#considering how the story has been going for the past decade I think I can predict who would win the war should we make it about the love

[tonicandjins]

learning languages | lee donghyuck

pairing: lee donghyuck | nct haechan x reader word count: 18.5k genre: university au, getting together, smut, fluff, angst summary: in which you're an exchange student and donghyuck teaches you the essential korean phrases you need, and eventually how to fall in love with him tag list: @smwhrinthehaze @byungbyungbaek @sundamariis @thiccfullsun @yesohhsehun @haechoshi @najmnluvr @liz-zo @heyitsconysstuff @magicastle @novawon @gaeulswrld author’s note: I’m so sorry it took so long, but here it is! I imagine conversations with everyone in Korean, except for Mark! 😊 I imagine the conversations with Mark in English. I also have 0 knowledge with the Korean language except from the common phrases every Kpop fan knows lol. So please bare with me and feel free to correct me! ^^ Please also consider tipping me if you want to! NCT Dream is coming to my country this April and I’d love to see them if I could :) TIP ME HERE.

날씨가 추워 (nalssiga chuwo) – the weather is cold

The rain is pouring when you arrive in Incheon. 

It’s not as harsh as it is where you come from, but the February breeze still makes you shiver and curse under your breath, and while you’re wallowing and pouting over the fact that your first day in South Korea is not going as well as you wanted, Mark is chirpy—a little too happy for your liking. 

Of course, Mark is happy. Your bitterness over the weather is not going to spoil his energy, the exact same one—maybe stronger—he has had over the past couple of weeks, counting down the days he’d be back in Seoul, finally. Mark has told you that it had been over a decade since he last visited South Korea, and the Student Exchange Program from your university had been the best opportunity for him to come back after so long, too long. The stupid smile on his face somehow makes you feel better, especially when he jumps from his seat when he sees his childhood friend walk towards your area. 

Renjun is handsome like the picture that Mark sent you a week before your flight to South Korea, but it feels a little unfair that he’s even more attractive in person. His voice sounds like honey and the corner of his eyes crinkle when he smiles as he approaches you and Mark. 

They jump into a tight, dramatic hug that makes a few other people in the waiting area look, but the boys don’t care. Mark lifts Renjun up from the ground, it’s almost embarrassing. The sight makes you feel warm. You wonder how Mark feels. 

It must be amazing, you think, to finally meet someone you’ve been longing to see. Mark had always expressed his yearning for the place—the people, the friends he always had to leave behind when visiting during summer—and it makes you wonder how it feels like to have friends and family away from you. 

Evidently, this is your first time to be away from home. You live (or used to at this point) in a dormitory, a two-minute walk to the campus, a good hour away from home, but you always went home whenever you craved for your mother’s dishes. You’ve never considered living away from home. Sure, you had plans to move out eventually, but not in a different time zone, not in an entirely different culture. Mark, on the other hand, is frequently moving around, dragging his suitcase from place to place, leaving people behind and promising he’d come back when he can.

Born in Canada, Mark had been to more places that you could count, but he has told you many times that nowhere else feels like home, like Seoul. He’s told you many stories of the time his family lived there for a few years before going back to Canada, of his annual visits in the summer, and of his devastation when life had caught up with him that he had to stop visiting when he turned eleven. 

You remember his voice, its tone and emotion, when he called you a couple of months ago, informing you of the exchange program that the university’s administration had posted on the students’ corner, and how fucking amazing it would be if you could sign up with him. 

“It would be a good addition to your credentials,” he had told you. “It’s not going to be for a long time, a semester at least. And we have the option to stay the whole academic year if we wanted to! Plus, I already know a lot of people there. We’ll be fine!”

“I don’t know, Mark,” you had answered, feigning hesitation, even when you knew deep down that Mark had already convinced you by the tone of his voice when he revealed the news. “I’ve never been that far away from home. Remember when we went camping in ninth grade? I cried. For three whole days. I’m not going to survive a semester. Besides, I know not a single Korean word.”

“Come on, Y/N,” he had begged. “Think about it. You’ll be with me the entire time. If we pass the screening, the program will sign us up for free Hangul lessons—though, let’s be honest, I don’t really need it.”

“Why do you have to bring me anyway?” you had asked out of curiosity.

“Because I know you’ll love it there,” he had answered. “Your obsession with studying culture and languages will be satisfied because there is no better way to learn a culture than experiencing the whole thing with your best friend!”

You remember humming in response, as if you’re thinking deeply about it. Mark sighed on the other line, his words making you laugh and finally agree. 

“The chances of Mom letting me go is bigger when I tell her you’re coming with me,” he had admitted. Mark, upon hearing your agreement to his proposal, began listing out the places he would take you. The phone call lasted for three more hours and it had seemed like Mark already had an entire plan in his head before he even asked you if you would go with him. 

Passing the program had been easy and so was acquiring your visa. What was truly the pain in the ass, you admit, is learning the damn language. You salute Mark for being able to speak Korean so fluently, but he’s shit at teaching you and you had to rely on the free lessons you had taken every weekend and your favorite language mentor, Lee Minho in Legend of the Blue Sea. Your Korean is awful. Your tongue is a little too short, too stiff, for said language, and the situation almost makes you back out of the entire program and ditch Mark. 

But here you are, still shit at Korean, but standing among hustling people and waiting for your best friend to wrap up the moment he’s sharing with his long-time friend. Renjun finally catches your eyes as you awkwardly watch them on the side, your backpack becoming heavier each second you’re standing on the airport tiles. He pulls away from Mark, smiling, beaming towards you and offers a handshake. 

“Hwang Renjun,” he introduces. You remember their last names go first here. “Nice to meet you.”

It almost startles you when he speaks English. Mark forgot to mention his friend is fluent, you think. 

You tell him your name, voice smaller than it usually is, and express your relief that he speaks English. 

“I’m originally not from here either,” he explains. “I’m Chinese. My family had to move here before I could even properly pronounce words for my Dad’s work. Went to an international school, where I met Mark back in second grade.”

So, he’s cute and multilingual. How unfair.

“And I’d love to chat longer,” he says, switching to Korean now, before you can even respond. “But Hyuck is waiting in his car. We could talk on our way to your dormitory. For now, let’s go. Hyuck hates waiting.”

“Hyuck drove? What happened to your car?” Mark asks, helping you with your luggage and pushing the cart himself. Renjun insists to carry your backpack, and he had already gently pulled it from your shoulder before you could refuse.

Mark and Renjun talk about Hyuck, both switching to speaking Korean now, on their way out of the arrival area and it doesn’t take long for them to spot their friend’s car outside. The rain had stopped pouring by the time you’re settling yourselves inside their friend’s car. The second you settle yourself on the leather seat, you sigh in relief. Traveling is a lot more exhausting than you had initially thought. 

Renjun sits on the passenger seat, right beside Hyuck, you assume, and Mark settles himself beside you.

“Mark Lee,” Hyuck greets, looking at Mark through the rearview mirror. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”

It takes you a second to understand what he said. It’s only then that you realize you really are in Korea. 

“Lee Donghyuck,” Mark responds in the same tone. “You’re real. I’m happy to see you in person and not just through Facetime. I want to hug you.”

“Am I better looking in person?” Hyuck teases. “Hug me when we’re at your dormitory. I’ll even kiss you on the lips if you want to.”

“Disgusting,” Mark grimaces. “By the way—” He turns his attention to you the same time Hyuck begins driving. “This is Y/N.”

Hyuck only smiles, nodding a little to you through the rearview mirror, brushing his brown hair using his fingers to fix it up. Renjun begins to ask how the flight was and Mark replies. All three boys strike up a conversation in Korean and it was all too much, too fast, for you to catch up and understand anything, so you stay quiet on your seat, leaning against the window, and begin to wonder how things will go for the entire spring semester you’ll be spending in this foreign city. 

Mark never told you that the drive from Incheon to Seoul is long, so far that you didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep.  When you arrive at the dormitory, it’s past six in the afternoon and Mark’s friends ask kindly if you want to go out for dinner. Politely and quite incoherently, you tell them that you’d like to stay. Mark insists on staying home with you and unpacking your belongings, but you urge him to go, spend some time with his friends and walk around. Mark hesitates, but agrees nonetheless, promising he will come back in an hour.

The place the program had picked for you and Mark is not that bad. It’s nothing like home, but it’s not bad. It makes you wonder how Mark does it. You remember not being able to sleep on the first few nights on your dormitory’s bed when you were a freshman. Mark had never told you if he’s had trouble adapting to places he’s been. Maybe you could ask him in the morning. 

The exhaustion hits you again upon entering one of the rooms. Room assignment is yet to be decided, but Mark wouldn’t mind if you sleep on one of the beds while he’s out. And so, you sleep. 

You don’t remember what you dream of. And Mark wakes you at seven in the morning, reminding you that you had to unpack and go grocery shopping. Momentarily, you forget where you are. It hits you the same way it does in his friend’s car. You’re in a different country. A different language. A different time zone. 

It doesn’t feel like home at all even though it’s cold. But you guess you’ll have to make it work. At least until the semester ends. 

약속해요 (yagsoghaeyo) – I promise

When Mark told you he knew a lot of people in Seoul, you should’ve known he was bluffing because he literally knew only seven people.

Mark Lee’s friends are warm and loud and somehow you feel out of place when they all decide to hangout where you and Mark are. It’s the first week of the semester, and you have completed all the orientation and tour you need; Mark, on the other hand, is still catching up with everyone.

By everyone, he meant Kevin Moon, a senior who is also Mark’s cousin’s long-distance boyfriend who happens to be studying in SNU too, Hwang Renjun from Natural Sciences, Lee Donghyuck from Music, Lee Jeno and Na Jaemin from Engineering and Architecture, Zhong Chenle from Humanities, and Park Jisung from Business Administration. Which is why every day, for the past five days, you’re at a place called Arcade, with Mark and two or three people from their group.

It turns out Huang Renjun and Na Jaemin were Mark’s friends from childhood, the others are friends by extension.

Huang Renjun, you understand why Mark is closest to him among all. He’s soft all over but sharp in the mouth. Renjun, you learn, likes to talk about life and likes to give people advice when they need it. He’s reserved with other people but is the complete opposite when he’s with his friends.

Lee Jeno is shy. He normally joins the group after his internship at a construction corporation in the outskirts of Seoul, which is why you haven’t really seen him much—only twice. You haven’t had that many conversations with him yet, but he’s kind enough to pass you the ketchup when he sees you staring at it from the end of the table.

Zhong Chenle and Park Jisung are best friends. There’s not a day that you have not seen either without the other, kind of reminds you of how you and Mark are. They join whenever one is available—two peas in a pod.

Na Jaemin is the closest with Lee Donghyuck. You see them talking in their bubble more frequently than the others. Jaemin is mysterious and a little cold—the complete opposite of Lee Donghyuck.

Lee Donghyuck, well, you’ve got a lot to say about him.

It isn’t necessarily an uncomfortable feeling, because Mark’s friends are kind enough to slow down when they talk to you and are quite protective of you, especially when a random stranger bravely comes up to you to introduce themselves. Lee Donghyuck, in particular, who’s as warm as the sun touching your skin at nine in the morning and whose voice is careful and assuring, ensures that you’re never out of place—even when you feel it all the time. From the day the semester started, there hasn’t been a day when Donghyuck isn’t hanging out with you and Mark at Arcade.

Mark normally picks you up from class because thank God your schedules are aligned to each other despite having different majors. The College of Social Sciences is quiet, unlike the building right beside you, College of Music, and Mark usually takes five minutes to find you, because you can’t trust yourself to walk around on your own—at least not yet. But today, Mark asked if you could meet Kevin first because his girlfriend had something for him from Canada.

“Hyungseo!” You hear someone call, making you look up from your phone to see Kevin walking towards you. He stops and turns around, a girl you’ve seen around the college of social sciences once or twice running towards him.

“Don’t forget to bring the laminated cards we need for Friday!” the lady shouts. Kevin gives her a thumbs up and turns back to you.

“Y/N, right?” he asks in English. You nod. He offers a hand. “I’m sorry we haven’t met personally yet. But I’m Kevin.”

“She called you Hyungseo, though,” you trail off, accepting the handshake anyway. “I’ve seen your pictures from Giselle’s phone, so I knew it was you.”

He laughs. “Hyungseo’s my Korean name. You should’ve packed her with you.”

You reach for your bag and hand him the box that’s been sitting in your backpack all day. “Here,” you say. “No plans on visiting sometime soon?”

Kevin sighs. “I wish I could,” he answers. “It’s not as easy as we thought.”

“You guys sound okay though,” you comment. “I mean, Giselle always sounds so happy when she talks about you back home.”

This makes Kevin smile. “Oh, she does?”

“Why would she think of getting you a gift all the way from home if she’s not?” you ask, biting your tongue as soon as the words come out. “Sorry, I shouldn’t ask.”

“Let’s talk about this over some soju when you find a dude you want to spend the rest of your life with here,” he jokes. “Thanks for bringing this. You and Mark have been so busy; he’s been declining all my invitations to hangout.”

You sigh, “Yeah. It’s only the first week and there are lot of things we had to do. I’ll ask him if we can hang out on the weekend?”

Kevin agrees and hands his phone to you, asking to put your number so he could call you. You do and tell him you’re grateful you could talk to someone in English aside from Mark and bid him goodbye when he leaves. You shoot Mark a text, telling him you’ll be waiting for him and that Kevin’s dropped by to get his gift from Giselle.

Hence, you wait outside, busying yourself with your phone, trying to avoid any interaction as much as you can, and you don’t notice Donghyuck standing beside you until he taps your shoulder and gives you a warm smile.

“Mark is running late,” he says slowly. “Let’s go to Arcade together.”

You smile at Donghyuck’s attempt to pronounce Arcade how you would and nod at him. He leads the way out of the building, his backpack on one shoulder, and asks you how your classes are so far.

“It’s okay,” you answer because it’s all you can think of. “Thank God my professor in Psychology speaks English.”

Donghyuck hums. “It must be difficult for you.”

“It is,” you confess.

Among everyone you have met so far, Donghyuck gives you the feeling of comfort; you’re not exactly the most outgoing person nor the least—you were in between. You were okay with that. And you were okay that Donghyuck is okay with that, too. He doesn’t push you to speak more (probably because he knows you most likely do not know how to say whatever you had in mind), but can be very persuasive when there’s a hint that you’re relaxed.

Lee Donghyuck is bold and charming and amiable like nobody you’ve ever known. Normally, or at least with how you’re used to, people are a little more reserved around people they just met. And culturally speaking, you didn’t expect Donghyuck to be so forward and already so comfortable hanging out with you, what more with having conversations like this.

“Don’t worry, though,” he assures. “You’ll be fine. You’re here for about six months, anyway. I promise it’ll be the best six months of your college years.”

He’s also bright like this—optimistic and kind and assuring. You’re glad Mark is friends with people like him, with Donghyuck.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you try to say, a phrase Mark taught you the other night. “Did I say that right?”

Donghyuck giggles, stopping and reaching up to ruffle your hair. “You’re absolutely adorable.”

“That, I am,” you joke back, more comfortable around him now.

“I promise,” he says. “It’ll be so good; you wouldn’t want to go back to Canada.”

한국말 잘 못해요 (hangugmal jal moshaeyo) – I don’t speak Korean well | 죽을래 (jug-eullae) – Do you want to die?

Donghyuck turns out to be a better teacher than Lee Minho and Mark Lee combined. He gifts you a small, pocket-friendly notebook, asking you to keep it for the rest of your stay, notably commenting that the material’s size will allow you to bring it everywhere you go. Hence, the tiny, brown faux leather notebook is safely tucked between your necessities inside your bag.

The first sentence he teaches you turns out to be the most essential: I don’t speak Korean well.

Donghyuck takes you to a café called 7 Days, an entirely different vibe compared to Arcade. You don’t question Donghyuck when he puts an arm on your shoulder as you walk together inside the café, but he asks you right away when he must have felt you stiffen from the touch: “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you answer quietly.

Donghyuck smiles warmly at you. “Here, have a look around and I’ll get you something to drink before we decide what we want to eat. I have the perfect drink for you!”

He goes before you could say anything. You look and realize that the café is not so bad. Its aesthetic is the complete opposite of what Arcade’s going for—cozy, serene, almost like a good place to study or sleep in, whatever you need to survive the day—and the Biscoff latte is bomb, you don’t think you can drink latte differently now.

Conversations with Donghyuck could, well, unfortunately, go only where your limit is. He’s fun and likes to tell a lot of stories, but it’s always interrupted with you asking what a word means and him pulling up his phone and have his translation app say it for you. He makes jokes that you regrettably do not understand, but Donghyuck doesn’t take it to the heart and only says: “By the end of the term, you’ll be saying these jokes to Mark Lee.”

Donghyuck excuses himself to go to the toilet about an hour later and allows you a few minutes by yourself, which you happily spend taking pictures of the interior of the café. You sigh when you realize you didn’t take a picture of the Biscoff latte when it was full and pretty. Someone taps you on the shoulder, and it could only be Donghyuck, so you turn with a smile.

“I forgot to take a picture of the drink—Oh.” It’s not Donghyuck. “I’m sorry, how can I help you?” you ask politely.

The man towers over you and he smiles warmly. Your cheeks flush when he does, because you probably mispronounce each syllable from that sentence. “I’m Sanha.”

You bow courteously, still have 0 idea why the man is talking to you.

“I don’t see you around often,” he says. “And I’m here, like, almost all the time unless I have a class. My dad owns the place. How do you like it so far?”

“It’s… okay,” you say. Sanha chuckles, and your face is hot you probably look like a red potato now. “I mean, not just okay, I just can’t find the words to—”

He takes Donghyuck’s seat. “I can teach you,” he offers. “We can meet up here, and—”

Donghyuck calls your name, voice firm and monotonous like never before. “It’s getting late. Mark texted me to take you home early because Chenle’s making dinner at your place.”

You look at Sanha apologetically, still unable to reply properly so you only say, “I’m sorry.”

Donghyuck doesn’t give you the chance to say anything more because he’s already helping you out of your seat, turning you around so you could start walking towards the door, pushing you until you’re out of the café.

You hear him sigh as you walk away from the café, arm around your shoulder like how you entered the place.

“Y/N, my sweet pea,” he softly says. “Please don’t to talk strangers.”

You shrug, “It’s not like I could just ignore him when he was already taking you space.”

He scoffs. “When strangers start talking to you and being all brave and upfront, you tell them: I don’t speak Korean well. Then just start hitting them with English words and exaggerate your accent. That’s how Mark Lee tries to avoid conversations with girls sometimes because he’s a loser and women make him nervous.”

“I don’t speak Korean well,” you repeat, slowly pronouncing each syllable.

“Where’s the notebook I asked you to bring everywhere?” Donghyuck asks. “Write that down.”

You nod and tell him you’d do it later. Donghyuck leads the way towards the stop just in time for the bus that’s about to leave. You and him hop in, taking the seats in the back, giggling when Donghyuck almost topples over as soon as the bus starts to move. He lets you sit by the window and starts telling you about how his sister always fights him to get the window seat and he’s never won so he naturally just gives people the said seat.

You’re nearby the next stop when you ask him: “Donghyuck, what if I tell people I don’t speak Korean well and they wouldn’t stop bothering me?”

Donghyuck looks nice in his brown, fluffy jacket, face bare, his eyeglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. He looks even nice whenever he smiles like this.

“Y/N, do you know how cute you are?” An answer you don’t expect. “You’re so cute when you ask questions like this. I want to put you in my pocket.”

“Donghyuck,” you sigh, expecting a serious answer.

He reaches up to pat your head. “You won’t have to worry because we won’t let you be on your own unless you ask us to stay away. Especially me. Not me. I’ll make sure to take care of you and Mark while the two of you are here.”

You nod, still not satisfied with the answer. The Sanha situation awhile ago makes you realize how helpless you’d be if you weren’t with Mark or any of his friends. Donghyuck probably notices your dissatisfaction when he feels like you’re sulking, which you definitely are, because he chuckles and pokes your cheek to get your attention again.

“If it makes you feel better,” he says. “You could always ask them if they want to die.”

“That’s mean!” you gasp.

“Or tell them to fuck off,” he shrugs.

“Donghyuck!”

“What?” he asks. “It’s not like I don’t hear you and Mark say ‘fuck you’ to each other every day.”

You laugh at that. “Saying it in Korean hits different.”

“Right!” Donghyuck agrees. “I’ve been telling people saying fuck you in Korean has more impact than in any other language. I can say the word fuck every day.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” you joke.

Donghyuck coos. “Oh, I’m so proud of you. You’re cracking jokes now.”

The bus halts at your stop, and Donghyuck helps you up by taking your hand the way he’s helping you learn the language. It’s only when you’ve reached the street to the apartment you share with Mark that you realized you’ve been holding hands all the way from the bus stop.

저 알러지 있어요 (jeo alleoji iss-eoyo) – I’m allergic

“Do you not understand what you just did, Mark Lee?” you ask in disbelief.

It’s only a month into your stay in Seoul, and Mark does the dumbest thing ever. Mark Lee comes home with a pet cat.

There were three rules for the spring semester, three very specific and very easy rules: one, to always text each other’s location as soon as you step foot outside of the apartment (which you and him are constantly compliant about; you love Mark Lee for that); two, to never skip a class unless you’re sick (you’re only here until July; Mark decided he’s not wasting a single day in Seoul, even if it means going to classes on time and by schedule without fail); and lastly, don’t keep things you won’t be able to take back home.

Mark had said that these rules are specifically for you because rule number one ensures your safety, rule number ensures you get the real Korean education experience, and rule number three apparently ensures you’re not leaving anything important at the airport when you leave—which now you think is bullshit. The rules are more for him than you, but you love Mark Lee, and it’s not like the cat isn’t cute.

“But, Y/N,” Mark pouts. “She kept on staring at me with these eyes when Renjun was busy comparing brands of dog treats. It was like her eyes were calling me, asking me to take her home!”

The calico cat is a baby; Mark said it’s not even five months old yet. It’s the last from seven siblings, the last one to be adopted (and you think Mark is only telling you this to convince you this is a good idea. She jumps out from Mark’s lap and goes to you, staring at you first before settling herself on your lap.

“She loves you already!” Mark comments.

You sigh. “Mark. You know we can’t take her home, right? We’re leaving in like, five months.”

“Which means I have five months to convince our friends to adopt her while I’m in Canada!” he answers enthusiastically, his eyes almost sparkling with the way he’s talking. “I couldn’t just leave her there. My heart wouldn’t allow me to leave without her!”

“Fine,” you give up. “Don’t cry on me on the plane back home when we leave her.”

Mark chuckles. “I think I should be more worried about you crying on the plane back home.”

Someone knocks on your door before you can ask what he means by that. It’s Mark who stands and welcome the person, and of course, it’s Donghyuck.

It’s Saturday. Saturday means Donghyuck comes and hangs out at your place because he no longer has to work in the university library on the weekends. He’d quit, saying his big mouth isn’t fit for the library, and had asked the school administration to reassign him to another facility. Part of his scholarship is to work at least 16 hours a week in one of the university’s facilities. He’s paid, of course, but Donghyuck says he’s not paid enough to keep his mouth shut for 16 hours a week. The admin asked for a week to figure out where he’d be assigned next, so he had this entire weekend all to himself, which, to how it looks like now, he’d decided to spend with you and Mark.

Mark lets Donghyuck in. The latter’s smile falters when he sees you; he only gives you a curt nod. And it’s not like you’re expecting Donghyuck to cuddle you on the couch, alright? It’s just that, you’ve known each other for a month now, and have hung out together a handful of times—just the two of you—and he called you yesterday telling you he’d come hangout with you and Mark for the weekend, even said something about teaching you to play Apex if you have the energy for it. And it’s not like he’s obligated to come sit beside you as soon as he enters your apartment, but you’re confused when he sits on the single couch far away from you, stance uncomfortable and his face looking like he’d rather be elsewhere.

Mark’s voice fades away when he asks Donghyuck what their plans are, to which Donghyuck answers: “I’m actually just here to say hi. I’m leaving in a bit.”

“No way,” Mark protests.

“Or we could go out?” Donghyuck offers.

