#he seemed to me the most likely star the first message referred to

[greenandhazy]

So the premises of the "honest way of life" you're talking about are

1. at the expense of career

2. within an extremely limited range

3. based on ambiguous reasons such as "the way the characters are written"

right? Why do you think it can only be achieved in Hollywood?

oh congratulations, man, this is some of the most successful moving of the goalposts I've ever seen. I especially love the last one -- "Why do you think it can only be achieved in Hollywood," as if I were the one going around telling people their ship was indefensible rather than the reverse. I literally said I was willing to believe that Thomas could achieve happiness in Yorkshire in my last response but ok.

(1) The expense of what career? Thomas will have a job when he goes. It will be roughly in line with the career he already has, and there are opportunities for something else to grow out of it when he gets to Hollywood if he wants. Or are you suggesting that because Billy Haines had to get a new career, Thomas will, too? Because that just... doesn't track.

(2) Within an extremely limited range... genuinely not sure what this means, but my assumption is you mean either geographically, or in terms of the number of people he can be out to. I put it to you that, having previously been out to "the residents and staff of Downton Abbey" in the geographic range of "Downton Abbey," with the possible extension of whatever gay community can be sustained by a nearby city of 100,000 people, Thomas will actually enjoy being out to a significant number of people in the film industry employed at multiple studios in the heart of Hollywood, extended to a gay community sustained by a city of 1.2 million people, especially given that said city has been known to be unusually accepting of LGBTQ people compared to cities of similar size. I'm going to include a quote here from William J. Mann's biography of Billy Haines:

Certain things weren't acknowledged in public, of course, but in a world that both denied and decried their existence, those who lived on the social edge found Hollywood offered authenticity that would have been difficult to achieve anywhere else.

(3) All right, fine, I'll be specific, even though neither of your messages have done the courtesy of the same. Ramon Novarro was murdered because he regularly hired sex workers to come to his home, and two men used this as a ruse to beat and rob him. This was not his fault in any way, shape, or form. It was a tragedy and an act of cruelty that can't be mitigated. Anyone could theoretically be burgled and killed in a similar manner; inasmuch as Novarro's death could attributed to being gay (which your first message seemed to imply with "other gay stars," although I know you didn't give Novarro's name), it's due to the fact that his hiring of sex workers allowed his murderers to access his home. I personally don't think Guy Dexter seems likely to have similar habits. If he does, I don't see any reason to think he would face the same fate as Novarro, given that it's just so statistically unlikely.

Rudolph Valentino, while probably gay, seems to have lived a much more closeted life and struggled with his sexual orientation. He was Catholic and religious, and struggled with alcoholism. Nothing I have seen suggests that Guy Dexter in the text seems likely to be religious or alcoholic or deeply conflicted about his sexual orientation. And yeah, that is necessarily going to be an ambiguous reason because unfortunately the character never takes the opportunity to say "I'm not going to become an alcoholic or be murdered, by the way" onscreen. Sorry.

And again, I don't think Thomas living in Hollywood is the only happy ending for him. I think it's a plausible happy ending, and I'm willing to accept it as canon. Which it is.

If you want to rebut this or move the goal posts again or if you have some more negatives you'd like me to disprove, you can go ahead and reblog this and we'll talk. Maybe. I'm not putting effort into responding to anonymous messages anymore.

#downton abbey 2 spoilers #da2 spoilers #downton abbey spoilers #homophobia cw #violence cw #yeah I was ambiguos about it #because I felt skeevy using a man's murder for fandom points #he seemed to me the most likely star the first message referred to #aside from billy haines #because he was unambiguously queer #and his death was such a tragedy #but I didn't want to pull it out if I didn't have to #fandom wank

[subskz]

ʚïɞ butterfly bandage - 03

note: this is part 3 of a series (part 1, part 2, part 4, part 5)

content: bang chan/reader, university au, themes of soulmates, reader is female and referred to with she/her pronouns, mentions of past unhealthy relationships, slight jealousy, brief mentions of alcohol, sickness, academic stress, angst, hurt/comfort, crying, chan has a bit of a breakdown, bathing scene, nsfw scenes

18+ content: sub chan, dom reader, praise, possessiveness, biting/marking, the slightest hint of exhibitionism, chan is very needy, stopping in the middle of a scene, oral (reader receiving), lots of begging, crying during and after sex, nursing, handjob, aftercare

word count: 22.6k

There were parts of Chan in everything you did now.

It took a while, but eventually, it dawned on you with a strange sort of delight that you’d subconsciously taken on his habit of pressing his lips together into a thin line—when giving a quick smile, when lost in thought, and, most importantly, when silently dissatisfied. For such a subtle movement, you found that, at times, it expressed your frustration better than voicing it ever could. A Chan-like quality, through and through.

Likewise, he’d adopted your habit of reaching up to brush the tip of your nose whenever you felt self-conscious. Of all the quirks he could’ve picked up on, naturally, it had to be one he could make ample use of. Now, any time your gaze lingered on him for a bit longer than necessary (which admittedly, was often) his thumb would swipe over the adorable apex of his nose, a shy half-smile following the action like clockwork. It took some audacity, really, for him to steal a mannerism of yours and make it infinitely more endearing.

Even less obvious details were fair game for the two of you to snatch up, from mirroring each other’s walks, to parroting certain words and phrases. You’d melded into one another, so much that, in some cases, you weren’t quite sure which traits he’d gotten from you, and which traits you’d gotten from him.

You wondered if the marks you’d left on each other were what had landed you in the situation you found yourself in now.

“Betrayal! That’s what this is! A Sanrio pencil stabbed straight through my giant, loving heart!”

It had been a good five minutes of this. Changbin was back from summer break—skin tanned, hair fluffy, muscles somehow more defined than ever—and with the way his voice echoed shamelessly throughout the cafe, he was making sure everyone knew it. You hadn’t even gotten a chance to greet him properly before the one-man show (which you’d prepared for, but clearly not enough) began; starring none other than Seo Changbin himself, of course.

“Please calm down before you get us kicked out.”

“Calm down, she says!” he cried. “You’re a real scary person, y’know that? Hiding this from me, your good friend, Changbin—your best friend, Changbin—all this time!”

You felt a tinge of guilt for what wasn’t the first time. Despite the melodrama of it all, you knew that he had a point. There was no reason for you to have kept something like this from him for so long, especially when it involved not only one, but two of his closest friends.

“I’m sorry, Bin,” you sighed. “I really did wanna tell you. I was just worried it’d make everything so awkward.”

“Well, of course it’s awkward,” he agreed. “But I still want to know! At least that way, we can feel awkward together!”

Something about his reasoning made you soften. It was just like him, to be more concerned that he’d missed out on the chance of being a supportive friend rather than the potential mess that could stem from your involvement with Chan. You would probably do well to have a little more faith in people—a message the universe seemed to have been hammering into your brain a great deal lately.

“Maybe I would’ve told you if you’d talked to me more than once over your entire vacation,” you teased.

Changbin’s mouth fell open in protest, suddenly finding himself playing defense. “Twice!” he corrected indignantly. “And don't try to spin this on me! What about when you called me, huh? That was the perfect opportunity!”

“The perfect opportunity?” you echoed in disbelief. “In that case, I’ll be sure to follow up your birthday wishes next year with news that I’m dating your best friend.”

“Scary, scary person,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I’m almost afraid to ask for a hug—you’re not gonna put a knife in my back are you?”

You rolled your eyes. “What’s in the air back home that makes you act like this?”

Still, you felt nothing but fondness as you leaned fully into him, letting it sink in for the first time just how happy you were to see him again. With the way his big arms squeezed around you, you knew he wasn’t truly upset either—even if, quite frankly, he had a right to be.

“I missed you, though,” you patted his back. “You and all your drama.”

“Well, I missed you too,” he huffed. Just when you thought he might be ready to drop the theatrics and move on, he pulled away from the hug, a horrified look forming on his face.

“Oh my God…have I been third wheeling this entire time?”

“Get in line, Seo Changbin.”

His nagging and whining eventually died down, morphing into more playful jabs as the two of you ordered your drinks and found a table to sit at. Exactly as you’d predicted, once he’d recovered from the initial shock, he was all proud grins and smug righteousness, preaching on and on about how he’d told you so from day one and how you should never doubt him or his genius intuition ever again.

“I was mostly joking when I said all that stuff about you falling in love with him, y’know,” he clicked his tongue. “Didn’t think you’d actually go and do it.”

“I’m not in love with him,” you tried to retort, but much to your dismay, your voice cracked right as you uttered the dreaded word.

“No way,” Changbin broke out into cackles of pure glee. “Don’t tell me you went and had a secret wedding without me, too?”

You shoved your straw into your iced coffee with a bit too much force, face heating up. “The more you laugh, the more you sound like someone who isn’t getting his belated birthday present.”

At that, he clamped his jaws shut, giggles halting with a speed that was almost impressive. “Sorry, sorry,” he gave you a sheepish grin. “Behaving, now.”

“How’d you find out, anyway? Did Chan tell you?”

“Nah. Though, I should’ve guessed just from the way he gets whenever you’re brought up. All shy and smiley, it’s honestly kinda nauseating.”

He scrunched his nose up in distaste, but the words had no real edge to them. In fact, there was nothing but affection there. It made your heart skip a beat, embarrassingly enough, to know that just the mention of you was all it took to have that kind of effect on Chan. Every time you thought you couldn’t possibly be more taken by him, he proved you wrong.

“If not Chan, then who?” you hesitated before asking. “Minho?”

“Hey,” the whine was back in his voice. “Why’s it so hard for you to believe I figured it out myself?”

You said nothing, smiling around your straw and sipping contently away at your coffee.

“Yes, it was Minho,” he grumbled.

Though you’d been expecting it, the confirmation still made your skin crawl, overtaking Chan’s warmth with a cold discomfort. You hadn’t seen or heard from Minho since your encounter in the convenience store a few weeks ago, and each time you thought back to him, the pit of unease in your stomach grew stronger. You wondered just how much he’d told Changbin. Judging by his behavior that day, he seemed to be aware of everything—whether he was the type to mince his words, or to expose it all without a care in the world, you weren’t quite sure. Even if you’d spent more time around the guy before he’d decided to switch up on you, you got the feeling that you still wouldn’t have any clearer insight into how his mind worked.

“Speaking of Minho,” you began slowly. “Has he…said anything lately?”

Changbin snorted. “He’s said a lot of things.”

“Sorry. I mean, like, about me.”

“I don’t think so,” he squinted, eyeing you up and down. “Why? Are you planning on picking off my friends one by one?”

It was lighthearted, just a joke, but it nearly made you grimace. You’d be glad to never even cross paths with Minho again if it meant avoiding that harsh, accusatory glare that had yet to fade from your mind. Experiencing it once was more than enough.

“C’mon, Bin. It’s nothing like that.”

“Uh-huh, that’s what you said last time.”

You gave a half-hearted chuckle in response, only noticing a moment too late how unconvincing it’d come out. It caught his attention, and he glanced up from his drink to give you a curious look.

“Everything alright?”

You were reluctant to confide in Changbin about the matter, both to avoid burdening him with something so silly, and because of the very unavoidable fact that Minho was just as dear a friend to him as Chan. He’d only just found out about your relationship; immediately piling its potential problems on him was the last thing you wanted to do. At the same time, however, you figured it was better to ask someone who knew Minho well before you jumped to conclusions. Not to mention, Changbin might genuinely believe you were interested in rounding up all his friends if you didn’t clarify why you’d brought up the subject of Minho in the first place.

“I saw him a few weeks ago, and he was being kinda weird.”

“No issues there.”

“Not in his usual way, though—at least, I don’t think so?” you tried to be careful with your words, acutely aware of how sensitive you may come off if you chose the wrong ones. “I just got the feeling that he doesn’t really like me all that much. So, I was wondering if he’s brought it up with you.”

Changbin frowned, taking a moment to mull over what you’d said.

“You think Minho doesn’t like you?” He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair. “What’d he say to you?”

“Just some weird things about me and Chan,” you shrugged. “It almost felt like he was trying to intimidate me, or something. Like, he thinks I have bad intentions.”

A troubled look crossed his face—brief, but just long enough to foster your unease. He went quiet for a few moments, nibbling thoughtfully on his bottom lip, then, at last, gave a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Nah, that can’t be it.”

You tilted your head. “Why not?”

“Minho knows you’re not like that,” he said simply. “And he wouldn’t just hate you for no reason, either. Definitely not it.”

You made a small noise of acknowledgement, pretending to understand what he meant, but Changbin still seemed to sense that he hadn’t gotten through to you.

“You’ve seen the way he acts around us, right? He’s probably just messing with you now that he feels more comfortable,” his voice mellowed. “He might seem difficult, but he’s not a bad guy. He’s a pretty great guy, actually. Soft at heart.”

“I believe you,” you murmured. You didn’t doubt for a second that he was a good friend to Changbin and Chan; you’d witnessed it firsthand in the time you’d spent around them. The problem was, you seemed to have done something to land yourself as the target of his inexplicable wrath, and you weren’t sure how to get yourself out of the line of aim before his eyes pierced an arrow straight through you.

“Maybe you’re right. I must’ve just misunderstood him.”

“He’s easy to misunderstand,” Changbin reassured you. An unpleasant thought appeared to cross his mind, twisting the small smile tugging at his lips right back into a frown. “Just…don’t tell him I said any of that. He didn’t put you up to this, did he?”

“Of course not,” you grinned. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Though you weren’t entirely sold on Changbin’s reasoning, it was at least worth a shot to reconcile with Minho before completely giving up on a positive relationship with him. It wasn’t even so much that you were hurt by his unexpected hostility, you just wanted to know what had caused it. You wanted to fix it.

In fact, you were determined to fix it. For both your sakes, and—most importantly—for Chan’s, you were going to make it right.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

College parties, as it turned out, were still very plainly, very aggressively, not your scene. Even with Chan and Changbin there, even with some of the most talented students on campus putting on performances that were, unsurprisingly, really, really good, even with the three-month long promise of getting to see 3RACHA live finally coming to fruition, you were having a hard time enjoying yourself.

You didn’t think it was possible to be experiencing this many different emotions at once. Every one of your senses was suffocated with something. The stinging smell of alcohol, the uncomfortable sheen of sweat on your skin, the perpetual ringing in your ears, the swarming mass of people, and the residual taste of artificial strawberry—the only refreshment you’d managed to take a few sips of before being swept away into the crowd over an hour ago. You were overwhelmed, you were exhilarated, you were anxious, you were impatient. You appeared completely calm amidst the chaos ensuing all around you, yet somehow, were more of a mess internally than even the most intoxicated of attendees.

You’d spent a majority of your time scattered, tossed amongst your friends at random intervals throughout the night. Fifteen minutes with Changbin before he and Jisung had retreated to the bathroom to practice their lyrics, twenty minutes with Iseul before she and her boyfriend had gotten into a heated argument about him not matching the energy of her dancing (something you were sure to get earful of later), thirty minutes with various friends from class before realizing in dismay that they consisted almost exclusively of touchy and crybaby drunks, and a mere five minutes with Chan.

Shortly after the party had begun, you’d arrived to find him already looking cheerfully exhausted. He’d been there for hours already, having offered to help the committee with all the setup and decorations for the event. Even once the festivities were in full swing, he was still dashing around the venue left and right, assisting with soundchecks and the transfer of equipment with hardly any time to prepare for his own performance, let alone to socialize. It warmed your heart as much as it tugged at it. Even on a night where he should be his own top priority, he was still bending over backwards to help everyone else but himself.  

It lasted until he was all but forced to stop, dragged away by Changbin and Jisung to set up for 3RACHA’s showcase. The moment you’d been anticipating all night—all summer, really—the sole reason you were even putting up with an environment so out of your wheelhouse to begin with, came at last. The three men shuffled on to the makeshift stage with an awkward sort of swagger that you only ever saw in them when they were together. It was like each one of them needed the other two with him to lock properly into place, to align their energies and bring out the best in each other like a finely-tuned machine. In a way, that in itself was a testament to the song they’d be performing.

The familiar sirens you’d heard countless times before, pumping through your phone speakers in a personal concert, now blared through the hall for everyone to hear. Chan’s eyes fell from the screen of his laptop where he’d been getting things situated, landing directly on you without even having to search the crowd. He gave you a grin, dimples flashing, and that was the last you saw of it for the next three minutes and thirty seconds.

You’d already had an idea of what Jisung was capable of based on the handful of 3RACHA songs you’d heard, but to see it unfold in person was something entirely different. The goofy, scatterbrained junior that always looked a bit on-edge every time you spotted him, now rapping at the speed of light with each word flowing like torrents in a stream. Something about the way he read the lyrics directly off his phone, even for a performance like this, made it all the more mesmerizing to watch. He was the kind of person you could tell was a hidden genius.

Changbin became every bit as fierce and intimidating as you’d initially believed him to be the first day you’d met. Voice raspy and eyes dark, looking straight into the crowd almost like he was challenging them with each effortless line he spit out. It served as a reminder that all his drama and flair wasn't just something you could tease him for; it was something he could own the stage with, as well. His pride radiated off of him in waves; not only in himself, but in them as a unit, and every ounce of it was justified in your eyes.

Undoubtedly the most drastic transformation, however, was Chan. From the moment Zone began, the boy you’d come to know seemed to go dormant for a while, replaced with something you’d never quite seen in him before—something approaching confidence. You thought back to that day in the library, where you’d tried to imagine in amusement how someone like him, who could hardly look you in the eye while playing snippets of his Placebo instrumental, could be the one behind such powerful lines. You didn’t have to imagine it now. He had the least parts out of the trio—you were certain he’d chosen Zone as a way to give Jisung and Changbin more time to shine—but he made just as great of an impact. You could feel the effects of it, on you and everyone else around you. There was no question about it; he belonged there.

By the time the performance was over, you could add a few new emotions to the ones swirling inside you: happiness, pride, and something else you couldn’t quite place. You found Changbin amidst the sea of people first, weaving and dodging through the crowd until you reached him, or, rather, crashed directly into him. His face broke out into a wide smile as soon as he realized it was you, barely getting the chance to say anything before you pulled him into a hug.

“So?” you could hear the giddiness in his voice as he gave you a tight squeeze.

“You killed it, Bin! That’s gotta be the best you've ever sounded,” you hoped he could hear your praises over the pandemonium. “You gonna remember me when you’re famous?”

He pulled away with a laugh, lifting his chin in—mostly—feigned bravado. “I’ll consider it,” his eyes sparkled. “Did you notice the new move I did?”

“Obviously,” you imitated his stylish salute with two fingers, and his smile grew even wider. “And what’s with that sound you made at the start of your verse?”

“It’s my new signature!” he declared.

“So cool! You’re so cool, Seo Changbin!” You threw a hand over your heart with a giggle, and he bumped his shoulder against yours, suddenly embarrassed.

If he said something in response, you didn’t quite catch it, effectively losing all focus the instant your eyes caught sight of a group of people gathered nearby. Chan was at its center, grinning from ear to ear as he tried to keep up with everyone’s chattering all at once. A visual of him you’d pictured so many times before, now right before your eyes—a charming, social butterfly who made befriending others look as simple as breathing. It truly sank in at that moment, that the boy who’d come to mean so much to you in so little time, had a whole other side to his world that you didn’t even know of. The view of his thousand-watt smile wasn’t for your eyes alone, the pieces of himself that he put into his music weren’t solely for your ears.

It made your heart sing; he should be adored. But at the same time, that sensation from earlier made its presence known once again. The girl next to him, the head organizer for the event, if you remembered correctly, reached out to touch his arm as she laughed. Her hand lingered for a moment too long, a look you knew all too well swimming in her eyes.

Oh. Suddenly, the mystery feeling wasn’t so much of a mystery anymore.

Something ignited deep within you, completely different from the familiar heat Chan set off in your skin. It was immediately followed by a wave of embarrassment. You weren’t the type to bristle over something so small—at least, you’d never thought you were. You wanted to blame it on something; the fact that you hadn’t seen Chan for most of the night, the fact that it felt a bit too reminiscent of what he used to do whenever you’d dared to take your attention off of him for even a moment. But Chan would never even think to pull anything like that, it went against his nature. His nature just so happened to entail being adored wherever he went.

You knew it was nothing more than that same selfishness that had reared its head the night you’d first slept together. Not quite insecurity, and not quite jealousy. It was rooted in something much simpler: a matter of what felt right, and what didn’t. You’d wanted to be done with the troublesome feeling from the moment you’d first encountered it—to nip it in the bud before it sprouted into something uglier—but just like everything about your relationship with Chan, it was out of your hands. It was inevitable. With the wholeness that came with his presence, an emptiness was left in his absence.

“Oh my God,” Changbin’s exasperated voice cut through the music, and, in turn, the thoughts swarming your head. “Stare any harder and he might just burst into flames.”

You blinked, embarrassment increasing tenfold. “Sorry, Binnie,” you muttered. “What were you saying?”

He gave you a knowing nudge. “Just go talk to him so I don’t have to look at your lovesick face anymore.”

“Not lovesick,” you protested, but the way your eyes darted right back to Chan did nothing to help your case. You found him staring at you this time, his overwhelmed beam shifting into something softer, sweeter—a look of relief. He dismissed himself from the group just as your feet were preparing, almost reflexively, to pull you in his direction. You turned to give Changbin another apologetic glance, only for him to roll his eyes and gesture for you to leave.

“I need to find Jisung, anyway,” he told you. “Talking to more than one stranger at a time probably has him looking for an escape route.”

Promising to meet up with him again later, you parted ways, a strange sense of calm washing over you as you came face to face with Chan at last. The pungent smell in the air was replaced with his fresh citrus, the clamoring sounds around you suddenly much quieter in your ears, as if waiting with bated breath to hear what he had to say.

“Hey, you,” he grinned.

“Hi, Channie,” you held out your hands, skin tingling when he rested his palms against yours. Slightly clammy from the adrenaline rush of the performance, but soft to the touch. Warm as ever.

“So, were you ever planning on telling me that you’re a shapeshifter?”

“A shapeshifter?” he giggled, more melodic than any of the music you’d heard that night.

“Those moves? The growling?” you marveled. “Even the way you carried yourself; you really know how to put on a show.”

Chan’s fingers—topped off with black nail polish, you noticed for the first time—twitched in your hands, resisting the urge to reach up and adjust his cap, tug at his ear, swipe over his nose, do something to try and alleviate his embarrassment.

“Did you like it? Or was it too much? I know this one’s your favorite, so…”

…I hope I didn’t mess it up. You could hear the words on the tip of his tongue without him even finishing. They were clear in every nervous flicker in his expression, every awkward shift in his feet.

“Are you kidding?” you rubbed your thumb along the back of his hand. “You were made for this.”

The flashing lights around you illuminated his face just in time for you to see his eyes widen. It almost made you sad—the genuine shock etched into his features.

“Ah…” he ducked his head, speechless. Suddenly, you completely understood why he’d been reluctant to ask you to attend the showcase. You should’ve known by now; Chan didn’t have to play coy to endear you, he accomplished that just fine by simply being himself.

“You really think so?” He kept his stare glued to the floor.

“Of course. Everyone else can see it, too,” you added. “I’m really proud of you, Channie.”

His cap hid his expression from your view, but you were certain that his brilliant smile was there—the one you loved so much, the one so wide that it couldn’t be contained, swelling his cheeks and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Thank you,” it was meek, barely audible above the roar of the crowd. “That means a lot.”

You wanted to dip your head under the brim of his hat and meet his gaze, to let him know just how much you meant it. You wanted to kiss him, unconcerned with the people around you who might see—in fact, it only strengthened the desire, the chance to witness his cute, flustered reaction to a public display like that.

Your hesitation lasted a split second too long, however, as you spotted a fresh group of people approaching the two of you; some faces recognizable, some entirely new. You kept your smile as they made their way over with shouts and cheers, but your hand gripped Chan’s just a bit tighter.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Tonight was full of firsts for you, it seemed.

Attending a university party without leaving within the first hour, mingling with more people than you’d ever thought existed on campus, and now, as you currently were, lacking so much in self-control that you were pressed up against Chan in the venue bathroom.

You weren’t quite sure how you’d ended up there, the only thing you were sure of was the slew of emotions leading into it. Chan could tell that you were antsy, and, maybe, he was feeling antsy too. The number of times you’d been separated throughout the night only to drift right back to each other was too many to count. It got to the point where the final time it happened, you’d opted for linking arms to avoid getting lost again.

You wanted to go home—you’d been more than ready to from the moment 3RACHA had finished performing—and you would’ve gladly left Chan to enjoy the rest of the event with his endless rotation of friends if it weren’t for the fact that every time you were apart for too long, he’d go looking for you. At first, you’d tried to tell him not to worry himself over whether or not you were having fun, but eventually, you realized with a flutter in your chest that it wasn’t just his usual attentiveness at play; he wanted you next to him.

When he’d asked if you wanted to retreat somewhere quieter for a bit, it had been innocent enough. You didn’t think he’d expected things to head in this direction—you certainly hadn’t. With your vigilance and his shyness, neither of you were exactly the type.

“This okay?”

“Mhm,” he breathed against your lips. The faint pounding of the bass outside could still be heard through the bathroom door, but you were much more fixated on Chan’s racing heartbeat.

“You look—mmph—so pretty tonight,” he slurred. “Been wanting to kiss you.”

His voice still had the faintest rasp to it after the strain of performing, exciting you more than it probably should’ve. “You’re so sweet,” you cooed, pressing a peck to the corner of his mouth. “How do you think I felt seeing you up on that stage?”

He made a soft noise, unable to protest when you took his bottom lip into your mouth, sucking delicately and making him melt into you. His mouth fell open for you to devour freely. His hands, which had been hovering uncertainly over your hips, rested on them at last. From the way his fingers constricted around your clothes, you knew he was itching to bring you closer; he always was. 

“You don’t believe me?” You pulled back just slightly, tugging at his plush skin between your teeth as you did.  He tasted sweet, even sweeter than usual. The same artificial strawberry you’d tried earlier in the night. Gently, you used your hold on his cheeks to turn his head in the direction of the mirror.

Chan’s eyes fell instantly, avoiding his reflection like second nature.

“Look at yourself, Channie,” you encouraged. “I want you to see what I see.”

A quiet whine built in his throat, but he complied nonetheless, meeting his own, timid gaze in the mirror. You let your hands slip from his cheeks to give him a clear view of his face, shifting your position so that you stood behind him, admiring the view together.

