#i hold immense power now/pos

[decolonize-the-left]

This is not a drill

This is IMPORTANT especially if you live in the USA or use the internet REGULATED by the USA!!!!

Do not scroll. Signal boost. Reblog.

Reblog WITHOUT reading if you really can't right now, I promise all the links and proof are here. People NEED to know this.

( I tried to make this accessible but you can't cater to EVERYONE so please just try your best to get through this or do your own research 🙏)

TLDR: Homeland Security has been tying our social media to our IPs, licenses, posts, emails, selfies, cloud, apps, location, etc through our phones without a warrant using Babel X and will hold that information gathered for 75 years. Certain aspects of it were hushed because law enforcement will/does/has used it and it would give away confidential information about ongoing operations.

This gets renewed in September.

Between this, Agincourt (a VR simulator for cops Directly related to this project), cop city, and widespread demonization of abortions, sex workers, & queer people mixed with qanon/Trumpism, and fascism in Florida, and the return of child labor, & removed abortion rights fresh on our tails it's time for alarms to be raised and it's time for everyone to stop calling us paranoid and start showing up to protest and mutual aid groups.

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

These are the same feds who want to build cop city and recreate civilian houses en masse and use facial recognition. The same feds that want cop city to also be a training ground for police across the country. Cop city where they will build civilian neighborhoods to train in.

Widespread mass surveillance against us.

Now let's cut to some parts of the article. May 17th from Vice:

Customs and Border Protection (CBP) is using an invasive, AI-powered monitoring tool to screen travelers, including U.S. citizens, refugees, and people seeking asylum, which can in some cases link their social media posts to their Social Security number and location data, according to an internal CBP document obtained by Motherboard.

Called Babel X, the system lets a user input a piece of information about a target—their name, email address, or telephone number—and receive a bevy of data in return, according to the document. Results can include their social media posts, linked IP address, employment history, and unique advertising identifiers associated with their mobile phone. The monitoring can apply to U.S. persons, including citizens and permanent residents, as well as refugees and asylum seekers, according to the document.

“Babel data will be used/captured/stored in support of CBP targeting, vetting, operations and analysis,” the document reads. Babel X will be used to “identify potential derogatory and confirmatory information” associated with travelers, persons of interest, and “persons seeking benefits.” The document then says results from Babel X will be stored in other CBP operated systems for 75 years.

"The U.S. government’s ever-expanding social media dragnet is certain to chill people from engaging in protected speech and association online. And CBP’s use of this social media surveillance technology is especially concerning in connection with existing rules requiring millions of visa applicants each year to register their social media handles with the government. As we’ve argued in a related lawsuit, the government simply has no legitimate interest in collecting and retaining such sensitive information on this immense scale,” Carrie DeCell, senior staff attorney at the Knight First Amendment Institute, told Motherboard in an email.

The full list of information that Babel X may provide to CBP analysts is a target’s name, date of birth, address, usernames, email address, phone number, social media content, images, IP address, Social Security number, driver’s license number, employment history, and location data based on geolocation tags in public posts.

Bennett Cyphers, a special advisor to activist

organization the Electronic Frontier Foundation, told Motherboard in an online chat “the data isn’t limited to public posts made under someone’s real name on Facebook or Twitter.”

The document says CBP also has access to AdID information through an add-on called Locate X, which includes smartphone location data. AdID information is data such as a device’s unique advertising ID, which can act as an useful identifier for tracking a phone and, by extension, a person’s movements. Babel Street obtains location information from a long supply chain of data. Ordinary apps installed on peoples’ smartphones provide data to a company called Gravy Analytics, which repackages that location data and sells it to law enforcement agencies via its related company Venntel. But Babel Street also repackages Venntel’s data for its own Locate X product."

The PTA obtained by Motherboard says that Locate X is covered by a separate “commercial telemetry” PTA. CBP denied Motherboard’s FOIA request for a copy of this document, claiming it “would disclose techniques and/or procedures for law enforcement investigations or prosecutions”.

A former Babel Street employee previously told Motherboard how users of Locate X can draw a shape on a map known as a geofence, see all devices Babel Street has data on for that location, and then follow a specific device to see where else it has been.

Cyphers from the EFF added “most of the people whose location data is collected in this way likely have no idea it’s happening.”

CBP has been purchasing access to location data without a warrant, a practice that critics say violates the Fourth Amendment. Under a ruling from the Supreme Court, law enforcement agencies need court approval before accessing location data generated by a cell phone tower; those critics believe this applies to location data generated by smartphone apps too.

“Homeland Security needs to come clean to the American people about how it believes it can legally purchase and use U.S. location data without any kind of court order. Americans' privacy shouldn't depend on whether the government uses a court order or credit card,” Senator Ron Wyden told Motherboard in a statement. “DHS should stop violating Americans' rights, and Congress should pass my bipartisan legislation to prohibit the government's purchase of Americans' data." CBP has refused to tell Congress what legal authority it is following when using commercially bought smartphone location data to track Americans without a warrant.

Neither CBP or Babel Street responded to a request for comment. Motherboard visited the Babel X section of Babel Street’s website on Tuesday. On Wednesday before publication, that product page was replaced with a message that said “page not found.”

Do you know anything else about how Babel X is being used by government or private clients? Do you work for Babel Street? We'd love to hear from you. Using a non-work phone or computer, you can contact Joseph Cox securely on Signal on [phone], Wickr on josephcox, or email [email protected].

Wow that sounds bad right.

Be a shame if it got worse.

.

.

It does.

The software (previously Agincourt Solutions) is sold by AI data company Babel Street, was led by Jeffrey Chapman, a former Treasury Department official,, Navy retiree & Earlier in his career a White House aide and intelligence officer at the Department of Defense, according to LinkedIn.

🙃

So what's Agincourt Solutions then right now?

SO FUCKING SUS IN RELATION TO THIS, THATS WHAT

In essence, synthetic BATTLEVR training is a mixture of all three realities – virtual, augmented and physical. It is flexible enough to allow for mission rehearsals of most types and be intuitive enough to make training effective.

Anyway the new CEO of Babel Street (Babel X) as of April is a guy named Michael Southworth and I couldn't find much more on him than that tbh, it's all very vague and missing. That's the most detail I've seen on him.

And the detail says he has a history of tech startups that scanned paperwork and sent it elsewhere, good with numbers, and has a lot of knowledge about cell networks probably.

Every inch more of this I learn as I continue to Google the names and companies popping up... It gets worse.

Monitor phone use. Quit photobombing and filming strangers and for the love of fucking God quit sending apps photos of your actual legal ID to prove your age. Just don't use that site, you'll be fine I swear. And quit posting your private info online. For activists/leftists NO personally identifiable info at least AND DEFINITELY leave your phone at home to Work™!!!

#current events #capitalism #USA #politics #facism #public surveillance #anarchists #democrats #lgbt #direct action #leftist #ndn #indigenous #lesbian #gay #trans #bisexual #neurodivergent #Feminism #privacy rights #human rights #internet #tumblr #signal boost #desantis #florida #queer #refugees #immigration #threads

[amakumos]

kiss and cry — yang jungwon.

synopsis. At the age of 22, Yang Jungwon wants to retire. The ice, which was what he considered his second home, does not seem as welcoming as it used to be. Figure skating is no longer fun - the sport that he devoted his entire childhood to seems more of a chore, rather than a passion. He claims that this season will be his last as a competitive figure skater - that is, until he meets you, who somehow makes him fall in love with the ice (and you) again.

genre. fluff, slight angst, friends to lovers, slowburn (?), figure skating au

pairing. figure skater! jungwon x figure skater fem! reader

warnings. swearing, mentions of injury, coaching abuse and unhealthy training habits, jungwon is 22, reader is 21, and both compete for south korea. set during the 2025/2026 figure skating season. major character retirement (wait and find out)

word count. 22k

author's note. gosh. am i surprised that the most i've ever written is a figure skating fic? no, not particularly. i was watching so many of yuzuru hanyu's programs while writing this and oh god. only fanyus will understand the immense impact the beat drop into the chsq has in pyc seimei. fucking hell that's powerful. anyways, this fic is my baby and i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it ^_^ here's a playlist u can listen to while reading if you'd like and feel free to lmk what u think!

ONE. negative (goe.)

Where is home to Yang Jungwon?

Jungwon thinks that he has two.

First, he would obviously say his apartment. The plush couch, the comfort of his own bed, and sunlight peeking through the curtains in the morning – Jungwon is comfortable when he is home. 

His second home, albeit a little bit unconventional – is the ice skating rink. His blades gliding against the smooth ice, cool air hitting his face as he skates, the chatter of his training partners ringing in his ears when he’s trying to focus that he finds annoying when he’s trying to focus. 

But his second home seems a little less welcoming and comfortable lately. The passion that he once held for the sport that he loved seems to be diminishing day by day, like a fire that’s almost been put out. 

Jungwon devoted his entire life to this sport. Maybe a little too much of it, even. 

His childhood was seemingly swept away by the ice. Instead of running around the playground, making friends with other children his age, Jungwon was spending hours of his day jumping and spinning, wearing boots with blades on them.

At one point, even falling over on a jump that he’d have to repeat for hours seemed like something he could use as determination. I’ll be able to do it the next time I jump it, was his thought. 

But now, when he falls, all he feels is that he wants to quit. 

Jungwon knows that if he gave up that easily when he was younger, he wouldn’t even be half the figure skater he was today. Standing on top of that podium didn’t bring him the same amount of joy as when he stood there a couple years ago. A small smile would grace his lips, showing courtesy – but deep inside, Jungwon could only describe the feeling he felt as numbness. 

Because what did all these medals truly mean to him? Success brought him joy a couple years ago, but now it only puts pressure on him. 

Pressure to do better. Pressure to get the scores that he deserved. Pressure to show the other skaters that he was better. 

Figure skating is no longer fun for Yang Jungwon. 

The sport feels draining – as if every minute spent skating on that sheet of ice sucked all the energy out of him. The movements that he did with such vigour just a couple years ago now seem sloppy to him, even if they aren’t to the audience. His limbs move around robotically, without elegance or gracefulness. 

Yang Jungwon feels like a robot. 

Programmed to do this quad lutz at a certain moment. Programmed to execute the hydroblade to perfection a few seconds later. Even programmed to smile brightly, holding up the gold medal while standing at the top of the podium when he doesn’t feel a single emotion at all. 

So, Jungwon thinks it’s time to hang up his skates. 

Yes, 22 might be a little too early to end his career as a competitive figure skater, but Jungwon is done. He’s tired of the ice, which is something that he never thought he’d say, or even think. The ice doesn’t bring him joy, and competitions don’t bring the adrenaline and thrill that he’d used to feel. Winning doesn’t make him feel pride. Instead, he feels burdened. 

“Next season will be my last season as a competitive figure skater,” he tells his coach, Irene. 

Irene isn’t shocked. But she’s strongly against Jungwon’s decision. Jungwon knew she’d react like this. 

“You’re so young, Jungwon! You still have a couple of years to go – you can make it to the next Olympics too. You’ll be 26 then, and you can… you know, retire after skating at the biggest stage.” 

“I will be skating at the biggest stage next year, if I make it into the Olympic team. Then, I will be retiring at the biggest stage.” Jungwon tells her, lacing up his skates. Even tying the laces feels frustrating – and Jungwon knows that he truly does not want to do this anymore. 

“But you have to give a reason, Jungwon. I know you’re tired, and you lack passion for skating, but why don’t you just take a break? Maybe you’ll regain your motivation, regain your passion for the sport. You’re already one of the greats – you could be even greater.” 

Irene would consider Jungwon to be her star pupil. He’s stuck with her ever since he swapped coaches when he was 8 – and he’s never spoken a word about wanting to be coached by anyone else. In fact, Jungwon was one of Irene’s first students after she herself retired from competition. Jungwon was her first student to podium internationally, first student to land a quad in competition, and first student to make it to the Olympics in 2022, back when Jungwon was 18. 

He placed 6th. Not bad, for his first ever Olympics. 

Jungwon remembers the day when he was called up to the South Korean Olympic team. All he felt was pride. On every young athlete’s bucket list, being able to compete in the Olympics was at the top of that list, and Jungwon was no exception. He remembers being an emotional wreck, crumpling into tears of joy. The Olympics was a figure skater’s biggest stage. Skating on Olympic ice seemed unreal, until Jungwon found out that he would be doing exactly that. 

Jungwon wants to feel the exact feeling he felt when he skated on Olympic ice. He wants to feel pride, passion, and joy – not emptiness. Jungwon knew that he was competing with the best of the best, and a medal at the Olympics would be incredible, but Jungwon just wanted to skate. The Olympics seemed to be like a mark for him – he’s made it. He’s skated at the biggest stage for an athlete, and no matter the result, he would be grateful and happy that he was able to compete on Olympic ice. 

4 years ago, Jungwon just wanted to skate. 

Now, Jungwon wants to leave the ice behind. 

You could be even greater. Irene’s words have no impact on Jungwon. He doesn’t think he has any desire to become greater. If anything, Jungwon just wants to learn how to love this sport again – but he doesn’t think that he’ll be able to. 

“That’s the problem, Irene. I don’t want to be greater anymore. I’m tired of this. I have no passion in what I do – why would I continue doing something that I don’t love?” 

“Jungwon–”

“I don’t think anything can change my mind, Irene. I’m really done,” he sighs. Jungwon gives his coach a small, sad smile. “So… let’s make the next season great, hmm? I’ll go out with a bang.” 

Irene gives Jungwon a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Okay.” 

“I have music ideas already,” Jungwon says, and Irene nods. “Tell me what you have in mind, and we can go through it with Taemin.”

“I was thinking for the short program, A Walk In The Skies by Joe Hisaishi. From the Howl’s Moving Castle soundtrack, and for the free, World Dreams. Also by Joe Hisaishi. A couple fans from a few years back told me that they’d like to see me skate to those songs, so… I’ve decided I will. They gave me a list of other options, but… I like these two the best.” 

“Okay. I’ll talk with Taemin about them.” Irene says, and Jungwon notices the look on his coach’s face. He knows that she’s not happy with his decision, because Irene’s never really liked people who give up. Jungwon thinks that to her, his decision seems to be as if he’s saying that he’s giving up. 

In one way, he is. But now that Jungwon thinks about it, does he have any other goals in this sport? He’s won Nationals. He’s won Grand Prix Final. He’s won Four Continents. He’s won Worlds. He’s been to the Olympics. The one thing he hasn’t done is win an Olympic medal, and maybe he’ll be able to do it next season. But Jungwon thinks that he’s checked off most of the boxes on his figure skating career goal list, and combined with the fact that he’s simply got no love for the sport left, he thinks hanging up his skates is the best idea. 

He gives Irene an apologetic look, even though he feels like he doesn’t really have to apologise for anything. He then makes his way onto the rink, skating a few laps around to warm up. 

He skates his program from last season as practice, first jumping a quad salchow that he lands cleanly. The sound of the blades scratching the surface of the ice no longer brings him comfort, but Jungwon continues skating around the rink as he enters into a back counter triple axel, landing it cleanly as well. 

Jungwon executes the rest of the elements well, with no falls or underrotations on his jumps. He presses his lips into a thin line when he finishes skating his program, putting his hands on his hips as he sighs. 

“That was good.” Irene said. “Gold medal worthy.” 

“Thanks.” Jungwon replies. He would usually feel nothing but joy when Irene would compliment his skating like that. 

But Jungwon finds that a gold medal is something he does not desire anymore. 

TWO. triple double camel spin axel 

The off-season is great. 

The pressure of competition is gone, and you’re able to rest without intense preparation and training for a couple weeks before you’re back to your usual routine. 

You do decide to head to the rink today though, just so you can get in some skating time with your new coach. 

Irene Bae was your idol growing up. When you saw her skate at the Olympics from the comfort of your own home at the age of 4, you knew that you wanted to be like her. Graceful and elegant, yet powerful and strong on the ice.

Your parents enrolled you in skating classes at the age of 3, and it was like the ice was practically calling your name. Your first coach, Hyuna, had told your parents that you had talent — and encouraged them to let you continue skating. 

And so you did. As the years went by, what your first coach said proved to be true — you did have talent. You won medal after medal, and you were said to be a rising star. 

So when the opportunity arose for you to be coached by none other than your idol, you of course had to take it. 

When she complimented you on your skating, you nearly screamed. Having the person you’ve admired for your whole life telling you that you were doing great gave you a huge confidence boost — and you’d like to think that her words encouraged you and made you do even better than you usually did during your free skate at Worlds.

Being coached by the Irene Bae seemed surreal. She won one silver, one bronze medal at the Olympics, was a 2 time worlds winner and a six-time national champion. She was even known for being an incredible coach, coaching skaters like Yang Jungwon, and Kim Jiwon — who would now be your training mates.

You feel nothing but excitement when you enter the Taereung International Skating Rink, and you hear the sound of blades across ice that brings a smile to your lips. You see Irene, standing rinkside with her arms crossed, and skating on the rink, is Yang Jungwon.

Yang Jungwon’s made quite a name for himself in the last few years. 6th at the 2022 Olympics, a great finish for someone who was only 18 at the time. He also just won Worlds, and was a five-time national champion. 

Yang Jungwon is an incredible skater. His movements on the ice are as fluid and soft as water, but when he jumps, he’s incredibly powerful, like a rocket taking off. You’ve seen many people say that Jungwon’s one of the few ‘complete skaters’ — those who can combine artistry with jumping seem to be extremely rare nowadays. 

He’s one of those skaters that can get you mesmerised the second he steps onto the ice, and when he finishes his program, loud applause resounds throughout the arena, with tons of people throwing cat plushies onto the ice.

Jungwon is incredibly talented. Thinking about the fact that you two are going to be training mates brings a smile to your face — all the conversations you’ve had with Jungwon went quite well. You remember his pleasant voice and his kind smile, the one where his eyes crinkle into crescents and could make anyone swoon. 

You make your way over to Irene, who turns her head and greets you with a kind smile when she sees you. “(Name)!” she beams, wrapping you in a hug. “Nice to see you.” 

“It’s nice to see you too, Irene!” you say, and she smiles at you. “I’m excited to be working with you.” she tells you, and her words just fill you up with joy.

“Thank you so much,” you beam. “I’m excited to be coached by you.” A smile graces Irene’s lips at your words. “Jungwon’s on the ice right now, with Taemin. He’s just learning the last part of his choreography for his short program for next season.” she tells you, and you nod.

“Jiwon’s gone for lunch break, and Eunchae and Jongseob should be somewhere around here… you can go meet with them and say hi later.” 

“Sounds good.” 

“Irene!” Taemin, the choreographer, calls out to her. “Jungwon’s got this. He’ll absolutely kill it.” 

You notice how Irene and Taemin’s smiles seem wider than Jungwon’s when Taemin says that. The smile plastered on Jungwon’s lips barely reaches his eyes. 

“Why don’t you go lace up your skates? You and Jungwon can share the rink.” Irene suggests to you, and you nod. You find a seat, pulling out your skates from your skate bag as you take your regular sports shoes off, slipping into your skating boots. You tie the laces incredibly quickly — after all, you have been doing this for years.

You take off your skate guards, leaving them on the bench as you skate onto the rink, skating laps to warm yourself up as you put your gloves on. 

Somewhere along the way, you find yourself accompanied by Jungwon, who catches up to you. “Hey,” he says. “Heard that Irene’s coaching you now.” 

“Yeah,” you beam. “We’ll be training mates from now on, huh?” you say, and Jungwon nods. “Saw you practicing your short program for next season… you’ve started quite early. Howl’s Moving Castle soundtrack?” 

“Mhm,” Jungwon says. “I like to get started earlier, so I’m more familiar with it when it’s time to compete. Do you have any ideas for the music you might skate to?” 

“Oh, I’ve got no idea. My friend told me to skate to Bolero, though.” you say, and you see Jungwon grimace at your words. You let out a loud laugh that makes Jungwon chuckle. “Bolero? Really?” he asks.

“Riki knows nothing about figure skating, but I think he goes on Twitter to find what music people hate seeing skaters skate to the most… Bolero is definitely one of them, which is probably why he recommended it to me.” you laugh. “Once he even asked me if I could do a ‘triple double camel spin axel’. Like what in the world is that?” 

Your words make Jungwon burst into laughter, and you think it’s one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard.

“A triple double camel spin axel? Your friend might just have invented a new jump.” he quips, and you nod. “Are you ready for the Olympics next year?” he asks you, and you shake your head.

“Who says I’ll make it?” 

“Of course you’ll make it. Your skating’s great.” Jungwon says, and you thank him. “You’ll definitely make it. To next year and the one after. You’ll probably make it to the one in 2034 too.” 

“Hah, that’s funny. But no, I won’t be making it to the 2030 or the 2034 one. It’s probably nice to think about, though.” Jungwon replies. 

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “What? Why? I mean... maybe 2034 is a bit of a stretch, but surely the 2030 one.” 

“I’m retiring after this season.” 

Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets at his words. Yang Jungwon was going to retire? At the age of 22? Was he joking? 

You almost can’t believe it.

“What? Why?” 

“I don’t like skating anymore.” he hums, and he says it so casually. “It’s more of a chore now, rather than something I love. I guess I fell out of love with the ice.”

You can somewhat understand how he feels. You had burnout too, but you never got to the point where you wanted to quit. You just wanted to take a break, to refresh your mind and to take care of your health and body. 

But Jungwon sounds like he’s determined to quit. As if nothing will get him to change his mind.

“What would it take for you to fall back in love with it?” you ask.

Jungwon shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t think anything would be able to change my mind at this point. Skating is just so incredibly… draining. I want to enjoy it as much as I used to, but I just don’t think I can continue competing.” 

He sounds like he’s truly given up hope on finding love for the sport again, and it makes your heart ache. Yang Jungwon is undoubtedly one of the best figure skaters you’ve ever seen, and to see him possibly end his career because he just simply ran out of love for the sport saddens you. 

And for some reason, you want to try and get him to fall back in love with the ice again. 

So with a sudden burst of confidence and determination, you decide to ask him: “Are you free any time next week?” 

Jungwon looks at you, puzzled. “Yes?”

“I’m going to try and get you to fall back in love with the ice.”

“(Name), I’ve made up my mind—” 

“That’s fine. I just want you to enjoy skating again. No competition, just having fun. You know, I was in the audience the day you won the Grand Prix final two years ago. You looked so, so, incredibly happy — I want you to feel the same feeling you felt when you were skating on that ice.” 

Jungwon looks at you hesitantly. “You’d do that for me?” 

You nod. “We can get to know each other better too. What do you say?” 

Jungwon pauses for a moment to think. 

“Sure.”

You beam at him. “Cool. I’ll give you my number after practice and we can make arrangements.” 

Jungwon nods, and you two end your conversation there, focusing on training instead. 

As you land a clean triple salchow-triple toeloop on the ice, you add a new goal to your bucket list.

Get Yang Jungwon to fall in love with figure skating again.

THREE. seal skating aid

You meet up with Jungwon two days later at a public skating rink with a bright smile on your face. 

He looks confused when he sees the amount of people who have come to the rink today. “How are we supposed to skate with this many people here?” 

You smile, lacing up your skates. “We can still skate. We just can’t jump.” 

Jungwon looks hesitantly at you. “But skating laps is boring,” he says. “How am I going to fall back in love with skating like this?” 

“Because,” you say. “This was how you first fell in love with it as a kid. You didn’t know how to jump, how to spin, or how to do spirals. Sometimes doing simple things, such as just skating around the rink can be fun. There’s no pressure of needing to execute certain elements properly — look at everyone skating here today. They’re just here to have fun.” 

Jungwon looks at the people skating on the rink. There’s a bunch of couples, holding hands as they enjoy their date. There’s also lots of kids taking classes, learning how to balance on their skates just like he did when he was younger. There’s also two or three people who do seem like they’re good skaters, and Jungwon spots one of them doing a Biellmann spin right in the middle of the rink. 

And you are right. This was what the first rink Jungwon stepped on looked like. The rink he skated on wasn’t as busy as this, but sure enough, there were couples, kids that were learning to skate, and people like the girl doing the Biellmann spin was what made him think that he wanted to be able to do something like that. 

You motion for Jungwon to join you as you step onto the ice, and he does. You two skate around the rink slowly — much slower than Jungwon is used to. He sees a couple of young kids who seemingly recognise you and him, pointing you two out to their friends.

“You’re famous,” he says, chuckling. “You’re more famous, Mr Placed 6th In The Olympics.” you reply, and he shakes his head. 

“It’s still 6th. Not a podium finish.” he says, and you sigh. “6th is crazy good for an 18 year old. Plus, you were competing with the greatest of the greats.” 

“That’s true, I suppose.” Jungwon muses. “I’ll just do better this year. Might as well go out with a bang, hmm?” 

“I guess so.” you say. 

Jungwon looks around him, seeing little kids who are seemingly learning how to skate for the first time struggle with their balance. He discreetly motions for them to put their arms out and bend their knees, to which they do. They seem to balance a lot better, and Jungwon gives them a soft smile.

Those kids remind him of himself when he was first learning how to skate. A helmet perched on his head with his knee and elbow guards on, and rental skates that Jungwon would never even dare to wear now. He ran onto the ice, falling over — then getting back up. Falling over, then getting back up.

When it comes to skating, Jungwon now feels like he’s fallen. And he can’t seem to just muster the strength to get himself back up. 

Perhaps you will be able to get him to ignite the passion that he had for figure skating once again, but there’s a chance that it won’t happen. 

Jungwon realised that it hurts to fall out of love with the very thing you sacrificed your entire life for. His childhood was spent at the rink, doing the one thing he knew best — skating. Now that he realises his passion for the sport has crumbled away, all he can ask himself is: was it worth it?

Jungwon wants to say yes. But he isn't quite sure if he believes that now, considering that the ice no longer feels like home.

“You’re thinking a lot.” you hum, and Jungwon nods. “I was just thinking about… how I started.

You motion for him to go on.

“I used to love skating. I loved it more than anything,” Jungwon says, staring at the ice. He once said that the boots on his feet somehow felt molded to his body, since he wore them so much. But now, these exact boots are uncomfortable — they are suffocating, and Jungwon knows that when he's under the pressure of competition, he’ll want nothing more than to take them off. “But now, I just feel emptiness. And I’m just thinking… what could’ve gone wrong?”

“I don’t think anything went wrong,” you reply. “I think you pushed too hard. Like you said, you devoted your entire life to this sport. Even the brightest of flames burn out. You just have to find the thing that’ll be able to light it back up again.” 

“That’s poetic.” Jungwon says. “Being a poet was my backup career option, if this whole… skating on knife boots thing didn’t work out.” you quip, and Jungwon cracks a smile.

“This conversation got deep,” Jungwon says. “Sorry for bringing the mood down. I know we’re here to have fun.” he says, and you shrug. “It’s alright. Maybe letting out your feelings about it will help too,” you say. 

“Maybe,” Jungwon says. “But I think I’ve been thinking about them too much lately. I need to try and rid myself of these emotions, because I’ll just end up overthinking and I’ll end up spiralling.” 

You nod. “That’s fair.”

You then spot a seal shaped skating aid, and you look at Jungwon with a twinkle in your eye. You skate a little faster to get to it, and you bring it back to where Jungwon’s standing, and you motion for him to sit down.

“What?” Jungwon asks, confused.

“Sit down!” you beam. “I’ll push you around the rink.” 

Jungwon reluctantly sits down, burying his face in his hands out of embarrassment. He feels like he’s 4 years old, with his sister pushing him around the rink. But he also remembers how fun it was, the cool air hitting his face as loud music played from the speakers in the rink. Christmas music, Jungwon remembered it being.

“I’m gonna push you now,” you say, and Jungwon nods. You start skating, and you begin to skate faster — your blades scratch across the surface of the ice as a small smile begins to make its way across Jungwon’s lips.

Jungwon never thought skating laps could be so… fun. It’s like he forgot this feeling — skating with no jumps, no spins, no spirals. Just moving forward. It was so simple.

Simple is fun, Jungwon realises.

Simply skating forwards seems more exciting than the intricate movements he has to make. He doesn’t need to worry about possibly falling on a quad, he doesn’t need to worry about underrotating a jump, or getting an edge call — he can just skate. 

“Wait,” Jungwon suddenly says, and then you stop.

“Let me push you,” he says, getting up. You nod, plopping yourself down onto the seat as Jungwon grips the handle on the skating aid, which is shaped like a seal’s tail.

Jungwon starts skating, pushing the skating aid forward. He skates around the rink, moving faster with each lap he makes, and you put your hands up as if you’re riding a rollercoaster.

“This is fun, isn’t it?” you ask.

Yes, Jungwon thinks. This is quite fun. 

Despite just skating laps in a public skating rink, Jungwon thinks this might be the most fun he’s had on the rink in the last year.

FOUR. one ice show, two realisations

You see Jungwon two days later at the rink. 

He waves at you from the ice, taking a sip from his water bottle. His phone pings with a message, and he picks it up to view the text.

His fingers fly over the screen as he types a response while you lace up your skates. “Who’s texting?” you ask, skating onto the rink.

“Oh, just Yuzu.” 

“You’re talking about two-time Olympic gold medalist Yuzuru Hanyu?” you ask, and Jungwon nods. “Yeah. We’re friends.” he says, placing his phone back onto the bench. 

“What’d he say?” you ask — you don’t mean to be nosy, but Jungwon seems more than comfortable with telling you what the Japanese figure skater had texted him about. “Fantasy on Ice,” Jungwon replies. “The organisers wanted to reach out to me and ask me to join them on the tour, so he probably texted to give me a heads up.” 

“You should definitely do it, Jungwon!” you smile, and Jungwon purses his lips. “I don’t know.” he says, and he seems hesitant to accept Yuzuru’s offer.