“Uh-uh,” Mark refuses. “Y/N has been excited all morning to see you. You’re not going to disappoint her today.”

���I didn’t say anything—” You try to say, but couldn’t translate what you want to say quick enough. “Donghyuck obviously doesn’t want to be here.”

Over the course of a month living in Seoul, you and Donghyuck had grown closer more than anyone. It would be ridiculous to deny Donghyuck’s seemingly unceasing affection towards you, and in the same manner, it would be a lie if you’d say you’re not enjoying all the attention he’s been giving you. Above the flirty and friendly advances he makes (but never crossing the line), Donghyuck has grown to be a good friend. During the first couple of weeks, you would refer to him as Mark’s friend; it’s safe you say you’re friends with him now.

Donghyuck’s decided to pick you up from the college of Social Sciences, convincing Mark that his building is literally next to yours and that a ten-minute walk to Arcade with you is not going to hurt him—Mark’s been walking with you for many years anyway, he would mumble under his breath, close enough for you to hear but distant enough for you to understand what he truly means. Hence, with the growing friendship you have with him, you wonder what you had done this time.

“It’s not like that,” Donghyuck answers the question you had in mind, both hands raised in defense. You raise an eyebrow. “That.”

Donghyuck points at your lap, Mark’s unnamed cat sleeping soundly now. Oh.

“I’m allergic,” he explains. “I can’t be around one within like a five-meter radius otherwise, I would, like, you know, die.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Mark comments. “Are you really?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck confirms. “The allergens are getting to me. My throat is starting to close up. I have to leave now.”

This startles you and Mark, the latter quickly taking the calico cat from your lap and quickly taking it to his room. You reckon the cat’s allergens are all over you so you sit as far away as you can from Donghyuck.

“It’s fine,” he assures, but he already looks like he’s choking. “It’s not that serious. They usually just give me allergic rashes and kind of triggers my asthma. So, we’re good.”

“But you have a dog!” you remark. “You never told me you’re allergic to cats!”

He chuckles, “Well, you learn something every day.”

“There are some anti-histamine tablets from the cupboard,” you point out, still seated where you are. “I probably have allergens on my hands; please go get yourself one.”

Donghyuck does what he’s told, taking one and opening the fridge to get himself a bottle of water. You tell him you’re changing your clothes and ask him to wait up, offering to go out and have a meal with him instead.

Mark knocks on your door a couple of minutes later, finding you dressed up, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Donghyuck said he’d wait outside. You look nice.”

“I know I look nice,” you say as you go back to your vanity to throw whatever you’d need for the day in your small dumpling bag, including a box of Benadryl. “You’re not coming with us because you have cat all over you.”

Mark chuckles, leaning against the doorframe. “Donghyuck literally told me the same thing. He’s growing on you,”

You only hum in response, checking your bag for the last time before walking towards the door where Mark Lee is still leaning on, the same smirk playing on his lips still plastered.

“What?” you ask.

Mark doesn’t say anything, but he raises and shows you his right hand, sticking three fingers up.

먹었습니다 (meog-eossseubnida) - The meal was good.

Seoul National University’s library is as quiet as it can be; it’s almost scary how the only sounds you’d only hear are the faint sounds of pages being flipped and pens gliding on notepads, and the eerie echoes of the tension coming from students who are either cramming on an assignment or jumping from one subject to another in hopes of getting everything they read retained in their head.

Donghyuck used to tell you this is the exact reason why he didn’t like working at the library. It’s too quiet but too loud at the same time. You chuckle at the memory of him telling you anecdotes of his short-lived employment in the library and wonder how different it is being the soccer team’s laundry guy. He’s probably pouting all the way from the beginning of his shift until the end.

“Here,” Jung Sungchan disrupts your thoughts, keeping his voice as quiet as possible. “I found these, maybe it could help bridge the gap we’re struggling on.”

You and Sungchan are paired up for a two-week long assignment for one of your major subjects. The objective was to present a summarized and substantial report on the welfare state, and you think Sungchan must have tripped on all the bad luck in his life to have been paired up with someone who couldn’t speak Korean that well, because, well, the books they had are mostly in Korean. If speaking and understanding Korean is a struggle for you, reading the damn language is hell.

“This is a good thing,” Sungchan assures. “There are resources online that are mostly in English. We can combine everything we find and construct the report from there!”

You nod and hand over the book you’re reading before he arrived, explaining that you found a chapter that could be very helpful. The boy fires up his laptop and starts accessing the website your professor had recommended you to use.

Sat side by side, you and Sungchan study in silence, except for when he asks you to read an article for him and explain what it means. The session lasts for hours, thank God you and him didn’t have classes for the rest of the day, and within those hours of studying with Sungchan, you can’t help but notice the looks you were getting anytime someone passes by the two of you.

It’s no secret that Jung Sungchan is probably one of the most attractive men in the university. He’s tall and has skin that’s as clear as a day in summer, smile that could swoon a lot of people off their feet, broad shoulders that’s probably carrying the entire hockey team for this year’s season—and yes, it doesn’t help the fact that Jung Sungchan is the most popular jock at the moment, apparently for hard carrying the team to win last year’s trophy, ending Seoul National University’s 10-year drought and awakening the school’s love for sports back. And you think it’s quite unfair that people like him exist. Because you would expect that he’s an asshole who doesn’t care about his grades because he’s essentially SNU’s hero at the moment, but he’s not. Jung Sungchan, you learn, takes his degree in Social Sciences very seriously.

And it’s evident with the way his eyebrows are furrowed as he reads the tenth book he found from the shelves.

“I think this part makes more sense now,” he points out, leaning closer so he could show you the article he’s reading. “In residual regimes, welfare-seeking units are primarily family and market. On the other hand, in the institutional welfare regime, the function of providing welfare belongs directly to the state.”

“But countries with different social conditions and lifestyles should have differed in terms of welfare states,” you argue. “We have to consider that the development of industrialization and production growth could be very different from one country to another.”

Sungchan hums. “Good point. Perhaps we can find more of that from Wilensky and Lebaux’s work. Do you have the book over there?”

You nod and hand him the book. Just as Sungchan flips the book open, Mark occupies the seat across you.

“We’ve been calling you,” Mark whispers to you, then turning to look at Sungchan. “Hey, man. Mark. Y/N’s best friend.”

Sungchan gives him a polite nod before going back to the book. You raise an eyebrow at Mark and slip your phone from the pocket of your backpack and find all the missed calls from him, Renjun, and Donghyuck.

“My phone’s been on silent for like, I don’t know, four hours,” you tell him, slipping your phone back to your back. “And I texted you I’d be at the library.”

“Yeah, like four hours ago,” he answers. “I didn’t think you’d really stay here for four hours. Anyway—” Mark pulls out a lunch bag and slides it across the table. “Donghyuck made this for you. He figured you’d be hungry.”

It’s only then that it hit you. The last meal you had was that bagel you had for breakfast on the way to school, which you had seven or eight hours ago.

“My sweet Donghyuckie,” you coo, thankful for his thoughtfulness. “Thanks, Mark. Sungchan and I will share because we’ll be here until we finish at least the structure of the report.”

“It’s getting late though,” Mark points out.

Sungchan clears his throat. “I can drive you home.”

“Great!” Mark exclaims, which earns him multiple shushes from the other students studying. “Sorry. Great!” he says again, in a whisper this time.

Mark bids goodbye to you and offers a handshake to Sungchan, telling him he’ll see him often in the next two weeks or for as long as you and him are paired-up on your major subjects. Sungchan gives him one last assurance you’ll be home safe.

You ask Sungchan to take a break and open the lunch bag. Inside it are two bento boxes full of food, too much for one person, and you don’t take another minute to wait. Sungchan must have been hungry too, because he doesn’t refuse when you offer the other half of your meal to him.

You’re not really sure how much longer you and Sungchan stay in the library, but as soon as you’ve finalized the structure of the report and have agreed on assigned topics, he suggests that you and him go home and meet up again on Friday so you can start assembling the presentation. And as promised, Sungchan drives you home, glad when he realized your apartment is only ten minutes away from his.

It’s already ten in the evening when you reach home. Mark’s probably already sleeping, you think when you don’t see any light peaking from smallest of the small space between his door and the floor. It’s late anyway, and you don’t really have much energy to tell him about your day like you always do. In fact, you don’t even have the energy to shower anymore, and because you don’t like sleeping on your bed with your outside clothes, you opt to sleep on the couch tonight.

The last thing you do is shoot Donghyuck a text message: “The meal was good.”

삼각관계 (sam-gak-kwan-gae) – love triangle

Jung Sungchan invites you watch to one of his preliminary games the day after you completed the report with him. Mark teasingly tells you that you have boys wrapped around your finger not even two months living in Seoul. You deny the claims, of course, because Sungchan is nothing but a good friend and you don’t see him as anything more.

Donghyuck is the first person you think of when Sungchan gives you two spare tickets for the game, and you like to think that it’s only because you don’t want Mark teasing you and accusing you of romance all afternoon, and also because Donghyuck has a car and Mark is a shit navigator so you can’t trust him to commute with you from the university to the indoor arena where the game is being held.

SNU’s team wins, of course, and you proudly cheer for Sungchan, which earns you a side eye from Donghyuck. You shrug it off and pretend that you didn’t see.

“Can we go now?” Donghyuck asks, bored, when people start leaving the arena.

You shake your head. “Sungchan asked me to wait for him after the game.”

“You know that barbecue place I told you we’d go to?” Donghyuck reminds. “We can go there—“

Your phone rings. It’s Sungchan. Donghyuck sighs.

“Congratulations, nerd!” is the first thing you tell him. Sungchan thanks you, laughing from the other end of the call, and apologizes that he can no longer meet you because the team’s been hogging him the second they won the round.

“It’s fine,” you assure. “I’m with Donghyuck, anyway. I’ll see you at school?”

“No, no,” Sungchan answers. “There’s a small celebration party at Shotaro’s house. It’s a twenty to thirty-minute drive from your apartment. I’ll send you the location. Go there.”

Sungchan hangs up, and not even a second later, you receive a text from him, a location pinned on the message. You show the message and pout at Donghyuck, and he’s looking at you all bored, rolling his eyes, before nodding and taking your hand so you and him could leave the arena.

The drive to the place takes about an hour from the arena, and you spend it singing along to Michael Jackson’s songs.

“You have a really nice voice,” you comment. Donghyuck laughs.

“Baby,” he says. “I wouldn’t be pursuing a career in music if I had a shitty voice.”

The nickname gives you a flush, and you could only hope Donghyuck wouldn’t notice.

Almost two months into meeting Lee Donghyuck, you find yourself unable to keep your heartbeat down whenever he does things like this—calling you nicknames, randomly showing up in places where you are just to say hi, holding your hand, texting and calling you every day, spending his weekends and times off with you, and doing simple and domestic things for you—and your heart tells you it’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with a whirlwind romance in Seoul. Donghyuck doesn’t ever hesitate, and the fact that you’re holding back means you really like him. But the rational part of you says it’s not really a good idea to be in a situationship with someone who will most likely forget you as soon as you go back to Canada, and you can’t afford a heartache from miles away. Besides, Donghyuck probably isn’t that serious with whatever that’s going on.

Rumors say (by rumors, you mean Chenle and Jisung) that Donghyuck is the type of guy who dates one girl after another. Because he’s bold and charming and amiable and likes to expand his choices, and he finds that there’s nothing wrong with dating as long as he doesn’t date multiple women at the same time. You haven’t really seen him out on a date since you had met him. Rumor (Chenle) says that he’s been single since fall of last year and had committed to stay single this year because of the messy breakup and also because he’s on his last year of college, he’d need to focus on stepping up his game if he wants entertainment companies to fight over him as soon as he starts looking for agencies after graduation. Another rumor (Jisung) says he’s rejected many women who have tried to sleep with him since news broke that Lee Donghyuck is newly single. The rumor says he’s as popular as Jung Sungchan when it comes to women, which, if you’re being honest, gives you some kind of pedestal to walk hand-in-hand with him in the university grounds. You realize now that you get the same look from women when you’re with Donghyuck like the stares you got whenever you and Sungchan are stuck in the library for hours of studying.

The only difference is that, well, you like that people stare at you with a hint of jealousy whenever you’re with Donghyuck.

“Why haven’t you invited me to your gigs?” you ask before you could even think about it. “Sungchan’s only been friends with me for like three weeks and he already got me tickets to his game. You, on the other hand…”

The car halts to a slow stop, Donghyuck’s phone telling you that you’ve arrived at your location. Donghyuck doesn’t switch off the engine though. He chuckles licking his lips, then poking his tongue on his cheeks, fucking with your heart and hormones in the process. He keeps his hand on the steering wheel and turns to look at you, eyes hazed in attraction like he’s pulling you in.

“Baby,” he says in a whisper almost. “I don’t like love triangles.”

“Love… triangles?” you repeat.

“Love triangles,” he says in English. “I fucking hate it. And we’re not about to go through that trope in our love story here. So, let me make it clear before we go inside and before you even think about sticking to Sungchan all night.”

You gulp.

“There’s no Sungchan in the equation,” he states like a command and you find yourself nodding, agreeing. “It’s only you and me. Tonight, there will be a lot of people and none of them will be in the equation. Tonight, you’re sticking with me and we’ll talk about this tomorrow. Have fun with me and see if you want to take this to another level, because if you ask me, I’ve been dying to fucking kiss you since the semester began.”

This territory is new, and this Donghyuck is new, too. He’s always been affectionate and he’s never held back, but this new level of honesty is astonishing. Damn attractive if you’re being honest.

“Come here,” he says, ridding himself from his seatbelt. You do the same, leaning closer to him. Donghyuck holds your cheeks with both hands, smiling down at you before leaning in to kiss your forehead. “I’m not giving you mixed signals. This is me giving you a clear, direct sign that I like you and I like what we have, but I’d love to take another step. I’ve been thinking about it, and I don’t really want someone to enter the equation while I’m trying to woo you.”

You giggle. “You already successfully wooed the romance out of me the second you started holding my hand, Lee Donghyuck. And no, there won’t be love triangles.”

Donghyuck’s honesty fires up some courage in you, and you like the feeling of watching him falter when you lean in, hand on the back of his neck, and kiss him for the first time. The man melts in your kiss and in your touch, but doesn’t wait for another heartbeat to kiss you back. And despite of the bottled-up and eagerness from both sides, the first kiss is soft the first time, featherlike and sweet. His lips are even softer than they look and his lips already look plump as it is, and when Donghyuck licks your lips and invites himself in, God, he makes sure you taste the sweetness from his mouth and in a minute you’re addicted and you kiss and kiss and kiss, lips locking, tongue gliding, breaths gasping.

It’s him who pulls away, leaving you with dazed eyes wanting, wanting, wanting more.

Donghyuck gives you one last kiss on the forehead. “Let’s go.”

이렇게? (ireoke) – Like this?

You don’t end up seeing Sungchan at all in the party, and you don’t mind because Donghyuck keeps you glued to his side. The party is fun, but you and Donghyuck decide not to drink a single drop of alcohol. To him, it’s because he has to drive. To you, it’s because you want to be entirely sober to remember whatever happens tonight.

Donghyuck makes out with you in the corner of the living room where people are crumpled, and you like that he doesn’t care that people see. He holds you by the waist and on your neck, and you get it now. You get why women are lining up to sleep with Donghyuck, because if he can kiss like this, what else can he do with his mouth?

You shoot a message to Sungchan with a selfie of you and Donghyuck, thanking him for inviting you to the party and telling him you’ll see him on your next class together (Donghyucks suggests you send Sungchan a picture of you and him making out.) and prompt to leave. Donghyuck says goodbye to a few people he knew, holding you by the waist all the way from the house to where his car is parked.

Donghyuck drives you to his apartment and tells you he’s told Mark you’d be sleeping at his place tonight. The drive itself was intense enough and Donghyuck’s doing an amazing job keeping his cool while you’re practically sweating from the passenger’s seat.

You don’t even get a good look at his apartment when you arrive, because Donghyuck’s already kissing you as he rids himself of his jacket. Donghyuck doesn’t kiss you softly this time; he kisses you like he’s leaving a mark on your mouth, almost like he wants to bruise his presence inside you. He helps you get slip out of your jacket, pulling away quickly to kick his shoes off, before carrying you bridal style and bringing you to his room, kicking the door behind.

Despite the roughness of his kisses, he puts you to bed gently, ridding himself of his shirt and kneeling on the floor so he could help you out of your socks. He leans up once he’s done, one hand on your jaw to pull you down for another kiss, the other caressing your thigh.

“Please tell me this is okay,” he whispers. You nod. “I need your words, baby.”

“Yes, Donghyuck,” you answer, breathless when he starts kissing your neck. “This is okay. Please touch me.”

Donghyuck pushes you a little so half of your body is lying on his bed, your feet flat on his carpeted floor, tugging the loops of your jeans, urging you to lift your hips so he can rid you out of the material. He pulls you back up to take your shirt off from your torso, then he’s helping you back up from the edge of the bed towards the headboard as he crawls on top of you.

“Donghyuck,” you gasp when he goes back to kissing you. You realize that Donghyuck like kissing with the way he’s using his mouth to imprint his presence in you, his tongue licking everywhere it can reach inside your mouth, and he tastes like mint and the soda he had at the party, and he’s everything that you want. “Touch me, please.”

“Like this?” Donghyuck reaches down to rub your clit through the material of your underwear. He rubs slow, teasingly, and kisses you on the mouth when you groan. He dips his head lower and kisses your neck; he bites and nips and sucks and you’re sure it’s leaving a mark you’d have to conceal the next day. “Want me to touch you like this, baby?”

A moan elicits from your throat, and Donghyuck doesn’t waste any more time. He slips his warm hand between your skin and your underwear, really touching you, rubbing your clit gently, his digits dragging itself on your slit slowly, gathering your wetness then going back to rub your clit again, more roughly with the pool of wetness his fingers have now.

“Like this?” he asks again, pushing a finger inside when he finds your hole, urging another moan from your lips.

“Oh my God, Donghyuck,” you gasp when he fingers you gently, your wetness making a sound when he adds another finger. Donghyuck takes his time, biting his lips as he watches you writhe underneath his touch.

“Pull your bra down,” he breathes out, and you do. When your breasts are out on the open, Donghyuck doesn’t waste time and locks lips with your nipple, sucking and licking as he fingers the sanity out of you. He alternates from fingering you with two digits and rubbing you using his thumb, and you’re all putty and messy under him, and you want more, more, more, more.

“Baby, please fuck me,” you beg. “Please, Donghyuck. Please fuck me”

Donghyuck hushes you. “I will, baby. I’ll fuck you so well, you’ll come running back to me tomorrow and the day after, and the day after.”

But he doesn’t. He pulls his fingers out, hold you by your jaw so you could lock eyes while he licks the proof of your attraction to him from his fingers, sucking and showing you just how well he could use his tongue. He doesn’t fuck you get but he rids you of the last garments from your body and does the fucking impossible.

Donghyuck eats you out like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. He swirls his tongue on your clit as he pushes his digits back in your hole, fingering you like it’s all he’s ever wanted, and he’s got you chanting his name like a prayer when his tongue laps your sex, even more when he replaces his fingers with his tongue. You’re writhing and screaming and Donghyuck’s holding your legs apart while he pleasures you with his mouth and hands.

You don’t want to cum yet, but Donghyuck’s so, so good, and it looks like he’s not stopping anytime soon. He tongues you back to your clit and fingers you with three digits, fast and rough.

“Donghyuck, I’m going to—” You see white and stars and you stay still when Donghyuck continues fingering you, moving all three fingers in an upward motion, reaching where you want him the most, mouth sucking your clit as you ride the first orgasm you’ve had in months.

Donghyuck lets you have your moment when it’s done, taking the time to lick the slick wetness from his fingers down to his wrist, kneeling between your legs. You push yourself up so that you’re sitting with your legs wide open, your palms flat on his sheets, head tilted for a kiss. Donghyuck leans over and kisses you again, and you never thought you’d like tasting yourself in his tongue. You guess everything tastes sweeter when it’s in Donghyuck’s mouth.

“Off, please,” you murmur, pulling the loops from his jeans. Donghyuck obeys, removing all pieces of clothing until he’s naked.

You marvel at his beauty, licking your lips when you finally see him bare and clean. His golden skin looks like honey and you want to kiss the fuck out of his collarbones and leave your mark for everyone to see. Your eyes travel from his chest down to the trail from his tummy down to his erect cock. He’s hard and red and you salivate from how big he looks and feel yourself getting even more wet at the thought of him fucking you. Before you know it, you’re reaching out, moving so you could kneel, and taking his hardness in your hand. Donghyuck moans for the first time tonight, and you plan to elicit that sound from him all night.

Stroking him slowly, you feel a rush of satisfaction when Donghyuck pants your name. “Oh my God,” he moans when you bend over, a palm flat on his sheets, your other hand stroking him as you take him to your mouth. He gathers your hair and watches you from above, and you purposely stick your ass up higher when you feel him twitch as you take more of his cock into your mouth. When you’re about halfway, you stroke the rest of what you can’t take and start sucking and licking, and Donghyuck makes the absolute best sound ever. You like his voice when he sings, but you don’t think anything could compare with how he’s whining your name as you suck his dick thoroughly, licking and jerking off whatever your mouth couldn’t fit. A part of you wants to ask Donghyuck to fuck your mouth, bruise your throat with his dick and cum straight down your fucking stomach if he wants to, but that could be arranged next time. This time, with his dick hard and wet from your mouth, you want him to fuck you.

You suck him one last time before you pull away, a string of your saliva following when you look up at Donghyuck. “Now, will you fuck me?”

Donghyuck looks fucked out, eyes dazed with lust, and you want nothing more than for him to ruin you. And Donghyuck doesn’t need to be asked twice.

He crawls back up until you’re lying on your back, legs wide open for him, and kneels between your legs. “Ready and sure?” he asks for the last time, stroking himself.

“Pull out when you cum,” is all you say and Donghyuck goes for it. He gives you a kiss and rests one of his forearms beside your arm, massaging the head of his cock on your opening until he’s stretching you out.

“Fuck,” Donghyuck groans when he feels your tightness. “God damn, Y/N, when was the last time you got fucked?”

“I—I can’t remember,” you say. “None of them were worth remembering.”

“And me?” Donghyuck asks as he pushes deeper until he’s fully stretched you and his pelvis is leaning against your clit. “Will you remember me?”

“Ask me next time,” you breathe out. “I think you’ll have to fuck me every day so I can remember.”

Donghyuck gives you some time, kissing you softly. “When was the last time you fucked anyone?” you ask in return.

“I can’t remember,” he parrots. “None of them were worth remembering. All I know is that this is the first time I’m feeling someone raw.” Then he bottoms out, gives you only half a second before he’s thrusting back and out and back and out and back and out, slowly but surely fucking you well.

Donghyuck fucks you like he means it. His hips snap roughly but makes sure you feel all of him before he thrusts out and he’s everywhere. His tongue is in your mouth, then on your neck, his free hand is caressing one of your breasts, playing with your nipples, and he’s making you feel so, so good and you’re not sure how you go back from here. You’re not sure how you could go on with life knowing how well Donghyuck can fuck you. He’s got you squirming and reaching your second orgasm only minutes into fucking the life out of you.

When you’re close, Donghyuck pushes himself up so that he’s kneeling again, and lifts both your legs, resting your calves on either side of his shoulders, hugging your legs so he can fuck you deeper in this angle. The precision makes you chant his name over and over again and he takes one of his hands down to rub your clit. You try your best to hold back from cumming because the way he’s fucking you now feels so damn good that you want it to last for a long time. He thrusts in and out quickly, his balls hitting the bottom of your ass again and again.

“Come for me, baby,” he says. “Let go.”

So, you do, and Donghyuck keeps on fucking you through it. Donghyuck lets you finish, before he’s pushing the back of your knees down so your thighs are pressed up against your stomach, chasing his own orgasm, and fucks you hard, without rhythm, until he is moaning your name like praise and he’s pulling out so he could release on your stomach. You reach up to caress his cheek as you watch him in awe as he finishes, his face contorted in pleasure, lips wet and eyes closed.