“Pretty boy,” you drawled, running your hands along his shoulders. “For someone who’s so good at reading people, you’re clueless about how bad they really want you.”

He tensed up, a breathy chuckle escaping him. “What?”

“You didn’t notice?” You tilted your head. “That's okay. It’s cute, actually.”

Your lips found his neck, breath fanning over his warm skin in a way that made goosebumps rise to the surface. Keeping your eyes locked on his reflection, you pressed a trail of kisses down his throat, doing little to hide how high your emotions were running.

“D-did something bother you?” he stuttered out, and if you hadn’t known him any better, you might’ve thought he was trying to tease you. Hearing him say it out loud nearly made you cringe at yourself. It was so trivial, so ridiculous. You didn’t want him to see that side of you—a side you’d hardly even known you had before tonight. Still, the burning sensation had grown too strong for you to ignore anymore, with each suggestive touch or longing glance thrown Chan's way serving as fuel to the fire.

“Why would I be bothered?” you said at last. “They don’t get to see you like this.” His breath hitched as you grazed your teeth along his skin. “Or hear you like this. Do they?”

“N-no,” he agreed. “Just you.”

Just you. You wondered if he’d said it knowing full well the kind of effect it would have on you.

“Do you like all the attention?”

He pressed his lips together, averting his eyes from the mirror again. It was subtle, but you could’ve sworn his hips jutted forward just a bit.

“I like your attention,” he said softly.

Another perfect answer from a perfect boy. Your hands fell from his shoulders, sliding down his body to give his waist a squeeze through the thin material of his shirt. “You deserve it,” you licked a stripe up his neck. “All of it. Who wouldn’t go crazy over you when you look like this?”

“I…” He bit his lip, no doubt to hold back what he really wanted to say. “Please, ‘m getting shy.”

You were almost tempted to grab hold of his chin and tilt his head up, giving him no choice other than to take in the breathtaking sight of himself. But judging by his bright red ears and restless squirming under your palms, he was flustered enough already—so much that you worried it may actually mortify him to face his appearance on top of your praises reverberating in his mind. Instead, you pressed more wet kisses to his neck, hands roaming further down his body and feeling up the expanse of his stomach, right above the waistband of his pants. He whimpered, pushing his hips forward much more noticeably this time.

“It’ll be bad if we get caught,” you hummed. “Keep quiet, Channie.”

Chan sucked in a sharp breath as you ran your tongue along his ear. You took his hoop piercing between your teeth, tugging at it in a gentle, but deliberate taunt.

“I can’t,” he whispered. “You know I can't.”

You smiled deviously around the silver. “I know.”

The sound of your voice was nothing short of intoxicating, smooth and sultry and pooling heat in his abdomen at an alarmingly quick rate. Your fingers traced over the buttons of his jeans, playing with them in a tortuous dance, but not quite popping them open. The material was already starting to feel tight around him, and when you fully cupped the area without warning, his mouth fell open to spill out a shaky moan.

Your heart jumped; he was so sensitive, reduced to the flushed, noisy mess you saw before you with just a few touches and kisses. You thought back to what he’d said that night—about how it’d been a while—a small part of you wondering if that was the real reason, or if he was just always this reactive. It thrilled you like nothing else, the prospect of him being so vocal, so vulnerable to every bit of stimulation no matter how many times he’d felt it before.

“Maybe that’s what you want? For everyone to hear all these pretty sounds you make for me.”

You dragged your tongue up from his lobe, swirling it around the shell of his ear and practically tasting the heat radiating off the reddened skin. Frantically, Chan tried to mask another moan, hands gripping the sink for support.

“No—ah—just you. Only for you.”

“Only me?” You gave him a squeeze, curling your fingers around his growing bulge and making him shudder against you. “Should I make sure they know that?”

He peeked up at last from under the brim of his cap, eyes already so foggy, lips already puffed. Your mouth traveled down from his ear, pressing a kiss right to the junction of his shoulder and neck. A light hiccup escaped him when your front teeth tickled the flesh, threatening to bite down in full.

“Can I?” you checked.

Chan leaned in further so that nearly all his weight was resting against the sink, knees weakening at the mere thought of what you were going to do. “Yeah,” he gasped. “Please.”

“It’ll show,” you warned, basking in the feel of his pulse beneath your lips.

“Please,” he repeated. “I want it to.”

Any composure you had left was no match for the desperation in his voice. He always knew exactly what to say—or, rather, anything he said was exactly what you wanted to hear, solely because it came from him. Without wasting another moment, you sank your teeth into his neck, wrapping your lips around the patch of skin to create a hot, delicious suction that nearly made Chan fold in half.

He squeezed his eyes shut, a sharp cry escaping him despite his best efforts. You tightened your grasp on him in an attempt to keep him steady, but the added pressure to his length only seemed to make things worse. He whimpered something incoherent, hips rolling forward to grind into your palm—uncharacteristically shameless of him.

You sucked to your heart’s content, nibbling and running your tongue along the sensitive area until you were certain a mark would be left behind for days to come. When you finally released his flesh from between your teeth, Chan was all but panting, face scrunched up with pleasure and bulge twitching in your hand. You gave the mark a delicate lick, soothing the flared skin while he caught his breath.

“Mine.”

It sent a shiver down his spine. Just as you were preparing to sully a new spot on his neck, a sudden knock on the bathroom door made you both freeze in place. His body stiffened against yours, head shooting up in a panic.

“Is anyone in here?” a girl’s voice came muffled through the distant rumble of the music.

The doorknob wobbled, and you steeled yourself to respond, knowing that Chan was in absolutely no state to.

“Yeah, just a minute!” you called, throwing out the first excuse you could conjure. “My friend’s feeling a bit sick.”

Carefully, to avoid drawing out any more questionable noises from the boy, you pulled your hand away from his crotch and peeled yourself off of him. He straightened up as best he could, blinking rapidly to clear the haze from his eyes. Guilt pricked at you, among other things, for allowing the situation to get to this point, but even as Chan urgently tried to adjust himself so the hardness in his pants would be less obvious, he didn’t look upset—not in the slightest. He gave you a sheepish half-smile when he met your gaze, eyes gleaming with pure, unfettered adoration.

You smoothed out your clothes, trying to ignore the very prominent ache between your legs.

“Sorry, Channie,” you murmured. “I guess I got carried away.”

His fingers brushed tentatively over the mark you’d left, cheeks matching the shade of his ears. “S’alright,” he licked his lips. “I like it.”

He had to stop saying that—for the sake of your sanity, if nothing else. You cleared your throat, reminding yourself that there was, in fact, some poor soul out there waiting impatiently for the restroom.

“And all the…possessive stuff I—” you paused. “I hope it wasn’t too much.”

“Too much?” he cocked his head to the side. “You didn’t notice?”

A repeat of your question from earlier. You went quiet for a moment, trying to decode the meaning behind it. Everything that had transpired throughout the course of the evening flooded your thoughts at once: the fixed stares from across the room, the hand-holding, the arm-linking, the search for you every time you strayed too far. Butterflies fluttered to life your stomach the instant you wrapped your head around it.

“Oh.”

His giggles mixed with yours, light and timid. How very like him, to admit so openly to the exact feeling you’d been hoping to hide. Hiding with him was a fruitless endeavor, anyway.  

You rested your hand on his lower back, reaching for the handle with your other. “Look sick,” you whispered.

Chan leaned over slightly, masking both the lingering flush on his cheeks and the blossoming lovebite on his neck. On the opposite side of the door, you found none other than the event organizer standing there, watching the two of you inquisitively as you shuffled out of the bathroom. You gave her a polite dip of your head, and Chan offered a quick greeting as you ushered him along. You weren’t proud of it, but any self-consciousness you’d felt before was instantly overtaken by that selfish satisfaction.

As the two of you re-entered the fray, your hand slid down from Chan’s back, allowing him to walk normally again—or, as normally as he could when he was still very much trying to ebb the arousal you’d set off in him. He flexed his fingers as they brushed against yours, lacing them together before you could even think to pull away.

By some miracle, you managed to locate the other two thirds of 3RACHA with just a bit of sifting through the crowd. The relief was short-lived, however, alarm gripping you in its place when you noticed who was standing with them. Lee Minho.

It was no surprise that he was there, but you’d somehow managed to go the entire night without catching so much as a single glimpse of him. A part of you had been grateful for it, but the other part was also itching to see him. Ever since your conversation with Changbin, you’d become more and more ashamed about the way you’d acted with Minho in the convenience store. He’d rubbed you the wrong way, sure, but you were certain that your reaction had only made the situation worse. This was your chance to fix it, to dodge the arrow before he could finish drawing back his string.

“It’s completely different,” you heard him insist as you and Chan approached the group. He was engaged in what appeared to be a very serious debate with a very confused Jisung. “It’s like iced coffee versus hot coffee that’s been out for too long; they’re both cold, but one’s supposed to be, the other isn’t.”

Jisung blinked, lips parting and closing several times over the next few seconds. You’d never quite witnessed someone’s thought process unfolding in real time like that before. Even if you’d caught the full discussion between the two, the look on his face told you that you still wouldn’t have the slightest clue as to what was going on.

“I’ll be honest, man, you lost me three analogies ago.”

Minho clicked his tongue, looking ready to drop another equally convoluted explanation. Instead, he fell silent when he spotted you, the delighted smirk of someone who knew he was being difficult transforming into something much harsher, much less natural. It nearly made you wince. You’d never been particularly close with the guy, but you’d thought you were at least reaching a point where he’d grown comfortable enough to approach you with the same casualness he did with the rest of his friends. It bothered you more than you wanted to admit, that the first sign of friendship sprouting between you had been trampled on for reasons that you didn’t even know, nor comprehend.

His stare flickered between you and Chan, and you prayed desperately that the dim lighting of the hall would be enough for the fresh mark you’d left on Chan’s neck to escape Minho’s scrutiny. He narrowed his eyes, and your heartbeat picked up. So far, not off to a great start.

Still, you swallowed—your misgivings, and your pride—and flashed him a quick smile.

“Hi, Minho.”

No response, just a nod. Something told you that you were lucky to get even that out of him. He turned his head, planning to continue his debate with Jisung without addressing you any further, but the other boy had already been sucked into a high-energy conversation with Chan and Changbin about ways they could improve future performances.

“Can we talk?” you tried to keep your volume low, just enough for him to hear without catching the attention of the others.

He studied you with an impressive lack of interest, and for a moment, you thought he might really go the rest of the night without uttering a word around you.

“Why?”

“I just want to clear the air. I feel like we kinda had a misunderstanding the other day.”

“Maybe on your end,” he said curtly. “I understand what’s going on just fine.”

You took a breath, forcing yourself to remain open-minded. “Maybe,” you agreed. “So, could you tell me what I’m missing about all this?”

Wordlessly, he brought his cup to his lips, fixing you with unblinking eyes the entire time he drank, like you might lash out and attack him if he let his guard down for even a second. You managed to hold his gaze, but that same chill from before began to creep up your spine. It was so intense—and for what? Anyone who saw the way he was looking at you might think the two of you were involved in some kind of centuries-long blood feud between your families.

Even after he’d swallowed, he said nothing, and you felt your patience slip just a bit.

“If I’ve done something wrong, or if I’ve upset you somehow, please let me know,” you added.

“Upset me?” he hummed. “Yeah, actually, you did.”

You tensed.

“When you said I wasn’t funny, it really hurt my feelings,” he announced. “Apologize with flowers and tears, and maybe I’ll forgive you.”

It almost sounded like his usual manner of joking around, but your glimmer of hope was put out by that same, cold expression. You tried not to lose sight of your goal, clinging to what Changbin had told you in the cafe. He’s easy to misunderstand.

“Minho,” you began lightly. “I’m being serious here.”

His eyes glinted under the flashing lights. “So am I.”

You allowed your face to drop at last, realizing right then and there that he had no intention of even telling you what you’d done wrong—let alone giving you the chance to make amends with him.

“What, you don’t like that idea?” he feigned hurt. “Maybe you’d rather get on your hands and knees and ask for forgiveness?”

You bristled. “That’s enough.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. A look almost akin to gratification crossed his features, like a crack in your demeanor was exactly what he’d been hoping for.

“Hm. Guess you’re not really sorry, after all.”

“Don’t talk to me like that, okay? Even as a joke.”

“I’d be glad not to talk to you at all,” he shot back. “But it seems you have nothing better to do than pick fights with me.”

Unbelievable. You had to stop yourself from clenching your fists, solely because of the fact your hand was still loosely clasped with Chan’s.

“Pick fights?” you repeated. “I’m trying to fix things between us!”

“There’s nothing between us to fix.”

The way he said it was strange, pointed. You were positive there was a deeper meaning to it, almost like he was implying that there was something for you to fix, just not with him. It planted an unpleasant thought in your mind—or, rather, watered the seed of an idea that was already rooted deep within it.

You’d managed to keep your voice hushed thus far to avoid causing a scene, but the building tension finally seemed to reach a tipping point, enough to catch Chan’s attention. He put his chatter with Jisung and Changbin on hold to give you a curious glance, and, as irritated as you were with Minho’s provocation, you smiled back at him.

“You alright?” he gave your hand a squeeze.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, eyes darting momentarily in Minho’s direction. He’d turned away from you as soon as the opportunity had presented itself, going right back to talking with Jisung as if your conversation had never even happened. At least one part of what he’d said had been straightforward—he clearly wanted nothing to do with you.

“You’re friends with some pretty weird people, y’know that?”

Chan grinned. “Birds of a feather.”

Your spirits lifted a bit, taking comfort in the fact that he at least seemed oblivious to the altercation that had just taken place. Still, it was a shallow relief. You knew now, with complete certainty, that Minho wasn’t going to make things easy for you.

Of course he wouldn’t. Nothing was ever that easy.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

One month into the fall semester of your senior year, the academic distractions that you’d been longing for all summer were now upon you. Perhaps, even, a bit more intensely than you’d have liked.

Your classes were manageable enough—a significant improvement over the hellscape that was Thermodynamics and Statistical Mechanics—but the amount of time and effort your research lab demanded more than made up for what might’ve been an easy final term. When you weren’t attending your lectures or completing assignments, you were practically living in the astrophysics lab; analyzing spectroscopic measurements, reconstructing images from interferometric data, observing optical maps of the interstellar medium, and, on top of all that, sitting through countless meetings with your team.

It was as fulfilling as it was exhausting, and though you were more than happy to finally get some hands-on experience in your field of study, you couldn’t help but feel a bit wistful about this new routine as well. Your Experimental Physics II section with Changbin only took place once a week as opposed to the biweekly Thermodynamics lectures, and that, coupled with the lack of study sessions and your limited free time meant you were seeing him much less often than before. It was even worse in the cases of Chan and Iseul, both of which you rarely saw on campus to begin with. Even with Iseul more or less still treating your apartment as her second home, and Chan being his usual, relentlessly considerate self—never going too long without checking in on you—they were both busy with their respective capstone projects as well, leaving your interactions fewer and further between in comparison to the spring.

You knew it wasn’t rational, but it almost frightened you how such minor shifts in your daily life could feel so jarring, especially when graduation, the greatest shift of all, was looming on the horizon. The sands of time were trickling along without a care in the world, changing things little by little until they were unrecognizable. Some for the better, some for worse.

You’d thought you were handling the gaps in your time spent with Chan fairly well; that was, until it dawned on you halfway through September just how often your mind would drift to him while working on your research. Every new set of spectral line data or roAp star photometric variations had you visualizing what his reactions might be—his gleaming eyes that captivated you more than any of the stars you were observing, his voice growing shaky with excitement as he tried to discuss your observations without pausing every few seconds just to gush about how cool it all was.

You weren’t pleased with the number of instances your lab partners had caught you grinning to yourself in the middle of running tests and collecting data, giddy over the mere thought of his presence. As it turned out, Changbin hadn’t been too far off when he’d labeled you as lovesick.

Summoned by your thoughts, your phone vibrated against your desk to signal a text from none other than Changbin. You placed down your pencil in defeat, accepting the fact that you weren’t going to be getting any work done at this rate—daydreaming about how often you were daydreaming about Chan should’ve been indication enough.

bin 😑 (2:03 p.m.) number 5???

You blinked at your screen, dumbfounded.

bin 😑 (2:04 p.m.) number 5 pls pretty pls

you (2:04 p.m.) i sent you number 5 yesterday?

bin 😑 (2:06 p.m.) oh ;;; number 6 pls~~~

you (2:06 p.m.) i think i deserve an honorable mention on ur diploma

bin 😑 (2:07 p.m.) get me thru this hmwk and i’ll make it happen one for you and one for chan ><

The thought of it nearly made you laugh out loud: Changbin, trying to charm his way through the dean’s office to make a proposal as ridiculous as that. You didn’t doubt that he might try it, or that he might actually succeed in doing so.

Shuffling through your papers, you snapped a picture of your assignment, barely managing to fit the entirety of the required work in one shot.

bin 😑 (2:10 p.m.) thank uuu oh speaking of chan lol u know he’s sick?

you (2:10 p.m.) what???

bin 😑 (2:10 p.m.) i knew it he didn’t tell you -_-

You felt a pang of worry, countless questions filling your head at once. It’d been a day or two since you’d contacted Chan, even longer since you’d seen him in person—definitely over a week by now. The last time you’d talked hadn’t been over a phone call like usual; you’d texted him just to see how he was doing, and after a short chat he’d promised to meet up with you sometime the next week. It had been unusual, but not unusual enough for you to overthink it, especially considering how swamped the both of you were.

you (2:12 p.m.) how long has he been sick for?

bin 😑 (2:13 p.m.) couple days? actually more like a week now

Worry twisted into a sense of dread. Why hadn’t he told you?

You didn’t have to question it for long. You knew why—anyone who knew Chan well enough could piece it together with ease.

bin 😑 (2:14 p.m.) he hasn’t gone to class for a few days ㅜ you should visit him if you can

you (2:14 p.m.) yeah, i definitely will thanks for letting me know binnie

If your homework had been an afterthought before, it was long forgotten now. You didn’t bother to clean up your workspace before rising from your chair, leaving the scattered notes and eraser shavings for you to deal with later.

You weren’t sure what you were experiencing as you made your way over to your kitchen, digging around for ginger and garlic and praying that you’d have enough. It was an overreaction, probably, but you berated yourself regardless; for not noticing that something was wrong, for not pressing harder when asking how he’d been, for not questioning the longer periods of time you’d gone without talking. You’d wanted to give him his space, but for it to go as far as him thinking he shouldn’t tell you that he was sick—sick to the point where he couldn’t attend class, stirred something awful in you.

The pot nearly slipped from your hands in all your haste to prepare your materials, and you took a breath, forcing yourself to relax before you set fire to your apartment. Still, the concern, the guilt, didn’t die down. You were so accustomed to being in-tune with every aspect of your relationships, be it friends, family, or romantic partners, making note of every little detail, every subtle shift; sometimes before they themselves could even realize it. But for what was neither the first nor the last time, you had to remind yourself that this was Chan you were dealing with. Of course he wouldn’t tell you—he wouldn’t tell you anything that he believed might cause you even the slightest inconvenience. He would do whatever it took, go to any lengths imaginable, just to avoid committing the unforgivable sin of letting you care about him. It was the complete opposite of everything you'd come to understand about the world, the people around you, and it put you in a position that you weren’t sure you wanted to be in.

You weren’t going to stand idly by, watching him board his openings shut before anyone could catch a glimpse of what was inside, watching him burden himself with the fear of burdening others. Whatever had happened in the past for him to reach that point, you wanted to suck it out like poison until there wasn’t a single drop left in his system. You were going to be there for him, whether he liked it or not.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

His face was the last thing you’d expected to see when the door to unit 8-325 swung open.

Realistically, it shouldn’t have been. He did live there, after all. Like the annoying troll under the bridge that wouldn’t let you pass unless you answered his riddles three. It took everything in you not to make a face as you were met with Minho standing in the doorframe. He, of course, didn’t extend that same courtesy to you, eyes narrowing into an unmistakable grimace when he laid them on you.

“What do you want?”

“Hi to you, too,” you muttered.

His expression didn’t change, and, much to your disdain, you once again found yourself mesmerized by that gaze of his. You hated how effective it was; unreadable, yet communicating a thousand things all at once. Even if he really was as harmless as Changbin claimed, even if his cold glares and cutting comments were the extent of what he could do to you, your skin crawled all the same.

When you saw that he wasn’t planning on dignifying you with a response, you inched forward, expecting to be let inside. That would simply be too easy, though. Minho shifted so that his body blocked your path, pulling the door closer to him for good measure.

“Chan’s sick,” he deadpanned.

You paused, blown away for a moment by his audacity. “I know he’s sick,” you gritted your teeth. “I’m here to check on him.”

You might’ve sworn you saw the corner of his lips start to twitch, but you tore your eyes away too quickly to be certain. The last thing this man needed was whatever kind of ego boost he’d get from you paying a little too much attention to his features.

“Not much you can do,” he dismissed, voice light and airy as ever. “Unless you think gracing him with your presence is gonna make him all better.”

It was your turn to shoot Minho a glare, foot darting out just in time to prevent him from shutting the door in your face. Wordlessly, you lifted the container of galbitang into his view.

He raised an eyebrow, the closest thing to a genuine reaction you could get from him. “Changed your major to the medical route?”

“I don’t see you doing anything to help him,” you snapped.

Your patience was already minimal when it came to this guy, but ever since you’d confronted him at the event in August, it seemed like he’d made it his personal mission to run it as thin as possible every time you interacted with him. It was kind of impressive, really, the way he knew exactly how to push every last one of your buttons with ease.

Fresh out of half-assed excuses, Minho shrugged, as if he’d never even cared in the first place. He let go of the door handle, and you took that as a sign to push past him and slip inside.

You removed your shoes as quickly as you could, not wanting to spend another second around him if you could help it. Knowing that Changbin wasn’t home, you stalked past the kitchen and through the living room, the soothing scent of freshly-brewed yuja tea flooding your nostrils as you did. It almost made you feel bad about what you’d said to Minho, but you knew better than to apologize for it now—if you’d come to learn anything, it was that your peace offerings would be met with even more hostility than your provocation. Instead, you padded down the hallway, heading straight for Chan’s room.

Careful not to lose your grip on the container in your hands, you managed to give his door a light knock. A few seconds passed before you heard a faint “come in”, muffled by the sound of what was sure to be a pile of blankets. You braced yourself, recovering from your Minho-induced rise in blood pressure, then slipped inside, shutting the door quietly behind you.

Chan blinked his eyes open just in time to see you approaching his bed. They were foggy, even more exhausted than usual, and they widened slightly when he registered who was standing before him.

“Hi, Channie,” you whispered. “Were you sleeping?”

“N-no, I—” his voice came strained and hoarse, so different from his pleasant, melodic lilt that you had trouble believing it was really him speaking for a second. “I was already awake.”

You rolled his desk chair over to the side of the bed, placing your container of galbitang on his nightstand next to the half-finished cup of tea and army of empty water bottles. He watched, stunned, as you sat down next to him, still trying to process what was going on.

“Um…how did you—?”

“Seo Changbin,” you hummed.

A weak smile formed on his face. “Bin…”

“How are you feeling?”

“Alright,” he croaked, not sounding alright at all. “Guess when you told me to look sick I took it a little too seriously, yeah?”

You let out a light giggle, and he tried to join you, only to spiral right into a violent coughing fit instead. It made your heart twist with sympathy, and you reached out to brush back his messy curls, resting your palm on his forehead. His skin was burning, and not in its normal way—if you could even call the amount of body heat he carried with him normal. It was heavy and sticky and pulsing, like you could physically feel the ache plaguing his head.

“Ah, wait,” he warned. “You shouldn’t touch me, you’ll catch it.”

I don’t care. You almost wanted to say it without restraint, but you settled for something more tactful, something less pointlessly dramatic. “You wouldn’t get me sick, would you?”

He flashed you another feeble smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Sorry you have to see me like this,” he rasped, shrinking into the covers so that his face was only half visible.

“Please don’t apologize, Channie,” you ran your fingers gently through his hair. “I just wish you’d told me. How long have you been sick?”

The feeling seemed to relax him, weary eyes drooping just a bit as your nails grazed his scalp. “It’s only been like this for a few days,” he hesitated. “But I first started feeling it last week. Minho thinks it’s the flu.”

You stopped combing through his hair, letting your hand simply rest atop his head. He seemed to sense your disapproval, eyes peeking up at you from beneath the comforter to meet your frowning face.

“It’s not that bad, though,” he tried to assure you. “Just a cough and some headaches.”

“Bin said you haven’t been able to go to class.”

Chan sucked in through his teeth; caught. You sent out a silent apology to Changbin, realizing a split second too late that you’d probably set him up for a scolding as soon as Chan could speak without sounding like he had gravel in his throat.

“I just didn’t want you to worry,” he explained sheepishly. “Especially when you’ve been so busy.”

“I’m always thinking of you, anyway,” you countered, only half-joking. “So, please don’t hide stuff like this from me, okay? That’ll only make me worry more.”

For a moment, he stayed silent, and you got the feeling that your words hadn’t quite gotten through to him. Regardless, he eventually gave you a tiny nod.

“Promise?” you pressed.

“Promise.”

He didn’t hold out his pinky this time to seal the deal, but you chose not to dwell on it considering the fact that his hands were buried under layers upon layers of blankets. Instead, you gave his head one last pat and reached for the thermos on the nightstand.

“Can you eat?”

His face lit up at the sight of the galbitang. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I haven’t eaten yet today, actually.”

You frowned, biting back an exasperated comment. Even if his horribly skewed priorities frustrated you more than anything else—touching a part of you buried so deep within that you yourself couldn’t fully grasp it—you’d visited Chan with the intent of helping him, not lecturing him. There was no changing the outcome now, anyway. All you could do was try and make things a little easier for him, to balance out his determination to create new obstacles for himself as quickly as you could break them down.

“It should still be warm, but I can go heat it up if you’d like?” you were reluctant to ask, not keen on the possibility of seeing Minho again.

“No, no, s’alright,” he shuffled around in the sheets, trying to sit himself upright against the pillows. “I’ll eat it like this.”

As soon as his protective pile of covers slipped down his torso, he was shuddering. Even with the hoodie he was wearing, chills passed through his entire body, so strong that you could visibly see how his shoulders shook.

“Oh my God, Channie,” your voice softened to a tone that he’d only ever heard you use with him, one that soothed his pounding head. “You’re really sick, aren’t you?”

