumbles in the distance. But then when he looks at you, all of those sounds seem to fade away.

He can't tell if you're lost in thought or simply taking in the scene, but there's a quiet comfort in your stillness that seems to draw him in.

As you watch the raindrops dance on the windowpane, a soft smile plays on your lips, and Joshua catches it. He watches you for a moment, then a sudden thought occurs to him. Slowly, he brings his hands up to his ears, covering them completely, and stares back outside. The muffled sounds of the rain and the faint hum of the convenience store fade into the distant background. It's more peaceful this way.

He likes this quietness, especially if it's with you. 

You face him, tapping lightly on his forearm. Joshua brings his arms down and veers his attention back to you as you draw your hands up, separate and curl your fingers like a claw, before doing a downward motion. He finds himself repeating it as well, head tilted slightly, and then it clicks.

“Rain?” he guesses, motioning to the rain outside before signing it again. “This means rain, right?”

Your eyes widen in victory, a grin curving at your lips, giving him an approving nod. Joshua feels something catch in his throat, but you turn back to the window before he can say anything.

“Rain,” he mutters to himself, unconsciously signing the word right next to you. Then he brings his hand up again, shooting a glance toward you𑁋you're still staring out the window, and the look of content on your face makes his heart flutter a bit more𑁋before slowly fanning his hand across his face, as if to sign the word, “Beautiful.”

“I've seen you do better than this.”

The look of disappointment to your art teacher's face is unchanging as he signs to you. You feel your hands mold into each other under the desk, fingers fidgeting as you try to process the criticism. The words bounce off the walls in your mind, and the weight of them settles in your chest. 

It's not that your painting is bad𑁋it's just not living up to the potential he knows you possess. The colours lack vibrancy, the brushstrokes lack emotion. He leans in, his face mere inches from the canvas, inspecting every detail.

“If you're ever going to put your work in an exhibition, it has to tell a story,” he assures sternly while continuing to sign. “Your art should speak, not just visually, but emotionally. I know you can do better.”

Taking a deep breath, you nod in understanding, though the disappointment lingers. You've been wrestling with this painting for weeks, trying to capture a fleeting emotion, a moment in time that you believed would speak to others, yet you realise you don't have a clear answer. He observes your reaction, and though his expression softens just the slightest, the expectation lingers.

“He’s probably just in a mood,” Wheein reassures you, hands flying in the air as she signs. “You know how he is with deadlines.”

“I can beat his ass for you,” Seungkwan chimes in, emphasizing a punching motion with his hands, which makes you let out a quiet laugh. 

Wheein playfully shoves the younger boy in the shoulders, before snatching away the cup of iced coffee in his hands.

Seungkwan pouts in mock disappointment as Wheein steals a sip of his coffee, but the playful banter manages to lighten the mood a bit.

Wheein hands back the coffee to Seungkwan and gives you a few pats on the back. “You'll get it right, you always do. Just take a step back, clear your mind, and try again, okay?”

Her words make you faintly smile. It's not a secret that you've been experiencing a lot of pressure for this upcoming exhibition competition at the museum, an opportunity for you to finally get your art out there in the world. But the thing is that there are plenty of other artists also fighting for the spot as well, and never in your life have you felt so stuck, so drained of inspiration, so dried out of colour. 

You feel a little lighter from the reassurance from your friends, but at the same time, you feel like it isn't quite enough. There's still a part of you that feels heavy inside𑁋what if you're not meant for exhibitions, if your art can't truly convey the emotions you want to express? What if you're just not meant for this? What if your art isn't enough to convey the emotions you want to share with the world?

The thought lingers as Wheein and Seungkwan dismiss themselves for the evening, and you're left alone roaming the quiet streets on your way back home. The city's lights begin to flicker to life, casting a warm glow on the dewy pavement, the streets a bit more barren than what you are used to. You try to shake off the doubt at the back of your mind, but it clings to you like the raindrops on the leaves.

As you stop at the pedestrian crossing, you shoot your eyes across the street.

A figure stands tall under the glow of a streetlamp, his features highlighted by the warm light. He's also looking across too in your direction, though it doesn't take long for his gaze to drift and land on you, and suddenly, he's waving at you.

It takes a moment for recognition to dawn on you, but when it does, time seems to stand still𑁋it's Joshua. He's standing there with his guitar case slung over his shoulder, waving at you. At first you look behind you to see if it was meant for someone else, but when you realise there's no one else around, you feel an odd pull tugging at your heart.

Because he looks... happy to see you. 

Hesitantly, you raise a hand and give him a small wave back. You notice some contemplation wash over his face, and then you observe as he brings his hands up.

“Nice to see you. How are you?” he signs, albeit clumsily and a bit slow, but the effort is cute, and you find yourself lowering your gaze for a moment to bite back a chuckle.

“Tired,” You sign in response, and mimic the gesture of rubbing your eyes, a small grin playing on your lips.

Joshua's eyes crinkle at the corners, and a soft chuckle escapes his mouth as he watches your playful sign. He follows suit, pretending to yawn and miming the act of stretching, exaggerating the movements comically. It's a simple exchange, but it breaks the ice, and you find yourself smiling more genuinely now.

He ushers a hand up to his cheek. “Home?”

When you give a nod, the signal light turns green, you make your way across the street, noticing Joshua waiting for you on the other side. As you approach him, you catch the nerves in his eyes. He shifts his guitar case on his shoulder, seemingly caught between wanting to say something and waiting for your lead.

With a small tilt of your head, you gesture down the road, asking if he's headed in the same direction as you. But he shakes his head apologetically, signaling that he's heading the opposite way. For a moment, you lift a brow in question, but then Joshua points to himself and then in the direction you're heading.

“Can I…” Your eyes focus on his hands and lips. “walk... you home?”

Your breath catches in your throat, but not from any fear or apprehension. A flutter of nerves dances in your stomach, but is quickly overshadowed by a warm feeling that spreads through you.

Hesitation lingers in the air for a moment, a tiny voice in the back of your mind reminding you of the uncertainties. You didn't want him to take a detour just to walk you home, especially since he was heading in the opposite direction. But then you see the nervous tremor in his hands that mirrors your own, and how his hopeful and vulnerable gaze holds yours as if afraid he had crossed a boundary, and the doubt seems to melt away.

And so, with a soft smile, you sign, “Okay.”

As the two of you set off, the silence that follows feels different than the heavy weight of earlier. It's comfortable, expectant, like a blank canvas waiting for the first splash of colour. You steal glances at him, admiring the way the dim streetlights play on his features, the gentle twinkle that shines in his eyes, how cutely comfortable he appears wearing an oversized jean jacket that almost seems to swallow him whole. And then your eyes set on his guitar case, and curiosity fills you.

You gesture a hand at his guitar, and Joshua raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, I…” He lets out a nervous, airy laugh, fiddling with his hands as he attempts to sign and explain, “I had to get some guitar strings replaced. One of them snapped on me earlier, so I stopped by the repair shop.”

You flash him a worried look, motioning a finger at his skin.

Joshua just shakes his head, signing back comfortingly, “I'm okay.”

He watches as you tilt your head just slightly, as if in amusement, like you had caught him saying something suspicious.

You type out something on your phone before showing it to him.

The way you sign is funny

Joshua giggles quietly, and he playfully pouts, a small laugh escaping his lips. “That's mean.”

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest at his reaction, like a tiny seed of affection sprouting. It's almost like he's attempting to paint with his hands, and the shade isn't quite right, yet it blends in perfectly with just a few more strokes.

There are many people you’ve encountered in life who have communicated with you through sign language, and you noticed that they all have their own unique way of signing. Whether it was Seungkwan with his more expressive and sharp gestures, Wheein with her dainty and flowy style, or Joshua with his uncertain yet gentle movements, you liked they were all different. 

Not being able to hear doesn't bother you anymore, not like it used to when you were younger. It used to build walls around you and separate you from the world. Yet now, you've learned to read sounds with your eyes, hear the voices that emit from a simple smile, a frown, an arch of the brow, because there are a lot more people who can hear than those who can’t.

But out of all those people, someone was the one to wave first across the street.

Joshua finds himself staring up at the intimidating brick façade of your apartment building. When you turn back to him, you offer him a tentative smile, and there's something different about it that makes his chest tighten.

Finally, you muster the courage, your fingers slowly dancing in the air.

“Thank you,” You sign to him. 

He lets out a quiet chuckle, eyes softening. “How do I sign ‘goodnight?’”

You nearly hesitate for a second before bringing out both of your hands. You could feel Joshua watching you carefully at the way you bring your right hand up to your chin and then back down to meet the palm of your other hand, signing the word good. Then you flip your left hand so that it’s facing down, and your other hand brushes over it like the sun is setting over the horizon, signing the word night. 

Joshua watches at the way your hands move gracefully. He follows your movements carefully, a faint smile spreading across his face as he tries to mimic your gestures.

“Good... night,” he repeats slowly, the miniscule dust particles whirling around his fingers as he traces the air. His eyes meet yours, and he could possibly see the flicker of proudness in them. It's a simple exchange, but at this moment right now, it feels significant.

As you unlock the door to your apartment, you turn to look back at him, and he shoots you another wave. Joshua stands there for a moment, watching your door close, before taking in a deep breath to relax the racing of his heart.

Three years ago, Joshua Hong moved away from his family in the hopes of pursuing a music career. It most certainly wasn't an easy decision, leaving behind the familiarity of his hometown and the warmth of his loved ones.

Almost three years later, he might have realised how damn stupid of a choice that might have been.

It's a bit lonely, to put it lightly.

The gigs are sparse, the pay is minimal, and the dreams he once held so tightly in his grasp seem to be slowly slipping away as the days pass.

The journey has been anything but smooth, filled with constant rejections, financial struggles, and moments of self-doubt; and lately these lows seem to be overpowering the highs more than ever. Yet, despite all this, he still chooses to cling to this passion as if it's the air he breathes, because it's something that he loves to do.

Music is the voice he uses when his own isn't enough. He's constantly surrounded by noise, whether it's from the strumming of his own guitar, the sounds of the bustling city, or conversations from strangers that he accidentally overhears when crossing the street.

But then there's the silence𑁋the kind that settles in the spaces between chords, in the moments when he puts the instrument down and the world seems to hum a little quieter. It's in these moments that the loneliness can be deafening.

And then there was you.

The melody playing in his mind for the past week is... hesitant, unsure, much like his own feelings. He isn't sure what it is yet𑁋this feeling that tugs at his chest and paints his cheeks with a faint blush. He only knows that it's connected to you, to the way your eyes narrow in focus when your fingers dance so graciously in the air, and the warmth that spread through him when you thanked him for walking you home the other night.

It was just a simple offer to walk you home, why is it playing on repeat in his mind?

A sigh leaves him as he runs a loose hand through his hair. He tosses away the dirty rag in his hand and stores the cafe's cleaning supplies back and under the counter. The colours of the sun setting outside filters through the large windows, casting orange and red hues on the wooden tables and floor of the empty café.

“You look like you need a drink,” Jeonghan's voice rings out teasingly, and Joshua could only scoff. “You still got that gig later this weekend, right?”

Joshua nips at his bottom lip, releasing a sigh. “I've been feeling a little under the weather, honestly, and I don't really have anything prepared.” I feel like I'm losing my touch.

Jeonghan arches a knowing brow. “Since when do you back down from a gig? Just go up there and pour your heart out. It's what you do best.”

“I'm just not feeling it right now, I guess,” Joshua replies with a half-hearted smile, shoulders only taking on a shrug. He pushes himself away from the counter, and just as Jeonghan is about to crawl under his skin, the bell above the door chimes. “Welcome in…”

He should really learn how to control his stomach from flipping when seeing you𑁋the familiar sight of your paint-smudged canvas tote, the comfort you seem to radiate𑁋but it's not just you alone. There's a girl who he doesn't recognise there too, with her arm linked with yours, and another boy he swears he's seen a few times... Seungkyung? Seungwan? Seungkwan?

Joshua lets his gaze drift to you, and there's a gloom to your face that he can't quite decipher, a certain apprehension that he notices when your eyes make the smallest of contact. He attempts to get your attention by bringing one of his hands up, and you catch sight of it.

“Same?” he signs, as if asking if you want to order the usual drink that you get.

You meet his eyes, and despite the lingering doubts that have been plaguing you, there's a sense of comfort in the familiarity of him. You nod, and that's all it takes for him to brighten up, his smile breaking through the clouds that seem to hang in the air. He watches as you exchange a few words in sign language with Wheein and Seungkwan, then Seungkwan comes over to the counter to place the order.

Maybe he's just seeing things, or maybe it's his mind overthinking for him𑁋there's an undeniable shadow around your eyes that he notices when he brings a tray full of fruit smoothies and iced teas to your table. He sets the drinks down carefully, unable to ignore the way your gaze seems to linger on him for a fraction of a second before flitting away again.

You don't seem to be entirely present in conversation, often drifting off before Wheein or Seungkwan would have to nudge you back into reality. Then a ghost of a smile would draw over your lips, attempting to engage in the conversation with your hands, but all the words seem to disintegrate into ashes.

Another tap at your wrist makes you blink, and you turn to see both Seungkwan and Wheein peering at you with worried expressions on their faces.

“Are you okay?” Wheein mouths quietly, signing lightly with her hands.

Seungkwan turns his head slightly, eyeing something behind him, a scowl to his expression before it curves into a slight smirk; his back was facing where Joshua stood behind the counter, taking in orders for another group of people.

“Café boy?” he mouths to you.

You follow Seungkwan's line of sight, and sure enough, Joshua is there behind the counter𑁋mop of dark hair falling in his eyes, a polite smile playing on his lips𑁋taking and preparing orders with casual ease. You feel a gentle tug in your chest, and for a moment, your gaze locks with his. There's a flicker of concern in his eyes as he watches you, before the corners of his mouth tugs upwards, and you quickly avert your gaze, fingers playing with the straw in your drink.

“He's cuter than I thought,” Seungkwan signs jokingly to you, lifting a teasing brow. “I'd have a crush on him too𑁋ow!”

He's met with Wheein's sharp elbow to his side, making him let out a squeaky wince that might have gained the attention of the entire café, and she scolds him with a shake of her head and a finger to her lips, but it manages to crack a small smile to your face. Seungkwan only grins in victory, tapping his wrist against his heart and giving a thumbs-up as if satisfied with the response he got out of you. 

Ah, the benefits of sign language and being friends with two absolute idiots... No one really knows what the hell you're talking about. 

“You do think he's cute though, right?” Wheein scrunches up her face cheekily, and you could only let a finger drift across the icy surface of your cup, the cold offering little comfort against the sudden warmth blooming in your cheeks to her words.

You roll your eyes, though your face seems to betray you even more. 

“You're not denying it,” Seungkwan adds in, narrowing his eyes at you in a smirk. “Just say you have a crush on him.”

You form a mock-scissor gesture with your fingers, and the threat earns a burst of laughter to leave Seungkwan. The playful jab cuts through the tension, but the truth is, your heart aches a little at his words.

Crush? The word felt alien, yet somehow, it fits. The way your heart skips a beat whenever his gaze met yours, the way his smile warms you from the inside out, the way his clumsy attempts at sign language makes you want to laugh and cry at the same time𑁋these were all signs of something, weren't they?

The atmosphere at the table lightens a bit. It feels nice, spending time with your friends and momentarily pushing aside the doubts of your artistic soul and worries of everything else that have been flying in and out of your head. 

Eventually, the rest of the afternoon wears on, and you somehow manage to survive through Seungkwan and Wheein's (mainly Seungkwan though, unsurprisingly) overbearing and teasing attempts to get you to spill your thoughts on café boy. They give up by the end of it, saying their goodbyes with a tight squeeze of a hug and urging you to keep your chin up. Seriously, you wouldn't know where you would be right now if it weren't for them.

At the back, when Joshua steps out of the restroom, a sudden slap at the wall next to his head startles him back.

“So I see.” Jeonghan circles a finger in front of his face. “You're feeling under the weather, aren't you?”

Joshua groans. “Don't you say it𑁋”

“Under the weather of love𑁋”

“You're having more customers than before because of me. Don't ruin that.”

“Then stop looking like a lovesick puppy and ask them out already, idiot.” Jeonghan shoves the boy forward with a not-so-gentle push to the back. “or at least invite them to your gig. Maybe you won't feel under the weather then.”

Joshua opens his mouth to retort. “Dude, I can't just𑁋”

But before he can finish his sentence, Jeonghan has already disappeared in the back, leaving Joshua standing there in a puddle of embarrassment. He glances towards the table where you were sitting earlier, seeing that you and your friends have already left, and panic shoots through him.

He's never been good at taking risks, but maybe, just maybe, it's time to change that.

Racing out the door, the cool evening air greets Joshua as he steps outside, quickly scanning the surroundings for a glimpse of your familiar figure. He spots you not too far away, heading down the sidewalk, before quickening his strides. He doesn't know what's driving him, but there's a sudden urgency to catch up with you𑁋to not let you slip away just this once. 

And when he finally manages to catch up to you approaching the pedestrian light, he finds himself breathless in front of you, heart pounding in his chest and cheeks flushed, still wearing the café apron around his body. When he looks up to you, clearly startled by his sudden appearance, he feels the heat crawl up his neck. 

“I, um…” he starts, voice coming out way more flat to his ears. Then you watch as he brings his hands up to sign. “Question?”

You feel your heart pick up its pace. He ran all the way out here to ask you a question?

“I have a performance…" His face lights up when he signs the right word. Cute. "...this weekend. I was wondering if you’d like to watch it?” 

You swear you can see the city lights blinking in anticipation around you, your own eyes fluttering in surprise to his question. He's... inviting you to watch him perform? He knows you won't be able to fully understand him, to hear him, yet he's offering you anyway?

Part of you wants to immediately say yes. The thought of watching him sends a wave of thrills through you, a glimmer of excitement warming the chill wrapped around your heart since leaving the café. But the other part𑁋the cautious and guarded part that has learned to retreat behind walls of silence𑁋is reluctant.

Hesitation flickers across your features, and Joshua's hands fly in apology.

“You don't𑁋if you're uncomfortable or if you have plans, it's okay," Joshua reassures quickly, speaking almost too fast for you to catch everything tumbling off his lips. “I could give you my number and text the details if you decide to come. Just... think about it, okay?”

The streetlight casts a soft glow on Joshua's features as he waits for your response. You glance up to the pedestrian signal, noticing that time is ticking down before you would have to leave, before bringing your gaze back to him.

You swallow a lump down your throat, and give a nod. A faint grin breaks across his face. Joshua fumbles with his phone, pulling it out of his pocket and offering it to you. You swiftly type in your phone number, then hand the phone back to him, and then the pedestrian signal switches to green. It's your time to go. Each footstep you take feels heavier and heavier. 

Joshua watches you go, but not before you both exchange your habitual waves to each other.

He can get used to that, he thinks.

The colours on your palette just look absolutely wrong. 

It may just be the lighting playing tricks on your eyes and the exhaustion hanging on your eyelids, but it all looks slightly off-shade, the teeniest tiniest bit cooler or warmer. You frown, dipping your brush into the paint, attempting to mix them until they match the image you have in your mind. But it's like trying to catch sunlight with your bare hands𑁋the more you try, the more it slips away.

You let out a frustrated sigh, leaning back in your chair, and your gaze wanders to the canvas. The painting stares back at you tauntingly. It's like a stranger's work, not your own. A sense of defeat washes over you.

Groaning, you hop to your feet, untangling the apron around your waist and letting it fall to the ground before taking your paint brushes to the sink in your bathroom. You wash off the paint with a bit too much force, the bristles scraping against the porcelain, almost as if you were trying to scrub away your own frustration. The paint swirls down the drain, the colours blending together into an ugly, murky green before ultimately disappearing. 

You chug down an entire glass of water from your kitchen, then shut off the light hanging above your canvas. Sprawling on top of your bed, you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping that the walls could cave in and swallow you whole, if only for a moment.

When you reach behind to fish for your phone annoyedly, your eyes nearly bulge out of its skull. 

You don’t even have to read out the entire message for you to jump up from your bed. Your eyes dart from the time displayed at the top of your phone, and to the words jumping at you from the screen.