When it’s done, Donghyuck kisses you on the forehead and helps you clean up. He leaves to go to the bathroom for a minute to grab a warm, wet towel, cleaning your stomach, and carries you back to the bathroom with him. The shower is warm, and Donghyuck is gentle and sweet when he cleans you up, giving you kisses when he pats you dry once he’s gotten rid of the shampoo and body wash from your hair and skin. Donghyuck tells you there’s a spare toothbrush on behind the mirror and washes himself as you brush your teeth, naked but warm.

Donghyuck tells you to that the right side of his closet is where you can find the clothes he uses at home and you follow as he finishes cleaning himself up. You take the liberty to take one of his shirts that are still too big for you despite Donghyuck’s frame and slip a pair of cotton shorts.

Donghyuck finds you half-asleep when he’s done showering; he sleeps shirtless, you reckon, because he crawls to bed only in sweatpants. He cuddles you from behind, kissing the clothed shoulder, and the last thing you hear before you drift off to sleep is him humming a song your mind can’t recognize and a promise that you’ll talk about this the next day.

You wake up to the smell of Spam, an empty space beside yours, and the sound of Donghyuck singing a song from BOL4, which you learned is one of his favorite musicians.

Donghyuck smiles warmly at you when you find him in the kitchen, just about to finish pan-frying the last piece of sliced luncheon meat. He’s still shirtless, but is wearing a cute pink apron, and he gives you a quick kiss on the lips like it’s the most natural thing ever. The second his lips pull away from yours, you reach up and touch where he kissed, lips tingling—in disbelief that what happened last night is real.

“Good morning,” he hums. “Just in time for breakfast.”

“Donghyuck,” you trail off. “Can we talk first?”

Donghyuck nods, offering that you sit on the high stool across the small kitchen island. He sits next to you, turning the seat so that you’re face to face, knees touching. “What do we want to do?” he asks.

“You know I’m leaving in like, four months, right?” you start.

Donghyuck whistles. “We just started and you’re already breaking up with me?”

“No, no,” you say, exhaling. “This… this. I like. You. I like.”

“Baby, construct your sentences properly,” he laughs.

“I like you,” you confess. “And I like this. I like holding your hands. And kissing you. And what we did last night. I’m just worried because—”

“Because you’re leaving,” he finishes for you. “I know, but I also like you a lot. More than you probably think. And I don’t want to miss my chance getting to know you more just because you’re leaving in a few months. I don’t know what you want, but here’s what I want, you let me know if it works for you, if not, then I’ll still be a friend. Who might cry for two weeks straight if you reject me.”

You laugh but urge him to continue.

“I want to date you, and get to know you even more. Your quirks, the things that make you angry, your comfort food, the movies that give you the ick,” he continues. “Your family, how you were raised, if you like Marvel or DC more, what Hogwarts house you belong to, if you like pineapple in pizza or not, whether you pour milk or cereal first, if you ever kissed Mark Lee, if Mark Lee’s ever had a crush on you.”

“What does Mark have—”

“Shh,” he stops. “It’s my turn. Talk later. Anyway, I want this—” he gestures the space between you and him. “And I want you. I want to keep teaching you the language and I know what’s ahead of us is scary, and there’s only two things that could happen: this is going to be either the biggest heartbreak of my life or you’re going to be the greatest love of my life. It’s a fifty-fifty chance, Y/N. Let’s just say I’m willing to risk whatever if it means I have 50% the chances of having you as the greatest love of my life.”

Oh. You don’t realize you’re staring quietly until Donghyuck holds your hand.

“Now tell me,” he asks slowly. “What do you want?”

You don’t hesitate. “I want you, Lee Donghyuck.”

일어날 수 있는 최악의 상황은 무엇입니까? il-eonal su issneun choeag-ui sanghwang-eun mueos-ibnikka? What’s the worst that could happen?

It doesn’t come out as a surprise to anyone when you and Donghyuck arrive at Arcade holding hands, a shy smile playing on your lips, a proud one in Donghyuck’s. You were thankful that there were no teasing remarks coming from your friends—that they were taking this so well, like it’s normal. Like it’s meant to happen anyway. There’s a knowing smirk on Mark’s stupid face, but you love him and you can’t wait to tell him all about how you feel towards Donghyuck. “Okay, so my birthday falls on a weekend,” Jeno announces. “And I think it’s the best time to go to the amusement park. Will you have work then, Renjun-ah?”

“Most likely,” Renjun answers, mouth full of food as he chews on a bite of pizza. “But I can have Yerim cover for me. I’ll just return the favor if she needs me one day.”

“Sweet!” Jeno exclaims. “So, it’s decided then. We’ll go to the amusement park on my birthday.”

As you and Donghyuck play footsie under the table, Mark stands, turning to you. “I’m going to get another milkshake. Come with me?”

You nod, kicking Donghyuck one last time and standing to follow your best friend. Somehow, you feel bad for not saying anything about your growing feelings for Donghyuck, considering that Mark is your best friend in the entire universe and you’re his. If it were him, he would’ve told you the second he caught feelings to anyone. But Mark knows you’re not the kind to admit feelings like this as soon as it starts inflating in your chest; he knows you’re the type to hold it in until you can’t anymore. Having had terrible relationships in the past, Mark has always known that you’re the kind to be careful.

“I didn’t think you’d actually go for it,” Mark says as soon as you and him are out of earshot. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy for you. I just didn’t expect this to happen so quickly.”

“Me neither,” you mumble under your breath. “Sorry for not saying anything.”

Mark chuckles. “You didn’t have to. I mean, we all kinda always known this would happen. I just couldn’t imagine how you and Donghyuck sealed it so quickly, like considering how shy and quiet you always were whenever he was around.”

“I was shy and quiet with everyone around,” you remark. “Donghyuck taught me all these slangs and now I can’t stop talking.”

The woman in the counter asks you what she can help you with when you reach her. Mark tells his order alongside some sides Renjun had asked him to get. He leans on the counter, turning back to you. “Anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re serious serious.” Mark clears his throat. “Like, I’ve known you for so long and you’ve always been hesitant to do shit. I’ve always been the spontaneous and reckless one between us, and you’re the careful one. The one who thinks everything through before deciding on it—this trip to Seoul included on the long list.”

“Your point is?” you ask, even though you know exactly where this is going.

Mark licks his lips before continuing: “What I’m saying is, you’ve never been this certain so quickly.”

That’s right. Not to be cliché or whatever, but this is normally how it goes for you. Relationships used to be difficult for you—from the pining to the confession to its climax to its end, until the bargaining and acceptance—and you’d never been the type to go through things so quickly and easily. With Donghyuck, you’d somehow done it backwards (and Mark doesn’t need to know that you slept with Donghyuck before you even sealed the damn relationship) but for some reason, you had forgotten how you’re supposed to act around people you like romantically. It scares the shit out of you, the connection between you and Donghyuck, but you’ve always been a firm believer that if it doesn’t scare you, it probably isn’t something worth doing. It feels like jumping from a cliff, to the bottom of the unknown, and it’s new, but it makes your heart pound like never before.

“I don’t want to get ahead and say something that’d make you change your mind somehow, because I also like you and Donghyuck together,” he explains when you only stare at him. “But, as your best friend, with the best intentions only, please don’t go breaking your heart before we leave, yeah?”

You nod, understanding and appreciating Mark’s sentiment. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Mark shrugs. “We won’t really know. Take care, yeah?”

You smile stepping closer to hug Mark. “I love you, you know that, right?” he asks. You nod, your face buried on his chest. “Good. I’ll beat Donghyuck’s ass if he hurts you in anyway.”

“I sure hope you do,” you reply, just in time for the staff to call Mark’s attention, the tray of his order ready for him.

Donghyuck is pouting when you return, asking why you and Mark took too long because the seat beside him is all cold now. You kiss him on the cheek and tell him Mark just told you he’s beating his ass if you’re hurt in anyway.

“Mark can’t hurt a fly,” Donghyuck remarks. “What makes you think he can hurt me, huh?”

Mark scoffs. “You’ll be the first.”

계절과 계절 사이 (gyejeolgwa gyejeol sai) – between seasons

When the seasons start to change—from the rainy, cold spring transition to a warm, sunny summer—you and Donghyuck change, too.

From the euphoric blooming of your relationship—the playful dates, the passionate moments in his bedroom (because ever since Mark adopted that cat, Donghyuck could never stay at your place for longer than an hour), the heart-warming feeling of seeing him waiting for your after your class—to the warm, comfortable attachment stage, you feel like you know Donghyuck in a deeper sense now.

The small notebook he’d given you at the beginning of the term is halfway full, its pages messily scribbled with phrase and sentences you had learned—likewise the memories those words carry—and soon enough you find yourself more comfortable with the language, and eventually with Seoul. You find yourself enjoying, and not in a way that makes you think you’d want to visit again soon.

The journey with Seoul was initially a play to learn the language and its beautiful culture: a detour. A diversion from your plans. A stop while you figure out what you want in life. Your last year in university is supposed to be the year you finally decide what to do next. Visiting Seoul was an opportunity for you to really get to know yourself beyond your comfort zone, to really challenge your capabilities, to learn beyond what your hometown had in store for you.

But these days do not feel like Seoul is a place to visit.

In a way, liberating albeit frightening, you find yourself thinking that perhaps Seoul is a place to build a home in. The home is built from arms that hold you on days when it’s extra cold, your nose red and hands frozen, and its shelter is made from Donghyuck’s warm smile and the assurance of him being there for you. And right now, while you sit closely together at the back of your friend’s car, their obnoxiously loud voices singing to some pop song along the radio, you feel it: home.

Jeno likes the phone case you had customized for him, and he gives you a big, bear hug as soon as he take a peek of what’s inside your present.

“I love you. I literally love you with all my being,” he dramatically says as he squishes you.

“That’s my girlfriend, you idiot,” Donghyuck complains, pulling Jeno’s arms away from you. With the way you three are seated at the back of Renjun’s car, you sitting in between them, it’s uncomfortable and Donghyuck insists on taking part of the little moment you’re having with Jeno.

Jeno whines, “Let me love her. This is the best gift ever!”

Donghyuck ends up puffing air out of his mouth, pouting and leaning back so Jeno could hug you. You’re laughing and Jeno whispers how easily they could make him sulk these days because you’re around.

Mark, who’s sitting on the passenger seat beside Renjun, announces you’ve arrived at the amusement park, just as Jaemin’s car halts to a slow stop behind you.

It’s the first time you’ve ever visited the famous amusement park in Seoul, and Mark looks excited with the way he’s jumping as you line up for the tickets. Donghyuck has his arm around you, taking pictures with his other hand. The rest are chattering, talking about the rides they’d love to try.

The secretly group decides to stick together for the entire day to celebrate Jeno’s day, despite the birthday boy himself telling everyone they can go wherever they want to. You could see how much they really care about one another and they all just hide it in their mean, vile jokes. For example, the man who has his arm wrapped around you likes teasing Jeno like it’s his full-time job, but is hiding a birthday present inside the trunk of Renjun’s car (and would most likely give it before you all head home, act like his best friend’s birthday isn’t that much of a big deal).

Most of the day is spent following Jeno around, whatever ride he wanted to try and your ears ringing because of how loud Donghyuck is screaming. The temperature has gone from freezing cold to warm, the humidity making it a little harder for everybody to move around under the warmth of the sun.

“I never realized how much of a scaredy cat you are, Donghyuckie,” you tease as soon as you walk out of the roller coaster ride. “Not much of a tough guy now, huh?”

Donghyuck whines, “I liked you better when the words you spoke were only yes and no.”

Mark laughs, slapping Donghyuck on the back. “Oh man, that was really good.”

“Yeah?” You rebut. “And I liked you better when you weren’t screaming like a kid.”

Donghyuck smirks, “And I like you better when you’re screaming my name.”

Renjun and Jisung cough in disgust, and Mark just straight up slapped the back of Donghyuck’s head. “You two are disgusting. I can’t believe I live with you, Y/N.”

Donghyuck laughs, turning to you. “It’s pretty hot. Want me to go grab you a can of soda? Ice cold water?”

“Water, please,” you say. Donghyuck nods and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before pulling Chenle with him and walking to the opposite side where a small shop is. In the meantime, the rest of you occupy the benches under a shade, Jeno asking which ride to go next.

Donghyuck and Chenle return in a matter of time, bottles of drinks in their hands. They give everyone their preferred drinks, Donghyuck sitting beside Mark and extending an arm so he could hand you your drink from his side.

“Fucking summer,” Donghyuck curses. “I hate summer.”

Renjun raises an eyebrow. “Suddenly?”

“It’s not even summer yet,” Jaemin points out. “What happened to you? You’ve always been so excited about summer.”

“It’s so hot. I can’t stand this fucking temperature,” Donghyuck mumbles.

Renjun scoffs. “You start planning our summer getaway as early as March.”

“It’s already April and you have nothing yet,” Jisung points out.

“Yeah, what the hell, man. I hate your ridiculous ideas, but we can’t survive summer without you,” Jeno adds, then looks at Mark. “Yo, Mark, what about you? What are you doing this summer?”

You and Mark freeze, looking at each other for a second, before the latter speaks for you both: “We’re, uh, we’re supposed to go home.”

It seems like Jeno didn’t know the weight of his question because he apologizes as soon as he realizes it. The group falls into silence, no one says anything, or perhaps nobody could think of anything to say, not even you or Mark.

With your days in Seoul numbered, you realize now that you haven’t really talked about it—not you and Mark, not you and Donghyuck—and it never really felt real. You had always told yourself you’ll cross the bridge when you get there, and the bridge is nearby.

Donghyuck clears his throat. ���The sun’s going to kill me. I think I saw a burger joint that has an air-conditioning system down the corner of that street. Shall we go there?”

Everybody agrees and stand to leave. Donghyuck holds your hand, pulling you close and steals a kiss on your cheek. The gesture makes your heart flutter. Donghyuck is warm, but not in the way the sun is hot right now—in a way that gets you thinking: can this warmth reach Vancouver?

Your skin hurts when the sunlight hits you. You hate summer.

 오해 하지마 (ohae hajima) – Don’t misunderstand

Donghyuck had a face that looked like what an artist would draw in a whim—spontaneously—like it was done in a rush, like a portrait from a park done by a street artist, something done with a pencil. Ink stains are harder to wash off, and anyway, figments aren’t mean to last—and he’s almost unrecognizable in this light.

You can’t recognize him on the night of his birthday.

His Mother had gone above and beyond and invited all of their closest relatives and family friends for his 23rd birthday, and it’s also your first time meeting them.

It’s nerve-wracking to say the least, but his Mother smiles at you kindly when she greets you from the entrance of the restaurant they rented for the evening. You could tell his family was wealthy, and it makes sense because Donghyuck got the most bare minimum job he could find, and it’s most likely because he doesn’t need to get one; he probably only got one so he could talk about work, too, just like the rest of his friends.

The birthday party is a surprise and it was Renjun who connected with everyone to make sure they attend here tonight. You had to make up some excuse to Donghyuck when he asked why you can’t join him for dinner with his family tonight and had promised to make it up to him the day after.

You’re sat in the same table as Mark, Renjun, Jeno, and Jaemin, a bit far away from Donghyuck’s family’s table, as you wait for the birthday boy, your present sitting on top of the round table. Mark talks about his cat, letting Jaemin watch snippets of his pet from his phone, and Renjun is narrating a story about his “ridiculous and absurd encounter with Liu Yangyang (and you and Jeno can’t pass up the opportunity to tease him about it).

Then, someone comes sit beside Jaemin, the boys gasping when they see her.

Karina is beautiful, and even saying that isn’t enough to describe the woman’s beauty. Soft-spoken and brilliant, Karina naturally allows everyone to gravitate towards her. All, including yourself, are pulled like magnet when she arrived. Jeno introduces you and you allow yourself to throw a quick and inaudible “hello” when she reaches over and asks you how you are.

Donghyuck’s Mother almost screams when she sees Karina, excitement filling up the air as she hugs her and thanks her for attending.

“I wouldn’t miss Hyuckie’s birthday for the world, eommoni,” Karina answers, and before you could ask Renjun how she’s related to Donghyuck, Jisung, who’s seated in another table with Donghyuck’s younger siblings, announces that the birthday man himself has arrived.

Donghyuck enters the hall, surprised and happy when he sees everyone, a dramatic cry leaving his lips as everyone greets him happy birthday. He feigns complaint, whining that he’s no longer eight years old, but hugs his parents anyway.

His parents thank everyone for joining a precious day and celebrating their eldest son’s birthday with them. Donghyuck bows and starts to go around to thank people.

You don’t recognize Donghyuck when he finally reaches your table and he gives you small smile, hugging you quickly before moving on to the next person. You don’t recognize Donghyuck when he goes to Karina, lifting her as he hugs her tightly, and thanking her for being able to come. You don’t recognize Donghyuck when his Mother joins the little reunion and he laughs when his Mother jokes about them missing each other too much.

“She’s the one who left me all alone here in Seoul,” Donghyuck pouts. “We wouldn’t have missed each other this much if you had stayed!”

“Don’t be such a drama queen, Hyuckie,” Karina says, rolling her eyes. “You visited me in Tokyo literally six months ago.”

Six months ago, which means, it was right before you arrived in Seoul.

You want to be anywhere else but here, and you don’t want to listen any further, but the scenario runs like a comedy show and the punch line is you.

“You two better decide whatever the hell you want to do with your lives by the end of the year,” Donghyuck’s Mother comments. “I mean, no one’s stopping you from moving to Tokyo, Donghyuck. You and Karina can rekindle whatever light was burnt last year. I’m glad you stayed best of friends despite the long distance. You’ve always made a great couple.”

Your breath hitches like your lungs had just been punch. Donghyuck, it seems, finally remembers you’re watching this unfold. Mark holds you, and bless him because your legs feel like they’re about to give up. You and Donghyuck make eye contact, but you don’t recognize him at all.

“Eomma,” Donghyuck clears his throat. Everything else he’s said come out like a blur, and Mark is just holding you close.

“Don’t misunderstand,” Renjun whispers closely. “They’re just friends.”

You don’t recognize Donghyuck when he watches you leave.

천천히 말씀해 주세요 (chun-chun-hee mal-sseum-heh ju-seh-yo)  - Please speak slowly | 집 (jib) - home

Karina turns out to be the one that got away. The one true love. The greatest love. The childhood best friend who’s always been there. The leading woman. She turns out to be the protagonist in Donghyuck’s story.

You learn all of these from Renjun. Even when he refused to say a single word and had begged for you to talk to Donghyuck instead, you learn the truth by asking Mark to ask Renjun.

Donghyuck and Karina. Karina and Donghyuck. Two peas in a pod. A tight knit. Knowing each other like the back of their hands. A buy one, get one kind of deal. Where one is, the other would follow. And everyone and their moms know that it has always been like that, will always be like that.

Donghyuck and Karina, born on the same year, grew up in the same small village in Jeju island. Having been inseparable since, they ended up moving to Seoul together in high school. Donghyuck’s parents were supportive of Donghyuck pursuing a career in music, and they believed that moving to Seoul was the first step for their beloved son to find his spotlight. Karina’s parents, however, couldn’t afford moving alongside the Lee family despite wanting to support their daughter, too. Donghyuck begged his parents to have Karina move in with them so her parents would only worry about paying her tuition and allowances. The Lee family agreed, of course, because Donghyuck and Karina were fifteen, and they were the best team the world has ever known.

Karina is a talented dancer, and with a face like hers, it would be a shame to keep her in a small town in Jeju island. Her moving to Seoul had been the first step to her early success, because as soon as she reached puberty and had gained a butt and a pair of breasts, agencies were scouting her, creepily waiting for her outside of hers and Donghyuck’s high school. She’d declined, of course, with a promise to Donghyuck that they’d go to stardom together, but Donghyuck wanted to study and make music, and he felt as though he needed to go to college for that.

Karina eventually moved to another dormitory when she started training. Donghyuck moved downtown to start college. They were in different places, but they were still inseparable.

Pretty much every day Donghyuck would meet up with Karina when she started training; if not, then he’d be on Facetime with her during the hours when she’s not working. He had brought her to SNU many times, and they had started dating by the time Donghyuck is in his second year. All the other guys know Karina and her place in Donghyuck’s life. Somehow, a bitter part of you feels betrayed that none of them ever mentioned about Donghyuck’s great love, but you can’t really blame them for not saying anything.

They broke up on the latter months of last year because Karina had to move to Tokyo. There was no big fight apparently, just the decision that it’s most likely not going to work because—listen to this; this is the biggest punch line of this comedy show—Donghyuck can’t handle long distance.

You had answered one of Donghyuck’s calls by mistake. He’s mad for some reason, perhaps angry of the fact that you’re ignoring him and he doesn’t have much control like he normally does.

“Y/N, for fuck’s sake, why haven’t you answered?” he had cried out as soon as you answered.

“I was busy,” was all you could come up with. You brain had not been working good enough to translate things to Korean.

“What do you mean you were busy?” he had asked, voice loud and angry. “You literally disappeared on me! On my fucking birthday! And I’m done playing nice and cool because this is unfair. Whatever the fuck you’re doing is unfair you’re not letting me in. If you could just let me explain, things—”

“Please speak slowly.”

“—would be easier for the two of us. Whatever Karina and I had, it’s been over since last year. It’s over way before I met you. I never thought of her, not even for a goddamn second since we got together. I wouldn’t fucking betray you like that—”

“I can’t understand you.”

“—and I can’t believe you don’t trust me enough to let me at least tell you what happened! I never mentioned her because I never even thought about her! My Mother doesn’t know anything! I’ve wanted you to meet my Mother for a long time, but given our situation, a fucking time bomb ticking, I didn’t know if it was too early to go to that stage.”

“Time bomb?” you had asked, repeating the syllables slowly. “What’s that?”

Donghyuck sighed on the other line. “The thing that explodes at a predetermined time.”

“Oh, a time bomb,” you asked in English, chuckling. “That, we are.”

“Huh?”

“We’re a fucking time bomb,” you said, again in English, because if Donghyuck could keep talking in his mother tongue without considering if you’d understand a single word, so could you. “We’re ticking and we’re just waiting for this shit to explode. And I can’t wait and watch myself burn, Donghyuck. I can’t.”

“Please speak slowly,” he pleaded in Korean. You don’t.

“This isn’t going to work,” you responded, still in your mother tongue. “Maybe this is a clear sign for us, Donghyuck. Goodbye.”

Mark finds you crying on floor of your living, your back leaning on the feet of the couch, two weeks after Donghyuck’s birthday.

The first week, you had convinced your friends you were fine and that you just needed time. Donghyuck’s been reaching out to everybody, and Mark, being the best friend he is, lies regarding your whereabouts every time Donghyuck visits.

You don’t know how many calls Donghyuck had tried to make and how many text messages he’d left because you had completely abandoned your phone for the last couple of weeks and only relied on your computer to check any e-mails from your professors.

“I’m sorry,” Mark says, and you feel a rush of relief when he talks to you in English. You’ve had enough of Korean and Korean men these days. “It sucks, man. I don’t even know what to say. I’m so fucking disappointed with Donghyuck.”

“Shouldn’t you be more disappointed with me?” you sniffle. “I should have listened to you. We were moving too fast.”

Mark shakes his head, pulling you closer so that your head is resting on his shoulder. “I couldn’t blame you. Donghyuck’s charming, and I genuinely thought he was in love with you. I mean, I could say is, because I really think he’s sorry about everything.”

“We didn’t even get to properly break up,” you cry. “Our flight back home is in like, two weeks. I was supposed to talk to him and decide what we’d do with our relationship. For his birthday, I made a stupid mixtape that he could keep in his car and a very expensive and fucking cheesy set of touch lamps I found online for whenever he would miss me. And I keep making stupid letters like a fucking idiot so I could leave him with a bunch of poorly constructed letters just so he knows how much I’ll fucking miss him.”

Mark stays silent as you sob your heart out.

“And can you believe I actually thought it’d work?” you say, exasperated. “I’m so fucking sorry to myself. I’m just glad it’s over before I did shit I’d regret later on.””

“Shit like?” Mark asks.

You sigh, sniffling and screaming internally because the tears would stop. “I was already looking into internships here. For my last semester in college. I had already decided to decline the internship they were offering back home—thank God I haven’t sent that e-mail from my drafts—and I’ve found really good companies here. And if I’m lucky, I was thinking of moving here after college.”

