#if not context for you and you already know consider it context for everyone else

[isa-ghost]

seeing you in Sneeg's chat during Origins is SENDING ME /pos

"ANOTHER BAN DEPLOY THE DRAKES" is now my all time favourite quote.

-Mala Bowtie 🎀 (@malaboos-bodacious-blog)

LOL

Listen man, Phil bans are the best thing about days Sneeg streams on the same day as him bc out of nowhere chat gets a trickle of bans of idiots from Phil's chat during his stream and we're all just like YEEAAHH PEEPAW'S CLEANING UP 👏🏻

And his reasons for the bans are always so fucking funny. One of Sneeg's mods said a reason he gave for one was "has the IQ of a plate of water" and we all lost our shit.

Phil cross banning weirdos and phobes from not only his but EVERYONE'S chats is my favorite thing. I think he does it in Tommy, Tubbo, Sneeg, Ranboo, Niki and Jack's chats. Not positive on the last two but the first four for sure. Any chat he's modded in, he bans idiots who say dumb shit in his chat.

#if not context for you and you already know consider it context for everyone else #philza #sneegsnag #spadeblr

[kaijuposting]

"Saw traps for people with moral OCD" is a phrase that has embedded myself into my brain because, well, Saw traps for people with moral OCD are everywhere.

Stuff that basically amounts to...

"You have to listen to my opinions on [issue], or else you don't care about [issue]. (Constantly talks about how people like you are the absolute worst.)"

Anything that's functionally like, "you have to let me tear you down over things you can't control or you're a bad person."

Anything that's functionally like, "you have to let me vent to you whenever and however I want or else you're a bad person."

"If you enjoy X media/trope, you just hate Y people."

"Everyone knows that X thing is harmful/hateful; if you engaged in it, it's just because you were fine with perpetuating hate/harm."

"You should have just known better/should know this already!"

This thread over here talks about the inherent issues of putting this kind of stuff out there. The TL;DR is that it really only works on people who are mentally unwell and have poor boundaries, while just pissing off everyone else. It really doesn't matter if you're technically correct; you're still attacking people, and that means they're not wrong to block you.

I think that many of these Saw traps are created when people effectively write posts directed toward people who don't want to help, rather than the ones who do. Like, if you catch yourself writing an angry, shame-laden post, ask yourself: who are you writing it for and what are the odds you're going to change their minds? If your mental image is some smug fuck or angry reactionary, you're writing for the wrong person. Write for the person who's curious, who's willing to learn.

Also? Work on figuring out how to transmute negative feelings into positive, encouraging rhetoric. EG:

"Why is there no X positivity?" -> "Let's hear it for X!"

"No one cares about Y problem!" -> "Hey, we need more recognition of Y problem" or "I haven't seen many people talking about Y problem, so here's some info on what's up."

"If you don't reblog this, you don't care about [group]" -> "Please reblog this, it would mean a lot for us [group]."

And if you're really super duper frustrated and want to vent with a lot of nasty words and sentiments? Consider taking it to a private vent channel or a journal or somewhere that a stranger with moral OCD/scrupulosity isn't likely to run across it.

Remember, most people don't want to hurt anyone. More people are ignorant than malicious. People naturally want to do the right thing, so if you feel like you have to guilt them or shame them into it, there's probably a fundamental communication issue somewhere, or they simply lack the context to understand why what you're saying is so important.

#moral ocd #mental health #mental illness #ableism #scrupulosity #scrupulosity ocd #abuse #emotional abuse #communication

[bookshelf-dust]

healing

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 5,445

warnings: swearing, smoking, mentions of past trauma (starcourt), slight sexual innuendos??

a/n: hi! remember when i made you do a poll for my 1k celebration? and one bed with billy won? well this is that fic! i'm sorry it took so long to get here, but school was kicking the ever loving shit out of me. anyways, i really hope you like it. it's a little different than other fics i've written, but i think that's a good thing. just for context, this is post the end of season three, with billy and hopper being okay and jopper being in full swing. i think that's all i wanted to say. thanks again for 1k followers. that's still so wild to me. i love you. and billy loves you too <333

————

November 1985

“No.”

“What do you mean no? You just fought an interdimensional being, don’t you want a vacation?” 

Lucas wipes both hands down his face, flopping down on the arm of the couch beside where Max sits with El between her knees, tying off one of the two braids she’s trying to make. 

“Max, can you help me? Please?” Lucas has been arguing about this for fifteen minutes. 

She rolls her eyes, but looks up from her work nonetheless. “Billy.”

The man in question crosses his arms, locking eyes with the redhead. “Maxine.”

Max finishes Eleven’s braid and she hops up to join Will where he’s working on a puzzle. Joyce brought it home from work a few days ago, and it’s been spread out on a card table in the corner of the living room since then. Will couldn’t watch The Golden Girls with Joyce from the kitchen table. 

“Just come with us, Billy. We all know you hate it here. It’ll give you a chance to get away for a little while.”

Except that’s not totally the truth. He doesn’t hate it here. Not with you around. 

“There’s a pool.” Will looks up, a little shyly, from the puzzle, fingers flipping around a single piece. “At the place Robin found.” 

Billy nods, and it’s enough to make Will smile at the acknowledgment. 

It’d been Steve’s idea, after everything that happened in July. He thought everyone going on a trip together might be a good idea. Go a little ways out from home, calm down. 

You and Billy started going to school, though Billy is still working. He found a job at a record store across the street from Melvald’s that opened after the mall went to shit. It definitely wasn’t his first choice, but it works. And he’s slowly fixing up the Camaro. 

Steve had offered to pay for the repairs in full, considering he did most of the damage when he rammed the side of it, but Billy couldn’t handle that. So far Max has only convinced him to let Steve cover the really expensive parts. It hurts Billy more than he’d care to admit—having Steve Harrington give him money. 

But he can’t lie, going somewhere away from Hawkins, even just for a couple days, sounds really nice. It’s the group part that’s bothering him. He’s still not used to everyone wanting him to tag along, but apparently major trauma brings people together.

There’s the slamming of car doors, and footsteps running up the driveway before the door swings open, Robin bursting in with a stack of movies in her arms. She’s followed by Dustin and then Steve, bags and keys being tossed every which way. 

Billy doesn’t see you for a moment and starts to worry maybe you aren’t coming. He’s already supplying excuses for having to go home, but Steve left the door ajar, and after a moment, there you are. 

You look sleepy, footsteps the quietest of everyone else as you carefully push the Byers’ door shut behind you. He watches as you accept a hug from Eleven, overhears her ask, “how did your test go?” 

He’s happy to hear you tell her it went well. It’s only after you’ve looked at her and Will’s puzzle and snapped a few more corner pieces in that you make a beeline for the open spot on the couch beside Billy. 

When you’ve settled, your knee bumps against his. “Hey.”

He looks at you, a little grin playing at the corners of his mouth. His arms are still crossed, thumb playing with the pendant resting on his chest. A chest surprisingly covered by a sweater, though the sleeves are pushed up. 

“Hey. Glad your test is over?”

That sound of his voice makes you smile, and he’s never been so grateful for something, even if it’s just an expression. “Yeah.”

You glance down at the new tattoo on his arm, a dark colored snake wrapping around the skin covering his elbow. You run your thumb across the tail that flicks across his forearm, and Billy relaxes into your touch. 

“You have work today?”

Billy shakes his head. You’re glad he had the day off. And you’d tell him so if it weren’t for the sudden bombardment. 

Lucas is suddenly standing in front of you, having returned from the kitchen where you think he and Dustin may have been cleaning out Joyce’s fridge. 

“Holy shit, thank god you’re here. I need you to convince Billy to go on vacation.” 

You glance at Max, assuming she’s already tried. She looks rather annoyed. “Lucas, would you sit down?”

The boy looks at Max, and she glares at him. Clearly he knows better and sits down next to her. 

“Billy doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do,” you finally say. 

The man in question turns to face you. You have to lean your head back some because of how close he is. 

“Are you going?” he asks, voice quiet and thick with something you don’t know that you’re supposed to notice. 

“Y-yeah. I was gonna. Robin only went on about it to me for an hour over the phone last night. I just think it might be nice to get away for a little while.” Billy doesn’t break eye contact with you, and while it makes you a little nervous, it tells you he’s listening.

“And I can watch Max for you if you really don’t want to go. Just make sure she doesn’t kill Lucas or anything.” Max snorts at your response, though Lucas looks at her in panic, already calculating how best to prevent that sort of situation. 

Your gaze softens and you fight the urge to reach out and run your thumb across Billy’s cheek. 

Please come with us. I want you to go. I want you there, you think. But it’s not what you say. You don’t know how badly he needs to hear it. 

“You really don’t have to go, Billy. Not if you don’t want to.”

“But there is enough space, man.” Steve stands behind the couch, handing El a scrunchie he retrieved from her bag. His voice is calm, informative. “If you decide to go. There’s plenty of room, and we’d be happy if you did.”

Billy could make some smartass remark. But he won’t. He knows that Steve is being honest, and that he’s not trying to be a dick. It seems that witnessing the guy who beat the shit out of you almost die not even a year after he moved to town really brings you together. 

Billy gives an acknowledging nod. “I’d be very happy if you did,” Eleven says. She loves having Jonathan as an older brother, really she does, but Billy lets her play with his hair. And in her books, that really ups the scale. 

He smiles at her, and El considers that a win. 

You notice him shift next to you, and then he’s leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “Come with me?” He cocks his head in the direction of the door. 

He gets up, assuming you’ll follow him. You always do. 

When you’ve shut the door, you move to the porch swing. It’s your favorite spot out here, and Joyce says it makes her happy to see someone use it. She used to sit there with Will in the mornings after Jonathan left for school and read to him. She did the same with Jonathan, but he was a much more fidgety kid, wanting to find something else to do. 

Billy lights a cigarette, and you watch where he fidgets with the ring on his middle finger. 

He’s standing a little ways away from you so as to not breathe the smoke directly in your vicinity, but you wish so badly that he was closer. You like having him close. The weight of his body next to you, the warmth, how solid his arm feels when it’s pressed to yours or when he slides down on the couch some and it's more so pressed to your side. 

“Which part of it are you worried about?” you ask him. 

He shrugs. “You really think they want me there? You think Max wants me around?” “Billy, I know she does. And I know that voice in your head is telling you that it’s a pity invite, but it’s not. And, besides…” you trail off, but he’s not having that. He needs you to reassure him. 

“Besides what?” 

You look up at him. “I want you to go. And yeah, I’ll be sad if you don’t go, but that shouldn’t sway your decision either.” You push your feet against the concrete porch a little harder, and the swing responds to the movement. You move quicker, now feeling very pleased with yourself. 

Billy almost laughs at the child-like look on your face, but you look so at home on the swing that he holds it in. A grin escapes nonetheless. 

“Say that again.” He stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray either Hopper or Joyce have left outside. He’s watching you again. 

“What?” He’s not gonna let you go all shy on him now. He needed to hear that. He needs to hear it. 

“You know what.”

“I want you to go.”

“Then it’s settled. Need to get out of this shithole anyways.”

————

The place Steve found is about two hours from Hawkins, with three bedrooms, a shockingly luxurious pull-out couch, and bigger common areas than you’ve ever laid eyes on. Excluding the ones in Steve’s house. In short, the rental is like Hopper’s cabin, if Hopper’s cabin were updated and substantially larger. It feels like the kind of place rich people have to take weekend trips. You’d rather not find out how much Steve is paying for the lot of you to stay there. 

Robin takes you on a grand tour while everyone else explores the backyard. Dustin is already determined to climb a tree. One of the rooms has two sets of bunk beds, dedicated to the four boys. “To ensure no cootie-spreading,” Robin proclaims. 

She and Steve will share the couch, with Max and Eleven in the smaller bedroom. 

Robin stops at the end of the hallway. “Which leaves…” 

You and Billy. 

You and Billy Hargrove.

Sharing a room. 

Sharing a bed. 

Speaking of, the man in question brushes past you, setting his bag on the floor at the foot of the bed. Robin takes that as her queue to leave and gives you a thumbs up on the way out. You hope she can feel your death stare on the back of her head, and she knows it, being quick to run down the hall. 

“So we’re roomies, huh?” Billy says, gathering his hair at the base of his neck. You hadn’t even realized he had a tie on him, and it takes him finishing off a lazy bun to realize it’s a blue scrunchie. You have to bite your lip to keep from saying anything. 

“I can sleep with Max and El, if you want. Or–”

That crease between Billy’s brows forms. “Why would you do that?”

You’ve gone all warm. You’d have to sleep in bed with him. And you sit next to him all the time, but this is different. Isn’t it?

Maybe it’s not so weird. You’re just friends. It’s like a sleepover, right?

“I don’t know, you might not want to sleep together or something.”

He cocks a brow, but you catch the double meaning of your words just in time. “You know what I mean, Billy.”

He sits on the end of the bed, and reaches out for you. You move towards him slowly, but the moment you’re within his grasp, Billy spreads his legs and grabs your waist, slotting your body between them. 

“You can go if you really want to. If you think I’ve got cooties or somethin’ and you don’t wanna share a bed with me.”

You snort, and Billy drinks in the sound, knowing he’s the one that made you laugh. 

“I don’t think you’ve got cooties.”

You realize in that moment that his hands haven’t left their spot on your waist, never straying anywhere else. The weight of them on you is enough to keep you focused on him, and he seems to acknowledge that. 

“Then what is it?” he asks, in that low drawl you fear could get out any answer he wanted from you. 

You hesitate, but say it anyway. “You don’t think it’ll be weird? Sleeping in the same bed?”

Billy fights the urge to rest his forehead against your stomach. He wants to tell you he’s wished you were in his bed on more than one occasion. Sometimes he just wishes you were there so it wouldn’t feel so cold, so he’d have someone to pull him out of his thoughts before they eat him alive altogether. 

“No, I don’t think it’ll be weird.”

You nod your head, and try to move back from him. 

Billy whines. “Uh uh. Nope.”

You go to put your hands on your hips, and they graze Billy’s on the way. He grabs hold of them. “You don’t want to have a sleepover with me?”

Billy’s looking up at you with those watery blue eyes, and you know this is a battle you’ll never win. 

“Really?”

He lets out a breath of a laugh, and your eyes fall to his neck when he tosses his head back. 

“Yeah, baby.”

Baby. 

It feels like every cell in your body has been sent into overdrive, like you can’t compute a single coherent thought. All because Billy called you “baby”. 

And if he’s being honest with himself, he feels the same way. He hadn’t meant to say it. It’s just that he calls you “baby” in his head all the time, and it just…happened.

“I’d love to have a sleepover with you, Hargrove.”

“Mhm. Thought so.” 

This time he lets the laugh out, and it’s a beautiful sound. The kind of sound you’d commit unspeakable acts to hear again. And this time, he does let his forehead drop to rest on your stomach. It surprises you, but you’re not mad about it.

“Oh, fuck off,” you say, and you can feel his chuckle against your skin.

When he quits, you find yourself just standing there, find your hands moving around his back. He’s always so warm. You rub your hands up and down his back, the denim of his jacket rough on your fingertips. 

You feel him shift, feel his change in position, the hard press of his chin against you. Billy is looking up at you, and you know he’s hoping you’ll return his gaze. His eyes bore into yours, and you hate to think of what you must look like from this angle. Clearly he doesn’t mind. 

You push a curl behind his ear, a shockingly perfect ringlet that’s too short to be contained like the rest of them. 

Billy would be taken aback by the gesture if it weren’t for the fact that you always go this easy on him. Like you know he’s healing, in more ways than one. 

“We can’t stay here forever, you know. I wanna go look around.” 

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I’m sure it’s riveting.” He lets you go anyway, following you down the hall to the rest of the cabin.

————

Your back rests on the base of an oversized chair, one that’s surprisingly comfy, your body in between Robin’s legs. She’s sitting next to Steve, watching you moderate El, Lucas, and Will play Twister. Dustin’s already out. 

“Right hand blue.”

“You’re kidding right?”

“Sinclair, have you never played this game before?”

Lucas scoffs, trying to reach the blue on the other side of the mat without toppling into Will. Max went with Billy to the store, but they should be back soon. You have a sick feeling they’re taking advantage of having been given Steve’s debit card. 

“Yes, I’ve played the game before. If you’re so good, why don’t you get down here and show us how it’s done, Harrington?”

“Yeah, Harrington, why don’t you show us how flexible you are?” Billy’s voice makes you look up from where you’ve been mindlessly twisting the spinner on the board around with the tip of your finger. 

He stands just inside the living room, holding the door open with his leg. He kicks it shut once Max has made it in. She heaves the paper bags she’d been holding up and onto the counter. Steve rises to help unpack them. You follow on instinct, handing the spinner to Robin instead, and Dustin is quick to take Steve’s spot before Mike can. 

Billy won’t let you take anything from him, but he will let you help figure out what the hell to do with all of it. “Do I even want to know how much you both spent?” you ask. 

He gives you that fucking smile, and you know you don’t. “Max said she wanted to have a spa night–whatever that means–with El, so we sort of split up. I’m sure Steve’ll live.” 

“For your information, Lucas,” Steve continues, clearly not ready to let the quips towards his limberness go, “I was the captain of the swim team.”

“What’s that got to do with being flexible, dingus?” Robin directs the two remaining players, the young boy in question having just busted his ass. 

“Swimming is an art form, Rob. You gotta learn to respect it.”

You choke on a laugh, and Billy is quick to rub your back while he chuckles into your shoulder. 

“Something funny over there?” Steve questions. 

You straighten, trying to wipe the smile from your face though it’s to no avail. “Nope, Steven. I’m sure you’re just incredibly stretchy. Like Mr. Fantastic.”

His brow furrows. “Mr. Fantastic?”

Dustin snorts, elbow deep in a bag of chips, and you quickly realize that you probably shouldn’t have given him an opening, but you don’t exactly regret it either. 

The lot of you spend the rest of the night in this fashion, playing games, eating way too much food, taking turns smacking the top of the television so your movie will keep playing. 

It feels like home. It feels safe. You wish it always felt this way. 

————

You’d just finished brushing your teeth when you hear the bedroom door click shut, hear footsteps you can tell are in search of you. 

You peek your head out of the bathroom and Billy grins at the sight of you in pajamas, a smear of moisturizer on your forehead you’ve yet to rub in. 

He squeezes in the small room, about the same size as his at home, to join you. There’s something about this moment, the domesticity of it, that makes your heart swell. It feels like something you could get used to, getting ready for bed with him. Neither of you have to say anything, you just do your own thing, but having him be there, having his presence–it’s more than enough for you. 

When you climb into bed, you try and read for a while, the sounds of Billy washing his face comforting you. You find it easy to read even when he does get in with you, the mattress sinking underneath his weight, the sheets rustling as he moves around experimentally, trying to get comfortable in a bed that isn’t his own. 

You feel odd though, reading when he’s right there, so it isn’t long before you close the book and slide further into the covers with him. Billy’s quick to turn on his side, wanting to see you like this. 

He watches you yank the blankets up to your chin, looking at him over a blur of fluffy white comforter. “It’s fuckin’ freezin’ in here,” you tell him.

“C’mere then.”

You burrow further into your pillow, fearing you know exactly what he’s going to suggest. “Huh?”

“You’re cold. You always whine about me being warm or somethin’ and I’m telling you to come here.”

“Billy.”

“Stop.” He lifts the covers up some, untucking you from them, and he wraps his arm around your back, tugging you into his side. 

Suddenly you’re pressed against him, having slid across the sheets easier than you’d have imagined. 

He’s let go of you, his arm hovering over your back. “You want me to hold you or no?” 

“Yeah.” 

Billy lets his arm drop against your side, his fingers splaying out over your back. He rubs his hand up and down your spine, hoping it’ll warm you up. “This okay?” 

“Yes.” 

He nods. You’re looking at him like he’s something special.

Billy realizes, in that moment, that that’s how you’ve always looked at him. Even before. 

He also realizes that your hands are tucked under your chin and your legs are curled up and into you like you’re afraid of making any contact with him. 

“You can loosen up, you know. It’s just me.” 

You let out a breath of a laugh, and he can feel it against the skin of his neck. 

“It’s okay, I promise. You can touch me.” Billy has this feeling that you’re afraid of hurting him. He’s sure you’ve noticed that he’s wearing a shirt to bed, something he never did before. And he thinks that you’re worried he’ll break. 

“You’re sure?”

“Wouldn’t have said so otherwise.”

He watches you unfold your hands and stretch your arm over him, hooking it around his hip. You want to rub up and down his side, but you’re nervous. 

It’s just me. 

“Do they hurt at all?”

Your thumb skates up a little further, and you don’t have to tell him what you mean. 

“Not all the time,” he says, voice low and thick with drowsiness. “At first, yeah, like hell. Now it’s just sometimes. They can feel a little tight, or just bug me. Depends, I guess.”

You nod, feeling brave enough now to slide your hand up a little further. Your touch is light, barely there. You close your eyes, trying not to think about when it happened. How he’d screamed. 

He can tell when you’ve calmed down some, because your arm relaxes and you hug him a little more firmly. You scoot in a little closer, close enough that your noses would touch if you tried to make them. 

“Goodnight, Billy.”

He makes the move, dragging the tip of his nose across your forehead. He kisses the top of your head, and you grin so wide you feel like a kid in a candy shop. 