He attempted to say something in response—to deny it despite every cell in his body screaming otherwise—but between his sniffles and chattering teeth, it was hard to make out. You reached out with your free hand and pulled the covers back up his chest, draping them over his shoulders so that just his head and neck were exposed. Chan blinked at you, the confusion on his face morphing into subtle panic when he understood what you were planning.

“Ah…you don’t,” he coughed. “You don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind.” You unscrewed the lid and unlatched the spoon from its side. “I want to, actually. If it’s okay with you.”

It shouldn’t have surprised you—the flush that crept up on his cheeks, even more visible than usual with how little color there was to his sickly complexion.

“Okay,” he averted his eyes. “Yeah, thank you.”

You scooped up a portion of the soup, making sure to gather a good mix of ingredients for him, then brought it up to his lips. He blew out puffs of air a few times before taking the spoon into his mouth, still refusing to meet your gaze.

Despite his awkwardness, a cute hum followed. “This is really good.”

“That’s how I know you’re sick.”

He giggled gently, careful not to set off another coughing fit. “No, I mean it,” he licked his lips. “I can taste the flavor, even though my nose is all stuffy.”

“I’m glad you like it,” you smiled, dipping the spoon back into the container. “I kinda made it in a rush, so I hoped it’d at least be edible.”

Chan finally looked up, fixing you with a guilt-ridden gaze. “I’m really sorry,” he mumbled, just as you brought another portion up to his lips.

“The only person you should be apologizing to is yourself,” you said firmly.

A comfortable silence filled the room, with nothing but the sound of Chan’s slurping and wheezy breaths breaking it. Though the bashfulness was still there—it always was—he gradually came to relax the more you fed him, slumping his shoulders and letting out those content, satisfied noises that you’d come to love so much after each hot spoonful. The sight of him, disheveled as he was, made your heart feel strangely full, the ripples of worry fading out until it was calm and clear. He was being cared for, looked after; even if for just a moment. You decided right then and there that it was the only thing you’d ever ask of him—to dare to let you treat him with an ounce of the kindness he showed everyone but himself.

The steam, garlic, and ginger seemed to do their job in clearing up his sinuses a bit, as his sniffling grew more and more frequent until it was obvious he was having a hard time containing it. He had to refrain from ducking his head, a fresh wave of embarrassment washing over him as you plucked a tissue from the nightstand and wiped his nose clean. Still, he thanked you quietly, sinking further into the pillows.

“Is there anything else I can do?” you sealed the now-empty container shut. “I can pick up any missing work for you tomorrow, if that helps.”

Chan’s eyes were half-lidded now, his weariness finally starting to catch up to him. “Nah, don’t trouble yourself. Most of my stuff is on my laptop, anyway.”

For the first time, you noticed the device amidst the blankets and sheets, teetering on the edge of his mattress in a way that made your adrenaline spike considering it was the precious amalgamation of all his blood, sweat, and tears since he’d entered university.

“Have you been working, even now?”

“I wanted to,” he admitted. “But I think staring at a screen just made my head feel worse. Gonna try again later.”

Before you could say anything else, he changed the subject, like he knew you’d advise against it the instant the words left his mouth.

“But how’s your work? Is the lab going okay?”

Despite yourself, a smile tugged at your lips. You might not have let him get away with it if he hadn’t asked about the exact thing you’d been dying to share with him since the last time you’d met up. Maybe that was what he needed, anyway—something to cheer him up and take his mind off the perpetual ache consuming his body.

“I’m observing a pair of binary stars right now.”

He perked up against the pillows, lifting his head so quickly that it actually earned a light hiss of pain. Still, his face broke out into a smile, exactly the way you’d dreamed of when you’d first analyzed the spectral lines.

“What kind?”

“Spectroscopic.”

His dimples appeared for the first time that day. “The closest pair!” he chirped. “That’s amazing, I wish I could see it.”

“I can show you their Doppler shifts as the next best thing,” you offered. “They’re so close even the telescopes can’t separate them. Isn’t that romantic?”

“Super romantic,” he beamed, eyes twinkling through the glaze of illness. That familiar warmth spread through your skin—just by looking at him, you could tell he was thinking the same thing as you. “Orbiting so close and so fast…you think they’ll change each other’s evolution?”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “I do.”

Like in the case of most binary pairs, one star burned brighter than the other—just the slightest bit. Even if the difference in them was miniscule, you had no doubt in your mind which of the two was Chan.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Space talk could only mitigate the effects of the flu for so long. Chan’s half-lidded eyes eventually drooped all the way shut, his raspy but enthusiastic chatter dying down into barely-responsive mumbles, then, finally, soft, steady snores. It took everything in you not to lean down and press a kiss to his forehead, already accumulating beads of sweat as his fever began to break. Even after all your recklessness in getting so close to him while he was sick, you figured that would be pushing your luck a bit too far. Instead, you ensured he had enough water for when he’d inevitably wake up parched, adjusted his pillows so that his head was properly elevated, and tidied up the mess on his nightstand as best you could.

Carefully, you tiptoed out of his room, taking one last look at his sleeping face before shutting the door.

As you entered the living room from the hall, you found Minho seated on the couch; presumably hard at work, judging by the way he was hunched over his laptop, typing up a storm with computer glasses perched on the tip of his nose. He didn’t even spare you a glance when you passed him to toss the empty bottles in the recycling bin. You’d long learned to keep quiet around him to avoid setting off yet another tirade of petty insults and icy scowls, and you would’ve gladly gone without a word if the memory of your earlier accusation wasn’t nagging away at you. That, and, maybe the affection that had bubbled up inside you upon seeing Chan had let down your guard a bit.

Against your better judgment, you mustered up the will to say it. “Thanks for looking after him.”

Minho’s eyes stayed glued to his screen. “I didn’t do it for you.”

“Obviously,” you replied evenly. “I just mean I’m glad he has you.”

You were prepared to leave it at that, both to let him resume his work, and avoid the claws that were sure to come out if you kept pressing the matter. To your surprise, however, he piped up again just as you began making your way over to the door.

“If you’re expecting me to say the same about you, don’t hold your breath.”

You told yourself to ignore it, but with just a few words, he’d effectively frosted over all the warmth that Chan had kindled in your chest. Something snapped in you, making you spin on your heels before you could stop yourself.

“What the hell is your problem?”

Minho’s eyes flickered up at last, widening for only a split second before they narrowed again.

“That’s no way to talk to someone in their home,” he clicked his tongue. “If I wasn’t such a gentleman, I’d kick you out.”

You held your ground, refusing to feel embarrassed about your outburst no matter how much he provoked you.

“Answer me.”

Minho rose from the couch with a sigh, making it no secret what an inconvenience he found you to be, what an utter waste of his time it was to even address you.

“What makes you think I have a problem?”

You let out a bitter laugh. The absolute gall of this man.

“Don’t play dumb with me, okay? Changbin told me this is just what you’re like, but I haven't seen you treat anyone else the way you treat me.”

Minho was closer now, still a few feet away, but near enough to put you on high alert. He looked so unrecognizable these days, you’d forgotten what it’d ever felt like to be comfortable around him, to be in the same room without that unease spreading through your skin.

“You think you’re special?” he sneered. “Do your ego a favor and listen to Changbin.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but he carried on, still managing to sound so carefree despite the venom in his words.

“Unless, of course, you’re the only one allowed to give orders here.”

You froze.

“What?”

“Hit a nerve?”

“What are you talking about?” You had to contain yourself, solely for the meager hope that maybe, just maybe, you might get a clear answer from him for once.

“I’ve seen your type before, too many times,” he spat. “Chan just can’t seem to break that ugly habit—falling for people who only know how to take advantage of him.”

You bristled, so enraged that you couldn’t even think to answer. All that filled your head was red, hot anger, defiance, and, buried beneath all that, fear.

Anger that he had the audacity to speak to you that way. That he’d passed such a cruel and absurd judgment without so much as bothering to get to know you first. Defiance that he thought he had you all figured out when he didn’t even know the half of it—of what Chan meant to you, of what you’d been through, of the people who had chewed you up and spit you out just like he was implying you liked to do.

Fear that he was right. Fear that someone else was capable of having those thoughts about you, that they weren’t just your own baseless inhibitions. The lingering effects of what he had planted in your mind, never quite uprooted.

“My type,” you tried to keep your voice steady. “Is just as capable of being taken advantage of.”

Minho crossed his arms, stare unbreaking as if inviting you to continue—to prove yourself to him. The thought alone made your stomach churn.

“You’re not as smart as you think,” you hissed. “You don’t know the first thing about me, and whatever happens between Chan and I is none of your business.”

He sniffed, unimpressed. “When you hurt him, it will be.”

He said it with so much certainty, so much confidence, you nearly believed it yourself. You clenched your fists, mustering all your strength to control the irrational amounts of rage bubbling up inside you. You thought of Chan, asleep in the other room amidst his nest of sweaty blankets and tissues, fighting off the flu on top of everything else he had resting on his shoulders. You thought of his exhausted face, paler than usual, and his cracked voice, still trying to reassure you even when he was in such a miserable state.

You took a deep breath, and you softened.

“I’m not going to hurt him.”

Minho said nothing. Maybe he thought it was too easy to counter, maybe he thought it wasn’t even worth acknowledging. Either way, you were done trying to make sense of him—done trying to defend yourself in front of someone who had long decided you were guilty.

So, he hated you. You could probably live with that. You didn’t exactly have a glowing opinion of him either.

You turned around, making a beeline for the door and slipping your shoes back on as calmly as you could. But, of course, it wasn’t over quite yet. Ending things on your terms, where you got the last say, wasn’t an option when it came to Minho.

“Running away from the fight you started again?” he called lazily. “This is getting boring.”

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Iseul’s sigh rang out through your apartment, so loud and so exaggerated this time that you couldn’t in good conscience brush it off. Half-amused by her transparency, you paused the show on your television, turning to give her a questioning look.

“Something wrong?”

“Look at that!” She gestured aggressively at the screen, where the male lead, soaked and forlorn with a bouquet of flowers in hand, was waiting in the pouring rain outside of his love interest’s home. “Where do I find someone like that, huh?”

You giggled, only to realize with a start that she was being dead serious. She pouted at you, and you cleared your throat, rushing to correct yourself.

“Are you still having problems wi—?”

“Yes,” she interjected, as if exasperated that it’d taken you this long to notice. “We had an argument earlier today. He called me needy, can you fucking believe that?”

You let out a hum of disapproval; you’d never really gotten a good vibe from this guy from the start, especially as Iseul’s boyfriend. He was far too emotionally unavailable for someone as expressive and sensitive as her.

“Why would he say that?”

“He’s just a dick. All I did was ask him to help me practice my marketing presentation—y’know, since you didn’t have the time to,” she added. You guessed it was probably just her frustration speaking, but something about the way she said it seemed off, like you were partially at fault for not being there to help her in the first place. “Then, after like two tries, he gets all annoyed with me saying I’m being way too nitpicky and wasting his time.”

You knew better than anyone how high-strung Iseul could be when it came to academics; it was the trait in her that had initially sparked your friendship, after all. She could be demanding, sure, but it was only because she cared so much about performing well. Being there for her any chance you got wasn’t even a matter of debate for you—it was the bare minimum, whether for a friend, or a significant other.

“Anyway, I’m still waiting on him to apologize,” she huffed. “I’m not the crazy one here, right? Like, do you think he has a point?”

“You’re not crazy.” You pressed your lips together, trying to approach the matter with caution. “I think you just have high expectations for people.”

“But that’s not a bad thing!”

“Of course not,” you agreed. “As long as you treat them with the same consideration.”

“Exactly!” she exclaimed. “I could literally be the best girlfriend ever if he’d just let me. He literally never appreciates the things I do for him.”

“Maybe you just have different ways of showing your care for each other?” you suggested. “You can try bringing it up next time you talk.”

Iseul groaned, dragging her hands down her face, as if the thought of urging him to have a mature, emotionally open conversation with her caused physical pain. “I guess. If he ever even bothers to text me again.”

“How long has it been?”

She looked away, uncharacteristically meek. “A few hours.”

“He usually takes that long anyway, right?” you reasoned. “He’ll definitely come around, try not to stress too much about it.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled. “I’m sick of thinking about it. How are things with Chan?”

It was the only detail of your life she ever really asked you about lately. You didn’t mind most of the time—you were more than happy to talk about him over other, significantly less pleasant things, but in this case, you felt a twinge of discomfort. You hated that the first thing that came to mind wasn’t Chan’s crinkled eye smile, but rather, Minho’s relentless death glare. The thought was unnerving enough for you to consider bringing it up with Iseul, just as a way to get an outside opinion from someone who wasn’t Changbin or Chan. Unlike them, Iseul didn’t know Minho at all, and you liked to think she was blunt enough to tell you objectively if you were in the wrong.  

“Pretty good,” you hesitated. “Well, there is something—”

“I’m sure they’re more than just good,” she interrupted again. “All you ever do is hang out with him these days.”

You flashed her a grin. “Isn’t that what you wanted? Someone to entertain myself with once you’ve settled down?”

You were met with another huff. She crossed her arms, eyebrows furrowing in a way that immediately told you she wasn’t in the mood to joke.

“Doesn’t mean you have to ditch me now that you’ve got yourself a boytoy.”

“C’mon, Iseul,” you tried to keep your tone light. “You practically live here.”

She picked at her fingernails in silence, and you felt yourself start to panic a bit, suddenly taking the implication that you’d been neglecting your friendship much more seriously. You hadn’t noticed a difference, save for how much busier your schedules were this semester—but that was inevitable given how hectic senior year was for everyone. As much as Chan consumed your thoughts (something Iseul was better off not knowing) you barely saw him more often than her; in fact, given everything he was constantly juggling at once, you probably saw him less.

“What are you always so busy with, then?” she questioned at last, the slightest bit accusatory.

“The same as you. Classes and my senior research.”

You couldn’t decipher why she looked so unconvinced by the explanation, like the idea of you being preoccupied with your own personal matters was somehow incomprehensible to her. She shifted around in her spot, clearly set on the idea that there had to be more to it than that.

“Fine,” she turned her head back to the television, still frozen on that same, pitiful frame from the drama. “I still need someone to help me practice though, and I’m definitely not asking him again. So, it’s gotta be you.”

“Sure,” you replied. “I can definitely find time.”

You wanted to believe that she was just in a foul mood because of the fight with her boyfriend—and maybe that really was the whole of it. Surely, she wouldn’t dismiss the past two years you’d spent helping and supporting her the very instant you had to focus on yourself for a bit.

Even as you told yourself that, you couldn’t help but wonder for the first time if the scale between you and her was more out of balance than you thought.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

October had arrived at last, bringing with it a pleasant chill in the air, early tints of orange on the trees, and a fresh wave of midterm exams. Most importantly, it brought Chan’s birthday. He’d recovered from the flu a mere few days before the third of the month, and you’d never been more grateful for the sight of his radiant smile and rosy cheeks, full of so much life that he energized not just himself, but everyone around him as well.

His birthday fell on a Tuesday, not exactly the most ideal time for a celebration between Experimental Physics II and The Life and Death of Stars, but you’d been determined to make it work. You would’ve made anything work if it meant getting to spend even an hour with him on the day where he was, for once, the center of the universe. A small get-together had been planned later in the evening at his apartment—actually a small get-together this time, as promised so seriously by Changbin—but you’d come up with an excuse to skip out on it. No matter how hard you wished it didn’t bother you, the idea of being under the same roof as Minho again had been all the reason you needed to keep away. You had no doubt in your mind that he’d do everything in his power to make you feel unwelcome, and you didn’t trust yourself to remain collected around the guy after he’d proven time and time again how talented he was when it came to riling you up.

The last thing you’d wanted was to cause a scene on Chan’s birthday; it wasn’t even worth risking. If you put a damper on his happiness simply because you couldn’t stop yourself from fighting with his best friend like two feral street cats each time you crossed paths, you’d never forgive yourself. Instead, you’d met up with him for lunch and pastries earlier in the day, with the perfect excuse to cover all the expenses for it—much to your delight, and much to his dismay. Even if you were a bit wistful about missing out on the real celebration later, Chan’s beaming face when he’d opened your gift, the best external hard drive you could afford, had more than made up for it.

It’d been a week since then, another week where you and Chan barely found the chance to lift your heads from the sea of work to check in on each other. You knew that he was especially overwhelmed. His sickness couldn’t have come at a worse time, leaving him playing catch up with all his missed assignments and lectures on top of the stress of midterms.

Your thumbs hovered over your phone screen, tapping against each other as you debated whether or not to send him a message. As if on cue, it lit up with a notification that made your breath catch.

channie 🐺 (1:03 a.m.) you awake?

you (1:03 a.m.) yeah hi channie

There was a delay before he texted again, three little dots appearing and disappearing below your chat bubble more than once, like he was repeatedly typing and deleting what he wanted to say.

channie 🐺 (1:07 a.m.) can i call you?

The question felt strange, unlike him. You’d grown accustomed to expecting his calls the very instant he’d find out you were available—more often than not, without any warning at all.

you (1:07 a.m.) do you even have to ask?

channie 🐺 (1:09 a.m.) i should probably start haha sorry

You frowned. Something was definitely off.

you (1:09 a.m.) nooo that’s not what i meant  ur calls are the best surprise

Another minute passed without a response, and you began to worry that you’d actually upset him. Then, your screen lit up again, this time to signal his incoming call.

He didn’t greet you immediately after you picked up like he typically did. You registered the subtle sound of whirring on the other end of the line, like a breeze was billowing through his phone speaker.

“Chan?”

“Hi,” he sounded out of breath. “What’s up?”

“I was about to check on you, actually,” you confessed. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just wanted to hear your voice.”

Your heart fluttered, but it didn’t fully ebb the worry piling up inside you. “I missed you,” you murmured. “Starting to think dropping out isn’t such a bad idea.”

He chuckled—light, barely there. It was gone as soon as it came, as if not to overstay its welcome. The distant sound of a car engine met your ears, distracting you from what you’d planned to say next.

“Are you on your balcony?”

“Taking a walk,” he replied.

You blinked. “At this hour?”

“Yeah, couldn’t really sleep.”

For some reason, you felt a pang in your chest. You’d never heard him sound like this before. Blunt, sullen, defeated. A part of you, the hypervigilant part, wondered if he simply wasn’t in the mood to talk—but then, why would he have even asked to call you?

“Oh no,” you made a soft noise of sympathy. There was a pause as you mulled over how to approach it; whether to nag him not to get his adrenaline rushing so late, to offer words of comfort for whatever seemed to be bothering him, or to pretend like everything was okay, just to take his mind off of it. You didn’t want to keep pressing after you’d already asked once, but something was very clearly wrong; so wrong that Chan himself was making little effort to hide it.

“Do you want to look at the moon?”

A deep inhale. “Yeah.”

Wedging your phone between your ear and shoulder, you pulled up the blinds of your bedroom window and pushed it open, allowing the cool, October air to waft through your senses and drift over your skin. The moon was in its Waning Crescent phase, a thin, delicate slice of light illuminating the clear sky. You tried to picture Chan on the other end, the wonder in his tired eyes, the slope of his nose tilted upwards as he admired it like it was the first time it’d ever graced the night.

“Are you looking?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “It’ll be a new moon soon.”

“Yeah,” he said again.

A silence stretched across the call, not quite uncomfortable, but not quite serene, either. Even from afar, you could feel the thoughts buzzing in his head like they were your own, disturbing any peace the view might usually wash over him. His breathing, at least, steadied, and you guessed he’d stopped walking to get a proper look at the sky.

The two of you stayed that way for some time, long enough for you to start filling the gaps with his absentminded humming and sweet vocalizations. There was none of that today; just silence.

Then, you heard it. Faint, muffled, like he’d turned away from his phone to avoid letting you catch it: a sniffle.

“Channie,” you whispered. “Are you really okay?”

“Just my leftover cold, don’t worry.”

You kept quiet. You both knew he’d fully recovered well over a week ago.

“Sorry,” he said weakly. “Can I come over?”

“Right now?” You glanced at the time. It was already nearing 2:00 a.m., you didn’t want him to make such a long walk this late, especially not in his current condition. “Why don’t I come meet you?”

“No, no, ‘s alright.”

“Well, of course you can come. I’ll be here.”

“Thank you.”

The call ended. It left you feeling heavy with unease, an emotion you’d never once associated with Chan. As foreign as it was, it made you all the more determined to be there for him, to take on some of the weight he carried everywhere he went before his knees completely buckled underneath him. In your eyes, he was just like the moon he loved so much—always shining down on you with the brightest side of him, and never allowing you to see the other. You wanted to break the tidal lock and see the dark side of the moon. To uncover all the hidden craters and basins and accept them as a part of him.

Not even ten minutes had passed before you heard a knock at your door, far too soon for him to have arrived by foot. It made you realize, with another tug at your heart, that he must’ve already been on his way to your apartment when he’d first called.

When you swung open the door, there was a short lapse before his smile came, strained, but relieved. His hair was tousled from the wind, eyes outlined with dark circles, and black jacket unzipped. It hung loosely off his shoulder, and when you pulled him into a hug, you could feel the chill from the outside air lingering on his skin. Even so, his persistent warmth still seeped through; it always did.

Neither of you said anything as you took his hand in yours, guiding him to the other room. You settled down next to him on the edge of your bed, facing the window where the moon was still watching over you. Chan kept his eyes firmly locked on it, but his fingers brushed tentatively against yours, tracing the lines of your fingerprints and palms as if to commit them to memory.

“Sorry for bothering you so late.”

“You could never bother me,” you said simply.

It was so immediate, so natural, it had him taken aback for a moment. He sucked in through his teeth, well aware of your gaze studying his side profile with growing concern.

“At the showcase,” he mumbled. “Did you really mean what you said?”

The question could’ve been in reference to anything, but somehow, that was all he needed to ask for you to know exactly what he was talking about.

“Of course.”

Memories of him up on that stage flooded your mind. His charisma, his passion, his belief in Changbin and Jisung and, for a fleeting moment, himself. Just thinking about it was enough to make goosebumps rise on your skin.

“When I saw you performing, all I could think about was how much you belonged up there.”

Chan’s breath hitched. At last, he turned his head to face you, that same look from the night of the party—the one that troubled you for reasons you couldn’t explain—crossing his features again. Hopeful eyes searched for any hint of insincerity, any shadow of a doubt, only to find nothing but raw affection.

He leaned in suddenly, brushing his nose against yours in a wordless plea, and you closed the space between you. His lips were the slightest bit chapped from the crisp autumn air, but their plushness was never lost, consuming your senses with that soft, irresistible quality you could never get enough of. He melded seamlessly into you, filling every gap and crevice, pulling you further in like waves lapping at a shore.

Chan turned slightly on the bed, angling his body to bring himself closer to you and pressing his thigh against yours. For such a simple touch, it made him sigh sweetly into you, lips parting to add a new degree of heat to it all. His fingers flexed in your hand, and you used the other to cup his face, holding him steady as he moved his mouth with increasing urgency. Cute, tiny sounds built up in his throat each time your tongue slid against his, growing louder and louder until he was all but whimpering into your mouth.

His desire, normally thinly-veiled by a layer of timidity, was on full display tonight—not quite pushy, rather, begging with every pucker of his lips and graze of his teeth for you to take things a step further, to let him fall completely into you. It was a lack of restraint you often had to build into, to guide him there yourself. You kept telling yourself to get a grip, to break the kiss and check on the boy who, just minutes ago, appeared to be on the verge of falling apart; but it was fruitless to even think about ridding yourself of a sensation so addictive. His free hand reached for your waist, hesitant as ever to grab on as tight as he needed to. Instead, he took your shirt between his fingers, playing with the fabric in a way that, strangely enough, was even more exhilarating.

The sounds spilling out of Chan became muddled together, and it took you a few seconds to realize that he was trying to say something to you.

“Please,” he whined. “Please, please.”

You ran your thumb along his cheek, unlocking your lips from his at last. “What is it, baby?”

“Need you,” his breath was shaky, lungs aching from the intensity of the kiss. “Can I make you feel good? Please, let me this time.”

You paused, pulling away to get a proper look at him. “Are you sure?” you frowned. “You don’t look well, Channie. Why don’t we talk?”

“N-no, ‘m okay. Just really need you right now.”

His gaze flickered down to the spot between your thighs, and he swallowed. It affected you more than you wanted to admit—the pure want in his eyes for something so selfless.

“I’ll be good,” he promised. “However you want it, I’ll do it. Please.”

You scanned his face a few moments longer, trying to put aside the arousal spreading through you at an alarming rate, just long enough to get a read on him. Your concerns were still very much there, but the look on his face told you that he wanted—needed this even more than you did.

Gently, you squeezed his hand one last time before unlacing your fingers. “Alright...if that’s what you want.”

Chan watched, mesmerized, as you repositioned yourself on the bed, resting your back against your pillows and slipping your fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts to tug them off.

“Th-thank you,” he breathed. “I’ll do well. Promise.”

It nearly made you coo out loud. All this just to please you, just to satisfy desires that, unbeknownst to him, were already fulfilled just by being with him. Still, you knew Chan well enough to understand that it wouldn’t sit right in his mind until he gave you everything he had to offer. He’d give you his all if only you would let him.

Even as you slipped off your underwear, he stayed put, unmoving until you gestured for him to come over. He licked his lips, eyes shining in the low light when you spread your legs at last. Your heartbeat picked up as he settled between them, suddenly so close that you could feel each shaky breath of his tickling your sensitive skin. Tentatively, he placed his hands on your thighs, glancing up at you to ensure that it was really okay. You gave him an encouraging nod, not quite trusting yourself to speak when the only thing you could focus on was how dangerously close his mouth—his perfect mouth—was to your most intimate spot.

With your permission granted, he began pressing kisses to your inner thigh. They started off with that same shyness you knew, careful and reserved, but quickly became less and less controlled the more his mouth roamed. His lips were smoother now, wet and glossy, and they sent tiny jolts through your senses each time they came in contact with your skin. If you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought he was purposely trying to tease you, giving hints of what he could make you feel without diving in fully just yet. But the way he kneaded your flesh with the pads of his fingers, a low, desperate noise bubbling up inside him, said otherwise. He was appreciating every bit of you, basking in the moment, as if he may never get the chance to have his head between your legs again.

His sloppy kisses drew closer and closer to your heat, and when his lips came to hover over it at last, you had to stop yourself from pushing against his face right then and there. Delicately, his tongue slid out to glide from your entrance right up to your clit, ending it with a gentle flick that sent a shiver down your spine. He repeated the action almost immediately, a sweet hum escaping him as your arousal flooded his tastebuds.