[06:26PM | joshua hong] Hey it's Joshua! Sorry I know it's a bit last minute, but my performance is supposed to start in about 15 [06:29PM | joshua hong] But I totally understand if you aren't able to attend. It's no problem at all :) 

And perhaps it's the adrenaline from reading the message knowing it’s from Joshua, because you’re suddenly standing up and racing to the bathroom. You don’t understand how you look more disheveled than before, and you can hardly do much to touch yourself up before you’re shrugging, grabbing a jacket, and leaving. 

You nearly trip on the way out the door, and you could already feel the multitude of curses echoing through your head. 

Gosh, you can hardly believe how much time has slipped away from you. The stress coming from painting and deadlines has been gnawing at you day by day. It’s been the only thing pulling you back from doing anything else. Yet with every stroke you bring to the canvas, it feels empty. You feel empty. 

The streets of the city feel busier than usual, the air thick of your already deteriorating patience, and an unnerving anxiety gnaws at your insides. 

You don't have to attend𑁋you know it's a choice you could make, but why does the thought of not seeing him perform make your heart clench? Why does the thought of simply not seeing him make your steps quicken even more?

The doors to the bus ahead slam shut the second you stride up to it, and your hand comes up to pound at the heavy metal surface in anger. With a huff, you step back from the edge of the street, ignoring the stares being shot towards you by passersby while watching as the bus pulls away, leaving you standing uselessly on the sidewalk.

A person almost bumps into you once you turn around. Every taxi that you attempt to grab is immediately taken. You blink back some heat in your eyes, arms wrapping around your body as if trying to mask away the sinking feeling at the pit of your stomach. You brush past a sea of shoulders and weave through the bustling streets of the city. Seriously, why the hell is it so busy right now? 

But even as you continue to float your way through the crowded streets, you could feel all the hope at getting to Joshua’s performance deflate. The day really wasn’t all on your side right now, and it all seems to rain down weights at your feet, slowing you down with every step you take. 

Why does it matter? You ask yourself inwardly, skepticism knitting at your brows. Why does his performance matter so much? 

A sharp nudge at your shoulder blade makes you wince. And when you bring your eyes back up, you suddenly realise you’re the only one left standing at the pedestrian light, watching as the sea of people ahead of you cross without any worry. The other side seems so close yet so far. 

Your gaze flickers up at the seconds counting down, your thoughts thinking back to Joshua, and you suddenly find yourself darting across the street.

Joshua's brow twitches faintly when his calloused fingers strum at his guitar strings. 

It’s a bit warmer this evening, the air feeling strangely muggier than usual. The note that leaves his guitar sounds slightly off-tune, but he doesn’t get himself to fix it. Instead, he hunches over to aimlessly grab at his guitar case right at his feet, snatching the coins he may have missed picking up before beginning to pack everything up. 

Joshua glances around the beautifully lit-up busking area, eyes scanning over the dwindling crowd. It’s a relatively small, circular area making up the heart of a tiny social sphere surrounded by local markets and restaurants. Despite that, there’s an emptiness lingering around him, one that feels awfully familiar yet more noticeable than ever before. He gazes back down and pockets the coins with a practiced shrug, a movement that barely hides the disappointment nagging at him.

When a coin slips out of his grasp, he bends down to retrieve it. But as he’s about to come back up, a shadow seems to loom above him, and the outsole of a shoe nearly steps on his fingers. 

Joshua picks his head back up, half-expecting for it to be a complete stranger and totally not half-hoping that it would be… you, hunched over and out of breath.

“Y/N?” he asks, swiftly putting the coin away. “You came.” 

You only give an imperceptible, apologetic nod at his words. Joshua glances around for a moment, before looking down at his guitar, and back to you.

He scratches the back of his neck bashfully. “You just missed it.”

A thin line forms at your lips as you sign, “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to be sorry.” Joshua waves dismissively with his hands in a slight panic. “You must have been busy, right?”

You smile faintly at that, nodding once more, before taking out your phone to type:

I wanted to come

Once Joshua reads it, you see the way his eyes widen ever so slightly. “You did?”

The curve at your lips lifts even more, but just barely. Joshua’s head falls down for a minute as he peers down at his feet, attempting to hide away a grin threatening at his own face, before looking back up at you and clearing basically nothing in his throat. He tucks his hands in the pockets of his jeans. 

“I’m glad you came,” he says, a sweet, appreciative tone to his words. You can’t hear it but you can see it in the way his eyes seem to smile as wide as his lips. “I was… kind of hoping you would show up. Not… not in a weird way or anything! I just𑁋I think I would have felt a little more confident if you were here. A face that I know.” 

Your face scrunches together in a bit of worry and a pinch of surprise, but Joshua just shakes his head and chuckles it off. 

The two of you stand there for a few moments. It’s really your first time being right in the centre of the busking square. Fairy lights hang on the few trees that dot around the area. You could see some small and large groups of people huddling nearby, presumably watching other performers performing, but you and Joshua just stood adrift in your own little bubble, like two stars separate from their own galaxies. 

The fairy lights cast a warm glow on Joshua's face, highlighting his hair that was floofed out in soft wisps around his forehead. You watch the way he runs his hand through it before taking a deep breath and returning to packing up his guitar. You casually wander close, looming over as you observe him in curiosity. 

Once Joshua slings his guitar back over his shoulder, he turns back to you. 

“Are you…” he starts to ask while signing. “...going back home now?”

You glance down at the time on your phone, pursing your lips together lousily. You should probably head home to start back on your painting, but that’s not what your thoughts are telling you to do, nor your heart. Or maybe your entire body, in fact. 

“If you are,” Joshua’s hands catch your attention again, then you focus in on his lips. “can I walk you home again? Like last time? It’s the least I could do since you ran all the way here. I have to give some worth to your effort, right?” 

You almost swear you could read the playfulness on his features, like the way his eyes crinkle subtly at the corners, or even in the way his head is tilted unnoticeably.

You can get used to that side of him, possibly.

You only abruptly turn around, leaving Joshua puzzled for a second, before he’s snatching the rest of his belongings and jogging to catch up to you. Then the two of you are walking side by side just as all the times before, the distance between you closing naturally. 

The world you’re used to is already quiet, silent even, but it’s different now. Joshua’s presence is loud, not in sound, but in the way it seems to comfortably fill the space around you. You don’t really know how to describe it without sounding awfully obvious that… you like when he’s around you; or, you like when you’re around him. 

His guitar case occasionally bumps your hip at his side, and his every attempt to create more space only seems to bring him back to the tiny amount of distance between you two anyway. Then Joshua switches carrying the case from one shoulder to the other, and as he does, his free hand briefly brushes against yours. The touch is fleeting, but enough to send a jump to your stomach. He quickly looks at you with a sheepish grin, muttering an apology that you can't hear but can easily read in his expression. 

The night air is cooler now, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves overhead and causing them to fall to the ground like feathers at your feet. 

Joshua feels a light tap at his arm, and he turns to see you showing him a message on your phone.

Did your performance go well? 

He smiles nimbly at that, but you can tell in the way his eyes seem to cast a shadow over his face that he's not entirely satisfied. He only nods slightly, a noncommittal gesture. 

“It was alright,” he says while signing, fingers moving reluctantly. “The crowd was small, and I wasn’t at my best. But it’s okay.” 

You frown a little, and the way he casts his head down to the ground makes your chest squeeze. 

“Maybe it was good that you didn’t come,” Joshua mumbles under his breath, and you hardly catch what he was saying, but you could sense the diffidence emitting from him. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint you either.” 

Both of your footsteps slow down ever so slightly as you approach a familiar street corner, the dim glow of a lamppost shining down on the two of you. Joshua notices the pensive expression to your features as your fingers dance across your phone screen. 

You hesitate for a moment before showing him. 

You tried your best. That’s all that matters

Then you’re abrupt to take your phone away before Joshua could process your words, typing something else again before flipping your phone around for him to read.

You wouldn’t have disappointed me

Joshua stares at the simple message. A hearty sound seems to bubble out of his chest, then another, and another, before it turns into a brief fit of coughs and a mix of laughter altogether. You can’t help but giggle at his reaction. It's light and airy, like wind chimes dancing in the breeze, and it feels like breaking a sound barrier you didn't even know existed between the two of you.

When he returns his gaze to you, he grins again, beaming even, a sliver of teeth expressing relief and a newfound confidence. 

“Thank you,” he tells you. “That means a lot to me.” 

You nod your head coyly, and before Joshua can say anything else, you’re already turning around and beginning to walk. Yet just after the first few steps, a boom of thunder echoes in the distance, and a raindrop lands at the top of your head. 

You stop and turn to see Joshua racing after you, and he stops right next to you. 

“Rain,” he simply signs. “It’s raining.”

And then, the two of you don’t even have to say anything before you’re running through the incoming rain together. You try to run as fast as you can without looking back because you know that Joshua is behind you, the rain beginning to fall down heavier and heavier as you dart through the streets and into the area where your apartment is located. 

Joshua stops right at the entrance, the same place where he had stopped last time. He watches as you continue to dash away from him, before coming to a halt, and turning around to notice him standing there under the pouring rain. 

Raindrops plaster in your hair and clothes as you face Joshua standing at the entrance of your apartment building. His hair is damp and matted to his forehead, damp clothes clinging to his frame as the rain running in rivulets down his face. Despite the downpour, his eyes meet yours with an unwavering gaze.

“Are you alright?” he signs nearly frantically, and you squint your eyes to be able to see him more clearly. 

While catching your breath, you motion for Joshua to come closer, shielding yourself under the small awning of your apartment building. He hesitates for a moment, glancing around as if assessing the situation, but then he’s jogging up to you, joining you under the small shelter of your building that could probably only fit two people. 

Both of you stand there as you watch the rain pour down to the earth in front of you. Then you glance at Joshua, and then at your apartment, then back outside again. He can’t go home in this rain right now without a singular bit of protection.

A tug at Joshua’s sleeves makes him turn to face you, softening at the way you look so concerned yet… cute in your own little way.  

Without any thinking, you gesture towards your apartment, as if silently offering him an invitation.

The surprise on Joshua's face is clear. His eyebrows shoot up, and his mouth falls open slightly. He glances back at the downpouring rain, then back at you with uncertainty. 

“Are you sure?” he asks. 

You nod again, even opening the door for him and waiting for him to step inside. He hesitates again, but the apparent adamancy on your features brings some warmth to blossom through his chest. He fixes his guitar case on his shoulder and steps past you into the dry hallway, water from his hair and clothes dripping down to the ground. 

Joshua follows you down the narrow hallway toward your apartment door, his shoes squeaking slightly on the tiled floor below, a slip of nervousness with every step he takes. The hallway is dimly lit, with a faint aroma of incense lingering in the air. You unlock the door and hold it open for him, gesturing for him to enter first. And as he steps past you, he’s immediately greeted with the warmth of your place.

You take off your own shoes right after him as he stands somewhat awkwardly in the middle of your apartment. It’s smaller than he imagined, but it’s enough for him to recognise glimpses of your personality scattered around. It’s cozy, minimalist, yet it’s home to you, and that’s all that matters to him. 

You appear back in front of him with a towel in your hands, and you hold it out to Joshua, who takes it from your grasp gratefully. He starts to dry his hair and face, the towel absorbing the rainwater and providing some warmth against his skin. As he does so, he steals glances around your apartment, catching sight of an easel holding up a large canvas. 

There are other paintings on your walls too. He smiles to himself as he steps closer towards the canvas, the painting appearing unfinished and a bit weathered with all of its strokes, but nevertheless eye-catching, filling him with wonder about what the finished product may look like. 

You emerge from your bedroom and scan around the room, and when your eyes land on Joshua, you find him peering down at your unfinished painting, a thoughtful expression on his face as he cards through his hair with the towel. He turns to you, eyes widening at the sight of you in a set of new, dry clothes, then shifts his gaze to what you're holding.

It’s an oversized, grey hoodie, and it proudly displays the name of the museum that you frequent. You hold it out to Joshua with a shy look. He sets the towel aside and takes the hoodie from your hands. Immediately, you take a deep breath and face yourself away to let him change, and Joshua watches as you disappear into the small kitchen area, giving him a moment of privacy.

After propping his guitar case next to your easel, he strips off his wet shirt, replacing it with the dry, oversized hoodie. It’s warm and extremely comfortable, smelling like it’s been freshly washed with a scent hinting at lavender, and instantly offers the relief he needed after running through the rain earlier.

Then Joshua gazes around your apartment again. There’s a bookshelf lined with art books and tiny succulents, a small couch with a knitted blanket draped over its arm, and a table with a collection of paintbrushes, unused palettes, and an endless collection of bottles of paint. It’s a different sight than what he’s used to, that’s for certain𑁋he’s used to microphone chords being tangled together, the worn leather of his guitar case at his fingertips, and the hum of music drifting through his life. 

The sound of your footsteps echoes softly from the kitchen, drawing Joshua's attention away from his thoughts. You're holding two mugs in your hands, steam curling up from the brims, and the scent of herbal tea wafts through the air. You carefully hand one to him, before settling on the couch, snugly tucking your legs underneath yourself. Joshua follows suit right after, sitting down right next to you while taking a steady sip from the warm tea. He feels the warmth seep into his fingers as he cradles the mug in his hands. 

He glances at you, noticing how relaxed you seem all curled up on the couch, the soft light casting a gentle glow on your face.

Joshua leans down to set the mug back on the table, catching your attention. 

“Thank you,” he mouths quietly, signing to you. 

You offer a small nod in response, then take out your phone to type:

Is it still raining hard outside? 

Joshua leans back on the couch to listen, narrowing his eyes intently. He still hears the rain outside, but it seems to have calmed down quite a bit. Yet the thought of him staying longer in your place makes his ears burn hotter than the steaming cup of tea in his hands.

He turns back at you and nods his head, knowing it’s a bit of a white lie but deciding that it’s worth staying just a little longer with you. He watches the way your face shifts into a contemplative look. 

Your fingers dance along with your screen once more. 

You can stay until it stops

“Are you sure?” Joshua questions incredulously. “I don’t want to be a nuisance.” 

You shake your head firmly, the smile playing on your lips widening just a touch. It's clear in your eyes that you’re genuinely telling him it’s okay, and that assurance softens something in Joshua's chest. He glances down at his mug on the table, staring at the way the steam curls up into the air like delicate wisps.

It feels almost natural to do this𑁋to sit here under the excuse of sheltering away from the rain, but really, it's a bit more than that, more obvious than what you both assume. For some reason, it’s easier to be around each other than sitting alone in your separate worlds of sound and art. 

When Joshua drinks the rest of his tea, he catches a glimpse of his guitar case standing right next to your easel, and a light flickers on his head. 

“Since you missed my performance,” he starts to say, signing a bit flimsily and unconfidently. “I was wondering if I could… maybe sing for you?” 

You cock your head to the side, curiosity piqued. “Sing?”

“Sing.” Joshua copies right after you. He remembers when you mentioned that even though you can’t hear, you can still feel the vibrations, read the chords and lyrics, and enjoy the music like others.

And while he feels nervous, the way his heart flutters at the thought of you listening to him sing makes him feel a bit… hopeful, confident, like he told you before. He likes to think that your presence alone is much more comforting and reassuring than a group of strangers gathered around him in the busking area. 

Joshua takes a deep breath, before standing up and fetching his guitar gently from its case, resting the instrument on his knee. The rich scent of wood fills the air as he tunes it, deftly plucking each string with practiced fingers until it comes to the correct note. You could only watch in awe, glancing between the guitar and his focused expression. His brows knit together tightly and his eyes come to a close for a few moments𑁋you can’t seem to tear your own gaze off him. 

When he finishes tuning, he opens his eyes, seemingly noticing how attentive you’re to his every move. A faint blush creeps up his neck, and he casts his eyes down for a moment before meeting yours again. He clears his throat awkwardly, adjusting the guitar strap on his shoulder.

“Can I…” he begins to ask, holding out his hand towards you. You peer down at it, noticing how it hovers expectantly between you. 

As your hand is about to brush against his, Joshua gently takes your hand with his own, his calloused fingertips meeting your soft ones briefly. He guides your hand on the body of his guitar. Your fingers rest lightly against the smooth wood, feeling the vibrations as he strums a few chords softly. 

Your eyes widen as you look back up at him, surprised at how vivid the sensation is right at the ends of your fingers. 

“You can read my lips too.” Then he pauses, before continuing, “if you want to, at least.” 

With that, he plays a few chords, the vibrations running through the guitar and to your hand, even down your body. And when his lips start to move, you try to focus on his every word, watching the shape of his mouth as he sings. 

For years, you’re used to reading sound with your eyes. Sure, you’ve touched instruments, like the piano in the music room during elementary school or the drumset you would see backstage before a school concert. But no one ever played them𑁋nobody ever played for you. 

So when you read from your eyes, there’s always that second of disconnect when you blink, and the inner anxiety that you could miss even the tiniest detail of the music. However, everytime you blink now, you could feel Joshua singing and playing right at the ends of your fingertips, as if he was telling you that it’s okay to keep your eyes closed without worrying, simply because he was right there. 

This is what passion looks like on someone else, and for some reason seeing all that unfold before you makes it all more beautiful. 

You notice Joshua closes his eyes or peers down sometimes when he gets more focused, yet it doesn’t take anything away from his singing. The way his fingers effortlessly glide over the strings of his guitar, or the subtle lift to his lips when he’s singing𑁋you know that his heart is completely in it. 

It’s beautiful. He’s… beautiful.

The song ends before you hardly notice. You keep your hand resting on the guitar, the vibrations still buzzing ever so slightly on your fingertips after Joshua strums the final set of chords. 

Joshua shifts uncomfortably for a moment, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the guitar in his lap. He scratches the back of his neck, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. 

“Did you... like it?” he asks tentatively while searching your face, signing the words as he speaks.

You merely blink up at him too, as if you’re still stuck processing everything and nothing all at once, before nodding reassuringly. 

Joshua's expression softens with relief, his shoulders relaxing visibly as he lets out a quiet sigh. He glances down at your hand still resting on his guitar, a certain warmth spreading through his chest at the way you're looking at him.

“You felt it, didn't you?” he asks quietly. “The vibrations?”

You consider nodding again, but instead, you reach back for your phone to type.

It was beautiful. I haven’t felt music like that in a long time

Joshua can’t help but smile to himself, and there’s no point in trying to hide it anymore when he does. He likes knowing that he’s happy around you, likes feeling himself be happy around you. It’s a feeling that feels easy, natural, like he doesn't have to try too hard. 

He gently places his guitar back in its case, the soft click of the latch echoing in the quiet room. You notice his fingers linger on the case for a moment, before he turns back to you.

“I think that I was right about what I said earlier,” he affirms, and there seems to be content hinting on his features. “about feeling more confident… when you’re around. I just wanted to thank you for that.”

Of course, he was nervous, anxious if anything𑁋but in between all that nerves was the comfort of someone who listened to him more intently than any audience ever could. 

Joshua clears his throat and peers around after setting his case back down, trying to brush off the fact that you’re sitting way more closer to him than before. You’re typing something on your phone again, the bright screen emitting on your face and making you bat your eyelashes together. 

You lightly tap on his shoulder to get his attention, showing your message:

You can always practice here, if you want

“Practice? Here? You want𑁋I can practice here?” The disbelief in his face makes you purse your lips together endearingly. “I hardly ever have the chance to practice because Jeonghan𑁋my roommate𑁋is sick of me being loud, at this point. I’ve been saving up to move out, but it’s been hard.”

When he realises how fast he spoke and the way you’re watching him closely, all he does is smile faintly.

“I’ll be sure to use the opportunity wisely,” he assures you, and there’s that lightheartedness back on his face again.

Your knee rubs against his when you stand up to put away the empty mugs back in the kitchen. It gives Joshua the chance to look around your place again, and his eyes settle on your unfinished painting on the other side of the room. 

“Could you…” he starts to ask once you’re walking back to the couch, his fingers moving unsurely in the air. “Could you tell me about your paintings?” 

At first, there’s a bit of hesitancy in your movements. But the genuinity you see in his gaze seems to tug at your heartstrings more than ever. You show him a message on your phone:

As long as you tell me about your songs

Joshua’s eyes light up at your message, a grin spreading across his face. 

“It’s a deal,” he says.

You could probably count the individual dust specks floating in the sunbeams pouring inside the classroom. 