“Goodnight, baby.”

————

When you wake up, you almost don’t want to disturb him, but you know you should get out of bed.

Billy is sprawled out on his stomach, having separated from you at some point during the night. His tank top is rucked up from the tossing and turning of sleep, and you look away when you catch a glimpse of pink skin. It doesn’t feel like your place to look. 

You wander out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind you. You make it down the hall, and find that Robin seems to be the only other one awake. You should’ve guessed. She told you once before that her body doesn’t seem to let her sleep in. 

Steve is still passed out on the pull-out couch, completely covered by the blankets. The only sign of him is a tuft of messy hair against the light colored pillow case his head rests on. 

Robin waves at you from her perch at the kitchen counter, a bowl of cereal in front of her. “Want some?” she whispers, pushing the box in your direction. 

You fill up your own bowl, having a feeling that Robin is about to ramble. 

“Sleep okay?” she asks. 

“Mhm. You?”

“Fine. Though, y’know, Steve is a horrific bed hog. Seriously, he was half on top of me the whole night. I might have to bunk with Max and El.” 

You laugh, and Robin takes that as her queue to ask what she’s been pondering since she woke up. 

“Was it okay? Sleeping with Billy? Well, not like that. Well, I’m assuming not like that, not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I just meant like actually sleeping? Please stop me.”

You grin at her. “Please breathe, Rob.” She does, over exaggerating her inhales. “And it was fine.”

“Okay, good. I was kind of worried you’d be frustrated with my matchmaking tendencies. I just really want you two to be happy. And he seems so calm when he’s with you, and I realize I’ve just told you that I’ve been pushing you two together and I–”

You wipe milk from your chin, having almost spit out your cereal. “Robin, sweetheart, it’s okay, I promise. I know about your matchmaking tendencies. But I think we’re just friends, right?”

“Just friends, my ass.” You hadn’t even seen Steve get up, but he’s reaching for the fridge and pulling out a carton of chocolate milk. He really can’t say anything about Dustin’s eating habits when he has the exact same diet. 

“Oh my god.”

“Listen, I’m just saying, there’s been something going on between you two since before the world went to shit. I don’t know why you two tiptoe around each other like it’s not obvious that you’re in love.”

“Steve!” you exclaim. “Seriously, what the hell? I’ve been up for like twenty minutes and you two are schooling me on my love life?”

“Or lack thereof,” Robin says. 

“Okay, damn. You know what, I’m going back to bed.” 

Steve pushes your bowl back towards you when you attempt to get up. “No, you’re not. I’m just saying, there’s no sense in avoiding this. You both clearly feel a lot for each other, and I don’t see any reason to avoid it when you could be together.” 

He’s being vulnerable with you, his big brown eyes boring into yours and trying to convey how serious he’s being. 

“Just think about it, okay? There’s no harm in talking about how you feel with him. And don’t say that you don’t feel anything, because that’s a goddamn lie.”

————

Billy’s had his swim trunks on all day, but he hasn’t done more than sit in the shade by the pool while everyone else makes a mess and plays ridiculous games in the water. 

It’s killing him to watch you in there from time to time, swimming around or sitting in the shallow end. You told him once that swimming calms you down. 

It’s not until after dinner, when everyone has moved inside for the most part, though there seems to be the plotting of a water balloon fight out front, that he’s brave enough to head for the pool. 

You follow him out there, see him contemplating the water. 

“Whatcha doin’?” 

Billy drops the cigarette he’d been smoking, snubbing it out. “Thought about going for a swim,” he tells you. 

“That sounds nice.”

“Mhm.”

“I can go back inside, if you want.”

Billy turns to face you. “No. No, I want you to stay.” He wants you to see. He can’t explain why, but he does. 

“Okay.” 

He takes a shaky breath, hoping you don’t catch it. You do. You always do. 

“I just…wasn’t ready for everyone to see.”

“I understand, Billy.” 

You know what he’s really saying. He wasn’t ready for everyone to see. But he’s ready for you to see. 

“I can get in first, if that helps. And I won’t look if you don’t want me to,” you say. 

“That helps, yeah. And you can look. It’s okay.”

He watches you wade in, watches the way your swimsuit changes color as you tread water. 

Billy takes another deep breath, and he’s pulling his shirt off. He’s quick though, diving straight into the deep end, knowing he needs to get it over with. 

When he comes up, his hair is sticking to his forehead, and he flips it out of the way, giving you a glimpse of the broad pink scar on his chest. 

He meets you halfway, and you think he’s in a serious mood until he’s splashing you like a child. 

“You motherfucker!” 

You get him back, and he’s laughing. 

Billy is laughing and he looks so pretty in the last of the day’s sunlight, beads of water sliding over his collarbones and down his arms, and you feel like you could die. Like seeing him this way is enough. You don’t need anything else.

You try to return a particularly aggressive splash, but he catches your waist, pulling you up and over his shoulder. 

“Billy!”

“What?” His voice is teasing. He tosses the rest of the way over, your laughter fading out into the water. 

You come up, a brilliant smile on his face. Billy’s sure if you stood close enough you’d be able to hear his heart beating. 

When you’ve both gone quiet, your eyes drop to the scars on his sides, the way they stretch across his skin, mean and twisting. Some spots are darker than others, and while it hurts you to look at them, you know it must hurt him even more. But he looks just as beautiful as before, if not increasingly so. 

“See something you like?” Billy says it on instinct. To hide the fact that he’s worried you don’t really like it. That maybe you think he’s gross looking. But he knows that’s all in his head. He fucking knows it. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Billy Hargrove.”

You say it with such surety, such admiration, that he can’t even begin to doubt that you mean it. 

He smiles at you. It’s boyish. You’d do anything to see a million more of them. 

He moves towards you, the sky having darkened enough that the outside lights have come on, the lights in the pool too. All that remains of the sun is a slash of deep orange, though the night quickly pushes it away.

Billy’s got you backed up against the wall of the pool now. His hands find your sides.

It’s overwhelming, having him this close. You can feel his breath on your face, see the rise and fall of his chest, the freckles on his cheeks. 

When he kisses you, you think your heart stops. His mouth is warm against yours, and he tastes a little like chlorine, but you don’t care. Your hands find his face, and you’re smiling so hard that he pulls away because he wants to see. You don’t let him for long though, pulling him back, wanting more. He laughs into your mouth, and your chest aches with this feeling.

Eventually you do let go, and when you hold his eye contact, he knows what you’re going to say. He needs to tell you first, though.

“I’m in love with you, you know.”

“I know,” you respond.

He tosses his head back in a laugh, and you press a sweet kiss to his throat. 

“I’m in love with you too, Billy.”

“Damn right you are.”

You snort against his chest, lowering slightly to kiss his scar. His breath catches. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve you. 

“About fucking time!” Steve’s shouting and Robin is yelling, and Max would be making barf sounds if she wasn’t so pleased with seeing her brother so happy. 

“So much for that,” Billy says.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

————

“I’m regretting this, Billy.”

“Stop whining.”

Billy wraps his arms tighter around your back, pressing a kiss to your jaw in hopes that you’ll let him keep doing this. 

“Get off.”

“No.”

“Get off, please.”

“Make me.” 

There’s the sound of a slap, your hand having met his ass.

He raises his head from where he’d buried it in your chest, looking at you drowsily. “You just spanked me.”

And you’d do it again. 

“Didn’t work, did it?”

“No. Shut up and take it.”

By that he means continue letting him lay on top of you, his entire body pressed to yours. It doesn’t matter to him that there’s an entire bed, one that’s made for two people.

You settle for playing with his hair, something he seems to enjoy, and you’d mess with him about the fact that he’s essentially purring if it weren’t for him looking so content. 

He might be heavy, but having Billy Hargrove sleep on top of you isn’t exactly something you just give up. 

He’s never had this before.

Hell, you’ve never had this before. 

And he thinks it’s healing him. More than the salve he puts on his scars, or the physical therapy, or fixing up the Camaro. 

You’re healing him. You. 

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#savannah’s fics #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x gn!reader #billy hargrove x gender neutral reader #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove comfort #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #max mayfield #steve harrington #robin buckley #lucas sinclair #dustin henderson #will byers #billy stranger things fic #billy stranger things #bookshelf-dust’s 1k celebration

[verysium]

PLEASE DO BLUE LOCK ICKS IM BEGGING🙏😭🌹

😏 coming right up anon. gonna channel my inner critic and not hold back on any of these.

RIN

brother complex. not much else to say except that he needs to get a life. not everything is about metaphorically crushing your older brother's dreams and brooding in the dark hate of retribution.

competitive but only because he is a desperate whore for external validation. ignores everyone but craves the attention of a sole person named sae itoshi. was defeated by isagi once and has never let go of it since. has a one-track mind that is impossible to derail. stubborn when he wants to be.

probably a virgin and will continue to be one until his late 30s.

has not known a single day of peace ever since sae ditched him for the popular girlies. as a result, he has developed a very concerning case of social awkwardness. his idea of a conversation involves a brick wall and thirty minutes of you staring at his resting bitch face. constantly looks like that one grumpy cat meme. judges you for your poor decisions but then gets aggressively defensive when you point out his own mistakes.

reeks of so much teen angst that even metallica can't save him. the problem is that he has nothing to back up his emo persona. his insults lack creativity and, unfortunately for him, phrases like "lukewarm" and "half-baked" and "hell" do not make his words carry more weight. uses the f-word but in the most embarrassing context that it makes you facepalm and internally cringe.

SAE

zero social awareness. this boy's head is empty. the lights are not on up there. there are no picture frames or furniture. the curtains are drawn, and there is not a sliver of clouds or sunshine. cannot read body language and does not know what a filter is.

the source of all of rin's stress. he is the original trauma projector, creator of generational cycles. not even subtle about it. "turns out i was wrong. i thought japan was incapable of ever giving birth to decent forwards." sir....with the way you worded that, you knew exactly what you were doing when you gave rin false hope.

swears but it's even worse than his brother. literally called his elders a "fatso and bob cut duo" and "insect turd." i mean....there is a line between what is considered a legitimate burn and what is a first grader making up insults in his coloring book.

has a horrible haircut and no fashion taste. i already talked about this previously, but it was so bad it deserved a second mention.

a freak but tries to justify it rationally. like what do you mean you can tell a person's athletic ability from their buttock size? just admit you have a kinky fetish already.

somewhat of a coward but i'm gonna give him some leniency due to his tragic child genius backstory. tbh he's just an eighteen-year-old boy who needs a goddamn break.

KAISER

alexa please play clown music. this man sets himself for failure and then wallows in self-pity when he actually fails. like what did you expect? you knew what was going to happen the moment you challenged isagi like that. it was most definitely your fault you got violently humbled.

has a borderline god complex (currently calls himself an emperor but has not evolved into a deity yet.) unfortunately, he does not stand on business. cue the dramatic meltdowns when he realizes there is an actual gap between his ability and his reputation. if you're going to lie, at least make it believable.

insecure and mentally unstable. he probably cuts and re-dyes his hair every single time shit happens. no wonder his locks get shorter every time.

lazy when it comes to anything that is not football and expects others to do it for him. demands princess treatment wherever he goes. unfortunately, not all of us have servants with no self-respect like ness.

"it is not enough that i should succeed, others should fail" type of person.

does not wear shoes and even if he does, it's sandals. put them grippers away.

NAGI

a literal sloth who has so much potential but uses none of it. has no intrinsic motivation of his own, so if he's going to do anything, it has to be you behind the wheel, making sure he gets put to work.

does not have a close relationship with his parents, and so he has no sense of community, holidays, or traditions. no fun at all if you want him to do things like christmas shopping or birthday celebrations.

rots in bed all day and then has to nerve to ask you to carry him around. your back better be strong because his 190 cm body is not going to be light.

not loyal (need i say more.)

REO

second male lead syndrome. also known as that one popular guy who's always picked last.

acts like a victim but then when you realistically tell him to how to change his situation he refuses to do so. you cannot ask for advice and then take none of it to heart. no wonder you're still not over your ex.

"i can fix him" mentality. no, you can't. you are a seventeen-year-old child, not a licensed therapist and nagi isn't even all that.

NESS

touch-starved to the point he will stay in a toxic and abusive relationship in order to gain some scrap of affection. just because you were the black sheep of your family does not mean you can lose all sense of personal dignity.

probably stalks all the people he hates. has a burn book like regina george from mean girls. cuts out and glues little pictures of kaiser all over his bedroom. doodles hearts all over it with glittery gel pen. isagi's face and name are scratched out of every team photo.

delusional and prone to mood swings. medicated but at this point, he is beyond saving.

ISAGI

a home wrecker. has ruined more relationships than he can count on ten fingers yet still manages to smile like he's some angelic saint.

solves jigsaw puzzles for a living (not very cool if you ask me.)

has some unresolved anger management issues. probably repressed all his negative feelings when he was younger, so it all comes out when he's on the field. unfortunately, his twilight-sparkle-friendship-is-magic agenda is not going to work if he keeps cussing out his teammates like that. but then again, he is the main character, so i guess his plot armor makes up for his pitfalls.

says that he's a good guy but then holds personal vendettas against rivals he doesn't like. boy was so ready to throw hands when #kaisagi was trending on the internet. but when you actually think about, he's similar to kaiser in more ways than he'd like to admit.

BAROU

has the worst case of high and mighty "holier-than-thou" attitude. isagi put his ego in check, but it still peeks out from time to time.

he was the ugliest baby when he was born. i am not going to hold back on the child barou slander because it is true. no, he was not a cute and lovable bundle of joy. he looked like a demonic gremlin.

he needs to take more risks in life and try cross-dressing. simply imagining him in a maid uniform will not suffice. it needs to be made into a reality.

with how nit-picky he is, i doubt people can realistically stay within a 1-meter radius around him. unless you are a clean freak yourself, his constant complaints will start to get annoying after a time. even if he does have good intentions, he needs to let people have a little breathing room sometimes. a messy room is not going to kill you.

BACHIRA

this boy's brain is smooth. no folds. no gray matter. no intelligence either. his pencil and eraser have been left untouched since day one. if he wasn't crazily good at football, he would be unemployed and homeless in the future. not even a mcdonald's wants him.

one of those people who will do the literal opposite of whatever you say. you want him to stop talking? well, now he's never going to shut up. you tell him not to step on a pile of dog shit? well, now he's going to walk right into it. you want him to quit running around and act normal? well, now it's his life's mission to make you as annoyed as possible. please pray for your hair follicles because at the end of the day, you're not going to have many left with how much he makes you want to tear your hair out.

has the cerebral capacity of a toddler. if he thinks monsters are real, he's going to think anything is real. super gullible when it comes to any form of scam, ploy, or trickery. the only way he would not be fooled is if he's also played the same prank before.

SHIDOU

a brazen pervert. says the most out-of-pocket things and refuses to apologize for them. sometimes it comes out a little too sleazy for your liking.

"to me a goal is fertilization! a shot is the seed and the goal is the egg!! and the birth of that joy i call an explosion!! my genes are gonna knock you up!" let us give ourselves a moment of silence to digest this quote. only shidou ryusei would come up with a sperm and egg metaphor to describe football. (i guess protection means nothing to him.)

has no empathy. if you dislike him or cannot keep up with him, you're a literal nobody in his books. no sportsmanship. no compassion. no self-awareness.

you cannot say "balls" to him in a serious tone without him misinterpreting it as something dirty. that alone should tell you enough. stay the hell away from him.

where do men get the audacity? right here. from this little bastard. he invented the term "shameless slut." boy was getting off during the u-20 arc and on live TV too. no wonder sae said he was disgusting.

and finally, he comes from a long line of cockroaches. he's even got the antennae to prove it.

i think this might have been a little excessive, but i have no regrets about it. you're welcome anon ♡

#asks #blue lock headcanons #icks #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x y/n #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #sae itoshi #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x you #sae itoshi x y/n #michael kaiser #kaiser x y/n #kaiser x reader #kaiser x you #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser x y/n #nagi seishiro #nagi x reader #nagi x you #nagi x y/n #reo mikage #reo x reader #reo x you #reo x y/n #alexis ness

[pumpkinhimiko]

"Mistranslations" that are not mistranslations

Now with an additional part 2.

NISA has made plenty of mistakes while translating the Danganronpa series (and I've complained about them before), and so they have a reputation of being untrustworthy. But because of this reputation, I feel like fans are too quick to trust whatever anyone that isn't NISA states as absolute fact. So, I want to examine some instances of fan translators claiming NISA has mistranslated something, when, no, actually, they didn't.

Kokichi's last words

人にやらされるゲームなんて…楽しい訳あるかよ… A game you're forced to play... how could that be fun...

This is probably the most widespread myth in terms of "mistranslations that aren't", with the original post that makes this claim having over 2k notes: that Kokichi in the original Japanese actually says, "How could a game where you're forced to kill people be fun...?" Unfortunately, it's just not true. Fortunately for me, there's a reddit post here that breaks the line down in detail, so I don't have to do any work.

Anyway, I really wanted to make this post because of this thread, which makes several false claims.

 Kokichi says he's afraid of friends in general

オレは、そういう『仲間』が他人よりも怖いけどねー。I'm more afraid of those kinds of [friends] than strangers.

So... souiu, meaning that type of/that kind of is right there, directly before nakama (which can mean friend, especially if it's in a shounen anime, but can also just mean companion/member of a group). I don't understand how you can miss this. Not only is it right there, this claim on its face doesn't make sense. Why, in this context, would Kokichi suddenly blurt out that he's afraid of having friends? It has nothing to do with the conversation they're having.

Shuichi's words to Kokichi after the 4th trial

王馬くん、もういいだろ ? Ouma-kun, isn't this enough? その話を聞かせてくれよ。Tell us about that.

Okay, you've probably heard the phrase mou ii a lot if you watch anime, and it's almost always accompanied by a frustrated huff. Because it is, in fact, something you say when impatient, fed up, what have you. It literally means "good already", carrying pretty much the identical meaning of the English phrase, "that's enough" or "I've had enough". Shuichi does not say it's okay as in it's daijoubu, which is the word you use when trying to comfort someone. He is very much frustrated here and telling Kokichi to fess up.

Citation needed

I couldn't find a line like this in Kokichi's FTEs, but maaaaaaaybe I missed it? Shuichi's narration comments quite a few times on Kokichi acting childishly throughout the game, but I couldn't find anything like this in specific.

EDIT: Correction, I did find it, and it's covered in part two. Suffice to say, the OP got this line completely wrong.

That Kaito thing

Yeah this is patently false. It's also already been touched on in this thread with comments backing it up, so there’s another thing I don't have to get into. I'll put the text here though.

オレはテメーみて一に胸クソ悪い真似までして、If I have to mimic your sickening behavior, 生き残りて一とは思わねーんだよ。I don't think I want to survive.

Shuichi's words to Kokichi after the 4th trial part deaux

I've seen varying claims on how these lines were translated, from them being slightly tweaked, to the claim they were completely butchered to make Saihara too aggressive. I'm just going to leave it here and let you come to your own conclusions.

ダサいのはキミの方だよ…王馬くん。The lame one is you... Ouma-kun.

百田くんの周りにはいつも人が集まってくる… Momota-kun always has people around him... でも、キミの周りには誰もいないじゃないか。But, there's no one around you.

キミは…その程度のヤツって事だよ。That's... what kind of person you are.

This is snappy in its own way, though, if you consider that 程度 is closer to meaning grade/level/degree rather than simply "type of". "That's the level of person you are," basically.

And if you doubt me on any of this, I encourage you to do your own research, get second opinions if you can. I know not everyone knows Japanese, in which case you can't really help but rely on someone else and hope their translation is accurate. That said, at the bare minimum, I think people should provide screenshots and the original Japanese text if they're going to claim something is a mistranslation. Like, I don't think you should be able to say "actually in Japanese Kokichi says he volunteers at animal shelters in his free time but NISA cut it!" and have half the fandom believe you with no proof.

#new danganronpa killing harmony #danganronpa v3 #new danganronpa v3 #ndrv3 #danganronpa #kokichi ouma #ouma kokichi #shuichi saihara #saihara shuichi #kaito momota #momota kaito #meta #doretalks #translation bs #i take it back #about 90% of that thread is inaccurate

[rowanwithaz]

The Doubt Of Izuku's Feelings

If you think Katsuki's romantic feelings may be more apparent than Izuku's...

I kinda understand.

Izuku could love Katsuki,just not romantically.

But,here's the thing,we have seen time,and time,and time again that the feelings Izuku feels for Katsuki are different from the ones he feels for Katsuki. I have no doubt in my mind that if Katsuki's romantic feelings are cannon,then so are Izuku's.

"Kacchan and the others"

Izuku OBVIOUSLY sees Katsuki differently than he does the rest of his class,sure we could sum it up to them being childhood friends,BUT,even though Izuku gets extremely close with the rest of his class,he still separates them like that.

(This whole scene is gay as hell).

But,I'd like to bring up something interesting:

We established Ochako's crush on Izuku before this happened. (Y'know,when Ayoama said she was in love?) I think it's interesting that's a very common pattern. We'll say something Ochako does/feels for Izuku is romantic then Izuku will do the SAME DAMN THING for Katsuki .