Your hand fell down to his head, gripping his curls in a way that made his own pleasure spike, if the sudden whine he let out was any indication. He continued licking away, each intoxicating lap of his tongue growing more confident and making you ask yourself just why on earth you’d ever deprived yourself of such a feeling. It satiated a need that you hadn’t even known was there to begin with, twisted the muscles in your core with both tension and relief. If it’d been a while since he’d used his mouth like this, it certainly didn’t show.

“Am I…” he slurred. “Am I doing okay?”

“You’re doing so well, Channie,” you assured him. “My sweet boy, using that pretty mouth for me. Making me feel so good.”

Your praises earned a moan from him, so loud you’d think he was the one experiencing the hot, delicious rhythm of his tongue. The sound vibrated against your folds, making your toes curl and your nails dig further into his scalp.

“You really like this, don’t you?” you giggled breathlessly.

“Mm. Just wanna—mmph—please you,” he managed between licks. “Wanna be a good boy for you.”

Before you could respond, heart-shaped lips wrapped unexpectedly around your clit, engulfing it with his plush, wet warmth and sending shockwaves all throughout your body. Despite your best efforts, you gasped, barely able to stop yourself from squeezing your thighs around his head. He sucked eagerly, adding just the right amount of pressure that, if kept up, was sure to draw you to a climax faster than you’d ever experienced before.

“Just like that.” You let your eyes flutter shut. “Good boy. You were made for this.”

Chan dragged his upper lip along the sensitive bud, the tip of his nose brushing against it in a way that threatened to snap the tightening coil in your abdomen all at once.

“Made f-for you,” he stuttered out. “Please, tell me I’m good for you. Tell me ‘m okay.”

You weren’t sure if it was his own arousal becoming too much for him to bear, but his voice had become near-frantic, as did the strokes of his tongue. His movements grew sloppier and sloppier, drool mixing with your essence and nose dragging along your folds almost obsessively.

You ran your fingers through his curls, hoping to keep him grounded. “More than okay. You’re perfect for me, baby boy.” 

A broken whimper met your ears, driving you closer to the edge. “Yeah? ‘M doing well? Please, tell me I’m good,” he begged. “P-please, wanna be good enough.”

Amidst all his pleading and babbling, the words caught you off guard, pulling you out of your blissful haze all at once. Something wet dripped against your skin, warmer and thinner than any of the other fluids pooling at your core, and it made your eyes snap open in alarm.

“Channie?”

“I’ll do it right.” He didn’t look up, still working his mouth despite the choked noises building up in his throat. His hands pawed at your thighs, gripping and squeezing with so much urgency that you’d think he was terrified you might disappear. Another hot droplet ran down your skin, and as you blinked to refocus your vision, you finally noticed it—the trembling of his shoulders. “Just please, l-let me show you ‘m worth something.”

“Chan.” Panic gripped you, and you used your clutch on his hair to catch his attention. “Chan, stop for me, baby.”

Every one of your nerve-endings screamed out in protest as he obediently unlatched himself from you, releasing the mind-numbing suction of his lips. But your worry quickly overtook any of the remaining lust in your body. Chan sucked in a sharp breath, refusing to lift his head, and you slid your hand down to his dripping chin, tilting it up into view.

He was crying; tears trickling down his cheeks with fresh ones brimming in his clouded eyes. He squeezed them shut, unable to meet your stare, and your heart may as well have snapped in two.

“Oh, Channie,” you whispered. “Why are you crying?”

“I…” his voice failed him, anything he’d been planning to say fading out into a sob. “S-sorry, ‘m sorry.”

A lump rose in your throat, guilt flooding your chest. You’d known he was off from the beginning—you should’ve done something, you shouldn't have let things get to this point. This was Chan, after all. Of course he’d pretend that he was fine for you, of course he’d try to make himself useful to you instead. You should’ve known better.

Still, you kept calm, even if it was surface-level, you steadied your volume and relaxed your expression; something to ground him amidst it all. “Don’t be sorry. Come see.”

He blinked the tears out of his eyes, only for them to immediately glaze over again. The skin around them had turned red and puffy, and coupled with the exhaustion written all over his face, he looked positively broken. “Sorry, ‘m okay, really,” he tried to insist. “I just…”

One look at your outstretched arms was all it took for him to lose his last shred of composure. He surged forward with a hiccup, falling into you and burying his face in your neck. You wrapped your arms securely around him, the tear in your heart growing as you felt him shake against you with each gasp and sob that racked his body. His flow of tears didn’t stop, in fact, it only seemed to come stronger in your hold, warm droplets streaming freely and seeping through the fabric of your shirt. You stayed quiet for a bit, just allowing him to release as you ran your hand up and down his back in an attempt to soothe him.

“Why are you crying, baby?” you murmured again. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I c-can’t fail,” he managed at last, barely coherent through the slur of his speech. “N-not again. I can’t.”

“Fail? Why would you fail?”

He didn’t answer right away—or, rather, he couldn’t, another feeble gasp effectively cutting off any response he’d mustered up. Despite the slew of questions his words unleashed in you, you remained patient, cradling his head with your free hand while the other continued to rub his back. For all its strength and broadness, it was more fragile than ever shuddering under your palm.

“It’s my last chance. C-can’t mess it up.”

“You’re not going to mess anything up,” you said firmly. Even without any idea as to what he was talking about, you knew that much was true. “What makes you think that?”

Another minute or so passed of him trying to gain control over his hiccups, just long enough to get a proper sentence out. “My mentor,” he took a deep breath. “My mentor rejected my project. S-said it needs a complete rework.”

Your stomach flipped. “What? Why?”

You winced at how loud it’d come out, but the utter disbelief in your tone at least seemed to encourage Chan to keep going. He sniffled, still refusing to lift his head from the comfort of your shoulder.

“Just wasn’t good enough.”

“Don’t say that.” The possibility wasn’t even worth considering to you. There had to be more to it; you refused to accept otherwise, not when you’d witnessed firsthand how earnestly Chan poured his heart and soul into every piece of music he’d ever created. “I know that can’t be it.”

A thought flickered to life in your head, one so obvious that you scolded yourself for not realizing it sooner. “Did you have enough time to work on it?”

“I…” he began weakly. “I t-tried.”

“You were sick for over two weeks, Channie. Does your mentor know that?”

His breath caught in his throat, telling you all that you needed to know. “Don’t...wanna make excuses.”

“But it’s not an excuse, is it? It’s just the truth,” you reasoned. “You couldn’t even get out of bed. There’s no way you could do your best under those conditions.”

“I...I sh-should’ve—”

“You should’ve been getting enough rest. You should’ve told him what was going on.”

Your words seemed to reach him at last, cutting carefully through the thick fog of self-deprecation and sabotage consuming his mind just enough for him to really mull it over. He inhaled again, slower and deeper this time, but still not free of that painful tremor.

“M-maybe,” he rasped. “Maybe I did need more time.”

“There we go.” You combed through his hair. “Your best is more than good enough, Channie. Your mentor wouldn’t have done this study with you otherwise.”

You wanted, more than anything, to see his face as you spoke, to look directly into his red, watery eyes and let him know exactly how much you meant it. But you knew how vulnerable he must be feeling for you to even see him like this, so you let him be, hoping the message would get through to him nonetheless. “I’m sure if you explain it to him, he’ll understand. He knows what you’re capable of, and so do I. So please, don’t be so hard on yourself, okay?”

Chan’s shoulders relaxed just barely in your arms. He nuzzled further into you, and little by little, the trembling under your palms came to a stop. Given how hard he’d been crying—even now, with new ripples of tears still trickling onto your clothes—you were certain there was something else brewing deep within him. This was only the tip of the iceberg, the breaking point. Even so, you didn’t press the matter just yet, instead choosing to nurture the hint of calm that had begun to creep up on him.

“Do you really think I can do this?”

Your hand slid down to the nape of his neck, playing gently with the wisps of curls that swooped out. “I know you can,” you murmured. “And even if I didn’t, you’d do it anyway. You were made for this.”

A sweet sound, something between a sigh and whine, spilled out of him. Under any other circumstances, you knew he wouldn’t accept it without a protest or two, but in that moment, he absorbed it wholly—clung to it, even. His head finally lifted from the mess of tears and sweat that had formed in the crook of your neck, only to fall right into your chest instead, not quite ready to face you.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and he scooted impossibly closer to you, his thigh brushing between your legs in a way that you willed yourself to ignore. “Why don’t we go wash up?”

He tightened his grip on you, another soft noise gracing your ears. “Can we stay like this, please? Just a little longer.”

You softened. “Of course. Anything you want.”

He slumped fully against you as you rested your hand on the small of his back, the last of his reservations effectively washing away. You played loosely with the hem of his hoodie, listening to the sound of his breathing and taking comfort in the fact that it was finally beginning to even out.

The two of you stayed peacefully like that for several minutes, that was, until something warm and damp spread through your shirt, immediately catching your attention. Not tears this time, rather, the feeling of Chan’s mouth pressing against your chest.

Your heart skipped a beat. His lips puckered faintly, forming a moist ring over the material, right around your nipple. Just as you were about to pass it off as an accident, it happened again.

“Is there something you need, Channie?”

“You,” it came muffled. He parted his lips, wider this time, nibbling delicately on the fabric. “Can I? Please?”

It didn’t take much thought for you to understand what he was implying. An uncharacteristically self-indulgent request, one that filled you with affection and pooled heat in your stomach all over again.

“You’re so cute.” You couldn’t help yourself, his transparency made you melt like nothing else—you only wished that it would extend to other aspects of his life, ones that you were equally as hungry for.

Careful not to disturb him too much, you slipped your hands under your shirt and wiggled out of it. Chan lifted his head, albeit briefly, to make it easier for you to unclasp your bra. The instant your skin was bared to him, he nestled right back into your chest, wrapping his lips around your nipple and sending a spark of electricity through your body. He sucked gently at the bud, taking in your scent through his nose and exhaling contently. His hand, covered by the sleeve of his jacket, reached up for your other breast, pawing at it with timid fingertips before squeezing the soft flesh at last.

“My sweet boy,” you cooed. “My baby boy who works so hard he forgets to care for himself.”

He whimpered, puckering and unpuckering his plump lips in a way that would’ve made you rub your thighs together had he not been settled between them. You cupped the back of his head, and his eyes fluttered shut, a look of pure bliss crossing his face. The red, hot flush from all his crying was replaced with something softer now, a rosy shade dusting his puffed cheeks.

“You’re doing so well, Channie,” you continued. “I hope you’ll see it one day. I’m so proud of you.”

Chan’s eyebrows furrowed, an especially high-pitched whine escaping him. For a moment, you worried that he may begin to cry again, then, you felt it—his bulge brushing against your leg. His hips rocked forward so subtly, you weren’t even sure if he himself was aware of it, but once you’d noticed, it became hard to ignore the spike in your adrenaline.

Driven on by the feeling of his tongue swirling hungrily around your nipple, you let your hand drift down to the waistband of his pants. His mouth fell open as you traced over his bulge, all but jolting against you. “A-ah, yes. Touch me,” he pleaded.

“My baby’s so needy today,” you teased, dipping your fingers into his underwear and wrapping them around his half-hard length. He tightened his hold on your chest, his low, drawn-out moan sending a delicious vibration through your skin. “But good boys like you get whatever they want.”

Chan unlatched his lips from your nipple, only for any attempt at a reply to be cut off as you began pumping your hand along his dick. The cool night air drifting through your window was no match for the heat building between your bodies; that same, inexplicable heat that always drew you back to him. His fingers flexed around the softness of your breast, and you realized with a soft giggle that he was subconsciously mirroring the pace of your strokes.

You stopped to roll your palm over the head of his cock, smearing the droplets of precum around to add a layer of slickness to your movements. The cry it earned was nothing short of heavenly, ringing out shamelessly through your bedroom and making your core clench. Chan’s hip shot up into your grasp, so overtaken by the pleasure that he forgot to keep sucking for a moment, instead letting his mouth hang as drool began to dribble from its corner.

“Does that feel good?” you asked sweetly.

“Mmph, yes,” he slurred. “Please, don’t stop.”

“You deserve it,” you guided his head closer to your chest, allowing him to take your nipple between his swollen lips again. “You deserve to feel so good, angel.”

A wet, sticky sound, mixing with Chan’s pleas, began building as you glided your hand up and down his cock more steadily. Despite everything, it flustered him the moment he registered it, legs squeezing together with a broken whine.

“You hear that? Even the sounds your body makes are cute,” you hummed. His eyes, already shut tight, scrunched up even further to form an adorable look of embarrassment. “My pretty boy. You don’t even know how perfect you are for me.”

“Please,” he mewled, almost unintelligible through the skin and drool occupying his mouth. “Please, ‘m getting close.”

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me, baby?”

He could only whimper in response, cock twitching in your hand as you added a delicious pressure to your strokes. He kneaded your chest with more vigor, leaning in to suck on your other nipple and sending a fresh wave of heat through your body. His mouth was like wet, warm velvet encasing the sensitive bud; you found it hard to believe that those same lips had been between your legs earlier, drawing you to a climax with a purpose that you could only describe as raw devotion.

“Gonna—!” Chan’s hips bucked up, his whole body tensing. “A-ah, please, can I?”

You swiped your thumb playfully over his slit, and he practically keened. It was cruel, probably, but his unrelenting need to please you, even amidst all the desperation clouding his judgment, only made you want to toy with him more. Still, you knew that given the state he was in, teasing was out of the question. He needed comfort, pleasure, relief—and all of it rested in the palm of your hands.

“Let me see you cum like a good boy.” You gave one final jerk of your wrist, sending him over the edge at last. His thighs clenched, voice catching in his throat for a moment before breaking out into a gasp. Even so, he kept sucking to the best of his ability, babbles of your name dying down into soft mewls as the last few spurts of his seed coated your palm. You held still to avoid overstimulating him, curling his hair absentmindedly around your index finger until his cock finished throbbing in your grasp. Chan blinked his eyes open, still hazy and puffy, just in time to see you remove your hand from his pants and spread your fingers, connected by thick strings of his release.

“Look at all that,” you marveled. “You really needed this, huh?”

A low whine built in his throat. He pressed his cheek into your chest, shying away from the messy view.

“Are you embarrassed?”

“Mhm,” he managed a chuckle—quiet, still missing the jovial, melodic quality of his laughter, but even a trace of it was all it took to lift your spirits. Other than that, he said nothing, and you guessed he wasn’t entirely grounded just yet. You reached for a tissue from your nightstand, making a light grunt of effort with Chan’s full weight resting against you, and wiped down your hand to the best of your ability. As you leaned back against the pillows, your stare flickered down to the boy in your arms. He was an absolute wreck now; a sweaty, flushed, beautiful wreck of dried tears and drool gazing back up at you like he would do anything you so much as suggested in that moment.

“You did so well for me, Channie,” you praised. “Such a good boy.”

Pressing a quick kiss to his ruffled curls, you shifted beneath him, wordlessly urging him to let you wiggle off the bed. His reaction was immediate, sweater paws gripping your waist with an unexpected intensity.

“W-wait,” it was tinged with panic. “Don’t go, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere, baby,” you assured him, tapping the tip of his nose. “But we need to get you cleaned up, don’t we?”

He blinked a few times before the words seemed to get through to him. Then, with a slow nod, he hoisted himself off of you. It came as a surprise—though it shouldn’t have—how your body instantly longed for his warmth again. You took both of his hands into yours, almost tempted to push his sleeves back to properly lace your fingers together. But he seemed content with his palms covered like that, safe and secure in a way you didn’t dare to disrupt. With care, you tugged him up by his arms, letting him lean against you as you guided him to the bathroom. He didn’t let go of either of your hands the entire time, and, as awkward as the intimate gesture made it to walk, your heart fluttered.

You set the water to a warm temperature, watching Chan sway back and forth on his feet as you filled up the tub. His eyes were a bit more alert now, breaking the glaze that had encased them all throughout the night, like the reality of what had taken place was beginning to set in his mind.

“Wanna get undressed for me, Channie?”

There was a delay before he responded, long enough for you to give his hand a squeeze.

“Oh…yeah.”

Reluctantly, he released his hold on you, clumsy fingers fiddling with his hoodie in an attempt to shrug it off. With a fond smile, you reached out to help slide it down his shoulder. His arms fell limply to his sides, and you took it as a sign to keep going, slipping your fingers under the hem of his shirt and tugging it off, his pants and underwear following soon after. Even now, he ducked his head, unable to look you in the eye as you shut off the stream of water and ushered him into the tub.

As he sank into the warm pool, a sigh escaped him, so soft and relieved that you could practically feel the bliss rippling through his body. You sat yourself down on the edge of the tub, taking a moment to soak your washcloth before drizzling it with body wash—vanilla and cherry blossom, a blend of scents you’d quickly come to learn was Chan’s favorite. He loosened up the instant you came in contact with his skin, leaning into your touch. Gently, you began to scrub, lathering his broad back and shoulders with the sweet, flowery smell and admiring every curve and muscle in the process.

The rhythmic drag of the loofah and the gentle lap of the water had him reduced to putty in your hands in no time. He didn’t bother to resist the way his eyes drooped shut, each tranquil rock earning a small hum from him.

“Does that feel nice?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Channie. Your muscles are so tense,” you added. “I hope this helps a bit.”

He hummed again, tilting his head to the side as you moved up to the junction of his shoulder and neck, the comforting scent of your soap fully flooding his nostrils. Knowing how sensitive his neck was, you were careful not to press too hard around the area. It was horribly timed, but your skin tingled as you passed over the spot where you’d previously marked him—long faded by now, but you remembered the visual clear as day.

“I’m sorry,” he began. “About all of this.”

“Don’t apologize,” you ran the cloth along the slope of his shoulder. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I don’t want you to hide stuff like this from me—isn’t that what we promised?”

He hesitated. “I…yeah.”

“Even big, strong shoulders like yours can’t carry everything by themselves,” you scolded lightly. It earned a puff of laughter, and even with his eyes still closed tight, he lowered his head sheepishly.

The question that had been lingering in the back of your mind all night—the question that had been eating away at you since you’d first met him, really, made its presence known once again. The missing piece of the puzzle, the hidden crater yet to be illuminated. You knew by now that Chan wouldn’t reveal it without a strong enough nudge, no matter how badly he wanted to. Even if it was threatening to burst out of his chest, just aching for a pin to come along, he’d use all his strength to keep in until you punctured it yourself.

“Chan,” you pressed your lips together. “When you said ‘not again’…can I ask what you meant by that?”

He stiffened under your palms, features darkening to form that same expression as all those months ago, when you’d first asked why he’d changed majors. You repressed the urge to take it back this time—you needed to hear it as much as he needed to say it.

“Spring semester of my senior year,” he mumbled. “I failed most of my classes.”

Something awful gripped you, so intensely that you stopped scrubbing for a moment. Failed. It felt so wrong coming out of his mouth, a word you couldn’t comprehend ever applying to him.

“I…I decided to change from astrophysics and try music. It was something I always kinda wanted to do, anyway.” He sounded so nervous—terrified, even—shrinking into himself as he spoke as if each sentence made him more and more vulnerable to some hidden assailant waiting to attack. You continued your ministrations with the hopes of easing his fears a bit, wringing out the washcloth before adding more soap and running it along his chest. Even through the rough material, you could feel how fast his heart was beating.

“My parents, they…I've never really disappointed them like that before,” his voice cracked on the word “disappointed”, like it physically pained him to say. “I still don’t think they’ve really accepted it. They still look at me like…like I'm…”

He trailed off. He didn’t have to say it for your gut to wrench.

“Maybe once I graduate, they’ll think I'm worth something again.”

“Please, don’t talk like that,” you couldn’t hide your own distress. “You’re worth something as you are. It’s your future, Chan, not theirs.”

“But what if I can’t do it?” he whispered. “What if I just fail again? I’m so…so scared that I’m making the wrong decision.”

“It must be scary,” you agreed, gliding the washcloth along the tense curves of his arms. “Really hard, too. But that’s because you’re carving out your own path. No one else has walked it before you to clear out the way.”

He went quiet, and you took it as a sign to continue, a chance to keep swinging at the seemingly indestructible wall of self-doubt he’d so carefully crafted for years.

“You’re not alone, either,” you encouraged. “Think of Bin and Jisung and all that faith you have in them. Think of how much faith they must have in you to follow you down that path without question.”

If only he knew—if only he saw the admiration for him written all over their faces, oozing from every word they spoke. If only he knew the admiration you’d felt for him as early as when Changbin had first told you about him choosing music composition. Daring to take a route that, in many ways, was more challenging than even the most horrific of astrophysics courses. Not only that, but daring to flourish, leaving room for flowers to grow along the way wherever he roamed.

When Chan replied, you could've sworn you heard the faintest glimmer of hope in it. “I guess I never really thought of it that way.”

“Well, start thinking of it that way,” you chided softly. “I know you can do it. Just because others want you to do something, doesn’t mean it’s right. What’s right is what makes you happy.”

He loosened up further, welcoming your cleansing touch and your words of compassion more and more openly. You washed him in silence for another few minutes, debating in your head whether or not to keep pursuing the matter, to peel back another layer of him and get to his core.

“Were you…unhappy doing astrophysics?”

“Not exactly.” You got the feeling he could tell what you were really attempting to ask him. “I meant it when I said I liked it. That’s…not why I failed.”

You made a noise of understanding that masked the countless other things you wanted to say. He jolted just barely as you ventured down to clean his stomach, approaching his most sensitive area with a touch as gentle as it was deliberate. Care with a purpose.

“The…the person I was with, at the time,” he paused—whether to gather his thoughts, or to gauge your reaction, you weren’t entirely sure. Your eyes widened just a bit, but you kept your hand stubbornly occupied, scrubbing over his sore thighs. Like clockwork, they nearly closed in on each other. “She had a lot going on. Her mother was really sick; in and out of the hospital a lot.”

Even as dread stirred within you, like you knew exactly where this story was going, you left him space to continue.

“She just needed some help with everything she was dealing with in her life, y’know? I wanted to help.”

“I know you did,” you murmured. It was a given, one of the few certainties in life. Chan would always help, for no reason other than the fact that he could.

“I t-tried to be there for her. Took her wherever she needed to go, helped with her classes, visited her mother, looked after her little sister when she couldn’t,” he swallowed. “Then, around May, things got really bad. Her mom needed treatment for a few weeks, so I spent most of my time at the hospital or taking care of her sister.”

Something about the way he phrased it made you feel compelled to ask, “Where was she during that time?”

“Dunno,” he chuckled, humorless. “But I can probably guess.”

You stole a glance at his face. His eyes were open now, locked on the bubbly water and refusing to meet yours, like he might break all over again if he did. “In the end, I guess I didn't prepare well enough for my finals. Didn’t pass most of them. So I figured, if I was gonna be taking more semesters, anyway…i-if it wasn’t going to be perfect, I might as well start from scratch, y’know? Do it right this time.”

“Oh, Channie,” you rested your hand on his head. “That’s too much. That’s way too much.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t h—”

“No, no,” you didn’t even want to give him the chance to second-guess himself. “Please, don’t hold back. I’m listening.”

He was sugarcoating it, you knew he was. Even now, two years into the aftermath and still suffering the effects of it, he was trying to dismiss it all as something casual.

“What about her? What happened?”

Chan shrugged, reaching up for his ear. You didn’t push him as he fiddled with the silver hoop, instead taking the opportunity to grab your bottle of shampoo and squeeze some of the substance into your palm while he found the will to answer.

“When she found out I wasn’t graduating, she ended it,” he said at last. “Think it was already over, anyway. She was with someone else a few weeks later.”

“Oh my God.”

Through the haze that had been filling his head the entire night, your emotions still reached him with ease. “I brought it on myself, though,” he added quickly, as if the excuse—had it been even remotely correct—would’ve made it any better. “It was all just my own stupid choices. I can’t really say it’s her fault.”

Yes, you can. It took every ounce of self-control to stop yourself from pressing your nails into his head, just to avoid hurting him. You weren’t sure what drove the urge most: sympathy, protectiveness, fury. You couldn’t even begin to fathom it—you didn’t want to fathom it. To be presented with a heart as pure and honest as Chan’s, a love so selfless and sincere, only to trample all over it like it was worthless.

Despite the whirlwind that had spiraled to life inside you, you settled for something softer, a tenderness that, clearly, had been missing from his life thus far. You rubbed the shampoo delicately into his hair, swirling the dark curls around in a way that sent pleasurable ripples down his spine.

“It’s not your fault,” your tone left no room for debate. “Someone took advantage of your kindness. But showing that kindness? How could that possibly be your fault, Channie?”

He sucked in a sharp breath. You wondered if it was the first time he’d been told anything like that—whether by himself, or anyone else.

“I never do things for people to gain anything from it,” Chan began, and you knew, more than anything, that he meant it. “But…”

He hesitated, giving a quick shake of his head, as if to compose himself.

“But it hurts to be used.”

“Yeah. I understand.” You understood more than he could know, more than you could say in that moment. Tears had begun to well up in his eyes again, and for his own sake, you scooped up a portion of water in your hands and began to cleanse his head of the shampoo, letting the streams mask any fresh droplets that may trickle out.

“She never really did anything like this,” he said softly. “Most of the time, she’d just leave.”

Everything clicked into place. All the missing pieces of the puzzle, all at once, with each realization serving as another pang in your chest.

“Chan. I need you to know, right now, that this is what you deserve. All of this, and more.”

Faint sniffles and dripping water echoed throughout the bathroom. In this case, you welcomed it over his usual protests.

“I see everything you do, for me, and everyone else. You never give up on people, even with more than enough reason to,” you ran your hand through his hair, watching the wet ringlets slip through your fingers. “I admire that so much about you, but you still need to think of yourself once in a while. It’s not worth it—it’s never worth it to give your all to someone who will only see the empty husk left behind.”

Vaguely, you saw it, the slow nod of his head. It filled you with hope, the possibility that he might start to see himself the way you saw him, even if just a glimpse. Just a glimpse of him was bright enough to pierce through any darkness.

“One day, all that kindness you put out into the world is gonna find you again. I promise.”

He turned his head to look up at you for the first time, eyes gleaming with something other than tears.

“I think it already has.”

