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#on another note this blog gives me such nostalgia
tonicandjins · 1 year
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find your way back home | lee donghyuck
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pairing: lee donghyuck | haechan x female reader
word count: 22.5k
genre: fluff, some mentions of sex, ANGST and nostalgia lots of it, haechan-centric, slow burn
warnings: mentions of sex, excessive drinking, will talk about insomnia and depression
summary: nct’s haechan gets into a scandal after a night of drinking his ass off in hongdae, which prompts the management to put him in an indefinite hiatus. and it’s not like it’s the first time, because over the past months, haechan’s drinking problem had gone worse. hence, his parents send him back to jeju island for some healing time because his parents and managers think that maybe some time home would help. haechan laughs at the thought. if medication can’t, what can jeju island do? besides, he hasn’t been there in literal years.
author's note: this is my favorite work so far, which is why it took this long. i put my heart in here. please let me know which one is your favorite line/scene. this is also very heachan-centric, so please don't expect a lot of the reader's POV. also, may i recommend you to listen to Moon, Be There For You, Never Goodbye by NCT DREAM, Good Person by Haechan himself, and Black Clouds by NCT 127 as you read this! :) TIP ME HERE.
taglist: @mosviqu @matchahyuck @sirens-dreams @sundamariis @lovingvoidgoatee @anjaenha @thiccfullsun @665321-more @hyuckiesoftie @aliceinwhateverland @tddyhyck @anniebyanto @novawona @gimmehyuck @blxshqueen @blitz-fall @byungbyungbaek @calssunflower @funkygoose @carelessshootanonymous-blog @jungwooforever @budibbly @positionslab @beomyomom @jexizia @4everhyucks
disclaimer: names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of my imagination or used in a fictitious manner. i do not claim to own or to have invented any copyrighted characters or concepts that i write about.  
Y/N = your name, Y/C/N = your childhood nickname
Haechan’s dream has always been the spotlight.
His Mother would tell her friends stories of how he would always tell her he’d be a star someday, a grin flashing across his small face on pictures and clips of him taking a stage as small as the podium in his first grade classroom, and would proudly brag that his first-born son made it to the world stage. She was so proud that she’d have his portfolio picture as her display image in her social media accounts. As a musician herself, she’d play NCT’s music out loud and would even go an extra mile by using their b-side songs when teaching their students at their small but proud music academy in the big city of Seoul. Haechan’s pictures are all over the small place they’d rented for their small business, two floors—the vocal lessons facilitated on the second floor and piano and guitar on the ground floor—and the humble husband and wife would proudly say the most successful student they’d ever had was Lee Donghyuck, now better known as Haechan.
Haechan allows her to take credit of it all, his success, because after all, she’d been the one to encourage her to take a chance at SM Entertainment’s infamous Saturday auditions. People tell Haechan he works hard, but nobody really works harder than his Mother. With sheer determination and a passionate heart, his mother would take little Donghyuck to every stage—no matter how small. Young and bright, he remembers being dragged from one contest to another, even when their family still lived in Jeju, and he’d win all of them for her. He’d take the spotlight just to see her happy and proud.
At times, Haechan wonders how much effort his mother had really put into his career. If he thinks about it now, it started with their entire family moving out of Jeju Island, completely uprooting their entire lives from the simple life in the island to give her dream a chance. People say that Haechan was born a star, that SM got lucky to have a child prodigy offer himself—bare and whole and real—who was willing to give up his childhood and education for a shot in the dark. His father had been reluctant about it, saying that they’d have to give up their entire life savings to merely move to Seoul—considering plane tickets and security deposits need to be sent prior to moving—and that taking a loan wouldn’t be ideal when they could barely make ends meet with four children growing up too fast. A shot in the dark, a flip of a coin, the luck of a draw. They say he was meant for this, was meant for the stage and the lights and the applause, but to Haechan, it’s not really fate. It’s just his mother doing all the work, and he’d take the spotlight for her.
Because Haechan likes the attention. He likes the good and the bad. The cheers and the applause. The painful arm slaps from Mark when he’s annoyed him enough. The head pats and hugs Taeil gives him when he’s being cute and when he lives up to his maknae image. The viral videos of him all over the internet for simply walking down the stage.
And his mother couldn’t be prouder to have a reliable son like him. She had always dreamed of the spotlight herself, but the timing was never right for her—hence Haechan living her dream, her spotlight, had been one of, if not the biggest accomplishments of her life.
The night is cold. Haechan feels dizzy when flashes of the lights coming from the small window of the bar’s building hit his face. He hates the lights, he hates being seen, and it makes him throw up when, as soon as he closes his eyes, it’s his mother that he sees.
Would his mother still be so proud when she learns that, after a long weekend of a back to back concert with NCT 127, his son would be getting a blowjob from a stranger at the back of some sleazy bar he had found online?
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“Please tell me this isn’t real.”
Mark Lee is only twenty-three, but with how his forehead’s skin is wrinkling, he might as well invest in several sessions of botox shots. He’s holding his phone up to Haechan’s face, as if bringing the device closer to the younger’s eyes would deny the article that Dispatch uploaded at five in the fucking morning.
“I didn’t sleep with her,” Haechan denies, voice bored, tired. “We might have done other things, but I didn’t sleep with her.”
Mark lets out a groan of frustration, throwing his phone behind Haechan, the device landing on the carpeted floor. Haechan doesn’t even flinch even though it almost hit him.
“Haechan, what the fuck is going on, man?” Mark asks, demands to know what really is going on with his best friend, or whoever he’s speaking with now. “You know SM is going to kill you, right?”
Haechan shrugs. “What are they gonna do? Fire me?”
“You know they can!” Mark shouts, walking back and forth while Haechan remains seated on the couch, unbothered. “You’ve seen them do it! To our seniors! To the people you trained with. You think you’re big time, huh? That just because you’re essential in both units, they wouldn’t send you to some dungeon?”
Haechan laughs bitterly. He reckons being placed in a dungeon would be much better than the hell he’s living in now. “Now that,” he mocks. “Would be the ultimate dream.”
“You’re a fucking nightmare,” Mark says, pointing a finger to Haechan, enunciating each syllable so it goes through his skull.
But nothing can really make Lee Haechan budge anymore—not an expensive, hard device laterally thrown to his face, and not even his best friend (if he could still call him that) blatantly showing how disgusted he is with him—and he can’t really blame anyone. It used to he frightening to see Mark angry at something he did. Used to.
Haechan doesn’t really know what to say, so he chuckles bitterly and leans his head back so that it’s against the backrest, pondering whether it’s a good time to drink the bottle of vodka he’s been keeping under his bed.
“It’s funny because I don’t even know what having a nightmare feels like.”
Mark huffs, seemingly had given up on Haechan, then leaves the room alongside the small piece of sanity that the younger had left. Haechan bolts, sitting up real quick, but too slow because Mark is already out of the door. Haechan likes attention, and even though Mark Lee makes his head hurt, he likes the attention. Haechan likes that Mark is angry at him.
His manager calls him next, (as expected) voice angry as if he’s about to explode, and tells him his publicist is doing her very best to answer every god damn call from every magazine and news outlet. But none of those magazine and news outlets who have called had posted something to clear the situation; none of them were buying it. Haechan thinks it’s fucking ridiculous anyway. There were pictures and videos of him sneaking out with Hana or Hari, whatever her name was, and a clip of him zipping his pants up as they try to hide from the flashes of lights. Who the fuck would believe he was just out exploring with his 35-year old, happily-married-with-kids personal assistant?
And it’s too late, anyway, because what was the point of it all when his most loyal and long-time fan sites have all shut down overnight, his Instagram followers reducing down to five million in a matter of hours since Dispatch posted that article, and his best friends blatantly ignoring him with the exception of Mark confronting him, but of course, Haechan had to screw that up, too.
“They’re calling you in for a meeting,” his manager concludes with a sigh after elaborating what had been done to patch up the entire mess. “Be ready for whatever they have to say. Don’t expect me to have your back because I’m over it, Haechan. Whatever they decide to do with you, you fucking deserve it.”
The call ends. Haechan didn’t even get to talk.
He looks at the screen of his phone. There were a million of calls and text messages from his agency, half of it were from his mother, and the last thing he really wants now is to hear her voice. He scrolls through it all, chest tightening when he realizes nobody from Jaemin, Renjun and Jeno had tried to call him. Haechan knows he’s an asshole, deserving to be the receiving end of all the shouting and cussing, and he’s probably made the dumbest mistake of his entire life, but he’d live the stardom’s life long enough, he’d be okay. But a call from his best friends would have been a breather.
Haechan understands, what his manager said, that he shouldn’t really expect anyone to have his back after all that’s transpired in the last few of months.
You see, Haechan developed insomnia. He’d look the symptoms up in the internet, and it’s described as a common sleeping disorder that can make it hard for people to fall asleep, or if one’s attempt to drift off is successful, to stay asleep. Taeyong had said it’s a common disorder for idols, that their seniors from groups like EXO and SHINEE had all gone to psychologists for help, but Haechan didn’t really want to make a big deal out of it. He relied on what Naver offered him one morning when the sun’s already out and his eyes are still wide open.
Stress and anxiety were the major causes. Some resources say it could be from a poor sleeping environment such as an uncomfortable bed or bad lighting or temperature. One claims that it could also be from one’s lifestyle, like jetlag from traveling frequently, or drinking one too many caffeine-infused doses of fluids. It all could be factors why Haechan’s been getting 8-10 hours of sleep a week, and he acknowledges that he doesn’t really have the best lifestyle—and it’s not like he’s ever had the choice since NCT blew up.
So, he’d consulted Taeyong again, through a text, and all he’d gotten was a link to a study that insomnia can be caused by mental health conditions such as depression, followed by his therapist’s phone number.
Among all the causes he’d gathered, Haechan could confidently rule out depression because there’s no fucking way he’s sad. There’s barely any reason to be sad. Sure, he’d miss his siblings most of the time and he hates the feeling of seeing any of them cry whenever he had to leave, but nothing is more gratifying than the relief of seeing them happy whenever he comes home with luxurious gifts or plane tickets to Tokyo for a vacation. Haechan likes making people happy, and Mark tells him he’s always been a people pleaser. At times, he’d think his happiness depends on the happiness of the people he loves and values, and people around him are happy.
Hence, Haechan is happy.
Or at least, was happy.
Because the insomnia got worse—not that Haechan’s dealt with it enough to know whether it’s getting better or worse—but it was bad. He would come home exhausted as fuck after an entire day of dancing and singing, and he knows he’s tired because his body tells him so. Haechan would lie on bed, body drained from all energy, but his eyes would be wide open for an entire night. He’d only fall asleep when the sun’s started to seep through his curtains, a good hour before his manager would wake him for the next schedule. It was manageable, and the tour was a good excuse for the insomnia, but it followed him even on his days off, even in the beginning of the pandemic when there little to zero schedules that would have caused him anxiety or stress.
Therefore, reluctantly, he’d visited a doctor to get a prescription for some meds he could take to help him sleep. He’d lied, though, that it wasn’t that bad and that he would need it only on nights after shows, because he knew they’d only refer him to a therapist. Haechan doesn’t need a therapist. He could just talk to his mother about it, and she’d know what to say to make him feel better. To make him keep going.
It was fine until the melatonin supplements stopped working. Sometime last year, if he remembers right, when he thought he’d gone crazy because everything stopped working for him. There was a bottle of soju, half empty, from the fridge he had in the corner of the room he shared with Johnny, and he reckoned it could help. As soon as the bottle was empty, Haechan felt drowsy; he was out like the light half an hour later.
But just like the prescription from the doctor he can’t even remember the name of, drinking half a bottle worked. Johnny would give him suspicious looks when he would see Haechan stocking up soju inside their room, but he doesn’t ever say anything. Because alcohol made him sleep, until it didn’t. Until half a bottle stopped working. Until an entire bottle is no longer enough. Until Taeyong’s decided that there should be no alcohol inside anyone’s fridge, both fifth and tenth floors.
Hence, the drinking problem.
Haechan wonders what’s next. The sleeping problem, then the drinking problem. It looks like here is it, the next one: the scandal.
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When Haechan was a trainee, his greatest fear was getting removed from the agency.
There was an assessment every quarter, and the CEO himself would sit down in a panel alongside other producers and choreographers to identify which of the trainees would move on to another level and which ones would have to go home. Each time they had to go through the assessment, Haechan, alongside other existing members of NCT, would spend long days inside the training room. He would fear that the CEO would ask him to rap all of a sudden because Haechan can’t rap to save his god damn life at that time. He would fear that his mother would receive a call and find out his beloved son, whom she spent so much money on just to get ballet classes, failed and would need to go home.
Today, Haechan fears none of those.
The decision to put him in an indefinite hiatus was quick to make, not that Haechan expected anything less.
The news was out the second they threw him out of the meeting room (but not before the CEO slapping him right across the face, his left cheek throbbing in pain he’s oddly happy he could feel) and his bags were packed before he could even tell his members. The dorms were empty when he arrived, and there was no time to visit Dream’s place; Haechan knew he could just call, or visit. His family lives twenty minutes away, a short ride from downtown. He’d figure it out, like he always would.
What fazes him is what he comes home to.
His father offers him a one-way ticket, says his mother is still too upset to look even at Haechan in the face, that she’s spending the night in her friend’s house. The domestic flight ticket is bound to Jeju Island, and it boards tomorrow morning.
“Your grandmother will be waiting for you,” his father says, eyes everywhere but Haechan’s. “Your mother thinks it would be the best for now. Your agency knows, of course, and they’re helping us ensure you get your privacy in Jeju-do. We just need you to stay there for a bit, Donghyuck. Might help.”
“Dad,” Haechan pleads, Dad sounding foreign to him now. He’s stopped calling him Dad years ago, right before he debuted in NCT, and had been calling him Father. He’s not sure why he’a suddenly calling him that now, perhaps it’s the sinking feeling in his stomach, but Haechan is desperate for another solution. “You can’t send me back in the island. I haven’t lived in grandmother’s house since I was twelve.”
“Don’t act like the place isn’t civilized, Donghyuck,” his father sighs. “You’ll be okay. You can take your expensive gaming laptop with you so you can entertain yourself while you’re on vacation. It’s only going to be a few months.”
“A few months?” Haechan cries. “I can’t live there anymore!”
“The agency decided not to terminate their contract with you,” his father reveals. “Apparently, you’re too talented to let go of. Your mother and I are very grateful they didn’t. All they want in return is for you to go back in six months—sober and full of life again. Your therapist suggests you go to a vacation.”
“I don’t have a therapist?”
“The doctor who prescribed you sleeping pills? You didn’t tell us you had insomnia.”
“Fuck you,” Haechan spits before he could even think about it. “Neither you nor mother thought of asking me what’s been going on. Dad, I wanted you to scold me. To punch me in the fucking gut and tell me I’ve ruined everything. I wanted mother to yell at me until my ear bleeds, so I can find the motivation to work hard and make her happy again.”
“Donghyuck, we–”
“Don’t call me that!” He yells. “The first thing that came to your mind was how grateful you are that I’m not fired from my job? I’m not some retirement plan! I’m your son!”
“Keep it down. Your siblings are–”
”Donghyuck-hyung?” Haechan turns. Gyeom stands at the end of the hallway, seemingly woken up from his slumber, and Dongmin hides behind the younger one to see what’s going on. Haechan doesn’t even see Seungyeon come out of her room. He just hears her door shut loudly, the lock clicking, and realize he fucked up big time.
He takes a look at the ticket from his father’s hand.
It’s ridiculous. If the melatonin pills he’s taking are not helping with his stupid insomnia, and drinking a bottle of soju works as equally as useless, what the fuck could work? They think a recreational vacation to fucking Jeju Island would do shit?
Fuck his parents, honestly.
Fuck his siblings for not even giving him a hug as soon as he entered their home.
Fuck his members for not checking up on him.
Fuck the entire god damn world.
He rips the ticket from his father’s hand and turns to leave, taking the same bags he’d brought in a few minutes ago. The flight is tomorrow morning, but Haechan calls a taxi to take him to the airport.
Sleeping (or at least, trying to) in the uncomfortable airport seats is a fucking pain in the ass, literally. But nothing more hurts than the look on his family’s face: the blankness in his father’s and the fright from his siblings.
Jeju fucking Island. Way to end the day.
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When Haechan was younger, his grandmother would take him to the Camellia Hills on the weekends. While kids his age would be taken in Aqua Planet to see thousands of animals and plant species to ease their shoulders from studies, Haechan would be running around fields of camellia and hydrangea flowers. They would spend hours just walking around trees of over five hundred different kinds of wildflowers. His grandmother would take pictures of him and let him eat whatever he wanted at a nearby restaurant, and his siblings would always cry and complain why Nana only wanted to bring Haechan. There wasn’t a particular reason, of course, it was only because the younger ones were too difficult for their grandmother to look after on a trip to Camellia Hill. Little Donghyuckie was well-behaved albeit his bold and obnoxious nature. He would do whatever his Nana would ask him.
Haechan’s always claimed that he’s the favorite despite his grandmother repeatedly saying she doesn’t do favorites, and he knows deep in his heart that he is. He is, after all, the first grandchild, and he spent a lot of time with his Nana alone for many years while they were in Jeju.
His grandmother used to sing him to sleep at night. When his younger sister was born, Nana stayed with them in Seoul for a while to help his parents adjust to having two kids, considering Haechan’s age gap with Seungyeon is only a year. Nana made sure Haechan slept well every night, in a separate room from his parents because newborn Seungyeon who wouldn’t let anyone sleep past one in the morning. She’d sing him songs from The Beatles in broken English, and Haechan likes to think that even though both his parents were musicians, the reason why he could sing well was his Nana.
She eventually had to move back to Jeju Island as soon as the family had settled, but years later, at the age of seven, his grandfather died and Nana was left all alone to tend to their land and business, hence the Lee family packed their bags to stay at Nana’s supposedly for the summer, but ended up with the decision of staying for her.
Nana had problems sleeping when his grandfather died. Haechan used to find her awake when he’d need a glass of water or to go to the toilet at two in the morning. She’d be watching television, a nighttime talk show she used to like, or reading a book from his grandfather’s shelf. The lights in her home were always on.
So, Haechan started singing her to sleep just like how she did when he was a child.
She’d tell him, “Oh, my Donghyuckie, you have such a nice voice. Why don’t you sing more?”
Then she’d fall asleep while Haechan wondered why lovers die at different times, why one has to go first and the other is left on Earth trying to sleep well every night.
Upon his arrival in Jeju-do, his grandmother doesn’t pick him up from the airport like he’d expected, so he takes a taxi from the airport to her house. Haechan knows what their home looks like despite not visiting since his training days. They own a small hectare of land filled with tangerine trees, and his grandmother had been the sole operator of it all for many years until she had to start hiring people here and there to manage things for her when her age caught up with her. His father used to travel back and forth to see how things are here and there, but eventually stopped when Nana had found people she can rely on—which Haechan is very glad about.
He must be an asshole, or a prick, or a hypocrite to even say this but he’s been thinking about her more often than he calls. If he recalls right, the last time he’d called was three months ago, on her birthday, but it was two-minute exchange of generic how are yous and please stay healthys. She would call, of course, but Haechan would always have something as an excuse: a dance practice, a trip to Japan for a show, a photoshoot, something. Something to cover up the fact that he hasn’t been the best grandson to her in a long time.
He arrives and the first thing he notices is a hammock hanging in between the posts of her patio. A kick of nostalgia hits him because grandfather put up a hammock at the back of their home once, when Haechan was around five years old and they were visiting the couple for the summer. Her grandmother used to tell Haechan that the hammock is the best place to take his afternoon naps, hence little Donghyuck would spend most of his afternoons lying on a hammock made of strong nylon.
Shaking off the nostalgia, Haechan clears his throat. “Nana! I’m home!”
“Donghyuckie, is that you?” she calls from somewhere. Haechan walks over to the patio and drops his bags.
Nana comes out from the side of the house, her favorite pink apron on, grey hair hidden by a hair cap. “Oh, sweetheart.”
Haechan sees her age simply by the way she stands. Her back is hunched more than it was the last time he saw her during Chuseok last year. The wrinkles in the edges of her eyes and around her mouth are much more evident. The skin on her neck is loose, and so is the skin on her arms and everywhere.
For a second, Haechan feels like he’s seven again, seeing her for the first time since summer, her eyes not as happy as they were from the last time they’d been in Jeju-do, when grandfather was still alive. Haechan suddenly is taken back to when she’d hug him so, so tightly, crying to his shoulder, telling him harabeoji had left her while she was asleep. He remembers his heart dropping down to the ground when he saw her breaking down, his loving grandmother—who was always bright and happy, whom people would say he got his personality from—at her lowest. It’s the same wave of sadness Haechan feels looking at her now—looking at the years painted in her skin. Her memories blurring out the color of her eyes. Decades of hard work and labor tainted on the callouses on her fingers. Glints of loneliness spread throughout the wrinkles on her face.
Haechan has been all over the world for years now. Years of training and sleepless nights perfecting a performance had led him to where he is now. People who speak different languages love him and cheer for him even with countries and continents in between. He’s made millions happy by simply singing songs or saying hi in a fan call. And while he’s done of all of these, what had he done for his grandmother? People have been watching him grow up, who was watching Nana all this time?
Haechan chokes on his own tears. His grandmother, his Nana, opens her arms like Haechan is not the person the world hates right now. She hugs him like Haechan is not the person who had potentially ruined the group his best friend Mark had worked hard on. She holds him in her arms like Haechan is not the person who scared his siblings and cursed his own father. Nana takes him inside her home like he’s her Donghyuck again.
Haechan feels like he’s her Donghyuckie again.
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Contrary to popular belief, Donghyuck doesn’t like affection as much as Haechan does.
He believes that being offered tenderness is the very proof that you’ve been ruined, and Haechan likes to think that with the life he has now, he’s not really in the position to talk about his life’s struggles. Because there are more people in the world who deserves to talk about their pain. Donghyuck doesn’t deserve as much.
Hence, the nostalgia goes away as quickly as it arrives. Haechan spends the rest of the day trying to sleep in his grandmother’s spare room and doesn’t even bother answering when his grandmother knocked on his door to invite him for lunch despite him being wide awake.
Haechan gets up at five in the afternoon, just when the sun is about to set, eyes heavy. The sky looks a lot like the color of his own skin, he notices, and he thinks about how beautiful the sky would be in Han River and recalls how him and Mark (and sometimes Doyoung) would lie on the ground, letting their skin soak in the sun slowly sinking down to its rest.
But none of that is close to happening because he’s here. In Jeju-do. Stuck like some twelve-year old sent to camp for an entire summer because his parents can’t stand him.
Haechan’s train of (bitter) thoughts is interrupted with a loud plonk from the wooden patio, which is right outside his window. He pulls his curtains slightly to peek, and he finds you on the floor on your side, groaning like a kid and massaging your back. It looks like you’d just fallen out of the hammock.
Curious, Haechan gets up and quickly slips out of his room to see you on their front porch.
“And Nana says it’s the most comfortable place to sleep on,” he hears you mumble as you get up, eyes meeting his as soon as you see him. Your eyes widen in shock, probably recognizing him, but you quickly catch yourself and look down.
“You are?” Haechan asks, towering over you.
You clear your throat. “Y/N.”
“I don’t mean your name, pumpkin,” he replies. “What do you do here?”
Haechan smirks at the way one of your eyebrows raised, clearly already infuriated at his attitude. You’re wearing a white shirt that’s too big for you underneath your denim overalls. The pair of boots sitting under the hammock is a clear sign that you’re a farmer tending to the tangerine trees on the land right beside the house, separated by a fence and his grandmother’s home garden.
“I manage your grandmother’s land,” you answer, stance defensive. “And it looks like you’re the delinquent grandson they sent away for the summer?”
Haechan chuckles, liking how you’re bark and bite, wondering how far he can push you, because the last thing he really wants is someone staying at his grandmother’s house. Too close. Too easy to see everything. You’d make millions selling him to the tabloids. He’d honestly rather hear people saying how much of an asshole he is, than have people invading his grandmother’s privacy while he’s here.
“You mean the world star, right?” he brags, licking his upper lip. “And you manage the land we own? Sounds a lot like a farmer to me.”
You stifle a laugh. You’re not at all intimidated. “Oh, pumpkin, I think the last thing you’d want to do in Jeju-do is insult a farmer for their job. The agricultural structure of Jeju Island has done more than you thrusting your hips up on the air for young, easily-manipulated teenage girls, Donghyuck.”
“So, you know my name?”
You click your tongue and turn around, proceeding to slip your boots back on. “How could I not know?”
“Because I’m a world star, right. How could you not know?”
Haechan watches you tie the laces up of your boots. You don’t give him another glance and leave, stomping your feet down the stairs to the ground until you’re out of his sight.
“Hey, you’re awake,” Nana says from inside. The door is wide open. “Where’s Y/N?”
She walks towards where Haechan stands, looking around for you. “That girl. I told her to stay for dinner. What’d you do, Donghyuck-ah?”