After he got closer with everyone else:

It's still the SAME. Kacchan and the others. So,we established Izuku was Katsuki,and from one of the last times we saw him kinda think,still sees Katsuki differently.

Let's not forget my favorite:

Compress's gaydar!

Izuku's feelings are called out for being possessive,a feeling we still haven't seen Izuku feel for any other of his friends,speaking of,

Even thought most of Izuku's friends are okay,even though they had managed to prevent Tokayami from being kidnapped,he still sees it as a complete loss because of his different feelings for Katsuki,which even Kirishima notices!

So,yes,Izuku's feelings are different,they aren't like the ones he has for his other friends,we have yet to say what these feelings are..or have we? We'll check in with that soon!

Black Whip

When Izuku gets Black Whip,we all know it has to do with Kacchan on some level. But,how do we know this is the case? How do we know Katsuki is the one triggering Black Whi-

Oh,yeah,it was said directly in the manga. (I'll talk about this scene in another section).

BUT,Black Whip is all about Izuku keeping his emotions in check,controlling his heart,I've said it before,and I'll say it again:

Black Whip is the result of negative feelings,caused by strong/positive emotions. Seeing someone you care about so MUCH,get hurt can make you get mad. Yes,Izuku obviously cares about everyone,and he gets upset when they get hurt too,but as I stated previously: we've already established within the manga Izuku feels differently about Katsuki,so it makes sense his anger would be more intense/different since that's how he feels.

Black Whip is about keeping your negative emotions in check,

SO,why does Izuku control his heart,and what does it have to do with Katsuki? Well,Black Whip kinda seems like a metaphor for being closeted,but here's the thing:

If you're like me,you think Izuku struggles with internalized homophobia,and,here's something kinda sad,since the feelings he feels for Katsuki are so tied to Black Whip,he views his feelings for Katsuki negatively,that's why Izuku is so hell bent on "controlling his heart," since he sees the way he feels about Katsuki like this. It also doesn't help that his feelings only seem to hurt Katsuki.

Izuku doesn't want to hurt the person people he loves (I'm foreshadowing in my own damn post,deal with it) with his negative emotions,and since his biggest feeling seems to only bring negativity,he should control his heart.

Toga's rejection

Here's something extremely important when considering Izuku's feelings:

When and how he rejected Toga.

In the rejection; he brings up the fact,

He understands,wanting to be like someone can be fulfilling,it is to Izuku too (which no one brings up?) but he could never hurt someone he loves. And here it is,guys. Izuku literally says he loves "All Might" in this romantic context,but here's the thing,we already know Izuku feels closer to someone than All Might,we already know Izuku has been chasing after and trying to be like someone.

It's Katsuki. How do we know if it really is him? Clues! First,

I've seen people say the narration probably isn't by Katsuki,but we all have already seen "That damned nerd" as something Katsuki would say. So,even if it isn't Katsuki (which I think it is!) We already get the impression "oh,yeah,Katsuki."

Also think that little coincidence is telling. ALSO. Those who are worried about Hori doing an Izuchako endgame,Izuku rejecting Toga's feelings is the same as him rejecting Ochako's. Since we've established the way Toga and Ochako feel about Izuku is very similar.

Targeting

The villains quite literally target Izuku because of his feelings for Katsuki (this kind of goes with the first section) but why doesn't he directly target anyone else with the same mindset?

Because of what Izuku feels for Katsuki is so much different than everyone else.

And Monoma! He targets Katsuki to get a rise out of Izuku when he realizes that making fun of,or threatening Izuku's group doesn't work.

Then, of course,when we have this scene,it honestly clears the air.

When he says Katsuki will be a "present" for Izuku ,well,what does Shiggy say to Izuku when he sees him?

How do we know it's romantic? Well,the last chapter we saw Izuku in was all about 'romance ',isn't it odd it turned out like that? A love confession,then this. Just interesting timing....

And those are just the basics! If you feel like Izuku's feelings may not be romantic,I think it's important to note we have Izuku do the same things Horikoshi has established as romantic to Katsuki. I mean,when Izuku doesn't finish his thinking when it's about Black Whip or Katsuki? That's very similar to how Ochako was with Izuku. Which,yes,guys,Izuchako is very important for GreeNade and Togachako's development. I'll probably make a whole post about my thoughts on that sooner or later.

Anyways,this has gotten to long.

#Dkbk #Bkdk #GreeNade #dekucchan #mha #Bnha #midoryia izuku #This kinda got away from me #Deku #I've not made a post solely on Izuku #In a long time

[thepixelelf]

Bluff and Nonsense - she/her ver.

genres: romance, angst, some fluff, university au, not a fake dating au pairing: female reader x hoshi words: 17.0k (01:08) warnings: cursing, alcohol notes (orig, 2020): "so the title is fluffy and this was a title fic, but then it ran away on me. I really like this one so... yeah. Enjoy!” update, 2023: this is the she/her version of Bluff and Nonsense. other than the pronouns, nothing else has been changed. you can find the original they/them version here, and the he/him version here

“Soonyoung? Yeah I know him, you should too. He’s on the uni’s dance crew, and ever since he joined them, their popularity’s skyrocketed. I’ve met him a few times, great guy — got a tendency to run his mouth but hey, no one’s perfect. He’s smart anyways, probably knows how to deal with the consequences, right?”

or

Soonyoung never thought one bluff could lead to so much nonsense.

Kwon Soonyoung is a man of many talents. He’s the guy who could fit a whole orange in his mouth in fourth grade, the guy who always knew how to make the social studies teacher talk about his divorce instead of the world wars, and the guy who brought a live pigeon to school with no one questioning him whatsoever. He’s also the head choreographer of the university’s dance crew — you barely knew there was a dance crew until he showed up with his hand-drawn posters — as well as a totally well-rounded fine arts major. C’mon, who takes a chemistry course in the fine arts? Kwon Soonyoung, apparently.

Of his many talents though, lying is not one of them.

Which is why, when asked if he likes anyone, Soonyoung says your name instead of simply saying “no” (a much better option in hindsight). He actually likes a girl on his dance crew. Cute, funny, has those eyes you can just get lost in — lord knows Soonyoung has. But, at this relatively quiet party, with half the guests crowded on Seungcheol’s couch and the other half on the disgusting carpeted floor of his apartment, Soonyoung can’t admit his real crush because she’s sitting just a few feet away.

It wouldn’t be such a bad lie if you weren’t also sitting a few feet away.

You’re on your phone when he says your name in his heartbeat-induced panic, but you look up at the sound of it, as does Seungkwan, who was reading something on your phone from the beanbag chair you’re both sitting in.

A chorus of low, teasing ‘ooh’s rises throughout the room, almost like it’s eighth grade again and Soonyoung just got called down to the office. Except now, he might actually be in trouble. He gets a few claps on the back from his friends close enough to reach, commending him on his bravado even though he doesn’t deserve it. Really, the whole situation only dawns on Soonyoung after 6.8 seconds, which is a bit too long considering he made the situation in the first place. Blood rushes to his cheeks, not because of the alcohol in his red cup he’s yet to drink, but because you’re looking right at him, and he has no idea what to do.

Soonyoung doesn’t know you very well. In fact, he’d almost say he doesn’t know you at all.

You’re Seungkwan’s friend from one of his classes — computing science, if Soonyoung remembers correctly, but he’s not totally confident. The only reason you came tonight is because of Seungkwan. You don’t know anyone else.

With a tilt of your head, your face scrunches with question, and you look to Seungkwan for help. You know Soonyoung said your name, but you missed hearing the context. It looks like Seungkwan missed it too, seeing as the conversation you two have only makes your brow furrow more as the room chatter picks back up. Everyone else is already over Soonyoung’s sudden confession when Jeonghan starts talking about something else.

Except Soonyoung’s friends, of course. That would be too easy.

Mingyu turns to him with a stupid smile, his cheeks red from both the free opportunity to tease his upperclassman and the light beer he’s been sipping and pretending to get buzzed on all night. He nudges Soonyoung with his shoulder where they sit on the floor, leaning in to speak under the conversations surrounding them. “You didn’t tell me you like her,” he says, the jesting tone in his voice clearer than water.

“Yeah...” Soonyoung doesn’t know why he doesn’t just retract his confession, it’s not like Mingyu is close to you or anything, he’d understand. But then again, he’s bad at lying, and the girl he likes is still sitting on the couch. He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s sort of a recent thing.”

Mingyu’s smile only widens at Soonyoung’s response, his eyes turning to slits with the rise of his cheeks. “Soonie’s in looove~!”

And Soonyoung doesn’t know what to say. Nothing like this has ever happened to him before, not exactly like this, anyways. So he just looks down, scratches the back of his neck again, looks at one of his dance crew friends when she calls his name.

He doesn’t dare glance your way for the rest of the night.

Turns out you do know someone else other than Seungkwan, because once most of the guests have cleared out, leaving only half the boys to clean up, Seokmin approaches Soonyoung as he scrubs the sink of whatever that weird green stuff is.

He asks how Soonyoung knows you and says off-handedly that he’s never even seen the two of you talk. (Which is right.) He says these things shouldn’t be joked about, that you’re a person with feelings, and Soonyoung should leave you alone if he’s just doing this for comedy’s sake.

Soonyoung thinks he’s never seen Seokmin so serious.

It’s probably fine. You haven’t said anything good or bad, and other than the occasional tease from his friends, no one has taken anything too far. Maybe you’ll forget about it tomorrow. Maybe he’ll forget about it tomorrow, and it will all be okay.

Besides, it’s not like he actually likes you. And his real secret is still safe and sound.

•

Of Soonyoung’s many talents, making people sad is also not one of them.

It’s not that he actively tries to cause misery only to fail, it’s that he can’t stand upsetting anyone. He’s a people-pleaser by nature, that’s just how it is.

So he doesn’t say no when you ask him out for coffee.

And he smiles at you when you try to make conversation, even though it’s awkward and hesitant despite having a mutual friend like Seungkwan. It’s not so bad, he thinks. You’re trying, at least, and when you ask him about his interests, you actually listen, which isn’t common when he tends to over-explain his love for dance and performance. He has a coffee in his hand too, so that’s a plus.

You ask him if what he said at the party was true, and something in your eyes makes him say yes.

•

There are a few more coffee dates after that. It’s nothing official, and Soonyoung is hesitant to call the meetups “dates” because he’s not interested in dating you. But it’s a little late for that.

You seem brighter, though, every time he sees you again; he can’t bring himself to take that away, to cut the cord, to clean this mess he made.

Something about the way you two talk is nice, at least. Soonyoung can’t quite put his finger on it, and he tells himself that’s what’s drawing him back every time, not the guilt he feels sunken in his ribcage whenever you smile his way. It’s not that deep, he repeats to himself whenever you wave to him on campus, making him feel obligated to walk you to class. It’s not that deep.

He’s in the library one day when he spots you at one of the tables, books open and spread out as you scribble down notes, a pair of earbuds dangling from your ears. You haven’t seen him, so he doesn’t try to approach, just ducks back behind the bookshelf he’s been exploring. His hand is on a book he might like when a voice stops him.

“You know you’re an idiot, right?”

Minghao leans against the opposite bookshelf, his arms crossed, locked and loaded for judgement. Soonyoung looks around, but of course he’s talking to him. They’re the only ones in the row.

“Um, how do you want me to answer that?” he asks, unsure of exactly what Minghao’s talking about. Yeah, he knows he’s a bit dense sometimes, but not all the time.

Minghao rolls his eyes. “I know you like Sehee. You haven't stopped laughing like an idiot at her bad jokes." He nods his chin outwards, gesturing over Soonyoung's shoulder and through the bookshelves towards where you're sitting. "What are you doing messing with Seungkwan's friend?"

It’s not too surprising that Minghao knows — he’s an intuitive guy, but Soonyoung is still caught off guard. He asks first, under his breath, “Does anyone else know?”

“If you mean dumb and dumber, then no.” Minghao jerks his head to swing his dark bangs out of his eyes. Everyone keeps telling him to just cut his hair shorter, but he refuses for the aesthetic, or something. “Chan is way too focused on dancing to notice your dumbassery, and Jun is about as observant as a fishcake when it comes to feelings.”

Soonyoung’s shoulders fall in relief, though he didn’t even realize they’d tensed up. 

“But that’s not the problem here. Why are you playing around with her if you’re into Sehee?”

“I’m not—” Soonyoung pauses, thoughts deliberate, “—I’m not playing around, okay? I just... I don’t know. You were all looking at me, and I couldn’t just say Sehee's name, she was right there!”

Minghao cocks an eyebrow at that. “But you could say hers?”

“It was a moment of weakness.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m aware.”

Soonyoung groans quietly — he’s still in a library after all. He covers his face with both hands, not wanting to look at Minghao nor have Minghao look at him. For a second, it’s blissful, awkward silence, which Soonyoung would take over Minghao’s scolding any day. But of course, no haven lasts forever.

“You’re gonna have to tell her,” Minghao says, and he’s probably right. No, he is right, Soonyoung just doesn’t want him to be.

“I can’t do that! I said I like her— twice!”

“Twice?”

“Twice!”

Minghao only drops his head for a second, scoffing at the whole situation. Soonyoung wishes he could do that too, just laugh it off because it’s someone else’s problem.

“Well, you’re going to have to say something sooner or later.” Meeting his eyes, Soonyoung realizes Minghao might actually be worried. About you, or him, or something else, he’s not sure, but the subtle fold of Minghao’s eyelids tells Soonyoung this is about more than just calling out idiocy. “And I think sooner will hurt less.”

Soonyoung knows he’s right. But he doesn’t like it.

Before he can come up with a rebuttal, though, Minghao’s hands are on Soonyoung’s shoulders, and he’s pushing him out of the row of bookshelves and straight towards your table.

“You can do it, Soonyoung, just rip the band-aid while you still can,” he whispers in Soonyoung’s ear right before one last push at his back.

Soonyoung stumbles a bit, but once he regains his footing, Minghao’s already gone and you’ve already noticed the ruckus. You pull one earbud out with a bright smile. It’s so jovial that Soonyoung almost forgets why he’s here.

“Hi Soonyoung, I didn’t see you come in,” you say, and there’s no way you’re this energized just from studying in a library.

“Uh... hi.”

“You’ve actually got the perfect timing.” Waving to him, you gesture for him to sit next to you, and he does. You pull out some sort of planner, opening it to a few months from now. “I wanted to ask when exactly your showcase is? Seungkwan’s no help at all because he only cares about his concerts and stuff. Honestly, there aren’t that many...”

You’re going to have to say something sooner or later.

Soonyoung picks later.

•

“So when are you gonna ask her out?”

Jihoon stands in front of the stove, watching his hot water simmer, a bag of dry ramen in one hand and long cooking chopsticks in the other. It’s Soonyoung’s turn to make dinner tonight, but since he says he isn’t hungry, Jihoon’s scrounging it out himself.

Soonyoung, on the other hand, sits at their tiny dinner table, his forehead pressed to the cool surface, arms hanging limp at his sides. He mumbles something of a response, but it’s nothing more than a questioning grunt, if anything.

“Oh, you know.” Even when Jihoon says your name, Soonyoung stays still. “Only the girl you’ve been on several “dates” with ever since you confessed to her at Seungcheol’s party. When are you gonna ask her on a real date?”

Tired, Soonyoung groans. “When the time is right, I guess.”

•

You work on campus. It’s some part-time job you don’t care about enough to even complain over, despite the fact that you have to deal with annoying university kids every day. Soonyoung finds this out when he has coffee with Minghao in one of the buildings he doesn’t normally frequent, and only goes to today since Minghao has a class nearby in the next hour.

The coffee isn’t great, and it’s too expensive, but Soonyoung drinks it anyways. He much prefers the coffee from the cafe he goes to with you. Because the coffee is better. Obviously.

He hears your voice first, words indiscernible with distance and overshadowed by a much louder, angrier one, but still. Minghao sees you first, though, and he points past Soonyoung to the student printing center, where you’re standing behind the counter and arguing with some guy. You don’t seem too riled, but Soonyoung can tell you want to be anywhere but there, especially when the angry guy’s voice keeps getting louder and louder.

Soonyoung’s feet bring him over before his brain can register what to do. You haven’t seen him yet, he could just walk away, but he doesn’t. Your voice becomes clearer as he approaches.

“Listen, the printing center is for education, art, or business. I can’t print this for you.”

The guy goes off about personal freedoms or whatever, Soonyoung isn’t really listening.

“No, I get that this is a student printing center, but I really don’t think your big tiddie anime gf poster has anything to do with education, art, or business.”

And that’s when the guy grabs your arm. Which results in Soonyoung grabbing his arm. Which results in the accusatory question, “What are you, her boyfriend or something?”

Now, in a perfect story, this would be the first time Soonyoung meets you. Or maybe you’ve been close friends for a while. And this would be when Soonyoung says that, yes, he is your boyfriend, and he would save the day. Except you’d be all “why would you do that?” which would result in you both having to fake date to keep that guy off your back. In this perfect story, there would be no Sehee to like and no Minghao to judge, just you and Soonyoung fake dating. Eventually, you’d both catch real feelings instead of fake ones, and then boom, happily ever after.

But this isn’t a perfect story.

Soonyoung still says yes, and the guy still backs off. In reality though, because Soonyoung never thinks before he lies, you momentarily duck behind the counter and bring a hand up to your face to cover your ever-brightening smile. In reality, Sehee still exists at the forefront of his mind every dance practice, even though you’re the one he just promptly claimed to be the boyfriend of. In reality, Minghao watches from a little ways away, sipping his coffee and shaking his head in what can only be called disappointment.

Soonyoung’s never been good at lying. One would think he’d stop by now.

•

So, it’s official.

You’ve put a heart next to his contact name. He’s put one next to yours — red, because he doesn’t know your favourite colour. Seungkwan’s done the whole if you break my friend’s heart I break you spiel and Soonyoung finally realizes he’s in too deep.

It's almost too natural, how easily you bring him into your life and how easily he finds himself fitting. It's all so wrong.

Soonyoung feels like an imposter, like there's someone meant to be by your side, but it's not him.

You pluck up the courage one day to hold his hand, and he can't pull away because the lies tying him to you are too strong. The small bluffs he's spun have weaved themselves into a net he's tangled himself in.

His dance crew congratulates him when Jun spills the news. It's all mundane, really — dating in university isn't all that uncommon. Mostly, Soonyoung gets casual "you go, dude" comments or the like, but then Sehee says nothing. She smiles, and it has to be one of the most tragically beautiful things Soonyoung's ever seen. His heart fractures, just a little, and he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to fix it.

He smiles it off. Tries to, anyways.

Chan complains that Soonyoung's too harsh that day.

•

Jihoon likes you.

Not in a "Mister Steal Yo' Girl" way, but he laughed at one of your jokes the first time you came over to Soonyoung's apartment, and ever since then, he's been convinced.

"You must feel like the luckiest guy on earth with her around," Jihoon says once you leave for the night.

Soonyoung has no idea how to tell him he's felt nothing but unlucky these past few weeks, so he doesn't.

•

He polishes up on his acting. As awful as it is to think, Soonyoung has gotten really, really good.

His smile looks genuine. It has to — he shows it to Minghao, who says it's "adequate," which basically means perfect to the lowly humans beneath him.

He's gotten good at responding to you too, copying how the male leads do it in dramas and movies. It's sort of easy.

He hates how easy it is.

Soon enough, you try befriending the whole group. Being Seungkwan's friend, you've always wanted to, but apparently this is the push you needed. The boys are quick to warm up to you because, as Soonyoung's new girlfriend, you're now a new teasing target besides Chan. The youngest was always the brunt until you came along.

You say you don't mind — that his friends are amazing despite all the jokes and chaos. He believes you.

Minghao keeps his distance, saying he doesn't want to get himself involved. He's still the only one to know the truth, and his judging stare only grows worse as the days pass. Soonyoung wants so badly to make it go away, but he knows the only way to do that would be to tell you the truth, and he's just not ready.

Soonyoung's never broken a heart before. He's never planned on it.

Sometimes life makes its own plans.

"My shift got moved to tomorrow," you tell him when he picks you up from class, one hand in his and the other in your pocket. He knows it means something, but he doesn't know what. Your lips purse into a line as you stare at your shoes. “I was thinking... could I come watch your dance practice? If that’s okay?”

Now, Soonyoung loves dancing. He loves dance. He loves to dance. Performing sends an unparalleled thrill rushing through his veins like the solar system hurtling through the universe, and it’s something he’s never felt doing anything else. Dancing with others is a beautiful connection, an emission of silent truths communicated through the body. Practice, however, is the dirty version of dance. It has to be built up first — polished. Which is why Soonyoung says what he says. He doesn’t even think it over.

“No.”

It’s what he says every time someone asks. He doesn’t invite people to practices — never has. Even after his prompt refusal, he doesn’t register his mistake until the light in your eyes wavers. It doesn't disappear — just ripples. Comes back weaker than before.

"Oh," you say. The word should sound dejected but it doesn't. There's a smile at your lips, and Soonyoung can't help but think it looks kind of like his. "That's— that's okay! I was just — I don't know, I guess I just thought... I wanted to..."

Meeting his gaze, you look at him with shaking eyes, almost as if it takes great strength to keep them on his. He tries to backpedal, but you continue.