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Neither of you said much as you continued bathing him, a quiet spell—comfortable, once more—passing between you and allowing everything that had been said to settle in your minds. You took your time conditioning Chan’s hair, giving each lush, beautiful curl the proper attention it deserved until you were fully satisfied. By the time you had finished rinsing him off, your legs were aching from sitting in the same, uncomfortable position for so long, and you were certain his were too. You helped him rise from the tub to the best of your ability, taking a moment to admire the streams of water traveling down his body before you passed him a towel.

As you re-entered your bedroom together, you immediately went to shut your window, not keen on creating even the slightest opportunity for Chan to catch another sickness. He was rocking on his heels again, looking seconds away from collapsing into your bed; he likely already would have if it weren’t for the fact that he was clad with nothing but a damp towel.

You dug around for a bit before locating a fresh pair of sweatpants he’d previously left at your place. When you presented them to him, he grinned for the first time that night.

“Been looking for these,” he commented. “They’re my favorite.”

“Well, they’re mine, now,” you teased. “But I can let you borrow them, I guess.”

To your surprise, he brought the garment up to his nose, and it took you a moment to register that he was breathing in the scent of your laundry detergent. It was almost ridiculous, how such a small action made you feel like your heart was going to erupt out of your chest.

The two of you settled into bed once he’d changed, and the exhaustion that had been gradually seeping down into Chan’s bones throughout the entire course of the night—even before that, probably—took over at last. You pulled the covers over your bodies, and he nestled into you before your head had even hit the pillow, his misgivings from your first night together nowhere to be found.

You prayed that he’d be able to sleep soundly tonight. His warmth washed over you, lulling you into dreams of your own. As you opened your mouth to wish him goodnight before your consciousness escaped you, you heard it. A mumble, just audible enough for you not to pass off as your own imagination.

“Think I love you.”

He was so drowsy that he may not have even noticed if you chose not to respond—you weren’t even sure if he noticed that he’d said it in the first place.

You rested your hand on the back of his head, pulling him closer.

“I love you, too.”

Something twisted deep within you as you returned his words. Not because you didn’t mean them, but because you did.

#bang chan x reader #skz fanfic #bang chan fanfic #bang chan smut #skz smut #sub!skz #sub!bang chan #sub!chan #dom!reader #skz x reader #skz angst #skz imagines #bang chan imagines

[factual-fantasy]

24 moar asks :}

..That’s.. That’s a good point.

I’ve noticed recently that I’ve been trying very hard to get all these projects done, but I just cant seem to get past this writers/artist block.. Ingo and Emmet part 3, my FNAF AU, the Rosalina comic.. all of it has just felt really draining. I think its because I’m turning these projects into work, instead of a fun hobby.

I actually was working on the Petey Piranha comic last night, but I just couldn’t get past the sketching stage. So I took a break to draw what ever I wanted and.. I had a lot of fun.

I think I’ve overwhelmed myself thinking I have to do all these projects and get them done quickly for.. what ever reason. And its made art really draining.

I think I’m gonna take all of my projects (aside from my FNAF AU) and just. Put them on the shelf for now. I’ll draw them if I ever feel like it. 

Thanks for the little push anon.

When ever I want. And it’ll be what ever I want :}

@aemered​

If you see that someone has reposted my art and you want to do something about it, first of all thank you very much that’s really kind of you-

SECOND OFF, report it if you can. If you cant then leave a comment saying its stolen and link back to my tumblr or just mention my name. Thanks again! Its really cool that you’d want to do that for me- 💕😭💕

I had planned that he could eat a fire flower and spit out a fire ball, but I later took away that ability. Yoshi ain’t got no fire powers :(

They do exist, and Bowser does care about them.. but he doesn't show it as much as he does in canon. He’s a lot more stern and ruler like. A lot less touchy feely you know?

The idea is that the 1-UP mushroom has fully left Mario’s body. So any effects or pain he experiences all lies in his trauma related to the incident.

Now, if Luigi were to die and be revived by a 1-UP? It would be the same. If the experience was traumatic and he suffered a horrible injury, he would probably deal with phantom pains too..

@tempestrio​

For most of them I just referenced clothing that relates to the attraction/style they have in the game.

For Chica I looked up kids rock star costumes and took reference of what I thought looked good. For Bonnie I looked up old vintage bowling ally shirts and referenced the one that looked closest to his canon shirt. For Foxy I referenced pirate coats and costumes. For Monty I looked up old golfing outfits and picked out aspects that I liked and mixed it with punk/rock and roll. For Roxanne I referenced punk rock I think..? And old racing fire suits.

For Freddy though I mostly made it up.. but I looked at a bunch of different artists that made redesigns for Freddy and tried to capture the vibe of the ones I liked. Mostly the collar on his coat was something a lot of those artists drew-

For Gregory I just gave him a new outfit based on the story. When he went back to the Pizzaplex his clothes were dirty and worn.. so Freddy went and got him new clothes from one of the gift shops. So I went to google and referenced the sweaters and clothes you find throughout the game and gave him stuff that looked similar. Hope this helped! :}

There is! But its not that deep don’t worry-

When I was designing my sona, I wanted something on my hands. At the time my hands were covered in Band-Aids due to cat scratched and dry/cracked skin. So I thought hey! I could have bandaged hands! So I added them.

They also work if you call them my “artist hands” lol-

No, thank YOU for engaging with my content and sending me lovely messages! :D

@thedorkyidiot​

Oh he’s in the AU, he’s probably one of the smaller gorilla types that just kind’a vibes and does old man stuff. He probably has to eat the sweeter fruits though because his jaw isn’t so strong anymore. Much to his dismay.. 

She didn’t cause any problems per say, the Toads didn’t even know she existed. Although she does create these shooting stars every time she comes to the planet.. but that doesn’t bother the Toads either, In fact they celebrate them. So the toads have no issue with Rosalina.

Also she apologized to Mario and Luigi for “disturbing” them because they heard her crying and they went to investigate. :(

And thank you! I’m glad you like my interpretations! :D

Well you’re in luck! My FNAF AU is the only project I plan to not drop and keep working on! Hahaha!... haaahhhh

(Also thank you very much that was very sweet 😭)

@shannonallaround​

I don’t actually have a specific name that I tag my AU under.. but if you were to search “mario” in my blog search you’ll find just about every Mario related post I’ve ever made. AU and not AU.

Not yet.. 👀

The reason why Mario experiences phantom pain is because his first death was very traumatic for him. So whether or not he experiences phantom pains with his future deaths all depends on how he died, and how it effected him mentally.

Same goes for Luigi. If he dies a horribly painful/traumatic death.. he’ll likely experience phantom pains too..

@color-craz​

There was a comic planned for how they met him actually.

They got lost in the woods and stumbled upon King Boos mansion. Like an idiot Mario goes in and Luigi follows. They both ended up getting tormented and pranked by the Boos. They were separated at one point but then met back up on the second floor. Mario sees a fire flower in an old flower pot and grabs it.

As soon as he becomes fire Mario.. the entire mansion goes completely silent..

Then, all the windows and doors slowly shut. Some of the lights come on and Mario and Luigi follow them. They follow the lights down the hall, down the stairs, through the main room and wind up led to the front door..

The front door is wide open. Mario and Luigi walk out.. only for the door to slam shut behind them. Locking them out.

Mario harnessing a fire flower was so bizarre, so impossible! That King Boo knew he was outmatched against him. So King Boo just silently let them out of the mansion without a fuss. 

@mysteriousl0ser​

I’m not sure how they would react to the Koopalings, but I imagine they wouldn't hurt them. It doesn’t take a genius to tell that the Koopalings are just kids..

As for their behaviors.. I think its close to the canon interpretations, except for Ludwig and JR. I had planned that Ludwig was going to be much bigger and more stern like his pa. Because he is the heir to the throne.. but then google told me that Roy is the oldest so there goes that plan-

For JR though his plans stick. JR is supposed to be smaller and younger. More like a toddler then a kid. He’s the youngest and the one Bowser is most protective of. 

@gravitystar96​

Thank you! I’m glad you like my AU! :D

As for if anyone will find Gregory.. I haven’t planned if anyone will or who it will be. Although it will likely be Chica or Monty.

Since Chica is so close to Freddy, she is bound to find out about this entire child that he has kept secret-

As for Monty.. I liked the idea of Gregory hiding for some reason.. and he calls for Freddy through his fazwatch in a panic. After a few minutes he hears big thumping plasticky foot steps approaching. He comes out of hiding thinking its Freddy..

But it was Monty.

I made them brothers because I could :}

Although I’m questioning it now. Maybe they could just be friends. They could just be two idiots who found each other and decided to reek havoc together.

Oooor they could be brothers., Hmm.. I’ll have to give it some more thought XD

If Bowser had gone straight for Luigi, first of all he would have to land a fatal blow twice. Because the power of the Ice Flower would Protect Luigi from one big hit. That’s actually why Mario died in one shot. Because the Fire Flower had just run our of power.

But anyway- after loosing the ice flower and getting hit? Luigi would just die.. and stay dead. Only Mario had consumed a 1-UP mushroom at that point..

I imagined them as these strange monsters that live in the woods. They don’t work for Bowser, or Peach, they just do their own thing. I also imagined them to deal with dark magic and rituals and stuff. 

Wanna hear how Mario and Luigi first met one?

The plan was that the bros and Yoshi were exploring when they found a shy guy with its leg caught in a tree root. Mario carefully approached to try and help.. but the closer he got. The longer and more deformed the shy guy became.

Yoshi ended up snatching them both up and running away. Mario mysteriously had a fever that lasted for a few days after that..

Me waiting for my platonic kiss on the forehead be like:

My favorite character? Oooo that’s a good question. There’s a lot to choose from.. but one of my favorites is Hal Monitor. Always love it when he’s on screen XD

I actually like stupid Mario sometimes, he’s pretty funny XD

So far my favorite arc is the lawsuit arc. Mostly because I’m not caught up on the other arcs. The little nuggets of Mario angst/wholesomeness we got in that arc was delicious XD 

@spencer-the-fox-87​

If the Monkeys were to eat the red beets they would gain more muscle mass overtime. But its not a matter of them not being able to eat them, they just don’t like them.

The blue fruits are very sweet and juicy, and the beets are dry and bitter. The kongs that like bitter flavors eat the beets and grow to be huge. and overtime they develop a dislike for sweet tastes. And vice versa.

#my response #mario #fnaf security breach

[waterfallofspace]

Cute As A Kitten.

The one in which T/amaki has kitten sneezes because of a kitten, but the sweetheart just can’t seem to leave it behind. Feat. worried/caretaker M/irio, and GUEST STARRING E/rasermic at the end!! (gotta love a touch of them in, well, anything I can!) Also M/iriTami is not confirmed, but can definitely be implied if you choose to read it that way~ 