“Nothing,” he mumbles, annoyed at how Nana is more concerned about you leaving than ensuring his privacy. He’s a star, for god’s sake. “Why’d you let her sleep here, anyway? And have her stay for dinner? Aren’t you scared she might sell me off to some magazine for, I don’t know, one million won?”
“Why would Y/N sell you—“ his grandmother sighs. “Not everyone is out to get you, Donghyuck-ah.”
“Why does she even know my birth name?” he questions. “That’s like, too much, Nana. Don’t share things like that.”
His grandmother slaps his arm. “Ow! What’d you do that for?”
“You’re a moron!” she screeches. “That was Y/N! She waited for you to wake up all day!”
“That’s creepy!”
“Y/C/N,” Nana enunciates. Haechan remembers. “Her childhood nickname. Does it ring a bell?”
“Y/N—” he breathes out. Frozen. “—is Y/C/N?”
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Haechan has always had an affinity with flowers, long before he named his fans sunflowers.
His grandparents had a larger flower garden as compared to how it is now. They’d planted tangerine trees in place of the fields of beautiful red azalea and rhododendron blossoms. On spring days, the cherry blossoms were infinite, and little Donghyuck used to spend a lot of time looking at the flowers and making necklaces out of them.
You used to (still do, perhaps) live down the street, and your parents used to help out in the farm when your grandparents needed another pair of hands to harvest the tangerines. Little Donghyuck met you when he was six.
If he recalls it right, it was the second day of summer, a hundred something days before they had to return back to Seoul. He found you lying under a cherry blossom tree, eyes closed, allowing hundreds of pink petals to drown you in their beauty. Little Donghyuck lied down beside you, upside-down but his head is right beside yours. He’s always been a curious kid, so he wanted to know why you were letting the pink petals rain on you. There was nothing special about it. Just petals falling when the wind blows a certain direction.
When he opened his eyes, you turn to look at him, your eyebrows were furrowed the way they were when Haechan found you on the floor of his patio earlier, right after you’d fallen from the hammock.
“Hey,” you had said. “You’re the kid from Nana’s house, right?”
“She’s my Nana,” he corrected, closing his eyes once again. “And yes, I’m the kid from Nana’s house. You are?”
“My mom calls me Y/C/N,” you answered. “Are you staying for the summer?”
He nodded. “Only for the summer. We’re leaving before school starts.”
“Do you like flowers?” you asked.
“We don’t have a lot of flowers in Seoul,” Little Donghyuck mumbled. “But I love flowers. Last summer, Nana took me to Camellia Hills to see the flowers bloom in May.”
“Then you should stay,” you trailed off. “If you love flowers and Seoul doesn’t offer much, then you should stay.”
“What about school?” Donghyuck had asked, opening his eyes to look at you. You’re looking at him, upside-down and all. Donghyuck’s never seen someone more beautiful. “You’re pretty.”
Your eyes widened. You immediately hide your face from him using your hands. “We’re only five. I can’t have a boyfriend at five years old.”
“Maybe when we’re older.”
Haechan doesn’t remember much from the day you met, but he got close to you during that summer in 2006, even more when his family moved back to Jeju-do in 2007. Your friendship blossomed from walking together in first grade throughout primary school until he’d graduated and eventually moved back to Seoul.
He can’t believe that he’d forgotten your name, and a part of him knows it’s because he’s always called you by your childhood nickname, but a larger part of him likes to think that it’s because he’s almost twenty-three now—it’s been almost ten years. He’s met probably thousands of people at this point, and with the lifestyle he has, he really can’t afford to remember each person he spends time with. Not even the girl he spent his entire childhood in Jeju-do with.
So, Haechan forgives himself before he could ask for yours. He reckons you’d understand. You know him, somehow. You kept in touch until Haechan got into SM in 2013 and high school and training got the best of him. He changed his number and lost contact with almost everyone in Jeju-do, even his closest friends, and you were one them.
Life as a singer means Haechan had to sacrifice a lot of things.
Most people know an idol sacrifices having a normal life—playing in the streets, trying out to be a part of the basketball team, dating at fifteen years old, prom, staying at one classmate’s house for a group project—and it includes forgetting the people you used to be close with.
One of the rules in SM when he was a trainee was to not get in touch with the people from their past. One of their managers used to tell them that their lives are divided into two parts: before training and after training; and to be successful in the industry means to forget who you were before training. They’d deleted all of his social media, which means he disconnected from the people he knew before he was Haechan. They’d deleted who he was before Haechan.
Many sacrifices, indeed. The list goes on, and at the end of it was your name.
“She never left Jeju-do?” Haechan asks, curious, as he ate the dinner Nana made for him. “Like not even for college?”
“She didn’t go to college at all,” Nana answers. “And she likes it here. Why do you make staying in Jeju-do sound like a living hell?”
Haechan shrugs. “It’s not like that, Nana. I mean, God knows what I’d do to get a normal life and go to college in Seoul and do what normal people in their early twenties do.”
Nana smiles at him. “This is probably what normal is for her. Not everyone has big dreams like you.”
“Why wouldn’t they?” Haechan asks. “Dreams are free. It doesn’t cost anything to dream. Why wouldn’t people want to have big dreams?”
“Aren’t you the lucky one to have a dream and to be able to live your dream?” Nana says. She finishes up her meal and watches Haechan eat. “How are you, Donghyuck-ah?”
Haechan stops chewing and braces himself. Nobody’s asked him how he is. He continues chewing like it’s not a question that’s been weighing him under.
“I’m okay,” he answers, mouth full of food. “They didn’t fire me. So, I guess I should be grateful. I’m okay.”
“You know that you don’t have to lie to Nana, right?” She asks, smile kind and warm.
And Haechan wants to say it all. Out loud. Maybe even cry.
But he is not about to let his grandmother carry his burdens with her. Burdens that shouldn’t even matter because he’s so lucky to have the life he has now. Burdens that are nothing compared to other people’s.
“Come on, Donghyuck-ah,” she urges. “Talk to Nana. Tell me what’s wrong, my dear.”
“Halmeoni,” he firmly says. “I said I’m okay. I’m tired. Thank you for the meal.” He bows and stands to leave.
Life has a singer means Haechan had to sacrifice a lot, indeed.
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Nana leaves a box of things Haechan would need while he’s in Jeju-do before her trusted chauffeur takes her to the town’s market for some business.
Haechan finds himself wearing the same fit as you the day before: a pair of overalls, an old, non-branded shirt that looks like it’s been worn and washed 300 times. Nana left a list of chores to do, and there’s no way Haechan is doing all of those. He’s taking a walk around the fields, supervise like how the owner’s grandson should, bask on the sunlight for a bit, then go back to his room and play some games with strangers online.
You’re waiting by the patio, sitting and looking at the opposite direction so he only sees your back, when Haechan comes out, dressed up for the role but not ready for whatever today brings him.
“Took you long enough,” you grumble as he steps out of the house. You stand and turn to look at him. “Lock the door and let’s get going. You’re late on your first day.”
“Chill out, sweet cheeks,” he scoffs, reaching behind the door and locking it before slamming it shut. “You’re not the boss of me.”
You nod, chuckling. “I’m not. But your grandmother is. And she added your list to the name of workers joining us to harvest today. You will be paid by the hour.”
Haechan gasps lightly in disbelief. “I don’t need to work. We own this place.”
“Hmm,” you hum, feigning curiosity as you tap your index finger to your chin as if you’re thinking hard. “You know I manage this whole place, right? Which means I also manage its taxes and permits annually. I’ve never seen your name in any of the papers I play with every day.”
“Same fucking thing,” he mumbles, walking past you to reach the gate. Haechan finds two horses waiting for him outside. He turns, ready to ask you what kind of joke you’re pulling on him, but he finds you going around the house, perhaps to make sure everything’s locked and all. You catch up on him, eyebrows raised when he points to the horses.
“Don’t tell me you can’t ride a horse,” you ask, seemingly in disbelief that someone like him isn’t capable of riding a horse. “You can’t work in the fields just walking. You’ll tire yourself out and will waste most of your working hours just walking.”
“I—I’m really not—” Haechan falters for a second, but comes back as quickly as he goes. “It’s been years since the last time I rode a horse. I’m not certain if I can do that now.” You give him a questioning look. “Besides. I’m a celebrity if you haven’t noticed it already. What if I break a bone?”
“You’ll live.”
“What if I fall and break my face?”
“Seoul has the best plastic surgeons.”
“My legs! They were injured before. I can’t afford to get another injury!”
“You’ll be fine. You’re such a drama queen.”
“I’m a star!”
At that, you burst out into a fit of laughter, the kind that Haechan would normally join in, because what he just said is truly ridiculous. He can’t believe he said that himself. But, of course, he can’t just laugh with, basically, a stranger.
“Oh my God, Lee Donghyuck,” you say in between laughter.
Something ignites something in him, the way you just said his name.
Haechan is a name he loves, an alter-ego he adores, a character he lives. Full sun, because that’s what he wants to be. He wants to bring light to everyone looking up to him, and he wants to be remembered by the way his voice warms the entire planet. He loves hearing cheers and applause when he introduces himself as Haechan. Because Haechan is talented. Haechan is an ace, an all-rounder who can do anything an idol is expected to do, perhaps even more. Haechan is bright and positive, and he likes making people laugh and at the same time uncomfortable of the influx of skinship he offers. Haechan loves the lights and cameras on stage, and he adores the way his name is in every city he goes to.
Meanwhile, Lee Donghyuck, he’s heard in a million times. Mark still calls him Donghyuck like they never aged since 2013, even Doyoung and Jeno. His parents seldom call him Haechan, never for Nana. His fans also have been calling him Donghyuck since they learned his birth name is Donghyuck, sometimes Hyuck or Hyuckie, which he finds really endearing.
Yet no one’s ever called him his name like he’s nothing but just Lee Donghyuck. Not for a long time. Not from someone before Haechan.
Donghyuck suddenly feels like he’s twelve again, the year he left Jeju-do and had to say goodbye to all of his friends with a promise to keep in touch and to never forget. Donghyuck finds himself looking at the way you’re laughing, how you have your eyes closed, mouth agape and melodies of your amusement coming out like a song he thought he’d forgotten but know all the words to, and he finds himself thinking, maybe being Lee Donghyuck isn’t so bad.
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His first day at the farm didn’t go as quick as expected and if Donghyuck could say so himself, it’s the longest fucking day in his entire life.
Evidently, he couldn’t ride a horse to save his life. He doesn’t even know why he’d told you it’s been a long time when the only time he ever rode a horse was when he was eleven for a field trip and only to take a god damn picture to make his mother smile. You and him were only a couple of horse steps or whatever away from Nana’s home and his horse was already squirming and more like threatening to throw him ten meters away, hence, you begrudgingly offered to have him ride with you. Donghyuck didn’t decline, of course, because it was either walk around the place under the hot sun or die at the hands of a stupid horse. You had let him sit behind you, skillfully and impressively holding the other horse by its rope, Donghyuck’s arms reluctantly wrapped around your waist because he didn’t want to fall, and if you were uncomfortable, you didn’t say anything about it.
You had taken him to a tour within his grandparents’ land, and Donghyuck is already twenty-three when he realized his grandparents are big time, like for real. The land isn’t as big as the others, ones that are owned by a big corporation, people who aren’t even from Jeju-do but like to play agricultural monopoly, but it’s bigger than most. Nana was too humbled when she’d told him the night before that he would need to help out in their “small” business.
The business is nowhere near small, with hundreds of tangerine trees scattered around, blooming in the famous Jeju-do delicacy, and she had forty to fifty employees working for her.
“Not really like full-time employees,” you had explained when Donghyuck verbalized his surprise with the number of people working for the farm. “Normally, it’s just me and Nana and a few other people who handle the delivery, quality assurance, and sales in the farmer’s market, which I’d need to take you to tomorrow, and also some folks from Seoul who handle the cargo shipping to the cities. But when it’s harvest season, we really would need more than ten pairs of hands to help out.”
“So, like, all year, there’s only around ten people are here,” Donghyuck confirmed, hands still on your waist as the horse came to a stop. “And on harvest season, Nana hires more people to help out. That’s really nice. Could be a good summer job for students and all.”
You hummed in agreement, patting the horse that Donghyuck learned you named as Daisy. “But normally, you’d find older people working here instead of the younger ones.”
“Oh?” Donghyuck’s curious. “That’s a little odd. I mean, isn’t the job physically tiring?”
You shrugged. “The elderly, well, they don’t really have a lot of opportunities to work here, you know, considering that Jeju-do has become more of like a tourist island than a self-sufficient, thriving agricultural place. You’ve probably heard of the water park they’d built nearby the airport and other big corporations taking over and building their stores here and there. And of course, they’d most likely hire younger people who can relate to the Korean Wave your group caused, right?”
“Keeping tabs?”
You scoffed at that. “As if! Now, get down before I ask Daisy to wiggle her ass and throw you off.”
After the supposed short tour that took an hour because, well, their land is enormous, you take him where some of the elderly people are harvesting.
“This is Donghyuck,” you’d introduced. “Nana’s grandson from Seoul. He’ll be helping us today. So, halmeoni, don’t even think about getting him off the hook because he’s Nana’s grandson. He will be paid for the day like everyone else. You wouldn’t want someone to get paid the same, only to work half of what you do, right?”
The older women laughed at the way you’d introduced him, and he feels his heart swell with the way you’re laughing with them and how they looked at him with so much tenderness. And normally, Donghyuck doesn’t like the look of tenderness, especially when directed to him, but today, it felt warm. Warmth like never before.
“You grew up so handsome, Donghyuck-ah,” one of the women said. “But I thought you’d be taller, you know. You had such long limbs when you were younger.”
Donghyuck feigned offense, clutching his chest. “Ahjumma, you should’ve stopped at the word handsome.”
“Tangerines ripen earlier than other citruses, so they can escape damage from freezes that will harm midseason varieties such as grapefruit and sweet oranges. Most varieties will be ready for picking during the winter and early spring, although the exact tangerine harvest time depends on the cultivar and region,” you explain, following the lead while Donghyuck and two other guys around yours and his age trail behind you. He apparently needs some training before he can start working.
“How do we know if they’re ready to be picked?” Joohyuk, one of the part-timers, ask.
You will know it’s about harvest time for tangerines when the fruit is a good shade of orange and begins to soften a bit. This is your chance to do a taste test,” you answer, stopping to show an abundant tangerine tree. You pick one out and show it to Donghyuck and the rest. “Cut the fruit from the tree at the stem with hand pruners. If after your taste test the fruit has reached its ideal juicy sweetness, proceed to snip other fruit from the tree with the hand pruners.”
You proceed to show them how it’s cut and hand them a piece each. Donghyuck likes that the fruit is sweet, not sour.
The ahjummas find your group and start handing baskets to Donghyuck and the guys, telling them they’d guide them all throughout.
He found himself spending the rest of the morning getting to know the people harvesting tangerines and making them laugh like it’s his job. He learned all their names one by one, their families briefly, and what they used to do before they retired. By the time it’s lunch, Donghyuck was about to say goodbye and perhaps ask you to take him back to his house, the group from the other side of the farm joined their area, all packed with bags of lunch.
They asked him to join, of course, but Donghyuck refused, in respect of their time to relax and take a break, and asked if you could take him home instead. You agreed, of course, mumbling that you would also need to go home to feed your dog.
“I’ll pick you up at 1:15,” you say as soon as Donghyuck lands on his feet. “Don’t sleep, please. The ahjummas will be expecting you. It’ll be a lot hotter, so drench your celebrity skin with twice the amount of sunscreen you’d normally use.”
“Yeah,” Donghyuck responds, itching to say thank you, but not enough to actually say it. He rubs Daisy’s neck instead. “You—I, okay.”
“O-kay,” you nod and whistle to signal Daisy to turn and walk the other way.
Nana waits for him by the patio. “How was your first day?”
“It’s not even over yet,” he sighs, slumping his butt on one of the patio’s stairs. “Nana, I can’t believe you’re making me work while I’m on vacation.”
“Your father never said anything about a vacation,” she responds, smiling as she struggles to sit beside him. Donghyuck helps her. “You’re here for some time away from work, right?”
“Yeah, a vacation,” he emphasizes.
Nana reaches to move the fringe covering a part of his eyes. “Let’s call this your healing time. But I wouldn’t call it a vacation because a vacation for you only means playing computer games until the sun rises then sleeping all day.”
“You should stop talking to Seungyeon about me,” he mumbles, looking sideways to find his grandmother looking at him lovingly. “And I don’t only play computer games. I also listen to a lot of music.”
“Try not to think about the limelight while you’re here,” she says. “The farm needs some help now. And it’s the best time for you to learn about the family business in case you don’t make it back in Seoul.” Donghyuck groans, burying his face in his hands, and Nana laughs at him. “That’s a possibility you should be considering, Donghyuck-ah.”
“Nana, you’re making me feel worse,” he whines. “You just told me not to think about the limelight, how can I not when you just said what you said!”
“I’m only joking,” she admits. “No one is ever going to take the limelight away from you, Donghyuck-ah, even if they try. You were born for the stage, and I know it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.”
Donghyuck looks up at her. “Is it bad that it’s all I want?”
Nana shakes her head and offers a kind smile. “Having a dream like yours is never bad, Donghyuck-ah. I know that eventually you’d have to leave and go back to where you really belong: the limelight. But all I’m saying is, stepping out of the light isn’t as bad as you think it is.”
“Right.”
“Tell me how it was in the farm.”
“The ladies love me,” he chuckles. “I’m quite popular even in the small villages of Jeju-do, aren’t I?”
“You sure are,” she agrees. “They’ve been asking about you for a long time. Looks like your Nana isn’t the only one who missed you.”
“How come they still remember me?” he asks before he can think about it. “I mean, I’m sorry, but I’ve forgotten about most people here. They still remember how I used to play around and sing for small events.”
It’s true. It caught him by surprise that the workers still remembered him—and not only because he’s a celebrity now, but they remember him by the small, insignificant happenstances when he was younger. Like for example, one of them mentioned how he was once was injured, his pinky finger to be exact, because he was running like a madman when his mother had given him permission to go play computer games with his cousin. He doesn’t remember that person being there, but he knows his grandmother talked about it like it was a news about a hurricane hitting Seoul at that time it happened.
It makes Donghyuck wonder how many people remember him, and how many people he’d forgotten and left behind for his dreams.
“Our world here in Jeju-do is small,” Nana explains. “People like you, who left, well, while ours remain humble and small, while we fade into the background and slowly become insignificant, yours become bigger. So, while we remember, you forget, slowly, one by one—and nobody blames you for forgetting, Donghyuck-ah.”
Oh, look. Another burden, another truth that Donghyuck has to carry for the rest of his life. Another reason not to fall asleep tonight.
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There is a small, local store located down the road from his grandmother’s house. They don’t sell nearly half the number the ones local convenience stores in Seoul would, but Donghyuck likes to think it’ll do. Soju and beer taste the same anyway, regardless of where he buys it.
With the faint, beaten yellow paint from its exterior, the store has been around even before Donghyuck was born. It’s the village’s very own convenience store, after all. There weren’t any rival stores like how it would look like in Seoul where every corner of every street one would find a convenience store. From where Donghyuck stands, the store doesn’t like look like it’s changed much in a decade.
For some reason, Donghyuck remembers how much Renjun likes reading neuroscience studies for fun. He doesn’t know anyone else who would read neuroscience studies. For fun. But anyway, back to his point, there was a neuroscience study that Renjun has been blabbing about during their US tour. It was something about when someone recalls an old memory, a representation of the entire event is instantaneously reactivated in the brain that often includes the people, location, smells, music, and other trivia. Recalling old memories can have a cinematic quality. Memories often seem to play out in the mind's eye like an old Super 8 home movie or vintage Technicolor film. Neuroscientists discovered that when someone tries to remember a singular aspect of an event from his or her past—such as a recent birthday party—that a complete representation of the entire scene is reactivated in the brain like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle coming together to create a vivid recollection. The new research reveals that humans remember life events using individual threads, that are coupled together into a tapestry of associations.
Donghyuck’s never really understood what Renjun meant at that time, except now.
He stands there, a good ten-meter distance from where you’re sitting. The pavement on the sidewalk isn’t the most comfortable place to sit in, but Donghyuck thinks it might just be, with how comfortable and at peace you look: legs stretched out to the street, headphones covering your ears, a book (or a journal perhaps, Donghyuck can’t see well from here) in one of your hands while the other is twirling a pen.
The scene takes him back to ten years ago, in the exact same place where you’re sitting, and if Donghyuck thinks about it now, it seems like nothing’s really change—except he’s almost twenty-three now, and despite him standing a few meters away from you, it feels like you and him are worlds away. And from what it looks like, you still love writing as much as Donghyuck loves singing.
It was a warm evening in May 2013, a couple of weeks before school ended and summer would officially start, counting down the nights when Donghyuck would have to move back to Seoul, and it was way too hot for Donghyuck’s liking. Nana didn’t have an air-conditioning system yet; his father was working hard to get her one before they leave for Seoul because summers can be crazy hot in Jeju-do. And Donghyuck needed a popsicle so bad, otherwise, he’d probably explode.
He found you the same place where you are now. Donghyuck thought your SHINEE shirt looked cute because while girls your age liked the newly debuted EXO, you still listened to SHINEE like a religion. You were sitting with your legs sprawled on the street, right under the streetlight, a pen in one hand and your old, beaten up journal on the other. Your eyebrows were furrowed, and Donghyuck caught himself before he could start thinking about how pretty you looked like that: focused and doing what you loved.
Donghyuck decided not to disrupt your focus and opted to go straight inside the small store, spending the last of his money on yours and his favorite: lime and cherry twin popsicle—the kind that’s packaged in one, two flavors in one, lime green and cherry red colors separated in the middle between popsicle sticks. Lime for you, cherry for him. You didn’t look up when he sat beside you, but took the lime-flavored popsicle from his hand when he handed it to you after peeling off the plastic cover and breaking it into two.
“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking the ice-cold treat in your mouth. Donghyuck couldn’t help but think his cherry-flavored popsicle resembled the color of your lips.
Donghyuck nodded his thoughts away, leaning in to peak at the page you’re working on. “What are you working on?” he asked it while the popsicle rested on one side of his mouth, his left cheek protruding.
You shrugged, taking the popsicle off your mouth, showing your work to him. Donghyuck found it endearing that you write all over the pages of your journals, it was as though he could see your train of thoughts: some smudged, some erased under ink but not really because he could still read through it, some clear as day, some to never see daylight again.
“I was in Science class today,” you started.
“We’re in the same homeroom, dumbass. I was there.”
“I’m talking,” you whined. “And I doubt you were even listening. You hate Science more than anything.”
“Fair point,” he hummed. “Okay, what about Science class? Please don’t tell me you’ll start writing about Science. Because I’m so sorry. I’ll never read any of your work ever again if you decide to do that.”
You laughed, the melody of your fondness of his jokes creating its own room inside the crevices of Donghyuck’s brain. “Teacher Kim was talking about symbiosis.”
“I’m not even going to pretend I know what that means.”
“Symbiosis is a term describing any relationship or interaction between two dissimilar organisms. The specific kind of symbiosis depends on whether either or both organisms benefit from the relationship,” you continued. “Butterflies and flowers, they are the best examples of symbiosis.”
Donghyuck nodded, savoring the sweetness of his cherry-flavored treat.
“Hence I did some research and read more about butterflies and flowers, and I read something a little sad,” you trailed off. “I learned that certain flowers bloom when butterflies hatch and depends on how they match each other. Butterflies, they prefer light-colored flowers they can perch on. So, when the timing is off, the flower misses the butterfly. The butterfly, therefore, finds another flower.”
“Then what happens to the flower?” Donghyuck asked, watching as you try to catch the melting piece off your popsicle, taking it back to your mouth. Your lips looked really pretty. “If it misses all the timing?”
“Well,” you shrugged, looking up to the night sky. The stars in Jeju-do that night were much prettier than it is in Seoul. “They bloom again next year, and hope that maybe next time, the timing is better. That the butterfly arrives just in time for the flowers to bloom.
“That is a little sad,” Donghyuck acknowledged. He watched you look back down, grimacing a little as you take the popsicle off your mouth. “Wanna try mine?” he asked before he could think about it.
You looked back at him. The stars in Jeju-do turned out to be nothing compared to your eyes. “Yeah?”
Donghyuck pulled the sweet treat from his mouth just as you hand him your lime-flavored one. He took it in his mouth, and Donghyuck had never been the biggest fan of anything sour, but for some reason, the lime flavor tasted sweeter than ever. You took his cherry-flavored ones, groaning in delight as you taste the treat’s sweetness.
“Cherry has always been my favorite,” you’d confessed, and Donghyuck was surprised because you’d always gotten the lime-flavored ones. The twin pops were your thing since you met summer of 2006—it was cheap, practical for two kids, two-in-one; you’d always choose the lime ones. “God, this is good.”
“You literally always take the lime ones,” he argued. “My whole life has been a lie. I’ve always thought lime was your favorite because you always take it whenever we get this!”