"I'll be going home then. I've got an assignment due soon anyways, so..." You pull your hand from his grip and, from where you two were walking toward the fine arts building, turn the opposite way. Your dorm is on the other side of campus. "See you tomorrow, Soonyoung. Have fun at practice."

Something about your smile haunts him.

It's hollow; feels empty when you flash it at him before going. He thinks fake smiles all look like that — insincere. His smiles at you must be the same way.

For an awful moment, he's hopeful. Maybe this will be the trigger. Maybe you'll end this tonight — whatever "this" is that Soonyoung has with you. Maybe he won't have to tell any harsh truths at all.

He turns and walks to practice.

The routine feels lighter tonight, though Soonyoung can’t pinpoint why. His body almost floats, and while that sounds good, it’s not. The rhythm is off. He’s not landing when he should be.

His crew notices, especially Chan, who complains that Soonyoung’s too much of a cocksure choreographer to be making repeated mistakes like this. They tell him maybe everyone should take a break. He agrees, but only because he’s frustrated — and he shouldn’t channel his anger into dance. Not this one, at least. 

Everyone spreads throughout the studios to the edges, where they lean their body weight on the walls and slide down, water bottles in hand. The room reeks of sweat and feet, but Soonyoung’s used to it by now. He guzzles down half of his water in one go and pulls out his phone.

[❤] Sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to react all... cold? Seungkwan told me you never invite anyone to practice, so it makes total sense why you said no

[❤] If I’m ever crossing any boundaries, let me know, okay?

Of course you’d be understanding. Soonyoung wouldn’t be that lucky.

He tosses his phone haphazardly in his bag, groaning and throwing his head back so it hits the wall with a dampened thud. The pain is dull compared to the thoughts top-spinning in his mind.

Across the studio, Minghao clears his throat, raising an eyebrow at Soonyoung when he opens his eyes to look at him. It only takes two reluctant nods for Minghao to understand the source of Soonyoung’s groans, and he does nothing to react but look away. Soonyoung thinks that’s almost worse than the judging eyes. At least at that point Minghao thought he was something other than a lost cause.

He doesn’t text you back. By the time he thinks of something a boyfriend would say, the time to say it has passed.

•

How much longer is he going to let this go on?

Soonyoung wonders that to himself as he sits, returned to Seungcheol's apartment for another one of his "getties" as people are so apt to call them. He's never understood the difference between a getty and a party, and he's always been too stubborn to ask, knowing he'd be mercilessly made fun of for not knowing something apparently all university students knew.

This one isn't so different from the last. More or less the same crowd, the same atmosphere as the night goes on. Only this time, when everyone's settled down in what can hardly be called a circle, Soonyoung's on the couch, sunken into the too-old cushions with an arm wrapped around your shoulders. You're far from your last claimed spot with Seungkwan on that ratty old beanbag chair, sitting comfortably under Soonyoung's arm with a plastic cup of whatever Jeonghan concocted for you — which you've yet to drink much of.

Sehee sits across from you both while she laughs at something Wonwoo says. You laugh too, but Soonyoung barely notices, eyes glued to the girl they've been stuck on since she joined his dance crew over a year ago. He wants to tell her how beautiful she is when she smiles, even under the light of Seungcheol's dingy apartment, but he can't. He wants to tell her how he's felt for months, but you're next to him. He wants to have a fucking drink but all he has in his cup is fucking iced green tea because he knows if he drinks he'll fuck up again.

Just like last time.

"You okay?" you whisper in his ear at one point.

He turns to see your concerned expression, and it only makes Soonyoung hate this even more. He doesn't deserve your concern.

"I'm fine."

But he's not fine.

He doesn't participate in much conversation — only speaks when spoken to, and even then with few words. You seem to become tense next to him, but he does nothing to try and fix it. Just tonight, he's going to let himself be tired.

Three times, you offer to leave, and all three he refuses. You give up eventually, though he can tell you know something's off. God, if he were drunk, he wouldn't even have to think about you for a whole night.

Somehow the topic of discussion turns to couples, and suddenly, an entire room of eyes is on you and Soonyoung. He barely catches the question before you're already pondering your answer.

What do the two lovebirds love most about each other?

You look at him. At him, at him. He feels your stare in the dip of his throat because he can't seem to swallow anymore. It's like his soul is being scanned for viruses.

"Hmm..." You let your chin fall into your palm with a smile. It's real. Too real. "I like his resolve," you finally say. "If he wants to do something, he does it." With a loud exhale through your nose, you tilt your head, still meeting his eyes with your own. Soonyoung's mouth slightly parts, slack with something he can't name. "I could learn a thing or two from him."

The room bristles with your answer, various response piping up around. Soonyoung sort of registers Chan saying, "That's cute. I wanna vomit," but he's too busy thinking about you, about how you've come to like something about him as deep as that when all he's done is pretend to even like you at all.

And even when his mind swims with that, Sehee asks again.

"Then Soonyoung, what do you like about her?"

It sort of hurts. Soonyoung's not afraid to admit to himself that hearing Sehee ask what he likes about you sends pain straight through his ears to his heart. There's an awkward pause and everyone's looking at him expectantly and, god, he wishes he stole your drink when he had the chance.

"I..." His throat goes dry. His lips part, but there aren't any words to slip past them. "I, um..." He looks to you, and your eyes speak volumes. Everyone else in this room has a sort of... hungry look. They want to know Soonyoung's answer for one reason or another, maybe to tease with or to ridicule or even wish for themselves. But you, your eyes meet his and he knows you're not expecting anything. That hurts too. He doesn't know why. But even then, he can't think of the words. Any words. He steals a glance at Sehee, whose expression is curious, doe eyes slightly giddy from alcohol. She's pretty.

"I like her laugh," he says. It's not about you. "Whenever she laughs, I think to myself, 'What I wouldn't give to see her laugh again'."

Your eyes move to the plastic cup you've got gripped between two hands in your lap, and Seungkwan points out your flustered state to the entire room despite the fact everyone can see it as long as they've got working eyes. You purse your lips together to contain a smile, but it doesn't work. Even Soonyoung can see that.

He needs a drink. 

Having to go to the bathroom is a lousy excuse, and Soonyoung knows it, but he whispers that in your ear anyways and retracts his arm from your shoulder before escaping. He does go to the bathroom, a small thing with a shower and no bath, but all he does in there is stare at himself in the mirror. And when that becomes too much, his feet.

Someone else eventually has to use the bathroom for its actual purpose, so he opens it to the banging fist outside and slides past the person back into the hallway. He pauses before walking all the way back. You're caught up in some other conversation now, laughing and dramatically waving your hands as you deny some crazy embarrassing story Seungkwan's trying to spill about you. Seems you've already integrated yourself with his friends more than he thought.

Since your attention is occupied, Soonyoung instead ducks into the half-kitchen — not necessarily out of sight, but no one's really paying attention anyways. He knows he shouldn't take any chances, but he really, really wants to let go. He's been wearing a facade ever since he said your name that night.

"I wouldn't, if I were you."

Minghao's voice has Soonyoung jerking up and banging his head on the door of the open fridge he was rummaging through. He winces in pain, kneading his fingers into his scalp as if that will do anything.

"Wouldn't what?" he snaps.

"I dunno." Minghao shrugs, and it's almost infuriating how nonchalant he is. "Do something you might regret, I guess."

He takes the yet unopened bottle from Soonyoung's hands, reaching beyond him to put it back in place. There's no point in fighting against him since he's undeniably right, but Soonyoung grumbles anyways. His eyes glance every few seconds to you on the couch. If you happen to hear anything...

Well, he doesn't know exactly. But he doesn't want to find out.

"You have to end it."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just—" Soonyoung takes in a breath, too loud for his liking. He lowers his voice. "I can't, okay? I don't want to hurt her."

"So you're just going to date her based on false pretenses because you're too much of a coward to admit your mistakes?" Voice laced with sharpness, Minghao places his palms flat on the counter.

Soonyoung takes a deep breath through his nose, lips twisting in frustration. "Yeah, okay? Yeah," he whispers. "That's exactly what I'm gonna do."

A second passes. Minghao's brow furrows.

"And quite frankly," Soonyoung continues, "I'd rather you keep your nosy ass out of my business from now on."

He nearly storms off right then with the last word, but Minghao's fingers around his elbow stop him.

"You're going to get yourself hurt," Minghao warns through his teeth. He nods towards you. "And her in the process."

"We'll see about that."

Soonyoung has acted on impulse before. It happened with the pigeon, it happened with your name, and it's happening right now. Nothing is compelling him other than the absolute need to prove Minghao wrong, and even then, he doesn't know why.

He sits back down next to you, his spot saved by some miracle considering the surrounding company. The look on your face is happy, jovial. You must be having a right old time. His nerves strike with a feeling he's never quite experienced before.

When you study his face, no doubt not nearly as cheerful as yours, the expression you held falters to worry.

"You okay?" is once again the question on your lips, quiet, meant for his ears only.

Impulse is a scary thing. Soonyoung hates it almost as much as lying.

He leans in, crashing his lips on yours with his eyes half closed. His lips move and yours don't. Soonyoung can't even be sure you've closed your eyes, but at this very moment, he doesn't care. All he knows is he's angry and Minghao is watching.

This isn’t your first kiss — he knows because you’ve talked to him about this very topic. This is, however, to your understanding, the first “real” relationship you’ve ever been in. You told him yourself that you don’t really count that past kiss as your first, that you felt a bit... violated when it happened.

Soonyoung thinks this isn’t all too different.

He steals your second first kiss, and later, staring at the water-stained stucco ceiling of his bedroom, he kicks himself so hard it hurts.

•

You show up to movie night. Apparently Jihoon invited you — explained it like this:

“You won’t have to be so clingy with me if she’s here.”

At first, Soonyoung thinks Jihoon just wants to drop their roommate movie nights because he’s always complained about them, but Jihoon sticks around during Anastasia; sings along with you during Once Upon a December despite the fact that neither of you really know the words. He sits right in front of you two on the couch, cross-legged on the floor with a bowl of popcorn in his lap, that of which he only offers to you twice and Soonyoung once.

Whatever. You’re a better cuddler than Jihoon anyway.

Somehow it doesn’t feel forced when you lean your head on Soonyoung’s shoulder, or when he wraps his arm around your waist to get comfortable. He blames it on how tired he is, how he always gets on movie night after a week of classes and practices and too much work for one person to handle. Jihoon complains all the time that he’s too touchy when tired.

You absentmindedly play with his fingers for most of the movie. He doesn’t mind.

It’s been about a month now.

Soonyoung doesn’t kiss you again after the first time. Doesn’t stop you, either, but you’re more of an on-the-cheek kind of person. He thinks you think he wants to take this slow, even though he initiated the first big step (as convoluted as it was). He lets you think what you want.

Nasty business, it is.

Cleaning a bowl that once held popcorn. All the grease that sticks to the side because Jihoon likes to use too much butter. All the grains of salt that get underneath Soonyoung’s fingernails. He’s washing, Jihoon’s drying. It’s an arrangement of sorts.

You’ve already left for the night, gone back to your dorm since it’s only a five minute walk or so through campus. Jihoon insisted on Soonyoung escorting you, but you only smiled sweetly and refused. Maybe Soonyoung should’ve argued harder against you. He didn’t though. That’s why he’s scrubbing a bit too harshly now — he doesn’t like messing up.

Seems that’s all he’s good for lately.

“You’re unhappy.”

Soonyoung stops scrubbing. The only noise in the whole apartment is the slow gurgle of the sink because even with a plug, such an old thing just lets the hot water seep away as the seconds go by. Jihoon’s gaze is on the pan he’s drying, but Soonyoung knows his heart is in the question. It always is.

“I’m not,” he tries to deny, but it’s difficult to fool a person like Jihoon. (Especially since Soonyoung can’t even convince himself.)

The non-stick pan from yesterday’s dinner clangs against an older one when Jihoon puts it away. He looks at Soonyoung, but by then he’s turned back to washing the popcorn bowl, so their eyes don’t end up meeting.

“I’ve known you since tenth grade. You think I can’t tell when you’re upset?”

Soonyoung finds it hard to read Jihoon’s feelings most of the time. He didn’t realize he was such an open book the other way around.

Sighing, he continues to scrub the bowl, which has probably been clean for a minute already. “I’m just... stressed.”

“About?”

Minghao already knows; already thinks lowly of Soonyoung for it. If Jihoon knew... Soonyoung doesn’t know if he can take that.

So he lies. Again.

“Just the dance showcase.”

It isn’t a whole lie, not really, but he can’t call it the truth either.

Jihoon takes the bowl from Soonyoung’s grasp and rinses it under the tap. Since that’s the last dish, Soonyoung is stuck with nothing for his hands to do. They rest on the edge of the sink, but his fingers ache for a task.

Jihoon, the friend that he is, says, “That’s not for three months, though. I’m sure you’ll be perfect by then.”

“I don’t know...”

“Well I do.” Eyes meet eyes, a pair determined, a pair apprehensive. “Everything will work out.”

“...Okay.”

•

Soonyoung measures time in terms of you now.

When he last texted you. When he last saw you. When he last spoke to you.

It’s all a very elaborate calculation — how much time he’s spent on you versus how much time he should spend on you. No relationship is quite like this one, he thinks, and it’s quite the romantic notion out of context. The fact remains, every interaction he has with you only pulls him further and deeper into his lie.

Soonyoung’s time moves a bit slower now.

Faster, sometimes, but only when he doesn’t want it to.

•

You tell him you might be in love with him.

He says he might be in love with you.

He’s never hated lying more.

•

Jihoon is cleaning out the fridge when the buzzer goes off, so since he’s close by, he picks up the old corded phone attached to the wall. From his spot on the couch, Soonyoung looks up from his phone to see Jihoon cover the receiver and mouth your name. Jihoon makes some sort of gesture with his hands, and somehow Soonyoung understands that as, were you expecting her?

His eyes widen as it settles in that no, he’s not expecting you. The apartment is a mess.

Jihoon buzzes you in, hangs up, and immediately moves from the fridge to the coffee table, throwing the laundry he was planning on folding back in the plastic hamper and shoving the pile in Soonyoung’s lap.

“Take care of this,” he says. “I’ll clear up the kitchen.”

Right. Can’t have you thinking your boyfriend and his roommate are slobs.

Soonyoung reacts quickly, standing from his spot on the couch with the laundry basket in hand. He dashes to his room, where he plans to stuff the laundry in his closet and save that problem for later, but once he gets there, he realizes his room is even worse. There are dirty clothes dispersed all over his bed and old coffee cups littering his desk. Scrambling to shove the new laundry in his closet, the dirty clothes in the now empty hamper, and gather all the paper cups in his arms, Soonyoung’s breath starts to catch.

When he emerges from his room with two armfuls of garbage, he finds you at the door with Jihoon, your face hidden in his shoulder and your arms wrapped tight around his waist. Jihoon’s arms are up, almost like he’s being held at gunpoint, and his eyes widen even further when he catches sight of Soonyoung.

“Uhh... it’s for you.”

Soonyoung can hear your quiet hiccups even though they’re muffled in Jihoon’s shirt. He can’t bear it when people cry.

Yeah, maybe he’s been pretending to like you for a long time now, but he’s not a monster.

Right?

He likes you as a person. As a friend. And there’s no way he’s letting his friend go through pain like this.

Soonyoung swiftly discards his trash into the garbage bin and approaches you and Jihoon. At the commotion, you lift your head from Jihoon’s shoulder, eyes all red and puffy. Your lips press together, emotions nearly bursting at the seams, but they finally break out when Soonyoung opens his arms wide.

“C’mere.”

You practically flail into his embrace, arms wrapping around his torso in a vice grip as you hide your face again. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay — he knows you’re not.

Jihoon stands in the doorway for a few seconds, just looking at you and Soonyoung clutching at each other in the middle of the apartment before he shuts the front door and clears his throat.

“I’ll just, uh, I’ll be — um. Mhm. Yup.”

He escapes to his room.

Soonyoung squishes his cheek to your temple as you both stay there. You’re shaking, and his arms squeeze tighter. If only he could make it stop. He doesn’t know what to say or do to make you feel better.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, though quiet and hesitant.

You shake your head, mumbling something he can’t quite make out. He pulls back a bit, just enough to see your face and gently cup your cheeks in his palms. His thumbs rub at your cheeks, smoothing any stray tears across your skin.

“What’s that?”

“Just...” Your eyes glisten. His heart beats. “Could you please just hold me?”

And he does.

Decidedly, his bed is much more comfortable than standing in the living room, so he sways, rocking side to side with small steps that force you to walk backwards. His smile, though, is reassuring, and you follow his guidance without much complaint. He sits you down on his bed, thankful that he cleaned up beforehand, and slowly leans you down so you’re both on your sides, facing each other. Pulling you closer, he lets you rest your head on his chest. Your hand lies flat on top of him, but eventually your fingers curl, clutching a bit of Soonyoung’s shirt between them. Silent tears fall from your eyes to his chest, but he doesn’t care.

His arm underneath you wraps around, hand landing on your back so his thumb can rub soothing circles.

It’s quiet.

Funny. Soonyoung used to dislike silence with you — always felt the need to fill it with conversation or jokes or laughter. He wonders when it was last since he felt that way.

Soonyoung doesn’t know how much time passes. His eyes stick to his bedroom ceiling as he holds you close, thoughts on everything and nothing all at once. Are you asleep? Your tears stopped some time ago.

His question is answered when your voice, small and unsure, breaks the long-standing silence.

“Soonyoung?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I tell you about it?”

He cranes his neck to look at you, but it doesn’t really work. “Of course,” he says. “Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

You sigh. “I don’t know. I just... I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not.”

“I know, but—”

“You’re not.”

You look up at him finally, and seeing your smile sends warmth through his blood. Your face is still looks wrecked from tears gone by, but your smile pushes all that out of the way.

“Thank you,” comes past your lips in a whisper. Then, after a moment of waiting, you say, “It’s just that... I... this — ugh.” You hide your face in his shirt again. “This is so embarrassing. I don’t even know why I got so worked up.”

Soonyoung doesn’t respond to that, just pats your back a few times and encourages you to keep going. You toy with the fabric of his shirt.

“This guy I used to know — I thought I’d never see him again, but he showed up today. Ran into him when I was walking back from the convenience store.” You bite the inside of your lip. “I haven’t thought about him in a long time, but, I don’t know, I guess seeing him just brought all these memories back all at once.”

“Bad ones?”

A breathy laugh escapes you. “Sure, you could say that.”

The silence comes back, and your brows furrow, almost like you’re trying to solve the problem all on your own. But you don’t have to. Soonyoung is here.

“Do you remember when I told you about my first kiss? Like, my real first kiss?”

Soonyoung hums. Of course he remembers.

“Back in high school, I used to have this friend. Sammy. She was — god, she was beautiful. And kind, and smart, and just... amazing. I miss her a lot. She’s abroad now, travelling the world with her sister. I think she’s in Peru now.” You chuckle at the mention of your old friend, but soon your smile twists into a frown. “This guy... I don’t like saying his name, but he liked Sammy. Everyone did, I don’t blame him for that, honestly. He was pretty popular back then — one of those sports boys, you know? Thinking about it now, he could’ve easily gotten with Sammy if he hadn’t been so conniving.”

“Conniving?”

“Yeah, he was... I don’t know how he got the idea in his head, but he came to me first. He kept hanging out with me, taking me on these... dates? But they weren’t really dates, all we did was talk about Sammy — what she liked, what she didn’t like. I knew he was using me, but I just... let him, I guess. Maybe back then I was just so caught up in being needed that I didn’t really mind being used.”

Soonyoung hugs you tighter.

“I guess he felt sorry, maybe? Right before he went to go ask Sammy out, he just... laid one on me. It was stupid. Like a pity kiss for my service or whatever. I wasn’t in love with the guy or anything, but it felt so... degrading. Like all I deserved was some action from a conventionally good-looking guy."

Your tears come back, brimming at the edge of your eyelids.

“I don’t know, it just — it just made me feel so...”

You take a breath. Exhale.

“...worthless.”

Soonyoung doesn’t fail to see the irony here, at least, but he feels slightly lifted. Whoever this guy is, Soonyoung’s a million times better.

“You’re not worthless,” he says — because he knows it’s true.

“I know.” You readjust yourself curled around him, wiping away the tears which haven’t fallen. “I mean, I know now.” Sighing, you wrap your arm around his waist, somehow pulling him closer than he already was. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being here. For being you. For letting me be me.”

“It is my absolute pleasure to serve you, your majesty.”

You wack him with the sleeve of your sweater. “You’re such a dork!”

Your laugh is nice. Soonyoung hopes to hear it again soon.

“You know,” you say, eyes closed as you lie there with him on his bed. “Normally I would’ve gone to Seungkwan with my problems, but tonight...”

“Tonight?”

“You make me feel safe, Soonyoung. Thank you.”

His eyes close. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “That, and if I told Seungkwan, he would’ve found the guy and beat him to a pulp.”

“Why can I see that?”

“Because it’s true.”

You stay the night.

•

With a group of friends as big as Soonyoung’s, it’s about once every blue moon that the boys find a time that works for everyone, especially coming up on finals season. They all have their own worries around this time: the dance showcase, the big play, last-minute assessments, and — of course — finals.