Warm water trickles down your hands and into the sink below as you rinse off some paint brushes, before placing them in a discoloured, paint-covered bucket right beside you.

The museum has a variety of art classes, mostly for people who aspire to get their artwork shown in exhibitions. You aren’t any different from them𑁋you all seek the same goal, which is to be heard and recognised for your work; this small inkling to be known or even vaguely known by someone.

Once you finish cleaning up, you dry your hands on a rag and take a moment to look around the desolate classroom. The smell of paint and the sight of easels and canvases everywhere feels like home, but lately you’ve been questioning if it’s actually home, or just a temporary refuge. The question nags at you as you gather your belongings to put in your worn-out tote bag.

Stepping out of the classroom, you start to walk through the nearly empty museum, passing by hallways with art ranging from contemporary, to modern, to as far back as the classics. You’ve probably been through these halls a countless number of times𑁋retaining everything from the title of the piece to the artist’s name and technique𑁋and you would still be in utter awe. 

However, just as you reach the main area of the museum, a figure peering up at a painting catches your eyes. The guitar case that hung on his shoulder stuck out like a sore thumb among every other person in the room, and the sight makes you chuckle to yourself because you recognise Joshua instantly. 

You stand there for a moment, observing him from a distance as he studies the painting with a thoughtful expression. His fingers tap lightly against the strap of his guitar case, and you feel like if you focus even more, you could possibly see the thoughts wrapping around his head. 

Joshua glances at his phone for a millisecond before turning around, abruptly stopping when he sees the sight of you standing not that far away from him. The corners of his lips lift into a gentle smile upon seeing you, or his face seems to almost brighten up entirely, you can hardly tell. He brushes a hand through his hair before offering you a small wave, which you reciprocate back with one of your own without any hesitation. 

There’s a rush of warmth that flows through you as he approaches up to you.

You stare at him quizzically as you lift your hands up to sign, “What are you doing here?” 

Joshua shoots a bashful look down at his own feet before picking himself back up. 

“I wanted to see you,” he says quietly while signing, and his hand movements are as shy as his words. 

His words hardly process for a few moments, and Joshua thinks he might have overstepped. The hopeful glint in his eyes dims subtly, replaced by a shy apology already forming in his hands at the shock to your features. Maybe wanting to see you was a bit too forward of him. 

But it’s the way your hands nearly come in contact with his own to dismiss his worries that stops him mid-apology. You shake your head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. 

“I…” You start, then pause, because Joshua’s focused, unwavering, yet patient gaze tugs at something inside of you. Gathering your thoughts, you continue signing slowly, “I thought about seeing you too.” 

A surprised, somewhat choked laugh escapes Joshua's lips, a sound as light and unexpected as what you just said. Relief washes over him, clear as the day outside and the sunlight streaming through the museum windows. He seems to hold his breath for a moment before a grin splits his face apart. 

“Really?” he signs back, and it’s cute seeing how expressive he is when he’s surprised. 

“Yes,” You reply back firmly, hopefully being able to emphasize it enough with your fisted hand.

Joshua rubs at his nose nervously, and even the gesture being so small feels charming somehow. The weight of your art supplies feels lighter in your bag than they have in a while. 

“I have some time before practice though,” he shares, pondering lightly. “Would you like to grab a bite to eat first?”

Your lips lift at the offer, and you scramble a hand in your bag to retrieve your phone. But your fingers fumble, encountering only paint brushes and sketchbooks. Panic starts to rise in your chest as you frantically dig deeper within your bag. Your phone. It's not there. It’s probably back in the classroom.

You shoot an innocent look at Joshua, catching sight of his worried, furrowed brows. You try to explain to him with your hands, but your movements are hurried and you could tell he didn’t entirely understand. So you settle with a helpless shrug and a motion towards a deeper part of the museum, and he seems to catch on. 

Joshua feels the hesitation in his step when he sees you turn around and begin walking away. Considering for a second, he catches up to you quickly, the sounds of his shoes bouncing off the museum floors. 

He follows right next to you quietly, taking in the museum’s atmosphere as you navigate through the familiar halls. When the two of you reach a room, you hold the door open for him, and Joshua swears he hasn’t really seen anything like this before. 

The room is large and very open, the natural lighting from the outside flowing in from the windows. Unused easels and canvases stood at the corners of the room. There’s a long, wooden table perched in the middle of the room, and a whiteboard that takes up a small portion of the wall. Joshua takes the time to look around as you dash to the cleaning station where you were putting up the supplies, and there was your phone𑁋sitting idly with a few drops of water on its screen that you wipe away.

Joshua is standing with his arms crossed at the whiteboard, eyes squinting as if he was trying to discern the faded markings. You stand right next to him once you come up, bringing your gaze also to the whiteboard. 

He turns to you, seemingly inquisitive. “Is this an art class?”

You manage a nod. But you feel like it isn’t enough of an answer and decide to pull out your phone instead. 

It’s an art class for the deaf, and for those who want to show their work in the exhibitions here

Joshua’s mouth opens in awe as he reads the words on your screen. A flicker of understanding lights up his eyes as he processes the information.

“That's amazing,” he tells you while signing back, expression visibly softening. “I had no idea they had classes like this here. How long have you been coming?”

He watches as you look back down to type on your phone, taking the few seconds as a chance for his eyes to drift over your features, silently taking in the concentration etched on your face. When you finish typing, you show him the screen. 

Just for the past year. There’s only a few of us in the class. Sometimes I’m the only person who shows up though

“Ah,” Joshua only hums contemplatively. He glances around once more, as if trying to see the room through your perspective. “That must feel lonely sometimes.”

You nod, letting out a low sigh as you type out your next message:

It can be. But it's also peaceful. Gives me time to think and create without any distractions

“I get it.” Joshua nods with a small smile. “You’re dedicated. I admire that.” 

Your heart swells a little at his words. It's always a vulnerable thing𑁋sharing a piece of your world with someone else, but Joshua’s presence seems to make it all a little less daunting, a little more comfortable. 

Joshua’s eyes settle on a corner where a few canvases lean against the wall, seemingly forgotten or awaiting their turn under someone’s hand. He steps closer to it, running his fingers lightly over the rough edges of one of the frames, then turns back to you.

“Do you have any of your work shown here in the museum?” he asks curiously. 

A rush of emotions floods through you, a frown caressing your face—pride sprinkled with uncertainty, hope clouded by doubt. You've always dreamed of showcasing your work, to be recognised and understood through your art. However, you feel a twinge of self-consciousness creeping in, because the dream of one day having your work displayed alongside the masterpieces lining the museum walls feels both distant and impossibly close at the same time.

Sensing your shift in mood, Joshua raises his eyebrows in question. You fumble with your phone again, typing out a response and showing it to him. 

I’m not sure if my work is good enough for that

Joshua's expression softens even further. “But you wouldn't keep creating it if you didn't believe in it, would you?”

Oh, he’s got you there, you think. A certain warmth starts to spread through you at his perceptiveness, a twitch at your lips from a suppressed smile trying to break free.

“And even if you don’t believe in it right now,” Joshua starts, placing himself right next to you gazing down at the empty canvases waiting to be touched. “I believe in you. I mean it.”

You exhale softly, a weight lifting off your shoulders as you absorb his words. For the first time in a while, you begin to see your art through a different lens—not just as smears on a canvas, but as a reminder that this is something you love.

It’s been a while since someone’s said that they believe in you, and it hits you right in the heart. 

“Is the painting in your place the one you want to finish for the museum?”

You nod in response to that, though the sullen look to your face doesn’t seem to exactly agree. 

There’s an exhibition being held just a few weeks from now, which is also the deadline for submitting your painting, which was being judged. The pressure has been getting to you, admittedly, and it feels like time is slipping away faster than you can paint. But maybe, just maybe, you’ll get back home later today and pick up your paint brush without it feeling like a burden to hold. 

Joshua says something you don’t catch quick enough when you face back to him, and you tilt your head in question.

“I’m not sure if I did the sign right.” And then he brings his hands up, signing to you, “Good luck.” 

Heat crawls up your neck to his words, and a smile fights its way through the lingering uncertainties and stretches shamelessly across your face. 

His hand comes awfully close to yours when he brings them down to the side. 

You draw yourself away when you feel your phone vibrate in your hand, only seeing that it was some useless notification. Joshua fixes himself up as well, turning to you fully, and you both exchange shy grins.

“Food?” He brings his hand up to his mouth, almost mimicking like he was putting a piece of food there. 

You adjust the strap of your bag and double-check to make sure you have your phone with you, before nodding. The two of you head out of the classroom together.

“So what you’re saying is that you’re both basically dating.” 

The way your face scrunches up in visible disgust to Seungkwan’s words has Wheein shoving the younger boy with a daggered stare, nearly making the stick of tanghulu fall from his grasp. 

“You can’t just claim that,” Wheein retorts back.

“He walks Y/N home! He’s been inside their place! He wants to see them! Y/N doesn’t even let us come inside their place these days and yet here’s this guy waltzing his way into their heart!” 

“I can’t tell if you’re insulting him or thanking him,” Wheein points out playfully, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms. 

“I'm not doing either,” Seungkwan protests, feigning a snarky look. “I'm just stating the facts. If it walks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it's probably a duck.”

At this point, your friends are speaking almost too fast for you to catch everything being said, but all you could do is bring your head down and gaze to your footsteps, a subtle, amused grin playing to your lips. They’re arguing about your life, and yet it makes you feel… acknowledged, seen, heard, because your world before seemed to revolve solely around you and your art only for the longest you can recall. 

An adamant tap lands on your shoulder, and you bring your head back up to face Wheein. 

“Isn’t the exhibition next week?” she asks, signing with a sense of urgency in her expression.

Your face falls a little, and the thought of the deadline and exhibition seems to loom over you like a dark storm cloud. It feels like yesterday you were just staring at a blank canvas, and now every inch of it is covered in a mess of colours that is undeniably far from what you can consider a masterpiece.

Wheein and Seungkwan could already tell by the weak nod that you give that you’re feeling the pressure of it all. The two of them exchange a knowing look with each other, and it isn’t long before you feel another tap at your shoulder. Wheein motions to something up ahead, and as you face forward in order to see what it was, a hand grabs at your sleeve and you find yourself being dragged forward by your two best friends.

You can hardly control where your feet are landing in front of you, and the only thing you could catch ahead is a crowd and the familiar sight of what appears to be the busking centre. There must be some kind of performance going on, and it peaks your interest. 

The faces surrounding you are all bleeding out enjoyment, with their wide eyes and mouths blossomed into large grins. Their hands are all clapping in unison, some even mouthing the words to lyrics you can hardly make out.

You don’t recognise the small band that’s performing. But then you imagine Joshua being the one at the centre of the crowd, playing his heart out, captivating the audience just like how he captivated you, and the disappointment melts away. 

You find yourself standing at almost the core of the crowd, with Wheein and Seungkwan clapping and cheering animatedly on either side of you. In an odd way, this position feels familiar, as if you’ve stood from this exact same angle before.

You're close enough to see the raw energy pouring off the musicians, the way their instruments become extensions of themselves𑁋the same as Joshua sitting across from you on the couch with his guitar in lap, eyes closed in concentration, and fingers dancing effortlessly along the strings. The memory of that night floods your mind, and you can almost feel the vibrations of his music under your fingertips once again.

It all brings a smile to your face. 

As the music surrounds you, you can see the passion radiating from each band member’s face, carrying away the weight of the upcoming exhibition and the pressures you've been feeling. In this moment of respite, it's just you, your friends, and the music.

When you get back home to your apartment that night, you find yourself focusing on clicking through the photos on your camera roll, almost like you were searching for a particular one. 

And then you find it𑁋the photo you took at the busking square all those weeks ago, the photo you took of that man singing and strumming along his guitar…

…the photo that you took of Joshua Hong, where you didn’t know his name at the time. And now, he’s standing in the middle of your thoughts, and singing directly to your heart. 

It’s almost suffocating to be sitting in this chair right now. Your posture is stiff as a rock, legs shaking underneath your hands that were folded on your lap, other people𑁋other artists just like you𑁋surrounding you like flies. 

You feel excruciatingly hot in your outfit, a formal one that you picked from the depths of your wardrobe that still somehow fits your body still. It’s been a while since you put this much effort into your appearance𑁋you can hardly remember the last time you dressed up like this, honestly𑁋and the unfamiliarity of it all prickles at your skin. 

The day of the exhibition is more chaotic than you expected for it to be. It’s practically held to the public, where almost anyone can walk in and watch the event for themselves. 

Across the vast room, you catch glimpses of other artists, seeing their diverse styles of clothing. There’s a woman with a shaved head and a tattoo snaking down her arm; at the far end, a man in a crisp suit, frown etched at his face, large glasses, with a neatly trimmed beard.

The walls are covered with various works of art, each piece representing the countless hours of dedication and passion of the artists. It’s a grand showcase, bigger than any small ones you’ve seen. The large hall that you’re standing in has been temporarily transformed into a visual showcase where curators and critics would walk around and judge the pieces. By the end of the night, only about half of the submissions would be considered to be permanently displayed in the museum. The thought makes your stomach churn with anxiety.

Joshua had sent you a simple Good luck! You’ll do amazing :) text before you arrived at the museum. It comforts you a little bit, but not entirely𑁋you feel like you’d feel better if he could be here with you in person. He couldn’t come because he had to look after the café. Wheein was also here somewhere too participating in the exhibition, clearly not anywhere near where you were placed in the vast hall. 

The exhibition begins with a formal speech from the museum's director, who talks about the importance of art in society and how this exhibition aims to bring fresh perspectives to the world. As the speech concludes, curators and critics start moving around the large room, closely examining each piece and approaching all the other artists. 

Your eyes follow a few as they approach your painting. They stand before it, whispering among themselves, their expressions indecipherable. You wish you could hear their thoughts, but instead, you focus on their body language𑁋the subtle nods, the thoughtful gazes. Some of them barely have their lips moving for you to be able to read them, while others are simply not speaking at all. At the corner of your eyes, you’re able to make out a few artists speaking with confidence to the curators, explaining their creative process and the message behind their pieces. Disappointment claws anxiously at your chest. 

The sign language interpreter that is supposed to accompany you doesn’t show up until after a few crucial moments with curators have passed. By the time she arrives, introducing herself and quickly apologising for the long delay, you’re already feeling a sense of defeat settling in, struggling to muster the enthusiasm in your hands as you greet her back.

You have a hard time connecting with some of the visitors who stop by, heart sinking even more when they pass by your painting without pausing. Their attention is clearly drawn elsewhere𑁋that’s all you can think about as you watch them move on; their indifference is practically slicing through the air like a knife. 

It’s like you’re invisible. 

In the back of your mind, you figured this would happen. It wasn’t entirely your best work, or the best you’ve put your efforts in. For some reason painting didn’t come as naturally to you as it did before. If anything, it felt forced. The pressure to create something worthy had left you with a piece that felt uninspiring, meaningless. 

You aren’t meant for this. This grand exhibition hall, the feeling of being judged𑁋it all felt like a journey’s away from the joy you used to find in simply creating. The other artists around you seem to belong in this environment more than you do. They stood proudly beside their work, and all you could do right now was let the lump in your throat tighten even more. 

You aren’t meant for this. 

By the time the big announcement comes, you catch a glimpse of the evening sky outside the large windows of the museum. A hush falls over the room as the museum director steps back forward. Even as you let your eyes drift between the director and your interpreter right next to you, you already knew deep within you that the night wasn’t ending in your favour. 

“We congratulate all the artists whose works have been chosen,” the director says warmly, listing off names that resonate through the hall. Each name being called is met with applause and cheers.

Your name isn't called. You would know if it was if the expression on your interpreter’s face wasn’t so solemn, the meek curve at her lips that she wears doing hardly anything to ease you. Despite the sinking feeling, you send her a small, acknowledging nod, offering a tight-lipped smile of your own. 

Wheein finds you when the evening starts winding down and the museum begins to clear away. She taps lightly at your shoulder as you’re packing your belongings, yet the eager look on her face is quick to fade once she sees the dejection painted all over yours. 

“You’re not going to stay for a while?” Wheein asks, signing with concern, her brows furrowing as she watches you continue to pack your things. “I heard there’s an after dinner event later on, and they’re letting anyone join. Maybe you could meet some of the other artists!”

Letting out a quiet exhale, you shake your head, the movement small and defeated as you sign back, “Going to head home. Tired.”

“Are you sure?” Wheein insists. “I was planning to introduce you to some people𑁋”

“It’s okay,” You sign quickly, interjecting her words. But the pout and puppy-eyes that she gives makes you roll your eyes. “Congratulations. I’m so proud of you.” 

A grin is swift to cross her face, and a few seconds later she’s wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug. You return the hug back, feeling a bit of your disappointment melt away in the face of your genuine happiness. 

“I'll text you later,” Wheein signs after pulling back. “Please get home safe, okay? I love you!”

The dramatic kisses she blows in your direction make you laugh despite yourself, and you nod, giving her a small wave as you head out of the museum.

The cool night air nips at your cheek when you step outside, and you feel way less constricted in your clothes than being inside the museum. As you walk briskly down the street, you let the night clear away your muddled thoughts. Your feet seem to guide you, almost on autopilot, not quite ready to head home and face the solitude that’s waiting for you.

You pass by a few late-night cafés, convenience stores, and small shops, their warm lights spilling out onto the pavement. 

The sight reminds you of Joshua. 

And for some reason, that’s all it takes for your feet to pick up its pace. There’s almost determination you can feel in each step that you take, the thoughts of the exhibition pressing farther and farther into the back of your mind. If there’s anything that could make you forget everything that has happened today, it’s just seeing him for a moment. A singular moment. 

The lights of the café switch off when you’re coming up to it. You come to a halt in your tracks, and your gaze lands on a lone figure stepping outside with its back turned towards you.

After a minute or two, the figure turns slowly, and you recognise Joshua's face illuminated by the fading light of the café's sign. There's a moment of hesitation before he notices you standing there just a couple of steps away, and when he does, his features seem to light up even brighter than the flickering stars above. But it’s quick to melt away when he watches the way you’re trudging up to him.

His eyes flicker over your face for a moment. “What happened?” 

You could see the worry in the way he signs to you, his eyes searching your tired ones. He peers at you so softly that it nearly makes your heart ache. But there’s a comfort there that you desperately find yourself wanting to cling to.

Without a word, you simply lean your body forward, letting your head fall onto Joshua’s shoulder. His presence emits a warmth that brings you back from the high of cloudy thoughts and back down to the surface of safety.

Joshua’s eyes widen imperceptibly for a second, before a quiet understanding washes over his face. His arms twitch at the weight of you leaning on him, and then almost hesitantly, he slowly wraps them around you, fingers brushing against the small of your back tentatively, delicately, as if unsure its welcome. 

His warmth seeps through your clothes and settles comfortably within the hollow spaces of your chest. You can feel his heartbeat, steady and reassuring, against your ribs, and smell the lingering scent of coffee on his shirt. A sigh escapes your lips, a soft exhale that contains the tension and worries accumulated throughout the day.

Joshua doesn’t press you. He can feel everything you feel in his embrace, everything you wish to let out. He can feel your dejection, your disappointment, knowing that your efforts, all the blood, sweat, and tears you put into your art had fallen short of your dreams. But he doesn’t pry or question. He simply holds you, and perhaps that’s all that matters right now𑁋he can’t let you fall apart. Not in his arms, anyway. 

You don’t know how long the two of you stand there, right under the dim café light that casts down on your figures. When Joshua feels you shift in his hold, he loosens his grip ever so slightly, gaze caressing over your face for a few moments. His eyes hold a tenderness that makes your breath hitch.

There’s a reluctance in your movements as you start to peel yourself away from him. Joshua slowly lets his arms unfold from around you, but his hands linger for a moment, as if hesitant to fully let you go just yet. His expression remains gentle, silently asking if you’re okay; if there’s anything more he can do. 

“It didn’t go well, did it?” Joshua asks warily. “The exhibition?”

All you do is shake your head, and a small resigned sigh tumbles out of you. 

Joshua purses his lips together, brows knitting together in worry. He knows the sting of rejection all too well and how deep it could cut. 

“I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly, fingers moving with a grace through the air that matches the empathy in his eyes. He’s been getting more confident recently in his signing. “But it doesn’t mean your art isn’t worth anything. You tried your best, and maybe that’s what matters. Remember what I told you before?”