You shrugged. “You never liked anything sour,” you said like it’s the easiest thing to say, like it didn’t make Donghyuck’s heart somersault. “And I can take a little bit of sourness if it means you enjoy your cherry-flavored popsicle.”
Donghyuck was only twelve. He didn’t know anything about falling in love, but that night might just be the closest thing.
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“So, you drink alcohol to help you fall asleep?” you ask as if it’s the most interesting solution to insomnia. Donghyuck thinks it isn’t; he’s read somewhere online that alcohol really helps. “That’s stupid.”
Donghyuck shrugs. “It’s not really working great right now. But it helps.”
He sits beside you on the sidewalk, legs sprawled out just like yours, a can of cold beer one hand while the other holds him up, flat on the rough pavement. There’s no particular reason why Donghyuck’s talking to you now. You and him got off the wrong foot, and it’s not like you can really blame Donghyuck for seeing a (supposed) stranger sleeping at his grandmother’s patio. And you were friends. Even though it’s been years, Donghyuck reckons talking to you would do no harm. Besides, if he’s staying here for a few months, a companion would probably make it less miserable.
“And your father thinks coming to Jeju-do would help, too?” you ask.
Donghyuck chuckles. “I guess you could say that. What else have you heard about me?”
You look at him, away from the street and right into his eyes. Donghyuck wonders why he didn’t recognize you the first time he saw you. Your face looks the same from the day he bid you goodbye a decade ago—lips colored in cherry, eyes bright as the stars, cheeks soft all over.
“A lot,” you answer. “But I’ve never been one to believe in rumors anyway.”
Donghyuck licks his lips. “The rumors are true.”
“Not about the sleeping around and getting drunk, pabo,” you mutter. “That, I believe.”
“Which ones?” he asks.
“People are saying you no longer like being on stage,” you say. It’s not the first time Donghyuck’s heard it. “That you’ve been burnt out from working all these years. And that you don’t care about music anymore.”
Donghyuck snickers. “That’s true, too.” He throws his head back, chugging on the cold beer. “I’m so over it. I don’t even care what happens after this.”
“Oh, Donghyuckie,” you whisper softly, eyes still glued to his face. “What has the limelight done to you?”
Donghyuck only shrugs, finishing off the rest of the cold beer, helping himself up and taking the plastic bag full of iced cold beer from the store.
“I don’t think that’s something you should be worried about,” Donghyuck says. You keep your eyes on him, so you’re looking up from where you’re seated and Donghyuck looks down on you. “It’s getting late. Wanna go drink at Nana’s?”
“Nana would kill you if she finds alcohol inside her house,” you say.
“I’ve snuck in about twenty bottles since I arrived last week and she hasn’t noticed,” he confesses.
“You’re a fucking nightmare,” you laugh.
Donghyuck freezes for a moment, watching you stand in between giggles. Mark said the same think a couple of weeks ago, but it doesn’t sting when you say it. You say it in laughter. Like it’s okay. Like it doesn’t scare you.
“My house is down the street,” you say, helping yourself up and standing in front of him. Donghyuck remembers. “I’ll call Nana and let her know you’re with me.”
A bark startles Donghyuck for a second. You and him turn to find a golden Labrador running towards where you stand.
“Aw, my baby’s here to pick me up,” you announce with the softest voice. The lab runs, almost dashes towards you, and Donghyuck is taken aback when it tackles him—not you—knocking the plastic bag off his hands and resulting to him landing his butt back to the pavement. “Pororo!” you shriek, not in surprise but with a tone of betrayal. “I’m your mother!”
Donghyuck hears you shriek, but laughs through it because the golden lab is hogging him, licking him all over as if he’d miss him all these years. “Oh, baby, you’re so cute,” he coos, cradling the dog by its face, looking up at you as the dog licks his face. “This is yours?”
You fight back a smile, but you lose immediately because your face breaks with a grin. “What has the limelight done to you?” you ask, the same question from earlier, but a different tone—teasing, nostalgic, like years ago.
The dog sniffs him all over and you stand there watching them.
“Can’t even recognize your own dog now?” you tease, walking so you could pet the dog and have him follow you. “It’s the puppy Nana got you a month before you left Seoul. You couldn’t bring him with you, and Nana couldn’t take care of him when you left, so I adopted him, pabo.”
“Pororo?” Donghyuck finally, finally recognizes. Pororo looks like he’s nodding, like saying thank God, you remembered me! The dog goes back to tackle him. “Oh, Pororo! My baby!”
You lead the way to your house, Pororo following after you. He watches you take several steps ahead of him. He feels dizzy watching the scene in front of him. Donghyuck understands what Renjun is talking about now.
Humans remember a singular aspect of an event from his or her past that a complete representation of the entire scene is reactivated in the brain like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle coming together to create a vivid recollection. You’re the representation of his entire life in Jeju-do, a clear image before Haechan, and he’s fucking sorry he forgot about you all these years.
But that’s an apology you’d never hear from him. Instead, he watches you, taking a small step towards you, and decides he’ll allow his unsaid apology to be added on the long list of reasons why he can’t sleep at night.
Nostalgia comes in waves, they say, but why do you bring it to him like a hurricane?
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Donghyuck could say that Nana is impressed with the drastic change of character in the span of six weeks.
She’s been treating him better these days; by “better”, Donghyuck means she’s been cutting off a few hours from work so he could spend more time at her home, guarding the hens and roosters that serve at her alarm clock and watering her plants from her small vegetable garden. She’s also been paying him, giving him a small envelope with cash and a small paper that resembled a payslip showing the number of hours he’d work for the week, and Donghyuck ignores the quick jump from his heart when he sees your signature at the end of it, affirming that the hours listed are accurate. Donghyuck takes the money, of course, after Nana threatened to beat him up because she’d be breaking Korea’s labor laws if he doesn’t accept it, and he keeps it all in a small box in his room, planning to show it to his members when he goes back to Seoul and brag about working like a normal civilian at the age of 23.
There is a pinch in his heart when he remembers his members. While Donghyuck has been working on (and failing to) sober up for an entire month, his members have not called nor texted him. He’d been reaching out, of course. Some of his members have been assigned solo projects and activities in the last month, and he ensures to congratulate them. All he’s gotten so far are the receipts that his messages have been read.
Donghyuck convinces himself that it’s probably SM that advised everyone not to give him a time of their day, that they probably think being away from work means disconnecting from everyone, too, that his members love him and also believe that he needs some time off from everything.
But the convincing can only do much. The convincing distracts him while he’s at work, or while he’s watering Nana’s plants, but it doesn’t do much at night. Still, after six weeks, Donghyuck is nowhere near clean.
He wakes up with a terrible headache every day (from lack of sleep or hangover, he’s not really certain), and his Nana has been oddly making hangover soup for breakfast. Donghyuck wonders whether you’d ratted him out or his mother had called her about it. Either way, she probably knows something’s up.
His mother had called him a few times now, Seungyeon, too, and it’s been casual. His mother’s voice always sounded like she’s walking on eggshells whenever she’d call, blurting a half-assed apology for not seeing him before he left and telling him she’d forgiven him and that she’s looking forward to seeing her in a few months. Seungyeon talks to him the most, almost every day, in short text messages and 10-minute calls on the weekends when she doesn’t have to worry about waking up early the next day.  And she talks to him about the most random thing, nothing ever related to his obsession with drinking or the scandal, which makes Donghyuck feel better somehow.
Six weeks didn’t make much of a difference, not that Donghyuck was expecting any. The only thing that’s changed so far is that, he’s not as exhausted as he was in Seoul despite his shitty sleeping schedule continuously fucking up his already deteriorated mental health. He hasn’t been listening to songs for quite a while, and he’s been drinking every night. And if it means anything to him, you’ve been hanging out with him while he drinks.
In six weeks, he learns that you’re not much of a drinker. You don’t have many friends that you could really invite for a drink in a nearby pub or in a samgyeopsal restaurant. You’d mentioned that most people your age have all moved on to different places, spewing names that were once familiar to Donghyuck and telling him where they are now. Donghyuck is yet to learn why you had stayed in Jeju-do, not once stepping in Seoul, when the world off this island’s shores are much, much bigger than you think.
It’s two in the morning. You’d taken him home because he could barely keep his head up with the number of soju bottles he had downed, and he appreciates that you try to stay quiet when you put him to bed and leave, keeping the blinds closed because he’d told you once that the morning sunlight seeping through spaces between the curtains hurt his eyes. You’d left when Donghyuck’s barely awake.
His phone dings a notification. Donghyuck probably won’t remember so he reaches over, checking it and recognizing his mother’s name.
She sends him an article about the upcoming debut of NCT DoJaeJung, and Donghyuck’s seen it in the groupchat for some time now. Donghyuck isn’t even halfway down the article when she sends another one: Mark’s solo song.
She doesn’t add another message, and he sees her status change from online to offline in a split second, but she doesn’t really have to say anything else for him to understand.
Donghyuck’s dream has always been the spotlight.
Or at least, as he recognizes now, his mother’s dream for him has always been the spotlight.
Donghyuck always thought he loved making people happy and singing equally.
While people called him kind and a ray of sunshine, Mark’s always called him out for being a people-pleaser, reminding him that he doesn’t have to make sure everyone is happy with the choices he’d make, telling him he doesn’t have to feel the strong urge to please everyone. And Donghyuck never understood it until now, now that he’s wide awake and looking at his mother’s messages. She’s probably expecting a solo project for him, too, and she sends these things that make her happy, and she’s already expecting him he’d do it no matter what. Donghyuck’s mother is a good person; he’d look up at her and think to himself that when he grows up, he’d want to be as supportive as his mother, and don’t get him wrong when he says she expects him to do anything that’d make her happy. Because this is all Donghyuck’s fault, anyway.
With his desire to make her the happiest, he’s done everything he could to make her happy, even at his own expense.
The infamous Saturday audition at SM was something Donghyuck never thought about—not at the age of 13 when he had just gotten back in Seoul after five years of staying in Jeju-do. His accent has changed and he reckons he could have a good relationship with boys his age who grew up in the city. And as much as he loved performing, Donghyuck doesn’t like being criticized. He doesn’t like rejection, and he can’t bare the thought of adults telling him he couldn’t sing.
Hence, his initial answer to his mother’s proposal to visit SM Entertainment and give it a try was no. The only thing that had made him go, knees shaking and palms sweaty, was his mother’s words: “It’ll truly make me happy if you give it a try.”
She’d said it in many occasions, and Donghyuck’s given everything that’d make her happy a try. She’d never said a bad thing and even told him a few times that it’s okay if he doesn’t want to, but he does it anyway.
Donghyuck was afraid that she’d love him less if he didn’t make her happy. He was only thirteen, and his twenty-three now, and his biggest fear hasn’t changed: to be loved less because he didn’t make them happy enough.
So, Haechan blurts out the most random jokes when the cameras are on and initiates skinship with the member even if they abhor him for it and style his hair a different way, because it makes the fans happy. Haechan stays up learning the tune of the new song and recording himself in his phone for hours even after an entire day of physical activities, because it makes the producers happy. Haechan takes his friends and the younger members to dinner after a 16-hour flight from the west on the night of his birthday—his eyes barely open the entire time—because it makes them happy. Haechan plays the maknae role perfectly, even when at times he’s tired of it, because it makes the older members happy. Haechan continues to be a sunny and bright character even on days when he’s exhausted, because it makes his managers happy.
But the truth is, Donghyuck doesn’t like dyeing his hair. His hair’s gotten so unhealthy from dyeing it different colors last year.
Donghyuck feels awful sometimes, when his friends do not return his affection, but he plays it off, feigning hurt even when it actually does.
Donghyuck wants to sleep after a 16-hour flight.
Donghyuck wants to drink with his hyungs, too.
Donghyuck just wants to sing and write songs when he’s learned enough.
Donghyuck doesn’t want to be like Mark, or Doyoung, or anyone else.
Donghyuck wants Haechan to be… Donghyuck.
Donghyuck wants to be happy—in his own terms, by his own choices.
But how can he be happy when he’s always depended his happiness on the people he loves?
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Donghyuck feels like a dead man walking.
You and Donghyuck are tasked to bring the harvested fruits at the farmer’s market in the early hours of Sunday.
It’s barely five in the morning, and the sun’s not even out yet, but you had forced him to sleep early the night before to make sure he’d accompany you to the market. (He didn’t sleep though; he lied awake until his phone rang and you’re calling from outside.) You’d driven the farm’s truck to get here, and Donghyuck can’t help but admire the way you hold the steering wheel with one hand.
Donghyuck helps you carry the boxes out of the truck, arranging them in front of his grandmother’s store. You had walked in while he carries the rest inside and Donghyuck hears you talk to Eunseuk, his Nana’s sales person who handles and manages their place in the public market.
“That’s awful,” Donghyuck hears you say as soon as he places the last of the boxes in a corner. “Can’t the mayor do anything about it?
Eunseuk sighs, shaking her head. “Unfortunately, it looks like the donation project Nana’s driven wasn’t enough. She barely made enough profit last quarter because she’d donated most of it to the project.”
“What is awful and what project are we talking about?” Donghyuck interrupts.
Eunseuk smiles sadly at him. “The clinic that Nana’s been proposing to the mayor for years now. The town’s mayor thinks it’s not going to be built this year.” Donghyuck’s never heard of it.
“The community has a lot of elderly people who live alone in Jeju-do,” you explain when you notice his curiosity. “Especially in here in the island, even more here in our town. Most people leave Jeju-do at the age of eighteen to find a better life in Seoul, which is ridiculous because there’s no place better than Jeju-do, and Nana thought it’d be great if she built a small clinic for the elderly nearby, that way they wouldn’t have to travel fifty kilometers to visit the nearest hospital. It’d be great if the elderly can have themselves checked for free and to have, if not all, most equipment they’d need.”
“How is that possible?” Donghyuck asks.
“Well,” Eunseuk starts. “First, we need the funds to actually build the clinic itself. Nana is halfway through the amount needed. The mayor’s children are doctors, and if he wants to keep winning the next elections, I’m sure he’d be happy to have them volunteer.”
“What about maintenance?” he asks.
“Good question,” you say. “And good thinking. I like it, you’re already thinking ahead, Donghyuck-ah. Anyway, the elderly is very much willing to do community service in exchange of the maintenance of the small clinic. And don’t worry, it’s not like Nana’s going to make them work like horses.”
“Services like crocheting products for the local market,” Eunseuk adds. “Food manufacturing—the kind that would allow them to make while sitting down, local farming, jewelry-making, and the like. Things we can sell in the market. You know how tourists are so keen on buying anything hand-made.”
“So, a clinic for the elderly built and maintained by the elderly?” Donghyuck sums up.
“Exactly!”
“How much are we looking at in terms of money?” He asks.
You chuckle. “If you’re grandmother wanted to ask money from you, she would have already. She has some kind of pride, you know.”
“Well, I’ll give it you and you tell her it’s an anonymous donation.”
“As if she’d believe that bullshit,” you answer. “Anyway, Eunseuk-eonnie, what do we do now?”
The older woman shrugs. “We’ll keep selling tangerines until we reach the goal, I guess.”
Donghyuck talks before he could think about it. “I can do something.”
You and Eunseuk look at him like you’d just seen a ghost.
“I don’t know what I can offer,” he says right away. “But I’ll… I think I can do something.”
“Donghyuck,” you say. “You can sing.”
“I am aware,” he jokes.
“No, you can sing,” you repeat. Donghyuck looks back at you. “You can sing, so I’m sure you can teach people how to sing.”
“And?” He doesn’t get it.
“It’s summer,” you answer. “Most kids are bored and are probably looking for something meaningful to do while they wait for school to start again. Teach kids how to sing and have their parents pay for it!”
Donghyuck thinks it’s a good idea. “And you can write.”
You freeze. “No.”
“Teach kids how to write and have their parents pay for it.”
“Over my dead body!”
“I will do it only if you do it.”
Eunseuk laughs, “Oh, this is good.”
“No, Donghyuck. I’m not a professional writer. I didn’t even go to college. I don’t have the credentials for it.”
“You don’t have to go college to be a writer,” he snorts. “Scott Fitzgerald didn’t even finish college.”
“Where’d you even learn that?”
“You told me when we were kids!” he answers, laughing. “Come on, Y/N. I’m sure Nana can find someone to do your job in the farm while we teach kids.”
“I don’t know, Donghyuck,” you sigh.
Eunseuk lightly slaps your arm. “Come on, young lady. Do it for the elderly.”
“Yeah, Y/N, do it for the elderly.”
The sparkle in your eyes and the smile on your lips tell Donghyuck you agree.
And so, the plan goes accordingly.
Donghyuck could say that Nana is more than delighted to learn that his delinquent and embarrassing grandson, who’s spent all this time pretending he doesn’t care, had decided to help out. You’d done the most part, of course— obtaining the permit from the mayor’s office and settling all the paperwork needed. All Donghyuck had to do was to help clean up and renovate his grandfather’s old office in the farm. Everyone else who had some free time helped because apparently, that’s what this community does. Donghyuck could probably get used to receiving help without him asking for it.
So, in more or less five days, his grandfather’s old office, which is about forty square meters, had turned into the community’s summer class headquarters. You and Donghyuck decided to call it Nana’s Music and Literature Classes. And with the help of Eunseuk and some of the workers, the word spread like news from the radio. In a week’s time, you and Donghyuck have over twenty student each. Mondays and Wednesdays were his schedule; yours were Tuesdays and Thursdays. Fridays were called Hyuckie and Y/C/N’s day—which means you and him would dedicate an entire day brainstorming and talking about your class’ progress.
The summer courses would take eight weeks to complete, and at the end of it would be a competition, in which the Mayor promised he’d give a very big reward for. Those who enrolled in Donghyuck’s classes would have a recital at the end of summer where the kids will hold a small concert for the town—tickets to be sold as part of the drive, of course—and the judges will be identified to select three winners. As for your classes, it will be a short story competition, and the winners will be announced on the night of the small concert, which Donghyuck is the best ending any summer could have.
The place is cramped, and Donghyuck’s never been more excited his entire life.
He’s gone to many places and met with many prominent people in this lifetime. But he’s decided that this is the most exhilarating day of his life.
The parents leave as soon as Donghyuck assures them that the kids will be safe and will be all set for pick up by 3 in the afternoon. You’re talking to the kids while he ensures that the room is cool enough for everybody. The room is filled with excitement that Donghyuck could feel inside him. He learned from the parents he’d met just a few minutes ago that the town doesn’t really offer things like this for children and that they’d have to send their kids to summer camp in the mainland if they wanted them to experience this, and the fact that you and him are doing this for a cause makes it even better.
Donghyuck views this like it’s not as big as the drives NCT had been doing, or the charity concerts he takes part in, or the money he donates to various causes, but to the people of the town, it’s bigger than anything they had ever known.
“Aigoo,” one of the parents cooed when she’d seen Donghyuck greet everybody outside. “Your grandparents have always been kind. They’d been the pillar of this small town for quite some time now. I’m glad you’re growing up a good man.”
You’d smiled at him when you heard that, and Donghyuck wonders if you also think he’s growing up a good man, because he thinks you grew up to be such an amazing, compassionate person.
“Hello, kids!” Donghyuck greets. Everybody says it back with the same enthusiasm, and despite having been in hundreds of shows with thousands of people in the audience, he can’t remember the last time a crowd made him feel alive.
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Donghyuck hates being recognized.
When his career had just started, he thought that the greatest compliment was to be recognized. He thought that he’d measure his success with the number of people from the general public who could recognize him under a hat and with a face mask covering half his face. But in the latter years of his career, he’d learned the hard way that he hated being seen and being recognized.
There had been many happenstances in his job in which he’d just wish he was invisible for a moment. Anytime he’s in an airport, regardless it was for an event or concert overseas, or worst of it all, a vacation with his family, all Donghyuck wants is for people not to know who he is. In afternoon runs by himself, all he needs is a time alone and not girls following him and taking pictures of him. On days when he’s out with friends and family, all he hopes is peace. This comes with the job, Johnny would tell him whenever he’d get frisky and annoyed, but Donghyuck never really understood why his privacy is anyone’s business. Never really understood why he had to go through this when all he’s ever really wanted was sing.
Donghyuck hates being seen.
More than anything. Especially when he’s trying hard to hide. And he wishes he’s only talking about his physical appearance being seen. He hates that his grandmother sees through him but doesn’t say anything about it unless he opens up first. He hates that Mark, his best friend in the entire world, sees right through his walls and that all Donghyuck’s done is push him away and make him hate him even more. He hates that his father sees his pain, but doesn’t talk about it for some reason. He hates that you see him—all of him—but you don’t look at him with disgust or pity or anything of that sort.
It’s Friday, yours and his day, the second one since summer school’s started, and he’d started calling you by your childhood nickname again. You’d grimaced the first time and told him nobody’s called you that in a long time, but allowed him nonetheless.
The clock strikes six in the afternoon and the dusk had just settled in the horizon. You and him are sitting on the floor of his room, facing each other, separated by a small table, notepads scattered, ideas running a hundred miles per second.
“This is perfect,” you comment when you and him had finished planning out next week’s daily agenda. “The kids are going to love it!”
Donghyuck stays silent, eyes on you as you finally set your pen down.
“What should we have for dinner?” you ask, eyes still on the notepad. “Nana’s probably heating up some leftover galbi, but I think we should make some kimchi stew, too.”
Donghyuck hums. You look up at him. “What’s wrong?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. I just had something in mind.”
You tilt your head. “Tell me.”
“It’s a question,” he says. “And if I say it, you’d have to answer.”
You think about it for a moment. Donghyuck almost takes it back. “Sure.”
“Really?”
You nod. “As long as you answer a question from me, too.”
Donghyuck pretends to think about it. “Can we set some rules?”
“It’s literally one question,” you snort. “Come on. Ask me.”
“No, ask me first,” he insists.
“You asked first.”
“No. Ask me first,” he repeats.
You scoff. “Fine. You have to tell me the truth, yeah?” A nod. “Ready?” Another.
Donghyuck holds his breath for a moment and you don’t say anything for about a minute, probably thinking the same as him: this is the only chance both of you are honest and open, might as well ask a question one wouldn’t answer on a normal day.
“How are you?”
He exhales the breath he’s been holding and nearly breaks down in tears when he hears the question you’d decided to ask. He’s sure you’ve heard of it all. Everything’s been all over the internet for the past two months he’d been in hiding in Jeju-do: the drinking, the nights in clubs and bars, the fights with the members, the cherry on top which is the scandal. It’d all spiraled into everything he was initially afraid of. The girl he’d met at the back of the club had sold him to reporters and had made up a story of how they’ve been in a sexual relationship for quite some time. The media had dug up stories of him being out of control in the streets when he’s shitfaced from all the soju he had and had posted tales of him asking multiple women to sleep with him whenever he’s drunk.
The agency sued everyone for making shit up, of course, but Donghyuck knows half of those are the truth. He has not been the best group member in a long time: always late in practices, grumpy and hangover during fan signs, lethargic during concerts, and fucking up performances. He’s lost himself, and he’s losing everyone in the process of it.
People ask him if he’d really had sex with someone at the back of a bar. They’d ask him why he never asked for help with his drinking problem. Comments from his Instagram would tell him to back off and just leave the group. Fans from calls and fan signs would ask him why he’d stop making covers of the songs he loved and why he hasn’t been on Bubble in a long period of time.
But nobody else had really asked him how he’s been aside from Nana, who he doesn’t have the heart to open up to.
“I—” He starts but swallows, breathing in. You wait for him. “I’m—I don’t really—I’m not sure if I can.”
You nod. “Take your time, Donghyuck.”
Donghyuck reminds himself to breathe.
How is he? How has been holding up after everything that’s happened?
He’s lost his spark. He’s lost his love for music, his passion for the stage, the sparkle in his eyes. He’s losing the people he loves. He’s losing his friends. And he’s losing a battle with himself.
He’s—
“I’m, ” he tries again. “Y/N, I’m not okay.”
It pours like rain, his tears. He shakes when he cries and his chest is tight and it’s hard to breathe, but he keeps crying because it’s the only time he ever will. He sobs in pain and holds himself when his entire body shakes from the ache of it all.
He’s grieving, weeping, like how one would in a funeral, because how does he ask for forgiveness? How does he ask forgiveness from his parents and siblings? From his members? From his fans? From the staff and the people who’d brought him to where he is? How does he ask forgiveness from little Donghyuck when all he’d wanted was for him to grow up a good man?
You let him cry, and only reach out to hand him a handkerchief when he’s done. You don’t say anything. Instead you kneel and reach over to hug him from the other side. Donghyuck accepts your tenderness.
“I don’t have anything else to ask,” you murmur against his hair. “But I do want to say that you’re loved in ways you probably have forgotten already. You’ve probably been used to love that’s loud—screaming and flamboyant and beautiful and everything anyone would want—but you’re also loved quietly. In a small, serene room. In a way you’ve forgotten.”
“Thank you,” he says, sniffling, a little embarrassed now. “I’m sorry. I probably ruined the moment.”
You chuckle, pulling away, and Donghyuck’s heart does flips when you kiss the top of his head like you always did when you were younger. He doesn’t know why he remembers all of a sudden.