You cross your arms. “Remember, it’s not a competition. Ice shows are meant to be fun. It doesn’t matter if the performance isn’t perfect — as long as you're having fun, and the audience is having fun, then that’s all that matters.” 

“Right.” he gulps. “I just haven’t done an ice show in a while.” 

“It’ll be a good experience to have, Jungwon. You can get rid of the pressure to prepare everything for next season and just enjoy skating, and you can go make new friends too.” you say, and Jungwon seems to consider it.

“I only have one gala program prepared.”

“Choreograph a new one.”

“Taemin’s busy.” 

“You don’t have to ask Taemin. Choreograph one yourself.” you suggest, and Jungwon furrows his eyebrows. “I don’t know how to do that.” 

“Jungwon, you’re an artist. You can come up with something.”

“It’ll be bad.” 

“Have some confidence in yourself,” you say, patting his shoulder. “You won’t know if you’re good or bad at it until you try, right?” 

Jungwon gulps again. “Right.” 

“So are you going to take up Hanyu’s offer?” 

Jungwon shrugs. “Maybe.” 

“Make that maybe a yes,” you say. “Really, skating in an ice show might help you enjoy skating again. Trust me. The crowd hypes you up, the skaters are all supportive, and it’s just a really nice environment to be in.”

Jungwon ponders the idea for a moment. Maybe he should really do this ice show. He hasn’t performed in a non-competition capacity in a while, excluding the galas after competitions. Now that he thinks about it, it seems nice to skate without the pressure of competition.

But the little voice in his head tells him that he absolutely needs to work on his programs next season. He wants to go out with a bang — he can’t do that if he’s underprepared.

Then your voice rings in his head. Fuck it, he hears you say.

A few shows can’t possibly hinder his performance that much. And it’s not like he won’t get any practice time in, and he’s already learnt the choreography for both programs… so it shouldn’t be a problem… right? 

Jungwon wants to love skating again. 

Maybe an ice show is the second step out of many in his quest to possibly find his love for skating again.

“Okay.” he says, picking up his phone. He moves his thumb over Yuzuru’s contact, typing an ‘I’d be interested’ before sending it without hesitation. You look pleasantly surprised, a smile on your lips as he places down his phone before looking at you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, the corner of his lips quirking up into a small grin. 

“Nothing,” you say, looking down at your skates. “I’m just happy you’re trying to regain your passion for this sport.”

Jungwon hums. “Yes. I hope I will be able to.” 

“I hope you can too.” you say. “This ice show might help you change your mind.” 

“I just wanted to ask you — why did you offer to help me try and love the ice again?” he asks, and you purse your lips. 

This conversation is not an easy one to have, you think. 

“I guess it’s because I’ve been through something similar,” you start. “There’s a whole backstory to this, so I might as well tell you. I was 13 when I started being coached by Seo Minju.”

When you brought up Seo Minju, Jungwon knew that what you were about to say was not going to be pleasant at all. A couple of friends Jungwon had were also coached by Seo Minju, and had ended up getting multiple injuries — and some even had to retire early. 

“I trained… way too much, to say the least. More than you do now. I was breaking my body and my mind from the inside out, training even though I was — excuse my language — fucking exhausted. There was a point where in the middle of JGP Courchevel, I felt like I’d black out after I did a triple axel.” you say, and pressing your lips together in a thin line as you relive the memories that you’ve always wanted to forget. 

“And I was in so much pain. I don’t know how I still trained with that much pain — I guess it was Seo who tried to make me keep going. Then one day… I just fractured my ankle,” you gulp, as Jungwon looks at you with his eyebrows knitted together, and his eyes seem to be watery. 

“The doctors said my career could have ended. That was the most terrifying thing to hear as a 14 year old kid. I had to rest, heal, and I couldn’t be on the ice for months. I swapped coaches, almost immediately after I got the diagnosis. And when I was told that I could go back onto the ice again, I was fucking terrified. I was scared that one wrong move would end my entire career for good.”

You sigh. “It took me months to heal. I still loved the ice — but my fear of it seemed stronger than my love for it. I had to relearn new techniques, get back my triples… that’s why I disappeared for a whole season. And when I managed to become comfortable with the ice again, I kind of just started thinking in a different perspective. I guess I kind of just want you to maybe think of the sport differently than the way you see it now. Because at the end of the day, when we decided to start, it was because we loved it, right?” 

Jungwon finds that a tear trickles down his cheek after you finish speaking. “Don’t cry,” you say, a frown on your face. “I’m okay now.” 

“I’m so sorry.” he says, and you smile. “It’s okay. I just kind of always have to remember to take more care of this ankle right here,” you say, pointing to your right ankle. “My problem child.” you quip, trying to lighten the mood.

Jungwon’s only gotten to know you better in the past few weeks, but he thinks that you’re the most incredible and most admirable person he’s ever met. And the fact that you would go out of your way to try and help him enjoy skating again — it makes warmth bloom across Jungwon’s chest and fills him with nothing but happiness. 

He thinks he’ll be eternally grateful for you.

“Come here,” he says, arms held out to pull you in a hug. You skate closer to him, and he wraps his arms around you, and you do the same, wrapping your arms around him.. Jungwon’s hugs are comforting, and you feel nothing but warmth despite you both standing in the middle of an ice skating rink.

He smells like fresh linen, you realise.

You also realise that you don’t really want to let go.

FIVE. spiralling 

You receive a message from the Fantasy On Ice organisers a few days later as well, asking if you’d like to join them on tour.

Of course you say yes.

Jungwon seems more cheerful lately. His mood dampens a little bit when he’s on the ice, but it seems barely noticeable to Jiwon and Jongseob — maybe you're just extra attentive when it comes to him.

Jungwon will admit that he is feeling a little bit better. Skating to a program that he knows he doesn’t have to compete with is freeing, fun even. But the little devil on his shoulder keeps pestering him, telling him that he has to focus on next season’s programs.  

Jungwon tells the devil to fuck off.

He heads back to his apartment, the weight on his shoulders slightly less heavy than it was a couple weeks ago. He thinks that maybe, just maybe, he might get to love skating again.

When he opens the door, he’s surprised by his cousin, Wonyoung, who stands in front of the door with balloons in her hands. “Congrats on your Worlds win!” 

She pulls Jungwon in for a hug. “You’re two weeks late, Wonyo.” he jokes, and Wonyoung scoffs. “I texted you, because I was in Paris and I couldn’t come watch you.”

“I know, I know.” Jungwon says, putting his skate bag away before he flops on the couch, Wonyoung sitting next to him. “How’s skating?” she asks.

“Terrible,” Jungwon responds. “Well, not entirely. But 90% terrible.” 

Wonyoung looks surprised. “What? You just won a major competition though.”

“Yeah. I guess. But it’s not exactly fun anymore,” Jungwon sighs, and Wonyoung frowns. “I feel way too much pressure to be perfect. Every day of my life, it’s just training, training, training — I feel like I know nothing outside of figure skating.” 

Jungwon’s phone rings, and he furrows his eyebrows before pulling his phone out of his pocket and checking the caller ID. It’s Jangmi, his older sister.

“Hello?” Jungwon says, putting his sister on speaker mode. 

“Why did we have to find out from Irene that you’re retiring?” Jangmi’s tone does not seem happy, and Wonyoung, who’s sitting beside him, seems shocked. 

Jungwon sits up properly, frowning at his sister’s words. “Because I didn’t think that it was any of your business at the time, and probably because I would’ve told you when I was ready?” he replies. “Why do you sound so angry?” 

“You’re like… 22. You’re way too young to retire.” 

“I don’t think that’s for you to decide, Jangmi.” Jungwon says, sighing. 

“Why are you even retiring anyways? It’s not like you’re injured or anything.” she says, and Jungwon frowns. “I just don’t love the sport anymore, Jangmi. I should be able to retire when I want to, and I think that I want to.” 

“All because you don’t love the sport? You’re throwing away all those years of your training because you don’t love it anymore? You’re just finding an excuse to quit, Jungwon — and you know our family doesn’t like quitters.”

Jangmi’s words make Jungwon fume. He’s furious, and Wonyoung can tell from the way his expression immediately changes from frustration to one of pure anger. 

“You would never understand, Jangmi. I sacrificed my entire childhood for this sport and I wish I fucking knew why I fell out of love with it but I just don’t know why, okay? I wish I could just suddenly start fucking love skating like I did when I was 4, but that’s not possible! I’ve gotten to the point where I simply just cannot continue because I’m not going to spend my days being miserable doing something that I don’t love.” Jungwon’s hands tremble as he holds his phone, tears welling in his eyes and Wonyoung pats his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him — it does not seem to work at all.

“Do your medals and titles really mean nothing to you? Do they not give you motivation to keep going? You’re literally Yang Jungwon, Olympian, 2025 World Champion, and a 5 time national champion!”

“They seem to mean more to you than they do to me.” Jungwon says.

“Jungwon, you can’t give up.”

“But I can.” 

“Jungwon—”

“Jangmi, I’m really not in the mood for this right now. Call me when you can accept my decision.” Jungwon says, before hanging up. He sighs, leaning his head back on the headrest of his couch.

He blinks away the tears in his eyes, and he lets out a loud sigh.

“Are you okay?” Wonyoung asks, even if she knows that her cousin is anything but okay.

“I’ll manage.” Jungwon replies, and Wonyoung gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Jungwon gives her a stiff smile. 

None of them say a word for a while, sitting in silence until Jungwon suddenly speaks up. “I just don’t know how this happened.” 

“What?” Wonyoung asks. 

“How I managed to start disliking the one thing I swore I’d love my whole life. I spent my entire life, I sacrificed my entire life just to get here… and now that I am here, I find that I suddenly hate skating. The passion I used to have seems like it just disappeared into thin air.” 

“What Jangmi said was wrong.” Wonyoung says. “It’s your career. Do whatever you want.” 

“But now that I think about it, do I really want to retire?” Jungwon lets out a sad laugh. “I was telling my friend, (Name), that I wanted to love skating again. Maybe that’s just all I want.” 

Jangmi’s phone call somehow really struck a chord within Jungwon. He knew that his sister only cared about his titles — it’s been like that since they were kids. Saying I’m figure skater Yang Jungwon’s sister somehow gave her an automatic “cool” pass. Then it became national champion Yang Jungwon. Then, Olympian Yang Jungwon.

Figure skating is all Jungwon’s ever known. Saying that he wants to retire seems easy enough when he knows he hates what he does. But when his last competition rolls around, Jungwon knows that leaving the ice might be the most difficult thing he’s had to do, ever.

Jungwon might hate the sport he’s sacrificed his life for, but what he hates more is that he allowed himself to start hating it.

SIX. rental skates

After a few weeks of practising your gala performance and a little bit of your programs for next season, you and Jungwon are headed to Japan for Fantasy On Ice.

Jungwon hasn’t exactly been in the best mood lately. You’ve tried to cheer him up, and it works sometimes, but he still looks exhausted and tired of it whenever he steps on the ice.

You hope the ice show will make him feel better. Sometimes performing to an upbeat and supportive crowd can help cheer people up (at least that’s what it’s like for you.)

You’ve given him supportive comments while you’re watching him rehearse his program for the show, and you manage to get him to crack small smiles while he’s skating — you know he’ll have to take this one step at a time.

You two are seated beside each other on the plane, and Jungwon settles into his seat comfortably, headphones propped on his head over a baseball cap.

“Are you feeling okay?” you ask him, and he shrugs. “I haven’t participated in an ice show for a while. I really don’t know what to expect…. so I’m a bit worried.” he replies.

“Don’t worry. Ice shows are meant to just be for fun,” you say. “Skating is something you should enjoy with the audience.”

Your take is interesting. All his life, Jungwon has just been aiming for the medals — he never thought about how he was feeling while he skated. It was as if his mind was blank, only knowing that he had to do this certain element at this certain time. 

Because getting medals was what would bring him joy, right? 

That was what Jungwon used to think. 

“Mhm.” he replies. 

He doesn’t know why his sister’s words from weeks ago are still stuck in his mind. He goes quiet, lips downturned into a small frown that you notice. 

“How’d you start liking the sport?” you ask Jungwon, noticing his mood to seemingly be less than pleasant. Maybe your question will help him take his mind off whatever’s been bugging him.

“My sister’s birthday party. We all went to the ice rink together. I remember just running onto the ice, and I fell a couple times. There was this one learn to skate class being held during it, and I just saw other kids my age having so much fun. Then, I saw this one girl do a Biellmann, and she did some double jumps too. And I thought — how cool would it be if I could do that?” he says, and he smiles a little when he thinks about those good memories.

“What about you?” he asks, taking a sip from his water bottle as the pilot notifies everyone that they’re about to take off.

“My parents just signed me up for skating lessons. But then I ended up really loving it after my first class.” you reply, and Jungwon nods.

“Now that I think about it, classes were really fun for me when I was a kid.” Jungwon says, and you crack a small smile. “We should do a learn to skate class for jokes,” you say, and Jungwon chuckles. “The coach would definitely ask us what we’re doing there. They’d be so confused.” he replies. 

“Let’s wear rental skates.” 

“Oh, god no.” Jungwon grimaces at the thought. “I swear the blades at the rink haven’t been sharpened for years.” 

“You should try a triple in rental skates,” you joke, and Jungwon makes a face, wincing. “I can already feel the pain from that… I’d most definitely fall and injure myself.” 

“No, you’d be good, Mr 2025 World Champion.” 

“You try it, Ms 2025 Grand Prix Final winner.” 

Jungwon thinks that he feels the most comfortable when he’s around you. It takes him a bit to warm up to people, but you two had formed a close relationship practically the minute you guys became training mates. Talking to you is easy, and fun – he doesn’t think he’s had a good laugh on the rink in years, and Jungwon realises that skating is more fun when you’re around.

Goofing around on the rink, taking practices seriously but also not at the same time is something that seems new to Jungwon, at least in the last few years. So seeing you find joy in practice, which is something he hasn’t been able to do for years, makes him think that maybe he could do that too. 

You encourage him, as well, pulling him into your antics that make Jongseob, Jiwon and Eunchae laugh. Slowly but surely, all your training mates seem to realise that Jungwon’s loosening up – he allows himself to have fun on the rink, and he allows himself to take breaks.

During a conversation between Jongseob, Jiwon and Eunchae, Jiwon had mentioned that she thought that Jungwon would probably fall in love with you. 

“She seems to make him happy,” was what she said. She’s not wrong, too – everyone’s noticed the way Jungwon seems to seem livelier and happier lately. Jongseob remembers the way Jungwon seemed to be constantly stressed, eyebrows almost always knitted together in worry, and never-ending sighs escaping past his lips. 

Jungwon’s love for skating hasn’t fully returned yet, but he thinks that he’s starting to like it a little again. It’s not as draining as it was before, and perhaps it’s because you’ve taught him that above all, skating should be fun. Jungwon allows himself to have fun on the ice for the first time in a couple of years, and when he glides across the ice with not a single ounce of worrying about him needing to prove that he’s the best, all he feels is relief. 

And he would be eternally grateful for you. For teaching him how to have fun on the ice again. To let go of all the pressure that’s been on his shoulders for years, and just to enjoy the sport.

Gold medals and countless titles might have brought him fulfilment years ago. But now, he thinks that simply just skating would bring the same amount of fulfilment, if not maybe even more.

SEVEN. side by side (quad toe)

Ice show practices are fun. 

Everyone’s got a smile on their faces. The first thing Jungwon notices is how warm and welcoming everyone is. The minute he walks into the rink alongside you, he’s welcomed with a hug from Harua, a figure skater from Japan that he remembers having a few nice conversations with during competitions. 

“It’s nice to see you again!” Harua beams. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” Jungwon replies, even though he saw him at Worlds just a few months ago. “I know right?” Harua says. “I’m glad you’re joining us this year, though! I remember the organisers wanted to see if you wanted to join us last year, but Irene told them you were busy.” 

Jungwon brushes his bangs out of his eyes. “Yeah, I was busy during the off-season last year. Preparing for competitions, you know… I thought I’d have a break from that and just join you guys this year.” 

“Mhm,” Harua nods, and he hears his name being called out by someone. “I think I’ve got to run along, but it was nice seeing you! It’ll be lots of fun. Nice seeing you too as well, (Name)! Let’s talk more later.” 

Harua runs off, as you give Jungwon an amused smile. “You guys seem close.” 

“We’re not super close… we’ve just talked to each other a couple times at competitions. He’s a really nice guy, though.” Jungwon says, taking his skates out of his skate bag. He looks at the rink, and there are a few skaters he recognises just warming up. 

“He does seem really nice.” you hum, sitting down next to him as you take your skates out from your bag as well.

“You ready?” he asks, standing up. You quickly finish lacing up your right boot before nodding. “Let’s go,” you say, linking arms with him as you lead him towards the rink.

You do it so casually that Jungwon needs a few seconds to process the action. He doesn’t know why his face starts feeling warm, and he doesn’t want you to let go of his arm.

The funniest thing is, the minute he thinks that, you let go, placing your hands into the pocket of your jacket.

“Hey, let’s do a side by side jump.” you suggest, and Jungwon nods. “Triple?” he asks, and you shake your head. “Nah, let’s do a quad. Quad toe?”

“Sure.” he says, and he starts skating, doing backward crossovers on the ice. “Should I count? How do pairs do this?” you say, as you skate beside him.

“Just count,” he says. 

“Okay, one, two, three.”

And you both take off, spinning four revolutions in the air before landing, completely synchronised. You look at Jungwon with a huge smile on your face, giving him a high five. “Nice.” you say.

“That was good.” Jungwon says, patting you on the shoulder. “New pairs team in the making!” you two hear Jongseob joke, and Jungwon lets out a chuckle. 

You tell Jungwon that you’re going to practise your gala program for a bit, and he nods as he watches you skate off. You glide gracefully across the ice, Jungwon admiring how beautiful your jumps and spins are.

He doesn’t realise that his expression is one of awe until Harua points it out. “You look very enamoured, Jungwon.” he smirks, and Jungwon immediately snaps out of it.

“Huh… what?” he asks, almost as if he’s in a daze. He blinks a couple times, and Harua only chuckles. “Do you like (Name)?

“Of course I like (Name). She’s my friend.” he says, completely clueless to what Harua’s hinting at. “No, no, I mean like… in a romantic way.” 

A romantic way?

It might sound a little crazy, but Jungwon does not think he’s ever had a crush on someone in his 22 years of walking on this planet. Skating was his number one priority — love wasn’t anywhere on his list of priorities. In fact, Jungwon doesn’t even think he’s thought about love at all.

So Jungwon isn’t quite sure how to tell if his feelings for you are romantic or not, because he simply just doesn’t know what having a crush feels like. He knows that you linking arms with him was nice. He knows that he didn’t want you to let go of his arm.

Was that the first sign of a crush?

Jungwon truly didn’t know.

He scratches the nape of his neck awkwardly. “I don't… think so.” he replies, but it comes out sounding more like a question, and Harua only smiles at him, amused.

“Cool. Cool… tell me that next year when you two are dating.” the boy says, and Jungwon raises an eyebrow. “We’re not going to… what?”

“You seem much happier when you’re around her, you know.” Harua says, earnestly. “At Worlds, you didn’t seem very happy. You seemed tense, as if you were always burdened by something.” 

“But now, you seem like you’re feeling better. You’re smiling again.” Harua says, and Jungwon takes a few seconds to process his words. 

“She… she’s trying to get me to like skating again.” Jungwon says, and Harua lets out a knowing ‘ah’. “I guess I have started liking skating more again… because she’s helped me learn to have fun.”

“That’s good. See, your relationship is like a whole Netflix movie plot.” Harua quips.

“I really don’t see the vision you’re trying to paint in my head, Harua.” Jungwon says, and Harua shrugs. “Just think about your feelings when you’re around her. I guess if you feel like… warm, and happy when she’s around, you like her? Or if you think about her a lot. Or if you want to kiss her, I don’t know. You should Google it. Ask Google how to tell if you like someone, or something. You know it has all the answers.” 

Jungwon’s drawn to two parts of what Harua just said. One, the part being that Harua told him to ask Google how to tell if you liked someone, and two, the part where he told Jungwon to think about whether he wanted to kiss you. 

Jungwon’s not going to Google to ask for relationship advice. 

And Jungwon also doesn’t know if he wants to kiss you or not. He doesn’t even know if he likes you romantically, either. All he knows is that you make him happy. Much happier than he used to be.

But when you skate up to him with a bright smile on your face, Jungwon feels his heart beat faster than it was just a few seconds ago. And he knows it’s not because he’s tired from skating, because after all, he has been standing still while talking to Harua.

Maybe he does like you. 

Just a little bit.

EIGHT. let me entertain you

Tonight is the first show of Fantasy on Ice for this year, and you’re bursting with excitement. 

You get dressed into the costume for the opening, and you raise an eyebrow when you see the dress. It’s not… terrible, but it’s not something you’d wear at all.

You leave the dressing room, looking into the mirror as you tilt your head. You walk towards the hair and makeup area, where Jungwon’s getting his hair done.

“Do I look okay?” 

Jungwon thinks his heart skips a beat. 

The costume is... alright, but that’s the case with Fantasy On Ice costumes every year. But, you make it look really, really good. Unconsciously, a smile makes its way to his lips, and you take it as a good sign.

“You look great.” he says, and you smile. 

“Thank you, Won!” 

You just called him a nickname. His smile seemingly gets wider as you scurry off, being called for your own hair and makeup to be done. 

“Do you see what I mean, Jungwon?” Harua says, sitting in the chair beside him. “I really don’t.” Jungwon replies.

“You two are definitely going to fall in love. I’ve got great matchmaking skills.” Harua smirks.

“Who’s falling in love?” Yuzuru asks, overhearing Harua’s words, and Jungwon buries his face in his hands. “Jungwon! And… (Name).” Harua says your voice very quietly, in fear that you might hear him.

“Oh?” Yuzuru says, wiggling his eyebrows. “You guys would be cute together. Did you guys get closer recently?” 

“Mhm,” Jungwon nods. “I don’t think I'm… in love though.”

“You’re married to the ice like Yuzu, huh?” Harua quips. “I said I wanted someone who would benefit my skating or be very supportive of it.” Yuzuru replies.

“Elsa.” 

“Enough.” 

“No, but I just haven’t thought about love, you know?” Jungwon says. “Skating takes up my whole life… I don’t exactly have the time to think about it.”

“Valid.” Yuzuru hums. “But seriously, you two would actually be really cute together. Harua says he hasn’t seen you smile genuinely in years.” 

Jungwon thinks Harua might be exaggerating a little. He would smile at Harua (genuine smiles!) after he finished skating. It was just during the skate, during the Kiss and Cry, and during the podium where Jungwon would do the smile that never quite ended up reaching his eyes. 

“You’re making me sound emo!” 

“You are though?”  Harua replies, laughing. “Wait, no… not anymore.” he nods his head in the direction of where you are, and Jungwon rolls his eyes. 

“I’m not falling in love.” he says, before getting up from his chair. He hears Harua say Whatever you say! teasingly, and Jungwon just shakes his head as he makes his way over to you. 

“Hey,” he says, greeting you as the makeup artist swipes a pretty pink colour on your lips. You look up at him, waving (because you can’t exactly smile right now.) 

“Hi! You’re lucky you’ve got a puffer jacket on. Man, it’s freezing here.” you say when the makeup artist is done, shivering slightly. For someone who’s on the ice almost all the time, your tolerance to the cold isn’t exactly high — but in your defence, they did have the aircon on in the room.

“You can just take mine,” Jungwon says, unzipping it. He drapes it over your shoulders, and the action suddenly makes your cheeks start feeling hot.

You’ve heard about this feeling before, but you don’t think you’ve ever really experienced it. If those movies and books were right, you think you might just have the tiniest crush on Yang Jungwon.

You think that becoming friends with Jungwon might’ve been one of the best decisions of your life. He’s kind — always caring about you even when he’s feeling down in the dumps. He’s funny too, but he doesn’t seem to show it to anyone other than you. And, he is undeniably one of the prettiest people you’ve ever seen.

Him lending you his jacket just makes your heart flutter. 

“Oh, thank you.” you say, and for the first time, you find yourself at a loss for words when you’re talking to Jungwon.

“It’ll keep you warm until before the show starts.” he says, and you nod. “You ready?” you ask, and Jungwon shrugs. 

“I don’t know. I’m a bit scared. I hope I do well.” 

You take his hand, giving him an encouraging squeeze. “I know you’ll do well. And just remember that this is for fun. It’s not a competition. You’re here to have fun, you’re here to let the audience have fun.” 

“Okay.” he says, taking a deep breath. “I’ll make sure to have fun.” 

“Loosen up, Wonie.” you beam at him. “The crowd will love you, I’m sure of it.” 

You see everyone starting to line up in order of their appearance for the opening, and thankfully, you’re behind Jungwon, so you two can continue your conversation.

“I just wanted to ask.” you start, and Jungwon hums, motioning for you to continue. “Do you think you’re starting to love skating again?”

Jungwon is silent for a moment.

“A little bit. Because now I know that skating is meant to be fun, above all.” he says, and you smile.

“Cool.”

“Thank you.” Jungwon grins at you.

“For what?” you ask.

“For helping me with liking skating again. I really thought I wouldn’t be able to find my love for it again. I guess I just thought that if I trained harder and got better results, I’d be happier with my skates… but I was wrong,” he replies. “I needed to learn how to have fun again. I needed to remember why I started loving the sport in the first place.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Won.”

“No, but I do. I know I wouldn’t have done this ice show if you didn’t convince me to. And from what I can tell and the cheers I can hear, I think it’ll be a lot of fun.” he smiles. “So thank you. For pushing me to loosen up. For pushing me to learn to have fun.”

“You’re welcome, then.” you smile. The organiser tells Jungwon that he’ll be up next. “You’ll kill it out there.” you say.

“So will you.”

Jungwon thinks that deciding to join this ice show might be one of the best decisions he’s made. 

NINE. ice days

Jungwon has never felt so happy to perform.

The crowd is loud, lively and cheers him on, applause sounding throughout the arena after he lands a jump. The atmosphere makes Jungwon excited to skate on the next show.

It’s been a while since Jungwon felt excitement towards the ice.

Cheers resound throughout the arena when he finishes his program, and he finds that he doesn’t have to plaster a smile on his face — he already is smiling. A huge, genuine smile. 

He doesn’t see you until the group number at the end, and when he spots you, he skates a little faster in order to catch up with you. “Hey, Won! You did great.” you say when you notice him skating beside you on your left. 

“Thank you,” he says, a smile on his lips. “You did great too.” 

“Was it fun?” you ask, playing with the coloured scarf tied around your neck. You notice that you and Jungwon have the same exact one – they’re both orange and pink (a colour combination that you’re not quite sure you like too much.)

“Yeah. It was really fun.” 

“What’d I tell you?” you say, grinning brightly at him. “There are a lot more shows after this, so you’ll get to experience all this over and over again.” 

“I’m glad you made me do this,” he says, chuckling. “I don’t think I’ve had this much fun on the ice in a long, long time.” 

“That’s good. Do you think my quest to help you love the ice again is working?” you ask.

“I think it is.” 

You take his hand and squeeze it. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

Jungwon doesn’t notice the crowd seems to get louder after seeing your action. He thinks that someone must’ve done a cool trick, like Jongseob doing a backflip. 

“That’s enough, lovebirds!” Harua says, skating up to you two. “We’re about to leave the rink.” 

All the skaters skate to the centre of the rink, and Jungwon does too, with you following him. You all link hands, bowing at the audience before each of you leave the rink, one by one.

As Jungwon’s hand is in yours, you can’t stop thinking about Harua calling you two lovebirds. Obviously, you and Jungwon weren’t together, but now you can’t stop thinking that perhaps there could be a possibility, provided that you managed to figure out all the mixed feelings you had and if he reciprocated.

But strangely, something about Jungwon just makes you feel at home.

There is something so comforting about his presence. You feel at ease with Jungwon — it’s easy to talk to him, it’s easy to crack jokes when he’s around (you realised that you do it more often when he’s around just so you can see him laugh.)

It’s also easy to just sit in silence with Jungwon. Usually you’d feel compelled to fill the awkward silence, but with Jungwon, sometimes words don’t need to be shared. You feel like you’re able to understand him, and he’s able to understand you, despite only growing close during the off-season.

You’d like to think that he’s the closest friend in your circle of skater friends.

When you’re finished getting changed out of the costume and remove your makeup, you try to find Jungwon in the packed room, but to no avail. 

“Who are you looking for?” Kaori asks, and you turn around to face her. “Oh! Jungwon.” you say, and Kaori points in the direction she saw him go in. “He’s just over there, with Harua.” 

“Thanks!” you say, grinning at Kaori before heading in the direction she pointed at. Sure enough, Jungwon’s sitting there, typing away at his phone.

“Won!” you say, and he looks up, a smile immediately on his lips. “(Name)! I was waiting for you.” he says.

Your heart flutters. Harua smirks whilst trying to stifle a giggle. Jungwon shoots a pointed look at the boy.

“Oh?” you ask. “Yeah. I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner before heading back to the hotel together.” he says, standing up from his chair.

“Of course!” you reply, nodding. “Cool,” he says, placing his puffer jacket into his bag. “Harua says there’s a good ramen place around here.” 

“Yeah. It’s really good. I would go with you guys but then I’d be third-wheeling.” Harua says, still seated in his chair. Your cheeks flush pink at his words, whilst Jungwon furrows his eyebrows. “Why would you be third-wheeling?” 

“Oh. Just because,” Harua says, a smirk on his lips. “You guys should run along now. They close pretty soon,” he checks the time on his phone.

“Well! We should hurry then… see you tomorrow, Harua.” you say, and Jungwon waves at the skater. “Bye!” 