Mark clicks his tongue. “All because of Donghyuck?”

“Because he feels like home, Mark,” you reason out. “He’s warm, and I can’t believe I’m admitting this now, but I love him. I love him so fucking much.”

“Oh, Y/N.”

“And we would have been happy. I would’ve done everything I could,” you confess. “And this fucking language barrier will be the death of me, but I would’ve learned more. I’d be an expert by the end of the year. And now, this whole Karina thing made me realize how much more I need to know about him.”

Mark holds you closer as though holding you would make things better. “When we were kids,” he starts. “Whenever I told you stories about how much I miss all the people I had to leave behind whenever we had to move from one country to another, one state to another, you’d always tell me to never build houses out of people.”

You remember. You always admired how Mark could move from one place to another, his suitcase and the ghost of the friendships he made following his trail, and he’s always told you about the loneliness it comes with.

“You used to tell me shelters aren’t supposed to be made of arms wrapped around you on a cold night, or hands that hold you when you’re feeling lonely,” he continues. “And I can’t blame you, because humans are known not to follow their own advice. But I hope you find home in things you’d never lose.”

You nod. “I’m sorry for breaking rule number three.”

“You’ll get over him,” he assures. “If you decide to really end things here, I mean. I’m sure you can get over him. It’s easier to get over people when you don’t see him.”

You nod, “Let’s go home, Mark.”

“Back home?”

You smile. “Yes. Back home.”

갈망 (galmang) - longing

It’s Giselle who picks you up from the airport.

You reunite like old friends, but Giselle really didn’t change that much. Even the weather didn’t change much. The same old. You wish you could say the same to yourself.

The flight to Vancouver was the most painful ten hours of your life, both literally and figuratively. It was hard watching your friends bid you goodbye, and you could tell they were dreading your departure as much as you and Mark were. Mark assures them you and him would save up to visit them again this year and as much as you’d wanted to stay, your student visa would allow you only six months. Mark promises he’d work on a tourist visa or whatever because despite being 100% ethnically Korean, but legally, he can’t just visit whenever he wants.

The pain from your breakup with Donghyuck is nothing compared to seeing Mark leave his friends again. You know how much they mean to him, and by extension, how much they mean to you regardless of what happened before your departure.

The head of student exchange program sends you warm greetings through text, followed by a series of messages from your friends and family. You’re glad Giselle had decided to pick you up from the airport, because you don’t think you’re in a good state to pretend like you’re okay, and Giselle knows.

Of course, she knows.

Giselle’s been your anchor during your last weeks in Seoul. Mark reckons that if anyone would understand you best during this time, it would be Giselle. After all, she’d gone through the same thing.

Like Mark, Giselle moved to Seoul with her parents for a few years. She had a similar experience with Mark, considering that her parents are constantly moving around—from Japan to South Korea then to Vancouver. Giselle was only in Seoul for two years before her parents moved back to Vancouver again, and in between those years she had met Kevin Moon, the love of her life.

They have been dating for almost four years now, two of those years, they dated long distance.

“How’d you make it work?” you had asked Giselle over Facetime once.

“It wasn’t perfect,” she admitted. “We broke up a couple of time because it was really difficult. And neither of us were willing to move for each other. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Kevin and I, we love each other. Truly we do. But I wouldn’t want to plant my entire life in Seoul for him. In the same manner, I don’t want him to move from Seoul to Vancouver for me when we both know for a fact that he’d be more successful in Korea than here. I guess, I don’t know, I don’t have an advice I could give you.”

“I’m not asking for advice,” you denied. “I mean. Donghyuck and I have only been dating for like, two weeks. I wouldn’t think that far at this time.”

Giselle had laughed at the other end of the line. “Let me tell you one thing, though.”

“Mhm.”

“It’s all a matter of choice,” she had said slowly, like she wanted to imprint the words to your brain. “Your heart isn’t made of diamonds. Your lungs aren’t made of steel. Somehow, inevitably, you’d grow tired—tired of timezones and how you never get the timing right, tired of not having someone to hug when you need it, tired of having to compromise—and it’s not an easy game.”

Giselle was smiling when she’d said the rest: “But Kevin is so worth it. I’ll grow tired of the baggage long distance comes with, but I don’t think I could live without him, you know? And it’s exaggerated, I know, and neither of us know what the future holds, but we’re choosing us. We chose to stay.”

It would have been beautiful, you think, if things worked out between you and Donghyuck. You would have written poems and prose in places about how you chose to stay. You would have learned about time zones and the best time to call, could have learned how to purchase the cheapest flight tickets to see each other, would have learned love and compromise together.

But you’re here, back in Vancouver, the voices of Mark and Giselle all blurred out from the backseat, and all you could think of is how much you miss Donghyuck.

예기치 않은 (yegichi anh-eun) - unexpected

The head of the student exchange program asks you to write an article about your experience in Seoul and gives you until the fall semester begins, just in time for the university’s own publishing house to produce this year’s school paper. You’re stuck at two hundred words and a stupid title Mark came up with: “Learning Languages”—and you’re thinking about withdrawing from that spot in the newspaper but Mark keeps calling you a heartbroken loser and you’re not about to let Mark Lee get the last word.

You’re eating cereal and watching an episode of Suits to prepare to write again (yes, a 30-minute preparation time is needed for such task) when someone knocks at your door.

You know how, in movies, the main character would see things in slow motion as soon as the love of their life enters the scene? That’s exactly what happens when you open the door and find Lee Donghyuck standing outside your dorm room, a too-large for his body backpack on one shoulder and his heart upon his sleeve.

미안해 (mianhae) – I’m sorry | 사랑해 (saranghae) – I love you

“I’m sorry,” are the first words that Lee Donghyuck comes up with, and truthfully are the words you needed to hear from him. He says it in his mother tongue and you feel his heart in his voice.

“Mark?” you ask, knowing full well it’s Mark who helped him.

“Yes but no,” he answers. “He said he’d only give me your address but he’s not picking me up or helping me. My flight landed literally six hours ago and I’ve been looking for you since.”

Donghyuck sits across you on the small table you own inside your small room. His backpack is sitting on his feet and his shoulders are slumped. Donghyuck allows himself to look small compared to all the times you were with him.

“Y-you look good,” he comments, eyes glued on you. “I’m glad you’re healthy, at least.”

“You, too,” you mumble. “Tea? Coffee?”

“Water would be fine, please and thank you.” You reach over to hand him a bottle. “And who are you kidding? I look awful.”

He does. He looks exactly what he said he had done to get here. Look for you for six hours after a ten-hour flight from Incheon. Donghyuck downs the bottle of water. Poor guy probably hasn’t eaten.

“Why are you here, Donghyuck?” you ask as soon as he’s done drinking.

Donghyuck clears his throat. “I don’t really know what I want out of this trip.”

You keep your arms crossed over your chest.

“And I’m not about to beg you to take me back,” he continues. “I just wanted to explain. I just want you to know what happened. I can live without you, but I can’t live with you thinking I had betrayed you.”

“Donghyuck, there’s really no need to explain. Renjun has told Mark all I needed to know.”

“No, let me say it please. I spent a fortune to come here, and I’m going to make you listen if it’s the last thing I’d do. After this, I’ll leave. I have a ticket back home tomorrow, and I’ll leave.”

Ridiculous. Who would spend a fortune on a set of roundtrip tickets only to leave a day after? Of course, only Lee Donghyuck.

“Karina and I go way back,” he says. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. And she’s not someone I could just get rid of just because our relationship didn’t work out. We’re better off as friends, and that’s a fact we had come to learn when we tried dating. And it was painful, but I couldn’t lose her just because we didn’t know how to date, how to play boyfriend and girlfriend to each other. That’s the first thing I need you to understand.”

“Like I don’t know that already?” you remark sarcastically.

“Karina is a part of me.” Shit’s painful.

“But now like how you are a part of me.”

Oh.

“She’s my best friend, almost like a sister now, and my parents care about her,” he continues. “It was a mistake that we even tried to date just so we could relate to everyone dating everybody. It almost ruined us, and Karina and I, we can’t afford to lose each other just because of that. The person who I am now, part of it is because of Karina. But Y/N, the person I’m about to become, I want it to be because of you.”

He clears his throat again. You look at the bottle of water he finished drinking because you really can’t look at Donghyuck now. Not when he’s vulnerable and out in the open. Not when he’s exactly the way he was when you fell in love with him.

“And I had plans. For the long run,” he says like a promise. “I had started looking up how to get a tourist visa to Canada and how to get you a tourist visa to Korea. I’ve been saving all my allowances and the money I’ve been earning from work so I could book a ticket to Vancouver for the summer and spend it with you. And I was supposed to tell Mom, but I haven’t had the chance yet—that one I have no excuse for. But the timing was off and she met you before I could tell her. She had no idea and she’s genuinely sorry she made it seem like she wanted me to end up with Karina. If she had known I was already in love with someone else, she wouldn’t have said that in front of you. She would have loved you.”

Donghyuck pauses. You look up to see him wiping his tears from his cheeks. “And I’m sorry that the timing didn’t go well for us, but I promise you I had plans. I just didn’t want to spend the rest of your weeks in Seoul thinking about you being gone as soon as the semester is over. I wanted to seize the moments with you and make you—I wanted to make you feel that I love you.”

Your breath hitches. Donghyuck locks eyes with you.

“I love you. I love you and I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t,” he confesses, bursting into tears and you do, too. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t try hard enough to make you stay. I’m so sorry that I talked to fast that time I finally got you to answer my call; I should’ve explained more calmly. I’m so sorry that we’re here, in Vancouver, hearts broken. But I love you, and I wish I could say all of these in English if that’s what would make you believe it’s real and it’s true.”

But he doesn’t have to.

“I love you,” you say in your mother tongue before switching to Korean. “I love you. And I know you love me. And I’m so sorry for jumping to conclusions and not trying hard enough. Just like you, I had plans to. For the long run. And I can live without you, too, but I can’t live without you knowing how much I love you.”

Donghyuck giggles through his tears and reaches out both hands to wipe off yours. “Let’s not live without each other.”

It’s him to moves, standing a little, so he could kiss you.

The kiss says everything the language barrier can’t. I love you. I missed you. I’m sorry. This is everything I’ve ever wanted. You are everything I’ve ever wanted.

Donghyuck spends the night tracing your body with his mouth like he’s writing a love song and he needs to taste you first before he could write the first melody. You spend the night underneath Donghyuck’s love, whispering his name like praise, taking, taking, taking everything he’s giving you.

You wake up to arms around you and the love of your life kissing the back of your neck. You and him spend the entire day (or at least, the seven hours he had until he had to take the flight back home) talking about your plans and making a list of thing you have to talk about over the phone, but today, you’re taking him out on a date under the warm, sunny skies of Vancouver.

And you do. You and Donghyuck have the best day ever together. Donghyuck gives you the other pair of the touch lamp you’d given to him as a birthday present—you’d forgotten you left it when you ran off; you were supposed to watch him open it so you could show him how it works—and makes you promise to touch the lamp whenever you missed him. He thanks you for the mixtape and confesses he cries whenever he plays it inside his car. He also gives you your small notebook of learning languages back (because you had dramatically left it to Renjun before you boarded the plane), saying you’d need it again.

Mark refused to come because he wants you and Donghyuck to talk and spend the day creating a game plan to make your relationship work. At the end of the hours you had with him, you don’t come up with a solid game plan.

Because Giselle was right, after all, it all comes down to the choices you make. There was no formula on how a long-distance relationship would work. Neither you nor Donghyuck had survived one, but you knew one thing:

Today, you and Donghyuck choose each other.

It’s only the beginning, it seems.

The sun is out and bright when Donghyuck boards the plane.

It’s a lot warmer than the rest of the year, but you don’t really mind.

#nct fanfiction #haechan smut #haechan fluff #haechan fic #haechan au #haechan scenarios #nct dream #lee haechan #lee donghyuck #donghyuck x reader #donghyuck fix #donghyuck fic #donghyuck smut #donghyuck angst #haechan x reader #faye's moving castle

[fairuzfan]

I don’t ask this expecting you have THE answer or that there is one, but I follow a non Palestinian white man on insta (in addition to many Palestinian folks in diaspora and in Palestine) who mostly shares things from Palestinian ppl/sources.

He has several times criticized / shared criticism of charity dinners, music festivals etc raising funds for Gaza with the perspective of, it’s not appropriate to have a dance party or dinner while people are undergoing genocide, but also that in this moment, art isn’t resistance because there needs to be physical resistance, blockades of weapons, etc.

I’ve seen this echoed from some others especially critiquing white folks trying to claim “joy is resistance” right now, which makes sense to me, but i also wonder if it’s reductive to say art or music is not resistance because I feel like it can have a lot of power especially alongside social movements… was wondering if you had thoughts on this or perhaps knew where I could look to learn more.

Please ignore if this is too much, and thank you

I think things like writing and illustration and music feeds into the spirit of revolution and is necessary in that way. You have to energize the masses somehow, and to ensure that your message spreads as far as possible. A good way is to make art, or to sing a song, or write a story.

That's why Wisam Rafeedi wrote his book and different resistance factions make posters and videos — to spread their ideas and garner support among the masses.

It's not as important as putting yourself in immediate physical danger to incapacitate the colonial entity — but I think for Palestinians and other colonized peoples, they do need to make art to really process their thoughts. Of course there's a difference when a Palestinian in Palestine, a Palestinian in the diaspora, a nonPalestinian ally of color, and a NonPalestinian white ally do this. I won't deny that there's a nuance when it comes to this.

But writers who write about Palestinian Liberation historically have been assassinated because of how they participate in liberation actions and also spread ideas of liberation themselves. I don't know which white guy you're talking about but I feel like this is mostly a conversation that should be led by Palestinians if we're talking about Palestine because they understand the nuance of saying statements like "the only resistance is physical." I understand what he's saying to an extent but that does erase a lot of Palestinian resistance the past few decades by making sweeping statements like "art is not resistance" and kind of simplifies the issue at hand.

Charity dinners and galas and that stuff... I don't know what I think about them, I think that people are going to do it either way so my opinion doesn't really matter. Hey, if you're going to raise thousands of dollars for Palestine, I'm not going to stop you at all. I personally think you should try to avoid posting pictures and stuff like that from the gala itself if you're going to host one just out of courtesy.

I guess overall what I'm trying to say, art resistance becomes physical a lot of the time. I think its really reductive to say "art isn't resistance" and also personally insulting considering I have family members and friends who were journalists, creative writers, and artists and killed/targeted for their work.

Here's this article by Fargo Tbahkhi about the role of writing during a genocide that might be a good read. They also mention how Israeli propaganda (calling Palestinians "human animals"/"Amalek" as an example) is specifically a use of culture and writing to energize people to commit genocide. An especially poignant part that I completely agree with, and am trying to get at:

Palestine requires that we abandon this catharsis. Nobody should get out of our work feeling purged, clean. Nobody should live happily during the war. Our readers can feel that way when liberation is the precondition for our work, and not the dream. When it is the place we stand, and not the place we shake ourselves towards. In this way, what the long middle of revolution requires, what Palestine requires, is an approach to writing whose primary purpose is to gather others up with us, to generate within them an energy which their bodies cannot translate into anything but revolutionary movement. This is what Boal modeled for us in his theatrical experiments, which were dedicated to empowering audiences to act, to participate in a creative struggle to envision and embody alternatives. For Boal, theater was not revolution, but it was a rehearsal for the revolution, meant to gather communities together in that rehearsal. Creative work readies us for material work, by offering a space to try out strategies, think through contradictions, remind us of our own agency.  

#palestine

[scribbledghost]

I have a suggestion for a promp!! ✋feel free to consider it if it fancies you, disregard if it doesn't 💕 i felt like it might interest you, bc I really loved the drabble about reader being on base and the alarm going off and her finally meeting ghost, so to say! i feel like you might like the vibe of this as well. idk how to word it well, but i love stories where the two whole different worlds of a couple meet/merge bc of A Situation which lays their differences bare, their consequent reaction to their so's/the situation at hand itself etc

i saw this super cute tiktok the other day of a couple, where the husband/bf? is trying to instill more safety awareness into his partner, he pretends to leave the house, closes the front door and even fakes his footsteps but then knocks on the door to see if his gf will automatically open up assuming its him or look thru the peephole to see who it is

she doesn't ask, and opens up right away (like most of us would do i mean lbr!!) and he berates her for it while she playfully waves it off as him being too paranoid and so serious (mannnn I wish I had it saved!!!) and idk i think was just such super cute moment and I could totally see simon and his so in this situation. Simon has more than his fair share of awareness of what could and does go wrong in the world and is determined to "train" his gf and give a safety drill whenever he sees the opportunity for it (he might even do so bc he is, unconsciously or not, trying to protect her from a fate his family faced because of him) but his gf is happily unaware of that dark side of the world and is like "🤷‍♀️aww but i just knew it was you babe besides im pretty sure nothing could get past you to get to me anyway💕💕" and he is both baffled bc of her casualness (she's a civilian but still), somewhat amused bc he can never get "mad" at her, it would be like getting mad at a puppy who doesn't get a trick right on the first try, and he feels his heart swell because she feels, she knows nothing would get past him to hurt her. he would die sooner than to have a hair on her head harmed (ok this got angsty real quick!!!🥹💕❤️)

🌻anon (also I am sorry for the wall of text omg!!! English isn't my first language so i guess I overcompensate to explain myself wow!! You are a gem in this fandom btw??? I honestly love how detailed your writing is. Quality work, top notch!👌😘💕)

Note: I have been staring at the last paragraph of this for the past five minutes because thank you so so much???? (Also your English is perfect I promise) it seriously means so much to me to hear people like my writing 🥺💖💖 But this definitely interests me! (Personally, I'm wildly paranoid about my own safety, so I'd definitely be checking that peephole every time lol but we're gonna disregard that)

"Love, you're gonna end up givin' me more gray hairs than I've already got."

"And why's that?"

Simon pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a huff. He's not angry - he doesn't think he could ever be angry at you (at least not for long) - but he's starting to wonder if you've got any self-preservation instincts at all.

This isn't the first time you've failed one of his many "safety tests," as you call them. From leaving your car unlocked while you're sitting in it to opening a window overnight when the weather permits, he swears he's aged a decade since living with you. Price had once told him that worrying for your safety was part of the package of loving a civilian, but Simon hadn't quite predicted he'd be worrying this much.

"How many times have I told you to check before you open the door?" he asks.

"But I knew it was you. You just left," you chirp. Good lord, you're too cute for your own good.

"And if it hadn't been me?" he asks. "If someone had taken me out on my way to the car then come to you? You've got to start considering the possibilities, love."

To your average outsider, it probably seems like he's berating you. But the way your eyes sparkle at him tells him you know better. Chastising you, perhaps, but there's no true anger there.

Instead, there's an undercurrent of fear. He knows the consequences of opening the door to the wrong person. And he knows that if the day ever comes when he comes home to blood on the walls and the sight of your lifeless eyes, he'll sit next to you and make sure he dies there too.

But that's a road Simon doesn't want to go down. Not right now, anyway. Not when you're here, smiling at him with mischief in your gaze.

"Simon, be real. I know nothing can get past you to get to me."

He feels his heart rise when you tell him this. Of course, he knows in his soul that he'd never let anything harm you. He knows he'd do unspeakable things to keep you safe. But to hear you say that you know it too sends warmth through his chest.

"Be that as it may," he says, unable to stop himself from quirking a small grin, "you still need to check. Just to be safe."

He grabs your hand as you raise it to wave him off, pulling you slightly closer and angling your chin so he can really look at you and convey the seriousness of his words.

"Please, love," he says. "For me?"

Your gaze softens as you lean into his touch.

"Okay, Simon," you murmur to him. "I promise I'll check before I open the door. For you."

Part of him isn't quite sure if he believes you. But for now, he lets himself feel relieved anyway.

"Good," he says as he leans in to kiss you. "I'll hold you to that."

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost scribbles

[hyacinthsdiamonds]

Not liking a driver does not give you a free pass to bodyshame them, or to wish literal death and severe harm on them, or to be racist and/or xenophobic towards them. Not liking a team doesn't give you a right to do the above to those afflicted with the team either, or to be misogynistic towards the women involved with those teams. Not liking which team or driver someone supports, does not give you a right to do any of the above.

The drivers and the teams may never see the hate you spill but wait. We all know that they do;

Nicolas Latifi got such severe death threats he had to hire security

I'm not touching on the disgusting racist abuse faced by many of the drivers because there has been far too much to easily unpack but I do want to note that it got so bad last year that Alex for instance got such severe abuse last year his fans had to tell his family to go offline for a few days (not to forget the people who made up conspiracies about him and used his mother's past as a means to justify the abuse they were directing towards him).

I'll never forgot the amount of sexist hate directed at Hannah Schmitz, one of the few and one of the most recognizable women in the paddock who has lead red bulls strategy department the last couple of years, - because apparently women in motorsport are only valid if they're not under the red bull umbrella - which got so bad multiple of the drivers called it out publicly.

The multiple conspiracies created about and general racial discrimination faced by Yuki and Zhou which was and continues to be encouraged and spread by primarily the English speaking journalists and commentators

Let's not forget the sexist chants sung about Sophie Kumpen; Max's mother at Monza, or the literal death threats that were sent to his sister and young nephews.

The way some of you talk about Michael Schumacher, I don't have the words. The ski jokes has not once in the last decade been funny.

I could go on and on. I could literally do this all day.

Sure the drivers might never see it but that doesn't mean nobody will and we all see how conditional any form of your allyship is. "Racism is wrong unless it's about x, sexism is wrong unless it's about y, death threats are wrong unless it's about z, etc". Do better. You cannot claim the moral high ground, if you do any of the above, no matter how much higher you perceive yourself to be than the person you're directing the above towards.

As for death wishes or crash wishes, cop yourselves on to fuck. I would never wish what I've been through, what my family has been through, on my worst enemy, let alone some driver I'll probably never even meet. F1 is nowadays a safe enough sport but that has not always been the case and there is still no 100% guarantee of completely safety. The risk is still there even with all the advancements in safety. So many drivers have lost their lives or have had their lives altered forever as a result of a crash. Some of the drivers on the current grid are directly impacted or know those whose lives have been lost or altered because of a crash. Nearly everyone on that grid has a story. Some of you have their photos as your icons as you wish literal death and injury on their coworkers, their friends. They would be beyond disgusted by you. I can name far too many drivers who lost their lives in this sport, it shouldn't take naming them to make people realize that wishing for some to die like they did is a disgusting act. If it were to come true, would you celebrate? Would you cheer as the red flag came out? I don't think I want to know the answer, considering some of the things I've seen in the main tags over the last couple of years (see that one person who wanted to violently and literally stab and kill a driver or see that disgusting poll about which way would be best to literally kill another driver).

Don't start with but x did this or y fans did that, if they jumped off a cliff, would you? Why are you so eager to lower yourself to what you feel are their low standards or morals? And I don't blame a driver for the actions of someone who calls themselves a fan while doing anything that I've mentioned in this post, because they're not fans, they're people who use the driver they claim to back as a shield and as an excuse for their appalling behavior.

Also, if you have to say "I don't like driver x but I agree nobody deserves this type of abuse", get rid of everything before the but. You don't have to like someone to offer them basic respect or human decency.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #max verstappen #sebastian vettel #charles leclerc #mick schumacher #fernando alonso #alex albon #lando norris #daniel ricciardo #oscar piastri #yuki tsunoda #nyck de vries #sergio perez #checo perez #lance stroll #carlos sainz junior #carlos sainz #nicholas latifi #kevin magnussen #zhou guanyu #valtteri bottas #george russell #lewis hamilton #esteban ocon #pierre gasly #i think that's everyone but honestly I'm not 100% sure #i might delete this later because it feels v preachy but Christ i had to get it off my chest

[ewanmitchelll]

Imagine Arctic Monkeys’s songs: Do I Wanna Know?

Imagine you are seduced by Aemond Targaryen.

Warnings: fluffy, light reading—explicit smut.

Warnings 2: alternative universe where the Greens won uncontestedly the war.

***

Have you got colour in your cheeks? Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift the type that sticks around like something in your teeth?