You tilt your head in question, waiting for him to continue. 

Then, all Joshua does is smile faintly, before picking his hands up to sign. He starts by putting his hand in a fist and sticking his pinky finger upward. Then he points his index finger to his forehead, before bringing it down into his open hand. Next he fixes his right hand downward, forming the other one into a cup shape, and dips the fingers of his right hand into it. 

And finally, he points to you. 

“I believe in you.” 

The words fly off his fingers and wrap around you like a blanket. The proud look that he captures on his face is washed away in a fit of timidity, and you can’t help but chuckle, a genuine, warm sound that fills the night air, even if you didn’t notice how loud it is. It's the first real laugh you've had all night. And when Joshua hears it, a blush creeps up his neck, reaching to his cheeks. A relieved smile spreads across his lips. 

When you gaze back up at him, the weight of the day feels a little lighter. Slowly, you lift your hands up to sign, ensuring each movement is clear and deliberate. 

“I missed you.”

Joshua’s expression softens even further. He watches your hands, then meets your eyes, understanding completely. He lifts his hands to respond, fingers moving tenderly through the air, and responding with his voice,

“I missed you too.”

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[weirdmageddon]

Cumpleaños chica, no hay que preocuparse

AO3 MIRROR

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild

Rating: T

Relationships: Link/Zelda, Link & Zelda

Summary: Now seventeen years old, Zelda is finally able to step foot on Mount Lanayru. Link keeps a close eye on her at the Spring of Wisdom, the final spring she has yet to visit to hope at awakening her sealing power. Once again, she is unsuccessful. Canon compliant imagining of events earlier in the day before Calamity Ganon awakens as seen in Memory 15. One-shot.

Tags: Canon Compliant,  Pre-Calamity,  Selectively Mute Link,  he talks a little bit but he’s mostly quiet and terse when he does,  Developing Relationship,  Hurt/Comfort,  Zelda Needs A Hug,  Non-Explicit Intimacy,  Cold Weather,  Huddling for Warmth,  Character Study,  POV Multiple

Author’s notes: Inspired by a conversation I had with a friend. It tickled my brain that Zelda wore her bare-skin ceremonial robes on a freezing mountain, not to mention in the freezing water. The expression and movement Link makes towards Zelda when the Calamity awakens in the memory gave me the impression that he was worried about her state earlier in the day as well. This fic arose tying the threads of what scenario was most likely to have reasonably happened earlier that day, as well as whatever caused them to be suddenly comfortable being so touchy-feely with each other that entire day as seen in the memories.

Beta read by another friend. I hope you enjoy. I don’t write a lot, but I like to think that I have a talent for grasping the “voice” of characters.

Title is most people’s interpretation of a nonsense lyric from Tears for Fears - Listen. Give it a listen if you haven’t. Give it a listen even if you already have.

Today is her birthday.

However, instead of celebrating her seventeenth over fruitcake with friends and family, she’s standing with her skin nearly bare in frigid waters. Her white robes blend in with the snowy landscape of Mount Lanayru. She has goosebumps all down her arms, partly from the below freezing temperatures, and partly from the premonition she feels in her bones.

Her silent but loyal guard stands at the entrance of the spring, his back turned away from her to give her privacy. She still doesn’t feel that she has much anyway, for she knows he’s listening to her. He always has, but doesn’t make it known.

Zelda stands small in front of the stone statue of Hylia, smiling down upon her in a way she feels is patronizing at this point.

“Hear me now,” Zelda articulates with a tone of resignation, “Goddess of Wisdom, Nayru. I come seeking your strength. The spirit of your sisters have not answered my plea. I fear that you may be my last chance... and I hope that it won’t be too late.”

As Link looks back down the mountain, his mind isn’t empty. It’s filled with thought he tries to push out to numb himself, but today he’s stirring on a few things.

Before their ascent to the Spring of Wisdom, Link offered Zelda her winter coat, but she refused. She said that she needed to fortify her spirit by braving the cold as a display of her devotion. He remembered what Zelda had said to him the day before:

“Lanayru’s decree is very specific. It says, ‘No one is allowed, under the age of seventeen, for only the wise are permitted a place upon the mountain.’”

Her decision to forego her coat did not seem very wise, but he knew better than to argue with her. He packed it with him just in case. He does not enjoy seeing Zelda push herself like this to what seems like self-enforced punishment. Her actions appear to be out of desperation at this point.

Link’s nose is running and he wipes it on his sleeve. His ears are warm and snugly tucked into his hood. He briefly glances over at Zelda’s ears and observes that they are pink and raw.

“Today is my seventeenth birthday. Father made me begin my training ten years ago to this day. And today is the first time I pray to you.“

She gives a gentle chuckle, but it’s not one that makes Link feel warm inside.

“Ten years...” she says. “Ten years of my childhood wasted to being ordered to do something as fruitless as this. The Calamity draws ever nearer. It could awaken at any moment, and yet...”

Zelda looks down at her hands and examines their lack. Her fingertips are pink and raw.

“Nothing...”

She’s silent for a moment. The wind blows steadily and the water laps as she puts her hands back down.

“I have great knowledge of the ancient Sheikah relics that legends say brought Calamity Ganon to its downfall ten thousand years ago. If only Father would let me learn more about them I could help... since I can’t seem to do anything else of any good. Surely it’s better than naught?

“If so,” Zelda fumes indignantly, “wouldn’t this be a wise thing of me to do, then?!”

Zelda’s frustration is understandable and justified. Link has seen it evolve every time she visits the springs to pray. He assumes that they could have started as prayers, but since the time he’s been tasked with accompanying her, she seems to end up talking her personal thoughts aloud and venting.

“At this point, I honestly don’t even know if you’re real or not, but please. Give me a sign... a hint. Illuminate my path.”

It’s year ten and Zelda is met by silence yet again.

She balls her fists and curses under her breath. Even with a new spring, she didn’t have her hopes up. Her color looks paler against the periphery of her skin being tinged red from broken capillaries. Zelda begins to sigh, but stops when the frigid air burns her airway.

“This was my last chance...” Her somber tone hangs heavy in the air.

“So, I failed then.”

The silence upon the mountain is broken when a powerful, freezing gale of wind from the north blows Link’s hood in front of his face and causes Zelda to halt in place, grabbing her own arms with her hands for warmth. Link whips his head around, the wind chill making him finally decide to make a break for it. He wades into the freezing water and grabs Zelda’s hand.

“Link,” she snivels, either from the cold or her misery, he wasn’t sure.

Link responds with a soft affirmative grunt and pulls her towards the stone landing, indicating that she get out of the water.

Zelda doesn’t even bother trying to fight against his urges to get her out of the cold water. She knew this effort was futile. She hates herself for being so useless to everyone. For, in all her wisdom, not figuring out a way to her power by now, ten years later. The heir to a throne of nothing.

The water insulated her legs from the air, but now that they are exposed, her legs are frozen in place. They’re mottled from poor circulation.

Zelda chatters, “I... I can’t move them.”

Link’s eyes widen and he lets go of her hand, and instead kneels down, reaching his arms behind her back and knees, and slowly lifts her with a grunt. Carrying Zelda, Link walks her down the steps of the landing and places her on the flat frozen grass. He takes his hood off and gives it to her.

Link then grips the hilt of his Master Sword and lifts it out of the sheath. He runs to the nearest tree and plows his sword into it as hard as he can, gathering wood bundles and bringing them back to Zelda.

The bag that he packed for the trek sits on the ground next to Zelda. He pulls out one of the towels that’s been kept warm by red chuchu jelly. The towel is white and the royal crest is embroidered in the corner with golden thread. He quickly takes it out and wraps it around her. He takes the other warm towel that was packed and places it on the ground for her to sit on, which she does.

Link takes the red chuchu jelly that was warming the towels and places it on top of the bundle of wood he set on the ground. He removes the bow from his back, takes an arrow from his quiver, and shoots at the substance. The arrow piercing the jelly creates a small explosion of heat that sets the wood alight. He looks back at Zelda expectantly, and the two move closer to the fire, sitting beside each other. He holds her hand. Her hand is so cold.

A rare occasion, Link gently voices his thoughts. “It’s dangerous to stay in your wet clothes in this weather.”

In any other situation, he would be bashful about insinuating she undress with him nearby, but he’s dead serious on making sure she doesn’t get hypothermia, if she hasn’t already. He glances at her with a pleading expression.

Zelda understands. “Please don’t look.”

Link’s expression shows exasperation, as if he wouldn’t even think of it. He turns and covers his eyes.

Out of his sight and by the warmth of the fire, Zelda undresses out of her wet gown. She quickly wraps herself back up in the warm white towel.

“Okay.” She sits next to him again, her arms and legs shaking.

“...So that’s it,” she laments with a pause. “After all this time... it was a failure. I’m destined for nothing.”

Her thoughts guide her away from the present, remembering how cold she used to be towards Link because he executed his skills seemingly without flaw or issue. He was naturally talented at harnessing what he needed for his destiny from a young age. Even now knowing Link’s hidden struggles he confided in her, and knowing that he doesn’t despise her for her inability to harness the sealing powers of the Goddess, it doesn’t change the fact that she remains unskilled and aimless at unlocking them at seventeen. She thinks on how if this had happened back then, she would have rather frozen to death in her pretty white robes. Link is so warm, however. He always was, in hindsight. She was just plagued by her own shortcomings. Even if his expressions were cold, his heart was always warm.

Link brings her train of thought to a halt as if on cue, pulling her back to the present when he wraps his arms around her body and holds her close in the warmed towel. He doesn’t say a word, because he doesn’t feel the need to, but he also just doesn’t know what to say. He presses her icy arms close to him. His body is so warm.

Zelda breathes out, with a cloud of steam, “Link... I...”

Making a quiet questioning noise, Link pulls back slightly to meet her eyes.

“...Thank you. I’m sorry for my reckless behavior. I don’t want to be a burden on you.”

Link doesn’t respond in words, but he blinks; his eyebrows lower, and he has a pensive look in his eyes. He then rests his chin over her shoulder as he holds her. Clearly, whatever apology she’s given, Link has already forgiven before she even stated it.

Link quickly grew to care about Zelda beyond the scope of his bare minimum duty to protect her as ordered by the king. Despite being fearless and formidable in the face of physical threats, Link was afraid of one thing: getting pulled into any drama or causing anything that could foster gossip of his relationship with the princess. A random swordsman born to a line of soldiers from Hateno entrusted with being not only the captain of a royal’s personal guard, but being the exclusive one chosen to accompany her on her escapades was enough to get him looks, so he kept his mouth shut and kept a few steps behind her. It pains him that he can’t show her the affection he feels towards her due to the hundreds of eyes boring into him every day. He’s never been close like this to her before.

But right now, the moment is only between him, her, and the Goddess.

Link still feels her muscles are stiff and quivering. The towel may not be enough. He pulls out of the embrace and puts his palm out to signal her to wait a moment. He stands up and starts performing bodyweight squat-jacks.

Zelda stares at him in disbelief.

“What... are you doing?”

Link is silent and focused on moving, engaging his entire body. He continues the squat-jacks until he feels himself begin to break a sweat, grunting during the last one, at which point he stops.

“Generating body heat,” he huffs.

He stumbles, taking a seat beside Zelda again and removes his coat, panting out puffs of steam. He takes off his belts and blue tunic, now only in his off-white long-sleeved undershirt. This should transfer heat better, he thinks. Over his undershirt, Link puts the coat back on and wraps the sides of it around both him and Zelda to form a seal with it so that the air is contained. Link again closes the distance with a gentle but firm embrace. She can feel his heart thumping in his chest from the exertion against her arms which makes her a tad lightheaded and giddy, but his idea is working. The sum of the fire, the insulation from the warm towels, the heat radiating off his body as well as his breath confined by the coat, is warming her.

“Oh. Of course...” Zelda responds sheepishly to the situation, internally justifying his actions with reason. “Yes, that makes sense.”

He tucks his face into the towel over her collarbone and exhales heavily.

Even with his back turned when she prayed, Link always kept an ear open to what Zelda would say. He had escorted her to the Spring of Courage just a few days prior; he vividly remembers hearing how her voice broke as she asked the Goddess what was wrong with her, and it made him deeply uncomfortable to hear her so miserable. He had turned to face her and gently counseled her to wrap it up for today, with his superficial reasoning being that it was getting late, but the deeper reason being that he didn’t want to listen to her hurting. He wanted to hold her tight at that moment but was still worried about professionalism and politeness. There wasn’t much he could do. But currently, Link is feeling catharsis for that missed opportunity.

The two stay like this for a half a minute before Zelda breaks their silence.

“Link. I need to tell you something,” she says gravely.

Link’s ears perk at her tone. He nods, softly grunting in acknowledgment. His breathing is still short.

“Two nights ago, the night after we returned from the Spring of Courage, I had an unsettling dream.” Zelda’s eyes become distant, moving up and to the left, as though she were recalling the scene. “In pitch darkness, there was a lone woman haloed by a blinding light. She was beautiful. I could sense she wasn’t of our world. Her lips spoke urgently, but I couldn’t hear what she said. Her words failed to reach me.”

She looks back down to the top of Link’s messy head and frowns.

“I woke up from it filled with a feeling of dread... dread like I hadn’t known before. Since that dream, I haven’t been able to shake this sense that something terrible is about to happen. And whatever it is, I’m not prepared.”

A lump forms in Zelda’s throat. “And I’m not sure why anyone would believe this sense of urgency coming to me. After all, what have I to prove successful communication with the Goddess? Nothing. And yet...”

“I believe you,” Link replies.

He is actually biting his nails internally, but he tries to numb himself to it and it doesn’t show. After accompanying her countless times, he knows how observational Zelda is and can’t help but trust her intuition.

“Are you afraid?” she asks waveringly.

Link bites his tongue, unsure what Zelda wants to hear. If he says he’s not afraid, will she feel like she’s being undermined and overreacting to a major threat? If he says he is afraid, will she lose confidence in his ability to protect the kingdom? The pressure is also on him to perform, just as it is for her. Hesitantly, Link confesses to his stress with a whispered humph. His arms are still wrapped firmly around Zelda’s body, and he rubs her back comfortingly, feeling the beads of the towel’s fabric under his hands. The sensation of his chest rising and falling makes her feel safer.

Zelda instead seems relieved at his response. That he knows how she feels.

“I just feel that—it feels that at any moment something awful could happen.”

Link pulls back to look her in the eyes, hands on her shoulders for coat insulation. He wants to tell her they’ll get through this together but he is unable to speak, or even know if what he’d say would be the truth. Zelda’s too penetratingly critical to believe it, and he’s not sure he truly believes a pointless platitude either, to be honest.

Zelda also looks into his eyes. After being accompanied by him countless times, she has learned to read her taciturn escort’s subtle expressions. His tight-lipped face communicates worry and pensiveness, which paradoxically feels reassuring to her. Her face heats up when she begins to feel her eyes involuntarily water. She’s always been a strong girl. She held herself with dignity when her mother died eleven years ago. She can’t remember the last time she felt hot tears stinging her eyes, at least not in front of anyone else.

At least the fluids in her body were warm again, she tells herself.

Link notices. He wipes her eyes with the towel. She takes the towel in her own hands and lowers her chin, hiding her face. He pats her back gently as she gives a hefty sniff from her runny nose.

“Let’s head back,” Link says softly. She nods, face red from both embarrassment and the cold.

Beckoning Zelda to her feet, he hands Zelda back her dress. Unfortunately, she has no dry change of clothes besides the coat by itself, and neither of them want her to present herself naked in a towel in front of the rest of the Champions.

“Put it back on,” Link gestures to her ceremonial gown. “I’ll keep you warm on the way.”

With Link’s back turned and eyes closed, Zelda dresses back into her white gown. It’s still damp, but it is not dripping wet. A good portion of the water has evaporated next to the heat of the fire and in part due to the type of fabric it is woven from. The smoky scent of embers still lingers in the cloth.

At the same time, Link puts his own clothes back on; he dresses back into his blue tunic and fastens the belt around his waist and chest. Once Zelda gives him the okay, he turns around, takes her dry winter coat out and slips it on over her gown. He takes his hood back, packs away the towels into their bag, and stamps out the fire.

He glances down at Zelda’s open-toed sandals, her poor toes red. “Can you walk back in those?” he asks. Even down the slope of the mountain, the Naydra Snowfield poses as an obstacle before the clearing to Lanayru’s East Gate where the Champions await their return.

“No,” Zelda simply states, shaking her head. She knows she won’t be able to. She was able to power through open-toed footwear in the snow earlier out of a sense of expectation that her devotion would be heard. But that thread of hope has gone nowhere, and she has since emerged from the Spring of Wisdom with a slightly more impoverished state of mind from their initial trek up the mountain. Her feet are also icicles.

Guilt hangs heavy in her chest for telling him that she isn’t able to walk in her sandals through the snow now, though she could earlier. Even when she had just told him she doesn’t want to trouble him, and even when he addressed her worry in his typical silent way. When will she just accept the seemingly endless lengths he’d go for her? It’s literally his job, she reasons to herself. Get a grip.

Link doesn’t seem to give away what he feels about a situation. Directly knowing how people feel about states of affairs is how Zelda naturally feels at ease with others. Even now she still sometimes finds her imagination running wild at what his attitude is for any course of action or situation, wanting to make sure she doesn’t accidentally step on his toes if he truly dissents but never voices it. Since meeting Link, she’s had to learn to understand that he is actually a very simple person, much simpler than she had initially believed. He holds no strong opinions either way and seems fine, even functioning at his best, when sailing wherever the wind may take him. She’s amazed and even a little envious at how ‘okay’ he seems with things all the time, but her slight envy backpedals as she wonders if an existence like that ever feels aimless and numb.

Numb like her toes right now.

Shouldering the bag, Link kneels down next to her and slowly hoists Zelda up in his arms with a guttural grunt, holding her in the same bridal carry as before: his left arm supporting her back and his right arm behind her knees. When lifting her, he adroitly puts a slight twist on the fabric of the dress around the contour of her legs so that the cold air doesn’t have many opportunities to blow in from under.

Link’s stature is slightly shorter than Zelda’s by about ten centimeters, but he is still strong enough to carry her. She is repeatedly impressed by his physical strength for such a small, lean little Hylian.

“I hope I’m not too heavy,” Zelda coos, “I’m so sorry to make you do this, Link.” The guilt of burdening him with more labor just won’t quit no matter how much she knows he probably doesn’t care.

Link gives her a look, a mild but confident one accompanied by an almost imperceptible grin. More readily does Zelda identify his smiles from his eyes than his mouth—the way his bottom eyelid just ever so slightly moves upward. Seeing his expression brings her a faint sense of relief, showing her that he has it under control and isn’t struggling, and also that she needn’t worry about apologizing.

He kind of likes doing it, anyway.

After taking one last glance at the Spring of Wisdom, Link turns his back to it and begins to move down the mountain with Zelda in his arms. Zelda doesn’t look back.

                                                      • • •

The two continue their journey through the snow in silence. They’ve descended down Mount Lanayru from the Spring of Courage now. The late afternoon sky reflects off the snow-capped mountain behind them and the snowfield before them with a gorgeous pale orange glow, accompanied by contrasting blue-tinted shadows.

Link glances at Zelda, and notices her eyes are closed. He thinks about how exhausted she must be, yet so determined to get the answers she needs. He knows she will continue to push herself, and he is determined to keep up with and protect her. Under it all, his heart breaks for Zelda. It’s not fair. Time after time, she dedicates herself fully. Just like him. She puts just as much effort into her training as he does, yet gets nothing out of it but reminders of her inadequacy. Link was naturally born with a gravitation towards swordsmanship. He enjoys the thrill, making sense of and creating his own techniques, and seeing how he has improved. In this way, he thinks Zelda is even stronger than he is for having to put up with training she loathes and sees no progress out of for ten years. If she were able to freely chase her intellectual pursuits instead of being required to play her role as princess for the kingdom, Link is certain she’d have as much skill in her own niche as he does in his own, and would actually be satisfied with her own accomplishments. And doing this on her birthday no less? He wants nothing more than to cook something delicious for her today in comfort and safety. She deserves it. She deserves it so much. She pours hours into dedicating herself to the benefit of everyone. And for that, he feels himself bonded to her, and especially after today, a deeper sense of devotion and protectiveness towards her than he has ever felt before.