Have fun on your date, Harua mouths at Jungwon. Jungwon rolls his eyes in response. 

“The crowd were cheering really loud for you tonight,” you tell Jungwon. “Oh, really?” he asks — he thought they were just as loud with everybody else. 

“There were less people in the audience during the last ice show I did, but yeah. They were really loud — they seemed to really enjoy your performance.”

A small, proud smile makes its way to Jungwon’s lips. “I’m glad they enjoyed it. They seemed to like your performance too. I know I did.”

Goddamn Yang Jungwon. His words were making your heart beat as fast as it was when you were competing on the ice. 

Your cheeks feel hot, and you fan your face with your hand to try and stop them from getting warmer. Jungwon seems to notice your actions. “It’s hot, isn’t it?” he asks.

“What?”

“The weather.” he says, pulling out his phone. “It’s 32 degrees right now.” 

Thank god Jungwon is dense when it comes to any aspect of romance. You understand why though, because when he was younger, he was fully devoted to the ice. You don’t think he even gave any attention to the people who were chasing after him and yearning for his affection — because it was like his heart belonged to the ice.

“Oh. Yeah, it is.” you say. You think you dodged a bullet there. You and Jungwon arrive at the ramen shop soon after, and Harua is right — the food is absolutely delicious. 

Speaking of Harua, the ramen reminds you of him mentioning that if he came with you and Jungwon, he’d be third-wheeling. 

Somehow you feel… giddy at the thought of that. Not Harua third-wheeling, but the idea of you and Jungwon on a date. 

Wait, was this dinner a date? 

No. You shake your head to get rid of the thought. Jungwon only sees you as a friend. 

But the idea of you two possibly being something more seems to now be engraved in the back of your mind, and while eating ramen in 32 degree weather with Yang Jungwon in the streets of Makuhari, you realise:

You like Jungwon.

TEN. 4Lz (ur, fall)

Jungwon finds that Fantasy on Ice ends faster than he thinks. It was nearly two months of touring — time really does fly when you’re having fun.

He thinks he’s starting to enjoy skating again. He’s found a new appreciation for his craft — and with the knowledge that his skating is able to make so many people happy, he thinks that he should be able to make himself happy with his own skating. 

He returns to the Taereung skating rink with a bright smile, and Irene notices the change in his demeanour the second he walks in the door. 

“Welcome back, Jungwon.” she says, and Jungwon smiles. “Hi, Irene. Thanks.” he replies, placing his skate bag on the floor before taking his skates out. He takes off his usual training shoes, putting on the skating boots that've been with him every day for the last 3 years.

“How was FAOI?” Irene asks. “Good. It was fun.” Jungwon says, finishing lacing up his skates. 

“That’s good. Are you ready to practise for next season properly now?” she asks, and Jungwon nods. “Yeah.” he says, skating onto the rink. 

“You remember the choreographies, right?” she asks, and Jungwon nods. He thinks he remembers them, but now that she asks, he’s not too sure if he remembers them completely. 

“We’ll do the short program first.” Irene says, pressing play on her phone as the music plays through the speakers. 

Jungwon glides on the ice elegantly, his movements as fluid and soft as water. He spins and turns on the ice, doing backward crossovers as he prepares for the first jump — a quad lutz. 

He’s usually confident in this jump. He takes off, spinning in the air — but as he’s about to make his landing, he falls. Irene makes a noise just as Jungwon gets up, and he presses his lips together in a thin line. It’s fine. Jungwon thinks.

The next jump is a quad toeloop-triple toeloop combination, and Jungwon thinks he’ll do fine, and he lands the quad well, but he feels the landing on the triple is a little shaky.

Doubt fills his mind. Did he get worse somehow while doing the ice shows? Sure, he didn’t do as many quads when he was in Japan, but he thought he’d be okay. Or maybe he’s just having a bad day. He’s done three jumps. Two of them he wouldn’t consider done well.

Flying camel spin. Jungwon’s spins are always done well, and Irene nods in approval — but every thought in Jungwon’s mind is telling him that he shouldn’t have done that ice show. He slacked off, and now he’s not doing as great as he was before.

Final jump for his short program, a triple axel. He lands it cleanly, but he feels little satisfaction for it. Dread is what Jungwon feels. He shouldn’t have gone. He should’ve listened to the devil on his shoulder telling him to stay — he needs to train. He needs to practise.

Spin combination. Jungwon does them well as usual. Then the step sequence, which as he’s skating, he hears Irene make a small hum in satisfaction. But Jungwon does not feel any satisfaction from his performance at all.

The last element of his program, a sit spin, is completed perfectly. 

Jungwon is surprised he remembers the entire choreography when he’s in his finishing pose. He sighs, skating around the rink with a frown on his face.

“You didn’t have enough height on your quad lutz.” Irene says, and Jungwon nods. “I know.” 

“Train that for a bit.” 

Jungwon listens.

And he falls more than he usually does. 

The more he falls, the more his brain tells him that he should have stayed. He notices you entering the rink, and that lifts his mood slightly — but as he attempts another quad lutz, and falls, he’s just completely tired.

He motions to Irene that he’s going to have a break. He leaves the rink, putting his skate guards on as he heads towards an empty bench, burying his face in his hands.

You immediately notice the dejected look on Jungwon’s face, and you hurry over to him to ask him if he’s okay. 

“What’s wrong, Won?” you ask, sitting down next to him. “Nothing. I’m frustrated.” he replies with a sigh.

“You can talk to me.” 

“I spent too much time having fun. And now I think I forgot the choreo to my free skate, and I can’t land my quad lutz — usually, I’d be way ahead in terms of preparation. And I’m just scared that I won’t do well next season.” he says, his voice shaky, and you frown.

“I’m not blaming you for saying I should’ve gone to the ice shows, by the way. I enjoyed the ice show. But now I feel underprepared.” 

“It’s okay. But Jungwon, Grand Prix is like in… September. It’s July.” you say, in an attempt to reassure him.

“I know. I know. I’m just… worried.” 

“You have plenty, plenty of time. And hey, maybe it’s just a bad skate day. I get those sometimes.” you say in a soft voice, placing your hand on his shoulder, and Jungwon thinks your words make him feel a little better. “Doing not as well on one day doesn’t mean you’re terrible now, Jungwon. You have lots of time, and you’ll only get better. Don’t stress, okay?”

“Okay.” he says, sighing. 

“You’ll do great. I know it.” 

Your words are able to comfort him. Jungwon is thankful for that. But he feels this blooming feeling in his chest that he doesn’t really think he’s ever felt before. The words Harua said a month ago pops back into his mind. You two are definitely going to fall in love.

Love may be a bit of a stretch for now. But Jungwon thinks he certainly does like you. He feels warm and happy around you. He thinks about you a lot. And the possibility of being something more than friends has started to linger in the back of his mind.

“Thank you. You will too.” Jungwon says. You give his hand a tight squeeze as encouragement, telling him ‘fighting!’ — which makes him crack a small smile.

Shit, maybe Harua is right. Jungwon thinks. He heads back onto the rink, deciding that he should try the quad lutz again. Maybe it’s just a bad day. 

And as he lands one that he thinks is the cleanest one he’s ever done, he decides that perhaps taking Harua’s advice to ask Google how to tell if he likes someone isn’t the worst idea. 

ELEVEN. octuple flip

Grand Prix assignments roll out two weeks after you and Jungwon’s return to the Taereung rink. 

You’re assigned to Grand Prix de France and NHK Trophy, and Jungwon’s assigned to Skate Canada and like you, the NHK Trophy. 

You’re glad you’ll at least be able to see him at a Grand Prix competition. You tell him that when he’s at Skate Canada, you’ll be watching him skate from the comfort of your home. He tells you that he’ll be doing the same when you’re at Grand Prix de France.

You and Jungwon get even closer during training for the Grand Prix competitions. Like you had said, that day when he fell on the quad lutz multiple times was just a bad day. You’ve seen him do both his short program and free program cleanly multiple times now. 

Jungwon thinks he must’ve been having fun during training, because Skate Canada rolls around faster than he thinks. But of course with you around at training, it’ll always be fun. 

He did not end up asking Google for relationship advice. He instead asked Wonyoung, who had asked him to text her about you and just simply describe you and how you made him feel. He had originally texted  ‘nice to me.’, but then Wonyoung told him that he had to elaborate.

Needless to say, after his long paragraph about you that he sent to Wonyoung (she skimmed over it, the first two lines of the text were all she needed to know), she had established that Jungwon liked you. 

And with that thought in his mind, Jungwon does realise he has started to act differently around you more recently. He’s more attentive to you, he’s always by your side when you’re around, and he finds himself sometimes wanting to just hold your hand.

As you send him off to the airport, a bright smile on your lips and a cat plushie in your hand that you give to him, a pink blush tints his cheeks, even if he doesn’t know it. And if he did, he’d blame it on how hot the coffee in his hand is. 

Unbeknownst to Jungwon, your cheeks are heating up too when you see the look on his face after you give him the stuffed animal. 

There’s just something about Jungwon that makes your heart do flips. Triple flips, quadruple flips — even quintuple flips.

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest. You think it just did 8 rotations. Not humanly possible.

But, your heart just does an octuple flip. 

You text him every day too, when he’s in Canada. He responds almost immediately (if he’s awake, because of the damned time zones), and he sometimes even sends you pictures of himself on the ice too. There’s one where he’s holding up the cat plushie you gave him, a smile on his lips. You find that there are butterflies in your stomach after you see the message.

Time zones are horrible, but you set an alarm so you can remember to open up your laptop and watch him skate. 

You send him a goodluck message, that he doesn’t read immediately because he must have his phone in his bag, since he’s about to skate soon. 

And when the commentator announces Jungwon’s name, you see him skate out onto the rink. You murmur You got this! but obviously, you know he can’t hear you.

“Now, obviously Yang Jungwon is one of the most anticipated skaters at this Grand Prix competition. He delivered a sublime skate at Worlds last season, securing him the title as world champion.” you hear the commentator say, as Jungwon skates around the rink before getting into his starting position. “Yang Jungwon with the music: A Walk In The Skies.” 

The music starts, and Jungwon moves across the ice in a way you’re most familiar with now. You’ve seen him do this program hundreds, maybe thousands of times — but at a competition, Jungwon’s got his A-game on. His movements are delicate, elegant and beautiful. 

“First comes the quad lutz.” the commentator says, and you watch your screen intently as Jungwon takes off, spinning four revolutions in the air before landing cleanly. “Yes!” you say, pumping your fist. 

“Absolutely stunning.” 

You agree with the commentator wholeheartedly.

“The quad toe-triple toe.” Jungwon lands the quad toe the second the commentator says that, and takes off into the triple toe — another clean jump. 

You smile. He’s doing great, you think, as he does a flying camel spin. He looks happy as he skates as well. He seems to be enjoying the sport more and more each day.

Jungwon skates his entire program cleanly, with all green boxes on the left hand corner of your screen. His technical score is the highest among all the skaters, and he was the last to skate — you think that he’ll definitely place first in the short program.

“Yang Jungwon at his best, everyone.” the commentator says. “Yang did absolutely wonderful tonight, and I’m sure it will reflect on the scores.”

He bows, a genuine smile on his lips — one that he hasn’t shown in a long time at competitions as the cat plushies fall from the bleachers and onto the ice. He picks up as many as he can before leaving the rink while the flower kids pick up the rest, as the camera pans to him giving Irene a fist bump.

You think he’ll break 100. There’s no way he won’t. 

As he sits in the Kiss and Cry nervously waiting for his scores, you sit at home on your couch, just as nervous as he is. The camera faces towards him, and Jungwon smiles at it, holding up one of the cat plushies he had received and mouthing a thank you. 

“The scores, please.” 

“The short program score for Yang Jungwon of South Korea is 111.45, his season’s best and currently puts him in first place.” 

The crowd erupts into cheers, and you push your laptop off your lap and onto the couch, jumping up in excitement. 

You watch as Jungwon pumps his fist up into the air before hugging Irene with pure joy on his face. 

Jungwon doesn’t think he’s been this happy to place first in a long, long time. He had fun skating today. He also skated well today. And he’s currently in first. 

Having fun and winning can coexist. Jungwon finds that out today as he bows once more before leaving the Kiss and Cry.

Jungwon thinks that he’s just a few steps away from loving skating again. 

TWELVE. you, me (?) and the ice

Jungwon wins the men’s category of Skate Canada.

You welcome him back to Korea with a huge hug at the airport, slightly startling him but he hugs you back nevertheless. “You did so, so good!” you say, and Jungwon smiles.

“Thank you.” he says. “I haven’t felt this happy to win gold in so long.”

“You know I cried watching your free skate?” you say, and Jungwon looks at you, eyes widened. “Really?” he asks, as you lead him to your car. 

“I was really proud. And happy. Because you looked like you liked skating again.” you say. “I did like skating there. I haven’t enjoyed skating competitively for so long… and I feel like I just did better when I enjoyed it.” he hums.

“Jungwon, you broke a world record, and you had fun while doing it.” you say.

“I did.” he replies. “If you had told that to me at the beginning of the year, I wouldn’t have believed you.”

You load his luggage into the trunk of your car, motioning for him to get into the front seat. He does, and when you slide into the driver’s seat, he surprises you with a cute stuffed toy of an adorable polar bear — which are the plushies that your fans throw onto the ice after you skate.

“I saw this in a store window when I was heading back to the hotel, and it reminded me of you,” he says, handing it to you. “It’s so cute, Jungwon! Thank you.” you say, taking the toy in your hands. “Look, I even got it skates.” he says, pointing at the skates attached to the polar bear toy’s feet, making you chuckle. 

“That’s so cool.” you say, setting it aside so you can drive. “I’m putting this on my nightstand.” 

You do actually want to put it on your nightstand, but you decide to bring it with you to France. You pack it in your backpack the night before you leave. “You’re my good luck charm now,” you tell the stuffed toy.

And this time it’s Jungwon’s turn to send you off. 

Like what you did when Jungwon was in Canada, he texts you as much as he can, updating you on the little things that go on at the rink, such as telling you about how Jiwon bought a hot dog, or Jongseob doing backflips on the ice nonstop.

He keeps his promise of watching you skate. He watches your short program on his bed, his dog Maeumi curling up beside him as he watches in anticipation. You skated clean in the short program, and as if Jungwon was actually in the arena right now, he erupts into applause. 

“Look, Maeumi. (Name) did well.” he says, showing his dog the screen that showed the rankings. Maeumi only blinks at the screen. 

When the time to watch your free skate rolls around, Jungwon drops everything to watch it. He ends his call with Wonyoung, when they’re talking about the family gathering next month that Jungwon doesn’t think that he’ll be able to make it to. “Sorry, Wonyo — something important just came up, I’ll call you back later.” he tells her, ending the call swiftly.

He sees you in the last group of skaters warming up — you’re going to skate last, because you placed first during the short program. He watches as you land a triple loop cleanly, and unconsciously, a smile makes its way to his lips.

He watches the other skaters skate before you, and they all do pretty well. There’s a couple of falls, and Jungwon winces when one of the skaters hits the ice particularly hard. 

And when your name is announced, his eyes are immediately drawn to the screen, diverting his attention from Maeumi, who now also seems to be drawn to the laptop.

“Last to skate is (Name), representing South Korea. Now, (Name) had a wonderful season last year — placing 1st at the Grand Prix finals, and 2nd at the World Championships. Placed first in the short program, she’s surely aiming for the top of the podium here today.” the commentator says. 

Jungwon chews on the inside of his cheek nervously as your music starts. 

Every time you skate, Jungwon is in awe, and today is certainly no exception. You glide on the ice as smoothly as a flowing river, every movement of yours from your arm all the way to your fingertips controlled delicately. 

Quad flip, Jungwon thinks at the same time the commentator says that out loud. You land it beautifully, and Jungwon nods his head, murmuring ‘nice’. Maeumi looks at Jungwon’s laptop screen, just as transfixed on your skating as his owner is. 

Being able to watch your skating is a gift in itself, Jungwon thinks. Your performances are absolutely mesmerising, and Jungwon knows he wouldn’t be able to look away even if he tried. You are a master at combining technique with artistry – without a doubt, it is clear to everybody that you were born to skate. As you continue with your program, Jungwon’s eyes follow your figure on the screen.

He has watched you do this program a million times. Every single time, he gets chills – every single time, you do it better than the last time. Everything is executed to perfection, and there is one thing Jungwon notices clearly as you skate. It is your passion for it. 

You skate as if it'll be your last skate ever. You give your all, expressing every single emotion you feel and sharing it with the audience. You aren’t showing off your skills – you are telling a story. A tale of you and the ice.

You once mentioned to him that you had always wanted to fly. You might not have wings, but you have your skates. Aim higher. Soar higher. Despite how difficult figure skating is, and the injury that almost took you out of the sport — never once, have you thought to quit. Never once have you wanted to give up on your dream, and never once have you ever imagined a world without you skating.

Jungwon wants to skate with as much passion and love as you have for the sport. He has much to learn from you, and it is only when your music stops that he realises that a single tear drops from his eye. 

You have single handedly changed Jungwon’s entire perspective of skating. You managed to help him fall back in love with the sport – and he knows he’s not fully there yet, but he’s close to it, and your encouragement played a huge part in it. He knows he would be miserable on the ice if you hadn’t. 

And when your scores are announced, with everyone in the arena and everyone watching online hearing how you had broken a new world record, Jungwon jumps up from his bed with joy, a huge grin plastered on his lips. 

Nobody deserves that gold medal more than you do. 

THIRTEEN. thin ice

With each skate and each reminder that he should use the ice to release all his pressures and burdens, Jungwon enjoys skating more and more now. 

Irene notices how Jungwon finds skating more exciting. Being subjected to only frowns and sighs of disappointment only for the past few years, she thinks it’s certainly a nice change – and deep inside, she hopes that Jungwon will change his mind about retirement. 

He has been seriously considering it now. With him now being able to enjoy skating competitions, Jungwon finds himself wanting to compete next season, but still, a little part of him still wonders if he should let his first love go. 

He thinks he’ll decide after the Olympics (that is if he makes the team, of course.) Jungwon knows he’ll have to put out a really good skate at Nationals in January. Despite that little devil telling him that if he doesn’t train morning, noon and night, he’ll lose, Jungwon decides to ignore it. He finds that he skates better when he’s having fun anyways. 

NHK Trophy rolls around soon enough, and it’s both yours and Jungwon’s last Grand Prix assignment before the Final. You two are finally travelling together for the first time since the ice show, and you don’t forget to buy a cat plushie to hand to him after his free skate (you know he has plenty of them, but one more couldn’t hurt.)

Jungwon does the same, buying a polar bear plushie for you that he stuffs into his suitcase. 

The competition goes well for both of you, with both of you winning silver medals and gaining a spot in the Grand Prix Final.

You both fall once in the free skate, with the winners of the competition skating cleanly for both programs. The Jungwon a couple months ago would be terribly upset about it – but now, Jungwon is happy about silver. He podiumed whilst skating happily. Something that he didn’t think he’d be able to do again. 

When Jungwon hands you the polar bear plushie after your free skate, he doesn’t realise that a camera goes off the second you take hold of it in your hands. And when you hand him the cat plushie after his free skate, another camera goes off as well – you both don’t find out until somehow Dispatch releases an article about it. 

First of all, Jungwon wonders why you two are on Dispatch anyways. You two aren’t idols, and you doubt that the public would really care about either of your romantic lives, but Jungwon finds that he is very wrong after reading some of the comments from netizens. Second of all, he wonders why he didn’t notice the camera flash when both incidents happened. Third of all, he examines his face closely – and he thinks that the smile he’s giving you is one of the brightest ones of his that’s been seen on camera.

Harua texts him a ‘invite me to the wedding’ with a link to the article and too many emojis that it gives Jungwon an eyesore. Jungwon replies with a no and a middle finger emoji. Harua knows well enough that you and Jungwon aren’t together.

Yuzuru texts him ‘Are you two finally together? Congratulations!’ with perfect capitalisation and a link to the article. Jungwon replies with another no, but this time with a smiley face instead of the middle finger. Yuzuru texts him a thumbs up. His follow up message reads I’m sure it’ll happen soon though, and Jungwon just sends back a ‘hahahahaha’. 

And you’re subjected to merciless teasing from Riki, who spams the article link in your chat. You honestly think it’s much worse than the comments from some of the netizens you read. But honestly, what the netizens say isn't even that bad. Except for the comments from the ones who want Jungwon to be theirs. Those ones you just laugh at, because honestly, they’re quite hilarious. You’ve never read such creative insults directed at you. 

But the articles make Jungwon think. 

About the possibility of being in a relationship with you. He’s established that he thinks he likes you (or at least his feelings for you do fit what Wonyoung and Google have said about what liking someone is like), but Jungwon has never thought about… dating. 

Quite frankly, Jungwon thinks that he’d be scared to tell you about his feelings – because he knows that once you confess, that relationship would be changed forever. You can’t go back to just friends when the other knows that you want to be more than that. And what happens if the relationship doesn’t work out? Do you just act like the whole thing never happened? Or do you just cut the other person off completely? 

The latter option is absolutely not possible considering that you and Jungwon are training mates too. 

This is complicated. And thinking about it makes Jungwon’s head hurt. 

But then he looks at the cat plushie on his bed that you had given to him after he finished skating his free program. The joy that fills his heart is immense, and he can’t stop the lovestruck grin from spreading across his lips. 

Is this what the movies and books described as being struck by Cupid’s arrow? Because if so, Jungwon thinks that Cupid shot an arrow straight through his heart, with your name engraved on the tip of it. 

Jungwon can’t stop thinking about you. His day is instantly made the second he sees you walk through the doors of the Taereung ice rink, and he looks at you as if you've got the whole universe in your hands. Every single move you make, every single smile you send his way makes that blooming feeling in Jungwon’s chest get warmer, warmer, and warmer. 

Jungwon likes you. He thinks he really, really likes you. 

And coming to that conclusion doesn’t make him as afraid as he thought he'd be. He’s calm, and he thinks his conclusion just seems right. As if the final piece of the puzzle is put into place, Jungwon’s feelings for you are finally sorted out. 

Jungwon doesn’t need Harua, Wonyoung or Google to tell him that he likes you. 

He just knows it. 

Confessing is a whole other story, but Jungwon thinks that when the right time comes, he’ll do it. He doesn’t know much about love, with his entire life practically being devoted to the ice – but he knows that when it feels right, it must be the right time. 

So, Jungwon comes to two conclusions that night. 

One: he really likes you, and he doesn’t need anyone else to confirm it for him.

Two: he can’t believe that a Dispatch article made him realise that he really liked you. 

FOURTEEN. public skating session 

You ask Jungwon if you’d like to skate at another public rink after the Grand Prix Final is over.

He immediately says yes.

He doesn’t take you up on the offer to wear rental skates though, so both of you lace up your skates on the bench, Jungwon putting your bags into a cubbyhole. 

“Let’s go, Wonie!” you say, and he finds his heart fluttering at the nickname. He follows you onto the rink like the first time, and you two skate side by side, at a way slower pace than usual to be mindful of the other skaters at the rink.

“How does it feel to be the 2026 Grand Prix Final champion?” you ask him, and he smiles at you. “Hmm. I don’t know,” Jungwon replies. “I should be asking you that.”

You and Jungwon both winning in your respective categories were amazing for the media. Yang Jungwon and (Name), figure skaters rumoured to be dating win Men’s Grand Prix Final and Women’s Grand Prix Final was the headline. But at least Dispatch can add more to their article, and you and Jungwon get to go home with shiny gold medals. 

“Feels pretty good. Two years in a row,” you say, and he pats you on the back. “You deserved it,” Jungwon says. “Have I ever told you how in awe I am whenever I watch you skate?” 

“Thank you,” you say, chuckling as your cheeks turn hot at the compliment. “Your skating is amazing as well — that step sequence in World Dreams? Gave me actual chills. I saw a tear drop from a woman’s eye when I was seated in the crowd.”

“Really?” Jungwon asks, and you nod. “She was bawling by the end of it, I think.” you say, and Jungwon softly smiles. “I’m glad my skating made her feel something… hopefully all good things though.” 

“Most definitely good things. She threw 5 cat plushies onto the ice. I think she’s a hardcore fan.” you reply. “She might’ve dethroned my spot as your number one fan.” 

“Hey,” Jungwon says, pouting. “You texted me when I was at Skate Canada saying that you’d always be my number one fan.” 

“Yeah, but she was like a diehard fan,” you say. “Don’t worry though, I’ll throw out 15 cat plushies when you skate during Nationals. I’m taking my spot back.” 

“I’ll throw out more than 15 polar bear plushies when you skate at Nationals. I’ll throw out 16.” 

“Are you challenging me?” 

“Yeah,” Jungwon says, a smile never leaving his lips. 

“We can just be each other’s number one fan.” you say, and Jungwon nods. “Deal. So can I get your autograph?” he jokes. 

“Sure thing,” you say, playing along. You motion for him to hold his palm out, and you trace your autograph on his hand. “There you go!” you say, tracing a smiley face and a heart as well. 

“I’ll treasure this forever,” he quips. 

“You better.” 

You two fall into a comfortable silence as you both skate laps around the rink, observing the other people there. Like last time, there are couples on dates, there are little kids learning to skate, and there’s people who actually figure skate, doing spins in the centre of the rink. 

“Right, I was going to say. You seem way, way more happier on the ice than you were before,” you tell Jungwon, who nods. “Yeah. I think I actually like skating again. I mean… I can’t exactly say love, because you know… sometimes I just revert back to the way I used to think whenever I fail at something.” he replies. “But competitions are a lot more fun. The ice doesn’t drain me of all my energy anymore, and winning medals sort of brings me fulfilment again.”

“That’s amazing, Won.” you say. 

Now that you think about it. Jungwon wanted to retire because he didn’t love skating anymore. But now that Jungwon enjoys it again, you’re left wondering if he’ll still continue competitive skating.

It’s as if Jungwon’s able to read your mind. “I’m not sure if I’ll retire or not. On one hand, skating is fun now… and I’d like to continue at least maybe for a little longer, but I’m also wondering if I should just… let go. Explore things outside of skating, even though I know I’ll probably come back to the ice every time.”

You let his words sink in for a moment. “I think… you don’t have to decide your future plans this early. You could decide at the Olympics, after you skate. Or you could even go to Worlds after the Olympics and decide then.”

“Yeah. I could do that.” Jungwon breathes out. “I’m just… indecisive and unsure of everything right now.”

“No, I get it,” you nod. “You have time, Jungwon. Don’t rush things.” you tell him. 

Jungwon agrees with you. Thinking about too much and thinking too far ahead were two of the many reasons why he fell out of love with figure skating. Now that he’s slowly started to enjoy it again, he knows he has to rid himself of his bad habits. 

“Okay. It’s not like I’m in a hurry to retire. If I was, I would’ve already done it by now.” he says, smiling. “And if I don’t retire this season, I’ll probably just retire in 2030. I can still fulfil my dream of leaving at the biggest stage.” 

“I feel like I’d do that as well, if I’m not gonna lie.” you say, and Jungwon tilts his head. “So are we retiring together?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “I mean… if you don’t retire during this Olympics, then probably. But do what feels right, Won. Don’t do it because you feel pressure from others to keep going. If you love the sport, you’ll always find a way back to it, like something like professional skating, or coaching, or doing commentary. If you think it’s time, then it’s time.” 

Jungwon can always count on you for giving him great advice. 

“You’re right.” he says. “Anyways… enough about that.” he spots a penguin skating aid in the corner, and he skates up to grab a hold of it. He pushes it as he skates, and you can’t help but find the mere action adorable. 

You pull out your phone to record him, and you chuckle as you see him skate faster towards you. “Cute,” you say, and Jungwon’s cheeks flush pink. If you ask, he’ll blame it on the rink being cold. 

“You use it,” he says, pushing the skating aid towards you. You gladly take it, grabbing ahold of the handles, pushing it as you skate with Jungwon by your side. 

Talking to Jungwon is easy. He tells you about how he stores his medals in ziplock bags when he needs to take them to interviews, to which you propose a better idea: using socks (a trick you learned from none other than Yuzuru Hanyu himself.) He also tells you about his dog, Maeumi, who apparently had watched your Grand Prix de France free skate with him – Jungwon says that Maeumi was absolutely mesmerised by your performance, and it’s interesting how every single thing Jungwon says is able to bring a smile to your face. 

You tell him that you’d like to meet Maeumi, and he tells you that you’re welcome over anytime. Your heart flutters at the invitation that you accept warmly. “In fact, you could come over after we leave.” 

“Really?” you ask, and Jungwon nods. “It’s not like we’ll be spending more than an hour here anyways. We already spend most of our days at another rink – we’d get way too bored if we spend hours here like everyone else.” 

Jungwon is right. After 20 minutes of more skating and just talking to each other about your lives (as if you didn’t learn nearly absolutely everything about him during the off-season), you and Jungwon head over to his apartment, where you meet Maeumi. 

And as you play with Maeumi, gushing over how cute he is, you notice the fond smile on Jungwon’s lips as he watches you two from the couch. 

You don’t know why, but that look on Jungwon’s face makes you think that perhaps you two could be something more than friends. 

FIFTEEN. last nationals skate (?)

Jangmi calls Jungwon the day before the short program for Nationals. 

“I’m sorry for getting upset,” she tells him. “It’s your career, not mine.”

Jungwon sighs. “It’s fine. I don’t think I know what I want to do with my career either. Retiring is an option, and competing… also is another option now.” 

Jangmi somehow sounds happier at the sound of Jungwon’s words. “That's… good,” she says, trying to not make it obvious that continuing to skate is still an option for Jungwon. “What changed your mind?”