So when they’re all free for barbecue one night, everyone’s ecstatic. Reservations are made, gratuities are calculated, and the group chat blows up every few hours with various changes to plans. (Mostly from Mingyu, who’s eager to show off his grilling skills.)

But of course, university is university, and it’s inevitable that someone has to bail out. That someone being Soonyoung.

The dance showcase creeps up a bit faster than anyone likes, and now Soonyoung’s professor is forcing him to choreograph an entire song for some freshmen only a month before the whole thing goes onstage.

First of all, who signs up for a showcase only four weeks before the performance? Who lets them sign up?

And second of all, doesn’t his professor realize Soonyoung has a life? He’s got other dances to work on, other classes to study for, friends to have barbecue with. How is he supposed to cram an entire choreography — not the mention the time it’ll take to teach the freshmen — into his already hectic lifestyle?

But Soonyoung is a people-pleaser. He doesn’t say no.

Instead, he regretfully messages the group chat, saying he can’t hang out tonight in favour of attempting to choreograph at least a quarter of the song in one sitting. He gets the usual whining, but they all know they can’t change his mind, so it fades out fast.

What he doesn’t expect is for them to invite you instead.

“It’s a thirteen person reservation,” Seungcheol reasons. “Besides, she’s basically one of us by now.”

Soonyoung can’t exactly argue with that.

So, you go to the restaurant with them while Soonyoung heads to the studio. Minghao picks you up along with Vernon and Chan, which sends an anxious bit of worry down Soonyoung’s spine, but he does nothing about it. If Minghao wanted to tell you, he would’ve by now.

You send him a good luck text.

[🍥] Don’t let those kids work you into the ground!

He stares at your words for a bit, distracted from finding the song he’s supposed to use. Your contact name is different now — one of those naruto fishcakes because of that time you took him out for ramen. That night had been full of laughter and loud, borderline obnoxious slurping, ending with the beautiful finale of Soonyoung throwing a fishcake straight into your open mouth.

You were the one that sweet-talked you both out of getting banned.

Soonyoung finally opens his music app and finds the song the freshmen requested (a rather boring one, if you ask him) which he sets to max volume. He doesn’t bother plugging his phone into the speaker system, not when he’s the only one in the studio.

Maybe he can do this.

•

“The trick is to add eggs and use less water,” you say as you scoop more batter onto the waffle iron.

Jihoon snorts from where he sits at the table, still shoveling more whipped cream and strawberry-smothered waffle in his mouth. “Are you sure the trick isn’t to just not be Soonyoung?”

“Hey!” Soonyoung pauses his own eating just to pout. “My waffles are good!”

“Sure, you keep telling yourself that.”

Both you and Jihoon laugh at Soonyoung’s expense, only further accentuating the pout on his face. You and Jihoon are too alike in that aspect. Well, actually, Soonyoung knows you’d never laugh at him, but he still can’t be sure about Jihoon. One time, back in high school, Soonyoung tripped over (what he thought was) a dead bird, and Jihoon laughed for hours — though Soonyoung always exaggerates the story into him laughing for days.

You sit down next to him with your own plate of waffles. There’s flour dusted on your arms, but you don’t seem to mind.

“You’ve got a little...” You point a finger at the corner of your mouth.

He knows. Soonyoung can feel the cool whipped cream right where you say it is.

He smiles wide. “I’m saving it for later.”

“Hmm...”

You say nothing, just smile as you lean in, kissing the corner of his lips. It’s quick, chaste, and barely a real kiss, but Soonyoung’s heart bounces in his chest. He’s never been kissed like that before.

He wonders if this is what it’s like to be loved.

That thought, though, he pushes back for another time.

“Gross. You guys made me lose my appetite,” Jihoon says. He keeps eating.

•

With eyes drooping shut every few seconds, Soonyoung decides it’s time to call it quits on the chemistry homework. It’s nearly one in the morning, anyways. He flips his textbooks shut and gathers up all his notes, putting them all in a haphazard pile that he’ll worry about in the morning. Swivelling in his chair, his eyes land on you.

Oh. He forgot you’re here.

You’re snuggled up on top of his covers, one arm wrapped around the pillow your head should be on, eyes closed as even, slow breaths come past your slightly parted lips. One of his hoodies is draped over your legs like a blanket. He wonders why you didn’t just get under the covers.

Well, he has been walking you home ever since he hadn’t some time ago. Maybe you were waiting.

He feels a bit guilty as he brushes his teeth and washes his face, but not too bad since you only have afternoon classes tomorrow. Maybe he can treat you to something in the morning to make up for it.

After he tucks you under a fluffy throw blanket, he crawls into bed and lies on his side, facing you.

Your other hand is lax, palm up and fingers curled, almost like you’re holding something invisible.

His hand would fit perfectly.

The tips of his fingers graze over the lines on your palm. Slow. Trepidatious.

You shift, fingers unconsciously curling around Soonyoung’s hand.

He closes his eyes.

•

The moves aren’t working.

The moves aren’t working and the music isn’t working and the dance isn’t working and nothing is working.

Soonyoung groans in frustration, almost screaming with his fingers threaded through his damp hair as he messes up yet another landing. He’s drenched in sweat, and it’s only been so many hours since the rest of the crew left for the night, not that he’s kept track.

It’s less than a week until the showcase. Six days, as Chan is apt to remind everyone with his stupid holiday countdown app.

That freshmen choreography is already over and done with — Soonyoung’s made it, he’s taught it to those over-eager nuisances, and if they need anything more, that’s on them. They’re no longer his responsibility.

That’s not what has him in such a state right now.

His solo — the one he’s been planning for the entire semester — it just doesn’t... feel right. He’s been slaving over it for days now, reworking the steps, figuring out what to take out and what to replace. But the more he fixes it, the more it feels wrong.

He can’t get the steps right. He can’t get anything right.

What is wrong with him?

He starts the music again at exactly one minute, thirty-eight seconds. The moves are clear in his mind. One step. Two steps. Sweep. Spin. Jump—

He falls.

The music goes on.

Soonyoung slams his fist onto the softwood floor, cursing at his ineptitude. He stays like that for a moment, eyes screwed shut and fists clenched so tight his nails dig into his palms. The song ends, only to restart again, but Soonyoung barely notices.

Screw the music. He stands; positions himself; tries again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

He falls.

He yells out at the floor, at his feet, at whatever is holding him back.

His reflection in the mirror stares back at him.

Mind blank, he sits there, legs stretched out in front of him as he hunches over, eyes closed to the world around. His breaths come out shaky and uneven, but even though every moment sitting still feels like eternity, his lungs fail to calm.

Someone knocks on the door, and for a second, Soonyoung thinks it’s Jun coming to tell him to go home for the night. He doesn’t want to, so he doesn’t look up.

The door opens, he can hear the quiet shuffling of hesitant feet that have removed their shoes just because the sign on the door told them to.

“Soonyoung?”

Your voice is clear — like a single drop of water coalescing into a whole — and it cuts through the sound of blood rushing past Soonyoung’s ears.

He looks up to see you standing a good length away, almost like you’re scared to approach. You’re wearing pyjamas, a thick sweater pulled over your shoulders and fuzzy socks donning your feet. Something bulges from the pocket of your sweater.

“What are you...”

“Minghao called me.”

In the back of his mind, a small part of Soonyoung wonders exactly when you and Minghao have gotten close enough to call each other, but the thought doesn’t stay for long. It can’t, really, not when you’re in front of him.

When Soonyoung says nothing more, you take another step forward. “What’s wrong?”

To anyone else, he might say nothing. Absolutely nothing is wrong.

His voice breaks when he tries to laugh.

“Everything.”

Your eyes soften, a small smile tugging at your lips. It’s not one of those pitiful smiles, he can tell, but it’s not fake, either. You bring your hands together in front of you, fiddling with the tips of your fingers as your eyes move from them to his gaze again. “I’m coming over. Is that okay?”

He nods.

First, you find his phone and turn down the music until it’s gone. You sit right behind him, legs spread on either side of his body, and you wrap your arms around his waist, pressing flush to his back and resting your cheek between his shoulder blades. He squirms a bit.

“I’m all sweaty,” he tries to argue, but you only squeeze him tighter.

“Yeah, you are.”

He stops resisting. It’s much too hot, what with his hours of constant exercise and your thick layers, but he can’t complain.

“Do you want to talk about it?” This time it’s your turn to ask.

“...Just hold me?”

And you do.

You press a kiss to the back of his neck. Slow, soft, and when your lips leave his searing skin, your forehead replaces them.

That’s when the dam breaks.

Hot, fat tears roll from Soonyoung’s eyes down his cheeks as sobs rack through his chest. The vibrations shake him and you all at once, but your hold never falters. He can’t see anything, only a blur of what should be his legs and your arms wrapped around his stomach. His hands go to clutch at your arms, desperate to hold onto something; to not let him sink.

It’s ugly, the way he cries, but you let it happen. You hold him.

This is what it’s like.

Eventually, his desperate hands find yours, his arms crossed so his right is over your right, his left over your left. His fingers roam over the smooth backs of your hands until they reach your fingers and interlock. The palms of your hands are warm compared to his fingertips.

You’ve locked onto his body language by now — you’re fluent, so you know to continue pressing reassuring, slow kisses into his skin. You know to whisper little words that should mean nothing, but coming from your lips, mean everything.

He’s going to be okay.

For some reason, coming from you, he believes it.

You hold him until the hiccuping stops, until the tears are just dry streaks on his face, until his breath comes out in long streams instead of bursts.

His eyes stay shut as he feels you shift. One of your hands slips out of his grasp, your arm reaching back, and Soonyoung almost whines until he feels its return.

“Look,” you whisper.

It itches to open his eyes, but when he does, he sees what’s in your hand, right in front of him. A small stuffed tiger sits in your palm, positioned anatomically incorrect like a teddy bear, a velvet heart between its paws. Stitched white letters read:

Go get ‘em, tiger!

You chuckle lightly, repositioning yourself so your chin hooks over his shoulder. “Cheesy, I know. I was going to give this to you the day of the showcase, but I think you could use it right about now.”

Gingerly, Soonyoung lifts his hands together, and you place the plush in his awaiting palms.

His voice is slow to restart, but he manages to say, “Thank you.”

Hands now free, you wrap yourself around his waist again. “Anything for you.”

Such a simple sentence, that, and yet the confession sends blood to Soonyoung’s ears in the form of an awfully embarrassing blush. He runs his thumbs over the fuzzy fabric of the tiger plush.

“Soonyoung?”

“Hm?”

You press your lips to the crook of his shoulder, voice muffled in the fabric of his shirt. “I won’t force you to stop practicing. I know this is important to you.” Soonyoung feels your breath fan over his skin. “But I also want you to rest — you shouldn’t overwork yourself.”

One of your hands rises to his chin, guiding it up so he looks forward at the studio mirror and meets your gaze in the reflection.

“Whaddya say we do, hm?” You tilt your head, and Soonyoung thinks his pupils may be heart-shaped. “Do you want to practice more? Or can I take you home?”

“Just...” He swallows what’s left in his dry mouth. “Just once more.”

You smile. “Okay.”

As you get up, you run your hands up to Soonyoung’s shoulder and down to his hand, where you playfully pretend to pull him up with you. He laughs, hiding his face behind the tiger plush for a second before he stands, tugging your hands as he does so you fall into him when he rights himself. Both your hands are squeezed between him and you, while his unoccupied arm finds its way to your side.

Another smile tugs at your lips at the proximity. You shift your hands up so they wrap over his shoulders, linking behind his head. Leaning closer, your eyes gleam under the fluorescent lights. To the sound of silence, you sway together, waltzing in the dead of night.

“I’ll be outside, okay?”

Soonyoung’s expression tightens, eyebrows shifting in confusion. “Why?”

“Well,” you say. “I know how you feel about audiences during practice.”

Something about your smile right now makes Soonyoung feel so undeniably safe. You understand him. Never once have you questioned him over why he doesn’t invite you to practices, never once did you pressure him to change that.

“Do you know how I feel about you?”

“Hmm, do I?”

Do you?

“Stay.”

And you do.

•

Here’s the thing about dance showcases:

They’re big, they’re flashy, they take the entire year to plan, and they’re over in one night.

Soonyoung stands in the wings, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, hopefully not loud enough for anyone to hear. He watches as the group performing before his solo finishes up their dance, though he knows there is at least a minute before he’ll have to go on.

A tap on his shoulder makes him turn his head, and he sees Sehee’s smiling face.

“Nervous?” she asks, her voice hidden beneath the music.

She’s all dolled up, dressed in her costume with a sleek leather jacket to bring everything together. Her eyes glimmer just as much as her eyelids.

“You have no idea,” Soonyoung jokes, but his heart isn’t really in it.

Sehee tilts her head; blinks a few times. “You’ll do amazing. You always do.”

For what it’s worth, Soonyoung hasn’t forgotten his attraction. Sehee’s words soothe him to some extent, pump him up, even. It’s slightly terrifying — how much she still affects him even now.

You’re in the audience tonight, third row from the front, somewhere in the middle. Your seat is between Seungkwan’s and Jihoon’s, whereas all the other boys came (almost) too late and had to find seats elsewhere.

The music ends, applause erupts, and Soonyoung knows it’s his turn. He waits for the group to exit on the opposite side, and when the resounding claps quiet down, he takes the first step onstage.

Something Soonyoung has almost always known: stage lights are blinding. If they’re set up right, anyone onstage will have a damn hard time seeing anyone in the audience. He can’t see you — couldn’t during his previous performance with the crew, either. The only reason he knows you’re there is the million assuring texts you sent him before you had to turn off your phone for the show.

But he knows you’re there. He knows you’re watching.

Soonyoung stands with his left foot on the spike mark, right where he’s practiced time and time again ever since they transitioned into the space. Music floods his veins, and the world is gone.

He wouldn’t call it an escape. Soonyoung doesn’t use dance to get away, it’s not like that. This world he creates with dance — this other space where nothing exists except him and the music and the floor and the feeling — he chooses to go there. Euphoria, he thinks it might be called. Euphoric.

The space takes him. He lets it.

And then it’s over.

Soonyoung’s breath leaves him in bursts, his shoulders heaving despite how hard he fights to keep them still in his final pose. His back faces the audience, his right arm stretched out and up, fingers curling around nothing. Stars dance before his eyes — which he fails to catch with his outstretched hand.

He thinks he can faintly hear applause, but it’s nothing compared to the heart beating in his chest. Your voice plays in his ears, yet he knows it’s simply his imagination — his recollection.

I like your dance, you’d said that night. I’m no expert, no judge, but I like it. I love it, honestly. Your dancing... I don’t know. I wish I had the words. It’s like... a little box.

A little box?

You’ve got a little box in your hand. Brown, maybe the size of your palm. You open it and there’s no bottom, no sides, no shape, just an expanse of universe in blues and pinks and purples and whatever colours we don’t know exist. You look inside and reach your hand in, somehow fitting in the tiny yet infinite space. Your fingers brush through starlight like strands of silk, like the rays are minnows you’ve met during a summer dip. Like that. A little box.

I thought you said you didn’t have the words?

I don’t. Not enough.

Soonyoung vaguely registers the lights going black, the way his feet drift him offstage, the music of the seniors’ finale.

At some point, the lights are back on. Not the stage lights, but the harsh fluorescents once the audience has fully filtered out into the lobby. Most of them will leave, but the family and friends of performers are sure to stay, waiting there to congratulate and fawn over the dancers as soon as they’re let go for the night. Somewhere in his mind, Soonyoung knows his friends are outside waiting for him — him, Jun, Minghao, and Chan.

Roses are passed around. He’s never seen a blue rose before, but some dancers walk around with them as they change out of costume and gather their things. He points out a yellow rose from the bunch presented to him, but it turns out to be a bouquet for him specifically, and he takes the whole thing with his jaw slightly hanging. Everything’s a bit... slow. Soonyoung feels like he’s wading through water.

He hasn’t changed yet, simply standing in his costume as he watches people go back and forth. Other performers move from dressing room to dressing room, cleaning up what they have to while simultaneously patting each other’s backs. Techs go around making sure everything’s in order, nothing lost or forgotten. They put away the MC’s microphones and bother the dancers for not taking proper care of props even though it’s only been one night.

Another tap on his shoulder; it’s Sehee again.

“Can I talk to you?” she asks.

He follows her to a corner of the stage, where the curtains hang and hide the two — for the most part.

She turns almost too abruptly, causing Soonyoung to stumble over his own two feet to avoid bumping into her.

“This is really hard for me to say,” she starts. “But I have to get it out.”

Soonyoung nods, maybe saying something close to a confirmation, but he can’t really tell. He’s a little lightheaded. Sehee has changed out of her leather, instead now in a pair of grey sweatpants and a simple t-shirt. That’s the thing about Sehee, though, she has that unnamed sort of... effortless beauty. Even with her stage makeup wiped off, she glows.

“This might be one of the last times I ever work with you, you know? Next year, my parents are making me quit dancing so I can focus on my major. It sucks, yeah, but they’re right. I need to focus if I want to succeed. You know that too, don’t you? The need to succeed?” She takes a breath; laughs bitterly. “Sorry, I’m getting off track... I just — I wanted to tell you this because if I don’t tonight, I might never get the chance again.”

Maybe Soonyoung has dreamed of this moment. He can’t be sure, not yet, so he lets her continue.

“I like you, Soonyoung. I have for a while. But things happened, and you got together with...” her voice trails off. “And you seemed happy, after a while. I thought maybe I could just keep it hidden but, I don’t know, I think I need to tell you, to get closure because I'm not sure if I can go on without at least—”

Choices. Soonyoung — and everyone else in the world — has only made it through life with decisions. He’s made good ones. Bad ones. He’s had regrets and he’s had none. This, though, this choice is intensely apparent.

Apparent in the way he knows it will affect much more than he wishes.

He kisses her.

God, this is what he wanted, right? What he’s wanted for so long. He used to toss and turn at night over the thought of Sehee’s eyes; her smile; her lips.

And on his, they were heaven. Plump and soft just like the romance novels say, moving at the exact pace of his heartbeat.

The hand holding his bouquet drops to his side as the other goes to cup Sehee’s cheek. Faintly, the sound of paper fluttering to the ground reaches his ears, but nothing can distract him from this moment.

Until, of course, it ends.

Sehee pulls away. “We can’t— I don’t—”

Someone clears their throat.

Soonyoung turns, finding Minghao standing just off from the curtains, arms crossed and face contorted in thinly-veiled anger.

And you.

You’re standing next to Minghao, obviously shocked — over being seen or what you’ve seen, Soonyoung doesn’t know. Hands fisted and held close to your chest, your eyes widen as they meet Soonyoung’s.

It’s not so dramatic as the movies.

Soonyoung stares at you, tongue unmoving with nothing to say. You stare back, almost frozen, until Minghao gently takes you by your shoulders, forcing you to turn and leave the way you must’ve come. Nothing happens in the time it takes. Soonyoung simply watches.

He’s never been good at reading lips, but he thinks he knows exactly what Minghao whispers in your ear.

There’s something you should know.

Sehee mutters, “Sorry,” and leaves. She looks guilt-ridden as she does, but even in his half-frozen state, Soonyoung knows all of this is on him.

He stands alone in that corner of the stage, the only noise being the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant sound of the last stragglers in the dressing rooms. His hands clench, and the brown paper of the bouquet crumples. He looks at it then, at the yellow roses and baby’s breath, at the beige note that’s fallen to the floor.

Slowly, he crouches, picking up the note with his thumb and forefinger.

Congratulations Soonyoung!! I know how hard you’ve worked for this night, which is why I ordered these to be delivered. Joshua told me yellow roses represent happiness, or something. Pretty, right? You deserve every happiness, so I decided to start with flowers. Tonight may be over, but who knows, maybe we’ll find happiness in tomorrow, too.

It’s stupid. It’s not a love letter. It’s laced with love, though, and he hates that he recognizes your handwriting.

Time moves heavily as Soonyoung turns to the backstage door. He’s the only one left now, his station in the second boy’s dressing room is messy, unlike everyone else’s. His reflection stares back at him while he sits in front of the mirror, motions halved in speed as he wipes off his eye makeup.

It’s over.

When was the last time he thought about how it would end?

He changes out of costume, arms growing stiff, and stuffs everything in his bag without much care for how. His regular clothes itch; he longs to scratch at his skin, but he doesn’t.

He leaves your bouquet on the counter.

His friends stand in a circle in the lobby, brows furrowed and voices hushed as they discuss... something. Soonyoung has a bad feeling he knows exactly the topic. Minghao isn’t there. Nor are you.

Jihoon isn’t around, either, but Soonyoung remembers he had to leave immediately after the performance. Something about an essay. It doesn’t really matter now, not compared to this.

When he approaches his friends, they quiet down further. Half of them look his way with a frown, while the other half choose to avert their eyes. What do they know?

Seungkwan stands out the most. His arms are crossed, his lips are pressed together in a thin line, and anger radiates from his very being. Of course he’s mad. You’re his friend.

The silence consumes Soonyoung as he nearly shrivels under his friends’ gazes. He must have taken his time, the lobby is empty except for them.

“Where’s Minghao?” he asks.

Seungkwan lurches forward, but both Seungcheol and Wonwoo bring up their arms to hold him back. 

“Where’s Minghao? Where’s Minghao?” he seethes. He jabs an accusatory finger in Soonyoung’s face. “You just kissed some girl and broke my best friend’s heart and you’re asking about Minghao?!”