MAIN CHARACTERS ARE 18+! This is when T/amaki and M/irio are Pro-Heroes, working out of the same agency. (A/izawa still calls them ‘kid’, but that’s just his thing, all his former UA students are ‘kid’ to him, they are not actual children). Since this is my first time posting/writing aged up stuff, if anyone wants to ask me about why I feel it’s okay, feel free to message me, I’d be happy to explain how I see it~~ For now, I’ll just leave it at: I will never write underage characters as underage, or characters who are SPECIFICALLY meant to act/look like little kids when they aren’t ‘technically’. But aged up is something I am okay writing. ANYWAYS! That out of the way, hope anyone who bothers to read this enjoys, I just adore T/amaki (and there’s not enough content of my guy) so I am givin’ him a story!! First time attempting them, so might be a bit rough still~ Thank you so much to anyone who reads!! (and EXTRA THANKS to anyone who reblogs/comments/tags, I read them all and they make my DAY every single time~~) ((References to anxiety disorder/social anxiety (including thinking patterns/spiraling), mild violence, wheezing, and injury, incase anyone doesn’t like any of those!))  Characters: T/amaki, M/irio, a dash of A/izawa and M/ic, & the most adorable kitten (aside from T/amaki~) Word Count: 4.2k

~~~~~~~ “Suneater, over here! Don’t let him get away!” Tamaki spins on his heel, Mirio’s voice echoing from behind him, down an alley he had just found his way out of. Seeing the villain running towards him, Tamaki let his tentacles climb out, one grabbing him by the leg. “Not so fast, I won’t be taken down that easily by an octopus man!” A wince escapes between Tamaki’s gritted teeth, only half from the shooting pain as the villain in his grasp shoots a knife from his hand, right into the tentacle, and through to Tamaki’s arm. “Lemillion…” It’s strangled, at best, but still a yell, and more than enough for Mirio to act on, rising up from the ground and knocking the villain back into Tamaki’s waiting grasp. Clapping him on the arm, and pausing to chuckle as the action nearly knocks him over, Mirio offers a bright smile. “Nice teamwork, and hey! You even managed to call out for help! I could hear you all the way from the alley, that’s a real improvement since last time!” Tamaki pulls his hood a little further down, handcuffing the villain and handing him over to the other pro’s that had arrived on the scene. They offer thanks, and Mirio responds in kind, signature smile painted over his features once more. Tamaki can’t help but stare, still captivated after all these years by the light that seems to shine from his eyes. “Psst, Suneater, give ‘em a smile!” “I don’t think they want that…” Despite the hesitance, Tamaki can’t help but notice a group of bystanders staring, one of them a girl that can’t be much older then Eri was when he first met her. The memories flash through his brain of Mirio giving her a smile, and the way her face lit up in the afterglow. ‘I’m no Lemillion… but maybe… maybe I can give her a little bit of brightness too… I should probably try, if nothing else…’  The smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and his hands are shaking more than he’d care to admit, but all of that melts away when the little girl squeals, bouncing on her tiptoes, and waving frantically. Tamaki waves back, letting his hood slip a little further back as the sun from her eyes starts to fill him with warmth. ‘Is this… what Mirio feels all the time…? No… it wouldn’t be… he’s so much brighter then I could ever hope for. This is nothing, she’s just excited to see a hero, it doesn’t matter that it’s me…’  “Tama- I mean Suneater, look at that!? You’re a natural!” Mirio’s voice pulls him out of his spiral, eliciting a blush as Tamaki realizes he’s still waving, followed by a low whine at the pain still throbbing in his arm. “I should probably get this stitched up… c- can we go home…?” “Right, sure thing! We’ll head back to the agency first though to finish up the paperwork for this case. Unless… are you gonna make it through that?” Tamaki lets a muted smile pass over his features at the concern evident in Mirio’s voice. “I’m okay, it’s not deep. I just… want to get out of here… and uh… m- maybe take a back route…? I uh… I just-” “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain it to me. You did really well today, we can end on a high note! I mean hey, you waved to that little girl, and did you see the way her face lit up? You really did shine today~!” “T- thanks… Ijustwannagohome…”  The laughter is sweet and loud, full of unabashed sunshine. Full of Mirio. Full of something Tamaki could never quite get himself to feel. Wandering into the back alleys to avoid the crowd, the heroes start to find their way back to the agency. They walk for almost 30 minutes, until Tamaki suddenly stops, Mirio nearly crashing into him. “Woah, sorry, wasn’t watchi- what’s with that look? Is something wrong?” Tamaki holds a hand up to silence Mirio, every hair on his neck standing on end. ‘There was a noise… maybe the villain had a partner… what if they’re coming back to attack us for catching their friend… I did okay with the first one, but I’m injured, I’m gonna be even more usel-’ “Tamaki, look!” Mirio’s face is lit once more, pointing towards a trashcan to their left. Tamaki turns to investigate, a warm pit starting to form in his gut as he sees what’s waiting for them. A kitten, half buried in the can, shivering from the cold. It lets out another pathetic meeww~ before Mirio rushes over and scoops it up. “Aw, is this what you heard? Look at her- oh, him, scuse me! He’s such a cute little thing, you wanna hold him?” Tamaki lets the kitten be passed into his arms, shuddering slightly at the sudden weight of responsibility that seems to have found its home on his shoulders. And yet… looking down at the kitten, purring softly, seeming to have not a care in the world now that he’s snuggled up in Tamaki’s arms… a soft feeling replaces the heaviness. Something warm. “Can we keep him..?” It’s timid and soft, full of bashful beauty. Full of Tamaki. Full of something Mirio could never quite seem to get enough of. He would do anything to hear that tone for the rest of his life, and I mean, how could he possibly say no to him when he’s talking like that?! “Aw~ of course we can!” “Hahh-!” “Hm?” “N- nothing. Sorry. Just thought… oh wait… hehh- holdon- I haahhhh…. hEH! hh’kITSHH’ieww-! hAHH… ihhh… hihh- ihH! hEH’ISH’iew-! Ohgod- hehhh… hiH! sshh’oo-! tishh’oo-! keshh’iew-!” “Bless you!” “Th- huhhh… thanks…” “One more, right? You still have that sneezy look on your face!” Tamaki blushes, nose still twitching madly, the kitten in his arms completely unaffected by the tiny sneezes the being holding him is letting out. “Y- yeah.. Sohhhehh-! Sorry… I can still feel it but… b- buhhhhh! But I don’t think it’s coming out…”  “Oh, that’s the worst! I hate it when that happens. It’s just tickling, and itching, and building up… you feel every inch of your nose trembling, but nothing comes of it! Just like a feather’s swirling around, even your lungs itch with the need to sn-” “hiH! hH’ishh’oo-! shh’oo-kshh’oo-hAH! Hehh… EHH-! tish’hiew-! mmpffshh’iew-! hH! Hehh… hAH-... guhhh… I haahhh… hiHhh- have to- heH…. hUH! mMtishh’shiew-!” “Oh- bless you again! And again and again! Sorry, was that my fault? Didn’t mean to make it worse.” “It’s okay… it feels better now anyways… s- sorry about that…” “You don’t gotta apologize for sneezing. It’s a perfectly natural bodily function, and not exactly something you get to control! Pluuuus~ they’re so adorable!”  If Tamaki was blushing before, he’s at least tripled the shade by now. ‘Natural or not, that was embarrassing… a pro hero should have more control over their own body… not to mention how long they take to come…. I’m just sucking up all this attention that I don’t deserve… and don’t want…’ “Hey.” Mirio’s gaze is soft, but there’s a fierceness just under the surface. Something deep, primal, and protective.  “Don’t beat yourself up, okay? I see your mind spiralling, I promise, it’s okay. It’s just me here, you know I don’t mind.” “Th- thanks… I’m so-” “Don’t apologize, okay? You don’t need to, not with me.” With a gentle touch, Mirio pushes the hood back from Tamaki’s face, his purple hair messily pouring out. A bit brushes against his nose, prompting Tamaki to gasp, and lean into his shoulder. “Ishh’oo! Hehh… hIH’kishh’iew-! Hihh- haah…. Ehhh… heH! Keshh’oo-! Hehh- hH-! Shhh’oo-! mmPFshh’iew-” The way Tamaki trembles through the tiny sneezes wakes the kitten, who lets out a weak meww~, purrs, and proceeds to let out a sneeze with a softness that matches Tamaki’s. “Aww Tamiii~ You and the kitten have the same sneeze! That’s so cuuuute~!” Tamaki’s response is to let out a low groan and pull his hood back over his face, picturing the floor caving in beneath him and letting the ground swallow him whole. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop teasing you. For real though, are you okay? You’re sneezing quite a bit, catching a cold?” “No, I feel fine. Just a bit… itchy…” “Hayfever starting to kick in already? It’s only January, usually cedar pollen doesn’t start till February. Maybe it’s coming early this year?” “Maybe…” There’s a hint of a lie in his tone, but Mirio doesn’t seem to pick up on it. Tamaki lets him ramble on as they start to continue the walk home. He’s going on about hayfever, something to do with global warming, season changes… and Tamaki wants to listen, but with the way the kitten’s purring is sending shivers right into his heart, the buzzing in his nose that still hasn’t backed off, and the pain throbbing in his arm, he’s just too overwhelmed. ‘I should be paying attention. Three sensations shouldn’t be taking up all my mental energy… Mirio wouldn’t let this affect him this much… I really am useless… Why can’t I just deal with it like he can-’  “You’re doing it again, aren’t you?” “D- doing what..?” Mirio pauses, studying Tamaki’s eyes for any sign of panic. They both know he’ll find plenty of anxiety, and maybe a bit too much sadness for either of their liking, but the panic is what he wants to make sure to avoid. Satisfied with no traces, Mirio decides it’s alright to keep going. “You’re in your own little spiral again. May I?” He reaches for Tamaki’s hood, pausing just shy of contact, letting Tamaki decide if he can handle it. Tamaki gives a small nod, careful to tip his head back so his hair falls to the side instead of right on his face, not eager for a repeat performance. “That’s better, there’s your beautiful eyes. I miss them when they’re hidden~!” “Hihhh- hH’ishh’oo-! kshh’iew-! tishh’oo-! Hahh… hehhh-!uhhh…. Guhh… hUH! mmpftishh’oo-keshh’iew-!” “Bless you. Hey, have you heard that Chargebolt transferred to Dynamite and Deku’s agency? Yeah, apparently his boyfriend already works there, and they finally convinced him to join too! Apparently he was working at one with a few other friends from UA, and-” Tamaki can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief as Mirio continues on, feeling much more relaxed with someone else as the topic of conversation. Mirio was always good at that. Putting him at ease by providing a constant stream of talking, leaving spaces for him to interject if he has any opinions, or even just give little hums of approval so they both stay grounded in the conversation.  However, the relief is short lived, as the next breath he takes starts the tickling back up with a vengeance. ‘I should really tell Mirio what’s going on… but….’ He glances back down at the kitten sleeping in his arms, gently kneading the fabric of his costume, a peacefulness to it that just feels cruel to take away. ‘He’ll make me leave it behind…’  “Tamaki? Are you listening?” “Hm..? S- sorry, I was uh…” “Hey, don’t sweat it. I was just asking if you wanted to stop by Deku’s agency and show him the kitten! I don’t think Bakugou would particularly want to see him, bit of a grump that one! But Midoriya would probably fawn over him, I imagine Denki would too-” “hEhh… hIH’nXgt’shoo-!” “Bless you! But if you’re not feeling up to it, that’s okay too! Maybe tomorrow? We’re taking the kitten home after all- hey wait, just had a thought, why don’t we host a small get together so people can meet the kitten! We could invi-” “Hah… hUH- hhhih! guhhh… hhEH! nngXT’shoo-! nGT-!huhhh” “-bless you again. Let ‘em out, don’t stifle, just us here. What was I saying? Oh, right! Invite Denki, and he would probably bring Shinsou, that guy seems to love cats! And Midoriya of course, who would probably drag Bakugou along with him, and maybe ev- oh, another one?” “heHh-! Yes, s- sorry… I just… Hahhh…. Haahhh… Igottasneeze-! ihhh-hIH! hH’ishh’iew-! heH’utshh’oo-! Hehh… hAH- guhhh… S- sorry ithhhih! It’s so dramatic… hahh-! It just tiihhhh- tickles! heH!uhhh… hahhh… huH! tishhh-kshhh-hEH’ishh’oo-!” Mirio playfully slaps Tamaki’s arm, immediately apologizing when a hiss escapes Tamaki’s teeth, “Right, hurt arm, sorry!” before deciding instead for a light rub on the back, pressing his other hand against Tamaki’s forehead, and letting out a slight sigh when he doesn’t feel a fever. “Bless you. You know I don’t mind the sneezing… but… I have to admit Tami, I’m a bit worried. You don’t feel warm, so I believe you that it’s not sickness but… even with the seasons coming earlier, pollen count was pretty low this morning, definitely not high enough to be causing this much of a reaction.” “Y- yeah…not pollen…” “Tamaki Amajiki! Do you- do you know what’s causing this..?!” Tamaki blushes deeply at the use of his full name, guilty eyes darting down to the kitten, then back up to Mirio. “Are you allergic to cats?!” “M- maybe… yeah… I am… I’m sorry Miri, I just… I wanted to keep it… he looked so sleepy, and warm… and I didn’t want to have to leave him here…” Mirio brings a hand to his chest, giving a small gasp, which halts Tamaki in his tracks, turning with wide eyes to meet Mirio’s playful gaze. “You think I’d make you leave the kitten out here all alone?! What kind of villain do you think I am? Wow Tams, I can’t believe you think I’d be so heartless!” A pale tint settles over Tamaki’s face, the weight back on his shoulders nearly driving him into the ground. His thoughts start to race faster than he can keep up with. ‘I didn’t mean it like that… I did think that though… what kind of friend am I? To think he’d do something so cruel, of course he wouldn’t make me leave it… he probably hates me now… he thinks I think he’s an awful person…. I can’t believe I said tha-’  “Tamaki.” Strong hands break through the barrier of panic that had settled around him, gently brushing the hair from his face. “I’m not angry with you, okay? Take a deep breath, I promise I was kidding. I’m sorry, I should have seen that you were too overstimulated to be able to separate that out from my normal tone. It’s my fault, not yours, okay? Let the blame rest on me, don’t try to shoulder a burden you didn’t earn.” Kind eyes meet Tamaki’s watery ones as he manages to lift his gaze off the ground. Mirio pulls him close, letting Tamaki rest his head on his shoulder, taking a beat to just collect himself. ‘He’s not mad. I didn’t screw up.’ and then ‘I need to sneeze-’  “heHH! M- Mirio… I… I neehhhdd… hehhh… hAHhh-! hH’nGT’shoo-! nXT-!uhhh…. Hihhh.. I can’t.. I can’t stiihhh stifle… Igottasnee- ksHH’oo-! Hehh- ahhh… hhUH! hHMmppshh’oo-! tishhh’oo! Mmtishh’iew-!”  Mirio just pulls Tamaki’s head into his shoulder, letting his twitching nose bury itself in his costume as he lets out the itchy, albeit tiny, sneezes. “Bless you. It’s alright, I don’t mind. Better me than your allergen-infested hands. Tamaki blushes again, ‘At this point I’m blushing more than I’m not, does that make blushing my default state, and not blushing is actually blushing now? That… that makes no sense… stop being an idiot Tama-’ “Focus on me, okay? Don’t let yourself get lost in your own head. I’m right here, I’ve got you.” Once again, Mirio breaks him out of the spiral, instead bringing his focus back to the shining eyes beaming down on him with kindness he’s not sure he’s worthy of. “T- thank you… sorry…” “It’s okay. However, now we gotta figure out what to do about this kitten. As much as I adore seeing you show your feline side with those kitten sneezes, I have a feeling this is only gonna get worse, am I right..?” “It… it probably will… s-heH… hhhahh…. hUH! mMtishh’oo! mmpshhh’iew-! Hehh… hAH’tishh’oo-! Sorry… it usually starts off slow, but sometihhhmes if I don’t… remove the allergen… it can get worse…” “Yeah, that’s what I figured. Bless you by the way! Your allergies were never what one would call subtle~. I remember the first time I saw you out in springtime unmedicated… Jeez, I was seriously concerned you might faint! Kitten as they might be, your sneezes seem to take an awful long time to build up, I keep worrying you’re gonna run out of breath before the release even comes!” “hEH! Hahhh… guhhh… Y- yeah, it’s always been like that. It’s… kinda mortifying at times… it just takes… taahhhkes…. S- sorry imgonna- huhhh- heH! mMMtishh’uue-! keshh’oo! tishh-ishh-shhh’oo-! Excuse me… takes so long to build sometimes.”  “Bless you! Hey, at least it’s not like mine! Scared poor Hado nearly to death last week with one of my sonic blasts, it just came outta nowhere! Usually I get at least some warning so I can try to muffle them. I’d trade- bless you- trade anything for your little teeny tiny ones! They’re just so adorable! Though I’ll admit, having such a long build- bless you!- buildup must get annoying at times.”  “Hihhh… nnehhh… nnMPshh’iew-! heH! G- gonna… I… hahhh.. I gotta… gottaahhhh… huhhh… hHH! Keshh’oo-! heH’ISHH’iew-! Sorry- wait… nohhhh… huhhh… not- not done… hiH’TISHH’iew-! mMPFshh’oo-! nNGT-!uhhh… heHh… tishh’oo-! Sorry… bless me…” “Hey, that’s my job!” “S- sorry..!” Mirio’s laughter floods the dark alley with light as they step out into the street, looking up and getting their bearings. “Alright! Hero agency is just over there, but I actually have a different destination in mind. Think you can handle a quick stop? I’ve thought of the perfect place to bring our little friend.” “Y- yeah… can I ask where..?” “Don’t worry, it’s someone who will help.”  ~~~~~~~ This is how Tamaki finds himself standing outside Aizawa’s apartment, at 10pm, kitten in his arms, Mirio by his side, as Aizawa stands at the door in his pajamas. “Heya sir!” “Mirio, I’ve told you, we’re adults now, you can use my name.” “Right- sorry sir- I mean Aizawa! Still getting used to it, sorry ‘bout that! But, hopefully this will earn forgiveness, we’ve brought you a gift!” “hIHH… guhhh… hehh- hAH! nngXXT-!uhhh…. heH’enngt-!huhhh….” “Bless you, Tamaki.” “T- thanks… sorry… the uh… the gift is the kihhhh… s- sorry I… Igottasnee… hehh-! hhh’nngT’shoo-! nGT-!uhhh…. Hihh… hAHH-! kNNGT-!shuhhh….” “Bless yo-” “Hey, quit that, stifling them like that is just gonna make the tickle worse! Plus, it’s gonna give you a headache. Aizawa doesn’t mind, do you sir?” Aizawa lightly chuckles at the deep blush spreading across Tamaki’s face, but it’s quickly quieted by concern at the slight wheeze to his breath as he ducks into his shoulder. “Hihh…. I have… I gotta… huhhh- I have to… HAHhhh…. Guhh…. Hahhh! mMPFshhh’oo-! heH’etshhh’oo-! Hishh’oo-! Kishh’uhh-! Hehh… hahh… huETCH’iew-! mMPFSHH’iew-! hH’asSHH’uhh-!” Mirio is wearing the same concerned frown as Aizawa at the harshness of the outbursts. “They’re starting to sound rough, are you okay?” “Y- yeah… sorry… that was gross… but my uh… my hands are… kinda full… and… I di- didn’t think touching… my nose with them would be… a g- good idea…” A light seems to go off in Aizawa’s eyes, eliciting a raised eyebrow and a slight smirk. “Tamaki, are you allergic to the kitten?” The blush darkens, but Tamaki offers a nod, eyes glued to the floor once more. “Oh my god kid, give me the cat before you pass out. Hey Mic-!” Tamaki hands over the kitten, wincing at the way his arms slightly tremble when the warmth leaves them. There’s a faint sound of footsteps before Mic shows up, wearing matching pajamas, eliciting “awws” from Mirio, and a deeper blush from Tamaki. “Yeah Sho? Oh- we have company, hello there! What are you guys doing here so la- woah Tamaki, you look awful!” “Th… thanks…?” “Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to get all harsh just then. I feel a little lost here, Sho, catch me up?” Aizawa fills Mic in on the situation, gesturing to Tamaki and whispering something neither of them can quite catch, before Mic rushes off back into the apartment. “Alright kid, just wait here for a second, I’ve sent Mic to grab something for you.” “S- sir…” “Aizawa. Same as I said to Mirio, we’re adults, you’re on the same footing as me, you can use my name.” “S- sorry… Uh… Aizawa… is… would it… I was just wondering… hehh- holdon… haah!... so- sorry… hiHH! hETShh’yuu-! hASH’oo-! heH’huETchh’uee-!”  Mirio lets his smile slip for a minute at the wheezing notes in Tamaki’s lungs as he struggles to catch his breath, his hand rubbing supportively on Tamaki’s back, trying to help him get his footing back as he stumbles with the effort of each sneeze. Aizawa is watching, the frown deepening as he calls back to Mic to hurry up, and places his hand on Tamaki’s shoulder. “Take your time, kid. Just breathe, okay?” “S- sorry… I’m okay… but uh… I was just… wondering if… maybe… I could come visit him sometime…? I just… he’s so…. Warm….” There’s something unsaid, something deeper than Tamaki cares to admit, something about the peaceful way the kitten slept in his arms. As if it felt completely safe. It wasn’t scared of him at all, it didn’t want something from him, it didn’t think he’d drop it. It had this unconditional faith in him… ‘Reminds me of someone…’  “On two conditions. One, you take medication beforehand. Because quite frankly, right now I’m worried you might keel over at any moment. You look about ready to faint, and that whistling in your lungs has me about ready to drive you to the hospital.” “S- sorry… I promise… I will… once I take meds… It’ll calm doowwnn… hehh! hETSH’oo-! hH’ASHH’iew-! Keshh’oo-! Sorry… excuse me…” Aizawa softens his gaze, not missing the way Mirio’s grip tightens protectively on Tamaki’s arms as the sneezes seem to wrack his weakened body. “Bless you, kid. Condition number two, you have to give him his name.” Tamaki’s eyes widen, and his gaze snaps to meet Aizawa’s, eliciting a laugh from the older man. “Hey, you’re the one who found him after all, it should be you who gets to name him. Don’t you think so, Mirio?” “Yeah, absolutely! Do you have any names picked out already Tamaki?” “Uh… a- actually I kinda do… I was thinking… maybe… Nikkō..?” A small smile flashes across Tamaki’s face, and Mirio is beaming down at him. Aizawa can’t help but let his own smile take over, the scene before him just too precious not to adore. “Nikkō it is then. Naming a tabby ‘sunlight’, pretty fitting actually. Any particular reason for the name?” Before Tamaki has to explain any further, Mic returns to the door, a water bottle and blister pack of meds in one hand, a travel pack of tissues in the other. ‘I don’t know how much longer I can take this… I’m being a burden on all of them… I just want to go home…’ Tamaki feels himself slipping back into the spiral, and frantically looks up to meet Mirio’s eyes. He’s not disappointed with the light shining back at him, full of concern and care. Using it to ground himself, Tamaki turns his attention back onto what Mic’s saying.  “Grabbed what you wanted, Sho! And added the tissues myself because, well-” “hIIHH-! Uhhh… hahh.. heHH! isHH’oo-! kETSHH’iew-! mmMPShh’oo-! Hehh… hAH! mmTISH’iew-! hH’nGT-!uhhh… hihh! nXT-!huhhh…. hIHH!guhhhh… ihhh… hahh! nGT-mNXXT-DGXXT-!shoo….” “-looks like you could use them. Triple blessings times three, little listener!” “Zashi, dear, what did we say about using that nickname on people in the real world?” “We- we said not to… Aw but Sho~, come on, it’s so fun to use!” Tamaki and Mirio exchange a glance as Aizawa slaps Mic lightly on the back of the head, both men laughing as he does so. Tamaki makes no effort to reach for the offerings, instead swiveling around to aim for his shoulder again as his breath catches once more, so Mirio accepts them, offering thanks, before starting to herd Tamaki away. Relief floods Tamaki’s mind immediately. Much as he trusts Aizawa and Mic, having a full allergy attack in front of this many people is more than he can handle for long. “It’s okay Tami. It’s just us now, you can let them go.” “hEH! MMTSHH’oo-! hH’ishh’yuu-! hah’tSHH’iew-! So… so itchy… haH! hH’etshhh’uue-! hEH’huTCH’shoo-! ishh-tishhh-kshhh’oo-! mMMPFSHH’iew-!” “Bless you. Swallow these, okay?” Mirio offers, handing over the pills and water, before pulling out a handful of tissues and passing those over too. “You can blow, it’s okay, it’s just us. I promise no one else can hear you.” “O- okay… thank you…” “No problem, Tamaki! That’s what I’m here for!” ‘Maybe I’m not the sun… but I am still the luckiest person in the world… the sun chose me..!’ He lets himself think, a smile forming over his face, before he turns away and lets himself blow, the smile returning as he feels Mirio’s hand gently rubbing his back. “Thanks Miri~...” “You wanna go home now?” He looks up at Mirio, eyes wide, which prompts Mirio to burst out laughing, the brightness flooding Tamaki’s senses, filling him with that same warmth that he thought had left with the kitten. He doesn’t answer, just gives a small nod, and Mirio takes him by the hand, leading him down the hall.  We don’t have to go anywhere, I’m already home. Home is wherever you are. 

#waterfallwrites #m/ha #t/amaki a/majiki #hes just my precious little anxious bean #I adore him so much its not funny #also this isnt my favourite thing ive written #I dont find m/irio really easy to write tbh #but i feel like i understand t/amaki bc i basically am him in my friendgroup LMAO #plus i adore himmmm #sooooo i gave it a shot #something's better than nothing right?? RIghT??? #but again anyone who reads this thank you and i hope you enjoy!!! #snz #snzkink #snzfic

[persephone-s-moon]

Asian Lost Boys Personal Names!

Personal names tend to vary from culture to culture in terms of usage, but essentially it's someones "Asian name" as opposed to their English name. They're typically used by family members and, on occasion, very close friends because (in my experience) using them is intimate. The characters will still HAVE their English names, but The Lost Boys and family members (the Emersons and the Frogs) will Mostly refer to each other by their personal names.

DISCLAIMER: I'm Taiwanese, therefore I'm more savvy to East Asian cultures, particularly Chinese and Japanese. If anyone who is more knowledgeable about Filipino, Hmong, Thai, Indian, or Vietnamese cultures sees something they want to critique/has more culturally accurate suggestions, I encourage messages/comments/replies!

David: Huang Zhao-Yi

Culture: Taiwanese, of Chinese descent Loose Pronunciation: Hw-ah-ng Sh-ow-yee Surname: Huang, meaning "yellow, to fall through" Personal name: Zhao-Yi, Zhao meaning "bright, luminous" and Yi meaning "happy, joyful, harmony" Notes: I was originally going to name David "Hou Yi" after a mythological Chinese archer because OG Hou Yi destroys 9/10 of the original suns (long story) and there's a version where he and his wife Chang'e become immortal/gods, but there are so many different versions of the story that I decided against it. I also decided that I wanted him to be a Farm Boy™ and naming him after a god seemed a little strange imo.

Paul: Paolo FACUNDO LIWANAG

Culture: Filipino Loose Pronunciation: Pow-low FAK-OON-DO LEE-WAN-AG Personal name: Paolo, meaning "small" Surnames: FACUNDO meaning "talkative", LIWANAG meaning "light" Notes: A lot of Filipino names are Spanish or Italian with biblical roots because of colonization in the 1500s, so I wanted to keep his personal name semi-similar to his English name since it was already biblical. Honestly I could've left it as "Paul" but what's the fun in that? I'm not too sold on his surnames so they might change later and I may try to find a Tagalog name instead for his personal name, we'll see.

Marko: YANG Vam Meej

Culture: White Hmong, from Laos Loose Pronunciation: YANG Va Mae Clan name: YANG, associated with the ram and bear Personal name: Vam Meej, meaning "to prosper, succeed" Notes: Hmong names in particular are a Struggle for me since most of the Hmong people I know are second generation like me and either don't really know their personal names or we're not close enough for me to ask. I am familiar with the concept of clan names though. Marko's name is definitely subject to change in the future (I might pick a clan name more associated with birds just for fun who knows).

Dwayne: Khemkhaeng LUANG

Culture: Thai Loose Pronunciation: Kehm-key-ng LOO-ANG Personal name: Khemkhaeng, meaning "strong" Old personal name: Kasem, meaning "happiness, pure joy" Surname: LUANG, meaning "royal, venerable" Notes: It's common for Thai people to change their names after something either significant or bad happens to them, hence Kasem. I'm only making note of it to alleviate confusion in the event that I decide to do some stuff regarding backstories, no one will refer to him as Kasem otherwise. Also, surnames are still relatively new to Thailand and they were only introduced in the 20th century, so Dwayne gets a shorter surname in comparison to modern Thai surnames (which are required to be unique, hence the longer modern surnames) since I have him and the other boys being born in the 1880s.

Star: Ruchika Chawla

Culture: Indian Loose Pronunciation: Roo-chee-ka Chow-la Personal name: Ruchika, meaning "shining, beautiful, desirous, brilliance" Surname: Chawla, meaning "rice" Notes: I found the name Ruchika and immediately thought of Star ngl, I didn't even consider other names for her. It was like love at first sight. I think a lot of stuff with Star just clicked when I was doing research for her name and design, it just suited her so well. I did have her surname written down wrong in my personal notes so I'm glad I didn't post her character sheet immediately lmao

Laddie: Nino HALILI DEL ROSARIO

Culture: Filipino Loose Pronunciation: Nee-no HA-LEE-LEE DAY ROSE-ARI-O Personal name: Nino, meaning "little boy" Surname: HALILI meaning "successor", DEL ROSARIO meaing "of the rosary" Notes: I went so back and forth on his surnames it's not even funny, but I think I'm happier with Laddie's surnames in comparison to Paul's. "Nino" felt really obvious and clicked really well just like Star's name did, though I did consider a few other names that I don't have written down anywhere. Nino was just superior because he's simply a little guy.

Michael: EMERSON Manh Tien

Culture: Vietnamese Loose Pronunciation: EMERSON Man Tee-en Surname: EMERSON, inherited from white father Middle name: Manh, meaning "first-born" Personal name: Tien, meaning "fairy, celestial being" Notes: I'll be honest, the main contibuting factor behind Michael's personal name was how he was almost named "Moonbeam" during his mom's hippie phase. I have this idea where their dad was white and insisted on using exclusively their English names, and Michael wouldn't initially like his personal name because it feels girly to him anyway, but he'd grow to cherish his name and culture after meeting the lost boys <3

Sam: EMERSON Trong Binh

Culture: Vietnamese Loose Pronunciation: EMERSON Ch-ung Bin Surname: EMERSON, inherited by white father Middle name: Trong, meaning "second-born" Personal name: Binh, meaning "peaceful" Notes: I think overall for the Emerson family I was most concerned with meanings, which wasn't necessarily the case for the boys. Sam is the most peaceful in the sense that he discouraged the Frog brothers from killing Marko, even though he failed. Like Michael, I think his personal name is something that he grows into when he starts making friends, but would use his English name when first coming to Santa Carla.

Lucy: VINH Lan Huong

Culture: Vietnamese Loose Pronunciation: VIN Surname: VINH, meaning "glory" Middle name: Lan, meaning "orchid" Personal name: Huong, meaning "pink rose" Notes: Naming Lucy after flowers just felt right. Let it be known that I have serious beef with hippies, but I feel like she still had a well-intentioned hippie phase and this just adds to it. In Vietnamese culture, women don't change their surnames after marriage (as far as I'm aware) which I think would be a contributing factor in her divorce with her white all-American husband.

Grandpa: VINH Mac Dieu

Culture: Vietnamese Loose Pronunciation: VIN Mac Dee-oo Surname: VINH, meaning "glory" Middle name: Mac, meaning "nothing, nonexistent" Personal name: Dieu, meaning "mysterious, subtle" Notes: Grandpa! Needed! A! Name! He doesn't have one in the original! I'm basically saying he's not subtle about his knowledge of vampires and he's not trying to be subtle, it's just that no one ever asked. I think I tried to pick older-sounding names for him but it's been a little while since I picked these and I don't remember if I'm honest.

Edgar: Kaeru Matsuo

Culture: Japanese Loose Pronunciation: Keh-roo Mat-soo-oh Surname: Kaeru, meaning "frog" Personal name: Matsuo, meaning "pine tree, life" Notes: I named the Frog brothers after the famous Japanese poet Matsuo Basho because their English names remind me of Edgar Allan Poe, so I thought it'd be kind of funny. Matsuo is the surname of the poet, but I felt that Matsuo suited Edgar more than Alan. The surname I picked for the Frogs was obvious, I don't think anything else other than some variation of "frog" would've worked.

Alan: Kaeru Basho

Culture: Japanese Loose Pronunciation: Keh-roo Ba-show Surname: Kaeru, meaning "frog" Personal name: Basho, meaning "banana tree" Notes: Alan got the pen name of Matsuo Basho, who also went by "Sobo" and "Tose". I debated on giving him Matsuo's true given name, which is Kinsaku meaning "to be happy" but Matsuo Basho is better known as Basho and it's much funnier for this very serious 15-16 year old to be named "banana tree".

Sorry if the formatting is weird, I'm trying to make it as reader friendly as possible on account of my own dyslexia. Please let me know if the blocks of text blend in with each other too much lmao

#i'm saying 'loose pronunciations' because there's some very subtle tones in some of these languages that are hard to type out #particularly with the vietnamese names #asian lost boys reimagine #the lost boys #lost boys #tlb #the lost boys (1987) #the lost boys 1987 #lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #david the lost boys #david lost boys #david tlb #paul the lost boys #paul lost boys #paul tlb #marko the lost boys #marko lost boys #marko tlb #dwayne the lost boys #dwayne lost boys #dwayne tlb #star the lost boys #star lost boys #star tlb #michael the lost boys #michael lost boys #michael tlb #michael emerson #sam the lost boys

[hogans-heroes]

i can’t get over john telling brady to jump first because he’s the senior officer. bucky doesn’t seem like the type to pull rank like ever so u can tell he only said that to keep brady safe. I ALSO CANNOT get over my little thought that brady is quite a bit younger than buck and bucky so they have a soft spot for him and all the younger guys, which is why bucky is like jump u moron! but brady admires bucky so much that he cares too much to go first 🥲