Without much thought, he holds her closer as he carries her through the afternoon-lit snowfield, hands squeezing her back and legs which causes her eyes to flutter open. The air is gradually getting warmer and the snow is thinning under his boots. He’s starting to tire a bit, but continues forward.

With grass now under their feet, Link puts Zelda down. The air is warmer here and Zelda is noticing she’s getting sweaty with anticipation. She takes off her coat and hands it to Link who promptly bags it.

Approaching the east gate, her expression becomes more and more pensive at the prospect of informing the Champions of her failure again and squashing their hope. They’ve given her so much encouragement. It’s only fair that they get something in return for the time and hope they’ve invested into her endeavors. She feels herself to be a hope sink. Not to mention, what is she going to tell her father back at the castle...? From behind her, Link sees her head bow slightly.

“Zelda,” Link speaks with that gentle breathy tone of his that he rarely uses. He knows Zelda doesn’t care for him addressing her with formalities such as Princess.

She stops and turns her head to him, knowing that it’s important enough for him to speak about. His expression is neutral but there’s an inhibited fondness behind it. “Yes?”

Link saunters until he’s caught up with Zelda, stopping next to her. He reaches from below and holds her hand, lacing his fingers between hers.

“Happy birthday.”

[s4pphic-sh3nan1gans]

WIP Weekend

thank you so much for the tag, @mint-ty <3 I didn't think I had that many wips to share but after looking through my notes app, there are actually quite a few things there gathering dust that I mostly forgot about 😭 sooooo here is my list, starting with the earliest:

Zame, si čisti dopamin - this is a bojere fic I started nearly a year ago now, based around the infamous tavastia 1.0 gig and Bojan both discovering and navigating his feelings for Jere. as I remember, I had one more chapter planned that I unfortunately lost motivation for, buuuut as it stands now, I guess it's kinda left on a cliffhanger? sorry 😅 but it holds a special place in my heart as I was just beginning to get very deep into my joker out hyperfixation when I started writing it hehehe

This ship of love is loaded - another bojere fic that I never finished and didn't post, this one was inspired by the release of Huhhahhei by Käärijä 😌 y'know the song's implications of fucking someone on a boat? yeah, I took that and ran with it whilst wearing my tin-foil hat and made it about bojere 😭 it's set on the 2023 eurovision pre-party boat and includes the scene of what is now the first snus proposal. ultimately, I abandoned it because I wanted to include smut but wasn't yet ready to (properly) write mlm smut for the first time back then

untitled jance fic - this is the only time thus far I've written jance (which is actually criminal tbh). it's a very short wip so I'm not entirely sure where I was going with it, but it appears to include Nace attempting to flirt... 👀

it's better if we remain a memory - now, this one is a little more obscure. it's based on the film Bojan is in (Kaj pa Ester?) that I unfortunately haven't watched (c'mon, slovenian film industry, make it available internationally, I beg of you 🙏). basically, I watched the trailer, made up a plot, and made it very very very gay. and then posted all but the final chapter before succumbing to lack of motivation again 😭

Immortalised - .......okay, I just realised I was wrong about only writing jance once, this is another time I tried to write it! this one is all about the incredible jance photoshoot by Damon Baker, exploring their relationship behind the lens. not sure why I never finished this one, if I'm honest 😅

Forgotten Nights - here, we have a bokris wip. this one was going to be a classic friends-to-lovers fic, littered with flashbacks and snippets from the past that both of them were repressing. I found that I didn't properly plan out the sequence of flashbacks though, or where I was going with it so it ended up a little messy as I was writing it and eventually I moved onto other things

a bunch of bokris "5+1 things" fic ideas I never got round to writing properly - specifically, I have 8 fics that I planned for 😭 if you want to know more about one, send me a number between 1 and 8 and I'll tell you what the 5+1 idea was :)

untitled damkris fic - finally, this is what I started most recently. it's inspired by Kris and Damon's recent trip to Ljubljana Castle, and basically they flirt and gay panic all day whilst being idiots and not realising they're both actually crushing hard on each other 😭

if you want to know more about any of these, or read a snippet from one, go ahead and drop into my ask box!!! I shall be more than happy to provide 😌

no pressure tagging (and apologies if you've already been tagged): @trips-around-the-sun @graysantimony @paperphilia @electron-road-suspect :D

[tv-gh0st]

Oumota Monsters au

I have a tag now #Drv3 Monsters

i thinkkk im gonna make kaito a vampire might change eventually bc uhm im like hella indecisive

IF ANYONE HAS OPINIONS PUT IT IN TAGS PLZ PLZ PLZ

anyways i wanted to talk specifically about oumota in this post bc uhm there down bad for eachother

my main inspiration for this was the song Ghosting by mother mother (also i think its worth noting @lampochkaart also helped inspire this au with some art they made ty ty ty)

so i wanted a big premise of there realationship to be Kokichi Haunting Kaito

and bc im a hurt/comfert enjoyer i love it dearly<3 i think how they get together should be very hurt/comfort vibes ya know

like kaito gets fed up and wants kokichi out and kokichi whos down bad but has horrible coaping mechanisms(pushing everyone he loves away[WICH BTW I WANT TO INCLUDE IN HIS DEATH]) is like OKAY BRO I DONT NEED U

but a ghost without anyone to haunt is like

not great

and kaito straifht up doesnt realize hes down bad for kokichi is like fuck man

they have a depression arc where they both are like shit im in love but refuse to make rhe first move

and idk how they find eachother again but they do

and i think kaito would be the one to say it because he genuinely hates tip toeing around eachother OR OR OR kokichi would say he loves him in a fit of rage/just tired of keeping up his masks(cas he thought once he died it was done he would be free but nooooooooo he lives on as a ghost)

and then its all comfort from there babes

i think maki would be very against there realatjonship and shuichi at first would be indifferent(kokichi orginallly haunted shuichi and i think in this au haunting someone would kinda mean something) but in general shuichi doesnt have a problem with it

kokichis main friends(miu and rantaro) dont mind at all he also has ties to kirumi(mom) and gonta neither of which care(nore are told emiditly)

i dont think being monsters changes there dynamic to much there like the lovingly bickering and then look at eachother like the other is littarly everything in the world <3

its a bit of a slow burn bc there both idiots and dont know how to do feelings

and none of there friends are super into playing march maker(except probably miu)

ALSO maybe adding rantaro into the mix at some point

im not aure but if i did it totally be less angsty

rantaro has his feelings in check okay atlest romanticly

he doesnt really have to much experience but that doesnt mean hes a complete idiot who doesnt know how to communicate

i think kaito and kokichi would both be looking at rantaro being like shit hes hot and i want to make a deep emotional conection with him but how do i tell my idiot bf that AND THEN tell rantaro that

abd rantaros just like

yo am i aloud to join or what

BOOM POLYAMOROUS FOR THE WIN

thats how i imagine it going down

honestly them being monsters again doesnt change the dynamic

dw tho there will be angst in other parts of there not-lives

i just wanted to talk about my gay ppl

AND DONT WORRY THERE WILL BE OTHER SHIPS

including Tenko x angie x himiko kaemaki (possible kaemakiiruma or whatever) some tsumugi x kaede(its complicated) so yaya gay ppl are tots winning

[lees-chaotic-brain]

hooray!! congrats on the good news, i hope the streak continues!

okay i'm glad you won't be uncomfortable with the stuff i interact with. i didn't bother with any warnings on my blog bc i'm mostly here to consume things and don't expect too many people to wander by lol. but! since i have been coming out of my lil lurker basement lately i finally at least added a color scheme to it so i look less like a bot.

oh man oh man where to start on tea and jackets? what are your go-to's for either? i'm kind of a tea purist-i prefer tea the east asian (chinese/japanese/korean) way, just pure tea leaves and occasional aromatics with no additional sugar or cream unless i'm specifically making a milk tea. i don't really like herbal teas. i want that camellia sinensis in my shit. my default tea rn is probably hojicha. i made a sunrise burnt basque hojicha cheesecake and though the layers didn't come out as cleanly as i wanted it tasted lovely. a tumblr friend on here inspired me to try out the burnt basque with a FANTASTIC green thai tea i have next! (if you're in the market for the green thai tea and are usa-based i cannot recommend it enough. it's so unique bc green thai is uncommon in the states already, and most of it comes from the powder packets but the one i have is all whole ingredients, no extracts or dye or flavor enhancements and it is DIVINE. sooo fragrant with pandan and vanilla and mint. i will scarf down anything with pandan in it but this is especially lovely)

i basically only own leather jackets or blazers, i have an embarassing amount of both. i did just do a closet purge with a friend's help though and i am proud of say i got rid of like, 16 college-era (p)leather jackets and blazers that had seen better days/are no longer in style

ty for sticking around for my D1 yapping!

dw abt it LMAO. it's not super apparent, but if you look close enough you can see my inner hoe poking through in my tags, so yes. i definitely consume smut and dark content and am looking forward to seeing your stuff on my dash 🤭

omg and for tea? i literally drink any and all kinds of tea. so again, if you've been on my blog long enough/look closely i'm pretty sure i've mentioned it before but i'm half korean, and i while i love all kinds of tea, the tea my mom made for me are nostalgic and bring me comfort. i almost always drink my teas plain (chai being the only exception) or with a little bit of honey.

i LOVE herbal teas. i can't really drink a ton of caffeine with my adhd meds or i genuinely start tweaking. like twitching and all that shit, so i normally drink other teas even though i really enjoy green and black teas :')

THAT TEA AND CHEESECAKE BOTH SOUND SO GOOD OMG

i'm a sucker for jackets and boots, and while i don't have too many, i definitely own a few, but i'll probably reblog this post and rant about them later lmao

if you're interested, here is a comprehensive list of my top ten favorite teas (in no particular order), how i drink them, and why. thank you for attending my lecture.

1. you are so right about hojicha. i love green tea, but my absolute favorite variation of green tea is nokcha. i love the extra flavor the brown rice brings to it. i normally drink it plain, but if i'm feeling fancy i'll steam a little milk and add a drizzle of honey

2. this definitely isn't korean, but when i was little my mom would make me this tea and it was so, so, so, good. it's basically just a stick of cinnamon, some apples slices up, orange and lemon peel, and a little bit of honey boiled together for like an hour. it's literally my favorite thing to drink in the fall bc it just warms me up from the inside

3. oksusu-cha. it's basically a korean tea made from roasted corn kernels and i really, really, like it. it's different from a lot of teas in the sense that it's almost savory, but its taste is very unique and almost earthy? idk how to describe it but i highly recommend trying it. i always drink it plain, but pouring it over heukmi bap (korean purple rice) and eating is also amazing

4. earl gray. i know this one is very british and different from the rest of the teas i drink, but i love having a cup of it once in a while! i drink it black sometimes, but i'll also drink it with either lemon and honey, or a little milk and honey

5. chamomile my love. i love love love a nice cup of chamomile before bed while i'm reading a book! i almost always drink it plain, but if i'm on my period i add a spoonful of honey

6. hibiscus tea. while this isn't necessarily my favorite taste wise, it brings back a lot of memories from when i was little and would go to a cafe with my mom. not to say i don't enjoy the flavor, it's just a little too sweet and a little too tart for me to drink a lot of

7. gyulpi cha. it's a korean citrus peel tea (not unlike #2) and it's really, really, good. i always drink it plain.

8. chai. this is the only type of tea i drink with a ton of stuff in it. i'm currently boycotting starbucks, but i love their iced chai latte with sweet cream foam. during fall i normally get it with some pumpkin flavoring lol. however i barely consider the drink tea at this point lmao

9. lavender tea. i absolutely love a cup of lavender tea before bed. i always drink it plain, and think the scent is so calming!

10. and finally lilac tea. i love lilacs. growing up we had a massive lilac bush and the smell always brings me back. i really enjoy its subtly sweet and floral flavor, and always drink it plain.

anyways, that's it for the tea lmao.

[kimageddon]

Star Wars Fics

I was challenged by @ashotofspotchka . So I did it.

The Prompt

Made this a Tech x Reader fic. I got inspired. And became a bit longer that intended.

I heard y'like Tech?? @eyecandyeoz @fallenrepublick (tag a fan!)

The Wedding

Well this was a right mess to be in. How had you even gotten into this situation? Oh of course… Cid. As much as you admired her, she was a tricky one. If not for her you would have never been invited to her salon, nor would you have met the most frustrating band of men you’d encountered. And their adorable little sister of course.

Had you not taken that job with them a few months ago, you would not have gotten to know them so well. Not been put in so many ridiculous situations and nearly losing your head. You wouldn’t have that new scar across your thigh… and you wouldn’t have grown to like them so much.

Damn it. Your mentor always told you not to get too attached to people, one never knew when they would find each other on opposite sides of the field so to speak. Casual acquaintances were one thing. Friendship was not a good idea. Anything more was downright dangerous. You told yourself it was alright to have a little affection for them. That it was alright to laugh and make jokes, to share a meal with them, to make them smile. That was alright… wasn’t it?

You let out a sigh wishing the ceremony would soon be over. Not that it wasn’t lovely. Of course it was. The venue was beautifully decorated, from the flowers to the guests, everything was stunning. A perfect picture of romance and love and devotion.

You usually detested weddings. There was one incident when you were young and… well it spoiled the idea of them to you. Though this was… actually rather nice. The group, you included, were tasked with providing security for the wedding as a favour to one of Cid’s associates. It was one of the more ridiculous missions… though even you had to admit, you cleaned up alright in a silken dress and heels. It had been a while since you’d had to go undercover and this was… well it was rather fun.

The downside of course had been seeing the boys in their suits. It wasn’t good for your heart. If they looked a picture of badass intimidation in full armour, then the five of them in suits were just perfect.

Hunter even had his hair swept back, though it took you a second to recognise him without the bandana. Wrecker had been a little grumbly about feeling unprotected but was very pleased when you told him he was very handsome. Crosshair had rolled his eyes at first, but gotten very offended when you snatched his toothpick from his lips. Echo had a moment when he was finally dressed. You’d been tying his bowtie when he’d let out a little huff and gave a small smile, saying he “felt human again.” Your heart broke at these words because even with his brothers he still felt… lesser. You had been quick to assure him that he was more human than anyone you knew and that the prosthetics meant nothing on that. Seeing him puff up with pride again was worth nearly getting shot last week.

Even Omega had a pretty dress on and flats tied to her ankles with ribbons. You and she had picked a dress to match Hunter’s suit specifically, she looked up to her big brother so very much, you often thought he was more like a father really, but kept these thoughts to yourself for now.

The last one to join you was the one that affected you the most of course. Tech stepped out onto the landing platform looking like a million credits and like he should have a hot woman on each arm. Like he could make any woman swoon with just a wink.

Hot damn.

Of course he would not do such a thing, and was just looking around, observing the surroundings for possible points of attack, vulnerability and in general taking in the surroundings. As you were also meant be doing. Internally you swore and after drinking in his obliviously gorgeous self, you’d returned to praising the way Omega had pinned her hair without needing your help.

Tech had of course been one of the members of the self-proclaimed ‘Bad Batch’ that you had found the most interesting. He always knew at least five facts about the planet or target or mission that the others didn’t. Always reading, always observing. His eyes behind his goggles were never still. One could think him cold if they didn’t look close enough. But he had a deep passion for knowledge, for technology… its no wonder he had chosen such a name. Practical. To the point. You liked that about him. You like quite a bit about him as you recently discovered. The way he could fix anything. The way his eyes lit up when he talked about learning new things. The way he was so damn efficient at his job, he knew the Havoc Marauder inside and out. The little smile when the two of you shared an inside joke. Or the way he rolled his eyes whenever one of his brothers exasperated him. The way he was always right there to help Omega over large stones or down the stairs of the ship. He was so thoughtful like that, despite not really talking about it.

Actually no. No, you didn't like that. It was just positive observations. That’s all. He was a colleague… maybe a friend. Maybe. There was nothing more to it, you told yourself. There wasn’t anything meant in the little brushes of your fingers when you two passed items between each other. Or passed in the hold of the ship. Or when you were squashed together when hiding from Imps. He didn’t think like that. Right?

Currently, you were standing on one side of the large room, waiting for the bride to arrive. On one side were you, Hunter and Crosshair, standing alongside the pews. On the other, was Omega, Echo, Wrecker and Tech. You wished Tech was on your side of the room, then he wouldn’t be in your vision at least. Not that it meant anything! You were allowed to admire the handsome technician of course, but that's all it was. He certainly wasn’t looking back at you every minute or so either. You were probably imagining it. You had to keep your eyes out for any breaches in security. Any guests acting strange. Certainly not staring at the drop-dead gorgeous clone in glasses across from you.

“Feeling alright, Feisty?” Hunter asked in a low whisper. You smirked at the nickname, apparently you had made an impression on them in the first mission when the client had gotten too mouthy. “Your heart rate is higher than usual.” He added, and you could hear definite amusement in his tone.

You pursed your lips together, trying not to smile from embarrassment. “I’m fine Hunter.” You replied out of the corner of your mouth. Another sweep of the venue with your eyes-- oh kriff Tech was looking your way. Your eyes met for just a second before you tore them away. You heard Hunter chuckle.

“You sure?” He muttered, folding his arms,

“Shut up, Hunter.” You retorted with a soft huff. He chuckled again and you felt your face grow hot. By the nine moons of Endor you wanted to run. It was then the music began and you steeled yourself. The ceremony was beginning.

It was lovely, really. Very sweet, lovely and romantic. The Togruta and his Twi’lek bride seemed very in love if the look on the groom's face was to be believed. He practically lit up like a beacon on seeing her. You had the brief thought... would anyone do that for you? Before immediately pushing it away. Those sorts of thoughts were dangerous. You were sure that it was going to be boring… but you couldn’t help but get a little distracted when they began to say their vows.

“...my darling. There is so much I want to say to you. So much I have felt and left unsaid, I am sure you know just how I feel just by the way I look at you.”

Your eyes instinctively flicked to the otherside of the room. You glimpsed his eyes on you and was immediately caught in the depths of his soft brown eyes. The gentle and kind look you had seen many times, but thought nothing of. He was just kind, that’s who he was. In this moment though-- you were sure there was… a little more to it.

“...It was not easy to let myself open up… to bring myself to acknowledge my feelings but in one moment I knew they were endless and unrelenting. I love you from the depth of my soul and I never want to be apart from you…”

Oh hells… these vows were so saccharine sweet that normally you would be gagging… but these ones hit a little too close to home. You couldn’t stop your eyes from being tugged toward the suited clone trooper opposite you, no matter how you forced them away, to scan the room for danger, they were always drawn back to him. Always him.

“...When I met you you were just so wild. Such a firecracker…!”

There was a laugh across the room and you almost jumped, reminding yourself you were in a crowd. Though none of them paid attention to you. Only one.

“...It was like seeing the sun for the first time, with you in my world colours were brighter, food was sweeter, I found myself longing for times when we could be together, even in the small moments…”

You recalled the times Tech and yourself had been together, doing maintenance, repairs, listening to the music through the entertainment channels. The little laughs, the simple things.

“...not everything was easy, and there has been so much danger…”

You remembered your last serious injury, the piece of twisted metal sticking out of your leg while you hauled ass back to the ship, firing behind you to cover the boys. The way Tech’s eyes had become as big as moons when you finally collapsed, and they saw how bad the injury was.

“... but I always trusted you to get me through anything. I love you, my darling. With all my heart, and soul and with every beat of my heart and breath in my body. I will be yours even after all the stars in the galaxy burn out.”

You had been unable to tear your gaze from Tech’s for the last minute or so and you could feel your face burn. It was only when the vows were done and the bride and groom kissed, their hands wrapped together in a red ribbon and the other guests clapped in support that you snapped out of your little reverie. You joined, half-heartedly in the applause but you felt… strange. You really wanted this mission to be over. Or a drink. Yeah, a drink would be good.