So they don’t know. Not really.

Soonyoung endures the scolding. The looks. The questions. The noise.

No answers are really given.

The great thing about having best friends is that they know not to pamper you when you’ve done wrong. That’s also the worst thing about having best friends.

Seungkwan would go on and on, surely, but soon enough the boys notice how little Soonyoung is reacting — how his face and expression is slack and dull.

Joshua holds up a finger to quiet down the ones still complaining, then gestures towards the front entrance.

“Minghao left with her a while ago.” The look on his face is one of pity. Soonyoung hates it.

He nods; stuffs his hands in his pockets as he turns to the door.

“Wait! I’m not done—!” Seungkwan struggles against Wonwoo and Seungcheol, but he’s no match.

Soonyoung doesn’t stick around long enough to hear what happens next.

He has no sense of what to do when he walks out that door. Go home, maybe.

The night breeze hits him with more force than it should, making his eyes go dry and his lips tremble. Outside, everything is almost too loud. There’s traffic on all sides, surrounding the lot of the theatre; the sound of humming engines and honking horns assaults his senses.

He walks — though it feels like wandering — to the parking lot, where he plans to look around for a bus stop.

You’re there.

A mirage, he thinks at first, but you’re really there, sitting on one of those concrete barriers, legs outstretched and ankles crossed. You have your head lowered as you sit, hands braced on the cold concrete.

His held breath escapes him, and you look up.

“You’re here,” you say. The smile on your lips, ever so slight and ever so bitter, causes a ringing in his ears. “I almost thought you forgot about me.”

“I...”

“It’s a lie, right?” Your eyes glisten, but no tears fall. “You wouldn’t— I’m not— I’m not that naive, am I?”

Soonyoung’s lips part, but nothing moves past them. His hands itch to leave his pockets, but with nothing to reach for, they stay still.

“...I see.”

You drop your head again, bringing your hands together to fiddle with your fingernails. He hears your breath, shaky as it is, and his lungs constrict.

“God, it felt so real. I thought— I guess I don’t know what I thought, huh?” A shiver runs through you. “Was any of it real?” you ask the ground.

Soonyoung longs to answer. That’s the thing, though.

He doesn’t know.

Can any of it be real?

You laugh. Before, your laugh was spring strawberries; summer warblers; winter snowdrops. Now, your dry laughter echoes in Soonyoung’s mind like a pebble in a failed attempt of skipping stones.

“Guess not.”

You hop off the concrete barrier, wiping off your pants of dust and dirt. Still, you don’t meet his eyes.

Soonyoung’s heart beats in a way he knows isn’t natural. Guilt seeps through every orifice. “You’re not... you’re not yelling at me. You’re not crying — you’re not angry,” he stumbles through. “Why?”

It’s then that when you meet his eyes, he notices the dried tracks lining your cheeks. You have been crying, just in the time it took for him to come across you.

“I’m just disappointed in myself, Soonyoung,” you say. “I’m the one who fell for it so easily. I’m the one that was tricked. I’m the one who—” a breath “—who loved someone that didn’t love me back.” You step closer, arms limp at your side. “Once I get home, sure, I’ll cry my eyes out. Is that what you want to hear? I’ll curse myself for being so... so stupid.”

“It’s not your fault—”

“No, it’s not. This is not my fault. All I did was believe the words you said to me. All I did was hand myself to you on a silver platter.” Unshed tears brim at your eyelids, but it seems you refuse to let them fall. “But you know the worst part, Soonyoung?”

Everything?

“The worst part is I can’t yell at you. I’m not angry because I fell in love with someone who doesn’t love me back and it hurts and I can’t bring myself to hate you despite being told you’ve never thought about me the way I think about you.”

A breathy gasp escapes you, and you turn on a dime, the sight of your back an icy reminder to Soonyoung of what he’s yet to learn. You take a deep breath to gather yourself, shoulders rising and falling.

“I’ll be going now. I’ve got a lot to think about.”

Soonyoung doesn’t move from his spot when you walk away, or when you get into Minghao’s car, which pulls away after a moment of sitting there in its parking spot. His feet are stuck in stiff mud, unable to shift, even.

Perhaps he stands there for too long. It’s not until he’s staring down the front of his apartment that he realizes one of his friends must have dropped him off.

•

He hasn’t heard from you in a few days. He hasn’t heard from anyone in just as long.

Jihoon already knew (not everything, but enough) by the time Soonyoung rolled out of bed the day after. He hasn’t said anything about it, but Soonyoung can tell this silence isn’t the same as usual. They rarely eat meals together anymore. Last movie night, Jihoon didn’t even pretend to be busy, instead saying he simply wasn’t in the mood.

Seungkwan hasn’t left your side ever since... that happened. If Soonyoung happens to see you on campus, which is almost never, he backs out of approaching you because of the sheer force that is Seungkwan’s glare. Besides, he wouldn’t know what to say even if he did find the courage to face you.

Classes go by in blurs. Not quickly, like scenery past a car window, but so slow that once Soonyoung leaves, he remembers nothing but hours upon hours of staring at his empty notebook, even if the lecture was only fifty minutes long. Days are kind of like that too.

•

Sehee apologizes. She shouldn’t, but she does.

Soonyoung didn’t really hate what he did at first. He liked her, after all.

But when Sehee chokes on her own words, pleading to whoever will listen that she’s not that kind of girl, Soonyoung regrets kissing her more than he ever wanted to kiss her in the first place.

•

please let me explain

I’m sorry

it’s been a while, but still

I’m sorry

[🍥] Explain what?

[🍥] ...

[🍥] Soonyoung?

sorry I just

I wasn’t expecting you to answer

[🍥] Maybe I shouldn’t have

no

wait

I’m sorry

[🍥] So I’ve heard

I just want you to know why what happened, happened

[🍥] But I already know why

it’s not that simple

[🍥] You lied because you suck at lying. Because you knew Sehee was there that night and panicked. I was just collateral damage

[🍥] ...

[🍥] No answer, huh?

[🍥] So it really is that simple

please wait

I’m just trying to figure myself out

[🍥] Let me help you

[🍥] You want my forgiveness because you feel guilty. Maybe you don’t know it yet, but you want me to say I forgive you just so you won’t have to carry this around for the rest of your life

[🍥] I know this isn’t some romcom. I know you’re not here to get me back

[🍥] So just let it go

[🍥] Let’s just forget about this. About what happened

what if I can’t

[🍥] I don’t know

[🍥] Figure it out, I guess

[🍥] But do it on your own

•

Soonyoung doesn’t measure his time anymore.

He wakes up. He eats. He goes to class. He skips lunch. He goes home. He eats. He falls asleep.

When was the last time he went out with someone? When was the last time he had a real conversation?

He doesn’t know.

•

[Minghao] You should tell everyone else

why

[Minghao] Would you rather they think you’re a cheater or just an idiot?

I don’t know

[Minghao] I think they deserve an explanation

[Minghao] Want me to do it for you?

does it even matter anymore

[Minghao] It’s your choice

[Minghao] You just have to make it

then tell them

I don’t care

[Minghao] Are you sure?

tell them

•

These days, Soonyoung stays late at the studio. No one really practices there anymore, not since the showcase finished and finals have rolled around. Actually, Soonyoung should be studying too, but he can’t find the motivation. He thinks it might be the guilt.

You were right. He doesn’t want to carry this around.

The thing is, despite spending entire evenings in the studio, he can’t remember anything as he walks home. It must be hours spent in there, and yet, when he walks out, he can’t recall a thing. Like he was never there at all.

Where does the time go?

With his luck, the elevator is broken when he returns to the apartment building, so he has to take the stairs. Normally that wouldn’t be a big deal, but after hours of mindless, sloppy dancing, he’s much too tired. He fumbles with his keys when he tries to open the door, and he rests his forehead on the cool wood for a moment, sighing before he tries again.

The door creaks open. Though it’s late, the lights are still on, which Soonyoung frowns at when he realizes. Lately, Jihoon is never up when Soonyoung comes home. But there he is, sitting at the table right next to the kitchen with his eyes on his hands and his feet tucked under the chair.

Soonyoung freezes after shutting the door behind him, not wholly sure what to make of the scene before him.

After a moment of silence, Jihoon looks up from his fingers and meets Soonyoung’s gaze.

“Minghao called me today,” he says.

Soonyoung gulps, but doesn’t respond — doesn’t know how to.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first, you know.” His voice is slow, croaky; tired. “But it sort of makes sense, doesn’t it. I don’t know how I didn’t see it from the start.”

Slowly, Soonyoung slips off his shoes and steps further into the apartment. “So now you know. I’m really not in the mood for a lecture right now.”

“I just have a question.”

Soonyoung pauses, halfway through the apartment and only a few meters from his bedroom door. He turns to face Jihoon, sighing through his nose and digging his palm into his eye sockets. “Fine,” he concedes. “What?”

“If you never loved — never liked her, why are you acting like this now?”

“Acting like what?”

“Like a dead man walking.”

Soonyoung scoffs, a dry, empty sound as he looks away for a moment before meeting Jihoon’s gaze again. “You’re kidding, right?” he asks. “I lied to someone for months. I pretended to love someone I didn’t. I used her because of my own stupidity and pride, and then I used Sehee, too—” Pausing, he closes his eyes; takes a breath. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s guilt. I feel guilty for... for everything.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“Excuse me?”

Jihoon rhythmically taps the pads of his fingers on the table. It’s not loud enough to be heard, but Soonyoung’s eyes train to the sight. “It’s only the guilt?”

“What else would it be?”

This time, it’s Jihoon who sighs. He looks at his hands again for a second. “Do me a favour,” he says without looking up.

“Look, I already—”

“Just do what I say.”

Soonyoung groans, but he knows he can’t argue with Jihoon and win — not now at least. He rubs his eyes, shoulders rising and falling as he takes in a deep breath. Mumbling under his breath, he says, “Fine.”

Jihoon stands from his chair, and in such stagnant silence, the sound of the legs squeaking on the floor is profound. He points to the middle of the apartment, the large bit of floor-space that’s too big to be considered part of the kitchen but too small to house any furniture.

“Stand right there.”

“...What?”

Without answering, Jihoon simply points at the floor again, and Soonyoung can only groan in defiance as he moves to stand in that spot. Grabbing a throw pillow from the couch, Jihoon steps a few feet away, facing Soonyoung with the pillow held in one hand at his side. He seems to consider something for a moment.

Soonyoung has never been unable to read Jihoon this much, so he asks, “What is this all about—”

Jihoon screams. Not a high-pitched screech, but a guttural battle cry, and Soonyoung’s eyes widen. Faster than he can comprehend, Jihoon runs towards him and tackles him to the ground. Soonyoung’s legs crumble as he falls, and he feels the throw pillow pressing onto his face.

This is it, he thinks. This is how he dies.

“Jihoon!” he cries, but his protest is muffled by the pillow. “What the fuck are you—!”

“You fucking idiot! You don’t know shit!”

“I know that!” Soonyoung thrashes to get the pillow off, but Jihoon is way stronger than he looks.

“You miss her you fucking buffoon! You’re all in your doom and gloom because you had a good thing going and had to go fuck it up!”

“I don’t!”

“Don’t try to argue with me, fucker, I know you better than anyone. Now scream!”

The pillows squishes further down, and while Soonyoung can still breathe, it’s far from comfortable. He continues to struggle even though he knows it’s useless.

“What?!”

“Scream into the pillow! You’re mad at yourself and you should be! Let it all out!”

“I—”

“Scream!”

And he does. He lets out a loud bellow that’s nothing but sound roaring from his lungs. He does it mostly to appease Jihoon — so that maybe he’ll finally get off.

But it feels good.

No, not good, really. It feels awful. Everything feels awful. Yet, something about screaming makes him want to do it again. He yells once more into the pillow, the sound muffled in the fabric and yet intensely remarkable. He screams and he screams and he screams until he can’t scream anymore and his voice is raw and there’s no more sound aside from the fractured gasps of his sobs. Tears soak into rough fabric, and he doesn’t even notice that Jihoon isn’t holding the pillow anymore — he’s pressing it to his face himself. His body shakes under Jihoon. Soonyoung feels pathetic, but he can’t stop.

He tries again to scream into the pillow, but his voice cracks and all he knows is to cry.

This is what it’s like.

Quietly, Jihoon maneuvers himself so he sits by Soonyoung’s head. He slowly lifts a corner of the pillow and peeks at Soonyoung’s red face. “So,” he whispers, voice soft and full of care. “What are you going to do now?”

Soonyoung wraps his arms around the pillow, hiding his face again.

“I don’t know,” he says. He’s never felt less sure of anything. “I don’t know.”

•

That night, Soonyoung cleans his room. He doesn’t reorganize or anything, just picks discarded clothes up off the ground and throws them in a hamper, spreads his blankets so his bed actually looks bed-like, and takes his overflowing garbage bin out to the door, where he’ll take it out tomorrow morning. As he stretches his arm between his bed and the wall, his fingers close around the sweater he’s trying to reach and... something else. When he brings his hand back up, a small tiger plush stares back at him.

Go get ‘em, tiger!

He stares at the words for a moment, sitting up on his bed and leaning his back against the wall. The plush feels frail in his hands, almost like the velvet heart held in the tiger’s paws could crumble at any moment. Maybe it will.

Soonyoung settles down above the covers that night, and the tiger sits on his other pillow.

The one that still smells like you.

•

He cries. (For the second time since you left.)

•

After everything that’s happened, one would think it would take a miracle to fix what’s been broken. Soonyoung thinks it will take more than that, but still; he’s no miracle worker. He thinks it will take magic to just see you again.

Turns out, it takes a coffee.

Jihoon forces Soonyoung to join him in visiting one of the campus cafes. He doesn’t think about it too much, just believes Jihoon’s trying to keep him alive with a little kick of caffeine. That thought is pushed away when Jihoon blocks him from sitting at the little table, pointing instead across the space to the student printing center.

You’re talking to a customer at the front counter, forearms rested on the white faux marble. A smile is on your lips as you say whatever it is you’re saying to the girl, and Soonyoung finds it almost impossible to tear his eyes away. But he does. He scans the rest of the building for a second. Seungkwan is nowhere to be seen, and neither is Minghao.

He turns to Jihoon, a question on the tip of his tongue.

“She told the bodyguards to back off,” Jihoon explains without needing to be asked. “It’s been a few days.” He nods his chin towards you. “Go on. Talk to her.”

Soonyoung shakes his head, gulping down the words he can’t yet think of. “I don’t... I’m not... ready.”

“If you back out now, you’re going to keep backing out until it’s too late.”

Jihoon’s eyes blaze with an unfitting determination for such a setting. He looks stupid, like some self-made, all-knowing relationship guru who likes the coke he’s gripping too much. Still, he’s right.

Soonyoung licks his dry lips and looks at you again. You’ve sat down, relaxed after having helped that customer and now conversing with one of the other students working there. He misses the way you looked when you were happy — when you were happy with him.

What will it take to see that again?

What will it take to hold you again?

His feet move before his doubts can stop him, and the scene feels awfully familiar. This time though, Soonyoung can’t help but feel like the bad guy.

You don’t notice him until he’s right in front of you, and he doesn’t know what hurts more: the immediate frown, or the fake smile you use to cover it up.

“Hi, what can I do for you today?”

If Soonyoung had to define heartache, he might use this moment. Feigning to forget rather than acknowledging the past... it’s effective, but it hurts.

“Can...” He hesitates and curses himself for it. “Can we talk?”

“About printing, yes. About anything else? I really would rather we didn’t,” you say under your breath. It’s hushed, and you don’t shy away when Soonyoung leans closer to hear. That has to mean something, doesn’t it?

“But there’s something I need to say.”

“I don’t think I want to hear anymore apologies, Soonyoung.”

“It’s not that,” he argues.

Your eyebrows scrunch together. “It’s not an apology?”

“No— I mean, well, yes I want to apologize. I don’t think I’ll ever stop apologizing, but— but that’s not what I—”

“Soonyoung.”

He stops at your word, knowing that speaking will only get him further into trouble. Around you, his words keep failing. Instead, he meets your eyes, which under more inspection, seem hardened.

Have eyes ever looked so hardened when brimmed with tears?

“I don’t know if you know this, but seeing you makes me hate myself.” By now, your coworker has walked to the back, probably to respect your privacy. Your voice almost cracks. “I’ve felt worthless before, but Soonyoung, do you even realize what that — what you did to me?”

He barely breathes before saying, “What if I... what if I said I fell in love with you? Somewhere along the way?” A pause. Your eyes waver, but steady themselves. “What if I said I love you?”

“Soonyoung,” you say after a second.

“Yes?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

•

[🍥] Give me a reason to give you a chance

this is real right?

[🍥] It’s not a dream if that’s what you’re asking

all of a sudden??

[🍥] Minghao and Jihoon said I should

[🍥] And I think I should too

[🍥] But it’s hard

[🍥] What you said yesterday... I don’t know if I can believe it just yet

will you meet me?

I want to see you

[🍥] Can you give me some time?

yes

all the time you need

but will you?

will you meet me?

[🍥] I don’t want to

[🍥] But then again, I do

[🍥] Just give me some time

•

A strange thing, time. It passes by much too quickly when you want it to last, and it drags on when all you want is to be there. There; right then; right now.

Soonyoung stays up late turning on and off his phone, waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting.

It’s only been two days.

Jihoon thinks he’s crazy, though he hasn’t said it out loud — Soonyoung can tell.

He also thinks he might be a little crazy, but that’s okay. If it means he’ll get the chance to make it up to you... maybe he’s fine with being crazy.

At some point, Jihoon barges into his room and takes away Soonyoung’s phone, snatching it straight out of his hands like the little thief he is. He keeps it out of reach despite being shorter, preaching bullshit like, “You need to calm down and act like a normal person!”

Fine, whatever.

Soonyoung goes out for some air. And instant ramen.

There’s a twenty-four hour convenience store right on the edge of campus, manned by a single tired university student that everyone is aware of, yet no one really seems to know his name. It’s one of those spots where time doesn’t exist; maybe names don’t, either.

Compared to the blackness of night, the blanch white convenience store sticks out like a sore thumb, especially with all the bright posters and fluorescent tube-lights. Soonyoung feels just as out of place with no people around just outside the store, but really, it’s to be expected at a time like two in the morning.

He’s right at the door when it chimes and slides open. And so are you.

Both of you freeze where you are, you in the doorway and he just in front. His jaw slacks slightly as he takes you in.

You’re in casual clothes again, a thick sweater and presumably pyjama pants. This version of you comes with good memories — for some reason he likes it more than he cares to admit. Maybe he liked that you could share a more vulnerable side to him, and he to you in return. Although, you’ve shown this side to even the unnamed convenience store guy.

It’s your voice that breaks him from his reverie.

“Soonyoung,” you say, and it’s softer than before. Maybe your voice is lighter from the fact that it’s two in the morning, maybe just because you’re tired, but a small part of Soonyoung wishes that it’s something else — that you sound softer because you’ve missed him too.

He hopes it isn’t just hope.

He says your name, the sound beautiful and battered on his tongue. A small smile passes your lips, so fast that he almost misses it, but he doesn’t. That’s one thing he knows about you: how much you care. Even if someone hurts you, you always take the time to hear them out. You give them chances. Soonyoung should thank his lucky stars that you’ve done the same for him.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

You smile again, and it reaches your eyes, however sad.

“Is it time?” he asks.

“It can be.” The plastic bag in your hand crinkles as you sway it back and forth. “Do you want it to be?”

“Yeah.” His voice comes out like a breath. “Please.”

“Then that’s what we’ll make it.”

You gesture to the ground, where the curb meets the asphalt, but Soonyoung is still a little shocked that he’s even met you here in the first place, so he watches, dazed, as you sit down on the curb before joining in. He stays silent as you pull out an ice cream cup and hand it to him. He stays silent as you procure a second one and peel open the plastic lid, digging into it with the wooden stick spoon-wannabe that comes with the package. He stays silent as you look at him, the wooden stick hanging from your mouth.

“So,” you say, scraping the side of the paper cup. Meeting his eyes, you sport a sly smile. “I hear you’re in love with me.”

The ice cream stays unopened in his hands. He finds it so easy to smile back.

“Yeah. I think I am.”

“You think you are?”

“I’ve never loved someone like this before,” he tries to explain, though the words are slow to his tongue. “I can only think.”

“I guess so.”

“But—” he looks at his fingers, fiddling with the plastic lid of the cup, and a small laugh escapes “—I’m thinking really, really hard.”

You laugh too; his heart blooms.

“Is that so?” you tease, smiling around the wooden spoon. “It’s gonna take more than that.”

“I think I can do it.”

“You think?”

“I think really hard.”

Soonyoung might be in love with every part of you, even if he never realized. Your laugh, your smile, your tells, your habits. He wishes he knew sooner, that this laugh could’ve been his forever long before now.

You scrape the last drops of ice cream out of the paper cup and leave the stick in your mouth, a bit chewed up. Your shoes tap against the asphalt, the rhythm something that draws both his and your eyes.

“You know...” you say, turning your head to meet his gaze once more. “You know you hurt me, right? You know this won’t be easy?”

“None of what we had was easy.”