“Stop apologizing,” you reply. “There’s nothing to apologize about.”
“There’s a lot,” he admits. “I didn’t recognize you the first time I saw you. We did everything when we were kids, and I didn’t recognize you.”
“And it’s okay,” you assure, holding the top of his hand that’s resting on the small table. “I didn’t expect you to recognize me right away. You were worlds away from me. We forget people and that’s okay.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not. I promised to keep in touch, and I never did. I’m sorry.”
You nod. “You’re forgiven.”
Donghyuck sighs in relief. “I doubt, but okay.”
“Trust me.” He does. “Anyway, you were going to ask me something. You’re not allowed to ask the same thing because I’d just answer that I’m tired and I want to sleep. Nothing big happens in my life.”
Donghyuck smiles again. “Ready?” A nod. “Why’d you never leave Jeju-do?”
It seems like you didn’t expect the question because your face tells Donghyuck you’re surprised by what he just asked. You lick your lip and exhale largely, looking everywhere but his eyes. Donghyuck allows you to take your time, and you’re not running away so he’s assuming you’re thinking of an answer for him.
“I don’t have a dream,” is your answer. “My parents think it’s not normal. Because even they had already left the town and moved to a bigger place off the island. People think it’s impossible that I don’t have a dream, that I must want something in life, I just haven’t discovered it yet. And I’m twenty-three, I’m still waiting for my awakening, for dreams to find me, but it hasn’t. I don’t want to do anything in life but just… survive.”
Donghyuck only listens. “In high school, when we were deciding what to take up in college and which college we’d go to, I had nothing in mind. I didn’t want a career—not an engineer, not a teacher, not a doctor, none of those. I couldn’t think of anything. Writing is something that I love doing, but I really can’t see myself pursuing it as a career. I don’t want to end up hating it. I’ve always been convinced that I wasn’t specifically good at anything apart from that. I’m okay with all subjects at school, average grades and all, but nothing ever stood out for me. I never stood out. And I was okay with it for a reason I still don’t know. I was okay with not having dreams. College was the only reason for me to leave Jeju-do. There’s nothing else, therefore I’m still here. At twenty-three, I haven’t accomplished much, and if you want me to be all out and honest,” you sigh. “It’s… it’s starting to scare me.”
“What scares you?���
“That I haven’t accomplished anything yet,” you admit. “I’m not one to, you know, force myself to people and make them remember me. I wasn’t scared of oblivion. Until… these days, I’ve been asking myself, how are people going to remember me?”
Donghyuck nods, urges you to continue.
“Are they going to remember me as someone who helps out in your Nana’s farm because I had nothing to do?” you voice out. “Are they going to remember me as someone who brings all the deliveries to the farmer’s market when the staff is unavailable? Are they going to remember be as Eunseuk’s co-worker? Are they going to remember me at all?”
 “Can I tell you something?” he asks but doesn’t wait for you to answer. “I know I’m not in the position to say anything about remembering you when I couldn’t recognize you the first time we met after a decade, but I remember you by the way I see cherry blossoms.”
You tilt your head to the side. “Is that a good thing?”
“We met in a puddle of fallen cherry blossoms in summer of 2006,” he explains. “I remember you by the way you admired flowers that fall off from its stem, by the way you loved fallen and broken things equally when they were perfect and when they stood still. I may have awfully forgotten you all these years, but the way I see cherry blossoms is the exact same way you see them.”
Donghyuck continues, “You know how they say we’re a manifestation of all the people we met, right? That we’re a mosaic of everything we’ve ever learned from them. To me, I remember you as the clear image of who I was before… before everything that’s happened. I remember you as someone helping me find my way back home.”
“Donghyuck,” you trail off. “That’s the… best thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
Donghyuck smiles. “And so, what if you don’t have big dreams? Dreams are just dreams anyway. You don’t have to have one if you don’t want to. You shouldn’t have to struggle so much in order to live.”
“Do people know you’re this kind and profound?” you chuckle. “People should see this side of Lee Donghyuck.”
“Call yourself lucky you’re the only one,” he answers.
“What’s wrong with people seeing this side?”
Donghyuck shrugs. “I don’t think they’d want the boring kind. I think they like me better when I’m funny and over the top and a sucker for attention.”
“Well,” you click your tongue. “I like you either way.”
Donghyuck is barely twenty-three. And if he knows anything about falling in love, this might just be the moment he truly learns it.
You and him end up falling asleep on his bed. Donghyuck likes to think he doesn’t really remember how it happened. You’d told him you’d sleep in the hammock at his house’s patio, but he’d insisted to sleep in his room, of course. Reason? Mosquitoes, of course. Donghyuck said he’d sleep on the floor, taking an extra pillow, but you were already half asleep, moving so your body is right by the wall, safe and sound. You’d save the extra space for him to sleep beside you. Donghyuck likes to think he’d fallen asleep because he was exhausted and not because he felt safe around you.
It’s the longest sleep he’s had in a long time.
He wakes up at eight in the morning, the room already warm despite the air-conditioning system still switched on. You are no longer beside him, but he clearly hears your voice from outside.
Donghyuck gets up, going straight outside and finds everyone from the farm gathered around for breakfast outside his grandmother’s house. He’d forgotten that his Nana invited everybody for a scrumptious breakfast today, Saturday, and he wonders why neither you nor Nana herself had woken him up to help out.
Farmers and harvesters pass a plate to one another. A long table is set up in the middle of Nana’s driveway space, various of dishes laid out, and Donghyuck finds you holding two pitchers of tangerine juice, walking around to fill up the workers’ cups.
It’s Eunseuk who sees Donghyuck standing by the patio watching everybody move around.
“There’s our Donghyuckie!” she announces.
Everyone looks at him and greets him a good morning. Nana shouts his name and asks him to come over and eat some breakfast. You squint when you look at him, the sun blinding your eyes, but you smile as soon as he waves hi.
Donghyuck can’t help but think being recognized is not so bad after all.
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Donghyuck spends the rest of summer like a kid.
Except he goes to work at Nana’s Music and Literature Classes on Mondays and Wednesdays, goes to the farm on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and spends his Fridays with you. He learns many things over the summer, especially about the community and the town itself. He meets more people as Donghyuck, Nana’s grandson who teaches children how to sing and who helps out in the farm two days a week. They accept him as he is, and he feels like seven again, meeting new people every day until they all remember him by his name.
Among the things he’s learned, he likes learning how your lips taste the most.
It was sudden, unplanned, the kind where he didn’t know he was doing it until he’s done it. You and him were ending a Friday session at your place that time, the place where he used to hide his drinks, and he was so elated that he wasn’t going home drunk for the first time since he arrived in Jeju-do. And he was bidding you goodbye. He’d leaned it like it was the most natural thing to do and caught your lips in his. You shrieked in surprise, unable to say anything, but tipped on your toes and gave him a second kiss before turning and running inside your house.
You didn’t talk about it, and Donghyuck felt like it was not something to talk about. You had voiced out you liked him in many occasions, and Donghyuck’s been relentlessly flirting with you since the night you fell asleep in his room. The signs were never mixed and the lines were never blurred. Donghyuck’s grown much closer to you more than anyone else in the world, and he’s been falling asleep in the safety of your arms these days. It was safe to say the kisses weren’t meaningless.
The night of his class’ recital comes quickly.
Donghyuck spend the entire two days practicing with each of his students while you were busy reading all of your students’ works and giving them feedback before they submit it to the Mayor’s office. You find him getting ready in his room, dressed in the only button-down shirt he brought from Seoul and a pair of slacks. Meanwhile, it’s the first time he’s seeing you in a dress that somehow matches the colors of his outfit.
“Looking great, handsome,” you say.
Donghyuck pulls you for a kiss. “Could say the same to you, beautiful.”
“Why are you so touchy these days?” you whine but lean back to kiss him again anyway. “Ready? One of the parents called and said his kid is already in the venue. They’re excited.”
Donghyuck nods, grabbing a jacket just in case it gets cold later tonight, and leads the way out. Nana is dressed in a pretty dress Donghyuck gave her for Christmas last year. Donghyuck drives to the venue and finds himself nervous for the first time in a long time.
 You’d managed to convince him to sing tonight despite his persistent refusal.
“Come on, Donghyuck,” you begged, pulling him by the end of his shirt as he harvests tangerines. “The audience will love you!”
“They paid their tickets to watch the kids of the community sing, not me,” he argued. “And besides, I haven’t sung in like, four months. Who knows? I may have forgotten to sing already.”
“Bullshit,” you said. “Your Nana would want to hear you sing live.”
“She’s already heard me sing live many times,” he replied. “She’s been to many concerts.”
You tilt you head, a habit he’s grown to really like. “But I haven’t.”
Donghyuck had wanted to kiss the pout off your lips at that time. “Watch it from Youtube.”
“You don’t get many lines!” you said.
“So, you do watch my performances in Youtube, huh?” he teased. “Only in NCT 127 I don’t get so much lines because there are more members. Try to listen to NCT Dream.”
“Donghyuck!” you bellowed in frustration as you follow him around the farm. “Please!”
He stopped and turned, a little too late for you to step back because you’re already pressed up against his chest. “Okay.”
“Really?” you asked, voice lower because your faces were just inches apart—one wrong move and you’d be kissing in the middle of tangerine trees.
He nodded, purposely moving his face closer. “Only if you start reviewing for the SAT again and start sending your drafted college applications from your laptop.”
“Who told you to sneak in and open my files!” you gasped.
“I was checking if you’ve ever watched porn in your life and I found something better: your college applications.”
“I hate you, you know?”
Donghyuck chuckled, moving even closer to intimidate you but he hoped you couldn’t his heart hammering against his chest. “I know. Now. Do we have a deal? I’ll sing at recital night and you start reviewing for the upcoming SAT and send out your college applications when it’s time.”
“I’m—I’m not sure.”
Donghyuck let you go, you almost falling back but he held your hand before you could. “Then I’m not singing.”
“But Donghyuck!” He turned to leave while you scream behind him, pleading.
Ten steps forward and he finally got what he wanted: “Okay! I’ll do it! I’ll start reviewing and will send all the drafted college applications! I’ll do it!”
Hence, the singing stunt for tonight.
The event goes as planned.
The night starts with Donghyuck’s entire class singing their own rendition of a famous traditional song that the crowd truly loved. One by one, the kids would sing, with intermission numbers in groups in between, and by the end of it, it was Donghyuck’s turn.
The minus one track is ready and Donghyuck takes a deep breath as he walks up the stage. It’s smaller than any of the stages he’s been on—perhaps the smallest—and the lights aren’t as bright than the ones he’s used to. Big stages mean big lights, and if he’s being completely honest, he doesn’t see a single face when he’s on stage. The illuminations to ensure the fans would see them are blinding, beyond what people think. While his mother thinks his eyesight has gotten worse due to the long hours of playing APEX on his days off, Donghyuck believes it’s because of the blinding lights from the stage and everywhere he goes.
However, this stage has the gentlest lights he’s ever seen. The crowd is small, about two hundred people including their students, and from here, he can see their faces clearly. He stands not too far away, not to high, and he smiles when the crowd cheers when he reaches the middle of the stage.
“Hello, I’m Donghyuck,” he says on the mic. “I’m the teacher of the talented kids we watched this evening, and I can’t be prouder with how they sang their hearts out tonight. To show my gratitude, I also prepared a song for you.”
The crowd cheers again, your voice standing out as you stand right beside the stage, your phone already up probably recording him.
“I sang this song some time last year,” he continues. “This is Good Person.”
The instrumental plays and the crowd claps before he even starts. Donghyuck breathes, closing his eyes, and sings: “What’s going on today? Your face looks like it’s been crying. Did he break your heart? You’re the most precious person in the world to me.”
He hasn’t sung in a long time, and he barely practiced this song yesterday. Donghyuck, for some time before everything went to crumbles, felt scared going on stage. He felt as though he wouldn’t do well enough to deserve the applause and cheers, and he spent a lot of time doubting his own capabilities.
Whoever he is now, Donghyuck truly worked hard for it. At first, he only knew how to sing and it was the only thing he ever loved. And then he learned how to dance, how to stand like an idol, how to answer like a celebrity, how to have his “candid” photos taken, how to be a proper artist—even when he only wants to sing.
Standing here, now, in a small crowd, singing a song he wished was his own, he wished he had written, Donghyuck feels safe.
In Jeju-do, he feels safe. Donghyuck feels like he’s found his way home. The people he’s spent all these months with brought him comfort he’s never known—like coming home after a whole day of being pestered in the real world—and he knows that he’ll never find ease and serenity the same way Jeju-do had given him. The town took him in with open arms, like he’s not some idol who ruined their career for fleeting pleasure, like he’s not some person who’d forgotten about all of them. His Nana embraced him like he was seven again, like making mistakes is normal and that forgiving is easy when you love the person. You accepted him and taught him what falling in love means as though he was deserving of love and comfort.
The song ends with his voice dragging out the last words, his eyes closed: “I can only comfort you.”
When Donghyuck opens his eyes, the lights don’t blind him and the people he knows and love clap, cheering for him. It comes to him like pouring rain. And he allows himself to drench in it—the tenderness, the warmth, the love.
Because he deserves it. He deserves the love, therefore he takes, takes, takes, until he’s full of it.
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Like many times in Donghyuck’s life, the ease and serenity end as quickly as it arrives.
You’d spent the night in his home, Donghyuck for the first time learned how to make love in bed. He’s had sex before, of course, but never like how you and him connected in his bed—moans and music of pleasure hushed by each other’s mouth, his honey-colored skin’s warmth pressed against yours, his lips and tongue tasting every inch of you. He’d said he loves you, and you’d said it back as you and him take each other.
This morning he wakes up without a headache, and he’s been waking up without one for a few weeks now. He usually wakes up with the sound of roosters from his grandmother’s backyard, or the sound of you and his Nana talking over your morning coffee. But today, he wakes up with the sound of his grandmother knocking profusely, seemingly frightened by the sound of her voice calling his name.
“Donghyuck-ah,” she shouts. “Please wake up. I don’t know what to do.”
You and Donghyuck get up startled, scrambling to put some clothes on and hurrying to open the door—only to find Nana on the verge of tears. Nana never falters, she’d only shown strength but Donghyuck finds her shaking. Nana doesn’t get the chance to answer because Joohyuk barges in, sweaty and catching his breath.
“The mayor’s security team is here,” he announces. “Let’s get going.”
“Go where?” Donghyuck asks, but Joohyuk is already pulling him.
The door opens, and Donghyuck finally realizes what’s going on.
They’d found him. Men and women with cameras shout his name—he recognizes a few from the conferences he’d attended—and flashes of lights and the stuttering sound of shutters devour him. He looks around and he can’t see you and he hears his Nana cry, and Donghyuck doesn’t understand what the fuck is going on, but he feels his legs give out. Joohyuk practically carries him to the SUV waiting outside their home.
Inside the car, Donghyuck catches a glimpse of the crowd—a crowd that looks like twice the amount of the people from the recital last night. He hears them screaming his name and he sees glints of neon green and posters as they pass by. His Nana, who sits beside him, cries and says she doesn’t understand why they’d found him. The mayor had specifically ensured that the town’s residents do not say a word about his visit way before he’d arrived and she’d done her best to protect him from the lights. He doesn’t say anything and only hugs her tight.
On the other side of Nana is you. You’re staring off the window, the fields far more interesting than what just happened, and you’re biting off the nails of your fingers and your legs wouldn’t stop bouncing. And you’re silent, and Donghyuck wonders why all of a—
Donghyuck doesn’t have to ask you to know.
You’d sold him off.
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“I’m sorry,” is all you had to say when you and him are left inside the mayor’s office’s lounge. Donghyuck asked everybody to leave.
You’re sitting on the couch, eyes on the floor, while Donghyuck walks back and forth, angry. “I didn’t mean to.”
He stops walking right in front of you. “What do you mean you didn’t mean to post me on your Instagram? How could you possibly accidentally do that?!”
You keep your head low. “I—I forgot that it wasn’t on private and I didn’t have that many of followers to even be bothered by it. And one of our old friends commented and asked me if it was you—”
“And you said yes?” he enunciated. “You consciously, deliberately said yes?”
You start crying at this point. “Yes, and I’m sorry!”
“That’s a little too late now, isn’t it?”
“I just—”
“You just what? You want to play the girlfriend role so fucking bad?”
“Donghyuck, please, listen—” You get up and hold him by his arms but he backs off and rips his body from yours. “I just—I wanted the world to know that you can be kind and warm and you’re nothing like what the tabloids say—”
“So, you admit you purposely posted it!” he shouts. “What a fucking—”
“Yes!” you admit, still crying. “Because I can’t live knowing the world sees you differently when you’re generous and loving and amazing!”
Donghyuck takes a deep breath, hands on his waist, head tilted up so he can focus on the ceiling instead of the image of you crying. “You have no idea how the world fucking works, do you?”
“You always loved singing,” you reason out. “And the world shouldn’t take that away from you because of one mistake. I’m so sorry for what I’ve done. I didn’t think it through, but please understand my purpose.”
“You really have no fucking idea,” he concludes, looking down at you, right in your eyes and says: “How would you have any knowledge of what goes on outside of Jeju-do, anyway? You have never left this god damn place in your entire life and you know nothing aside from stringing words beautifully to get what you want. And you think you’re fucking cool for not having a dream and staying in an island, living your small-town girl fantasy, when in fact you’ve done nothing in life and people won’t even remember you. Why would you think you can make this decision for me? You’re just some girl who didn’t even go to college!”
“That’s enough, Donghyuck!” Nana interrupts.
Donghyuck turns and finds his Nana, Joohyuk, some of the Mayor’s security staff, his manager, and his Mother standing right outside the now opened door.
He looks back at you and you’re no longer crying. Your expression is just empty, like a light bulb burnt out.
Indeed, like many times in Donghyuck’s life, the ease and serenity end as quickly as it arrives.
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They take the first flight to Seoul after successfully shooing the media and fans away. Nana travels with them, his mother deciding that it’s the best for now until everything calms down.
Donghyuck finds out during the flight that yours and his old friend from middle school had reposted the video of him singing from last night and it went viral in multiple social media platforms. Overnight, people had found out his location and the media had started interviewing people in the town. Despite the mayor instructing everyone not to say a thing, some had answered questions, even submitted entries on some forums about Haechan online.
His manager talks about how their PR team sort of thinks this might just be what he needed, says something about the locals of the town had said so many good things about him. He confirms that the post originated from your Instagram account and you had deactivated at this point and that they’re in the process of contacting your old schoolmate because the agency wants to press charges for invading his grandmother’s privacy and for bothering him on an unofficial schedule.
His mother holds his hand all through, and she offers a kind smile and kisses the top of his head.
Donghyuck cries like baby, and his mother only holds him, and perhaps that’s all he truly needs.
The crowd is just as bad when his plane lands. Donghyuck can barely see and hear considering the lights and people shouting his name. They take him to a separate SUV, away from his mother and Nana to keep them off the radar, and he sits in the car beside his manager.
“Here,” his manager hands him a phone as soon as the car starts moving. Donghyuck had forgotten his phone. It’s probably still in his room back in Nana’s house. People are still screaming his name. Donghyuck stares at his manager’s phone blankly. The screen shows he’s in a call with Mark.
Donghyuck’s hand shakes when he takes it. He puts the device over his ear and doesn’t wait for Mark to say anything.
“Mark-hyung,” he cries.
And cries. And cries. And cries. Until he arrives in SM’s headquarters and the manager has to take the phone away from him. Mark tells him he’s on the way to the headquarters with Renjun and Doyoung and that the others should be on their way after their individual schedules.
They arrive and immediately their staff take care of him like a baby, and he realizes that he’s back. He’s back. Right where he’s supposed to belong.
They take him to the PR teams office, and none of them ask how he’s doing and he’s spiraling again—already starting to think how he could please the staff and make them happy, not even an entire day of landing in Seoul and he’s already thinking about other people at his own expense.
Hence, Donghyuck makes a decision he’s never considered before.
While one of the PR associates discuss how he’s ranked number one in Naver’s most searched term, Donghyuck raises his hand.
They all look at him.
And finally, Donghyuck says: “Please get me a therapist. Please get someone who can help me.”
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The room is clean and if Donghyuck’s being honest, a little too perfect for a therapist’s office. A tiny part of his fucked-up brain tries to convince him that they’d probably set him up for a documentary he’s not aware of to clean his image, so he looks around and tries to check if there are any cameras setup.
“Truly a celebrity,” Dr. Yoon says, which makes Donghyuck jump a little. The doctor stands from the door way, closing it as he steps inside. “Please, feel comfortable.”
Donghyuck thinks that’s a little impossible, but he takes a seat one of the single couches.
“The first thing that celebrities do in my office is look around for cameras,” the doctor comments, sitting on a similar chair across Donghyuck. “And I assure you that no amount of money can buy my integrity as a psychologist.”
“I’m relieved,” Donghyuck mumbles. “Hello, I’m Donghyuck.”
“Hello, Donghyuck,” the doctor greets; Donghyuck bows. “I had a quick glimpse of your situation from the form you filled out online. Are you feeling better today?”
“I guess,” Donghyuck shrugs. Dr. Yoon smiles.
“How about I ask questions and if you don’t want to answer, stay silent instead of lying to me?” He asks. Donghyuck sighs but nods. “And if you want to answer, answer as truthfully as you can, yes?” Donghyuck agrees. “Let’s start with simple questions.”
“Do you have any siblings?”
Dr. Yoon asks him many close-ended questions, to which Donghyuck had given him all the answers to, then proceeds to ask him what’s on his mind. The doctor’s notepad sits on the table between them, left open and blank even after asking so many questions.
Donghyuck is not really sure whether he’d done the right thing by seeking help, but he can’t keep hurting people just because he’s fucked up in the head. And he can’t keep hurting himself just because he can’t make the entire fucking world happy. He can’t keep drinking his insomnia away because he’s scared a doctor may tell him he’s fucked up in the head, which he knows already, he just doesn’t want it written in his medical records. He can’t keep fucking up his group’s image just because the alcohol doesn’t help his insomnia anymore. He can’t keep drowning himself in his sadness and the thought of disappointing so many people in his life—the people he left behind in Jeju-do, the members, his fans, the staff, his parents and siblings, his Nana, you.
If melatonin didn’t work, if the alcohol didn’t work, and if Jeju-do didn’t work, then perhaps a therapist is his best shot at getting better.
Donghyuck takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and begins.
“I keep thinking about how I can make everyone happy without sacrificing anything.”
The doctor finally picks up the pen and starts scribbling down.
Donghyuck keeps talking.
Donghyuck goes to therapy on Tuesdays and Fridays, and SM keeps his hiatus status active until Donghyuck decides to come back himself. It’s an agreement his parents, Donghyuck, and the agency settled while things are still chaotic.
The members are supportive of this, especially Mark and Taeyong. They’d send him cheerful messages every Tuesday and Friday, when they know that his session would begin. Sometimes, Jeno, Jisung, and Jaemin would pick him up and take him to a barbecue restaurant after. Donghyuck can’t remember how many times Renjun and Chenle had driven him to therapy and had waited for a couple of hours, only to take him to his favorite Chinese restaurant that serves the best hotpot. The older members have also driven him to therapy once or twice, with Jungwoo even signing up for therapy one time, and they’ve all given him love and tenderness—which Donghyuck accepted.
Donghyuck learns many things from Dr. Yoon. He learns that people pleasing isn't a mental illness, but it can be an issue that adversely affects how many people, with or without mental illness, relate to others. Most of all, people pleasers try to nourish other people without adequately nourishing themselves. Dr. Yoon called it Sociotrophy. He described it as the tendency to place an inordinate value on relationships over personal independence in response to the loss of relationships or conflict.
Those with sociotropic tendencies, wish to make other people happy, often at the sake of their own needs or values. While being warm, kind, and helpful are positive traits, they can result in strong feelings of resentment, anxiety, stress, and emotional depletion when they come at your expense.
People-pleasing, apparently, falls at the opposite end of the scale from autonomy. Autonomy places emphasis on independence whereas people-pleasers prioritize interpersonal relationships above all else. People-pleasers are often extremely empathic and attuned to others’ needs. A people-pleaser therefore tends to pursue intimate, affectionate, and confiding relationships. These people have a strong desire for external validation and avoid, or are sensitive to, situations where conflict may arise.  They will go above and beyond to avoid displeasing others out of fear of diminished social acceptance.
This behavior can have detrimental effects on a person’s self-worth and self-esteem.  A never-ending pursuit of approval, a desire for acceptance, and a sense of validation that arise from others happiness often result in a negative self-image. The person is likely to feel unworthy, powerless, or resentful, which may result in a lack of self-care.
The way Dr. Yoon had described it basically sums up Donghyuck as a human being.
He also learns that Sociotropic tendencies are often associated with mental health disorders such as anxiety or depression, which finally gave them Donghyuck’s diagnosis: clinical depression, also known as major depressive disorder abbreviated as MDD.
Clinical depression is a chronic condition, but it usually occurs in episodes, which can last several weeks or months. Dr. Yoon says one would likely have more than one episode in a lifetime. Donghyuck had asked him what was the difference between MDD and depression as it is.