“I started liking it again.” he says, gazing at the sheet of ice in the Uijeongbu ice rink. The ice finally feels like home again, and instead of bringing him dread, Jungwon feels at ease at the rink now. The pressure is no longer something that drags him under – it is now something he uses to allow himself to skate better. 

Now when he skates, he feels his passion for it again. “Even the brightest of flames burn out,” you had said. His flame dimmed, nearly being put out entirely – but he’s more than happy to have been able to ignite it again. 

And as his music starts playing for the short program, Jungwon realises something as he glides across the ice elegantly. 

If he retires, this will be his last ever Nationals. 

This crowd, this rink, this atmosphere – it’ll be the last time he ever gets to experience this. He stays completely focused on his program, but this thought lingers at the back of his mind when he lands the quad lutz. 

The audience cheers, and Jungwon’s eyes catch sight of the banners that fans have made for him in the crowd, with encouraging words that bring a smile to Jungwon’s face. 

When he finishes his short program, Jungwon pumps his fist into the air, more than satisfied with his performance. He skates around the rink as the audience throws stuffed animals onto the ice, picking some up as he thanks the crowd. 

He bows before leaving the rink, Irene pulling him into a hug after he puts his skate guards on. “You did amazing.” she says, and Jungwon smiles. “Thank you,” he replies, as he makes his way to the Kiss and Cry.

As he waits patiently for his scores, he can’t stop thinking about how if he does decide to retire at the end of this season, that was his last ever short program at Nationals. He didn’t think this far ahead when he told Irene that he wanted to hang up his skates at the beginning of the off season, and now that he realises that he may be nearing the end of his career, Jungwon suddenly starts feeling a wave of sadness. 

He was nothing but sure about his decision when he told Irene that he’d be retiring. But now, sitting in the Kiss and Cry at quite possibly one of his last competitions ever, Jungwon thinks he might just want to hold on for a little longer. 

“The scores, please.” the announcer says, ending Jungwon’s train of thought. 

“The short program score for Yang Jungwon is 112.36, which currently puts him in first place.” 

The crowd erupts into cheers at his score, and Jungwon smiles in satisfaction while Irene claps. “Good job,” she tells him, and Jungwon thanks her. He stands up, bowing once again before leaving the Kiss and Cry, and everything just slowly starts sinking in. 

If this was his last short program ever at Nationals, at least he did well. 

But Jungwon doesn’t want this to be his last ever Nationals. The feeling of wanting nothing more than to just leave the ice has completely disappeared in a matter of months, and Jungwon now just wants to stay. 

Maybe it isn’t time to hang up his skates. 

After finding his passion for skating again, Jungwon just wants to feel the thrill of competition. He dreaded competitions months ago, but now his feelings towards the ice have completely changed. Winning medals can finally bring him satisfaction again – he’s being acknowledged for being good at something that he loves. 

He can now look at the cameras while standing atop that podium with a genuine smile on his face. He doesn’t feel like he’s a robot anymore, with  every move he makes when he skates programmed into his brain – he feels like he’s a writer, or a poet, telling his story on the ice. 

He changes out of his costume, putting on a hoodie and some sweatpants before leaving the locker room. He checks the time, realising that there’s only an hour until the women’s free skate – he promised you that he’d be in the crowd.

With 16 polar bear stuffed animals that he currently does not have. 

He rushes to the nearest toy shop, asking the staff if they have polar bear plushies still in stock, and luckily, they do. The shop assistant helping him looks slightly concerned when he asks for 16, but still brings them all out in a basket. “Is this for (Name)?” she asks, and Jungwon furrows his eyebrows, confused as to how she would know that. 

“Yeah… how’d you know?” 

“Bunch of people came in asking for polar bear stuffed toys to throw onto the ice for her.” she says, scanning all the polar bears. “Oh. That’s nice of them.” Jungwon replies. 

“You bought the most.” the shop assistant says, putting all of them into a large shopping bag for Jungwon, noticing how he only has a backpack that most certainly won’t fit 16 polar bear toys. 

“Oh, cool.” he says, swiping his card on the reader. The transaction goes through, and the shop assistant smiles at him before handing him his receipt. “Good luck to both you and (Name) on your free skates,” she tells him, and Jungwon thanks her before leaving the store. 

He makes it back to the Uijeongbu ice rink just in time, with Jongseob saving him a seat. “That’s a shit ton of polar bears you’ve got there,” Jongseob says, holding a plushie of Artemis from the Sailor Moon series to throw on the ice after Jiwon skates. 

“Yeah.” Jungwon replies, putting the shopping bag onto the ground. 

“You’re a dedicated boyf– fan!” 

“Enough.” 

There’s five groups of skaters, and you’re the last to skate. Jungwon cheers for each and every skater, but his cheers will definitely be the loudest for you. Jongseob yells as his life depends on it when Jiwon skates onto the ice. 

Soon enough, it’s your turn to skate. You look at the crowd, spotting Jungwon and Jongseob sitting together and you flash Jungwon a smile, whilst a shit-eating grin spreads across Jongseob’s lips. “Good luck,” he mouths to you, and you nod as a way of saying thank you. 

Your program goes well, for the most part – aside from falling on a quad toe loop and stepping out on a triple lutz. Jungwon knows that you’ve done enough to secure a podium spot – and a spot on the Olympic team, and it seems as if you know that too, tears streaming down your face the minute you finish your program. 

You’re going to the Olympics. You’ve finally achieved your lifelong dream.

Cheers and applause resound throughout the rink, with tons of polar bear stuffed toys being thrown out onto the ice by fans, and Jungwon is one of them. You see him throw out polar bear after polar bear from the shopping bag he’s holding, and a sweet smile spreads across Jungwon’s lips as he sees your surprised face.

“16?” you mouth at him, and Jungwon nods. You can’t help but clap your hands over your mouth to hide your laughter, and as the announcer calls your name again, you skate into the middle of the rink, bowing once again before leaving.

Eventually, it is you, Jiwon and another skater named Kim Chaeyeon who get named to the Olympic team. 

Like how Jungwon bought 16 plushies for you during your free skate, you buy 17. It’s a funny coincidence how you both end up going to the same toy shop, and the shop assistant gives you a smile when you enter. “Could I get… 17 cat plushies?”

“This is for Yang Jungwon, right?”

“How’d you know?”

“He said the same thing when he came in yesterday to get 16 polar bear plushies for you,” she says, taking the toys and putting them into a basket. You have a nice conversation with her before you leave the shop with a large bag holding exactly 17 cat plushies. 

You notice multiple things when you’re in the audience. Jiwon has a stuffed animal of a tiger in her lap that she throws out onto the ice when Jongseob skates. She also gives you a look as if to tell you not to tease her about it. You also see tons of people holding cat plushies, ready to throw onto the ice after Jungwon skates, and you’re one of those people too. 

You also notice the passion Jungwon now has for skating. He commands the ice, moving fluidly across the rink – Jungwon is a phenomenal skater. Goosebumps rise up on your skin, and you don’t think any other skater has been able to convey emotions to the audience this effectively. 

Like you, Jungwon qualifies for a spot on the Olympic team. 

He gazes at you as you throw cat plushies onto the ice, and a fond smile spreads across his lips. “17?” he mouths at you, and you nod. 

Jungwon wonders if your heart’s beating as fast as his. 

Little does he know, it is. 

SIXTEEN. born to skate

Just being able to go to the Olympics is truly sensational.

You weren’t even able to fully process it until you saw a staff member walk up to you and hand you your Olympic security pass. Your name’s on it, along with the 2026 Milano Cortina logo on the right – and under your name, it says athlete. 

You can’t believe a security pass might actually make you burst into tears. 

Jungwon hangs his security pass over his neck, and then turns to look at you. “You okay?” he asks, and you nod. “Yeah,” you reply. “It’s just kind of crazy. I’m going to compete at the Olympics – Wonie, oh my god. I’m an Olympian.” 

“You are,” he says. He takes your hand, locking his fingers with yours and gives your hand a tight squeeze. The mere action makes your face feel hot, your heart beating in your chest incredibly fast. “You’ll do great, don’t worry.” 

“You will too,” you say, beaming at him. You don’t want him to let go of your hand. Jungwon doesn’t want to let go either. 

He only let go when Jongseob and Jiwon were walking towards you two. 

That aside, time seems to go by faster for some reason. You arrived in Italy 2 days before the men’s short program event, and today’s already the day. Jungwon changes into his costume, and zips on the South Korea team jacket before he leaves the changing room. 

“You ready?” you ask him.

“Yeah. I'm a little nervous, but it’ll go away when I start skating.” he replies, and you smile. “You’ve got this, Won.” you say, pulling him into a hug. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

Before he starts skating, Jungwon looks into the crowd to spot where you’re seated. You give him a thumbs up, and he smiles softly before getting into his starting position. 

Jungwon has missed the Olympic ice. 

In the crowd, you notice how Jungwon’s skating even better than he did at Nationals. He skates with  pure emotion – as if this skate could very well be his last. 

Then the realisation hits you like a truck. 

If Jungwon did decide to retire, sticking with his original plans – this would be his last competitive short program, ever. And now every move he makes on the ice seems to have a whole new meaning for you. 

He skates like he’s got everything on the line. Time and time again, Jungwon tells the audience that he was born to skate – but this performance proves it. Every jump, every spin, every transition, every choreo sequence and every step sequence is executed to absolute perfection. 

Yang Jungwon is a master of his craft. Nobody can doubt that. 

Nobody will doubt that after this performance.

Jungwon has sacrificed hours, days, months and years to produce a performance like this. He has never felt such fulfilment, such satisfaction after skating – the only word he can use to describe how he feels after his skate is that he is proud. 

He is proud that he was able to put out a performance like that. He is proud that he’ll be recognised for an impeccable short program. But most importantly, he is proud that he delivered a program of such quality whilst enjoying every moment he had on that Olympic ice. 

And when the scores are announced, saying that he is currently in first, Jungwon doesn’t think he’s ever felt happier. Irene hugs him tightly, and Jungwon’s practically shaking in disbelief. 

Nobody beats his short program score for the night. Jungwon knows the medal is just within his reach. 

Feeling victory finally feels good, and Jungwon hasn’t even won yet. 

When you rush up to him immediately after he exits his changing room, you wrap him in a huge hug, and at first, he’s startled by your action. But he immediately hugs you back, his cheeks dusted with a light shade of pink that he knows he’ll get teased about if Harua sees it. 

“Won, that was incredible!” you could gush over his performance for hours and hours on end. “You were absolutely mesmerising. The image you were painting inside my head – all of our heads! It was so vivid. I felt like I could feel what you felt as you were skating. Everyone was blown away. You’re absolutely sensational.”

Jungwon thinks of you in an incredibly high regard. So hearing these words from you makes his eyes well up slightly with tears, and you immediately notice. 

“Don’t cry!” you say, wrapping him in another hug. “I just needed you to know how incredible you are.” 

Jungwon needs you to know how incredible you are as well.

He feels nothing but warmth as he’s in your embrace, and truly, perhaps this is what Jungwon thinks he might call love. Because you care for him in a way that nobody else has. You didn’t know him well at the time, but still offered to try and get him to enjoy skating again. You push him to be a better skater, and a better person – and Jungwon didn’t think he knew what love was.

But now he thinks he does.

Quite simply, love is you. 

And he cares for you more than he cares about anyone else, even if he thinks that he is terrible at showing it. He isn’t the best when it comes to love, or relationships – but he’s learning. He’s learning all because of you. 

In less than one year, you have changed Jungwon’s life entirely.

You’ve taught him how to have fun skating again. You’ve taught him to allow himself to loosen up, and not let pressure define him. You’ve also taught him what it’s like to be loved. And how to love. 

Jungwon doesn’t know if this is a stretch, but he feels like you might’ve quite literally saved him. Jungwon is forever grateful for the fact that you walked into his life the moment he needed someone like you. 

And Jungwon is more than sure that he indeed does love you. 

Jungwon feels relief when he finally admits it to himself. Perhaps it’s because deep down, he knew that he loved you all this time – he just didn’t exactly confront himself about his feelings. 

With you by his side, Jungwon feels like an Olympic gold medalist already. 

SEVENTEEN. olympic ice

The free skate rolls around faster than Jungwon thought.

But he thinks that he’s prepared. He’ll give it his all tonight. He doesn’t even think about the upcoming decision he has to make about his career – he personally believes that the idea that he could possibly win Olympic gold feels a little more important than that.

He knows you’re in the crowd, watching him. It gives him an extra boost of confidence. Jungwon doesn’t realise this until now, but he seems to skate better when you’re in the audience. Perhaps you’re his lucky charm. 

He’s last to skate, being first in the short program. Jungwon’s fully focused during the couple minutes of warm up, jumping a triple axel that he manages to land well, and a quad toe that he finds is a little shaky on the landing, but he’ll try and land it cleanly in the actual program.

Over the speaker, it’s announced that the warmup time is over. Jungwon and some of the other skaters leave the ice, and the first person skating in the group starts his program. 

Whilst the other skater performs, Jungwon runs through his entire program in his head. He can’t let the pressure get to him – he knows he’ll do worse. He reminds himself to have fun. He’ll be skating on Olympic ice for possibly the last time ever, so he knows that he’ll have to make this count. 

Your words ring in his head as he waits for the skaters before him to finish performing their programs. Skating is something that is meant to be enjoyed with the audience. 

Jungwon decides that he will enjoy every minute and every second of it. 

Irene gives him a thumbs up before he skates out to the centre of the rink. “You’ve got this, Jungwon. Stay focused, stay calm.” she tells him, and Jungwon nods. 

“You go kill it out there.” she says, smiling at him.

Jungwon skates off, and Irene just has the proudest look on her face. She knows that this could very well be the last competitive skate of Jungwon’s life. No matter the result, she would be proud – Yang Jungwon has accomplished so much in his career at the age of 22. 

“Last to skate: Yang Jungwon, of South Korea!” 

The crowd erupts into cheers and applause, Jungwon raising his arms above his head. He lets them fall back down by his sides, doing a couple twizzles around the rink before skating into the centre.

He gets into his starting position, and the music starts. 

He’s done this program tons and tons of times before. He knows exactly what to do at the exact second, twirling across the ice gracefully. First, is the quad lutz. 

You hold your breath in anticipation as he sets up the jump, taking off – and he lands it. 

With one jump, Jungwon makes the crowd go absolutely crazy. Their shouts die down soon after, allowing Jungwon to listen to the music so he knows when and what he needs to do next. 

He successfully lands more jumps, including a quad salchow-quad toe loop combo that he’s able to land flawlessly. Everything is going well, Jungwon thinks. 

As he skates beautiful transitions on the ice, you catch his eye. You’re gazing right at him with the softest look on your face, and Jungwon thinks his heart might melt. You nod at him, as a way to tell him that he’s doing great.

Jungwon doesn’t know why, he doesn’t know how, but in the middle of his Olympic free skate, he feels more compelled to confess his feelings for you than ever. 

He knows that he just has to tell you. 

When he realised he liked you, he decided that he had to wait for the right time to confess. He didn’t exactly know when the right time would be, or if he would ever even find the right time. He also certainly didn’t expect it to be right in the middle of his free skate.

But everything is crystal clear. Jungwon knows it’s the right time, and he can’t exactly shout out that he loves you when he’s currently preparing to jump a triple axel, but he knows the second he’s able to, he will. 

It’s as if time slows, and you’re the only one in the audience. Jungwon only sees you. You two are just in your little bubble – just you, him, and the ice. 

Jungwon skates with so much power, and so much emotion, trying to express every word he wants to say to you, but with his skating. The crowd’s cheers get louder every time Jungwon lands a jump, and it only gives Jungwon motivation to keep getting better and better. 

Olympic gold is so close. If he just reached up and grabbed it, the shining gold plaque would be right in his hands – and Jungwon knows that he cannot let that slip away between his fingers. His whole life has led up to this moment. Falling in love with the ice, then finding that he had let himself hate it, and then trying to ignite that love and passion he had for skating once more. All of this, allowed for him to skate the cleanest program he’s ever skated at the world’s biggest stage for figure skating. 

The music ends, and the crowd erupts with cheers. Jungwon stands there, shocked and still in his ending position. He feels like he can’t move. 

He can’t believe it. 

Did he just win Olympic gold? 

Countless cat plushies fall onto the ice around him as Jungwon just bursts into tears. Irene’s crying as well, tears of joy streaming down on her face as she claps. Jungwon tries to spot you in the crowd, and when he does, he sees you jumping up and down excitedly with Jiwon, and you just look so incredibly happy for him. 

After the toughest years of his career, fighting to try and keep going in a sport he loved no longer, Jungwon is finally able to love figure skating again, and he might have just won Olympic gold in the process. 

He’s still in shock when he leaves the rink, and Irene pulls him into the tightest hug she’s ever given him, as Jungwon cries into her shoulder. “You did it.” she says.

“I did it.” he says – he can’t even believe the words he just said. He heads to the Kiss and Cry with Irene, pulling out tissues from his tissue box nonstop to wipe his tears away. 

Jungwon waits in the Kiss and Cry for his scores – he knows that he’s won. He just needs the scores to confirm it. 

And sure enough, mere minutes later, Yang Jungwon is announced as the 2026 men’s Olympic figure skating champion.

Jungwon can’t stop crying. Tears just keep falling down his cheeks as he bows to everyone. He can’t even use the word joy to describe what he’s feeling. He never thought he could feel this happy after winning a competition. 

If you told Jungwon months ago that he’d be crying tears of joy after winning a competition, he most certainly wouldn’t have believed you. 

The venue ceremony is soon. So soon to the point where Jungwon isn’t even able to come up to you and tell you how he feels. He’ll do it as soon as the ceremony is over. 

As Jungwon steps onto the highest block on the podium, he’s still in disbelief. It isn’t until the medal actually gets hung around his neck, and he touches the shiny golden plaque. He’s not just Olympian Yang Jungwon. He’s not just 2025 World champion Yang Jungwon. He’s not just 6 time National champion Yang Jungwon. 

Now, he’s also Olympic champion Yang Jungwon. 

Falling back in love with skating was hard. Sometimes he felt like simply just giving up was the easier option – but now with the Olympic gold medal right in his hands, Jungwon knows that pushing through it was the right thing to do. He’s never been more sure of that. 

Jungwon has also never been more sure about the fact that he loves you, and he desperately needs to tell you. As soon as the venue ceremony is over, Jungwon rushes out of the rink, quickly changing from his skates to his regular training shoes – he doesn’t even bother to change out of his free skate costume. 

He finds you standing outside of his changing room, and before you can say anything, he wraps you in the tightest hug ever. He holds you like you’re oxygen, and he’s struggling to breathe. 

When he pulls away from the hug, with the gold medal dangling around his neck, he grasps ahold of your hands. “Jungwon, you did it.” you say, tears welling in your eyes. 

“I have to tell you something.” he murmurs. He opens the door of his changing room, pulling you in with him as he shuts the door. “What is it?” you ask.

“I love you.” 

Your eyes widen. 

“I have never, ever known what it’s like to love someone. Even figuring out that I liked you was so hard – because I knew that I felt differently when I was around you, but I couldn’t exactly pinpoint it on what it was. Then, I was told I had a crush on you. I liked you. And that seemed right. Liking you seemed right.” he says, as you let his words sink in. “I was going to wait until I found the right time to tell you that I liked you. But two days ago, I realised that my feelings towards you seem to be more than like. Love. Yes. I love you.” he says, his eyes brimming with tears.

“Saying it sounds right. Saying it now feels right. And I don’t know if you would feel the same way – but I just saw you in the crowd as I was skating today, and I just knew I had to tell you.” 

Jungwon can’t exactly read your reaction until you pull him into a hug. 

“I love you too.” you say.

Jungwon feels like he’s on top of the world. Four simple words managed to make him even happier than he already was after winning the Olympics – he feels like his heart is about to burst at the seams, and he can’t hide the bright grin on his lips. 

“That’s… that’s nice. I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same,” Jungwon confesses, and you frown, cupping his cheeks as you wipe his tears away with the pad of your thumb. “Why wouldn’t I feel the same way, Jungwon?”

“I don’t know.”

You smile softly at him. “I realised that I liked you after we went to the ramen shop that Harua had suggested to us.” 

“You realised earlier than me, then.” Jungwon chuckles. 

“I guess so.”

Jungwon can’t believe he only just realised the close proximity between your faces. Your gaze travels to his lips, before you look back up at his eyes. “Can I kiss you?” you whisper. 

“Yeah,” Jungwon whispers back.

You lean in, connecting your lips with his, and warmth just blooms across Jungwon’s chest, his cheeks, and all the way to the tip of his ears. He can taste the mint flavoured lip balm that he always sees you put on, and it’s only when you pull away that Jungwon realises that it was his first kiss. 

You smile at him brightly, and Jungwon mirrors the expression on your face. It’s hard not to smile when he sees you – you just make him so incredibly happy. Jungwon knows that you make him happier than any Olympic gold ever would. 

The sweet moment is cut short when Jungwon’s whisked away to the press conference, and you tell him that you’ll be seated in the crowd to watch. He gives you a chaste kiss on the cheek before running off, his cheeks tinted bright red as you chuckle at his reaction. 

“How do you feel after a wildly successful season like this, Jungwon?” a reporter asks, and Jungwon thinks about what is the best way to answer his question. 

“This was… a tough season for me mentally.” he says into the microphone. “In all honesty, I fell out of love with figure skating quite some time ago. Going into this season, I was certain that I was going to retire after the Olympics.” 

Every single person in the room looks at him with wide eyes. 

“But, during the off season, I was lucky enough to meet someone who helped me start enjoying it again.” he says, looking directly at you. “They taught me that above all, I should be enjoying myself while I skate, instead of focusing on the pressures to win and do well.” 

“I don’t think I expected to do as well as I did all season,” Jungwon says earnestly. “But I realised that the more I enjoyed skating, the better I did. I think coming into the Olympics, I just tried to focus on having fun and showing the audience my best. Because of this, I think that’s why I was able to do well.” 

“So will this be your last competition?” 

Jungwon presses his lips together in a thin line, as if he’s still unsure about what decision he’s going to make. But when he locks eyes with you, it’s like everything clicks into place. He knows what he wants. He wants to skate. 

“It’s not my last competition,” he says. “I’m going to keep competing. At least for a little while longer. I realised that I can’t exactly let go of the ice this soon when I’ve just started loving it again.”

As he says that into the microphone, Jungwon knows that it’s the right call. There’s a proud smile on your lips, and Jungwon returns the gesture.   

The ice finally feels like home once more. But, Jungwon also realises that home is also wherever you are. 

#enhypenwriters #kflixnet #enhypennetwork #k-labels #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen scenarios #enhypen au #enhypen x reader #jungwon imagines #jungwon oneshots #jungwon fluff #jungwon angst #jungwon scenarios #jungwon au #jungwon x reader #⛸️ kiss and cry!

[lordmartiya]

Hi. Today is the Ides of March, and I come to you not to defend Caesar but to contestualize his killers. Because I've noticed most people here are directly or indirectly influenced by William Shakespeare's play on the events, play that alters a few facts and presents Marcus Junius Brutus as the most sympathetic character of the entire mess for sake of drama, and forgoes ENTIRELY the historical context. Being Italian I grew up with MOST of said context, so allow me to present you with the series of civil wars that ended the Roman Republic.

The dominoes started being placed at the very start of the Republic, when, according to legend, the last king of Rome, Lucius Tarquinius Superbus (properly translated as Lucius Tarquinius the Fucking Arrogant - the English language doesn't have the right word to translate "superbus"), got the Romans so furious that they joined forces and chased him and his family out of town under the leadership of Publius Valerius and Lucius Junius Brutus (this name is important, remember it). No matter if the legend has any basis in history, the Roman here started LOATHING the King, and while the office was maintained as the Rex Sacrorum (King of Sacrifices) for its religious significance it lost all its political power, and every year the holder would be ritually chased out of Rome as a reminder of what happened to Tarquinius, a tradition that apparently continued all the way until the office's abolition under EMPEROR TEODOSIUS THE FIRST (the Romans loved tradition and could hold a grudge for a long time). Also, the Romans reformed their government around the Senate, whose families, the Patricians, formed Rome's nobility, so that they could properly rule their city, the villages and towns directly subject to it, and the largish alliance centered around Rome, accounting for any foreseeable future growth of said alliance. Keyword: FORESEEABLE. Because the founders of the Republic apparently anticipated Rome's control to expand at most from the Alps to Apulia, maybe Sicily if the local Greek colonies decided to pick a fight and their friends in Carthage decided to share.

Then the unexpected happened: the antics of the Mamertines, a band of mercenaries turned bandits, dragged Rome and Carthage into war and hatred, and when the second of the three wars ended Rome's hegemony extended from just south the valley of the Po river to Apulia, while the Po valley and the rest of Northern Italy, Sicily, Sardinia, Corsica, and a large chunk of the Hiberian peninsula were now the provinces of Sicilia, Sardinia et Corsica, Gallia Cisalpina, and Hispania Citerior - and to top it off they had committments in Greece (as the Macedons had briefly entered the Second Punic War) and Africa (where Rome's new ally of Numidia was itching to go at what remained of Carthage's empire, with Carthage pinching every penny to pay the immense war reparations under the wrong impression that once they were done Rome would leave them alone and let them settle the score with the traitorous Numidians). Rome had grossly overextended its territory beyond the capacity of its institutions and was due a reformation - but much of the political power, and the war loot that came with it, was in the hand of the Patricians, and any workable reform would by necessity dilute said power, for starters by recognizing that many of Rome's Italian allies were now Romans in every way that mattered except the citizenship and its privileges (including a larger share of the war loot), and that the common people of Rome, the Plebeians (that's their literal name), were owed either a larger share of the loot themselves or some state-owned lands that various Patricians and Equites (the wealthy merchant class of former Plebeian extraction) had bought up. Thus the reformations stalled, for almost a century.

Then came Tiberius Sempronius Gracchus, who, recognizing the problem, used his term as Tribune of the Plebs to start addressing the problem and force a land reform in the Senate's throat, but in the process he broke a number of unwritten rules and was lynched on the orders of the Pontifex Maximus (this being one of the two circumstances where a Tribune of the Plebs could be killed in spite of being under religious protection, and the Pontifex had to explain himself after the fact or be executed himself). Thus the Senate was able to sabotage the reform by not allocating any fund to it. Then, to their dismay, Gaius Sempronius Gracchus, Tiberius' younger brother, was elected Tribute and continued his work, even trying to extend citizenship to the Latins and Latin rights to the other allies... And used violence first, eventually leading to the Senate passing an emergency bill to kill him, even bringing weapons inside Rome's Pomerium (the area of Rome where bringing weapons was usually forbidden on pain of being beaten to death on the spot, and where any official's military power was annulled the moment they stepped in) if necessary. Factional violence had started.

Eventually, and with a war against Rome's Italian allies that had grown tired of just waiting to be recognized as proper Romans (plus the irreducible Samnites making one last play at reconquering their independence) that ended when the Consul Lucius Julius Caesar made the Senate cough up that citizenship (and the Samnites being wiped out as a nation for continuing the war even after Rome coughed up the citizenship), the factions coalesced around two well-meaning strongmen: the Populares, serving the interests of the people (including the Plebeians, a number of impoverished Patrician families, and part of the wealthy Equites merchant class) and led by the Plebeian war hero Gaius Marius, and the Optimates, serving the interests of the elites (the Patricians and the majority of the Equites) and led by the Patrician war hero Lucius Cornelius Sulla. Both Marius and Sulla, who had fought together against the new king of Numidia Jugurtha, recognized Rome was speeding toward self-destruction (Jugurtha literally PAYING OFF a number of Roman generals before Marius took over that war and brought Sulla to help whip the demoralized troops back into shape had proved that) and something had to be done, but disagreed on how... And eventually a civil war was fought. Marius initially had the upper hand, seizing Rome while Sulla and his army were away fighting Mithridates, but he died by old age before Sulla's return, and without him the Populares couldn't stop Sulla from winning back Italy. The first round went to the Optimates, with Sulla forcing reforms that stabilized the situation for a time before retiring for fear of becoming a tyrant. Sulla also took the chance to have a number of Marius' allies killed, but was persuaded to spare Marius' nephew - a skilled and brave swordsman named Gaius Julius Caesar. He still left his allies with a warning, that in this young man he saw many Marii - for this guy was THAT Julius Caesar (and a nephew of the now late Lucius Julius Caesar).

After Sulla's retirement and eventual death, things started unraveling again due the one thing he had failed to account for: the Senate was corrupted. So corrupted that eventually control of the state was usurped by three men: Pompey the Great, one of Sulla's old lieutenants and the war hero who destroyed Sertorius' Populares army in Hispania, saved Rome from the existential threat posed by the Illyrian pirates (who had grown strong enough to endanger Rome's grain supply due the Senate's corruption), and finished off Mithridates; Marcus Licinius Crassus, the richest man in Rome, the war hero that defeated Spartacus (and had Pompey promptly steal the glory as he was returning from Hispania), and major asshole who got so rich by buying up the firefighters, come to any house on fire, and telling the owner that if he didn't sell him the house at a much reduced price he'd let it burn (he was also the most hated man in Rome); and Julius Caesar, not yet a war hero in spite of how his own run-in with pirates went (those pirates thought he was joking when he paid up twice the ransom and told them he'd come back and have them all hanged to crosses. They realized he was serious when they discovered who exactly had just led a Roman fleet to storm their base and capture them all) but the apparent leader of the Populares by virtue of who his uncle was. With this arrangement, Crassus went to the east to try and conquer Parthia, Caesar got himself made governor of Cisalpine and Transalpine Gauls and got to work to conquer the rest of the Gauls at the first excuse, and Pompey remained in Rome to hold the fort... But Crassus got himself killed like an idiot, and without him the Senate was able to bring Pompey back into their Optimate fold. And when Caesar came back from the Gauls as a conqueror he knew he had two choices: go back peacefully and get killed, or take Marius' mantle and march on Rome. He choose the latter, and when the dust settled Caesar was the master of Rome and Pompey was dead, assassinated by the courtiers of Ptolemy XIII of Egypt to try and appease Caesar but instead royally pissing him off (that's how Cleopatra became the Queen of Egypt, she knew killing Pompey was a stupid idea and was already an exile, so when Caesar got the news she allied herself with him), with only one remaining Optimate army still resisting in Sicily under Pompey's son, Sextus Pompey.