Aemond finds difficulty to settle after years waging war. There is peace after a decade fighting his sister and her partisans. They are all nothing but names now, recorded in the maesters books.

To placate his restless energy, the prince has, in many ways, followed in his bitter enemy’s footsteps—getting himself lands in the Free Cities, he found himself a new life style as well as a new wife.

But because he’s now the Hand of the King, in opposite to Daeron’s career in Citadel, his life style was left behind. For now.

You, however, settled easily with this new routine. Harrenhal is your home and this is the household you must fill your wifely duties. Initially, you found a rival for your husband’s affection—his former mistress, a woman named Alys Rivers, did not let easily go the path to Aemond’a heart—which complicated your smooth transition from the life of a free damsel who loved the seas to a noblewoman, wife of a bad reputed prince.

Despite the initial scandal such a match evoked, you and Aemond overcame the early disapprovals until the dowager queen accepted you as her daughter-in-law in a relationship that grew fondly in due time.

As you spend the afternoon reading a love story between a knight and his damsel in distress, which in some shades reminds yours, you are found missing your husband dearly.

Aemond has been gone to Free Cities to knock a local rebellion and negotiate peace terms with the involved, applying the law, before going back. And he misses you too.

When he lands with Vhagar, he hurries to you—although the prince needs to clean himself first. Only then he comes at you.

Aemond finds you busy with your lecture at their bedchambers, so concentrated that you don’t spot him, leaning against the wall, watching you with a side smirk on his lips.

Are there some aces up your sleeve? Have you no idea that you're in deep? I've dreamt about you nearly every night this week…

His good eye is set on you like a hunter when it’s about to get its prey. Your y/c hair is loose behind your back, your eyes are focused in the lines you read but he wonders what is the theme that makes you furrow your eyebrows. Your lips are partially open and Aemond easily sees his own clashing against yours in a long fervent kiss. But the man is patient.

The gown you dress is the first he gifted you, in the days of your courtship. Aemond is pleased to see you still keep it in your wardrobe. The gown shows some cleavage and shoulders, reinforcing your firm full breasts.

When staring at your heavy breathing, his own chest goes slowly up and down. His eyes devour your skin through the clothing, still keeping in his thought the moment your nipples go hard under his eager tongue.

When remembering how much you enjoy it, how you always sang louder the moment he took his time to suck each breast, a heat troubles his inner balance. His manhood gets lightly unbearable.

It’s time to move.

How many secrets can you keep? 'Cause there's this tune I've found that makes me think of you somehow and I play it on repeat until I fall asleep, spilling drinks on my settee…

Aemond recollects the first time he saw you. Finding a way to survive in Essos, your brother had plans to send you to serve Rh’llor whilst you considered piracy. You’ve always loved the sea, and there you’d content yourself when your path crossed his.

You knew nothing of his past, and yet you took him in. When love flourished, it took not much time.

Moved by this agony of spending too much of his time away from you, he wants you again. Using shadows on his favor, he is about to surprise you.

Aemond kneels behind you. Still focused in the reading, you do not notice he’s behind your chair. The prince is lightly amused at how this novel has stolen you from him.

“My lady, I am no poet, no bard, no man versed in the court of love, but I’d think by now you were missing me.”

Quickly, you stand, turning at him with joy. It’s been five years since he espoused you and the same joy is there whenever he comes back to your arms.

“I missed you, my husband! How could it not be? Oh Aemond, it’s been so long!”

He experiments that peaceful bliss he never thought he’d feel the moment his lips are welcomed by yours. It starts as a slow, passionate kiss, only then to be parted by you.

“I should have prepared our chambers to receive you better”, you say, ready to fetch a servant when he pulls you right in front of him.

“Why, I wanted to surprise my lady”, he smirks, resting his chin over your shoulder as his hands begin to pace around your waist. “You still have the gown I gifted you during our courtship.”

“Yes, I do”, you blush lightly, not expecting him to notice it.

“Looking gorgeous as always”, he whispers hotly in your ear, giving you goosebumps.

“Aemond…”, you smirk, wondering what’s to come. “I have some news to tell you.”

“Then tell me”, so he says as his tongue begins to draw lines from your earlobe to your jawline and neck, tightening the grip of your waist.

You try to focus, but when he gets to your neck, your leg automatically begin to rub in another and you giggle softly.

“Y-Your brother…”, you almost forget how to breathe the moment he rests a hand over your belly, moving up to your breast.

“Yes?”, he bites your neck softly, missing to feel your firm breast over his hand, but not taking it long now… not yet. “You were saying?”

You try to release yourself off his grip, about to get on fire, but Aemond is very domineering today. The hand on your back is now over your neck, holding it possessively. The way you like it.

“He is throwing a feast and a tournament…”, you get speechless the moment his lips are back at your neck and his right hand starts to lift the skirts of your gown.

“And…”, he smirks, encouraging you to speak as he defies you not to succumb easily into his teasings.

“And… Aemond!”, you hiss impatiently when feeling his hand on your thigh.

Aemond takes a seat and makes you sit on his lap. There is a fire that is about to burn you…and you want to get burnt. But you know it’ll be on his terms.

“Tell me, or I will stop.”

He smirks devilishly as you pout.

Do I wanna know if this feeling flows both ways (Sad to see you go) Sort of hoping that you'd stay. (Baby we both know) That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day…

“The tournament is on…” you barely speak as he begins to tease you through your undergarments. Using his thumb to draw circles over it, you whimper, partially impatient.

“On?”

He pauses, amused as you frown at him.

“Either you tell me or I’ll stop, my dear. The punishment for ignoring me…” Aemond chuckles as you pout again.

“…on the next week”, and he resumes the touching, working his hands within you. “He wants to…. Oh, Aemond!… to celebrate his tenth year he is on the I-I-Iron Throne!”

Aemond chuckles to himself as you try to keep your composure the moment two fingers are inserted in your womanhood. He feels how soaked you are, enjoying the sounds you make as he stimulates you.

“Mm. What else?”, he asks in your ear, using his free hand to unlace your gown, aroused by your reactions.

“He wants you…”, and here you let out a poorly muffled cry the moment he increases his pace. “…to take part of the feast and… and be his champion! Oh bloody seven hells!”

As you throw your head back, the gown, now loose, begins to fall. Aemond stares at your denuded chest, biting his own bottom lip as your nipples are hardened under his lustful gaze.

“His champion?”, he helps you to straighten on his knee, despite the trouble to ignore the aching in his manhood.

“On the tournament!”, you moan indecently loud the moment he cups one boob with his free hand.

Aemond smirks at you. Oh how he loves these games he plays with you. He is a victor each time.

“Hmm. I shall consider the invitation”, he leaves more bruises in your skin, before whispering unspeakable things to your ear that makes you hot enough to burst into his hand.

And when he licks each finger before you, you almost go insane.

“Aemond!”, you turn at him, finally free of his grasp. You remove the gown off your body, rubbing yourself to his manhood as you settle your hips properly over his, hands eagerly removing his own clothing.

“Oh I haven’t finished with you yet, woman”, he groans as he lifts you and pulls you gently against the window. As you remain on your back to him, he kisses your neck and down to your back, before fingering you again.

“Lords, Aemond!”

And to your delightful surprise, his lips soon take place where his fingers have been. Now you settle the reins and gladly ride his face.

Crawling back to you… Ever thought of calling when you've had a few? 'Cause I always do. Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new. Now I've thought it through, crawling back to you…

But once again in bed he has you under his command again. Crawling over your body, he prepares to set his pace.

“I’ve been burning too long alone to let these flames go unescaped”, he whispers, touching himself right before you, until he leaves it to tease your entrance.

Aemond likes seeing you subduing to him. Even more when fire is indeed burning in such a level that makes you bed. And nothing arouses him more than seeing a prideful lady be turned into a beggar in… bed.

This is how he spreads your legs gently and, leaning his body to be closer to yours, the prince slowly thrusts in you.

“Have I been punished enough?”, you moan sensually, legs wrapped around his waist.

“Perhaps”, he smiles at you.

Only when your gazes meet, he softens.

“I’ve missed you”, and his lust is replaced by the genuine affection that has mirrored in your eyes. “A lot.”

“As have I”, you admit in short breath. “Very much, my rogue prince.”

Aemond smiles down at you, kissing your lips as your body and his finally move as one.

Simmer down and pucker up. I'm sorry to interrupt. It's just I'm constantly on the cusp of trying to kiss you. I don't know if you feel the same as I do but we could be together… If you wanted to.

Later, you feel his wide eyed gaze at you. With no patch to cover his bad eye, he is the way you like him to: himself, nude and crude.

“I am pleased to find your heart shut for me alone”, you muse after a moment spent in warming silence.

“How so?”

He turns at you, on his elbow. Aemond strokes your face gently, doing the same then to your hair.

“Are you still daunted by these insecurities?”

“At times I am. I fear to lose your affection”, you admit. “But this only happens when I’m sensitive.”

“You do not need to excuse yourself for me when I’m open like this before you, wife”, he presses a kiss over your forehead. “I admit I have my own demons to haunt. There are nights I wish I had not… survived.”

“How so, my love,”, you turn at him and he sees fear in your eyes.

“I wish I had not been the cause why such a war disrupted. There is no good in dwelling in the past, but if I must be open with my lady, then my remorse must be shared with you. This is what pains me in times where restlessness knocks me out. Not an old mistress.”

“I’m sorry for this”, you feel ashamed for the confession, but Aemond looks in peace with it.

“Don’t be. We are husband and wife, love. We are in this together. I love you and it’s your love that helps me with going through difficult times.”

That being said, he kisses your lips. Every doubt dies permanently at his passionate kiss.

#ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #house targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #Arctic monkeys #do I wanna know?

[aziraphales-library]

Hi!!!!! I just got into good omens and this hyperfixation is going ABSOLUTELY BONKERS. Ive been reading so many fics from yall thank u ❤️❤️ i was wondering if u could req some lesbian/wlw aziraphale ? :P

Hello! You can check out our #ineffable wives tag for fics already recommended. Here are some more to add...

wanna witness your eyes looking by izzyhandsgf (E)

"How could someone so unbearably holy commit such sins in the most beautiful way?" ----------------------------- Or, Aziraphale and Crowley meet in the 1930s, fem-presenting, and both are slightly overcome by their feelings for one another...

I stretch out the time (and now I know why) by Nix_Nihili (T)

I should pull back, Crowley thought. She should pull back because she was the one with the fork in her mouth that Aziraphale was holding. Aziraphale wouldn’t pull back because that would be rude so Crowley had to pull back. Pull back. Crowley swallowed the cake down and pushed herself away because that was what she did. Push and pull. Six thousand years of pushing and pulling. God, did it ever end? - Crowley finds Aziraphale on a fateful night for the first time since 1941. They haven't seen each other since but something has changed in the past two decades. or Something definitely happened between 1941 and 1967 to warrant the "You go too fast for me, Crowley" comment.

“I thought that I was getting better.” | Setbacks by die_traumerei (T)

Aziraphale is already having a rough time of it, when her new neighbour Crowley's cats trip her up and the inevitable happens. She and Crowley becomes friends, though, and more than friends -- and a good thing too, as Aziraphale faces one setback after another.

Herefordshire Pomona by Eigon (T)

I was reading Bleating Hearts by HKBlack (which is excellent, btw) and also thinking about the advice to "write what you know", so I started daydreaming about how the goat farmer meets literature professor scenario would transfer to Herefordshire. Aziraphale was easy - a bookseller in Hay-on-Wye, the Town of Books. I've put her shop where Green Ink Books is now, which used to be a multi-level shop, with a flat above. Crowley - well, that became obvious pretty quickly, too - instead of goats, apples. Herefordshire has a lot of old orchards, and I used to know a lady from the Marcher Apple Network, which identifies old apple varieties, and works to preserve them. And I wanted it to be Ineffable Wives, because I had so much fun writing the Old West story Secret Friendship (which is a boring name, but I couldn't think up a better one).

strange workings of fate by skyflyerr (E)

Aziraphale sat down gently and let her feet that didn’t quite touch the floor dangle from the stool. “Would you spare enough time for one glass with me?” Aziraphale watched her turn and look a little taken aback at the notion of her being here. Maybe this was a bad idea. “With you, darling? I can make the time. I’m a woman of my word, if anything.” *** Crowley is a bartender and Aziraphale is still figuring out the bookshop. Both are utterly lonely and winter is coming quick. Maybe they could keep each other warm.

Dance Me to the End of Love by Black_Bentley (E)

In general, Crowley would very much like to see the ones who hurt her grovelling at her feet, experiencing her pain and fear. But Lucifer’s plan is... well, it far surpasses what she considers ‘getting a revenge’ falling wildly into wreaking complete havoc and destroying innocent lives as collateral damage. Most importantly, that puts her dearest friend in danger. And she is to bring the proverbial cuckoo into the Celestial nest. OR: Aziraphale is a ballet dancer for the British Celestial Ballet Company, which grooms its perfect 'angels' from childhood Crowley used to dance for them too, but after they literally kicked her out, she took on pole-dancing for the Nine Circles of Hell Nightclub Its owner, who used to be the Celestial Ballet's star, is ready to take his revenge on the company's Director (referred to by its 'angels' as Mother) and chooses Crowley to enact it by forcing her to deal a brand new drug among the ballet dancers.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable wives #adult omens #human au #mod d

[galaxygolfergirl]

What does Elsa want?

Since I’ve been on a bit of a Frozen binge recently, I was having some thoughts:

If anyone’s been in the Frozen fandom for as long as I have, we’ve all wondered whether Elsa would ever become attached to someone. The early Jelsa shippers, Helsa (which I do ship, I have my reasons, don’t @ me), #giveelsaagirlfriend trending on twitter, the newer Elsamaren shippers, and so on. Ever since Disney realized the franchise potential of this story, that's been the big question brought up for the past decade.

I will say I can definitely understand the perception of Elsa being aromantic/asexual because honestly, think about it: considering her past struggles with controlling her powers and her fear of hurting those she loves, it’s probably very difficult for her to be vulnerable with other people, even platonically with her own family. If she was that uncomfortable being around others and trying to manage her issues, how uncomfortable is she with being in love? Being desired? Wanting to be with someone?

No matter what options they go with for her in the 3rd sequel, it might be an interesting perspective to see this more vulnerable side of Elsa, if they choose to give her a romantic partner, because for the past two movies we’ve only gotten the perspective of her focusing on herself. She wanted to learn the truth of who she was and to make her peace with it, no longer denying her magical abilities or trying to shove them down out of fear. She wanted to reconnect with her sister and try to have a family again. But what does Elsa want for herself beyond that? Who can really stand on her level and approach her?

In spite of her connections with her sister and the rest of her family, there is still a level of unapproachability to her because of the dissonance between her humanity and the almost mythic nature of her powers. Even though Anna loves her sister, we can observe that even she struggles sometimes to understand Elsa’s powers, especially her role as the Snow Queen/the 5th Spirit, and Anna falls back in awe of her like everyone else. It’s like this quote from the movie The Philadelphia Story (which is a great movie btw, highly recommend):

“You're like some marvelous, distant, well, queen, I guess. You're so cool and fine and always so much your own. There's a kind of beautiful purity about you, Tracy, like a statue.”

To which Katharine Hepburn’s character replies:

“I don't want to be worshipped. I want to be loved.”

Does Elsa want that kind of love? So far, the answer’s been a tentative “no,” at least from the writers and cast. Whether it's because of the potential conservative outcry or disappointing the lgbtq community yet again is anyone's guess, but for now I can only assume that leaving her unattached has been the safest option for Disney so far.

But since we’ve already crossed the threshold of Elsa’s self-acceptance and self-realization of her powers, where do we go beyond that in terms of her character? It’s only natural to wonder what she wants beyond understanding herself, being comfortable with her powers, and being accepted. She has a supportive family, is making friendships with the Northuldra, and has a kingdom that loves her, but does she stand alone or can someone meet her at her level? Romantically or otherwise? Who can challenge her, really?

Tracy Lord: "I don't seem to you made of bronze?"

Macaulay Connor: "No, you're made out of flesh and blood. That's the blank, unholy surprise of it. You're the golden girl, Tracy. Full of life and warmth and delight.”

Does she have to remain this mythic goddess that everyone admires, who has to have a dress transformation/inspiration anthem about self-actualization every movie? What if she had a moment where she was grounded and had to focus on something besides her powers? What if she lost them? How would that affect her character then?

Those are questions I hope might be answered in Frozen 3. I'm fine with whatever choices they make in terms of her sexuality, as precarious at that may be, but I just think it would be an interesting aspect of her character to explore whether or not she could have an equal, or whether or not she can finally come down to earth.

Tracy Lord: "How do I look?"

Seth Lord: "Like a queen. Like a goddess."

Tracy Lord: "And do you know how I feel?"

Seth Lord: "How?"

Tracy Lord: "Like a human. Like a human being.”

#frozen #frozen 2 #frozen 3 #queen elsa #disney #disneys frozen #frozen theory #queen anna #princess anna #prince hans #honeymaren #helsa #elsamaren #asexual #aromantic #queer #lesbian #lgbtq #allosexuality #heterosexual #literary analysis #film analysis #character analysis

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

The Pull: Steddie x Succubus reader

Summary: You move to Hawkins after spending the last decade in New York City hoping to have a peaceful and quiet next few years flying under the radar only feeding when necessary and making everyone you spend a night with forget you. But when you arrive, you feel a pull from two men like you’ve never felt before. As soon as you feel it you know flying under the radar here wasn’t going to cut it, you had to find them. Masterlist.

Warnings: Not very many for this chapter, sexual themes, language. But future chapters will have rough smut, dom/sub dynamics, M/M/F threesome, demon sex, and I’ll probably add more once I post the actual chapters.

‼️THIS STORY AND MY ENTIRE BLOG ARE 18+ MINORS AND BLANK/AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED IMMEDIATELY‼️

Also this is my first fic not only in this fandom but in MANY years so please be nice to me, feedback would be amazing too I’d love to hear what people think. I hope you enjoy!🖤 (also shout out @bimbobaggins69 for helping me understand how to format my fic on here and giving me the confidence to do so🥺)

You watched them quietly, perched on a tree branch outside the window of the large house. They were both sprawled out on the bed, still naked after they had just been ravaging each other moments ago. The longer haired one with the tattoos on his chest who looked like he just walked out of an MTV music video ran his fingers through the hair of the other boy, who looked like some kind of Prince Charming in a fairy tale. They were an odd pair, you thought, that was part of what drew you to them. The stark contrast of light and dark, both ends of the spectrum. Over the time you had been watching them you’d noticed a few things about them, the tattooed boy was very dominant when they were intimate with each other he was very much in charge, but the few times when you braved watching them out in public you noticed that Prince Charming was much more level headed and in control of his partner. It seemed they balanced each other out well despite their physical differences.

That’s not truly what drew you to them though, when you first felt them you didn’t even know what they looked like yet. You had just arrived in Hawkins, a small town in Indiana, a fresh start. You had spent almost the entire last decade in New York, under your latest identity but the people around you changed, aged, and you didn't, so before they noticed you would move on, again and again for as long as you can remember you have existed this way. Indiana is a state you’ve yet to live in, and having spent the last ten years in busy New York you choose a quaint small town to settle and the moment you drove past the welcome to Hawkins sign you could sense them.

You had never felt a pull like this before, so you immediately followed it, and what you found was two very attractive young men who were absolutely enthralled with each other, but each of them had something they desired, something they felt was missing… a woman. They wanted a woman to join them, you could feel their need and their want to share that with each other. Not that their sex life wasn’t phenomenal because it was, if it was just any two human males wanting to find a third you wouldn’t feel it this strongly but these two were passionate and they were extremely horny just from watching them you felt like you were gaining energy every time. But watching was getting old, you hadn’t fed since you arrived in town almost a week ago, no one could measure up, you needed them and you needed them soon.

•

The next day you sat in the small apartment you had charmed the property manager into giving you the keys for trying to come up with a plan. You had two options, you could either just burst into their house and tell them the truth about who and what you were (which you’ve never done you aren’t sure what it is about them that has you even considering it) OR you can run into them in public, stage a meeting and go through the motions of getting them into bed with you without telling them what you were and erasing yourself from their memories after.

Option one was sounding better and better… you never had a desire to be with the same person twice, no one ever having a long lasting effect on you, so why do these two boys who you have yet to even speak to have you reconsidering that? You needed to know.

So you made a decision, probably a stupid one, but a decision nonetheless. Getting dressed in a short skirt and a tight tank top, you slipped your shoes on and walked out the door. Before you could talk yourself out of it you got in your car and drove in the direction of the large house you’ve spent so much time outside of recently, determined to be on the inside this time.

•

“Babe, I’m telling you, I saw that girl again yesterday when we were walking out of the arcade with the kids! I don’t know how you haven’t noticed her ANY of the times? We have a hot stalker and you’re oblivious” Eddie said with a huff plopping down on the couch next to his boyfriend

Steve scoffs “Dude, babe, we do NOT have a stalker, let alone a hot one. It’s probably just a girl you haven’t seen before that has HAPPENED to be in the same place as us a few times”

“No Steve, I’m TELLING you, this girl was watching us, I looked over at her and she just kept staring right at me and didn’t even move or blink dude it was like she was a statue. The most gorgeous statue I’ve ever seen but still, a statue”

“Okay? So a pretty girl stared at you and now she’s stalking us??” Steve looked at his boyfriend with an amused smile on his face before laughing

Eddie rolled his eyes “I don’t know why you’re laughing at me, I already told you I also saw her at the store when we were grocery shopping in the parking lot, and I saw her outside the diner the next day. I’m NOT crazy dude she is REAL”

“Okay, fine, say she IS real, why would she be stalking US?” This makes Eddie think for a moment because why would she be stalking them? He’s not sure.. but he knows he really wants to find out next time he sees you. “Okay that’s a good point but still, I’m gonna try and talk to her next time I see her”

“Yeah okaaay Eds if she’s real I’m sure you’re really gonna chat her up with your lady killing skills” Steve snorted

“You know WHAT HARRI-“ He was cut off by the sound of the door bell “whose that? I didn’t think we were expecting anyone?”

“We weren’t, I’ll go see who it is” Steve said as he got up to walk to the door. When he opened it to say he was surprised would be an understatement, one of the prettiest girls he’s EVER seen, maybe the actual prettiest girl he’s ever seen is standing on his doorstep looking at him with the sweetest look he’s ever seen.

“H-hi, can I help you?” He asked, and before you could answer you heard loud footsteps come bounding into the entryway “Babe, who's at the door-“ he’s stopped in his tracks because standing there, living and breathing and very real was YOU, the girl who he keeps seeing everywhere, who has been haunting his dreams, standing on their doorstep.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic recs #eddie munson smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steddie x reader smut #steddie x reader #steddie #steddie x succubus!reader #fic rec #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

[natlacentral]

Forget The Haters, Avatar Live-Action Star Elizabeth Yu Is Our Princess Azula

When Netflix’s Avatar: The Last Airbenderannounced that newcomer Elizabeth Yu was cast as Princess Azula, some fans of the original Nickelodeon cartoon immediately took to social media to complain. Some thought she looked too innocent to play the Fire Nation princess, an antagonist in the Nickelodeon series that takes place in an imagined world with people who can master and manipulate the different elemental energies of Fire, Water, Earth, and Air. Others lamented that her face wasn’t angular like Azula’s is in the cartoon, or that she looked too young for the part. (An especially odd critique considering, though never specified, Azula’s age is believed to be 14. Yu herself is now 21; she was 19 during filming.) But when it comes to the fan reaction, the young actor is completely unphased. “I’m a hit with the kids,” she jokes to Refinery29, adding that she doesn’t take it personally. “I think anybody playing this part would’ve gotten some kind of backlash.”

Yu is confident that when the show premieres February 22, fans will see the live-action show is doing more than recreating the cartoon. In the original, Princess Azula, the ambitious daughter of the Fire Lord Ozai (Daniel Dae Kim), doesn’t appear until Season 2 when she emerges as a new threat to the Avatar, the boy with the power to control all four elements and unite the nations against Ozai’s dictatorial rule. In this iteration, Azula is a recurring character, allowing fans to see her in a brand new light. “It’s an origin story for her,” Yu says. “It’s this foundation being laid out for a lot of things to make sense when we eventually pick up where we first met her in the original series.” So if you were worried Yu’s Azula had lost her villainous edge, don’t be. Yu describes her as “a girl boss,” but “evil.” Still, she says, “Azula is my baby girl, she’s my boo thing. I love her.”