A scoff runs past your lips. You bump your shoulder against his. “Speak for yourself. I fell hard and fast for you, asshole.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I know.” You take the still unopened ice cream from his hands and stuff it right back in the bag it came from. “Say it again, though.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hmmm... maybe it’ll take a few more times.”

“I’m—”

“But not tonight,” you say. “Tonight...”

Your hand beside him closes the distance, grazing over his and pulling it over to your lap.

“...just hold me?”

And he does.

Bonus (gn) epilogue: Fluff and Context Bonus (gn) blurbs: [a fate of my choosing][pick a struggle]

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x female reader #hoshi imagines #hoshi scenarios #hoshi x reader #hoshi x female reader #kwon soonyoung scenarios #kwon soonyoung imagines #kwon soonyoung x reader #kwon soonyoung x female reader #hoshi angst #seventeen angst #svt scenarios #svt imagines #svt angst #kwon soonyoung angst #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #seventeen x reader

[timetobeaghost]

The Noah hate mob is so much worse than I thought. Finally saw the story pic going through someone's blog. Cluelessly I had kinda figured a "sticker" is something you can add to your pic, like a filter. And I thought he might have made a dumb sexy pose maybe with a hot dude and put "zionism is sexy" on it. I thought he might have been somewhat douchy and insensitive, because that seemed IC to me, making a dumb post in a serious situation.

But no. He is making a selfie with a friend who seems to be involved in anti-antisemitism activism and wears a (literal, yeah everyone but me knows what a sticker is, I guess) "Hamas is ISIS" sticker, which is a very important message (because people did not use to like islamists cutting off people's heads and raping girls back when it wasn't happening in Israel, maybe they could remember that feeling) and holding Stickers in her hand that apparently read "Zionism is sexy", which is meant to proudly support Israel and Israeli jews, which is healthy and understandable considering it is a reaction to a horrible terror attack on Israel and to a reminder that its very existence in in danger. No, Zionism does NOT mean war! Zionism does NOT mean ethnic cleansing. To say this is antisemitic trash. Jews wanting the tiniest bit of land to live in peace and thrive is the farthest thing from evil. Do you know how many Jews used to live in the Middle East. Do you know where their offspring is now? ISRAEL. And nowhere else because they were ethnically cleansed out of everywhere else.

And no Israel is not perfect, radical settlers and a right wing government supporting them and all that. That needs to be solved. That in no way means Israel's existence and with that Zionism is evil.

Now still those ZiS stickers could be criticized as dumb, I guess. As flippant in a serious matter, but any hate boner can only be explained by antisemitism, and Noah really didn't do shit to deserve anything. And then he was told he should be put in a blender by Hamas. Hamas being a terror organization who really does specialize in slaughtering jews in creative ways. For context.

The only proper reaction is 💯 support for Noah!

If you are part of a hate mob you are those people, oh they had good reasons for their spontaneous anger, I am told. Spoiler alert: history has already decided you suck. And I can guarantee you the Duffer brothers deepest revulsion. No one dreams of appeasing you people! Leave ST fandom and enjoy your jihadism fandom, if that's where your priorities lie.

If you are on the side of: "Yes I know he kinda deserves criticism, but lets not overdo it. Bullying is not nice either", congratulations for being human, but you are the majority Germans in the mid 1930s and you can do better.

Because someone asked me what I say to a 6-year -old Palestinian being murdered in the US, I say this is utterly VILE. It was a crazy, violent murderer's reaction to the terror attack and it is endlessly tragic that this happened. It was not a reaction to solidarity with Israel's people. The pos was reacting to the actual event. Peaceful, loving support for the victims is the antitheses to that. I wanna ask back what you think of hundreds of children being brutally murdered or kidnapped in Israel on October 7th. Can we agree that this shit is utterly vile as well? Can we agree THOSE HOSTAGES NEED TO BE BROUGHT HOME? Btw?

#noah schnapp #byler #antisemitism #guess I wasn't done #i stand with israel #hamas is isis #support noah schnapp

[thisoneblackjacket]

🎬 NOW IT'S TIME FOR...

Eddie's notes hour!

I just wanted to take a closer look into all of the notes that we see on Eddie's desk within the hidden video + some input/speculation on them

...

1. Starting with the gift list:

I went into it a bit in a previous post, but I think(?) I now have the full list down (w/some help from others from that post) :

Julie - Chimney Cozy

Frank - Bug Catching Net (?)

Wally - Apple

Howdy - Calculator

Poppy - Doilies (still unsure about that one)

Barnaby - Bones (?)

Sally - Mirror

I will say that these gifts seem very fitting for everyone, but between the few questions marks next to some of the gifts, along with Eddie's doubts about Julie's and Frank's gift in the vid:

Sounds like Eddie HIMSELF is unsure if these gifts will work. It has the same vibes as trying to shop for someone that you sort of know the interests of, but not much else

Which sort of amplifies that he isn't the closest to any of the neighbors (seemingly he only gets to interact with them when they need something from him), so this might play more into the theme of Eddie being alienated from the rest of the neighborhood

...

2. Moving on to the grocery list:

Okay so I'm still struggling w/a few words, but I think it goes as follows:

Grocery (I think?)

Envelopes

Pencil

Construction Paper

Paper {Lined} (I think?)

Eggs

Milk

I don't have too much to say here, but it is a bit interesting that Eddie has to buy supplies for his own business from Howdy. I always figured that another reason why Howdy disliked Eddie was because he might have sold his own paper/stationary items at the post office, hence competition, but maybe not

...

3. It's TIC TAC TOE time!! ❌⭕

Now I am not about to begin to try to count how many games he played through that you can see on the screen (you can't make me!)

BUT, given the scoreboard:

Eddie (his left, I'm guessing the ⭕s): 4...?

Eddie (his right, I'm guessing the ❌s): 14

That's at least 18 games by itself, can you imagine how many if you included the draws ?!

Poor Eddie...

But listen - I'll end this post with something that has been scratching at me - Tic Tac Toe as a potential symbol in the story

Now I don't know HOW significant Tic Tac Toe is to WH, but I think it is significant.

Does anyone remember this post back in October, during the Halloween update? The one where OP had put this one tic tac toe game over the map? (go check it out)

I really do think that's a solid lead towards something big, and it was actually one of the first things that popped in my head when thinking back to this.

But even if it turns out it isn't, Tic Tac Toe has been showing up from time to time via drawings/surroundings, which is already enough to at least consider it moving forward

So here, while it makes sense in context as to why Eddie is playing the game a bunch in the video (waiting around for someone to show up with nothing better to do), and all this can honestly be a stretch, but to have him specifically play THAT game, after its been shown to pop up that often...makes me suspicious for sure...

...

Either way, this has been...

Eddie's notes hour!

(seriously, I'm not good at making title names)

#welcome home #eddie dear #welcome home arg #welcome home spoilers #welcome home update #welcome home speculation #analysis

[onthewaytosomewhere]

OK-so it's Wednesday and WIPs and all that

ok so i meant to get back to hockey and books 'cuz that's where i wanna be right now but my brain was in a not so creative place until someone broke me out of it last night

so for wirp wednesday i got bits of a new thing that is gonna be part of a series NOT-SO-MUCH ONE NIGHT STANDS (cuz well they don't necessarily stay that way) that i've already got 2 fics going for - one firstprince and one liam/pez cuz well that's apparently really becoming a thing for me

so first thanks @suseagull04 for the out of context lines tag - i have something for that too (not one of those other ones) throwing this on here too cuz i can lol

He kisses Henry on the cheek, whispers, “Get me whatever you wanna share,” and sneaks up to the office when everyone is finalizing the breakfast order

thank you so much for the wip wed tags @jmagnabo92 @theprinceandagcd @suseagull04 @firenati0n @adreamareads

@piratefalls @duchessdepolignaca03 @thesleepyskipper oh! and stealing @kiwiana-writes and @cha-melodius open tags cuz that's what they're for :)

nsfw words & tags (it's the words nsfw not the tags lol)beneath the tag

Now, it’s moments like right now, where he’s biting his way across Alex’s thighs, thighs sprinkled with just the right amount of hair, hairy in the way that Henry likes, not just a dusting but actual hair that catches on his tongue as he lavishes the spots he’s sucked bruises into. These moments are the ones that make him so glad he got away from everything else. He can have this anonymous moment with someone so hot he doesn’t want to kick him out the way he has the others eventually. It’s halfway through the morning after, and they’ve yet to get out of bed for more than bathroom trips – one of those with some spectacular moments in the shower – and some quick trips to the kitchen for drinks and some quick snacks when Alex lures him into turning on the tv and watching a movie after round three. They barely make it through the movie when Henry is orgasming for the fourth time that night. Henry is no stranger to multiple orgasms; he’s in his low 20s and knows that brings with it a quicker refractory period. But Alex, the stranger who’s fast working on filling Henry in on every aspect of his life so it no longer feels that way, is doing things for that quick refractory period he’s never experienced before.  Henry doesn’t know how he got so lucky last night when he accompanied Pez and Liam to the club, but he is beyond happy that Liam decided to bring his friend, and that said friend was agreeable to finding his way into Henry’s bed.

if ya already did this and i missed it i'm sure i'll find it - consider me a top gun pilot doing a fly-by lolz

tagging: @agame-writes @agostobuwan @anincompletelist @bitbybitwrites

@dragonflylady77 @england-would-fall @firstsprinces @forever-fixating

@getmehighonmagic @heysweetheart-writes @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @inexplicablymine

@itsmaybitheway @jellibuns @junebugclaremontdiaz @littlemisskittentoes

@lizzie-bennetdarcy @magicandarchery @mikibwrites @msmarvelouswinchester

@nocoastposts @priincebutt @sophie1973 @stellarm

@tailsbeth-writes @thedramasummer @thinkof-england @cricketnationrise

@tinyarmedtrex @typicalopposite @wordsofhoneydew @yrsacdfox

@captainjunglegym @bigassbowlingballhead @eusuntgratie @violetbaudelaire-quagmire

DON'T MIND ME JUST ADDING AN IMPORTANT TAG THE SUN IN MY EYES MADE ME MISS LOLZ @taste-thewaste

#NOT-SO-MUCH ONE NIGHT STANDS #wip wednesday #rwrb wips #onthewaytosomewhere #why does tumblr still make tagging difficult #r u tryin' to make me tag less people #i'm resilient that ain't gonna work lolz

[accio-victuuri]

Reasons why we think the 26th bday message was from bunny laoshi. 🗒️

I know that a lot of us don’t need “reasons” to even cpn that xz made this letter, but it’s still fun to look at the clues that make the conclusion much stronger. a lot of us just knew once we read it, who the author is. as with all other candies, if you believe it, you do. if you don’t — there is no amount of evidence that will change your mind.

i’m so happy that the bday letter is back, last year was understandable (considering what was going on) so to have it this year made everyone emotional. as usual, it’s a beautiful letter. i am thankful that yibo is loved. that aside from us fans, he has someone close to him, who adores him that much to write something like that for him.

this post is only for the letter, not the bday photo/art. that will be a separate discussion.

A HISTORY,

As with most candies, context is key. We don’t usually react this much without it having some story behind it. There is almost always a pattern. The “birthday” message first popped up for Bobo’s 23rd bday. Then 24 and 26. You could say anyone can make a birthday message — but this is different. It’s way too personal and the way it’s written, to us who pay attention, is very xiao zhan. There were already CPNs for the past 2 years, so we were actually just waiting for the 26th bday letter — and boy did it not disappoint!

• They all start with saying hello to the *age* Yibo. It’s like this person wants to be the first one to greet WYB in his new year of life.

• The way it’s constructed is very similar. It starts with a recap for the year, what WYB has gained from the past and wishes for the future. I have to say that the 2020 letter was the start and then it evolved into what it is today because of the time they spent together. XZ now has more and more things to say.

• The message of growing up slowly is also there. I think XZ really wants this for him, that even if WYB had to “grow up” faster than other people his age, even if he has so many responsibilities — that he still gets to enjoy his youth. 🫶🏼

Even if you let someone else read this letter, and you tell them, “it’s from their s/o”, they will believe you. To those who look at it and think it’s an employee, i don’t even know what to say. You don’t even have to believe that it’s XZ, but it is most definitely WYB’s significant other. Look at UNIQ_OFFICIAL weibo account birthday caption, that’s what employees do.

Now onto the “reasons”. I have listed a couple and I know there might be more out there but here are the ones that made us 😭😭😭😭:

1. My absolute favorite part of the letter:

In the past year, you've gradually learned to relax while working hard and understood how to face the world with a gentler attitude. You've been willing to watch the stars while hurrying forward. You've been willing to enjoy a pouring rain happening one afternoon. You've been willing to quietly see the horizons at the other side of the sea. You've been willing to stop for a beautiful sunset.

A person who knows you will only be the one to write this. The level of understanding XZ has for WYB is just. I can’t. He really loves him. The things he decided to use : stars, pouring rain, sea and sunset is so THEM. He might as well add the moon to have the whole cpf symbol set completed. 😂😂😂

And for comparison, XZ wrote these words in his Oasis for the DC wrap-up:

There are two pictures that I really like, one is the beach outside of the Xiangshan hotel balcony, another is the scenery from the highway in the middle of the Hengdian Xianju forest where we frequently ran. These two different places and different views are both places that comforted me when I was lost and helpless. When I was down, I would sit on the balcony, and the sea breeze, the beach and the moonlight would give me the answer; when I was tired, I could rest on the path in between the forest scenes, and upon opening my eyes I would see the raindrops and the fog that would also give me the answer: in each and every moment, I chose to not complain or be negative, I put my all towards each choice and decision I make;

It’s how freakin descriptive he is. He has a way with words that make you “feel” what he is saying or even see it.

2. This part too, about stopping. Slowing down. It’s the same thing XZ said before. Plus in a couple of XZ’s videos, you will see shots of him admiring the sunset.

Time never pauses, but you seem to know the secret of making the world stop occasionally. You use your calmness and poise to welcome and get in touch with the world. Yibo, sunsets are beautiful, just like every dusk that you missed when you focused on forging forward.

AND THE “Yibo,” OMG. I can hear XZ’s voice in my head saying it. It’s too intimate. I know it’s his name but the way it’s written here — Are we even supposed to read this? It feels too personal 😭😭😭

But my answer is always, WYB wants to show off. He wants us to feel single. I’m in a long term relationship and even I felt single 😂😂😂😂

3. “The small number has changed again” referring to his age. There might be no hidden meaning, but some cpfs interpret this as the person who wrote it is older than him. Because he considers yibo’s age as “smaller” than his. Hello to their 6-year age gap. 👋🏼

4. There is 🎂 emoji in this letter compared to previous years. We think it’s because WYB is at home and they are celebrating together, no need to send a virtual cake. There is also some talk of XZ not being photographed today (8.4) on set. I won’t go to that part of Weibo but the fact that some people are nervous that he is suddenly MIA so close to Yibo’s bday is 👀

5. WYB went online for a bit, we thought he was gonna pull the same stunt he did last year and remove the automatic weibo bday post. He didn’t. What did he look at? The love letter? 🤔

6. Someone asked where was the quote “"stay cool, grow up slowly" on Baidu and the most popular answer is it’s from a book 君生我已老. We know XZ is fond of reading. I found a synopsis, and well, interpret it as you will…..

Excuse the google translate but you get the gist. It’s synopsis is also kind of similar to his drama SUNSHINE WITH ME. The part of age gap. Meeting and falling in love then having to separate, only to meet again. So if I’m to speculate that XZ got it here and liked it, maybe that’s why he chose to film SWM even if he has lots of scripts sent his way.

7. Similar with GG, who does not look at challenges in a negative way. How he regards it as a part of life and something he has to overcome.

Just regard all the adversities as the numerous mountains you have to climb and the endless waves you have to ride.

8. I don’t have to explain it that much. They both have a thing for “living with no regrets.” It’s all over their interviews.

As a young man full of mettle, you have no regrets.

I will stop right here. Again, to a lot of us, Xiao Zhan might as well sign his name at the end of the post and we would be like — Okay, we knew that. LOL.

HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY KING YIBO! ♥️👑

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do #DONT TOUCH ME IM STILL NOT OVER THAT LETTER 😭😭😭😭

[wildissylupus]

Talon and Manipulation

Alright, the people have spoken so here you are. An analysis on the manipulation found in Talon. Specifically the inner council.

(Note; Ramattra will not be included in this because he is getting his own separate analysis, not only that but he is working with Talon, he is not a member of Talon)

Baptiste

Now you might think I'll start with the obvious choices like Reaper, Sigma and Widow, but no, I want to start with Baptiste. Specifically the manipulation used to bring in regular people into Talon.

In the Liberation mission if you play Baptiste when the Ramattra's speach comes on Baptiste will say "I recognize propaganda when I see it", meaning Talon most likely doesn't personally pick out their soldiers, they use propaganda. Which means that there is likely more people like Baptiste who joined Talon to make the world a better place and are now lying to themselves to keep that vision going.

This is only the beginning of the analysis and we already see that the foundation of Talon is built on manipulation, on the altered vison of what Talon is.

Widowmaker

Ok, let's get into the meat of it.

Widow, the manipulation Widow faced is probably the most commonly talked about, but only in context of her brainwashing and being forced to kill Gerard. No one really talks about what happened after. After she killed Gerard she was left without anyone to turn to and no where to go, she was terrified of how the kill made her feel. So she went to the only place she thought she would be safe, a place where she could chase the high she got from the kill, she ran back to Talon. Widows motivation for joining Talon isn't just to get a adrenalin rush, but it's also out of survival, and I think that's why she's so hostile towards Baptiste.

Baptiste got out, he survived, and now he's being helped by Overwatch. He's living proof that what happened to her, what she's doing, was unnecessary, that there was a possibility that if she stayed with Overwatch she could have gotten help. So she's hostile, she's angry at the world and at herself, but she can't leave now because she's in too deep, she's done too much. Widow's loyalty to Talon is literally programmed into her, though she did seemingly make the choice to fully join Talon, she can't make the choice to leave.

At least not yet.

Sigma

Sigma is probably the most simple, he's broken, he was broken before Talon captured him, and the only people who seem to care are Overwatch associates and Sombra. Sigma is incredibly unstable and Talon uses that to their advantage. Sigma goes through constant experimentation, though we don't know what this experimentation is, considering it's Moira conducting them we can assume it's bad.

Sigma is honestly the most tragic out of most of the Talon members, unlike everyone else we know who was in Talon, he's the only one who genuinely didn't have a choice. He was taken by Talon to which he was then used for his research and powers. We can assume that Sigma hasn't gone on any field missions, or at the very least ones that included the obvious harming of other people.

The only reason Sigma hasn't left Talon left is because he is genuinely being sheltered from the harm that Talon is doing, to the point where when they do do questionable things he either thinks it's normal, or he's oblivious to it.

Reaper

Gabriel Reyes is probably the epidemy of the affect Doomfists manipulation, he's honestly the reason I wanted to make this analysis. At the point when Reyes first interacts with Doomfist its after Ana's death and during the point in time where he and Jack couldn't be in a room without fighting. If you have also seen my Cassidy analysis you would also know that I think he and Cassidy drifted apart by this point as well. When Gabriel first interacted with Doomfist he was without a support network, and as we've established, Talon uses that to take advantage of people.

After the explosion and after Moira "saved" Reyes (I'll get to that in a minute), it stated that Gabe did mercenary work by himself for a year before he officially joined Talon. A year where he had to deal with constant pain, the trauma of the explosion and the lack of a support network. Reyes becoming Reaper was destined to happen the moment he shot Antonio. Like Cassidy himself said, that was the moment Overwatch truly started to fall.

And the longer Reaper is with Talon, the less and less of Gabriel Reyes we see. Reaper is in constant pain because of Moira's experimentation, and we see that she refuses to help. This brings me to my next point, Reyes would have survived the explosion, with or without Moira's help. Presumably Gabe and Jack where the same distance away from the explosion, now we don't really know what happened to Jack but we know he survived. Yes, Reyes went through more experimentation but we see that it didn't have as bad of negative effects until after his "death". The constant pain and the struggling to keep his form is a result of experimentation after the explosion.

Why do this? Because Gabriel Reyes has proven to be an asset. So spin the narrative, make it so it seems that Reyes couldn't survive without Talon. This is something that Reyes himself sees through, but he's too broken to leave. He needs something to fight for and Talon gives him that so he doesn't leave.

The Inner Council

Doomfist and Moira are probably the biggest manipulators in the Inner Council, followed by Sanjay. Both Moira and Doomfist use subjective facts to get into their targets heads, making them question what exactly it is that they're doing, if what they're doing is working. They like to make people reliant on them, to have control over them, and it works most of the time. Most of the time Moira uses it to get under peoples skin, to make them squirm, she is manipulative but that isn't her main tactic. Dommfist on the other hand, most of his voicelines with people is him trying to manipulate them in some way.

Sanjay is an interesting case because to me it seems that he genuinly believes what he's saying and unlike the other two he seems to be swayed by others, able to recognize when someone else has a better methodology. Meanwhile Max seems to only really use manipulation and bargaining as a way to save his own ass.

And I've detailed this before but Reyes in the later years of Blackwatch was also manipulative but it seemed almost unintentional.