Caesar was a much different man from Sulla. For starters, his reforms followed the Populares' ideals. Also, he didn't like to have people executed for being political enemies - a honorable death on the battlefield was one thing, but having someone killed in peacetime for having different political opinions was another, and Pompey's surviviving soldiers fell for him when Caesar ordered his men to let them live. And then there's the part that usually gets omitted in Italian school books: he had no intention to relinquish his power once he was done, and even planned to make himself King of Rome, even with the ghost of Tarquinius still looming over Rome. Being a genius, however, he decided to test the water first, most notably by arranging for his trusted lieutenant Mark Antony to publicly offer him a crown while STARK NAKED, so that it could be dismissed as a tasteless joke if needed. The people booed at Antony's action, so Caesar rejected the crown and tried to pass it off as a tasteless joke... But part of the public opinion started wondering about Caesar's true intentions, and a number of Optimates decided it was time to deal with Caesar.

These men, the self-proclaimed Liberators, were a number of lesser Optimates that for various reasons felt personally insulted by Caesar (one even owed him money), and took Caesar's probes toward kingship as excuse. Their leaders were Gaius Cassius Longinus, who Caesar had refused a political appointment in favor of someone else, and Marcus Junius Brutus, direct descendant of the Brutus that led the Romans against Tarquinius and infamous weathervane who joined anyone who seemed to be the strongest, first choosing to side with Pompey, who had his father's killed during Sulla's purges, because his allies had sided with him against Caesar, then siding with Caesar when he got the upper hand, and now realizing that his entire political career was at Caesar's whim (it was in fact him who got the appointment Caesar denied to Cassius) and the master of Rome could change his mind any time, and seemed rather inclined to support his trusted lieutenant Mark Antony and his grand nephew Octavian. The Liberators waited for a Senate session outside the Pomerium (as a number of Senators were also holding military offices), thus in a place where carrying weapons was allowed, and with their knives jumped Caesar on the Ides of March. The tyrant was dead, and they could now take whatever political office they wanted while Cicero, Rome's most honest man who was nonetheless biased toward them as an Optimate, brokered a peace with Caesar's allies... But they had mistaken Antony as a brute. At Caesar's funeral Antony gave a legendary speech and read out Caesar's will, in which he gave lavish gifts to the masses of Rome, thus turning the entire population of Rome against the Liberators to such a point Sextus Pompey didn't want anything to do with them, and igniting the third of the four rounds of civil wars that would destroy the Roman Republic and turn it into the Empire.

In conclusion, was Caesar killed for a good reason? Most certainly yes. But was Brutus a hero? Nope. He was a weathervane ready to switch sides the moment the tide turned, and turned on Caesar out of fear he'd cut his political career off if he opposed him (though Mark Antony turning the entirety of Rome on him apparently restored his coherency, as during the following war he finally fought to his own death). Thus screw Caesar, screw Brutus, and screw Mark Antony for restarting the war. Only Cicero and Octavian can be spared. Wait, wasn't Octavian just Caesar's grandnephew? Well, yes... But he was also Caesar's legal heir, equally ambitious and brave but much smarter and cunning, enough to secure his power first by allowing Antony to screw himself over by thinking with his lower head (Antony cheating on his wife Octavia with Cleopatra in spite of Octavia being the very model of a Roman bride pissed off a LOT of Romans. Especially her brother, who happened to be Octavian himself) and then by actually solving the entire problem of Roman institutions having overextended themselves (you know, what had started the entire mess to begin with), thus creating the Roman Empire while assuming the name of Augustus.

As for the knife block? It's made in Italy. Because we may hold Caesar as a national hero to this day, but with such an obvious joke...

#julius caesar #caesar #brutus #mark antony #gaius julius caesar #ides of march

[itlivesproject]

JUST FINISHED THE CHAPTER AND SRDTFYGUHJ the implications??? the parallels??? for each of the lis if mc is power personified?? like first you have Jocelyn who's lost her best friends to the power and unlike ilitw mc didn't have a support system way back then so all this anger has stemmed into a huge need for revenge and now you're saying the one person who calms her down or clashes with her just right is the one thing she swore to destroy? then you have Abel who's had this immense burden he's carried because of the necklace and the power and the ghosts to the extent he's lost family and now you'e telling him the one person that gives him a respite from all the work is the very thing that can endanger everything he's worked so hard to protect those near to him for? then you have Lincoln who's been introduced to the power too early and too young and has seen outright the horrible toll the power takes from others and hence he's vowed to end this one way or another and now you're telling him the one person who's come closer is the very thing that he swore to protect himself from ever again coming near? and!! AMALIA!!!! who's spent her entire life just searching for something normal and acquainting herself with someone who despite all the struggle they go through is still someone she holds near and dear to her heart and has vowed to stop the power from messing from her and anyone else again - and now you're telling her the one person who's understood her the longest and knows her more intimately than herself is the very force that has led to her destruction? how do you tell your best friend that you are nothing but a memory of death? how do you tell the person you love you're the very thing they hate?

which is to say I'm so glad the heterochromia had implications (like I knew they changed but this. this change is actually insane /pos) and I hope the break is effervescent and the plot twists continue

these musings... top notch, really. so many implications, so little time!!

#ask #gatewayerror420 #mod win

[dbgdbw]

219화

219화

대결 (3)

Match (3)

콰르르르— An immense amount of water swept along the ground, tearing both earth and wood along.

Upon hearing Yerimie’s declaration, the Amaterasu Guild Leader speedily sent out additional orders for evacuations. When he asserted that all the houses on the beachfront should be cleared out and damage remunitions claimed from Amaterasu Guild, I felt unexpectedly impressed by the response. I’d half-expected him to say that we should just end things as they stood. 

‘Then again, as a combat-type S-rank Hunter, he wouldn’t want to miss out on this match, even if it puts one of his own on the line.’

So long as he wasn’t terribly attached to Gakuto, at least. Since he was giving out the orders for evacuation and really setting the stage, it seemed that he only amounted to being ‘a guild member’ or so. Or it could be the opposite, and he expected him to be able to hold out for a measly hour.

[ Ahh, things are popping again, the water is rising fast. Hunter Iwahata Gakuto, is dodging with immense agility. Indeed, when it comes to speed, he’s certainly incredible. ]

The Japanese emcee seemed to be on Gakuto’s side, no matter how you looked at it. The disappointment and lament mixed into their voice was clear as day. And when this would be broadcasting in Korea, too.

Using my phone, I pulled up a live internet broadcast of the event from the Korean side.

[ A torrential downpouring! Hunter Bak Yerim, has called up torrents of water in succession! One pillar, two, now three! Veritable dragons! Water dragons(1), I should say! ] 

[ Hunter Gakuto is hardly visible now! This is what you call a devastating scaling difference, like between man and nature! But though it might be by the sea, it seems that controlling that much water would result in a large consumption of mana—Section Chief Song Taewon-nim, what are your thoughts on this matter? ]

…eh? Section Chief Song Taewon-nim, you said? As the camera panned to the side, next to the two analysts that were burning up with great fervor, the exceedingly calm figure of Song Taewon came into view. But no, wait, how did……

[ As Hunter Bak Yerim’s magical power stat skews fairly high, and a time constraint has been established, I do not anticipate any significant difficulties on her part. ]

Song Taewon answered in a businesslike tone. Before, during the A-rank ranking battles, Section Chief Song had seemed to show some signs of interest in the analytics desk, but ultimately he’d turned it down while saying he had to be on-call in case of an accident. Since the stage was taking place overseas this time, it appeared that he’d been dragged into it in the end.

That there weren’t very many S-rank Hunters capable of filling a casting role, was true. Riette and Evelyn were both foreigners, and Kim Sunghan wasn’t the type to leave the Guild unmanned while everyone was away, just to appear on a broadcast. Had Hashin’s Park Mingyu refused?

Even so, they could’ve just left it to an A-rank Hunter, instead of dragging someone who could finally be at ease for once into it. How cruel.

[ There’s steam coming off of the water that shot up just now! Is it thermal water?(2) ]

[ It is! The heated water is boiling over! It’s Hunter Bak Yerim’s own take on hot spring water! ]

When I raised my head to check at those words, I could see that there really were hazy traces of steam coming off of the torrents of water. I’d heard that Japan had a lot of hot springs, but to think that it’d show itself in the middle of a fight, too. Would this place turn into a ‘Bak Yerim onsen,’ perhaps. 

The original stadium had been turned into a giant puddle, and Gakuto was busily trying to flee along the coastline. Yerimie leisurely stalked after him, exuding an incredibly fearsome pressure. 

Barring Myungwoo and myself, only Awakened whose stats were A-rank or higher were left. A few A-ranks who had been swept away by the water, were being pulled to and fro by the currents after having been pushed out to sea. It was to the point where I’d gotten soaked too, even though I was being held aloft high in the air by my dongsaeng via the Verdant Willow Leaves Skill. 

“Here it comes again! Get ready!”

Accompanying Yerimie’s helpful announcement, the streams of water shot up again. The water pressure alone was immense, but as Gakuto swung his sword at the screen of water blocking his way.

펑!

It exploded, as if by detonation, and the droplets transformed to shards of ice in an instant. As such, what resulted was a shower of many hundreds of icy arrows. Formed through the strength that Gakuto himself had exerted, no less.

치이익, perhaps he’d used his Volcanic Heat Skill at max power, as the hail of icy arrows dissolved and steam began to billow from the air around Gakuto’s person. But because it entailed having to heat up not only the surrounding air, but the endless stream of water as well, it was a futile endeavor. 

When the heat inevitably dissipated, a soaring wall of water was the next in line to be frozen whole. Transformed into a sinister sheet of thorns, it crashed towards Gakuto. 

“Dammit!”

That felt like a ‘chikushō’(3), most likely. 

쿠르릉, as the monumental ice wall that fell over him was a size that was much too big to easily avoid, rather than run, Gakuto opted to pierce through the wall. Concentrating the heat in order to melt the ice, a tremendous strength backed by S-rank stats combined with swordsmanship skills to break through the thick ice in an instant. 

He might be the prey in this cat-and-mouse game, but an S-rank was still an S-rank. The ice wall split in half with a noisy crack. As fragments scattered, shimmering brilliantly in the light, and Gakuto’s body popped up from between the remnants of the wall,

“Ngk!”

A tidal wave pushed in from the sea. As though he’d been slapped by a giant’s open palm, 철썩, Gakuto was sent bowling over from the impact of the wave.

[ A great tsunami, tsunami! ]

Not only the Japanese, but the Korean broadcasts were also in a tizzy over the amazing tidal waves, look at that height! on air. 쿠르르르, the water swept along the ground another time. Timber snapped, and a car that had the misfortune of being in the vicinity was upended on its roof. Gakuto was using the heat in combination with what seemed to be another Skill to rebuff the advancing water, but it was a paltry attempt that really only succeeded in keeping his own body dry.

“The gap is way too big.”

“Since we’re by the sea.”

Yoohyunie answered matter-of-factly. 

“If this took place in the middle of a desert, on the other hand, then she’d have been at a disadvantage.”

At present, all she had to do was gather up the water; in a desert, since she’d have to source the water herself, she would’ve had to use far more mana for much less return in volume. But here, it was as though she had an unlimited supply of ammo stacked up for her. All she had to do was blast away to her heart’s content. 

“This match should’ve happened in the middle of summer, what a shame. Don’t cha think?”

It would’ve been a refreshingly vicarious experience for the viewers, said Yerimie, hefting her spear. The Magos’s Shawl weaved languidly around her, and her earrings tinkled lightly together. Currents of water rose up around her. Like the heads of a hydra, about ten separate streams writhed around their master in a protective configuration.

[ Yamata no Orochi(4)! Just like a Yamata no Orochi! ]

The hell was that. A torrent of water that was about the same thickness as five electric poles put together, shot towards Gakuto like a lance. In fact, as it was mid-flight.

쩌저적—

Solidifying into ice, it actually did turn into a massive ice spear. Just like that, 쾅! 쾅! 쾅!, they smashed against the ground. Faced with an endless wave of giant spears, Gakuto was unable to block the offensive and could only dodge back and forth. 

It wasn’t a quantity of water that could simply be dealt with via heat. For him to attempt to break through with his sword, the attacks were too numerous. Unless one was sturdy enough to withstand the impact, or capable of using a wide-range attack to deal with everything at once, the only option was to run away.

While the Japanese broadcast was sighing in regret and lament, the Korean broadcast was cheering excitedly.

[ Bak Yerim! Bak Yerim! Bak Yeriiiiim!! ]

Likely to end up losing your voice like that, you were. I really should’ve made a placard to wave around too. The regular spectators that occasionally flashed on-screen seemed to be in an exuberantly celebratory mood as well. They were practically popping champagne bottles left and right.

“How many minutes have passed, now?”

Since she’d announced that she’d catch him within an hour. Because I didn’t have a wristwatch, I could only check using my cellphone clock. Watch……  Was the reason he still hadn’t brought it up, because he actually had forgotten. Though, yes, you could happen to forget. It could be that it slipped your mind while you were busy with life, but. 

“What is it?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

My dongsaeng seemed leery of the way I was looking at him. What do you mean, what is it. Should I just ask him outright.

Anyway, it felt as though thirty minutes or so had already passed. Just then, the broadcast confirmed the time as well.

[ Thirty-four minutes have passed since Hunter Bak Yerim’s hour-limit declaration! Now, only twenty-six, twenty-five minutes remain. It’s time for her to slowly start closing in, wouldn’t you say? ]

[ Particularly since the mana use should be quite significant. But to have witnessed this situation and still declare Hunter Gakuto the winner, simply from holding out for an hour, would be ve~ry disingenuous! ]

[ In truth, the current situation can already be regarded as Hunter Bak Yerim’s win! ]

Originally, Gakuto would have lost the moment he’d stepped outside of the arena. But Yerimie had been the one to offer the amendment, first. She did seem confident in her ability, but because her opponent was so speedy to begin with, catching him wasn’t as easy as it seemed. Since he could use the concentrated heat to at least guard his immediate vicinity, it would be difficult to pin him in place.

Would she use Shadowless Day, at the last. If she added the magical energy buff on top of the attribute buff, so long as the cold resistance wasn’t S-rank, he would probably still freeze over.

“Huff, hah!” 

Leaping over the shattered remnants of an ice spear as it broke off in the ground on impact, Gakuto wheezed out ragged breaths. He appeared to have been worn down from the constant dodging and blocking. But his speed still hadn’t reduced. Though compared to Yerimie—who was only moving around the water that had already been available, and occasionally freezing things here and there—the amount of magical energy he’d used up would’ve been much more significant, so he was managing to do an impressive job holding out. 

But, just when it seemed that things would be coming to a close, since not even potions could be used for recovery. 

“How many minutes are left?”

Yerimie asked, peering into her surroundings. 

“Nineteen minutes!”

Looking at the timer displayed on the border of the Korean broadcast, I quickly shouted the answer to her. Thanking me, Yerimie sent a finger heart(5) my way. 

“You heard that, right? Though there’s still a bit of time left, since I’ve played around plenty, let’s end this now!”

“By whose whims! Come catch me, if you can!”

Nineteen minutes were doable. Whether that was his line of thinking, Gakuto’s movements sped up even more. That guy, had he been reserving that bit of strength while pretending otherwise.

탓탓탓, in order to clearly widen the gap between them, Gakuto began to sprint. His form made it into the distance in seconds. Yerimie, who had been watching unblinkingly, twitched the tip of her fingers. The sea where Gakuto was at swayed, and.

휙, Yerimie’s form disappeared, and in an instant, reappeared right above Gakuto. As though he’d been waiting, Gakuto swung his blade. 촤아악, water droplets scattered as water and swordpower clashed. The moment Gakuto tried to widen the gap again, an enormous volume of water shot up.

It was as though a whale had flung itself onto the shore. An immense amount of water, the equivalent of a small hill, blocked Gakuto’s path forward. Leaving the arena boundaries may have been permitted, but as the seaside was the limit, he couldn’t backtrack any further. But even so, attempting to penetrate or vault over the obstacle before him was the same as throwing himself into the enemy’s line of fire. 

Since there was no way of anticipating how that formidable mass of water might attack. 

Nearly simultaneously, a parallel mass of water blocked off his route on the other side. Apparently having actually exerted herself this time around, Yerimie let out a few quickened breaths. 

Two monoliths made of water swayed hypnotically under the sunlight. At the otherworldly sight, the Japanese—and even the Korean—broadcasts momentarily went quiet. 

“Give in?”

“Y-you’ve merely obstructed my way!”

Gakuto shouted obstinately, even as he began to appear panicked. Honestly, no solution seemed forthcoming. Even Yoohyunie, who wielded flames of much higher intensity than what could be produced by ‘Heat,’ would be hard-pressed to deal with that kind of volume. Of course, Yoohyunie could just use his Verdant Willow Leaves Skill to slip away.

But that guy didn’t even have anything resembling a flight Skill. 

Looking down at Gakuto—who talked a big game, but couldn’t budge one bit—Bak Yerim smiled. 

“Alright, in that case.”

Part of the watery mass shifted. At a slow, steady pace, it fell upon Gakuto. Heatwaves shimmered in the air again, and white clouds of steam billowed forth. 철벅철벅, sword blades attempted to push back the water as well, but only served to showcase the literal futility of attempting to cut water with a knife. 

How could he possibly oppose what was not merely ice, but water itself. No matter how much strength he might use, a simple show of physical force would only serve to rebuff the advances for a moment. When it was only a part of the water, at that. 

Not just a lake, but an entire ocean was at her disposal. Even if it were an SS-rank Hunter, and not an S-rank, fighting the sea would be an impossible feat. 

“Ugh!” 

Eventually, the mound of water swallowed up Gakuto. As the mountainous mass merged together with Gakuto at the center, it formed a giant sphere. But even so, as it was simply composed of water, he’d be able to swim his way out—except.

쩌저적.

The inner part of the mass began to freeze over. With Gakuto at the center, it appeared that a shell of ice had been formed around him. The outer portion was still primarily just water.

터엉, from inside the watery marble, the sound of pounding against the ice wall could be faintly heard. But any time the ice would give way, more water would immediately fill the spot and freeze over the same space. At an expedited pace, that ensured he wouldn’t be able to escape. 

It would melt, then break, then re-freeze. If it was simply stone or metal, then it would be over once it broke. Quickly mending it would be difficult. But water and ice, could be cycled indefinitely. Without resting, incessantly. 

Gakuto’s movements were beginning to slow. The water was blocking off the air as well, after all. With the fight’s location confirmed to be the arena, under the assumption that he’d be steaming things up all he wanted, it appeared that he’d foregone bringing any equipment that would enable aquatic maneuvers. 

Even as an S-rank Hunter with physical capabilities far beyond the human norm, he couldn’t stand up to a lack of oxygen for long. Gakuto eventually lost consciousness, and as the broadcast hurriedly announced Hunter Bak Yerim’s victory, the ball of water burst apart.

촤아악!

In the center of the watery explosion, Gakuto wobbled as he sat up in place. Bak Yerim descended before the coughing Hunter. 

“Well done. It was quite enjoyable.(6) ‘Cause I got to really let loose for once.”

Saying that the oncoming headache was probably a sign that she was close to mana exhaustion, Yerimie took out a potion and swallowed it down. Gakuto’s expression crumpled slightly, but he compliantly lowered his head. 

“I acknowledge my loss, Hunter Bak Yerim. I will have to be satisfied with having drawn out your utmost, and further hone my skills for an even more dignified match.”

…to say you ‘drew out her utmost,’ she still didn’t use Shadowless Day. Since this was exempting the attribute and stat buff, as well as the SS-rank Skill that tied her opponents’ feet on top of giving an additional buff, this was closer to being only two-thirds of Yerimie’s true abilities. Gakuto, that guy, it was almost enough to make you feel a bit sorry for him.

Standing up from his spot, Gakuto dipped his head towards Yerimie again.

“It would not be a disservice, for you to be designated the goddess of water.”

“Goddess, what goddess.”

Yerimie spoke directly at one of the cameras that had ventured close.

“The ruler of water! I won’t accept anything other than that!”

Waving the spear that had the gem holding the Ruler of Water Skill embedded in it, Yerimie grinned brightly.

-----

(1) 수룡 水龍

(2) 온천 溫泉

(3) 칙쇼 ちくしょう

(4) 야마타노오로치 八岐大蛇

(5) 손가락 하트 

(6) yerimie switches back to using polite informal language with gakuto here, after things have effectively become ‘water under the bridge’ (so to speak) with her win. still more on the casual side, but not as rude as she was being earlier

#219화 #the s classes that i raised #tsctir #sctir

[ahogedetective]

*while shuichi's in his bedroom, he'll suddenly find himself completely in the dark! at first it seems like it might just be a power outage due to the storm outside, but the most curious thing will happen as his door then slowly opens wide, the hallway dimly lit with an almost ominous, ethereal glow. then, disturbingly familiar music will begin to play, starting off rather faint before slowly gaining in volume, signaling the arrival of something twisted and not of this world...*

*suddenly, a red hand grips the doorframe, the thing trembling as it holds onto it. it begins writhing as best as it can, parts of its red 'arm' visible just barely beyond the detective's field of vision, the thing seemingly getting more agitated before it suddenly... stops.*

"GRAWWAAAAARRR!"

*it gives a shrill cry while it flails and jerks uncontrollably against the wall, another red hand joining its unnatural movements as it seems to have noticed the detective's presence! then, just when it seems as if they'll try to grab him... they'll suddenly flip the nearby light back on!*

"Whew! That's a pretty bad storm outside, right? It took forever to get back here 'cause I dropped my phone down the stairs and didn't wanna trip trying to get it! Guess it must have landed on some Halloween video or something. It's pretty spooky hu? Haha!" *david has the most innocent look on his face, giving a bright smile as he places his hands on his hips!*

"Oh, hope you don't mind me borrowing these red cleaning gloves. Taka told me how he was dusting stuff the last time he was here and I thought it would be a good idea to follow suit. I think you'll find your sink to be so clean that it's sparking!"

After enjoying another fun couple of hours playing Zelda, Shuichi was about to place his Switch on the charging dock, when the lights suddenly went out. "?!" He let out a startled gasp, instantly halting. "A... A power outage?? Oh that's just-" Then...he starts to hear his door opening. On it's own...? "....Great.......huh....?" He freezes, head slowly turning to the door to see if he imagined that sound. But no, his door was open. If that didn't unnerve him enough, then the sound of music-that music-"Wh.....What....?" Especially sent a chill down his spine. "I... I put my switch on sleep mode, didn't I?" He hurriedly grabs it just to double check. "Didn't I?! It's off!! So why am I hearing that music?! Wh-!" Then, as he turns his head back to the door.... he saw it. A red, glowing, trembling hand grip the doorframe. "..............?........?!........."

He couldn't even let out a noise, with the way his mouth was agape, eyes wide as saucers as his console slips out of his hands. No, he thinks to himself; this couldn't be real. There was no way those horrific gloom hands were at his door. He was simply hallucinating it, was all; or perhaps unknowingly dozed off at some point, and just having a nightmare. That's it, that's all! But those excuses he tries to delude himself with, would be shattered the moment that monster emits that bloodcurling screech. "Ha.....aaaaaaaaaaahh......!!" The slow backing up he does... will turn into him practically slamming his back against the wall in full blown panic. "AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!"

Is the immensely loud scream the detective utters, now scrambling about the room before he leaps onto his bed!!!! "WHHAAAAAAAHIIIEEEE?!?!??"Just nothing but screams leaving him as he sees not just one, but two of those demonic hands gripping at his door so aggressively. Every and all sense of logic left him, knowing only fear as he yanks a random book off his shelf. And just as he was about to launch it at those hands...his lights are turned on, revealing...David?! "Wh-aaaaa-aa-a-a....?" His voice is cracked and raspy from having screamed so loud, as he utters that. "D...Da....ahh...?" The whole while David is talking, Shuichi is staring at him like a deer in the headlights, still standing on top of his bed and arm still frozen in the 'throwing' position and everything. "..................................................." For an entire minute after David finished talking, nothing but the sound of rain fills the room, as Shuichi slowly registers everything he just told him. "D-Daaaa....Dav....." He could not believe this... it was all just one, really good scare prank by David. Those 'gloom hands', were just those red cleaning gloves!!!

"DAVID!!!!" Having half a mind to still launch his book at him if it weren't a hardback one, Shuichi drops it and instead grabs one of his pillows and launches it at his face, before grabbing another one, leaping off the bed, and tackles him down to the ground, so he can start whapping him repeatedly with it. "You bastard!!!! I-I can't BELIEVE you!!! I almost had a heart attack!!!" Now he's pouting very hard, face now several shades of red in embarrassment. It was bad enough he clinged to David yesterday when he got scared by those hands, and now this! Oh he knows his sane bro, will never let him live this down... "'Must have landed'-y-yeah, right! Don't try to act innocent here, you completely did that on purpose! A-And don't think that because you cleaned some of my things, which I do thank you for, that I'm letting you off the hook, t-teasing me like that! You are the worst!!! I'll show you spooky! uuueeuuueeerrrgghhhhh!!!!!!"

Shuichi isn't genuinely upset of course, but he still will not show a shred of mercy with the continuous pillow whaps he's giving him, before he now starts pummeling hs chest with his fists, whines and whimpers leaving him, now. He's so embarrassed, he could die. He now never wants to look at a pair of red gloves of any variety, ever again......

#FDJKNFNDVDFJDDFJ AND THERE IT IS!!!!!!!!!!!!! DAVIIIIIIIIID!!!!! #JKDFJKFDFFDJ MAKING UR SANE BROTAG BRO SCREAM LOUDER THAN PROLLY THE FUGKING THUNDER!!!!! ⚡ #THE MOST POUTY EMBARRASSED SUSHI ROLL.............. TEASED SO ~CRUELLY~ HE CANNOT BELIIEVE!!! #all cause of the 👁✋!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #FJFDNKJKFD he is still LOCKING that door when he goes to sleep later! if at all smh!!!!!!!!!!! DISASTER BOYS!!!!!! #FKFNDJ THIS WAS SO FUNNY I LOVE IT..... but now David must face the wrath of his ferocious w h a p s!!!! 💥💥 #Shuichi answers;; #essenceofjustice

[cerulean-dreams-18]

Siggy design for my au! She's about 14 here. Not really a fan of how either of these drawings turned out but oh well.

Head cannons/backstory for au sigurrós:

She's very tiny at the moment. Like 5 feet tall and 110 pounds soaking wet. Not sure yet if I want her to grow up and end up being like 6 foot tall and buff, or just stay the size she is now her whole life.

She's half Icelandic, half Korean.

She's a lesbian.

She usually goes by Sigs or Siggy.

She has a weird psychic connection with SCP-953. 953 is almost constantly talking to her telepathically. For some reason she just latched onto her when Sigs was a baby and ever since she's basically been living rent free in her head.

953 constantly degraded her and tried to influence her to do things she didn't want to do, like hurt or kill people. When she resisted, 953 was furious and would berate her and often encouraged her to hurt herself.

The staff assigned to be her primary caretakers for her for the first 8 years of her life were extremely neglectful. Since she was a newborn, they did the bare minimum to keep her alive. They had no emotional connection to her whatsoever, and would just ignore her every time she tried to connect with them.

Siggy is incredibly lactose intolerant. Her primary caretakers were told this by her doctors, but didn't really care. They still gave her milk and dairy products every day and as a result she often felt sick and in pain as a young child.

Higher ranking staff of the foundation like Gears, Kondraki, and Rights were the only people who actually showed care for her and gave her the validation and love her primary caretakers never provided. As a result, she always strived to impress the doctors and do everything they asked, to receive their approval. She was intrigued by Clef for as long as she could remember, and for some reason just kind of looked up to him even though she didn't see him very often. She'd often try to interact with him and even draw pictures or make gifts for him, but he had a similar apathetic reaction to her that her caretakers held, eventually growing to outright fear and dislike her. It hurt her immensely to know one of the people she likes most wanted her dead.

In this au, she was woken up from her coma a few months after the whole 239-b incident, right after her eighth birthday. Staff had an idea of how to better control her powers, but before they could act on their plan, she solved her own problem. Since she could have anything she wanted in the world, she decided she didn't want powers anymore after all the trouble they'd caused her, and wished to be normal forever. It worked, now she can't bend reality even if she wanted to.

The very same day she woke up, 953 accidentally lets slip to sigurrós her plan to breach containment and kill a bunch of staff. Siggy sees Clef is the first person she wants to kill, and immediately runs to find him and tell him, as she still doesn't want him to get hurt, even after he tried to kill her. She explains the whole situation to Clef, including how she and 953 are telepathically connected. Clef is horrified to learn what this kid has gone through for the past 8 years, and has a change of heart about her. She doesn't even have powers anymore. She's just a normal little girl.

953 did end up breaching containment, and still hasn't been found to this day, but she didn't manage to kill anyone thanks to precautions taken thanks to siggy's heads up. 935 let the 939s out of containment to distract staff while she escaped. One of the 939s very briefly got a hold of Siggy, and gave her the scars on her face and notch in her ear.

Clef kinda felt bad about Siggy's whole situation and ended up adopting her. Meri became her big sister. Later on Clef and Kondraki got together, so she gained an additional dad and Draven as a brother.