[gingus-doon]

For AUs... How about an AU where Keiji and Megumi both survive the First Trial? I'd like your take on that :)

you have opened pandora's box! i hope you're prepared to read a whole ass essay JSHDKABD

BUT SERIOUSLY TY THIS IS SO INTERESTING!! i saw your post on this already and commented on it then (in the tags ofc JGVKDDJDJ), bUT that was the meta of yours that inspired me to think that, maybe, keiji wouldn't be the way he is without that particular first trial and its outcome..? so i'll be operating under that assumption for these scenarios, so as not to feed a fed horse! (as peta would say,)

this does seem like quite the task, considering that it would require both conceptualizing megumi when we have minimal information about her, and reconceptualizing keiji to the keiji before the death game, when we also have minimal information on how he thinks in general... (and his characterization in this is all based on a theory to begin with, so it's not the most steady foundation lol)

of course, their first trial would need to be something else for this au… to keep things simple, it'd be best if it was neutral– neither him saving or not saving megumi, to neither restore nor forsake his faith in himself. megumi saving him would probably leave some positive impression of her on him too, so a trial which includes none of those things would be mosy fitting. but the trial itself isn't what's interesting, so i won't go into it further djdksbdk.

assuming they don't have a trial together, they'd meet each other the first time with everyone else-- i'm sure megumi would recognize keiji after the initial shock of how different he looks. and even if keiji tried to distance himself from her, she'd mention she knows keiji right away. i do think she'd have quite a bit of logic in her, but not an unsympathetic amount! however, she has been shown to throw morality to the wind when protecting keiji in the past (though asunaro may have been involved in the coverup in ways we don't yet know), so i think she'd do something similar here. she'd say she knows him and possibly that he's a police officer to solidify his standings amongst the other participants, assuming that keiji doesn't lie for himself first.

speaking of what keiji would do… so, i'm reconceptualizing him as more solemn and maybe a bit less guarded? however, it's also important to keep some level of his chill with his stupid grin and avoidance, because that constitutes a large part of how he copes with his trauma. a keiji wrestling between solemn genuineness and avoidant nonchalance, protector and sacrificer, logic and emotion! a mid-way between the two extremes of before the shooting and during the normal death game. definitely more stoic, though… less smiley but not brooding either. i think a more stoic, perhaps more reserved personality pre-death game would make a lot of sense for keiji, considering that he has absolutely no friends.

BUT ANYWAY!! back to what i was saying– i think megumi would lie in keiji's favour, because she wants to get him out of there alive (sympathetic megumi ftw!) but she may hold it over his head a bit, if only to keep him in line with her plans by means of guilt. it's worth it, though, if she can make up for what happened with the shooting– really, she couldn't believe it when she saw keiji! after he quit, i bet they'd barely seen each other since. the bags under his eyes make his face look so gaunt and haunted compared to how he was when he was a kid…

she still treats him like a kid, too. they slowly fall into the mentor-pupil relationship again they had before, by habit, like ancient cogs beginning to turn for the first time in years. but, this isn't all easygoing, of course.

i don't think megumi would apologise for the coverup. at least, not right away. she seemed very keen on ignoring it back when the shooting happened, so despite any guilt she'd have around the incident, she doesn't bring it up. keiji's somewhat content to keep it that way as well, considering that facing what he did would shatter him. but being with megumi is like facing the shooting… i'm sure being with her like that would bring up bad memories and relight slumbering resentment. he'd eventually want an apology, an explanation, something… how soon "eventually," would be, though, i'm not sure. especially considering that keiji wants to survive, and megumi will help him do that.

though, i think keiji's will to live in this scenario would be a little weaker, oddly enough. because when he kills megumi, that plunges him into the confirmation of himself as a sinner-- he has more to run from, and if he's killed two people now for the sake of his well-being (first because he feared for his life, second in hopes of being rid of his trauma), why not do it again? he's not going to dwell on it anyway, he's not going to look…

but keiji in this scenario is wrestling with himself. he'd still like to be a protector. maybe… it's still possible? maybe he's not damned just yet? maybe there's worth in sacrificing his life for the more vulnerable.

and that internal conflict could potentially clash harshly against megumi's goals of getting them out alive by any means necessary. she's not malicious, and she wouldn't try to get someone killed for the fuck of it, but when it comes down to it, she's just there for them.

i do think megumi would feel guilty for the children, though… gin and kanna are so young. sara is so bright-eyed and clever, it almost reminds her of what keiji was like back then… but she's willing to shoulder the guilt of murder for keiji this time, if only to finally atone for what she did to him and to save herself as well.

there's a few ways this could go though!! i have about four. 1) megumi is ruthlessly logical as keiji is in the actual game, and keiji goes along with it for the sake of his own survival. they end up being the sole survivors of the death game; keiji hates megumi and is entirely broken // 2) same as the last one except the rest of them thwart megumi and keiji's evil plans and maybe keiji and / or megumi die.. :v // 3) megumi is still ruthlessly logical BUT keiji's resentment of megumi and his morals push him away from her and he works against her to protect everyone // 4) megumi starts out logically, but noticing how keiji has changed as a result of his trauma and how cold he's become (she can see the same strains of her "forget morality, save yourself" logic in him and some of his decisions) she decides to let herself fall to emotion and either sacrifices herself for keiji or someone else.

and, some misc. things i didn't get to mention above....!!

i REALLY loved your idea of megumi being team mom. with the above in mind, it's exactly parallel to keiji's role in the normal death game! a should-be protector wracked by guilt who abuses their power regardless. and to think of keiji potentially taking on the role of the abuser while also possibly being one of the vulnerable underneath the force of that power… it's just really interesting!

depressing parallels aside though, i think megumi would be a nice sensible mom figure for this group of idiots sjfhddj. maybe a little blunt or initially distant, but ultimately caring.

as for her role in a wider sense, i think megumi would actually be more trustworthy than keiji is in the normal death game. although she has the disadvantage of sexism working against her, she's actually in a police outfit and lacks the shady appearance. i'm certain she could conduct herself in a way that would garner everyone's trust-- she wouldn't have any questions she needed to dodge like keiji in the main game, unless keiji brought up the shooting, but even then, that's much less severe than murder. there wouldn't be any creepy flirting with her either, not only because there's no questions to dodge in the first place, but i think she'd opt to use her authority to harshly shut down any opposition, like she did with keiji after the shooting. and when that fails, she'd fall back on logical and / or manipulative rebuttals. i also think a large part of why nao and reko specifically don't like keiji is because he's a man! a creepy man at that, and that feeling really is justified, but the point is that megumi's a woman, a respectable woman, so they wouldn't have the same qualms with her. she could also prove herself to be a more capable leader than sara, being older and still having a cool head. she'd very much come off as a reliable leader if she tried to, i think.

but back to happier things!! i think keiji would take on a less authoritative role if under megumi's wing. it's hard to say exactly how his role would change, considering that we don't know if keiji saw the percentage papers normally, and if he did in this au, would megumi as well and would they both try to cling onto sara for survival's sake? BUT i'm not going to get into that, i just want to say that i think it'd be neat if keiji took up an older brother position to in group! kind of the same as the normal death game, except he has less control over what the group does and is more on the same standings as the other participants. i think he'd get closer to being a genuine protector in this scenario, fail sooner at his attempts to avoid emotional attachments to the other participants, and i also think he'd do a lot less of the creepy flirting!! because really, the only reason he did that anyway was to dodge questions, and that'd be a lot less necessary if 1) he had dependable megumi vouching for him from the beginning, therefore making him less suspicious to the others // 2) megumi's death would no longer be a topic of concern cos it didn't happen! // 3) if someone attempted to dig up info about his past or something of the sort, something that could get in the way of the group's trust of him and therefore keiji and megumi's chances of survival, megumi could likely shut it down as she has a good reputation amongst the group. besides, the only one who would say shit like that is shin, and people don't trust him very much anyways sjfjsbfnd.

i think keiji and sara would potentially have a less manipulative and more wholesome friendship in this au ahhh ;<;

as much as a manipulative dick megumi is to keiji in this au, she gets softer when his hallucinations seem to be affecting him more, or when he has nightmares. (CAN YOU TELL I'M A SUCKER FOR FLAWED BUT GENUINE MENTORSHIPS YET)

i've started to become STAUNCHLY AGAINST the notion that keiji killed megumi maliciously or that he would kill megumi maliciously!! because logically, it'd probably be more beneficial to have such a trustworthy ally in the death game (maybe not trustworthy to him, but to everyone else) and emotionally, I JUST THINK THEY'D HAVE BEEN CLOSE BEFORE OKAY AND I DON'T LIKE THE IDEA THAT HE'D KILL HER 😭😭 (that's more my emotions than his LOL, but i think it's so important that megumi's murder was an inactive murder that keiji was unsure of to the moment it happened and beyond!! you could say his angst about killing megumi during the 2nd main game is more about him killing another person, regardless of whether or not it was megumi, BUT i like to think the fact that it was megumi SPECIFICALLY was significant to him.) so that's why throughout i haven't really entertained the idea of him trying to kill her or anything like that, especially considering the theory i'm weaving this au under, which dictates keiji would likely be a lil softer + more emotional :>

CONSIDER,,, in that scenario i posed where megumi sacrifices herself for someone / keiji: while she's dying or before her death, she hugs keiji and tells him she's sorry, it wasn't his fault. no one's ever told him this before because he's refused to talk about what happened with anyone after her dismissal of it. after she says that, though, it feels as though he's let out a breath he's been holding for years and some of the weight of the shooting is finally gone.

that's all i can think to say at the moment, SO… to sum things up– a tl;dr, if you will--

(i never actually watched this show so pls don't kill me if the casting choices are weird 😭😭)

i hope this wasn't too derivative of yours or too horribly self indulgent to read LOL. this wasn't nearly as thorough as i could've been, but it might've been a bit much to consider more branching paths ajdbsns. thank you for letting me rant about keiji and megumi, i was thinking about them earlier today so it's nice to be given a chance to ramble about them again!!

[mrsbhandari]

Shutter - Part 1

a/n: HI penny here!! so i’ve been writing a lil sumn sumn for @lxdy-starfury‘s wonderful modern blades au, and as i am nearing 7000 words (and am not nearly finished, whew), my lovely best friend told me that it would be good to start posting it piece by piece. so i hereby present part 1 of this au!! it’s not exactly like her manyyyyy AMAZING detailed hc for modern!tyril, this fic is heavily inspired by her hc and GORGEOUS artworks. i hope you enjoy it!!

warnings: none!!

word count: 2k.

summary: It begins with a photo shoot and an interview.

Tagging @anotherbeingsworld ❤❤

#

“You shouldn’t be excited for this.”

“You have a shoot with a hot billionaire, and I have the privilege of going along and meeting him?!” Nia squealed, nearly spilling her coffee onto the sidewalk. 

“He’s going to end up being a pompous ass.” Naexi took a sip of her own coffee, savoring the bitterness of it and cradling it close to her body to ward away the cold. “They always are.”

“You’re too cynical. I mean listen to how he sounds in this interview!” From her bag, Nia whips out a recent copy of Forbes, flipping it open to a page marked with a pastel post-it note.

“You have his interview tabbed?” she asked, but Nia had already begun reading.

“‘I believe there is no secret to success. Everything needed for success is provided given you use the tools to your advantage. I would not have gotten as far as I have today without my drive to help those in need-’”

Naexi straightened her back and deepened her voice, mocking the billionaire. “However, my daddy’s money also definitely helped. ‘Tis unfortunate that no one is born with my trust fund, hm?” Nia let loose a few giggles and turned her attention to the next page, which featured Tyril standing in gray slacks and a black sweater, hands in his pockets in an effortlessly casual pose. He had long hair that was tied back, some front pieces falling over the frames of his glasses. Barely sparing a glance at the page, Naexi rolled her eyes. “You’re too obsessed with him.”

“Who isn’t?”

“Me.” They finally reached the small New York townhouse being used for the shoot. Letting Nia walk first through the doors, Naexi drank the rest of her coffee and tossed it into a bin outside the building before following her friend inside.

#

Tyril shifted in his fancy shoes, nervously taking his hands out of his pockets and putting them back in. It was early in the morning, around six, but he felt wide awake. He was always nervous for these sorts of things; getting his picture taken, people prying into his private life. Yet, he still had to put on an air of normalcy and professionalism. He couldn’t help but feel like he was in the way, since he arrived thirty minutes before he was supposed to. 

“The photographer’s here, so we’re close to starting.” Tyril jumped as a makeup artist gently led him to a chair and began breaking out her tools. 

“You ready, Ty?” 

“Only if you stop calling me that, Immy.” Tyril locked eyes with Imtura, his security detail, in the mirror. She was scowling, but he knew there was no real malice behind it. “I’m...ready as I’ll ever be for these things.” He fished his phone out of his pocket and checked his emails for what seemed to be the hundredth time that morning. He was so engrossed that he didn’t hear the frantic whispers of two girls close by to the chair until Imtura spoke.

“Sorry, ladies, but who are you?”

“The photographer, and this is my assistant for the shoot.” A tall girl approached the chair and gestured to her friend, who was bright red and looking at Tyril with wide eyes. Putting on a polite smile, he gave a nod to Imtura and focused on them both. 

“Hello.”

“Wow, it’s really you! I mean, of course it’s you, I just didn’t expect you to be so...real! Do you know what I mean?” The assistant rambled, looking expectantly at Tyril. 

“I...can’t say I do. I apologize.” He glanced towards the photographer, who seemed to be studying him with a bored expression. She didn’t stop when he locked eyes with her, and he couldn’t help but feel slightly uncomfortable under her gaze. “It’s nice meeting you both.” He leaned forward slightly in his chair, hoping they understood his hint.

“Oh! I’m Nia, Nia Ellarious. This is Naexi Carsys.” The photographer gave a small wave before walking away to the large sheet of paper he was supposed to be photographed in front of. “She’s...mysterious,” Nia explained. 

“It’s quite alright, you can say she doesn’t like me.” Tyril’s lips turned up ever so slightly, his eyes following Naexi’s form as she set up her camera and helped move the chair into the frame. She was pretty in an effortless way, as cliche as it sounds. Her eyebrows furrowed as she fiddled with her camera, mouth set in a tight line as she took a few trial shots and messed with the settings after each one. Nia silently watched how the gears in his head seemed to turn as he looked at her, akin to someone looking for a specific piece to a puzzle. 

#

“For starters, just sit normally in the chair, to make sure the settings and lights are right for you,” Naexi instructed, looking through the viewfinder and humming at what she saw. Tyril sat stiffly, unsure of what to do with his hands or his face. 

“Like this?” He placed his hands on his knees and offered a boring face to the camera.

“Yeah…” she replied, distracted by turning and pressing little knobs and buttons on her instrument. He found himself watching her fingers and a fleeting thought of how soft her hands looked was pushed out of his brain as quickly as it had come. “Okay, loosen up a little.” Tyril glanced down at his body in confusion. 

“How so?” His shoulders were tense and his lips were pursed, the exact opposite of what she wanted from him. 

“What do you mean, just…” She let the camera fall against her chest and made a show of holding her arm up and dropping it. “Loose.”

“I--” He peered at everyone watching him and then back at Naexi, who cocked her head and raised her eyebrows. Without a word, she pulled up another chair and sat next to him. 

“I know you’ve done photoshoots before, but did Forbes not tell you to loosen up a little?” He shook his head. “Okay, guess it’s up to me then.” He tried not to flush at her obvious exasperation with him. 

“I apologize, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to having my picture taken. I much prefer to be behind the scenes.” 

“Too bad you’re the face of the company. Now, look at how you’re sitting.” She gestured to his shoulders and posture, tense and rigid. “Don’t slouch, but let out some of that tension. Lean back in the chair.” She copied him, then laid back onto the chair, draping her hands in her lap. He imitated her, earning a small nod of approval. “There you go. Now, as I take pictures, make small adjustments to where your hands are, where your feet are, things like that. Don’t be afraid to move around.”

“Yes, thank you.” She stood and removed the chair and Tyril found himself at an odd loss. He suddenly noticed that there was an absence in the air next to him, no longer occupied by the smell of her lotion or the gentle swishing of her baggy pants. His heart had soared when she had given him that little ounce of praise and now, he found himself desperate for her to repeat that for him, but he didn’t know why. It bothered him to no end.

“Lean forward and clasp your hands for me.” He leaned forward and clasped his hands. “Good.” The corners of his mouth turned up. 

#

“Mr. Starfury, you’ve certainly been making waves for yourself in many spheres.”

“Please, call me Tyril. And...I suppose. My family certainly does have their dealings in many different games, to put it lightly.”

“Yes, your family has a range spanning across so many different industries. Where exactly do you fit in?"

"Well, I run most of my family's research facilities, focusing on scientific research into soil acidity and agriculture."

"Don't worry, we didn't only bring you here to talk business. A lot of people know you as somewhat of a fashion icon. To what do you attribute your style?"

Tyril let out a laugh, polite and respectful and just the right volume. "I like to look professional, but I would have to shine a spotlight on the numerous stylists my father has employed, ever intent on ensuring I uphold my air of authority through my attire. I'd be an utter mess without them." 

"What's an embarrassing moment for you?" 

Tyril blinked at the sudden switch of subjects. "Well, one time during a presentation, I tripped on a wire onstage in front of hundreds of people. I fell flat on my face, and even broke my glasses. It was the most humiliating moment of my life."

"Wow, that's so….human." 

"It happens to all of us, I believe. People like to forget that those they put on a pedestal can still fall."

"You're a very private person, as well."

"I am."

"Have you heard some of the rumors surrounding you?" 

"I've heard that I grew up in a cult, that I'm secretly a vampire… Each one I've heard is more interesting than the last." He waved his hand dismissively and laughed again. “My favorite is that I’m secretly an elf.”

“Do you just let them roll off your back?”

“What else can I do, really? Plus, they’re not particularly harmful. It’s better for me to focus on running the company rather than any publicity I have.”

“Let’s switch gears a little bit. You’re a man of high education, correct?”

“I suppose...I went to Oxford and have a PhD in physics.”

“And you’re twenty-five?”

Tyril smiles, knowing where this was going. “Yes, I am.”

“If you don’t mind me being so vague, how exactly do you do it? Getting such a high degree so young and then running a company on top of it...must’ve been difficult.”

Tyril stopped for a second. “Coffee. Lots of coffee. I also have many helpers who the company would fall apart without.” He stopped again, seemingly to carefully craft his next words on his tongue. “I won’t lie and say that it was easy, however I also won’t say that it was as difficult as it could’ve been. I had the best tutors and a lot of money from my family to help open doors that others couldn’t find the key for, which is why I try and give back as much as I can to those less fortunate than I.”

“Is that the main focus of your research facilities?”

“Yes, we focus on testing soil in areas hit by devastation across the world. Our main goal is to provide relief for those unable to rely on the very ground on which they stand. Many of these areas use farming as their main source of food, water, and money, so when disasters, natural or otherwise, occur, it can be truly catastrophic to these small communities. We call it the Undermount Project.” 

“How philanthropic of you.”

Tyril waved a hand again. “I could always be doing more, and I try to as much as I can.”

“And for the final question that everyone is dying to know...are you single?”

Tyril froze. “I...unfortunately don’t have time for love. So, yes, I am, uh, single.”

“Well, that concludes it! Naexi, did you get some good shots?” The interviewer stood and clapped his hands, retrieving the microphone from Tyril’s shirt. 

“When he wasn’t nervously glancing at the camera, yeah.” She flipped through the camera, missing the flush that entered Tyril’s cheeks. He never considered himself a person to impress others, yet…

Why does he feel the need to impress her?

[yawnjunie]

extra long tag game (seriously, it’s very long)

tagged by: @soobindipity​ (ty eri!)

tagging: @acethetiques​, @bloomingjun​, @txtdream​, @bulgo-gyu...(i’m honestly so lazy so if you want to do this, go ahead! feel free to ignore if you were tagged)

ONE

tell me the first song that made you stan your current fave group and why did your faves attract you so much?

side effects! (oops this is a txt blog) but i’m pretty sure this is what made me want to stan skz! the song is very experimental, as it’s psychedelic edm (i believe), but i liked it a lot after a few listens. i was totally obsessed with the choreography as well, because the whole thing is just...art. they attracted me because their style of music was different than what i had seen before, and on top of being extremely talented and creative people, they were also super funny and caring.

another group that comes really close to being my favs is day6 (and i cannot even begin to describe my infatuation with this group). i listened to “shoot me” and “sweet chaos” and BAM that’s all it took to drag me into stanning this group. i’m not familiar with the inside jokes and all that, but i just love listening to their music! there is not a single bad song in their entire discography! i also have the largest heart eyes for young k’s “young one” project covers and eaJ’s original songs.