Not only is she unbothered by the early reactions, she’s not at all nervous when thinking about how the show might be received by hardcore fans. Instead, the actor is more concerned with what her two younger sisters will think. The actor has seen Asian American representation grow from Disney Channel’s The Suite Life of Zack and Cody — “All I had growing up was London Tipton,” she says, giving a shoutout to star Brenda Song — to recent Oscar-nominated films, like her 2023 favorite Past Lives starring Greta Lee. As half-Korean, Yu is proud to be a part of this current shift. “The idea that my little sisters are going to be able to watch TV and movies, and the likelihood of them getting to see someone that looks like them is so much higher, is such a win. It’s so healing to know that we’re creating an industry where little girls — little anyones — can feel like that.” 

The fact that Avatar: The Last Airbender stars Asian actors is arguably the new show’s biggest break from the original series. When the cartoon first premiered in 2005, it only featured a few Asian and Asian American voice actors, despite the fact that it took place in a world inhabited by mostly Asian and Indigenous peoples. When the beloved series was adapted into a widely panned live-action film, The Last Airbender (2010), the cast also remained mostly whitewashed, save for members of the Fire Nation, who were depicted as South Asian. Now, two decades after the original’s debut, Asians are finally getting a seat at the table. “It’s monumental,” Yu says.. “It’s so important to be able to see yourself in stories. That’s what storytelling is about.” 

Yu’s confidence is impressive, especially considering Avatar: The Last Airbender is only her third credit on IMDB. She gives off the air of an old pro. And in some ways, she is. Born and raised in New Jersey, she’s been auditioning for acting roles since she was 16. She’s also been dating Stranger Things star Gaten Matarazzo since they were 15. They currently live together in New York City with their three cats, and she’s had a front row seat to his rise to global celebrity. Though she insists she has always tried to keep their careers separate from their relationship, she admits, “Getting to see someone with such a huge heart navigate this industry is the best advice that I could be given.” She adds, “We’re both still trying to figure it out, and it’s really cool to be able to do it together.” 

She continued to audition throughout her last years of high school, though “it was a struggle,” she says. During her senior year, she debated whether or not to go to college or commit to acting full time. In the end, she stuck with her passion. Then, in December 2021, just months after her high school graduation, she booked Avatar. “‘Oh, thank God,’” she recalls thinking. “I’m doing what I should be doing.” She has since gone on to appear in the Oscar-nominated May December, opposite Julianne Moore, Natalie Portman, and Charles Melton.

It wasn’t until her fourth and final audition came around that Yu finally learned what role she was fighting for. “It was insane. I cried on the phone with my mom.” Months later, she was standing on the Fire Nation set next to the legendary Daniel Dae Kim in full armor and regalia, acting between bursts of flames. (“Before they’d call action, they’d be like, ‘Pyro!’ and the flames would ignite from these sconces on the walls. It was insane.”) And though she admits acting opposite Kim was intimidating at first, it was also pretty damn cool. “Who wouldn’t feel like the baddest bitch in the room sitting next to Daniel Dae Kim as Ozai?” 

It sounds lucky, but her road to Azula had more than a few bumps. First, there was the fact that she didn’t know what project she was actually auditioning for. “They sent this completely fake, made-up storyline for this fake TV show. I was auditioning for a character named April,” she explains. After getting a callback, she hit the internet to do some sleuthing. “I became an FBI agent trying to figure out what I was actually auditioning for, because I was like, ‘Something about this does not feel real,’” she says. When she realized that it might be an adaptation of Avatar, a show she watched growing up, she couldn’t believe it. (“I was like, ‘No way. That is definitely not what I’m auditioning for.’”) Then there was the “minor car accident” that she got into right before her first callback. (She made it safe and sound and “did the damn thing!”). 

As for what big names she hopes to work with next, Yu is open for whatever comes her way. For now, she’s got her eyes set on a not-yet-confirmed Season 2 of Avatar, which she hopes will include Azula’s time on Ember Island with her brother Prince Zuko (Dallas Liu) as well as some of her character’s famous lines. “I’m really excited to go into a second season and finally do these iconic line reads that Azula has,” she teases, adding, “I quote them all the time to myself. There’s this one scene in the original where she says, ‘Do the tides command this ship?’ And she’s basically threatening this soldier that she’ll throw him overboard if he doesn’t do what she says. It’s just so badass.”

Live action or not, Princess Azula will always be badass.

#natla #atla #elizabeth yu #azula #article #refinery29

[anneapocalypse]

Why Anders and Fenris can't be friends (in the game)

Recently I made a short post that was supposed to stay that way, but instead it took over my brain for several days so I'm going to expand on it. In that post, I said:

"Why can't Fenris and Anders get along? Why can't they see what they have in common?" Because it's a story about how people can be practically and philosophically correct about a specific thing, and also get so mired in their own pain and trauma that they can't relate to people whose pain and trauma comes from a different source and who are right about something else, especially if trying to reconcile those two things would threaten their sense of self. And that is, imo, both more interesting and more true to the human experience than if they simply looked past all that without any difficulty.

So, with that as our starting point, why don't Anders and Fenris find common ground by the end of the game? Wouldn't that be a strong character arc for both of them, and aren't both characters lesser for not getting there? Is this an oversight, rushed development, bad writing?

I think the answer to these questions lies in the journeys that Anders and Fenris are each on over the course of the game, and in this post I'm going to explore both of their arcs a bit, where they’re both going and why their paths are divergent in the game. Specifically I mean to argue here that they cannot find common ground during the game because Fenris spends the game finding safety, while Anders spends the game becoming progressively less safe.

Disclaimer time! This post is not meant as a refutation of anyone’s ships or headcanons! You do you. What I hope to explore here is why things go the way they do in the game itself.

I’m also aware that this game has been out for over a decade, that there is nothing new under the sun, that both of these characters provoke strong feelings in a lot of us, and that some fans are just tired of hearing about them in general. If the latter is you, please feel free to scroll right on by; no need to inform me.

This analysis will necessarily involve discussing both characters’ flaws as well as their strengths (as well as those of some other characters), but it’s coming from a place of love and appreciation for these characters as complex and multi-faceted. Please refrain from expressing character hate on this post.

Content warnings: discussion of slavery, the Chantry explosion, abuse and trauma generally.

Anders' Journey

It has been said that Anders' character arc in DA2 is a downward spiral while Fenris is on a slow road to recovery. And I basically agree with that, but I don't think of it as a downward spiral in terms of negative character growth, precisely. While I do think there are ways in which Anders becomes less able and willing to empathize with others over the course of the game, I consider that more of a side effect of what's happening to him than a sign of him being on some kind of moral downturn.

To me, the downward spiral is that Anders spends the entire game losing hope.

As an apostate in Kirkwall (and a possessed one at that), I think it is important to recognize that Anders is never truly safe. It seems likely to me that the only reason he remains free for so long is because he happens to befriend some very powerful and influential people in Kirkwall—most notably, Varric Tethras, who is known to pay people off to keep his friends safe from the city's various criminal organizations, and I don't think it's unlikely that he's payed off templars as well.

Even in his closest circle of friends, Anders isn't completely safe. And it isn't Fenris who poses the greatest danger to him! The one character who actively suggests they turn in Anders (and Merrill) to the templars is Sebastian in Act III—and it's Fenris who brushes him off, telling him to "work it out with Hawke." I don't think Fenris would lose any sleep if it happened, but he actively declines to be a part of it. While Fenris is not above turning in mages generally (he will rat out Emile de Launcet to the Knight-Commander if brought along for “On the Loose”), there's no evidence that Fenris has ever made an active attempt to turn Hawke's mage companions over to the templars; if nothing else, he has too much respect for Hawke.

There's another companion who we know has turned mages in. Aveline and Anders get off to a pretty sour start right in Act I when Aveline asks if she can "consult" with him, and Anders guesses (rightly, it seems) that she just wants information on how to fight and kill mages. Needless to say, he is not forthcoming with help. Their Act II banter begins with Anders pointing out that she isn't a particularly mage-friendly Captain of the Guard, where Aveline counters that she’s only turned “a handful” over to the templars. Between Act II and Act III, there is a mounting tension between the two of them, with Anders in the final act doing his best to nudge Aveline away from defending the templars. Not even ideologically—he knows that's a losing battle with Aveline—but by bringing up Meredith's overreach and the fact that even Donnic doesn't agree with the Knight-Commander. When explaining to Hawke why he hasn't included them in the Mage Underground, Anders cites Hawke's connections to the nobility and to the Guard. It's no mystery who he's talking about.

There are people among Hawke's companions who pose an actual danger to Anders—and Fenris is not at the top of that list, no matter how much they may despise each other. And I think Anders' interactions with Fenris are especially vitriolic, not in spite of that fact, but because of it. I'd say similar of Merrill, the other companion Anders arguably has the most acrimony with. Neither Fenris nor Merrill poses any true threat to Anders. They are both elves who do not benefit from drawing attention to themselves; Merrill is a blood mage and Fenris an escaped former slave. While both of them hold views that make them philosophically or potentially dangerous, neither has ever actually acted against Anders.

Now, Anders does argue with Aveline and Sebastian. Repeatedly. He's not shy about stating his opinions and questioning theirs. But notice how the way he argues differs with each character. With Aveline, he appeals to her sense of order and propriety. With Sebastian, he appeals to his sense of righteousness. We see this particularly in Act III, once things have gotten especially dire. And he does start out similarly with Fenris, trying to draw a comparison between mages in the Circles and slaves in Tevinter—a tactic which utterly fails to move Fenris, and Anders drops it pretty quickly.

I think Anders' dialogue with Fenris gets especially nasty a) because Fenris is a rival against whom Anders can afford to vent his anger with less restraint, and b) because Fenris's existence makes Anders feel threatened in an entirely different way than Aveline and Sebastian. Anders knows that the Captain of the Guard and the noble-turned-Chantry-brother are not on his side, and it is in his best interest to be persuasive toward them, but also philosophically they're opposed to him in a way that he finds easy to refute. He is very firm in his convictions that the Circles are unjust and that they are a corruption of what Andraste taught and fought for. He may have little chance of actually persuading Aveline and Sebastian, but he's also in no danger of being persuaded by them. In other words, they may threaten his physical safety and that of other mages, but they do not challenge his core beliefs, his sense of self.

But Fenris does.

Anders has spent most of his life locked up for being a mage, running away and being caught, and subject to profound abuses. Since his final escape and joining with Justice, he has found purpose and hope in fighting for the cause of mage freedom. If his cause is just, then it is worth living for and fighting for, what he has lost he can endure, and what he’s had to do for that cause is justified. If he admits to himself that magic is itself a power that can be abused, that magic has anything to do with the atrocities Tevinter, that calls his purpose into question. If the unchecked use of magic has the potential to create a society just as unjust as the one he knows, that unravels his present idea of justice, which is quite literally part of his identity!

And maybe if this were a different story, Anders' arc would be about confronting those challenges and deciding how to move forward with them. But this isn't that story, because this is a story set in Kirkwall, where the templars' abuses of power over mages are happening right now, right in front of him, and every effort he makes to change that is systematically crushed.

This is really critical to Anders' arc! He is not a character who has spent the whole game achieving his goals and then escalating those goals. Almost everything he has tried to do has failed. And it's really not due to any strategic failing on his part; the Circle is just too powerful. His attempt to save Karl introduces this theme right at the beginning. Anders does his best; he does everything he can. But he is up against forces he cannot stop. Karl is doomed by the narrative so that we can understand what Anders is facing.

And it does not get any better! There's another tumblr post out there about how every companion quest for Anders is basically you go to see how he's doing, and he's doing bad. And it's true! Because things just keep getting worse. His Act II quest "Dissent" gives us a firsthand glimpse of the abuses taking place inside the Circle. "Dissent" is sometimes read as an example of Anders' paranoia, because both the Knight-Commander and the Grand Cleric had rejected Ser Alrik's plan to make all mages tranquil. I don't fully agree with that reading. Anders knows that such a proposal has been drawn up, and he is absolutely correct about that. He just doesn't know it’s been rejected, and frankly from where he’s standing, he has every reason to worry it might not be. Furthermore, Anders tells Hawke that there are templars within the Circle, most notoriously Ser Alrik, who are misusing the Rite of Tranquility even by Circle standards and who enjoy torturing and abusing mages—and then we see exactly that firsthand with Alrik and Ella, so Anders was entirely correct in that case.

By Act III, the Mage Underground has been completely dismantled, the Knight-Commander has openly seized control of Kirkwall, and half of Anders' own social group will still barely admit there's a problem. His ambient dialogue as early as the end of Act II is "I can't go on like this." It's hard not to feel the sheer despair radiating off Anders by the third Act.

His attack on the Chantry is not something he was always planning and working toward. It's a last resort he undertakes because every other avenue has failed. In seven years, he has helped to free individual mages, but he has made no progress toward dismantling or frankly even improving the Circle as a whole; in fact, it's only gotten worse. Now the lives of every mage in the Circle are threatened as Meredith seeks the Right of Annulment for little more than suspicions of blood magic. Individual rescues are not a solution. His written appeals to the public have had little practical effect. If he wants to save Kirkwall's mages, he has very few options left.

And if you listen to the way Anders speaks—if you look at his face after the explosion as he waits for Hawke's response—he is not happy about this. He is not dancing on the ashes. In fact, he looks heartbroken. There is collateral damage from the Chantry explosion and Anders knows there will be and he does not take that lightly. This is foreshadowed very well in a piece of banter with Isabela:

Anders: There is justice in the world. Isabela: Is there? You want to free the mages. Let's say you do, but to get there, you kill a bunch of innocent people. Isabela: What about them? Don't they then deserve justice? Anders: Yes.

Anders accepts this justice. He leaves Hawke out of his plans regardless of whether Hawke would have supported him because he means to accept the consequences for himself. He accepts whatever sentence he is given without resistance.

Regardless of how you feel about Anders' attack on the Chantry (and I'd prefer not to fight with anyone about that here), I recount all of this to make the point that his arc in the game is a long slide into despair and desperation, and for what I think are very understandable reasons. And over these seven years, it's pretty clear that Anders feels increasingly alone in his efforts. He feels like everyone is against him. There are things he feels he cannot tell even Hawke, no matter how supportive Hawke may be, because of Hawke's connections.

These are basically the worst possible conditions for a person to be able to extend patience and empathy to someone of very different experience with whom they are ideologically at odds.

Anders straight up doesn't have any energy, or emotional bandwidth, or whatever you want to call it, left for that. When he says, "I am the cause of mages. There is nothing else inside me," he means it. He is drained—emotionally, spiritually, probably physically, in all possible ways. He is particularly caustic in the back half of the game, and at times says some truly mean and petty things to and about other characters and I will not defend those things, but it is so understandable to me why he gets like this, stretched absolutely to the breaking point and ready to snap.

Anders' journey in Dragon Age II is a tragedy. Depending on the choices Hawke makes, it may not be the end of his story; there is still the possibility that he lives to see a changing world in which he himself can begin, after all these years, to breathe easier, to heal. I think that's going to be a long process, but it is absolutely possible.

Within the timeframe of the game itself, I don't think it is possible for Anders to go on the journey he's on and also figure out how to get along with Fenris. In fact I think those two things are antithetical to each other. Post-game, the world is wide with possibility. But not in the game itself. "Learn how to play well with others" (especially others who are diametrically opposed to everything he believes in) is so emphatically not the story being told with Anders in this game, and the entire climax of the game is built on top of the story it's been telling us with Anders. Because of that, I cannot see "Anders and Fenris become friends" as what could have been or what should have been. It's not just an add-on in this case; it's a change that rewrites the whole story.

Fenris's Journey

Upon arriving in Kirkwall, Fenris's history does at first glance share a lot of commonalities with Anders: he is an escapee who's managed to evade his captors for a few years now, and in Kirkwall he finds reason to settle down, though he is not out of danger yet.

But their paths start to diverge pretty much immediately.

First, let's just acknowledge that Kirkwall is, objectively, a safer city for Fenris than it is for Anders. That's not to say it is truly safe; Danarius is still hunting for Fenris and has connections in Kirkwall, and no human city is particularly safe for elves. Fenris finds himself pursued at some point in every act, culminating with Danarius himself in Act III.

Fenris is, however, much more able to defend himself against hired mobs of slavers operating illegally in the south than a lone apostate is able to defend him against an army of templars who have the backing of the city guard should they decide to actually come for him. Fenris's pursuers do not rule Kirkwall, and they don't have the guard on their side; they do not have a base of operations just a short boat ride away, and they are not sending troops to daily patrol the streets and look for a person of his description.

Had Fenris stayed in Tevinter, that would be exactly his situation, and if Anders had fled north, the templars tracking him would likely have faced more difficulty apprehending him. But this story doesn't take place in Tevinter, it takes place in Kirkwall, and Fenris has some advantage here just by nature of have escaped to the south.

Is Fenris truly safe in Kirkwall? No, and that's the setup for his whole character arc. The critical difference is that Fenris's arc is toward finding safety, while Anders' is not.

Let us note also that there is no one in Hawke's immediate friend group actively threatening to sell Fenris back into slavery. The Captain of the Guard, while she needles him about squatting in Hightown, also does not take the side of slavers. Even the pirate is against the trafficking of people. The only one in that group who has the potential to do such a thing to Fenris is Hawke, and only if Hawke decides to recruit Fenris, pretend to be his friend for seven years (even rivalries are still fundamentally friendships, just more challenging and complicated ones), before selling him out for, at most, a sum that should frankly be an insult to Hawke at that point in their career.

Hawke’s mage companions feel like threats to Fenris, yes, because his life experience has led him to conclude that no mage is truly safe. Anders and Merrill in particular represent the additional dangers of abominations and blood mages, respectively. But Anders’ core convictions pose a particular challenge not only to Fenris’ worldview, but to the very sense of safety he has only just begun to have.

Fenris spent most of his life enslaved and subjected to profound abuses. Since his escape to the south, he has found a sense of safety in the black-and-white concept that mages are dangerous and only non-mages can be trusted. If this is true, it means that in a world where mages are locked up, he can be safe. If what happened to him is, even in a broad sense, not unique to a land ruled by mages, then it could happen anywhere. (And unfortunately, that’s true. The slave trade is alive and well in the south, illegal though it may be, as we see in our many encounters with slavers.) If he admits to himself that many mages are just like him–subject to profound abuse and deserving of freedom—that sense of safety he is building for himself as a free man in the south is shattered. While he is still on the run, actively evading capture, this is not a possibility he is emotionally able to entertain.

It may be said that Fenris’s arc is about learning to let go of his anger; I disagree with that reading, or at least I think it is a very incomplete one. For one thing, it misses the very important point that the person his anger is for is still alive and actively pursuing him for most of the game. It’s easy to take Flemeth’s remark to Fenris, “The chains are broken, but are are you truly free?” as like, a philosophical statement, but no! He literally is not truly free so long as he still has to live as a fugitive, always looking over his shoulder, always waiting for the inevitable. He tells this to Hawke right in Act I: he will never truly be free until Danarius is dead, and if Danarius doesn’t show up eventually, Fenris will go hunt him down himself.

He is angry about this. He carries a deep rage not only for what has been done to him, what has been stolen from him, but also that even now Danarius is still taking from him and fucking up his life. Listen to the fury with which he says, “I was a fool to think I was free,” during “A Bitter Pill” in Act II.

And he needs that anger. Right now, that anger is still protecting him. It gives him the courage, as he says, to “turn and face the tiger.” His hatred of Hadriana compels him to seek her out and kill her rather than running again. And killing Hadriana is absolutely the right decision! There is nothing to be gained from leaving her alive, she certainly doesn’t deserve his mercy, and taking her out of the picture eliminates one more tool Danarius can use against him.

Where this scene shows Fenris’s need for growth is when he then lashes out at Hawke, regardless of their response. His anger isn’t the problem; his anger is valid and necessary. The problem is that it sometimes targets the wrong people: mages generally and his own friends in specific. But until Danarius is dead, Fenris cannot let go of that anger because it is necessary for his survival.

If you’re a Fenris fan, you know that moment in Act III in the Hanged Man, when he’s come to meet Varania and he sees Danarius. The expression on his face when the camera zooms in is nothing like the way he looks at Hadriana, with unfettered rage. The look when he sees Danarius is pure horror. He’s been waiting for this confrontation for ten years, but I think in that moment we realize he has also been terrified of it. He remembers what happened the last time he had a taste of freedom and Danarius came for him, and though he knows he has grown since then, those emotions are still there—the horror of having turned on the people who sheltered him, the shame of realizing how deep his conditioning was, the revulsion at what Danarius had made him. Anger has kept those feelings at a distance, but now, with Danarius before him at last, he must confront them all over again. Only this time, with friends at his back, he will fight.

With Danarius dead, it’s finally over. And whether Fenris chose to kill or spare his sister, he is now forced to confront the person he’s had to be to survive until this point.

The point of Fenris’s restlessness and dissatisfaction following his victory isn’t that killing Danarius was wrong or pointless. On the contrary: we have seen throughout the entire game that there was no other way for him to truly find freedom. At the risk of getting too clinical here, trauma (which includes long periods of unrelenting high stress) tends to leave people with emotions and coping mechanisms that were necessary for their survival at the time but become maladaptive once they are away from their trauma stressors. We have already seen this with Fenris, in the way his anger sometimes targets the wrong people, and Fenris himself is aware of this, at least in his interpersonal relationships: on his own initiative he seeks Hawke out to apologize after lashing out at them. In Act II, I think we even see the early stages of Fenris beginning to extend his circle of empathy after “Dissent,” when instead of calling Anders a monster, he suggests that Anders realize his limitations, adding that it was a suggestion, not a condemnation. I think it helps in that moment that Anders seems to take responsibility for what he did, or almost did, to Ella, even if he understandably does not react well to Fenris’s “suggestion.”

And now that Danarius is dead, Fenris is beginning to realize that while his fight for freedom is over, his path to healing has really just begun. There’s a reason he isn’t ready for a romantic relationship with Hawke until Act III, and it isn’t just that intimacy was triggering or the brief recovery of his memories upsetting. Until Danarius is dead, Fenris’s emotional growth really can only go so far, because he is still at least partly stuck in survival mode, and the anger and the blanket concept of “mages dangerous” are coping mechanisms he has developed in order to survive.

With Danarius dead, now Fenris can begin to let go. Now he can go further in examining who deserves his anger and who does not. Now he can begin to truly heal. And can he learn to sympathize with mages one day and stop seeing magic as the ultimate evil? I actually do think the answer is yes. But that’s at least a five-step plan, and his arc in the game is mainly concerned with accomplishing step 2. Step 1 was “Get out of Tevinter.” Step 2 was “make Danarius dead.” The next few steps are a lot less cut and dry, involving a lot of difficult emotional work. He has begun that process, but it’s a work in progress.

With friends to support his journey, I do think Fenris can still come a long way. I just don’t think he could possibly have gotten there before Act III.

Conclusions

Fenris and Anders are on very different journeys over the course of Dragon Age II. They cannot be friends or sympathize with one another in the timeframe of the game, not because they have nothing in common, but because neither of them are in a position to let their guard down in the ways they would have to in order to connect with each other. Neither of them have reached the level of healing they would need in order to do that, and it’s not possible for either of them to reach that point in the journeys they’re on during the game, with the stories the game is telling.

That doesn’t mean, however, that it’s not possible for them to reach that point in the future. Under the right circumstances, both of them may have the rest of their lives to heal and to grow.

#fenris #anders #dragon age meta #dragon age 2 #blunders of thedas

[digitaldoeslmk]

recollections of red and blue, or simple truths go oft-forgotten

it's been some time since MK's fateful encounter which changed everything, but Pigsy still won't forgive Wukong for what happened. Red Son is rather tired of this endless distrust and blame, and decides to remind the pigman of the kind of creature Wukong is. and maybe as important, the kind of creature that he used to be.

drabble where Hai'er sits down with Tang and Pigsy for a talk. beware the tags before proceeding. word count: 5.5k - AO3 mirror

"Alright, here we are. What did you want to talk about?"