also question, i know majors are a rank above lieutenants BUT is there a hierarchy within the major rank? like when bucky was air executive, he would technically be above buck right? but now that he isn’t, are they totally equal or is there a sort of vibe (maybe not between the two of them, but amongst the lieutenants) that bucky is more of an authority figure because he was promoted to that job at a point. i also (can’t remember where) saw a clip of buck and bucky flying together (soooo cute can we get that scene!) and i know that when the majors fly in the lieutenants plane they’re lead pilot but who would it be in this case? would they just decide? i think i remember seeing it was bucky… i also think that on the missions they flew together bucky was like the lead of the whole mission while gale was the leader of his section?

ALSO SORRY FOR ALL THE QUESTIONS BUT BUT: gale refers to bucky as pacer lead while when bucky addresses his squad he says zootsuit leader. is pacer lead referring to the mission leader and zootsuit referring to the squadron leader??

Me opening my inbox

🤣 but seriously thanks for the message! You’re SO right about the dynamic of Bucky and Brady. Bucky really looks out for the guys unselfishly and cares so much. Especially if Brady and the others are younger! 😭

I’ll try to address your hierarchy questions in order. The hierarchy within a rank is based on how long people have held that rank. If two people are majors the person that has been a major longer would technically outrank the other. Not sure about Bucky as air exec but it seems he wouldn’t necessarily be above, just more of admin tasks. Any special authorities would be because of his job as more of an office boss not because of his rank. Buck and Bucky are equal rank, they were in the same Bombardment Group but they were not in the same squadron. They were each command pilots of their own squadrons. You said it exactly right that in missions a squadron would be chosen to lead the whole mission which was a combo of several squadrons, and each of those squadrons would have their own leader.

“Zootsuit” and “pacer” leader sound like callsigns. Each squadron was assigned a code name (in Star Wars we hear “Red Leader” for example) So the lead pilots could talk to each other, in code of course, during the mission and keep everyone straight

Pilots and copilots in the aircraft on missions are easy to tell apart because command pilots always sit in the left seat and copilots sit in the right seat. Pilots can switch around as needed so it’s not like once a copilot you can only be a copilot. It’s just for whatever flight they happen to be on. We do see the guys switch around a little but for the most part they stayed in crews in their own roles. They share duties and the pilot is technically in charge but it’s not a rank thing. If someone who outranks you is your copilot you’re still technically in charge. Don’t know if that ever happened though.

Whew okay that’s all I got. Had to scrape the corners of my brain so hope that helped at all?

#thanks for the ask! #pilot stuff #masters of the air #mota

[charmac]

helllooooo i am absolutely obsessed with your macden sugar daddy fic. i’m not kidding when i say it has become a household name for me (in the dms with my poor, dear friend who does not even watch sunny. i have, and will continue to, bombard her with messages such as: “the macdennis fic i’ve been creaming over hasn’t been updated i’m in shambles” and thankfully you did update after that).

i went through your tumblr for a bit and saw in one of your responses you mentioned feeling a lack of encouragement to write when it feels like no one is actively requesting so i suppose this is my formal request. i am quite literally so emotionally invested in this fic. this is my high class literature (as a lit major). this is my magnum opus and i’m talking about the experience of READING it, not trying to imply this work is in any way mine.

i have sooo much i’d like to say about it but i get so scatterbrained when i think about it. i read the entire thing in one sitting and was in agony when i finished. then you updated on christmas and i read the entire thing AGAIN and i keep going back to that most recent chapter where (spoilers ig!) mac calls dennis daddy because it simply /felt right/. because he felt /safe/? oh i’m on the floor and begging for mercy. you’re brilliant. this story is brilliant. i’m a mess.

if you ever feel like people might not be interested: listen to me when i say your writing has permanently altered the chemistry of my dna and has conditioned me to check ao3 every single day with bated breath HOPING there’s an update. i love it. that’s an understatement. i LOVE IT.

i would also like to clarify that if you ever run into issues with writer’s block or even simply losing the excitement over this specific story, pls don’t feel obligated to write something you don’t want to. it’s your life!! i saw your 2023 update post and it seems like a fucking fantastic one at that, so live it to the fullest and do what you want!!

i think you’re neat. i think your writing is what leads good men to ruin (like me. i’m supposed to be reading jane eyre rn and all i can think of is your fic) /pos. truly my favorite source of sunny content across all your sunny social media.

question that i do apologize for asking if you’ve answered: the title is a fall out boy reference, right? big fan of that band. if it is, can i ask for details on the inspo?

thank u for your service solider o7

p.s. this was so needlessly long so sorry for bothering lmfaoooo but i had to say this somewhere and i think my friend is tired of hearing about the fanfic on a ship for a show she doesn’t even watch

First off, thank you so much for this, and second off don’t apologise for writing too much to me after you’ve seen the word count I spew out at random. I really appreciate your words, and I’ll tell you I’ve been in so many similar positions where I’ve been obsessed with a fic and had no one in it to relate to and have just ended up spamming a close friend instead, so to hear that’s done about my fic is really, really cool.

About prior asks, etc. I think I get down on myself a little, when I say I don’t get why people are reading or what they like and it’s hard to find motivation, it’s really just kinda my own internal struggle with all of that. (Also, I keep answering those when I'm drunk, my bad.) I get what I’m doing and what I’m writing, but I wanna make sure the audience does too. But you’re reading my words, so you must, even if you can’t (or just, don’t want to) sit down and go line-by-line of a 23k word chapter and tell me what’s going on.

Cause, I couldn’t sit down and write a full detailed list of every new episode of Sunny like that. Like, I just straight up couldn’t when they dropped. My reviews were like ‘5 stars, keysmash’ So I think there is something to be said about people really liking something, really wanting more, but maybe not having the words to vocalise or not having the time to vocalise why that is.

About wait times, updates, etc.. It is mainly about motivation, and like you’ve said I would never put out something just to put it out if it’s not reflective of what I want it to be (and know it can be). I mean, I’m not on a real deadline and I’m not getting paid, I'm writing this first and foremost for myself, so why would I rush it? Sometimes I can write thousands of words in a day, if the spark hits, but sometimes it can take months to fully form when it’s just me in my head and I still have to do shit in my daily life. And maybe I could do something to speed up that process, but I think my best work forms this way. But it does make updates painfully slow for you guys, and I apologise, cos I get that sucks.

Though, it is also spurred by external motivation: people pointing specific things out, telling me why they like something or what they see under the surface here, that stuff actually gets the gears in my head turning, back in focus. The ‘waiting for an update’ ‘pls write more’ isn’t motivation, it’s demand. (And understanding there is demand is definitely a motivator, don’t get me wrong, but that’s not a spark, it’s a push.) So the balance there is sometimes hard to match, I understand there is demand (though after Ch 7 or 8 whatever it was I genuinely thought maybe there wasn’t), and I appreciate being told that, but it can only go insofar as I have the motivation to bounce off of it. Sometimes, that’s literally just my own issue and no one can help me. You (not you, specifically, anon) just gotta trust an update will come... and if you fall out of care for Sunny in the meantime, oh well. Know I won't, lmfao.

About the Title, well, no one actually has asked me... I don't think (maybe 'cause it seems obvious?). I guess the answer is.. kind of? It is a lyric pulled from the Fall Out Boy song, but, well, a meme says it best:

The inspo is kinda what's written on the tin, wanted a title that makes it clear what it is. Don't read too much into the baseball metaphor though, it might hurt you a little in the spoilers department, if you think we're just purely having fun here...

Thanks for the ask, really really appreciate it, and knowing people like you are reading and enjoying my fic is awesome :)

#i do LIKE the song btw lmfao #i had a huge fob phase in 9th grade when save rock and roll came out #it just makes the meme funnier #but also it is true #the only inspo for pulling from the song lyric is that it worked on the level i needed it to #convey info for the plot #also now all my macden fics are song lyrics or titles bc of this one lmfao #ask #sugar daddy au

[yuesya]

As much as I would like to continue speculating about the Shiki vs. Satoru snippet ad nauseam, there's a lot I'd like to discuss about the most recent chapter. 

The first of these topics is Geto. Now that the story in question is moving closer to the canon prologue (Jujutsu 0) I think now is an appropriate time to make my opinion on the movie known in that it was… meh. 

Don’t get me wrong there were many things I liked about the film, but unfortunately Geto fell into the dislike category for me. The reason for that was largely due to his portrayal. In the film he’s more or less presented as an egotistical genocidal maniac who is driven by an ideology of supernatural supremacy, which seems rather lackluster in a series that has an abundance of layered characters.

Because of this portrayal I’d say that Geto loses a great deal of nuance in the film, reducing him to what is essentially a one dimensional villain when that isn’t the case at all. As crazy as it sounds there is actually a method to Geto’s madness; if there are no more humans then there are no more curses and if there are no more curses then there are no more dead sorcerers. By eliminating the mundane society it simultaneously addresses the root cause of curses, essentially killing two birds with one stone. 

Moreover, this isn’t just some crazy conspiracy theory that he came up with out of nowhere since it’s substantiated by the fact that the countryside (where less people live) spawns less curses of lesser power. In that context Geto is more akin to someone with a twisted messiah complex rather than a divine Darwinist since he’s undertaking what he sees as a necessary evil to stop the suffering of all sorcerers. Unfortunately, it’s a message that he fails to get across throughout the film, which makes it extremely jarring when we explore his past via Satoru’s memories. 

Yes, I get that there’s a backstory arc that goes more in depth on the subject later, but it still doesn’t change for me what was a horrible first impression. So I suppose that I’m ultimately congratulating you for leveraging the advantages of written media to flesh out his character, so kudos you! I hope this characterization carries over to the canon timeline.

On a side note; if you're looking to implement that Cybele OC in Zenith of Stars, or any other story, why not make it so that Geto saves her instead of Satoru? That as you could imagine would be a disaster since he would more likely venerate her rather than try to constrain her. It could also serve as a parallel for Kara no Kyoukai's Shiki vs. Asagami fight.

The second topic I'd like to move on to is the Fushiguro siblings and how Shiki’s presence could affect them. More specifically, I’m referring to whether or not Shiki will be able to do anything for Tsumiki after she is cursed? After all, one of the big selling points of the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception is their ability to kill concepts, mainly manifested through nullifying mage-craft or in this instance curses but also capable of erasing abstract phenomena such as diseases. 

I’d imagine that Shiki would discover such an application of her cursed technique through Yuzuki, erasing his illness moments before it finally kills him. So the question remains whether or not Shiki would be able to do anything for Tsumiki once a curse befalls her, potentially altering Megumi’s entire character arc if the answer is ‘yes.’ 

Lots to touch on here! Let's seeee

I agree with you that the JJK0 movie casted Geto as more of a "flat villain," likely due to variety of factors and constraints. It probably didn't help that JJK0 was largely Okkotsu's story, so Geto's reasoning and motivation were never really explored in any detail. To Okkotsu, Geto was just a villain who waltzed in out of nowhere and tried to destroy everything and hurt his friends, so that's the portrayal we got I guess.

The only hint of something more to Geto as a character was in... what, the three lines of dialogue with Gojo right before he died?

I actually read the manga before finding the JJK0 short and later watching the movie, so for me I went into the pre-canon tidbit with context for things. If I'd read JJK0 first, I'd probably be a little unimpressed with Geto too; I think the Hidden Inventory arc definitely adds a lot more nuance to him (and Gojo as well). Hopefully at least a little bit of that is reflected in zenith of stars haha.

Cybele OC won't be added to the ongoing story! In terms of Mystic Eyes, the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception are the only ones we'll be seeing in zenith of stars.

It would be a fun thing to have the Cybele OC run into Geto, though. Although in that case, it's likely that Geto picks the OC up in the countryside at some point. If OC had their disastrous accident in the city, then there would be no escaping from the jujutsu administration.

I'd imagine that OC would be sent with Miguel to delay Gojo during the Night Parade? OC isn't able to 'petrify' Gojo, but they can hinder his movements with a sort of minor paralysis effect instead. And... maybe this extra delay gives Geto the few additional moments he needs to escape successfully.

Fushiguro siblings! I do intend to have the Fushiguro siblings show up again in the next chapter, although so far Gojo has been taking the spotlight haha.

In regards to Tsumiki being cursed, I have some loose plans in mind. I can confirm that I do plan on exploring the idea of 'killing concepts,' but that's all I'll say for now. :D

Thanks for sharing your speculations! It's fun to see what other people think and makes me excited to write more for future events haha.

#QA #zenith of stars #cybele oc

[xinambercladx]

"The Double Cross" A Star Wars Cad Bane Fanfic

Genre: Action Adventure Word Count: 2,700 Rating: General. (SFW) I dreamed of Cad Bane again. But this time, I was nowhere. This was his story, not mine. I floated about like a ghost with no form. I was an observer. It like the perspective of a camera from which an audience might watch a film.

The planet was a dry beach land. It reminded me of the Kanan comics where the rebel Jedi stashed his prized ship The Escape. Kanan kept the ship on the planet called Lahn for safe keeping. Seeing as I read that comic some time ago, and the two places seem so similar, for simplicity’s sake I will refer to this planet as Lahn. Lahn was a blue planet located in the Outer Rim Territories. It was known for its beautiful forests, beaches, and sparkling oceans. Cad Bane was far from the strangest alien to walk the sandy trails here. There were the Ithorians with the humped backs and swooping heads, stepping slowly on stumpy feet. They had two mouths on either side of their head, and spoke in harsh, reverberating mumbles. Gran ran the shops and most of the business properties on the cliff side offices. The docks below where waves crashed against the cream and gray colored masonry hosted the water loving aliens. Famous for their sailing, fishing, and swimming prowess, the Nautolans, Mon Calamari, and Quarren had varying aquatic traits like tentacles, large eyes for seeing in dark depths, or even claw like hands.

Then there was Cad Bane, a member of the Duros species. Compared to the other races, his deep blue skin sparkled like the sea that clashed against the stony or aglae colors of all the others. He would clash more if his leather clothing weren’t as brown. Only exposed the blue skin was the tips of his fingers peaking out from gloves and the front of his face peering out from the shade of a wide brimmed hat. From afar, he would appear as a tall human man. He was a bounty hunter, and was on the isle of Illmek. He left his ship behind him at the hilltop spaceport and made his way down to the sea port.

The sea spray was refreshing. It had been a while since he last spent time at a pleasant place like this. Sea birds flew lazily on the wind. Some slept on the wing. There was an occasional whiff of rotting seaweed, but otherwise the smell of salt and of the beer the sailors drank openly. It was a carefree place on the surface. Such places often hid the most unexpected crime underneath that surface. It was subtle, like that occasional whiff of rotting seaweed.

I thought I smelled somethin’, Cad Bane thought.

His client met him out in the open, bold as could be. Dark corners didn’t seem to exist in a beautiful place like this. To meet in a corner would signal something was up to a discerning lawman, but a casual meeting between two men? Now that wasn’t anything to note. The sailors and passers-by minded their own business of exchanging fish and drinking beer. The client was a shifty eyed Quarren with a sharp chin surrounded by a tentacled mustache. I shall give the name of Shift to this Quarren.

The job was easy enough. He was to embarrass and intimidate a well-to-do businessman at the top of the hill. Shift had bad blood and jealousy with the business man, who I will name Sebastian. Sebastian reminded me a bit of a certain crab character, but had a friendlier voice. Did I say easy? The task was easy, but the execution was more elaborate than I first recalled. After dwelling on this part of my dream I remember there were three steps to it. Several days were spent harassing Sebastian's workers, causing fear and spreading rumor to spread by word of mouth up the ranks until it reached Sebastian's ears. Once the business man heard that a bounty hunter was causing trouble Sebastian sent out guards to deal with him. The pitiful guards returned empty handed, and disarmed. Cad Bane had bested them all and sent another message. Sebastian began to really sweat (if a crustacean Mon Calamari could sweat that is). Things began to go missing from his business properties. Items were lost at sea. Then things went missing from his house. By the time a week had passed, Sebastian had enough. He was about to storm out and confront the bounty hunter himself, or so he claimed.

“This is an outrage! I should... I should see about this myself! How dare this bounty hunter pick a fight with me?” Sebastian asked the room, where a droid and his secretary stood sheepishly. With no answer, he went on. “Why would he do this? I don’t even know the man! I’ve had it. I’m going to demand he come here and explain himself!”

Before Sebastian walked two steps to the door, a resonant voice spoke from the window.

“Demand? I don’t take well to demands, unless yer a client.”

Sebastian turned to face the bounty hunter, who had somehow climbed in through the window and leaned against the sill as if he were perfectly comfortable with invading someone’s home. In fact, Cad Bane was perfectly comfortable invading someone’s home, especially when he was being paid to do it. Sebastian froze between reeling back from shock and urging forward with anger at the intruder. “You! You??” “Me,” Cad Bane said.

The description the guards had given him of the bounty hunter matched perfectly. Sebastian recalled, “A Duros with a big hat and a big mouth. You have some nerve! What do you want? Return my belongings, my property to me! What does a bounty hunter want with my livelihood? I have no quarrel with you.”

Cad Bane replied coolly. “Not the brightest bulb, are ye, bubble brain? I have no quarrel with you, but my employer does.” He was on the Mon Calamari in three long steps across the room. He snarled in Sebastian's fishy face, “He wanted to run you dry, fish man, to squeeze you ‘til ye shut down.”

It was true. The bounty hunter had cost him a fortune. It was a small fortune, in the grand scheme of the galaxy, but for the small island port town? It was too much.

“Shut down? I can’t do that. People depend on me, my business. They’d all starve…” Sebastian finally clicked on the fact Bane mentioned being employed by someone and wasn’t working alone. “But why? But who?”

“Feh,” Bane scoffed. “Everyone has enemies.” He leaned forward and rested a hand on his hip. There were two LL-30 blasters holstered there. The droid gave a robotic gasp. The secretary rushed to Sebastian’s side. He pushed her back behind him, even though she tried to shield him from Bane. Their little scuffle would have been cute if they both didn’t have terror in their saucer shaped eyes. Bane stepped suddenly even further into their space, causing both of them to freeze. “Shut down and I’ll leave ye be.”

The secretary urged, “Sebastian.”

“Alright… I’ll shut down.”

“Gooood,” Bane said. He turned to leave. “My employer will be pleased to hear it.” He strolled to the round metal door. It opened wider than Sebastian’s mouth. “My job’s over. Stay closed for business or my client will hire me again.” Bane was about to step outside when he heard the most peculiar thing. It was Sebastian asking a question that made him stop in his tracks.

“What if I hire you first?”

Bane gave Sebastian a second, more serious look. “Well, well, maybe yer not so dim after all,” Bane reassessed. He rejoined them in the room, but his countenance was with interest instead of intimidation. “Not often I’m hired by someone I’ve offended. Whad’ya need?”

“I want back all the items and cargo you stole.”

Bane groaned, “I was to bother and badger, not steal.”

“Then if it wasn’t you…” Sebastian took a moment to think. “I want you to find out who, arrest him, and return everything to me.”

Cad Bane grinned, and looked about the room. “Since you’ve nothing credits-wise to barter with, Sebastian, consider your lovely establishment as collateral.” The secretary gasped. “If that seems fair to you…?” Bane reached out a gloved hand to the clawed Mon Calamari. Sebastian shook his hand. The contract was signed, and Bane questioned Sebastian about his missing property, when and where each occurrence happened. He noticed a pattern. He had a feeling he knew just where to start looking.

Down at the docks, the most remote dock to be exact, Shift adjusted his brand new diving suit. It was the finest he had ever bought. It glistened in the summer sun, and his tentacled face wriggled with glee. His friends had taken notice of his change in attitude. The once salty man turned sickly sweet, and they soured in repulsion. Something had changed, but they had no idea why. So when they saw the bounty hunter that had been harassing the island walk up to the Quarren, they drew their own conclusions, and most of them were instantly suspicious of their… friend.

“Contracts done. I did what you wanted,” Cad Bane said, putting a toothpick in his mouth. Shift began to act shifty, realizing Bane approached him as boldly in the open as he had done when they first met and struck the deal. His friends would see and hear everything, even if they pretended to be fixing nets or fixing machinery. Shift asked, “He’s shutting down?”

Cad Bane nodded, “I’ll be taking my full payment now.” Shift scooted to the edge of the dock, and began pulling up a rope hanging overboard. The bounty hunter continued, “I couldn’t help but notice during my stay, folk ‘round here complainin’ about belongings going missing...” He eyed Shift as Shift eyed him right back, still pulling the rope in from the water. “Right about the same time as my antics.”

The Quarren finally pulled the remainder of the rope out of the water. On it end, a briefcase was attached. He detached and tossed the weighted rope. It splashed and sunk back down into the water, its upper portion slithering like a snake on the dock.

Shift said, “Seems like someone saw an opportunity.” Shift handed it woefully to the bounty hunter.

“Seems so,” Cad Bane said, removing his hat and propping it gently on cargo crate. He grabbed hold of Shift’s squid-like hand, gripping tightly. Shift grunted. The onlookers halted their work. The rope slithered, sinking further into the water. Cad Bane sneered, “I don’t like being used as a distraction without getting paid fer it. You altered the deal, so I have no qualms takin’ a job from Sebastian to get back at ya.”

Shift’s tiny eyes blazed, “You back-stabbing Nemoidian! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Bane showed fang and wrenched the Quarren’s wrist, “Ye don’t, do ye? Then why’s yer fancy new suit soaked when there was no diving scheduled today? Let’s have a look-see where that rope leads.” The rope snapped taut. The weight had reached the bottom.

“What? No!” was the two words Shift shouted in pain, shock, and anger before Bane launched them both into the water. Once splashed down, Bane fired his jet boots and followed the rope down into the depths. The dock was positioned over the reef’s drop-off. Down and down they went, and the water, as clear as it was, became darker. Shift struggled against Bane’s tight grip. He was a Quarren, so the water was his natural habitat, but he wasn’t used to being dragged.

“You fool! You’re a Duros! You can’t breathe underwater like I can.” Shift warned, “You’ll never reach the bottom before you need to breathe. I’ll help you back to the surface before you drown. We can call it even!” Bane laughed. Shift couldn’t believe it. The Duros had let go of his only breath of air. Shift yelled, “Do you have a death wish? There’s nothing down there worth dying for!”

Bane, even though he should have no more air, spoke and more bubbles escaped his mouth, muffling his mocking words. “That so?” With his free hand, Bane tapped the tubes protruding out of either cheek. The Quarren realized it was a breathing apparatus to the Duros’ nostrils. He had lost his only hope of leverage. Then they reached the bottom. Bane’s eyes gleamed at the sight.

Crates upon crates of valuable goods waited for extraction. Boxes marked everything from medical supplies to diving equipment. The chrome of brand new engines for small water craft shined. Leaning against the crates were propellers, oars, and unused lobster cages (that already seemed to have caught a few). These were all business supplies for every sailor on the planet. Everything they could possibly need, Sebastian provided. Sabastian’s personal items were the shiniest. Boxes filled with credits and gold, jewelry and brand new robes. These things sparkled the brightest, even as deep as they were and so far from the sun. Cad Bane grinned, thinking of the extra cut he’d be asking for from all the wealth displayed before them.

Shift had other ideas. He reached for the tubes at Bane’s cheeks. It was a last ditch effort to thwart the bounty hunter. He grabbed one and pulled, and Bane, not accustomed to the water, was slow. His head was yanked to the side. More bubbles escaped with a grunt. Shift didn’t know this, but the tubes required a twist before they could be removed. This was the only thing that saved Bane from drowning. Bane retaliated. Flames erupted from his gauntlet at the Quarren. It acted like a depth charge,. Both of them were shaken from the instantly exploding air and imploding water. The two were blown apart. They drifted for a moment, dazed. Bane gathered his senses first. He used his gauntlet again and a lasso lashed out and wrapped the criminal in a tight hold. Shift awoke and struggled uselessly. He had lost.

On the way back to the surface, Bane recovered his briefcase. There was something else he spotted on the way up, something he didn’t know was special. There was a creature, an alien he had never seen before. It was a native to the planet, a female looking thing with a fish tail instead of legs. It was a pale blue and bright yellow. Its torso was like that of a Nautolan, but had fewer tentacles on its head. She smiled approvingly. Bane figured she had seen the whole fight, and maybe knew about Shift’s poor behavior. Then she was gone with a flick of her strong tail.

I would like to note that this female alien was not me. Again, I was but an observer of this story. I also wondered who she was and why she appeared so briefly? When I was a child, I read some star wars books that chronicled the renewed Jedi Order, where Luke Skywalker taught the next generation. One of the books told a story about a Padawan needing to return to her home world, before puberty would turn her human legs into a fish tail. It was a reverse of a tadpole turning into a frog. She was a space-mermaid, going from land and returning to the water. I always liked that story. I wonder if my unconscious remembered it and made a reference to it?

This is where the dream ends. It was a happy ending, except for Shift anyway.

Bane dragged Shift onto the dock, where he was taken into custody by local law enforcement. His friends were no longer his friends, as Shift had betrayed them by ruining their jobs. However, everything lost was returned to Sebastian and his business. Sebastian and his workers were overjoyed, and overlooked the fact that Bane had been a part of Shift’s deeds. Sebastian was true to his word and paid Bane handsomely (with his items returned, Bane took credits instead of the house as collateral). Bane normally left a planet he had caused trouble on as soon as the job was done. This time though, he spent a day or two on its beautiful beaches. He fancied burying some of the credits like a pirate would on that beach, but resisted the urge. Bane learned from Shift’s mistake. Hordes of that kind were always found by those who looked for them. He breathed the salty air deeply. In a way, after two successful jobs, the opportunity to relax was a great reward too. --------------------------------- Read on AO3 &lt;- Read my other crazy Cad Bane dreams. <- Some of the hazier details of my dream were embellished, mostly dialogue. This may seem too perfect of a plotline for a dream to make up, but honestly it's pretty common in my dreams. I'm very bewildered every time. Wow, unconscious. Pretty good storytelling right there.

#Cad Bane #my dream man #no literally he keeps showing up in my dreams #not that I mind... #duros #bounty hunter #star wars #quarren #nautolans #mon calamari #Star Wars has such weird alien names #star wars aliens #dreaming #dreams #lucid dreaming #fanfiction #i may or may not add an illustration for this #my things 2023

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Is It Really That Bad?

Dreamworks has such a stellar reputation these days thanks to things like the reappraisal of Megamind as a subversive superhero masterpiece ahead of its time and The Last Wish being one of the single most epic animated films ever made, but there was a time where the studio got very little respect. You see, the studio found solid footing a lot quicker than you’d think, with the first two Shrek movies becoming smash (mouth) hits and The Prince of Egypt being an animated Biblical epic for the ages. Sure, Sinbad is the fourth biggest confirmed loss in box office history, losing Dreamworks $125 million, but they could definitely rebound with some of that Shrek money, right? Maybe, but when you bomb that hard, you’re probably in need of a little bit more cash. Clearly the best way to go about getting that is to recapture that Shrek magic with a star-studded snarky comedy full of pop culture references! What could possibly go wrong?

Well, you’ve got the lowest rated Dreamworks Animation film on Rotten Tomatoes, uncanny valley CGI that was derided even back at the time, a star-studded cast that seems overly excessive even by animated studio standards of the time, a nonsensical combination of animated fish and gangster movie tropes, accusations of racism towards Jamaicans due to the two jellyfish characters, competition from The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie and Finding Nemo, and even one of the own stars looking back on voice acting in the film as bad. That’s what could go wrong.

Still, some people look back on this movie fondly. You go to places on the internet where this movie is talked about and you’re bound to find some people saying how this movie was their childhood, and how it’s a riot, and how Will Smith is great… There has to be something to this, right? Shark Tale must have something to it if people still sing its praises, right? Is it… really that bad?

I mean, take a look at Oscar and you tell me.

Alright, alright, I’ll actually give it a fair shake. Here goes.

THE GOOD

Look, when you have this much talent in a film, you’re bound to accidentally stumble onto a few good things.

Easily the best thing in the movie is Martin Scorsese as Sykes, Oscar’s boss and the fish who most has to put up with Oscar’s boneheaded antics. The acclaimed director really shows off his funny side with this one, and the fact he has to deal with the problems of an obnoxious Will Smith fish make him surprisingly sympathetic. He’s genuinely a lot of fun, and the movie gives him plenty of screentime so you don’t have to worry about him being underutilized, and he manages to make any scene he shares with Oscar more tolerable.

Then we have the sharks. Specifically we have Robert de Niro playing the mob boss Don Lino; despite this being the most basic de Niro role you could possibly give the guy, he still manages to make it entertaining. In a broad sense, the entire shark mob gets a fair share of solid jokes, which is compounded by the bumbling octopus lackey Luca, who gets a few chuckles with his comic relief antics. Overall, our antagonists are pretty solid… and more enjoyable than our hero.

Then we have Lenny. I think Jack Black’s vegan shark is a bit of a divisive figure, but rewatching the movie, I honestly liked him and his storyline. For a movie from the early 2000s (and a comedy at that), it surprisingly tackles the topic of homosexuality in a tasteful manner. Yes, it is blatantly obvious and heavy-handed, and it’s not executed in a way that the film can make better use of it, but I think it’s a pretty bold and resonant message. If only the film had focused on Lenny and had it be his story instead of letting Will Smith’s stupid “Shark slayer” plot steal all the screentime; the movie is literally called Shark Tale, why is this not the story of the gay shark?! Why are we spending so much time with some whiny fish who lies, cheats, and acts like a dickhead to everyone around him?

Oh yeah and there’s a shark voiced by Peter “Columbo” Falk. That kinda rules.

THE BAD

Hey, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I do not fucking like Oscar.