—

TWO

rule: answer the ten questions and write your own!

what’s your unrealistic goal for life?

going to an ivy league or just any amazing school in general (lol is this really gonna happen tho 🤪)

if you had known that we would be in a global pandemic, what’s one thing that you would’ve done before things shut down (if they have for you)?

gone out with my friends, probably (going for a boba run, going to the mall, etc.)

what’s an unconventional thing that you carry around with you when you go out?

a tiny book called “be active” by charles m. schulz, filled with motivation quotes. i also bring around a book, in case i get bored.

favourite type of plushies and why?

the extra fluffy kind that i can hug or use as a pillow, but i like the bear plushies a lot too (from daiso/miniso).

favourite song right now?

darn i don’t have one 😳 but i like listening to “ribs” by lorde

something that you’ve always wanted to learn?

how to make macarons, how to make/compose music, the korean language

tell a funny story about yourself (or just something that you’ve witnessed)

i can’t think of something off the top of my head :( (i promise my life isn’t that boring but my brain isn’t conjuring up anything helpful)

headphones or speakers? why?

headphones when i want to listen to music by myself/with a friend, speakers when i want to share music openly

craving any food right now? what are you craving?

banh mi and 🍅 (even though i just had a bowl of them...sorry beomgyu)

+ also this coconut that i’m trying to open? but it’s not cooperating with me 😔

which music streaming platform do you prefer? why?

spotify, it’s unproblematic for the most part

ten questions (by eri, answered)

1. what’s the best trip/vacation you’ve ever had?

when i went on a tour of china (i went to a bunch of places, from the city to the mountains). it was fun exploring places i’ve never been to!

2. do you have any random fears/phobias? if yes, what are they?

spiders and bugs :(

3. weirdest food you’ve ever eaten?

either mangostine (i hated it, sorry soobin) or frog legs

4. do you have any hidden talents? what can you do?

uhhhhhhhhhhh i can memorize things quickly? i mean i don’t think it’s that big of a talent but i can remember trivial history facts really well

5. what is an activity you’d like to try out someday?

swimming underneath a waterfall or just living in the wilderness

6. when did you get your first phone and what type of phone was it?

a very long time ago when i was in 2nd grade, when i first got an ancient flip-phone...i pretty much never touched it because i never really needed to use it

7. what is a movie you never get tired of watching?

kimi no nawa! i’ve watched that movie 3 times already and it’s a great movie so i wouldn’t mind watching it again :)

8. biggest pet peeve?

dirt encrusted fingernails >:(

9. earliest childhood memory?

i’m not sure :( my memory is just a jumble of things from my childhood

10. as a child, what did you want to be? what about now?

i wanted to be anything and everything...one day i would be like “i’m going to be a doctor” and the next i would be like “nvm i want to be a magician” and as for now, i’m actually not sure because i’m interesting in many fields, including areas in both sciences and humanities.

—

THREE

rule: bold the statements that apply to you, italicize your aspirations, then tag nine people.

AIR ༉⋆͙̈

i have small hands / i love the night sky / i watch animals and birds when i pass them by / i drink herbal tea / i wake to see the dawn / the smell of dust is comforting / i’m valued for being wise / i prefer books to music / i meditate / i find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

FIRE ༉⋆͙̈

i don’t have straight hair / i like to wear ripped jeans and overalls / i play an organized sport / i love dogs / i am not afraid of adventure / i love to talk to strangers / i always try new foods / i enjoy road trips / summer is my favorite season / my radio is always playing

WATER ༉⋆͙̈

i wear bracelets on my wrists / i love the bustle of the city / i have more than one set of piercings / i read poetry / i love the sound of a thunderstorm / i want to travel the world / i sleep past midday most days / i love simply lit dinners and fluorescent signs / i rewatch kids shows out of nostalgia / i see emotions in colors not words

EARTH ༉⋆͙̈

i wear glasses or contacts / i enjoy doing the laundry / i am a vegetarian or vegan / i have an excellent sense of time / my humor is very cheerful / i am a valued advisor to my friends / i believe in true love / i love this chill of mountain air / i’m always listening to music / i am highly trusted by the people in my life

AETHER ༉⋆͙̈

i go without makeup in my daily life / i make my own artwork / i keep on track of my tasks and time / i always know true north / i see beauty in everything / i can always smell flowers / i smile at everyone i pass by / i always fear history repeating itself / i have recovered from a mental disorder / i can love unconditionally

—

FOUR

PERSONAL

name: blu

nickname: blu

birthday: sometime when the flowers bloom

zodiac: aries

nationality: american

languages: english, chinese, spanish, (a bit of) japanese

gender: female

sexuality: straight

height: [redacted]

BLOG STUFF

inspiration for muse: txt and other groups i stan! i also like to take inspiration from my life experiences, books i’ve read, songs, movies. shows, and so on.

meaning behind my url: there weren’t any canon urls for yeonjun so my brain somehow went hmm? yawnjunie? sounds good (i’ve been asked this before and honestly there isn’t much logic behind my url lol)

blog established: June 5th, 2020

followers: 153 (it’s a small-ish community but thank you all for the support!)

FAVORITES

favourite animals: dogs, cats, wolves, foxes (i just love animals in general)

favourite books: asoue, the miraculous journey of edward tulane, the joy luck club, the giver series (there are more but i can’t think of them)

favourite colour: blue (i love all the colors)

favourite fictional characters: alyssa and james (teotfw), the baudelaires (asoue), and other people i can’t think of atm

favourite flower: i don’t think i have a specific favorite flower, but i like orchids!

favourite scent: the scent of pu’er tea (or the scent of dried flowers)

favourite season: i don’t have one, but i’m leaning towards autumn

RANDOM

average hours of sleep: 6-9

cats or dogs: dogs (i’m serious)

coffee, tea or hot chocolate: tea all the way

current time: 01:05

dream trip: south america, europe, japan

dream job: tbd :’) (but i want to be in a profession in which i’m helping people)

hobbies: eating, playing piano, being a tubbs™

hogwarts house: ravenclaw (i think)

last movie watched: can’t remember, but it was probably a film about a mermaid who tried to find true love on land but ended up dying

last song listened to: i’m in love with you by kina

no. of blankets you sleep with: 1-2

random fact(s): i love mint chocolate ice cream, i like my milk tea with a bunch of toppings (pudding, aloe vera, boba pearls, etc.)

—

FIVE

10 things I can’t stop listening to

if i could ride a bike - chevy

pinocchio - eaJ

fly me to the moon - young k

holo - lee hi

lmm - hwasa

man in a movie - day6

laughing on the outside - bernadette carroll

remember (from natsume’s book of friends) - uru

sparkle - radwimps

i loved you - day6

[melinaajamie]

35 Questions for Fanfic Writers

Thanks @bachint for tagging me! I’ll try to provide you with the best answers I can come up with ^^

1. From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!) Probably three stars, maybe four? Yeah, four. I know it seems arrogant but aside from the occasional “OMG EVERYTHING I WRITE IS CRAP!” that ever writer experiences from time to time, I usually like what I’m writing and especially how I write ^^

2. Why do you write fanfiction? Bc I love exploring the universes and characters I love further. Ehy accept the canon as it is? ;D

3. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works? Puuh, that’s a hard one? Maybe that I like to kill a bunch of characters? :D Naah, it’s probably the length of what I write. Once I get started I can’t seem to stop.

4. Are there any writers that inspire you? Since I study literature and read a bunch of books for it, absolutely. It can be any book from any author I read. But Arthur Conan Doyle inspires me a lot, Simon Beckett and Paulo Coelho.

5. What’s the fic you’re most proud of? My Professor Layton fanfic “The Cogs of Time” ^^

6. What element of writing do you find comes easily? The start. I hear a lot of people say this is the hardest and in some ways I agree with them. But I usually just start writing and go with the flow. Or I immediately have the beginning of a story/chapter in my mind once I start thinking about it.

7. What element of writing do you struggle with most? Writing believable dialogue between parents and their kids. I’m fine as long as the kids are little (let’s say up to 8, maybe 10), but then I’m stumped.

8. Which character(s) do you find easiest to write? Like in general or specific characters? I can write any characters as long as they are not parents. Then I have a bit of a problem.

9. Which character(s) do you find most difficult to write? Ah. Okay. Tying in with (7) here, parents (:

10. What’s your favorite genre to write for? To write for? Hm... probably adventure, crime fiction/detective fiction and Young Adult? I don’t know, I like a quite realistic approach that can and will take a dark turn.

11. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most? About the world. About what’s wrong. About relationships that took a wrong turn, about things that are almost right, about figure skating (big fan!), about growing up, about changing.

12. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about. Currently, I’m absolutely excited about my Layton Brothers; Mystery Room fanfic “A Game of Murder”! I’m SO close to the ending and I can’t wait to solve the murder and finally reveal the killer! Everyone will hate me XD

13. First fandom you ever wrote for? Disney’s “Frozen”

14. What’s your favorite fandom to write for? That changes according to my current obsession. At the moment, my favourite fandoms are Professor Layton and Pokemon.

15. What’s the weirdest fandom you’ve ever written for? Weird in what way? I don’t believe in that concept, sorry :)

16. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)? Does murdering characters I and the audience love count? Then it’s that XD

17. A trope you’ll never, ever write for. Probably more of a genre but romance. If romance is the main plot/trope I’m off. If it is a sub plot that’s interesting AND supports the story in some way, I will take a look.

18. Wildest fic you’ve ever written? Probably also “Cogs of Time”. So much death in the end that no one expected, so much heartbreak. I admit, I indeed was a bit of an asshole with that last chapter XD

19. Do you prefer canon-compliant, AUs, or something in-between? I like giving the canon a little twist and AUs ^^

20. Gen fic or shippy stuff? Gen. If it’s shippy, then it’s usually just something short. Like I said, I’m not one for romance.

21. Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!) That also depends on my current obsession. At the moment, that would be LayClaire and Lemmy (both romantic, both Professor Layton) and Lucifendi (platonic and romantic, Layton Brothers; Mystery Room). And any Pokemon couple for friendship ^^

22. Do you listen to anything while you write? MUSIC! Always!!

23. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas? independent ideas. But I often find myself including a line I’ve read as a prompt somewhere or making it the theme of a chapter.

24. One-shots or multi-chaptered works? Multi-chapter works.

25. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic?Tell us about them! I have dreamt about my fics being movies or TV series, but spin-offs? If I want a spin-off I write it :D

26. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try? So far, nope. As Margaret Atwood once said, “The paper basket is your friend. It was invented for you by God.”

27. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received? Someone saying I made their day with my writing :) I love to make people happy!”

28. How well do you handle criticism when it comes to your writing? It does hurt but I know people want to help so I try to be open to it and look back into the part that was given critic.

29. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out? I always do that when I have to write interaction between parents and older children. I always feel like it’s very stiff but my friends say it’s okay. Well.

30. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst? MERCILESS ANGST ALL THE WAY.

31. Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them! Yep! I once created a Professor Layton OC whom was the dead (well, we never really got to know if she was indeed dead, she has just vanished) daughter of a character. She was instead just kidnapped by the criminal organisation her father was fighting and trained to be one of their soldiers. I never write the fanfic but it never left my mind. Might do that one day :)

32. Summarize a random fic of yours in 10 words or less. “Let’s play my favourite game. A game of murder.”

33. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process? That I put as much effort in as I can to make it as good as possible fir you guys!! And that I usually do a lot of research and put the most effort into the tiniest things to make it realistic and add another layer to make it a shade darker ;D

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of. I’m really proud of this but it’s not a fanfic. I hope that’s okay. I can’t really think of one thing that I’m proud of bc there are many. It’ from the book I’m currently writing.

He let go of him so suddenly that the cold hit him like a brick. Mikhail gasped for air, needed a few seconds until he could open his eyes again. The view was heaven-sent. Vasja was standing above him, the gaze of his icy blue eyes troubled yet so piercing and captivating that Mikhail found himself sitting up without another thought as if someone had turned him into a puppet. At times, he felt as if Vasja was the great puppet master who made Mikhail’s entire world dance as he liked. And he loved dancing for Vasja. The gaze of his icy blue eyes contrasted with his ruby red hair which surrounded his face like a bloody halo; it made his snow white skin glow even more. He remembered the feeling of Vasja’s hair between his fingers, as soft as velvet, as clouds, as a mild breeze o fair on one oft he first days of spring. He reached out for Vasja but he was quick to grab the boy’s hands and place them low on his stomach. A shudder ran down Mikhail’s spine when he felt Vasja’s finger travel across his arms until they cupped his face. He lifted it so Mikhail had to look at him. „You know the rules, right, Micky?“

35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want! Like, it’s so amazing?? You get millions of words for FREE and the authors don’t get ANYTHING but STILL we have this amazing community who keeps writing and reading and commenting... It’s just AWESOME!! I’m so glad I discovered fanfiction bc the community is so awesome and I always wanted to give some canons a good twist or just think of new things with characters I love!!

[leaflens]

Get to know 8 people better

❥ tagged by @to-kei 💞💞 ty!

001 / Alias(es): salad! long for "sal" ^_^

002 / Birthday: 20th december

003 / Zodiac: sagittarius / year of da rabbit 🐴🐰

004 / Height: idk i havent measured in ages.... at Least 160cm / 5'2 aka taller than the average indonesian lol

005 / Hobbies:

bideo games unfortunately. remember when being a gamer wasnt ugly expensive *misses the days when harvest moon was good*

drawing! i havent been making very serious art these days, just so i can fall in love w/ drawing again.. i mostly make pen doodles but im too embarrassed to post them hfhdjs

recently, baking! i only rlly make cakes and donuts. i actually Just made some apple turnovers :]

does daydreaming abt my ocs count

006 / Favorite color(s): this very specific reddish magenta. also yellow and Refreshing Greens

007 / Favorite book: manga counts right.... in tht case i love "fumetsu no anata e" / "to your eternity", "blue period", and "skip to loafer"! theyre all pretty different, first one being a fantasy and other two are set in school. please check them out!!

008 / Last song I listened to: adieu, to this lovely graveyard by akatsuki records. listen. i dont normally listen to this type of song but its so fun and unique

009 / Last movie I saw: most recent rewatch was detective pikachu and ofc i cried when bulbasaur showed up. most recent first viewing was midnight runners. not the type of movie id usually watch but my friend put it on..

010 / Muse inspiration(s): im gonna interpret this as art inspiration.... dioppio, ermineralogy, ghostpotion, hmiju, maepng/orangejulcy, qosic, riryou_, sowwysap, tsumugician, yoshitoki oima (creator of koe no katachi + fnae), zakk, thts just from the top of my head, i could go ON.... im just *inspired by everything and everyone*

000 / Tags: @abbf26​ + @b1sky​ + @cowbov + @eilclark + @frogpride​ + @goldendeerpropaganda + @mielracle​ + anyone who wants to do it! just say i tagged you <3 ppl tagged dont have to do it either kfhgfkjg

[forehead-enthusiast]

A Buncha Tag Games (and yet not all of them)

tagged by: @eggyukhei mwah

tagging: this is a LOT of games so i’ll only tag @atinyphobe @nsheetee and @veonjun for the SECOND (2nd) game. if they or anybody wants to do any of the other games, absolutely go for it and say i tagged you <3 i’d love to see what you guys say!! (also, tk if you felt like you wanted to answer my questions from the second game i’d be interested to see!)

One:

tell me the first song that made you stan your current fave group and why did your faves attract you so much?

ok SO the song that probably got me into rv 100% (also yes ik this blog is 99% nct but rv is my forever fave no question) was probably ice cream cake!! i had been a casual listener of many groups up until that point and had never really stanned anyone, but icc was so infectious i found myself watching it over and over. i had heard happiness and be natural before but hadn’t really listened too closely, so icc was the song that captured me. after that, dumb dumb only cemented my love for them more, and the red is still one of my favorite kpop albums to date. rv attracted me primarily because of their incredible vocals and their versatility in genres and concepts. i still get so excited wondering what they’ll tackle next!! they’re just soooo unique and have one of, if not the best discographies of any group. i cannot stress enough, I. Love. RV!! also they’re funny and gay so. anyway stream monster once it drops uwu

Two:

rule: answer the ten questions and write your own!

1. what is your favorite song that’s been released during quarantine? ooooo honestly??? probably something off of Sawayama. literally every song bangs so hard i highly recommend that album to anyone!! i can’t pick a favorite off it but who’s gonna save you now is awesome and xs is just,,, chef’s kiss

2. what is your greatest mishap when you tried cooking? (or something you’ve witnessed) one time, while making soup at my late grandmother’s house on her like gas stove, i put a lid on a pot and somehow that led the pot to be engulfed in flames. IN MY DEFENSE i was like 7, and i’m great at cooking/baking now

3. what’s your go-to outfit or article of clothing? oh i love a nice dress. they can be casual or formal, and you look like you put effort into your outfit except i didn’t because i didn’t have to match anything yo!!!! also shorts have trouble fitting me cause i’m a weird body type so dresses tend to be very comfy for me

4. what is your comfort food? am i allowed to say like all food??? eating in itself is comforting,,, that sounds depressing but also i just like eating yummy food. i guess i’d say like my dad’s fried rice?? its my fave and no one makes it like him soooo

5. what singular moment in your life would you like to relive? i couldn’t tell if this meant like, a good moment you want to re-experience or go back in time and redo a moment and fix it. it’s kind of a hard question so i might cop out and go with a bit of a silly answer: i want to relive the hi touch with astro...... i wanna look at rocky’s beautiful eyes and touch moonbin’s hand ok,,,,

6. what is your favorite line and/or character from a movie, show, or book? i got a bunch but a few off the top of my head are genie lo (the epic crush of genie lo), ty lee, suki (atla), klaus, and ben (umbrella academy) 

7. if you could only choose one ice cream flavor and pizza topping/style for the rest of your life, what would it be? ice cream flavor: this very specific one from a local store that is banana ice cream with strawberries and oreo mixed in. it is heaaaavenly. as for pizza topping, i love a breakfast type pizza with an egg on top and like sausage and stuff!!!

8. what is the worst injury you’ve ever had or witnessed? funny enough, i’ve actually gotten badly injured quite a few times, and always on the face!! god hates me. the worst was probably when i hit a metal bench with my face and it took a chunk out of my cheek. i still have the scar! as for “witnessed” i accidentally broke a grown man’s rib once as a child, so i guess that would count.

9. would you rather explore the unknown of space or the bottom of the ocean? oceaaaan!! i answered this in some other game, but i like how mysterious and yet close the ocean is. like proximity wise it’s so near, yet there’s an insane amount we know nothing about. that’s so frightening but so intriguing

10. if you could be any cartoon character, who would you be? my first thought was literally “kirby. eat fast” GOD my followers are gonna think i’m just a glutton and they’re not even gonna be wrong im dying. but uhh idk mulan or smth?

my questions:

what is your go-to feel good movie?

are you the type of person who’s indecisive about buying, or the type to impulse buy once you see something you like?

do you prefer chocolate-y or fruity candy?

what idol do you think is most similar to you? (not your bias necessarily)

do you have any silly dealbreakers? if so, what are they?

what do you do to unwind?

what is a small thing you like to do for people you love? (be it sending memes, remembering their favorite shows, etc)

what’s/who’s your favorite myth/mythological being?

what is a non-typical pet you would want to have?

do you say pronounce data as day-ta or dah-ta?

THREE

rule: bold the statements that apply to you, italicize your aspirations, then tag nine people. 