Her teeth are sharper than a normal human's should be, and her nails are as well. She has little fangs that just barely stick out of her mouth. Her ears are abnormally pointy.

Her irises are gray, and her pupils are slitted like a cat or a fox and change color depending on her mood. Her eyes are highly reflective and appear to "glow" at night.

953 is still in her head and trying to influence her to do things, even though she told everyone their connection severed after 953 breached containment.

She has adhd.

She has an insecure attachment style due to the way she was raised. She also suffers from depression and PTSD. She goes to therapy for it.

She constantly needs to be assured that she's loved.

She's a huge cuddle bug and will take any opportunity she can to snuggle with one of her dads or siblings. Clef is often her go-to because he's the biggest and comfiest, and she feels safe around him.

She'll just say and do completely out of the blue things. She's very chaotic, and her friends and family love that about her. She's very entertaining.

She, Draven, and Meri love to banter back and forth at each other. Sigs is the baby so she gets teased the most.

Her two best friends are Emma (040) and Cameron (2241). She and Emma have always kinda had a mutual unspoken crush on each other, while Sigs and Cameron are more like siblings.

She uses humor to cope with her trauma.

Clef and Kondraki both love grunge and rock music, and passed that love down to all their kids. Hence the Radiohead t shirt.

#scp foundation #scp 239 #scp 166 #dr alto clef #clefdraki #clefdraki family au #sigurrós stefansdottir #draven kondraki #scp 040 #scp 2241

[peninkwrites]

“‘Mhm,’ Punz has the audacity to sound bored.” of course he does the mf’ing ….

“‘I f-fucking hate you–‘ Tommy hates that his voice is shaky, like a frustrated child trying not to cry, which isn’t inaccurate.” tommyyyyy :((((((((( [also me, too, regarding his line of dialogue here]

“Tommy almost smirks.  ‘You’ve caught on, have you?  Stopped asking questions?’ Punz bristles.  ‘I don’t need to,’ he says coldly. ‘Right, right,’ Tommy placates him.  ‘Still, you can see it now, can’t you?’ ‘What?’ Tommy grins, mocking and belittling.  ‘The leash.’ YESSSSSSSSSSSS GET HIS ASS

‘Yeah, I guess,’ Dream shrugs, adjusting his hold on Wilbur’s corpse.  Tommy is doing his best not to look at him now, at either of them.  ‘Okay, so, I’m gonna take this,’ he nods to Wilbur’s body, ‘back down to the base and then I’ll stasis you two back, how about that?’ dream’s consistent dehumanization of wilbur continues to get me every time. bristling with righteous fury

ohhhhhhh wilbur’s monologue in limbo…… him wanting so desperately to be able to do something and taking that inability to do so out on himself……

YESSSS WILBUR ACTUALLY GOT AN ATTACK IN. KING SHIT

“Wilbur stares at him, nausea intermingling with rage.  He feels like this hatred is a physical thing, projecting fury like it can somehow burn, but even this loathing isn’t enough to actually save anyone.” uh oh — what’s this? genre change time! the immense amount of stress has awakened latent psychic powers in wilbur and now he can kill dream with his mind! go on a tetsuo-from-akira rampage! *not copium* (i know i’ve mentioned that movie before and i know this is a bad end story but still. the number of times i’ve wished crimeboys could be untouchably powerful and beat the everloving shit out of dream (and punz xoxo) like that is insane. i think it’s a very human kind of response, though.)

“Wilbur is no longer looking at him, staring at the ground, wishing he could self destruct and kill Dream with him.” seems like wilbur has the same kind of wishes as the ones i just mentioned :(((((((((

“Wilbur being here, despite the pains, is still horribly, undeniably worth it to Tommy.  Despite all of his worries, at least he’s no longer alone, at least there’s one person in this fucked up place who he can always trust to be on his side.” not for long….. i’m going to fucking break when it happens

very good scene of dream and punz being terse with each other. but also “‘First, you’re gonna blow up L’Manberg.’” NOOOOOOOO NOT AGAINNNNN

“Tubbo doesn’t know the difference between excitement and rage anymore.” man. that’s him right there, summarized in a line

WOOOOOOOOO TUBBO WITH THE KNEE SHOT AND NIKI WITH THE CROSSBOW LET’S GOOOOOOOOOO

i’m absolutely loving this fight scene. very tense. also “‘Maybe because you didn’t stop him,’ Punz snaps.” OOOOOOOHHHH SHIT. also ‘heartbreaking. the (second-)worst person you know just made a great point’

yesssss punz keep living in fear forever and ever <3. sapnap, vessel of my rage, ily

“Pick one day a week to keep looking for me, because I know you’ll never give up, but I want you to keep living.  And hey, not saying I’d mind you finding me, but still.  And I give you my permission to stop.  However many years down the line it takes for you to stop mourning me and be ready to live properly again, I give you my blessing.  Fill in that grave, pretend I’m still there.  Move in with Ranboo.  Take care of each other.  See, you have to do what I say because I’m the one dying here, got it?” FUCK, man. they’re just kids and yet they have to deal with all this and be alone and it’s not fair. this had me actually tearing up (not an easy feat). this is such a good paragraph of writing it’s INSANE. many thoughts head full about this rn - might post something more coherent in the discord later. this is definitely a huge english major moment for you in my opinion /extremely pos :)

aaa thank you!! :D I was very proud of this chapter. "Sapnap, vessel of my rage, ily" is such a rad line and such a mood.

Writing Tommy's letter broke me as well ngl. It was rough :(

As always your thoughts are a delight to read <3

#asks #nonotablechange #tddd #wake up.

[coolandepicstimboardtime]

Michael distortion stimboard for Sunbug!

Sources: X/X/X X/X X/X/X

#stim #stimboard #eyestrain #trypo #my funny boards #guess who learned how to save gifs off of tumblr :sunglasses: #i hold immense power now/pos #oh shit uhhh #tma #the magnus archives #the magnus archives stimboard #tma stimboard #that should be. good hopefully dfkgdkfg

[fairyscribbles]

Heart and Hammer. (Hey! I Said Stay Awake!, D.O) (god!au)

Warnings: Jongin is a dick in this one. Dub-con mentioned. Extreme bodily injury mentioned. Hopefully it is somewhat sweet at the end. Please enjoy! :)

-

You could pinpoint the exact moment Kyungsoo's heart broke. Hell, if the world were silent enough, you would be able to hear the cracks before a chasm appeared in the place where kindness and love for his husband resided.

And yet, the god of love did not care in the slightest. His beautiful face was still stretched into a smile all while his hips undulated on top of Taemin's lap. They apparently didn't give a damn who saw them and who didn't- and the one person who wasn't supposed to see, did.

Without a word, the god of Blacksmiths turned his scarred back to the scene and left. Usually, he would be conscious of your predicament and slow his pace for you, so you could wobble behind him unsurely on a wooden leg and crutch, but this time, he was numb to the world.

Numb to the surroundings.

The lovers did not move from their position, but as you turned one last time to catch a glimpse of them, they both had a victorious smile on their faces.

This was all planned.

There wasn't much you could do- you already had a taste of what gods can do to you when they think you've wronged them; a painful and phantom pain just slightly above your right knee, the pain that prevented you from catching up to Kyungsoo and doing something, anything to calm him down.

You didn't even know if he would allow it; after all, it was his kindness that helped you survive, and his gentle soul that brought you back to his smith when you were halfway into the embrace of his brother ruling the underworld.

Is it in your place to comfort him after something as heartbreaking as the infidelity of the god of love, who vowed to love him and only him?

It took a while to return to Kyungsoo's palace.

Many times you believed it was not for you, on the lonely rock teetering near a volcano, the source of Kyungsoo's powers. It dried out your skin much quicker than normal environments and it was only thanks to the ingenious idea to carve out a hole into the deep rock, filling it with ocean water that you were able to stay with him as long as you had.

The sky turned gradually from the softest of blue into a reddish hue, cotton-white clouds darkening into ashen grey and then black, mirroring Kyungsoo's mood. There were times when the sky rejoiced with Kyungsoo, each amused snort of laughter releasing a joyous white cloud in the sky, his warm approach mirroring in the soft wind softly blowing and sun caressing the skin instead of blistering it.

Today was not that case. The mountain was unlike you had seen it before. The black and red falsely made you think about the scorching heat, but as you approached the realm of the god blacksmith, the closer you huddled into your feeble covering, trying to conserve warmth, wobble up the rocky hillside and hurry at the same time. The furnace was not happily puffing with warmth, the fire inside was ice blue, almost white.

The closer you came, the more you were unsure whether you wanted to face the god and his anguish. It was difficult to walk up the stony pathway that was crushed under the hard steps of Kyungsoo, who oozed destruction in every way. The further inside you got into the mountain, the more broken possessions you had seen; it was mostly objects of Jongin's or something that they shared that lay crumbled on the ground. Jongin's mirror, enchanted by Kyungsoo to magically fix whatever blunder dared to appear on the face of the god of love, was punched out, the lasting shards of glass tinted red from Kyungsoo's knuckles. Their bed, made from both the softest satin for Jongin and the hardest mattress for Kyungsoo's back was splintered, one of its legs sticking from the portrait of at that point happy newlyweds.

Amongst the destruction of their joint life sat Kyungsoo. His scarred back was turned towards you, as he sat in front of the caldera, his furnace and piece by piece, he dropped in objects from Jongin that he held dear. He was naked, the clothing given as a birthday present ("It is enchanted to cover those horrid scars on your back. I really can't stand looking at them at times," the red flags were always there, but so were the pink glasses on Kyungsoo's eyes) lay beside him, soon to be thrown in the fire as well.

You knew he heard you, how could he not, with the tapping of your wooden cane against the volcanic rock, but he gave no acknowledgement to your presence. Hobbling to stand next to him, you became unsure of yourself; how to lower yourself gracefully and without hurting yourself? You've been on your feet for far too long, and the wooden leg was already painfully cutting into your thigh, causing immense pain. As you pondered about lowering yourself with your canes, Kyungsoo extended his scorched hand towards you, offering an anchor to slowly sit yourself next to the bubbling lake of magma. Usually you would watch it curiously as it bubbled in happiness of its master, baffled by how pure fire looked so similar to its polar opposite, water, but watching the pure blackness slugging rather made you turn to look at Kyungsoo. He didn't return your gaze and kept staring into the darkness.

"You should go take a dip," his voice was quiet, no emotion hanging off the syllables. It could have been evident that the opposite for the god of fire and brimstone would be the absence of any passion, the absence of life. "You are already drying out."

"I don't want to leave you alone." you murmured in reply, your hand twitching, unsure whether reaching out and grabbing his hand would be a good idea or not.

"You don't need to do that, ___, I'm fine."

"Kyung-"

"It was expected." he sighed, leaning back on his hands, and looking up at the dark sky. Kyungsoo frowned, as if he didn't know why the sky was weeping, as if he didn't know it was angry and wept for him.

"A god of love with a god of metal, of permanence? How absurd." You had no idea what to say to him. Your heart broke at how Kyungsoo, a god who showed you mercy when his uncle didn't, thought of himself as not enough.

"He deserves to be with somebody more fleeting. And who is more fleeting than the god of wind?"

"What he did was bad." your words rung out in the emptiness of the hilltop, searching Kyungsoo's face for any recognition. The only response you got was a frown.

"He gave you his word. He vowed to keep you happy, to be faithful. Kyungsoo..." you really didn't know if you should have told him the next information, but if anyone deserved to know, it was him.

"They looked like they planned it." His eyes turned to look at you. Not saying anything, he stared at you, bidding you to continue with your accusations.

Kyungsoo wouldn't tolerate any vile words aimed at his partner. Jongin was without error, without capability of being bad. However as of now, the god of blacksmiths was not so sure.

"As you were leaving, they paused...they paused and looked over, making sure you saw them. If they were having an illicit affair, why do it so obviously, in an open space?" not able to hold his gaze anymore, you turned to look down at your hands, curling them into fists at the frustration of unfair treatment towards Kyungsoo. The silence was palpable. It was thick as the magma swirling underneath you, slow, angry, oh so angry, as it turned from black to bright red. Kyungsoo's body temperature seemed to shoot up, even sitting next to him felt as if you were touching a white hot object.

"Why would he hurt me like that?" was the most heartbreaking thing he could utter in anger. "What did I do to him for him to want to hurt me like this?" even if he wasn't the one who did something wrong, he still blamed himself.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Kyungsoo." you tried, but he was already not listening to reason. The scars on his body began to seep through with magma, filling him with passion, but not the passion that you seemed to know. This was passion to hurt, passion to create a weapon.

Passion to hurt the one that he vowed to keep safe.

Taking a deep breath, Kyungsoo stood up, the scars drying into dark lava. Before you could do anything else, he already put his hands on you, gently unstrapping the wooden leg, the leather straps feeling like teeth, the same teeth that brought you into this predicament. Making sure not to touch your bare skin, Kyungsoo lifted you up, bringing you over to your small pool of ocean water, giving you the hydration your body sorely needed. The feeling of being filled with water was so overwhelming that you almost missed the fact that Kyungsoo forgot to bring over your prosthetic leg.

"Kyungsoo...my leg..."

"It will be safer for you to stay here for now."  

You have stayed outside for too long. The soothing effect of water on your skin made it hard for you to keep your eyes open. You knew you should stay awake and speak to the god, make him feel like not everybody in the world turned their backs on him, but you struggled to not slip into the land of dreams.

"Kyungsoo..." you murmured silently, reaching out to grab at him, but you were only met with the stuffy air against your fingertips. "You're drained, ___." came his velvety voice from afar, and through blurry eyes you saw him put on his apron and prepare his hammer. The open caldera was once again bubbling, but not happily, more agitated, prepared for whatever Kyungsoo was thinking up.

"You should rest. I will be here once you wake up."

"What are...what are you doing..."

"A gift. One last gift for Jongin."

And in that moment, your consciousness slipped away.

-

You swam through the world of sleep, disoriented. Usually you would not dream, and you didn't need much slumber to feel energized once again. However this time, you felt as if you had been dreaming for eons, just swimming through the murky and starry waters of the sky. Your leg was still attached to your body, as if it had never happened.

"You know, ____," Poseidon's voice rumbled through the darkness of the waters, from all and none direction at the same time, filling you with the same amount of dread it did the first time you heard it.

"You really are beautiful. Much more than my wife." the phantom feeling of his fingertips against the lower of your back made you kick faster in the water, hoping to get away from him. But how can you get away from something that was not there in the first place?

Something glistened in the dark waters, a thing that made your heart clench in fear.

"It makes it really hard to not do anything about this. About you." From the corner of your eye you could see her. Beautiful, and terrifying at the same time, Tethys with arms crossed at her chest, deep frown between her brows, gaze that can and will hurt you in the end. You tried to open your mouth, to plead with her, to explain that you had no intention to woo her husband nor to give him access to your body, but rather than sound coming out, water rushed into your lungs, cutting off your speech.

"Nobody has to know, ___," Poseidon appeared once again, heated whisper brushing against the shell of your ear.

"Nobody will know if you do this one thing for me," but she will know, you tried to argue, but there was no sound coming out, and no matter how fast you tried to swim, he was always there, following you like a shadow.

"Imagine the power I can give you," came the enticing voice from the waters, and the image of Poseidon appeared in the distance, swimming towards you. Strong strokes had him meandering confidently through the water, through his domain and in the moment, you understood how a seal cub felt as it was circled by predators.

"Just one night with me, to once again feel...young, by holding a dainty thing like yourself... and I will give you anything you want." You want him to leave you alone, though. There is nothing more you wanted, you wanted to be left alone to frolic in the waters and serve your queen, not betray her.

And yet you knew you couldn't fight this. This was already set in stone, and no matter how much you wished you could change the past, how you could change the reluctant nod of your head to a determined shake; no pleading, no crying, no anger can change what you had done in the past.

Poseidon was still around you. You couldn't see him anymore, but you still heard the lewd and heated whispers traveling through the water like oil. You stopped trying to swim away, and you floated in the dark waters. It made no difference whether you kept your eyes open or closed, and yet you still shut them to protect yourself from what was coming next.

You nodded, agreeing to shame Tethys by sleeping with her husband. And this time, you didn't see the great white shark surge from the darkness, biting at your leg and shaking until it gave way.

-

You woke with a start, kicking against the bottom of your pool as if the shark who mutilated you was waiting for you at the bottom. You only dreamt of this when you were extremely tired and restless, your biggest insecurities following you into the realm of sleep.

"Hey. Hey, ___..." the rich voice broke through the splashing in the water, and you understood that what was keeping you in the water was the gentle yet firm grip of Kyungsoo's hands on your shoulders. You sighed out his name, fingertips sliding across his hands and forearms to make sure it was him and not the scaley grip of the former master of the seas.

"You are still weak," he murmured, softening his grip once he felt you relax into the water. "You should stay in the water for a little bit longer." there was something wrong with his voice, and with a frown you pried your eyes open to look at the blacksmith.

There were heavy bags under his eyes and his whole body hunched under a mixture of pain and exhaustion. He was no longer wearing the apron and you could see the new scars that crisscrossed his chest and arms like white hot strings. You whined in confusion as you tried to get out of the pool for another reason, to assess his injuries, all while asking him what happened.

"I have something to do, ___. It's not safe for you to get out right now; the earth is still too hot." the water around you was still enticing, luring you back under to sleep, and you could hardly fight against it.

"Kyungsoo...don't..."

"Sleep now, ___...it will all be better soon..."

-

Going down under, you found yourself almost at the same spot when you were ripped out from your dreaming. Your body was being whipped back and forth through the strong currents of the sea, banishing you from the realm you were born to live your entire life in. When your head broke the surface of the water, the sky was just as dark as the sea underneath, occasional lighting forking through the clouds to illuminate the fact that you were left out at sea, forced to swim or drown. Your leg was still bleeding profusely, and as it was a miracle you were not dead yet, you knew that Tethys must have made sure that the shark bite is a certain, but very slow way to drag you into the underworld.

More sharks were circling under you, fighting over who deserves to get a chunk out of you first.

This is it. This is the end of your small, pathetic life. Being ripped apart because of injustice done to you. The sky above you roared with lightning, and with a start you realized that the crack you heard was the sound of the bolt hitting the ground. The darkness that you mistook as night and storm was a looming cliffside.

Seeing that land mass made something in your heart burn. It made it yearn for life, for getting the chance to explain yourself, to ask for forgiveness from your mistress, for being able to look into the eyes of the one who caused your death and show him that even a nymph like yourself was able to survive the order of a dying god.

And with that surge of hope and anger, you kicked as hard as you could, swimming straight towards the land. Not knowing whether the sharks have already began following you, you didn't look back, trying to fight against the current that at one moment pulled you further back into the sea and then the other surged you on top of a wave closer to land. At one of the pulls into sea, you felt your leg bump into the coarse skin of a shark close behind you, and you kicked its nose with the remaining strength that you had before with the final wave forward, you could feel your front skid across the jagged, but solid side of the rocks on the cliff. Grabbing at the cliff with both hands, you held steadfast as the water of the sea kept slapping against your back, pushing the air from your lungs and trying to pull you back into the sea. Another crack into the mountain top had you seeing fire on the edge of the cliff, indicating life just a few meters above you.

The cliff, as jagged and dangerous as it looked, had many roots and rocks sticking out and realizing you had to choose between waiting for the tide to come in and the sharks in the nearby water to pull you back down, or falling to your death, you began the arduous climb up the cliffside. It could have taken hours. It could have taken minutes, and you would be none the wiser, but after many moments when you thought you would just give up in the lightning illuminated night, you finally reached the top of the cliff, dragging your broken body over the edge and into safety.

That was the last bit of energy you had. You were going to die, but you were going to die knowing you tried to do everything to prevent it. And as your eyes were closing for what you thought was the last time, you caught a glimpse of a figure rushing towards you.

-

Heavy hits of a hammer dragged you from slumber. Still disoriented, your eyes fluttered open as you tried to locate the source of the noise attacking your ear drums with a shill 'pang!' every time the hammer hit the metal.

With blurry vision, you saw Kyungsoo's naked back straining to pound the hammer with efficiency against the desired product. Even from a distance you saw his form shake. Focused on his product, he was overworking himself once more, putting the satisfaction of a customer above his wellbeing.

He was like this even the first time you've met, on that cold and rainy night that you've escaped Poseidon's deathly grip.

What you thought was the last time your eyes close was a lie; they sprang open when you felt searing pain in the place where the shark bit off the majority of your leg. You tried to get away from the pain, eyes brimming with tears and whines ripping from your throat when you noticed that a deep voice was murmuring apologies into your ear, making sure your thrashing would not burn you more than it should. The pain was excruciating, but also short-lasting and moments afterwards you were being turned away from the white-hot furnace, your stump sizzling as your wound was burnt shut.

Your confused babbling was soothed by the man holding you, now pulling you away from the furnace and onto a makeshift bed, still gripping tight and making sure you would not fall. It was so sudden, and the fact that you were already prepared to begin the afterlife before somebody gave you another chance at life made you feel extremely weak. You already fought as much as you could. You didn't think you can keep holding on; your whole body burned from the chafed skin with dried salt in its deep ridges and every time you wished you squirm and move your leg a bit to the side you were hit with the sudden realization that you did not have a right limb anymore.

It was all so tiring. You only wanted to die. Whoever is trying to save you is not doing you any favors, and that much you tried to convey to them, but it seemed that they were not listening. They were still mumbling something calming, trying to ensure you that you were in a safe space and that you were taken care of.

The rag that they used to try to wipe out the salt in your wounds made you hiss, but there was no more energy in your body to squirm away. Only then you realized that you were not alone.

"I don't think she will last, Soo," came an almost disinterested voice from behind the man treating your wounds. "Look at her. She's barely hanging on."

"The bleeding stopped. She looks like a sea nymph...I think that if we clean her and make sure she has contact with water, she will survive."

"She's been evidently banished. Probably screwed by Poseidon and attacked by Tethys. She isn't the only body that washed up near here, you know." in the murky confusion of your mind, it finally made sense why you haven't seen many of your friends anymore. Their names were forbidden in your realm, and the same fate awaited you.

The man treating you was kind. From first glance, he did not seem like someone you would want to talk to; scars forked out under the frayed and dirty tunic that he wore and his overgrown hair fell deep into his eyes, covering the sliced scar that started at his temple and ended under his right eyebrow. His left cheek had been sliced open as well, leaving a deep ridge in the otherwise meaty flesh. His back was hunched, and he was missing a piece of his little finger to the second knuckle, but the moment his eyes met yours, you knew you were in good hands.

Chocolate brown eyes, round with wonder and with the determination to help you were mixed in with a bit of worry.

"Don't be afraid, nymph..." his voice was deep, and yet soothing. In a strange sense, it didn't seem to match his appearance, and yet on the other hand you couldn't imagine him sounding any different.

"Just stay awake."

You tried to speak, but the sounds got caught in your dry throat, making you cough. The stranger frowned at your state, turning back to look at his companion.

"Jongin, could you please go get some sea water from below? I think she's thirsty." The name rang a bell in your mind, but you were not sure where you heard it first. He was replied to with a scoff.

"I'm not your servant, Kyungsoo, I'm your husband." there was rustling heard, as if something was being packed away. "Just because I'm tolerating her messing up the dinner I made doesn't mean that I'll play hospital with you to ease your mind." The hunched stranger was quiet, gently stroking at your eyebrows to ease out the crease between them.

"I couldn't let her die..." was his mumbled reply, and with a sigh, Jongin rested his hand on his shoulder, thumb rubbing gentle circles into the muscle.

"I know it's your thing, darling, this...obsession with broken people and cliffs." the hand slipped away from him before Kyungsoo was able to grasp at it with his scarred hand.

"But just because you were flung from that cliff and survived doesn't mean that she climbed it and will live."

-

It took you a long time to realize how cruel Kyungsoo's husband Jongin was, and it took you even longer to realize why the god of love can be cruel to the god of blacksmiths in such a way. Kyungsoo was cast away at birth, flung from the same cliff on which his smith now stood, left to die by his parents. By some fateful intervention however, he survived and through quiet and persistent work he showed he was worthy of living and of a place within the deity pantheon. His father was so impressed by Kyungsoo's ability to overcome any difficulties, that he gave him the love of the god of love himself, and Jongin was forced by the majority of the gods to marry the scarred blacksmith with a heart of gold.

Your recovery took a while, but Kyungsoo made sure to cater to your every need. After being on the ground for too long, he carried you down to the beach, digging a hole deep enough in the moist sand that it filled with water, safe from the sharks lurking and hunting for your life but still close enough to the source of your power so you could replenish your energy. Your wound began healing, but your leg would never grow back in its place, that much Kyungsoo was told by the god of medicine who came to check up on you after the first crucial week that you had survived. Your body was still littered with bruises, both black and purple, ridged with red strings caused by the jagged edges of rocks.

The first month or so you didn't want to leave the haven that was the small pool of sea water that Kyungsoo created for you. Even though he made sure that you knew that there was always a place for you at his table, a fact that annoyed Jongin to no end, you didn't have it in yourself to leave the safety of the water and more importantly, to show the world your new form. The absence of your leg haunted you incredibly. Water nymphs were extremely proud of their forms, of how fast they could swim, of how strong their kicks were, of how enticing they were to sailors and other poor souls that came in contact with them. The attention nurtured them, made them feel important.

Who and why would anyone find you attractive now? You were broken. Banished for your vanity, hurt for your insolence. There were many nights when you couldn't help but to burst into silent tears, feeling so alone and so abandoned in that tiny hole in volcanic rock, so far away from everything that you knew.

And yet Kyungsoo never pushed you out of your shell. He kept you company, made sure that the Vulcan did not overheat your water, brought you food and news of the outside world. He was the one that brought you the news of Poseidon's stepping down and the reining of a new king of the seas. You met Junmyeon before and even though you knew there was a strong chance you would not be let back in your home anymore, you rejoiced. He was a just and kind ruler, and the terror of Poseidon's lust came to an end.

As time passed, you became more curious about what the master blacksmith was doing when his husband was out. Seeing your curiosity, he would bring over his finished products to show you, and in a matter of days you were his advisor in Jongin's gifts. Kyungsoo's husband was extremely lucky to have a partner like him. On an almost daily basis Kyungsoo would spend hours to craft the most intricate of gifts, cradling the finished product with such warmth in his eyes it made you almost look away from the intimate moments, as he wished they would bring joy to Jongin. His husband would always receive them with lukewarm reactions, planting a sloppy kiss to the blacksmith's face as thank you, and yet it seemed to be enough for him. He was the one to create a crutch for you, made out of driftwood from the sea, regulating the moisture in the bark to let you know how long you could be on the surface without feeling sick. At night, with both of the gods sleeping, you stared at the crutch with a mixture of admiration and disgust; admiration for the blacksmith god and disgust at the fact that you now needed an aid like this to move around.

-

A loud groan ripping from Kyungsoo's throat brought you back into reality, into the land of all the beautiful gifts shattered on the volcanic rock, and the god in front of you crumbling to his knees. He didn't hear you calling out to him, his hands curling into fists, knuckles white as whatever pain he felt coursed through his body.

You still weren't strong enough, that much was evident; your arms shook as you tried to lift yourself from your pool, and your leg immediately buckled under you as you tried to straighten up. However, you needed to get to him, you had to help him, as in the end, his body sagged and the tension it held snapped like a rubber band. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight, and for one horrifying moment you thought you had lost him. That thought alone fueled you to abandon your attempts to hobble over to him with your crutch, and you crawled over the volcanic rock, eyes misty, hands shaking, heart going so fast you thought it might jump out of your chest.

The reason for your survival was lying on the floor, feeling abandoned once more, just like all those decades ago when he was flung from the cliff. The reason for your recovery shook in overextension, eyes rolled back. For one second you thought that his eyes detected yours, and you cradled his head in your arms, gently caressing his scarred cheek.

"It's alright, Kyungsoo...just stay awake...we will make you feel better, I promise..." you tried to murmur to him all the words he whispered to you in your darkest moments, tried to make him feel as loved as he made you feel the moment your whole world crashed around you. In a sudden spasm, Kyungsoo coughed up blood, spraying your neck with the red liquid, and his eyes closed once more.

"Hey!" your voice grew urgent, wiping at his lips, rubbing at his chest to bring back some heat into the abnormally cold body.

"I said stay awake! Please!" You didn't have any healing properties like your sisters. You didn't even know if you could concoct some potion to make him feel better. You didn't know who, or if you could call somebody.

On the black rock, holding the body that you felt so grateful to, you were lost.

"There are so many people who love you, Kyungsoo," you sniffled, leaning down to press a kiss against his forehead, uncaring whether you crossed any boundaries. "There are so many people for who you are a joy. Jongin is wrong. You are not unlovable. You are loved in each and every way. Please, please, wake up!"

You heard a rumble behind you, but you couldn't care less about anything that was not Kyungsoo, the man that deserved the world and seemed to receive only broken shards. And why? Because of his appearance? Because he let himself be walked over, since any attention is good attention to a boy who was flung from a cliff? Your heart bled in anger, it cried in grief, and yet it pulsed with new-found love for the man.

You never knew that you would find it. Love was not meant for nymphs like you, and it was definitely not for you to give to a god. However, you couldn't help it, the way your shaky hand brushed through the matted hair, soothing at Kyungsoo's scalp. Unable to keep your sudden revelation anymore, you cupped Kyungsoo's full cheeks, squeezing at them in hopes to wake him up.

"I love you, Kyungsoo. I love you for how gentle you were with me when I needed it the most, for how you always give your best, even to people that don't even deserve a speck of your attention." you choked on your tears, and to calm yourself down, you peppered soft kisses to the brow of Kyungsoo's arch, the skin feeling salty underneath your trembling tears.