Dr. Yoon explained that it’s normal to feel sad when you’re faced with difficult life situations, such as losing your job or a relationship. Some people may say they feel depressed during these situations. MDD is different in that it persists practically every day for at least two weeks and involves other symptoms than just sadness alone. It can be confusing because many people call clinical depression or major depressive disorder just “depression.”
Dr. Yoon also blabbered about chemicals in his brain that, well, Donghyuck really doesn’t understand much. All he knows at this point is that the treatment involves some medication and most specially psychotherapy. Apparently, studies show that the combination of these treatments is more effective than either of them alone.
Donghyuck has been investing a lot of his time in psychotherapy. His normal sessions were every Friday, thirty minutes to a maximum of an hour each. Like how his prescription doses went up, he also requested his psychotherapy sessions to be more frequent, hence Tuesdays and Fridays, minimum of one hour a session, maximum of an hour and a half.
Donghyuck likes to think that over the course of eight weeks, he’d gotten a little better. It turns out that being honest with your doctor means you’d get prescribed the right pills to take to help you fall asleep. No wonder the melatonin pills he’d taken didn’t work in the long run; he was taking the wrong ones and the wrong dosage—just like how he’d been looking for happiness in the wrong places.
From today’s session, Dr. Yoon asked him if he could talk to his mother about how he’d felt for so many years—the pressure, the urge to do whatever pleases her, the comparisons with other members, everything. Hence, Donghyuck finds himself knocking on his parents’ room.
He’s staying at their home during his hiatus. He reckons it’s the best time to speak with her as his father and the kids are out for work and school.
“Come in, Donghyuck-ah,” she says softly from the other side. He opens the door and finds his mother writing something in her journal. “You need anything, baby? Do you want to eat?”
He shakes his head and walks towards their bed, sitting on its edge. His mother puts the pen down and sits beside him. “Something wrong?”
“Eomma,” he says in the softest voice. “Can I sleep here?”
The question brings tears to his mother’s eyes. She nods and leads him to bed, Donghyuck lying on his side and his mother cradling him from behind. He looks like he’s thirteen again, the day before the audition at SM, young and anxious about what the next day would bring, and his mother seems like she’s never aged a day, still determined and only wants the best for her children.
Donghyuck can feel her crying.
“I’m sorry, Donghyuck-ah,” is all she says.
And Donghyuck knows deep in his heart that even before she’d uttered her apology, he’s already forgiven her.
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Haechan comes back right before Chuseok.
NCT Dream is invited to perform at a music festival held in the Seoul Olympic Stadium alongside many other artists. When news broke that this would be Haechan’s come back stage, the ticket sites went crazy—crashing every second because everybody wanted to get tickets to see the most-awaited comeback.
Over the course of seven months of Donghyuck’s hiatus, many things have changed. He gained more fans in the latter parts of the hiatus after the world learned his life in Jeju-do. He’d gotten a new piercing in his cartilage, which the fans love, but only Donghyuck probably understands what it means. Old videos of him going on stage went viral years later, the world seeing how talented and passionate he truly is. Clips of him randomly singing without autotune circulated for quite some time, and his fondness of children and respect for the elder have been the talk of the KPop industry for the last months or so, calling him the most well-mannered idol. The scandal had not been erased from history, of course; some people still hate him for it. Some of his old fan sites did not return to support him, and if we’re talking about old Donghyuck, he’d probably be pretty bummed about it. He’d probably start compromising his privacy to give them a glimpse of his life off the stage to get them back.
But the sessions with Dr. Yoon have been working well, because Donghyuck doesn’t really care about pleasing the entire world anymore. Donghyuck thinks that as long as there’s a good number of people supporting him and loving him for who he is—as a person and as a singer—then he’d be okay. He didn’t have to make the entire planet roar his name.
The dress rehearsals are done by the time the clock hit four in the afternoon. The members argue where to go eat. Jisung announces he’s going shopping for a new pair of wired headphones because he lost his on the way to the stadium, to which Renjun says he’d go with him. The others decide to go eat with the staff, some opt to go home and rest so they’d be ready for the next day.
Donghyuck decides to go buy the book that Johnny recommended him: The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. He’s told that the book is about a boy growing up, and that it might strike his thoughts if he’s up to reading a children’s book meant for adults.
Hence, Donghyuck finds himself going through shelves and sections of children’s book after picking up The Little Prince and wondering if Gyeom would want to read any of these.
You see, Lee Donghyuck is not much of a believer of fate. As he’d say before, his career didn’t happen by fate because it was all his mother doing all the hard work. But what are the odds of him choosing to visit this exact book store at this exact moment over elsewhere and another time?
And what are the odds of him finding you leaning against the wall in the corner of the store, hair longer than the last time, nose red and body bundled up in layers of clothes, a book in your hand as you read through it?
Donghyuck stops, stares at you, as if he’s waiting for you to look up from the book, and thinks about how much he’d missed you all this time and how much he’d regretted ending things with foul, unacceptable words. He thinks about remembering you anytime he sees tangerines and flowers around the city. He thinks about the odds of finding you again and again in this lifetime. He thinks about the flowers only blooming as soon as the butterflies have left, missing their timing, and how they bloom again next spring, hoping that this time, the timing is right.
He thinks about you in silence. He thinks about love hiding in the corners of his chest, convincing him he’ll get over it—he’ll get over you. He thinks about his dreams.
A few people pass by the space between you and him. The distance is about three meters. It’s silent for the most part.
Donghyuck is not much of a believer of fate, and you look up to prove him otherwise.
It’s only then that Donghyuck takes a really good look on you: new hairstyle, backpack slung in one arm, a student ID badge hanging right below your chest.
“Y/N!” A girl whisper-shouts from behind fDonghyuck. “Have you found the book?”
You don’t tear your glance away from him, but you nod and say, “Yeah. I’ll go check it out and I’ll meet you outside.”
The other girl doesn’t notice him and proceeds to leave. You take two, three, five, seven steps, and you’re right in front of him.
“Hi, Donghyuck-ah,” you say in the softest voice as soon as you’re close enough.
Donghyuck wonders whether this is just a dream or if he’d started hallucinating you because of the medicines he’s been taking, but then he catches a whiff of your scent, and Donghyuck believes.
Donghyuck believes in fate. In forgiveness. In healing. In love. In finding one’s way back home.
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END
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peaky-shelby · 1 year
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NEW ROMANTICS | MBAPPÉ [14]
» summary: in which an arrogant and talented football player (the best of his time as some say) and a focused and harsh critic of a journalist are gonna have to find a way to co-exist.
» chapter 14: The Great War
» Writer's note: all I'm gonna say is have fun. Enjoy it while it lasts 💞
» Taglist: @moonchildohh @formulahoe @princetongirlll818 @mavieesttriste16 @kiwisa @godessstela @hummusxx @kodzuvk @pink-manz @corbyns-smile @ippid @jayruiewo265738 @blueanfield @mrs-bellingham @sorceresski @sooblovebot  @okayymochi @army7g @j-rbps @heli991113  @markhyucksmells @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @i0veless @photmath @http-isabela @rainytelevisionfilmwagon
@formula101x @neymarloverxxx @cepolar @freespirit-51 @marialikescherries @superswaggycooch @lunasmindinwriting @shadysandwichghoul @contrastedfandom @alexxcorona113 @951am @jinsoulorbitzen12 @books-loverss @l0verl4ne @kypostsblog @bluberrycheezk @hottieluvr @calcaneous @444jodie @dudde-44 @neysgf @wallflowerjournal @p4rkyonce @toclic @kyliannnkkk  @mad-die45 @mentalbaddie @karotland @et-in-arcadia-ego77 @kymb-10
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Taylor took the night flight. She spent the morning saying goodbye to the ones she was closest to and promising Lily that she would be back soon. She meant it, she didn’t expect staying in Paris too long, her career there was over. She just wanted to put a better ending to it, perhaps find something new. There was a guy in a black suit holding up a sign with her name on it. She approached him, dragging her suitcase with her.
“I think that’s me” she smiled. “I didn’t know I’d have a car waiting for me.”
“Monsieur Mbappe sent me. Did you have a nice flight?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Follow me mademoiselle.”
“Merci.”
He led her out on the parking lot, towards a large black van. Little extra she thought but she kinda liked it too. He helped her put her bags on the back and then opened the door—
“AH!” She screamed as confetti sprayed on her face. She held on her chest and looked to her right, Neymar was sitting there, laughing. She laughed as well, the fear turning into nostalgia and happiness of seeing him again. But she could hear another laugh too and when she looked to her left, she saw Kylian, sitting by the window, smiling. “You are monsters.” She mumbled and launched herself at Neymar, giving him the tightest hug, she could master. He rubbed her back, holding her close to him. The two never even got to say a proper goodbye. He kissed her cheek and pulled back a little while the driver started the car.
“It’s nice to see you again Princessa!”
She smiled “Missed ya.”
“’m sorry about your Pa.”
She held back, of all the people she had heard saying the same thing, she knew that Neymar genuinely meant it. Suddenly she had no idea how to answer him. Thank God for Kylian that decided to interrupt, waving his hand in between them.
“Alright, I’m part of the surprise too, you know?”
She looked at him, how he sat across from them in this luxurious van, that was defiantly too much just to drive her home. Neymar gave her a little push, encouraging her to go sit next to him instead. She reached for Kylian’s hand and got up, he pulled her to his side, immediately igniting electricity between them. They looked in each other’s eyes, Kylian’s hand moved to her hair, picking out some of he confetti that had stuck on her hair, taking his time.
“Good flight?”
“Yeah. But I’m exhausted, please tell me you haven’t planned anything.”
“Nothing.” She narrowed her eyes. She had never met anyone with a better poker face than Kylian. “Galtier wants to see you tomorrow though.”
She groaned “god I don’t wanna have that conversation.”
“I’m sure it’ll be ok.” He smiled.
She wanted to kiss him. Taste him. She was struggling to stay appropriate.
“Man, just kiss already. You can cut the tension with a knife.”
She laughed, embarrassed at herself and leaned on Kylian’s shoulder, hiding herself. It was so weird to her that Neymar knew the whole truth, no matter how close to him she was. Kylian kissed her head, then his lips traced down to her cheek. Urging her to tilt her head back a little, so he’d be able to kiss her. Such an intimate moment, it was odd, doing it publicly for the first time.
“I’m glad you are here.” He whispered.
“Me too” she smiled.
They reached Kylian’s house a while after, Kylian and Neymar helped her carry her bags upstairs and they talked about all the games she had missed ever since she left, and how bad things had gotten with the management. None of the players were really happy about the situation. Taylor expected to meet darkness as Kylian opened the door, instead she was faced by screaming, balloons and drinks and familiar faces that were there to surprise her. She gasped, instantly reaching for Kylian’s hand. She laughed as she saw Leo, clapping for her, next to his Wife Antonella. Ramos and Kimpembe were also there, both of them holding a glass of beer in their hands.
“¡bienvenido de nuevo!” smiled Leo, approaching her slowly and giving her a comforting embrace.
“This wasn’t necessary.” She mumbled on his shoulder.
Ramos came and patted her shoulder, pulling her out of Leo’s arms into his and holding her tightly, almost suffocating her. “Missed you chipmunk!” She laughed at the name, who would have guessed that she would have missed hearing it. Then she heard a loud horn in her ear and she jumped away, turning around and seeing Kimpembe, laughing his ass off along with Neymar. She would have chased him if it wasn’t for his injury, she settled for chasing Neymar around the room instead, until she reached Kimpembe again and threw herself at him, embracing him. Each of the boys gave different kind of hugs, his was warm and comforting, like you were being hugged by your childhood friend.
“Stop scaring me.” She complained
“Can’t make any promises.”
As he drew away he noticed a little black shadow moving in the distance “Luna!” she gasped and went to pick her up. The cat tried to get away but Taylor picked her up, spinning her around and smooshing her face on her fur.
The next person that welcomed her was Marquinhos.
“How you doin’ cap?”
“It’s been shit around here!”
She smiled “I can see that.”
He hesitated “we need to talk, tomorrow when you get to campus.”
“I already have Galtier to worry about, must I have you too?”
“Yes.” He smiled.
Last person she saw was Verratti, who was hesitant to get near her at first. She caught him glancing a few times, decided that she could make the first move instead. She approached, holding her wine in her hand. “I don’t bite, you know?”
He smiled, thinking about it “maybe you should.” He said, while looking down. She had never seen him as shy before. “I’m sorry for what happened.”
She felt something in her heart lightening, a sense of relief after hearing his apology “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I’m the one that got her in the conferences, I didn’t think— The things she wrote about us nit trusting you, I should have never said them, but it was before I got to know you. I didn’t believe any of it by the time she published—"
“Do you know what Kylian did to stop her from writing the other article?” she asked, he looked up. She could read the worry behind his eyes, like he wasn’t meant to talk about this at all. Taylor got closer. “Was it just money?” he didn’t respond, he’d look at her like a puppy. “Come on, you owe me that much, just tell me. What did he do?”
He chewed his bottom lip, glanced at Kylian to make sure he wasn’t listening and got closer “I don’t know the whole story. He asked me to meet her, so I set it up and then they were alone. Ann never contacted me again, next thing I know she’s transferred to France National team.”
She calculated everything he was telling her. If Kylian had pulled strings to get her on the National team, it means he owed people favors and what’s worse it meant that sooner or later he’d bump onto her again. “So, you think he paid her?”
“I think it’s very likely.”
Taylor shot Kylian a look from across the room, he waved at her, smiling. Ignorant to the truths she had just learned.
Neymar and Leo were the last ones to leave. That way no one knew that Taylor never left Kylian’s apartment that night, except the ones that already knew the whole truth. Taylor was seating on the couch, leaning on its arm, while waving at the men. Kylian shut the door, slowly turning to her direction and smiling at her. “you ok?”
“Yeah” she smiled, nodding. He though she looked very adorable in that moment and walked over to her, kneeling in front of the outside arm of the couch. “it was nice to see all of them.” She reached for hoodie of sweatshirt, pulling him closer. “it’s nice to feel missed too.”
“You’ll see the rest of them tomorrow. I’ll drive you to campus, I have a meeting with the medics for my leg.”
“Evaluation?”
“Yeah, for Bayern game.”
She grinned, leaning her head to the side. “You know I’m never gonna be assistant coach on PSG again, right? Even if Galtier offers.”
He didn’t react to her question, like he had come to terms with that revelation before she even had to say it. “That doesn’t mean you can’t use your time there in order to build a fresh career.”
She cupped his face “I’m gonna open the website again. Under my name this time, I’ll focus on champions league.”
“My greatest rival is making a return?” He joked and she laughed, leaning her head on his.
“Yeah, and he is gonna be extra brutal this time around.” He gave her a peck, letting her know it was ok. If anything, he missed the motivation he’d get from all her articles.
“You want help setting it up?”
“No,” she shook her head “I’ll figure it out. Although I’ll build it way more professionally than it was before PSG. Maybe get my own Magazine?” she smiled as she said that last part.
“Look at you getting all excited.”
She shrugged “Pa was right. I’ve been terrified of wanting, dreaming big, taking risks without calculating every single move.”
He pushed her hair away from her ear. “And what do you want?”
She smirked, leaning closer “Long term, or short term?”
“Let’s go with long term first.” He played along. She placed her arms around his neck, looking away and pretending she was in deep thought.
“Long term I want my name to be remembered in this sport. Not sure how yet, but I want to write my way through until I reach exactly where I’m supposed to be. Maybe coaching again, in another team. Maybe in Barcelona—” she laughed as she said it, and he pecked the laugh away. Deepening the kiss, so he’d let her know that it wasn’t funny at all. It was possible, she could do anything she set her mind to, even softening, the insecure arrogant golden boy.
“What about short term?” he mumbled to her lips, giving it a light bite.
“You” she said in a quick breath, and he picked her up the next second, taking her to his bedroom. Their lips wouldn’t separate as he laid her on the bed, taking off her and his clothes like it was a reflex. There was something different about the way their bodies connected with one another after the night in her house, it wasn’t just sex, it wasn’t just pleasure, it was a need, it was love from both even if they’d never say it out loud. She feels pleasurably crushed under the weight of his power over her and her touch, her smell it had a narcotic sense for him, killing him and reviving him repeatedly and she is here. In his bedroom. In his space. What he’d do to keep her forever, he thought as his hands slid down her entire body, by now his palm was familiar with it, like her lines were scarred on his skin and every time he touched her, they fit together like puzzle pieces. She let out a moan, a breath of lust in his ear while he removed her underwear, uncovering her deepest desire; to feel him. He didn’t let her wait too long, he was inside her and she hoped she’d hear him saying it again. His way of saying I love you. She wanted to hear it but he didn’t say it and she never asked.
When they were done, she’d leave kisses on his chest and his arms, she couldn’t stop herself, it was like she could never get enough. Kylian would run his hands through her hair, that had gotten noticeably longer from the first time he met her.
“I think I’m developing an addiction to your body.” She confessed and his chest vibrated under her with laughter.
“That makes two of us.”
She placed her chin on the space between his breasts and raised her eyes, looked at him through her eyelashes, biting her lips.
“You know what they say about addictions.”
“We’ll be fine.” He reassured her.
“Do you ever think about how we got here?” she asked, snaking herself over him, her thumbs stroking the sides of his face. She realized she had never told him about how cute his cheekbones were, especially when he smiled. She leaned down and kissed his nose. “Such a pain in my ass” she mumbled.
“Still am!” he said proudly, slapping her right ass cheek and getting a laugh out of her as she dropped herself on him and he engulfed her in his arms. She kissed his neck, an open mouth kiss.
“Marcus told me about Ann.” She said on his skin, he closed his eyes. “he told me she was transferred on National, head writer. You wouldn’t have anything to do with it—” she raised her head and balanced it on her hand, her elbow deepening against the mattress. He tilted his head on the side to look at her. “Would you?”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course, it does Kylian. You’ll have to be around her eventually, work with her, you think she is not gonna pull something like this again?” He turned his head to the ceiling; she instantly cupped it with her hand and forced him to look at her. “I don’t like you owing people like her favors because of me—and god knows how much money you gave her!”
“Why do you care so much about the money?”
“Because it feels like my integrity has been sold!” she explained. Lowering her head, embarrassed at herself. He hated seeing her like this, unable to help “I wanna give you half of it, at least.” He laughed at that, looking away. She slapped his shoulder “I’m being fucking serious Kylian! Stop laughing—” but he didn’t stop, although he tried. He looked at her.
“I didn’t give her any money—”
“I know you are lying!”
“Even if I did, you wouldn’t have to pay a dime—”
“Oh for fuck’s shake.” She got off the bed and put on his long shirt to cover herself, he tried to pull on the shirt to drag her down again but she slapped his hand off and walked in the bathroom.
“Babe!” he called and looked at the bathroom door, expecting her to show up again. She didn’t. he heard the water running instead. “Amor!” the word slipped his lips before he could think about it, like it was exactly what he was always meant to be calling her.
She heard it despite the running water. She was already knelt on the cold marbles on the floor when he said it, holding on the faucet lever, while the water was filling up the tub that they had used as a hiding place way too many times.
“I see it with Ney and his boy and the public relationships he has had in the past. It’s scary. To think that you will always bring discomfort to the ones you love. Sometimes it stops you from loving them enough.”
Could he ever lover her enough? Could she ever love him, she wondered what it’d be like. She heard him coming in, lowering his body behind her and then kissing the back of her neck and shoulder. She turned the water off and turned her body so she’d face him. He smiled at her, their forehead meeting halfway.
“I’m sorry” she whispered, looking anywhere but his eyes, his lifted her chin up with his finger, encouraging her to lock eyes with me and when she did, he leaned and kissed her. Not that her apology was necessary but he accepted it anyway. Then he pulled her into him, let their bodies tangle on the floor of the bathroom.
PSG TRAINING CAMPUS – GALTIER’S OFFICE
Her hands were sweating and she wished Kylian and Neymar were by her side. She’d mumble motivational speeches under her breath to keep herself encouraged and knocked on the door. Galtier called for her to come in shortly after and she stepped in the office, pretending like she had her shit together. Galtier got up when he saw her and walked around his desk to go to her. He took her hand in his and gave it a light shake.
“Ms. Wilock. My condolences for your father.”
“Thank you.” She smiled.
“Come, sit.” He pointed at the chair and walked back to his desk, to take his rightful place. “How you think we are doing without you so far?” he asked jokingly and Taylor sat down, smiling.
“Struggling?”
He was unprepared for her brutal honesty. He had forgotten she rarely filtered her thoughts before speaking them out loud.
“What about you without us?”
She snorted “It was odd adjusting back to a normal life away from the boys, however if this is about me coming back, it’s not happening.” Silence settled between them. He clicked his lips, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He smiled.
“I wasn’t going to offer you a place back on the coaching team. I was hoping you were open to other options”
“Like what?”
Galtier reached on the cupboard under his desk and took out a file, leaving it on top of the desk. He pushed it towards her. Taylor opened it and saw documents of young players. One of them was Kylian’s brother,
“We want you to work in the Academy. You can help us build the foundations. That way we can still keep you around and you’ll have a job that you can balance with writing and help while you’re here in Paris.”
She looked up at him “Did Kylian put you up to this?”
“no one can put me up to anything Ms. Wilock. You should know that by now.” He stood up “you got till tomorrow to give us an answer—”
“Sir, I don’t know how long I’m staying in Paris.”
“Perhaps this will tempt you to stay longer than you have planned.” She got up, unable to find the right words to argue. “I understand our first attempt of a partnership created problems” he raised his hand “you needn’t explain. But we would be foolish not to use you while we still can. So…” he walked around the desk to her, led her to his door while he spoke “Think about it, get back to me tomorrow.” Before she could even form a sentence she was out the door, standing like a lost kid in the mall where her parents had left her. She wasn’t even sure who was close to her when she exited his office, she just knew that he had shut the door and left her on the other side alone. She gulped, trying to imagine herself a teacher, well, it wasn’t much different, was it? Suddenly she felt a pair of hands on her shoulders and looked up. Kylian stood before her, a smile on his face. He knew, she thought. He was probably the one that planned it.
“So?” he asked hopefully. He must have realized that she wasn’t enjoying this as much as he was because his smile melted away and turned to worry just a few minutes later “You said no?”
“I didn’t say anything.” She responded quickly.
“Why not? It will pay good, it won’t take a lot of your time and you can leave anytime you want until you find something better.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you had this planned?” He bit his tongue. Let out a deep breath and made a step back. “I wasn’t prepared for this, returning to PSG is not something I wanted, I told you I wanted out—” he scoffed.
“I was just trying to help but I see now your decision is already made! Obviously you don’t care as much!” He turned to leave but she pulled his hand, keeping him in his place.
“That’s what you think? That I don’t wanna stay in PSG because I don’t care about you?” she hissed, moving closer so only he would hear. He didn’t respond and so she took that as an initiative to walk away.
PARKING LOT – LATER
Kylian headed to his car, Taylor’s words still echoing in his head. He didn’t expect to find her leaning on his vehicle and waiting for him but there she was, Neymar by her side, the two of them laughing about something like they used to. He approached slowly, fearing that she might disappear if he got too close to fast. But she smiled when she saw him, probably not to give any hints of their previous fight to Neymar.
“Left the girl waiting, man.” Joked Neymar.
Kylian looked at taylor “didn’t know she was waiting.”
Taylor forced a smile and nodded her head “I’m cold, let’s go.” She gave Neymar a quick kiss on the cheek and when Kylian wasn’t expecting she took his car keys and unlocked the car, getting on the driver’s seat before he could stop her. She got comfortable, smiling. Kylian gave her a confused look and got closer to the window.
“What are you doing?”
“I wanna drive!”
“Since when?”
“I have to start getting used to Paris streets.”
It took him a while for him to process what she said. He looked at Neymar, who in return patted his shoulder and told him to get in. He did just that. Sitting next to Taylor who started the engine like this had been her car all along. She was occupied trying to get used to the control panel and starting the car meanwhile he was staring at her. Suddenly he asked;
“Did you take the job?”
She smiled, maneuvered the car out of the parking spot while looking in the review mirror “I wasn’t going to. Then my boss called, he said he knew I was in Paris and wanted me to write an interview on Messi.”
“Doesn’t sound that bad.” He mumbled.
“That’s what I said” They were out on the highway now, Kylian had just started realizing that he wasn’t on the wheel, it was her and he started getting anxious because he had never really seen her drive before. He put on his seatbelt when he noticed her holding the steering wheel a little to tight and stepping on the gas while they waited for the red light to turn green. “Then he said; how about a day in the life of Antonella and Lionel Messi, your girlfriends are gonna love that.” When the light turned green, Taylor started driving fast, Kylian held on the door. His breathing getting quicker. “to which I said, how about you go fuck yourself—”
“Tay! Eyes on to road—”
“That’s where my eyes are! Paris streets, with you. And to be honest why don’t you go fuck yourself as well Kylian!”
“What did I do?” he complained but he knew she didn’t really meant it!