AIR ༉⋆͙̈

i have small hands / i love the night sky / i watch animals and birds when i pass them by / i drink herbal tea / i wake to see the dawn / the smell of dust is comforting / i’m valued for being wise / i prefer books to music / i meditate / i find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

FIRE ༉⋆͙̈

i don’t have straight hair / i like to wear ripped jeans and overalls / i play an organized sport / i love dogs / i am not afraid of adventure / i love to talk to strangers / i always try new foods / i enjoy road trips / summer is my favorite season / my radio is always playing

WATER ༉⋆͙̈

i wear bracelets on my wrists / i love the bustle of the city / i have more than one set of piercings / i read poetry / i love the sound of a thunderstorm / i want to travel the world / i sleep past midday most days / i love simply lit dinners and fluorescent signs / i rewatch kids shows out of nostalgia / i see emotions in colors not words

EARTH ༉⋆͙̈

i wear glasses or contacts / i enjoy doing the laundry / i am a vegetarian or vegan / i have an excellent sense of time / my humor is very cheerful / i am a valued advisor to my friends / i believe in true love / i love this chill of mountain air / i’m always listening to music / i am highly trusted by the people in my life

AETHER ༉⋆͙̈

i go without makeup in my daily life / i make my own artwork / i keep on track of my tasks and time / i always know true north / i see beauty in everything / i can always smell flowers / i smile at everyone i pass by / i always fear history repeating itself / i have recovered from a mental disorder / i can love unconditionally

FOUR

the ultimate tag: answer whichever ones you want to because there are a lot and then tag a few blogs you’d like to get to know better! 

PERSONAL

name: sarah

nickname: bells

birthday: april 17th

zodiac: aries

nationality: chinese american

languages: english, some spanish, some korean

gender: female

sexuality: baby bi bi bi~

height: 5′10

BLOG STUFF

inspiration for muse: i suppose nct since i write for them the most?? but i feel like sometimes i come up with the idea before i think of a member so sometimes the muse is just my own fantasies oops

meaning behind my url: i made it at a time where loads of idols were getting bangs and honestly i believe most of them look infinitely better without them, thus i was and still am enthusiastic about foreheads.

blog established: like winter of 2018...?? i think

followers: over 2.5k but most deactivated/left during my hiatus lol

FAVORITES

favourite animals: sharks, chickens, snakes, cats, penguins

favourite books: the epic crush of genie lo and then iron will of genie lo, PERIOD

favourite colour: pink and purple!!

favourite fictional characters: lol, again, genie lo, ty lee, suki, klaus, ben, and just a few more: richard and evelyn o’connell (the mummy), dave (dave), michael (the good place)

favourite flower: sunflower

favourite scent: baking chocolate, heating butter, blackberry, wisteria

favourite season: probably spring! i like warmth but not HEAT

RANDOM

average hours of sleep: ugh idek i sleep horribly

cats or dogs: both, but unfortunately i’ve never had either

coffee, tea or hot chocolate: tea but then hot chocolate

current time: 5:29pm

dream trip: go to paris and eat loads of pastries and enjoy the fashions and beauty of the city, and also learn to bake better maybe?

dream job: actress

hobbies: making jewelry, drawing, singing, reading comics

hogwarts house: according to the quizzes, all of them. people who have just met me think slytherin or gryffindor, people who i’m friends with think ravenclaw or hufflepuff, people who know me really well know you can’t box a person into oversimplified archetypes :’) in my assessment of myself, it varies by the day, but i think perhaps gryffindor today?

last movie watched: hot fuzz (a classic)

last song listened to: summer breeze by sf9

no. of blankets you sleep with: like 2

random fact(s): i won lego building competitions as a child, one of my dream roles is anastasia from the musical named after her, i played violin for a very short time, i bake the cakes for all my family and friends’ birthdays, i have strangely strong grip strength

SIX

10 songs i can’t stop listening to:

love me 4 me- rina sawayama

cherry- rina sawayama

in & out- red velvet

crush culture- conan gray

manic- conan gray

the king- conan gray

summer- pentagon

told you now- jeremy jordan (originally sung by sam smith)

fuck this world (interlude)- rina sawayama

someone who loves me- sara bareilles

[n-sniccersatp]

Q&A Tag <3

I was tagged by @hyunjinsmoon  <3 your blog theme is so cute btw uwu.

Rules: Answer the soft Q+A’s and tag 5 of your most recent followers and 3 of your biggest fans

What’s the smell of your shampoo?

Rosemary. It doesn’t really smell like that but that’s what it says lol.

What is your aesthetic?

I guess I have a couple of simple ones. Night time, like stars and stuff. Soft pink and soft browns like coffee and stuff like that. What’s your favorite time of day and why?

Night because I have a brother who is 4 years old, I have to babysit him often, and if I’m not he’s always in my room during the day so like night time is the time I just kinda have to myself. What do you like most about the beach?

I don’t really know, I don’t really tend to enjoy the beach often. I don’t like very warm weather, the san is annoying and usually, beaches can get crowded and I am not a very people person in public I guess. I have like really bad social anxiety too so like going to the beach and having to be around too many people is stressful for me. What do you worry about constantly?

Anything there is to worry about lol. I’m usually worrying about anything, even the smallest things. What is a song you’ve cried to before?

 A lot lol. I’m a very emotional person with literally anything. I cried the first time I listened to Shinin and watched the music video to it. Before our spring is also a song that can make me cry anytime. Uhm, she’s in the rain by The Rose for sure, and probably a lot more I just can’t think of rn.

What are some relaxing tips for your followers?

 Uhm I’m not very good at this but what usually helps me to relax is of course, listening to nice happy songs, washing my face with like really warm but not like rly hot water is also relaxing, defusing essential oils like lavender, peppermint, orange, and some more is also helpful. Meditation, watching your favorite show, playing video games, editing photos or videos. Studying something you love to learn about and again, probably more I can’t think of right now.  

 What’s are some things that make you tear up?

Anything lol. Like I mentioned I’m a very emotional person eek. But Movies, literally the smallest sad thing can make me cry. Abuse, whether it’s people or animals. The right song can make me tear up. Bad things with the LGBTQ because there shouldn’t be issues, i wish people just loved people for who they are. When someone I know or look up to gets hurt in some way etc. What is your favorite from each of the five senses?

Sight: Being able to see things and take them as they are. I haven’t really been many places before but it’s so nice to be able to see what the world has to offer whether it’s outside my window or if I’m seeing it from a screen.

Smell: I don’t really know anything specific because I have like a horrible sense of smell.

Touch: Petting animals. It’s just so comforting uwu. 

Taste: Being able to taste coffee and lemonade, my two favorite drinks lol.

Sound: Music is the biggest reason I like the sense of sound because idk how I would live without music. Hell, I’m listening to music right now. 

What is one alternate reality you’d like to be in?

Just a world without like hate and bad things? I think that’s what most people would say too I hope. No hate for anything and a reality where people actually listened without judging or forcing opinions or beliefs at you. This answer is ‘basic’ but it would be great if the world was actually just not hateful and stuff.  What are some troubles you face on a day to day basis?

 I would say just depression and stress, I know it sounds like really simple or basic because I see this kind of answer a lot with questions like this, but at times it’s really hard and I often feel so alone even though I have friends and family. My family never understood where my head was at and I just don’t and never want to like other people like my friends with my own issues, if that makes sense.

 What is one scene of a book that’s made you really sad?

 Uhm I read this one book, it’s not a storybook though. But the very first like the introduction of So much  I want to tell you: Letters to my Little Sister by Anna Akana really made me sad because her sister died at a young age and in an unfortunate way, which was suicide. But thankfully Anna Akana is a big inspiration for me and actually helped me a lot at times I was feeling low myself.

 Say something to your followers

I don’t have many followers and I’m not very good at talking to people lol so I just don’t reach out much to people cause I’m way too shy but if you’re following me and enjoy what I post or reblog, thank you for sticking along even though I probably seem like a really boring person. I’m sorry lol. Even if I don’t talk to you ily. <3 TAGS: You don’t have to do that tag if you don't want to.  5 most recent followers: @dead--shadow @starry-pcy @hyunjinsmoon @woo-jingles @stray-kids-stuff  Hello sorry if I’m boring :(  3 biggest fans: @jjisungg @never-look-back-that-way @ari-hoshi-666 I’m glad u guys like my posts <3 ty

[elmo-rise]

I posted 21,433 times in 2021

113 posts created (1%)

21320 posts reblogged (99%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 188.7 posts.

I added 400 tags in 2021

#save - 75 posts

#eagle rambles - 59 posts

#/j - 57 posts

#/lh - 54 posts

#discourse - 35 posts

#long post - 27 posts

#dream smp - 26 posts

#ty for the ask! - 23 posts

#fav - 22 posts

#/hj - 22 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#and jinny i think we should pay attention to how xornoth treats jimmy... it seems like scott's trying to bring 3rdlife into empires canon 👀

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

the syndicate’s code names

I was very excited that we got Syndicate lore today, especially since it’s involving Niki.  I wanted to do a little analysis of the code names of Techno and Phil, and maybe some ideas about who the secret member is and some ideas for Ranboo’s and Niki’s code names.  (spoilers for today’s stream)

First and most obvious is Zephyrus, Phil’s code name.  Zephyrus, also known in mythology as Zephyr, was the Greek god of the west wind, associated with spring and unripe fruit.  Zephyrus was the gentlest of the winds, and the connection to a wind god with the man known for his wings makes a lot of sense.

Next is Protesilaus, Techno’s code name.  I had never heard of Protesilaus before, so I looked at the Wikipedia page (vigorous research, I know).  He was the first Greek to step ashore at Troy during the Trojan War, and was also the first to die, killing four men before being killed by Hector (or another person, sources differ).  I found it interesting that Technoblade, the person whose Big Thing is “never dying”, chose the name of a hero best known for dying.  Maybe he thought it was funny or smth idk

The third code name we know is Harpocrates, whose name might sound familiar if you’ve read the fourth Trials of Apollo book (though that’s probably unrelated lol).  Harpocrates was originally the child god Horus, an Egyptian god who was then adapted by the Greeks.  He was the god of silence, secrets, and confidentiality.  The connection to the Syndicate member is probably just that they’re a secret member.  As of right now, I can’t think of any specific characters who have communicated with the Syndicate other than Ranboo and Niki, who obviously aren’t Harpocrates, and Puffy, who it seems like hasn’t had any further communication besides the “note”.

but you never know with the dream smp maybe the connection is to the silent part and it’s callahan.  who knows

anyways ideas for Ranboo and Niki’s code names, starting with Niki

Medea: ancient Greek sorceress with a penchant for killing children

Melpomene: muse of tragedy

Nemesis: Greek goddess of revenge, this one’s a little on the nose but it also starts with an N which is neat.  Her Roman form is Invidia, which is unfortunately also the name of a graphics card.

Oizys: Greek goddess of misery and grief, also the twin of the god of blame and the daughter of the goddess of night.

ideas for Ranboo

Mnemosyne: goddess of memory, again it’s a little on the nose, also not sure if Ranboo would want his code name to be a dude’s name or not

Hypnos: god of sleep, Ranboo has his enderwalking/sleepwalking state, alternate of this is Morpheus, who is more associated with dreams

Janus: Janus is Roman, but I think he would fit really well for Ranboo.  He’s portrayed with having two faces, which is connected to Ranboo’s two sides.  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Janus that’s the wiki page, sort of cool if you’re into that kind of thing

I think my favorites are Oizys for Niki and Janus for Ranboo.

74 notes • Posted 2021-03-06 23:35:35 GMT

#4

this came to me as I slept

90 notes • Posted 2021-04-30 16:33:25 GMT

#3

Wanted to share some screenshots of my little mushroom bakery from my friend's realm, heavily inspired by @beeswithmoss 's build

See the full post

363 notes • Posted 2021-05-21 16:53:13 GMT

#2

we hope you can make it

414 notes • Posted 2021-10-16 22:22:37 GMT

#1

If we can excuse c!technoblade for succumbing to peer pressure from schlatt to kill tubbo, we can excuse c!tubbo for succumbing to peer pressure to form the butcher army

438 notes • Posted 2021-02-23 07:15:48 GMT

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Get Published: May Calls and Challenges

Our Stampington publications want your submissions! If you are an artist or writer looking to have your work featured in one of our magazines, here are the May calls and challenges that our editors are looking for. We encourage you to submit your work again even if you have tried before. The following magazines have upcoming deadlines of May 15th (unless otherwise noted), so this is your chance to see your name in print and get published!

Have questions about submitting your artwork? Leave us a comment below!

~Artwork by Carrie Todd

In every quarterly issue of Art Journaling, artists open their journals and share creative techniques for capturing their emotions. From stamping and collage art to painting and sketching, each journal is filled with innovative techniques and inspirational stories. If you have an art journal that you would like to share with our readers, we would love to hear from you.

Deadline: May 15th

  ~Artwork by Robyn P. Thayer

How do you carry it? That’s the question Somerset Studio would like to help answer through our new and exciting special publication titled Haute Handbags. Whether we use purses, clutches, totes, portfolios, sacks, bags, or attachés, there are many styles made with an astounding array of materials emerging from all corners of the creative world – all vying to be carried and used with style. You are welcome to construct a bag from scratch, or to purchase one that you embellish and alter with paints, beads, rubber stamps, ribbons, buttons, transparencies, and more. No medium or material is ruled out so use your imagination to make bags of leather, wool, fabric, paper, plastic, wood, glass, or any other materials that you love. Deadline: May 15th 

  ~Artwork by Brooke Bock

For that added touch of glamour without the complexity, Jewelry Affaire is a quarterly publication dedicated to the art of understated, yet extraordinary jewelry. You don’t need to be a master craftsperson to create wearable art that makes a statement. The refashioning of a vintage piece into something new, embellishing a chain, the placing of a pendant, adding beadwork — anything that exemplifies sophisticated chic on an easy to understand level can be submitted.

Here are some of our ongoing departments we feature in every issue:

Whimsical Wares

Jewelry that is out of the ordinary and extraordinary

Natural Revelry

Adornments that are otherworldly

Vintage Jubilee

For lovers of heirlooms and findings, celebrate with classics that make time stand still

Artistic Affaire

Innovative to wear and uncomplicated to share

Black Tie Affaire

Dripping with jewels, pearls, and other sumptuous materials, these sophisticated statements pieces can make every day feel like an occasion

If you’re interested in being our artist for the Feature Article, please email a link or pictures of your jewelry collection.

Deadline: May 15th

  ~Event by Jenny Keller

Unique gatherings take center stage with our now-quarterly publication, Mingle! From intimate art retreats, to creative, one-of-a-kind celebrations, Mingle provides the inspiration you need to plan extraordinary gatherings with an artistic flair. For this publication, we are looking for stunning photographs and stories from unique gatherings such as the following:

Intimate Affaires Do you get together regularly with close friends for a night in of crafts? Perhaps you have a tradition of going to the park for a knitting circle or a picnic.

Art Retreats Do you plan art retreats for others to come participate in? Have you attended one that had a profound effect on you?

Handcrafted Weddings Was your wedding completely crafted by hand? Did it take place somewhere unique?

Birthday Parties & Anniversaries Did you throw a party for a friend that was simply over the top? Maybe you thought of an interesting theme.

Party Details Did you take a couple pictures (or maybe just one) of a stunning aspect of an event that you think Mingle readers need to see?

This is just a sampling of the items we are looking for to publish in each issue of Mingle. Submissions and questions can be emailed to the editor at mingle@stampington.com, or saved on a disc and mailed to our physical address. If selected, we will need hi-res versions of your photographs.

Deadline: May 15th

Click here to download our guide for how to submit photographs. It will also show you how to convert images to the correct size and resolution for this publication.

~Artwork by Melinda Barnett

Handcrafted Projects for Christmas & the Holiday Season  Christmastime is where most crafters truly shine — it is the time to create beautiful handmade gifts, lovely wrapping and cards, and artful decorative pieces. In this upcoming issue of A Somerset Holiday, we are aiming to create an inspirational, instructional companion for the holiday crafter with an abundance of simple projects, covering everything from artwork and gifts, to creating the packaging and tags labeling each memorable gift item. We invite you to join in the celebrations and submit your very favorite holiday-themed artwork, gifts, and more. Projects that might spring to mind are Christmas cards, gift wrapping paper, wreaths, advent calendars, and quick and easy gift ideas (i.e. face scrubs, gift baskets, imaginative gift card holders, stocking stuffers, candles, food/beverage ideas, and so on). Start a lasting tradition by giving gifts straight from the heart and made with your own hands. Please submit your most festive DIY projects to be considered for this stunning, full-color 144-page publication. Deadline: Every May 15th.

A Little Bit Handmade  The holidays are a very busy time, so it is not always easy to have the time to make something by hand. In this department, we aim to take a purchased item and personalize it in some way. For instance, taking a thrifted coffee mug and turning it into a hot cocoa kit, making a scarf in 20 minutes or less from a yard or two of fabric, or altering a Moleskine journal for the recipient with their monogram in a faux-calligraphy style. These are creative, inexpensive, simple projects that ideally take 30 minutes or less to make. Deadline: Every May 15th.

  ~Artwork by Melony Miller Bradley

Somerset Life aims to demonstrate how easy it is to add a touch of beauty to our daily lives, whether it is through a simple craft project, or an inspiring essay that shares how to find the beauty that already exists. Our mission is simple: make the ordinary extraordinary. For those looking to be a part of this bestselling publication, we have a number of ways to do so. We are currently looking for artwork submissions in the following categories:

Locales of Intrigue This special department features stories about truly unique stores and boutiques across the globe. Stores that would like to be featured in this department are asked to submit digital images of the store with a brief written query to the Editor-in-Chief at somersetlife@stampington.com. If the submission is accepted, professional hi-resolution digital images (300 dpi at 8″ x10″) will need to be furnished by the store. Deadline: Ongoing.

Life Creative Spaces Where do you create? Whether it’s a small table or breakfast nook, cleared-out closet, or an actual room dedicated as your creative studio, we want to peek inside. If you think your creative space is something that Somerset Life readers would like to learn more about, please submit digital images of your space with a brief written query to the Editor-in-Chief at somersetlife@stampington.com. If the submission is accepted, you will be asked to furnish professional hi-resolution images (300 dpi at 8″ x 10″). Deadline: Ongoing.

Miscellany Sometimes, an image of something lovely is all we need to feel inspired. Have you taken a photo of something that makes you feel inspired? Perhaps it is a photo of your collection of vintage handkerchiefs. Or an old stack of books. Or your treasured stash of ribbons. Please submit your favorite digital images (5″ x 7″ @ 300 dpi) to be considered for Somerset Life’s special Miscellany department to the Editor-in-Chief at somersetlife@stampington.com. Deadline: Ongoing.

Artful Kits We all love to collect papers, ribbons, embellishments, and other bits and bobs. More fun than collecting specific elements is finding creative ways to juxtapose the pieces together to create unique kits. Whether you create them to give away or to sell or offer to students in a workshop setting, we’d like to see your favorite kits. Please send in kit samples directly to the Editor-in-Chief as outlined in the Submission Guidelines. Deadline: Ongoing.

Creative Living Ideas In each issue of Somerset Life we share 10 Creative Living Ideas, and we show quick and easy ways to add a touch of beauty or creativity to your life, or perhaps someone else’s. Maybe you have a clever way of packing a sack lunch, or you have a developed a creative way of saying “Thank You” to a friend. Please send in samples directly to the Editor-in-Chief as outlined in the Submission Guidelines. Deadline: Ongoing.

The Magic of Friendship Bracelets Where would we be without our friends? We all need a tribe with a common goal where the bonds are strong and the friends are amazing. One way to show your friendship is by creating a gift for someone special, and this got us thinking about friendship bracelets. This symbol of friendship given from one friend to another has been around for a long time. They’re often handmade from embroidery floss or thread, but we thought it would be fun to elevate the ordinary friendship bracelet and see what our talented readers can come up with. Maybe add some pearls? How about tying on tiny words of inspiration? We’re looking for beautiful friendship bracelets that celebrate not only friends, but an authentic and creative life! Deadline: May 15, 2018

MICA INSPIRED! Who doesn’t love mica? Johanna Love showed us how some pretty gold mica flakes could add glittery pizzazz to nails in her article in our Jan/Feb/March 2018 issue, but we know the use of mica goes much further! Mica flakes add instant luminosity and sparkle to any project as well as texture and dimension. They come in different colors from silver, white, frosted to mulberry, charcoal, and a range of tones in between. This versatile product can be layered, mixed with paint, incorporated into snow globes, added to cards or mixed-media projects and much more. What can you do with mica flakes? Show us how you can incorporate them into artwork that personifies a Somerset life! Deadline: May 15, 2018

Click here to download our guide for submitting photographs. It will also show you how to convert images to the correct size and resolution for this publication.

    The post Get Published: May Calls and Challenges appeared first on Somerset Place: The Official Blog of Stampington & Company.

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