"Whatever you're trying to do...please...stop. It's killing you, and you, of all people, deserve to be happy in this life. Please...come back..."

You haven't even noticed that the rumbling gained on its intensity as you tended to the broken god of blacksmiths, but it got to such a level that you could not ignore it anymore. It attacked your earbuds, a sound jarring and uncomfortable, and when you looked up in annoyance at the source of the noise, the trembling object on the anvil suddenly broke in an explosion of light, swallowing your entire vision.

After the shock of white, everything turned black.

---

It could have been moments between your periods of consciousness, but it also could have been hours. The feeling of floating you felt was not imagined, and when you gradually began feeling more lucid, you realized that you were back in your pool.

However this time, you weren't alone.

Strong arms were holding you secure, making sure you would not slip off the lap of the person you tried to save before. On the back of your thigh, you could feel his fingertips prune from being in the water too long, and when you tried to voice your protest in a mewl of discontent, he replied in a comforting grumble. Your eyes opened and as you regained focus, you saw the entire scenery change.

Gone were the dark clouds marring the sky. It was left without a spot, the sun on the horizon casting hues of deep orange and soft pink across the starry canvas. The furnace, bubbling and huffing in anger before was as calm as the evening sea. The smithy was no longer trashed with Jongin's broken belongings, and it looked pristine. And at the edge of your pool, an object took your breath away.  

"As you were asleep, I was trying to create something to punish Jongin." behind Kyungsoo's voice, you heard exhaustion.

"A net. I wished to catch them in action once more, so I could throw a net over them and drag them to the pantheon, to shame them for their deeds. I wanted them to feel as humiliated as I was when I saw them. I wished they would feel the pain I felt when I realized that Jongin's promise was as light as the wind Taemin wields." you reached out, grabbing at the hand gently stroking your side. When his fingers relaxed, you slipped yours between them, gripping in support.

"The net I wanted to create requires the pain from the blacksmith in order to work. I thought I was broken enough to create it. My parents didn't want me at birth, my husband didn't want me in marriage, my brothers didn't want me in the pantheon...I was okay if I died in order to create the net." the words had you grabbing at his hand in fright, and turning to watch his face. However, as you looked into Kyungsoo's eyes, you saw nothing but comfort and calm, the same calm the sea has after a horrific storm.

"And I almost thought that I did. I was ready to meet Tao, and I hopefully had done enough good deeds to go on into Elysium. And then, I heard your voice. I felt your touch, and your kisses..." bringing your clasped hands up to his face, Kyungsoo peppered a gentle kiss over your knuckles.

"I couldn't do it. I can't punish for Jongin for looking for love elsewhere, in a relationship that had no future. Especially if I myself had doubts about its genuineness."

"Kyungsoo..."

"I'm not trying to promise you anything," he added hastily, sitting straight up, and holding your hands between his. Under your fingertips, you felt the wrinkles caused by the water. How long was he holding you here?

"After such a long time that I lived for Jongin, I think I need to figure out what I should do next...about my existence outside of this marriage...I mean, I don't even know whether you yourself feel something else, but, ___..." your fingers gripped back, and you sat up straight to look into his genuine eyes.

"Would you allow me to court you?"

The question that has been denied you in the past. The need of affirmation from your side is what had you nodding through tears, your heart bursting with new affection for the immensely shy god who surprisingly found courage to ask you, a lowly creature, the approval of courtship. He tried to not make it evident, but you could see the relief on his features, and the smile that graced his features as he leaned over and pressed a kiss against your forehead.

"Will you then accept my first gift?"

Bidding you to look over at the object at the edge of your pool once again, Kyungsoo smiled at the uncertain question of "is that for me?" that escaped your lips.

"I know that the crutch and the prosthetic were just temporary solutions. You tried not to let it show, but they were quite cumbersome to use, yes?"

At the edge of the pond stood something that resembled a pillar. It slimmed down into a pen-point blade, and the surface was pearly, shining with iridescent hues as the sun cast its light on it. It was beautiful, and you almost feared touching it, but with Kyungsoo's encouragement, you reached out and slid your fingertips along the smooth surface. It was surprisingly warm to the touch, and despite the seemingly hard material, the object felt almost life-like.

"I think we need to get out in order to see if it works..." Kyungsoo murmured, pulling himself out of the pool first, in order to help you sit on the edge. "This is my first time trying something like this, and maybe it will not be perfect, but I can try again..." as he spoke, more to himself than to you, Kyungsoo gently grabbed at the prosthetic and placed the thickest side of it against the stump of your right leg. It felt warm against your skin, and you thought he would fetch ropes from somewhere in order to attach it to you, but Kyungsoo patiently held the marble against your skin, watching it with brows furrowed from nerves.

Moments passed, moments that had you holding your breath in tension.

It was in the moment you both thought that the prosthetic did not work that you saw the tendrils of white reach out and clasp at your skin.

"Look!" was the only thing that stopped Kyungsoo from pulling the prosthetic away, and despite your first fright, you realized that the tendrils did not hurt, and instead of burrowing into your skin as you thought they would have done, they latched onto it. Before your own eyes, you watched the marble form and change, vein-like grooves appearing along the length of it, tiny petals and leaves blooming in one place or the other. The sharp point slowly changed, and within moments, you stared at a marble-white foot lying right beside your left one. The prosthetic never changed its iridescent hue, but to the touch, it felt as if you never lost a leg in the first place.

"Would you like to try standing?" Kyungsoo tried not to sound too giddy about his gift working, and you immediately nodded. The blacksmith grabbed at your hands, and with gentle strength, helped to lift you to your feet. In reflex, you still held the majority of your weight on the left side of your body, gripping at Kyungsoo's hands in fear that he would let you fall.

"Slowly..." he instructed you, patient, as he watched you transfer some of the weight on the prosthetic. Still in awe, you watched your now two feet.

You wiggled your left toes, gently padding against the warm volcanic rock under you.

You then wiggled your right toes, the movement just as suave as the one on your left leg.

Kyungsoo watched you with a great smile on his face as you took your first steps in months, strides still unsure. What you thought you would never do again; you took your first steps after a god plotted your killing.

Looking back, you still saw Kyungsoo smile, the warmth and happiness making his scars disappear. In this moment, in your eyes, he was more beautiful than the god of love.

The two of you were broken, yes. But maybe, with each other's help, love will seep into the cracks and make you whole again.

#d.o #exo #exo d.o #d.o exo #kyungsoo #kyungsoo exo #exo kyungsoo #Kyungsoo Scenario #kyungsoo story #story #Story request #series: Injured and Unwell feelings #god!au

[accio-that-gay-shit]

I swear, Malfoy. || Drarry Oneshot

5th year where Harry and Draco get themselves into a little bit of a sticky situation ;) ;) 

"You're doing it wrong, Potter!" Draco snapped at Harry, smacking his hand away from the potion.

"I'm following the damn instructions, you git!" Harry retaliated, causing Draco to merely roll his eyes.

"You're following them wrong, obviously. You're stirring it the wrong way, cutting the vegetables wrong, and you're even adding them in, in the wrong order! Do we need to get you new glasses Potter? Because it doesn't seem like you can read!"

"God damn, Malfoy! I know what I'm doing! Just trust me."

"And why in the bloody fucking hell would I do that..?"

"Because-"

"Because you're the chosen one? Because you have a bloody scar on your forehead? Because you're a Gryffindor? Why in the hell should I listen to you?"

"Well if you'd let me finish-"

While the two boys argued, they left the potion simmering too long. It started to bubble, and bubble. Until...

A loud explosion like sound filled the room. The shimmery green potion blasted onto the two rivals. The entire class turned their heads, to see the cause of the noise.

"Let go of my hand, Potter!"

"I can't! You need to let go!"

"If I could've, i would've done so long ago!"

The two boys tried to tug their hands apart, but they seemed to be stuck together by a force, that the two of them were not powerful enough to overcome on their own.

The two stomped up to professor Snape and glared daggers at one another. If looks could kill, these two would be even more dead then Lily and James on that Halloween night.

"Professor!" Draco whined, tearing his eyes away from Harry. "We have a problem!"

Harry glared at the blonde Slytherin and rolled his eyes. Severus Snape raised a brow at the two of them, and looked them up and down.

"This is nothing new, Mr. Malfoy." The drawling voice of Severus Snape spoke sarcastically, causing Draco to groan.

"Professor! Now is the time!" Draco held up their hands and glared at it, as if it would magically allow their hands apart.

Snape had to stifle a snort as he saw the boy's hands. The two were always at each other's throats and this sight, was a priceless moment that he'd never let them live it down.

"Let me see your hands" Snape said as the boys slowly moved their conjoined hands to the greasy adult. He pulled out his wand and ran a few spells over it. "Well, the good news, is that its not permanent. "

"How long?" Harry demanded.

"A month."

"A month?!" The boys exclaimed at once.

"I can't be touching this for a whole month!"

Harry glared at Draco and rolled his eyes. "Is there any way to shorten the time we spend like this..?" He questioned, moving his gaze back to the Potions master.

"no. So get used to sleeping in the same bed, taking the same classes, and sitting at the same table in the great hall for the next month." The two boys groaned at once, causing Snape to roll his eyes.

At dinner, Harry immediately pulled Draco towards the Gryffindor table, much to Draco's dismay. Students stared as the two walked in, hand in hand. Harry sat down, and pulled the blonde down next to him, earning a yelp from the Slytherin. Hermione and Ron raised a brow at the pouting Slytherin then moved their gaze to Harry, demanding answers.

"Potions accident caused our hands to be like this" Harry held up their hands "for a month."

Hermione and Ron gave him looks of pity.

Draco stared at his plate and rolled his eyes. Harry glanced at him and raised a brow. "You can still eat one handed, you know."

Draco rolled his eyes once more and scoffed. "I know, that. I'm not stupid"

"I beg to differ.." Ron muttered and Draco glared at him. "What?"

"Don't you dare, Weasel. Don't act all innocent."

"I'm not acting innocent, ferret."

Draco's glare deepened and he clenched his fist that wasn't holding Harry's. Harry noticed, however and did the thing that first came to mind to stop them from fighting.

"Don't call me ferr-" he stopped and looked at his and Harry's conjoined hands, where Harry was rubbing circles on the back of Draco's. "What in the bloody fuck are you doing?"

Harry just shrugged, but didn't stop. Hermione and Ron eyed Harry curiously and he waved his hand to dismiss any ideas that they had.

After dinner, Snape then showed them the room they'd be staying in. It was a nice room, with scarlet colors (much to Draco's dismay) with one king sized bed.

"One bed?" Draco said with disgust, looking up at his godfather.

"Well, yes. Seeing the circumstances there's no other way" Snape said with a roll of his eyes.

"We could push two beds together." The blonde muttered and the two others in the room rolled their eyes.

"It's basically the same thing, Malfoy. You'd still have to sleep next to me either way" Harry raised a brow

"Precisely." The professor agreed before leaving the room.

Draco sighed and looked around. He scoffed. "Disgusting choice of colors."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Just, come on. I'm tired and in need of sleep."

"Potter?"

Harry looked at him. "Hm?"

"How do we get changed?"

"I swear, Malfoy. It's not that hard. We simply Diffindo the sleeves, and then fix them right after. You're a wizard aren't you?"

Draco rolled his eyes and looked away. "Shove off Potter. "

After immense amount of struggle, they are dressed and in bed. Draco is facing away from harry, and Harry is facing Draco's back.

Harry stared at back of the blonde's head. He sighed and fell asleep.

The scarred male was jolted awake by his arm being pulled. His eyes shot open. He was about to go off on Malfoy about waking him up, when he saw the condition he was in.

The Slytherin was shaking and was curled into a ball. He tried to force back the tears, but that wasn't working. He had his other hand over his mouth the muffle the sobs.

"Malfoy..?" Harry whispered softly. Draco just shook his head. Harry tried to rub circles on the back of his hand once more, and it seemed to work a little.

They sat like that for a few minutes, Draco trying to calm down. He had woken up from a nightmare about his father, and he couldn't stop himself.

After he calmed down enough, where he wasn't spilling tears and the sobs weren't threatening to sound. He was still shaking, but not as much.

"What happened..?" Harry asked quietly.

"Nothing." Draco snapped back harshly and Harry sighed.

"Mal- Draco it was obviously something, you were-"

"Shouldn't you be enjoying the experience of seeing me vulnerable? Great, now just don't tell anyone."

Harry shook his head. "I wouldn't enjoy that, I don't want to see anyone as scared like that-"

"I don't need your pity."

Before Harry could say something back, Draco stood up, as an effect, Harry was pulled up as well.

Draco grabbed his wand and recklessly cut the sleeves so he could slip it off his arm. Harry grabbed his wand hand with a look of worry on his face.

"Careful! You're going to hurt yourself!"

Draco just glared at him and rolled his eyes. After he finished changing he looked to Harry. "Aren't you going to change...?"

Harry shrugged, and the blonde groaned. "I will not be stuck to someone who doesn't change out of their dirty clothes"

"Oh well, you're going to have to, because you can't make me." Harry said

Draco glared and took that as a challenge. He unbuttoned the other's shirt with a stern look. He carefully Diffindo'd the sleeve and pulled it off of Harry, he grabbed another shirt and threw it at the boy.

"There. Now you have to put this on, or else people will question why you're holding my hand, and without a shirt. It'll be suspicious, don't you think?" Draco smirked and Harry rolled his eyes, glaring.

Harry put it on, mumbling something about him being a prat.

"Now do I need to do the same with your pants?" Draco's smirk grew and Harry blushed.

"No. Turn away"

Draco obeyed and looked away, letting the other change one handed.

After they were changed, they headed down to breakfast.

"My table" Draco said pulling Harry before he could argue. They sat down in front of Pansy and Blaise.

"Potter." Pansy addressed with a nod.

"Parkinson" Harry looked at her. Blaise was smirking at Draco who was glaring daggers.

"How's this incident treating you two?" Pansy asked as Harry took a bite of his food.

"It's a struggle" Harry shrugged as he glanced at Draco, who was pushing his food around with a fork. "do I need to feed you? You didn't eat dinner."

Draco looked at him with a raised brow. "What? No."

"Then, eat."

Draco didn't respond and tried to make conversation with Blaise. Harry glared and pulled Draco's plate closer to himself. He took the fork, put a bit of food on it and raised it. He took his chin and forced Draco's gaze onto himself. Harry squeezed their conjoined hands tightly.

"God damn! Careful Po-" Harry took the chance of Draco's mouth being open and pushed the fork inside. He glared at Harry and chewed it up before muttering "prat."

Harry smirked. "Now continue to eat, or I'll continue to feed you"

Draco rolled his eyes but took the plate back nonetheless. Pansy and Blaise shared knowing looks.

Back in the dorm, Harry and Draco were sitting on the bed in silence.

"Potter?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you do that, at breakfast?"

"Because."

"Do you care about me?" Draco asked in a mock tone

Harry rolled his eyes, but didn't respond.

"Potter?"

"What?"

"You care about me."

"... I swear, Malfoy-"

"And I care about you."

#drarry #draco x harry #hogwarts #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hands #holding hands #Harry is a little shit #but we still love him #draco and harry #they mess up a potion #and they were roommates

[purpolmonster]

殺破狼 Sha Po Lang

Title: 殺破狼 / Shā pò láng Author: Priest Sha Po Lang was the second novel I've always heard of getting recommended (the first one was Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation) but never touched only because the genre was something I was very unfamiliar with so I was afraid I wouldn't like it. BOY AM I EATING MY WORDS NOW because this novel has made it to my top 3 favorites and you can guess where this review is heading.

Sha Po Lang is the story about Chang Geng, a boy living a seemingly boring life in a boring town. He lives with his mother whom he has a distant relationship with and there are only a handful of people he's close to such as his two neighbors whom he calls teacher and yifu (foster father). One day, the town gets attacked by barbarians and that's when Chang Geng's life is then turned upside down when he finds out that his mother, his two neighbors, and what he knows of his identity are not at all what he thought it was.

That's the gist of the summary I can tell you without going into further details and giving away spoilers (spoiler-filled review down below under the warning). But from the summary I gave, you can already tell that it's one of those stories wherein the main character goes into a huge life changing event and faces the reality he has been kept away from. And this story tackled Chang Geng's whole life so beautifully, from the prologue right down to the last extra.

One of the reasons I didn't touch this story was because its genre was described to be steampunk and at that time, I didn't know what it was but I thought it was similar to Mad Max (which I found out late was apparently NOT steampunk). And at that time, I was also invested in reading a certain theme like cultivation and so I pushed this one back a bit and kept it for future reading. I guess my timing was perfect because reading Sha Po Lang now was the nice break I needed from the world of cultivation stories and a step forward into exploring more themes.

With that said, this story is heavy on court politics, war, and love at a time of great battles and kingdom reformations. The steampunk part is through the use of the fuel they call Ziliujin which is used to power their weaponry and is considered like gold. Now, if all this bores you, I'm here to let you know that it wasn't. It was so well written that even as battles happened in this story, your eyes are glued to it and you're on the edge of your seat wanting to know who wins and who loses. And it was imperative you knew what tactics both sides were using to further understand the story.

The court politics in here are also something I like. It's not the usual stuff like poisoning the king and taking over the throne. No. It's much more than that.

And the romance? Oh my god you guys I have never- I have been tormented (in a very good way) for days by the love story between Chang Geng and Gu Yun. You get to read about it from when he was a child until he grows old. I loved how overprotective they both were of each other. They both go insane when one gets hurt. I also love how hilarious they can be. But the icing on top of this relationship is the trust. They trust in each other so much.

The two main leads also have a character development that just grows as the chapter pushes forward. They surprise you at the decisions they make and the care they give to the country, to their friends, and to each other.

One of my favorite things to read (and watch if it's a drama) is when the couples fight alongside each other, facing enemies together head on. That's Chang Geng and Gu Yun! I got fed so well by this imagery and if you enjoy reading about your ships in action, this is it. Sha Po Lang is for you.

It's not only Chang Geng and Gu Yun that makes Sha Po Lang an interesting read. Every character here is a favorite. Mine would have to be Shen Yi, Gu Yun's best friend. They both make me want a friendship like theirs where they grew up together, harboring the same love for their country but also knowing what it takes to save it from doom and all that stuff. Also, aside from the trust shown in the romance and love story between the two mains, the trust between friends here is very lovely.

I'm going to wrap up this none spoiler review by saying if you are looking for a story that's so interesting and entertaining that you'll find yourself losing sense of time at how enjoyable it is, if you're looking for a read where every chapter is engaging, read Sha Po Lang. It's a beautiful story about growth and love for country, family, and friendship that will have you linger on it even after you've read the novel.

Score: 10/10

WARNING FOR SEMI-SPOILER REVIEW DOWN BELOW

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One other thing that made me enjoy this novel immensely was the witchcraft involved in this story. This took me by surprise as I was not expecting a theme like this to mix in here but it added to the suspense, and man did it make Sha Po Lang a 10 out of 10 for me.

That and because, maybe I've read too many stories wherein half of the ensemble of characters introduced in a novel dies by the end so I was holding on to my hair hoping and praying they're all alive by the time I finish the novel. And *sobs* I can't believe everyone survived it. They're all alive and living happily ever after.

I love Sha Po Lang. This novel is sharing the top number one spot with TGCF and 2Ha in my heart.

#殺破狼 #sha po lang #SPL #priest #novel review

[beneaththebrim]

Brim, could you please help me out with your wisdom? A few weeks ago, I decided to try Sha Po Lang. So far, it has been a wonderful ride. I love the steampunk element, the setting, the characters ... but oh gosh all the scheming is hard to keep up with. For example, who exactly planned the assassination on Gu Yun and who carried the orders out? Was it Li Feng or was it uncle Wang?

Hi anon!

Totally understandable--Sha Po Lang’s one of those novels where it’s tricky to follow all the schemery on the first read, because you sort of have to see where everything’s going in order to understand how it’s being set up.

So, I’m not sure if you’re talking about the assassination attempt in his childhood or the one at the hot springs, so I’ll explain both.

The first one, which happened in Gu Yun’s childhood and took the form of an attack on the Black Iron Camp, was orchestrated by the Yuan He Emperor (ie Li Feng and Chang Geng’s father). He was ultimately the mastermind behind it, because he felt paranoid about such a powerful military force as the Black Iron Camp being held by a different family. He projected that in the future, it would be especially risky for his sons when Gu Yun came of age and took over the Black Iron Camp, because not only would he have that military power, he’d have a direct biological connection to Emperor Wu--basically he’d be a somewhat viable threat to the throne.

The Yuan He Emperor enlisted the help from the Eighteen Tribes’ Goddess to obtain the poison, and Uncle Wang to oversee the operation. They were not behind it, as we see from Gu Yun’s analysis after Chang Geng asks if the accusation against his mother and Uncle Wang is true:

After a pause, Gu Yun whispered: “Of course it isn’t, magic is only nonsense without evidence, and Imperial Uncle is only...”

Only a servant under the throne, acting as he was ordered to. The Northern Barbarian sisters were only two pitiful people who had lost their home and country, straying far away to a distant land. (Ch.55, Northwest Flower tl)

Now, I do think Gu Yun’s being a bit charitable to the sisters--although they were not the masterminds, they definitely would have been invested in bringing down the Black Iron Camp and causing chaos in Great Liang. But yeah, ultimately, they were all just following the Yuan He Emperor’s orders. It’s also implied that the ‘barbarians’ who staged the attack weren’t actually from the Eighteen Tribes, they were just Liang suicide soldiers who were tattooed and dressed up to look like they were from the Eighteen Tribes.

Now, as for the second assassination attempt, that one did not originate in Great Liang’s court. It was orchestrated by the Pope and his affiliates (probably Master Ja, since he’s the main schemer among the Westerners). It was specifically made to resemble the first assassination attempt, in order to sow discord between Gu Yun and Li Feng. They staged it at precisely the same time they leaked the information about the first attack. However, their plan wasn’t able to completely achieve the desired effect:

“It is still too early now to speak of the result.” The Pope said, “Fate is a very mysterious thing. The fate of a person is not predictable, let alone an entire country? This is something only God could know.”

Master Ja: “For example, when that moronic Jia Lai wasn’t able to hold back and disclosed that matter to Gu Yun in advance?”

Jia Lai Ying Huo had resented the last member of the Gu family too immensely. In addition to this hatred, there was nothing left in his entire existence. He had long left behind the dignity of a Wolf King and became a mad dog. He could no longer see the grander picture. In his view, as long as he could bring down Gu Yun, he did not care whether he destroyed someone else’s planning. (Ch.57, Northwest Flower tl)

Basically, when Gu Yun was escorting Jia Lai Ying Huo back north six years before, the latter clued him into the conspiracy behind the attack on the Black Iron Camp when he was a child. Thus, when the whole country learned about it later on, Gu Yun was already more or less prepared and could remain level-headed about it rather than being devastated about the person he viewed as a father plotting his death.

So yeah, hope that helps!

#ask brim #anon #sha po lang

[d-i-r-k-s-t-r-i-d-e-r]

The Futurist Manifesto

We had stayed up all night, my friends and I, under hanging mosque lamps with domes of filigreed brass, domes starred like our spirits, shining like them with the prisoned radiance of electric hearts. For hours we had trampled our atavistic ennui into rich oriental rugs, arguing up to the last confines of logic and blackening many reams of paper with our frenzied scribbling.

An immense pride was buoying us up, because we felt ourselves alone at that hour, alone, awake, and on our feet, like proud beacons or forward sentries against an army of hostile stars glaring down at us from their celestial encampments. Alone with stokers feeding the hellish fires of great ships, alone with the black spectres who grope in the red-hot bellies of locomotives launched on their crazy courses, alone with drunkards reeling like wounded birds along the city walls.

Suddenly we jumped, hearing the mighty noise of the huge double-decker trams that rumbled by outside, ablaze with colored lights, like villages on holiday suddenly struck and uprooted by the flooding Po and dragged over falls and through gourges to the sea.

Then the silence deepened. But, as we listened to the old canal muttering its feeble prayers and the creaking bones of sickly palaces above their damp green beards, under the windows we suddenly heard the famished roar of automobiles.

“Let’s go!” I said. “Friends, away! Let’s go! Mythology and the Mystic Ideal are defeated at last. We’re about to see the Centaur’s birth and, soon after, the first flight of Angels!... We must shake at the gates of life, test the bolts and hinges. Let’s go! Look there, on the earth, the very first dawn! There’s nothing to match the splendor of the sun’s red sword, slashing for the first time through our millennial gloom!”

We went up to the three snorting beasts, to lay amorous hands on their torrid breasts. I stretched out on my car like a corpse on its bier, but revived at once under the steering wheel, a guillotine blade that threatened my stomach.

The raging broom of madness swept us out of ourselves and drove us through streets as rough and deep as the beds of torrents. Here and there, sick lamplight through window glass taught us to distrust the deceitful mathematics of our perishing eyes.

I cried, “The scent, the scent alone is enough for our beasts.”

And like young lions we ran after Death, its dark pelt blotched with pale crosses as it escaped down the vast violet living and throbbing sky.

But we had no ideal Mistress raising her divine form to the clouds, nor any cruel Queen to whom to offer our bodies, twisted like Byzantine rings! There was nothing to make us wish for death, unless the wish to be free at last from the weight of our courage!

And on we raced, hurling watchdogs against doorsteps, curling them under our burning tires like collars under a flatiron. Death, domesticated, met me at every turn, gracefully holding out a paw, or once in a while hunkering down, making velvety caressing eyes at me from every puddle.

“Let’s break out of the horrible shell of wisdom and throw ourselves like pride-ripened fruit into the wide, contorted mouth of the wind! Let’s give ourselves utterly to the Unknown, not in desperation but only to replenish the deep wells of the Absurd!”

The words were scarcely out of my mouth when I spun my car around with the frenzy of a dog trying to bite its tail, and there, suddenly, were two cyclists coming towards me, shaking their fists, wobbling like two equally convincing but nevertheless contradictory arguments. Their stupid dilemma was blocking my way—Damn! Ouch!... I stopped short and to my disgust rolled over into a ditch with my wheels in the air...

O maternal ditch, almost full of muddy water! Fair factory drain! I gulped down your nourishing sludge; and I remembered the blessed black beast of my Sudanese nurse... When I came up—torn, filthy, and stinking—from under the capsized car, I felt the white-hot iron of joy deliciously pass through my heart!

A crowd of fishermen with handlines and gouty naturalists were already swarming around the prodigy. With patient, loving care those people rigged a tall derrick and iron grapnels to fish out my car, like a big beached shark. Up it came from the ditch, slowly, leaving in the bottom, like scales, its heavy framework of good sense and its soft upholstery of comfort.

They thought it was dead, my beautiful shark, but a caress from me was enough to revive it; and there it was, alive again, running on its powerful fins!

And so, faces smeared with good factory muck—plastered with metallic waste, with senseless sweat, with celestial soot—we, bruised, our arms in slings, but unafraid, declared our high intentions to all the living of the earth:

Manifesto of Futurism

We intend to sing the love of danger, the habit of energy and fearlessness.

Courage, audacity, and revolt will be essential elements of our poetry.

Up to now literature has exalted a pensive immobility, ecstasy, and sleep. We intend to exalt aggressive action, a feverish insomnia, the racer’s stride, the mortal leap, the punch and the slap.

We affirm that the world’s magnificence has been enriched by a new beauty: the beauty of speed. A racing car whose hood is adorned with great pipes, like serpents of explosive breath—a roaring car that seems to ride on grapeshot is more beautiful than the Victory of Samothrace.

We want to hymn the man at the wheel, who hurls the lance of his spirit across the Earth, along the circle of its orbit.

The poet must spend himself with ardor, splendor, and generosity, to swell the enthusiastic fervor of the primordial elements.

Except in struggle, there is no more beauty. No work without an aggressive character can be a masterpiece. Poetry must be conceived as a violent attack on unknown forces, to reduce and prostrate them before man.

We stand on the last promontory of the centuries!... Why should we look back, when what we want is to break down the mysterious doors of the Impossible? Time and Space died yesterday. We already live in the absolute, because we have created eternal, omnipresent speed.

We will glorify war—the world’s only hygiene—militarism, patriotism, the destructive gesture of freedom-bringers, beautiful ideas worth dying for, and scorn for woman.

We will destroy the museums, libraries, academies of every kind, will fight moralism, feminism, every opportunistic or utilitarian cowardice.

We will sing of great crowds excited by work, by pleasure, and by riot; we will sing of the multicolored, polyphonic tides of revolution in the modern capitals; we will sing of the vibrant nightly fervor of arsenals and shipyards blazing with violent electric moons; greedy railway stations that devour smoke-plumed serpents; factories hung on clouds by the crooked lines of their smoke; bridges that stride the rivers like giant gymnasts, flashing in the sun with a glitter of knives; adventurous steamers that sniff the horizon; deep-chested locomotives whose wheels paw the tracks like the hooves of enormous steel horses bridled by tubing; and the sleek flight of planes whose propellers chatter in the wind like banners and seem to cheer like an enthusiastic crowd.

It is from Italy that we launch through the world this violently upsetting incendiary manifesto of ours. With it, today, we establish Futurism, because we want to free this land from its smelly gangrene of professors, archaeologists, ciceroni and antiquarians. For too long has Italy been a dealer in second-hand clothes. We mean to free her from the numberless museums that cover her like so many graveyards.

Museums: cemeteries!... Identical, surely, in the sinister promiscuity of so many bodies unknown to one another. Museums: public dormitories where one lies forever beside hated or unknown beings. Museums: absurd abattoirs of painters and sculptors ferociously slaughtering each other with color-blows and line-blows, the length of the fought-over walls!