“You’re not an asshole anymore and it’s pissing me off because now all of a sudden I wanna stay with you—”
“Hold up—”
“No! I’m not holding up, I’m driving!”
“Babe—”
“Let me finish for fuck’s shake, you rambling, stupid idiot!”
“Are these supposed to be words of affirmation?” the volumes had gone up both of them yelling for no apparent reason.
“Yes! Cause that’s how it is with us, isn’t it?”
“It’s red!”
“I SEE IT!”
“The house was the other way!”
“Shut up!” she yelled.
“mon dieu, elle va nous tuer tous les deux” he mumbled and looked out of his window.
“I’m not killing anybody and yes I understand French now so cut it out- and listen for ones—you’re so convinced I wanted to leave PSG because I didn’t care or feel enough about you—” she scoffed “did it ever cross your arrogant little mind that maybe it cause I care about you enough—”
“What kind of logic is that—”
“Excuse me am I done speaking—”
“You made a pause!”
“I did not make a pause! My lips are still moving—you cut me off—and for you information it’s the kind of logic that I can find other teams like psg, psg is replaceable—you are not!” she stopped the car abruptly in front of a red light, Kylian moving a little forward. Silence. Just the car sounds filling the emptiness. He looked at her in awe, he wanted to kiss her right there and then. She was avoiding his eyes at any cost, staring at the red light as its color reflected on her face. Red as the wine she tasted on his lips, red as lipstick he loved seeing her in.
“What way’s the house?”
“Second to the right.” He said, still staring at her.
“Good.” She mumbled, still avoiding him.
They stayed like that until they reached the house, she parked the car next to all his other cars and turned the engine off, now there was not a single sound to focus on so she could ignore his burning stares. She got out of the car, shutting the door so loud that it made him jump. He got out a moment later and stood next to her, waiting for the elevator. She got in first when the doors opened and leaned against the mirror, he mimicked her and the two waited again. Always waiting, she thought. She was tired of it. Finally, they reached his floor and Kylian stepped forward she he’d unlock the door, she followed behind him, leaving all her stuff on the couch and heading in the kitchen immediately after to serve herself a nice glass of red wine. He hesitated before going in too, staying behind her.
“Cherie—”
“Don’t, please.” She whispered. Leaving her glass down and turning to face him “don’t say anything.” She moved closer “I’m so tired of us talking and analyzing everything only so we can get it wrong every fucking time—it shouldn’t be this hard!” She put her hands behind his neck, stroking it gently and pulling him in.
“It’s not!” he said, holding her face in his palm.
She looked at his lips, “kiss me then.”
“Don’t have to ask me twice” he smiled and leaned in, connecting his lips with hers. Then in the middle of the kiss she smiled, gripping on his shirt.
“I took the job.” She said and he pulled away to look at her face, unable to hide his smile and enjoyment. He picked her up, spinning her around on his kitchen while he understood why the city under him, that he had watched endless nights by himself, was called the city of love.
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1 WEEK IN / KYLIAN'S HOUSE
Kylian dropped himself in the couch, holding a big bowl of chips on his hands while Taylor had her attention split between the Television, watching the first leg of Chelsea Vs. Dortmund and her computer where she’d write her notes.
“They said I could give it a try for a while.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” She responded, her eyes following the players on the screen. Waiting for halftime.
“You say that as a journalist or a girlfriend?” he asked. First time he had every used that word around her. She looked at him, her eyes remaining calm.
“Both. It’s a risk.” Kylian slid closer to her, reaching his arm behind her neck and leaning in. “I’m working.” She said and looked back at the screen. Just a few minutes until halftime. He kissed her shoulder.
“I hate you watching your ex when you’re with me.”
A grin ghosted over her face but she tried to hold it down. She continued typing, struggling to remain focused with Kylian’s breathing washing over her, his tongue sometimes messing with her ear, her skin… she started typing faster, with more pressure on the keyboard, biting her bottom lip as hard as she could. He finger creeped up around her, stroking her arm. The referee whistled for half time and taylor closed the cap on her computer and leaving it on the coffee table, turning to him, taking the bowl out of his hands and pushing him back so she’d be over him. He slapped her butt cheek, enjoying the view. “told you I’m working.”
“It’s lunch break.” He smiled and she lowered her head to kiss him, a heated kiss, proof that she didn’t care about mason’s thighs as much as she cared for his. She let her body fall in his and he took her weight, enjoying how it feels to have her on him, to be pressured by her. Her hand reached down to his thigh and he hissed as it made contact with his sore spot.
“I still think it’s a bad idea.”
He smiled “I’m gonna be ok.”
“You can’t play a whole game.”
“I wasn’t. I’ll just be on standby in case the need me.” He enjoyed the view of her eyes, his thumb going in circles on her cheekbone. “how’s it going with the kids?”
“You got lots of talent in the academy. Missing a little bit of discipline.” She smiled.
“Anyone ready for the big game?”
“Absolutely not. If it was up to me not even Ektike would have joined.” She rubbed her nose with his “there is one that reminds me of you.”
He grinned “you don’t say.”
“He’s got talent. And character. Lots of it.”
He knew exactly who she meant.
“Your brother’s gonna be a star one day.”
“That’s what I keep telling him. You two getting along?”
“Yeah. Unlike you he listens. I appreciate that about him.”
He laughed but she cut his laugh short by giving him a deep kiss. She kissed his cheek too and then hid her face on the crook of his neck, embracing his body completely. He kissed her hair.
“I saw you two together this morning. I wanted to join.”
“Its best that you didn’t.” she mumbled on his neck.
“I know.” He let his fingers wander up and down her spine “but that’s not the point. I wanted to say, I really liked the view.”
“Of me and your brother?”
” Yeah. And he really likes you, you know?”
“Does he know about us?”
“No. but I think I’d like it if he knew.”
“Not yet.”
“Ok.”
Taylor had to watch the rest of the game on a streaming platform the next day because eventually she fell asleep in his arms. It was one of the few times that they slept together without making love to each other first. Like they were building new routines together that weren’t involving only their bodies but their hearts too. And after she watched the game, she got ready to see her boys playing against Bayern. She was screaming from her seat, annoyed and disappointed at the same time. Anything she had managed to build with them was falling apart. There was hope when she saw Kylian joining, the last 15 minutes and she was scared he’d hurt himself bur also proud—
“WHAT IN THE FUCKING HELL? THAY WASN’T EVEN OFFSIDE!” She yelled. It was so loud that Antonella sitting next to her, jumped in her seat and pulled her hand to force her to sit down again. Taylor crumbled in her chair and puffed her cheeks, annoyed at the turn of events.
When the game was over Antonella helped her get on locker rooms, but even from outside she could hear everyone shouting at each other. She could recognize Kylian’s voice, speaking in French and cursing and even Messi was taking shots at people. Before the two women could get in the door slammed open and Neymar walked out, moving passed them without even saying anything. She could see Kylian in the corner arguing with Galtier and she decided to stay out of it until that conversation ended very heatedly also and Kylian walked out of the room even more made that Neymar was. She watched him and followed him until the reached the rooftop. She got a weird sense of déjà vu as she got up there, remembering the first night they ever looked in each other’s eyes with care.
“KY!” She yelled and waited for him to turn to her but he didn’t. He leaned on the marble wall and watched at the view beneath him, slapping his hand. She walked next to him, reaching for his arm. “What happened?”
“Il n'y a pas de connexion, il n'y a pas de gestion. Galtier ne fait rien pour aider et je suis fatigué. On m'avait promis quelque chose de plus et c'est vraiment horrible. Et personne ne fait rien pour y remédier !”
“Kylian slow down, I have no idea what you are saying—”
“I’m saying I want out!”
She made a step back as he said, her eyes softening and taking him in. She moved forward confidently and hugged him. She wanted to give him any comfort she could. He accepted the embrace and shrunk himself on her arms. “I’m tired” he confessed.
“I know.” She rubbed his back “let’s go home.”
2 WEEKS IN / KYLIAN'S HOUSE
He could feel the light from the computer warming his eyes despite the hour of the night and having his back on her. He turned around slightly, peaking at her and whatever she was writing. “You gonna sleep anytime soon?”
“Sure” she said but her eyes didn’t mover her eyes from the screen. Kylian checked on his phone on the night stand, it was already 3am and she had to be up in 4 hours for her class. He turned around completely facing her. He lifted his head and balanced it on his head, watching her.
“How about now?”
“Sleep, Kylian!” she told him
“I will when you do.”
“Have to finish this.”
“Why?”
“I just started rebuilding my platform. I can’t miss deadlines”
“You are the one that sets the deadlines.”
“I need to be consistent and you need to sleep, you have a game tomorrow.”
“You have a class before the game”
“God created coffee for a reason!”
“You’re not supposed to be drinking a lot of caffeine!”
Her fingers stopped on the keyboard. She narrowed her eyes, looked at him. “How do you know that?”
He looked away from her eyes “I spoke with one of the medics that has your history… I’m just trying to make sure history won’t repeat it’s self.” His gaze returned to her and she couldn’t really make out her expression, if she was touched by his gesture or if he had overstepped. Then she closed her eyes, like she was thinking. “You never speak about it. I never know what’s going on, how am I supposed to know if you need anything—”
She shut off her computer and left it on the side of the bed, leaning and kissing the fear off his lips, so he’d taste her appreciation instead.
“I never talk about it, cause its my life, its my routine. I never had to share it with anyone before, I’m not used to it.” She explained “but you can ask me anything, anytime.”
He pecked her lips. “Good to know you wanna share it. Are you gonna sleep now?”
She kissed his nose “no, but I’ll go on the living room so you can rest.” She went to move away but he pulled her hand, holding her close to him, he tangled his legs with hers and held her arms, moving as closer to her as possible “sleep. Please.” She sighed in his arms and closed her eyes; his warmth was tempting. His ocean hypnotizing. She smiled. She scratched his arm, her nails trailing over his veins. Funny, how much safety you could feel in another person’s arms.
“This could work” she said “my website. I’ve been getting follows on tiktok and more reads and it’s better now that I’m not hiding behind a nickname.”
He kissed the spot under hear ear “this could work too.” She tilted her head at him and he kissed her cheek.
“yeah I think it could.” She smiled.
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Next morning Kylian left for his game, with a weird sense of happiness in his chest. The team had been through a hard couple of weeks and fights in the locker rooms but everyone seemed to be confident for win on this game against LOSC. The game started with a bang, and she couldn’t hold her excitement when she saw Kylian scoring the first goal. She wished she was down on the pitch like when she was assistant coach so she could run to them. Instead, she was up, on the vip section, supposedly invited by Messi, in reality she was there for Kylian. The happiness melted away when she saw Neymar tumbling on the ground, holding on his ankle. She jumped from her seat and watched while they carried him away “shit” she cursed under her breath, picked up all her stuff and put on her jacket.
“where you going?” Asked Antonella.
“Tell him I’ll be with Ney if he asks.”
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She stayed with him on the medical room they had in the stadium, she was there to hear the bad news and when the doctors left, she held his hand while he cried. They moved him to his house before the game was even over, taylor drove with them.
“In what capacity?” asked the man in charge.
“she’s my personal coach.” Neymar said quickly. A lie technically, a truth for him.
She stayed with him, the medicine they had given him started to kick in slowly and she sat next to his bed, reading him messages he had gotten from family members.
“I’m tired.” He said and she could remember Kylian saying the same thing. Almost like this team was sucking the life out of them all. She used one of the wet towels the doctors left to wipe the sweat on his temple. She never thought, she’d have a brother to care for as much as she cared for Neymar.
“get some sleep. The boys will be here soon. I’ll let you know, if there are any updates on your exams, I’ll let you know.”
“Did we win?”
“Yeah. Leo made the win certain. It was a great goal.”
He forced a smile on his face and closed his eyes, laid his head on the side and eventually drifted off in the hypnosis of the pills.
It was about an hour later that Kylian and Leo came. Neymar’s house keeper let them in, and they walked upstairs to find both of them asleep on their respectable place. Kylian shook his head when he saw the position Taylor was sleeping in on the couch, half certain she’d get horrible neck pain. He walked over to her, shaking her gently. Taylor shot her head up, looking around until her eyes met Kylian’s.
“I’ve been calling you.”
“Sorry.” She murmured, stretching her body “out of battery”. She noticed Leo standing next to her and got up, rubbing her eyes. “He’s gonna need you.”
“I know.”
“What did the doctors say?” Asked Kylian.
“He might need surgery. He can let it heal by itself but there’s a risk something like that will happen again.”
He ran a hand down his face. “He’s missing the entire season?”
Leo shook his head, his hands placed on his hips and biting his tongue.
“Like I said; he’s going to need you.”
Kylian approached her, his hand creeping in on the small of her back. He kissed, the back of her head.
“You two go, I’ll stay with him.”
“Doctor’s are supposed to call by the end of the day, the phone’s there.” She pointed at Neymar’s nightstand and then at the bowl on the floor. “that’s for his cold sweat. Rub his head a couple of times, just be make sure he’s ok and if he wakes up the house keeper made soup for him and um—” she searched in her pocket and took out a small note “that’s in case he needs a nurse but you can call me too if he needs something—.”
“Tay—” Kylian squeezed her shoulders “he’ll be ok.”
She looked back at him and nodded, even though she didn’t really believe it.
They drove in his house later, taylor got out of her clothes as quickly as she could, huffing and puffing.
“Want me to get the water running?”
She glanced at him “Please.”
When he left the room, taylor opened her computer, she forgot she had left the website rentals open. Trying to take her mind off Neymar she started checking the Parisian apartments, knowing she’d need a bigger one for when Beth and Lily came to visit. She didn’t sense Kylian approaching her, standing behind her and seeing her research. “what are you looking for?”
She glanced between him and her screen “what does it look like?”
“Look like you are looking for an apartment, which makes no sense because you’re already staying here.”
She lowered her eyebrows, turned on her seat so she’d be looking on his side of the couch. “when did we agree that?”
“I thought the last two weeks made it obvious.”
She smiled “that’s sweet but I can’t stay here forever.”
“Why not?”
She laughed, unable to process that he was being serious “we’ve barely been together for two weeks and now we are moving in?” she sat on her knees to be as closer to his height as possible “are you out of your mind?”
“Is it more logical for you to be paying 1.500 euros a month for an apartment you’ll barely be in?”
She pushed his shoulder “what is that supposed to mean?”
He brushed her hair with his fingers “you know exactly what it’s supposed to mean!”
She blushed, lowering her head to hide her smile. He grinned at her reaction and reached for her hands “Beth and lily can come visit anytime they want.” She was always surprised at how well he read her mind. Stayed looking at him, expecting him to start laughing or something but he didn‘t. “come on, we’ll discuss it later, lets have a bath.” He pulled her hand and she got up, walking around the couch and letting him lead them to their bathroom.
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“You never told me bout your big dream.” She said, the candles in the bathroom setting the mood for deep conversations. The two of them seating on each end of the bathtub across from each other, their legs touching under the water.
“hm?”
“Mine was Barcelona. What is yours? Cause if it’s just psg we have a problem.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “PSG could be more, you know?”
“It could. It doesn’t want to.”
He didn’t respond, leaned his head back and looked at the ceiling.
She rubbed his knee with her toe, comforting him. “I’ve heard something about Real Madrid, does it still stand?”
“It’s where I wanted to end up. But dreams change right?”
“Is that an excuse to stay at Paris?”
“I don’t know maybe.” He admitted.
“I think it’s easy, staying. You are comfortable. You’re the golden child while you are in Paris, the main star, anything else feels like a jungle to you.”
“Feels like I am building something with PSG, breaking records, making history. Like it could be something big for me and for them—”
She smiled and moved under the water closer to him. He opened his arms for her, welcoming her in his embrace, as she sat on his lap and stayed close to him. “Feels to me like you are just trying to build castles in the sand to me.” Her thumb stroked his cheekbone. “PSG promised you something and they are not delivering. It’s falling apart and it’s taking you down with it. No just you, all of the players.” She ran her fingers through his hair, massaging it gently and he closed his eyes, enjoying it “you’ll never show your true potential there, no one can because there’s not foundations to help players like you or Leo or Ney.” She sighed “I saw it while I was on the coaching staff and when I met Nssr.”
“You never told me how that went.”
“It was horrible.” She blurted out. Remembering the dinner and how shaken up she was when she left. “Because it proved to me how little respect there is for the sport.” She paused, biting her lip “I was wrong about you before I joined.” He widened his eyes and she smiled at his reaction “Don’t get all cocky, I wasn’t wrong about everything I still think you are an arrogant idiot—” he laughed “but they are worst. Point is… they got 3 of the best players in the world and they don’t know how to use them or discipline them” she scratched his chest gently while his hands made their way to her back, ghosting over her skin, sometimes going more down than they should. “Because they don’t want to discipline them. They just want to use them for promo… they don’t care about the game.”
“Is this you telling me you’re leaving?”
She gazed in his eyes, chewing her cheek from the inside “being in the academy I see how things work from the bottom and it’s just as corrupt as it on the top. So, yes, first chance I get and I’m out of there. And you should do the same.” She slipped closer “otherwise you are wasting a career for a glass house.”
3 WEEKS IN / KYLIAN'S HOUSE
“Their plane lands during the game.”
“Who organized that?” Asked Kylian, taking out the orange box from the fridge. Taylor was making eggs for both while he was setting up the table. A whole new routine that they had developed in the last week.
“They didn’t know smartass.” She said, putting the eggs on their plates and placing them on the table. They sat across from each other, taylor was surprised when she saw her pills next to her glass. She gave Kylian a quick look but he was oblivious to how much that meant to her. She doubted if he had even realized he did it, nowadays he would just take care of her automatically.
“I can send a car to pick them up.”
“No, lily is not gonna like that, she wants me to be there.” She looked at him “I’m sorry I know it’s supposed to be your big day tomorrow. Wanted to be there for the one hundred and first”
He chuckled “Ah it ok, you can go with the car then and I’ll meet you here after the game.” He kissed her cheek as he passed by her “You’ll be there for the one hundred and second.”
She smiled “How am I supposed to get in though if you’re still in the game?”
“I’ll make you a spare key today.” He was looking at his eggs while he spoke, like he didn’t just throw a bomb at her. Like the answer was simple as that.
“A key?” she asked.
He glanced up at her.
“for me?”
He took a big bite and chewed on it, ignoring the way she looked at him “I’ll tell Martha to make the spare room for the girls so it’s ready for tomorrow.”
“Can we go back to the Key please?”
He finally looked up, but he was confused “why you so worried about a key? You’re gonna need one anyway when I’m in Munich.” He filled his mouth with a last piece of bread and picked up his dish, putting quickly on the dishwasher. “Are you ready—” he stopped “why aren’t you eating your food—come on, we need to leave!” She looked at her dish and realized it was still there, the whole of it.
“Trying to swallow other things…” she mumbled.
He gave her a quick kiss before running into the bedroom. She looked at her pills and drank them down with her juice, wishing it was vodka instead.
He made her the spare key just like he said in the afternoon, she looked at it the whole night, while he was sleeping right next to her. Her computer laid on the edge of the bed, open on a page about PSG. Behind it was the unfinished article she was writing about the whole of PSG, starting from the management to the things she had seen during the academy. And over it the notifications she would get on social media would pop up, nonstop, her reads and reactions always going up.
She closed the computer and left it on the night stand, leaving the key on top of it and erased any distance between them by tying herself around him and listening to his sleepy breaths.
Little did she know, he was awake and he was at peace, finally having her as close. Little did she know, he knew exactly why she was freaking out about the key.
PARC DE PRINCE – THE NEXT NIGHT
“In the mood to break some records?” Asked Leo, coming up behind him while he was tying his shoelaces. Kylian glanced back at him smiling. He stood up, shaking off his nerves, he blew his cheeks.
“Always in the mood for that.”
Leo winked at him and shook his hand. “Good luck then.”
“Do you ever miss this thrill in Barcelona?” he asked suddenly and his teammate thought about it.
He nodded “Of course I do.”
“It was easier there, wasn’t it?”
Leo laughed, lowering his head “yeah. Much easier. But that’s because it was home. Not because of the records.”
“So, it’s not the records you miss? Or being number one?”
“That part had it’s pleasure, but you can break records anywhere Kylian.” He shrugged, scratching the back of his head “it’s who you break them with that makes it special.”
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His words echoed in his mind when he scored on the net, fireworks lighted up over him and everyone cheered for the golden boy. Leo was one of the first people to run to him, everyone jumped on him, congratulating him by pressing him on the ground. He looked for her on the crowd only to remember that she was never there.
When the game was over, he celebrated with his family, hugged his breath and tried to forget about the person missing. He took pictures with the award and the entire team, even Neymar was there with his messy ankle and Kimpembe, injured as well. He was too busy looking at camera and it was too late when he realized which little girl was running up to him but he saw Lily before he saw Taylor—
“Oh my—” he gasped as the little girl jumped on him and hugged him. Everyone around was confused about the intruder, security even tried to get her back until Kylian signaled them to stop. He handed his award to Ethan and picked up Lily, laughing. “What on earth are you doing here?” he asked, but his eyes were already searching for Taylor. She was in the distance with Beth next to her, walking up to him. Neymar had already joined Taylor, introducing himself to Beth. Lily poked his nose, to get back his attention.
“Are you the best now?” she asked, smiling.
“What do you think?”
She shook her head up and down quickly, laughing. He looked back at Taylor.
“Thought you’d go straight to the house.”
She shrugged her shoulders “turns out we made it right on time.”
“She wanted to surprise you.” Blurted out Lily and taylor rolled her eyes. He gazed at Beth, holding Lily with one hand so he could shake her hand with the other.
“it’s nice to see you again. This is my brother Ethan.”
Beth shook his hand, smiling “Nice to meet you.”
Taylor walked over to Ethan, placing her arm around his neck “he’s a star in the making. Ethan, this is my family. Beth and Lily.”
Ethan nodded “I’ve heard a lot about you.” He looked between Kylian and Taylor “from both of them.”
Taylor gazed at Kylian, surprised at his brother’s revelation. But before she could ask about it, Kylian’s parents showed up. His father, she had barely spoken to him during her time as coach. She pulled away from Ethan quickly and cleared her throat, intimidated by his presence.
“Miss Wilock, happy to see you around again.”
She didn’t expect that. She smiled “Thank you sir.”
“Who is this little girl?”
“She’s little Wilock.” Said Taylor.
“First time in Paris?” he asked and lily nodded while biting her finger, the way that kids too.
“Mine too,” said Beth. “We are both excited.”
“Well then, you can come with us. We were going for a celebration dinner, Kylian, you don’t mind, do you?”
“Are we going to the Eiffel tower?”
“No but it’ll be just as high.”
“Mum, can we go?”
Beth looked at taylor, taylor looked at Kylian, Kylian let his mouth fall open, secretly hoping taylor wouldn’t deny the offer.
“If it’s not a problem we’d love to.” Answered Beth.
Lily started jumping on Kylian’s arms and he let her down, letting her walk ahead with her mother. Ethan and Kylian’s father moved ahead too. Taylor glanced at Kylian, while they walked next to each other, making sure to keep some distance.”
“Does he know about us?”
“Nope.”
She drew a thin line with her lips “that’s gonna go well.”
“Just keep a straight face.” He said and gave her a smile of encouragement. She stopped when she felt her phone buzzing. She took it out of her back pocket and looked at the number, it was British. She tried to recall if she knew it from anywhere then she heard Kylian calling “are you coming?”
Her finger ghosted over the decline and the acceptation button, she hit decline and pushed the phone back in her pocket and ran behind Kylian.
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HELLO BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE!! Next chapter is the last 😭 can you believe it? Then we have an epilogue and then we officially say goodbye to each other. What things to we have left to discover? The phone call and dinner with the two families? Kylian as captain on the french team? Two people finally admitting their feelings? I don't wanna say goodbye 😭😭😭 who has been here since ch1 or when did y'all join us? Let's go down memory lane if y'all agree. Please please leave your thoughts and comments as always, means the world to me.🥺 I love you forever and ever xx
I'll be posting Blurbs of Kylian and Tay all week to add to the three weeks they've been together!! So send in requests!
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goddesspharo · 3 months
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[ask me about my fic writing year in review]
@trixalicious-blog with the hard hitting asks!
16. What were you go-to writing songs?
Mostly embarrassing! When I go through my Spotify wrapped, I can basically chart out what I was writing based on them. I usually have one or two songs that go on repeat for any writing project (with other things sprinkled in when I need a change of pace), but there were a few tunes that remained consistent in the background this year and are very much things that I would only really listen to while writing. I listened to a lot of Petit Biscuit's "Wake Up" (that beat!) and "Free" by Florence + The Machine (because it makes me so happy) while writing this year.
26. If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?
Every time I crack another section of a WIP, I am satisfied, but writing smoother than the LA weather was kind of a trip. All I had was a line about The Real Housewives stuck in my head, my Spotify Discover Weekly hitting me with the nostalgia bomb of "Charm Attack" (which I probably hadn't listened to in at least fifteen years at that point), and a fondness for that Bloomingdale's photoshoot and I walked away with a specific Top Gun: Maverick hyperfixation that has produced thirteen fics this year alone? Unhinged! Deeply satisfying! Highly embarrassing! (But "the cataract of his charm attack" encapsulates Hangman's whole vibe perfectly so we can blame Leona Naess for all of this.)