Oscar is easily one of the worst protagonists ever conceived. He’s selfish, self-centered, stupid, egotistical, oblivious, obnoxious… It’s honestly mind-boggling that they cast one of the most charming and charismatic actors of all time and had him play a character antithetical to everything that he is as a performer. The entire movie is founded on him lying and taking credit for something he didn’t do, scamming multiple corporations out of brand deals in the process, gambles away his best friend’s precious heirloom and loses all the money, rarely takes responsibility for his actions… Honestly, this whole segment could just be listing all of Oscar’s negative traits and actions. And all of this could be forgivable if he was funny, but he’s not! He is utterly cringeworthy every time he attempts humor, and don’t even get me started on the romance.

Actually, no, let’s get started on the romance! Oscar and Angie’s relationship is fucking awful and toxic. This is the original Reylo right here, an unpleasant romance between characters with zero chemistry that is just overwhelmingly miserable and unhealthy. Angie refuses to communicate her feelings to Oscar and gets mad and jealous when he remains oblivious, and Oscar s just pretty callous and oblivious to Angie. There is no way any relationship with these two would actually last.

And then there’s Lola, the Angelina Jolie fish. Now, I ain’t saying she’s a gold digger… But she ain’t messing with no broke fish. Her relationship with Oscar is so blatantly telegraphed from the start as being manipulative and superficial, but he goes for it anyway. And while that is basically shoved in your face from the word go, you know what isn’t? The fact she’s able to pull some strings and work with the mob to kidnap Angie! How the fuck did she get in league with the sharks? Why did this not come up before? Why is this movie trying to frame this fish as a sexy femme fatale?

And there’s another thing: The animation in this film is abysmal, even for the time. The Shrek movies have aged more gracefully than this, and have you seen how Puss looked in Shrek 2 lately? This movie was bad even back then, with all of these fish designed to resemble their actors. Funnily enough, the more tolerable characters like Sykes and Lenny are a lot easier on the eyes (relatively speaking at least), while the worst characters are just unbelievably ugly. Angie, Lola, the jellyfish, and of course our old pal Oscar. It’s just really weird and awkward.

And maybe all of this would be easier to deal with if the film wasn’t so relentlessly unfunny and generic. When you get down to it, this is the most by-the-numbers mob movie and “liar revealed” story you will ever see. And while it’s trying to be funny, it’s generally failing miserably. Almost every joke is either a reference or an incredibly lame pun; there’s even a point where, while hamming it up, Oscar just rapid-fire spouts off movie quotes. And on top of everything else, the characters being fish really adds so little to anything that changing everyone to humans would improve things exponentially. Like it still wouldn’t be great, but we wouldn’t have to look at the aquatic version of Cats.

THE UGLY

Okay, I decided to save this for last. Ernie and Bernie, the two jellyfish, are widely viewed as Jamaican stereotypes due to their designs, voices, and singing of a Bob Marley song. They are probably the least-liked characters in the movie, and are seen by some as racist stereotypes.

The way I see it, while I don’t particularly like them, it’s not an Apu situation we have going on here, these aren’t two white guys putting on offensive accents. This is full-blooded Jamaican Ziggy Marley (the literal son of Bob Marley) and part-Jamaican Doug E. Doug playing stereotypical characters. Are they instantly not bad or offensive just because the actors match the ethnicity the jellyfish are stereotyping? No, of course not! But I do think a little context and nuance is needed here. They’re more annoying and stereotypical than outright offensive, but if you see them as offensive I can’t say I blame you. I just don’t think Marley and Doug were intentionally trying to offend.

IS IT REALLY THAT BAD?

Look, if you were hoping I’d be the shining beacon in a sea of mockery, here to tell you Shark Tale is an unsung Dreamworks masterpiece, I’m about to disappoint you. This movie is bad. Like, really, genuinely bad. You have to be seriously blinded by nostalgia to think this movie is good. It is basically “How Not To Make An Animated Film 101,” committing every single crime that made 2000s animation awful, from the bloated celebrity cast to the excessive pop culture references to the poor world building to the dance party ending.

That being said, this is an utterly fascinating bad movie. This is a film that’s fun to talk about, fun to mock, and like I mentioned above there’s still some genuinely good elements that keep this from being truly painful. This film is many things, but boring is not one of them. When it comes to “So bad it’s good” animation, this film is top tier, though your enjoyment of it will definitely hinge on how well you can stomach the terrible animation. That solid 6 is a little bit generous if I’m being honest, but at the same time, as far as bad movies go this one is an enjoyable one. I mean, what’s the Disney equivalent to this, a pop culture poisoned shitty, generic animated movie? Chicken Little. Shark Tale is a million times better than Chicken Little, so if it has one thing going for it, it’s that.

#Is it really that bad #Shark tale #review #movie review #IIRTB #dreamworks

[wishingicouldfly]

Louis Tomlinson - LGBTQ icon

A moot on Twitter asked me for some sources, so I decided to put them here in case it was helpful to others. I don't claim that this is all encompassing or definitive.

There isn’t only one instance of Louis alluding to being a part of the LGBTQ community. It’s repetitive and continuous across years. It’s the cumulative instances that make it definitive for me. While he has said that he’s straight a couple of times, it’s been in writing (most notable on Twitter on 11/10/14, and detailed in this article: 'F***ing ridiculous' 1D Louis in meltdown after wrongly thinking reporter called him gay - Daily Star, which was notably the day after he wore this shirt in support of Apple CEO Tim Cook and a couple days AFTER Harry Styles said "not that important" in reference to a dream date being female--there's some debate as to whether Louis was in control of his SM that day, but I digress), and he never once adequately denied being in a relationship with Harry verbally. It’s important to remember he’s closeted.

Adding a cut cause this got long.

While I personally think he’s been in a long term monogamous relationship with Harry, most of these aren’t about Larry. I think it’s important that both men stand as strong LGBTQ icons/role models apart from their connection together.

Nothing here proves anything about his sexuality or how he personally identifies. I don't claim to know how he identifies. This is simply a list of ways he seems to message that he aligns himself with the LGBTQ community. For me, it’s the cumulative moments that make it impossible to dispute. Anyone reading this is entitled to make your own opinion of what he means.

A few times Louis has alluded to being close to gay/LGBT culture

This is a good post that talks about his casual athletic style being a nod to gay “chav” fashion. it’s wild to me that ppl don’t realize Louis... | Facts, Queer Fury, And Spite (tumblr.com)

He uses LGBT symbols in videos, such as rainbows and pink triangles. First one is We Made It. Second one is Miss You. Screenshot by me on 1/16/23.

Links to video: We Made It: https://youtu.be/XWXRh6icAzQ

Miss You: https://youtu.be/inZzcTXYowY

There are a lot of allusions to gay history in the Just Like You lyric video including George Michael Lyrics: https://youtu.be/qvXXMsiQBDg

An analysis of Louis’ songs and his use of pronouns by @bluewinnerangel: it's subjective - Louis using pronouns in his lyrics (tumblr.com)

There are a lot of allusions in his lyrics to being “different” and about his love for his significant other being made to keep secret.

His triangle ankle tattoo, which coincidentally (or not) aligns nicely with a tweet once made by Harry Styles.

This tweet was made literally a day or two after the tattoo reveal. (as of 1/16/23 that tweet is still live on Twitter, screen shot taken by me).

The Rainbow Bears during the last year of 1D before Hiatus—if you’re not aware of this, it’s too much for me to put here. But basically, it was widely accepted that Louis and Harry were behind the bears which alluded to a lot of LGBT history, as well as shaded BabyGate. A couple of links:

It’s a beautiful war 🌈 (tumblr.com)

https://youtu.be/sCNVPRNzmuE

Louis has been closely associated with the Polari brand, which takes its name from a language created by gay subculture in the 1950s. Polari - Wikipedia

A companion post with times Harry has come out: (32) Wishing I Could Fly on Tumblr

#louis tomlinson #LGBTQ icon

[mortallyclearwonderland]

I'm not enthusiastic about Wish

Is everybody hipped for Wish? Finally! An original movie that will honor the history of Disney's animations in a new style? Sign me up! Where can I buy a ticket?

Well, I'm not about to forget everything this company has done. It seems too good to be true. Can Disney really do a 180? Well, seeing the new wave of pointless remakes not entirely.

Let me list everything that can go wrong given Disney's recent trends:

The movie will be an eye-candy with beautiful 2D and 3D. (But going by the trailer it's not as impressive as the Puss in Boots the Last Wish or Spiderverse. We need a better name for that animation style. How about 2/3D? ZED? I don't know.) 

The music will be great, at worst forgettable.

The Star character will be annoying.

Valentino will be funny and marketable but the movie could've worked without him. 

The world will be huge, beautiful, and interesting and we explore none of it. 

The protagonist will be bland with one obvious flaw or a dream which will be related to the message of the movie. 

The message will have all the subtlety of the hammer in the face.

Inconsistencies, contradictions, and random stuff happening because funny/the plot.

References to older classics that you wish you would be watching. (You saw how many references they cram now into their other movies? And now it's one of the things they talked about the most!) 

Death is funny until we have the fake-out death then you need to care. 

No love interest because love makes women weak apparently. Or no love interest because the actress is a lesbian and she talked about how Asha ''looks like her'' because modern acting isn't about pretending to be something you're not, it's about showing who you are every chance you get. And for those who think they might make a lesbian love interest, I would like you to take a look at the gay ''romance'' in the strange world. But if by some chance they do I doubt it will be any good. When was the last romance in Disney, Frozen 2 (2018) and that's a holdover from the first movie (2013) and the last good romance was Tangled (2010). 

No villain. Or worse, a lame villain! It's supposed to be a throwback to the older Disney movies and that includes its villains but Disney is so incompetent with their IPs I wouldn't be surprised if they get their own villain ''formula'' wrong. I swear if they try to make him a twist after spoiling that Chris Pine will be voicing the villain and his evil laugh in the teaser trailer, or ''redeem'' him after he did unspeakable evils. And no villain song. Can Chris Pine sing? Please no terrible auto-tune! 

Making jabs at old Disney tropes even tho this movie isn't even half as good as the movies that came before it, uses a bunch of other modern tropes or straight up the same ones that it mocked earlier and completely misinterprets them and uses them even worse! Modern Disney seems to hate its past and does everything to show how ''better'' they are now. Which is untrue in most cases and just smug and annoying!

I'm sorry for being so pessimistic but that's how jaded I become and only towards Disney. It might be their greatest hit that will make people think ''Disney is back''.

What do you think?

#WISH #Disney wish #Asha #King Magnifico

[keagan-ashleigh]

Hi! I don't know if I'm onto smg but I took some notes about the box's poem in The Winchesters, bc I felt like there was something weird in the way it seems to be a direct message to us...

Thought I'd share it here - those are unorganized thoughts, I will maybe go further into it later.

Follow the path of I toward Heaven

Second spot is four less seven

Find the fourth behind Hells door

Six suns set on the Western floor

I will always lead you there

Ending the darkness that we all fear

What is this referring to? (besides the obvious aka the way to open the box)

• ​Heaven is where Dean is currently, and maybe he wants to lead us there bc this is ultimately where is the thing he wants to show us

• "The path of I" - the way it implies "I" is a god-like entity, or God, even, who lives in Heaven. Spn has established God = the narrator so what if "I" here is the narrator?

• ​Imagine if numbers = spn seasons - s4 & s7 - s4 introduced Castiel (ohoh!) and 7 is the whole Leviathan and Godstiel thing, it's when Dean and Cas get sent in Purgatory. So - s4 less s7, means Castiel's arc story without his descent in madness? s7 is known to be the worst season for most - on a meta level: what would've happened if the situation had been different? What spot would they be in if s7 didn't happen ? What if Chuck didn't write it this way? idk

→ it's less like s7 and more like s4 ? will we get the thrill of this 1st meeting? given that TW tells the story of John & Mary's meeting - mirroring Cas/Dean meeting (cf the entrance scene in trailer), it's kind of a retelling of that story - second spot = second show, second story, we're getting back to that s4 moment, w less of s7 nonsense? or w/o s7 Cas & Dean separation?

s7 also first meeting w Charlie who had the other most brutal BYG of the show

Other interesting things abt s7: Dean forgives Cas, Bobby gets hurt, Dean sent back in time, the "facing your fears" episodes, intro of Kevin Tran, Sam haunted by Lucifer, etc...

But the main thing about s7 to me is how it ends w Purgatory AND the fact Cas wasn't planed to be a series regular this season (tvline 20th may 2011 see fr wiki)

• ​"find the fourth behind Hell's door",wow, if number = season, s4 being sent in Hell, like, the whole Castiel arc being sent to hell bc of the ultimate choices made in last season by writers/Chuck - also s4 starts w Dean in Hell, being raised from Hell by Castiel

• ​​Six suns set on Western floor - idk yet

- Sun: positive, light, warmth

Sunset : Dean driving in sunset

Sun setting: ending of day

- 6, 6 like what? dean + sam + cas + mary + john + jack: family?

6 main chars: Mary, John, Carlos, Latika, Ada, Millie

6 writers ? (which)

obv 6= hexagon (box shape)

Random: 6= Dream Theater, 6th song of second disc Six Degrees of Inner Turbulence: following 6 chars w diff mental illnesses

Aristotle's 6 elements of tragedy : plot (mythos (which means LIE lmao)), character (ethos), diction (lexis) , thought (dianoia), spectacle (scenic effect) (opsis), song (music) (melos)

In religion: seraphs have 6 wings, 6 points of David star, creation in 6 days, is "perfect number"

Also: virgo 6th astroloical western sign, sixth sense, us army radio call sign (rainbow six),

- western, cowboy hats

western: america? Hollywood ? western canada: Vancouver? idk

• ​I will always lead you there : Dean/Jensen saying "this is where I want this story to go, that's the plan"

• ​Ending the darkness that we all fear - in text the darkness we all fear is death, pain, suffering, and facing our sins, basically. The poem on a litteral level says tge suns/positive stuff will end death and suffering that demons represent. This much is obvious. You can't end death though, it's a natural thing that's meant to happen. Unless you're in a story and your death has been wrongly written UH OH we got something there ! 👀

• The darkness could very well be the Empty / bad writing / homophobia on a meta level. We all fear it, "we" the audiance, the queer audiance that's been here since s4. We all feared queerbaiting and Cas' death and Dean's death and that's what happened in spn. Jensen / Dean tells us, if he's speaking here, "fear not my gays, all will be well because this fear of yours is over, we're going to fix it, to cast the darkness (death & separation of those chars) away.

Note about the runes in the picture:

- ingwaz/ing (associated with Yngvi/Freyr - fertility god, commands rain and sun light, brother of Freyja goddess of love (and according to me goddess of shipping lol) ) / means protection

- not an original futhark - means energy, maybe a combination of the o and r of a latin version of the futhark / also looks like a reverse fehu + raidō (f and r) - I am not knowledgeable enough to trace its origins.

I am no expert I'm guessing by the look of the letters but go see the Wikipedia page.

In internet esoteric culture it's protection and energy.

Given that we know Richard is returning maybe foreshadowing Loki/Gabriel.

I don't know if it's right I just laid my thoughts randomly, it is not a completed work. The whole thing just sounds like Jensen/Dean talking directly to us about his plan in narrating this story, it makes a clear parallel between John and Mary and Dean and Cas, and also he takes Chuck's place here, in a way, and is going to set the record straight on it all, fix some wrongs, give a new frame of reference for reading spn, you know what I mean? Goes along with the whole "I'm chosing the music"/" the main villain is a DJ", etc, implying Dean is becoming the driver of the whole narrative. It's all very symbolic and I'm really liking the level of meta here.

#the winchesters meta #ish #my meta #my posts #the winchesters #spn #supernatural #spn cinematic universe #destiel #unreliable narrator

[johnredwolf87]

My Tunic Experience (SPOILERS)

I just got 100% in the game yesterday, and was going to start on Super Mario Wonder today. But instead, I spent most of the day looking up lore videos and reviews. I just cannot seem to leave the world of Tunic yet.

I was in love with the exploration and puzzle elements of this game. Going into this totally blind, I managed to collect every upgrade treasure, every coin, and almost every equipment card (At the very end of the game, while looking up what all of them do, exactly, I somehow learned that there was a secret one not mentioned in the manual! It made fighting the Heir so much easier). I got all but 1 fairy, all but one trophy, and managed to solve the entire Golden Path puzzle all on my own. I felt so bad having to look up the answers to those last few puzzles, but in doing so fell down a fucking rabbit hole like you wouldn't believe.

Did you know that there's an option in Accessibility Settings to make audio puzzles easier? Knowing that sure would have helped in figuring out what's going on with those windchimes outside the Old House.

Were you also bashing your head against the wall trying to figure out what the "60 seconds", "Shhh..." was about on page 51, with the illustration that looked like a star partly underwater next to a piece of paper? (Even as I type this I'm having to boot up Tunic again for reference) The one that, if I was reading page 54's hint correctly, surely holds the final trophy? Apparently, you have to turn off Sound Effects under the Audio options and stand in water for 60 seconds. Doing so will cause a secret message to appear at the bottom of the "Thank you!" note by the devs on page 1 (which bears a similar star symbol). Said message consists of more game language and a drawing of a familiar landmark in the overworld which is shaped like Holy Cross directions. Ah! So that's it! If everything the game taught me so far is correct, I just have to go there and input the directions to get the final gold treasure!...WRONG! At this point, it would be very, VERY handy to know what the note next to the image says. Throughout my journey thus far, I noticed that the game language doesn't appear to be random runic scribblings of a non-language. There are certain shapes that repeat in ways consistent with language which has had some thought put into making it. Furthermore, what of the notes on pages 21 and 54? They appear to be some sort of clue to how you could go about deciphering it, but I couldn't make heads or tails of it.

The game isn't over yet. THE. GAME. ISN'T. OVER. YET.

The game expected me to decode an entire in-game language. A multi-hour task, if you even know where to start (not me!). This is the hardest task this game has asked of me at this point. But thank goodness there's a awesome community of clever Tunic fans that managed to translate this thing (Bravo! <3 <3 <3).

Deeper down the rabbit hole we go! WAHOO!

For the first time, I was able to actually read and understand the story, the descriptions of the Quarry, Ruined Atol, Graveyard, and Cathedral, as well as what they were saying about the bosses I fought and what their deal was. I love the Librarian and how he thinks the Holy Cross is an actual treasure hidden in the Cathedral. He's also the only character aware he's in a game (did you see the drawings of what appeared to be a game cartridge on one of his chalk boards?) But that's all I'll get into on that. This is about the puzzle. Even now I'm getting as distracted from the task as I originally was! As for the puzzle text, after doing all of that you'd surely think it'd just spell it out for you at this point. But you're still no closer to getting that last trophy. It's a riddle:

"The softest feather corrected eleven times departed once more"

What does that even mean? I tried inputting the landmark's directions 11 times, from several points of view. Then tried it 12 times each way because of the "departed once more" line. Nothing happened. I gave up and looked up the answer. "Softest feather" refers to a "down", or soft fluff underneath the feathers of waterfowl (because everyone knows that, right?). "Corrected" refers to being RIGHT, "eleven times." "Departed" means you have LEFT, and 12 is "once more" than 11. Down, right x 11, left x 12. I have my final trophy! I've finally won!

But what about that bright light that appeared in the Trophy Room that appeared after I had collected a certain amount of tropies? What's up with the weird room where symbols in the game's language would appear seemingly at random if I used the Holy Cross? (Why am I not wanting to call it a D-Pad?!)

WILL THIS RIDE EVER END?!!

I go to the translated manual for clues, as there is text written next to the illustration of the trophy room on page 54. It reads:

"For Additional Support & Secrets 1. Find some rare golden statues. 2. Traverse the glow to visit 12 strange beings. 3. Un-sing to the the greatest song, the Song of the Golden Path, as seen from within"

Excitedly, I went to that mysterious room as fast as I could make that little fox go. I stood there, brought up the golden path notes, and input the directions backwards. Nothing. It turns out "from within" also meant as seen from a mirror. I had the right idea, just the wrong angle. I reset the puzzle, looked up and put in the inverted directions, and nothing seemed to happen except for the fact that one of the glyph spaces is blank, with only 11 glyphs showing. Wondering if something is being spelled out, I look up the puzzle solution. I'm correct! It is a...website?

https://doyoufeartheeyesofthefarshore.co/

Tunic has now become an ARG.

Clicking this link takes you to a creepy animated image of a smoky silhouette of what appears to be a squid monster with three eyes colored in the R/G/B color scheme we're used to. Harsh, grating sounds that sound almost like speech and ethereal whispers assaulted my ears. This was the squid-like being who's symbol I've seen everywhere in the game! Here I was stuck. This is where my journey with Tunic ended. I did learn that there was more languages in the music and sounds, and that running the website's sounds through a spectrogram results in the message "We are the Eyes of the Far Shore."

I really did not expect so much to be wrapped inside such a colorful, cute and fluffy package.

I apologize for the long post. I didn't realize how much I had to say about this game! If anyone's made it this far, I appreciate it!

#Tunic #Finji #Video games #This is such a good game

[peaky-shelby]

OKAY SO I’VE BEEN MIA BC I JUST FINISHED GRAD SCHOOL AND I DIDN’T HAVE TIME TO READ THE LAST SEVERAL CHAPTERS. I’M BACK AND HOLY SHIIIIIIIIT BRO. 

Okay I’m only going to go into ch 14 for all our sakes lmao. Having Neymar come with Ky to pick Taylor up from the airport is everything that healed my little heart. I know I’ve said it before, but her relationship with Ney is just the most wholesome and I love it. “Man, just kiss already. You can cut the tension with a knife.” She laughed, embarrassed at herself and leaned on Kylian’s shoulder, hiding herself. Like this encapsulates everything I love about this trio. The safety they both feel in being open in front of Ney is just **chefs kiss** to me. Surprising her with Leo, Ramos, and Kimpembe has me squealing like a child, but the real star of the show is Taylor’s reunion with Luna. My god I love this kitty. 

The conversation between her and Verratti was perfectly awkward. Like we know he feels bad about how everything went down and like…he absolutely should and I love that Taylor made him squirm a bit. It’s exactly why I love Taylor as a character-her stubbornness and intensity is both her gift and downfall, but god when she uses it for her benefit it just makes me so happy. 

“What about short term?” he mumbled to her lips, giving it a light bite.“You” she said in a quick breath

OKAY RIP ME WOW. 

I’m conflicted about Galtier’s offer with the youth league. Because on one hand, I love that it would allow her to stay coaching in a sense, be close to Kylian and the rest of the boys, but I also remember how much she hated the whole system of how players are treated. “You can hep us build the foundations” like homie that’s not how this works….but okay. TYPICAL KY GETTING IN HIS HEAD THAT SHE DOESN’T CARE ABOUT HIM. CHRIST ON A STICK KYLIAN GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS. Their argument in the car is easily my favorite bit of writing thus far. It’s so fucking hilarious and on brand for the two of them to confess these big emotions while arguing like this and all while Taylors driving for the first time here lmao. 

“I did not make a pause! My lips are still moving—you cut me off—and for you information it’s the kind of logic that I can find other teams like psg, psg is replaceable—you are not!” she stopped the car abruptly in front of a red light, Kylian moving a little forward. Silence. Just the car sounds filling the emptiness. He looked at her in awe, he wanted to kiss her right there and then.

Like I’m sorry WHAT!!! OW MY HEART I LOVE IT. “psg is replaceable-you are not!” That just causes me goosebumps because it really shows the depth of her feelings. 

They’re finally happy. Like finally. I’m glad she took the job, but I worry that her reservations from the past assistant coach job will resurface and she’ll be unhappy again. ugh. 

Him referring to her has his girlfriend for the first time…oof. She’s better than me because I’m pretty sure my brain would short circuit and an Error 404 message would just pop up lmao. Like they were building new routines together that weren’t involving only their bodies but their hearts too. Domestic fluff like this shit is what I liiiiiiiive for. 

(K about to get sentimental and shit for a sec) Kylian speaking to the medics about her condition…this hit home. As someone who lives with a chronic illness that affects literally every aspect of how I’m supposed to live my life I really connect with Taylor in this capacity. It’s so hard to explain a version of life that is so drastically different than what is considered “normal” to others. I’m sure Kylian is wildly frustrated by her lack of sharing, but when you historically have to be the only one you yourself can rely on for shit, it’s hard to share that burden onto someone else…especially if you love them because you never want to give your shit to someone else. But that’s what she does. That quick little peck and “good to know you want to share it” from Kylian may have seem like such a throw away moment, but as someone who’s lived Taylors experience with this, it means everything. (K done with gross feelings now MOVING ON)

Of course I knew you were going to write Ney getting hurt…but god fucking dammit it hurts. Ney really feels like her family. Her brother. And hearing both Ky and Ney say “I’m tired” in the context they are saying it, I just know it’s breaking her heart. It’s back to the reason she hated the higher ups in the coaching gig again. No respect for the players. But I fear this will  just add fuel to her flame hatred of how these players are being treated. 

“He’s gonna need you.” “I know.” Neymessi going strong. 

Ooooooooooooh apartment conversations happening….I was wondering if I missed the memo of them officially living together but here we go lol. 

AGH HER GRIPE WITH COACHING STAFF COMES UP AGAIN. Taylor thank god you’re telling him the legit ruth and not sugar coating shit….where’s Taylor in real life because homeboy needs to hear this shit. AND SHE’S DONE WITH PSG. I FUCKING KNEW IT. DID I NOT CALL THIS. OH GOD BUT WHAT DOES THAT MEAN FOR THEM?! OH NOOOOO. 

Awwww the key. The keeeeyyyyy. 

The conversation between Ky and Leo is perfect. Truly no notes. We love Uncle Leo in this house. “That part had it’s pleasure, but you can break records anywhere Kylian.” He shrugged, scratching the back of his head “it’s who you break them with that makes it special.”  I feel like this is then counterintuitive to the dilemma…idk yet I haven’t fully formed that thought yet. 

LILY IS THERE. OH MY GOD TAYLOR AND BETH. AHHHH. I love Ky and lily’s dynamic its so stinking cute. I can only imagine how that looked to the others though hahaha. Like some random little girl none of them have ever seen comes crashing into Kylian and he’s like so chill about it. I’m sure they thought he’s like lost his head or something hahaha. Oh interesting dynamic with Ethan and their dad. I’m intimidated by him. Did not expect him to extend that invitation to Taylor and her family…is this just me being suspicious? I’m not fully trusting it yet…

….british phone number….her leaving the youth league job….CHELSEA?! 😳

Okay that’s what I’ve got. God I’ve missed reading this fic and I’ve loved catching up with the past few chapters. Still the best fic I’ve ever read, hand to god. Mkay thats all ILYSM 😘

AAAAAAH I MISSED YOUUUUU

When readers disappear i get so worried they've given up 😭😭😭 I'm so happy you're still here!! YOUR NOTES ARE THE BEST AND YOU ALWAYS TAKE SO MUVH OF YOUR ENERGY IT MAKES ME MELT😭😭😭😭

I hope the final chapter will leave you satisfied 🥺

#newromanticsfic

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Letters/Emails/Notes (2) Masterlist

(There’s no suicide letters, here’s the masterlist to that if you want)

part one

Always Read the Margins - ineverhadmyinternetphase

Summary: Phil is a master’s student, Dan is a nervous first year. Phil is in the library when he has to look up a reference in a law textbook, and there is a scrawled note in messy handwriting down the side that makes him laugh. On a whim, he scribbles a reply, but he doesn’t expect to get a response...

a theism in evolution (ao3) - Tarredion

Summary: The sungod, Phil, sends letters to Mother Gaia. He puts all his worries into words… even when he himself can't see right through them

Appreciation Letters (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Two different chapters, showing each perspective.

Dan sits down to write about his life with the most amazing man he knows and how much he values all that he’s done for him.

Phil sits down to write about how thankful he is for the guy, who persistently commented on his early videos and the life they’ve built together.

best stalker ever (ao3) - waveydnp

Summary: dan emails his favourite youtuber

dear dan (i love you) (ao3) - cityscaped (touchofgold)

Summary: 2022, a wedding and a letter saying 'I love you'

Dear Phil - indiestripper

Summary: Dan and Phil have been friends since elementary school, but Phil is just a little bit different from the other kids. After Dan stands up for Phil on the playground the two of them become best friends and maybe even more. Written from Dan’s point of view as a letter to Phil recounting special memories.

Dear Phil. (ao3) - heyitsnxel

Summary: When you can't say you're feelings out loud, write them...

and leave them anonymously on your neighbor's door.

From Daniel James Howell (ao3) - thebestworstthing

Summary: "Technically, you left on the Tuesday, but it was a Wednesday when i woke up and discovered you were gone."

Phil leaves and Dan writes a letter to him one year later.

Fan Letters (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: While bored in quarantine Phil (with the help of Dan) decides to go through some fan letters from a decade ago. Finding a piece of history he didn't know he'd ever lost.

I’ll Be Home For Christmas (If Only In My Dreams) (ao3) - Dawninn_Gamgee

Summary: It’s funny when I think of how much I used to like Christmas, considering that now I feel like such a Grinch. But I bet you know why, and I hope you don’t judge me. Because last year was the last Christmas we spent together. But, hey, let’s start at the beginning.

A letter from Dan to Phil.

in a box beneath my bed (ao3) - manchestereyes

Summary: A collection of letters from Dan to Phil in 2009, all unsent.

let your heart hold fast (ao3) - dizzy, waveydnp

Summary: Prompt: Dan and Phil are with their respective families for the holidays. Dan freaks out because he hasn't heard from Phil in 2 days. Phil comforts him.

Letters (ao3) - NintenGoAway (elfzhyza)

Summary: Somehow, Phil always knows when Dan's feeling down, and he always knows what to say to make Dan feel better.

Letters From the Future (ao3) - Star4545

Summary: Prompt from Tumblr: On everyone’s 18th birthday they receive a letter from their future selves. Some receive long messages about their future lovers or messages about changes they would have made.

Paper Stars (ao3) - worriedpeach (skeletonflowers)

Summary: Dan starts to get love notes in his locker in the form of origami stars, so he gets the help of his best friend, Phil, to figure out who it is.

Pretissimo (ao3) - worriedpeach (skeletonflowers)

Summary: When Dan starts to get notes in his locker in the form of terrible pick up lines, he doesn't know who it could be and he doesn't really care. All he cares about is his violin and his studies. He could care less about the nonchalant cellist who never seems to take anything seriously.

Shall I Write It In A Letter? (ao3) - astro_phan (sincerepml)

Summary: Dan Howell and Phil Lester are about to go to different universities. Dan wants to get something off of his chest before it's too late and does it by writing a letter.

Subject: (ao3) - Fictropes

Summary: Turns out everything flags up on the system, not just porn.

Wonderwall (ao3) - your_starless_eyes

Summary: "Maybe I'm crazy, maybe I'm absolutely insane, but from the moment I first saw you... I knew it was going to be you."

Or

The one in which Phil attempts a love letter.

Y.S.A. (ao3) - Kavat

Summary: Dan finds a note in his locker.

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