Where the manipulation fails

Doomfist and Moira both tend to target those who are loosing/lost their support network. People who are prone to emotion and tend to not think things through because of it. What this doesn't account for is the people who can handle that. Let's talk about Sombra.

Sombra is a member of Talon but unlike every other member she isn't loyal to it. She's only in it for the resources. It honestly seems that she doesn't like or get along with most of Talon. She's been pointed out both in universe and out to be the most likely person to betray Talon, the problem with that is Doomfist seems to underestimate her, not seeing her very likely betrayal as a threat. Reaper being the one to bring up his concerns. Sombra is a person with no support network yet she is unaffected by Talon's manipulation. This is because the way you get to her isn't stripping her of a support network, it's giving her one, and that's something Talon can't do. The two people she's loyal to are Sigma and Baptiste, they are the people she tries to help.

Sombra is a victim of the Crisis like Baptiste is but unlike him it seems that she knew exactly what she was getting into. So when Baptiste finally stopped turning a blind eye and lying to himself, Sombra got back in contact with him and helped him escaped. It also seems that Cassidy trusts her enough to still trust Baptiste after fining out that they're in contact. Not only that but Sombra either already is, or is going to become Jack's informant on Talon information.

Talon's manipulation failed on Sombra so bad that she is now playing them like a fiddle.

#overwatch #overwatch 2 #overwatch lore #overwatch headcanons #analysis #ow reaper #overwatch reaper #gabriel reyes #ow widowmaker #widowmaker #amelie lacroix #overwatch baptiste #baptiste overwatch #jean baptiste augustin #sigma overwatch #ow sigma #doomfist #akane ogundimu #moira ow #moira o'deorain #moira overwatch

[mixelation]

just realizing now that obito killing the guy that cave-trapped tori RIGHT after she 1) broke up with itachi and 2) started dating him is a… a real bad look. it was all already a bad look for him to date her but in this context it looks EVEN WORSE. from the outside. this recently traumatized teenager… is now dating the guy who killed the person who hurt her? lmao. it looks. so bad. obito it LOOKS SO BAD. it looks like you traded safety for sex/dating obito!! it looks obsessive and controlling as hell, obito!!! to you and tori its a cute romantic gesture and to everyone else its SO DEEPLY A BAD LOOK. OBITO

obito did not even CONSIDER how bad it would look. like surely everyone KNOWS tori just uses people like this. "manipulate someone else to do her dirty work" is just tori's MO. obviously this was entirely her own prerogative?

kushina, foaming at the mouth: SHE"S SIXTEEN

obito: oh right

obito, a troll who loves pissing people off: have you considered it's her own fault-- (MURDERED)

#i feel like i should put a cw warning on some of these but idk what #if you're bothered by jokes like this maybe just block the entire au tag hfjdkfk #reborn au au: it's gotten sillier

[skribblezcorner]

Corset-Trained

HEY YALL!!! comes back after like 2 weeks and drops this. hgnhg small waist Sanji gives me brain worms (they do the same to Zoro trust) so have this fic about it!!1111!!!!! It's also up on my Ao3 if you wanna view it there!! okay buckle in children ~~~~~~~~~~~

Sanji loves dressing nice. 

Ever since he was old enough to fit in them, he’d never step foot outside without at least a dress shirt on. The constant dressing up was more of an insecurity problem than anything, when he was younger. 

Coming back from Momoiro, Sanji’s learned a lot more about himself than he anticipated - now he just wears suits ‘cause they look really good on him. Sanji has a nice figure. He knows he does. He keeps lean because of the way he fights, and the three-pieces he wears do wonders for showing off his legs. 

When he feels like it, he’ll even put on a corset underneath his button-down sometimes. he’s noticed that it’s gotten easier to put them on in the mornings the longer he wears them, and he doesn’t necessarily mind his waist getting smaller with time.

Looks like someone else noticed too.

~o0o~

For some context, It starts when his crew finally reunites.

Reuniting in Sabaody surrounded by the crewmates he’s missed for so long feels so rejuvenating. Everybody’s laughing, gossiping, and he feels home again, for the first time in two years. 

Everyone’s almost here, besides the marimo - lost in transit, Sanji guesses. Luffy’s already complaining about his empty stomach, whining for Sanji to make him something

Sanji prepares to kick the idiot in the head, when suddenly the ground shakes.

He looks over to the commotion, and finds two halves of a ship crashing into the shoreline. Unfortunately he has a lucky guess as to what - or rather, who - caused this.

“Shit,” Sanji mutters. Why is it always something with that algae-headed fool?

As it turns out, Sanji was right. upon returning to Sabaody (without his eye, might he add), Zoro had somehow arrived first and proceeded to get himself lost on a completely different ship. Instead of getting off and looking for his crew like a normal person, he cleaved the entire thing in two to ‘get to shore faster’. 

“It’s been two years, and you’re still as much of an idiot as the last time i saw you, marimo.” Sanji huffs, pulling said marimo by his ear towards the Sunny. 

On the contrary, Zoro has not said a word since Sanji picked him up from the ruins of the ship he destroyed. It’s a little concerning, considering all the pair really do is bicker when they’re together.

Sanji turns around briefly to examine the man he’s dragging behind him. “are you even paying attention to me, or has all the algae on your head clogged up your ears?”

Zoro stumbles over his words before he splutters something something about Sanji’s collar being wrinkly, which the other man knows is a lie (because he steamed his button down this morning…)

Even so, Sanji narrows his eyes at the green-haired idiot before feeling around the collar of his shirt just in case. “No it’s not, you idiot!” He hisses, and flicks Zoro on the side of the head, and they fall into their usual banter as they head back to the rest of the crew. 

Every time he looks back at Zoro to deliver a scathing remark, though, he swears something’s…off about the other. He leaves it be for the time being, hoping it’ll resolve itself.

~o0o~

It does not resolve itself, unfortunately for Sanji.

Everyone boards the Sunny joyfully, the ship exploding in laughter as they make their hasty escape from Sabaody. They settle back onto the ship in a matter of hours, and it’s like they never left.

A few days later, Sanji finishes up stocking up the galley’s storage room earlier than he expected, so he makes smoothies for the crew as a sort of welcome-back gift. He leaves his jacket in the galley because it’s pretty sunny where they are right now.

As he bustles around the ship and hands the drinks out to the crew, he feels a set of eyes boring into his back from the edge of the ship. It seems the marimo’s developed a staring problem - ironic, seeing(HA!) that the man is missing an eye.

When he comes around to deliver Zoro’s plain matcha, Zoro’s eyes are closed and he acts like he wasn’t staring a hole directly between Sanji’s shoulder blades the whole time the blond was on deck. Sanji pauses to study the other man for a moment, wondering if Zoro knows his fluttering eyelashes betray the fact that he’s awake.

“Hey. Hey, you lazy fuck!” Sanji kicks at Zoro’s shoulder, careful not to jostle the drink he has in his hand.

“ What? ” Zoro snaps, his eye snapping open.

Sanji crouches down to place the drink next to him, and levels Zoro with a suspicious glare; like trying to say ‘ you’re not slick ’, but telepathically. 

Zoro seems to realize what’s gong on, and instead of answering he takes an obnoxiously long (and fucking loud) sip as he stares the blonde down with a blank face. 

Blue stares into gray (were Zoro’s lashes always that long?) as Sanji tries to puzzle out what exactly is going on with the marimo. The longer he stares, the more he notices Zoro’s eyes creeping downwards, and the blush materializing on Zoro’s (and subsequently, his own) face, and Sanji looks away because what the fuck ? Is he? Doing that for?!

Sanji straightens up with a huff, trying to cover his embarrassment as he scuttles back to the galley.

When he looks outside the window after a few minutes of calming himself down, he sees the swordsman looking down at his hands, doing…something. He’s cupping both hands into a C-shape and putting them closer and farther apart like he’s gauging something.

What a fucking weirdo , Sanji thinks, and tries to preoccupy himself with something else in the galley.

~o0o~

It all comes to a head one night a week after.

Sanji’s washing dishes after dinner, the rest of the crew presumably settled down and tucked into bed. He’s frantically scrubbing ketchup crust off one of his favorite plates when he hears the door crack open.

“Luffy, you’re not-” Sanji turns around, expecting to defend the fridge with his life - and it’s not Luffy.

Instead, It’s Zoro, who hasn’t come into the galley to steal booze in like… a while. There goes Sanji’s hopes that he might’ve broken that habit.

“Oh,” Sanji says, while the other man stands awkwardly in the doorway. “You’re more welcome in here than he is, I guess.” He nods to the chair, gesturing for Zoro to sit as he turns back around to continue washing dishes.

Zoro sits, evident by the scraping of the chair. “Don’t go looking through my cabinets, marimo,” Sanji quips, “I’ll get you a bottle as soon as I’m done.”

Zoro grunts an affirmative from behind him, and Sanji finishes washing up the last few cups and shit before wiping his hands off and heading towards the wine cabinet.

Sanji feels Zoro’s eyes on him as he bends down to reach for a bottle of rum, and here’s where things start to spiral.

Sanji decides this is the perfect time to have a talk . So, he sets down two glasses on the table where Zoro is sitting, and fills each to the brim before slamming the bottle down derisively.

“Okay,” Sanji starts. “I know you’re a man of few words, or whatever, but you really gotta start talking. Now.”

Zoro snorts into his drink, setting it down before speaking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, like the smug shit he is.

“Yes you do.”

“Nope. I don’t.”

“You’re fucking insufferable, you know that?” Sanji gripes, taking a long sip from his glass. “Let me lay it out for you. You either tell me what’s going on, or, stop staring at me before i take out your other eye, asshole.”

Zoro stares resolutely at the table, picking up his glass of rum and mumbling something into the rim without making eye contact with the man across from him.

“What’s that, marimo?”

“I just wanted to see something,” the green-haired man says, a little louder this time.

“Well, if it was that simple, you could’ve just asked.” Sanji shrugs. “Stop being weird about it.”

Sanji hears something faintly like 'no, I couldn’t have' from the marimo before he sighs in resignation and gets up. “Cook, stand up.”

Sanji is confused. “What? Why?”

One of Zoro’s hands move to pinch the bridge of his nose. “This is me asking! Just…do it.”

Oh, so that’s where this is going. “Marimo, even without my shoes on, I’m still taller than you.”

“Okay, whatever, come closer.” Zoro says, still managing to look anywhere but Sanji’s eyes.

Sanji expects a hand at his forehead to, you know, measure height. Instead, Zoro does that weird C- shape he’s been doing with his hands all week, and Sanji feels a warmth around his midsection through the light blue dress shirt he has on.

Zoro’s staring with half-lidded eyes at something and Sanji follows his gaze lower, as they both look at the tan hands resting around his waist. 

Zoro’s thumbs touch - no, they overlap - where they rest above Sanji’s navel, and oh, oh .

The two stand there, stock still, in complete silence, and Sanji can't help the fast beating of his heart as his mind conjures up the image of those firm, calloused hands touching there without the stiff cotton in between -

The silence in the galley is broken by the drip of liquid, and Sanji belatedly realizes it’s coming from him as a splat of red falls onto Zoro’s hands.

“ Hoooo-ly shit, ” Zoro whispers, and, yeah, holy shit is right, because this has unlocked something in Sanji that he was very unprepared for.

Sanji snaps out of whatever fucking trance he was in and frantically tries to save his shirt, moving to get a paper towel from the counter (and mourning the loss of Zoro’s palms touching his waist). “Fuck, fuck! ” Sanji dabs at the stain on the front of his shirt, but to no avail. He settles for wiping his face clean instead.

When Sanji turns around to face him, The marimo is staring at him with wide eyes and the deepest flush Sanji thinks he’s ever had. “Okay, okay.” This is fine , Sanji thinks, and takes the opportunity to stride up to the table they were sitting at and down not only his rum, but Zoro’s as well. 

He coughs as the liquid goes down his throat, and he kind of regrets doing that, but he needs the courage (and the chance he won’t remember this tomorrow). 

“Cook-”

Sanji holds up a hand. “Don’t - don’t say anything.” Zoro falls silent.

He takes a deep breath in, collecting himself before he speaks.“Is that a thing? For you?.”

“Well, I mean-”

“Answer the goddamn question.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Zoro admits, his tone more confused than anything now.

“So,” Sanji calmly says, “Would you be open-”

“Are you propositioning me-” 

Yes. “I swear to god , Zoro.”

He seems to get the message, swallowing thickly before nodding once. Great.

“Good,” Sanji sighs, unbuttoning the two topmost buttons on his dress shirt. “Then, you mind doing that again?” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

errmmmmm i hate beta reading so there might be a buncha mistakes in here please lmk if you spot one!! anyway these two are my little meow meows i cant stop writing about them.

#ronoroa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #zosan #one piece #zosan brainrot #i cant stop thinking about them #zosan gives me brain worms #small waist sanji.... #WHY do you have a small waist. #FOR OTHER MEN (Zoro) TO GRAB>?????!??!?! #big hands #big hands zoro go brrrrr

[ravenalla]

“The hellhounds originated from Gluttony and Beelzebub created them that’s why she looks like that. She’s suppose to be like the animal tamer of Lucifer’s circus.”

Okay but like Viv, none of that is made clear in your actual show. People had to actively ask if she was suppose to be the one and only Beelzebub and now your relying on Twitter fans to make theories on why your characters look certain ways or are allowed to do certain things, people who don’t follow you on social media aren’t gonna know shit about how this world works. I like subtle world building and hints, and I think the ideas of Beelzebub representing an animal tamer is fun (even if wrath makes more sense to me), but when the rules of how the hierarchy system and rings work is already so confusing and relies entirely on you looking it up online it just looks like you wanted to make another random furry design. Why are hellhounds represented by gluttony? We were never shown an instance of this before and the episode doesn’t even say that they’re in the gluttony ring at the start (which is just another Earth with a yellow sky this time how creative).

I’m not saying I want the show to spoon feed us everything, but just a little context and set up in the actual show instead of random things just happening all the time with no explanation would be nice? Like yeah it might get explained more later on in Hazbin, but why then did you make this entire spin-off show come out first taking place in these other locations and with these demon lords if you weren’t gonna set the ground rules of your universe for the audience? That’s exactly what’s causing people online to scramble to come up with explanations for you about why you have discrepancies like Tex and Beelzebub not being a big deal but Stolas and Blitz are, your relying entirely on diehard fans to wave away your shitty writing and world-building cause you never take even a single moment in your show to have a character say anything that would clew us in on how it all works. There’s too much exposition in writing, and then there’s never giving any so you just have to make guesses or listen in on streams to figure out what society your characters are even suppose to be navigating.

Also for the “A bee/fly would have been unoriginal and ugly, she doesn’t have to follow the Bible lore” people, have you considered the fact it’s just a messy design? Like I don’t even hate it on it’s own, she looks really pretty in the fanart I’ve been seeing. But putting aside the fact she’s just a wolf/fox girl, she has so many unnecessary markings, her actual hair combined with the honey hair looks so unnatural and awkward, the bug traits don’t stand out, her outfit is basically only a slight redesign of Loona’s and as people have pointed out makes no sense on her chest with the supposed undershirt. You just can’t tell what your suppose to be looking at when you first see her, it’s just noise, which is fine for an oc, but this is an actual animated show where your suppose to be communicating something. The problem isn’t she’s not fat, I’m glad they didn’t do that for her in a show with everyone else skinny it would’ve read bad, it’s that she only stands out because they slapped bright colors neon colors onto her, nothing about this design is clever. It’s just pretty aesthetics, no substance.

Also I’m sorry, they could’ve made her entirely a bug and still have been hot, why are people assuming we are saying she should’ve been ugly when we say we wanted a more insect-like design? I’ve seen loads of gorgeous bug designs for Beelzebub, people aren’t disappointed cause she’s hot they’re disappointed cause it makes no sense.

#helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #long rant

[thatcrazypercyjacksonfan]

Now, I’m not sure if anyone in the TOA fandom has ever mentioned “Tongs A Lot, Dad”, a short story found in Camp Half-Blood confidential, but I strongly believe it adds (or perhaps reinforces) a lot when looked at with the additional context and characterisation the Trials of Apollo provides. 

An almost diary entry like addition in the short book, the story is told by Connor Stoll, following him and his brother as they poke around the old attic where the Oracle of Delphi remained for decades in the interest of scoring loot. At this they are semi successful, as they are made almost ridiculously vital to the canon plot of HoO with the find of celestial bronze tongs, which are inscribed with the instructions “for plucking the Tartarus Napkin from fire”. And if you are reading this post, you probably have a pretty good idea of why that’s important.

Now, what does this have to do with Apollo? Well, I find it highly probable that this was Apollo’s doing, for multiple reasons. 

1. The tongs were found in the oracle of Delphi's old abode, which is obviously Apollo’s domain, a place you would think he’d be very familiar with- the original place of the Oracle of Delphi was sacred ground, in fact, and even if that doesn’t quite translate to modern day... there is that theory about him being Camp Half Bloods Patron, pioneered by @tsarisfanfiction, I believe. Whatever hold the ancient laws have on the gods, I think we can somewhat assume that places such as these allow more wriggle room. 

 2. This notably happened basically simultaneously with Rachel becoming the Oracle, as seen here, “While everyone else was waiting to see if Rachel, the new Oracle, would survive....we made our move around to the back door of the Big House.” At this point, we’ve just wrapped up PJO. How would Apollo of known to set this up now? Well, we already know from Octavian in SoN that Apollo talked to him personally, and that their talk must of happened before Olympus closed, because he was stuck on Delos after. So if Apollo can put that into play, why not set up this? After all, Apollo is the god of prophecy - he could of understood it was needed. He obviously knew there was a threat. 

3. In the books (before ToA) we only see Apollo in Camp Half Blood twice- once to take Percy’s group and the hunters there in TTC, and once at the end of PJO to, as Conner so delightfully puts it, wait to see if Rachel would survive the Oracle. He was right there. And if that’s not enough for you, the reason Conner picks out the bag with the tongs? A “beam of golden light, shot upward from the floor” startles him. We find out later in another story that Apollo is directly confirmed to have been the one to do this- gifting Rachel the famous tripod stool of the Oracle. It fits almost to well.

“But!” You might say, protesting, “The title confirms who did it! I mean, it’s not like Apollo is Connor Stoll’s dad!” And to that I say- although the title does suggest that Hermes is responsible, it’s never confirmed, and more importantly- it’s in Connor’s POV. Why shouldn’t he assume it’s his dad? And why would he know otherwise? Perhaps you could make another connection with Hermes due to his shrine in Tartarus and point at that as his involvement, but wouldn’t it make more sense if Apollo knew it was a Child of Hermes who had to have the tongs, and acted accordingly? Afterall, last we saw Hermes he had a significant grudge against Annabeth, and more importantly has done nothing to suggest he’s capable of such foresight, especially at this point.

Now that I have (hopefully) convinced you of Apollo’s involvement, another titular question must be answered- why does it matter? What’s the ramifications of this? Well, considering that this napkin basically ends the civil war between the Greeks and the Romans... a lot, actually. Specifically, it allows Annabeth to communicate that reconciliation can be reached if Reyna, a Roman, returns the Athena Parthenos, an important Greek statue to the Greeks. (Also interesting to note she addresses this to Rachel, Apollo’s Oracle... another subtle connection). 

In ToA, Zeus punishes Apollo mainly for two stated reasons: Revealing the Prophecy to soon, which becomes pretty clear is not how prophecy works. And encouraging Octavian to declare war on the Greeks. But wait? If the Napkin succeeds due to Apollo, that means that he is trying to stop the war, which in my opinion follows more along with his characterisation in ToA. So what happened with Octavian? The fact of the matter is, people more clever then me have attempted to solve this question, such as @zazzander and @fearlessinger (Highly recommend this post if you are interested in the topic!) 

The tongs (and thus the potential for the Napkin) was put into place months before any true threat would be realised by most characters. So it wasn’t a frantic backpedal of trying to fix his mistakes to avoid punishment by Apollo. It was deliberate. Premeditated. Now, it could be that Apollo just knew the tongs would be needed, but not what for. Unfortunately, we don’t know how his powers work. But that’s boring. However, if you take the view that Apollo’s communication with Octavian was part of a larger strategy to reunite the camps... (again, see the linked post). Well. Funny thing, because that’s exactly what the Napkin facilitates. The two camps stop fighting because of this one, simple message, and the effect it had. They focus on the true enemy. Gaia.

What does this tell us then about Apollo, then?

Well...not much new, surprisingly. ToA does it’s job well. We know Apollo cares, deeply, about his kids and demigods as a whole. We know he often acts subtly, through quiet actions that he’ll never admit to. It’s maybe the final piece of evidence you could point to and say definitively that Zeus’s punishment was unjust, but we already knew that (although funnily enough, Zeus doesn’t- and even if he did, he’d probably just point to the violation of the interference laws and punish Apollo anyway.) What it does is add on to a very firm characterisation that ToA finalises, and showcases how once again Apollo is so much more then he first appears. 

#Did I focus way to much on a story of dubious canon? #Yes #Do I regret it? #No #Apollo meta #Apollo #ToA Apollo #Pjo Apollo #PJO #TOA #Trials of Apollo #lester papadopoulos #I have been meaning to do this for ages #I just think it's a really neat detail... but it just kept getting longer #Oh well #this meta is just me being insane for #roughly 1k words erbherf