30. What’s something that you want to write in 2024?
The Bear Mob AU. Maybe some time loop stuff I've been thinking about. I also really want to take a crack at writing that post-rescue Yellowjackets fic spanning decades told from the reporter's POV that has been pinging around my brain all year. As a side note, now is the perfect time for all of you to get unhinged over Yellowjackets if you are not already. Paramount+ is probably the most useless streaming service I have, but I'm a slave to Yellowjackets and the NWSL (and the random desire to watch Days of Thunder that hits every three months like clockwork) so I must unfortunately persist in having it, but if ever there was a reason to hit up a free trial just to mainline two seasons, Yellowjackets would be it. (They also have a tendency to give you extra months when you try to cancel the free trial so there's that. This has been a PSA.)
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juneviews · 1 year
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Top 10 GMMTV OSTS
ooooh great question, the problem is that gmmtv has almost exclusively great ost's :'))) I'll choose an entire series' ost rather than individual songs to make it simpler!
not me: I have nothing to say that I haven't said before, this soundtrack is not only PERFECT for the series but also so different from literally every other thai drama so it stands out in the best way, just like not me as a series does. will literally bring me to tears in a matter of second no matter where I am, 1000000/10
theory of love: as I say approximately once a week on my blog, this is literally the most reused soundtrack in all of the thai entertainment industry, bc it's THAT good! for the time it really made theory of love stand out a lot in terms of soundtrack, and also fit the movie theme perfectly bc it definitely feels like an indie movie soundtrack! moreover fake protagonist by getsunova will forever be the best sad song ever produced & that's that on THAT!
2gether: for a show about music, it really does have a great musical identity & made millions discover the work of scrubb which is always great! I like honestly every song in that soundtrack & it's one of the best crafted from gmmtv imo.
one night steal: the show in itself is very mediocre & forgettable but to this day I still listen to this soundtrack bc the two original songs are straight up FIRE! literally iconic, but warning for kr*st lol
midnight motel: not only have I been obsessed with the only monday song that is the opening credits of the show since its mock trailer, but the whole sound design of this show is perfect! it gives it an indie movie quality that truly stands out.
my school president: another musical show that understood its theme perfectly & created awesome original songs as well as covers which made the show even more lively & fun :)
1000 stars: another soundtrack that sounds so different from other thai dramas & brings back a very distinct feeling of watching the show. as soon as I hear that khlui sound I feel transported back on the hills of pha pun dao <3
sotus: so as everyone knows sotus was my first thai series & I also think the sotus soundtrack is very iconic with its rock sound that I've never heard in any other series. I'm not a rock girlie so I don't necessarily love all the songs, but I do love the identity it provides the show & it also brings me a LOT of nostalgia.
enchanté: two songs around the french language sung by tay tawan & fluke gawin??? sign me the fuck up! once again we have a soundtrack that follows the theme of the show well & is very lovely to listen to!
10. fish upon the sky: I don't think overall the soundtrack is that memorable, but I ADORE the main song by louis thanawin lol, so idk this show deserves a place here just for that :')))
to be noted: the gawin dark blue kiss song that was my third most listened to song EVER in 2021 <3
xxx
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tunapesto · 8 months
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whos ur art inspo, if u have one? And what inspires you to draw in general? :3
WOWWW 1st one is a bit difficult to answer so I'll get the 2nd one out of the way. Long answers ahead I like to ramble
I honestly don't have like, a clear cut inspiration to draw. it's just a skill I've known all my life and thought, "might as well" whenever I have any interests. it's an important one to me though, it helps me express my thoughts and feelings and interests, and has helped me connect with many people over the years that I don't know what I'd do if I never met them. The internet has helped in that greatly, and it's also another source of income which is nice. I'm a very simple person, art and drawing is one of my ways to live not just financially but socially. it's a big part of myself and that's why I keep going- who am I if I didn't, you know?
as for artists that inspire me... I'm not really one to look at classical artists hahaha, of I'm sorry if that disappoints. I probably should but it's never piqued my interest aside from my general opinion that classical artists are cool and I like to study them every now and then, no specific piece is a favorite though.
I just get inspired by anything I locally come by, i.e the internet most of the time. It also depends on whatever media I currently fixate on. Before, I usually focused on one media at a time because of neurodivergency I think, but now I'm on the complete opposite end of that where I consume multiple media at once to prevent a single thought. It's cool to have ideas and concepts and inspirations crossover each other, it's fun
anyhow, I find my fave artists through fandom and just general socmed algorithms . I'll start w the ones on tumblr (note that some are also on twitter lol) a lot of artists inspire me but I'll be listing out the big ones for the most part
daneesoro has just. very good linework and it inspires me a lot. knows how to put weight on the right parts of drawing and good animations. kny mostly, fem giyuu afficionado. very swag!
ohrsoh I found through mp100 but draws a lot of other stuff like drhdr iirc. similar to daneesoro in how they inspire me, just good drawings all around
taffypointby is a Big inspo in terms of art style and colors. good ideas and incredible execution that really scratches ur brain u know. variety content as well but I found through jjk and wha I believe
twitter time
elodeas is mainly genshin, Incredible color and renderwork it's insane. she just has good stuff all in all
diinnple yet Another big inspo ahhhh, variety content. really cute art style and I learned a few tricks on ibis from. just gorgeous works w lovely drawings
samzalong has an upcoming comic which I highly recommend following up on if you're interested in horror elements. mostly oc stuff. colors are soooo good and art style is very charming and I adore it
galoogamelady , mostly ocs I believe. art is just very humorous and I adore how facial expressions are done in their art
tunneisnakes... mostly horror , sometimes oc sometimes not. found through resident evil stuff. facial expressions, details, color, texture, concepts, everything... just good stuff all around!!! if u like horror and creepy stuff they're an incredible artist for it
pomsteak , a mutual of mine hehehe . really pretty linework and drawings and colors are amazing too . gives me a lot of anime nostalgia w their art style but it's got its own spin on it, very charming and lovely. mostly fandom, found through genshin but they do jjba too iirc! please check em out o7
nymria has very gorgeous art with a mostly warm color palette I enjoy, and they are mostly of women (I love women!) cutesy art style and it makes me feel like I just got shot by cupid and I'm flying in circles. good stuff
there are many others but I'm also largely inspired by a lot of artists that are on the r18 side haha , stylization of anatomy and colors are hard. but I cannot recommend those since this blog isn't really focused on that age range and I wouldn't want to send people who aren't their target audience on their way
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tinyhousepanther · 6 months
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Todays I-am-very-high-and-have-recently-rejoined-tumblr-because-I’ve-realized-I-need-more-social-interaction-but-tumblr-is-all-I’ve-got-the-energy-for thought is
… drum roll….
the most personal, soul exposing thing I think I could ever do, would be to let some one go through my ao3 bookmarks, even the private ones…. Like the amount of #asexual ♠️ 🐉🌌who kinda likes monsterfucking vibes but is also a depressed millennial who was into Harry Potter and anime and tumblr of yore. Yeesh, how cringe and vulnerable that would be.
Because I like to write when very high and used to write poetry as a moody teen. A good old internet rant into the void. This will get long and old school text formatting like the book House of Leaves is a thing I really love so weird punctuation and spacing ahead.
Also the recursive footnotes in the bartimaeus series
Also, also recently returned to tumblr… lured like a siren into this hell scape of super niche fandoms…. I blame @strange-aeons for making me nostalgic for this place.
On that note. I am actually editing this but mostly because my brain wanted to add things as I read this over for typos because cringe.
Nostalgia leads to reminiscing. I think it was @blackkatmagic who said in a note, that like some niche pairing of fandom like a ship no one asked for but one person dreamed of and a handful of other people liked, is like being in a little boat with them.
(And I had to go find that post so here it is)
And I really like that idea and I like writing stream of consciousness rants when high and also graphs, like data visualization, because I’m an engineer. So a nerd for Venn diagrams that are cool. Like can I make a web diagram bubble graph combo with bubble size for intensity of interest and lines to show how one community spawned an interest in another community? Maybe throw in a color scale for vibes? Like who are the landmarks I use to remember my internet past. Is this what mark zuckerburg is aiming to make for all of us? Can someone build this digital map of my psyche?
Let’s start listing citations to make this glorious journal paper of a post. Giving @strange-aeons or @danielhowell vibes but also @somemorenews and also @scishow and @fishingboatprocceeds energy.
This is like just feeling the need to give a good old trying to describe a very specific mood rant that live journal used to be for.….
Those vibes somehow. Also of course I listen to a lot of podcasts. Like @tanispodcast or @welcometonightvaletranscripts
Who is in this very niche intersection? How narrow of an audience am I?
Or ,
am I yearning for early days Facebook where you just liked a bunch of shitty pages that were just topics. Like quizilla was a window of my internet childhood/preteen (that’s a lie Neopets was first…….)
Which reminds me to also include @dilfosaur and @drawfee. Why do I love the sonic butthole saga so? Is Todd from Mario made manifest into the universe like a tulpa? Am I getting to last podcast on the left now? Do we need to get a net for me??? 🗑️ trap me under a wastebasket like a cat?
God I feel like I’m trying to write a phd thesis on my personality as described via citations of tumblr blogs and other early internet social media. Can I put footnotes in a tumblr post? No. Does my probably autistic ass want them so I can make a hyper detailed thing fully describes a hyper focus moment? Yes. Can I make a whole power point of just internet citations? Yes. Do I have the energy? No.
Should
Be narrating this? I wish, would be interesting if someone I’m citing replies or interacts with this.
Not to brag, but hey I actually did write a phd thesis and some one said it was good enough to give me a fancy piece of paper. I am doctor. Why am I still sad then? Oh, that’s mental illness right. Another citation for a mood elyse meyers
Is this stream of consciousness prose that I am writing while very high and curled in a blanket on my couch while having been overcome by emotion from a fanfic I was reading about a super random cross over of two media from my childhood? Then yes this is me. I am a garbage gremlin of a person who is shockingly successful in life despite my very fun depression and health issues who has way too many parasocial relationships in proportion to real world actual humans I see and interact with on a daily basis.
Is it not the human experience to try and communicate who we are to the world? The innate desire to be seen and known?
Or is that way to high brow for me just wanting to list a bunch of things I like so when I’m having a bad day I can come to this post and just be like…. Oh yeah I did like that one thing.
Like that one video by Drew/Danny/Kurtis that somehow always makes me laugh. Like that friend I had who I could also make laugh by playing the look at this graph vine? 📊. Yes like that. So this my reminder that hey stuff is good and joyful and cringe sometimes, so on the bad days go look at this stuff. I feel @danielhowell has thoughts on this.
That’s it. I should go to sleep. It’s midnight and I have work tomorrow and my cat is glaring at me because we are not snuggling yet.
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P.S.
Tumblr really is just MySpace but somehow worse? Yet it’s what we have.
And really the porn had never left. What were they thinking they could do/are doing about it? Like hello tumblrlive makes this app so nsfw to scroll at work when I’ve got time to kill. But also sometimes I want to look at art someone has posted and I’ve got a notification.
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deitiesofduat · 1 year
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DEITIES Update -- October 2022
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Hi All! Time for a kinda-spontaneous-but-not-really Project Update, along with the current events of this month -- which is a DEITIES themed OC_Tober + and upcoming Askbox Session!
I understand if this all kinda came out of nowhere, so I'll use this short update to share my plans and any additional context, and I hope it's something to look forward to! More information is under the cut!
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OC_TOBER 2022 PLANS PART 1 of 2 -- DEITIES CAST LINEUP & PROFILES
The gist of my OC_Tober plan this month will be sharing separate profiles and featured art each weekday in a thematic order for the DEITIES Project -- 5 per week, 20 total. These will likely debut on my art twitter first, and then be mirrored on tumblr later the same day.
This is my minimum goal, but I'll gauge my free time if I have the bandwidth to do some extra things for fun -- like any additional new art, meme templates, blog posts on the website, or other nostalgia trips.
The character profiles for tumblr, twitter, and my other media accounts will use a new format that I'm still preparing. Meanwhile, anyone who feels like learning more about the deities can view their full profiles on the project site -- https://deitiesproject.com/characters
Fullbody Lineup (Tumblr) -- https://deitiesofduat.tumblr.com/post/696945815967694848/hi-everyone-its-been-a-while-d-so-heres
Higher quality + Full-size Images -- https://sta.sh/21y4noqrsk91 (These are best seen on desktop admittedly, tumblr’s version is is better for mobile viewing!)
For those who feel like viewing / sharing on other social media:
Twitter Version -- https://twitter.com/ColaCanvas/status/1576316256982302721
IG Version -- https://www.instagram.com/p/CjMe683Ds4w/
Artfol Version -- https://www.artfol.me/a/xAk0tvl
(( NOTE: I'll probably revisit this update to add more quick links as well, once I finish organizing what I need this weekend. ))
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OC_TOBER 2022 PLANS PART 2 of 2 -- MONTH-LONG ASKBOX SESSION (Upcoming!!)
In addition to the character profiles, I'll also reopen my tumblr Askbox to answer as many project questions as I can -- albeit gradually, likely to share on the weekends. It'll also help me gauge how much volume I can manage, and whether it something I can keep open or at least re-open more regularly.
As of now the Askbox is still closed -- I was aiming to open it by the start of the month, but needed to put all my energy into completing the lineup before the end of September 😂 Please give me at least another day to rest and prepare before I reopen it, I promise I'll give you all another heads up once it's ready.
In the meantime, you'll find some updated guidelines and FAQs here on the main site -- https://deitiesproject.com/faqs/
(FWIW: I've been working on a site alternative of the askbox for anyone who doesn't have a tumblr, but it'll need to wait a bit longer before it's ready to launch. This shouldn't affect anyone following this tumblr already though, so it's business as usual for anyone who wants to submit questions here -- just please be sure to read the updated guidelines and FAQs first, thank you!)
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ADDITIONAL CONTEXT
I've established in the site's Introduction page how development for DEITIES Project is still ongoing. But I've been having to balance it next to other tasks that require my attention, hence why it's felt a bit slow on tumblr and elsewhere.
Fortunately, some good friends convinced me to participate in this year's Artfight this past summer. Drawing each other's OCs renewed my creative energy, and I enjoyed the encouragement from my peers + the sheer enthusiasm for each others' OCs, it was a great experience with everyone!
From there, I felt re-energized to revisit DEITIES Project and see what next steps and WIPs I could tackle, and I could see that it sorely needed a full lineup sheet for some time. This was especially given how some characters were lacking clear visual references, or had some that were heavily outdated! 
This years OC_tober felt like a good opportunity to address this massive to-do, and to re-introduce some of the cast along the way. I had to wait until it was basically finished before I could give you all the heads up, but hopefully it's something to look forward to this month!
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I'll wrap up this update here for now -- if I do add anything more it'll be minor things or edits over the next few days. Anything important (like the Askbox reopening) will be given a heads up on the main blog. With that said, I look forward to sharing more DEITIES Project this month, and hope you all enjoy!
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bbmyungho · 9 months
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where i've been
i'm not expecting a lot of people to see this because my account activity has been so low and i feel like a lot of the people that were on here aren't really anymore, but out of pure nostalgia i recently logged back in and wanted to let you guys know where i've been and what i've been up to lately!
cliff notes: my family suffered a few really hard losses and life was just really fuckin hectic for a bit there, between those and my school/work/social life. on top of that, i feel like i really fell off the kpop bandwagon for a while when the post-SVT-concert depression hit, and i hit a pretty hard bout of writer's block. a combination of all of this plus the lack of regular interaction (which i acknowledge was a result of my neglect of my blog, that's not me pointing a finger at those of you who have been here for a while) led me to just need a break.
but now i really miss writing!
still, i don't think i'll be returning, not permanently at least; i would like to finish (un)lucky, as it was a pre-planned story and i would like to tie up the lose end for any who would like to finish the story or any who may stumble upon it later.
my problem lies in that i miss writing, but not necessarily fanfiction. i'm forever grateful to tumblr for giving me a place for so long to pursue my interest and interact with so many people that shared it!!... i just don't have the same time or passion that i used to for it, in this avenue at least.
this post became a lot longer than i meant for it to, but TL;DR: i will be finishing (un)lucky, and then most likely closing this blog. i may publish a few short stories on another one later on that aren't kpop related, but for now, i'll focus on this! i have missed you guys and this blog, but it's a chapter that i know needs to close at some point (but not yet!!) :,)
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tatzelwyrm · 7 months
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Ok, it's over. I'm good again. We will now return to regluar random blogging untinged by nostalgia.
Final thoughts for my own files:
Charles lives. \o/
There could have been more of Charles, but then there can always be more of Charles. But at least he lives and so now I can sleep peacefully again.
The Metalocalypse according to Knubbler: "Fuckers will be dying and shit."
Pickles is Mom confirmed.
Skwisgaar's role in the band is Guitar God. Toki's role in the band is "sunshine rainbow marshmallow man".
Murderface's role in the band is to suck (affectionate).
Nathan is going to only have sex with music from now on (and drink respect women juice)
They brought back the chef for the final battle. :DDD
For a character as silly as Knubbler, they managed to give his death a lot of weight.
The way they handled Abigail was good. Abigail is so good because she's so normal in a way that no other recurring character is. Also, she's the only important female character in the entire franchise apart from the whale and there was so much fandom drama about her back in the day, that I'm geniunly glad not only didn't they fuck her up, they even pissed over all that drama in a single scene of dialogue.
Speaking of the whale: I'm glad she actually did something, because I've always loved having this character that's literally a whale but also somehow a doomsday prophet, in a show that doesn't have any other animal characters. She was bizarre in a show that is bizarre. But I didn't need her to be the one to kill Salacia. Let the main characters do that, maybe? Now it looks like all that was needed for the show to be over was for someone give Salacia a little push while he was talking a stroll on the beach.
Everybody has PTSD and that never gets explicitly addressed and that's fair, this is not the kind of show for that, but it's all there in the behaviour (Toki's age regression, Skwisgaar's touch aversion).
They managed to put some good character moments in there, my favourite being Nathan pointing out "Magnus never gave us a chance to forgive him".
Still thinking about how Brendon Small once said about Doomstar Requiem that Mangus' death was supposed to be reminiscent of Judas' suicide in Jesus Christ Superstar, who was forgiven.
I have never liked Dr Rockzo, but "Toki is doing bad, so let's have Dr Rockzo here to cheer him up" is a thought Charles would have and it's the only acceptable explanation for why he would allow the clown in his church.
When Orlaag mentioned "Krakish" I was hoping we'd see some cool looking monsters like the Troll from season one, but Salacia's monster form was actually kinda boring. :((((
Spaking of Orlaag:
me: *never really cared about Orlaag one way or another*. Orlaag: I will bathe in his blood. me: 🔪🔪🔪
And right when I thought there had been surprisingly little gore, Orlaag got turned into paste. :DDDD
Other characters take their suit off to fight. Charles is built differently.
The opening was so meta what with "it's been so long and this is what you give us?", and that's fair.
On that note: The special retreads familiar themes (the power of friendship, found family, the FANS, etc. etc. etc.), there are no surprises, but, eh, I didn't expect anything else. All open plot threads get (re)addressed and tied off. I would have wanted there to be more time for general silliness, but given that this one special is all they got to finish the story, I'm happy they managed to do as much as they did.
There was a time during the 10 1/2 years since Doomstar Requiem that I thought "it's better for this to not have an ending at all than for the ending to suck" and this was definitely not that. I wasn't blown away by the special, but that's okay. There were things the special didn't do that it could have done, but the things it did do were fine.
The subtitles are consistently weirdly inaccurate when identifying who's speaking. Salacia is referred to as MMA (who isn't even in this special), Orlaag (or was it Stampington) is referred to as Salacia, the cultist holding the sermon in the church during Ishnifus' funeral is referred to as Charles. The one that threw me the most, however, was Murderface being referred to as William. This isn't technically wrong, but it feels wrong.
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elmhat · 1 year
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I posted 71 times in 2022
That's 71 more posts than 2021!
27 posts created (38%)
44 posts reblogged (62%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@theminecraftbox
@elmhat
@simplepotatofarmer
@respiteresponse
@lookinghalfacorpse
I tagged 65 of my posts in 2022
Only 8% of my posts had no tags
#reblogs - 35 posts
#c!dream - 21 posts
#dsmp - 17 posts
#dreblr - 11 posts
#las nevadas - 9 posts
#c!quackity - 9 posts
#dsmp analysis - 9 posts
#dream smp - 8 posts
#pandora's vault - 8 posts
#my writing - 8 posts
Longest Tag: 70 characters
#the events involving the butcher army are also recent in techno's mind
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
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good authority
Read on AO3.
Purpled and Punz had made a deal.
Now, Dream sculpts Slime into his own weapon.
~
The mask above Charlie’s face was familiar.
Not the comforting familiarity of Las Nevadas, of bright lights and big halls and people who never seemed to sleep. No, this was more of a twisted nostalgia. He cast his mind back, to months and years of digging himself in and watching the world go by.
Such memories told him that this mask belonged to Dream. More recent memories told him that this was an extremely bad thing. Dream meant danger.
There was a sword at Dream’s hip.
continue reading
32 notes - Posted November 22, 2022
#4
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the new plan
(My fic for stagedduo day! Thanks to @aphaerie for organising this!)
Read on AO3.
After the failed attack on Las Nevadas, Dream refuses to leave the prison.
When he and Punz finally talk, Dream isn't behaving as expected.
~
Only a month after the Las Nevadas attack did Punz see Dream again.
It wasn’t for lack of trying. Every night, they paced up and down the tower, biting back frustration every time they asked to talk face to face again, now that things had gone so horribly wrong. It doesn’t even have to be in the prison, they had said, and they hadn’t mentioned the way the vines and overgrowth made it feel more like a tomb than a home.
Dream had, instead, kept them updated on the situation in clipped notes over the communicator. It was an inefficient system at best, a breakdown in cooperation at worst, not to mention how a bullet point summary gave Punz exactly no insight into Dream’s mental state.
continue reading
40 notes - Posted November 29, 2022
#3
// dsmp rp
I'm obsessed with how Dream and Punz ruined their lives trying to save the world and cheat death, putting themselves through hell and back to discover some greater meaning about this unnatural power, while DreamXD watched them knowing full well he only dropped the books into the world because he sorta felt like it one day.
54 notes - Posted December 1, 2022
#2
Engaging in fandom spaces, whether it's art or writing or edits or another form of expression, comes from a place of genuine passion. It's creating for the love of creating, because you deeply care about the media. And that's terrifying.
That kind of vulnerability is stressful! It gets easy to wonder if you're just being stupid, to think that nothing you've done is as good as other people's so you might as well just quit. It's made worse by the the types of numerical validation you see on every site, even here. No one else cares about what you're making, the numbers prove it, so why should you?
But here's the thing. The impact you're leaving cannot be measured by numbers. I'm speaking from experience. Until recently, I never even had accounts for engaging with the content I enjoyed. I would hang around Tumblr and Twitter and AO3, completely anonymously, and it was amazing. I've read fics that have brought me to tears, that have been some of the most beautiful pieces of fiction I've ever read, period. And the authors would never have known!
And maybe it does seem a touch selfish not to share around content I enjoyed to give it more traction, and maybe I should have done better, but once again, fandom spaces are scary. The longer I spend in them, the more I realize that other people feel the same way! There are so many people out there, waiting for every new post, enthusing over every little thing you make, who you don't even know exist.
The whole point of a fandom is that it's a community. We're all here for the same reasons. For as long as you make fan content, there will always be someone out there to appreciate it.
67 notes - Posted November 30, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
I was rewatching Bad's prison visit and it hit me how Sam really asks people, "Do you think the prisoner is deserving of being locked up in the prison?"
Just, the implications of that question. This isn't a fun little quiz, these are questions that could deny you entry from the prison. It goes against the mechanical way Sam would treat the prison itself, with its safety measures and procedures that he must follow every time, those same redstone mechanisms he maintains seamlessly.
And yes, you could argue that it's logical to want to know if a visitor is likely to want to break Dream out, but it's not like they would actually answer truthfully if they did. It's yet another way that Sam tries to apply objective logic to a situation that requires nuance.
Which begs the question, is anyone who thinks Dream doesn't deserve to be locked up evil too? What do they deserve? Does having these thoughts, even without acting on them, warrant punishment? If Bad had turned around and said no, I don't think Dream deserves this, would Sam have simply sent him away, or would that not be enough to keep the prison safe?
214 notes - Posted November 24, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
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arizonapoppy · 1 year
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I posted 3,759 times in 2022
That's 1,166 more posts than 2021!