The pig demon walked over to the other side of the bar with the familiarity of decades doing this. The few times Hai'er had been in the noodle shop, he could sense the love and dedication poured into every scratched bowl, worn balcony and faded tile. This place was the cook's whole life and soul, and he couldn't help but fix his jiasha a bit in respect before sitting down on a stool. It creaked a bit as it spun, and the pig man placed a cup of green tea in front of him. Probably from one of the thermos at one corner of the bar, no doubt, but Hong Hai'er sipped on it.

He had asked for a moment to speak with the old demon, given the past few interactions he saw between him and Wukong. While it was very amusing to see the pig try to get a rise out of a bodhisattva of all beings, it was also very distressing for everyone else involved, and this couldn't continue.

"You're a very stubborn pig." He said, dry and direct as usual. The human from the other corner of the bar choked a cackle into his fist, and Hai'er raised an eyebrow at him.

"Thanks, I work hard on it." Pigsy retorted just as dryly, but Hai'er had other immediate concerns.

"Are you sure he must stay?" Hai'er asked, nodding his head at the human.

"Oh good luck getting him to leave that spot, I've been trying for the past two decades and so far no luck." Pigsy replied, which earned a wide, stupidly cheeky grin from Mr. Tang.

"I see. You've out-stubborned him, that's an achievement." Hai'er said, directed at the human now, who preened at the not-at-all-a-praise.

"I prefer to think of it as perseverance, actually." He said, his grin gleaming in an insufferable way, and Hai'er rolled his eyes.

"I bet you do." He deadpanned. "But no, that one is just stubborn. Do you really insist on refusing to believe my uncle?" He asked, turning to the pig who was neating up the kitchen idly.

"Look kid, -"

"I'm older than you." Hai'er corrected, and the pig snorted, the interruption earning his anger and he rounded up on Hai'er, leaning on the counter.

"Whatever, kid! I don't believe him, and I never will. He can butter up the rest of these chumps, especially this one!"

"Hey!!" Tang whined, mouth half full of a half-empty bowl of noodles.

"But he can't fool me." Pigsy continued, "I know how important Sun Wukong is to the kid, but someone has to make sure MK doesn't fall on his face again cus he's too damn nice for his own good or safety, and if that  someone has to be me, then so be it!"

The demon finished in a snarl that was all tusks and fatherly care. Hai'er didn't react, not at first, but he sipped on his tea again as he considered how to begin. Pigsy gathered himself in the meantime, swiping a hand forcefully on his apron with a harumph.

"Mr. Tang?" Hai'er asks, and the scholar blinks. He didn't seem to expect to be included on the conversation again, but he hums in acknowledgment. "MK says you know the Journey to the West from head to toe, yes?"

The actual praise, even if paraphrased from the delivery boy, has the scholar preen again, pushing at his glasses.

"Oh, I do indeed! In fact, I'm in the process of my own independent translation, with quite a few new footnotes that--"

"Then you know the story of how I got these scars, right?"

Hai'er's interruption grinds Mr. Tang's whole rant to a halt, eyes wide as saucers as he seems to catch up to where Hai'er is going. His eyes flick towards said scars dotting his arm and neck, and those are just the ones in plain view.

"I... Yes, I suppose I do." He agrees, shrinking into his scarf like he would like to not have out-persisted Pigsy about his eternal bar spot after all.

"Of course you do. Tell it." Hai'er says, in that quiet yet stern tone that leaves the order implied but very much not up for discussion. Tang sinks even more into himself, and the rakshasa can feel Pigsy glare at him. Mr. Tang clears his throat, uncomfortable.

"Umm... You uh, Wukong and Guanyin both tricked you into... sitting on a fake lotus throne, but it was... made of swords." He says, meek as a turtle holed up in its shell. Hai'er frowns into his teacup; that wouldn't do.

"Oh come on, tell it right. I've seen it, you're a storyteller, born and true. You thrive in it, live for it." Hai'er says, pinning the man down with his brightening eyes, black coals ready to spark alive with indigo fire at any moment. "So tell the story as you should."

The moment of silence is heavy and tense, only the sound of the electric static of the lightbulbs about them to break it. Tang swallows and accepts his fate in the center stage, bracing himself before he begins.

---

"There you are, you wretched primate!! Come to face your demise at last?!" The brazen demon calls from his throne of basalt. His grin is fangs and rebellion, blazing eyes like a volcano's heart. His armor gleams under the glow of his bonfire hair, licking tall and proud into the air. Hong Hai'er calls to the figure in the sky blocking the late morning sun, a sad sight on his pearly cloud.

"Wouldn't count on it, nephew." Sun Wukong replies from on high, barely managing the cocky grin under the angry burns and scorch marks he still bears from last they met in battle. Hong Hai'er roars in rage, flames whipping out of his mouth.

"I've told you already, you're no uncle of mine! I, Red Son, would never call family someone who bows down to his foes like a whimpering fawn!" He bellows, the pines and firs bending at the heatwaves of his rage. Wukong doesn't deign him with a reply, and Hong Hai'er summons his flaming spear to his side.

"Allow me to put you out of your misery!!" He calls and shoots himself into the air, aiming his spear right at the monkey's chest. The sage parried it with his staff, and they sink into glorious battle once again.

The hellion demon is no match for the monkey, but he makes up for his lacking martial skills with his hunger for victory. A tiger smelling the trail of blood of a wounded prey, and stalking forward to a meal in the waiting.

The sage dodges an attack and jumps out of range. Again and again, always out of range!

"Fiendish freak, what are you doing!" Hong Hai'er screeches, frustrated.

"Well can't say I look forward to you using your fire on me again." Wukong replies, and Hong Hai'er snarls.

"You keep up with this and I just might out of spite! You come here to challenge me again, and you can't even do it right, what kind of man are you!"

Wukong cackles, choking on a sore throat in the process.

"More than you, that's for sure, nephew."

His flaming spear tears into the morning sky like a butcher's knife, "What did I tell you, you disgusting simian?!" The monkey dodges the strike easily and sails his cloud into the southern horizon. "You...! Hey, come back and die with some honor!"

Hong Hai'er chases after the fleeing monkey in a scorching blaze, careless of just how far or how fast they are going. It doesn't matter, nothing matters, except getting rid of this pesky beast. To end Wukong is to end this pathetic journey of his and to earn himself his prize. A plentiful feast and immortality!

A halo of auspicious light appears on the horizon, but the fire demon doesn't slow down, hot on the tail of the wretched fiend. A little more, a little closer... Wait, what?!

Wukong is gone, vanished into thin air and hallowed light. No. No! His victory, his prize!! The fire roaring in his belly eats at his sense, consuming his mind as well as his innards as he screams into the empty air.

"FIGHT ME, COWARD!!"

His wrath melts into the cold air and casts circles of waves in the water below him. Wait, water? This is... not a lake, but an ocean. Water as far as the eye can see. Red Son blinks, flames and sparks slithering from the corner of his eyes. How far did he fly?

A sound not unlike a wooden bell rings, and he turns to see the light in the distance dim and coalesce into a shape. A figure in draping silks, veil around black hair, and sacred jewelry that seemed to glow of its own volition. He knew this person, he noticed, and his grin turned almost feral.

"Ah, Guanshiyin. What luck!" He greets brazenly, dripping with ego and bloodthirst. "Tell me where that sad excuse for a sage has scurried off to immediately, and I might just spare you!" He orders, pointing his spear at the bodhisattva, who remains still and unbothered upon the floating lotus.

"Hey! I'm fucking talking to you!!" He roars, all-consuming flames roaring from his hair and eyes and fangs. "I said, where's Wukong?! Answer me!" Again, nothing. The nerve to ignore him, how dare!! With a bellow, he slashes at the enlightened figure. The streak of vicious fire licks at the water's surface and missing completely its target, since the lotus is now empty, as if there was never anyone upon it to begin with.

"Where did you-- Would you vermin cease vanishing and FACE ME!!" Hong Hai'er shrieks, the Samadhi fire eating at his bones and simmering at his skin. His ragged breathing is like blowing into a furnace, clouds of smoke and inflamed qi venting from his gaping mouth.

"Heh. You flee from me so swiftly, could it be the great Avalokiteśvara can't face my fire?" He asks the empty air, voice twisted and crackling from the heat within. "Hehe, hehahaha, AHAHAHA!! Very well then!!" He gloats, landing on the golden lotus. His feet fizzle against the cool seed pod, and he stabs his spear into it with a victorious growl.

"If you won't face me, then I, Red Son, Bull King of the Flaming Mountains, will take over your fancy old lotus throne! HAHAHAHA!!" He says, sitting down on the lotus and adjusting himself to lounge cockily on the feathery soft petals. He might have missed the monkey and the thousand-armed one, but this was satisfaction enough. Or so he thought, not knowing that both Wukong and Guanyin stood right by him, invisible to his un-enlightened eyes. Wukong winces in quiet rage at his disrespectful boasting, but Guanyin simply plucks the sacred branch of willow.

"Foolish rakshasa. Bear now the consequences of your crimes." Red Son startles at the sudden voice, looking about him for the source, but before he can even sit up, the willow beyond his sight waves in the air and the lotus throne vanishes. In its stead, rest the thirty-six celestial swords of Devaraja Li. Sharper than any wind, sharper than sunlight in summer, they all pierced right through his resting body in the span of half a heartbeat.

---

As Tang finished the story, the silence returned. Both men regarded the fire demon carefully, who didn't miss how their eyes flicked to the scars all over him pensively. Hai'er sipped on his tea one last time, the cup now empty.

"That's right. It hurt like nothing I've ever felt before or since. Even so, I tried to remove them, but the bodhisattva simply turned them into hooks so that I couldn't. All I could do was beg for it to stop." He said, knowing that those two needed some sort of reaction. He had none to offer truth be told, it had all been so long ago after all, and whatever he had to say was not for their ears.

Tang fussed with his sleeves, clearly unsure of himself and what to say, while Pigsy simply stood at the kitchen, folding and unfolding a wiping cloth.

"I... I'm so sorry." Mr. Tang said finally, and Hai'er chuckled.

"What for?" He asked, amused at the response he got. "I deserved it."

"No you didn't! Nobody deserves that." Tang said, and oh the sweet guy, he believed it too. Hai'er could just smile with fondness at the sentiment, even if it was misguided. He always forgot that mortals tended to get the wrong message from those stories; no wonder so few have ascended or devoted themselves to cultivation of late. Too many new-fangled morals.

He needed to remind them who exactly he used to be.

"Tang Laoshi, have you ever smelled burning hair?" He asks, and he feels the glare Pigsy throw his way.

"I thought you wanted to talk to me, not Tang." The cook grumbled, but Hai'er ignored him much to the scholar's dismay.

"Please answer the question." He said, and Tang looked between the two of them for a moment before nodding.

"Well, yes. Once, it was this little mishap you see! Me and Pigsy were still young, he had only just started the shop and I was--"

"Turn that smell up by a hundred, and you'll know what the smell was like when Wukong got hit by my Samadhi Fire." He interrupts the man's story again, earning him a flurry of baffled blinks from the human. "A patchy half-charred monkey is actually a pretty funny sight."

Neither of the men shared in his humor, instead looking rather uncomfortable by the sudden somber turn of topic.

"Uh, Shancai Zhuren? Is.... what is this?" Tang asks, looking sincerely spooked and lost in what's happening. Pigsy looks just as lost, but his fear manifests in a tense back and a wide stance. Someone with some fighting experience, at least.

"I was a villain, Tang." Hai'er began, his calm and matter-of-fact tone only seeming to spook the human more. And he's hardly begun. "I burned goats and pigs to watch them suffer and the people lament their lost livestock. I extorted minor gods out of their offerings, because them losing their divinity was funny. I hunted travelers on the road for sport, to eat them at the full moon family dinners." He said, having crossed his arms to lean on the counter, a single finger tracing the edge of his chipped empty cup. He threw a glare at Tang who looked pale as a ghost. "I enjoyed it." He said, slow and deliberate, and Tang flinched. "I tortured my uncle, and I was ready to kill him. I wanted to more than anything. If Wukong hadn't gone to get Guanyin's help, I would have done it too. I was going to take his skin as a gift for my mother, as a coat. I'd have steamed the pig and seared the fish, and I'd have eaten the revered monk with my parents with sour sauce and a glass of rice wine. And I'd not have regretted a single thing."

Tang looked about ready to bolt right out of the service entrance just so he didn't have to get past Hai'er for the door, and Pigsy's tusks poked out of his twisted grimace.

"I did deserve it, every single blade of it." Hai'er said and saw the pig man lean from the corner of his eyes.

"What is this, free moping hours?! Oh, no pal, that ain't on the menu. You had better get to the point, or get out of my shop!" Pigsy burst out, jabbing a finger at the door. Hai'er l lifted a hand to placate the demon.

"I have a point. Well, two actually, but first of. You must have known all this. Doesn't take much to know that you have been overhearing Mr. Tang and MK tell these stories over and over."

"What's it to ya?" Pigsy snapped.

"And yet you trust me. I've only ever been a villain in those stories, and a dangerous one at that, yet I get more goodwill than my Uncle. You blame him for what happened to MK, but I couldn't stop it from happening either. What makes me special?"

"You're not making a great case for yourself, pal." Pigsy warned, but Hai'er waved off his threat.

"Humor me."

Pigsy regarded him for a long moment. With a sigh, the tension from his shoulders abated if only a bit.

"You helped MK. You called us, and you drove him here. That's, something. Certainly more than that immortal furball ever did."

"My uncle was in the Celestial Realm. Time dilation sucks." Hai'er retorted in a deadpan, and he could tell the pig demon was just barely holding back from throwing a spoon at his head.

"So what! He's enlightened or whatever, he should have known! He should have stopped it!" Pigsy said, poking at the counter so hard his large nails left dents on it. Huh, just like the floor of his home with his father's hooves. "If he really cared so much, he would have done something!!"

Red Son rolled his eyes at the response but sighed.

"Alright then. Humor me a bit longer so I get to my next point."

"Make it snappy, would ya?"

"As you wish." He said, and almost as a gesture of peace, the pig plucked the cup from his hand and filled it again.

"Even though that was the worst paint I've ever known, when the blades were gone all I could think about was vengeance." He picked up the story again, and sure enough, Mr. Tang piped in.

"Yes, you struck at Guanyin with your spear." The scholar said, and he nodded.

"I did. Because I knew that if I did, Uncle wouldn't hold back. I knew that if I struck at her, he'd defend her at all costs."

If the story from before had made the atmosphere tense, he was sure that the cook could cut it with one of his knives and use it for cartilage soup. The silence stretched and he could smell the moment the realization set in.

"You... You wanted..." Tang's voice wavered like a plucked string, and Hai'er took pity on the man and said it himself.

"I wanted him to kill me. I refused to be defeated and tamed by them, even if I had to die for it. Rebirth was preferable to captivity." He said, with the ease of someone who had grappled with that aspect of himself for centuries and made peace with it. Or someone reporting on the weather for the day, whichever worked. "And I would have too, but instead I got these."

The golden fillets at his wrist glinted under the fluorescent lights. Polished to a pristine mirror shine, unscratched and undented despite the wear and tear of centuries. Heavenly metal, not made to be tarnished my mortal means. His own gaze met him from the warped reflection on them, a familiar sight to him now.

"Master Guanyin saw this unrepentant, irredeemable creature writhing in rage, and she was going to drag it kicking and screaming into a second chance I did absolutely nothing to deserve." He said in a soft reverent tone, a hand cradling one of the circlets and feeling it warm under the touch.

The pigman snorted, unimpressed. "Is this where you tell me he's going to do that to me, eh?"

"I'm not done. The books don't tell this part of the story, so listen up.

"The first time I saw him again, I was gathering bamboo shoots for dinner. It oddly was the one thing Master let me do away from the groves, even though I had tried to poison her and the other disciples every time I got dinner duty. He showed up in my path, and he fell into a kowtow and begged for forgiveness for what happened. He said that I had left him no choice, but I could always call on him whenever I needed. That he would never shirk his duties to me as family." Hai'er told and huffed a little laugh. "I told him to get lost."

That at least got some amusement from the pig, though the scholar watched him with wide eyes, ever interested in a new tale for his collection.

"The second time we met, he did the same thing. Going on about how sorry he was, how he'd never surrender his duties to me or my family,  that he... still cared for us in the only way he could. I was so angry still, so upset over my fate, and seeing him pleading for forgiveness made me so irate. So I kicked him."

Tang sputtered at that, "You did??"

"I did."

"How did he take that?"

"He didn't budge, but I broke my big toe on his forehead."

Tang suddenly spits out a mouthful of broth, caught between a cackle, a cough, and a lot of choking. Hai'er considers patting his back, but the man seems to gather himself more or less while the pig man complains up and down about the gross mess he made of his bar.

"Oh I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to laugh, I--"

"It's quite alright, it's very funny." Hai'er grants, waving away the man's apologies. It had hurt like a bitch back then, but it was his ego that was more hurt than his toe. He gives the scholar and chef some time to clean up a bit the kitchen and their pride before continuing.

"I cursed him out so much for it, too. I told him I hated him and I'd hate him forever, because he didn't even let me say goodbye to my parents, that I was trapped in those miserable groves and didn't know if I'd ever see them again." There's a knot in his throat at the memory of those uncertain years, but he pushed them aside. "I promised him that if he hurt my parents, I'd tear off my own hands and feet and head to get rid of those fillets, and I'd haunt him to the ends of the world.

"All he said in reply was that it was okay. I could hate him as much as I needed to or wanted to, it didn't matter, but he would always embrace me as his nephew no matter what. I told him to get out of my sight and never show his face in front of me again."

He could feel Mr. Tang's eyes on him, ever kind and pitying and infuriating, but Pigsy just huffed unamused but not unkind. To Hai'er, that was an improvement.

"And? What about the third time?" He asks, and Hai'er chuckles.

"Rushing the story, are we."

"Yeaaaah, he does that all the time, don't mind him." Tang comments, waving a hand dismissively much to the pig's disapproval.

"Well you're clearly on talking terms with the guy, so there must be a third time where that changed. So spill it."

Hai'er smirked at that, amused. The pig was the direct cut and dry type, which he could appreciate.

"The third time was much later on. I had grown a lot already by then, was much calmer and collected. I was past being resigned and just trying to live in this new normal I found myself in. I was making the best of it I suppose. Maybe even started to enjoy it.

"He showed up because he had crossed paths with my parents, which led to quite a conflict. In the end, Nezha had taken my father to the Jade Emperor for judgment. When I heard the news I was so sure my father was dead, executed long before I even heard of his arrest. I... I cracked.

"I was wailing on the ground and tearing at my hair, but then Wukong grew ten times his size and held me. He let me cry, and reassured me that it wasn't what I was thinking. My father was still alive, but serving penance. He had pleaded to Nezha and before the Jade Emperor himself to spare his life. I asked him why, and he looked at me with such open kindness and warmth. He even laughed a bit when he told me that as long as he breathed, he would not have me separate from my parents. He wouldn't break up our family like that. I didn't understand why he still cared for us so much, not when he was supposed to be detached from worldly ties and not when we had caused him so much trouble already. I tried to kill him, I wanted to, and yet he still cared enough to spare my parents. I didn't understand him at all, but it didn't matter, because I knew then that he meant every word of it.

"After I stopped crying, I asked him once he was finished with his Journey, if I should call him Great Sage or Enlightened One, and he said that just Uncle would suffice if I chose to. He's been Uncle Wukong to me ever since."

The ending to his story hung in the air, along with the lingering scent of stew spices and the buzzing of the electric lights. Mr. Tang looked ready to say something, probably of the awkward yet ever kind variety, but the chef beat him to it.

"And the point is?!"

"Pigsy!"

"The point, Zhu Dachu," Hai'er interrupted, "is that you can scream and blame and rage and whine and winge and kick and throw whatever you want at the walls. None of that will change the fact that my uncle cares for MK. And I mean truly, genuinely cares and worries for him, whether you believe him or not. Even if MK for some absurd reason decides to turn his back on him, shun and curse him from the twelfth heaven to the eight hell, Wukong will still, to the Universe's dying breath, care for him."

His gaze bore down on the pig, as if he could someone stare his words into the man's thick skull.

"That's my point. I hope you'll at least consider my words, though what you do with them is entirely up to you." He finished, leaning back in his seat and it creaked with the movement. For what it was worth, Pigsy gave nothing away, but something in the air had shifted somehow, whether for better or worse was too soon to tell. Regardless, he simply cradled his empty cup, now gone lukewarm from his hands.

Their staring contest, or at least heated sparring, was interrupted by Mr. Tang's not-so-subtle thorat clearing.

"That's very kind of you to share this with us, and we'll definitely take it heart, Shancai Zhuren." Mr. Tang said, ignoring Pigsy's grunt of offense on the "we" he tacked on his words.

"I think at this point, we can go with just Shancai, yes?" Hai'er offered with a small smile, not seeing the need for formalities with these two. Not when he's shared such a personal story of his with them.

"Oh! Yes, Shancai, thank you." Tang thanked, looking genuinely flattered and more than a bit close to squeeing for joy. Hai'er rolled his eyes in exasperated fondness.

"Now I gotta ask. Why is it Shancai for us, but MK gets to call you Hai'er?" Pigsy asked, seemingly done stewing on his story. Hai'er shrugged.

"That's just how it is." He deadpanned. No need to tell the man about how his son's glazed eyes lit with recognition once he was able to put a name to the stranger with him, how somehow ranting about the novel's chapter in a parched throat helped him ground himself to some semblance of normal after the horror he was put through.

Shancai wouldn't have done anything for Xiaotian then, but Hai'er did, and he didn't feel like breaking that connection. Not when somehow, Hai'er was someone Xiaotian trusted, and even liked having around. That's just how it is.

"Well, it is late and I think I've taken up enough of both your time. I shall leave you both to it." Hai'er said, sliding off his seat and giving them a bow. When Tang made to follow him to the door, he waved him away. "No need, I know where the exit is. And wouldn't want you relinquishing your hard-earned seat on my account."

Mr. Tang gave him a good-natured laugh at that, and he counted that was a good note to end on.

"Goodnight, sirs. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

Pigsy gave him a short nod and Tang waved him goodbye, and with that, he was out of the shop and back into the cool city night air. Not as cool as the deserts, that's for sure, and for a moment he kind of wished it was. Brisk and bracing, enough to make his skin climb into goosebumps.

He did his part. Whether it would go anywhere or not, was out of his hands. But his ears could catch the two men's hushed tones past the walls, though he didn't bother trying to pick their exact words. He had a feeling he's left them with plenty to discuss in the coming days, and he was glad to be left excluded from the specifics.

Taking a deep breath, he returned to his car. He couldn't wait to be out in the desert, with the cool dry breeze to wash him clean from the day's affairs. No more broth spices, city smog, engine grease, bamboo sawdust, lotus incense smoke, or stardust metal and sticky copper and bile.

Just the sunbaked breeze of the sands and his thoughts.

At every stop sign, his gaze lingered down to his arms. Bandaged and glamoured, bound by celestial metal, scarred down to his bones. He was long past caring, vanity was a far away thing to him now after, but sometimes looking back at those memories stirred something in him.

Not regret, or bitterness or shame. He had faced those foes long ago and emerged victorious, with no small amount of effort. Not even nostalgia either, he couldn't miss those troubled days if he tried, not with the wisdom he now wielded.

Instead, he missed that feeling of realization. Held in his uncle's massive arms, almost drowning in his own tears, and realizing that he wasn't alone. He never was. He always had his uncle, even when he believed as sure as the sky was blue and the earth was solid, that he had no one.

He missed his family. How could he not? He missed the simple filial love of his childhood when he could reach out to his mother and be held in her arms, or jump on his father's lap and be brought to sit on his shoulders. It was easy as breathing then, for all of them, but those days were long past.

As clockwork, that little voice in his head muttered at him, peaceful and solemn as his Master's voice at lectures.

Let go.