That one should make an annual pilgrimage, just as one goes to the graveyard on All Souls’ Day—that I grant. That once a year one should leave a floral tribute beneath the Gioconda, I grant you that... But I don’t admit that our sorrows, our fragile courage, our morbid restlessness should be given a daily conducted tour through the museums. Why poison ourselves? Why rot?

And what is there to see in an old picture except the laborious contortions of an artist throwing himself against the barriers that thwart his desire to express his dream completely?... Admiring an old picture is the same as pouring our sensibility into a funerary urn instead of hurtling it far off, in violent spasms of action and creation.

Do you, then, wish to waste all your best powers in this eternal and futile worship of the past, from which you emerge fatally exhausted, shrunken, beaten down?

In truth I tell you that daily visits to museums, libraries, and academies (cemeteries of empty exertion, Calvaries of crucified dreams, registries of aborted beginnings!) are, for artists, as damaging as the prolonged supervision by parents of certain young people drunk with their talent and their ambitious wills. When the future is barred to them, the admirable past may be a solace for the ills of the moribund, the sickly, the prisoner... But we want no part of it, the past, we the young and strong Futurists!

So let them come, the gay incendiaries with charred fingers! Here they are! Here they are!... Come on! set fire to the library shelves! Turn aside the canals to flood the museums!... Oh, the joy of seeing the glorious old canvases bobbing adrift on those waters, discolored and shredded!... Take up your pickaxes, your axes and hammers and wreck, wreck the venerable cities, pitilessly!

The oldest of us is thirty: so we have at least a decade for finishing our work. When we are forty, other younger and stronger men will probably throw us in the wastebasket like useless manuscripts—we want it to happen!

They will come against us, our successors, will come from far away, from every quarter, dancing to the winged cadence of their first songs, flexing the hooked claws of predators, sniffing doglike at the academy doors the strong odor of our decaying minds, which will have already been promised to the literary catacombs.

But we won’t be there... At last they’ll find us—one winter’s night—in open country, beneath a sad roof drummed by a monotonous rain. They’ll see us crouched beside our trembling aeroplanes in the act of warming our hands at the poor little blaze that our books of today will give out when they take fire from the flight of our images.

They’ll storm around us, panting with scorn and anguish, and all of them, exasperated by our proud daring, will hurtle to kill us, driven by a hatred the more implacable the more their hearts will be drunk with love and admiration for us.

Injustice, strong and sane, will break out radiantly in their eyes.

Art, in fact, can be nothing but violence, cruelty, and injustice.

The oldest of us is thirty: even so we have already scattered treasures, a thousand treasures of force, love, courage, astuteness, and raw will-power; have thrown them impatiently away, with fury, carelessly, unhesitatingly, breathless, and unresting... Look at us! We are still untired! Our hearts know no weariness because they are fed with fire, hatred, and speed!... Does that amaze you? It should, because you can never remember having lived! Erect on the summit of the world, once again we hurl our defiance at the stars!

You have objections?—Enough! Enough! We know them... We’ve understood!... Our fine deceitful intelligence tells us that we are the revival and extension of our ancestors—Perhaps!... If only it were so!—But who cares? We don’t want to understand!... Woe to anyone who says those infamous words to us again!

Lift up your heads!

Erect on the summit of the world, once again we hurl defiance to the stars!

[the-haven-of-fiction]

Journal

Title: The Haven

Chapter 44: Journal (Tom’s POV)

Genre: Romance

Rating: T

Author’s Notes: It’s been over five years since I wrote this chapter and over four years since I posted the previous chapter and the reality of posting this one is almost making cry.  Time is so strange.  If you are still interested in this story, thank you.  If this story is new to you, please check out the Master Post. <3

“Tom, have you ever cheated?”

The question absolutely stunned me.  She had just walked into the living room and was holding what looked like an old book.

She was speaking so softly, it was almost a whisper.

“What?”

I thought I understood what she had said, but I wanted to be certain.

Moving to take a seat on the couch, she set the book down with great care, as if it was very valuable to her.

Her tongue darted out, a nervous wetting of her lips, before she repeated the question.

“Have you ever cheated on anyone?”

So many different thoughts were zigzagging through my mind, I couldn’t speak right away.

Have I given you any reason to ask the question?

Do you think I would cheat, on you?

Do you not trust me after all?

The last thought brought a tremor of fear.

I looked down at the engagement ring on her hand that was resting on a throw pillow.  Taking it gently and running my fingers over it, I looked into her eyes, hoping that they would tell me what exactly she was thinking.

“I love you, sweet girl.”

Now her voice was indeed a whisper.

“I love you, too.”

A faint sense of relief shot through me that she was able to say it.  I didn’t know what was bringing this on, but it was scaring me.

“You asked me to marry you, darling.  Remember?” I prompted with a smile a gentle brush of my fingers across a flushed cheek. “I want to marry you.  Will you marry me?”

It wasn’t the first time I had asked her after the initial proposal.  Usually she laughed and kissed me and told me how silly I was.  This time, she frowned in confusion and tears were beginning to form in her eyes.  

“If…if the answer to your question isn’t what you hope it will be, will you…will you still want to marry me?”

Now the tears spilled over, but her voice was gaining a little strength.

“I gave you my word, Tom,” she assured me as she lifted her hand and pointed to the ring.

“I would never have let you put this on me if I didn’t think that you would be faithful to me.”

Her eyes closed and she dropped her head, drawing deep slow breaths.

It wasn’t exactly an answer to my question.

Sensing that she had more to say, I waited, even though I had yet to answer her own question.

She raised her head finally.

“I just found an old journal from when I was a teenager.  There was a quote from Reverend Powers.  He said when you marry someone, you marry their past; you marry the triumphs of their past, you marry the mistakes of their past, and you marry the current consequences of those triumphs and mistakes.”

Another pause.

Again I knew she wasn’t finished.

Patience, old chap.  Give her time.

“Tom, seeing Sam last week, it…it made me think about some things.  One of the reasons I wanted to be with him was because we had known each literally our whole lives.  We grew up together.  I knew his triumphs and I knew his mistakes.  I knew that I could live with the consequences of those things.  It was safe.  There weren’t any unknowns.  It wasn’t a risk.”

She looked down and began to twist the ring round and round her finger.

“It’s different with you. It’s unknown.  It’s a risk.  We met barely eight months ago.  There are so many things about me that you don’t know, there are so many things about you that I don’t know.”

Her voice was getting weaker again and I felt like I was going to have to stop her even if she had more to say.

“I…I’m frustrated that we missed so much of each other’s lives, that we don’t have memories of birthday parties and holidays and BBQ’s.  I’m sad that we don’t have albums full of awkward adolescent photos together. We’ve talked a lot about the present and the future, but we haven’t talked much about the past, and I…”

I was sitting in one of the armchairs adjacent to the couch and up to that point, I was making a conscious effort not to spring from my seat and wrap my arms around her.  I didn’t want to overwhelm her or make things worse.

But she wiped away a few tears that were immediately followed by more and when she whispered “Angel face, please,” I knew exactly what she was asking.

I was next to her in a flash, holding her as close as I could, as if I could transfer all the fear into my body so that she wouldn’t have to feel it anymore.

I was surprised when she spoke again so soon.

“I don’t want the past to sneak up on us one day.  I don’t want those kinds of surprises.  I love you and I want to marry you, regardless of your answer.  But please, tell me the truth.”

I quickly decided that while it seemed she was actually thinking about two separate issues, it would be best if I addressed her actual question first before moving to talk about the lack of shared history.

“I have a single drunken sloppy kiss to confess.  That is all. I was very young, too young.  And the only reason I know it even happened is because she gave me a strong right hook while my girlfriend looked on in glee. I had the black eye to prove it the next day.”

Expecting her to laugh, I was alarmed when she began to cry harder.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she stuttered out, “I hope I haven’t hurt you by asking, Tom, I-“

“Darling, stop.  Your concerns are completely valid.  You have every right to ask me.  You have every right to learn about my triumphs and my mistakes.  I will tell you anything you want to know.  You’re going to be my wife, sweet girl.  We can’t hide anything from each other.”

She sighed when my fingers found her wrist and began the familiar dance over her skin, appearing to be content with my answer.  I moved on to the second thing that was plaguing her.

“I can’t say that I ever considered the lack of shared memories like you have, but that’s probably because I am just so immensely grateful to have met you at all.  I’m grateful for these nine months.  They have been the most exhilarating, the most edifying, the most beautifully terrifying eight months I’ve ever experienced.”

I had to stop and kiss her before continuing.

“Do you know what you tell me if our positions were reversed?  You would tell me that we can’t change the past and that we should not spend time dwelling on that non-existent shared past; we should instead focus on making memories now.”

“I make entirely too much sense most of the time,” she sniffled.

That made me chuckle.

“Yes, you do, my prickly pear,” punctuated by a kiss to the tip of her nose.  “You’re the sense.  I’m the sensibility.  That’s why we need each other.  That’s why we fit together.  That’s why you asked me to marry you. That’s why I asked you to marry me.  Will you?  Will you marry me, sweet girl?”

“Yes,” she whispered against my freckles, “a thousand times, yes.”

“And for each of those thousand yeses, there will be a thousand memories we will make together.”

“I love it when you talk purty, England.”  

I shifted so that I was speaking very close to her.

“And I love these adorable little ears that listen to me.”

She giggled and shied away from me when my breath fell on her neck.

“That tickles, Tom.”

“Shall I move back to the armchair?”

A pinch was my answer.

“No,” she pouted, “I have something to show you.”

She reached over and picked up the journal which I had earlier mistaken for a book.

“I found a loose piece of paper in this journal.  It’s a list I made after...after Sam moved away and some time passed and I…I started to consider the idea of marrying someone else.”

It was a struggle, but I managed to keep from smiling; I didn’t want her to think that I was making fun of her, especially when she seemed to be ready to talk about something so serious.  Her lists. They were one of the quirks I so loved about her.

The journal was opened and she took out the paper.

“This is a list I made, after giving it some thought, of the kind of person I want to marry.  Reverend Powers also said ‘Know what you want before you go looking for it.’  I thought of how much thought people put into decisions like which color carpet they want for their bedroom or what car to buy, but they don’t usually think much about the practical side of marriage, about the qualities they want and need in spouse.”

“That’s very true, my philosopher.”

Another pinch.

“So I made a list. It’s several years old.  Here.”

She shoved it towards me.

I don’t know why, but I was hesitant.  I didn’t want to know if I measured up to the list.

“It isn’t poisonous. Be brave, angel face.”

She was smiling.

Taking a deep breath, I plucked it from her hand and unfolded it.

It took me less than a minute to read it.  When I looked back at her, she was still smiling.

“Darling, this…this is…this is…”

“I know,” she nodded. “It’s you.  Well, except for a few minor things, which you can see that I noted those things as not being deal breakers, mainly because they are the only things that refer to superficial qualities and aren’t about character or personality.”

I glanced back over it, a slow grin spreading across my face; it was so HER.

“Yes, I see that dark hair is asterixed.  You’ll probably get your wish at some point.”

The smile vanished in an instant.

“I love my British golden retriever.  Will you please give me warning before you morph into a black shorthair?”

I had to giggle and leaned forward to give her a peck on the cheek before pulling back and placing a hand over my heart.

“I promise.”

Looking at the list again, there were two things that stood out to me.

“Darling, this one…”

I turned the paper to her gaze and pointed at one of the entries.

Strengths that are my weaknesses.

“Do you think this is true? Is this accurate for me?”

My expression of apprehension seem to take her off guard.

“Oh, Tom!  Of course, of course!  You are strong in so many areas that are weaknesses of mine.”

“I…I guess I think of you as a very strong, very intelligent woman and I-“

A soft hand covered my mouth and stopped my doubts.

“That’s very sweet of you, England, but I have faults and weaknesses enough.  Do you know the greatest thing I have learned from you, something that is a perfectly depicts this dynamic?”

This was the first time I’d ever had this kind of conversation with someone and I was finding myself rather emotional.

“I’ve learned how to see and respond to the person first instead of just responding to the problem. You’ve helped me to be more empathetic, more caring.  Thank you.”

The hand that had been over my mouth traveled to my back and she was rubbing little patterns across my shoulders and down my spine.  It reminded me of the first time she had touched me, when we group hugged in the kitchen with Auntie and Marie and I stuck my foot in my mouth like a tit.

She could see that I was a bit overwhelmed and she pointed to another entry on the list.

“Tom, look at this one.”

I saw that she was pointing to the second thing that stood out to me.

Will tell me, gently and patiently, when I am wrong and will help me discover how to be better.

We sat in silence for a bit, her face resting against my shoulder.

“What are you thinking, angel face?” she inquired softly.

I set the list on the coffee table and took both of her hands in mine, looking directly into her eyes.

“I am thinking that you surprise me every day, every day.  I suppose at some point, these things shouldn’t surprise me any longer. But you are the only woman I have ever met, at least as far as I know, who has a list like this, with these types of things on it.  Darling, these descriptions actually reveal a great deal more about you than about the kind of person you want to marry. They reveal a woman who desires to love and trust someone so wholly and completely, that it astounds me.  That love and that trust, they are the most precious gifts that any person could ever give.  This explains so much about you, my love, so much.  I don’t know why you’ve chosen to give them to me, but I promise you, I will do my best to treasure them and I will do my best to fulfill the things on this list.  I want to be that man for you.  You…”

I leaned a bit to rest my forehead against hers for a moment.

“You don’t know what it does to me to know that you give, that you gave me, these things from the beginning and then during the times when I behaved in a way that would make many people retract them.  I know it’s a frightening thing to love and trust like you, amazingly, love and trust me; but, my sweet girl, it’s also a frightening thing to be the person who is loved and trusted so whole-heartedly.  It’s the most awe-inspiring, dreadfully breathtaking thing I’ve ever encountered and all I can ask is that you please, please continue to be patient with me when I err, just as you have always been.”

“Yes, I will try.”

How I adored the loving tone in her voice, the warmth of those big brown eyes, the delicious plumpness of those pink lips.

“My sweet prickly pear, will you kiss me?”

Merriment danced across her face.

“Only if it’s a freebie and doesn’t count against my daily allotment.”

I cupped her cheeks and murmured “Is that on your list as well?”

She stifled a giggle.

“I probably shouldn’t tell you about entries of that nature until after we’re married.”

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fan fiction #the haven #journal

[mermonkey]

The Bhagwan on Gurdjieff

...it is but natural to be misunderstood if you really want to help people. If you don't want to help them, you will never be misunderstood - they will worship you, they will praise you. If you only talk, if you only philosophize, then they are not afraid of you. Then you don't touch their lives.

And it is beautiful to know complex theories, systems of thought. It helps their egos, it nourishes their egos - they become more knowledgeable. And everybody likes to be more knowledgeable. It is the subtlest nourishment for the ego.

But if you REALLY want to help them, then the problem arises. Then you start changing their lives, then you start trespassing on their egos; then you start interfering with their centuries and centuries old habits and mechanisms. Then you create antagonism: they are afraid of you, they are inimical towards you. And they will try in every possible way to misunderstand you, to misrepresent you.

One-dimensional people are beautiful flowers, but not of much use. Krishnamurti has been talking for forty or more years, and people listen. The same people have been listening to him for forty years...and not an iota of change in their consciousness.

Certainly they have become very knowledgeable, argumentative, logical. If you discuss with them - they are the best people to discuss anything with - they go into the most subtle, delicate worlds of thought. They can analyze everything: awareness, meditation, consciousness.... They have become very efficient, very clever, but they remain as mediocre as ever, as stupid as ever, with only one difference: now their stupidity is garbed behind their so-called knowledge that they have gathered from J. Krishnamurti.

Krishnamurti has remained just an intellectual phenomenon, because he never took the trouble to enter into people's lives. It is dangerous to enter into people's lives - you are playing with fire.

Sri Raman is perfectly okay: sitting silently in his temple, people can come, offer flowers, worship, and he will simply watch. And of course he has a beauty and a grace, but it is one-dimensional, it does not affect life in its totality. At the most, people can be moved by it emotionally. Just as J. Krishnamurti moves people intellectually, Sri Raman moves people emotionally.

And the same was the case with Ramakrishna. Many people's emotions were touched, and they would cry tears of joy. But it is not going to transform you. Those tears of joy are momentary; back home you will be the same.

Gurdjieff certainly is a pioneer. With Gurdjieff begins a totally new concept of spiritual life. He has actually called his way "the fourth way" - just as I call my way "the fourth way" he also calls his way "the fourth way." He was immensely misunderstood, because he was not interested in imparting knowledge to you, he was not interested in consoling you. He was not interested in giving you beautiful theories, visions, hallucinations. He was not interested in your tears, in your emotions and sentiments.

He was not interested in being worshipped by you, he was interested in transforming you.

And to transform a person means you have to take a hammer in your hands, because many chunks of that person's being have to be cut. The person is so topsy-turvy that everything is wrong as it is, and it has to be put right. And he has invested so much in his wrong way of life that anybody who wants to change his style of life - not only the circumference but the center too - he becomes afraid of, he is scared of. Only a few courageous people can enter into the world of a man like Gurdjieff. Tremendous courage is needed, a courage to die, because only then is one reborn.

Gurdjieff was a midwife. He was not a teacher, he was a master. Krishnamurti remained a teacher. Raman remained a beautiful individual - enlightened, but just a faraway, distant star. You could watch and you could appreciate and you could write poetry about it, but that's all. It remained a distant phenomenon. You could never hope to reach him, the distance was vast. And there was no effort from his side to bridge it.

And what could you do? How could YOU bridge it? If you had been capable of bridging yourself with a man like Raman, there would have been no need to make the bridge. A man of that capacity would be able to transform himself on his own; he would not need a master. Unless Raman tried to make the bridge, the bridge was not possible.

And he was aloof, distant, cool. He was not involved. He knew all misery is false. And, certainly, it is so - but not for those who are in misery. The man who is awake knows that the person who is crying and weeping in his sleep is seeing a dream, true. As far as the man who is awake is concerned, it's perfectly true. But even though it is a dream, a nightmare, for the person who is fast asleep it is a truth. And the man who is fast asleep cannot make any effort to connect himself with the awakened man. Obviously, it is impossible. He cannot even be aware that somebody is awake; he is so much engrossed in his nightmare. Only the awakened can make the effort. But to disturb somebody's sleep, even though he is in a nightmare, is dangerous. Nobody wants to be disturbed, nobody wants to be interfered with.

People have strange ideas - sleepy people, idiotic people, but they have strange ideas of freedom. They have no freedom; they can't have. They can't afford it in their sleep. How can a sleepy man have any freedom? But they have ideas, great ideas of freedom, and a man like Gurdjieff interferes. His compassion is far greater than the compassion of J.

Krishnamurti, Raman, and Ramakrishna.

Ramakrishna is beautiful - singing the praise of God, praying, worshipping, dancing.

He is something of the beyond. He reminds you that much more is possible in life than is happening to you - but that's all. Through him just a little remembrance can reach you. But your life is such that that remembrance is not going to create any mutation; it will be forgotten. You will enjoy it. Again and again you would like to go to the man and see him dancing and singing and praying...and you will feel good.

This is what Buddha calls "counting the sheep of others." He is a beautiful flower, but by looking at a rose you cannot become the rose; neither can you become a Ramakrishna by looking at Ramakrishna. Great effort is needed. You have to climb the mountain against all hazards.

Unless a master tries to approach you in your deep sleep, unless he stirs your being, holds you hard and takes you out of your ignorance, it is impossible, it is almost impossible. But you will be angry at this man - who wants to be disturbed? One has become accustomed to a certain way of life; mind always likes the old, the known, the familiar. Even though it is miserable, still the mind is afraid of the new, because with the new you have to learn again how to behave, how to be. And who wants to learn?

You are so efficient with the old, your ego is so satisfied with the old - why bother?

And when you come across a man like Gurdjieff, he shatters all the nonsense that you have gathered. He shatters mercilessly! Sometimes he has to say things which are not really true, but just to shatter your ideas he has to say them.

A friend has asked, "How was it possible that a man like Gurdjieff, a man of such great understanding, did not understand the idea of kundalini energy?"

He called it kundabuffer. He was very much against the idea of kundalini. He used to say that the worst thing that could happen to a person in life is the arousal of kundalini.

The questioner, naturally, is bewildered.

But you don't understand the real meaning of Gurdjieff. He called it kundabuffer because of the nonsense that theosophists have created in the world. They talked so much about kundalini, the serpent power, and it was all gibberish; they knew nothing about it. They were just fabricating, they were just inventing theories and ideas. It was all guesswork.

In fact, out of a hundred books that are written about kundalini, ninety-nine are absolute nonsense. And the people who had gathered around Gurdjieff had come through theosophical philosophy, hypotheses, doctrines. He was shattering their knowledge; he was not saying anything against kundalini. How could he say that? He knew far better than Blavatsky, Annie Besant, Alcott, Leadbeater - he knew far better than these people. These people were only experts in creating doctrines, and really they were great experts. They had created almost a world movement - about auras and colors and kundalini...new words from the ancient spiritual lore. And they created worlds, imaginary worlds, around those words.

Gurdjieff is right to call it kundabuffer. And Gurdjieff is right in saying that the worst thing that can happen to a man is the arousal of kundalini. But remember always that he was talking to his disciples, in a particular context. He was shattering the knowledge of his disciples about kundalini power - because the first step of a master is to destroy your knowledge, because your knowledge is basically false, borrowed.

Before you can be made familiar with the truth, the untrue has to be taken away.

Sometimes the master has to be very merciless, and sometimes the master has to say things which are not really so. Kundalini is not a wrong idea, but for ninety-nine percent of people, Gurdjieff is right.

Now there are again people like Gopi Krishna, who are writing books on kundalini and the serpent power, and the great genius that comes through it. It has not even happened to Gopi Krishna! What kind of genius has he? At the most, the only proof that he has given of his genius is some absolutely worthless poetry, just like the poetry schoolchildren write. He has been a clerk his whole life. His poetry smells of his whole life's clerkship - it stinks! It has no beauty, it has no grandeur - it has nothing of the superb.

And now he is propounding around the world that when kundalini arises your latent power of genius becomes manifest. How many yogis have won the Nobel Prize? And how many yogis have contributed to the world's scientific knowledge, art, poetry, painting, sculpture? How many of your people whose so-called kundalini has arisen have contributed in any way to the world's richness?

What Gopi Krishna is talking about is not kundalini but kundabuffer. Gurdjieff would have put him right with a single blow. But he attracts people. People are very much attracted by mystical nonsense, by occult stupidity, by esoteric gibberish. Just start talking with people about chakras, centers of energy, and kundalini passing through them, and they are all-attentive. You just try it! There is no need to know anything about it - just invent...because Jaina mystics have not talked about kundalini, Buddhist mystics have not talked about kundalini, Christian mystics have never known anything about it, Sufis are absolutely unaware of this energy called kundalini. Only Hindu yoga talks about it.

There IS something in it, but not exactly the way it is told to people. The knowledge that is floating around about kundalini is all nonsense, and Gurdjieff was right to condemn it. He was condemning the whole theosophical movement. Theosophists were very much against Gurdjieff. They knew nothing, but they created a great movement. They were more or less political people, scholars, logic-choppers, but not in any way realized souls.

Gurdjieff shattered many beliefs. He shattered one of the most fundamental beliefs of the whole of humanity. He said, "There is no soul. You are not born with a soul - the soul has to be created by great effort. And only very rare people have been able to create it. The millions of people walking on the earth are all soulless."

Now, can you create a greater shock? - just telling people, "You are soulless. There is nothing inside you - hollow, nobody inside you. You are not yet born; you are just a body, a mechanism. Yes, you have a possibility, a potentiality to become a soul, but then you have to do much work for it, great work for it, and only then is it possible to have a soul. It is the ultimate luxury to have a soul."

Now, down the ages priests have been telling you that you are born with a soul. That has created a very wrong state of affairs. Because everybody has been told he is born with a soul, he thinks, "Then why bother? I am already a soul. I am immortal. The body will die but I am going to live." Gurdjieff said, "You are nothing but the body, and when the body dies YOU will die. Only once in a while does a person survive - one who has created soul in his life survives death - not all. A Buddha survives, a Jesus survives, but not you! You will simply die, not even a trace will be left."

What was Gurdjieff trying to do? He was shocking you to the very roots; he was trying to take away all your consolations and foolish theories which go on helping you to postpone work upon yourself. Now, to tell people, "You don't have any souls, you are just vegetables, just a cabbage or maybe a cauliflower" - a cauliflower is a cabbage with a college education - "but nothing more than that." He was really a master par excellence. He was taking the very earth away from underneath your feet. He was giving you such a shock that you had to think over the whole situation: are you going to remain a cabbage? He was creating a situation around you in which you would have to seek and search for the soul, because who wants to die?

And the idea that the soul is immortal has helped people to console themselves that they are not going to die, that death is just an appearance, just a long sleep, a restful sleep, and you will be born again. Gurdjieff says, "All nonsense. This is all nonsense!

Dead, you are dead forever - unless you have created the soul...."

Now see the difference: you have been told you are already a soul, and Gurdjieff changes it totally. He says, "You are not already a soul, but only an opportunity. You can use it, you can miss it."

And I would like to tell you that Gurdjieff was just using a device. It is not true.

Everybody is born with a soul. But what to do with people who have been using truths as consolations? A great master sometimes has to lie - and only a great master has the right to lie - just to pull you out of your sleep.

For example, you are fast asleep and I shake you and shake you and you don't budge.

And then I start shouting, "Fire! Fire!" and you start running out of the house. Outside we will settle the matter. I will say that there is no fire...but this was the only way to wake you up.

Once you have known the soul, Gurdjieff will whisper in your ear, "Now don't be worried. Forget all about what I was telling you. But it was needed. It was a device. I had to shout 'Fire!' otherwise you were not going to get out of your sleep."

But these people are bound to be misunderstood. To understand a man like Gurdjieff is an almost impossible job. You can understand him only if you go with him, if you go along with him. And the work that Gurdjieff did was a very secret work - it can't be otherwise. Real work can be done only in a mystery school. It is hidden, it is underground. It is not public and it cannot be public.

In the Middle Ages the mystics disappeared behind the garb of alchemy; they had to disappear because of the Christians. The Christians were destroying all kinds of sources which were in any way in conflict with Christian ideology. They were not allowing anybody to practice anything else; even to talk about anything else was not permitted:

"Christianity and only Christianity is the way."

The mystics had to disappear. They created a beautiful deception, they created the idea of alchemy. They started saying, "We are alchemists; we have nothing to do with spirituality. All that is rot. We are seeking and searching for the secret of immortal life, of eternal youth. We are trying to find ways and means to transform base metals into gold." And just to deceive the public they made chemistry labs. If you had entered into an alchemist's world, you would have encountered jars and medicines and herbs and test-tubes...and you would have seen a kind of lab where much chemical work was going on. But this was only a facade; this was not the real work - the real work was happening somewhere else deep down in the school.

The real work was to create integral, crystallized human beings, to create wakefulness.

The real work was meditation. But Christianity does not allow meditation. It says prayer is enough. It does not allow inward search. It says worshipping God is enough, going every Sunday to the church is enough, reading the Bible is enough. It has given you toys - and that's how it has happened in other countries too.

In India too the mystics have lived in disguise.

Just the other day I was reading a Sufi story - and Gurdjieff is basically rooted in the Sufi tradition. He is a Sufi. He learned his secrets from the Sufis.

I was reading a Sufi story:

A disciple came to the master and said, "I am in trouble. The trouble is that the richest man of the town is going on a pilgrimage. He has a beautiful daughter, and I have a great reputation because of all the discipline that I have gone through and the character that I have cultivated. I have such a reputation in the town that he wants me to take care of his beautiful daughter while he is on his pilgrimage. And I am afraid - I know my temptations. And the girl is really beautiful; in fact I have always been infatuated with her. I have been avoiding...! This is too much: for six months or nine months she will be living with me. I cannot trust myself. What should I do?"

The master said, "I know a man who knows the secret. You go to him."

And he told him to go to another village where a madman lived. He said, "But what can that madman do? I know about that madman, I have heard much about that madman.

He is utterly mad! How can he help me?"

The master said, "You just go, but go very watchfully. Watch everything that is happening there."

He went to the madman. A very beautiful young boy was pouring wine and the madman was drinking.

Now, Mohammedan countries have been, down the ages, homosexual, very much - so much so that it is only the Mohammedan paradise which is gay. It is far more advanced than any other paradise. In the Hindu paradise there is no place for a gay person. In the Christian paradise, no, not at all. Even the Jewish God is very much against homosexuality, very angry. But the Mohammedan God is very lenient. Not only are beautiful women provided for the virtuous, but beautiful boys too.

This beautiful young boy pouring wine and the madman drinking - this man felt great hatred, condemnation. But because the master had said, "Watch and go and ask him for advice..." he forgot all about his problem. First he asked, "Please tell me what is happening. What are you doing?"

The madman laughed and he said, "This boy is my son. And come close - my glass contains only water. What he is pouring is not wine."

The man asked, "Then why are you pretending that you are drinking wine? Nobody sips water the way you are sipping. The flask from which he is pouring water is not used for keeping water - then why?"

The madman laughed and said, "So that nobody entrusts his beautiful daughter to me when he goes on a pilgrimage. This is a device!"

He must have read the thought, he must have been telepathic. He must have seen this man through and through. "...So that nobody entrusts his beautiful daughter to me, so nobody bothers. So that I am left alone. But please don't tell my secret to anybody; otherwise I will have to move from this town to another town. My madness is a rumor created by me. My characterlessness is a rumor created by me. And if YOU really want to work on yourself," said the madman, "you should do likewise. Go back. Start behaving foolishly, stupidly, madly, immorally - at least pretend! - and nobody will bother you."

Gurdjieff lived a life which was very mysterious; it was not public. His school was a hidden school. What was happening there, people were simply guessing.