149 posts created (4%)
3,610 posts reblogged (96%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@dragonfly-wings1
@raksh-writes
@gellalaer
@kippurbird
@transformativeworks
I tagged 1,676 of my posts in 2022
#tolkien - 356 posts
#fic recs - 119 posts
#bts fanfic - 84 posts
#lotr - 84 posts
#signal boost - 77 posts
#mcu - 66 posts
#writer encouragement - 65 posts
#fandom is for fun - 43 posts
#star wars fanfic - 42 posts
#saving for future reference - 40 posts
Longest Tag: 116 characters
#i've actually pretty much stopped leaving comments or reblogging other works because i so rarely get feedback myself
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
Solitude
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A Mischief Managed ficlet
Pairing: Jimin x Reader, Jimin & Reader
Words: 1k
Rating: G
Genre: Angst, bestFriends!AU, nonIdol!AU
Summary: In a new town with a good job, you realize your loneliness without your best friend Jimin
Warnings: Not the usual fluff; off-screen!Jimin
Read it on AO3
Taglist: @cutechim​ @hannahbee12719​ @reliablemitten​ @seokjinger-ale​ @sunshinerainbowsbts​
24 notes - Posted March 25, 2022
#4
Ticket, Please
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A Mischief Managed story
What? More Mischief? I’m popping in from my social media break to let my BTS followers know there’s another episode of Mischief Managed posted on Ao3, thanks to a thirst session with @hannahbee12719​​ & @seokjinger-ale​​ that turned into a prompt.
Pairing: Jimin & Reader
Words: 2.1k
Rating: G
Genre: Fluff, crack, humor, bestFriends!AU, nonIdol!AU
Summary: You and Jimin will do anything to watch the new X-Men movie
Warnings: Do not try this at home- breaking & entering, attempt to defraud
Read it on AO3
And while you’re here, would you be interested in some of my other BTS stories? With all that’s going on right now, we really need the comfort of fluff.
And if fluff isn’t your thing (but I still really encourage you to give it a try), you might be interested in this little tidbit of smut, which has somehow become the third most popular thing I’ve ever written. I knew we’re all horny bitches (affectionate), but it’s been jaw-dropping to see its stats versus everything else I’ve done in my life.  
25 notes - Posted March 15, 2022
#3
We did it!
200 Thryce stories on Ao3!
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26 notes - Posted February 16, 2022
#2
Pancake My Eyes Off Of You
Pairing: Seokjin x Reader
Words: 1085
Summary: You and your friend Seokjin go out for your regular Saturday morning breakfast. A chance comment breaks your status quo.
Warnings: Bad puns
Also on Ao3
A/N: Thank you to @hannahbee12719​ for the prompt! Five squares down.
Send me a prompt with a pairing!
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“Another successful morning garage-sailing!” Seokjin whistles as he unlocks the van carrying all your assembled purchases. 
“Don’t you mean junking?”
He assumes a hurt expression. “How can you call all this wonderful loot junk?”  
You sigh as you buckle your seatbelt. “I’m just glad when it’s done being clutter in my garage.”
Seokjin reaches across the emergency break to pat your hand. “Admit it, you enjoy the thrill of the find.”
He had a point. Your mutual side hustle, Worldwide Hand-Me-Downs, did provide an outlet for your love of nostalgia. You just hadn’t expected it to take over your Saturday mornings. “I’ll be happy once we have breakfast,” you grumble. “And more coffee.” 
Smiling, Seokjin points the van in the direction of the your favorite diner.   
You sigh as he takes the back roads to the diner. “Why do you always take the back roads? It’s faster to take the freeway.”
Shaking his head, he demurs. “But there are fewer traffic lights.”
You bite your tongue as you stare out the window at the passing scenery. Driver’s choice, you suppose. Even though you had driven both ways and timed them just to prove you were right. 
The end goal of all your Saturday garage-sailing expeditions is soon in sight (although you could have been there three minutes sooner if Seokjin had just gone your way), and with a blissful sigh, you slide into the booth opposite Seokjin. He carefully turns both the coffee cups up on their saucers. You don’t need to look at the menu, since you know what you want, but Seokjin studies his as if he hadn’t been coming here almost every Saturday for ages. You smile as his dark messy hair droops over his forehead as he turns the pages. His bangs are getting long. Should you remind him to get a haircut? 
“Good morning,” your server chirps, as she pours coffee in your cups. She drops off a little pot of half and half, too, which Seokjin wordlessly pushes toward you. “Do you know what you want, or should I come back?”
“I’ll have the veggie omelette, bacon, and a side of hash browns, crispy on top, please?”
The server nods. “You got it!”
Seokjin shakes his hair out of his face as he tries to decide. “Can I have the short stack, link sausage, and the fruit cup please?” he finally asks. 
She finishes writing your order. “I’ll get this put in.” 
After she leaves, you carefully pour the cream and sugar into your coffee, stirring to mix it into pale tan consistency.  
“Would you like a little coffee with your sugar?” Seokjin teases you.
You tap the spoon against the lip so as not to waste a single drop of blessed caffeine. “Not everyone can stand their coffee as black as your heart.”
He clutches his chest as if he’s been mortally wounded. Straightening his face, Seokjin changes the topic of conversation to the plot developments of the  latest popular streaming series. “Can you believe what the writers did? What were they thinking? Clearly it should have gone the other way.” 
Nodding your agreement, you gesticulate wildly with your spoon, because you would have improved on that chase scene, if only they had consulted you. Seokjin chimes in with supporting additional details of the proposed rewrites.  
By the time your food arrives, between the two of you, you have come up with a much better directors’ cut. You and Seokjin scurry to move the cups aside to make room for the food as your server unloads plate after plate. Glasses of orange juice and milk are followed by Seokjin’s pancakes. She sets the breakfast potatoes at Seokjin’s place.   
See the full post
28 notes - Posted February 10, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
Hiya Poppy, for your romantic cliche bingo, could I request something for "The Dork and the Jock?" I'd love to see what you can do with this one! 💕
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Take Me Out
Pairing: Hoseok x female!Reader
Genre: Fluff, opposites attract, first meeting
Summary: You'd rather be playing a game than teaching, but then an office group from Bangtan Industries attends your club's Learn To Curl night.
Words: 2.4k
Warnings: alcohol consumption, bad puns
Rating: T for alcohol consumption (to be safe, nothing else happens)
A/N: Thank you to Sunny for the prompt! I hope you like it! <3 Eight squares down.
Also on Ao3
“I said, I’ve finished counting out the shoe grippers.”
“Hmm? What?” Pulling your earbud out of your ear, you look up to find your friend Seokjin standing next to you. Clutching your chest, you chastise him: “You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that!”
Seokjin shakes his finger at you. “It wouldn’t have been a problem if you weren’t lost to the world listening to the latest curling podcast.”
You splutter. “How’d you know I was listening to curling podcasts?”
“I didn’t,” he smirks. “Lucky guess.”
Rolling your eyes, you go back to counting out the broom handles and checking their brightly colored brush pads. “How many are we expecting tonight?”
“Full house,” Seokjin replies as reaches into the bin closest to him and begins inspecting brooms.
Learn to Curl Nights are always hectic at the curling club. But it’s extra busy in Olympic years, when suddenly people who look ordinary are on the tv playing for Olympics medals. Shuffleboard on ice, how hard could it be?
You have a lot of bruised tailbones and sore shoulders to contradict them.
“Lucky us,” Seokjin quips. “We’ve got one of the corporate team building groups.”
Pursing your lips, you contemplate your teaching partner’s revelation. This could go one of two ways: scowling grumps upset at “mandatory fun” organized by an out-of-touch boss, or a really wild office with terrifyingly high morale.
Even if you get the challenging first group, you still enjoy teaching. They might be hard nuts to crack, but eventually the enthusiasm is contagious. The smiles when someone manages to get their stone most of the way down the ice make it all worthwhile. It’s also a good opportunity for the club to recruit; you, Seokjin, and the other volunteer teachers are the first line of scouts for new players.
The evening starts in the club’s general purpose room with a brief welcome and introduction from the club president, Namjoon, and then everyone troops downstairs to the ice. You help people find the right size shoe grippers and a broom. When each person is set, you make your way over to the furthest sheet where Seokjin and the office party are waiting.
Watching at a distance, they’re already pretty animated. “Wooo!” yells one woman in a bright red jacket, waving her arms over her head. She almost loses her balance, but recovers just in time. A man in a hockey jersey says something you can’t hear at that distance, and the entire group breaks up laughing.
Looks like you have the office with terrifyingly high morale.
All right, they want a wild time, you’ll give them the full experience. Kicking off with your back foot, you slide in and swish to a stop in front of them, broom carefully tucked under your arm, just to be extra.
“And here’s my esteemed Co-Teacher,” Seokjin crows. “The fun can begin!”
Cheerfully, you wave to the group and introduce yourself.
“We all work for Bangtan Industries,” explains their boss, as they take turns introducing themselves. Going down the line, they are an office crew from central casting, representing all walks of life, genders, and office roles.
The last person to speak is a man who has been quiet up until now. Taking his measure, does he even want to be here? Sometimes groups have a holdout determined not to have fun. He has a reserved yet confident air, wearing loose clothing and a knit hat with black bangs peeking out. But then he smiles and it’s like a spotlight shines. His dark eyes crinkle around his button nose. “My name’s Hoseok,” he says. “I’m really excited to learn to curl!”
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32 notes - Posted February 26, 2022
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ariminiria · 1 year
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I posted 9,486 times in 2022
That's 2,704 more posts than 2021!
476 posts created (5%)
9,010 posts reblogged (95%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@schrodingers-blursed-kitty
@timetravelingshark
@yu-gi-oh-slavia
@thisbibliomaniac
I tagged 1,792 of my posts in 2022
#hollywood hate - 106 posts
#iswm - 83 posts
#iswm spoilers - 80 posts
#lotr posting - 71 posts
#anti rings of power - 63 posts
#iswm 2 spoilers - 38 posts
#markiplier - 14 posts
#cast it into the fire - 13 posts
#it's morbin time - 13 posts
#anti taika waititi - 12 posts
Longest Tag: 135 characters
#its so hardcore live youre just sitting there like 👁👄👁 bc scrooge is witnessing the whole thing and at first he thinks they love him
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
I think we should do a GamerStonks move and hype up Webkinz nostalgia so hard that it becomes a solid enough investment for them to start manufacturing the plushies again
158 notes - Posted September 28, 2022
#4
Regarding the “just watch Rings of Power as fanfic!!!” - it drives me crazy. Do people not realize how fanfics work anymore? If you don’t like a fanfic, you close it and open another one, since everyone can make their own and there are probably a few thousand more around.
With Rings of Power - those are the people who own Tolkien’s Intellectual Property for the foreseeable future. RoP is the ONLY thing we get right now, there are no alternatives.
So no, it’s not as simple as “just enjoy it as a fanfic!”
That's also like... no. Hollywood is not allowed to make fanfic. Not like this. It would be one thing if they had come out of the gate saying they're going to do a vaguely Tolkien adaptation or spinoff. The whole "fanon" angle would've worked if they'd written an original story that didn't clash with canon, like taking a look into the Haradrim, for example.
But they keep claiming that what they're doing is SO true to Tolkien its EXACTLY accurate and if you don't like it YOU clearly haven't read the books. But also, we're writing the novel Tolkien never wrote because we secretly hate him and think we can do it better.
It can't possibly be fanfiction because none of the people involved are actually fans, and it's painfully obvious.
200 notes - Posted October 6, 2022
#3
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1,143 notes - Posted June 19, 2022
#2
I wish Mythbusters would do a special comeback season just to bust all the nonsense TikTok has brought into the world
28,400 notes - Posted May 22, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
remember to do your part by giving Amazon's Rings of Power show the Morbius treatment
47,816 notes - Posted July 23, 2022
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finlovecore · 1 year
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02/04/23
to my better half
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hello finny. happy birthday !! it's been a year already. i write this with a full heart and a pensive mind so i apologise if this ends up being lengthy and effusive. i’ve written this note over the past few weeks preceding the beginning of april so it may be a bit over the place. that said, i hope it serves its purpose well!
i distinctly remember the time you told me that one of my best qualities is wearing my heart on my sleeve. back then i agreed without a giving it much thought, but since then i’ve come to realise it was only that way because you read me like an open book. i shared my most intimate feelings and thoughts with you because you were my soulmate, then and i still feel so now. since, it has never been so easy to wear my heart on my sleeve as it had been with you, because my heart was overjoyed with the enchantment i felt for you. one thing i never spoke out loud in fullest though i’m confident you were aware of and hopeful that you reciprocated was that my love for you transcended platonic.
you barged in on my heart without taking your shoes off, took residence inside, and called it home. i would have never wished it otherwise. to this day, i consider you to be the person who has known me and understood me in a way so incredibly special and unparalleled. for that i will always be undyingly grateful. talking to you was the brightest part of my day, even when it would happen in the darkest hours of the night; i cherished those moments to the fullest. talking with you was the most profound connection i’ve ever experienced to this day.
you may wonder why now, why at all. reasoning would be futile as this concerns the matters of a heart. in reality, the passage of time never changed how often i’ve been reminded of you, in one way or another. reminiscing usually evokes nostalgia or melancholy in most, but to me, being reminded of you meant being overcome with warmth and adoration all the same as i were when we kept in touch around the clock. you, in all your grace, are a fond memory tucked away in what i imagine is a tea-lit and canopied part of my chest box, solely for your keeping.
i bask in the knowledge and understanding that for a short while i took up a sliver of your time and occupied a part of your heart too. in the time that has passed i hope you’ve found friends that bring out the better in you and make you feel loved. in spite of that, i remain hopeful that what we shared in words, feelings, and time, remains unparalleled and special to you as it most unequivocally does to me.
in reminiscing of those times, i often indulge in the digital traces of what took place here. i scour your blogs, my saved line chats, the tags of our posts, our music playlists and pin boards, anything i can get my eyes on. though the fact that our friendship was sustained through the internet had its undeniable setbacks, the digital footprint left behind offers a lot of sweet recollections. i’m glad some of it was left behind for me to recall to mind and piece together the bigger picture; despite the means in which it came to closure, it’s not one i’d ever wish to forget.
i still remember the carrd pages for our birthdays, still have this love core blog, the screen grabs, the watercolour paintings i did of your blog, and our chat history. sometimes i’ll recall a funny memory of what we were up to and search it up to see it play out again. that’s when the itch to reach out was infinitely bigger, but i never quite knew what to say.
even know, this is a manifestation of a stream of consciousness and recollection rather than a scripted play out. i could wax poetic about it indefinitely, but i’d never be able to fully put to word the profound cluster of my mind and my heart when it comes to you.
i often think about the instagram page you made for my nineteenth birthday. now i’m twenty one. i desperately wish i remembered the exact name. not because i can find it - i know you took it down for safekeeping - but because i want to commit to memory as much of it as i can, even the name. i think i never managed to read the fifth letter post.
there’s an infinite number of things i want to do and see again and an even bigger infinity of things i secretly still hope to experience with you.
i still want to wear matching dresses out on a cafe date, i still want to get loveboxes and send notes, i still want to fly out to bergamo and cremona in the summertime of lombardy, i still want to rent out a flat in a big city and spent my days in your presence. a small part of me won’t ever give up on the dream to commit to a lifetime of friendship with you, of being a soulmate of yours in any and full capacity.
i hope this love letter should serve as a reminder of my unconditional, unprecedented and unparalleled love, adoration and amazement for and at the person you are. your soul came into my life just as quietly as it exited, but the melody rings out to this day and the invisible string is just as opaque now as it was before. whatever may or may not come of this love note will not change my resolve and confidence in my love for you, bubba. i secretly hope you have kept a spot in your gear for me and have not forgotten your little twin soul.
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with undying love,
your nia xxxxx
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0 notes
ledenews · 1 year
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Was It OK to Put a Christmas Tree on Top of a Prehistoric Native American Burial Ground?
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(Publisher's Note: This article was public on the blog Moundsville.org and has been shared with LEDE News by the author.) Every December, until around 40 years ago, town leaders in Moundsville, WV erected a giant Christmas tree on top of the Grave Creek Mound. You could see it for miles around, all the way across the Ohio River. Around 1980, Moundsville pulled the tree, as a sign of respect to Native American groups and their ancestors. In town, however, people still talk about that tree. The inmates from the prison across the street “actually did the decorating,” said Tom Stiles, coordinator at the old Moundsville penitentiary. “They’d string up the old C-9 bulbs” and light up the mound. “Growing up, I remember the Christmas tree,” Moundsville town historian Gary Rider told me. “It was just something you expected every Christmas.” People in town would have preferred to keep the tree up, and Rider himself didn’t see a problem with the tree “because it wasn’t physically damaging or altering the mound”, but they didn’t fight the request from Native American groups to take it down. The Mound has been investigated by experts in the field. We included the story of the tree in our PBS film Moundsville because it told an interesting story about Americans’ relationship to their land, one of the main reasons for making a film in a town named after a prehistoric mound. You can’t live in Moundsville without confronting the fact that the U.S. is a country that’s existed for less than 300 years in a place where people have lived for over 10,000. In our research, we couldn’t find a picture of the tree and the luminaries on the path leading to the top of the mound, but this past Saturday, I visited an open house at The Marshall CoUnty Historical Society, and found some uncredited pictures of the tree, which I’m publishing here.  The 69-foot-high conical structure was built around 2,200 years ago to entomb three bodies from the Adena people, probably royalty. Taking down the tree was a way of respecting their lives, and those of Native Americans who lived in and around these lands for thousands of years. They left behind thousands of mounds, most of which were knocked down by European immigrants as they rolled west in the 18th and 19th centuries. Grave Creek is a survivor, like a few thousand other sites, including Poverty Point in Louisiana, and Cahokia, near St. Louis, which is on the verge of being declared a National Park. The tree was removed after complaints were filed with local officials. Mounds were built across a vast region, from Florida to Wisconsin, in all kinds of styles, often shaped like cones, but also sometimes like lizards, bears, birds and alligators. Serpent Mound, in Peebles, OH, is shaped like a 1,330-foot-long snake. The mound in Moundsville looms over the town, and so did that tree.  “You could see the Christmas tree all the way to Ohio,” said Andrea Keller, cultural coordinator of the Grave Creek Mound.  The Grave Creek Mound has been a feature in the life of anybody who grew up in Moundsville. It’s where they went to eat ice cream and stargaze as teenagers. At one point there was a bar on top. And it was an easy way to learn and think about history. “The mound was the first time I learned” about colonialism and “another group being invaded,” said Alexis Martinez, who grew up in Moundsville.  Thousands of tourists visit the Mound in Moundsville each and every year. The Christmas tree “was a thing the city looked forward to each year,” said Stiles. “But that artifact of history was taken away from Moundsville.” For Stiles, who’s spent a life in Moundsville, the tree was an “artifact of history” that was “taken away.” In our ongoing conversation about America’s complicated past, acknowledging Stiles’ point of view might be crucial. In fact, maybe it’s only Stiles’ love and nostalgia for the town’s Christmas tree that permits real dialogue. If people in Moundsville hadn’t loved their Christmas tree, giving it up would not have been a significant act of respect and solidarity. After 1980, Moundsville didn’t find another elevated place to put a Christmas tree. Said Rider: “That was our highest point.” Read the full article
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the-nerdler · 1 year
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I posted 10,347 times in 2022
61 posts created (1%)
10,286 posts reblogged (99%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@spongebobssquarepants
@birdsintheory
@i-am-an-adult-i-swear
@404computerhamstersnotfound
@thestartrekunicorndog
I tagged 386 of my posts in 2022
#0 - 2 posts
#<< prev tags - 6 posts
#stop giving disney your time and your money - 2 posts
#i just dont understand - 2 posts
#😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 - 2 posts
#🤣🤣🤣 - 2 posts
#tbh seventeens entire new album - 2 posts
#stranger things - 2 posts
#right in the fun zone just shy of the date zone - 1 post
#75% hot 52% crazy - 1 post
Longest Tag: 136 characters
#these measure reaction time more than accuracy of the mental image but you have to have an accurate mental image to pick the correct one
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
It's so fun when I tell ppl I haven't seen new marvel content in years and that I have absolutely no plans to and when they ask me why not I get to tell them it's bc I'm boycotting disney and when they ask me why I'm boycotting disney I get absolute joy watching them realize that I'm right when I tell them my issues with disney
2 notes - Posted May 19, 2022
#4
I really wish I could tell 22 year old me that she was being incredibly stupid. But also I know that there is no one more ashamed of me than me
3 notes - Posted May 6, 2022
#3
I actually really don't like living with other people. I hate having to be conscious of other people in my own space. Having to make myself smaller and quieter in my own home - a place where I should just be allowed to exist. Any mess is my own, the food in my fridge my responsibility. In my own home I don't want to have to perform being a Person. In my own home I just want to Be.
4 notes - Posted April 21, 2022
#2
youtube
As someone who grew up in Orlando, going to the Disney parks frequently, watching every movie in theaters when it would come out as a kid, I've seen the transformation first hand. I've seen it inside the parks and how it has affected my city and my state. I've said for years now that I am done with disney. I'm done with the nostalgia bait. I am done with the blink-and-you'll-miss-it plausible deniablility queer rep. I am done with the shallow psuedo progressive positioning that disney has been framing itself to have. And you should be to. I've said it for years that they do not care. They don't care about you or your rights. They don't care about anything that doesn't put a bit of extra coin in their investors pockets.
Stop giving to disney. If you have made being a Disney adult your personality you have to rethink what truly matters to you. Stop going to theaters to see the latest marvel movie. Don't watch the new stars wars shows. Don't watch their new princess movies. Dont go to the parks. I haven't for years now. And i will continue my boycott.
I am furious. I am livid. And I am terrified. Disney is a megamonopoly. They have a strangle-hold on pretty much the entire entertainment industry and it terrifies me.
This bill is harmful. It is hateful. "Think of the children!" they scream. Well I am. And this bill will do nothing, NOTHING good for children. If you have even an ounce of compassion in you, this is your call to action.
4 notes - Posted March 5, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
I used to not understand why adults didn't really make a big deal about their birthdays but now that I'm an adult I get it. It's kinda just another day. Like it's just another Wednesday. I've still got chores to do and I've still got school to go to. When you're a kid it's like your whole tiny world stops to celebrate you but that just doesn't really happen when you and your peers are adults and still have adult responsibilities.
5 notes - Posted February 2, 2022
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scuopsie · 2 years
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i usually keep my freak outs in the tags! rarely do i comment on the post directly in a reblog. i understand both sides though. for me, as a fic writer, i love feedback and reading someone’s thoughts. it doesn’t matter where they’re shared. this is the first time i’m hearing about accounts being blocked for this though. wow :o but valid. freedom to block whoever you want. i’m also not sure why i said reblogs specifically because sometimes i’ll make my own posts and end up talking to myself lol.
also, there’s definitely been a change with reblogging. it’s so evident and sad tbh. i’ve been on tumblr since 2014/15 and started writing fics in late 2016. however, i wrote for two other fandoms before discovering kpop, so i totally saw everything you said about interactions, discourse, huge accounts, relationships between mutuals etc, but in other spaces. it’s also interesting to read what you wrote about people heading to twitter. i’ve see the exact kind of posts you mentioned there, but i didn’t consider they might’ve left tumblr. the shift is also obvious when you see someone in your notifs who doesn’t have any reblogs. do you block those accounts? i never have, and idk if i should.
(that is another can of worms indeed. i used to be active on the shawn mendes side of tumblr (yikes lol🥴) and i remember feeling so intimidated by certain blogs. i feel that way a little bit now, but it’s no comparison to how it used to be)
cheers to all those anons. y’all amused the hell out of me. i still see some with similar energy these days… oh nostalgia
please... don't even get me started on fics... i never posted my fics on tumblr (onyl links to them) but even on Ao3 it's pretty much dead... if i didn't love writing so much I would never waste a second of my life writing with the number of feedback ppl nowadays give to ff authors. which is very little. yeah... some blogs were really weird about it. believe it or not one time a blog vague posted about me because I had tagged someone under their post (it was fantaken pics) and then they went on and on about how tagging ppl under their post messed with their notes. they were so rude... I ended up blocking them. like nope. i do not want that energy on my dash idc how many followers u have. but yeah personally I don't think that's something anyone really has the right to be mad about. this is a free website and people are free to do whatever they want (so long as it doesn't include any female body parts ofc *clown emoji*) and even if it mildly annoys me I never get that heated up over it and I definitely don't block bc of it slflsd
yeah I remember how intimidating big accounts used to be... and it feels like a lifetime ago when u think about it... maybe some people just... idk, grew out of the phase? I don't want to believe that ppl who used tumblr for years would move to twitter. it makes no sense. there are definitely people who just found other interests and left and thats normal. what's not normal is those people not being replaced... this stuff usually happens in a cycle. some people leave and some more join but I don't see anyone new around here. seriously, do u know a stan account who is new? literally everyone I know here has been here since I joined this fandom if not earlier.
edit: I forgot to answer to this one!!! abt empty blogs, I don’t usually check the blogs in my notes unless they look really sketcy (/are obv a p08n bot) but ive definitely seen blogs that are completely empty and even have the default icon and stuff. i usually leave them along and give them the benefit of the doubt. maybe they’re fans who don’t want to be active and post stuff and just want to consume and keep up with their faves.
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