He should listen. It was about time he did, it's been centuries and it's brought him nothing but suffering, and if he just let go then it would go away. He could finally fully commit to his Master's teachings, take the vows, and maybe join his uncle in enlightenment.

Instead, he pressed a few keys on his on-board phone, letting the call come through.

"Zhizi? What's up?"

He couldn't believe he was so damn weak.

"Shushu, do you want to have some tea at my place?" He asks, and there's an amused chittering laughter from the other side.

"It's been a while! I thought you'd never ask." Wukong replied, and Hai'er had to sigh.

"Me too." He agreed, his tone quieter than he had hoped it.

There was a quiet pause that he knew meant his uncle was staring at him across the line, and he took some comfort that he wasn't actually present.

"Meet you there, then. You better not skimp on me like last time, I know you hoard pu'er like a magpie." He teased, and cut the call before Hai'er could even reply.

Ah well, so much for detachment of worldly things. He had time. Yeah, he had time to do better and to finally let go of these illusions. Until then, he had his uncle and he could always call him for tea when the longing was like blades on his ribs. Until then, that was enough.

---

vocabulary

jiasha: mandarin, borrowed term from the sanskrit "kasaya". Piece of patchwork cloth worn by Buddhsit monks over one shoulder, once used to distinguish monastic schools of geographic origins.

wooden fish: a kind of bell used in Chen Buddhism to mark the pace of reciting sutras and prayers, often depicted in the shape of a fish.

Hong Hai'er: "Red Son/Boy".

Guanshiyin: full mandarin name of the bodhisattva Guanyin.

Avalokiteśvara: sanskrit name of Guanyin.

Devaraja Li: also known as Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King Li, chinese analog of Vaisravana. Father of Jinzha, Muzha and Nezha.

Tang Laoshi: "teacher Tang", respectful title for anyone who teaches.

Shancai Zhuren: "director Shancai", respectful title for someone in a high management position.

Zhu Dachu: "chef Zhu", mandarin dub name for Pigsy, also serving as a title.

Zhizi: nephew by the male line.

Shushu: uncle, father's younger brother.

#cw implied torture #cw mentioned cannibalism #cw suicidal ideation #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk au #by the book au #lmk red son #hong hai'er #lmk tang #lmk pigsy #pardal writes

[spacedadkronos]

Ooo, lol, looks like someone got their knickers twisted so hard they wrote a whole essay about how they're categorically correct about an ultimately subjective matter. That's always a winning approach.

Please do not try to "educate" me the difference between writers and executive producers in animation. I have an animation degree. I'm not a child.

 I follow both Brent and Alan on Twitter and have been for like 3 years now. I have been watching their updates since the announcement of the show 2 years ago. I have pics of them celebrating finishing up the writing. Here's proof that they wrote it, including screenshots of the IMDb Brent had linked on his Twitter. 

I said this is not what they consider THE sequel. Obviously it is *a* sequel. I'm saying people should not be treating it like Megamind 2 when it is a pilot for the TV show. They want a real theatrical sequel.

This is a random screenshot I felt was important

I think this person better put what I meant about not as many people would care this much if it wasn't on streaming:

Megamind was an arrogant little egomaniac for the entirety of the first movie. Not sure how you missed that. Roxanne appears dissatisfied with her place in life from her recording at the Metro Man Museum with Hal onward, and does her level best to become the hero her city needs because no one else is going to stand up and do it - not sure how you missed that, either, but her whole character arc is about stepping up to the plate to do good. Well done reducing her to a single career point and then discarding her. I wasn't surprised to see her frustrations with going right back to reporting. That was a headspace that made a ton of sense for her. It was set up incredibly well.

And Megamind himself says, "some days, it felt like it was just me and Minion against the world," so you might think I agree with you there - but in fact I'm going to point out the SOME days, it FELT LIKE. There is no reason to believe that he never had any other professional associates between the time he left the schoolhouse and the time we see him as an established supervillain. In fact, I can and will argue that there's room to interpret *he himself* saying he wasn't always flying solo. It's up to interpretation - but it's there.

And no, Roxanne and Megamind are not and should not be "quasi-dating" unless you want to look past the enormous Bernard lie. Which I can't say I'm surprised you did, since Roxanne doesn't matter as anything other than Reporter Romantic Interest, apparently. The end of the original implies they have *potential.*

But I'm not trying to convince you. At the end of the day, you didn't enjoy something you hoped to enjoy. You missed a few key points about the original, so the pilot of the show didn't line up with some of your expectations and it pissed you off. That's a shame. But instead of offering some grace and recognizing it for what it is - a movie designed for a younger demographic than the original, the first ounce of love Dreamworks has shown this IP since its initial release more than a decade ago, and as much story as could be crammed into 83 minutes because the people making it only had so much time within which to work, which is *honestly a fun ride* if somewhat tonally dissonant compared to what YOU were hoping for - you've decided instead to focus on what it wasn't: What You Personally Wanted. And you've decided to make your disappointment everyone else's problem instead of processing it like an adult and moving on.

I think you're boring, I think you're unkind, I think you're a whiny little bully who came onto MY POST to bitch and complain about how you're the god of what I'M allowed to enjoy. Block me, if I make you so miserable. I'm busy having fun.

#megamind #megamind vs the doom syndicate #megamind rules

[yumedoca]

Why did Lum love Ataru in the first place and how her love grew into the real thing as time went on? - An Analysis 🧐 (Long Post)

Hai there, hope you’re having a great day! Today on ‘Yuca Analyzes Silly Things (For No Reason)’,  we’ll be talking about the question that is the most asked in UY, both in universe and the fandom as well. “Why did Lum love Ataru in the first place and what made it into the real thing?” Note: All of the facts and evidence and such are taken from the manga because: a) it’s the canon source, b) the og anime changes a lot in relation to character to the point it isn’t consistent and c) the remake is an adaptation of selected chapters from the manga, as in it’s not the complete story. Also most of this analysis are just theories put together using canonical facts, as in what I say is speculation and not 100% confirmed (considering the manga ended like 3 decades ago, we’ll probably never get a confirmation).

With all of that aside, let’s begin!

First, We’ll divide the analysis into parts to make it easier to understand and explain:

Marriage Proposal

Evading First Love

The Beginning of True Love

The Eventual Reason

Conclusion

Marriage Proposal Lum’s first impression of Ataru wasn’t all that big, he was a human who she was supposed to play tag with but she looked down on him because she can fly and was sure that he wouldn’t be able catch her. Cue ‘Day 8’, In an attempt to catch Lum so he could grab her horns, he accidentally groped her breast and when Lum slapped him in anger, he fell down but since he was holding onto her tightly, her bra came off (as in the bra coming off was not Ataru’s fault, it was actually Lum’s which happened due to circumstances).

Later on she goes to visit him and tries to get it back, but since Ataru believes that things were finally going his way, refuses. This causes Lum to get mad it him and spite him, so the question is why would she accept his ‘marriage proposal’ later on? It took time to figure out an answer to this but I was finally able to put together an answer which makes sense: Revenge, as in for the trouble he put her through by refusing to give back her bra and flashing her to the neighborhood, she ruins the relationship between him and his girlfriend. Pretty bitchy behavior? yes, but it fits Lum’s character back then.

Look at her evil little grin…

Sure, there’s also the alternative that she just gave up to him and agreed thinking he actually wanted to marry her, but it doesn’t fit Lum’s character to give up to someone who she was frustrated with a couple seconds ago, it just doesn’t make sense story wise, which is why I’ll disregard it. Moving on, since Lum isn’t there and that Ataru and Shinobu’s relationship has been mended in the next chapter, we can think that the misunderstanding was resolved sometime between chapter 1 and 2… But Lum appears once again in chapter 3 and announces that she’ll be living with Ataru (as a part of a deal obviously) and even breaks out a tantrum when he refuses, so you may ask, why did she come back to him if her revenge idea was already resolved beforehand and why is she so eager and stubborn to be with him? The answer for that is simple and it is all because of…

Yup, him.

Evading First Love For now we’re going back to Lum’s past, back when she dated and broke up with Rei and theorize the aftermath of that. In the chapter(s, since it’s a two parter) ‘Heartbreak Crossin’’, we are shown a flashback to when Lum and Rei broke up:

We can’t really tell how old they are since it was never stated, but considering that Lum’s drawn a bit shorter and smaller (and her outfit), we can guess that this happened a few years back. Now every time Rei appears, he is seen going after Lum (that or eating) and since it’s because he wants to get back with her we can assume this started when they broke up. This means that Rei’s been, well, stalking Lum for a couple years and she’s clearly getting tired of it. I also have to mention the fact there seems to be no high school in space since Benten just hangs and rides around on her bike and Oyuki is her planet’s ruler (Lum and Ran go to school because they’re on Earth). It seems as if Junior High is where their education ends and then they do what they want or what their supposed to do and since we see that Lum was with her dad in the first chapter invading, it is likely that after graduation she decided to become an invader with her dad, but then she retired cuz she got ‘married’. She probably made the decision to work with her dad so she doesn’t want Rei to come after her anymore, however invading planets take a couple of days (10 days) and she’ll be back on her planet again and will have to put up with Rei all over again. And during one of the invasions is when she played with Ataru and answered his proposal, and like I said earlier she went back home later on. I think, after she went home, she realized that a permanent way to end the Rei issue is to get a boyfriend, and stay on another planet so he won’t be able to bother her all the time and then she remembered Ataru and that it how she eventually lives with him now.

The Beginning of True Love From there on, Lum stayed with Ataru so she could be free of Rei, if we believe this to be the actual reason then Rei’s introductory chapter makes a lot of sense. She kept trying to provide assistance to Ataru (except it hilariously backfires most of the time and causes him trouble instead) so he would accept her and tries to rid of Shinobu (and other woman) so she would have more chances with him. But eventually, in the chapter ‘How I’ve Waited For You’, Lum contemplates when she was faced with the question on whether she truly loves Ataru or not, and we her finally have her admit that she really does love her darling after all.

Now, we have to note that Ataru hasn’t shown his more positive side at all, by this point. So, why this feeling of love? Two reasons: a) It’s because she enjoys being with him. Since, Ataru is very unlucky, he tends to naturally attract all sorts of weirdness towards him causing him to end up in strange situations and we all know that weird means fun and Lum is someone who actively enjoys taking part in fun, rather than just sitting around and watching (That’s what Ran does when she’s on dates with Rei, isn’t it?). And of course, b) Overtime, she’s grown to care for him. Lum has bonded with Ataru through their experiences and since she lives with him she spends a lot of time with him. ‘The more time you spend with someone,the closer you get to them’, this isn’t a theory, it’s fact and I’m pretty sure you yourself can confirm it. Of course, by the end of the chapter, Lum got a hint that Ataru has started to accept her as well. And because of various instances such as ‘Since Your Parting’, ‘Deranged Marriage’, ‘Valentine’s Disillusion’, etc. where Ataru shows his affection has caused her own affections to grow cuz ‘If you learn that someone loves you more than you think they do, Your love for them grows as well’ (another basic fact!).

The Eventual Reason So as time went on, not only has Lum begun to see that Ataru does care for her, but she’s also seen his softer and nicer sides: The side which cries because she’s gone, The side of him which keeps a diary (“It takes a sensitive guy to keep a diary!”), The side of him which fights his entire class to protect a little caterpillar, the side of him which goes on a date with a girl to cure her of a curse, etc. and the more of those sides she sees, the more she’s in love. The final page from the chapter ‘Last Date’ is enough to see that Lum really loves and admires the man beneath all those flaws…

…More specifically, this panel of silent love:

Conclusion In the end Lum’s reasons for loving Ataru has changed overtime: At first it was an act of spite, then it was to escape her ex, then it was because she’s bonded with him and because she enjoys his presence and finally it’s because she loves the Darling underneath the mask… It’s nice to see love grow from something so fake to something so real and the writing really helps, so big props to Takahashi- sensei. Thanks for taking time to read this analysis and I hope I was able to make things clear about Lum. I love her and she’s probably my favorite female character of all time so hopefully this post does justice to her. I also apologize if I’ve overlooked anything or made any mistakes. If you have any doubts or questions about this analysis feel free to send an ask and if you want me to do an analysis about other characters, feel free to send an ask for that as well. I have previously done an analysis on Ataru’s love for Lum and how that grew overtime, so please check it out if you haven’t. It’s a lot smaller (since it’s not as complicated as this one) and isn’t as detailed (it doesn’t use images either), but it still conveys the point otherwise. I have also done two other analysis, one on Lum’s character and other one on Ataru’s character, so check those out if you haven’t as well. And finally, likes are appreciated and reblogs are even more appreciated (seriously, please reblog this so more people can see this post, I’m usually not this kind of person, but I spent a lot of time on this so I want it to feel worth it, ok?). Hope you have a great day ahead.

#urusei yatsura #うる星やつら #urusei yatsura 2022 #urusei yatsura manga #lum #lum invader #ataru moroboshi #atalum #ataru x lum #lum the invader #lum x ataru #my analysis #relationship analysis #character analysis #long post

[violetganache42]

Ooooh, boy. This has been an announcement I have been dying to share for almost a year now, and I think this is the perfect time to make it because I'm not joking when I say this:

I'M GOING TO LAS VEGAS AND CALIFORNIA FOR THE FIRST TIME!

Okay, so there is a funny story on how that happened. One day during the spring last year, Mom was looking at dates for us to go see Garth Brooks in concert again and saw that he currently has concert residency in Las Vegas. Despite the initial debate on whether we should go or not considering the huge distance between there and our home, she ultimately bought the tickets for it because we've never been to Vegas before. And that's just only the beginning. lol

Later that same year, during the summer, Mom and I were running errands and talking about our upcoming trip to Vegas. She mentioned how this was gonna be the closest she'll be to California; it's her birth state and the last time she was there was a few decades ago, so she couldn't not go visit there again. Not even a second later, I simply replied, "✨Disneyland~.✨" Pizazz and all. XD She immediately said that she didn't even think of that at all, which had me laughing, and it quickly led to our trip becoming full-fledged family vacation plans. The planning was a gradual process because at the time, we were more focused on our second Orlando vacation in September and me staying with my older sister in Milwaukee from late December to mid-January while Mom was in London and Paris. With all of that out of the way, we've been finalizing our Las Vegas and California plans for the past few months; now, I can officially say we'll be on vacation from Apr. 24 to May 4.

I still cannot believe this is actually happening! I never thought I would end up going to the other side of the country for anything. And lemme tell you, there are a number of things I am already looking forward to checking out: the sights of Las Vegas, the Grand Canyon, going to Toontown and Super Nintendo World, possibly visiting Mom's birth town! I am super excited!

#my post #update #hiatus #upcoming hiatus #las vegas #garth brooks #disneyland #disney california adventure #universal studios #universal studios hollywood

[numinousmysteries]

Six Days Until the End of the World

@eightnightsofmulder

@today-in-fic

Eight Nights of Mulder Day Four: Endurance

[on Ao3]

December 2012

Dana Scully has endurance. She was never the fastest kid in gym class but she’d often win running races because she knew how to pace herself. The others would sprint and burn out in the first 50 meters, while her short legs carried her past them and through the finish line. She considered running a marathon with some friends during med school but her demanding schedule didn’t leave time for adequate training, and Dana Scully doesn’t half-ass anything.

In college, her pre-med cohort dwindled over the years as her peers faltered in the face of organic chemistry and advanced biology labs but she worked hard and persevered. She wasn’t always a good shot but she spent hours practicing aiming at cans with her father until her arms ached from holding the weight of her BB gun and her vision started to blur. It paid off when she stunned her misogynistic instructor at Quantico with her spot-on accuracy in the firing range. 

Her colleagues at the Bureau, and probably even Mulder himself, didn’t expect her to last long on the X-Files. It was supposed to be a stepping stone to bigger things, an amusing anecdote in her otherwise storied career. Her father instilled in her a repugnance for giving up and an intractable sense of loyalty, but that doesn’t fully explain why she kept chasing monsters in the dark. She’s outlasted the X-Files and almost two decades later she’s still by Mulder’s side. 

It’s the last night of Hanukkah and six days until the end of the world. 

She doesn’t fully share Mulder’s belief that colonizing aliens will invade the planet in less than a week, and she isn’t sure he’s fully convinced either. She knows they will be together, though, when it does (or doesn’t) happen. 

They spent their early days on the run chasing leads, trying to uncover the plan for colonization, and doing anything they could to fight it. But the trail has long gone cold. It’s been years since they pursued even a dead end or red herring, and she can tell Mulder’s heart isn’t in it anymore. They live small and quiet lives now. They have each other, but not their son and not the answers they spent years searching for. He cracks jokes that it wouldn’t be the worst thing if all of humanity perishes in a fiery invasion or becomes slaves to an extraterrestrial master race in a matter of days. She suspects they aren’t jokes.

It’s Sunday and she’s barely seen him all day. He burrows away in his office most of the time now. He doesn’t tell her what he’s working on and she doesn’t ask. Back when they first became lovers, a lazy Sunday without any work was such a rarity that they’d spend nearly the entire day in bed exploring each other’s bodies. She can still remember every freckle on his body but she can’t remember the last time they made love, or the last time he made her laugh. Still, she endures.

“Six days to go,” she hears his baritone from behind her and she turns to face him. She’s at the kitchen table reviewing her surgery schedule for the week ahead and doesn’t hear him approaching.

“Should we escape to Acapulco now so I can at least go out with a tan?” she deadpans.

“You don’t tan, Scully,” he says, sliding into a chair facing her. “You burn. We both know that.” 

She shrugs. “How do you want to ride out our final days then?”

“I want to find our son. Apologize to him for not being able to save the world.” 

She grimaces. It’s as if he’s jabbing his finger into an open wound in her flesh, a wound that will never heal. 

“I’d like that, too,” she says quietly, looking down at her notes now and away from him. “But it’s not going to happen.” 

“I have a lead.”

Her breath catches in her throat. They’ve gone down this road before and it never ends well. 

“It can’t be him,” she says. 

“I think this time it is,” he says, leaning toward her from across the table. He speaks with an urgency she hasn’t heard from him in years. For a moment, they’re back in the basement and he’s trying to convince her there’s a swamp monster in St. Augustine or a lizard man in Louisville. The stakes are higher now and the possibilities even more remote. 

“There’s a boy in Wyoming. The birth and adoption dates line up,” he continues.

She shakes her head. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“I’d agree with you if it weren’t for the video.”

“What video?” 

“Come,” he says, leading her from the kitchen to his office. 

Of course, she follows him. She doesn’t always believe him but she’ll always follow him. That hasn’t changed.

He taps on the keyboard to wake up his computer. The browser is opened to a YouTube video. On the screen, a cluster of kids face away from the camera in what looks like a school playground. The title reads MY BOY CAN MOVE SH!T WITH HIS MIND.

Before she can object, Mulder clicks play. In the video, the circle of kids opens up to reveal a tall, red-headed boy with blue eyes and a nose he hasn’t grown into yet. He’s holding a toy model of the Millenium Falcon. 

“Do it, Jackson. I’m filming now,” a prepubescent voice calls from out of the frame. 

“You can’t post this,” Jackson says. “My parents will kill me.” 

“I won’t, I swear,” the off-camera voice lies.

“Fine,” Jackson says. 

He extends his arms out with the spaceship in his hands. Then, he squeezes his eyes shut, furrows his brow, and the Millenium Falcon begins to levitate. It’s slow and shaky at first, but then it rises higher and higher until it’s roughly 8 feet in the air. The crowd of boys erupt in shrieks and Holy shits! 

“Damn, this is gonna get like a million views,” says the filming boy.

Suddenly, Jacken opens his eyes and the ship crashes at his feet with a thud. “You said you weren’t going to post!” He yells and lunges at the camera. The video ends.

“I had some hackers look into the IP address that the video was posted from,” Mulder says. “It’s from a school in a small town in northern Wyoming. I was also able to get enrollment records from the school. There’s only one Jackson. Jackson Van De Kamp. Date of birth: May 20, 2001. I did a little more digging and found out he was adopted, in a sealed adoption, on April 28 of the following year.” 

“When did you find this?” she asks, still staring at the screen.

“About a month ago. It popped up on some of the parapsychology channels I still monitor. I wanted to wait until I had all the information before I told you.”

“How many times have you watched it?”

“Hundreds,” he says. “It’s him. Look at him. It has to be.” 

“Play it again,” she says. 

They watch the video a second time, then a third, then again and again. She asks him to pause on the clearest images of William’s face and she touches the screen, caressing the pixels of his cheek with her fingertip. She knows in her bones it’s their son. Even if the dates didn’t match and he wasn’t demonstrating telekinesis in a viral video, she would know it’s him.

“We can get a flight now and be there by morning,” he says.

“And then what?”

That’s the part of the plan they’ve never discussed. She knows Mulder has never stopped looking for William. They were once in the car right outside the home of a family with a four-year-old adopted boy in rural Pennsylvania before getting a call from a source that it was a trap. They flew to Utah once to identify the body of an adopted, runaway eight-year-old in a morgue. In the storm of emotions that comes every time they’ve gotten close, she always feels a low rumble of relief. Relief that she won’t have to explain herself to him. Relief that she won’t have to tear a family apart.

“We can watch him,” Mulder says. “Make sure he’s safe. I’m sure there’s a local hospital that could use an experienced pediatric surgeon. And there’s nothing I’m doing here that I can’t do there.”

“You want to move to Wyoming?” She arches her eyebrows.

“Wouldn’t you?” he asks. “If it’s really him.” 

“What about colonization?” 

“Even more reason,” he says resolutely. “I’d need to see him one last time before it all goes to shit. Even if it’s just a glance from across the street. I’d trade everything for that and I know you would, too.”

He’s right. If the world is ending, Scully needs her son to know she never gave up on him, that she isn’t a quitter. 

“Book the flight.” 

#eightdaysofmulder #eightnightsofmulder #8dom #txf #xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #msr

[troius]

Now that you’re near the end of Bleach, how has it been blogging through it this whole time ? Are there characters/arcs or scenes you weren’t too fond of in the beginning but now you kind of see in a different light ?

Also how likely do you think it is that Kubo would ever continue Bleach after the anime adaptation is finished ?

It has been great blogging through it this whole time. I started this project because I came across this tumblr community and it rekindled my decade-old love for the series, and I thought "hey, I never actually finished it", and then decided to do the read-through...and it's been probably the second most rewarding three-year project I've ever done, just coming short of law school.

More detailed stuff under the cut!

I like to think I've learned to appreciate everything a little more this time around, but here are some big ones:

Renji Abarai. It's not like I hated the guy before, but on this read I really came to appreciate how carefully and masterfully done his arc is. Renji would have been a really easy character to screw up, considering he starts as an antagonist, and is besotted with our female lead despite having had a tortured breakup with her in the past. And then they get together! Those things aren't a recipe for success (as you can tell given his uneven popularity in the fandom).

But I love the guy. It's not totally surprising, I think anybody who has been super In Love can relate to him, and certainly we all want somebody in our lives who has his level of passion and consideration towards the object of his affections. He wears his emotions on his sleeve, and he fucks things up, and then rather than just sit around in his failure, he gets up and tries a different way. And sometimes he fucks that up too! But he never stops trying, and he never stops caring, until by the end he is the one giving the advice, because he put himself through all of that, and he's better for the experience. He's just great.

The Fullbringer Arc. It totally collapses at the end when the Soul Reapers get shoehorned in for no reason but everything leading up to that is sick. It's just a completely different style of story, focused entirely on the alienation of the youth, a tale of what's going in in Ichigo's head. I was really, really impressed with it, again up until the end where everything was screwed up.

Zaraki vs. Nnoitra. I remember hating this in the anime (and not really understanding it the first time I read it a decade ago), but it was actually pretty good! A good development of the themes of the Arrancar Arc, and a testament to how Kubo can make you feel even for an absolutely horrible person like Nnoitra.

How likely do I think it would be for Kubo to continue Bleach? Heck if I know! But the story's kind of over, from what I understand: Ichigo grew up. That's usually the end of things in shonen manga! I'd honestly be more interested in seeing him do more Burn the Witch, something that I understand he has not yet finished.

Or he could just do a Hitsugaya-centric spinoff. That might work, because that guy 1) is not grown up and 2) still has a character arc to be resolved.

#bleach #ask Troius